#kind of a drabble i guess

[aspiringtrashpanda]

This is the dumbest thing I've ever written. Please familiarize yourself with this scene from the Little Mermaid for best reader experience.

Characters: Leviathan x MC Stupid musical fluff, first kiss, kiss the fish baybeeee No warnings apply

“First, we’ve got to create the mood…”

A ripple surged through the aquarium, light undulating in soft waves, permeating the wall and reaching the furthest corners of the room. You traced the movements of the tiny goldfish, the pad of your index finger catching on the tacky glass just as the orange scales disappeared from view. 

You thought you could hear the thump of a bass guitar. Was it coming from Mammon’s room?

You almost brushed it off. Almost. 

However, when you thought you saw the water in the tank slosh in time to the steady beat, you asked, “Did you hear that?” 

“Hm?” Leviathan looked up from his computer monitor. One of his many displays. He had been at the start of a popular ARPG from the human world, last time you checked. Now, he had almost completed the tutorial. Turns out, it was as easy to speed through the introduction as it was to purchase a game from another realm through Akuzon. Jeremiah Bezoar, right?

Despite the reluctance to support such a megalomaniac, Levi found his thumbs smashing buttons. Why was there always so much exposition at the beginning of the quest? He frowned, “Hear what?”

“Percussion. Strings. Winds. Words…” 

You shuddered, a chill trickling down your spine. You were voicing your discomfort before you could even place the source. 

“Voices? But… They don’t sound familiar.” Though you were reluctant to tear your eyes away from the seascape stretched before you, you found yourself stepping backwards. One heel after the other, until you nudged against the back of Leviathan’s gaming chair. 

“Gah!” He startled, his headphones falling around his neck as wide, amber eyes turned to meet your gaze. The flex of his fingers seemed anxious, his knuckles popping in time with the rhythmic thud of the bass.  “Erm, you’re probably just hearing things…”

You were so close to believing him, to accepting his words as truth. Perhaps you would have, if it wasn’t for the smooth baritone that spilled into your ears.

“There, you see him. Sitting there across the way. He don’t got a lot to say. ‘Cause he’s playing Skyrim.”

The flit of your eyes confirmed the voice’s dulcet tones. Levi was, indeed, playing the classic fantasy game by Bethesda. There was no arguing the claim, not with the way the dragon attacked the site of his execution. 

Another glance at the aquarium revealed swaying kelp among the decorating stone structures within the tank. A flash of golden filaments forced the question from your mouth, “Can Henry speak?”

“Henry?” Levi paused the game, pulling up the main menu. He squished up his nose in amusement. “LOL. Not to you.”

Though, regardless of his claims, the melody bounced about the room.

“And the arrows fly, your knee’s been nullified. Go on and kiss the boy. ” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” And whether you were asking the fish - you noticed multiple fins fluttering from the hydra anemone to the sweeping greenery within the freshwater - or Levi, you weren’t entirely sure. Regardless, Leviathan spun in his chair, rocking back and forth on the creaking hinge of his high-tech seat. It was probably sponsored. He was a prominent gamer in the Devildom, after all. 

The pause between your question and his answer would have felt deafening if it wasn’t for the consistent thump of the bass, the jingle of mallets on a seashell marimba. Perhaps you appeared confused, though the uncertainty fell in syncopated beats, along with a tune you weren’t sure Levi could hear. 

“Well, you know, you normies have inferior hearing to us dem- HEY!” His squawk managed to overwhelm the crooning from the water fixture. The shellfish had joined in with some lovely harmonies, at this point. However, you found yourself happy to be distracted by Levi’s large, clammy hands as his long fingers pried yours away from a figure on his shelf.  “Don’t touch that!”

“Ah, sorry. I was just wondering…” You couldn’t stop the rush of blood to your face, the heat searing your cheeks a pretty pink. “Is that the Lord of Shadow’s crimson banquet outfit?”

Leviathan froze, his frame somewhere between sitting and standing. With his hands on his thighs, just above his knees, it looked as though he had been about to stand, about to rush to your side and physically remove your touch from the figure you had been admiring. 

“Yes, you want him. Look at him, you know you do. It’s possible he wants you too, and there’s one way to ask him.”

There was a flash of something in the indigo veins of his burning gaze. Did he hear it, too? Before you could ask, Levi narrowed his eyes, redirected your attention to his shelf of figurines. “Are you referring to the movies you marathoned with Mammon, or the books?”

You frowned, indignance igniting a roaring fire up your spine. With a sniff, you turned away from his incredulous glare. “I actually have started reading the books, you know. But… Well, I’m only on book two.”

The soothing accompaniment looped some sort of interlude. Minnows scurried from one rock to another. A toad lingering on a stone fixture breaching the surface croaked low and heavy, “It’s a list of words, by his fave character, go on and kiss the boy.”

And it was only then that you noticed the tension building in Levi’s blue seascape of a room. You felt the way his chapped lips parted, his tongue darting out to nervously wet the skin. He swallowed loudly, rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. His headphones rattled when he pushed them into the soft indigo strands brushing his nape, displaced and apparently forgotten. You smiled as a pretty pink flush spread across Levi’s cheeks, over the bridge of his nose. 

In an attempt to comfort him, you brought his attention back to the figure on his shelf. “Tell me about him, then.”

The prejudice dissolved from his gaze, replaced with a genuine excitement that nearly turned his orange eyes as bright as the sun that never touched the Devildom. He took a deep breath in, choosing his words carefully. “The… Um, the costume design department actually stuck really close to the canon source for the crimson banquet.”

A series of bubbles floated to the surface of the aquarium. As they burst, a note rang out through the room. There were so many instruments involved in the song now. How did a crayfish play a flute? It was past logic at this point. All you could do was pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. You offered Levi a shy smile, “Is this a special edition?”

“It is!” You loved the beam that stretched across his face, all crooked teeth and enthusiasm. “Oh! You’ll get it, then! See, Mammon tried to steal him and sell him for only 15,000 Grimm! Can you believe it? I mean, not only would it be unthinkable to sell Crimson Banquet Lord of Shadow, but to sell it for such a small amount?! It’s like he didn’t even know that the designer had actually researched the small nordic community off of Greenland to accurately represent the sort of clothing that…”

The sound of his voice was a sweeter melody than any fish could sing. You thought you caught the shimmer of a red scale, a rainbow shark swimming low to the colorful pebbles hidden in the soft silt at the base of the aquarium. You caught its eye. It winked. 

You weren’t sure how you felt about that. 

“Er, you’re probably not interested in all that…” Levi was still rambling. At the sight of his nervous expression, the way he twiddled his thumbs and averted his eyes like he thought you weren’t interested, you kicked it into high gear.

“I am.” Your heart thudded against your ribs. Really, you were. You were interested in anything Levi wanted to tell you. You found his passions fascinating. 

The moment his sunrise gaze slammed into yours, a swelling chorus rose from the aquarium. You felt your pulse thrum in time with the beat. Their voices appealed to the endorphins rushing through your veins.

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la my, oh my! The human is too shy! Ain’t gonna kiss the boy.”

A pair of koi flicked their tails, arcing past the aquarium glass with a loud, “Whoa, whoa!”

It was cute, you thought. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t entered Levi’s room with that very intention. You liked him. You had liked him for a while. Yet, you weren’t sure if he was ever going to get the hint. Hell, if even his fish knew of your soft spot for Leviathan, what did you have to lose? He had to know too, right?

So, there you were, the choir of aquarium life pushing you forward. However, as you took two steps closer to the Avatar of Envy, Levi deflated in his chair, covering his face with his hands. You could just make out his lips moving, a soft repetition, over and over again. 

Shuffling over to him, to his desk and his gaming setup, felt like walking a tight rope. “Hey,” You whispered, “Are you okay?”

He scowled, huffing a soft, “No!” 

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la ain’t that sad? The poor otaku lad. You’re gonna miss the boy.” This time, Henry the goldfish fluttered through the water, suspended in the light of the room. 

You thought he looked smug.

“Levi.” Your fingers gently grazed his knees, the soft fabric of his sweatpants encouraging you to curl your palm around the bone, to squeeze ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” It squeaked out between the gaps in his fingers, splayed across his face. 

“I think your aquarium is serenading us.”

As if to confirm your claim, Henry - flanked by the two koi - swam in a shape too close to a heart to be anything else. You could hear the th-th-thump of your pulse in your ears. 

“Yeah…” It was cute, the way Levi’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. A crease formed in his brow, his ears burning bright as he winced, “They’ve threatened that a few times, but I didn’t think they actually would!”

“It’s kind of charming.”

“Is it?!”

Where the toad managed to find a saxophone, you weren’t sure. Nevertheless, the breezy tune paved the way for the second verse. And for what? Well… Perhaps your eyes were deceiving you, but was Levi leaning closer? 

There you were, slowly absorbed into Leviathan’s personal space, your frame falling between his knees as they trembled, parting carefully. His hand brushed his mouth, his teeth knocking his knuckles as he protested, “Y-you can just ignore it, really!”

Henry had other plans.

“Now’s your moment. Your room looks like a blue lagoon. Toggle off display #2, and offer your sweater.”

And despite his own advice, concern flashed in Levi’s eyes. “Are you cold?”

You shivered. “A little, yeah.”

“He won’t say a word. He’s just an awkward nerd, go on and kiss the boy.”

Levi’s hands - slick with nervous, cold sweat, rested on your biceps. He took a deep, shuddering breath in, and then, he steeled his resolve. “Y-you… could come closer?”

You shuffled further into his space. How you ended up edging your body between his knees as he sat in his gaming chair, you couldn’t quite recall. You supposed he had covered his face, and then you had crouched down to make eye contact, and well… Now you were wedged awfully close to his heaving chest, his eyes screwed tightly shut. 

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la don’t be scared, you’ve got the facts prepared. Go on and kiss the boy (Whoa, whoa). Sha-la-la-la-la-la don’t stop now, you’ve leveled up and wow, you’re gonna kiss the boy.” 

“Levi,” You sang, soft and sweet, drawing his name out in the same key of the song. His right eye fluttered open, peering at you with cautious optimism. 

Noses nudged together, breath mingling as the song faded into the routine bubble of the aquarium. Levi’s thumbs rubbed circles into your arms, and you found yourself near hypnotized by the steady pattern paired with the blazing heat in his fiery eyes. 

A shaky breath. A soft, “You, er, don’t have to! I mean, I’m just a yucky otaku! You… Um, if this is just a joke, it’s fine, and -”

Your lips met his. 

It was a quick kiss. Chaste and gentle. Simply the press of two mouths, both unwilling to cross any invisible line drawn in the aquarium sand. 

There was pure silence as you pulled away. The music had disappeared completely. Even the tank’s filter and the hum of Levi’s computer tower fizzled out. 

A beat, where it was only you and Leviathan.

You and Levi in the watery haze of his bedroom, your lips so very close, and yet…

It was Levi who surged forward, slotting his lips between yours once more. This time, he kissed you like he meant it, as if you were a crimson banquet-themed delicacy that he had been saving for a very special dessert. His fingers curling into your sleeves, you found yourself melting into his embrace, your heart pitter-pattering in time with the rattle from his own chest. Cupping the nape of his neck, you reveled in the soft indigo strands that brushed your palm, in the breezy scent of the sea that followed him wherever he went. 

It was a strange sensation - to feel as though you were burning alive while cocooned in the blue haze of the ocean. And yet, you never wished to experience anything else. The taste of his lips, the twist of his needy hands on your body all you could register as you scrambled into his lap, his chair creaking under your combined weight.

A quiet huff spilled from his wet lips, his bangs butting against your forehead. His jaw tensed, and you knew he was about to say something when…

A voice sounded. A voice from outside the walls of the House of Lamentation. A voice so low, it shook the very foundation beneath you.

“Oh, you wanna kiss the boy!”

Levi grimaced. You blinked. 

“Was… Was that Lotan?” You weren’t sure your ears had registered the melody correctly. 

“Can we…” Levi nuzzled his face into your neck. You could feel the humiliation radiating off him in waves. “Can we go to your room?”

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! I've finished the first round, please give me more! This is a fun little writing exercise for me! Find out more HERE. i love you all so much, but shout out to @shootingstarrfish and @4laurus. Please check them out. 💕

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

For the prompts list: 16. bodily fluids as lube with Mr. Wick 😍

Helen Wick x John Wick (nsfw). I hope I did you justice, anon :3

If Helen is being honest, and she usually is—

The mere sight of John Wick with a bottle of hypoallergenic water based lubricant in his hands is laughable.

“What?” He asks, looking around, obviously not in on the joke.

“Oh, John,” she says, covering her giggles. “You’re adorable.”

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, little smile lighting up peachy cheeks. Been called by many names, Wick has, but never that one. “Thanks,” he says, ever the smooth talker.

“I don’t think we need help.” She motions to his thoughtful bottle, then nudges her panties to the side. Glistening and beautiful, is she, a Goddess amongst crisp, tangled sheets.

He resists the urge to fall onto all fours and begin howling—feral for a taste of her sweet, wet cunt. “Jesus, Hels.”

“Yeah?” She asks, with that golden sunshine smile just for him, dipping a finger inside her pretty pussy to lure him closer. “Come here, John.”

The lube tumbles from his hand, or maybe he intentionally throws it across the room. He’s not sure what happens in the time it takes for him to go from standing in the bathroom doorway to laying between her legs.

When she cradles his cheek, he leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, the loss of sight, although agonizing, heightening the smell of her to an irresistible degree. All for him. All for him.

“Can I taste you?” He murmurs, lips sealing a kiss to the damp skin of her inner thigh. She is sopping, and he needs to clean up that sticky mess with his mouth before the sheets ruin underneath her hips.

“Mmm.” Her nimble fingers thread through his thick tumble of hair, knowing—always knowing—all the right places to touch to make him shudder. “I don’t know…”

She’s teasing him. She loves it… Watching the big, bad, stoic John Wick get hard and desperate and messy for his favorite girl, leave wet patches on his underwear right where the tip of his cock begs to bust free, hump the sheets while he suckles her clit and fucks her on his thick fingers.

He looks up at her, the beg in his eyes even more potent than the one in his rich, chocolaty voice. “Please, Helen. Can I please taste you?”

”Yeah,” she nods, grinning lip bitten between her teeth as John parts her folds with the tip of his tongue.

He hums in approval, slurping up all that gooey desire. All of his desire. All for him, Helen is. All of this.

And she’s right, the lube really isn’t needed.

[paint-it-red-and-black]

Charles likes to bite.

he bites his lips for a long time before he says something important. he bites his nails when he is nervous. he bites his pen when he stops writing. he bites the tip of his tongue when he laughs.

Max notices it quickly. he collects every detail and stores it in the back of his mind.

until they start to date. suddenly, Charles begins to bite Max.

the first time it happens, Max doesn't even realise it, only managing to say "What?..." before a light kiss lands on the bite. Charles laughs, Max lets it go.

the second time proves to hurt more. they are cuddling on the couch in the evening when Charles bites him sharply on his collarbone. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Max frowns, but there's no anger in his voice. Charles laughs again. Max exhales and pulls him closer.

Charles bites him when he's happy. it's always a faint gentle bite, just the very lips. sometimes Max doesn't even know which is a kiss and which is a bite. boundary is blurred. Max gets used to it.

Charles bites him when he's upset. usually it hurts a little more. it feels bittersweet. Max can feel the wetness on his neck when Charles presses the cold tip of his nose against it, covers the skin with his moist lips and bites until the spot is bloody and dark. Max doesn't resist, letting his lover leave his marks.

Charles bites him when he wants attention. usually he claws at his skin and doesn't leave until Max turns to him with eyebrows raised in question. at times like this, Max allows himself to ignore a little. he's given a chance to play, and he takes it. the important thing is not to cross the limit, or it will hurt. but Max likes it. maybe he's a bit of a masochist.

Charles bites him when he's excited. bites him when he's horny. bites him when he's delighted, when he's annoyed, when he's cheerful and when he's grieving, when he's desperate and when he’s drunk, when he's enjoying himself, when he's in love.

Charles bites and bites and bites. Max suspects there is no longer a place on his body that has never been bitten. Max start to think that at some point he adopted a third cat.

it becomes part of the their routine. a bite on the edge of his jaw before a morning kiss. a bite on his earlobe when they go to bed. a bite on his collarbone in the shower, on his neck after breakfast, on his bicep during a FIFA game, on his fingertips when he feeds him junk food, on his knee in the evening peace, on his nipple...

and then they fight.

the reason is stupid, but neither of them wants to make concessions. they don't speak for a couple of days days, still staying in the same flat. they eat at different times, lock themselves in their rooms, try not to cross paths in the corridor and take a cat each. Max sleeps on the couch, even though it's his flat.

he'll say he's just tired of spending the nights on the uncomfortable sofa in the living room, but on the third day he walks over to Charles while he's making breakfast, snuggles up against his back, interlocking his arms around his waist and rests his chin on Charles' shoulder, pressing the cheek against cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"It was stupid."

"You're stupid."

there's no resentment in his voice, no desire to hurt. these are just words that don't carry an insult. it's more like their usual bickering. but Max will pretend to be offended. he squeezes Charles' waist a little tighter, fingertips tickling sides. Charles laughs.

and then Max bites.

[puppetmaster13u]

I've just realized that with the art I did for the Possessed Doll Au by @phoenixcatch7 , like the designs and such?

It kind of implies that Bruce's doll is like 7 or 8 feet tall, since the others range between 4 and 5 feet (as is the average for children). Or taller if you count the ears too.

I mean, I guess it gives the kids more space to hide in the cloak and wherever else lol

[suffcring]

what if I told you I've been writing Dea.dpoo.l and W.olve.rine fanfic for the last few days and it's consumed me

what if

I told you it was Logan focused and like... Wade is kind of there, it's a slow build shipfic, sure, but it's mostly filtering my own grief through Logan

What if.

[aller-geez]

Remi is a nap-in-the-afternoon kind of guy, so no one thought anything about it when he stumbled into the bedroom to take a 2 o’clock nap, hoping to ease his slightly sore throat….

But when he wakes up at 10 pm with what feels like a throat full of glass, a sinus cavity completely full of congestion that has been dripping from his once leaky nose while he slept, a migraine that forces him to squint as he looks around the dark bedroom in confusion, and a fever that could nearly melt through the fabric of the bed, Remi isn’t too thrilled.

He looks over at the bedside table, and there’s a glass of water, a few different medicines that Remi frequently took whenever he came down with something, and a note with Levi’s handwriting scrawled across the paper in his characteristically bubbly font.

The note read, “Good morning! 🖤 I heard you snoring while you were sleeping, and i know you only snore if you’re getting sick again so I figured I’d save you the trouble and set these out for you when you wake up 💖 Come downstairs if you’re feeling up to it, we’re just watching movies 🖤 I love you and I hope you’re feeling okay! — Levi”

Remi sighs, slumping back into the soggy blankets around him.

He loved his mate and the life they had built together. But everything else? He would never admit it to his sister, Levi, or even himself for that matter, but sometimes Remi wished his life panned out differently..

[sisterdivinium]

I know icons are much more of a journal-site kind of thing than a Tumblr one, but I've been trying my hand at them again after rejoining Dreamwidth and I made a few Warrior Nun ones with more to come whenever if you want to check them out. Here's a sample:

The rest of this batch is HERE.

The rest of this other batch is HERE.

[sunshades]

i shouldn't be allowed to like a ship i'm fucking drafting a faux firemblem game for these bitches oh my god.

[hiccupshypotheticalleftsock]

she hated coconut scented shampoo and veiny hands, the cold and brown rice

my skin is laced with the stench of the sweet white flesh, arms ripple with the oaths of flowing blood. my heart yearns for the snow, year after year

the smell of summer faded from my skin as she took over, sucking the blood from where it pooled, she was saving me from the cruel path of fate i had stumbled upon

showing me how beautiful life could be when you didn’t smell like coconut in the snow

my mouth could barely remember the feel of nutty husks, starchy and heavy against my teeth, it only knew her now liquid smooth and sweet as mango in the summertime

sea salt hardened in my hair, tanned limbs locking onto paler, slimmer, fragile. like porcelain and oh so soft

she was a quiet constant but oh how sweet it should have been when she was loud

you wanted this.

when she was loud she could not be silenced, wanting more and more

always wanting.

there could not be enough.

coconut and blood and humanity, steam and cold wind against warm cheeks, nipping at noses hiding behind scratchy scarves

never enough.

she wanted and i couldn’t give, i didn’t have

the smell of coconut washes over me once more, i no longer look at my hands in disgust, willing my body to shape and bend for her to love it, and the cold has made its home in my heart once more

i stare into a bowl of stunt brown grain, hot moisture soaking up into my skin, my breath evens as i watch it escape into the frigid air

maybe i am enough

[callsign-songbird]

Nut really COD related but, you know the phrase "You're only as strong as your weakest link"?

Give me that in a villain.

Give me a person who commits at least one absolutely vile, heinous act , and yet genuinely believes themselves to be the good-guy. Give me a villain who does the most cruel things with ease as if it were just a regular Saturday afternoon, yet falters at the act of stealing candy from children.

And then break them.

Not with something huge and dramatic. Break them with something small, something honestly underwhelming. And then let it spiral and spiderweb out like cracks appearing in glass or the ice below their feet and threatening to plunge them into the depths of their own guilt and conscience.

Think of years of justifications washed down the drain, so many horrendous acts done with their own hands that they have to bear the full guilt of now, even though they were already dealing with a fraction of it as if it were the whole. Give me a villain who loses absolutely everything as soon as they lose their sense of self.

And then have the protagonist pick them back up. Will they ever truly forgive the villain? Maybe. There are certainly plenty of people who won't, the villain included. But even if the protagonist still harbors a deep hatred, let them help to pick up the pieces of someone who was broken far before their shattered peices had cut anyone.

Give me that.

[lexaproeddie]

I am just thinking about trans Eddie this evening. Sex being very difficult for him because he loathed his own body, and was never shown or encouraged to love it. Eddie that had dirty hook ups at bars that ended more or less with him on his knees and unsatisfied. Eddie that seldomly bottomed like that, but on the few times he did was left unsatisfied and sore. Eddie who gave up on sex and pleasure for himself. Eddie who stepped into a Dom role to claim masculinity. Eddie who built walls up around him, that protected him, that used his crudeness and crassness as a defense to make it seem like he had the confidence he lacked. Eddie whose world gets rocked when Steve Harrington crashed into his personal hell, and it was Steve who taught Eddie what loving himself was. That worshipped Eddie's body in the way that it came without looking at him any differently. Eddie who finally let someone see him for him. Eddie who was finally satisfied. Eddie who let the walls fall. Eddie who let Steve in. Eddie who fell in love with Steve so hard that he in the process fell in love with himself too.

[cxpperhead]

Have you ever changed your mind about completing a contract?

"Once or twice." Copperhead admitted quietly, but he would not expand further upon that. Normally he followed his contracts right down to the letter, even going the extra length to track down those in hiding or who had even fled to other states in hopes they could escape the wrath of those they had wronged. On very rare occasions, Copperhead changed his mind right at the last minute, even when success was within reach of his claws. His eyes flickered vaguely as he thought back to one particular incident long before he came to Gotham. It was a typical kill, a man who had angered the wrong people with deep pockets and Copperhead hadn't thought overly hard about accepting it. It was easy money, and had been even easier tracking the contract down, much less climbing through an open window to lie in wait for his return. No, what made that particular mission impossible to complete was the fact the man was not alone. Copperhead remembered the colour the man had gone when he started strangling him, tail wrapped tight his contract's neck. Thrashing would have done him no good; the weight of the serpentine assassin's knee pressing upon his chest kept him firmly in place, the dying man's nails unable to secure a grip against cold, smooth scales of his would-be killer. Another minute and Copperhead would have been gone, leaving yet another body in his wake except - "Papá?" Copperhead still remembered the shock he felt when he heard that small voice piping up from the doorway, turning his head away from his contract to see a young boy barely in his teens. His eyes, wide with horror, could see well enough in the darkness to tell something was horribly, deeply wrong and his father was very much in critical danger. Shaft of moonlight came flooding in through the open window in which Copperhead had arrived, illuminating the scene. He already saw the boy as clear as day, but in that moment he could feel the youth's terror as silver light bathed the bedroom in sinister glow, monstrous predator wringing the life out of his beloved father.

Go away. You don't need to see this. Copperhead remembered hissing at the youth, the grip of his tail loosening just a fraction around the man's neck. Make sure there arent any witnesses, his employers had demanded, adamant that he should do away with others if they happened to stumble across this merry scene but in that moment Copperhead found himself hesitating, unable to tear his gaze away from the youth's terrified eyes. Terror quickly morphed into something more primal, desperate as the boy moved. "¡Aléjate de mi papá!" Snatching up a candlestand, the boy screamed as he rushed at the bed, waving and waving the metal stick in his hand as though he were a knight charging a dragon with a sword. His scaled tail went slack, letting go of his would-be victim who immediately gasped and sputtered for breath, colour flooding back into his face as he inhaled life-giving oxygen once more.

But Copperhead was no longer there, just a shadowy figure perched upon the windowsill. In that moment, his eyes met the boy's again; terrified, angry, shocked that what he'd done actually worked, his small hands desperately clutching his wheezing father's own. Copperhead stared a moment longer, then slipped out the way he came. He never knew what happened after that. Copperhead didn't bother reporting back to his employers, he simply left the area and his alias at the time along with it. If the man took the hint and left along with his boy, he never heard anything about it - or any untimely deaths for a while. Copperhead didn't usually leave a contract unfinished but occasionally, on the very rarest of chances, he changed his mind after all.

[nocentis]

Sown Fresh to Bloom┆ X793

╳ ┆A beautiful dawn. Its fingers splayed over the horizon in brilliant golden streaks, flexing heavenward in decorous praise. Their warmth graced his face; cupped his cheeks with the airiness of a lover's caress and tilted his chin toward infinity. A gentle so overindulgent and undeserved.

Still, he felt the spread of his own fingers in time with the sun's stretch. A vigor reignited from skin to soul. He felt victory and defeat in equal measures. Love and life at last, free to take, and yet he'd never felt less qualified to seize either.

Familiar steps approached. He need not turn to know. She was the only one who might seek him out now, as the rest were well on their way. He watched them embark just before new light, smiling fond, waving kind, yet he could only see past as they walked toward future.

“When will you be leaving?”

Meredy chuffed, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, like she wasn't expecting his ask. “Is that your way of telling me the guild’s disbanded?”

“No,” he answered honest, “Everyone is leaving. I just assumed...“

"Right. You assumed," she chastised, never shy. “Where will I go?” She mused, stabbing forth, “I have no village to return to. Few other friends, and none more important than you. I’ve got nowhere to be but by your side. Why would I leave now?”

“You've grown. Any legitimate guild would be lucky to have you. You don’t need me anymore.”

“Maybe I never did,” she posited simply.

“Maybe so,” he returned evenly.

Her hand curled around his shoulder, light enough that he could pull away and yet present enough for comfort. “You’re my family. What’s left of it, anyway.”

“Family?” He repeated, testing it on his own tongue. It was honey-tart. Sweet dressing to an open wound.

“Like an Uncle,” she clarified with a half-shrug. She smirked, nearly teasing, “A young one, of course. But you’re all I have left in terms of kin.”

So simple. So light. So free. Her voice was airy and unburdened despite how much she'd lost. In that way, he envied her. She made peace with her transgressions, made proper sense of them, and moved to become someone radiant and inspiring. Whatever was left of her hurt was buried; deeply personal and harshly constrained. Perhaps he wanted that for himself — to become a beacon for those harboring remorse or regret and to lead them to peace.

The horizon blurred into something grey and sallow. His own voice sounded foreign when he droned, “And that means you’ll stay?”

Meredy’s light-hearted demeanor dropped. She sighed, combed a hand through her bangs, and took a seat in the grass beside him. Rather than answer his, admittedly, redundant question, she issued one of her own. “Aren’t you happy for the Seis? They’ve finally been awarded their due freedom. They can do what they truly want now.”

“Of course I’m happy for them. Beyond happy. I’m elated,” he answered in truth. "I only wish it could've happened sooner."

“But there’s something else, too,” she gathered. “There’s always something else with you.”

“You’re right." His gaze dropped to his worrisome hands, diligently rubbing themselves raw. In comparison to the blownout blur, they almost looked too real. "It has nothing to do with the Seis though, I'm afraid."

“So, what is it?" She prodded, insistent. "What plagues you?”

“I’m not sure how to describe it," he admitted. "Guilt, perhaps."

“May I?” It was more of a suggestion than a question. Her finger flared a soft pink as she pointed between his wrist and her own. “Maybe I can give it a name. That ought to help. At least a little.” At his blatant hesitation, she coaxed, “Come on. You said it yourself. I’m grown. There’s nothing you could be feeling that I haven’t felt myself.”

“Alright,” he conceded, though he remained less than thrilled.

She closed her eyes, released a stalled breath, and their wrists came alight with shared rosy charms. Her impatience was a fading whisper, quickly replaced by a mix of curiosity and concentration, and then his own hesitation echoed back to him twofold.

“You don’t have to say anything," she coached, nothing but patience in her instruction, "Just... think.”

Just think. Right, then. He could do that, couldn't he? It was one of the things he did ceaselessly, second only to breathing.

Meredy's concern was latent, flowing into him unbidden. More dominant than that was concentration—no, determination. Her focus on sorting him out indirectly fueled his own internal redirection, gently nudging him back into his own head from whence he came.

It felt entirely too open, though he probably should have expected as much. He made her worry, and vulnerability was the unfortunate consequence. He shouldn't have been so presumptuous, assuming she would leave simply because the Seis were ready to move onto bigger and better. He knew better than that. She wasn't so fickle as to spring such a lofty switch on him without first discussing it at length.

His insecurity was eating at him again. What he deserved was hardly his reality. He knew that to be true, though on occasion, he allowed that thing in his chest to paint the scene a ghastly pallor; a delusion of death owed.

But true justice wouldn't award him death. It would have him live all of their lives in succession. It would have him live their pain, their futility, their trust and betrayal and their earth-shattering moment of clarity, an endless loop of agony for naught, and then—then it would spit him out at their feet and have him beg for their mercy.

His life should be in their hands, and yet, because of the strength he coveted under the influence of the damned, because of the strength he cultivated in his selfish desire to preserve the ones he so loves, he still held a power he wasn't so sure he'd earned. A power that kept him almost untouchable.

His own magic was a cruel irony. A reminder of the standard he could never embody so long as he breathed and evermore. For all the Heavens he'd drawn from, he was himself the false-prophet, undeserving of the stars' forgiveness. Undeserving of peace. Of light. Of love.

And yet it followed him still.

“This isn't guilt. It's shame,” Meredy chimed in.

“That’s… warranted.”

“To an extent." Her hand rose to her chest, idly rubbing circles just beneath her collarbone. Her face twisted in despair, and he could feel his own sorrow amplified and echoed back to him through their link. Meredy's voice wavered when she argued, “This is exorbitant. It should be debilitating.”

"Break the link," he suggested. Tears brimmed her eyes as her nails sunk into her shoulder, yet he could feel her reluctance to let go; to leave him alone with it. "Please, Meredy."

Despite her obvious hesitation, she honored his request, rubbing her wrist where they were only just connected. There was pity in her eyes, so much of it that it was sickening. Her words came out wet, strangled, like she was still choking back the tears he wasn't willing to shed, "Is that really how you feel all the time?"

"No," he attempted to ease her concern, but it was utterly unconvincing. "There are moments of joy, and pride, and hope."

"What about peace? Calm? Silence?"

He opened his mouth only to close it again.

"Why haven't you..." she stopped herself and started over like she already knew the answer to her initial question, "Do you think it's doing you any good, holding onto this?"

"I don't know how to live without it," he confessed. "It's my burden to carry. I cannot forget. I cannot separate myself from what I've done."

Her face pinched, somewhere between anger and upset. For the first time in a long while, she seemed disappointed in him. "You're not carrying it. You're letting it consume you."

"I don't want that."

"What do you want?" She bawked, voice riding the line between irritation and incredulity. "From life, from yourself, from anything?"

"I want to help others," he answered immediately, no rumination required. "I want to find others like me, like us, and lead them to light."

"How can you do that if you can't find it yourself?"

[transientwordsmith]

blood and bones

putting this under a cut because TÄSSÄ BLOOD TÄSSÄ VIOLENCE!!! READER BEWARE MUCH GORE AND GROSS BLOODY SHIT

She knelt in the pool of blood, hyper aware of the feeling of it seeping through her jeans. She stared at his lifeless body, the color slowly draining from his skin. Before it could completely leave, though, she raised her dagger once more, and brought it down with a satisfying chnk noise.

But it still didn’t feel like enough. She drew the dagger back out and brought it down again. She pierced through every single gap between his ribs, including his solar plexus. She took no care to wipe the blade and soon everything was covered in a thin sheen of red. She didn’t stop there, though. Picking up the arm closest to her, she began to carve intricate patterns into his forearm, watching as blood slowly seeped out, as if it was coloring in the outlines she made.

Suddenly, she had a thought. She brought his hand up to her face and put his finger in her mouth. She had always wondered what it would feel like to bite someone’s finger off. It broke just like a baby carrot, and it tasted metallic as she chewed. When only the bone remained, she gnawed on that too.

Next, she began to attack his throat. She had always heard that both the adam’s apple and the kneecap were freestanding bones, not attached to anything else. She intended to find out. Plunging her dagger once more into the cold skin, she found the first of the three bones she searched for. The blood no longer spurted since there was no pump to keep it moving but there was still a good amount of squelching as she dug her fingers around in the incision trying to remove the small bone. When she finally extracted it she placed it in her pocket for safe keeping.

Then she moved down to the knees. She spread them apart and sat in between. She began by cutting the most wrinkled part off in nearly a perfect circle and peeling it back. She pulled away the skin to find there was more underneath. Growing impatient, she attacked the remaining organic matter with her dagger until she finally found the bone. She dug this one out too with her fingers. She likened the feeling to pulling out a popcorn kernel from one’s teeth. The process was repeated on the other side.

Moving even farther south, she considered the ankles. She had turned him over so that she could see his entire backside. In a snap decision, she decided to cut both his achilles tendons and make a large incision the length of his entire calf on both sides. It just felt right. She then moved upward again, making a small laceration in between each of the vertebrae on his spinal column, and removing the centermost one.

Finally, as her final act of passion toward this boy, she forcefully buried the dagger deep in his brain stem. Then, she left, leaving the dagger, and the body, to be rot forever, or to be found by someone else.

[mad-hunts]

the concept of barton having quote unquote ' friendly little feuds ' with people who are varying degrees of dangerous, such as thieves and mercenaries, because he likes to go to bar 8 ( which is basically a bar in gotham where a LOT of criminals come to socialize ) + gamble with people there over card games which he of course has lost before... BUT he has also won a lot of games, is both a bit funny and also confusing to me, because. how do you say you're ' not a people person ' whenever you voluntarily meet with people at least once every month just to gamble / talk with them??? likeee he may say it's solely because he has this need for stimulation, and yes, it is true that he does. but i don't know. i'm internally doing that ' i'm watching you ' thing with my hand at him, guys LMAO

[sisterdivinium]

Rating: Mature Category: F/F Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV) Relationship: Jillian Salvius/Mother Superion Characters: Jillian Salvius, Mother Superion (Warrior Nun)

Theirs was a love unnamed, unspoken of, buried in the comforting denial of darkness — and then there was light.