#just some small string of consciousness thing I wrote

[guineverist]

so. this is my first time doing anything in this fandom. i wrote a small 2k carobekah friendship/light slash fic last october but that was entirely different from what i'm doing here, which is 10k after 2 chapters. i'm not the most experienced writer either so i'm sure this is a little rough but i'm here anyway!

i've already posted the first chapter and it's an invisible life of addie larue fusion, which for those who don't know is about a girl who makes a deal with a devil/demon/creature/something that's never fully explained for "freedom" which ends up being immortality that comes with a side of no one ever remembering her, except who she made the bargain with. i think you can see where i'm going with this! it's not canon divergent, but it's very much not ah/au either

a lot of background for a snippet of a wip ik but i felt like it was all pretty important! so here's the start of my favorite scene from ch2 which i think shows the general vibe of the story pretty well.

.

Stealing from wealthy men was not the life that Caroline had planned for herself when she first dreamed of exploring the world. She saw visions of beautiful art, delicate dresses, and true romance, but that dream was crushed the second her father looked at her without recognition in his eyes. And even more so with every day that passed.

Instead, she started finding men with too much coin and too little sense to give a forced donation to her cause. Figuring out the exact boundaries of her curse was difficult work, and mistakes were dangerous, but eventually she discovered what strings to pull to get a desired result without technically leaving a mark on the world.

Directly poisoning a man's drink was impossible. By the time any sip from a poisoned cup was taken, her effect would have already been erased. Placing a sedative in a bottle of wine, however, and letting the man pour himself a glass remained within the boundaries of her curse. He made his own choice. She merely guided him toward it.

It would be a long time until she learned the intricacies of what she agreed to in that forest, but each hard-fought step toward mastery was a rewarding practice.

She was spending the one-year anniversary of her deal with the devil in an inn, pretending to be interested in the adventures of yet another man of means. All the men shared the same stories, activities they participated in to stand out did just the opposite, so she felt comfortable nodding in the right places as her mind was on the traveling exhibition that had come to Paris the week before.

Pieces of art from around the world had been stationed on a Parisian street for any passerby to look at. She was unable to focus on any one kind of art, constantly distracted by new things from new places. The Italian art created by artists from Florence, Siena, and Rome and metalwork from other cities in France ended up being her favorites, but even then she could not keep her eyes away from everything else.

Her attention turned back to the man, now deep in his cups. He introduced himself earlier in the night, but she did not pay enough mind to recall it. He was not far off from losing consciousness, and Caroline intended on seeing the exhibit one more time before it left for its next stop in Reims. She hoped she could find or buy a memento to remember it by.

When the man finally fell asleep, Caroline exited the inn room significantly richer. She stood outside the room for a moment and leaned back against the door. It was late enough that very few people would be wandering the hallways, and even fewer would take time to look at a single girl. 

She took the sedative out of her pocket and looked at it. She was spending the nights at a noble family's residence while the family vacationed through some part of the countryside. She had used the lady of the house's name to acquire a dress once. It only felt right that she made use of the house when no one was around to take offense. Trespassing would be the legal term, but it was hardly as though she was at risk of being prosecuted. There was a large part of her that wanted to make use of the sedative on herself as a way of getting the accursed anniversary over with, but the grogginess she felt in the morning afterward was enough to make her consider more carefully.

She had almost finished calculating the amount she'd need to take to be able to get to bed safely while still skipping as much of the night as possible when something in the air changed. It got a shade colder, as if something started drawing out the heat.

Caroline put the sedative in her pocket as she felt a presence at her back and, even after a year of silence, knew exactly who, or what, was there. The first few weeks of her new life were spent cursing the deal her past self had made and the demon who she had made it with.

It was odd, she thought, to be so aware of something she had only come across once. To be so disoriented before a conversation– a confrontation, surely, even starts.

[eddsworld-the-masquerade]

New music themes for our main characters, starting with Tord. Hoping all subsequent pieces will be easier to make XP This one features a genre I never wrote in before, and a language I do not speak in and neither does Teto. Jazz said it is legible at the very least so, hooray. It's far from perfect and I hope Norwegian people can forgive me for that hahaha.

I'll be posting this, as well as "No Rest For The Wicked" (aka main theme) on my YT channel in July. Since I need some cover art for the music videos. Same will be true for the rest of the songs I'll write. Edd is next btw.

Like last time, lyrics and some ramblings under the cut

There was actually a different version of this song that I ended up completely scrapping as I couldn't come up with a chorus

My biggest sources of inspiration were early Korn, Slipknot and, surprisingly, "Ima's Tower", from The Void OST. The chromatic downstepping mostly. It really does create some angsty atmosphere. When I think about it, the characters themselves do have certain things in common, hm...

LYRICS

Dypt nede helt nederst Av en endeløs grop, Glemt og råtten, Legger min ødelagte kropp. (Deep down at the very bottom Of an endless pit, Forgotten and rotten, Lays my broken body.) En pendel uten snor. Et verktøy, en gang så nøyaktig Kan ikke gjøre en eneste sving Med all makt stjålet. (A pendulum without a string. A tool, once so precise Can't do a single swing With all its drive stolen.) I'm nothing but a shell. (Trapped in a prison cell) A ghost in the machine. (Living off adrenaline) Hope springs eternal, But not for my chest. Burning inferno Is all I have left. 'Cuz I am no longer human. Jeg er ikke lenger menneske. I am no longer human. Jeg er ikke lenger menneske. Sigaretten min sin glør Lyser i mørket, Som jeg prøver å huske Hvordan å puste inn. (My cigarette's ember Glows in the dark, As I try to remember How to breathe in.) Lukter nitrat og svovel Fyller luften. Røyk og krutt Legg igjen et hull i hodet mitt. (Smells of nitrate and sulfur Filling the air. Smoke and gunpowder Leave a hole in my head.) I'm nothing but steel. (It's all so unreal) A cog in the wheel. (YOUR PERFECT IDEAL) Hope springs eternal, But not for my heart. Learn to comply, And play your part. Go metal! THIS IS MY RIFFLE, THIS RIFFLE IS MINE! THIS IS MY BURDEN, THIS BURDEN IS MINE! Hope springs eternal, And mercy divine. Burning inferno, And poison for mind. I am no longer human. Jeg er ikke lenger menneske. I am no longer human. Jeg er ikke lenger menneske. Got nowhere to run, Ingen steder å løpe 'Cus I was never human. Jeg var aldri menneske

For the Norwegian parts, I've put italicized english translation in the brackets underneath. Except choruses cuz those just repeat the english lyrics.

Featured references and idioms:

First spoken verse is a reference to Edgar Alan Poe's "Pit and the Pendulum".

Ghost in the machine: Human consciousness and thought as an entity distinct and separate from the body.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast: People can always find a reason to hope, even in the bleakest situations. The phrase comes from Alexander Pope's poem Essay on Man.

Second spoken verse has words breath in and sulfur. This is in reference to Slipknot's song "Sulfur".

A cog in the wheel: Someone or something that is functionally necessary but of small significance or importance within a larger operation or organization.

This is my riffle, this riffle is mine: in reference to "Full Metal Jacket".

Mercy divine: not a direct idiom, but inspired by to err is human (to forgive is divine) Being fallible and making mistakes is inherent to being a human, and forgiving such mistakes is a transcendent act.

So it's mostly your typical nu metal angst XD Lots of parallels between being human and being a machine. Lots of self-imposed lies and false beliefs. Don't worry, we'll get 'em

[erodasfishtacos]

The Brits Dilemma

” Prompt: Harry & Y/N go to the Brits. It’s the first time they’ve been away from their baby. Y/N is struggling but doesn’t want to ruin the night for her husband.

Word Count: 1.8 k +

Warnings: Depictions of breastfeeding

+++++++

The award show was going well. It was the first time Y/N had been out in nearly three months besides a few brunch dates and grocery shopping.

Usually, she was pretty confident in what she wore to accompany her husband to all of these flashy events - but not tonight.

Her bump had deflated but she was still attempting to get rid of the stubborn pouch that stayed after the baby had been born. It wasn’t anything out of the norm - just still trying to lose it.

She was breastfeeding and her breasts were much larger than before. They felt heavy and too big for her body. Not to mention, they were constantly swollen and achey. Pads were a must so she doesn’t leak through the tight satin black dress.

The dress was a beautiful custom design by Gucci that complimented Harry’s sharp suit but nothing felt right. It was digging into her sides and made it hard for her to sit on her chair.

The Brits were held in the O2 Arena which wasn’t very far from their London home but she felt like she was lightyears away from her baby. Even though she knew Sasha was in good hands with Anne.

Y/N was so proud of Harry for being up for five - yes, five different awards. It was a record for him and she didn’t want to let him down by complaining. It was his night. He’s been such a devote father - he deserved a break too.

So she swallowed down the anxiety she was feeling about being away from their little newborn for the night along with her worries about her changing body.

There was milling about between the tables before the show got started. Harry had people coming up him constantly - congratulating him on the album, the nominations, the baby.

Married life and fatherhood suited him well. A dazzling wedding band on his left ring finger, a necklace with an S for his daughter, along with her name freshly inked on right above his butterfly tattoo.

The open jacket he wore with is his barely buttoned dress shirt displayed it proudly. It was beautiful, done delicately in a timeless cursive. The font match his wife name that was tattooed on his hand.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t excited to have a night out with his wife. He had Jeff booked a hotel for the night to have some alone time with you while his mum got to enjoy a night with her only grandchild.

Y/N was counting down the hours up until tomorrow when she could go home to see her baby. She should really tell Harry that she wants to go home and not out to a club and the hotel.

But the it just slowly starts to deteriorate further when a bald, plump business exec comes to greet the two of you. He gives his warm wishes about the birth of your child before smiling at Y/N and stating, “The baby weight will come off soon enough.”

Her throat closes up a bit and she self-consciously tries to push her chair closer to the table. It was the last thing that she needed to hear. Confirming all of her worst insecurities.

Harry glares at the man before turning to his wife, “Hey, you look s’perfect, my love. I’m so bloody lucky you’re mine.”

He’s truly trying his hardest to bring a smile to her face but he notices it’s never quite meeting her eyes. 

It get even worse when Harry gets his first award, male solo artist of the year. 

As she’s standing and clapping for him - she realizes she’s beginning to leak through her nipple inserts.

Y/N excuses herself in the middle of his acceptance speech to rush through the string of tables - out into the corridor. The last thing she wanted to do was for it to show up on a very expensive dress.

The echo of his voice can still be heard, “Love to thank my beautiful wife who makes writing sappy love songs easy and was the main inspiration for my recent album. She also just gave birth to our beautiful baby.....”

She feels awful when she tunes him out, finding the bathroom and hurriedly rushing in. There’s a gorgeous woman standing at the sink, washing their hands. 

Fucking Taylor Swift.

Any other time it’d be awkward and uncomfortable - running into an ex who wrote multiple songs about her husband.

But she couldn’t careless right now, “Hi, erm, this is really weird but could you unzip my dress? I’m leaking and - shit that was way too much information.”

But Taylor smiles kindly, “No! It’s okay, totally. No worries. Congratulations on your baby - you look so hot tonight.”

Y/N laughs and thanks her for unzipping the dress before going into a stall and locking the door. She slides her bra straps off her shoulders and disposes of the soaked pad in the sanitary bin.

Luckily, she has a clean burp rag that she gently swipes at her breast - wincing as it brushes against her swollen nipples. Even the soft fabric felt too rough on them.

It’s a minute or two before the bathroom door swings open, “Y/N? Lovie? Are you in ‘ere?”

She feels guilt at the panic in his voice. Managing to croak out, “I’m in here,” before leaning forward to unlock the door.

Harry waste no time in sliding into the stall before latching the lock again. Taking in the sight of his wife in front of him.

“I-I started leaking, M’sorry,” Y/N whispers, she has no reason to feel embarrassed but she is. “I missed your speech.”

“None of that, baby. I’ll give more speeches for you to hear - I only care that you’re okay. I’m sorry y’leakin, lemme help you, pet.”

In true Harry fashion, he takes the rag and turns on the sink - running it under warm water before carefully cleaning his wife up.

“Are they botherin’ you? They look irritated and super swollen, darling,” Harry frowns, a very gentle thumb coming to brush against her nipple. Then cupping her swollen breast in his hand, thumb rubbing at the pink skin.

���Just a little bit,” She lies, they’re absolutely on fire with chafing and skin irritation from the bra she’s wearing. She never thought she’d miss her nursing bras and sports bras this much.

He nods and helps place new inserts in her bra. Who’d think this is what Harry would be doing between accepting awards. Everyone unassuming in the arena.

**

Harry has been four for four thus far into the ceremony. They’d only had him go up and give two acceptance speeches. His hand firmly planted on his wife’s thigh throughout. 

When he went up for his second award, the camera zooms in and the crowd coos are he plants a kiss on his wife’s lips before pulling her into a hug - whispering something into her ear the audience can’t hear.

He was much more focused on his wife. He could read her fairly well - he’d like to think. Enough to know she’s having much fun. But he didn’t want to bring it up and make her feel bad.

Harry sees the way she keeps adjusting her bra, fidgets with his rings when his hands in his lap, and not even really looking up while one of her favorite artist - Dua Lipa -performs.

Y/N loved a good party before the baby. So Harry was hoping going to the Brits afterparty would make her feel better and then going back to their hotel room for a some alone time.

**

Y/N has been increasingly quiet when they’re exiting the arena after the final award artist of the year - which Harry had also won.

He was on cloud nine and admittedly a little distracted as he joked and laughed with a small group of friends on the way out. 

“Alright, should we all just pile into a cab for the ride to the party?” Nick Grimshaw asks everyone.

Everyone is in agreement - including Harry -as he calls to order one - standing in the blocked off area away from fans and paparazzi.

Y/N wants to tell him she wants to go home to Sasha but when she hears him say, “Can’t wait to get to Exhibit - haven’t been there in forever. One of my favorite clubs.”

She bites her tongue. Harry is enjoying his night out - why can’t she?

In the taxi, she’s sat on Harry’s lap as they make their way to the club. His one hand is on her inner thigh and the other is on her waist holding her steady.

In the morning, she’ll blame her post-partum hormones and anxiety. But she doesn’t even realizing her eyes are filling with tears and when she blinks they spill down her face.

She wouldn’t feel as embarrassed if she wasn’t in the car full of literal celebrities who are filled with adrenaline and excitement. Chattering and drinking from little liquor bottles they’d snuck in their jackets and clutches.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Rita Ora asks from her seat - noticing the streaks ruining your makeup.

She nods pathetically, wiping at her eyes but Harry is turning her to face him. His bright green eyes filled with concern as he studies her face.

The previously very obnoxiously loud cab becomes silent as they try to give the couple a semblance of non-existent privacy.

“What’s happening, dove? Are you hurting?” Harry panics, coming to wipe the smeared makeup away.

“I don’t want to go to the club,” Y/N sniffles, squeezing her eyes shut at how embarrassed she is of her behavior. She would usually never act this way - especially in public. And Harry knows that so it makes him even more concerned.

“That’s okay, pet. We can go have a night in, when the cab stops - we can uber back to the hotel,” Harry soothes, surprised when that brings on fresh tears.

“N-no, I want to go home. I miss the baby, I want to- need to see our baby. I-I can’t do this. My anxiety is through the roof, Harry. What if she can’t sleep? Or isn’t taking the bottle?”

“Baby, breathe, breathe. We can go home. I miss the bub terribly too. Have been worried about her all night.”

Harry tugs his wife into his chest further - tucking her head into his neck as he shoots his friends grateful looks. They all nod, sympathetic and understanding - despite them not having kids of their own.

**

“I ruined your night,” Y/N says softly in the back of the uber home. “I leaked during the show; cried in front of all your friends.”

Harry takes her chin gentle but firm until she meets his gaze, “You didn’t ruin anything f’me. All I care about is you and the baby - not some stupid award ceremony or party.”

He continues on, “You just gave us Sasha three months ago - y’bloody amazing. Best mum, best wife. Sexiest too - know you don’t think that right now but your body literally grew my baby. I get a hard-on everytime I see you.”

They both laugh, Y/N leaning forward to capture her husbands lips in a meaningful kiss of gratitude and thanks.

**

Anne smiles kindly when the two of them arrive home. A very fussy, red-faced swaddled baby coddled in her arms. 

“She hasn’t settled for quite a while now - she missed her parents very much,” Harry’s mum tells them, transferring her into her father’s arms. He’s automatically rocking and running his thumb over her cheek.

“Ooh, we missed you. Was Nana nice to you?” Harry coos. Sasha has already quieted and is blinking tearfully up at her smiling father.

“Such a good girl, best girl,” Y/N sighs, leaning in to kiss her downy hair. Harry’s hand coming to wrap around his wife’s waist as they peer down at their perfect little daughter.

Anne smiles at his son and daughter-in-law fawning over their little creation with so much love and adoration.

After a minute of chatting -Harry’s mum makes her way up to the guest room after a long night with a miserable baby. They make their way to their room where Y/N strips out of her tight dress and awful bra. 

She sits against the headboard in just a pair of soft cotton panties. Harry is gently shushing her and humming a melody as his wife gets situated. He knew she was anxious to feed the baby.

“That’s it my sweet thing. Y’missed us, hm? We missed you too, bub. Nana said y’wouldn’t take the bottle. Only want your mumma, hmm?” Harry coos, kissing her chubby cheeks.

He’s then giving Y/N the baby, who ferociously latching within seconds and begins eating like she’d been starved for the last week. Making weak little rumbles as she does so.

They both giggle fondly, Y/Ns fingers come to touch her fluttering cheek - memorizing her over and over again.

Harry gets onto the bed and settles next to the both of them. Watching his baby feed in amazement at what his wife was capable of. He smears a few kisses against her bare shoulder - hand on his baby’s back.

How strong she was - as he knew it had to be at least a little bit painful with how irritated her nipples had been. He can tell when she winces every once in a while.

He plants a few more kisses to her warm skin - noticing her eyes getting a bit droopy as Sasha feeds at a slow, suckling pace.

“If I’m being honest, being with you - watching you feed our baby...I’d rather be here than at any club.” 

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes, “Sure.”

Her husband frowns, “M’serious, this is all I need, baby.”

“I love you, congratulation on all your Brits,” Y/N murmurs, pecking at his lips.

“I love you too. I meant it, during my speeches. I wouldn’t have been able to write those songs if you hadn’t inspired me. You’ll and the bab will always be the best muse.”

[lucigoose]

road trip [laura kearny x gn! reader]

a/n: @tywrites THIS ONE IS FOR YOU !! also holy BALLS i wrote this in like 3 hours ??!!??? god behavior!! im very....... not proud of this piece though i guess that's the karma? like its okay but normally im much more descriptive. maybe it's because it's my first time really posting my writing ANYWHERE but i swear im better at description and plot developing than this. i am just nervous cause i never post on tumblr as a writer am i welcomed with open arms to this community??? hopefully i am cause id die if i wasn't allowed to write...... i hope i do better next time cus this was not my best. also can someone tell me how in the balls to do the read more thing?? ANYWAY REQUESTS WILL OPEN SOON

the ride to hackett’s quarry summer camp was long. incredibly long. the trio had been in the car for what felt like an eternity, mindlessly chatting about topics that were generally exclusive to the kind of boredom someone would feel on the road trip to a summer camp. nothing too special, only small things that would help them feel a bit less bored by the service-less ride. perhaps the lack of service or entertainment would train them for the summer camp experience that was globally known as some ‘relaxing’ two-month break from social media and technology. a cure for addicts, some might say.

  laura was in the front seat, staring out at the empty, dark stretch of road that looked like it hadn’t changed in miles. max was the one behind the wheel, driving only according to the phone’s map that shouted an occasional ‘turn left’ or ‘turn right’. [name], meanwhile, was laying sprawled out in the backseat. a pillow was behind their head and their legs were curled up, nearly falling off the side of the carseat. they were almost asleep, eyes heavy and slowly closing to pull them out of consciousness and into la-la land.

when their eyes finally shut, just as they were about to let their fingers slip away from consciousness, their eyes shot open from laura’s sudden voice and the nice, calming music cutting off. “max, how much longer until we get there?” she asked, fully awake unlike the other two in the car. max briefly glanced at her, then put his eyes back on the road. “laura, we’ve gone the whole trip without any, ‘are we there yet?’s and i’d prefer we don't break the record.” he joked. laura rolled her eyes. “max, we were supposed to be there by now. are you positive we’re not l-” she was cut short, instantly scoffing when max’s voice cut through her own. “don’t! say it. laura, we’re fine. we can’t be that far from it, besides, we’re in northkill, right?” he said, giving laura a comforting smile. laura only gave him a suspicious look before sighing and staring out of her window. 

the road was really the only thing she had to look at besides thin, creepy looking trees. the road didn’t even really have the yellow lines in the center, and it barely had enough room for two cars to even be going the opposite ways. it gave off the vibes of some dumb horror movie. hell, their scenario at the moment was certainly similar to one of those cheesy slasher movies where the main character doesn’t have enough sense to call 911. 

laura was snapped out of her thoughts when [name] made a small grunt from the backseat from stretching. she turned her head more towards them. “you doing okay back there?” she asked innocently, with much less of an attitude than she was giving max. [name] hummed a bit as they finished stretching, then responded to laura’s question. “i’m okay. you guys woke me up, i think.” they said with their words slurring and stringing together with exhaustion. laura narrowed her eyebrows apologetically. “oh, were you trying to sleep? my bad.” she said, roughly nudging max in the side. max whined quietly, then said a dazed little apology. “huh? oh, yeah, sorry.”   

[name] smiled and shook their head in response. “don’t be. if max needs to admit we’re l-word right now, then he should.” they said smugly, drawing a laugh out of laura. “right? at least someone here agrees with me.” she responded before shifting her annoyed gaze over to max. max rolled his eyes solemnly before speaking with a glance over to [name] and laura. “you know, if columbus hadn’t gotten himself lost and landed on these golden shores, there’d be no united states of america. bye-bye hotdogs, see you later apple pie.” max explained in some pathetic attempt to redeem his stubbornness. laura raised an eyebrow. “yeah, well, columbus also had no idea he wasn’t in asia. he was just another guy who didn’t wanna admit he was lost.” she teased. [name] piped up from the backseat. “fuck columbus, with all due respect.” they said, clearly not really meaning the ‘respect’ they’d included with their statement. laura nodded. “someone said it.” 

the car was back in silence for a few minutes, leaving the trio to their own thoughts again. [name] wasn’t exactly awake, but definitely wasn’t as dizzy and dazed as they were a few minutes ago. they’d adjusted their position so their legs were a bit more comfortable, and so that their pillow wasn’t practically falling off of the seat. without laura or max arguing back and forth, they let their thoughts wander free. their first thought was to imagine what it was really going to be like at hackett’s quarry. curling up in front of fires singing kumbaya, telling ghost stories and eating smores. something like that, right? but with more kids involved. that was the only real part [name] wasn’t exactly stoked about. the kids. but hey, laura and max were doing it, so why wouldn’t they do it, right?.. right. maybe they were just in it for the money. 

laura yawned and stretched out her arms, before turning her head to look at [name]’s much more comfortable position. “you’re lucky you have a pillow. and the whole backseat to yourself. i’d give my left leg to curl up in the backseat with a pillow.” she said, and [name] gave her a tired smile. “give me your left leg, then.” they said jokingly, and laura let out a scoff and a chuckle at the same time. “are you saying i should join you back there?” she asked rhetorically, but [name] answered. “yeah, you should.” they jested, and laura smiled at them. “i should.” she almost sounded.. serious. it was hard to tell though, because laura’s jokes were typically sort of unreadable. she reached down to the side of the seat and pulled up on the small lever, causing the seat to recline backwards a little. [name] looked up towards laura, only to see her hand reaching out towards them in some sort of an offering. [name] raised an eyebrow. “..you’re not getting m’ pillow.” they said assumingly, and laura shook her head. “no, hold my hand, dumbass.” she teased but so.. demandingly. [name] laughed airily before stretching their arm out to interlace their fingers with laura’s. 

her hand was warm. and very soft. even if the position was awkward, with laura's arm stretched back in an odd sort of way to go behind the seat, and [name] having their arm stretched out a bit too far to reach laura's hand, the warmth of her touch made up for the discomfort. she exhaled slowly and lovingly ran her thumb back and fourth against the back of [name]'s hand, making a comforting pattern of little shapes and circles. she laid her head back against the seat, shutting her eyes temporarily. [name] spoke in a tired sounding voice. "your hand is really warm." they noted, and laura smiled. "yours is really cold." she said matter-of-factly.

the position was bliss. laura wanted to fall asleep like this, to sleep with her fingers interlocked with [name]'s, but the cramp gradually growing in both of their arms stated otherwise. laura was stubborn, though. she held [name]'s hand a bit tighter, taking a deep breath in and out. [name] could've stayed like this forever, just like laura wanted to, but they weren't entirely keen on their arm cramping up. as much as they wanted to bask in laura's comforting touch, with the way she rubbed her thumb lovingly over [name]'s hand, their arm wasn't up to date with the plan. slowly, as to not startle or upset laura, they pulled their hand away and rested their cramped arm by their side, staring up at laura's blonde hair that was highlighted by the moon.

laura hummed. "why'd you pull away?" she asked, rolling her head over a bit and straining her eyes to try and look at [name] as best she could. "my arm was cramping. wasn't yours?" they questioned, and laura nodded. "well, yeah, but i didn't mind." she flashed a smile towards them, before closing her eyes once more to try and get a bit of sleep. her hand felt so empty without [name] holding it, though. sure, she could hold one of max's while he drove with the other, but that was dangerous. and [name] was so much warmer, and sleepier. they could sleep together. but not with one in the front seat and one in the backseat.

laura sat up a bit, using her elbow to prop herself up. "max," she spoke suddenly. "can you pull over for a second?" laura requested, making max glance at her with a confused expression. "..why? is something wrong?" he asked, hesitating. laura shook her head. "no. i just wanna do something. it'll only take, like, a couple seconds. then we can get back on the road." she explained, and max thought about it for a second. [name] sat up. "laura, are you doing what i think you're doing?" they questioned suspiciously, and laura shrugged. "i might be." she said vaguely. [name] laughed. "laura it's not gonna-"

but in no time, max had already pulled the car over.

"just hurry up, laura." he pushed. "it could be dangerous." laura was already undoing her seat belt, and unlocking her car door. "i know." she said dismissively before getting up and out of the car. laura shut the door to the car and stretched out her legs, groaning a bit as she did so. she took a few steps towards the backseat, but she could've... sworn she saw something. she turned to look at the darkness within the trees, her eyes scanning over each space with curiosity and suspicion. her eyes flashed over a flutter of movement that seemed to disappear in an instant. what was that? it was too fast to have been a bear, which was common in these parts. but it seemed too tall to really be something like a fox. her thoughts were interrupted by loud, sharp sounding knocking against the window behind her. she jumped a little and turned around to see [name] getting her attention and motioning for her to open the door. when she opened it, she was greeted by [name]'s pleasant voice. "what were you looking at? everything alright?" they asked, and laura glanced behind her before nodding. "just.. thought i saw something move. anyway, scoot over." she demanded, and [name] obliged although retorted a bit. "laura, this is never gonna work." they insisted, but laura got in the backseat regardless.

laura sat down and slammed the car door, not really bothering for a seat belt. [name] clutched their pillow and blanket, letting laura move around a bit. "so can i just.. not lay down anymore? is that privilege taken from me?" they asked, and laura laughed a little. "just wait a second." she reassured, moving her body around to be a bit more comfortable. she was sort of diagonal, sitting in a comfortable position but still sitting up. without any explanation, she pat her lap. [name] stared at her blankly for a moment. laura explained. "ill be your pillow. lay in my lap." [name] smiled warmly at her explanation. "really?" they said, almost annoyed but not necessarily denying the idea. they sort of threw their pillow at laura, before laying their head down so that laura's thigh pressed against the back of their neck and the little dip between her thighs served as a comfortable pillow for [name]. laura smiled down at them and stuffed the pillow behind her while [name] got more comfortable. max turned back to look at them with a sweet smile. "we ready to roll, campers?" he asked dorkily, and laura nodded with a laugh. "yeah." she said simply, and max grinned before getting the car back onto the road.

laura cupped [name's] face with her hand, gentle and loving and so very careful. she absent-mindedly played with [name]'s gorgeous hair, twirling it around in little spirals as they shut their eyes. the light in the back of the car finally shut back off again, making the two relatively unable to see eachother. but they didn't need to see eachother. for laura, feeling [name]'s heartbeat calm and slow beneath her and having her hand near them was enough. [name] reached one of their hands up in an offering position, the same one laura had used on them minutes before. laura intertwined her free hand with theirs, the position being so much more comfortable than it was before. no more arm cramps for them.

[name] shut their eyes comepletely. "night, laura." they mumbled softly, and laura's eyelids drooped a bit deeper before she mumbled back. "goodnight, [name]. sleep well."

maybe this road trip wasn't all that bad. maybe being lost wouldn't be so horrible. maybe the kids wouldn't be godawful. maybe, just maybe, hackett's quarry would be pretty enjoyable for these two months.

maybe. just maybe.

[surely-galena]

Hey Galena!

Much much much much thoughts on your status quo post so imma drop this all in an ask and not discord because.... well, no reason.

//cn spoilers

You are so right something is shifting right now bc in current main story the nxx is drifting apart and the boys are pushing Rosa away and frankly, all around sussiness (i haven't read it, i've only read my friend freaking out about it)

For main 5 traitor route, disregarding Vyn's status as sussy, I actually see Marius and Artem as traitor more because they have more at stake here. It's just 1) so interesting to see them!! Traitors!! and 2) I want to see what would happen that Marius can't manipulate out of a situation and turn traitor for some reason or even better, what would happen to cause Artem to become a traitor.

What's more interesting than Kiki though: If Darius has some important information we don't know about.

YES. JEROME. 5TH LI ROUTE. JEROMEEEEEEE (thank you for the shoutout). Jerome 5th LI makes so much sense, man's got a whole illustration dedicated to him, a whole new outfit, lore, hotness, and he's the black hair LI we need in ToT and the only reason Marius enemies to lovers route isn't real is because they had to save it for Jerome (coping)

If Zangr was right all along though, it could be interesting for Hoyo to put a bit of horror into it. What if this point gets explored in the "mls figured out Rosa was being controlled by some unknown entity... ". For instance... Us. The player. The manipulator. The puppeteer dragging Rosa around on the string.

I once had an idea with Rosa time looping except she was consciously aware of it and sets out to change her fate. (Context: she died episode 6 with the air tank thing) I never completed it :'D but the idea is she finds herself time looping over and over again whenever she dies and slowly unites NXX and tries to prevent repeating prior mistakes

OH MY I DIDN'T READ YOUR POINT 6 WHEN I WROTE POINT 1 BUT YES YES YES YOU ARE SO RIGHT

Alternatively, what if we're not hearing all of her thoughts? We think we know Rosa pretty well because of what we read about her, but what if that's just a small peek into her psyche, enough for us to think we know her, when in reality we know nothing about her?

I love outsider POV stories. It's always so interesting to see something major - for instance, a time travel story - but everyone else's POV is shown except the time traveler's. Also I think Baldr is a joke because well, Rosa POV and we always beat her. But it'd be so interesting to see everything from a Baldr POV and show that they aren't the losers we see them as. Maybe we get a Baldr POV story and we find out they have deep ties with Heirson, NXX, and holds a lot more power than we thought. Then we head back to NXX POV and we're freaked out about what we've learned... that the team doesn't know. (I am playing a game rn where we go through the story from our team's POV, then after the chapter is completed, we unlock a shorter Hidden Story for that chapter, where we get backstory & depyh on the events of the chapter we just played, all from an outsider POV. Devs have used this to break my heart with antagonist lore several times hfjksahjkfs - did we literally just beat up the antagonist only to get smacked in the face with her backstory and find out that the place we fought her at is her home and she's never going to be able to return again? Yes. - and while I love Anomaly THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING. For instance, we get a look into Pedro's psyche and guilt as he sabotages Grandpa Vern, someone he once thought of - and possibly still thinks of! - as a grandparent or his acceptance of his fate after, with a "I deserve this" mindset.)

I don't know if the story will have a happy ending - it really depends on if the prologue is also the actual ending with Luke, Artem, and Marius gone and Vyn being the only one remaining. Which would make me cry so hard but at the same time... what happened?

Oh gosh Rose I'm sorry answering this took so long!

1. Is that so about the main story? That's an interesting turn because they were never that close in the first place, it was only because of MC + Nosta + other team events that they started to grow closer. So for them to grow apart again might be an interesting development. It is, however, mildly funny for them to push MC away because although it's most likely for her safety, it also sounds like they want her out of the picture because she does the team building, she brings them together -- and they don't have to function as a cooperative group if she's not around!!

2. I agree that Artem would be an interesting option because of how connected his character is to the law. To have him resort to perhaps more underhanded tactics, perhaps for Neil, would be an interesting twist.

3. Yeah, that's fair about Darius! The NXX would barely be able to make the important arrests without him, so to have Darius not entirely on their side would definitely change things up.

4. Jerome has a lot of potential for an enemies-to-lovers route, so if canon doesn't do it, I'm sure fanon will eventually come up with something XD

5. Ahh, referencing / talking to the player! That one is fun, too, although the developers would have to be careful because you don't want to attack the player or make it so abrupt that you rip the player from their immersion.

8. Exactly! It would be such a twist if we weren't hearing all of MC's thoughts. It would be the unreliable narrator all over again and it would dramatically change the way we saw MC.

9. That's a really great concept, actually. I like the Anomaly levels, too, but having Outsider POV or side stories would really flesh out the world of Stellis so that it feels more like an actual place where people live and struggle and work. I think it's great that the NPCs aren't entirely discarded (e.g. MC running into them in certain events), but it would also be very cool to hear from their perspective.

10. I like to think there would at least be a hopeful ending, because that seems to be a recurring theme in the game. I hear hyv does have a pattern for tragic stories, however, so while everything might not be completely okay in the end, I think the main cast will have to be in a relatively stable place. This sort of links back to the otome aspect -- because there aren't multiple endings, that means there's only one true ending per love interest, and as such, they would all need to be okay so they can live happily with MC in their respective routes. The prologue being the ending would be very interesting for the circular effect, though!

Thanks for discussing this with me! Again, I apologize that this took me so long to get to!

[alyjojo]

Advice to Work on Yourself ⛸ in December 2022: Libra

4 Swords - Justice - 2 Wands

Regarding: Temperance

This is a very deep & intense message, unusual for Libra and also for the first one in a round of readings. We’re just jumping right into the deep end here, ok.

The entire message is regarding your own spiritual beliefs and personal relationship with…whatever it is you believe. Or don’t. You are very disconnected from any sense of magic, miracles, faith, and Temperance here is showing your advice to be deep healing in regards to your inner child. It could be showing that losing a relationship has put you in this energy, lacking belief in anything, no matter how long ago this was. Healing the wounds of abandonment, lack, need, and rediscovering your passion for life, joy, creativity and inspiration, is clarified by Wheel of Fortune. It’s been awhile, maybe a long time. This is what you need to find, not some outside source of happiness. Call it God, Spirit, agnostic belief in a maybe something but idk what…faith of some kind.

The charms are heavily related to Alice in Wonderland, that in itself may strike a chord with you if that’s something you love/d. You’re heavily focused on what is lost, but you can’t see what still remains and how important that is. Nor can you see that, evidently by losing whatever it is you lost, you avoided a major disaster that was headed in your direction. Spirit is always working in the background, and while karma is always at play, Justice shows the right thing happening at the right time for you. Justice is Libra’s energy 💖 It may not feel that way, but it’s true. Something had to happen how it did so you would get to where you’re needed to be. And anyone else involved. The advice here is you’re sitting on the fence when it comes to your faith and your beliefs. But you’re here, on a tarot blog, looking for some kind of answers, for me to even pick up on this energy in the first place. This is saying you need to focus more on your personal faith system - The Hierophant. Maybe that’s a more conservative and orthodox religion. Maybe it’s this kinda stuff. I personally don’t think one cancels out the other, and you can personally decide whatever feels right to you. That’s all that matters 💯 Spirituality is the most personal relationship you can have. Just recognize where not getting your way led to missing something that could have caused a lot of problems for you. Recognize Spirit’s hand in your life and the blessings you’ve received, the favorite song at the right moment, the perfect restaurant you happened to find while getting caught in the rain. Special moments, serendipity. Ace of Wands is what you need, this Ace of Cups flipped over. Magic ✨

Side note: I wrote the dominant energy I picked up on. This also may be your energy towards a child or “childish whimsy”, and actually looking down on others & them rising above it, or it’s someone else’s energy towards you.

Very small energy towards stringing two people along and losing one, being heavily focused on the one that got away instead of committing to what is in front of you. If so, you dodged a bullet that you/they saw coming, possibly with Spirit’s help or divine intervention - outside of your control. The Hierophant may also cover any beliefs, not necessarily religious, it’s an old-fashioned, mature, “do the right thing” energy, the teacher, counselor, and the priest, however that may apply. Temperance is showing no one being “wrong” but the need to combine two opposite elements in a harmonious way, something Libra excels at more than anyone else.

Animal Oracle: Seagull 🌊

“Now is the time for deep emotional healing.”

You have an emotional sea of emotions below your consciousness that needs to be acknowledged and expressed. Expressing emotions doesn’t mean indulging in them compulsively or creating drama around them. If there are tears, let them be tears. Explore your feelings by sharing them with someone you trust or writing them in a journal, and don’t be afraid to ask yourself why you’re feeling the way you feel, why you’re responding emotionally the way you are to whatever this is. By talking them out or writing them down, you bring them into your own awareness, which creates an opportunity to heal or release them. Don’t let this be a theatrical exercise, embellishing emotions you don’t really feel. Don’t attend to your most traumatic experiences too often, but take them slowly, and make sure to add good doses of humor for your own sake. It isn’t necessary to tackle all of your emotions and memories in one day, but it is necessary to begin addressing yours.

Artist Oracle: MIES VAN DER ROHE

- One loves many lives in a lifetime.

- A good idea deserves a good aphorism.

- You “van der” Pseudonym.

Advice:

- Make Someone’s Day

- Celebrate Milestones

Charms:

Unicorn 🦄 on Ace of Cups rev shows magic and you having lost this or feeling you’ve lost this, but you haven’t. Denied it? Maybe. But that’s a choice. Temperance is taking everything into account in a patient & harmonious manner, meaning you don’t have to throw out everything you do believe to allow room for what you can’t explain, or someone else’s beliefs. Who is right and who is wrong?

Crown 👑 and Alice 🍄 on Justice is an interesting combination, because they are related, and I was told to have Alice look down on the Queen. I assume this movie/book is important for you. Alice is childlike (or a child), daydreaming, always questioning and full of wonder, to the point she’s dreamed up a whole world full of “nonsense”. The Queen is bitter, demanding, nasty, jealous, a tyrant, she doesn’t believe in anyones truth but her own, nor does she believe in magic - only having the last words…or it’s off with their head! A very Queen of Swords energy, Libra’s energy. When did you lose your magic in favor of pessimism or overly judgmental behaviors? Who made you the judge? What has it gotten you? Having Alice looking down on the Queen shows her rising above this energy, she will always dream up some new reality, because she’s a believer in things that are “nonsense”. Magic trumps pessimism or “realism” every time, and always will, because it accesses the parts of us that “realism” can’t touch. Our dreams, our fears, our loved ones, every funny thing we can’t quite put our finger on and know others would never believe even if we told them. Miracles happen every day, that’s the real Justice, not intellectualizing everything. You can take every fact at hand and make a decision on what you see, and somehow still miss the point. You can try but you’ll always get to a situation where you can’t just explain it away, and probably get frustrated with these instances. Assume it’s all one big coincidence or…was it? And beyond religion. Seeing the world through the eyes of an excited child. Was that forced out of you? Were you taught that was wrong, or ridiculed? Very intense energy there, and that’s all for you to know, figure out, and to heal, so you can feel like that again - with no judgments 🙏

[overthinkingspark-blue]

A rewrite of sonic frontiers starting from rhea island and head cannons about sonic lore

I wrote this comment on a video of rhea Island's music and I made a slight rewrite in a string of consciousness kind of way.

First of all, rhea island is not given a space on the thing where you see how much you explored of each of the islands. Treating it the same as the first three islands is just making it seem like there is more to the game than there actually is. 

One story thing I think I would change is make it so we see that supreme is actually the true form of the end and the ancients modeled giganto, wyvern and knight after it to fight against it. That detail will matter in a second, anyway… 

While sonic is activating the towers, Sage tells sonic that the end is manipulating him to his end by running him ragged waving his friends in his face and giving him his cyber corruption. so once sonic gets fully corrupted, amy, knuckles, and tails come back to realize that the end is ready to destroy them all since sonic is neutralized. The end wasn't lying when they said they would bring back sonic's friends, but they didn't specify the context. The end just wanted to watch his friends see their beloved sonic stuck in between dimensions to make them lose hope. Tails, Amy, and Knuckles realize that only super sonic could have a chance at fighting back against the end, so they all go and collect the chaos emeralds (sage is able to help them all get the emeralds without the need for vault keys) and they bring sonic back with the chaos emeralds (calling back to 06 in the process) and Sonic fights supreme with im here playing but without lyrics. Then once the first phase is completed Sage realizes she would need to help super sonic fight supreme in space now and then I’m here plays with lyrics. The whole time supreme/the end is using moves similar to giganto , wyvern, and knight. Finally, to stop the end from firing a laser to destroy earth, sage sacrifices herself like in the game (possibly remembering how shadow turned out and deciding to take a gamble and hope she could come back) and super sonic falls back to the islands where his friends are and they celebrate and sonic mourns sage before remembering what happened to shadow and is like “I think we will see her again soon someday” and then the credits roll. We still see the same cutscene with eggman showing that sage was saved. After that, you can explore ouranos island as postgame content. It is explained by sonic coming back to the islands just because he hasn’t finished exploring all of them yet. On ouranos island you cannot collect chaos emeralds anymore, but now the portals let you relive memories and refight the titans whenever you want. Let’s just say since sonic just wants to finish exploring the starfall islands, it only now allows you to travel back to the other islands as well because if you did that before it didn’t make any sense. After you get to the post game and you can travel back to Kronos island, rhea island is added to your map on Kronos island, and you can go back there for some hard to trigger dialogue having sonic come to conclusions about the lore and story. Some other lore reveals and clarifications also happen on ouranos Island, completely from sonic figuring things out himself and some cyberspace shenanigans or something, I just don't want sage to explain everything herself. 

A lore details I would add are showing that the master emerald and the chaos emeralds came from a magical meteor that got split apart by the end to keep a civilization from having a chance at defeating it, but seven small pieces of it formed into the chaos emeralds that the ancients used to escape the end, and a bigger chunk formed into the master emerald (why did that Knuckles animation have to tease a reveal of where the master emerald came from if we never got that in the game) so the master emerald landed on an island and once the ancients got to it, they found a way to make it float so the island could be less vulnerable to attackers. I also want to add that when the ancients escaped to angel island, most left behind their kokos on the starfall islands so in the slim chance that anything survives, their koko can keep their individual memories. Some ancients keep their koko with them on angel island, and those who do are not affected by the master emerald's weird radiation it gives off that turned the ancients without thier koko into various chao that we see on angel island in the prolouge. I think eventually the ancients that kept their koko still became less tall and developed bigger eyes to adapt to the earth's gravity and environment. They eventually don't need thier koko to withstand the master emerald anymore, so they just turn them into masks, one of them being found by the nights chao in the prolouge. One of the ancients that gave up their kokos is chaos, the one from sonic adventure. I'm also headcannoning that that guy could essentially just become a water monster from being around the master emerald for so long.

Now, this part goes into massive theory territory but I wanted to share it here: I think that sonic characters, the animal people that are often the playable characters(I'll just call them mobians) I think these guys came from the ancients too. I mean, from what I have built up, the ancients that became like Chaos have big eyes, lanky limbs, large heads, and big hands and feet. Maybe the Chaos-like ancients then interacted with ancestors of many animal species, eventually leading some animals to become the mobians we see in the sonic version of earth. Humans and non-sentient animals could have just evolved separately from them. This explains why we can see non-sentient seagulls flying by sonic and why we can just fish up a squid and have it not look like a sonic character. Maybe the mobians are just called hedgehogs, foxes, and echidnas because of how they look. Maybe the ancients being around the master emerald gave them magical powers, leading to the mobians having various superpowers such as rolling into a ball, long tails, and the ability to use the chaos emeralds efficiently. Maybe the ancients having appendages on the back of their heads carried into what most of the hedgehog characters  look like.

[undertakermybeloved]

Here's an old fantiction that I wrote for amino a month or so ago :) I don't love it, but it's alright so I'm posting it on here

Rating: Mature (14+)

Warnings: Angst, disturbing imagery, possible implied sexual assault, graphic descriptions of vomiting and being burned alive, attempted suicide

Here it was again. Dark and dripping with the tears of the damned, wrapping its tendrils around the man who had fought so hard to keep it off.

The Undertaker was a miserable man. His laughs were a facade, hoping- no, pleading- that if he played the part long enough, it would eventually come to be true. The sound of his high pitched giggles made him feel sick with how fake they were, and every time he made the repulsive sound, he nearly choked with how forced it was.

He could feel his stiff mattress as he sat upon the edge of it, but he could really feel it. Blank sensation, like the feeling of cold breath on skin, it wasn't really there.

The only thing he could feel was a creature from the depths of his own mind, a shadow painted black with malencholy and hatred. It choked the Undertaker with its many arms as they tightened around his throat, threatening to pull him down into an ever-present pit of asphyxiation.

He stood up from his bed with such a force he had to pause for a moment as his vision turned to spots, no doubt due to his malnutrition. He couldn't stand to eat. It was human. It was disgusting.

The first thing he saw as light finally penatrated his retinas was his mirror. It was dusty and old and had rust around the simple metal frame. It was a wonder the thing still managed to told itself to the wall.

But the state of the mirror was the least of his focus.

It was what he saw within it.

An old man, perverted and pathetically small, dirty and untidy in such a way one would think he'd crawled from a sewer. Scarred and pale, sickly and gross. It was a truly pathetic sight.

Disgust, anger, and hatred with himself intertwined in a whirling storm as they burned in his stomach, hot magma threatening to make its way up his throat. The sour taste was evident on his tongue before it even hit the roof of his mouth, and he keeled over as bile spilled onto the floor. He hardly had anything to vomit, so he stood there and gagged, both at himself and his mess. The scent burned his eyes and they blurred and watered, and for a moment Undertaker thought he was crying, the idea nearly pushing him to another vomiting fit.

He was so repulsively weak, so close to human, it was truly sickening. His gaze caught his own eyes in the mirror once more, and he felt anger wash over him. How dare he allow himself to stoop to this level.

Without looking away from the vile view in his mirror, he grabbed an ink pot from his desk and threw it with as much force as he could muster at the freak reflected back at him. The glass shattered immediately upon impact, causing his reflection to become deformed and misshapen. Some of the smaller shards fell from the cheap metal frame and onto the floor as the ink from the now ruined pot seeped over the broken reflection, covering it with the inky black that had been threatening to choke Undertaker just a moment before. He could see it now. The ink dripped over his body, his eyes, his face, his hands, it was everywhere, truly inescapable. His own actions were the cause of his downfall. Disgusting.

There in the mirror stood the true monster he was. Many eyed and covered in black deeper than the night sky, it was what he truly felt he was. Repulsive.

The Undertaker was nothing. He was a shadow, a shell, an empty husk. He almost wanted to laugh at himself. He was becoming one of his dolls. But his dolls weren't weakened by something as trivial as human emotions.

He couldn't stand to look in the mirror a second longer. He looked away, turning so quickly he quite nearly dizzied himself. He could feel it, choking him, pulling him in. No amound of red hot anger could singe the bonds that held him in his misery. One thousand, one hundred and twenty four years of walking the earth, and the only reason he still moved was because he had no choice. He was dangling on puppet strings, a doll made up from frozen tears and dried blood, held up by strings made from nerves and arteries of the men who'd sacrificed their lives in the hope of achieving their unattainable peace.

Time after time, attempt after attempt, freedom from reaperdom was forever beyond his reach.

Hands on his body, touching, grabbing, sucking out every ounce of will he'd once had to keep himself sane. He couldn't handle it. The hands were fire on his body, burned into his flesh. Wanting, needing, taking, they couldn't be cooled. So he'd simply have to fight fire with fire. He would forever feel the burns on his flesh from these desperate hands, it was impossible to rid himself of them. So he'd simply have to even them out.

Again he whipped around with near dizzying force, smacking his oil lamp off his desk and onto the floor. Immediately the oil caught and a small flame burned into his wooden floor, slowly growing.

Undertaker threw his papers, books, trinkets and antiques, everything he held so dear at the fire to edge it on. A choked sob escaped his throat as his hair lockets joined the burning pile.

The room was dry and dangerously flammable. Red heat crawled up the walls, surround the Undertaker in suffocating black smoke. Flames engulfed him, boiling his skin and cooking his flesh. His epidermis bubbled and melted off his body, his hair catching and burning to his scalp. His bones singed as he allowed himself to be taken by the hot agony.

He sobbed dryly and screamed into nothingness, not because of the pain, but because he could still feel the hands.

Undertaker fell into a hysteria, desperately rolling around in the flames as flesh dripped from his body in repulsive bubbling piles on his floor. He needed to burn, it needed to be hotter, to evaporate his muscle and tissue and turn his bones to ash.

He was pathetic, truly pathetic, rolling in flames like a dog for just a moment of relief. His eyes had melted into his skull, rendering him unable to see. If he could, he'd be witnessing a sight horrible enough to make him want to vomit yet again.

His body fell apart, flesh falling from bones and hitting the floor with sickening wet squelches. His eardrums had burst with strain from the heat, and he could no longer scream as his vocal chords shriveled away. His flesh was too far gone to move, and yet he still held consciousness. It was a curse, the horrible curse of a reaper, to be able to remain aware during a situation such as this. He couldn't even feel the painful raging heat anymore, as he'd lost too much flesh to have a working nervous system.

He knew when he awoke his body would be once again intact. Covered in bubbling burns and red hot agony, but still intact. He could never escape. Never. This was the curse of the reaper.

[finrelia]

Nothing, Nobody

Part 1

Request: Nope! I wanted to indulge myself for my first fic back!

Summary: B!D tries to find her girlfriend, Lena, but instead finds the last person she wanted to run into, Kara, infected with red Kryptonite.

Warnings: Violence, Cursing, Abuse, and a LOT of Angst.

Word Count: 1,432

A/N: Hey guys, long time no see! I wanted to start back up with something I really wanted to write. I’m incredibly rusty. It’s been well over a year since I last wrote, so please bare with me.

You let out a massive yawn, stretching your legs and rubbing your eyes slightly as the harsh blue light from your phone illuminates the entire room. You wince slightly as you squint, picking up your phone to see what all the commotion was about. Four missed calls from Alex, and six missed calls from Lena. You mumble obscenities under your breath as you get a rapid string of texts from Alex.

“Y/N It’s Kara. She got exposed to red kryptonite again, find Lena and get somewhere safe NOW.” You let out a soft gasp. You remember what happened the last time Kara had been exposed to red kryptonite… you still have nightmares. The first thing you do is call Lena. No answer.

“Come on, come on, come on.” You mutter as you try calling her another two times. “Dammit Luthor. Please be okay”

You throw on your clothes, grab your keys, and in a matter of minutes you were in your car flying down the road to LCorp. You were panicking, your mind racing at the thought of Lena being hurt by Kara. You trust your sister with your life, but when red kryptonite was involved, she just wasn't herself.

Your car peels into the parking garage, and you sprint to the elevator. You slam your finger onto the button marked “Labs” about a hundred times before the doors to the elevator even shut. You’re  bouncing on the balls of your feet, and shaking. It seems like ages pass as the elevator descends, eventually finally reaching your destination.

The sound of your boots against the cold polished cement floor resounds throughout the large open room, echoing across the steel and stone walls. “Lena??” You call out to what seems like an empty void. Before you could shout her name again, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s from Lena…

“Hey I’m almost to your apartment! Alex told me about Kara. Have a bag packed, we have to get to my safehouse. See you soon, okay?”

“Shit…” You said quietly to yourself.

You turn around, still looking at your messages, to start heading back to the elevator when you collide with someone, causing you to drop your phone as you start to type out your reply. It bounces slightly, landing near the elevator. You stare at the figure in front of you, and your heart sinks deep into your chest, forming a pit in your stomach. You see the unmistakable blue fibers of supergirl’s suit, and your eyes slowly move up, glancing over the ever famous insignia on her chest, finally resting at her face. You swallow hard when you see the red glow pulse through her neck and spread throughout her face.

“Hey… Kara!” You say, feigning a smile.

“Y/N you are the LAST person I wanted to see right now.” she says, her tone unfamiliar and cold. She places her hands on your shoulders, and shoves you to the ground, you let out a sharp intake of breath, realizing that you are truly alone, and unable to call for help.  I could say the same about you. You think to yourself, knowing its best not to provoke her when she’s in this state.

“Kara… I know this isn’t you. It's the red kryptonite…”

“Oh, please. Spare me.” Her words sting, laced with malice.

“I know you would never hurt me.” you say, slowly scooting away from her. “Come back to me, please.” You plead with her, trying desperately to get through to her, despite knowing that it’s a lost cause.

“God, you’re pathetic!” Kara scoffs, slowly descending to the floor, on one knee. She grabs your chin and yanks your face up, forcing you to lock eyes. Her face contorts into a look of disgust and pity. “You are nothing, nobody.” With every word, she gripped your chin harder. You tried to hide your pain, not wanting to antagonize her, but the words hurt just as much as her hold on your face. She stands up, and releases your chin, sauntering around you, still on the cold floor.

“You know what amazes me?” You swallow hard and hum in response.

“Hmm?”

“You and Lena…”

“Excuse me?” you say, your voice breaking slightly.

“Lena is… so unbelievably smart, and beautiful, and talented. She is actually worth something, unlike you.”

“K- Kara, please stop.”

“Now now, don’t beg.” She says in a cloyingly sweet voice, crawling with hate. “You aren’t even a real Danvers. Real Danvers have something going for them. You disgust me.” Her anger was almost tangible. You reached your limit, the last words broke you. You couldn’t hold back your tears any longer, you started to sob silently, looking to the ground.

“Crying, are you? This is pitiful.PITIFUL.” Her voice rose in volume, and she ran to you, rearing her leg back before kicking you almost full force in your ribcage, sending you flying along the floor and into a large metal cabinet, stacked high with glass displays of chemicals and samples. As your body collided with the metal, it created a large dent, and sent the displays above you crashing down, shattering as they landed on your body. The noise was immeasurably loud. You lay there briefly, a crumpled heap, entirely motionless as you began to bleed from numerous cuts from the glass all over the entire left side of your body. There was an especially large cut running from your neck to your collarbone, that was bleeding quite a bit more than the others, forming a small pool of blood on the floor as it dripped, from your semi-conscious body. You struggled with trying to breathe, letting out a small and slow groan. You can feel blood running down your eyebrow, and onto the floor. The pain is so intense, you feel like vomiting. You try to sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows, and you look up trying to see where Kara is.

“Kara… I forgive you.” you croak out, spitting out the blood that had pooled in your mouth. Right as you look up, Kara’s fist collides with the side of your face, knocking you unconscious.

“Y/N??” Lena asks to your empty apartment. “Darling? Did you pack your bag? It’s Kara we have to get somewhere safe…” “Y/N?” she asks again, as she opens the door to your room. “Oh no... “ she sees your keys, phone, and bag are all missing. A pit forms in her stomach as she realises what happened. She immediately pulls out her phone to call Alex.

“Did you get them?”

“No, Alex listen, Y/N went to my labs, they aren’t home. We need to get there, now.”

“On it. I’ll get a squad. Meet me outside.”

You get your hearing back first, you scowl at the ringing in your ears. When that clears up, you realize the pure chaos that had erupted around you.  There’s screaming coming from all directions, loud bangs, followed by even more screaming. You slip in and out of consciousness, slowly getting the rest of your senses back. Someone- Kara, is holding you up like a human shield. Before you can regain full consciousness, a bullet grazes your left arm, causing you to wince in pain. You can hear Kara laughing behind you, and a tear rolls down your cheek. You were shaking uncontrollably, feeling dizzy. Your eyes were unable to focus on anything. You could barely make out the lab around you, you could hear the shouts of your sister amongst the gunshots. She brought the DEO in. You are being rescued. Your eyes settle on the raven-haired woman hiding behind cover nearby. She was holding some sort of gun with a faint green glow emitting from the barrel. You gave her a confused look, unable to comprehend what was happening.

“Lena…?” you whisper, a slight smile appears at the corners of your mouth. Even now, she looked like an angel.

You feel yourself fall to the floor as Kara collapses behind you. You can barely make out a kryptonite laced dart protruding out from the side of Kara’s shoulder. Lena rushes over to you, putting her hands behind your neck, turning your head towards her. She’s crying, and it seems as if she's screaming your name. Lena cradles you in her arms. She’s panicking, not sure where to apply pressure. Blood flowed from so many different wounds all across your body, it was so much blood. Lena felt as if she was going to vomit. You lay motionless in her arms as the world goes dark around you.

[vidalinav]

Queen of Queens: Prologue

Summary: Post ACOSF fic (so contains spoilers); in this chapter, Nesta dreams strange dreams 

This fic starts in the weeks between the ending and the mating ceremony and then goes beyond. Some chapters, especially in the beginning will feel like one-shots but they’re not. They all connect eventually to the main plot which is Koschei, Nesta’s power, the Mother, the Courts, other countries, fate and so on and so forth. Eventually I hope to have other character’s POV, but that is a challenge in itself. 

Updates every other Sunday (unless I feel like updating earlier); summary for chapters, dates, and all chapter links HERE; Masterlist 

~

Sometimes when Nesta closed her eyes, with the hum of Cassian’s breathing rumbling down her back, the darkness took her quickly. Other times, she’d have to count, her mind like feet racing to climb the staircase of the House of Wind. One step after another. 200. 500. 700 and up again… except she could never reach the bottom and she could never get to the top. The stairs would crumble before her, her handprint still firmly burnt into the stone as night swallowed each step.

Nesta didn’t dream often anymore, a testament to how far she’d come…

But on night’s like these, Nesta dreamed.

On night’s like these Nesta had a hard time even closing her eyes. But sleep always took her eventually. A thief in the night. A small death to the ever-present life she’d be afforded in the morning. Nesta hoped she’d make it to the morning… because sometimes she couldn’t tell.

Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she was already floating in that darkness. The moon beamed down at her, one single eye blinking as she blinked, letting that darkness ripple with light as if she were setting out to sea. She might have had a lantern in her hands, or maybe she was carrying the moon itself. She could never tell… or maybe Nesta just couldn’t remember. All of the details becoming foggy like the mist that surrounded her.

The worst part of her dream always came to her unexpectedly, which always seemed off to her for it was always the same dream…

Nesta would look around her, peer out into that wide open space of a glittering, black sea and the boat would start to shake. She was in a raft, she thought, or a canoe, or… perhaps she was floating on her back. But hands would reach up from the night. It would grab on to her boat—her canoe—her raft. The hands would grip the nightgown of her dress, whichever one she was wearing that night. This night, a pale blue with lace at the sleeves.

And the hands would pull her under.

Pull and pull and pull.

Until it didn’t matter if she was in the cauldron or the sea. It only mattered that she was drowning.

Nesta liked to say she fought against the tide, kicked and screamed and did whatever else she’d learned in training. But truthfully, she never fought that hard. Not after all this time. Truthfully, she was tired of fighting.

Instead, she would let it pull her and she would let herself sink. Let herself breath. Three… six… nine… She never made it to ten… Ten is when Nesta started to scream.

Perhaps not aloud, since Cassian never woke her and she seldom ever seen him wide eyed when she woke up panting.

But Nesta screamed, and the hands still ravaged, and she still sank, and she still didn’t fight back… And just when Nesta thought she wouldn’t make it to the morning, a golden hand would reach out from above.

A golden hand would cease the screaming, would grab a hold of her own, outstretched, waiting for the inevitable burning that always came, and a sweet voice, a feminine, soft voice would ring in her ears until her eyes drifted open.

Nesta would never forget the words—the details of the dream, maybe—but not the words that came on harp strings and trumpets roaring.

Oh no, she’d never forget what the voice called out, and Nesta would start asking questions to match that answer she’d received. She thought she should’ve known what it was.

Would she die today?

Would the cauldron come calling to claim the rest of its power?

Would they be plunged into another war?

Would someone steal the trove out from under them?

Would they finally realize she was as scared as before?

Would she go back into that city today and become who she always was?

Would they…

Would she…

Would someone…

And, Nesta would drift back to sleep with all these questions floating in the space between dreams. The darkness claiming her once more until she woke up, Cassian beside her asking her how she slept.

She never gave him a response, only kissed him, snuggled closer, ridding her skin from that horrifying cold with the warmth of his body.

But still… Nesta could never forget the words.

Not yet, the voice would sing.

~ I feel I wrote this in a weird way but my writing style changes constantly, and this creepy dream-like stream of consciousness sort of thing came out, so we’ll see if that stays or not. Or even if you thought that. 

Obvi, if you want to be tagged let me know. I forget all those tagged, so sorry, so I’ll just put you on the individual fic masterlist tag so I can just copy and paste. Of course, if you have a recommendation of something you’d like to see or just a topic that might fit in let me know and I will see. This fic will be interesting for me to write. It will definitely be different to anything I have written before. Hopefully you did not hate this prologue, but next chapter is wayyyy different anyways. So we’ll get into it. 

Best!

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

22, 25, 30 for the prompts, please!

WHY YES, I AM A GREEDY BITCH 😈😈

Oh, my darling @arlome, I’m afraid this got rather complicated. As soon as I saw your prompt list I knew exactly what I wanted to write, but, unfortunately, it was a continuation of my AO3 modern AU series and thus not a particularly wise choice for a Tumblr prompt.

But no one has ever accused me of being particularly wise, so… 😂

Anyway, I wrote it.

Below are spoilers for that series, New Found Lands, should that be something you care about. All I suppose you really need to know, though, is that in that series Phryne is a writer.

I used all your prompts for this - wanderlust, string lights, and summer reading - and I very much hope you enjoy it. ❤️

-------

Jack had always loved reading outside in the summer.

There was just something special about it… the extra hours of daylight, the muted sounds of nature, that little extra bit of freedom that was the hallmark of the season. A warm breeze and a cool drink and an ambient sense of possibility to keep him company as he explored the wild west, ancient Rome, the roaring 20’s, the distant future.

It felt as close to true magic as a pragmatic man like Jack was ever likely to get.

Recently, though, he’d also found that this enchanted feeling was actually intensified by reading in Phryne’s backyard garden, where she’d strung up pretty string lights throughout and given the whole place an almost ethereal feel.

Of course, it was only ‘Phryne’s garden’ on the paperwork; in actuality, Jack spent far more time there than he did at his own place, and had for a while now. Lately they’d even begun skating around the topic of him moving in, but neither had landed that particular triple Axel.

Yet.

But Jack felt no hurry, either, especially on a night like tonight - comfortable and happy, with a book and a whisky to savor, like he had all the time in the world.

The sound of a well-maintained car parking out front reminded him of just why he was so happy, and Jack smiled down at his book as he turned another page. A few minutes later he heard a noise at the fence and spotted a familiar silhouette behind the pickets; Phryne was home.

“Hello Jack,” she greeted, coming in through the fence gate. “I thought I might find you out here.”

“Predictable, am I?” he asked, without looking up.

“I prefer ‘dependable’, darling,” she corrected, kissing his cheek and depositing her various bags on the ground before dropping into the chair beside him. She snagged his glass off the table and peered over to see what he was reading. When she spotted the title, she shook her head.

“Why on earth are you reading that?” she asked.

“I like it,” he replied, his eyes still on the words before him.

“But you’ve read it before,” she noted, propping her feet up on the small table in front of them. “Or, so you told me.”

Jack finished his chapter, placed a bookmark inside to hold his spot, then turned to face her. “I did,” he agreed. “And I have. And I liked it then too.”

“But it’s my book,” she reminded him, finally getting to the crux of her confusion. “Why are you rereading my book?” She nodded her head vaguely in the direction of the house, where she’d caught him once or twice doing the same thing with some of her other novels. “Or, I suppose, books plural.”

Jack shrugged. “I like finding you in them,” he said simply and Phryne tilted her head to the side in consideration.

“How so?” she asked, curious as ever.

Jack paused, trying to think of the right words to answer her question. But how could he?

How could he explain that passages he’d read in passing before, evolved and expanded as he learned more about the woman who wrote them? How her descriptions of the long shadows of Paris and the grassy banks of the Yarra held new meaning now. How, when he read her dialogue these days, he could perfectly hear the delivery of a quip or imagine the length of a pause. How being privy to her misadventures on Ben Nevis and her fear of spiders and her love of old movies informed small details or full sentences or entire chapters for him now in ways he found surprising or funny or sad or lovely.

How could he adequately explain that, for him, the incredible characters and stories and worlds she’d created remained entities onto themselves, but, also, how the essence of the writer was so deeply threaded throughout the pages that he couldn’t help but delight in the weave, and how it was not pride, but privilege, he felt in knowing her well enough to see it now.

How on earth could he find the right words for all that when he himself sometimes struggled to understand it?

Then he remembered that right words were her domain, and he went for the simple truth instead.

“When I read these now,” he said, holding up her book, “I still love the story, but now… now there are new facets for me. I see your humour, I feel your wanderlust, I hear your voice. I recognize the heart of you in these, Phryne, and it just makes me love them more.” He shrugged self-consciously at the confession - which had, perhaps, been less skating around and more leaping headfirst than was their usual style - and stole his whisky back just for something to do with his hands.

She looked at him then, a funny sort of smile on her face, before leaning over to kiss him softly.

“You’re a terrible romantic, Jack Robinson,” she said, her usual teasing tone only slightly undercut by the unusual roughness of her voice, and the fact that she sounded so exceptionally fond as she said it.

He chuckled, relieved by her reaction. “Well, you’re the only one who thinks so, love.”

“Good,” she said definitively, then winked as she stood. “Less competition that way.”

He shook his head; as though she ever had to worry.

With one last smile at him, Phryne gathered her bags back up and headed towards the house. She opened the door to enter, but stopped herself short, pausing for a moment in the doorway before turning back around to face him.

“You know, Jack, I’m just about through with my new book. If you’d like to read the first draft.”

“Absolutely,” he said eagerly, knowing how rare it was for her to share a story before it went to print.

“Good. And I think… well you might find yourself in that one.”

“Why?” he asked, with some trepidation, remembering the last time she’d named a character after him; he still got grief about it down at the station. “Are you giving Fern a great romance, or perhaps a long-suffering copper to harangue?

“Oh no, darling, it’s much better than either of those; I’m giving her a partner.”

Then Phryne disappeared into the house, leaving Jack alone once more with his summer reading for company.

And, just like that, he loved her even more.

Beneath the twinkling lights in their backyard garden, Jack smiled to himself and went back to his book, feeling closer than ever to true magic.

-------

August Prompt List

[tintinwrites]

if i loved you | Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: It’s been a bit since I’ve wrote about my mans Poe!

Rating: 18+

Warning: P in V sex which is not wrapped up but please wrap it up with your partners. Naughty words. A wee angsty.

Word count: 2,823, apparently!!

Summary: You and Poe are good friends who finally admit to each other that you want more in case the First Order wins the war.

GIF credit: @damerondjarin​ (thank you baby!)

Tags: @damerondjarin​ @bisexual-space-slut​ @writefightandflightclub​

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

Poe Dameron was beautiful.

It wasn’t because of the head full of dark, thick curls or the perfectly sculpted lines of his face — though, those were obviously very nice too — but because he was kind. He was good.

He was funny, and brave, and charming, and the man you trusted most in the entire galaxy.

There were times he could be reckless or perhaps a bit too sly, but he never did things to purposely hurt people.

He was absolutely beautiful, and that was the only way to describe it without going on about him for hours.

Even with his laughter faked and the war heavy in his gaze, you thought he was the grandest person you’d ever known.

This was why you were a little in love with him just like everyone else was, why your heart seemed to forget its rhythm every time you saw him, why you’d hold his hand or lay your head on his shoulder without question since you knew it grounded him and reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

He walked over to you now as you spoke to Rose and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and you leaned into his side like you were lovers who held each other, your fingers trailing up and down his back through the smooth material of his shirt.

“You mind if I borrow her?” His arm wrapped around your neck and pulled you in closer, and you rolled your eyes as your free hand moved to grab onto his wrist.

“Should I be worried about him choking you out if I let him take you?” Rose asked with a teasing edge.

“Oh, she’s fine.” He expertly tightened his arm on you, enough to drag you with him easily and not hurt you as he did.

“Wait, no, Rose, help!” Now both your hands were reaching up to hold onto his arm, letting your feet drag to make it hard for him to pull you along.

Poe grunted, Rose rolled her eyes, and you laughed; these were some of your favorite moments, between the worrying, and the uncertainty, and the dogfights, and the combat, where you and your friends were a few dumbasses grappling for joy.

You were turned around and released from Poe’s hold, nudged forward to walk down the path made by your boots that lead to the spot you went to think or cry.

It was under a tree with leaves that hung down like strings and fluttered in the rare breeze on Ajan Kloss, and Poe found you there one day when he saw footprints in the mud; it became his place, too, and that somehow made you love it more, knowing there was someone else who needed to think by themselves and considered the tree to be as comforting as you did.

Especially when that person was Poe, the bravest man you knew needing to take a step back just like someone a little less important and a whole lot less brave like you.

“Sit down.” He nudged you in the side, laughing when you shoved him and stumbling over to sit with his back against the trunk of the tree.

“Did you bring me here to be demanding and frustrating?” You sat in front of him, both of you sitting cross-legged with your knees brushing briefly before you sat back in the dirt.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you with gentle eyes and a soft smile, and you squirmed a bit self-consciously under his gaze.

You looked away from him quickly and ran your fingers through a patch of soft dirt.

“You feel it, too?” His head was tilted when you glanced up at him almost shyly.

“Feel what?” You knew that Poe was incredible and you’d always wanted something a little more than friendship, but you didn’t want to assume that he was talking about that.

“The pull. To me. To you. The way I see you across a room full of pilots and technicians and it’s like we’re the only two people there.”

“You...what?”

You understood exactly what he meant, thinking back on all the times someone had been talking to you and you didn’t hear a word they said because Poe walked into the room, but he was saying it to you? And so casually?

Your heart was fluttering if that were possible at the sincerity in his eyes, the slight nervousness as if you were going to reject him.

“You’re one of my closest friends, but I...I don’t know. I always thought there was something more and that we, uh, we never got the timing right.” He scratched the back of his head, laughing softly at himself.

“No, no, I know, but I...I thought I was a little infatuated with you like everyone else is.” Your hands were fidgeting and you looked down at them.

One of Poe’s hands slid over yours, stilling them and making you look up at him. “I was just thinking that maybe since we’re gonna have to deal with the First Order soon, we found the time.”

You paused. “Are you doing the ‘this world is ending so let’s fuck’ speech right now?”

He immediately reached up to cup your cheeks and tilted your head a little to make you look into his eyes. “If I was doing something like that, I would’ve picked anyone. But with you, it’s more, like...I’ve wanted to do this with you and I want to do it now if—”

“Don’t,” you said quickly because you knew what he was going to say.

He wanted to be with you if the First Order won, like this was the only way the two of you would be able to show each other how deeply you cared.

You wanted it too; you wanted to be with him that closely, to show him how beautiful he was and maybe be shown that you were just as beautiful to him.

And you were thinking that the First Order really could win and Poe wouldn’t know how much you wanted him or admired him, but you pushed that thought back.

This would just be the two of you admitting that you wanted to be more than friends.

“You can say no, obviously, I’d never expect anything of you because of my position or because of the First Order—” Poe’s eyes widened when you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands squeezing his knees tightly.

“I want this, but I want it to be about...about us and what we want from each other, not about the war.” Your lips were practically against his as you told him this, not liking the thought of pulling away from him even though the kiss was quick and simple.

“Yes, okay, sweetheart, I love that.”

Poe was nodding like a fool with how much he loved such a small kiss, reaching up to cup your face as he kissed you fully. He ran the tip of his tongue along your lips and immediately pushed it between them as your mouth opened with a pleased gasp, moaning at the taste of you.

You moved onto your knees to kiss him at an angle that allowed you to move closer, your hands going to his wrists as he gently held your jaw.

He let you pull away when you needed, but you pressed a couple more little kisses to his lips that he was happy to indulge. “You wanna go to my quarters?”

“No. Here. Please? Under our tree.” You ran the tip of your nose over his which made his eyelids flutter.

“Take off your clothes,” he said simply, yanking his shirt over his head and then lifting his hips with his back against the tree to shove his pants down.

You laughed at his eagerness to be with you here under the swinging leaves, moving back and standing up to take off your shirt and pants. You were wearing underwear unlike somebody, which you quickly took off too.

“Even prettier than I imagined it.” His eyes roamed over you with a dreamy smile on his lips.

You walked over to him and moved to straddle his lap, wiggling slightly when something pressed into your thigh. “Bigger than I imagined.”

He groaned, his hands sliding up to caress your hips. “Is that good?”

“You wanna know what people like to say about you, Dameron?” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Mm?” He gazed into your eyes as his hand moved between your legs and stroked over your folds, smiling at your little gasp and the buck of your hips.

“They say...you’re so nice that your cock is probably huge.”

“What’s your opinion?”

His middle finger was circling your clit and it took you a moment to remember what the hell words meant. “I think...you’re big, but it wouldn’t matter either way because you’re already showing how kind and talented you are by touching me.”

“Oh? This talent?” He pushed a finger into you slowly, letting his mouth drop open with yours before he grinned, pumping his finger slowly.

“Fuck, Poe.” You gripped onto the hair at the nape of his neck as you rode his finger.

“Stars, you’re even more beautiful when you’re turned on, you know that?” He leaned forward and started with a kiss pressed to your chin, which quickly moved down your neck as you tilted your head back for him.

What could you say to such a sweet compliment like that, especially with his finger thrusting into you and his soft lips pressing against all the perfect spots on your neck? You leaned into him and played with his curls absentmindedly.

He’d been stroking a spot inside you that made your hips buck each time his finger brushed over it so you were pretty wet, but you let out a loud, long moan when his thumb moved to your clit anyway.

His thumb tapped against your clit a few times, building something up with the rhythm, and you knew you were capable of coming from that even if they were only short, little taps.

You were honestly close to orgasm with his attentions to your neck and between your legs, your clit tingling and your cunt fluttering as a way to tell you that you were about to tumble into that pleasure, but you quickly grabbed onto Poe’s hand.

A fading orgasm was always disappointing, but there was something you wanted. “Not until you’re inside of me, Poe.”

His jaw dropped slightly, but he nodded and pulled his hand away from you, using your wetness to stroke his cock.

“Let me.” You slid a hand down from his hair to wrap around him, stroking him gently and watching with a smile as his head thunked back against the tree trunk.

“Perfect...you’re perfect...can’t believe I waited until now...I should’ve…” He trailed off when your lips pressed against his and that was kind of the point; you didn’t want to hear him say that he should’ve done this sooner, should’ve been with you, should’ve asked him into your bed the moment you knew you liked him as more than a friend.

Or...should’ve asked you into his bed the moment he knew he liked you as more than a friend.

Were these your thoughts or Poe’s thoughts?

You broke away from the kiss with a little gasp and leaned your head against his. “Can I take you inside me? Please, Poe?”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You need to ask?”

“Just want to be sure you want me.” You moved a little bit closer, hips nestling into his as you lined his cock up with your entrance.

“Want you? I’ve wanted you since the day I fucking met you, baby. Didn’t think I could ever want someone that much. Then I wanted you more when I...fuck...knew you.” His pause had been because you sank down onto him and you were so tight and wet that it took him a moment to formulate words.

You were trying to think of how good he felt rather than how you should’ve…

Like he could tell by your tightly closed eyes that you were becoming emotional, he moved his hand back between your legs and rubbed slow circles on your clit, pulling a moan out of you.

Your hips started to slowly move up and down on him as you hid your face against his neck, listening to the gorgeous sound of his moans at the friction of your movements.

His other hand was tickling your side, doing his best to keep your emotions from wandering away from what you were doing with him in this moment.

“Sorry, I’m...I’m close.” Your hips jerked a little bit, still wound up from his touches before you’d taken him inside you.

“It’s okay, baby. Let go for me.” He kissed the side of your head as he pressed more firmly on your clit.

It took a few more strokes from his fingers before you stopped moving and gripped onto him tightly, letting out a low moan as your walls clenched down around him.

He groaned, closing his eyes tightly and helping you to ride out your orgasm as long as you could; his stamina was something he liked to pride himself on, but you felt so damn nice, and you were pleasured, and there were so many emotions that he pushed back against the tree and held onto your hips as he fucked up into you in search of his own climax.

A slight whine fell from his lips as he thrust up into you as deeply as he could and spilled his cum into you, happy and turned on enough to come so quickly since he knew you’d orgasmed.

When you came down from your high to the sound of Poe panting in your ear, so close to him, so safe, and...and...you should’ve done this so much sooner. You would’ve had time to laugh together, and make love, and kiss in so many different ways, and make some kind of life together before…

You didn’t realize you were crying until you heard yourself sob against his neck and he was shushing you, fingers running up and down your back. You couldn’t see it, but he was doing his best to hold back tears.

Was this all you were going to do with Poe before the First Order killed or imprisoned you both? How much time had you wasted without him because you were too timid to tell him you wanted him?

Being with him like this only made you regret the life you wouldn’t enjoy together even more.

You were so glad to have shown him how beautiful you thought he was and that you were able to do this with him, but you wanted him more now than you ever did.

“Shh, it’s okay, we’re gonna win, okay, baby?” He said softly, unconvincingly. “We’re gonna kick Kylo Ren’s pasty ass and then we can do anything we want. You wanna fuck in every possible way? Done. You wanna go relax on a planet in...fuck, I don’t even know how long? We can do that. You want a family? I’d love that, too. You wanna get married? I’d do it right now if you wanted.” He frowned as you hiccuped into him. “You listening to me?”

“We’re gonna win.” You said softly, unconvincingly.

He sat there with you as he silently thought of his own concerns of not winning the war, holding you and stroking you until you’d stopped crying and snuggled into him. “I was serious, by the way.”

You looked up at him with your brow furrowed slightly. “What?”

“I’d marry you right now if you want. Take down the First Order with my wife by my side.” He was smiling so sweetly that you knew you did want that, even if you’d taken a long time to admit your feelings to him.

“Okay.” You nodded, eyes showing the love you didn’t realize the pull to him was.

“You want to?”

“Let’s go get married.”

And you did, and it was on a whim, and you were giggling instead of crying as you vowed yourself to your best friend and ran off to his quarters like newlyweds that were going to build something great.

He took the ring from the chain on his neck off once you’d made love again and put it on your finger, musing against your lips about how it fit perfectly.

Maybe it would make it easier, you thought, to lose the war with a ring that symbolized what seemed like love on your finger, knowing that you were Poe’s and he was yours as Kylo Ren gloated over his victory.

But, stars, you hoped you won and this could be so much more.

[twokinkybeans]

Daddy Ain’t So Tough [Starker]

Summary: Sometimes, the word Daddy doesn't necessarily mean you're the one in charge. Or: In which Peter and Tony explore their new little fantasies. Warnings/tags: Nff, smut, incest play/kink, daddy kink, daddy!Tony, bottom!Tony, sub!Tony, top!Peter, dom!Peter, restraints / light bondage, begging & teasing. Notes: HI DEARS! This idea has been in my head for quite a while now and I am so excited that I finally wrote it! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS/TAGS CAREFULLY. There's some kinks in there not everyone might enjoy. If you do like it, please do continue :) :) <3 And thank y'all for your neverending support! -Kim

Read here on AO3!!

-

“Daddy,” Peter giggles as he straddles Tony’s hips. He trails his fingers down the man’s gorgeous chest. It’s everything Peter could’ve ever dreamed about- even if he hadn’t done it consciously so. The arc reactor is fascinating to him, as are the scars scattered around it. Obviously, the hard lines of the man’s abs are very welcome too. God, he looks so handsome and strong.

“Peter, fuck-” Tony mutters under his breath. Peter simply smirks and he lowers his full weight onto the man’s crotch, causing Tony’s lips to part in a silent gasp. Yeah. Handsome, strong, and entirely Peter’s

It’s only very recently that they made this, eh, discovery. It’s a weird power shift. Contradictory, even. Yet, the shared pleasure shortcircuits their minds more than they’ve ever experienced before. Nothing’s ever been missing, but this? This is a whole new layer Peter aches to delve into.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good, Daddy. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be ruined by me?” “Yes, baby boy,” Tony lets out a breathy moan. “I’m so ready for you.” The older man tugs on his restraints in a desperate attempt to lay his hands on the striking, youthful body on top of him. With his 22 years old, Peter is absolutely breathtaking. Strong, ripped muscles to hold him down as no one else ever had. His legs tremble at the mere thought. “Petey- please.”

“Mmmmmh- that’s more like it.” Peter puts his hands down right next to Tony’s head and leans in to kiss the man’s warm lips. Peter moans when Tony is eager enough to immediately take a chance and suck Peter’s lower lip into his mouth. His cock twitches against Tony’s stomach and a hot surge of arousal courses right through him. Fuck. Fuck. Tony - ever-in-control-I’ll-handle-this-myself-Tony - is the neediest sub Peter ever imagined possible. “Nu-uh, Daddy, don’t get ahead of yourself now-” Peter murmurs and pulls back, smirking at Tony’s subconscious attempt to sneak in one more chaste kiss. Peter sits up straight, his hands finding their way to Tony’s hard chest again. His fingertips brush past the man’s soft nipples, earning him a loud groan. “So hot,” Peter whispers gently. He scoots down a little, now sitting on the man’s thighs, and he leans in again. “Bet you’ve been thinking about my dick in your ass all day, uh?” He sucks Tony’s right nipple into his mouth. No longer soft, nor gentle, but sucking harshly. Tony’s hips buck up wildly.  “God-fucking-” “Now, now,” Peter laughs, letting go of the nipple and hovering over the left one. Still awfully untouched. “Didn’t think you’d be this filthy when you raised me.”

There. He did it. He crossed the line again.

Peter looks up and swallows, checking quickly if Tony’s still up for- well… This. Tony’s cheeks flush a bright red and he bites down his bottom lip. He stares right back at Peter- also checking up on the younger boy. They’re still treading new grounds, new fantasies, something neither of them dares to admit out loud just yet. “Well? Did you think you’d be laying here, legs spread wide, for me? What would people think uh?” “Peter-” “Well?” “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck.” Tony babbles, his fingers trembling as he clenches them together. Tony is aware that he has to cue Peter to go on. That he wants in fact pretend to be Peter’s actual Daddy. It’s so hard to say it, though. It’s so awfully wrong and yet his dick aches with want. Peter looks down at him, eyes dark and expectant- waiting for a sign.

“If I raised you so well,” he breathes shakingly, “-then why aren’t your fucking your old man just yet?” Peter scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at him. His eyes are twinkling though, teasing and cunning and Tony whimpers quietly.  “You need it that bad, eh?” “Yes. Baby yes.” 

After that everything turns hazy for Peter. He growls low in his throat and crawls even further down, kneeling in between Tony’s legs and spreading them apart until the tip of his cock brushes against Tony’s already slick and prepped hole.  “All those times you punished me,” Peter rushes out, not knowing where the words come from but they feel so right. “Now you ain’t so tough.” “Just take me, kid.”

Peter doesn’t waste a damn second and he pushes inside without remorse, replacing the heat his fingers had been at a few minutes before. Tony’s eyes screw shut and Peter relishes in the feeling of this handsome, powerful man becoming such a proud bottom underneath his touch. He digs his fingers into Tony’s thighs, lifting his boyfriend’s legs up until they’re wrapped around his waist. God, Tony’s so warm and soft and tight and Peter bites back a pathetic whimper as he inches forward even more- the new position allowing him to slide in deeper.  “Call me that again,” Peter groans demandingly. “Wanna hear you lose it for me.” He draws back slightly, now gripping at Tony’s round ass and pushes in again with such force that Tony shifts upwards in the sheets. Peter’s still holding back, not using all his Spider powers, but some. Enough to make Tony’s eyes roll back. “Please, please kiddo, fuck your Daddy.” This time, Peter can’t help the high-pitched noise escaping his throat. He thrusts forward harsh- again and again and again. His movements accompanied by the loud and suspicious creaking of his small single bed and Tony’s choked off moans as pleasure washes over his lover’s face. Peter’s cock almost hurts with how badly he wants to release himself. Fill up the man’s ass with his cum. He wants to claim him, take charge.

Every single drag back and forth has him see stars. Peter’s breath hitches in his throat and he ignores the light burn at his knees where it creates friction with the sheets. It only makes him more feral. More possessive. More… In charge. Nothing else matters right now. All that matters is the sweet melody of Peter’s name falling from Tony’s lips over and over again. The burning pit deep in his stomach grows higher and bigger- warning Peter he’s going tip over that very edge soon. “Daddy, f- ah! Look at you, legs spread wide for your own blood. Fucking filthy, and you even like it- don’t you?” Peter chokes out. “Does it feel good knowing that you no longer own me?” “K-kid-” “Not anymore, not anymore. Tony.” 

Peter reaches down and curls his fingers around the thick, hot shaft of Tony’s cock. He squeezes, wants to drag his hand down and- “Aaah! P-Peter! Fuck don’t stop don’t stop dont-” Tony’s words turn into an incomprehensible string of syllables as white-hot come rains down onto his own chest. Peter watches in awe how the man’s face contorts with pleasure and a hint of blissful shame. His tight hole clenches around Peter’s still aching cock- and every fiber of his being wants to enjoy the same overwhelming euphoria. He quickly scans Tony’s face once, not sensing a hint of discomfort as he speeds up his thrusts. Not in the slightest. “Peter yes please fuck me through it. Show your Daddy how it’s done.”

Peter whines and drops his head forward. Curls stick to his forward where a sheen of sweat had gathered. He’s gonna burst. He can’t hold it back. Not even if he wanted to. His primal instincts have taken full charge of his body and he pounds into the slick heat beneath him until finally, his mind blanks out when filthily sweet sensations shake him to his core. He spills inside of Tony, feels how his cum mixes with the now warm lube. How Tony clenches around him to not lose a single fucking drop.  Peter lets out a shaky laugh, in complete wonderment of how good this can feel. How much better this is than his own hand ever had been. And when finally, after what seems to be infinity, his eyes flutter open; he’s met with the deep, loving brown eyes of the man he’s been able to call his lover for the past three and a half years. 

“Peter,” Tony whispers, body limp and soft and spent. Arching into Peter’s warmth. Peter cracks a smile and carefully lets go of Tony’s legs, leaning down to cover the man’s body with his own. Their legs tangle together while Peter’s cock softens inside of the man. He doesn’t care it’ll make a mess. Peter hums quietly and grabs his blanket to pull it on top of them.  “Tony,” Peter whispers back. Tony smiles, suddenly shy. A feature that will always leave Peter amazed. “Was that too much?” Peter asks. Not out of insecurity, but because he wants to gauge how his boyfriend has experienced it. Tony chuckles, turning his gaze sideways. “No.” He pauses and shakes his head. “That was… Perfect.” “Yes,” Peter agrees. His hands gently massaging their way up Tony’s arms to undo the restraints. “I really, really, liked it too.” “The whole kid thing hit home, uh?” “Fuck yes,” Peter grins. “It’s so… You. But also a good different. It makes it feel natural even when it’s play.” “Agreed.”

Tony groans when he finally lowers his arms now that he is no longer tied to the headboard. His arms wrap around Peter’s shoulders, gently caressing him. Peter smiles, his cock now slipping out of Tony fully, and he nuzzles his face against the man’s neck to nib at the skin there. “You sore?” “If I say yes, will you treat me with a back rub and hot chocolate later?” “Of course,” Peter teases along. Tony beams and nods. “Yes. Very, very sore.” “Turn around then.” “Yes, kid.”

[an-organized-confusion]

Mea Culpas & Revelations: The Play

And then the co-conspirator wrote some heartwarming/angsty Creativitwins/DLAMPR stuff (all cred to him here, basically a drabble he wrote on the fly):

Unknown Speaker: "What is the real reason you and Remus don't get along?"

Roman: unintelligible mumbling and forefingers pushing against each other.

Logan: "Speak up." Roman: "We both have to be at the center of attention. We get mad jealous of each other when the other gets more attention." Roman: "And then I chase him with a sword, and he attacks me with a spiked morningstar. It's just best if we're never in the same place at the same time..." Roman: "So we divided what we covered creatively..."

Logan: "And you agreed on this deal?" Roman: "YES, well... at first... But then when I noticed Thomas was disturbed by Remus I started working to push him to the side so that he'd pay more attention to me..." Roman: "And then I may have started a whisper campaign cause Janus told me that it was a good idea..." Remus: from a distance, "Whisper campaign, WHISPER CAMPAIGN. YOU MOTHER DUCKING ASSHAT. YOU STRAIGHT UP TOLD EVERYONE THAT I WAS GOING TO GET THOMAS MURDERED IF THEY DIDN'T LOCK ME OUT."

Logan: That... is partially on me. I apologize Remus, we were younger and the world was far more black and white than we see it now. Statistically speaking your suggestions were going to result in Thomas's death... If he always acted on them." Remus: "And how often did he act on them?!" Logan: pained, "Almost never. You could occasionally get him to lick things, or smell things that were clearly horrendously foul. But for the most part he's never acted on anything you suggested that could've killed him." Remus: "And so you all decided to lock me behind that door." Patton: "Not without misgivings." Virgil: "Not without feeling certain we were making a mistake.” Logan: "I made an error in judgement." Roman: silent

Virgil: "i was the first to volunteer to check on you..." Remus: sighing, "I know, Tickle-Me-Emo, I know. How did that work out for you?" Virgil: glaring at Logan and Roman, "They locked the door behind me." Logan: "I made a series of errors that year. I had deemed that you were the next greatest detriment to Thomas's ability to function. I allowed cognitive bias to cloud my eyes and disregarded the important things you did for Thomas in return for the things I deemed detrimental." Roman: still silent

Janus: "I'll admit, I went in after Virgil. I'm not sure who locked the door behind me." Patton: hanging head in shame, "I'm sorry Janus, that was me. I couldn't accept your existence at that point in Thomas's development. I was wrong, and Thomas didn't learn some of life's most important lessons until it happened the hard way." Remus: "And that's how we stayed, relatively muted to Thomas for oh so long." Janus: "You know there's just one thing that confuses me still." Virgil: glancing between them, "Why the door unlocked?" Janus: "Yes, that is the final question left to answer isn't it?"

Everyone looking between themselves.

Virgil: "You know I always sat nearest to the door. So imagine my surprise when suddenly I heard the lock click one day."

Everyone looks to Virgil.

Virgil: "So imagine my surprise when I turn the knob and the door opened back up." Remus: "Did you see who unlocked it?" Virgil: "No, looked like they did it from a distance using some string."

Virgil: "You've been awfully quiet for awhile now Roman." Roman: blushing, "Yea." Virgil: "Anything you want to contribute to this discussion?" Roman: "Um... I suck at apologies?" Virgil: "Yes, that is well known." Roman: "And admitting when I've been, or actively am wrong." Janus: "Yes, I spent years helping you deny that." Roman: "And I have a lot of feelings of Imposter Syndrome." Remus: "Well Imagine that, you tried claiming to be the entirety of Thomas's creativity." Roman: nods, but falls back into silence

Roman: faintly, "I did it" Remus: "Speak up brother, I know you're more than capable of projecting your voice to the audience." Roman: "I UNLOCKED THE DOOR." Janus: Jamming fingers in ears, "He said projecting to the audience, not deafening them." Virgil: "So the guy who insisted on starting this whole debacle is the one who ended it? I guess the next question is, why?" Roman: "I realized that I wasn't able to act that well without Janus's help to mask my own thoughts." Janus: nodding thoughtfully, "Surely that can't be the only reason." Roman: "I also realized that Virgil gave me the push I needed to write better material, cause I got complacent and coasted on past successes." Virgil: rolling his eyes, "Yes, yes you did. But, you had to have known we'd never have left Remus in that room." Roman: softly, "Was kind of counting on that." Remus: "Speak up brother, unless you want me to lend you my ear to speak into." Roman: chuckling, "I missed that."

Group does a double take.

Logan: "What?" Roman: "I missed my brothers sense of humor. Sure it's sometimes gross, or outright revolting. But he knew how to tell a good dirty joke." Remus: balling up his fists, "You let them out cause you wanted to hear me tell dirty jokes?!" Janus: placing a hand on Remus's shoulder, "No, look at his eye direction and movement as he's talking. I've studied his tells for years; He's lying." Roman: shouting, "BECAUSE I MISSED YOU. DO YOU THINK I FELT GOOD LOCKING MY OWN BROTHER AWAY?"

Roman: to himself, “You’re just as much an integral part of my identity as I am a part of yours. I’ve denied parts of myself all this time and it hurts Remus. It hurts far more than I ever thought it would. Not that I gave it much thought to begin with, I never was the type to give much forethought to harebrained schemes.”

Roman: "Yea, I've been impersonating both of us this whole time, and that felt great at first because Thomas only paid attention to me. But then I realized I don't enjoy always being in the spotlight. I'm not great at one man plays. I need co-stars, or perhaps just a brother. Sure we got jealous of each other when Thomas paid more attention to the other one of us, but we still had fun competing for that attention. It felt hollow without you, like this wasn't a victory."

Roman: "I'm just... tired. I needed a distraction from Thomas's gaze. Then I realized there were 3 perfectly good distractions locked behind a door." Virgil: murderous stare, "Distractions?!" Roman: holding hands up in a placating manner and in surrender, "At first, yes. But with each of you coming back out of that door I noticed that Thomas seemed... more alive. More... Himself, than he'd been since..." Remus: growling, "Since you had us locked behind the door." Roman: nodding regretfully, "I took a joke from Janus the wrong way. It was a moment of weakness when I realized that I could feasibly get away with it. Logan was far more literal back then." Janus: groaning, "Yea, remind me never to tell you a joke." Roman: chuckling in spite of himself, "Indeed, you're too good at telling them. Sounded like serious advice at the time." Virgil: "Yes, he's unfortunately a master of the deadpan face. I'm pretty sure only Remus can tell when he's joking." Remus: "Pshaw. I simply laughed at everything on the off chance he was joking. He couldn't tell if I was manic or appreciating his humor that way." Roman: "Anyways, Virgil you brought back that creative spark I'd been looking for all this time. At first I resented that you had it. But then over time I realized it's not that you had a spark, but that you were the spark I needed. Sure sometimes Logan unintentionally says something that sparks an idea, but you were always there pushing me to do better. Throwing out ideas that would make the audience laugh instead of boo because you were so conscious of their mood."

Virgil: "Or cheer. Plays can't be all laughter." Janus: "I believe comedies beg to differ." Virgil: "People can only laugh so much before they feel numb, and trust me; I'd know." Roman: "Then when Deceit finally decided to announce his presence, I felt like I was starting to get back into the groove of acting. The small things came back to me, like how to control my facial muscles to portray scenes better." Janus: "Those can be difficult to control without really focusing on them." Roman: "But the biggest thing was that I kept seeing signs of my brother all the time. He's in all of us in his own way. Logan's love of 'mad science', Virgil's love of 'horror' films, Janus's willingness to push the boundaries of what Thomas is comfortable with, and even some of Patton's.... Misunderstandings have been borne of Remus's influence."

Logan: looking at Patton, "Adultery, really?" Remus: giggling uncontrollably, "I still can't believe I taught him what that word meant before you got a chance to." Patton: blushing furiously, "I have said that to others sooooooo many times through Thomas. They must all think we're idiots." Virgil: rubbing his arms self consciously, "Pretty sure they don't. Logan is pretty good at damage control." Logan: surprised, "How did you know?" Virgil: "I sat closest to the door, the entire time. I was just waiting for someone to open it back up. It had a window, you know? We could still see things going on, and exert some influence on Thomas. But Janus and Remus mostly got bored and wandered away a lot." Logan: nodding, "I suppose that makes sense, and why Thomas always exhibited some degree of anxiety even after... I will never be able to say I'm sorry enough for the actions I've done. I can only hope to prove through my own actions and behavior from now on that I'm repentant for them." Virgil: "Aye, and I'll keep an eye on that myself. I'll damn well let you know if you're being an asshat again." Logan: chuckling, "Thanks, I need a good reminder that though the chance is infinitesimally small, I can make mistakes." Remus: growing bored, "That's great and all, but Roman still hasn't told us what I brought back to Thomas!"

Roman: looking at his brother as if it's obvious, "Seriously?" Remus: nodding fiercely, "I want to know!" Roman: embarrassed, "You brought color back to Thomas's world. The metaphorical paint palette has been lacking a good stark contrast. Plus we'd never be able to come up with something like Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus" without you to fill in the creative bits that I'm not good with." Patton: "He means that he sucks at them." Roman: looking at Patton shocked, "What?"

Patton: shrugging, "It's the truth Roman. I've sugar coated that knowledge all this time cause Remus wasn't around to demonstrate how to do it properly." Janus: in mock surprise, "Why Patton, did I just hear that you've been lying to not hurt Roman's feelings?" Patton: staring Janus straight in the eyes, "Yes, yes you did. You were absolutely right that there are times when it's not only appropriate, but necessary to lie. I realized that without Remus, Thomas had to have Roman around and functioning. He couldn't have a day off, so to speak. So I may have helped to inflate his ego to the point it's at to this day." Janus: nodding smugly, "Ok." Remus: "So what you're saying Roman. is that you couldn't:

♫ Ever hear the werewolf cry to the red blood moon Or asked the grinning cannibal why he grinned Can you sing with all the voices of the trash mountains Can you paint with all the colors of the foul wind?♫

Roman: scrunching face in disgust, "I loved that song." Remus: chuckling, "I know."

Roman: "But... Yes. I was wrong, you were all important parts of Thomas. I have stewed on that knowledge for awhile now and I've hated myself more by the day for that moment of selfish whim. *crying* I missed Virgil, Janus, but most importantly I missed my brother."

Janus: sharing a glance with Remus, "That's a sincere admission." Remus: nodding, "We'll never get along like we used to." Patton: "I think that's fine actually. We've all gotten older, and changed in one way or another. Nothing remains in stasis forever. Not the body, brain, or emotions." Logan: "I've learned a lot since then, and I've known for some time that I was wrong. I just... couldn't bring myself to confront my past." Virgil: "Yes, that's something I had to push you to do."

Janus: "Well, there's really only one thing left to discuss then." Remus: "Indeed." Patton: "You don't mean?" Logan: "I'm pretty sure they do." Roman: "Are we sure Thomas is ready?" Virgil: "Ready or not, he'll have to deal with it eventually. Best to treat it like a Band-aid and rip it off quick."

Faint tapping comes from a table in the distance.

Unknown Speaker: "So you expect me to show up?" Logan: "It is inevitable, you are an aspect of Thomas." Patton: "But not necessarily the final aspect of Thomas." Janus: "We all rely on you in one way or another." Roman: "Ditto." Remus: "My brother is emotionally overloaded, ignore him. I think you should come in like a wrecking ball when you make your appearance into his life. Just Kool-Aid man your way into the room." Patton: "I think that's a terrible idea. Do you know how much we'd have to pay in repair costs if he did that?" Unknown speaker: chuckling, "In time, perhaps."

Unknown speaker: "I believe we're done for this round table of the psyche?" Logan: "I've got nothing productive to add." Virgil: "I've certainly enjoyed having these again." Patton: "I feel like we made a lot of progress." Janus: "I feel like I'm gonna hurl if you keep up that always positive facade." Remus: "I CAN HURL ON COMMAND, DO YOU WANT TO SEE?" Everyone else: screaming, "NO!"

Unknown Speaker: "Very well then, I'm gonna head back to my mind palace. Thomas will meet me, eventually. If it's necessary."

[kyber-kisses]

Cracked

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: spn level gore, cursing, I think that’s it-

Summary: When the reader gets knocked out by a powerful witch, Dean and Sam race to find a cure before it’s too late.

A/n: my first one-shot in who knows how long! I’m so happy I finally wrote something that didn’t turn into a series! Anyways I hope you enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! (also its hella long, ye be warned)

“Is she still out?”

“Yeah Dean, shes still out.”

Dean let out a string of curse words as he turned his attention back towards the road, his brother sitting in the back seat with a very unconscious Y/N in his arms.

“Dammit. Dammit. Dam-“

“Okay, dude you need to calm down. She still alive, she’s not dying.”

“But what if she is?!” Dean whipped his head around once more to stare at Sam, eyes full of panic. “We don’t know what that witch hit her with!”

“Well can you at least wait to freak out until we actually know what’s going on?”

Flexing his fingers on the steering wheel, Dean let out a huff before falling silent. He tried to push his worry down but as he got closer to Bobby’s house he only felt it rise. Every few seconds he brought his eyes to the rear view mirror, checking on both you and Sam. That witch had been harder than expected to kill and she had knocked you out with some sort of blast, now they were just waiting for whatever effects it brought on.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“She’s kinda getting warm. . . We need to get her back to Bobby’s.”

Clenching his jaw, Dean nodded. “I know, I know I’m trying.” Hissing through his teeth he pressed his foot further down on the gas, the impalas speedometer quickly rising right along with Deans worry.

*. *. *. *. *.

Ten minutes later Dean was practically kicking down the front door of the old hunters home, your body limp in his arms as he quickly moved over the threshold, Sam close behind.

“Bobby?!”

Normally at the sound of his name being called the man would have grumbled and whispered a what now under his breath, but the panic in Deans voice had him shooting out of his desk chair like it was on fire.

“Dean? Sam?”

Dean payed no attention to his name being called, instead moving past the startled old man so he could gently set you down on the old cot in the living room.

“Dammit, man. She’s burning up-“ Deans voice shaking as he pressed the back of his hand to your head.

“What the hell happened?! I thought you guys said the hunt was going fine?” Dropping his book back on the desk he moved across the room towards where you lay unconscious, practically having to pry Dean away from you so he could assess the situation.

“It’s was! And then the evil skank hit her with something and knocked her out cold!”

“And her temperatures been rising for the past ten minutes.” Sam added, dropping their gear bags on the already cluttered floor. “You have any idea what we can do?”

“Not really. Try and keep her fever down until we can figure out what exactly she hit her with?” Bobby shrugged with a sigh. “It’s kinda hard to help her when we don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Alright, yeah okay-“ Dena breathed, still slightly out of breath as he wiped the back of his forehead with his hand, already turning towards the kitchen and moving away.

Bobby watched him go with a confused look before turning to Sam. “Is he alright?”

The younger Winchester only shrugged. “I have no idea. He’s been acting like this ever since she went down. Full blown panic and all fidgety. It’s definitely not like him.”

“No. No it ain’t.” Bobby murmured, stepping out of the way as Dean came back, the two watching as he went straight to your bedside and took a seat next to you, putting cold compresses on your forehead and wrists.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Dean weren’t particularly fond of each other. Enemies was too strong a word. . . It was more like you both just found the other to be mildly annoying. And seeing Dean so worried about you? Well that was not normal. Not normal at all.

“Dean, you doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah why wouldn’t I be?” Quickly whipping his head around he stopped short at the facial expressions he was being given. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Shaking his head, Sam turned towards the hunter besides him. “We should probably start trying to figure out what the hell is happening.”

“I’ll stay here with Y/N, make sure her fever doesn’t spike.”

“Okay. . . We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.” Nudging Sam forward, Bobby gave the older Winchester one last look before departing. The jade eyed hunter still seated at your side, only shifting once to wipe a loose strand of hair away from your face before slipping his hand into yours.

Not normal. Not normal at all

*. *. *. *. *. *.

When you woke up it was dark. . . And freezing. Hair rippled erect on your arms as you shivered, slowly blinking yourself into consciousness. Turning your head you quickly realized you were no longer in the witches home but instead in the messy study of one Bobby Singer, the only light either coming from the bay window next to you where a full moon shone bright or from the kitchen across the room.

A small groan escaped your lips as you tried to shift on the cot, a bolt of pain shooting through your head as you did. Falling back once more you peeled the cloth from your head, looking at it with confusion. What the hell had happened? And where was everyone?

Tossing the cloth away you took a deep breath. It was only after did you hear the hushed voices coming from the kitchen.

Up. You needed to get up.

You moved slowly this time, stretching out your body as you sat up. It felt like you were made of lead, every movement taking twice the effort that it normally did. Shrugging it off you swung your legs over the side of the cot, bracing yourself to get up. You shivered once more, this time feeling the cool perspiration on your skin, which was only cooled further when a soft breeze came through the open window.

Standing up slowly you flinched as your feet came into contact with the cold hardwood floors, the old wood squeaking ever so slightly under your weight. Other then that you crossed the room quietly, heading towards the hushed voices just around the corner. Your body felt like it was being weighed down with lead as you walked, a deep ache in your bones accompanying it.

You didn’t feel right. You felt off.

Using the wall as a somewhat support, you rounded the corner into the kitchen, halting in the doorway. Sam, Dean, and Bobby were seated at the small table, all three of their faces buried in books. It was easy to see they were working on something due to the mountains of lore scattered across the surface of the table.

“What are you guys doing?”

At the sound of your voice all work stopped, three heads looking up in unison in your direction.

“Y/N.”

“You’re up!”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together you gave the brothers a confused look. “Yeah, I’m up. What the hell happened?”

Instead of a clear answer, you watched as Sam suddenly stood up, moving across the room towards you. Once close enough he had the back of his hand pressed to your forehead.

“Her fevers gone, that’s good right?” He spoke, looking over his shoulder at his brother and the old hunter.

Swatting his hand away you took a step back. “I’m sorry, fever?”

“Y/N, you had a temperature of 104 for almost three hours.” Dean spoke up, closing the book in front of him so he could give you his attention.

“What?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

With a shrug you leaned your weight against the door frame. “We were in that house trying to find that witch.”

God, why did you feel so weird? It’s like your feet were encased in cement.

“So you don’t remember getting thrown across the room by her?”

“No. And so what if I did? What does me having a fever have to do with getting thrown by a witch?”

There was silence from the three as they looked between each other, clearly arguing silently over who should say something.

“You think she cursed me don't you?” Letting out a sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren’t cursed. If you really had a fever that bad then that’s probably why you felt so off.

“How you feeling kid?” This time it was Bobby that spoke up, leaning back in his seat to look at you.

“A little dehydrated, but I’m fine.”

“You sure, cause I feel like you should still be in bed-“

“I’m fine, Dean!”

But clearly you weren’t fine, because not a second later you knees suddenly buckled, your hands reaching out for the door frame so you didn’t crash to the floor. There was a series of shouts and all of a sudden Dean was in front of you, and hoisting you up into his arms before you could fall to the wooden floor.

“I got ya, Sweetheart.”

“Dean! Let me go!”

“Would you just let me help you for once?! I’d rather not see you face plant on the floor.” He fired back, adjusting you in his arms as he carried you back the way you had just came, setting you back down on the cot.

A light switch was flicked on as Bobby and Sam followed behind. “What the hell was that?”

“Like I said, I’m probably just dehydrated.”

“I- I’ll go get you some water.” Dean nodded, hesitating for a moment before backing away and heading back towards the kitchen.

“That was not dehydration and you know it.”

The second he was out of earshot you looked up at the remaining people in the room, ignoring Sams comment.. “Okay, why is he being so nice to me?”

“Trust us, we’ve been asking that same question for the past several hours.” Sam sighed, looking back over his shoulder momentarily.

“No, seriously. Dean and I practically bicker 24/7. And now in the span of two minutes he’s picked me up bridal style and gone to get me water. Is he dying? Am I dying?”

“Ya ain’t dying. . . At least not yet.”

“Wow, thanks Bobby. I feel so much better.” Leaning back on the cot, you took a deep breath. It kinda felt like you were dying now that you thought about it. Your body felt heavier than normal, even your eyelids. You weren’t tired though, so that was out of the question.

“Uh here. Sorry it’s not cold.” Dean sighed, stepping back into the room before handing over a glass of water.

“It’s fine. Thank you, Dean.”

“You sure you’re feeling alright? You kinda scared us earlier.” Sinking down into the chair next to the cot, Dean crossed his arms.

You paused mid sip, lowering the glass from your lips. “I mean, I’m sore- like really, really sore but what else do you expect when you get thrown violently across a room?” Leaning down you put the glass next to the cot before resting your elbows on your knees. “But I also feel. . . God this is gonna sound so weird- I feel heavy.”

“Heavy?”

“Yeah, like my bones are encased in concrete. It’s probably nothi-“ your words suddenly died on your lips as you looked down at your lap, your elbows still resting on your knees.

“Y/N?”

Slowly sitting upright, your eyes widened as you suddenly patted down your thigh. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel your leg at all.

“Uhhh-“

Changing tactics as your panic quickly increased you tried squeezing the muscle, but nothing happened. You didn’t even feel the skin dip under the sudden pressure. It felt solid. Like glass or something.

“Y/N! What the hell is going on?!” Too preoccupied to notice the panic in Deans voice you leaned over to roll up the cuff of your pants.

The trio watched as your eyes widened, unable to clearly see what had you so shocked.

“AHhh!”

“What?”

“AHhH!” You repeated, lifting your leg up and into better lighting, gesturing wildly at your limb.

“What the-“

“Oh my god.”

“Holy shit.”

It was still your leg- but at the same time it wasn’t. The light reflected off of it like it was coated in some sort of gloss, and when you lightly tapped your knuckles against it you were met with la light clink.

The three hunters were crowding around you within seconds. Dean crouched down in front of you slowly, eyes going from your leg to your eyes. “Mind if I-“

You shook your head, allowing the hunter to gently lift your leg to get a better look.

“It looks like. . . Porcelain.” Sam mumbled, kneeling down next to his brother, eyes fixated on your leg. “Can you move it?”

“No.”

“Can you feel anything at all?” Dean tilted his head, running his palm over your solidified calf muscle. You shook your head again, eyes still transfixed on the glossy sheen of your leg.

“So I guess we figured out what kind of curse that witch put on you.”

“No shit, Bobby.”

“I’ll go through the lore, see if I can’t find something.” Sam nodded, popping back onto the heels of his feet before quickly moving back towards the kitchen table, Bobby not far behind.

“It doesn’t hurt or anything?” Dean asked quietly, gently putting your leg back down, your heel hitting the floor with a light clack.

“No.”

“We’re gonna fix this, don’t you worry.” He gave you a soft smile before rising to his feet and giving your hand a squeeze. . . Or at least he tried too. Instead his hand only felt cold porcelain, your hand stiff against his own. The two of you exchanging a worried look before looking down, your hand now the same as you leg.

“Yeah, I really don't want to turn into a fucking porcelain doll.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Whatever curse was infecting you spread slowly, and thankfully; painlessly. The only way you could tell it was spreading was when the soreness in different parts of your body suddenly stopped. And sure enough when you looked, you skin was smooth and glossy. It was an odd thing to look at, normal skin slowly giving way to something else entirely.

In the last few hours it had completely taken both of your legs, the entirety of your left arm and most of your torso as well. Unable to move you were forced to stay on the cot, but thankfully Sam, Dean, and Bobby had moved their research into the study so they could keep an eye on you.

“This sucks ass.” You grumbled, using your one good hand to flip through the pages of one of Bobby’s books on hexs. “Please tell me one of you guys have something.”

“Nope, sorry Y/N.”

You let out another groan before slamming the book shut. “When I turn into a life size doll do me a favor and try not to turn me into some extravagant coat rack or mannequin.”

“Oh don’t worry, I was thinking more of a lawn ornament or scarecrow for you.”

“Haha. Your so funny Dean, really I’m crying from laughter.” You deadpanned, saluting him with a middle finger. “Maybe if I’m lucky and I stay like this I’ll be able to flip you off even in death.”

Turning your head away from the group, you chose to look out the window instead. Beyond the pane of glass rain was coming down in sheets, soaking every inch of the salvage yard. Every once in awhile a lightning strike would light up the sky, followed by claps of thunder that vibrated through your body. But it was really your reflection that got you.

It was beginning to spread to your face. Lucky your neck had yet to be taken by the witches curse allowing you a little mobility, but it was beginning to crawl up the side of your face, your cheeks reflecting the flash of lightning beyond the salvage yard. Using your one good hand, you delicately let your fingers dance across your face, the cool materiel beneath them unable to register the touch. Leaning forward to get a better look at your reflection you lightly pressed your cheekbone, hoping to feel something- anything.

Instead you were met with a sharp crack and you had to bite down on your tongue to keep from crying out in horror, your eyes widening as you quickly brought your hand away from your face.

No,no,no,no,no,no-

“Haha! I think I found something!” Dean exclaimed, hoisting whatever book he had in his lap up into the air, unaware of what had happened a few feet away from him.

“Good. . . Because I think you guys need to hurry.” Your voice was soft as you slowly turned your head to face the group, the tone of it catching everyone's attention.

You watched Sam’s eyes widen along with Bobby’s, Deans book dropping from his hands to loudly smack against the floor.

“Y/N, don’t move.”

“I’m trying not to.” You spoke softly, trying to minimize the movement of your face.

The only proper way to describe it was that you had cracked. Literally. Where your face was once unblemished was now a massive spider crack, the point of impact stemming from your cheekbone and spreading across your temple towards the center of your forehead, along with spreading out over the bridge of your nose and going down to meet the corner of your mouth. The cracks only stopping where porcelain ended and skin began.

Y/N, I’m gonna need you to be really still.” The caution in Deans voice adding to the tension as he slowly and very cautiously got up from his seat.

“N-no problem.” As you breathed in you swore you could feel air seeping through the cracks in your cheek. You shivered.

Slowly kneeling down in front of you, Dean allowed his hands to reach for your face, only to stop a moment later, calloused palms hovering millimeters away from your fractured skin. He was afraid that if he touched you in the slightest you would shatter.

“Sam, take a picture of the spell I found in that book. If you guys leave now you might be able to get all the ingredients in time.” Speaking over his shoulder Dean never took his eyes off you. He wanted to talk to you but he was afraid the movement might make the breakage worse. Instead he slid his hand into your good one. “One squeeze for yes, two for no. Does it hurt?”

Feeling the first tears fill your eyes you squeezed his hand twice, watching as he body relaxed slightly. You were scared. . .and deep down you knew Dean was too.

“Dean, I’ll keep an eye on her. You go with Sam.” Bobby suddenly spoke up, giving the hunters shoulder a squeeze.

“What? No! I can’t leave her here!”

“Son, I got her. You and Sam know your way around that witches house better than I would. You’ve already been there once.”

“But-“

“No buts. Get going, your brothers already out the door with the keys.” Bobby sighed, ushering the older Winchester to his feet.

He got him all the way to the doorway before Dean halted to look back at you.

You looked afraid. . . And he wasn’t used to seeing that in you. He didn’t like it. It made him feel sick.

“Look after her for me?”

“I got it, now get going! clocks a tickin.”

*  *   *   *   *

Sam and Dean has maybe been gone two hours when the old hunter finally spoke up again from his place behind his desk, looking up from whatever he was occupied with.

“That boy worries about you, you know that right?”

Letting out a light huff you rolled your eyes before looking back out the window. The curse had spread more over the past ten half hour, most of your face and neck now the same as the rest of your body.

“He does. Dean may be stubborn and hard to read at times, but it’s easy to see how much he cares about you.”

If your body would have allowed it you would have laughed. Instead you shot him an amused look. . . Or your best attempt at one.

Dean was the last person you would expect to worry about you. You had been nuances to each other for as long as you could remember.

“It took me a little while to see it.” He continued, leaning back in his seat behind his desk. “But I figured him out. You know he came busting in here like the place was on fire earlier, yelling for me with you limp in his arms. I don’t think I’ve seen that boy so afraid in awhile.”

You shook your head, unable to believe it. He was lying. There was no way Dean would be like that with you. That didn’t sound like him at all.

“At first Sam and I were confused as all get out. But like I said, I put two and two together. That idjit has fallen hard for you Y/N.”

A laugh rumbled in the back of your throat at that, you couldn’t help it. How much had that man had to drink?

“I’m serious. You know while you were unconscious he sat with you almost the entire time. Making sure your temperature stayed down, and all that. He held your hand the whole time too. . . Even if he thought Sam and I didn’t notice. That boy was worried beyond all get out.”

Titling your head you gave him an amused glare, one the clearly read old man, you’ve lost it but I find what you’re saying highly amusing.

“Fine, don’t believe an old drunk like me. Half this town thinks I’m crazy already.” He shrugged, reaching across the desk for his beer.

But that was the thing. You wanted to believe him, because deep down you knew you had feelings for the jade eyed hunter. You never found him annoying. . . If anything he was one of your favorite people.

It was maybe twenty minutes later that the front door was thrown open, a hectic Dean flying into the room with Sam hot on his heels.

“We got it! This should turn you back!” Lifting the small vial up he hurried across the room, his steps slightly faltering at the sight of you.

It had gotten worse since he left. The cracks head spread from your face to creep down your neck and collar bone and from what he could see the only parts that hadn’t turned to fine china were your eyes and part of your mouth, along with a little of your neck.

Shaking his head, he moved to sink down next to you on the mattress, unscrewing the lid of the vial. “Alright, tilt your head back, there we go.” Holding the back of you head he slowly emptied the contents of the vial into your parted lips, sending out a silent prayer that it worked.

Once empty he slowly stood up, backing away as he kept his eye on you. “Well, did it work? Is it working?” Turning towards his brother and Bobby in hopes of an answer. The two only shrugged.

“We’re gonna just have to wait and see. These things need time.”

The older Winchester let out a groan before taking his hand through his hair. “I- I can’t. I cant. I’ll be outside if you guys need me.”

Neither man interfered as they watched him turn and walk back out the way they had come. Dean was worried, and he had every right to be.

Dean only made it out the front door before sinking down onto the front steps of the porch. (Porch being way too nice a word since it was more like a few planks of wood resting on some old cinder blocks.) above him the porch light clicked off as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon to the east. It was only then that he realized he had been up all night, a yawn crawling up his throat. He needed you to be alright. If that cure didn't work-

The sky was beginning to shift to dusty shades of pink and orange when the front door clicked open behind him, the old wood wheezing as the person moved towards him.

“How’s she doing?”

“. . .I’m doing fine, thanks for asking.”

At the sound of your voice, Deans head whipped around at such a force he swore he heard his neck crack, his green eyes finding you instantly. A sigh of relief left his lips as you sunk down onto the steps besides him. The only sign that you had been cursed at all was the crack shaped bruises on your face and neck, other then that you looked unscathed.

“Y/N-“

“The bruises are fine, Dean.” You smiled, lightly tapping the purples lines on your face. “Feels like I just fell down a flight of stairs, but I am welcoming the soreness.”

Folding his hands in front of him, Dean sucked in a breath as he nodded, eyes fixed on the rising sun. “Good, good.”

There was a small band of silence before you spoke again. “Thank you for saving me. I really didn’t feel like becoming an antique.”

“It wasn’t just me. Bobby and Sam did most of the work.”

“I know, I heard you were too busy holding my hand to help go through the lore.” You grinned, watching as he tensed up besides you, eyes going wide as a deep pink the same color as the sunrise crept across his cheeks.

“Wh-what? No! Who told you that? That- that is crazy talk. I wasn’t holding your hand!”

“Well, if you were I don’t mind.” Casually looping your arm through his, you rested your head against his shoulder. “The sunrise is pretty. Glad I got to see it.”

“Yeah. We don’t watch too many of them do we?”

“No. No we don’t.” The two of you fell silent for awhile, the only sounds being the road off in the distance and birds starting to wake up. It was only then did you lift your head to look at the hunter. In that moment you swear you heart skipped several beats, because for the first time in a long time you saw a soft smile on Dean Winchesters lips, a content one. You were silent for another moment.

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Pulling his eyes away from the horizon he looked at you with surprise. “What?”

“I said-“ you leaned forward, “are you gonna kiss me or what?” you repeated with more confidence.

“You want me to kiss you?”

“Mhmm. Because here’s the thing, I’ve kinda got these feelings for you.”

“You want to kiss me?” Dean repeated, dumbfounded at what you were saying.

“Well I don’t want to kiss Sam, and I certainly don’t want to kiss Bobby.” You laughed lightly, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you looked at him. For a moment Dean thought you were joking with him, but he knew how you played, and you weren’t playing.

“I think you have terrible taste-“ he murmured, suddenly and very slowly leaning in, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. You were like a magnet, pulling him in.

“I totally agree.” You smirked, heartbeat increasing as the distance closed..

“I thought you hated me.”

“Oh I do, I despise you to my very core.”

“Oh, then I guess I should leave.” Deans grin grew as he slowly began to lean away. This was the kind of playfulness he could get behind.

“How bout you shut up?”

“Mmm, sounds like a good idea. Why don’t you make m-“ the words died on his lips the second yours connected with his. And the first thing he realized was that they were soft and molded together perfectly. As if on autopilot his hands went to your face no longer afraid of shattering you,but still holding you gently because of the bruises. He let out a sigh of relief against your lips when they found skin and not porcelain.

“You can kiss me harder if you want.” You whispered, hands finding the back of his neck.

“Don’t want to break you.” He mumbled, keeping his assault on your lips light and simple. He wanted to savor it, cherish it. It was you after all.

“You won’t.”

“Okay.”

SPN Taglist (still open)

@familybusinesswritingbro​​​​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​​​​ @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​​​​ @callmekda​​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​​ @orphiceseum​​​ @andthatsmyworld​​​ @marvelfangirllll​​​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​​​ @gladiosamicitias​​​ @castielsangelsx​​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​​​​  @totallyluciferr​​​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​​​ @dolanfivsosxox​​​@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​​ @akshi8278​ @defenderrosetyler​​​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​​ @idksupernatural​​​​ @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​ @beanie-beebo​​​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​​​ @greenarrowhead​​​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​​ @brebolin​​​ @biahblue​​​

[buffskierights]

Prompt by @everyones-favorite-bard

Right now the fic thing I have in my head is one where Jaskier is cursed (or somthing) to be able to read Geralt's mind (Geralt doesn't know) (at least not at first) and it is just a constant stream of words, a lot of which are about the bard to his surprise.

Stupendous, inspiring, wonderful, I ended up writing something so incredibly soft and way less humorous than I thought it would be

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s exasperated voice filters into his consciousness as he wakes with a groan, his cheek pressed against something cool and hard. It’s much too early to be garnering his friend’s ire already today, especially after the night he had. He doesn’t remember much of it, after the eighth ale everything goes a little fuzzy, but if the pressure in his eyes is anything to go by then Jaskier definitely started crying at some point.

It wouldn’t surprise him, he can become a bit of an emotional drunk past a certain point in the night and he’ll find the nearest willing shoulder to cry on. Usually about the Witcher looming over him, he thinks, as he peels his tired eyes open and sits up with another groan. His spine pops as it realigns from being slumped over a table and his neck aches in a way that it didn’t used to when he was a much younger man.

“We need to get going,” Geralt says quietly, and if Jaskier didn’t know better he’d say his friend was being considerate of the intense hangover he’s sporting.

“Mm, Mhm,” He nods with a yawn as he stands up and stretches, “Give me a moment to get freshened up and I’ll join you at the stables.”

As he’s walking towards the stairs he hears Geralt’s voice again, “I wonder why he drinks so heavily these days. Doesn’t he know it’s not healthy for him?”

Jaskier’s cheeks flare with embarrassment and he pretends he didn’t hear the Witcher’s comment as he hurries upstairs. Maybe he can lay of the drinks a bit, if it worries Geralt so much.

—

When he walks into the stables with his pack over his shoulder and his lute case secured across his chest, he’s surprised by Geralt’s voice sounding relieved, “There he is. Glad he didn’t find trouble in the last fifteen minutes.”

“If you know I’m here, dear Witcher, there’s no need to speak as though I’m not,” Jaskier raises his eyebrow at Geralt as he stops in front of Roach’s stall to see the Witcher tacking her up. Geralt gives him a mildly confused glance before grunting and holding his hand out for the bard’s bag. Jaskier hands it over and as the strap settles into Geralt’s palm he hears the Witcher’s voice again.

“Seems awfully light. Maybe he needs new clothes again. Those silks are pretty but not nearly sturdy enough for travel.”

Jaskier blinks and then squints suspiciously. For starters, Geralt has never once cared about the state of Jaskier’s clothing, other than to complain that it’s too bright or too flimsy. And another thing, he’s quite certain he didn’t see Geralt’s mouth move when he heard his friend’s voice. Now, Jaskier is no idiot, despite what Geralt might think, but he doesn’t want to immediately jump to the conclusion of ‘I’ve been cursed to hear my best friend’s thoughts’. Maybe Witchers are just excellent at ventriloquism; it wouldn’t be the first time Geralt’s had an unusual skill.

“He’s being rather quiet this morning. His hangover must be worse than I thought. I should look for some mint along the path today for him to chew on.”

Jaskier would be quite touched by how caring Geralt’s voice is, if it didn’t confirm that he’s hearing his friend’s thoughts. Fuck, how is he supposed to tell Geralt?

—

He discovers, through some trial and error, that the curse is restricted by distance. It seems that Jaskier has to be within ten feet of Geralt to become privy to the Witcher’s innermost thoughts, and the closer he is the louder Geralt’s mental voice is.

He’s gone from being mildly disturbed by the situation as a whole to being somewhat flustered by how many of Geralt’s thoughts are about him. Sure, Jaskier thinks about Geralt a lot, but that’s because he’s completely arse over heels in love with the man. What’s Geralt’s excuse?

To distract himself from thinking too hard about it, Jaskier has spent the last couple hours deep in thought on how he might have acquired this curse, and how to break it. He tries to stay at least ten feet away from Geralt and Roach, or at least he did once he figured out the distance aspect, but the next thought of Geralt’s had been so sad as he wondered if he did something to upset Jaskier that the bard was powerless to falling back into step with the Witcher.

“Maybe he’s taken ill. His face is looking a bit flushed. Fuck, the last time Jaskier was ill was a disaster. Fucking pneumonia bullshit. Whoever came up with that brilliant idea deserves a kick in the balls.”

Jaskier nearly chokes for what must be the seventh time that day as he forces himself not to laugh. Geralt is even funnier than he is normally in his head and Jaskier’s not sure how much longer he can hide his shaking shoulders.

—

He’s come up with an idea. It’s a horrible idea, really, but it’s one born of remembering his drunken crying upon the shoulder of a silver-eyed man who, in hindsight, was very clearly a mage.

He remembers the mage cooing sympathetically as he spilled his heart upon the sticky floor of the tavern, his last ale listlessly hanging from his fingers, and then promising that Jaskier will be able to figure out whether Geralt’s mixed signals are a sign of desire or not. Well, thank you, secret mage, but Jaskier is even more confused now than before as he sits across a warm fire from the man of his dreams.

Geralt is cleaning some gear that’s been overdue for a good treatment while Jaskier himself sits on a log with his arms crossed atop his lute. Both of them are silent as they listen to the crackling fire, Jaskier’s gaze deep in the flames as he thinks.

“He’s going to ruin his night vision like that. I suppose it’s okay, though, since I’m here.”

Jaskier’s lips twitch downward. Geralt’s thoughts have been filled with sweet shit like that all gods-damned day and it’s driving him crazy. Plus, he has yet to even tell Geralt about the curse! And he knows the longer he waits, the worse Geralt’s reaction will be.

“I wonder if he’s going to play tonight or just use his lute as an armrest. I rather like his songs that aren’t about me. The one he wrote about Eskel and Deirdre is especially beautiful when Jaskier sings it.”

Jaskier groans aloud and drops his head to his lute with a dull thunk, and Geralt’s thoughts become alarmed and concerned.

“Is he okay? Did something happen? Maybe he’s ill after all? Or something magic? My medallion’s been humming slightly all day but I haven’t been able to figure out what could be causing it the only different thing is how quiet Jaskier has been. What if he’s a Doppler? Or a changling? Do faes even take fully grown men? Maybe they would if it’s Jaskier, they seem fond of quality bards. He isn’t moving, oh fuck, I can still hear his heartbeat though so he isn’t dead, thank the gods. I don’t know what I would do if Jaskier-“

“Enough!” Jaskier cries as he sits up again, raking his fingers haphazardly through his hair, “I can’t take it! My gods, you think so fucking much, Geralt, I’ve barely had a thought to myself all gods-damned day!”

“What?”

“What?” Geralt echoes his own thought aloud, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I should have told you, I know I should have, but I thought I could figure out what was happening and fix it and then we wouldn’t have to talk about it at all,” Jaskier rambles. He feels like he probably looks a bit wild right now but he can’t do anything about it, “But then I couldn’t think because of how many of your thoughts I was hearing all fucking day and it was so overwhelming! I mean, I barely get a break from my own mess of a mind, and then I had to figure out a way to not hear yours, too?”

Geralt has gone eerily silent, both internally and externally.

“But, gods, I thought I could figure it out and fix it myself since it’s my fault I got cursed by that damned mage last night when I told him how confused you make me sometimes because I lo-“ he cuts himself off as his mouth shuts with an audible click, swallowing hard and glancing at Geralt with wide eyes.

“Because you, what, Jaskier?” He asks quietly.

Jaskier shakes his head, stroking the strings his his lute with his thumb as he whispers, “I don’t want to lose you if you don’t feel the same.”

Geralt looks at him for a few moments but his mind is quiet, “You’ve been able to hear my thoughts all day?”

“Most of them,” he nods weakly, “Clear ones.”

Geralt hums with a nod before waiting until he catches Jaskier’s eye and holding his gaze, “I love you. And even if I didn’t, you wouldn’t have lost me for loving me.”

Jaskier gapes at him in shock and Geralt smirks slightly before it falters, “Unless... that’s not how you-“

“No! I mean yes! I mean,” Jaskier feels his face start to burn as he scrambles for words, “I-I- you... I mean, we... that is to say— fuck, this isn’t— no, yes, I do love you Geralt, I’ve loved you for years I just... I never thought...”

“That Witchers could feel emotions?” Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier feels a spike of flustered alarm.

“What? No! I’ve never— what makes you think— Geralt, no, I would never think that!” He’s certain he’s as red as a tomato as he watches Geralt’s lips twitch into an amused smile and Jaskier groans, tossing some small pebbles across the fire at the Witcher, “You’re horrible, dear Witcher. You’re going to send me to an early grave.”

“Guess I’ll have to protect you,” Geralt shrugs with a grin, “Can’t have you dying on me, after all. Not right after we finally got our acts together.”

Jaskier tries to groan again but it ends in a laugh as he covers his burning face with his hands. They’ll have time to figure things out and actually talk later; but, for right now, he’s just glad he hasn’t lost his best friend while gaining a suitor.