#not a single moment of peace it's actually mind blowing

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Sea Salt Cigarettes

Wife Sevika x Female Wife Reader (Fluff + Modern AU)

Not Proofread!! MEN DNI!!

Summary: On a honeymoon at the beach, you and your wife smoke a cigarette on the balcony of your suit.

Contains: Sexual tension, suggestive topics, and Sevika having both her arms.

A/N: Writers block is a reallll thing, but IM BACKKK!!

` 𓂃 ོ𓂃 `

Early mornings on the beach were beautiful.

The cool, summer breeze blew past you and your wife as the two of you looked out over to the sea from the balcony of your suit. The water was still and peaceful, so was the rest of the resort. You enjoyed the solitude with Sevika, for there were no crying children, no men, and not a single soul on the soft sand. The beach was bare and gorgeous.

Not to mention just how happy you were.

It had been a long night after your wedding, you knew it’d be. Getting your back blown was exactly what you’d expected, and you had to beg for her, your wife, to soften up, for that woman was going to tear your pussy open.

Staying up all night was a blast, really, and that’s what led you to lean against the railings of the balcony to smoke a cigarette. Sevika didn’t let you use your hands, she held the joint inbetween her fingers and did it for you. You didn’t mind, less work on your part, and you got to watch as the sun rose and shone it’s orange light onto the glistening, blue water.

You were a disheveled mess and were sure if anyone saw you they’d think you were a ghost. But even with your hair roughened up, mascara and lipstick smudged, tanktop thrown on without a bra, Sevika thought you looked stunning. Not to mention your stained shorts. Your wife, however, looked neat. She had on her usual wife beater, the only thing she’ll be beating is your pussy, and her casual shorts; the two fabrics covered her toned and muscular body. Her hair was out and about, flowing with the soft breeze that flew past the two of you.

She wrapped an arm around you as she held the cigarette to your mouth for you to pull the air into your lungs. Your wife only smiled before running her big fingers through your hair to even it out. “You alright?” She murmured, voice soft and gentle as she pulled closer and pressed a kiss on your head. “Yeah, why?.. Is it my makeup?” You, knowing her answer, gave her a playful smile. The smoke left you to get carried away by the wind. “Yes and no. You’re less chatty than usual..”

“True that.” You were “less chatty,” only because of the ache in your back, all that arching had came to bite, and the sore in your knees; which would give out if you tried moving too swiftly.

Your wife pressed another kiss on your head before turning her attention onto the cigarette in her hand. You follow suit and look down at the hickeys on your ankle, the two of you really went all out. There was a moment of comforting silence, the only things breaking it were the seagulls flying by and the waves crashing onto the shore.

“I thought honeymoons were for couples trying to get pregnant.” You, breaking the silence, playfully whisper out and elbow Sevika. “You’d be pregnant by now if I had a third leg.” She returned, her hand moving to pull you flush against her side. “Oh, like hell it’d be that big.” Your words were chuckled out as you leaned forward to take another inhale of the joint.

It would be big. Probably too big for you to handle.

Your wife only scoffed and turned her head to you. “It would, actually. That’s why I wasn’t given one, I’d be unstoppable.” You groan and cringe at her retort before blowing the smoke in her face for her to smile at. “Watch it, doll. I can have you right back on that bed again.”

Again, she was right, one wrong word and she’d throw you over her shoulder and fuck the audacity out of you.

“Yeah, alright..” you stare out at the sea, it was a sight you couldn’t get enough of. The sun had just come up and the sky was painted with oranges and reds. “Anyways..” your wife gave your waist a pat, “my earlier question; you okay?”

“My back hurts.” You answer, and, almost immediately, Sevika’s large hand traveled to your lower back to rub soothing motions on it. “Figured. Thought you’d break it on the bed earlier.” She teased, leaning closer to press a series of kisses on your head. “You’re gonna smother me with those,” “you don’t seem to mind.” She had you there. “I don’t. I’m just surprised you’re still this eager.”

You’d think Sevika would be satisfied with the amount of sex the two of you had, satisfied with the amount of different positions and the number of orgasms the two of you had shared, but no. The woman could go for more.

She flashed you an amusement smile all the while extinguishing the cigarette and turning to face you completely. “Eager? How could I not be?” Her tone full of fondness, she tilted her head. “I’m married to the prettiest woman alive, you expect me to be.. what? Casual?” With a huff of a chuckle, Sevika pulled you flush against her muscular chest and leaned down to close the distance between your lips and hers.

Her dark lips pecked a kiss onto yours and she pulled back, though she was still a breath away. “I.. really.. want you in that bed again..”

Like hell you’d say no to that.

“You have my permission to break my back.” You cup her face and let her kiss you towards the bed; where she’d, again, fuck you sore.

Your spine was screwed. Completely and utterly fucked, just like you were.

⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼 ⋆❀˖°

[cardgamerz]

those new pics have me thinking really heavily about smoking…………so here’s somethin (keep in mind i have only ever taken a single puff of a cigarette so idfk how it works)

going outside to get some air during a party at some random influencer house

the back porch is empty, everyone is inside drinking or smoking weed or passed out on the couch

you’re finally regaining the ability to breathe when you hear the door slide open behind you

you startle, whipping around to see who’s disturbing your peace

it’s schlatt (of course it is)

you’d talked to him briefly at things like this before, but you’d never held a real conversation…and certainly never one-on-one

yet there he was, broad shouldered and tall, looming awkwardly in the doorway

“uh…sorry. is it okay if i chill out here for a sec? it’s…loud in there.”

you KNOW it’s loud in there. that was why you’d come outside in the first place.

you sigh. “yeah, yeah, just…shut the door, would you?”

he complies, scrambling out onto the porch and sliding the door shut a little more forcefully than strictly necessary.

for a moment, an awkward silence blankets the both of you.

“so…uh…you smoke?”

you shoot him a sidelong glance at the question, then shake your head. “not really. sometimes, just for fun.”

“really? how d’you survive at these things, then? i feel like everyone is always smoking inside.”

“i dunno, i just suck it up. and go outside when i start coughing too much.”

“oh. that makes sense.”

he fidgets a little.

“so…would you mind if i smoked a cig out here? it’s fine if you do, i won’t be mad or anything.”

you turn to face him at that, your face contorting in confusion.

“since when do you smoke cigarettes??”

he shrugs sheepishly. “i don’t do it that often…just to take the edge off every once in a while.”

you stare at him incredulously for a second, then sigh again. “sure, whatever, just don’t…blow smoke at me, or whatever.”

he chuckles in response, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

he fumbles with them, pulling one out of the box and placing it between parted lips before slipping the box back into his pocket.

you watch, mesmerized, as he flicks his lighter a couple of times before a flame ignites.

he lifts it to the tip of his cigarette, holding it there for a moment before letting it burn out. he flips the lighter shut and places it back in his pocket.

he reaches up takes a long, slow drag, then pulls it away from his mouth and exhales out, away from your face.

for some reason, your eyes are glued to it. he notices.

“what? you want one?”

you jump a little, feeling slightly caught.

“i’ve never actually smoked a cigarette before…”

his head cocks to the side like a confused dog. “really? huh.”

he considers it for a moment.

“wanna try?”

you hesitate, but against your better judgement…you nod.

he holds out his already-lit cigarette to you. “here, try it.”

you stare at his outstretched hand.

“i don’t have COOTIES, you’ll be fine, jeez.”

you take the cigarette.

tentatively, you lift it to your mouth. you can feel the lingering warmth of his own as you close your lips around it.

you can feel him watching you intently. not wanting to disappoint, you inhale, allowing the smoke to coat your airways.

ew.

it tastes gross, much grosser than weed.

you exhale, coughing a bit as you do.

he laughs at your reaction.

“that is GROSS, dude. why on earth would you willingly do that??”

he just smiles at you, gaze lingering on your pursed lips.

“it’s fun. maybe you’re just too stuck up.”

“hey!!! not cool.”

you lift the smoldering stick of DEATH up for him to take, but instead of plucking it from your fingers…

he leans down. and takes a drag of it while it’s still in your hands.

you gawk wordlessly.

what the hell?

he straightens again, then turns away and exhales smoke again.

your face warms. you refuse to dwell on why.

he swivels back around and catches sight of your face, then laughs at you again. you feel like that’s all he seems to be doing.

“you should see yourself right now. you look so mad, it’s cute.”

with that, he takes the forgotten cigarette from your hands, then drops it and steps on it until it’s just an unlit heap among the rest of the garbage out back.

“see you inside.”

he winks, then retreats back into the house without looking back.

you watch him leave, at a loss for words.

what on EARTH was that?????

fin.

[assume444it]

FLIP YOUR COMPLAINTS!!

You wanna complain? Fine. But complain in a way that actually serves you. Stop filling your mind with negativity, because that’s what manifests.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

🌸 Instead of: “Ugh, I hate my body.”

💖 Say: “Ugh, why does my body look so good? Why do people keep complimenting me? It’s so annoying 🙄.”

🌸 Instead of: “I’m so single.”

💖 Say: “Ugh, why is my SP always texting me? Why are they always blowing up my phone? I can’t get a moment of peace!”

🌸 Instead of: “Why is my manifestation taking so long?”

💖 Say: “Why do my manifestations come so fast?? I don’t even have space for everything I’m getting omg.”

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

✨ If you must complain, complain about how good your life is. Make your problems luxury problems. Flip the script and start assuming in your favor. Your words create—so choose them wisely. ✨

[hanihazeljade]

Three Weeks

As the snow fell into the streets of Gotham, covering her land with white sheet, he stepped out of the plane. He shivers. He missed the deadly coldness of his hometown. The pollution never seemed to change back when he left 7 years ago. He sighed, white mist blowing out of his mouth. He will only need to stay here for three weeks. Three weeks and he will go back to Japan.

After many years of being away to his adopted family, Tim comes back to Gotham for Cassandra and Stephanie's wedding.

(CW: flashbacks, negligence, swear words, a badass Timothy)

Next Part - Three Idiots

Part Three - Three Hopes

Tim looks outside of the bus. His eyes watch the streets of Gotham. Christmas lights are on as it was 5 days away from Christmas. He watched and watched, like he always did, as classical music blasted to his airpods until the bus hit the stop to Bristol.

In all honesty, he could ask Alfred to fetch him but the man is now too fragile to his liking to be doing him favours. He rather takes the 40 minute walk from the station to Wayne Manor. He doesn’t mind the cold, he actually prefers to be freezing every single moment of his life. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the burning desert in Iraq.

With his suitcase on his tow, he started walking to the peaceful street of Bristol. The snow gently falls into his face and quickly melts but some falls into his lashes and brows and he couldn’t bring himself to wipe it off. He likes the small blur on his sight, it shows that he doesn’t have to stay vigilant in this city. Twenty minutes into the walk, he saw the Drake Manor, still in its pristine shape, hopefully. He walked as he tried to look past the gates of the once house of his, snow is piling up but he will be visiting it once he gets his stuff unpacked.

As he starts to get closer and closer to the Wayne Manor, nostalgia hits him. The good memories flood his mind. Bruce giving them a small pat or rarely hugs, Dick trying to spoil all of his siblings, Cass putting glitter bombs to the most unique places together with Stephanie, Jason joking his death again and again, Damian giving them Alfred the Cat as a stress reliever, and Alfred giving them hot cocoa on the worst days and cookies on the best.

But obviously, if it's all just good memories, he will not leave Gotham. The bad to the worst memories starts to resurface. The threat of Arkham, the throat-slitting episode, the pushing to his death story, the I choose to follow Batman rather than to be honest with you thing, the hellish training with Lady Shiva and many more that he couldn’t remember. He shook his head to remove those memories. It’s been more than a decade since that happened and he has healed already. No need to reopen old wounds.

His time in Japan definitely made him more aware that he doesn’t need other people to love him. He can just do it himself. He starts to sleep for more than 6 hours a night. He eats three times a day, sometimes with a balanced diet, sometimes just pure sodium for ramen or just straight up scooping Nutella out of the jar. He now prioritises himself over others. He works for himself and not to get approval from anyone. He is now him, just Tim. A simple Tim that loves to photograph and now be the object of his photographs. 

Many things change over the course of time. He forgives the Waynes but he will never call himself one. Waynes never treats him like family, except for Cass, bless her pure heart, and he is now giving it back, the treatment of an acquaintance. Not family. Not friends. But acquaintances. That’s all the Waynes are to him now. Because god forbid that his teenage self is simply obsessed with them. He rolled his eyes on the thought.

As he was letting his thoughts wander, he finally arrived at the prestigious Wayne Manor. The gates are open so he let himself into the other five minute walk of the driveway. As he stared at the old oak wood door, he sighed, trying to compose himself as he will be in their presence for the next three weeks. After trying to console himself, he knocks hoping that it will be Alfred who will open the door for him. After a few minutes of waiting on the porch, the door opened, revealing the foyer of the Manor and Alfred standing in front of him.

“Hi, Alfred.” Tim smiled at the old man.

Alfred, still in shock but smiled back to him, “Welcome back, Master Tim.”

And then suddenly there is a commotion behind Alfred, making the two gentlemen on the doorway look. It shows Damian and Jason. Seems like the two are trying to race to see which one will get to the door first. Childish competitions, like what brothers do. Jason and Damian look at them, first to Alfred and next to Tim. And he looked back at them, giving them a gentle smile.

“Hi, Timmerly. You look different.” Jason spoke out of the blue.

“Thank you, Jason.” He said, “You look different, too.” he added. Jason has indeed changed. The white stripe of hair due to the dip is still there but the face and the body itself evolved. Jason looked taller than he last saw him, The tight wool sweater emphasises the bulk body of Jason. And that face of his, is always exceptional but more relaxed.

There he heard a cough and gave his attention to the person. “Timothy, you look alright.” Damian said, standing in his glorious 6 foot 3. His tanned skin is honeyed perfection and his build is more similar to Bruce and Jason. Green eyes looked at him like it was captivating his soul. The Demon Brat is gone and was replaced by a hulking man.

He was shocked for a fleeting second before replying, “Thank you, Damian.”

“Young Masters, as much as I like that the three of you are conversing like normal human beings, Master Timothy needs to go inside first. It is freezing out there.” Alfred interrupts them and tells Jason and Damian that he is still indeed on the porch. Jason without waiting a moment, went and grabbed his suitcase and he proceeded to go inside the manor. 

Tim asked Alfred, “Where will Jason put my suitcase?”

“In your room, Master Tim. I mean, your old room.”

“Oh.” He just said as he took off his scarf and coat and gave it to Alfred, as he left the three on the foyer.

He starts walking into the Manor and walks past the library with the rest that didn’t meet him on the door. Steph and Cass are cuddling each other on the couch while Bruce is on the loveseat fiddling something in the tablet, probably about Wayne Enterprise, and Dick is on one of the bean bags that is scattered in the library. The first one to notice him is Cass, of course.

“Little brother, welcome.” She said as she reached out one of her arms to him. Her acknowledgement of his presence makes everyone in the room aware of his existence.

“Timmy!” Dick shouted as went to him and hugged him. It kinda still startled him a little bit, but he awkwardly hugged Dick back. 

Bruce gave him a smile, “Welcome back, Tim.”

Steph hit his back, “When Cass actually told us that you will come for our wedding, we didn’t believe her.“

Tim touched the spot Steph hit, “I would not miss it for the world.” Then he walked to Cass, “Hey, sis.” Cass smiled back at him. “Winter wedding, really?” 

“Hey, winter weddings are beautiful. And Cass will look like an angel.”

“And you are the demon that made Cassandra fall down from heaven.” A voice joined them, it’s Damian.

“Hey! That’s mean!”

The chaos and noises are relatively relaxing but when he yawns, he excuses himself. “Going to sleep, Timmy?” He nodded and replied with, “Jetlagged.”

Tim tried to remember where his room was. And thank god, he found it with no anomalies. He entered the room and saw the room that he left. The room is completely gone with cans of energy drinks or packaging of junk foods. The bed is comforting as he remembers, he saw his suitcase next to the nightstand. He opens it and gets a fitted cashmere turtleneck and fleece sweatpants. He took a quick shower and changed. He laid down on the bed and let sleep take him.

 He woke up the sun already down and darkness already took the city. He grabbed his phone and looked at what time it was. 8:05 am. Huh?? Oh, his phone is still in the Japanese Time Zone. He quickly changes it and freshens up. He looked at the wide mirror in his bathroom, and assessed himself. He knows he changed when he moved to Japan. His toned body was dissolved into a more lean one. His hair was maintained into a shoulder length, but his hair is shining with a red undertone in the right light. He has an ear piercing. His face was more round and yet still sharp. He got taller but still the smallest to Wayne, even Cass is taller than him. No, he is not salty about it.

He scooped up a handful of water and splashed his face and hair. Once he could feel his rationality and sanity came back to him, he dried his face and went down to the kitchen. He needs something to ingest in his body, anything. He saw Alfred was making something in the kitchen.

“Master Tim, you are finally awake. Will you please call the others for dinner?”

“Sure, Alfred.”

He found everyone in the largest living room. Damian and Dick playing chess, Damian is winning. Stephanie is doing something together with Duke. Bruce is with Cass flipping in the catalogue of whatever they still need to add to the wedding.

“Hey, Alfred told me to get you all. Dinner is ready.”

Dinner is rather peaceful, but rather uncomfortable. Whenever his eyes linger for a little second longer on a dish, Dick is already putting it on his plate. Damian kept on giving him a piece of whatever Damian thought he liked. Jason is spoon feeding him on dishes on what Jason thinks he will like. If this continues, he will be fat and as a model he would rather not have that. The Japanese Modelling World is so strict when it comes to thinness of their own.

But after that dinner, he sighed as walked to his room, he grabbed a velvet box and went to what he thinks is Cass' room.

He knocked, then he opened the door. Waynes are known for just busting your door open before coming in, because apparently, privacy is a social construct. Tim is not a Wayne anymore and also he is one of the decent people who actually knocks before coming inside of someone’s personal space.

“Hey Cass. I got you something.” he said as he looked at his sister.

“What is it?”

Instead of answering, he pulled a velvet box and gave it to Cass. Cass accepts it and opens the blue velvet box, revealing a silver hair comb pin. Cass looked at him with huge eyes. He smiled at his sister, “My mother wore that at her wedding. She says my grandmother and my great grandmother also wear that to their wedding, and I feel like I am not the rightful owner of such a piece.”

Cass hugged him. He missed how tight Cass hugs him. The comfortable warmth that brings pleasant memories only, none of those scorching heat of Iraq. Maybe, maybe he can stay here for three weeks for Cass. For Cass.

[icequeenlila]

Context: they are driving in a convertible (Max is driving), Bradley lowkey has an existentional crisis right before this scene, and Max snapps him out of it without even realizing.

"Powerline!"

Max voice was loud and excited and all consuming.

Suddenly loud music blasted from the speakers, shutting down every thought Bradley could have possibly had, ripping his attention away from himself and his thoughts, until there was only Max and his loud, goofy voice, singing (shrieking) along to some random song.

Bradley blinked against the whiplash. It was like being thrown into cold water. Disorienting but refreshing.

"Open up your eyes, take a look at me. Get the picture fixed in your memory", Max sang along, his eyes leaving the road for one short moment, brows wiggling at Bradley.

His mind was still trying to sort out itself, so all Bradley could do was to look at the boy with wide eyes, not even able to frown or complain about Max being an irresponsible driver.

Bradley kept staring, watching Max thrust his head back and forth, the boy's eyes concentrated on the road, not missing a single word of the lyrics.

"Some people settle for the typical thing. Livin' all their lives waitin' in the wings."

Wide, green fields passed by them, the sun standing high, shining down hot on them. At some point Max had put on sunglasses. His sunglasses! And Bradley was only noticing now.

"You gotta believe that I got what it takes!" Max's voice was peeking and breaking in a way that should have been embarrassing but the boy didn't care at all.

"To stand out! Above the crowd! Even if I gotta shout out loud!"

He turned to look at Bradley, nodding his head so the Gucci glasses slid down his nose a nudge, reaching out a hand towards him and balling it into a fist as he kept shouting the lyrics.

"Till mine is the only face you see! Gonna stand out..." He pointed a finger at Bradley. "’till you notice me."

Heat to Bradley's cheeks, ears burning and heart picking up a beat. Because of what? Because of a crappy song and piercing dark eyes?

Why did he think of Max' eyes as piercing? Why was he thinking about them at all?

The answer made him angry, and anger was a way better feeling than whatever he had going on only moments ago.

Bradley finally found his voice again.

"What the fuck, Goof!?", he shouted over the music, wind almost swallowing his voice. "Focus on the road! Put down my glasses! Do you call that singing!?"

Max didn't follow any of his commands, his voice now filled with laughter as he kept singing along to the lyrics, not missing a single beat.

"If the squeaky wheel's always gettin' the grease. I'm totally devoted to disturbing the peace."

Max was totally ignoring him, head nodding up and down as he kept driving, the car not swaying once.

"And I'll do it all again when I get it done. Until I become your number one!"

"Don't you ignore me!", Bradly shouted, but the glare on his face was wavering.

Max just kept half singing, half shouting the lyrics at him. The more Bradley complained the more Max struggled to keep his voice even, as laughter shook his entire body.

All the while, wind was tugging at them from all sides, blowing their hair in and out of their faces.

In his euphoria, Max was half performing to the song, nodding his head, shimmying his shoulders and pointing fingers at Bradley, trying to make him part of his ridiculous performance.

"I'm under a spell, I'm in over my head."

Max kept wiggling his brows at him and it looked so ridiculous that Bradley actually had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

"And you know I'm goin' all of the way till the end- Get ready, Brad!"

Max drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, leaning slightly forward in anticipation.

"Pfft!"

Bradley shook his head, trying his hardest to keep from grinning. Seeing Max in such high spirits did something to him. His chest felt wider, his breathing easier. He stopped clenching his jaw and straining his shoulders.

"To stand out above the crowd! Even if I gotta shout out loud!"

Max was singing at the top of his lungs now, hair blowing in the wind, Gucci glasses lopsided on his nose.

"Till mine is the only face you'll see! Gonna stand out till you notice me, yeah!"

And Bradley couldn't keep in the laughter anymore. He let himself fall back against his seat, arms crossed over his stomach, as he just let go.

It was ridiculous. He'd been pretty much questioning his entire life mere moments ago and now he was crying from laughter. He was crying for god's sake!

And all just because Max was singing along to a song, not caring if he was hitting the right notes, goofing off and making a complete idiot of himself.

This was a new low. But he really didn't care.

"Oh my god", Max' voice sounded next to him. He had stopped singing. "Is he laughing?"

Bradley turned to look at him and his vision was swimming. It made him laugh even harder, because it was so stupid.

"Do you need a hospital?", Max asked, stupid grin on his face, eyes jumping between Bradley and the road. "Are you feeling all right?"

Bradley wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to compose himself and failing.

"What?"

"This is the first time I hear you laughing without any murderous intent in your voice", Max said.

Bradley shook his head, not able to stop smiling.

"You're an idiot", he said, and he sounded horribly out of breath.

"But I made you laugh." Max shot him a satisfied grin. "I knew you would warm up to me."

"I'm just laughing at you", Bradley argued, but there was no malice in it.

He managed to stop laughing but his voice was still breathy. His belly hurt. His guts feeling tingly.

"Just admit that you like me." Max nudged him against the shoulder, eyes staying on the road.

"You're an idiot, Goof", Bradley said, swatting at his hand.

"Max."

"Huh?"

"Call me Max. I like it when you say my name."

No, Bradley didn't blush at that. It was totally the summer heat. And only that!

"I will call you by your name as soon as you manage to remember mine correctly", he retorted.

"Goof it is then."

Bradley giggled. He couldn't help it. He felt too good to care.

"You're an idiot, Goof."

"You already said that", Max glanced over at him briefly. "Also, you're a snob."

Bradley blinked, sitting up straight in his seat. "Excuse me? I'm not a snob."

"The snobbiest snob I've ever encountered", Max said, chuckle in his voice and grin on his lips.

"Take it back!"

"No can do."

"Goof!", Bradley warned, but his voice betrayed him as it trembled with suppressed laughter.

"Brad." The grin on Max' lips seemed to be glued on.

"Stop calling me Brad!"

"Admit you like me."

"I don't."

"But I like you, Bradley."

And Max' voice was soft when he said it.

His breathing stopped. For a few moments, Bradley couldn't do anything but stare at the boy.

How was he so bold? So carefree? So completely and brutally honest?

Heat spread from his chest and traveled higher. And this time it definitely wasn't the sun.

Max' eyes were constantly jumping between him and the road, searching Bradley's face, waiting for him to say something in return.

But Bradley couldn't. Not when he felt his heartbeat in his throat. Not when his tongue felt dry as the desert, his entire body burning with a tingly heat.

"Look at that", Max said, and at some point, he must have turned down the volume of the radio, because his voice was soft. Gentle. "Bradley has lost his words."

And somehow, Max sounded almost fond. The look in his eyes, the curve of his lips. It seemed all so honest and genuine, and impossible.

It made Bradley's gut clench in a half tingly, half painful way. It felt good, but it hurt. It was confusing, because Max was confusing him. Bradley was confusing himself. Whatever!

It was definitely too much to feel at once, and he needed Max to stop looking at him like that.

"Eyes on the road", he said, his voice way too breathy, way too soft.

"But I like looking at you more", Max said, not missing a beat.

And Bradley's heart was fucking pounding against his rib cage, like it wanted to jump out of his chest and right into Max' arms.

He could not have that!

He reached out his hand, placing his fingers gently against Max' jaw, forcing him to look forward.

"On the road", he repeated, voice slightly trembling towards the end.

Because there was the faintest scruff of beard stubble beneath his fingertips. Max' skin felt warm, the line of his jaw firm. Bradley withdrew his hand.

And his heart was beating, beating, beating quickly inside his chest.

"Also stop at the next store we pass", he added, forcing himself to breathe evenly.

This couldn't be happening. This so couldn't be happening.

Max grinned, keeping his eyes on the road like Bradley had told him to.

"As you wish, Brad."

And Bradley didn't have the breath to argue on the nickname, too occupied to keep his stomach from clenching, his fingers from fidgeting.

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be possibly happening.

He looked back at Max and his stomach felt tingly. He looked at him and there was heat everywhere. His heart was ready to explode.

It couldn't be. It couldn't be. He couldn't have a crush on Max.

+

This is from chapter 4 of my fic Good Luck, Babe! on ao3

[stardust-poet]

Stars.

Pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader

Warnings: slightly vivid gore descriptions, not proof read

A/n: wrote this at midnight, so... might be a little incoherent

Enjoy!

You and your friend percy sat next to each other, percy sitting with his legs crossed and you with your legs dangling off the side of the rooftop of cabin 3, watching the stars peacefully.

You were the one who invited him to do this at such a late hour. Percy didn't mind much, though. He was a little concerned about getting too cold and turning into a perseus-popsicle. And the harpys tearing the both of you to bits.

You had called percy on the demigod-safe phones Leo Valdez had made for Camp-Halfblood as well as Camp-Jupiter all the way in California.

Your voice was shaky, and your words were stuttered over and repeated. That was when percy knew something was wrong.

Percy had always been plagued with nightmares since he had been thrown into the demigod life. That's what he suspected happened to you tonight. You might've been plagued with the horrors of both wars or some of the quests you've been on with other campers who may or may not have made it back in one piece.

Either way, he was here for you.

Percy had a crush on you. It didn't affect whether or not he would've come. He would always come when you called.

His little crush started out small. Holding stares just a little longer, more aware of how warm hugs from you were, admiring your appearance.

But soon, it got deeper and more passionate. Noticing every little quirk you have, memorizing your 'system' whenever you perform a task, slowly falling in love with every part of you. Your eyes, your smile.

Gods, he loved that smile.

Percy hardly focused on the stars tonight. His entire focus was you and you alone. You were the only star he ever needed. Until his own brain reminded him that you might not have the same feelings, and as of now, you aren't in the greatest condition to confess to. He had planned to confess tonight.

The silence was deafening yet peaceful. You felt like everything was crashing down on top of you. You felt the weight of it all, but you weren't crushed. You couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Earlier in the night, you woke up from a nightmare.

Not the usual kind, where it was maybe a monster chasing after you and having to run for your life with the overwhelming fear that it might catch up to you.

This time, it was memories.

Memories of the wars, bloodied guts, and other bodily parts everywhere from countless people you knew and some you didn't, mangled bodies spread throughout the area, people who were barely alive and hoarsely crying for help.

It felt as if everything was a thousand times worse in the nightmare then it had been in the actual moment.

Was it like that because you were so desensitized to this stuff? That you had to re-experience it in a dream for it to kick in?

What if you can't change this? What if every single bad, traumatizing, gut-wrenching thing that happens to you is something you'll blow off in the future?

What if you go cold?

What if you go numb?

What if—

"Are...you okay?" Percys soft whisper broke through the silence. Breaking you out of your downward spiral.

You hadn't realized it, but hot tears were streaming down you face. You hated the fact percy had seen you like this ... unless he didn't.

It was dark enough, right? Maybe he couldn't see you falling apart from your own thoughts.

And, percys whisper was just quiet enough for you to ignore it. You could blow this off, right?

"The stars look lovely, don't you think?"

Wouldn't this be confirming the one thing you feared?

"...that doesn't answer my question." Percy whispered, looking to you with a frown.

When he heard you faintly sniffle only a few moments ago, he got a wave of panic and fear flooded through him.

Were you alright? Were you crying? What had really happened?

That was when he saw the tears and asked if you were alright, resisting the urge to hold you.

"I don't wanna lie to you, percy." You whispered, your voice cracking as tears threatened to stream out of your eyes.

You wiped away the few tears that spilled out, feeling colder and alone despite a human next to you.

Then, percy pulled you into a close hug.

It was warm. You nuzzled into his chest and sobbed quietly, not really caring if anyone would hear.

Percy smelled like the ocean breeze and the beach. His hug was comforting and not like anything else you've ever felt.

Percy held you closer when he saw your shoulders heaving in rhythm with your sobs, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

"It's okay, I'm here. It's okay, I promise you're safe. It's okay, you're safe. You're safe." He whispered sweet nothings that meant everything to you.

After your sobs had died down and been reduced to sniffles, percy asked:

"Do you...wanna talk about it?"

You shook your head against his chest.

"Okay. Okay, that's okay." He whispered, placing another kiss to the top of your head.

Maybe someday he'll get to confess, but surely not now.

Someday.

°•~《☆》~•°

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Kinda mad at myself for not making them kiss ngl :/

Based on a writing prompt from (I think) Bookingitonthedaily on Instagram

[bianotbia]

— 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇 [ 𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬 ]

main masterlist

˗ˏˋ unholy thoughts start to cloud your mind and father michaelis takes the matter into his own hands ˎˊ˗

⤷ a/n : this was another fic I already had on my drafts, now that my summer vacation started I finally can go back to my creative self and write more so stay tuned :) hope you enjoy my unholy thoughts

⤷ contains : nun!reader x priest!sebastian, mild smut, religious themes, someone gets slapped [ wc : 2.4k ]

⤷ now playing : monochrome kiss by SID

A wind of monochrome blows

Through our colorless encounter

I shall entrust my pain in its entirety to you

Painfully delineating my old scars,

The merciless autumn has arrived,

And it entices me with its cold fingers

The faint morning sun reflects through the stained glasses of the countless church windows, like colorful spots dancing on the cold stone floor. As usual I woke up, ate breakfast with the sisters of the convent and together we did our morning prayers. After this shared moment, they all start their daily duties but I like to stay a little bit longer and enjoy the vast silence and peace of the house of God. My eyes were closed and my lips soundlessly moved as I recited my prayers alone, however the air seemed to change and I could now feel an eerie presence watching over me, still when I looked around no one could be seen. Out of a wooden door comes the priest of our church – Father Sebastian Michaelis – his piercing eyes fall on my figure and I feel the heat taking over my face, anyway I shake off any intrusive thoughts and promptly head to my morning activities. With imponent arches towering above me I walk down the corridor on my way to a class of little kids waiting for me, yet the feeling of ominous eyes still lingers on the nape of my neck with every step I take.

I am like a burdensome piece of ice

That has just melted into a puddle

You scoop me up gently

and fondle me playfully with your lip

After dinner everyone went back to their rooms, candles were extinguished one by one and the white stone walls now reflected the bright moonlight. A few candles still dance upon my table and cast shadows on the walls as I write about my daily thoughts and feelings in my diary. Lately a dark desire clouds over my mind and stains my soul each second it passes, day by day this unknown sensation seems to take over my heart. Countless prayers, thousands of words written every night, endless hours of work, it was worthless paying attention to any other thing for even after doing everything to stop this feeling my mind still wanders back to him… Father Michaelis. Unaware of the sin that crawls under my skin, I recall the many moments that in the middle of the Sunday worship his words would slowly fade away and a tingling feeling would spread over my core. I shivered and writtled while kneeling on the ground, praying for the sisters to not notice my trembling figure as unholy thoughts flooded over and dirty images got imprinted inside my brain. Every night my mind wanders off to those moments and haunts me in my deepest longings, once again my fingers travel under my nightgown and caress away the desire under my skin. Shrouded by the shadows of the night I can only hope that the all-seeing holy eyes don't watch over me this time.

Nevertheless, I search for a single drop of love

I look into your eyes that have never once cried,

They tell a tale beyond time

If I could, I'd like to be shrouded in this pain and simply let things end

Hiding within the night,

We have covered up our pale skin under the moonlight

On this gloomy autumn morning, I was once again dealing with my hauntings on my lonesome prayers. The other sisters were already out doing their daily chores, however I still could hear some young novices gossiping on a secluded corner of the church, there wasn't many people around, actually we were the only ones there so some snippets of what they were so heatedly talking about made it over my ears "... he's so hot for a priest…" a choir of quiet giggles echoed in the air "... isn't saying those things kind of a sin?" the giggles got louder and so did my hammering heart "... I'm certain God would understand me since he made Father Michaelis so fine like that. Don't you imagine what's under his pants?". That's enough. Anger boiled inside me, my short breathing got louder and louder as a dark presence took over my body and unconsciously directed me to the group of novices. "Aren't you ashamed of saying such things inside the house of God?" I blustered and the three whispering girls turned over to me with surprised faces, the one seeming to be the oldest lifted her chin "Why? Are you jealous that I can say those things while you are trapped in that Virgin Mary thinking?". Anger traveled through every inch of my flesh, my mind went blank and I could only hear a loud snap echoing through all the church halls, followed by a stinging sensation on the palm of my hand. The girl was crying and clutching her reddened face, the other two ran off, probably to snitch to some higher nun what just happened, as for me, I walked away feeling as light as the white feathers of the Holy Spirit.

Many nights have passed since then,

And my love for you only grew stronger

In the sea of obsessive dependency,

I have forgotten even to breathe

I heard a knock on the door of my room and went to open it, another young novice was standing there with scared eyes "The-they sent me here to say that Father Michaelis wants to meet you at the confessional" I looked at her shivering figure and questioned myself if she was scared that I was just gonna slap her for delivering the message "If that's all than you can go, tell whatever nun that sent you that I'm already on my way" the girl shook her head and ran down the corridor, with a guiltless mind I went the opposite way thinking about what could I possibly tell him to clear this situation. As I arrived at the stall and closed the door behind me a deep voice broke away the silence "Hello sister, please tell me what afflicts your soul. May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in His mercy". Shivers went down my spine as my once steady hands made the sign of the cross "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been" a sigh escapes my mouth "... three years since my last confession. These are my sins." I gave a pause after saying that and considered lying about what happened to spare myself and the girl of a lecture later, yet something told me to say the whole truth "I felt anger… so much anger… lately I feel like all kinds of sins are taking over me. It seems harder and harder to concentrate and feel at peace" words unconsciously dripped through my tongue "What did the girl say to make you so angry?" with nervous hands I crumpled my habit "That she had impure thoughts about you sir". That dreadful silence seemed to last countless hours "Did you want to punish her for thinking that way?" words got stuck on my throat "... I-I was jealous of her'' a satisfied hum traveled through the division of the stall. "I don't know… it felt like something was crawling under my flesh… anger, greed, envy perhaps" an expectant silence floated in the air "Aren't you forgetting another sin, child?" I could hear the grin on his lips as he waited for my reply "... Lust?" I hope he can't hear the deafening sound of my heart bursting through my ribcage "And how often do you feel it?" "Everyday". Even though the stall was secluded and closed it still felt like a thousand eyes were pointed at me, piercing through my raw flesh, specially those I felt behind my neck lately "Well, I think that's all I need to know for now" his voice seemed different but still I continued "I am sorry for these and all of my sins" he hums again "Why don't we go to my office? So we can talk about this more thoroughly".

While I'm captivated by your gaze,

You've left behind only some dull warmth

I despise your habit of quitting at your convenience

As well as your arrogant kiss

The path to his office was dead silent and every sister that passed through us either looked away or whispered something to their friends. As we arrived he politely motioned for me to enter and sit on the chair in front of his table, as I sat over a faint click on the door could be heard, I turned to him and met his ever unreadable eyes and mysterious grin "We don't want those nosy eyes bothering our talk, do we?". He sighed deeply and sat in front of me "This situation is not much like you sister" my eyes fell to the ground while he gazed out of the window continuing "I remember when you were just a novice. Such a pure heart… yet so aware of the evils of the world". Silence reigned over his office and I said with a quiet voice "You still didn't give me a penance sir" his grin grew wider letting out a chuckle "Don't worry about that child" he stood up and calmly walked behind me "I don't believe you're entirely wrong. All these things might be considered sins in the eyes of God, but I preach that for one to spread virtue must first know sin to warn other pure hearts of the evils of the world'' his slender fingers traveled along my shoulders and up to the nape of my neck. "Don't you want to protect your precious students from what's out there? For this you must feel sin on your own skin" he whispered over my ear and the tingling sensation on my core starts to spread through my body once again "Go to your room and pray ten Hail Marys. By midnight I will visit you so we can finish your penance" my breathing gets hitched and I crumple even more my already messy habit "Why don't you do it now?" he chuckles "Patience is one of the virtues you need to start working on, now go child". I lift from my seat and walk over to the door "It's locked…" he hums and unlocks it while gently trailing his finger along my chin whispering "Well forgive me sister, sometimes I too can give in to dangerous desires" with those words echoing inside I return eagerly to my room.

Don't leave me alone

Please understand me and stain me with bright blood

No matter what I say,

My words will only slip right through your room

I'm already disarrayed and falling asleep,

So won't you teach me something else?

Only the moon is looking at my sighs lost in your smiling inquiries

Hours passed and the moon was already high in the sky, I paced around the room thinking about what could possibly happen in the next few minutes. A knock was heard on the door, standing before me under dim light was Father Michaelis and his gaze that as always seemed to reflect every uncertain thought I had. I greeted and welcomed him inside which he calmly did "Did you pray the ten Hail Marys I asked you to?" I shook my head and he sent me a kind smile "Then let's begin your penance. Please take off your habit" my eyes widened and I felt my face heating up. "Why the surprise? I told you before that I believe you need to experience sin to finally be enlightened by virtue. I as your holy representative will help you on this task, or did you already take the matter into your own hands before I came here?" involuntarily my thighs clenched over and he cooed "What a dirty girl. Seems that the matter is worse than I thought, perhaps your penance will be a bit rougher then". He helped me undo the buttons of my habit, feeling the fabric slide down my body I then lay on the mattress while he also takes off his clothes and hovers over me with his bare body "The only thing I ask is for you to recite the Prayer of the Penitent and when you finish it… everything will be over" I shook my head and started it.

Once the clock's arms point straight into the ceiling,

You will no longer be with me,

For I will no longer be needed

"My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart" his warm hands gently traced the sides of my body while moist lips sucked the skin on my neck "In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good" the hot breathing on my flesh sent goosebumps all over it. "I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things" slender finger traveled down to my core and caressed my soaked folds "I firmly intend, with your help to do penance" as he slowly inserted himself inside me I could feel his length filling up empty spaces I never believed to have. "To sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin" with a rhythmic pace and synchronized breathings he opened up my raw heart to the holy sight "Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us" we clingged on each other, shivers went through our bodies as sin dripped over and mixed up with our overflowing fluids "In His name, my God, have mercy". He did the Prayer of Absolution and finished it over with a deep moan "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good" even breathless I still manage to continue it "His mercy endures forever" and with a faint sigh he ends our blessing "The Lord has freed you from your sins. Go in peace". Cloaked by the shadows our intertwined bodies finally sink deep into the stained mattress, with a worn down feeling I can feel my eyes closing and my lightened mind slowly drifting away. His lukewarm hands trail unknown patterns on my back as his fading voice travels through my slumber "Such a pure soul stained by sin… Can't wait to feel your luscious raw taste entirely inside me. This penance isn't over my darling".

Nevertheless, I search for a single drop of love

I look into your eyes that have never once cried,

They tell a tale beyond time

If I could, I'd like to be shrouded in this pain and simply let things end

My wish echoes hollowly,

While the night still brings in the dawn

With your tender, passionate, yet shamelessly sly kiss,

Please stain me, in this moonlit final night of demise

the images aren't mine! all rights reserved to © bianotbia 2023. please do not claim, translate, copy or modify any of my works as your own. reblogs are appreciated! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[chouxsardine]

He Would---Danny Wagner x reader

A/N: A soft Danny thought, inspired my way home from the grocery run this afternoon and the infamous “If he wanted to, he would”. A little warm-up for Valentine's Day. I hope you like it. Enjoy!

Warnings: none; fluff, boyfriend! Danny; sound sensitivity; slight description of anxiety, unhinged cheesiness

Word Count: 2491

🎧: More Than Words by Extreme

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You are very sensitive to loud noises. Since you were a little kid, all your friends have known that a jump scare is a guaranteed win to get back at you for a prank war. You would scream like a banshee, most definitely fall on your behind, and actually need a moment and several deep breaths to rein in your pounding heart back to normal.

Sure, it’s an annoyance and can cause inconveniences sometimes, but you have lived with it for years and can usually get it under control. Therefore, you never really mentioned it to Danny after you two are together. As the attentive and caring lover that he is, he picked it up all by himself.

The first time that he noticed it, it was a quiet afternoon. You were having a lazy weekend at your apartment, minding your own business respectively—you were nose deep in your chunky historical romance novel, Danny was working his way folding a pile of laundry fresh out of the dryer—the comfortable silence draped over you. He was stealing glances at you from time to time. He couldn’t help it—the sunlight that trembled on your curls with your breathing, the unintentional swaying of your legs that were stretched behind you and bent at the knees, and the way that you were completely unaware of your own natural and effortless beauty. He was just so in love with you. However, the love bubble is punctured abruptly by the noise from a power drill coming from your upstair neighbour. Naturally, you both flinched. Fortunately, the sound only lasted for a few seconds before the peaceful and tranquil atmosphere was restored. Danny noticed that your head was still tilted towards your left shoulder as if flinching from a tickle and your fingers were still pressing into your ears. He opened his mouth, wanted to check in with you, but despite your actions, you seemed completely unbothered, already getting back to your reading. Your hands stayed there for about another twenty seconds, and after that, you were completely normal, as if nothing had happened.

After that, the evidence has been piling up quite self-evidently. There was that night when the storm was particularly vicious. Danny was drifting in and out of conscious, bothered by the thunder and the pouring rain blowing against the window. He felt you stir in his arms. He looked down, and you didn’t wake up; it didn’t seem like you were having a bad dream either. There was just that flinching again—your eyebrows furrowed, your neck craning to the left. Danny carefully reached out and caressed the left side of your face, his thumb brushing feather-light strokes on your cheek. To his relief, you stopped frowning and leaned into his touch subconsciously, nuzzling his hand like a kitten. Danny made sure your breathing went back to normal before he fell asleep again.

There was also that time when you and the boys went to see the fireworks for New Year’s Eve. You were largely distracted by the visuals. The sounds only caught up with you when some of the single-shot aerial salute were fired towards the end. Upon that first loud bang, Danny’s black earmuffs were already around your ears. You turned your head, giving him a grateful look and flashing him a smile. He only squeezed your shoulder reassuringly as the people around began counting down. It happened so naturally that it skipped how he has already not only noticed, but also learned your way to deal with it.

Sure, Danny could have directly asked you. A simple “are you sensitive to loud sounds?” would suffice, but he prefers to let you take the lead. You should be the one who decides when it feels right and comfortable to tell him about it. This is the principle that Danny holds when it comes to most sensitive topics between you. He knows that it takes you longer to open up, so as long as it’s not something urgent, he always waits patiently.

And it did take a while for you to realize that. But once you began connecting the dots, things became abundantly clear. Danny always manages to find a way to make his presence known. The loud ‘honey, I’m home’ every time he dropped his bag at the doorway, the sliding of a steaming mug into your sight when your eyes are glued to the laptop screen and your fingers are flying over the keyboard, the keeping your Adblock software up to date especially during Halloween season so the unscrupulous jump-scares from the horror movie trailers would never get you. You have even joked with Danny how you have stopped accidentally breaking plates or glasses ever since you guys started dating. God knows how many broken ceramics or glasses you had to sweep up when you were with your ex. Danny would never creepily appear right behind you and then scolded you for being dramatic when you are genuinely jumped out of your skin. When he wants to get your attention in the middle of your little dance party, he always changes or turns down the volume of the song that you are playing and lets you notice it yourself.

You also remember that time when Danny found you minutes before he was about to go on stage.

You were about to go to your reserved spot at the side wing when you heard Danny calling your name. “Danny! what are you doing here?” He was all dressed up, the makeup sparkling around his eyelids. He looked so divine, but his breathing was quicker, and he looked a little flushed as if he was in a rush. Well, duh, of course, he was. Curtain was in five, he was not supposed to be here.

“Here,” he dropped something into your palm and spoke again before you had time to see what it was. “I knew you said you’re fine, but I want you to have them just in case.” “Okay, babe.” Given the tight timing, you decided to play along. Plus, you trusted him anyway. With that, he gave you a kiss with pouty lips so as not to mess up his makeup and hurried away at the stage manager’s anxious urging.

When you got a chance to look at the objects in your hands, you recognized it was a pair of earplugs—not two pieces of bright orange foam you found at the dollar store, but the proper ones, the “standing-right-behind-the-barricade” kind that you saw photographers and security guards wear. And they are in your favorite colour too. Your mind instantly went back to that conversation you had when you finally told Danny about your sound sensitivity. He was nodding along attentively and you could almost hear the gears in his brain turning. “What?” You asked, feeling a little self-conscious. “No, no. I was just thinking. You said loud sounds…What about the drums, do they also…” “Of course not!” You laughed, “they are quite the opposite, honestly. I was referring to like, more erratic noises. You drums are nothing like those!”

That was one of the earlier shows that Danny took you to, and those earplugs have been with you ever since.

Whenever you go to concerts, no matter if it’s at the crowded, overwhelming pit, or in a low-lit, intimate bar, Danny always stands behind you — not only to protect you as a human shield from strangers’ unnecessary physical contacts (accidental or not), but also to hug you from behind so that he can sway with you gently along with the rhythm, steal a kiss when the song comes to your favourite part, and catch the tears that slide down your cheek with his thumb when you are so deeply touched by the lyrics.

Today, you were walking down the street with Danny. As a firm believer and the loyal executant of “the sidewalk rule”, Danny was walking on the traffic side of the sidewalk, his right hand is stuffed in the left pocket of your coat, his fingers tangled with yours. This has always been your little tradition when walking together. Danny jokingly named it “save a glove, hold hands”, derived from that infamous cowboy phrase. It was late afternoon, there were few people on the roads. The air was crisp, delectable of the food smell coming from the bistros and restaurants nearby. You were telling Danny about one of the movies you recently watched and was about to get to the juicy reveal of the plot twist when you heard the siren of an ambulance in the distance. Your heart instantly sped up your fingers twitched slightly.

You hated the sounds of sirens; terrified, you’d even say. Among all your noise triggers, they are probably the worst. You have hated it since you were a child; when your cousins would whip out their electric firetrucks and police car models on a playdate, the flashing light and clanking noises always made your skin crawl. Oh, just wait until you find out about the real ones screaming and whizzing by while you walk. It’s not only the high pitched sound, but also the instant reflex in your brain alerting that “something is wrong”, some one is hurting, someone needs help—a fire? a robbery? A car accident? Or could it be an abduction case? Did some grandma slip and fall in the shower, or is a mother unexpectedly going into labor? Images flash before your eyes: blood, yelps, a doctor performing CPR in the moving vehicle… To make matters worse, your deceptive brain offers you to consider the possibility: what if someone you knew is in that vehicle right now? What if they are the ones that was anxiously waiting for the help to arrive? Sure, life is not some soap opera or Lifetime original movie, but….what if?

“Ummmm…and then…then…”

The sound was getting louder, the ambulance was rapidly approaching. You tried to brush it off, faking a cough when you stuttered in your narration. “Come on, get it over with. You’re not going to have a panic attack mid conversation just from hearing some noise. No adults behave like that.” You scolded yourself silently, blinking rapidly as you turned your head away from the street. Just as the howling was becoming unbearable, the next moment, you were wrapped in a hug. Before you knew it, you were tucked in between Danny’s arms. His hand that was previously inside your pocket now snaked around your waist, his other hand holding your head against his chest, his palm covering your ear.

For the next twenty seconds, Danny became your senses. You were engulfed in his scent—mahogany cologne, musk, and the lingering smoky smell on his scarf from the restaurant you just left; his hand pressed against your ears—his big hands, strong fingers, palm dry and warm, radiating his body heat; the sound are all muffled, it was as if you slid into a warm pool—with a protective medium in between, you were safe from the noises. It was reassurance in every possible way.

You felt Danny’s hand gently rubbing your back, his familiar tell-tale sign to slowly welcome you coming back to him. His movements were gradual and calculated. He lifted his palm from your ear little by little, as if peeling open a tub of newly-opened yogurt, letting the exoteric sounds flush back slowly, the slow inflation of a ballon. Gone was the ambulance, along with your anxiousness.

You blinked, forgetting when you squeezed your eyes shut, and collided right into Danny’s eyes—the kind brown paired with the faint hue of an earthy green limbal ring—the undivided attention that makes your head swoon and your knees buckle.

“Hi.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“Hi.” You shyly replied, pulling his hand back to your pocket as you resumed your walk, lacing your fingers with his.

People were still hurrying to and fro. The cars swooshing by behind you. No one took notice of a hugging couple on the side of the road, or if the did, they would just think it was some cheesy PDA. No one would understand the utter care, gentleness, and intimacy you have just experienced.

Of course he would’ve noticed. Just like he always did. Naive of you to assume that you can fake or hide anything from Danny, your Danny. Little did you know, throughout his time with you, he had trained himself to become the curator of an archive that was you. He could cite chapter and verse of your preferences and abhorrences. He enjoys every minute of it and he is always excited to discover more; he never sees it as a chore or an ordeal, but a labor of love instead; because if he wanted to, he would.

It was by then that you fully understood what Danny really means when he says he loves you with his whole body and his whole heart. It wasn’t the sex or the booze talking, nor the post-show adrenaline. What he means is that he loves you so much that it has become part of his instinct. You are wired into his thought process and will always be part of his consideration for whatever problem he is facing, a constant in the equation. In between choices, you will most often be firmly chosen by him, and in the rare cases that you weren’t, he would have legit reason, which you are certain that you would be sincerely convinced of because you understand that a relationship is about both giving and taking, and that you would do the same for him without any hesitation.

“Oh, Danny.” You sighed contentedly, slightly shaking your head, from the disbelief that a heart is capable of love with such depth that it will permanently mark your soul, from that annoying little voice in your head that makes you wonder what you have done to deserve such a lover like Danny, and from the epiphany which makes you realize that you are smitten by him and will most likely be stuck with him for the rest of your life. It’s a blissful surrender, you wouldn’t have it any other way. There are so much feelings in your heart, but no need to express them at all; because one glance at Danny’s eyes looking back at you with oozing adoration tells you that he fully understands every word you wanted to say down to the punctuations. So much was conveyed in the telepathic silence. There was honestly no greater communication. You know this was the perfect moment that calls for those exact three words, and Danny has already said them to you first, leaving you no choice but to chuckle and say it back.

“I love you, Danny.”

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Yea! You made it! Thank you so much for reading :)) Let me know what do you think or if we want a taglist. Any comments, thoughts, and feedbacks are GREATLY welcomed and appreciated.

My other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones || Coming back to me || Warm Honey

[clavissionary-position]

Ikeprinces Ranked By Birthday Candle Extinguishing Skills

*A baseline of 34 candles is used

1. CHEVALIER

You came here today hoping to see Chevalier blow out 34 candles with a single huff of his laugh. You leave here today after seeing Chevalier chuck his sword at an intruding Clavis, where the mere act of drawing said-sword produced a blade of wind so supreme that not only the candles on his cake but all candles in a 10-room radius were decimated down to their quivering wicks.

2. LUKE

You would think Luke would have no problem. He’s a Big Fuccin Lad with Big Fuccin Lungs. And you'd be right, except he gets bored during the process of you lighting 34 candles and decides he'd much rather get to work on devouring you first. Your make-out sesh lasts up until you see the still-burning near-stub shape of 34 candles out of the corner of your eye. At which point Luke does the whole snuffing-a-flame-out-with-one's-fingers thing except it's 34 candles versus his gigantic fist.

3. JIN

You’ve set the cake down in front of him; he’s distracting you with playful acts of misplaced hands and roaming lips; you're both chatting, laughing, and somewhere amidst that revelry he leans over and takes all 34 spirited flames out with little more than a casual exhale. The candles are in the way now, and you two happily work them off the cake before putting the dessert to more stimulating use.

4. SARIEL

Your unwavering faith in him in the face of this celebratory sea of fire is enough to marshal the air in his lungs out through his bewitching, decadently puckered lips. Not that the candles wouldn't have already voluntarily noped off the cake in perfect rank-and-file regardless of your presence, but you being here today makes Sariel lean into mischief. (Candle POV: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY—*cut off by static*)

5. YVES

He trips while carrying the cake and the candles put themselves out. That's what the preliminary report written by an anti-Obsidian palace minister says, anyway. In reality, Yves strategically and deftly rearranges the candles before you light them. The new formation is much easier to take down with minimal exertion. The most touching moment is not when he takes out all the candles at once, but when he sits back, satisfied, chest puffed out while his eyes are wide with disbelief that he’s actually able to get something right.

6. RIO

Rio can do anything he sets his mind to if you set his mind onto it first. When you surprise him with the cake, he clearly reads the expectation in your glittering gaze. He knows you don’t care if he can take out all the candles in one go or not, but he still has his pride. He pulls his chair closer to the cake before giving you that charming, blue sky of a smile and holding both your hands under the table. At the end of a simple countdown that he gives himself, he wipes all the flames across the board so spectacularly that you feel as though you’ve witnessed a magic trick.

7. LICHT

He blows out 33 but the final candle refuses to yield. Palms on either side of the cake now, Licht leans in, his brow set into a stern line. He draws a deep breath while eyeing you to make sure you're a safe distance away. You don’t see him exchange that fleeting, somber glance with Nokto. It is the hidden conversation of wombmates: if something happens to Licht, Nokto is to look after you. After making peace with his fate, Licht squares his shoulders, zeroes in on the remaining candle, and puckers his lips...

8. NOKTO

He blows out more than half, presumably exhausting his skills, before spontaneously refusing to extinguish the rest unless you do him a favor in return. Apparently this favor has nothing to do with giving him a kiss or letting him get handsy with you because he’s already doing that as he presents the deal. Stripping? You two were naked to begin with. So what is it then? When you ask Nokto to elaborate, he pins you to the bed and asks if you’ll replace the candles with carrots because that would make things a whole lot easier for him. You follow-up with the perfectly valid point of “blowing out burning carrots means you’re rescuing them.” A point which Nokto begrudgingly accepts before quickly blowing out the rest of the candles so he can bury himself inside you.

9. LEON

34 candles is no problem for him, but he would much rather intentionally draw the process out and extinguish only a handful at a time. Poor Leon, he's having suuuuch a tough time of it. You’ll help out, won't you? Sit on his lap while you work together? This cake business is really digging into his private time with you. Wouldn’t it be better to just leave it for now and… He grins at your insistence, suddenly walking off, but coming back behind you and surprising you so astoundingly that your yelp extinguishes the rest of the candles before being cut off by a whirlwind kiss.

10. KEITH

He is absolutely determined not to let his alter switch in for this. If he can't do something as simple as blow out 34 birthday candles then what hope does he have of looking かっこいい in your eyes? After several minutes of tense discussion, both Keiths arrive at an agreement to let Shy Keith have 50 attempts to get it right before Wicked Keith steps in to save the birthday. Of course you’re fully aware that the only reason such a ridiculous margin would be offered is if a certain someone had no intention of interfering in the first place. Nevertheless it takes Shy Keith 49 tries to get every single candle in one go, just as he’s always dreamed. Like a tiny supernova in the darkness of the greenhouse. Before a couple of nearby plants catch fire.

11. SILVIO

He blows all 34 candles out in one flashy exhale, and all 34 candles instantly revive in one sassy flicker. He glares at you, then, as if you and the candles and Rio are conspiring together. But the truth is he's just embarrassed and mad at himself for looking like such a loser in front of you. Carlo gets ordered to produce a second cake with more agreeable candles. You snap at Silvio about wasting a perfectly good cake. You try not to be grumpy about it for the duration of the party, but it’s hard to stay mad when the first cake reappears in your shared bedroom later with a very different fate in store for it… "Dammit, do I gotta spell it out!? I'm sayin' I need you to blow the damn candles out for me first!"

12. GILBERT

He could resort to a simple stage trick to avoid exerting himself at all if he so wanted, but instead he refuses to engage with the candles altogether in favor of casually threatening you to do it for him. When you childishly complain that his birthday wish won’t come true like this, he gently cups your face and assures you that your wish is more than enough to count for his (while also being conducive to the world’s continued existence).

13. CLAVIS

It’s like a music box. Or a self-playing piano. Each syllable of his infamous laughter triggers a subset of the candles to go out. When all is said and done, you push the birthday hellcat aside to investigate, but to your surprise, the candles are totally legita… no they’re not. And why do they smell like that!? Clavis wraps an arm around your waist to give you a tour of how his miraculous candles work… and how edible they are, down to the wick. He gets last-place for using his own materials but first-place for showmanship and inventing edible flammable non-toxic candles in the medieval age.

[sorceresssundries]

REVIVIFY - CHAPTER 1

Gale/Tav - 2577 words

AO3 LINK

Summary:

“He was right in front of you!” Gale’s breathing is heavy. “You could have killed him easily, and yet you...” He grips your arms and stares you down. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to witness that?” You thought you could hear a slight crack in his voice. “You were reckless and foolish and not the level-headed leader I expected you to be.

You lurch upwards and gasp, choking on the air rushing into your lungs. There is an instant of crushing panic, and then just as quickly, peace. Normality. As your breathing steadies, you look around. Your companions are gathered around where you are now sitting up, but the face you're searching for is not among them. You see a flash of a purple robe disappearing behind a tent flap.

“Erm, he’ll be back, I'm sure!” Karlach is looking at you with relief, though there is still a slight worry in her eyes. “I know Withers is some ancient, crazy deity or something, but I still doubted he would be able to do it!” She looks at him a little sheepishly. “Good job, mate! She still looks a bit pale, though. Did you do it right?”

Withers responds with a stern look and then takes his leave.

“Charming,” she turns her golden eyes back to you. “Are you feeling okay?”

You are still trying to process, to remember what happened. Your head aches, and your lungs are sore from the sudden fullness of air. You settle your hand on your chest as things begin to clear up.

“Battle axe to the chest, darling. Unpleasant way to go.” Astarian is sitting on a tree trunk not far away, looking over a recently looted dagger and not seeming concerned in the slightest. “Such a waste of perfectly good blood. It was quite a spectacle, though. And despite your best intentions of getting us all killed, it didn’t take long after you snuffed it for us to finish the job.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, Astarion, what a hero you are. Nothing to do with Gale going full wizard barbarian.”

Memories are starting to pool back into your recently revived mind. You were at the Goblin Camp. You had one more leader to take out, Dror Ragzlin. Weak and spent from your fight with Minthara, you remember having enough energy to conjure one more spell. The hulking Goblin was in front of you; one blast of flame hands and he would be down. But something caught your eye. Gale. He was battling two goblins, firing off magic missiles but not seeing the one rushing behind him. It wasn’t even a decision really; you don’t remember even thinking. You sacrificed the killing blow and fired protective energy at Gale. It was enough; he shimmered gold and had enough protection to withstand the approaching Goblin. You remember a brief hum of relief and then excruciating pain. Then nothing.

“It was quite hot, actually,” Astarion hops down off the tree stump. “I didn’t think our wizard had it in him, but seeing him lose his temper makes me reconsider my thoughts of him being a big old bore.” He looks pensive for a moment. “Do you think he’d let me bite him?”

“Astarion!” Shadowheart chides. “Now is not the time. I think Gale would probably have a stake at the ready if you went anywhere near him right now.” She draws her focus back to you. “After you fell, Gale pretty much finished off the Goblins single-handedly. He sent a bolt of lightning straight through Ragzlin’s skull.”

You feel shame redden your face. Planning this attack had been your responsibility. You should have insisted everyone took time to rest properly before the final battle. You were impatient and reckless and wanted it over. The ghost of the axe wound rips at your chest. You know it isn’t real, but the pain has split you apart. It aches.

“Where is Lae’zel?” You look around for your Githyanki comrade, surprised she hasn’t chided you yet for your failure in battle.

“Hunting, I think. She helped us carry you back. Be warned, she’s said she’s going to go through intensive battle training with you to ‘improve your incompetence,’ her words not mine.” Shadowheart holds her hands up defensively.

Karlach shifts a little uncomfortably. “And, erm, Gale is just in his tent. Resting probably. I’d go check in on him if I were you.”

You stand shakily and look at your friends with gratitude. “I’m sorry. We’ll plan things out better next time.”

“Well, I'd hope so, darling.” Astarion chides. “All this heroic nonsense is bad enough as it is, without the shame of getting our arses kicked by a bunch of goblins.” He puts his hand on your shoulder as he walks past, and the others look at you sheepishly as they go back about their business. They busy themselves sorting out loot from the Goblin Camp and preparing things for dinner.

“Gale?” Your voice sounds small as you stand outside his tent. You hear the sound of a book being closed, but he does not respond. “Please, can I talk with you? I owe you an apology and some thanks.”

The flap opens, and he stands in front of you, grabbing your arm roughly and pulling you into his tent. The air is heated with fury. “I don’t want thanks or an apology.” His usual soft brown eyes appear darker than usual. “What I would like is a companion who isn’t going to get themselves cleaved in half with a battle axe due to pure stupidity.”

You never cope very well with being told off, and the shame and smallness you feel start to subside in reaction to being reprimanded by this arrogant wizard. “He was right in front of you!” Gale’s breathing is heavy. “You could have killed him easily, and yet you...” He grips your arms and stares you down. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to witness that?” You thought you could hear a slight crack in his voice. “You were reckless and foolish and not the level-headed leader I expected you to be”

You pull out of his grasp and glare at him. “I didn’t ask for leadership. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for the responsibility and exhaustion and burden.” You feel yourself blazing to match his heat. “Maybe if you’d paid more attention to what was around you, I wouldn’t have had to spend the last of my energy protecting you.”

“Why were you protecting me?” His voice is raised now, and surely the whole camp can hear their arguing. “You were right next to him! Why were you focused on what I was doing? I thought after everything that’s happened so far, you’d have a little more faith in my preternatural abilities. You behaved like a reckless martyr.”

“And you’re behaving like an ARSE,” you snap before turning on your heels and storming out of the tent. It’s frustrating that you don’t have Gale’s cutting use of vocabulary, but you feel as though you made your point.

You stride straight past your campmates, all who look a bit awkward, apart from Astarion who seems positively gleeful. “What a lovely bit of drama we’re all witnessing. It really does get the blood racing, so to speak.”

You hear a thud and an “Ow!” as you leave them behind, and imagine Karlach has probably given him a well-deserved thump. Good.

You approach the edge of the water and sit down. Thoughts are racing and blood is pumping. How dare he! Talking to you like a child. As though you had wanted to get your chest split open. The memory makes you shudder again, and the imaginary wound burns, taking your breath away. You need to calm and ground yourself. You are back, you are alive, you are fine.

You draw a circle in the earth and rough sketches of sacred runes around the outside. You take off your armour and kneel in the centre of the circle in your undershirt, head bowed and palms placed upon the earth.

When Gale had taught you magic and pulled upon the weave, he had conjured it out of the air, as though some celestial force was moving around you and drawing you together. The magic was ethereal, divine. Your druidic magic was different. You drew the feeling of peace and harmony from the earth, grounding yourself and connecting with the cool soil beneath you. If you focused hard enough, you could hear the world breathe around you, as though it was a living soul with a heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You were connected to all living things. Your breaths flow with the wind sweeping across your face, and as you focus on your peace, small white flowers begin to bloom around the edge of your circle. You feel them caress your fingertips as you meditate.

You’re unsure of how long you stay there, drawing upon the earth for comfort and guidance, but when you open your eyes, dusk has set in and the air has grown cool around you, causing your skin to tingle. You give your thanks and pick up your armour, admiring the flowers which have bloomed around you. You decide to walk barefoot back to your tent in your shirt; druids do not care so much about ‘appropriate dress.’ You just want to enjoy the feeling of the soil beneath your feet as you make your journey to bed. Feeling much more relaxed and grounded than earlier. You have been brought back to the earth, and you will be much more careful in the future not to be pulled from it again.

As you slip into your tent, you think of Gale. His tent is not far from yours, which you are now beginning to regret. You remember the evening you spent with him as he summoned the weave and shared a moment of magic with you, how the thought of kissing him caused him to blush and stumble over his words. The contrast between his softness then, and his harshness earlier is dizzying. Your heart sinks at the thought of your connection fading. Slipping away into the night. It had been a shared moment of rapture, and the ghost wound in your chest blazes at the thought it may have been the only one you would ever share.

As you sleep, darkness creeps into your cluttered mind. The void you had been pulled into by the goblin leader swirls its way into your thoughts, inciting nightmarish visions while you sleep. The axe. The pain. The nothingness. The cold steel wrenched you apart, splitting your ribs and cascading your blood on the ground. Gale had watched it happen. Gale. You remember the relief and warmth as you saw him protected, and your dreams start to taunt you. What if you hadn’t seen him? What if your positions had been reversed? Next time you could be the one watching him, his body breaking in front of you, life slipping from his eyes. “No,” you plead to the darkness in your head. “No, I won’t let that happen. Not to Gale.” There is a mocking laugh, and an inevitability pressing against you. He’ll get hurt one day. From a spell, or an axe, or the devastating orb that resides within him. You feel sick, and then you’re awake.

“Tav” Once again, you are pulled out of darkness. This time from the horrors in your subconscious, and not the peaceful calm of death. You’re sweaty and breathless, and you can’t tell if the moisture on your face is from sweat or tears. You have an awful feeling it’s both. You feel a cooling touch on your forehead. Gale. He’s hovering over you, concern etched across his gentle face. You feel fresh tears spill. “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m here.” He pulls you against him, wrapping his arms around you. You stay like this for a little while until your breathing slows to mimic his, his hand gently stroking your head. You feel him press a light kiss against your hair, and you pull back to look at him.

“I had a nightmare,” you say, as though it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

“I know,” he sits back, taking you in. “You were so distressed.” You can hear the worry in his voice, the sentiment is echoed in the warm softness of his eyes.

“I’m okay now,” you say, not sure which one of you you’re trying to convince. Your hand goes to your chest, pressing the area where the axe struck you. Gale watches intently.

“I’m so sorry, Tav. I was angry. I watched you… I saw…” His breath hitches as he tries to speak. It’s not like him to struggle to string a sentence together.

You take one of his hands and place it on your chest, over your heartbeat. “I’m here. I’m okay. I’m alive and safe. I’m here with you.”

“You said my name, in your sleep. You were crying and you said my name. Was it because of the way I spoke to you, because of what I said?” His hand moved from your chest to cup your face. His thumb stroked your cheek, and you felt your heart race.

“No. I just...” You struggle with what to say next. How do you say it? How do you tell him that the thought of losing him is more terrifying than being struck down with an axe? “I was reliving what happened. You were there. I was scared, that’s all.” You don’t look him in the eyes as you keep the truth close to your chest. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about really; from the sounds of it, you can take on hordes of enemies by yourself from now on.” You flick your eyes up to meet his, and he blushes a little.

“Ah, yes, well, I must admit I did let my emotions get the better of me.” He moves his hand from your face and back into his lap, folding himself so he’s now sat cross-legged in front of you. “I don’t need to tell you how powerful and uncontrollable magic can be, and if I'm out of harmony with the weave, it can lead to disastrous torrents of magic. We were lucky, I think, that it was channelled into the destruction of those foul creatures. But care must be taken, even in the most… emotional… of circumstances. I could have put our little team in terrible danger.” His hand subconsciously moved to his own chest, touching the swirling orb branded into his beautiful skin.

“Well, on the plus side, I think it turned Astarion on,” you laugh lightly at the thought. “You may have found yourself a new admirer. Be careful though; he bites.”

Gale laughs, and the sound soothes you like a balm. “Not really my type, but I'll be aware of any effect I may have on him from now on.” He smirks at you, and you feel relief wash over you. Gale was easy, comforting company. You’re glad he came to help. The thought of him leaving you to the darkness again makes you uneasy.

“Gale,” you shift a little awkwardly, and he takes you in, tilting his head slightly. “Would you mind bunking with me tonight? I think I could use a bit of company.” You feel embarrassed at the request, but he grins at you.

“Of course, anything I can do for you, consider it most enthusiastically done. Let me just go and get my bedroll.”

You sleep soundly for the rest of the night; any worry of losing your connection with Gale drifts into the ether. Your hands are entwined together across the floor, and your dreams are much, much sweeter.

[monstermonger]

Hey!!

I have recently been going through a rough patch with my art. I am not enjoying or liking how I do linework and shading, and in order to remedy that, I'm collecting works from artists I like that I can study/re-imagine.

Your linework and composition is stunning 😍 and I am currently working on a reinterpretation of one of your pieces. This is the most fun I've had with a piece in a while. Beautiful work !! 👏 👏👏

....Er, I've been away from social media for quite a while, and even before that, I was behind on messages... I'm so sorry for my late responses to asks. I wanna say I appreciate ppl taking the time to send them, really :") thanks for the patience LOL

I'll try to condense this - respond to multiple in a single post. So I don't take up too much space in people's feeds.

so first of all @laurikarauchscat I'm sorry to hear you're in a rough patch, and I think your method of overcoming it is on the right track. At least, it's definitely something I do and it really helps me xD Most notably with all the Caspar David Friedrich-inspired pieces. As long as you give credit to the artists you're reinterpreting from (and asking is polite too, if they're an alive artist :D so yes thank you for asking) it seems perfectly fine to me to do so. Good luck and hope it goes well, I'm interested to see c:

More asks under the cut!

@blurred-antics thank you so much for the words ;b; it's validating to hear, since they're definitely emotions I have in mind while drawing lately. I lost both my parents in the last 2 years, and I've dumped a lot of feelings of grief/longing into my pieces since then, including ones that might seem rather cheerful and perfectly peaceful at a glance. I'm happy others can feel the bit of conflict under the surface-- I don't necessarily mind if my art comes across straightforward, since when throwing art into the public it must be accepted that everyone will interpret it how they want, but it does feel nice to know that some people sense the extra bits. Thank you again!

@kinnersonne thank you very much!! Definitely my favorite subjects at the moment c: You're very sweet.

@marinaaniseed I'm starting to get to ... quite old ones, and I worry this was a time-sensitive question :"D I'm very sorry if I'm too late.

First of all, thank you for asking! I'm honored people like my art enough they'd want it tattooed, it's pretty mind-blowing to me. I've actually had several people ask to use my art for tattoos the last few months and I think overall, I'm pretty okay with it. if you'd like to express support for my art for using it, then you're welcome to buy a print from my shop. It's not required, but it's very appreciated <3 Hope whatever you end up going for (whether my art or not in the end) goes well ^^

@wandersoffdoodling Aw, thank you T.T I'm happy they resonate with you! It's kind of my dream to finish some zines and some bigger projects in this sketchbook/journal art style. So that's very motivating to hear. Thanks again c:

@eldathe once again I apologize for how late I am to respond to questions that were intended to be very quick exchanges lol. First of all, thank you! :") I'm sure this is no longer relevant for how old this ask is, but in case you/(or anyone reading this) would still want to use it as a blog pfp or anywhere, yes, feel free, as long as there's credit somewhere visible! Thank you for asking <3

@starrforge thank you kindly, yours is great too :")

@herebesherlocks Aww thank you so much :") I'm honored it evokes that feeling.

@the-halcyon-effect 100 years later: thank you that's a huge honor to hear :"))))

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

I saw your recent post!! Can you please write a lunar chronicles fanfic with the ship kaider (kai and cinder) for the prompt going to a carnival? You can change the prompt if you want, just a suggestion!! Thank you :)

I based this off of the carnival that came to my town every year so it might not be exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you like it! This was such a cute prompt

“Aren’t you hot?”

It was infuriating, Cinder thought, that Kai could still look perfect even when his smile dripped with self-satisfaction. It took a special kind of person to make smugness look attractive.

“Dying,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “but I’m trying to be inconspicuous.”

Kai’s smirk only widened as he tugged one of the strings on her hoodie— a navy blue only a few shades lighter than his black one, since Cress had insisted they’d look like a pair of assassins if they showed up to the carnival in matching black hoods. “I’d say it’s a good look for you,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead before pulling her hood over her hair.

“Really not my number one concern at the moment.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kai promised, taking her hand— gloved, since there was no way to know if anyone at the carnival was implanted with Garan’s device— in his. “Thorne says he’ll be on standby if we need a pickup.”

“I should hope so, seeing as this little adventure was his idea,” Cinder grumbled. 

Their visit to the American Republic was supposed to be purely a matter of state, formally introducing the new empress of the Eastern Commonwealth to the new president. But Thorne had insisted their “American experience” wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the small carnival that had popped up a few miles outside of Los Angeles, so here they were— facing down something vaguely like a very small version of the Eastern Commonwealth’s Peace Festival, only with more gaudy lights and stuffed animals. 

It was kind of exciting, actually. Not that Cinder was about to admit as much.

“Okay,” she sighed, squeezing Kai’s hand. Let’s do this.”

He nodded, opening the door of the hover, and they stepped into the stream of people making their way to the sprawl of stalls and rides sitting at the top of the hill. At first, Cinder’s eyes darted around relentlessly, running every single face through her recognition program, noting every possible exit. But when they reached the top without drawing so much as a second glance, she managed to relax. 

“What’s first?” Cinder asked. “Do we want to take a turn on that whirling monstrosity that looks one good gust of wind away from blowing over? Shall we try one of the grease-ridden attempts at food from that stall over there, or do you want to compete for who can win the most prizes?”

“You have a computer in your brain,” Kai scoffed— remembering to keep his voice low, thank the stars. “There’s no way I’m competing against you in anything.”

“So you just want to stand by, glorying in my victory, and leave it to Iko to figure out how to pack all the stuffed animals I’m about to win you?”

“Obviously.”

By the time they sat down for lunch, Kai was the proud and somewhat harried owner of four cat keychains, a stuffed bear that he’d draped over one shoulder, a stuffed dog that he’d draped over the other, and an enormous stuffed elephant that he’d draped over his head.

“Aren’t you going to carry any of this?” he gasped between bites of his fried monstrosity.

“They’re yours,” Cinder replied sweetly. “Besides, they make such a good disguise.”

Kai rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips, and he didn’t argue.

“Besides,” Cinder continued, “if you want to go on some rides next, I’m sure you can leave your friends with one of the employees.”

Kai raised an eyebrow at the whirling cars in front of them, people shrieking as they spun past. “Right after eating?”

“There’s no way it can be as bad as Thorne’s takeoffs.”

And it wasn’t— their stomachs survived the ride with nothing more than an ache from how hard they were laughing. It was only when they disembarked that Cinder remembered one crucial thing.

“Kai,” she hissed. “Your hood— put your hood back up, the wind blew it down—"

She tugged up her own, but it was already too late.

“Empress Selene?”

Cinder looked down to see a girl of no more than ten peering up at her with enormous blue eyes. There was no way she could say no to that face.

“Yes,” she said, pushing down her hood. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Gasps crested like a wave from the bystanders, and the whispers followed in their wake— whispers that turned into squealing, and then shouted questions. Cinder tried to summon the poise of the empress, but she still found her back pressed against the fence around the ferris wheel behind her.

“I’ve already called Thorne,” Kai murmured in her ear. 

“And how are we supposed to get to him through this?” she hissed back, inclining her head at the crowd.

Kai’s eyes darted to the ferris wheel, then back to hers. He grinned.

“You’re crazy.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“True.” Cinder pressed a kiss to his cheek, eliciting cheers and boos from the crowd.

Kai stepped forwards. “As much as my wife and I would love to spend the whole day talking with you, we came here today to get a full experience of what an American carnival has to offer. If you’d be kind enough to excuse us, there’s one thing on our list we still haven’t gotten to.”

A roar of protest rose from the crowd, but the employees remained professional, ushering them through the gates and locking them behind them. As soon as one employee had checked their safety straps— not even grumbling at the stuffed animals Kai piled on his seat— another was cranking the lever that sent the their car wheeling into the air.

A familiar hum found Cinder’s ears— almost hidden, at first, in the cranking of the wheel, but soon too loud to ignore. She grinned as their car came to a stop at the top of the wheel.

“Right on time.”

Screams echoed from the crowd below as the Rampion appeared above the wheel, its ramp lowering to reveal Cress looking down at Cinder and Kai with an amused grin. 

“Not a word,” Cinder warned as Kai began to toss Cress his stuffed animals.

“Of course not,” she promised, but her eyes gleamed.

Cinder sighed, but she couldn’t help but smile as she reached out a hand to let Cress haul her into the ship, wrapping her arm around Kai’s waist as the ramp closed behind him.

All in all, a good day.

[myfirstnameisagent]

Drive

A/N: How I would of written any of the car scenes, and if Simon actually tried what his therapist told him.

Warnings: None (does angst count?)

“All we do is think about the feelings that we hide

All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign

Sick and full of pride

All we do is drive.”

Baz

The burning sun was fading into a timid flame, leaving a hazy pink smoke in its wake as it began to set. It was a relief in the simplest of terms, for despite the overzealous amount of sunscreen bound to clog the pores on my nose for the rest of eternity, it was still burning straight through me. The air began to cool down, and the whole drive began to take a more peaceful turn that had lulled Bunce straight to sleep in the backseat. Most likely having spelled herself to where it was safe for her to lie down curled up in a ball against the backseat, her only sign of life was the soft snores puffing against her arm. I averted my gaze from the rearview mirror, for outside of Simon, it felt intrusive to watch someone sleep. Maybe it did even what feels like decades ago, but it never felt nearly as intrusive as it does now to watch him while he’s awake. I sneak glimpses every so often, his golden curls blowing in the wind and the now casual way his hand rests on the wheel and the other on the stick shift. He truly is beautiful, and it causes the most awful of lurches in my chest. If someone was truly yours, you should be able to look at them, shouldn’t you? It shouldn’t feel like every single interaction was something you stole from them. It shouldn’t leave you feeling riddled with guilt, clawing at you from the inside out and your mind screaming to put it back, it no longer belongs to you. However, every glance in his direction feels as though it’s worth the nauseating sensation that follows. I force myself to look at the quickly disappearing pavement in front of us, or perhaps a nearby car, anything but the beautiful boy beside me. My fingers twitch, begging for something to do or touch, most strongly for him. However, I wasn’t quite sure he was mine to touch anymore.

“She’s knackered, huh?”

The words tear me from whatever string of self-deprecating thoughts currently possessed me, “hm?”

“Penny, she’s out.” Simon’s eyes flickered to the rearview then back onto the road.

“I suppose so.” I settle for smoothing the crease in my pants, staring intently at it as if that would fix it. It’s the first thing he’s said to me in an hour, but it feels like decades. I suppose that’s the funny thing about loving someone, all the good moments feel like a rush of time you can’t hold onto, and all the painful ones feel stretched to the point you’ll snap in half.

Simon

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Penny so relaxed in an environment she didn’t carefully construct. Something she didn’t plan and analyze over and over again in her head, spell, and build almost with her own two hands (or well, ring). She didn’t even spell the seat soft that I heard, just passed out right as it was. I knew her and Baz were both spelled out and completely exhausted of any energy or magic.

Baz.

There’s a twinge in my chest as I manage another glance over at him. He looks tired. His skin a dark shade of gray, almost seeming thinner with hollowed-in cheekbones and his usually perfect hair sticking out in various directions. Bloodless and beaten, he was still so beautiful. Slumped back into his seat, arms crossed and just perfect. His eyes still glimmered and the fading sunlight cast a glow over him, and all I wanted to do was pull over and snog him to high heaven. However, I know he’s tired and hungry and probably sick of my shit. There’s been a growing wall between us, and I know I’ve been the one building so feverishly. However, this trip pokes at it brick by brick. With every adrenaline-pumped moment, I’m reminded of what made me fall in love with him in the first place.

My Baz.

It took a while for me to introduce the topic of Baz to my therapist, it felt like one of my least pressing problems. Between the mage and losing my magic, everything else had become obsolete. It terrifies me, how could Baz become obsolete? I’d do anything for him, to have him and to keep him, and before this trip all I could think about was how I could get him to leave. I couldn’t imagine how he could still want me, drained of everything that made me special. Everything that had contributed to me being the chosen one and a part of his world was now gone, and I couldn’t understand how he could possibly still want me. My gaze flickered back to Penny, and it felt as though what had happened with her and Micah should of happened here first. Like a twisted final destination twist, the ax had just barely missed us.

However, despite all of these things, Baz is still here.

He still tries to hold my hand, he still tries to stay close to my orbit. He is still kind, and he is still patient. Never once has he let me go farther away from him than I’ve pushed. A new kind of guilt settles like stones in my stomach, almost completely debilitating as I wonder how I could possibly fix something I’ve broken so badly. My therapist says that if I just talked to him, she’s sure I’d find he felt differently than my brain had been telling me.

Even without everything that made me who I was, Baz still chose me. It brought intense emotions that honestly made me want to take cover from, to hide from how brightly they burned within me. A new kind of fire, a new kind of going off. Now here we were, nothing but me, Baz, and a deafening silent car.

Baz

I settle further into my seat, prepared to just drive and ignore every emotion clawing it’s way up into my throat. I chance another glance at Simon, who’s running his tongue over his bottom lip as I catch a rare moment of him deep in thought. He’s so focused on either the road or whatever’s playing out in his head, I’m tempted to reach out to touch him in some small way. Brush back a loose curl, touch his cheek, and maybe if I was bold enough, hold his hand. He probably wouldn’t notice. It would be like watching him sleep all that time ago. It pains my chest that once I could do these things without thinking. I could just be with him without thinking. That the action of just holding his hand didn’t feel so invasive. I want so desperately for him to love me like that again.

“I haven’t been a very good boyfriend.”

It sits heavy in the air, he says it so bluntly and almost forcefully, just like everything else about him. I don’t know how to answer, because yes he’s been acting like a shitty boyfriend but despite every spike driven into my heart I’ve never seen him any less perfect, I’ve never loved him any less. I say nothing, feeling my arms cross across my chest as if that would protect my heart from any more damage. It’s quiet for a moment, the radio station long switched off and the wind quiets as Simon slows in front of a red light. He turned to look at me, and like a magnetic force, I felt I had no choice but to turn and look right back at him. “I’ve always sort of just thrown myself into things, y’know? I don’t talk and I don’t plan, I just.. Do.” He looks nervous but the sound of engines igniting in front of us turns his gaze back towards the road and I almost curse them for breaking the eye contact I’ve craved for so long, this brief moment, an oasis in a desert of affection. I want to cling to it, hold it tight, and never let it go even if it’s the thing that kills me. I brace myself for whatever is about to come out of his mouth next, glancing back at the road as well.

“I’ve been talking to my therapist.” He said quietly.

The sun is fully set, the broad night sky now twinkling with stars that even felt different from home. The bright streelights and passing businesses made the wet road glow with various hues. The thudding in my chest didn’t slow, in fact it sped with every word. I wanted to shake it out of him, a quick and lethal blow instead of drawing out my suffering.

“I’m not very good with words.” Simon continues, “never have been. But.” His fingers drum against the steering wheel, and I notice the same hand I’ve seen steadily slay countless creatures with a blade is shaking. Like out of every gnarling beast, this is the scariest thing he has ever faced. “I got so wrapped up in the magic and being the mage’s heir that I never… I never realized how I’d let that become the most important thing in my life. I was beginning to think I could.. I don’t know… Crowley this is hard.” He chuckles thickly as if to cover a more despairing sound.

“Your laugh echoes through the hallway

Carves into my hollow chest

Spreads over the emptiness

It’s bliss

It’s so simple but we can’t stay

over analyze again

Would it really kill you if we kissed? “

Simon

The words are burning in my throat, no wrapping around it and constricting to the point I don’t think I’ll be able to even breathe again before I get them all out. I’m still not sure I want them to all be out in the open where I can’t control what happens to them. I don’t like the fact that anything could happen, that I could spit up my coals and he could still say no. He could confirm everything I’ve been thinking and I think that would be the final blow. It’s one thing to think that’s how Baz feels, but it’s a whole different thing entirely to know that he feels that way. With thinking, there’s the thinnest of protection. The single doubt that maybe it is the truth and maybe that Baz does want me and while I couldn’t possibly understand why or how, the fact he does could maybe be enough. Just maybe. With Agatha I’d accepted that I would never fit into her life perfectly, there would be an endless list of reasons why I would stand out like a sore thumb in her christmas pictures, why her family would never be impressed with me at the dinner table, especially now with me being normal. They accepted me because Agatha accepted me. However, with Baz, it’s almost as if rather than just accepting me, he made the impossible choice of loving every flaw about me instead.

Baz’s expression signals that I have gone too long without speaking, but I’m forced to look back at the road and briefly consider that I should have maybe pulled over to have this conversation. His arms are still crossed and even now I notice how nicely his shirt fits him, shoulders tense but a bit less than when I started speaking.

I’ve always been better when I’m forced to respond to impending danger, having to make a swift decision that’ll save what I care about most. I’m slowly realizing that it’s not the Humdrum or a dragon tramping school grounds, but rather losing the best thing I’ve had all along. Baz. So, I spit up my coals.

“I.. didn’t… I don’t.. I don’t know who I am without magic anymore. I feel useless and less than.” I don’t know if I stop because the constricting is that much tighter, or because there’s a slender pale hand over mine, sandwiched between it and the gear shift. It’s a feather-light touch, as if I could be broken into a thousand pieces if he were to rest it’s entirety against my skin.

“You’re not useless. Or less than.” Rumbles from the seat beside me and I’m so thankful that we’re still driving because I don’t think I could handle looking at him. Knowing Baz, home is staring back at me and I don’t think I can handle that right now.

“I felt useless and became useless.” I counter, “I got so wrapped up in everything that’s happened that I let myself rot, and in doing so I’ve pushed you away because magic is your world and I don’t belong there anymore. So, I’ve been waiting for you to realize that.”

“You’re my world, Snow. It’s impossible for you to not belong there when you are it.” His fingers hover over mine, and I flip my palm over so I can hold onto him. A tight squeeze in comparison to his light touch.

“I don’t understand how I could be. But… my therapist says that just because I don’t understand doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try and… and I want to try.” I force the words out quickly before I lose my nerve. “Cause you’re mine too. I.. I hadn’t even known I was waiting so long for you and now you’re here and I’m mucking it all up.”

“You muck a lot of things up Snow, you’re quite good at it. I’m still here”

Baz

Teasing has always been my best protection, especially in a moment that feels so raw and so vulnerable. I’m scared to add any weight to it, to whisper what my heart is screaming because I don’t want to scare him off again.

“Yeah.” He says softly, nodding for a brief moment as if considering my words for once.

I’ve already been bold enough to touch his hand, and now his rough palm is against mine and our fingers are intertwined. I decide to push that final boundary, leaning to place my head on his broad shoulder. He doesn’t jerk away like I expect him too, and instead I feel his warmth beneath my cheek and the relaxing of his muscles. For a moment I consider what it would take to stay in America, to stay in this moment and inject it into my veins. I want to hold onto it forever, the way he smells and the feeling of the soft breeze against my opposite cheek. The fresh smell of rain that hasn’t fallen yet in the sky and then it’s all overshadowed by the feeling of slightly chapped lips brushing my forehead. I close my eyes because I’m not sure if I’m going to cry, because for a brief moment an ocean away I feel more at home than I have in months. “Besides.” I force out in an attempt to dislodge the lump in my throat. “You already told me you’d be a terrible boyfriend anyway. I still said yes.”

A soft snort comes through Simon and the sound goes straight to my chest as my heart lightens at the sound, I am so in love with him and I’d do anything to stay this close to him forever. I don’t know if this will be the last moment I get with him being so gentle and I want to dig my nails into it. Absorb every single piece of it until it’s phased into my being, until it’s a part of me for good. I don’t want to ever forget it.

“I want to try. Be less terrible.” Simon’s voice is the softest I’ve ever heard it, lips right against my ear serving as a pipeline right to my heart.

“I’ll love you either way.” I murmur softly, unsure if it was more for him or myself.

“Hotel’s up here. Should I stop?” He asked softly, casting a glance down in my direction. I pause, unsure if it meant another night of sleeping separately because if it did I’d rather we keep driving like this forever.

“I think we should.” Simon agrees and my heart twinges, but it’s quickly repaired. “I’m tired and I think we should go to bed.” (I try not to question the we in his sentence, for a brief moment I’m reminded Bunce is still collapsed in the back seat).

As Simon reaches for his seatbelt, I slowly begin to sit up for my own and begin to pull my hand away but he squeezes it tighter. “Do you think my wings will bother you?”

If there was any blood left in me, I think it would all be in my cheeks. “No.”

With that, at least for tonight, the drive comes to an end.

“California never felt like home to me,

until I had you on the open road

[kayawolfhorse]

Day 14 — In the Webs We Weave

—☾—

The chatter fades softly behind Pearl as she marches across the map with stacks of terracotta in her pockets and a mission on her mind. She’s had enough distraction for one session; she’s got to get a move-on with this task if she wants any chance at regaining her lost hearts.

Even still, Pearl can’t keep the smile off of her face. Though it cost her valuable time, she’d be hard-pressed to regret the impromptu get-together.

Her base had been filled to the brim with jokes and laughter as almost the entire server crammed in together, sat upon or sprawled beneath hastily crafted trapdoors. It was chaotic and completely unnecessary, and Pearl’s heart couldn’t have felt warmer, tucked beside Scar on her recently-installed floor.

The feeling lingers between her ribs as Pearl scopes out a suitable hill at the border’s edge to enact her plan. After a glance over her shoulder to make sure she’s alone, she digs out a shallow cave in the hill’s side just large enough to hold a single block and a few instruction-bearing signs.

A perfectly adequate goose, Pearl thinks, stepping back to spellcheck her scrawled writing. Now, for the chase.

With each block added, the lines of terracotta shape into bright red trails looping across the plains, each leading to the cave. If that’s not tempting enough to investigate, Pearl doesn’t know what is.

It’s quiet in this empty corner of the map, and unexpectedly peaceful. The day around her is pleasant, and the task at hand is tedious enough for Pearl’s mind to wander.

Her thoughts turn back to the congregation at her base, and Pearl holds the memory close. She’s never known a base to feel as close to home as her silly little mound did in that moment.

So early into this game, her allies are newly forged and her enemies are hardly made; relationships are blank slates. Nothing and everything matters from previous runs. How strange is it to have sat beside those who have hunted her and those she’s hunted in turn lifetimes ago?

She’d laughed alongside Scott like she had in their shared base deep beneath a cottage covered in moss years ago, even though she’s fallen twice by his hand since. She’ll never get enough revenge on him. She resents how he’s stolen every attempt of it from her.

Impulse was among the first to claim a trapdoor, stacked above Pearl. When she looked up at him, she’d seen the kindness he'd shown her, the axe he’d wielded against her, and his blood dripping from the tip of her sword in another life. Bdubs had died from her blow, too, and now he’s a fellow Mounder.

BigB had been a loyal ally—friend—when Pearl needed it the most after her lonesome win. When he killed her, it was at her demand. In the round before, he hadn’t stopped his soulmate from cursing her name.

Gem appears on the horizon, and Pearl can’t help but wave, before quickly remembering she’s trying to avoid being spotted. She yanks her hand back and drops to a crouch behind the closest bit of terracotta, but it’s no use—Gem’s already started towards her.

“Hey-yyy, Gem,” Pearl says as casually as she can. “Have you, uh, seen this shiny red trail? Very suspicious.”

“Uh huh.” Gem squints at her. “Definitely the thing here that’s suspicious, yep.”

“Glad you agree! Would you, by any chance, be interested in following it?” Worth a shot, right?

Gem snorts. “I actually have someplace I need to be; just figured I’d say hello first.”

“Right, right,” Pearl says. She must look disappointed, because Gem giggles.

“If I see anyone looking for a weird, suspiciously random path to follow, I’ll be sure to point them this way, how’s that?”

“Oh, you’re the best.” Pearl grins.

Gem grins back. “I know. See you around!”

Pearl bids goodbyes to Gem’s retreating back and waits until she’s out of sight to start working once more. She thinks about how much longer it’ll take her to reach spawn. She wonders how Gem will fit into the threads woven between the players and games.

Block by block, her wild goose chase grows. The sun dips lower over the horizon, and by the time Pearl makes it to spawn, the sky is full of twinkling stars.

Pearl returns to an empty mound, clears away enough of the mess to collapse into bed, and hopes someone happens upon the terracotta before she must approach the Secret Keeper in the morning. When she finally falls asleep, her dreams are bathed in red.

[mousy-nona]

All of God's Angels p. 2

I think you will like His newest creation, Gabriel mused. I’ve foreseen a challenge for you. An equal. A partner, tall and beautiful and terrible, and crowned in red. // Or Lucifer tries his damned best to ignore Gabriel's prophecy, then finds Alastor after Extermination Day.

All parts up on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53800450/chapters/136173307

Lucifer was Not Impressed by his supposed perfect match. 

As he watched Alastor toss a few grunts into his mouth with a glee that Lucifer could only describe as satanic, he broke his resolution to never pray again for the second time in a row and sent a quick message up to Heaven.

Dear Father, he beseeched – nay, begged – Dear Father, for the love of all that is unholy, please let it be someone else.  

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was another false alarm, like Lilith had been. Hell was full of red-faced bastards, and as much as he hated to admit it (and as Alastor had so smugly reminded him), most of them were taller than he was. Not Alastor tall, of course, but Gabriel had never specified ye verily, thy fated companion shall be approximately seven feet high, if thou art judging by the imperial system. 

(Curse that stuffy excuse for a messenger pigeon! If he hadn’t been so annoyingly vague, Lucifer wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!) 

But there was something about the demon that made him think this time – this time would be the one that stuck. 

Maybe it was the way the demon seemed to have an uncanny sixth sense for knowing exactly how to get under his skin. He’d picked on his height, which was a low (ha!) blow, but then he’d honed in on his one true weakness with a swift, savage efficiency even Lucifer had to admire. Within less than a minute, he’d focused all his witty one liners on his relationship with Charlie – or lack thereof. 

Maybe it was the thrill that crept up his back as they fired insults at each other – “that’s why they call it the ‘Has-Been Hotel’!” “It was actually my idea!” – and Alastor didn’t once miss a beat. He returned each one of Lucifer’s barbs with a grace and silky condescension that made his own retorts look clumsy by comparison. He was excited in a way he hadn’t in years, filled with an electricity that could have been hate or delight or anything in between. 

Most importantly, he felt alive . Awake and alert. And when he placed his hand on the apple topping his staff, he felt it vibrate the way it had that first morning, and his mouth filled with the crisp, clean sparkle of potential.

It almost tasted like static. 

It was all too much for one day and Lucifer – the Prince of Darkness, the Morning Star, the Light Bringer – retreated. In front of a former human. 

Time flowed differently for a being that had existed since before the creation of the world. A blink of an eye could last a decade, or it could last a heartbeat of a second. He’d forced himself to get better at keeping track after Charlie’s birth, knowing time didn’t misbehave for her like it did for him. Being a father meant not wanting to miss a single moment – a lesson he’d learned the hard way. 

It was a mark of how badly Alastor had shaken him that he forgot all of his self-imposed rituals. He didn’t set the alarm at night. He didn’t mark off the days on the calendar. He didn’t even bother to darken and brighten the room to match the cycles of Hell. In the half-submerged gloom of his circus tent, surrounded on all sides by mountains of fire-breathing duckies, he could freak out in peace and quiet as the hours slid by like endless grains of sand.

That was why he didn’t realize what day it was until it was almost too late. 

If it wasn’t for the half-dead angel that crashed through the main hall, he might have missed the whole thing altogether. For the first time in days, his mind was strong and clear as he stared at the cherubim twitching on his floor. 

Extermination Day.

Charlie.

It was as if he’d mainlined a lightning bolt straight into his veins. He didn’t bother with a portal. He didn’t even bother to think. His six great wings unfurled and carried him towards the hotel faster than sound itself. And perhaps he hadn’t fallen out of favor after all, because he got there just in time to whisk Charlie out of harm’s way. Adam’s beady little eyes widened when he saw who it was.

Lucifer was so giddy with relief that he couldn’t resist a few jabs as he flew circles around the First Man. Adam fought to keep up, stuttering and spitting out profanities as he struggled to come up with a single clever comeback. 

“You’ve really let yourself go since Eden,” Lucifer couldn’t help but remark, rather sadly. What a shame – even after a millennia, Adam still possessed the conversational skills of a rock. What the Hell were they teaching the humans up there? Less than a few minutes had passed, and he was already growing bored of this exchange. He found his attention drifting to a far more enjoyable battle of wits from a few days ago…

Speaking of which, where was Alastor? 

He was distracted by Charlie, always Charlie, who transformed into a form he’d never seen before to stop Adam’s charge with one hand. An almighty rage that had lain dormant in him since the Fall reared its ugly head, and for a moment, all other thoughts were wiped from his mind. 

He dares? This pathetic, empty excuse for a human being dares threaten my Charlie? 

It was only later, after the battle, when there was time to talk and mourn for the fallen, that he heard Alastor hadn’t been seen since his battle with Adam. 

Alastor…fallen to Adam? It made logical sense, of course – as powerful as Alastor was, he was only an Overlord, and a young one to boot. Adam had had the entirety of human history to strengthen his power, and the angels had afforded him special abilities due to his status as the first human to enter Heaven. But still his mind struggled to comprehend it. It was like trying to understand how a Neanderthal had beaten an elegant war machine. 

A Neanderthal with a huge angelic blaster gun, he groused as he magicked a wall of timber into being. It was a good thing he hadn’t seen Alastor fall — he didn’t think he would have been able to stop himself from gutting Adam with his two bare hands if he had.

But at the same time, his limbs were suffused with a strange sense of relief. If Alastor had been taken out so easily, there was no way he was his fated companion. This was a good thing. A blessed turn of events. His equal match was still out there somewhere, and with any luck they would be free of unsightly defects like pointy teeth and cannibalistic tastes and a predilection for sadism. He was free! 

(So why was his chest aching so much?)

Then Alastor deigned to show his face, his smile as sharp as ever, his suit impeccably pressed, and Lucifer felt his heart beat again. Charlie and the rest of the hotel (except for Husk – strange, that) pressed in to touch him, to hug him, to bask in his strange enigmatic presence. To the untrained eye, he looked as good as new, as if he’d risen from a restful nap instead of a grueling battle. 

But Lucifer had spent the past few days agonizing over this demon. Going over every last detail in his mind until his features were firmly etched into his memory. And he knew, he knew something was wrong. There wasn’t any outward sign that gave it away – Alastor was even better at hiding pain than handing it out – but there was something in the careful way he slipped out of Charlie’s overenthusiastic embrace, the millisecond twitch of his shadow, the grin that was a shade too large that set Lucifer’s teeth on edge.

He’d ignored signs before. He’d tinkered on ducks and stupid useless things as Lilith had disappeared into the ether. He’d missed half of Charlie’s teenage years on projects that he couldn’t even remember. He wasn’t going to repeat the same mistakes again.

He ushered Charlie and Vaggie up to bed, insisting they take the master, brushing away their worried suggestions – “but we should help you get unpacked!” and “are you sure you’ll be able to find your room okay?”

He slipped Cherri a twenty to make herself scarce, and he made pointed suggestions to Husk and Angel Dust about where they could find some of the truly good booze back at his palace. His heart warmed a little as he watched Angel Dust slip a not-so-sneaky arm around Husk’s shoulders and bring him in close. Husk’s hard facade cracked a bit, his lips quirking up a bit as he pretended not to notice it. 

He couldn’t find Niffty or figure out where the odd creature slept at nights (did she even have a room?), but he figured she knew Alastor well enough by this point to leave him alone. 

Preparations complete, Lucifer ascended the staircase. At the top floor, instead of going left, towards his rooms, he took a deep breath and turned right. The hall got progressively darker as he closed in on the menacing radio tower. The shadows were deep here. They breathed and pulsed, as if he’d stepped into the maw of some giant beast. The air was humid, heavy with old mud and the ghostly aroma of a thousand dead bodies. 

It felt like Alastor was all around him, pressing against his bare skin, invading his lungs. A thrill went down his back as he raised his hand and knocked, just once. It sounded muffled in the damp and the dark. 

“Yes?” The radio static was so heavy he could hardly hear Alastor under it. He got as close to the door as possible.

“It’s me.” He didn’t say who it was. Alastor knew. 

There was a pause. “And what does the King of Hell want with a lowly facility manager at this late hour?”

Again, the tone of his voice crackled and popped, as if it was going in and out of signal. It sounded…weaker this time. Suddenly gripped with concern, Lucifer wrapped his hand around the knob and –

“DON’T.” 

The high frequency static ripped through the air like a sonic blast. He winced as a ringing in his ears momentarily knocked him off balance. Something wet dripped onto his shoulder. He swept his finger across it, surprised when it came up red. Alastor had burst his eardrums. 

That nasty, annoying, hard headed–!

“Okay, no more Mr. Nice Demon,” he muttered under his breath. Louder, so Alastor could hear him, he announced, “I’m coming in!”

He threw the door open. Or tried to, at least. Neon green threads made it impossible to open it more than a crack. He could slice them open, of course, but he didn’t really want to strain Alastor any further. 

“Are you serious?” He exclaimed, just a few seconds away from stomping his foot like a little kid. He wouldn’t let Alastor get the satisfaction of pushing him to such depths. “Something’s going on with you, don’t try to deny it. I can help. So let me in.” 

“Why?” The static had abated a bit, enough so that Lucifer could hear Alastor’s true voice. It sounded tired, as if their little exchange had exhausted him.

Because I might have been waiting for you since Creation Day. Ha! That would scare him off for good. Besides, it wasn’t like he was sure Gabriel had been talking about Alastor. No reason irritating them both before he was sure of it. 

“For Charlie,” he said simply. It was half-true. He might have been willing to help the irritating demon for his daughter’s sake even without this accursed prophecy. Maybe. 

To his surprise, the glowing green threads fell away, and the door swung open. The room was darker even than the hallway. He couldn’t see a thing. He stepped inside, flinching when the static washed over him again, as sharp as a slap. 

“Stop there.” 

“How am I supposed to do anything from here?” He asked, frustrated at the unbending wall of darkness in front of him. 

“Look. But do not touch.” 

A swarm of fireflies blinked into being, and Lucifer raged. 

[tater-tot-jr]

I’m making this specifically at the request of @anonym-potato

Anyway, HSR 2.5 yapping. (Spoilers, duh.)

So, that was pretty neat. It wasn’t perfect, and had more glaringly obvious flaws than the last few patches, but it was enjoyable all around. I already know there are gonna be people calling this patch trash. It’s not. Don’t listen to them.

To get down to brass tacks, let’s talk about a few things that really stood out to me. The beginning was very very strong. Feixiao mentoring Yanqing was sweet, and it was funny to watch Danny get dragged back to prison for a third time. It was also nice to get some explanation about the situation with Hoolay’s imprisonment and learn just a tad bit more about what Dan Heng went through. Those three definitely had the side story of the patch, but they served their purpose well.

Before we go further I’d like to talk about some of the issues I had. They didn’t ruin my experience, but they were noticeable enough for me to talk about it. That Hoolay fight was super fucking hard, right? My friends (who have much better teams than I do and have actually put money into the game) also agree it was strangely difficult. I felt like he did too much damage to you and didn’t take enough damage, and that made his whole fight really clunky to play. Additionally, the pacing was a little wonky. Some sections felt like they were too early or too late in the story. The biggest example is the conclusion to the Dan Heng/Jing Yuan/Lingsha story. It felt a little forced and out of place. Although the actual content of the mission was great. Dan Heng just fucking chucking his spear at Taron after he had just spent forever talking about how they wouldn’t dare break the dragon people code was so funny.

Let’s talk characters. Yanqing finally got to complete his arc, and he got a massive W. His growth in 2.4 and 2.5 has been a highlight of both patches. I like how dedicated he is, I like how he’s really seemed to grow up. He had some really badass moments. He probably landed the single biggest blow on Hoolay we’ve ever seen, barring self inflicted wounds. I’m just happy he finally got to grow into himself a little more, if we don’t see much more of him I won’t be upset. He had a satisfying conclusion to his arc.

Okay okay listen, I know this was supposed to be Feixiao’s patch. I know. She was great! We got to learn a little bit more about her and her lore, and I think everyone loves our lacking general. But… she had her patch stolen lmao. Jiaoqiu was 2.5’s baby, he was the bitch of the hour, he was the star of the show. I’m not even mad about it either. Shit was peak.

Jiaoqiu’s arc with Hoolay was the best part of this patch. It was so hard to watch. They really didn’t pull their punches. I mean some of the things they choose to put Jiaoqiu through… Since you’ve gotten this far I don’t care about spoiling you. The way the choose to end his story in 2.5 was tragic. I was sure they were actually going to kill him, I was losing my mind. Him drinking the poison because he knew that Hoolay would want to drink his blood is so unbelievably badass. If he had actually died from that I don’t think anyone would be bashing the writing. I’ve already seen some debate about if they should’ve actually killed him, or if his survival is more interesting. Personally I like keeping him alive as a choice, specifically because they took his sight. The more I thought about that the more I realized how cruel it is. He’s a doctor, and a cook. You can’t really be a doctor while blind, and he probably couldn’t cook meals with the level of complexity he’d like. Not only that, but he’s clearly deeply traumatized by the experience. Wondering aloud if Feixiao is really speaking to him or if it’s a trick to kill him. He said he was content but honest to god I don’t believe him. I don’t think those are the words or the tone of someone who is actually at peace with their decision.

And his VA? Hello?? Brother must’ve had rent due or something because goddamn he killed it. Jiaoqiu kept getting more afraid, injured, and miserable as the story progressed and his VA managed to portray that without going over the top or sounding hammy. There was so much emotion in his voice, it was crazy. That was an all time great HSR vocal performance.

Those are most of my thoughts for now. I suppose I’ll probably be back for 2.6.