#literally i cannot imagine him not being covered head to toe

[insomaniacat]

i think i NEED more characters covered up from head to toe in hoyoverse games because let me tell you I've never been this FERAL over any hoyoverse character until now

[darthnell]

You have to go with a guide. Mine advised me to get a pair of those waders like they use for fly fishing or harvesting cranberry bogs. I regretted not following that advice, but I got used to the feeling of walking with a lake in my boots after a while.

There were four or five of us, I think. I don’t remember all their names. The entrance was tucked away in an abandoned train tunnel; we had to squeeze ourselves through a hole that was about a foot and a half in diameter, or so. I won’t tell you where— I don’t think I’d remember anyways, despite my photos. I’d gone caving before, somewhere out in central Pennsylvania, and that was my closest point of reference for this. The end result wasn’t too different— you crawl out of a hole covered head to toe in mud. Except then, you hop back on the tram and hope no one stops you and questions where you’ve been.

Inside the catacombs, though, the difference is evident. They’re alive.

If you’re looking for the dead, just go to the tourist section. That’s where you’ll find the skulls and bones and grisly human remains.

If you’re looking for the life—which, naturally, is against the law—you’ll find the art.

It’s stunning. Mud and stone sculptures inhabit the salles. Murals and graffiti decorate the walls, intricate and not-so-ancient, original works and pop culture references and recreations of famous paintings like the Great Wave. Each year, the graduating class of one of the Parisian universities (which I shall not name for legal reasons) paints a mural to join the collage of their predecessors, which spans back decades. If you have someone who knows where to look, you’ll find them all— frescos and mosaics and seating areas and places to light candles and hand-made chandeliers to hold them. Places to host parties and raves— we passed a crew heading down that way, boombox on their shoulders and colored lights heralding their path.

Even before this I’d heard rumor of catacomb raves, but being down there myself, I cannot imagine anything stupider than doing that while inebriated. Perhaps it’s different for those who grew up in Paris.

I won’t pretend to know everything about it. My guide did most of the work— he carried the map, he lit the way. Without him, we would’ve all been lost, even with the “street” signs that corresponded somewhat to those above. It’s not a journey for the fainthearted. You will get muddy, you will get wet, you will get tired, you will have to squeeze your way through narrow tunnels, and you will have to keep up with your guide. You might even drop your phone in the thigh-deep water that you have to wade through, in the case of some poor explorer we came across; I don’t think he ever found it.

We didn’t come across anyone who claimed to live in the catacombs, but I don’t doubt that they exist. It’s illegal, of course, not to mention dangerous. I suppose that’s what makes it a haven to those who have the knowledge and need to use it as such. I consider myself lucky to get a glimpse into this part of underground (literally) French culture, and to make it back out in one soggy piece.

But, to echo op and the commenter above, think twice before going down. And do not go alone.

the paris catacombs are 1000x more fucked up than i imagined

[vrisrezis]

Oohh wait.. since we got a yandere s/o post... what about yandere matsus? 👀👀👀

Been waiting the day for this ask thank u

Warnings for blood; violence; abuse; toxic relationships; suicide; self harm; just general yandere stuff

Osomatsu is the “eliminating” type of yandere. He will do anything to make sure his competition is not around, he will attack or even go as far as to kill his rivals. If he’s pushed too far he would go as far as to hurt you, or kidnap you. He would even go as far as to kill you if driven mad enough. The only reason he would do this is if you show any kinda hatred or just disliking towards him, or are dating // showing an interest in somebody. He would try really hard to get you to trust him and be close to him, so he’d be really upset if you didn’t like him for some reason because of all the effort he’s put in for you to like him.

“Oh… so you are alive!” He smiles, wiping the blood off his face. Whos blood? Yours? His? Or somebody else’s? That is the question isn’t it.

“That’s good!” He giggles, “I honestly thought I killed you…” he says, coming close to you and caresses your cheek, you flinch at this action. “Now that wouldn’t be good… would it….?”

Karamatsu is a bit of the dependent type to be honest. He is devoted to you, and only you. You are his entire world and you are all that he thinks about. He cannot imagine a world without you by his side. He is so loving, to the point of it being overbearing. Giving you an unreasonable amount of love letters, flowers, anything to woo you. He is extremely delusional, getting the wrong idea and thinking you being kind to him means you love him. Although he is relatively harmless, if you get him out of his delusions (which is by kissing somebody or just dating somebody and showing an interest in somebody else) he ends up killing the person.

You looked at him, mouth agape. He did what? You may need him to repeat that.

The blood on his hoodie though, the tears rolling down his face, it says enough. He’s telling the truth. He killed your girlfriend, totoko.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, “please stay with me still! Don’t leave me! It’s okay right? It’ll be okay! Please don’t leave me! I cant live without you!” He barks out a laugh, tears steaming down his face. He seems more bothered by the idea of you leaving him than the fact he just murdered somebody, but you’re too scared to move as he comes up to you, taking your face in his hands.

“We can still stay together forever my dear! Like we always wanted! Hahaha!”

Choromatsu is the obsessive type of yandere, he always wants to be with you, he wants all of your time to himself. He wants you to be with him and only him, only think of him. He is the type of person to have a shrine of you hidden somewhere, he has pictures of you, there’s red scribbles of everyone else in the picture with you, whether it’s simply scribbles or just “DIE” or “NO” on the faces, your face being circled with hearts on it, he has stolen your sock that he sniffs and sighs happily at. He has become so obsessed though, he needs you by his side always. He’s more than willing to manipulate you into staying with him, and he can be very violent towards others. He isn’t violent towards you, but you have the fear that he could become violent. He tends to monopolize and isolate you from others.

“Who is that person you were talking to?” He glares at you accusingly. “You KNOW how I get when I’m upset…” he says, getting close to your face. “You don’t want anyone else to get hurt do you? Another person dying? Because of you? Is that really what you want?” He asks, and you shake your head no, begging him not to do anything drastic.

He gives you a sweet smile, “good” he says, kissing your cheek. “D’aww! I cant stay mad at you…” he sighs happily, “I love you~”

Ichimatsu is a bit self degrading, believing he is not good enough for his muse. He is extremely suicidal, wondering why he even should exist in a world where he can’t be with you. He ultimately decides if he cannot be with you he will simply die. He guilts you into staying with him, saying “I will kill myself if you leave me” he is extremely jealous as well which will make him extremely violent towards any rivals of his. He’s harmful to even himself, but never to you. He tends to self harm, mainly because he feels he deserves it, but also for your attention. When you pay attention to him it makes him feel so good, even if it’s not the good kind. It makes him feel like you care? Give him too much attention towards the self harm and he might actually go too far and stab himself to death in front of you.

“Good news honey..” Ichimatsu smiles darkly, “I killed that douchebag you wouldn’t shut the hell up about!” He laughs at you stare at him. “Yes.. keep staring at me..” he says in almost a dreamy like state, is that drool coming from his mouth? The moment you look away, he’s quick to say “hey… look at me…” he starts out serious before he lets out a rather maniacal laugh. “There’s so much blood coming out… it’s all for you..!”

He leans in to give you a kiss, you can taste the blood on his mouth and what freaks you out is that you don’t know if it’s his or not. “Lets die together. So we can stay together FOREVER in the afterlife.. we can start with you.. or do you wanna do it at the same time? I have sooo many ideas..”

Jyushimatsu is the type to worship you and be absolutely devoted towards you. He will do whatever you ask of him, he is quite literally your slave. He worships you and he is the self sacrificing type as well, he’s willing to kill himself for you, he’s at your beck and call. However at the same time would kill you too, not because he’s jealous, not on accident, but for the simple fact that he loves you. He is overbearing and is by far one of the worst of them, I feel very bad for you if you have this yandere. There is no reasoning with him, he’s beyond insanity.

He giggles, as you look at him covered in blood. “Well of course I killed him silly!” He says it in almost a bashful manner, “I’ll do anything for you.. even.. killing for you… I wouldn’t mind dying if it’s for you! use me however you want!” He grabs onto your hands, “you can just count on me. You don’t even need anyone else! I love you more than anyone ever could.. since I’m doing so much for you.. could you do one thing for more?”

Your quiet, but nod slowly, you’re too scared to do anything else.

“Can you give me your fingers nails? Toe nails are cool too if with wanna give me them instead.. a strand of your hair too! Ooh maybe even a tooth! I want them so I always have a part of you with me.”

Todomatsu is a stalker. He stalks you on social media and knows an unsettling amount of information about you that you never told him. He’s very clingy and obsessive and he wants to be with you always, and always, and always, AND ALWAYS, AND ALWAYS. He wants you guys to be inseparable, he is the most likely to kidnap you. He would be the type to isolate you from others, and he tries to force you to love him if he thinks you don’t. He is a little bit obsessed as well though, he wants to know everything you do, he wants to know everything about you. He can be violent towards you at times though.

“It hurts?” He asked, as he kicks you to the ground. “That’s your fault! I send you like 70 text messages and you didn’t reply! What about me?! Why didn’t you reply?” He glares at you angrily. “Where were you?! What were you doing?!”

When you don’t answer, he finally stops and inhales sharply, “I wanna stay together forever” he finally says, “you’ll never leave my side. Not again. I’ll make sure of it. You don’t need other people. You have me. You only need me.”

[shirophantomvox]

Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

Story Navigation

Let’s get started!

The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

[savagenutella46]

And Thus With A Kiss I Die

Jasonette 1/1 - A fic I wrote for @moonlitceleste because she’s amazing

All quotes/title in bold italics derived from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

"Banishèd' is banished from the world, and world's exile is death."

There's no finite end to where white and black meet. Everything is shades of grey; infinite on a foreboding scale of fate and destiny: entities that push you to make the choices you do.

It had ended with a flash of light—real or her imagination, she had witnessed it between her own eyes. The kind of flashing light that tells you, "you've died."

Ladybug could still hear the shrieks and screams of civilians echoing ringingly around her, confused, scared, as to why an akumatized villain was hurting them the way that it was; this wasn't how akumatizations usually went, maybe a few scratches, worn out knees, but never this.

(—And to think, it had started out as a normal day.

Marinette rose out of bed with the same grogginess lingering at the corner of her eyes, brushed her teeth, kissed her Maman on the cheek as she ran to school, late.

You'd never suspect you were going to die on a day so normal, so domestic.)

What had this person been through before submitting to Hawkmoth with such a vicinity? How had Hawkmoth prayed to a cacophony of emotions like this—to kill, order, destroy everything in its path? Marinette would never catch an inkling, dying and all that jazz.

It's easy to see the world through a rose-colored lens. To believe that people do the things they do because they're bad. (but no one ever talks about why they do the things they do because they're good.)

And Marinette, masked in all her red-and-black glory, had pushed a frozen-with-fear civilian out of harm's way, an absurd amount of unleashed dark magic from the akuma hurtling its way toward them, and she'd taken the hit. Rolled on the ground for yards from the sheer force that the akuma's magic had flew and stricken her and pierced the skin, blood splattering and trailing as she slapped and hit the street from every possible angle.

Ladybug can't move, can't call for help when she desperately needs to, because her partner is miles away trying to fight what has her plastered to the ground, laying limp underneath her dead weight, breathing muffled and heavy underneath her physical detriment.

Ladybug's eyes droop under the weight of exhaustion, barely running on fumes before she had run out in an attempt to defeat what was supposed to be an everyday activity.—Crazy, how something can seem so domestic until its so, so much more.—A hemothorax forming in her chest where Marinette had been hit, a very open thoracic cavity filling up with blood, and she's spluttering for breath, because her throat is closed up, filled with blood from where the akuma hit her to where it burned.

It burns real bad, almost like an explosion stemming from her chest to the nerve endings on her toes. Marinette feels like she's being tortured with every meek twitch of her wrist as she lays on the ground, unable to see over the car shouldering her path, the pain burning behind her eyes, the white-hot disappointment in her heart.

—And she knows it's time. Because this is the work of fate. Her life in its hands. It had seemed miles away from Marinette just this morning, and how she wished she could go back and cherish the moments since she'd arisen from unpremeditated slumber.

She cannot. This is her destiny, as it seems. No one can be saved if Ladybug cannot save herself, can't will herself to detransform and heal herself because she can't, and she feels a gripping amount of remorse before emotions hit her all around—she should've told Adrien something, she can't recall what it is—should've told her Maman she loved her before running out the door in such a rush—should've squealed about the hot superheroes in America with Alya one last time, before she feels nothing.

Nothing except for the white light. And then dark again. Absolutely nothing.

                                               _________________

It's dark when she opens her eyes, and she blinks to make sure her eyes are actually open, and sees a big, fat, load of nothing.

Marinette's—the ladybug suit had disappeared, her normal clothes taking its place—body feels light, floaty, and utterly weightless against the dark mass she's standing atop of. Her head feels eerily light, calm without the weight of the world on her shoulders, and a calm feeling washes over her.

Her voice echoes against endless sound barriers as she utters her first words since death.

"This is what death feels like, huh?" Utterly amazing. Marinette can't believe she didn't do this earlier.

—But, for a moment, she feels empathy. Empathy for the people stuck in Paris, wondering if this was the day they were going to die, the people all around the world living in fear of something so inevitable.

She closes her eyes for just a second, a moment of vengeful peace. Opens them again, and this time, she's somewhere different.

She's in a library. Unfamiliar, but welcoming all the same. The smell of crisp, unopened books float idly in her senses, a synthetic warm feeling creeping up behind her back. Distantly, she realizes that she recognizes the place, tables placed and shelves abundantly filled with books, ranging from science fiction to classic literature, and it feels exactly how it did all those years ago.

Years ago, when she'd first visited the United States of America, the first place her Maman and Papa took her was a public library in Gotham City, New Jersey. It had welcomed her so openly that she couldn't help but smile a little, slip under from her parent's grasp, and wander toward a vast section of William Shakespeare, someone she'd heard so much about in her eight—nine years, she couldn't help but be pulled toward the ordain shelf.

She'd even met someone, too. Her mother would forever deny—if Marinette had still been alive, but Marinette was convinced the little boy sitting against the mass of wooden shelves had been very, very real. Marinette had smiled at him, sat down next to him, even if he gave her a wary, and borderline aggressive look, she'd introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Marinette." She'd said with a horrible stutter and an almost unintelligible accent. The boy closed his book—a black and white cover with words she couldn't quite understand the meaning of as well as a simple name like Shakespeare's, and she smiled a little harder.

"Jason," He'd said in a heedful voice, staring at her curiously. "Whadda' you want?"

Marinette shrugged as best she could with weak shoulders, and turned her head from the person next to her to drink in every corner of the library that she could see without moving from her increasingly-uncomfortable crouch on the ground.

"Nothing. Just wanted to see what you're reading." She leaned over his shoulder, monosyllabic and complex English text alike filling her view, so many words that blurred together, and she felt a heat at the top of her head in frustration.

She couldn't read English.

The boy next to her—Jason, had seemed to recognize her distress and pull the book closer to him, floundering for a moment before he exhaled loudly, and started to read.

Words flowed out of the him, smooth and languid, and she found herself trapped in the moment, mesmerized by such an eloquent reading from a boy who looked just her age.

"What cursèd foot wanders this way tonight to cross my obsequies and true love's rite?" He reads off, breaking unevenly for gulps of air, and dove back right where he stopped without much distraction, and moments, minutes passed under his voice.

And the memory fell away from view. She opened eyes she didn't realize had closed when a voice seemed to float from the corner of her vision, a body stepping into view and a realized this wasn't imagination.

Another boy, dressed in tattered—but comfortable looking jeans finds his way over to her, a curious glint in his magnificent blue eye and a raised eyebrow, though he looks troubled, aged where he ought to look youthful.

"Who're you?" He mumbles, lips barely moving around syllables as he stares at Marinette, defensive, yet hopeful.

His voice. Despite the clearly street-wise accent, his voice is beautiful. A voice that could recite hundreds of words and never get old in the canals of her ears. Marinette found herself wanting to hear more.

"Marinette." She blinks, seems to realize the way he seems nervous, and, "You like jazz?" Blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, which, just so happens to be the only sentence capable of such utterance in damning—literally—times like this one.

Jason finally cracks a smile after a few more moments of cricket-inducing silence, and the newfound tension in her shoulders seems to melt away again, just as it did with her entrance to a magnificent limbo such as this. "Not in particular, but I do like to read." His smile is utterly contagious, and Marinette feels it spread its way along her own face, eyes crinkling under the weight of emotion.

They spend their days in an endless limbo like that, reading, laughing, sometimes in the comfortable chair in the library, and sometimes they're gazing upon clouds, feeling the prickly sensation of grass under their backs as they lie next to one another under a cool breeze and warm sun—which is the scene they're settling in, when Marinette turns her head toward the boy next to her.

"It's been," She pauses for a moment, adding up the days since they've both died—it had to be around the same time—and Jason turns his head toward her in a similar fashion, an eyebrow raised. "A few months? And..." She trails off, suddenly feeling less confident in a horrid question.

She knows the way she had died hadn't been peaceful, and if the boy she'd grown so close to in months of passing had died as painfully, he might doubt their budding friendship, as new as it is.

But then Jason reaches over and covers her hand with his, a blooming warmth enveloping her hand all the way to her heart, her vision snaps back to where it had wandered down to the rest of her body, reliving a turret of emotions. "Marinette," Jason stares at her in earnest, "You can ask."

Another thing she'd never understand was Jason's ability to read people so well. He'd always know her intentions, as bad or good as they may be, like something mundane, a book she'd eyed for a few minutes before he'd sighed heavily and got up to get it for her, or when Marinette wanted to be left alone. Just for a minute, to pull herself back together.

"How did you die?" She watches as Jason closes his eyes, curling in on himself despite the foretold question, and waits.

She's good at waiting. (A familiar feeling of heat creeping up to her cheeks, the same way it did with someone else, not so long ago, but in a different lifetime.)

"It started out when I tried to steal Batman's tires—" Marinette widens her eyes in surprise.

Oh, so they're going way back then, huh?

But by the time Jason finishes speaking, pats his sweaty hands down on the slacks he wore that day that came from God knows where, Marinette finds the humor and her mood had dimmed significantly.

And Jason, he looks terrible. Like it was the first time he'd said something about it since, well, death. Almost hyperventilating, Jason is breathing heavily, gripping onto his pants with malice and intent, almost as if stopping himself from something. He'd told his beginning to end with an increasingly shaky voice, cracking at the edges where he'd relived the fear and abandonment he felt when trapped in an unfamiliar country, in a dirty warehouse, trapped in his own feelings in a suit that he thought would always protect him.

Without a dad that he'd thought would always protect him.  

Marinette feels a little sick. The boy next to her had died so brutally, alone, scared and slowly.

"I don't regret it. Being Robin." He adds quietly after a moment of hesitation. It's small, but it's there and plain. He doesn't regret something that changed his life, but— "Just the death part."

He would want to change his death, and she couldn't agree more.

If only it meant they could've still met despite living, that is.

She doesn't say that. Instead, she laughs a little. "You and me both." Marinette reaches over to hold his hand once more, and pretends not to see the tears climbing out of his eyes.

"So early waking, what with loathsome smells, and shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, that living mortals, hearing them, run mad—?"

How it felt to tear his way out of the ground, shivering, shaking, flinching at the way his fingernails tore away with every claw and scratch at the unyielding wood before him. Jason was vaguely aware of a horrible groaning noise that might've been his own, but when his hand stuck through to crisp Gotham air, dirt flinging and spilling down on his face as he gasped and choked for breath, he could only think of a single quote from such a cliche play.

He thought of it while tearing out the bloody uvula of his victim, spurred on by the Pit and Talia's ruthless training, starving for the sound of screaming that rung in his ear, continued to clang loudly even in sleep, when it bestowed itself upon him.

Because he couldn't think about anything else. Wouldn't allow himself to, because then he would start thinking about her.

About how she left him.

Jason had turned to retrieve a book from their peaceful library limbo one day, muttering to himself about something so mundane that he didn't even remember, but he'd grabbed the book—a simple fiction, because they were both bored of astronomy—and turned around to silence, instead of the shiny mop of dark hair he was expecting.

"Marinette?" Jason calls, swiveling his head around when the chair previously occupied by her stood empty.

Jason waits.

He doesn't know how long he waits, searches, but she isn't there.

And the feeling of disappointment and fear runs up his spine again, before he knows it, he's kneeling on the ground, trying to catch his breath as tears run down because he's been abandoned again, and it's just as damning as the first time.

His father, his brother, his mother, his birth mother, and now his friend.

Jason breaks down again, gripping harshly onto his hair while he cries, where he'd usually hold onto Marinette's hand.

So he doesn't think of much at all, really. Not when he turns on murder mode, not when he forces himself to stare into the eyes of the person he's killing while they die, because he wants to remember how it felt. How it felt before he met another superhero torn away from her life almost as harshly as he was ripped away from his own.

He wants to go back. Before he flew to Ethiopia unsupervised and unprepared, before he took the Robin mantle, before he decided to make quick cash off of the Batmobile, before his mother died by her own hands, loosely holding a syringe and shaking, shuddering from her overdose.

Jason wants to go back to Before. He can't stand living in the After, where he makes the choices he does.

He’s supposed to be good.

permanent taglist: @nathleigh @stainedglassm @officiallydarkgeek @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @buterflies-and-ladybugs @maskedpainter

[rookiesbookies]

Nsfw Head-canons -Brothers

Lucifer:

-Gentle but will push anyone’s limits

-prefers to hit it from the back over a desk, but understands thats not always possible or wanted

-this mf is smirking the whole time at you

-after care is 10/10 tho bc he’s got the best bathroom in the house (no matter what asmo says😂)

-you will smell like his... essence by the end

-might let you top every once in a while but even if you do something like ride him he has to be sitting up even just a little bit

-hes prideful ass wont let him be a bottom even for a second

-is your Lucifer up to his horns in work?

-literally just fling your underwear at him

-he’d shoot up and give you the ... attention you need faster than you can say “Satan gotta cat”

-I cannot yell “FLOGGER” louder

-BDSM if there ever was such

Mammon:

-sweet baby is so scared of hurting anyone

-likes to hold hands

-doesnt always like to be looked at tho, depending on the mood

-switch leans for bottom tho

-probably usually is the one needing aftercare

-probably apologizing if he did something wrong

-he’s mind can not handle pleasure

-like you’d be blowing him and he’d be squirming and like tearing up

-oh imagine pointing out that the marks point down

-“what do ya mean- they’r’ pointin there...”

-VERY LOUD

-YOU PROBABLY NEED TO GAG HIM SO THE HOUSE DOESNT SHAKE

-EVEN IF YOUR JUST BLOWING HIM

-praise kink

-he needs praise tho

-🥺💜💜 bb needs love

Levi:

-hates to be looked at

-“ st-stop looking at me like that normie!”

-this mf totally would call you a “normie” then

-**snake dicks**

-probably talks about a random hentai with a stupid long name when in the middle of it

-he’s LOUD

-like REALLY LOUD

-might use his tail, idk

-when Asmo brings it up Beel goes

-“Not in front of the Salad”

-if you make eye contact with him, while doing anything, he’d squirm so much

-probably needs so much praise to be reminded he’s not just a “yucky otaku”

-forked tongue

-really sensitive horns

-“I dont- fine Ill do the tongue thing from that stupid Disney Movie”

-would cover Henry 2.0 with a cloth

-bed sheets are EVERYWHERE

-hide him in his gaming chair

-probably has curtains to cover the other fish in his room so they dont see

-idk why he just is like that

Satan:

-this boi probably jumps you on the couch in the library

~~-only bc Lucifer was in his study~~

-never does it angy, the smexy times are for love

-vanilla

-gets **bite-y**

-pet kink tho

-will wear the collar but prefers you to

-switch, leaning to dom

-pet name for you is Kitty

-would totally call you “my precious kitten” too

-probably reads too much about everything having to do with this subject (also talks to Asmo too much)

-“I want to try (random position)”

-usually it doesnt work out bc for the most part he’s vanilla

-probably talks to Asmo too much about this

-probably read 50 Shades trying to understand

-probably regretted both of those

-on second thought he totally does

-sadist

-he’s a sadist

Asmo:

-owns 100% of the adult section in Akuzon

-you cant convince me otherwise

-probably balls deep at least once a week

-switchy **AF**

-breath on him and his horny

-doesnt mean he’ll be easy tho

-would make you beg

-edging bitch

-may snap sadist on you in a second

-the most fabulous aftercare

-he’s like painting your nails and shit

-massages

-too think this all started bc he caught you staring at him

-right after he asks some bullshit

-“how do bees fly- science says they shouldnt be able to”

-“these are thing you dont say after having sex”

-COWGIRL AND 69 ARE HIS FAVORITE, HAVE TO BE

Beel:

-forgive me father, Ive been a bad girl

-BUT IMAGINE THE TONGUE ON THIS SOFT BOI

-PLUS ISNT HE LIKE 6 FOOT 5

-scared of crushing you

-could fling you like a rag doll tho

-probably biggest jewels in the family

-🤠

-would accidentally over simulate someone

-probably would tell you to taste good

-needs constant reassurance

-bb boi would cry if you degraded him

-bite-y

-no cap

-doesnt leave hickies but you wake up with bite marks everywhere

-some of them drew blood bc in some of the animations he has shark teeth

-you cant walk

-and not bc he went hard

-just bc he’s THAT BIG

-I just feel like he is

-hehehe his cowboy boots in his demon form tho

-if you touched his horns he’d be so surprised

-every confused on the idea of what “Horny” is

-“ b-but im hungry... just not for food???”

-probably asked Asmo

-that was a mistake

-giving him face rubs reminding him that it doesnt hurt and your just adjusting

-tracing his tattoo is probably the cutest thing youve done after

-Asmo heard it all.

-Asmo

-heard

-it

-all

-period

-food kink

-will eat off your body

-just out food on your body and he go nom nom

Belphie:

-he’s a dom bottom

-if thats possible

-cuz he’s lazy af

-but refuses to be dominated

-always in the bed, cuz HE DOESNT LEAVE IT

-cuddles after

-“you wanted to do it in the attic for a reason didnt you.”

-just fuckin smirks at you

-bc the attic is probs above Luci’s room

-probably really kinky but just too lazy to do jack

-even tho he lazy dont mean you wont be head to toe marked up

-would rock his hip while you adjust just to see your surprised face

-lots of sucking

-idk why

-i feel like he just do

-has been the sub before

-he did not like it

-he just likes being a lazy dom

-if he tops, sheeeet is going down

-if he tops, you will never EVER walk the same again

-temple kisses reminding you you did good

-cuddles

-his pet name for you is Bear, bc your his Teddy Bear

-he fucking Koala’s you in his sleep

-and there is no escaping his grip

[trashyswitch]

Jeremy and the Unusual Reunion

Jeremy ends up being pulled into an animatronic reunion. Literally. But the reunion ends up full of laughs with old companions, laughs with new companions, and an unexpected meet up with an old coworker.

Sequel to 'Jeremy and the Mysterious Robots'.

I feel like I've been on roller coaster ride after roller coaster ride...and some of them have not been very pleasant. But, I'm making the best out of the situation. I hope you enjoy this fanfic! And if you offered up a fanfic, don't worry! I'm working on it!

Jeremy was going for a walk in the street. He was enjoying the sunny day with the nice little breeze that filled his face. Today was really the perfect day to go walking. Cars driving by, the sun shining on your face, the birds flying through the buildings, even younger and older kids biking up and down the street in groups of 4 or 8.

But all the happiness quickly changed when he felt his hand get grabbed. He was about to turn to see who it was, when Jeremy was yanked backwards into an alleyway. Jeremy yelped as he was pulled really quickly past the bricks, and grunted as his body hit a wall. Jeremy had the air knocked out of him as a result, making it extra hard to breathe for a few moments.

A being with what felt like electrical cords for hands, grabbed his upper arms and held them against the wall beside his middle. “Why hello, Michael~” Ennard greeted. “Still alive, I see?”

Jeremy looked up, and immediately started screaming! It was a huge animatronic abomination made primarily of cords and a clown head with a party hat and a big red nose. Oh no...Not the Pizzeria beings again!

Ennard slammed Jeremy’s body into the wall again. “SHUT UP.”

But Jeremy refused to shut up. “LET ME GO! I’M NOT MICHAEL! I DON’T KNOW WHO MICHAEL I-”

Suddenly, a white feminine-looking hand covered up Jeremy’s mouth. “There! Soooo much quieter!” The being talking was a version of Foxy that Jeremy had never seen before. It...looked very feminine and had girly attributes to it. An example: Pink long nails.

Jeremy didn’t know how to feel about this.

“Funny...He was right. This isn’t Michael…” Ennard reacted calmly. “Michael has darker hair...and a similar facial shape…”

Suddenly, a worn down version of Toy Chica walked up to the person and gasped. “Jeremy! Fancy seeing you here!” Chica squawked.

Jeremy widened his eyes. Oh no...Not the toys…

Hey boys! Jeremy’s still here!” Chica reacted.

Toy Freddy, Toy Bonnie and Foxy walked themself to Jeremy and smiled. “

Did someone order an old friend?!" Toy Freddy asked enthusiastically.

Oh no...NOT THESE GUYS AGAIN!

"You won't get tired of my voice... will you?" Toy Chica asked.

To save his butt, Jeremy shook his head no.

“Okay! Good!” Chica replied.

"Is there someone here who needs some extra-special cheering up?" Toy Freddy asked.

Uh oh...That’s not good. Not good at all!

Toy Freddy smiled and turned to the other animatronics. “My friend here is very ticklish! I remember all his ticklish spots too!” Freddy told him.

Oh no...OH GOD NO!

“Oooooh! That tickles me just thinking about it! Do tell!” Funtime Foxy begged.

“Aaaalrighty!” Toy Freddy started pointing to different spots. “His belly is very ticklish! But his armpits are really bad! His hips are a good spot too! And don’t forget those toesies!” Toy Freddy explained.

Jeremy curled his toes, just thinking about it. This cannot be happening...What ever happened to his peaceful walk? Is that just thrown out the window now?

“Alright Jeremy! Time for the tickle tickle tickles!” Freddy decided as he started tickling and poking Jeremy’s belly.

Jeremy jumped and widened his eyes, and quickly covered his mouth. He wasn’t breaking. He wasn’t gonna give them the satisfaction. No way, no how-

Theeen someone went for the armpits…

“aaAAAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHO AHARMPIHIHIHIHITS!” Jeremy shouted.

Well...so much for ‘no breaking’...

“That was quick! Have you been getting more ticklish while I was gone?” Toy Freddy asked curiously.

Hell if he knew! Does anyone get more ticklish over time?! Or is it just him?!

Jeremy squeaked and laughed as his armpits were attacked and played with. This was NOT how he imagined his day to go. But, he had to admit: tickling is better than death.

“OOooooh! He really IS ticklish! Can I try?” Funtime Foxy asked.

“Of course you can! Your nails will work perfectly for what we’re doing!” Toy Freddy replied.

Oh no...NOT THE NAILS!

Funtime Foxy walked to Jeremy’s foot and picked it up. Jeremy immediately grew nervous as he stared at the pink nails. They looked sharp! But they looked SUPER ticklish too…

“Aaaalright! Time to work my magic!” Funtime Foxy started wiggling their fingers eagerly at the toes. Then, they touched down and started skittering all over. “A kitchy kitchy kitchy koo! A kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!”

Jeremy squealed out of surprise and clamped his teeth. His lips began to ripple into a smile as he struggled to handle the ticklish feeling that covered his feet. He soon started humming and giggling a little. “MMmmmmmhmhmhmhmhmhmhm! Hmhmhmhmhmhm-nohohohohohoho!” Jeremy whined. “Stahahap it that ticklhlhlhles!” Jeremy whined a little more.

“Oh really, giggly Jeremy?” Toy Freddy teased. “I couldn’t tell! I thought you found something funny to laugh at!” Toy Freddy teased.

BonBon looked up at Funtime Freddy. “Maybe he was giggling at you!” Bonbon teased to Funtime Freddy.

Funtime Freddy gasped and huffed. “How dare he!” Funtime Freddy looked down at Bonbon and smirked. “Hey Bon-Bon! GO GE-GET HIM!” Funtime Freddy threw Bonbon right at Jeremy. Bonbon smacked Jeremy in the face, but slid down to his belly. Quickly, Bonbon started giggling and wiggling into his shirt.

Jeremy widened his eyes. “Nohohow HOHOHOLD OHOHON! HAHAHAHA THAHAHAT TIHIHIHICKLES! HAHAhahahahAHAHAHAHAha!”

The little version of Bonnie wiggled and shook itself further under the fabric of his shirt, and started tickling with his nubs and blowing robotic raspberries into his belly button.

Jeremy SCREAMED and pretty much tripled his wiggling! He was wiggling so much at this point, that an average human adult would’ve lost grip of his ticklish spots! But NOPE! These were ROBOTS with EXTRA strength on their side. There was NO WAY he was getting out of THIS grip. No way for a long shot!

“HAHAHahahahaAHAHAHAHAHAHA- HEHEHEHEHELP! HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHE!” Jeremy begged to Funtime Freddy’s general direction.

Funtime Freddy just chuckled. “Sorry buddy. But I only have one hand right now! You’re just gonna have to let Bonbon do his tickly thing.” Funtime Freddy replied casually.

If these robots were programmed with any sort of artificial ticklishness, then Jeremy would 100% go for all the spots at once. This was SO unfair! It was 1 against 10-12 animatronics! How was THAT ever fair?! This is like being licked and played with by 12 horses! Though, even horses would offer more empathy to Jeremy than these robots.

Bonbon was giggling along with him as he scurried up Jeremy’s armpit. Almost on cue, Ennard grabbed onto Jeremy’s arm and held it above his head. With the arm open and out of the way, Bonbon wiggled itself to the upper chest and started attacking Jeremy’s armpit with both little nubby hands, AND with the ears! Literally! Even the ears were bending up and down and tickling his armpit! And it felt like being tickled by four nubby hands!

“NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAT THE AHAHAHARMPIHIHIHIHIHIHAHAHAHAHA!” Jeremy screamed.

“You’re so silly!” Bonbon declared rather happily.

“That’s enough…” a raspy voice told them. Bonbon jumped and stopped immediately. He refused to come out of the shirt though...Perhaps it was afraid of the voice.

“Come on Bonbon! It’s just-” Funtime Freddy widened his eyes as he realized who it actually was. Funtime Freddy moved out of the way for the creature and stood to the side. This allowed Jeremy a moment or two to see who was talking.

Jeremy stared at the creature in horror and surprise…

It was a green, completely ruined animatronic in the shape of a bunny!

Jeremy felt intense fear filling his thoughts as he gazed upon the green bunny. He felt the desperate need to get the hell out of there! But these freaking robots wouldn’t let him go without another evil tickle attack on the way!

The bunny hobbled closer and stared at the human. Jeremy grew uncomfortable super quickly. The bunny moved into the light, revealing its human, and animatronic mixed appearance. It was hideous to look at!

Jeremy SHRIEKED and wiggled more as he stared at the huge metal buck teeth. IT WAS GONNA EAT HIM! IT WAS GONNA CHOMP HIM LIKE THE OTHER ANIMATRONIC DID! AAAAAAH!

The green bunny scoffed. “Pathetic…” The green bunny muttered before looking a little closer at him. “Wait a minute...This isn’t him at all…” The green bunny turned to the animatronics with a blank animatronic expression. But his inner face could easily tell you he was pissed. “You useless machines! This is the wrong person!” The bunny yelled.

“We know, sir Afton. But the old ones remember him!” Funtime Freddy told him, pointing to the toy animatronics like a toddler.

“What?!” The bunny asked, turning to the toy animatronics.

“This was the security guard that worked at night!” Toy Freddy declared. “Gerald was his name!” he added.

Jeremy couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “It’s Fitzgerald, Fazbear.” Jeremy clarified.

‘Fitzgerald…’ The bunny thought...

“Wait…” The bunny grabbed onto Jeremy’s head and started looking for something on his head. Jeremy started to freak out at first, but slowly calmed down as the bunny moved his bangs out of the way in a surprisingly gentle manner. “It can’t be…”

The bunny soon took notice of the scar on his face and very softly felt it like a blind person would feel braille dots. Jeremy had calmed down rather quickly, and seemed to have grown more curious rather than concerned.

“It is…” The bunny muttered. “Jeremy Fitzgerald…What a pleasant surprise to see you again.” The bunny spoke.

Jeremy looked super nervous and yet, quite confused. Truth was, he was more focused on how boney and hard the bunny’s fingers were…

The bunny quickly noticed this strange reaction. “I see...I imagine you don’t recognize me at all…” the voice told him.

“I...don't, sadly. Do I know you?” Jeremy asked. “You seem to be the only...humane animatronic so far.”

“Humane is not far off, Fitzgerald…” The bunny showed Jeremy his hand and showed him the skull.

Jeremy widened his eyes. “The animatronics have hu-”

“I was in a workplace accident thirty years ago...I still don’t fully understand why I survived.”

Jeremy felt like all the air had evaporated from his lungs. “M-Mike…”

“Mike? Oh no no no…” The bunny opened its mouth as if to smile. “William...William Afton. Former co-owner of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza...And founder of Fazbear Entertainment.” The bunny cleared up.

Jeremy was 5 seconds away from shrieking. William Afton was also a murderer! And he’s alive after all this time!

Jeremy finally pulled his hands out of Ennard’s grip and pulled Bonbon out of his shirt. “Get away from me! You MONSTER!”

The bunny widened his eyes and narrowed his eyes in anger. “And I treated you quite kindly…”

“YOU MURDERER! HOW COULD YOU?!” Jeremy reached into the suit and grabbed the first thing he could. Whatever it was, it was hard and felt like a vertical puzzle piece. “I’ll- I’ll break whatever’s in my hand!”

The bunny chuckled in its very low voice. “There is a metal spine attached to the suit that holds me together. Even if you broke my spine...I will still be able to kill you.”

Jeremy widened his eyes and finally settled for kicking him in the groin to run. But Jeremy’s entire body froze to a halt as intense, mind-numbing pain filled his foot.

Jeremy SCREAMED and pulled his pulsing foot back. He grabbed his foot and hopped backwards to the wall. “Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! What are you MADE OF?!” Jeremy shouted as he hissed and rubbed his paining foot.

The bunny bursted out laughing at him. “You thought you could immobilize me? I believe you have forgotten I’m partly made of metal.” The bunny reminded him calmly.

The bunny got closer to Jeremy, and stared into him with his icey eyes. “You should’ve went for spine…”

The bunny backed away from Jeremy and looked over at the animatronics for a moment. Then...he looked back at Jeremy with an evil glare on his face. “Seize him.”

Jeremy shrieked and struggled to get away as a crowd of 12 or 15 animatronics completely surrounded Jeremy.

The bunny opened his mouth more, showing his bucktooth smile. “Have some fun with him.” He told the animatronics.

It didn’t take long for squeaks and laughter to fill the backstreet again. Jeremy squirmed around like a worm, and laughed hysterically as multiple ticklish spots were attacked at once.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO! DOHOHON’T LEHEHEHEHEAVE MEHEHEHEHEHEHE WIHIHIHITH THEHEHEHEHEM!” He begged.

“You don’t want me to help you...I might just kill you.” The bunny joked in a dark manner.

Jeremy just about lost it when he said that. Okay! Screw that! Scratch him off the list of people to be saved by!

But there was no one else to save him! Only the murderer Afton could save him from the tickle attacks! And he was the one that caused them to continue!

“Oh! Hey Funtime Foxy! Go for his sides! They’re really bad too!” Toy Freddy suggested.

“Oooooh! Okay!” Funtime Foxy reached her hand out and started squeezing and skittering her pretty pink nails onto both of Jeremy’s sides. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koooooo!”

Freddy chuckled. “Hey, where’s the puppet? We should get him here too!”

OH NO! NOT THE PUPPET!

Jeremy yelped and pulled on his bound arms. “NO! NOT THE PUPPET! NAHAHAT THE PUPPET! PLEASE NO!”

Suddenly, a music box sound went off in the background...and a black and white thin creature slowly rose from the box.

“Hey Puppet! Jeremy’s back! Wanna come help us?” Toy Freddy asked.

The puppet climbed out of the music box and tilted his head.

“Yeah! Look at Jeremy! Hasn’t he changed since we last saw him? He looks old now!” Toy Freddy told the puppet.

“HEY! Shut up, you dinosaur!” Jeremy shot back.

Toy Freddy gasped at the retort. “Excuse me?!”

“Yeah! You heard me! Or did you, old hag?” Jeremy teased.

I recognize you, but I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.” The puppet said with a giggle.

“Oh...Oh that’s wonderful.” Jeremy muttered.

Toy Freddy grabbed Jeremy’s sides. “CHEER UP TIME!” he shouted before squeezing his sides.

Jeremy bursted out laughing wildly and flopped around. It tickled so much! Oh my goodness! Jeremy was a mess of hysterics, and he was growing to love it! Maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought...

The bunny sighed and rolled his eyes with a little smile as he thought:

‘What a child…’

[dsudis]

Horse facts!

Dear Witcher fandom,

I love you all SO MUCH but as someone who was jsut enough of a horse girl to get riding lessons for a while and subscribe to Horse & Rider for three years and pay a lot of attention to the people who Actually Know Things About Horses when they talk about them, please stop writing basic horse things wrong. Please please if you have not done the thing you are about to have someone do to/with/on a horse, google it. Find a video of it, or a video that explains why it is not a good idea or not physically possible. There are MANY videos of people doing things to/with/on horses! MANY! 

Or you could read the rest of this post, at least!

Here are some (probably--actual horse people feel free to correct me!) non-wrong horse facts! 

1) this one is JUST for Witcher fandom (and, I guess, Star Wars fandom and any fandom where somebody might be using magic to control a horse): WITCHERS CAN USE MAGIC TO CONTROL HORSES. Specifically, they use the sign called Axii, which does minor short-term mind control, to calm a horse that’s starting to freak out about some aspect of witcher life, like carrying around a monster head, or a rider, that smells like DEATH, or coping with their rider shooting fireballs or something. If Geralt is in the vicinity of a horse that is panicking or fighting or in pain, he can make any of that stop literally with the wave of a hand. 

You can also use this to have Geralt be able to give complex commands to Roach or have her be super weirdly well-trained or any other purpose you like! Just! Use it!!

2) ONE SADDLE, ONE BUTT

Don’t worry, unlike Geralt I will not punch you in the gut for getting this wrong! I will just facepalm while wincing in vicarious discomfort for the groin areas of your characters.

If you look over Geralt’s left shoulder in the GIF, you can see the saddle Roach is wearing. It’s a little hard to make out because it’s a dark color, but you can see that it comes up in front and back. Here’s a traditional/historical type saddle with a similar shape:

It’s shaped like that to help the rider stay in the saddle--both when the horse is running and, for instance, if he’s injured/poisoned/very tired and needs his horse to carry him to somewhere he can safely recover or get help. (Medieval saddles were even more car-seat-like in that respect; Witchers might also get their saddles with tie points so they can lash themselves in if they think they might fall out.)

So the cradling structure of the saddle only really works if it doesn’t leave the rider much extra room to slide around between front and back. THERE IS NOT ROOM FOR A WHOLE OTHER PERSON TO SIT IN THE SADDLE WITH THEM. You can MAYBE cram in a small child? But otherwise I will leave you to imagine the sensation of being uncomfortably crammed onto either the front or back edge of that saddle (hint: it’s leather over a WOODEN FRAME, it DOES NOT SQUISH.) 99% of fictional characters would prefer to walk. 

3) RIDING DOUBLE: NOT A CUDDLE

Now you CAN fit another person onto the horse if you really need to--there’s a bunch more horse-rump out the back of the saddle that someone can perch on, holding on to the rider in front if they need to, the area where Geralt has a bedroll and saddlebags tied on. BUT! The whole back end of the saddle is then between the two riders. They are not spooning on top of the horse. 

4) WALK DON’T RUN

The majority of the time, the horse is moving at a walk. It is no faster to ride than to walk, or, for instance, to have one person walk while the other person leads the horse. In fact, the added weight of a second adult rider can be very uncomfortable or even harmful for the horse. Horses cannot sustain high speeds for very long; if they’re being ridden long distance and not being changed out for fresh horses (let us not even get into Why Geralt Should Be Traveling With At Least Two Horses), they move about as fast as a human. 

Humans are typically faster on any kind of uneven or rocky or boggy ground, and a responsible rider would likely dismount and lead--horses do not need a lot of encouragement to break a leg, at which point you are out an entire horse. If you think a klutzy or drunk human might twist an ankle on the terrain, you should not attempt to move a horse over it any less carefully.

(The advantages of having the horse, since they are not “routine travel speed” are: it can carry stuff, leaving the rider unburdened and able to switch to fighting quickly; when you really really need to cover a relatively short distance very fast, horses are better than humans for that; can carry an injured/ill rider to safety/assistance; riding puts you at not-a-disadvantage if you come up against a mounted enemy; warm; someone to talk to.)

5) STAYING ON THE HORSE

As mentioned above, the saddle is the main thing that helps the rider actually stay on the horse. Things that are NOT crucial to staying on the horse:

-REINS. They are attached to the bridle, either to a bar of metal in the horse’s mouth, or a strap around the horse’s nose. NEITHER OF THESE IS A GOOD LOAD-BEARING STRUCTURE. DO NOT PUT WEIGHT ON THEM, YOU WILL HURT OR AT LEAST BADLY CONFUSE THE HORSE. Reins are for guiding/communicating with the horse, and may not even be necessary for an experienced rider/well-trained horse--horses can be guided by the rider’s position/leg pressure, for instance. 

-STIRRUPS. They are helpful for stepping up onto the horse! They allow you to shift your weight over the saddle if you are doing a lot of maneuvering (as in fighting from horseback) or moving very fast (as in racing). Since most of the time the horse is walking, most of the time the rider’s legs are free to dangle over the sides and stirrups are just a spot to rest your toes.

If the rider is feeling very unsteady, they can usefully grab the front of the saddle or the horse’s mane near the base of the neck, i.e. right in front of where they’re sitting. (It’s not painful like pulling a person’s hair, this is how NOT to hurt the horse when hanging on.)

...Okay that is all the HORSE FACTS! energy I have for today! Please feel free to chime in with additional helpful horse facts!

[dragonblobz]

INJURIES PT 3

After a billion years HERE IT IS...... another non smutty installment of the request made by @lilfriezatyrant 🤣 I swear there will eventually be smut. I'm just enjoying this too much. Wrote this to Battle Cry by Imagine Dragons

The cot creaks and shifts as you try to lay next to him as gently as possible on your side facing him. He’s not that large, but the cot isn’t either, and as you relax, the middle of the thing sinks, causing your body to drift along the side of him.

His leg is very cool on your leg. His tail flicks the cover over you sloppily. You shiver and reach down to adjust this blanket more smoothly, trying to be discreet about moving your leg away from his. But your movement just makes the cot sag more and you slide even closer. He chuckles amiably.

“I’ll not scald you, (Y/N). In fact…..” His tail slips between the cover and your shirt to press you into his body. It’s cold enough to be felt even thru the fabric of your shirt. “…… Get over here. Your body heat is pleasant.”

You place your palms together and slip your hands under your cheek, just looking at his darkened profile. His hands are still behind his head. Your face is practically in his armpit. If he were a sweaty human, you’d probably be able to smell it. As it is, you can smell him, but it’s not body odor. At least, not human body odor. The smell reminds you of that time your biology instructor had allowed you to hold the boa from the classroom terrarium. Reptilian. Only sweeter. Almost too sweet.

His eyes are closed. There’s just enough dim firelight that you can see the side of his mouth twisted in a smirk.

Your eyes wander up to look at the crystal that seems to just be his cranium. And it’s really pretty right now, the firelight casts orange fairy like flashes in it’s amethyst depths. Like angels among galaxies. Very beautiful.

These little flecks shift as his face turns and those burning red pupils are exposed as his large eyes open. The smirk is still affixed to his mouth and it belies the irritation in his voice.

“Are you going to sleep? Or just look at me all night?”

“Both.” Your own voice is tart and you blush at being had.

His smirk morphs into a full on closed lipped grin as one of his smooth brows raises.

“Oh? And here I was, assuming that you were cold and tired. Shame on me.” The sarcasm is thick.

You don’t say anything. Just squeeze your eyes shut and try to sleep.

Eventually, your body heat pools under the blanket. And it’s the undoing of your consciousness as you gradually fall into dreams.

………………………………………..

It’s some bird that wakes you up this morning. A gentle rhythmic tweeting that is just harsh enough to gradually rouse you from slumber.

The first thing you register as your eyes open is his sleeping face. Pointed skyward, his face looks as innocent as when you’d scraped him off the charred remains of the forest floor 2 days ago.

The low cool toned light of pre dawn thru the walls of your tent casts blue flickers on that purple cranium. He’s really very pretty.

You’ve got a fairly silly sleepy smile on your face as you realize the exact nature of your body placement.

You can feel the cold hardness of that purple spot on his shoulder upon your cheek. You’re so fucking close that when your gaze travels down, you can see the definition of the musculature and venous structures of his neck.

Your arm is draped over his chest, your fingertips pressed into that purple stone like spot on his chest. And, most shameful of all, your leg is across his body, the flesh of your thigh almost directly over his groin.

You are literal stone. Cannot move. Cannot even breathe.

Fuckshitfuckshit.

You’re pretty sure that, should you try to extricate yourself from him, you’ll wake him. So you just lay like this.

He hasn’t moved one iota. Is still in the exact position as the previous evening. Arms still crossed behind his head. The only notable difference is that his tail is completely wrapped around your abdomen. Twice. And absolutely under your shirt. The strange texture of it doesn’t feel as cold as it had the night before. Perhaps your body heat really DOES help.

After a time, you finally move. But just your head. You look down at the hand on his chest. You watch your own fingertips curl and press into that icy purple spot.

“Just touch me, (Y/N). I grow weary of your hesitation.”

You nearly jump entirely out of your skin.

His eyes remain closed. Face relaxed, save a the barest hints of a smirk, which you can barely see out of the corner of your eye.

“No…… no that’s okay. Really, I should get up and check your wounds.”

You sit up, remove your hand from him. But you don’t get far.

His tail constricts slightly underneath your shirt. An uncomfortable warning. He still hasn’t moved. But his mouth twists into a sneer.

“My injuries will wait. I’m getting rather tired of your impulsive tendency to ignore my good will.”

One hand leaves his cranium and, upon the movement, you notice that the wound upon his head has completely vanished. Geez…… this guy heals FAST. And his eyes are still closed.

This hand slowly reaches for your arm. The movement is easy to predict. Purposeful. You know just what he’s going to do. And you do nothing to stop him.

His cool fingers wrap around your wrist and pull your hand, just as slowly……. Almost inexorably……… grip as firm as a vice, back to that icy purple spot on his chest. And he holds it there.

His eyes finally open, and he gazes at you. His face is unreadable for a moment before he grins at you impishly.

“There. Look at that! Your hand is still intact.” Mirthful chuckles. You blush and scowl at him. But his eyes almost twinkle with his merriment at your discomfort before he continues.

“Now. Satisfy your infernal curiosity so that we can get along with this day.” His fingers gradually loosen their grip. As if he’s waiting for you to yank your hand from him.

You don’t. And so his hand returns to its twin to cradle his head.

It is strange. Such unmitigated access to an alien being. You simply rest your hand upon him. It’s not like you haven’t touched him. You’d cleaned him up that very first day. But, other than a curious touch to his face, that had been very business like. Just cleaning up an injured beast.

But this beast is very much conscious now. Very much awake. And very much aware of every movement you’re making.

You sit up straighter and place your other hand upon his belly. It quivers slightly under your touch before relaxing. Instinctive. But he remains motionless.

You run your palms along his abdomen. His skin is cool along his belly, but warm where your leg had been laying a few minutes ago. You notice his large toes flexing at the bottom of the makeshift brace sticking out of the cover.

Your hands reach the blanket, bunched at his hips. You blush and run them quickly back up to his chest. He chuckles again but doesn’t speak.

You can feel the delicate texture of his skin. Can see the luminescence even in the low light, shifting around your fingers as you prod now into his pectorals around that amethyst splotch. He’s really very muscular for such a slender thing. You can feel the firm flesh underneath that skin.

Your focusing so hard on this as your fingertips trail up to his neck that you don’t notice how intense his gaze is upon you. At least, not until you think about touching his face, until you look. You hesitate. He says nothing.

You pull your hands away and, so fast that you never actually SEE him move, his fingers are, once again, wrapped around your wrist. But, oddly enough, you’re not startled at all.

You hand is frozen mid air, his grip a pale manacle. You look at it. Notice how glossy his nails are. Like obsidian. And bring your other hand up to trace the delicate looking bone structure of this hand around your wrist.

He then pulls again, just as slowly. But this time he does not pull your hand to his chest. It is the same as before. You know exactly what he’s going to do. And just as the last time, you do not resist as he presses your palm to his jaw. His crimson eyes study you. Your mind conjures a momentary hysterical image of a child patting a dragon. You suppose that this is just what you are.

His hand continues to hold yours to his face. And you bring your other hand up to match this touch on the other side. And there you are. Cupping the face of an alien. His lips are a thin line as he speaks.

“Your hands are warm. Your touch is pleasant. You have the hands of a true healer.”

You rub your thumbs along the corners of his dark lips. You can feel the tendons of his face move as he speaks again.

“I cannot recall, but I feel as if this is something I would not normally allow anyone to do.” He smirks again. “Do you feel honored, (Y/N)? You SHOULD feel so.”

Your face is relaxed and smooth with awe. This is all just so surreal. Maybe you’re still asleep? Well….. if this is a dream…..

“Yes. I think I am.” Your words are a dry croak. His smirk deepens.

“Well, if that curiosity is quite satisfied, I think I am ready to allow you to examine…….”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as you throw caution to the wind, lean forward, and kiss him.

[eternalstann]

hi could i request a smut where reader and tom are best friends and she’s living with him and all the boys during quarantine and they’re both basically oblivious to the fact that they’re both drooling over/pining after each other and all the boys wanna see how long it goes on for and she hears tom having a steamy dream ab her or smth idk take this wherever u want it to go ilysm boo

im a sucker for housemate & domestic Tom ughhh. i love you more thank you for sending this I got you babes 🥺🥰

———-

“TOMMMM!” You screamed.

He’d gotten water all over the bathroom floor again and you were about to take a shower. You listen to his quick footsteps grow closer before he burst in the door. Eyes frantic he scans the room, pausing when they reach your frame covered in nothing but a towel. He took in the way your hair fell, the annoyed look on your face. Then swell of your breasts, and the curve of your hips. He forces his eyes back to your face.

“Tom you got water all over the floor again!” You complain, gesturing to the puddles of h2o on the tile.

“Y/N seriously I thought you were hurt..” he rolls his eyes and you glare. “Yes Tom seriously! It’s so gross walking through all of this barefoot, or getting my slippers wet! And, you could cause mold to form. What’s so difficult about closing a fucking shower curtain!” You ask angrily and you didn’t mean to go off like this but you were frustrated.

“There’s three bathrooms in this house just use a different one if it’s such a big deal!” He yells.

You squint your eyes at him and take a deep breathe. “Whatever Tom, just get out” you snap and he turns around, closing the door harder than necessary.

As soon as the door is closed he adjust himselfs in his pants, he was mad... but you looked other worldly. Harrison walking by see’s him and his problem, laughing loudly at his hopeless friend.

“Why don’t you just tell her mate?” he asks, and Tom shushes him.

“Shut up you div she might hear you!” He warns, punching his arm.

“Ow! I’m just trying to help!” He frowns, but they both freeze when they hear the shower cut on through the door.

You don’t know why you went off on Tom like that. Maybe because your feelings for him were getting stronger every day and you were scared to show it? Or maybe because you were reaching critical levels of horniness and it was making you cranky. Probably both you shrug, stepping into the water. The hot pellets beating your skin instantly relax your tense muscles. You rub your neck, sighing, and let your hands wander downwards.

Between the valley of your breast and lower. You don’t stop until your hand is cupping your wet heat and pause, listening for sounds outside the door. You continue when nothing but silence can be heard, unaware of your audience.

Tom and Harrison are still as statues, only turning to look at each other when they hear soft moans echo through the small bathroom.

“This is super pervy, cmon Tom” Harrison drags him away.

“What was that all about?” Tuwaine asks, eyeing his friends coming down the stairs.

“Just a lovers quarrell between Tom and Y/N” Haz waves his hand nonchalantly and Tom denies it immediately.

“We are not lovers!” He clarifies and both his friends smack their teeth.

“No but you wanna be” Harry adds, walking in from the kitchen.

“Fuck off, I’m going to bed” Tom grumps. He trudges up the stairs to his room. He wishes sleep would take him as soon as he lays down but his mind is heavy with thoughts of you. His chest grew tight whenever he heard your name....which was a lot because you lived together. You were all he could think about. The way you looked in your towel, the way you sounded in the shower. The semi he sported earlier was now a full on boner and groaned, trying to ignore it.

Jerking off to the thought of you? How could he look you in the eye after doing something like that? But his brain wouldn’t let him rest. He let his mind wander. To what you’d taste like, or how you talked as you came. Tom didn’t even realize he’d started stroking himself until he heard something clatter in the living room.

‘That’s enough’ he tells himself firmly.

He tosses in his bed a few more times before finally falling asleep. But even in his sleep you wouldn’t leave him alone.

—

You run your fingers through your wet hair and stand at the top of the steps, peaking through to see if you saw Tom. You decided to put your pride aside and apologize.

“Hey guys where’s Tom? I wanted to say...sorry” you explain sheepishly and the boys all gasp.

“You! Say sorry?” Harry laughs and you glare. “I literally cannot remember the last time you apologized to any of us three...” he recalls and just turn on your heel to find Tom; ignoring all their snickering.

You stop in from of Toms room and take a deep breath. Go in, say sorry, get out. You tighten your towel and raise your hand to knock when you see the door is already cracked open. You call his name but hear no response.

You take a half step inside and can’t help the small smile when you see him sleeping peacefully. “Awww” you coo, watching him for a moment. He deserved some rest you think, you were about to turn and leave when you hear him murmur something in his sleep.

“Y/N”

It’s quiet, but you hear it. Your eyes widen, and watch his hips push up against nothing. His face tinted red and lips parted. You keep reeling your self to walk away but your legs won’t move. He was having a wet dream about you! Your hand clamps over your mouth, and you finally force yourself to take a step backwards.

But of course, you lose your footing and hit the ground with a thud. You scramble to get up, but you’re too slow. You hear the bed shift and in three seconds tops a disoriented Tom is pulling his door open and looking down at you.

You stare up at him, trying to ignore the bulge in his shorts and take the hand he offers to you. You both just stand, looking at each other for a moment before he gestures for you to come inside. You sit down on his bed, him beside you.

“I uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I talked to you earlier. It wasn’t that big of a deal and I shouldn’t have yelled” you apologize and e smiles.

“No you’re right, it is kind of gross. But I appreciate it” he laughs, and you do too.

You get quiet again, and try to work up the nerve to ask him, was he really dreaming about you?

“I heard you before I came in...Tom were you having a dream about me?” You rush through your words, nervousness encompassing you. You watch the color drain from his face.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what that was all about and I..” he speaks even faster than you did and you cut him off.

“I thought about you today while I was in the shower” you admit, and you don’t know where this sudden burst of courage came from but you hoped it would see you through.

“I thought about you fucking me from behind. What was your dream about?” You ask and Tom eyes are darker than usual, he was staring at you so intensely and with so much fire you could melt.

“I dreamt the same thing” he whispered. Your breathing quickened as he leaned closer to you. You let yourself fall backwards, and Tom climbs over you. His hands go to you towel, unwrapping it from your body. He’d seen you in close to nothing before, but never like this.

He eyes roam your now bare frame, and lets his hand rest on your cheek. “You’re so beautiful” he compliments before coming down to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your lips smack loudly and shamelessly together. You’d imagined this for so long and now it was reality.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, parting lips for second and you squeak out a yes, connecting your lips again. Toms hand runs down your torso, and parts your thighs. You gasp when he runs a finger through your folds and finds your clit.

“Right there baby?” He asks, and you nod; eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. He rubs you just right, like you’d done this together a million times. He kisses your collarbone, letting his tongue trace over the raised ridge.

“Tom..” you moan, back arching into his kisses. He goes lower, pulling a nipple between his lips and sucking. You moan again, and Tom quickens his fingers between your legs. Your toes curl into the sheets as you grow closer to your peak.

“Not loud enough” he growls, hand reaching up and wrapping around your throat. “Cum for me Y/N” hums, mouth next to your ear and he squeezes the sides of your throat. You grips his bicep as you cum, squirming while he works you through it.

He lets go of your neck and you pant, trying to catch your breath. You look up at him and watch as he kicks off his shorts. You can’t take take your eyes off his dick, much thicker than you’d expected and your pussy clenches at the thought of it stretching you open.

“Please fuck me Tom” your voice is wobbly, probably from literally being choked you think.

“Fuck, flip over” he instructs and you comply happily. Face down, ass up in Tom Holland’s bed. He slaps your ass and you whimper.

“Look so pretty” he whispers and you dig your nails into the bed when the head of his cock pushes inside of you.

“Jesus Y/N” he groans, pushing in all the way He pulls out slowly, then slides back in. You let out a shaky breath, you felt so full.

“Want you to scream my name like earlier” he chuckles, giving you an extra hard thrust. He keeps up the quick, hard thrusts and you bite your arm to keep from screaming. You feel his hands hands grip your hips tighter and pull you back onto him. You have to lift your head up to breathe before biting your arm again but Tom notices this time.

“Fuck that!” He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, pounding you even harder. “Tom I’m gonna cum again” you cry out, and he moans, “Me too, baby”

Tom shifts behind you, the bed creaking. He puts one foot on the mattress, and rails into you. The sound of skin clapping echoes through the room, and you know the boys can hear.

“Tom!” You scream, just like he wanted; and your legs shake as your high washes over you. Tom thrusts sloppily a few more times before cumming inside of you.

You both pant, and Tom lays down beside you. “Do you think they heard?”

“Oh, they definitely heard”

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 23

Adva was struggling. Despite Geralt obeying her pleas to give her space, things had got no better. The brief glimpses at him at dinner or in passing during the day made the storm inside her more violent. She was tetchy and irritable to the point of wanting to hurl people across the room for very little reason. Jaskier breathing too hard, Vesemir scratching to loudly, Triss asking if she was okay for the 50th time today or Ciri placing another plate of food in front of her. By nature, she very passive person, and the temperament change was concerning, the number of times she had found herself having to leave the room to stop herself from launching an attack on some innocent companion. The others were careful around her, constantly tiptoeing around her which in her opinion aggravated her more, there constant need to try and make things better or help her when all she wanted to do was curl up somewhere soft and think. Think about what she should do, go, or say to make any of this better. But she was never left alone for long enough to think without Jaskier, Triss or Ciri popping up and spoiling her solace.

‘Come on, Adva, come play some Gwent.’ Triss smiled tenderly across at her.

The foursome of Triss, Jaskier, Ciri and Vesemir were all huddled around the end of banquet table with there cards dished out in front of them. Geralt and Yennefer nowhere to be seen. Geralt normally lurked somewhere in the shadows with longing looks while Yennefer appeared and disappeared as often as she felt like it but for the past few days neither had been present. Bile burnt a pit in her stomach as she thought about them, Geralt had grown tired of the rejection had sunk back into the waiting arms of the Mage which is the way it had to be but it still hurt so much.

Shaking her head, she stood from her place by the fire, ‘No, I am fine. I just want to relax for a bit.’

‘If I didn’t know better I would say your pinning for something.’ The older Witcher sniped as he glared down at his hand.

‘Who asked you.’ Adva snapped, sending an icy glare across at the man.

‘Adva…’ Ciri frowned as she looked across the table at her companions, concern marring their faces all apart from Vesemir who retained his usual death glare.

‘Forget it; I am going for a walk.’ Adva bite out as she made her way through the double doors and onto the great stone steps and down towards the lake.

The sky was blanketed with thick white clouds that shielded her from the last of the autumn sun. The wind was bitter but only enough to cause the slightest shiver as she made her way down the incline. The leaves had started to turn some time ago, but now only the evergreens held their vibrant greens, the rest where a stunning arrange of yellows, browns and reds, but now the leaves were shedding and the bare bark of the gnarled branches was the signal for the imminent arrival of winter and the upcoming snow.

‘Ahhhh if it isn’t the little mermaid. Off for a swim?’

The voice tinkled through the wind as smooth as velvet for a moment she thought she had imagined it, blue eyes scanned the landscape in front of her for the purple-eyed mage, but nothing. The rocky path was empty, and the thick, dense wall of trees either side bared no presence either. Narrowing her eyes, she moved further down the path and around the little bend, only for the path to be blocked by the slender mage.

‘Hello, little fish…’ The mage smiled tightly as they stared across at each other.

‘Yennefer… just don’t, whatever you are going to do just don’t. I cannot deal with you right now.’ Adva snapped as she continued down the path towards the water.

Adva was telling the truth, she couldn’t deal with Yennefer right now not without a decent amount of bloodshed. Even just looking at the mage caused an insane amount of irritation, with her perfect hair and immaculate makeup. At least on this occasion, she was wearing something remotely suitable for the changing weather, a thick cotton dress and furs.

‘And why would I do something to you? Are you scared of me little one? No, I don’t think you are. What are you truly scared off? You know a powerful mage can tell a personal creed by simply looking someone in the eye.’

Yennefer watched the woman staring straight at her. A lesser being might be arrogant and cocky or fearful at an approaching mage, especial if said mage had thrown yours through the flooring of a house. Yet, Adva eyes betrayed no fear or hatred just a stormy blue sea. Even when she took a step forward, the girl did not so much as flinch, just staring with those dark eyes. Eyes which where windows to the soul and in which she could see straight into.

‘And what do you see.’ Adva retorted, folding her arms around herself as she waited.

‘I see your fear’ Yennefer cooed softly as she inched closer, her eyes sinking into Adva’s. ‘A fear that you don’t even know, something you hid deep down.’

‘And what is that Yennefer?’

‘What the fun in telling?’ The violet eyes twinkled as she came toe to toe with the girl and stared down till only a few inches of air separated them. The scent of lilac and gooseberry mixed with apples and the scene.

‘I also see…purpose and ohhh destiny. Not something that I would have to imagine or expected….. such an unwanted surprise… Tsk tsk tsk that is a pity.’ Yennefer muddled out as here eye unblinkingly stared into her.

‘Pity? What is a pity?’ Adva croaked out slamming her eyes shut

‘I hate changing plan midway through but needs must when the devils at your doorstep…quite literally in this case.’ Yennefer smiled wide as she stepped back.

Adva scowled as she looked at Yennefer. The smile was not a satisfied or happy one, she, of course, knew the different, she had spent most of her adult life in a whore house and new the difference between a purely happy smile and that of displeasure. It was the sort of smile the girl splayed on when they had to play along with the punter for the hard-earned coin with an ugly old man.

‘Whatever tactic this is Yennefer, I am not playing. Just leave me alone.’ Adva retorted as she stormed off.

‘We can’t escape our nature or our destiny, soul mate or not. It's coming for you.’ Yennefer whispered before disappearing in a flourish of wind and dust.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The path wound around and came to stand in a little creek once you moved past the overground patches of bracken and nettles. Adva was too distracted with her thoughts to mind the thorns tugging at her clothes and the nettle stinging at her flesh as she followed the distant tinkle of water, the soft splashes of the jumping fish and busy otters. A swirl of rage billowed inside her, Yennefer set her on edge pushed her to purposely twist her mind and bring her to the brink of apprehension.

‘Arghhhh’ Adva pushed out a blast of water from the shallow and sent it shooting across the vast lake. Adva watched as the willow gave a creaking groan before it collapsed into the water, and the world went silent even the fish seemed to rush for the safety of the depth. A shuddering breath escaped her lips as she watched the leaves wave across the on the surface of the water, the light-catching them making them glisten in the sun.

A snap and a stumble broke through the silence. Whirling around her eyes darted around the dense wall of wood, even without the greenery, there was little room to see the past cover.

‘Who is there? Yennefer?...Geralt? Jaskier? Who is there?’ Adva called out but was only met by an eerily silence. ‘I mean it who is there….this isn’t funny.’ Adva shouted into the bush arms raised palms outward as a swirl of water slashed around in front of her.

Directly in front of her, another footfall fell and with the branched began to rattle and shake. And slowly the figure emerged from the bush till a slightly dishevelled Earl Crispin stood in front of her and slightly out of breath.

‘Ahhhh Adva….it a really a jungle out there. That purpled eyes woman told me where you were’ the Earl smiled. ‘I do hope you're not going to hit me with that thing, are you?’ the man's dark eyes lingered over the water churning mid-air.

‘No no of course not…’ Adva breathless mumbled and let her arms fall to her side ‘what are you doing here?’

‘Triss came to see me…to help with your situation. I knew you were a beauty but a Witcher’s Mate No wonder he cold-cocked me.’ He smiled as he stepped into the clearing dragging a heavy-looking bag.

Adva groaning lightly as her memory burnt with that night, the memories she wanted to forget but longed to have again. ‘Geralt…is a little overprotective. Sorry, he hit you.’ She gave him a sad smile.

‘Perfectly fine. Not your fault…. I understand thou …he isn’t about is he.’ Nervous eyes flickered around the glade.

‘Don’t worry, you are safe…he is back at the castle, I think. You didn’t answer the question. What are you doing here?’

‘This, I believe, is something that you have been looking for.’ The man smiled and proffered a shimmering scroll of parchment. ‘I brought it at an auction about ten years ago; it had been sitting at the bottom of some fishermen hunt. The seller thought it might be some sort of script of the whale, but to my trained eye, I think it more likely fertility or mating script. The whale image is often or not a mark of such a thing.’ Crispin beamed as he moved behind her peaking at the scroll over the woman’s shoulder.

Adva shakily grasped the scroll in her trembling hands and unravelled the scroll, a hush gasp fulling from her lips, and her eyes flowed over the scripted, greedily taking in every letter of every word. The images where graphic and detailed showing every step and every position of the bonding ceremony. Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach her eyes lingered over the mermaid figure pursed over the man's form in the throes of ecstasy.

‘Oh my….It is…Crispin it is…. Do you know what this means I can…’ A deep frown formed at the corners of her mouth as the froze in mid-speech. A tightness across her throat and the air stuck in her chest.

The scrolls dropped from her hand as the object around her tightened to the point her toe tips where the only just skimming the ground. The cord around her neck stung as it bite into the sensitive skin, causing her silent scream to erupt from her mouth.

‘Do you really think you would get away from me that easy, you halfling monstrosity? The soft snarl of Crispin's mouth as his hot breath glanced over her ear.

‘I…What….Crispin what are you doing?’ the words barely formed in a series of gasped out chokes.

‘I have been looking for you for the last twenty years. I thought you would be so much more. But its pathetic really all the hope for nothing. Your not even a proper mermaid. Can’t even defend yourself.’ Crispin scowled tightening his hold.

Adva growled lightly as her finger scratched at the wire-like cord around her neck while her other hand reached outward toward the water flexing and waining as the water struggled up from the surface of the lake.

‘Your powers are weak. I can snuff them out like I would yearlings.’ Crisping screamed, and he tightened his grip of the bind around her neck, and helplessly she watched as the water slammed back into the lake as it became impossible still, like a sheet of glass.

The hold was too much and too strong no matter how she moved; his hold remained unwavering. The material around her neck was slimy and hot burning. The black spot began to appear on her eyes as she was thrust towards unconsciousness.

‘Look what we have here.’ Yennefer purr pulled Adva from the edge of oblivion.

‘Yenne… help.’ the words were raw, and the taste of metallic copper bubbled up in her throat.

‘Help? Her? Who do you think has been helping me. Once you are out of the way, she gets her witcher, and I get the bloodline clean from scum like you.’ He spat, as hot tears run down her purple face.

‘See that not how it is going to go down.’ Yennefer purred as she moved to stand in front of the struggling couple.

‘What? We have a deal.’

Adva felt the cord losen around her neck just ever so slight, and the small trickle of air escaped into her burning lungs, and the impending darkness seemed to fade in the distance.

‘Do you think I am stupid? A man who makes a blood deal is never to be trusted.’ Yennefer sneered.

‘What are you talking about the mage. My deal is binding.’

‘True you give me Geralt and a baby, but Geralt is no use without her. You think me fool? As soon as his pathetic mate dies, he will wither away before my eyes till he is nothing but a husk.’

Adva felt Crispin's hands stain against the rope and body tensed behind her.

‘You must have known that soulmate cannot be parted. So what was it make me watch him die while handing me a baby? Humph. But it has been interesting to see how your mind works. You call her a weak yearling…yet you’re the one strangling with the roots of Snarling Inferno. Which cause dehydration and paralysis, not the signs of a strong mermaid. But a very interesting method of subduing them.’ Yennefer sneered. ‘See…What was it, Crispin? You are the weak one, having to use a weed to subdue your prey, and I have not lived several lifetimes by aligning myself with the weak side. So let her go, or you will be very sorry.’ Yennefer’s eyes growled a metallic purple.

‘Never’

‘It's your choice. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ The mages smiled as she rose her hands and send out a shock wave of air, forcing them violently back.

Adva clawed at her neck the weed continue to contract her air was. Despite Crispin no longer choking her the bind her, the air refused to refill her desperate lungs. She had landed inches away from the water's edge while mere meters away blasts of purple and white erupted from the hands of Crispin and Yennefer.

‘Yennefer….’

‘Hang on little dolphin.’ The mage grunted as she pushed a swirl of fire towards the flaying man.

Adva nails gouged and ripped at the burnt skin as the weed began to cook her already stinging flesh, blood oozed from every wound and thread by a thread the woody rope, while in front of her the two men duelled in a bluster of light. Gasping tightly, the air slowly began to return as a thread by a thread of the woody root broke. Yet, burning remained, and sweat began to drip down her body, and a violent tremor racked over her body.

‘For the Kingdom of Navacis and our true leader Zaire.’ Crispin roared as he appeared from nowhere, dagger held aloft. But a roaring spark shot out from his chest, causing the man to look down as the sparks began to ignite in small little explosions. Adva air deprived brain could not follow the actions as the towering hate-filled man ignited in a roaring blaze as he shrieked in pain.

Cooly, Yennefer picked up the dropped dagger and gently began to cut through the tough weed that still clung to her neck.

‘You tried….to kill…me’ Adva wheezed out as the air fully returned to her lucks.

‘Oh, grow up. If I truly wanted you dead, you would be dead. AS much as I despise you…I think you can help me. You give a little help; you get a little help. Me with my problem…you with Geralt…’ Yennefer silky tones wafted through the air.

Adva was very vaguely aware of the mage's eyes staring down into hers. Before the familiar feel of the knife delicately cutting away at the last remains of the roots that encircled her neck. Adva felt…she felt wild  Powerful. It was hard to breathe; she still felt like she was being choked, her lung burnt. And a desire for water consumed her.

‘Hold still!... And breath….Breath Adva!’

A pained roared filled the air with one mightly tug the last of the Snapping Inferno’s roots where pulled from her neck. And a taloned hand lashed out against the mage. Yennefer missed the blow by a hair's breadth, and she sprawled backwards in across the dirt as she watched wide-eyed as black sword-like claws extended from Adva figure tips. The girl whimpered and panted, her whole body withering in some unforeseen pain.

‘I can….no brea….’ Adva croaked.

‘Adva the weed is gone. Stop..... now your gonna hurt yourself.’ Yennefer blicked worriedly trying and failing and holding the failing girl still.

Yennefer’s body stifled a gasp for air as the girl lookup. No longer were the eyes of bright pool blue but a sea of black. A terrible piercing shriek vibrated against the shore as a wave of energy blasted out at Yennefer, sending her hurtling into the rocks that lined the shore.

 Blood poor from her as she crawling forward, plunged her self into the lake. Water rolled over her as bubbles shot across her skin as she plunges into the water. A blue glow surrounds her, and the water shone brightly.  In the depth of the water, the burn was consuming; a heat ripped across Adva’s ribs and down her legs. Clawing at her body, the black claws ripped and pulled at the confining clothes as she sunk deeper in the depths.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Purple eyes blinked themselves awake as she pair of rough hands violently shook her, and for the first time in her entire existence, she was glad to come face to face with Vesemir.

‘She is alive.’ His gruff voice grated against her ringing head that pounded violently.

‘Oh, goody we can all breath a sigh of relief.’ Jaskier snarked as he inched closer to the younger Witcher who crouched eyes franticly danced around the area.

‘Yennefer…what have you don?’ Ciri snapped softly as she picked up the remains of the Snarling Inferno.

‘Done? Done? I saved that little fish life. If It wasn’t for me that assassin would have strangled the life out of her? You should be thankful I set a trap for that…Crispin.’Yennefer puffed out in pains as Vesemire yanked her up.

‘You used her as bate?’ Geralt roared appearing out from the clearing bearing down at her.

‘Only to see what we were up against.’ Yennefer pouted timidly at the raging Witcher all too aware of the glinting silver sword in his hand.

‘Where is she’ Geralt voice was low and dangerous.

‘Who do you think did this damage….she was alive when I passed out. Snarling and whipping like some demented creature.’ Yennefer spat as she half-collapsed herself on the remains of the bolder that once sat on the bank of the lake

‘That is her blood soaking into the floor. YOU MURDEROUS…!’ Geralt roared, raising his sword arm above his head to bring down his glinted weapon against the mage.

Jaskier flinched at sight before him. Despite his hatred for Yennefer, the wrath of Geralt was not something he would wish upon his worst enemy. He would kill her for this. Jaskier was sure of this. As soon as he hurried that unholy shriek, and glowing light, he knew it, he knew Yennefer had committed what they had all been waiting for all be it with the aid of another party. The bard just didn’t see it being Crispin. Jaskier eyes settled on a large rusty coloured stain sunk into the brown dirt; it was such an amount that no man or women mermaid or not would survive that. The body carried off by Crispin if he had survived the attack or dragged away by downers. Tears began to build up in his eyes as he turned away from the blood-stained bank towards the rippling water. Adva was gone, destroyed, nothing left but scraps of clothing torn from her body and the fading blood. A flicker of red caught the minstrels attention.

Terror surged within the dark as the flicker of red disappeared below the water, and a shadow glided toward the shallows. ‘ Uh, Geralt….Geralt!’

Geralt let go of the mage's throat as he turned to the bard, his eyes danced across the waters lines and at the shadow drifting toward him. The only thing the keen witchers eyes could make out was the crimson red that shimmered underneath the water as it drew closer. Geralt breath hitched in his throat as gliding out of through the water, Adva bobbed against the surface serenely, hair sticking against her wet skin, the ends dancing in the water as she trod the murky water. The briefest glimmer of a brilliantly red tail that swished benefit, keeping her afloat.

‘Adva? Oh my god….she had a tail, she has a tail.’ Jaskier’s shill cry carried across the lake.

‘Well, I think we can safely say she is most defiantly a mermaid.’ Vesemir sighed as he eyed his golden-eyed protégé wading thought the water before diving head further into the water as his powerful arms cut through the water, stopping just in front of her, so close he could feel the force of her tail moving back and forth.

‘Adva…it me Geralt.’ Geralt soothed softly as he reached out and ever so gentle traced the side of her face.

Her skin looked almost white, like glowing silver, her eyes a vivid metallic blue, she looked the same but different, her face was almost ethereal, features sharper, eyes larger, hair a meadow green. So different but so familiar. Tilting her head, she pressed her face into his warm hand, purring softly.

Geralt heart thudded violently in his chest as he watched raptured as his mate who bobbed against the surface of the water on a beautiful tail. It had been the first time she had allowed him to touch her since that night, that amazing night. The warmth from her skin was enough to send him into a heady frenzy; Geralt smiled as the tail wrapped around his body, pulling him closer. His whole body sung in relief, that itch that made him raw was gone, but that feverish need was bad, that need to bond and feel her skin against his to become one. Cooing down, he felt her tail swish out the water spraying him with a fine mist of water

‘Geralt’

Adva’s snapped open, the metallic blue eyes gone, replaced with pure black pupils.

‘No one move!’ Vesemir demanded.

‘Seriously she has just got a lethal tale.’ Yennefer cried, leaping into the shallow water.

‘Don’t…’ Vesemir warned, but it was too late.

Immediately the tale shift from its magnificent ruby tale shifted to a deathly black, and thin barbs like teeth descend down from her mouth with a sickening slice through the air as she glowered across at the onlookers before, to the horror of the group, Adva lurched forward dropped down into the water, pulling the Witcher under with her.

I hope you are all safe and well I am so sorry! I really wanted to update but it has been non-stop at work and doesn't look like it will get any better There will be smut in the next chapter. Thank you, everyone, who left a review and keeps leaving support, I really appreciate it, it has really pushed me to keep writing. Please let me know what you think.

@threepupsinapuddle @broco8 @introvertedmouse @luxyash @vikingsbifrost @pastelblogsposts @wastingmypotential @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @fandom-lover-4 @sageandberries-png  @just-a-sad-donut @alicia-d-o @dreamerwithapen1 @evangeline73aster

[imma-potatoo]

Blond Janus Darkside Headcanons

I noticed how I haven't written down any info on the dark sides (Wrath, Apathy, Depression, Remus and pre-AA Virgil). More will be added.

Masterpost

Taglist:

@mother-snake, @writerstrashbin, @psychedelicships, @cryptidwriterdotcom (ask to be removed or added)

Wrath

Leader of the dark sides

Can induce a blind rage

When the rage is happening the recipient cannot control what they say or do and react simply on their first thought

The rage becomes stronger the more angry the person becomes

Wrath can't bring someone out of the rage. He can induce it but the person has to come out of it themselves

He has almost no control of Apathy because of that due to his lack of emotion

Likes to wear a partial suit. Finds that the coat is restricting and makes more complex movements hard

Still owns the coat. Just never wears it.

Symbol is tattooed on his left wrist

Orange and black color scheme. Like this:

Immediate reaction to almost anything is to yell.

Loves huge parties

If he's going to make a point, he makes it loud and clear. Often in front of other people so they can see what happens if you step out of line

Rules the dark sides more like a dictatorship then a family or of equel footing

Believes that they have to bend Thomas to their will and that the light sides are complete fools who will only destroy Thomas life

Wants Thomas to take what he wants and not to worry about who he leaves behind

If Thomas has to kill a politician to get what he wants? Sure go ahead. As long as he gets what he wants

When angry, Wrath is ruthless

He'll take your deepest fear and taunt you with it until you snap under the strain and comply to his every whim

He refuses to take no for an answer

Because of his hatred for the lights; he takes it out on Janus

He's big on public humiliation

If Janus would step out of line; well, he doesn't need all of those scales does he? He's sure Apathy would love to see the reactions if you rip some off

To aid in the control of the others; Wrath has complete control over the food supply

When the others are listening and followings orders. Good, they get to eat properly

When they don't? Your options are moldy bread or cheese that has been out in the open for about a month.

Him and Apathy eat like kings while the others decide between food poisoning and starvation

Likes to take words of affection and make them have a negative meaning (ex: the word Love.) after beating the hell out of someone, he would make them look directly in his eyes and says that he loves them... And he makes them say it back

He hates it when the others cry

Says that they're doing it for attention and that they should shut the fuck up

Apathy

Second in command

Can nullify peoples emotions. Leaving them feeling like an empty shell. The effects normally break after an hour

If Apathy knows your name he can control you like a puppet

White and black outfit. White shirt with black suspenders and pants.

Doesn't show where he keeps his symbol (its on his right ankle, its more like a tattoo then a patch)

Has a deep obsession with fire

Owns a zippo (a lighter that flips open)

Often feels empty due to his function. The fire makes him feel warm, feel more human (as human as the sides can be anyway)

Doesn't quite understand emotion. He understands the basics of it (cry = sad, laugh = hqppy, yell = angry.) but the more complex reactions confuse the hell out of him. Crying out of happiness is one of the things he will never understand.

Because of his lack of understanding of emotions; Apathy tries to understand through making others feel said emotions

Wants to know how someone would react when you break a precious item? Time to find a couple photos.

Will someone scream when you waterboard them? Hm well, only one way to test that.

Opinions change like a flip of a switch

One day he'll help you make dinner with a plastered on smile. The next he'll knock you out and burn you with his lighter with that same smile

Has only properly laughed twice

The first time was when Thomas accidentally laughed at someones funeral (he couldn't cope that the person was gone and his default reaction was to laugh)

The second was after the three of them (wrath, depression and him) shut off the heating to Janus' room and locked him inside

In order to understand things he doesn't know; he does experiments

He's not allowed to experiment on Wrath and Depression has no fun reactions. So he has his fun with Janus instead

Kinda likes it when blood stains his dress shirt

Because its warm. The warmth that once came from the person now belongs to him and it eases the cold empty feeling only slighty and temporary but its warm

He's indifferent on the lights. They're a little too perky for his tastes

Depression

Third in command

Doesn't really get a lot of say with decisions

Can erase certain memories (he doesn't use it very often)

Wears a medium blue dress shirt, brown leather suspenders with a black bowtie.

Normally keeps his sleeve rolled up

When crying; his eyes leak black

If the tears hit your skin, its a 10% chance that you could collapse and start spewing your insecurities while your eyes leak black

Symbol is on the back of his neck

Doesn't really mind not having the control that Apathy and Wrath have

Less work for him to do anyway

Couldn't care about the other twos blatant abuse of Janus

He sees it as a way to keep Janus in line

If Virgil wanted to play father figure he can go ahead. But that doesn't mean he has to be kind

Respects and looks up to Wrath

Normally just follows the lead of the others

He's the epitome of the duckling following the leader

Wrath has steak and potatoes for dinner? Depression also wants that too

Wrath says that they need to bend Thomas to their will? Well duh! Of course!

Wrath says that Janus has been out of line lately? Well why don't we break his leg again to show him a lesson

Most of the time, the food restrictions have no effect on him bc he listens to Wraths every word

Virgil

Was the second in command before he left

Opposed Wrath on his more extreme tactics

Has the ability to control shadows and others own Anxiety

Hated the dress code that Wrath insists on having. What kind of person wears suspenders and a dress shirt daily anyway?

Still wears the stupid things anyway because Wrath said to and he's not in the mood to get beat

Symbol is tattooed on underneath his shirt. The left side

After adopting Janus he lost his position as Wrath's right hand

Kinda pissed him off when he got demoted. Not bc of the loss of power. But bc he couldn't protect Janus as well

After adopting Janus he became the 4th in power (after Depression)

Remus

Is the epitome of don't give a shit

He has the power to conjure things and cause intrusive thoughts

Half the time he ignores the dress code completely

Typically opting for his normal clothes but does own a uniform as well

(if anyone has a better photo of this outfit pls pls pls DM me. I've looked through hundreds of photos and this is the best dark green dress shirt with suspenders I got)

Symbol is tattooed on the swell of his back

Gets practically no opinion on dealings or decisions with plans

Remus is a indifferent party. One moment he'll help you. The next he'll stab you in the back

He mostly just works with who can give him what he wants the fastest

He actually feels pity for Janus

Not like he'll ever act on that but he still feels a bit bad for the guy

Remus is kinda like that uncle at family get togethers that no-one talks to or cares about but he's always there

Janus

Oh boy, where to start?

Has the lowest rank out of every other side

His power (the ability to make people unable to talk) can only be used on the light side of the mind

He is also unable to heal immediately on the dark side

Meaning that he has to treat his wounds the old fashioned way

Doesn't really like the dress code

Only gets to wear his normal outfit when he's visting the light sides

Blond hair (wow! Really? Not like its the the name of the au!!)

His patch isn't a tattoo

This boi has the biggest fucking sweet tooth you could ever imagine

He is also so fucking short

His shoes have lifts to make him taller

He's cold blooded

When he gets focused, he bleps

This is turning fluffy-

He is literally covered head to toe in scars

Almost no skin was left untouched

Lying is a defense mechanism for him. He's deceit! He can lie his way out of anything!

Heavily disagrees on Wraths views

Thomas should get ahead, of course he should. But that shouldn't come at the price of someones life or the cost of his reputation

Hurting someone to get ahead in the short-term is only going to harm you in the long term

To hide the bruses, he applies thick layers of makeup and illusions if he's on the light side

Hasn't gotten a good sleep in years

He's terrified that someone will break into in bedroom while he's sleeping and finish him off

Or that they'll cut the heating again and he'll slowly freeze to death

Or that they'll drag him out of his room and chain him up somewhere to become nothing but a punching bag

He has agoraphobia (fear of open spaces)

Hasn't had positive touch since Virgil left

He has venom. Its very lethal and only activates when threatened

When angry, his eyes glow yellow and his canine teeth grow sharp and long that they stick out of his mouth slightly like fangs

Was meant to be a light side and function as Validity and Societal Self Preservation. But the dark sides found him first and brought him back with them

Virgil is his father figure

Doesn't really know how to feel after finding out that he's not a dark side

He does feel really really lied to and betrayed

But... Virgil is his dad. Virgil raised him

How could he be upset?

Writes down all of his thoughts and complaints in journals that he keeps in his room

He started writing journals when he was very young, so there is hundreds of them

Honestly doesn't know how to feel about him being a light side.

He's mad at Wrath. He knows that. But he can't do anything because his powers don't work on the dark side

He might as well be powerless.

When on the light side (so when all his powers work) his powers include: silencing others, the ability to repress sides/ make them unable to appear to Thomas and illusions.

His title is technically Validity with the added function of societal self preservation

Still goes by Deceit anyway

----

Has three brands burned onto him via Apathy

Is on his left ankle. Its his snake symbol. About the size of your fist

On his right bicep. The word "monster" in bolded writing. About two fingers in thickness.

Left chest, above his heart. The words "Property of the Dark Sides" in cursive text. The writing sits in a box.

All the brands are extremely painful for Janus if touched. Brand #3 is the brand he hates the most

His scales are more in patches then a perfect 50/50 split down his body

More will be added in the future.

[welllpthisishappening]

We’re watching the Blues white vs blue scrimmage and I’m so excited hockey is almost back! I think this calls for a Blue Line re-read because it’s so, SO good and I’ve read through everything on ao3 at least 5 times. 💙

This makes me the absolute happiest! Thank you for reading! And then reading again! I am unreasonably excited about the start of the season and the length of Chris Kreider’s hair and I was going to post a quick Blue Line one-shot here, but it was basically just original characters in that it was literally just Matt Jones being an idiot while meeting his future wife, so I wrote something else this morning and winning the Stanley Cup would mean they’d have to change their before-the-season starts ritual. Anyway, here’s like nearly 4K of everyone ragging on each other just before the season after Blue Line, while Emma and Killian try to figure out where they can make out without anyone noticing: 

————

“Still looking?” “Yup.” “What she look like?” “Like the actual description of her face?” 

Something dug into the bottom of Emma’s shoulder blade, and it took her far too long to realize that it was the jut of Killian’s chin because even the idea of Killian crouching behind her so as to avoid the overall force of Regina’s glare was something that hadn’t even crossed her mind. Until it was happening, apparently. “She’s staring,” Emma muttered, “got that little pinch between her eyebrows that always shows up when she’s—” Killian groaned. Directly where his mouth was resting, which was also on Emma’s back and likely just above the ‘o’ in his last name, if her knowledge of the jersey she was wearing was any indication. Maybe in between the ‘j’ and the ‘o,’ actually. 

“You’re ridiculous.” “Me?” Killian countered, and Emma wished she hadn’t already finished that first glass of wine. Blurry thoughts bounced across her sleep-deprived brain because there was only one more sleep ‘til Christmas, or whatever Kermit sang in The Muppet Christmas Carol. Presumably Christmas. And not hockey. Or the start of the hockey season. 

Splotches of ink still dotted the sides of Emma’s right hand, the product of dragging that same hand over forms she had to sign and other plans she had to approve, and the blue carpet wasn’t coming until next week because the home opener was actually three games into the season, which was not as comforting or stress-reducing as she thought it should have been and she simply did not have time to mitigate an argument between her boyfriend and his agent. 

Even when that boyfriend was very good looking. 

In his Christmas sweater. 

The traditions of hockey players continued to boggle the mind. Emma’s, specifically. 

If she drank any more wine, she was going to fall asleep standing up. “Yes,” Emma said, “you, but only because you’re the one currently trying to burrow your way into me. With your chin.” Humming in confusion, he lifted his head, and that wasn’t really a mistake, per se — but it did leave his soft exhale brushing against the side of Emma’s neck, and that sort of guaranteed that goosebumps appeared on her neck and she should have been more annoyed. By Killian’s immediate laugh. Of the vaguely victorious variety. 

“What do you think about the sweater?” “That you’re fishing for compliments.” “I think I make Locksley’s stitched-on face look very good. Doesn’t get stretched out at all—” Killian ignored Emma’s groan, pressing a kiss to the exact spot her shoulder met her still goosebump-covered neck, and it was the wine’s fault. For the state of her increasingly wobbly knees. “—Which is more than I can say about his current face.” “Oh, that’s rude,” Emma argued. “And I’m not entirely sure it even made sense.” “Are you Locksley’s self-appointed defender, then?” “Are you the single most superstitious player in the entire National Hockey League?” That kiss came with a graze of his teeth and a noise Emma immediately regretted making. Something like a squeak bubbled out of her, flinching in the sort of way that only ensured she was even closer to Killian, and stepping on one of his toes would have detracted from the overall romance of the moment. 

“You can’t do that sort of thing in public, Swan,” Killian chided, and he really did have very good reflexes. Spinning her, Emma’s hands flew to his chest — pointedly ignoring the stitched-on face of Robin Locksley — and he didn’t move. Didn’t stumble or come anywhere close to falling. Just arched his left eyebrow and had the gall to smirk at her like they weren’t in a restaurant filled with their friends and teammates and—

“I’m not taking the shirt off, Gina,” Killian yelled over Emma’s head, “so you can stop whatever you’re doing with your face.” “Trying to turn you to stone,” Emma mumbled.

“Last I checked, she’s not a Greek myth.” “Far as you know.” He moved. Shook really, once his laugh started to echo between Emma’s ears, and they definitely had more pillows in their house than blankets, but the sound of Killian’s obvious and consistent joy was oddly similar to the softest piece of fabric Emma could imagine. Like it was capable of wrapping around her, warm without being suffocating, just this steady presence that didn’t weigh down on her and made everything feel like—

Home, she supposed. 

She was so happy; she was positive it simply poured out of her at this point. And the sweater really did not look half bad. Fit very well, at least. 

“This worked last year,” Will called, shuffling between Roland and Henry. Several wads of napkins littered the floor by their feet, a makeshift hockey game that, as far as Emma could figure, had ever-evolving rules and a tendency to knock chairs over. Roland’s jersey wasn’t quite as long as last year, the hem stopping well before his knees. 

Henry still had a twenty on his back. 

“Still looks ridiculous,” Regina countered. Her wine glass was also empty, sitting closer to Robin’s chair than she had been ten minutes earlier. “Do you think you should send them an email?” Killian’s eyebrow dropped. Pulled low in perfect tandem with the other one, Emma’s head tilting with her own sense of confusion. 

Something slammed rather loudly into one of the walls. Eric might have been doing shots behind the bar.

“What?” “An email,” Regina repeated, “to whatever website makes that monstrosity, so you can let them know that they should get more creative and offer more wardrobe choices to—” “—Idiots?” Robin quipped. 

“Professional hockey players.” Ariel clicked her tongue, ignoring her husband’s objections when she jumped onto the edge of the counter. Only a matter of time until several kids tried to follow suit. “Is your husband not a professional hockey player, Gina?” “Yes.” “Oh, that was far less of an argument than I expected,” David mumbled, stepping next to Emma, and he couldn’t quite bump her shoulder when she was still standing so close to Killian. “And kinda rude,” Will added, “all things considered.”

Regina shrugged. “I cannot possibly overstate how much I hate that sweater.” “Take it up with Banana,” Killian said. “Her gift; makes it her problem. All I am doing is—” “—Wearing it?” “And wearing it well,” he promised. If Emma’s cheeks turned red, no one mentioned it. Which might have been one of the nicer things anyone on this team had ever done for her. “Plus,” Killian continued, “Scarlet’s right. This worked last year. If you want to risk tradition and potential—” A chorus of jeers greeted his near-jinx, complete with pointed fingers and one of Ariel’s legs kicking out like she had any chance of actually reaching Killian. Or wouldn’t be annoyed by whatever harm she could possibly inflict on his upper thigh. 

Regina looked very pleased. “This does not mean you won, Gina,” Killian said, but she only shrugged again, and the first blast of Arthur’s whistle was as shrill as any sound had rights to be. 

More cries bounced off the walls and the balled-up napkins, Arthur’s hand resting on Gwen’s shoulder because at some point in the twelve seconds between the first whistle blast and everyone regaining their ability to hear; he must have decided that standing on a chair was actually a good idea.

Killian’s entire body shook behind Emma’s. 

Getting rid of the goosebumps would be something of a rather large miracle. Especially if he kept his arm around her waist like this, fingers splayed over her stomach. 

“Are we ready yet?” Arthur barked, only to be met with murmurs and more confusion, and Emma didn’t think much before accepting the glass Mary Margaret was practically shoving into her hand. 

“Is there a reason for the collective?” Robin asked. “Did you mean to include yourself in that? Are you not ready for your own speech?”

Arthur was not as good at glaring as Regina. No one mentioned that. No one had to, really. He took a deep breath before he started. “Day before the opener. We know what we did last year, and I want to be the first to tell every single one of you that I don’t give a flying fuck—” Another round of loud objections rang out around him, Arthur not quite able to wave them off because his balance really was awful, and Killian had to let go of Emma to haul Roland up his side. “—Anyone asks you about last year,” Arthur pressed, entirely unperturbed by the frustration of his team and their assorted families, “and you better tell them you don’t give’a shit about it.”

Emma tried to cover one of Roland’s ears. The other one was pressed against Killian, so she couldn’t really do anything about that. “Does he think you haven’t been quoted—like, all off-season?” “The ultimate idiot,” Killian grinned. 

“Is this over yet?” Will demanded. “I’d like to know when I can boo without threat of interruption.”

Belle kissed his cheek. 

While Ruby mumbled curses under her breath, all too aware of just how many people had asked about the Cup run and would keep asking about the Cup run and her job was not going to get any easier if the professional hockey players in that restaurant refused to answer questions all season.

“Nothing that happened last year means anything this year,” Arthur said, but it was starting to sound a bit like a proclamation or maybe an affirmation, and Emma was terrible at yoga. Never had enough patience for it. “So we are playing for something brand-new, and you better not start by screwing it all up on Thursday.” He nodded once. Glanced around because Emma knew he was waiting for some sort of reaction, but the only reaction he got was Will’s promised boo, and that was more than Arthur deserved. Especially when he knocked over the chair while getting down. 

“Tell me he’ll be better with fans,” Emma said, and Killian had to shift Roland, but then he was the one doing the cheek kissing, and the quiet guarantee of absolutely, love was nice until he added—

“Can totally beat him up if he’s not.” “You’re a violent guy, Cap.”

Nosing at the side of her jaw did not impress Roland at all. Fair, really — but then Roland was on the same counter as Ariel, her sliding down the makeshift wood to get an arm around him and her phone already out and ringing, and Will stopped boo’ing. 

To announce, in no uncertain terms, “It’s time! Leader better not screw things up, or I’ll walk to Colorado and kick him in the shins.”

“What a threat.” Robin groaned, but his phone was making noise too, and neither Elsa nor Liam were doing a very good job of sharing space in the frame. Anna was waving with both her hands, already talking a mile a minute with her sister and they were all wearing team-branded merchandise, as the ritual dictated, but this also felt like the first legitimate time Emma was part of the ritual and all three Vankald and/or Jones faces beamed when they noticed her. 

“A,” Will sighed, “you’re supposed to tell us before the taxi squad gets on the call. Then we can prepare and we don’t have to go through this every year.” Anna’s eyes noticeably thinned. “What is this, exactly?” “The gossip wheel you’ve got to run through before we can—” “—Emma’s wearing KJ’s number again!” “We live together Banana,” Killian reasoned, and the jump in Emma’s stomach was undeniable and even more uncalled for. She also hoped she didn’t mess up the ritual. 

“Still.” “Expand on that for me.” Will might have snarled. “We do not have time for this.”

“Are you an actual adult participating in this situation?” Ariel challenged. “Because I am not getting that right now.” Careful to stay out of Regina’s eye line and certain that Roland was at least momentarily distracted by another plate of onion rings, both of Will’s hands moved when he flashed specific fingers. Ariel nearly fell off the counter, she laughed so hard. 

Elsa and Anna were absolutely having their own conversation. 

And Killian kissed Emma’s hair that time. 

“Also,” Elsa added, “should we be collectively annoyed by the taxi squad marker? That’s kind of—” Her voice dropped “A dick move, right?” “You’re a picture of parental responsibility, El,” Killian said. “Buy new clothes.” “See,” Regina cried, arms thrust nearly above her head in what wasn’t quite celebration but might have simply been her innate desire to be right at all times. “Liam, you’re going to have to say something different now, you realize that?” None of them had, quite clearly. Soft gasps and quiet oh’s echoed around their spot at the end of the bar, but Liam’s chin was doing something as well. So maybe it was just genetic. Jutting out, the confidence practically dripped off him, which would have been a disgusting thought in any other situation, but there was something to be said for constants and stability, and not one of them had so much as thought the phrase back to back all offseason. 

“Your lack of belief is disappointing, Gina.” “I’m just covering our bases.” “Wrong sport,” Liam laughed, grabbing the stick that had been leaning just out of frame and it took some finagling to hold it out in front of him. Without also knocking the phone over. He nearly knocked the phone over three different times. 

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright,” Liam started, and Emma didn’t think she imagined the way Killian stood up a bit straighter. Robin and Will, too. “Wait, wait, shit, sorry Rol—no, but how many years is this?” “Oh my God,” Ariel grumbled. “This is kind of messing it up.” “Leader, do you not know how to do math?” Will shouted, grabbing more than one of Roland’s onion rings. Like he needed something to occupy his hands with. 

Blotches of color appeared on Liam’s face, Elsa’s head shaking back and forth now while several different grown adults tried to do the most basic math problem, and no one else heard Killian at first. Emma did. Presumably, because she was almost standing on his sneakers. 

His arm was back around her waist. “Nine years,” he repeated. 

Liam hummed. “Yeah, yeah, that’s right.” “I know it is.” Nothing about those words was enough to immediately catch Emma short, but the fingers pressed against her might have started pulling on her shirt ever so slightly and whatever look Elsa and Anna shared as soon as she circled her arms around Killian’s middle wasn’t important. Now, at least. Emma had every intention of getting them to give up whatever they knew later. 

They definitely knew something. 

She’d worry about that after the home opener. “Alright, alright, alright,” Liam chanted, the stick back up and Will’s salute lacked any sort of legitimate respect. “Nine years ago now, we all stumbled back into this stupid city and laced up skates and tripped over ourselves on the ice.” He had to glance down. Reading it off an index card, then. Emma’s heart gave a small, but sure tumble in her chest. “And we were God awful. Terrible. Embarrassingly bad. But, as with most things, we figured it out. We stopped tripping over that giant emblem at center ice and we didn’t stutter during post and we actually started scoring goals.”

The stick was starting to shake. Retirement affected forearm strength, it seemed. 

“And we inexplicably won a first-round series and made the backpages of tabloids and then something kind of incredible happened.” Emma waited for the tension, for the sound of Killian’s knuckles cracking, or the exchange glances between Robin and Will. None of it came. It was stupid to think it would. And Liam was far from done. “Down two games in Pitt—” “—Oh my God,” Ruby hissed, “who calls it Pitt?” Liam ignored her. “A two-game hole, and totally fu—messed up media in Los Angeles, but none of that mattered because you guys kept scoring goals and the entire Kings organization is a black hole of talentless idiots.” “This is scathing, Leader,” Will said, “truly. Did you practice this?” “Yes,” Elsa said before Liam could open his mouth again, and Emma’s neck was going to give up sooner rather than later. Emotions twisted between the muscles there, another weight that somehow made it easier to breathe, like they had anything to do with her lungs, but none of her cared and all of her wanted. This, specifically. “There’s more though, Scarlet. Stop interrupting.” He saluted again. 

“Getting everything you wanted’s kind of a weird thing to wrap your head around, but that’s because this isn’t everything. Not yet. Somehow you guys are still capable of scoring goals and—y’know, your quotes leave a little to be desired.” “Here, here,” Ruby murmured. 

Liam might have been the best at glaring. Like, out of all of them. “But that just means the pressure’s on. Vankald cliché requirement; patent pending.” None of the boos that garnered had much bite to them. “Keeping the tradition alive is half the fun of hockey, this dumb sport with weapons on our feet and in our hands and it’s up to you guys. All over again. Start of the season, fresh slate, knowing you can do it because you already have. You ready, Rol?”

Roland nodded more than once, enthusiasm in every jerk of his head. “To the Cup,” he shouted. 

“To the Cup,” the crowd repeated, not much enunciation between the lot of them when both of the phones had a slight delay and there was a baby crying in Colorado. Still, neither Elsa nor Liam moved and the shot glasses Eric put down were rather quickly grabbed. So as to avoid Arthur’s ire. 

Alcohol burned the back of Emma’s mouth as soon as she tilted her head, shivering against the strength of whatever it was she just drank. If she cried, she was going to be really annoyed with herself. 

And the restaurant never got too loud, or too warm, but Emma’s heart stayed at its above-average rate for the next two hours, making the prospect of walking out the door and standing at the edge of the sidewalk all the more appealing. Especially when she remembered how—

It took him two minutes to follow her. Give or take. 

“Feels like we’re in a time warp,” Killian said, leaning against the side of the restaurant while Emma desperately tried to temper her own emotions and she had more emotions than she knew one person could be capable of containing. 

“No dancing, though.” “Banana and I went to a midnight showing of that on Halloween once.” “Seriously?” “Mmmhm. Have I mentioned that I am ridiculously in love with you yet, today?” Her head fell. Neck finally giving up, Emma’s cheek twisted on top of Killian’s shoulder, and his sweater, and if there was a quota for kisses pressed to the crown of her head, he was certainly trying to reach it. Competitive weirdo. “I don’t think so.” “Idiotic.” “Eh, we’ve been busy.” “I love you,” he said, and she smiled. Wide and easy and so goddamn happy, it only occasionally felt like a massive joke. And it still wasn’t enough. As selfish as that might have been, but Liam was definitely right and this wasn’t the end, might have just been another point on a circle and hints of wholly enjoyable déjà vu. “Is this the part where we talk about dating some guy on a team?” Left eyebrow, that time. Perfectly arched while his ability to smirk continued to infuriate Emma just a little, whatever sound she made when he ducked his head and caught her lips somewhere between joy and laughter and the seemingly perpetual talent to make her swoon wherever she was standing. 

They’d definitely gotten better at kissing in the last year. 

A fact Emma had every intention of pointing out — once she was done sticking her tongue in Killian’s mouth. Or trying to get her fingers under his sweater, his soft hiss at the lack of temperature in her fingertips some kind of victory she’d think about until the home opener and possibly until the All-Star break, and the overall arch of her back wasn’t particularly comfortable. But then her hips bumped Killian’s and that drew another sound and made champagne bubbles of the far more metaphorical variety explode in the general vicinity of her heart. 

One of her feet left the ground, not doing much to help her balance, but Emma had already spent too long considering the pros and cons of balance and she scratched at the back of Killian’s head. When her back pressed into the wall, threatening to scratch through her jersey and his fingers weren’t as cold as hers, because he might have just exuded heat, which likely wasn’t a sign and she wanted it to be a sign and—

“I love you,” Emma breathed, harder than she wanted. The force of his answering smile could have melted ice. In several prominent arenas across North America. 

“You worried?” “Very vague question.” “Swan.” “No,” she said, pleased to realize she meant all three letters. With just about everything in her. “Coming out here was—” “—We could have just made out in the restaurant.” “Pushing me up against a wall probably would have gotten us kicked out.” “Which would have led us here and then home, so,” Killian shrugged, “I fail to see the problem.” “You want to go home?” His eyes closed. His smile didn’t waver. Just pressed into the side of Emma’s neck and under her jaw, scruff, and strands of hair that were a little longer than they’d been last season, and she felt him inhale. Like he was trying to breathe her in, or possibly them. The specifics didn’t matter. They were something of a package deal now, anyway.

“Did you cop this jersey from equipment?” Leaning back was impossible with the wall behind her, but Emma was something of a glutton for emotions now and inherently greedy. Killian’s eyes noticeably darkened when she moved her tongue. Directly across her teeth. “Nah, I own this.” The thump of his forehead falling to her shoulder was the most satisfying sound she’d heard in two weeks. Bar none. 

“We’re leaving now,” Killian said. “Now.”

“You don’t want to—” Lacing his fingers through hers, he didn’t quite tug her back down the alley, but it was awfully close and Emma was glad she’d thought to bring her phone with her. “They’ll figure it out.”

She hoped they did. 

Checking her phone was somewhere near the bottom of the list she had absolutely no intention of making that night, opting instead to leave a trail of clothes back to their room and she couldn’t wear the jersey to the game. They made out in the hallway outside the visitor’s locker room, though. So Emma figured it something of a wash; and the first win of the season. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!!! Hope you're doing fine and well!!I've jumped back into the Johnlock fandom and rewatched it again! I'm looking for fics to do with Sherlock being drugged, a drug addict, crazy, insane or trapped in his mind palace. That's about it, thank you!! Take care!

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, welcome back to the fandom, Lovely!! <3 I hope I can help you out!

For Drug fics, I have these lists here:

Self Harm, Danger Nights, and Drugs

Drugs and Drugging Pt 2

Realistic Drugs/Drug Rehab

As for mind palace fics, I’m going to use this opportunity to post up a list of fics relating to Sherlock’s mind palace, just because I did actually start tagging fics with it, so I wanna actually use it, LOL. Feel free, my lovelies, to add your own fics for this or anything Nonny is looking for! Hope y’all like what I got for y’all!

SHERLOCK’S MIND PALACE

A Perfect Figure by ecb327 (K, 622 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, First Person POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Light Angst) – Sherlock build a spot in his mind palace for John.

Once Upon A Time by ProfessorSquirrell (T, 908 w., 1 Ch. || Family, Snippets of Life, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Implied Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending) – There is a room in Sherlock's mind palace where nothing gets deleted. And it looks like this...

Sherlock's Mind Palace by Valkyrie Of The Dead (K+, 1,091 w., 1 Ch. ||  Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Deaths, Self Reflection) – Sherlock needs to change his mind-palace once again. He had hoped he wouldn't, he had thought he wouldn't, because they were invincible, weren't they?

Ode to a Well-Worn Chair by hogwartswitch (G, 1,274 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TSo3, John’s Chair, Angst, Love Confessions, Mind Palace) – Takes place the night Sherlock left John's wedding early. Why did he move John's chair and where did he move it?

The Simple Separation Will Not Come Between Us by The Circus (T, 1,278 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, MCD, Violence, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Prose) – The choice is simple. Real, and No John. Or Not Real, and John. For a prompt that says 'John dies and Sherlock loses himself in his Mind Palace’

Upon This Throne by ifonlynotnever (T, 1,773 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Angst, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Introspection, Imagery, Pining Sherlock, Drug Use, Passage of Time) – Inside Sherlock's mind is a Palace. Inside the Palace are many rooms. Within the largest room is the Throne. Upon the Throne sits the King.

The Three-Word Tin Collection by TheBookshelfDweller (K, 1,885 w., 1 Ch. || First Person Sherlock POV, Mild Pining, Angst, Romance, Hiatus) – What happens when Sherlock has to store the things he wants to say to John while deconstructing Moriarty's web, but the Mind palace proves an inadequate place to store them?

Duvet (green) by Mazarin221b (G, 2,021 w., 1 Ch. || Post-THoB, Mind Palace, Revelations, First Kiss) – Sherlock recalibrates and restructures his mind palace so it looks like 221b. What he chooses to put in John's room is a bit of a surprise, and a revelation.

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

Heart's a Mess by svenjastrange (NR, 2,249 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Sherlock’s Mind Palace) – Sherlock's heart is a mess.

Green Carnation by glenien (T, 2,616 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Meta-Fic, Angst and Fluff, Communication, Post-TAB) – John takes Sherlock home. Part 1 of It’s No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five

The Trial of Sherlock Holmes by jenna221b (G, 3,015 w. across 3 works || TAB!lock, Metafic / TJLC, Victorian AU / 1895, Christmas, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Oscar Wilde) – Scripts based on speculation that Sherlock will be put on trial in The Abominable Bride to parallel the Oscar Wilde Trials of 1895.

Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3,218 w., 1 Ch. || Confessions, Physics, Metaphors, Texting, Pining, Christmas, Mind Palace, Sick Fic, Fluff, Humour, Praise Kink) - On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots.

Nineteen Seconds of Falling by EmmyAngua (T, 3,739 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Falling in Love) – Sherlock spends exactly nineteen seconds zoned out after John asks him to be best man. He retreats to his mind palace in the desperate hope of figuring out what he wants, unfortunately for him his mind palace is full of people who keep trying to give him advice.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock's mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he'd rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

Sink Like a Stone by pennydreadful (T, 4,348 w., 1 Ch. || Angst / Dark, Cuddling/Snuggling) – After defeating Moriarty at the pool, life isn't quite the same around 221B Baker Street...it's more peaceful. And stranger.

Times Two by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 5,595 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Victorian John, Modern John, Sherlock has a Good Imagination, PWP, Bottomlock, Spitroasting) – “But you’re not that John…”“Of course I am,” John’s lips and mustache brush against Sherlock’s mouth as he talks. “All us Johns are that John, now. That John is in every room in your Palace.” He leans in for another messy kiss, tongue swirling all around the inside of Sherlock’s mouth. “In fact,” he moves to suck on the sensitive skin underneath Sherlock’s ear. “I think I hear him coming right now.”

The Death of Doubt by Gingerhermit (E, 6,584 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate Canon, BAMF John, POV Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama, Meddling Mycroft) – Mycroft asks for John’s help in rescuing Sherlock from his Serbian captors.

Better Than Fiction by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 6,813 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Masturbation, BJ’s, First Time / Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Anal) – ...he opens his eyes, but instead of seeing John he is staring at his bedroom ceiling, the pale plaster a startling contrast from the scene in his head. It had felt so real. He can only imagine what the feel of John’s lips would be like, his taste. But luckily for him, he thinks with a smirk, he’s always had a brilliant imagination.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

Sherlock's Head, John's Heart by Altego (T, 17,252 w., 7 Ch. || Tragedy, Heavy Angst, Heavy Bromance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Mary is Nice, Friendship) – After Mary dies, John tries to cope, and Sherlock blames himself but tries to make John understand how important John is in his life.

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,689 w., 8 Ch. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Beach Holidays, Confused Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

[amarauder]

truth or dare and other rituals - percy jackson x reader

                                   006. truth or dare and other rituals

PAIRING; Percy Jackson x Reader

REQUEST; "Keep your hands off my girl."

REQUESTED BY; trexs346

GODLY PARENT; Thanatos

DATE; June 28th, 2020

WORD COUNT; 5k

WARNING; bad words,

A/N; I just want to apologize in advance because this is just pure shit. To my lovely requester, please feel free to pm me if you hate it. I am totally willing to re-write it. I just really struggled with this one and I hate how it turned out.

As you can see, I really cannot decide who is the perfect percy face claim. The dude in the previous chapter looks more like what i would imagine him to look like than most. But at the same time, rick describes percy like he gets more and more intimidating as he gets older and in the words of hazel he looks like a roman god. so, like i feel like logan lerman is perfect because he gets more and more attractive as he gets older, and in my opinion that makes him more intimidating. but i dunno, who is your face claim for percy? i need help ahhh.

TRAILER; in which the gang plays truth or dare with a twist.

-

All Y/N wanted in the entire world was one marshmallow fluff and peanut butter sandwich. But no, it had to be banned because of the stupid Demeter counselor in front of her. He was literally the son of the god of plants! Yet he was allergic to peanuts! Which were plants! It was the most ironic thing she had ever heard of, like Annabeth breaking up with Percy the day after the war ended, completely unexpected yet she still did it anyway.

"It would be entirely dangerous to all of us anti-peanut eaters," Allan announced snottily to Mr.D, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere other than here.

Just like her, he seemed to losing his patience and quickly cut Allan off, "Andy-"

"It's Allan."

"Don't interrupt me," Dionysus snapped, and Y/N felt a surge of pride towards her director. It was rather strange to be thankful for him of all people, but her opinion of him had changed once he had thanked Percy for all he had done for the Olympians. Not one god, other than his Father, had portrayed their gratitude towards him despite it being very well deserved. "Now, Andy, fortunately, your time is up for talking about," he paused and then grimaced, "Whatever you were talking about. Are we done here?"

Y/N took a deep breath to calm her shaking fingers. She had been twisting her earring non-stop for the past five minutes, and now that the time had finally come Y/N felt a serene feeling wash over her. She couldn't think, and Y/N was pretty sure her brain had gone on auto-pilot. It didn't matter though because Y/N had her entire speech memorized and a laminated sheet of paper just in case she forgot anything. Y/N also had handouts that Percy was currently passing out to everyone as she stood to present.

He gave her a bright grin and a thumbs up that made her breath stutter, from her nerves or just Percy she didn't know.

Y/N's laminated paper bended once she got up to the stand and she hurriedly straightened it out again. Y/N had always been a good public speaker, or at least she was comfortable enough to talk to her fellow counselors during these "meetings." But now, after spending so much time and preparation that all come down to this one point, Y/N felt bile climbing up her throat. Her teeth chattered, she was so nervous. Along with her knees wobbling so much that Y/N would have thought she had just gotten off the climbing wall.

She smiled out at everyone, then spat out her entire speech. It felt like she was flying, unable to register anything that was going on other than to get this over as soon as possible.

Before she knew it, all her facts and data had been said and Percy was leaning on the wall clapping and whooping, a beacon of light, her lighthouse during this insane moment.

The rest of the campers followed his lead, and even Mr.D gave a few slow claps after an eyeroll. He finally told everyone to shut up so he could think. Of course, Connor Stoll gave a few yelps right after just to make Y/N's day even more extraordinary.

She wanted to hold Percy's hand. Just touch him briefly, to know he was there beside her, that he would catch her in a heartbeat. Bring her back to safety and out of the deep depths of anxiety. It was hard to take in air, the oxygen she was getting was short and quick, close to a laugh but more like a wheeze.

"Alright, everyone out," Dionysus said, "I have to make a decision, and I can't think with your mortalness stinking up the room."

Y/N saw Percy opening his mouth, knowing he was going to make some smartass comment that Dionysus in fact had been mortal once, but Y/N caught him just in time. She gave him a look and he pouted, but followed her lead nonetheless.

Y/N felt like she was scolding Blackjack, Percy and his pegasus had the same kicked puppy face, guilty and hurt. She laughed at his expression and ruffled his hair. The black mop had always been soft and fluffy, but this time Y/N got a whiff of some sort of shampoo. Her stomach flipped.

"Ugh, nooo, stop." Percy said nudging her hand away, but his mile wide smile said otherwise. He ruffled her own, before bringing Y/N into a side hug and pressed his face against her hair. "That was truly the best presentation I have ever witnessed."

Her entire body had turned into a beehive, every inch of skin buzzing pleasantly. He needed to stop giving her so much casual affection, Y/N thinks she may just die from it. Die happily, yes, but being separated from Percy was too painful to think about.

Dionysus stood up abruptly, "Actually, I changed my mind. I'm gonna make this short and sweet so I can take a nap. The girl can get her sandwich." He exited with a roll of his eyes and Allan trailing behind him demanding a re-do.

"What? But I can die."

"Exactly, the less demigods the happier I get. Now, leave Alex."

"It's Allan."

Dionysus looked at the son of Demeter as if he was the dumbest person he had ever met. He was probably right. "Miraculously, I don't care. You're like a fly I can't shoo away."

The air was pushed out of her lungs, and the oxygen left her entire body. Y/N felt the shock from her head to her toes, like she could finally feel gravity weighing down on her. She took in a deep breath and let her clouded thoughts focus on things. She had done it. All her hard work had paid off and it felt really good.

Percy bumped into her again and she looked up at him. He had a horrible, terrible habit of being in her personal space too often. He did it more than the average person, and while it did make her feel more alive than anything else she had experienced, it also made her brain turn into sloth mode.

"I knew you were gonna do it," Percy said as they exited outside. It was so bright that Y/N had to shield her eyes, and her nose twitched as it always did when it was sunny. She always sneezed after going outside and being inside for too long. Percy liked to poke fun of her and say she was allergic to the sun.

"I'm just surprised no one had said anything." Y/N said after her sneezing attack. Connor Stoll had looked like one of those mimes during her presentation. He kept opening his mouth and then would abruptly close it while gripping his chair as if it was a bucking horse.

"Ya," Leo said out of nowhere, jumping on Percy's back and making him stumble. Y/N snorted, and caught his arm just in time. "That's because Percy can be very threatening."

Y/N raised a questioning eyebrow. She had to admit that Percy was intimidating, the first time she had met him Y/N barely had the courage to get a word out, that was until she realized he was just a big dork inside a body with a bitch face 24/7.

"He threatened Connor Stoll before your presentation, N/N. You should have seen Connor's face. Shows him for trying to steal my handy sack."

"Okay, Handy Mandy," Percy snapped and crossed his arms before turning to Y/N. His face visibly softened and he looked down at his shuffling feet, "I just wanted to make sure your presentation turned out perfect. You spent so much time and effort on it, I didn't want someone like Connor Stoll saying something stupid during it."

Y/N smiled softly, and nudged his elbow. He looked up before looking down again. Y/N went to hug him then paused, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Would he reject it? He probably would, he did date Annabeth before. She's perfect.

But what about what he just did for her?

No one had ever been so thoughtful as to do everything in their power to make something that was important to her perfect.

She smiled, and ran on her instincts, "Hey, Perce."

"Ya?" he questioned when she didn't say anything more, only to be enveloped in a hug. She must have blacked out because Y/N doesn't remember anything that happened after.

-

Saturdays at Camp Half-Blood gave everyone a taste of what Y/N believed was Heaven. It was the one day that Y/N gave herself off. Sundays were filled with preparing for archery and other lessons to teach the younger campers. Monday through Friday left Y/N exhausted after all the activities.

Saturdays were pure bliss, roaming through the strawberry fields, catching up with friends, bonfires at the beach. Life became something out of a movie and it left her grappling for some understanding of how she deserved this.

However, instead of going on an adventure, Y/N was stuck in a boiling hot room, blindfolded.

Percy was in there somewhere. He had kidnapped her after a late lunch and tied a bandana around her eyes. It was all a little nerve racking.

It got worse when Y/N found out he had to guide her everywhere. Percy was not a good set of eyes. He himself had trouble staying upright on a daily basis, particularly when he walked backwards.

"Percy," Y/N whined, her eyes opening as she tried to see through the cover, "Can I please take this off?"

"No," Percy said from her left. At least he replied this time. He was closer than she thought. After a while, Y/N wondered if he had left the room and ditched her.

"Please," Y/N pouted. She knew she sounded childish but Y/N couldn't bring herself to care. Percy laughed, he sounded even closer now. She didn't realize he was invading her personal space until she felt his breath on her neck. She shivered. Gods, she hoped Percy didn't notice why Y/N was shaking like a tree.

She felt his hand brush against her shoulder and wondered what on Earth he was doing until she was being lifted out of the seat. "Let's go. We still have more to do."

Y/N could imagine exactly what Percy looked like, but she wished she could see it with her own eyes. Percy didn't get super excited a lot and Y/N always felt blessed whenever he did. She would carefully drink it all in, making sure to engrain every inch of him to her memory.

Percy had a habit of bouncing on the balls of his shoes eagerly, something Y/N was pretty sure he didn't even know he did, which only made it an even cuter habit. He would play with her hair impatiently but shy away from her touch at the same time as if he didn't want to make her feel rushed but needed to hurry the process up at the same time.

However, his hands were absent from her hair and instead guiding her to wherever they were going.

It was interesting how once one sense is gone, then the others completely take over. It was like she was completely re-exploring Camp Half-Blood but through smells... and she had no clue where she was.

"Wait," Percy said out of nowhere, after she had stumbled over a tree root, "You don't have any other plans today do you?"

"Other than being blindfolded and dragged around by my best friend, no." The words came out ruder than she had meant, but this was getting kind of annoying. She just wanted to get wherever they are going to go and bask in the sweetness that is Percy.

Though, Y/N didn't in fact have any plans. She really wanted to sunbathe by the lake but that didn't seem to be an option. But if Y/N was going to be honest, Y/N's always more than happy to go along with whatever he says. Which is, like, pathetic as hell, but Y/N doesn't see herself doing anything to change that in the near future.

"So, you want to be surprised?"

"Of course," she replied immediately, and inwardly cringed at how eager she sounded. "I mean, sure. If you want." She might outwardly cringe this time. Gods, she's embarrassing.

"Okay, cool."

Then, they start walking again until they are at what Y/N guesses is the beach. He sits her down on the sand, and if Y/N had known where Percy was then she would have thrown some at him.

It seems her wish is granted because he takes her blindfold off a second later, but she doesn't fulfill it. Y/N wouldn't have even if she hadn't been blindfolded and dragged around because in front of her is an elaborate picnic with two plates filled with marshmallow fluff and peanut butter sandwiches.

Y/N could cry.

"Percy," Y/N gasped and turned to him with a bigger smile than she cared to admit. He laughs at her facial expression and nudged her shoulder. "Annabeth didn't!"

Percy laughs even harder at that, "I'm insulted you didn't even consider this had been all me."

"Well, is it?"

Percy pouts, and Y/N snickers but she can't deny how touched she is by all of this. "No, but it was my idea! I helped set it up. Annabeth just remembered the blanket, the rocks to hold it down, the drinks, the plates-"

His answer was so incredibly Percy that Y/N couldn't help but smile. She reached out and placed her hand in his. "Thank you, Perce." He blushes and looks away. Y/N marvels at his remarkable composure, she knows if Y/N had been in his place she would have blacked out. In fact, Y/N should be marveling at herself. "Really, this is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me."

Percy shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. The way he always does with compliments, a quick dismissal. "I think you need new friends then."

"Probably, damn you Nico for never making me a picnic!"

Percy almost pees his pants at the thought of Nico on a picnic, but Y/N is too busy eating her sandwich and enjoying his presence to notice.

-

An hour later, the sun is going down and Y/N is leaning against Percy's shoulder. She wants to stay in this moment forever and ever. It makes her wonder why the Gods don't take advantage of having infinite time with their loved ones. But then she remembers that Percy is unlike anyone she had ever met and Y/N's chest warms with thankfulness that she is his first choice.

Y/N closes her eyes and nuzzles her nose deeper into Percy. She has this absurd war going on in her head, to either bask in the moment at hand or fall asleep. Both seem abysmal to what she really wants to do, maybe finally tell Percy how she feels but why ruin the possible best day of her life?

However, it seemed Percy had different ideas because he shifts under her to lay on his forearm, the other going to soothe her hair. His head props on top of her head and Y/N shuts her eyes for a second. Everywhere he touched seemed to send what felt like fairy dust travel through her body. "Hey, angel of death."

Y/N groaned at the nickname and pinched him. She only relented once he winced. "Percy," she whispers and buries herself deeper into his chest. His hand in her hair felt amazing, like warm water flowing down her spine. But it made her sleepy. "You know I hate that nickname."

"And you know I love that nickname. I mean you did save me."

Y/N doesn't answer for a few seconds but sits up with a huff after he softly tugs at her roots. "All I did was relay what my Father saw and managed to warn you from your potential death, which is totally against all the ancient laws. You need to keep quiet about it."

"No one is here!"

Y/N looked around and realized he was right. No one was on the beach for miles except them. She wondered how he got everyone to leave. "You're annoying."

Percy laughs. Once she cuddles up against him again, she can feel it. "Wait, no. I have something to tell you."

"What?"

"You need to get up."

"Ugh, why?" She mumbled but did what he said anyway.

Y/N stared at him expectantly for a while but then decided to give him a few seconds to collect his thoughts. Y/N knows how hard it is to make ideas into words, especially if it's important to her. Looking at him now, it looked like whatever he was about to say was important to him.

Her hand grabbed his in the meantime. It doesn't help her focus whatsoever but Y/N hopes it gives Percy the encouragement he needs. "Listen, we've known each other for..." He trailed off as he thought about it. His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand, and in all honesty, Y/N wished she could say she had been able to pay attention after that. But with the amount of warmth glowing through her from his gesture, all focus had gone out the window. "A really long time now, and umm, for a while you've been my best friend. But recently I have been having thoughts that best friends really shouldn't have and." He paused, and she heard her heartbeat one, two, three times before she registered what he had said.

Was he doing what she thought he was doing?

Hearing a slight squeal from behind them, Percy paused and Y/N followed suit. He stopped rubbing her hand, but that didn't stop the fairy dust that seemed to travel faster and further every second. There was another squeal and Percy let out a groan. Pulling away from him, she looked over her shoulder to catch sight of the rest of the seven. Piper and Hazel being at the front and gushing to each other, obviously having seen Percy and Y/N.

He glared at his friends, looking for something to throw but coming up with nothing. They laughed and headed over to Percy's picnic as he ordered, "Go away!"

Reluctantly the gang left, but Y/N could still see them giggling and watching her exchange with Percy. It seemed Percy did too because he turned his attention back to Y/N to find her getting up. Catching a hold of her elbow to stop her, he raised an eyebrow when she looked back at him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere?" She said weakly and he nodded in acceptance of her answer, using Y/N's elbow to pull her back towards him. Sitting on the blanket, facing him she watched him reach over to interlink their hands.

Percy opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by Leo yelling, "Percy, Y/N, when you guys are done making out and scarring poor Hazel and Frank. Oh, yeah! Nico too! Come play truth or dare with us! Piper wants an excuse to find out all the gossip!"

-

"Percy kiss the most attractive person here."

Percy hesitates, and during that short time Y/N panics. Her mind immediately goes to Annabeth. With her gorgeous princess curls and show stopping gray eyes. Y/N wants to cry just thinking about it.

"Well, I don't have a mirror," Percy finally says with a scoff and he squeezes Y/N closer to him.

It's only seconds later that Y/N feels him press his lips against her hair.

What that means doesn't register until Piper is asking her truth or dare. She can barely get the word, "dare," out. She was just impressed that Y/N had even considered what Piper had asked. Her entire body felt like it had turned into fairy dust, showering her in warmth and happiness.

Y/N feels Percy smile against her hair. It's all tantalizingly dizzying, the thought that he had purposely kissed her after what Leo had just dared him. The idea grows lovelier if it even can as she realizes that it's her and Percy's little secret.

"I dare you to..." Piper trails off as she scrutinizes both Percy's and Y/N's cheshire grins. "I dare you and Percy to go somewhere private until I tell you to come back."

Y/N's first reaction is confusion. Then, she recognizes Piper's smirk and it all hits her like a ton of bricks. Jason would have been jealous. Piper must have seen what Percy just did. Judging by the smirk on Percy's face, he knew too. Little stink.

He's also looking at the water. Y/N's stomach sinks, she's going to freeze.

-

Fortunately, she doesn't freeze and somehow manages to stay completely dry. Percy mentioned something about his powers being able to keep them dry but Y/N wasn't listening; she was too busy admiring the lake lit up by the moon. The next time the Hunters visited camp, Y/N made a mental note to thank Artemis for it's beauty.

With her face pressed against the edge of the bubble, Y/N felt like a child seeing an aquarium the first time. She heard Percy chuckle beside her, and she rolled her eyes. If anyone here was the seaweed brain, it was him. He had all of this wonder at the brink of his fingertips, yet he never sued it to his advantage. Thanatos, if she had his powers Y/N was sure she would be sleeping here every night.

Percy pouts from next to her, and continuously pokes her. It wasn't until the sixth poke and a call of her nickname did Y/N look over at him. He was being so incredibly irritating. Honestly, why was he not taking this in? "What?"

"I'm bored," he replied and slumped against the border of the bubble. Y/N gaped at him. How could he be bored? "And you're not paying attention to me."

Y/N rolled her eyes. He was a seventeen year old boy! Almost an adult and he couldn't even keep himself occupied. "It's not my problem your friends dared us to come down here."

Percy gasped dramatically, and gave her his puppy dog face. He looked so much like a baby seal that Y/N almost melted. Almost. She turns towards him and shoves his face with a laugh. "Stop," she said and dragged out the word, "You know I give in every time you do that stupid face."

"Why else would I do it?"

"Because you're annoying." Percy laughs and intercepts him, in a hug then rolls onto his back like a rolly pollie (or pill bug, if that's what your boring ass calls it). Y/N screeches the whole time and tries to claw her way out but his arms are holding her down like Wonder Woman's lasso, golden and ethereal yet warm and comforting. So incredibly Percy.

Sometimes Y/N feels like inside him there are two people. Percy, the dork she is proud to call her best friend. Then, Perseus, the man who resembles more of a god like being, who saved the world twice in a year.

She loves him.

The realization is like smoke, curling around her lungs and choking her into submission. Y/N wants to tell him, and it seems Percy wants to tell her something too because he's gone quiet and limp again. It's just them lying there on top of each other, staring into each other's abyss, trying and failing to conclude what the other is thinking.

There serene moment is interrupted by the bubble popping, and now it's not smoke choking her, it water. Lots and lots of water. It's dark. Y/N can't make out Percy's figure and it only makes her panic more vibrant.

But then there he is, and then it's not Percy. It's some other being, pulling her into his grasp as she sinks and Y/N can breathe again. Her lungs are failing her as she doubles over inside the air bubble. The man beside her puts a hand on her back, and all the blockage seeps away until her burning lungs take in deep breaths of air.

She collapses on the edge, and he kneels beside her. The man is certainly not Percy. He has blonde hair and biceps and triceps, and a bunch of other ceps that Y/N couldn't name if she tried. She leans on the bubble and just stares dazedly at him. She would much rather be looking at Percy but she's so tired and her mind is probably very slow from lack of oxygen. It doesn't matter because she doesn't know who this man is but he saved her.

Y/N briefly entertains the thought of Poseidon but then shoos it away. He wouldn't care to save some child of Thanatos.

It not until they are almost at the surface of the water, that Y/N realizes they have gone up. Percy is nowhere to be seen. She feels oddly empty, as if someone had carved a hole in the pit of her stomach.

But before she can really register Percy's absence, they are surfacing and the freezing air feels marvelous in her chest. Voices are calling and screaming, yet so very distant. The man who saved her, drags her to shore.

He's still holding her as Y/N sluggishly leans against his chest. She sees Leo, Piper, Jason, and the rest all staring at her vigilantly. But then her eyes land on Percy and it feels like air doesn't matter anymore because he is staring at her with such an intense look that all oxygen escapes her once again.

"Keep your hands off my girl." Percy spits out, then shuts his mouth just as quickly. It looks like he hadn't even thought about what he said before saying it.

Something warm swells inside of her, like a star exploding inside her chest. Adoration? Compassion? She's not quite sure what it is, but it tugs at her stomach and pulls Y/N towards him. Without realizing it, she's wrapping her arms around his waist and Y/N's hugging him. After a moment, Percy returns the hug, arms hold her close as she listened to the way his heart hammered in his chest, warmth filling every cell in her body.

It's nice, and it's everything Y/N needs and yearns for in the world.

He pulls back for a moment and the loss of warmth makes her whine but it's lost inside Percy's mouth as he kisses her. Y/N can't register anything after that, because it's just a brush of lips if that even counts but it's desperate and lovely, and everything in between. It tells her all she wants to hear.

They stay like that for a while, their foreheads touching, noses brushing, her lips trembling against his. His hands are grasping at her hair and face, and hers are clutching his shirt. "I thought I lost you," he finally mumbles after a while. It sends the fairy dust down her spine, the way his lips move against hers. Y/N presses her lips against his tighter, she hears Percy take a short intake of breath.

She finds out later that it was Trident who saved her. Y/N feels the need to thank him for blessing her with Percy.

-

A/N; I don't think I can even explain how much I loathe how this turned out. I literally have re-written this four times now though and it just is not looking great. This is the best version of it though, so I hope someone enjoys it. I just feel like everyone loved the last one and I felt really pressured this time? If that makes sense but of course it turns out to be my most shitty one. So, requester if you hate it as much as I do please please tell me! I am so willing to rewrite it for you! It's super short, only 5k, so let me know!

Requests are closed as of sometime this week. Sorry everyone! I need some time to work on my current ones!

Also, does this ever happen to some of you where you will read a book or fanfiction and your writing kind of changes because you just read theres before because me too.

I hope everyone is having a good day today! My four year anniversary is this Thursday and I have a surprise for you all that I am super excited about, so keep your eyes peeled for that.

[thistangledbrain]

Ok y’all, I’m sorry I’m having to catch up! We got a new foster in a few days ago - a particularly broken soul - and my mind has been *entirely* on him. But he’s settling in a little now, so here’s the last 3 days in one post ☺️

Autism Acceptance Month

Day 10!

“Sensory Life”

This is sort of hard to describe, but I’ll try! This is different from the next entry about stims, though both are sensory related.

It’s like being on microdosed ‘shrooms *all the time*. If you don’t know what that’s like, I’ll try to describe (this is collaborated with a friend who regularly does this - I don’t...it would probably be far too overwhelming).

Colors are far sharper to me & I emotionally react to them far more than most people. That results in some colors being genuinely offensive - not just “I don’t like that color”, but it will make me intensely angry or physically sick. This makes me curious about chromotherapy, but I haven’t really looked into it that much. My tolerance of certain colors can ebb and flow depending on my emotional state/mindset. (This crap is so sharp, I’m actually getting a twinge of irritation just *thinking* about my most hated colors LOL 😂 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Textures/skin sensations are another big one. (By now you may be asking, how TF did this chick manage Marine Corps training/exercises?!) I guess if you want something bad enough, you can shut down some of the overwhelming aspects of the sensory thing...this ability to disassociate probably isn’t what NT’s would call “healthy”, but it’s quite handy if you’re autistic, and those of us who have been through real trauma seem to be especially skilled with our ability to just shut off all circuits and “embrace the suck”). Like...I’ll nearly panic to get out of a store or something if my underwear starts feeling uncomfortable, but I’ve literally been soaked head to toe, covered in mud and sand in my *everywhere* (and I HATE SAND anywhere but on my feet) AND I pissed myself, because nobody’s gonna stop shooting/training just because you have to go potty 🙄), and I remember literally giving zero fucks about it...so it really is entirely a mindset thing. But let’s talk about when I’m NOT in “Marine mode” (cuz let’s face it, it’s been close to two decades since I got out, and I no longer HAVE to tolerate overwhelming sensations).

Sensory input is just basically dialed to 11 & the knob’s been snapped off. Bright lights, loud discordant noises, too much touching/not touching the right way, things like that. I am particularly sensitive about body hair (my own). I *strongly* prefer to have my head shaved on the back and sides (but I leave the top long). The only time I haven’t done this, was in the Marines (it was considered “eccentric” and not allowed, so they made me grow it out). Even though I leave the main part long, it’s *always* in a bun or ponytail - well, unless I’m super dressed up for something, but even then I prefer some sort of updo. Despite the fact that I like my long hair (well on the top anyway), I can’t *stand* the way it feels on my neck or especially my face - I HATE IT when my hair touches my face. If I wasn’t married...there’s a decent chance I’d just shave it all off and be done with it LOL 😆 My ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball hat is I guess what they’d call my “signature look”.

And you think NT’s have bad misophonia? *I’ve jumped out of a moving vehicle before* to get away from the noise of someone chewing loudly/smacking their lips in the back seat (he was a coworker and punching him in the mouth - which is what I DESPERATELY wanted to do - would have gotten me fired 😕)...but humans eating, or dogs licking their junk, makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. It’s mostly humans though....you have *no idea* the level of self discipline it takes to keep me from either rage crying or actually getting violent around someone smacking their mouth during a meal. I *cannot* be around my husband when he’s eating breakfast cereal even though he’s a very mannered eater - I don’t know why, but it’s *so loud* (and I’m terribly hard of hearing) - it sounds like he’s chewing rocks. It took us years to work this problem out LOL - he thought it was dumb that I had such a deeply emotional reaction. Then he tried to “chew quietly”, which all that did was slow down the rock tumbler inside his mouth 😂...gradually, for everyone’s sanity, we realized that cereal eating should not be done in close proximity to each other lololol....and now, when it’s time for family meals around the table, I’ve learned to either keep the range hood fan going (white noise is definitely my friend), or have the TV on. If it’s just mainly the sound of everyone chewing, I simply won’t eat at the table. I lose my appetite. (And all of my dinner guests/family are very polite diners. It’s MY hangup.) Phone calls are another big one. I could probably come up with several reasons why I hate it...I LOATHE it. This is one sensory hangup some people in my family just refuse to accept. I don’t think they realize I equate unexpected or immediately demanded phone calls to running naked though a mall or getting a root canal. Hissssssssss!! Give me some time to prepare myself for this shit please - you’re actually asking a *lot* from me. (And when I do have a call? Ugh I babble and am so awkward, because I’m so effing uncomfortable, which I also hate.)

But here’s an area where my “sensory overload” serves me very well:

Dogs.

I am usually *intensely* dialed into the energy and body language of an animal, but particularly dogs. I’m *so* sensitive to them, that I often actually can feel things even happening behind my back - can basically sense the energy in the area shift. (Roughly 75% of the time. I’m spacey sometimes too LOL.) The work I do with “behaviorally challenged” dogs is the biggest area where I am *grateful* for my autistic mind. I don’t think I could really do the things I do without it, successfully. (I can do this to a large degree with people as well, as can my youngest son. You cannot lie to that boy about your feelings or mood.)

We all have different levels of sensory sensitivity and different triggers, but every autistic I know has several “sensory hangups”. It often is one of our biggest hurdles to deal with, when it comes to “normal functioning”. So, many of us constantly have headphones (or muffs) on, some of us wear sunglasses *all the time*, etc (I wear a baseball hat - and I genuinely don’t like going anywhere where I have to get dressed up and can’t wear my hat. Been like that since my early teens. That hat shields me from all sorts of real and imagined sensory triggers.) You do what you can to mitigate, you know? But my “microdosing shrooms” and “knob dialed to 11 and snapped off” is really the best way I can summarize. (And that’s not all bad - my trips into a new natural space, like the redwoods, is an absolute *thrill*. I also occasionally love sensory overload - many auties do - like rollercoasters. My youngest son and I can ride till we pass out LOL!) So sensory life is love/hate, really....but I don’t think I’d change much about it.

Except the fucking misophonia. I hate that I go into almost a murderous rage over someone just chewing food loudly 🤦🏻‍♀️ - but seriously. It’s impolite anyway. Don’t do it. 😆

———————————————————

Day 11!

Stims

This is one of the biggest areas where neurotypicals struggle to understand us.

We all have stims. Stims are basically any stimulus that brings us joy or comfort. It could be rocking, flapping, walking in tight little circles, clicking your fingernails together, spinning, making weird sounds or whistling, etc. And it’s usually repetitive - that’s the part that gets on people’s nerves.

I’ve found that most *women* hide most of our stims. We only let go and stim our little hearts out when we’re alone. I do that, because some of my stims grate on my husband. Sometimes I don’t WANT to feel “watched” anyway...I’ve noticed males don’t have quite the same issue with that.

I have quiet stims I do to soothe myself, and happy stims. One of my quieter stims when I’m trying to soothe myself (like in public) is clicking my teeth, particularly my right canines. I also have this silicone bite stick I wear around my neck sometimes, that I chew on (my sons like the bite sticks as well). I carry a little bag of fidget toys in my purse, to soothe myself with when I’m stressed. There’s a thing sort of like a fidget cube, a little cowrie shell and twine bracelet that I fiddle with almost like a rosary, a small stuffed axolotyl (her name is Blossom), and a few other toys. My little stash also comes in damn handy when I encounter a bored child LOL!

One of my sons makes funny little sound effects randomly (and he’s grown & still does it). The other used to randomly shriek when he was younger - then he learned how to whistle, so he couldn’t say a whole sentence without punctuating it with little whistles (we actually thought it was adorable).

My favorite stim is putting my headphones on, putting on some favorite music, sitting with my legs crossed, closing my eyes, and rocking. I’m happy to TELL you about this stim, but it’s one I do alone, because I like to get completely lost in it and I can’t do that if I feel I’m being watched...and you’ll damn near give me a heart attack if you touch me while I’m lost in that world. (And boy does it irritate me to get yanked out of that before I’m ready, for some bullshit non emergency reason.) Better to just isolate myself (except my dogs are always with me). Another one I do alone - and I have no idea why i like it so much - is squeaking my bite stick across my teeth. (This one is weird to me because I usually HATE my teeth being touched...yes dentists are a problem.) This one I enjoy doing kind of mindlessly while I read, but damn would it irritate anyone in listening distance LOL...I mean, it would irritate the shit out of ME if someone else was doing it, because *other people’s* repetition, especially if it makes noise, gets on my damned nerves. 🙄 Figures lmao!

Stims can be damaging sometimes, though. Like I used to twist and twirl my hair when I was younger so much that the areas I usually grabbed were frayed and broken (I also chewed my hair sometimes). One stim I cannot break myself of even though sometimes it’ll make me bleed, is chewing the insides of my cheeks or my lips. That’s my most frequent (several times a day) one, and the one that is both gratifying *and* soothing. It’s also the one that’s hardest to suppress.

Some auties are either unaware or literally don’t care how you feel about their stims, but I am and do. I’d like to think I’m pretty “appropriate” *most* of the time with my stims and other people around, except the lip/cheek chewing. If my husband notices I’ve gotten pretty furious about it (even using my hand to push my cheek into optimal biting position), he’ll gently put his hands on mine to bring me back to awareness - if I’m gnawing away, I’m either super stressed or way lost in thought. Either way, I can accidentally hurt myself, so he gently guides me away/distracts me.

Stimming is an important part of Autie life and should not be discouraged unless it hurts Your Pet Autie ™️.

And if you’re looking for a neat gift for an Autie? They actually make stim toy packs. Get them one, they’re fun. ☺️ (Most stim toys are designed to withstand being put in mouths and bitten/chewed, too - LOTS of us have oral fixations.) And hey, even if you’re a NT, try stimming sometime (lots of normal people have stims, they just don’t realize that’s what they are - like nail biting. Bite your nails a lot? Get a bite stick!! God they’re so satisfying!)....

Happy stimming!

———————————————-

Day 12!

“Favorite Autism Charity”

This one is short and easy: ASAN. Autism Self Advocacy Network.

“The Autistic Self Advocacy Network is a nonprofit organization run by and for individuals with autism. According to its mission statement, the Network’s goal is ‘to empower autistic people across the world to take control of our own lives and the future of our common community, and seek to organize the autistic community to ensure our voices are heard in the national conversation about us.’”

————————————————-

Day 13!

“Family”

Well that’s kinda ambiguous, isn’t it? 😒

I’ll start with this tack:

Being an autistic mom with autistic kids.

I mean for years, none of us KNEW LOL - and maybe that’s what took me so long to get around to pursuing a formal diagnosis for my youngest. To me, for the longest time, he was just sensitive and different like me (same with my oldest, for the most part, but I’m pretty sure that was me buying into the “brilliant people are just fucking weird ok” mindset also), yannow? So it was like, “well mama always told me I’d have one like me & then know what I put her through” 🙄 My oldest got lumped into the “all bright kids are quirky” category - but as I learned about ASD through my youngest and myself, it became damn obvious the oldest was also in our camp. (He’s taken the prelim test now anyway, but is not formally diagnosed.) I genuinely believe that our “shared weirdness” binds us very tightly to each other - and I’m super pleased about that.

It brought a whole new level of understanding and awareness within our little family when we realized it was ASD I guess - and acceptance. (I 100% believe that diagnosis - or even affirmation - is critical to our self acceptance and understanding.) I wouldn’t trade my little family for anything, and consider myself remarkably blessed. I can talk about how complex and brilliant my boys are ALL day (and often do LOL). Hubby is neurodivergent, and can identify with (or at least sympathize with) MANY of our hangups....but he’s “normal” enough that he’s been able to guide us (mostly me) with things like how to use tact (not often a skill we naturally possess lmao). My heart breaks when I read posts by auties whose families either don’t understand or don’t accept them & are constantly trying to basically mute who they are. Auties “live out loud”, and some people find that off putting. I know growing up, I was constantly getting my ass chewed for being “dramatic” or too sensitive, too, so I shut down and hid my sensitivity far, far away. I’m only *lately* (last few years) discarding that silly tough girl mask. (I can still be quite the little wolverine at times, but I’m not afraid to show my soft sensitive actual self anymore...to stay soft in today’s fucked up world takes actual courage - a lot of it - and strength. I was looking at the concept of being “strong” entirely the wrong way.)

I swear my husband has lived with nearly as many phases and facets, as years we’ve been together. Sometimes I ask him if this ever bothers him. He says no, because who I am at my core never changes...and he grins and says “and you damn sure aren’t boring” 😂

But since I’ve known I’m autistic, I’ve given myself more freedom to discover who I am without these socially dictated parameters. And permission to be precisely who I am, without cringing apologies when the real me shines through awkwardly.

And my husband and boys have been there every step of the way, embracing me, as we do with them. ♥️

Yeah. I love my family. We’re some pretty cool people. 😁