#rife with brainrot

[guppygiggles]

😵‍💫 Ehe...

[ventique18]

Although Levan never really physically appeared in the story (yet), he's already played such a big role in all of this. It's heavily suggested that his specialty is that he can see into the future, so he might have seen the possibility of a future where fae and humankind alike can coexist. He was the one who ingrained into Lilia the desire for peace. He must have predicted that Lilia would be raising his son, and so he tried so hard to make sure that the boy would grow up better than he or his wife have ever been; away from the hatred that haunted them for centuries, so that Malleus would become the mark of healing and rebirth for their kind.

Meleanor might have imparted all of who she physically is towards their son, but it is his heart that Levan made sure that he would carve-- a heart capable of understanding, of forgiveness, of unconditional love.

[creationsofimaginationsblr]

.

[kiraman]

tags by @bedknees

"It's impossible for a piece of media to have a perfect, thematically flawless ending."

Arcane:

[aetherose]

Following anyone first shouldn't take so much effort to calm my nerves and take the plunge like it tends to for me. Aaaaaaaaa

[morphids]

well, two can play that game (pt.2), abby anderson

part one here!

pairing: basketball player!abby anderson x afab! reader (college au)

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!!!! poc friendly!! r has curly hair, past hurt/comfort, past relationships, petnames used in place of actual name, bff!dina x r, very abby focused chapter, abby is incredibly sweet n patient until she fucks u… ellie and abby are sort of archenemies, a lil ellie slander, abby talks u thru it, r gets strapped down in a car 🫣, pussydrunk ramblings, praise, abby calls the strap her cock sorry 😮‍💨

summary: part 2: after ellie left you at the party, you find comfort in the arms of another. perhaps it’s better this way?

wc: 5k (not proofread im sorry y’all my eyes hurt)

2 posts in less than a month?? who am i?? anyway the abby brainrot is rife recently im sorry if its ass.

AS ALWAYS FUCK DRUCKMANN AND ALL ZIONISTS, resources for Palestine and the daily click linked on my pinned post!

—

You were left in the empty bathroom, alone and very pissed off. She ignores you for months, then does this? No, you were more than pissed. You fixed your makeup, more like wiped it all off, and readjusted your clothes, trying to somewhat freshen yourself up before facing the world outside. Your legs still slightly shaking as you thought back to your previous interaction with Ellie. How dare she? She's the one who left. You shuddered, a horrible feeling ripping itself up in your chest, you felt used.

You shook your head, taking one final glance at the mirror before exiting the bathroom. You really only had one mission, get the fuck out of here and go home. Not bothering to say goodbye to your friends, you'd send a text explanation to Dina, surely she'd understand. You just couldn't be here right now, after that. Your legs carried you down the stairs, tunnel vision towards the front door at the end. You frowned, feeling bad that you'd be leaving Dina's on her birthday so you glanced back trying to find her within the crowd. Upon looking, you spotted her and Jesse... and Ellie. She didn't leave? You panicked, instantly looking away, not wanting -Ellie- anyone to see you as you opened the door and strode a few steps in front the road.

Grabbing a single cigarette from your pack and lighting it, you reached for your phone and quickly typed out a message to Dina. As your shaking hands were drafting a whole essay about what had happened, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, so gentle it almost indicated that they were trying not to alarm you. Despite their efforts, you were a jumpy person so you swiftly reacted and turned to look at who was trying to get your attention.

"Hey, you alright?" The person revealed themselves as the one you had been enjoying speaking to before the night had been ruined.

"Oh, Abby," You were slightly shocked, admittedly. The little stunt that Ellie pulled must've given you some form of brain damage because Abby had ultimately left your thoughts, "Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled at her, at least what you thought was a smile, it must've looked more like an odd grimace because Abby then spoke,

"You sure, you look a bit... shaken." Her words were hesitant, eyes studying you, you must've looked as bad as you felt.

"Sorry, yeah, just..." you paused, "Need to get out of here." You took another drag, your cigarette almost at its end.

"Do you have a ride home?" She asked, those maldito crystal blue eyes furrowed with worry, she was not about to leave a distressed girl on the side of the street alone at night, Abby thought.

"I'll just book a taxi," you explained, not wanting to burden the poor woman. She didn't deserve to be brought into this mess. The plan of the night was for you to stay at Dina's, knowing that you were a bit broke currently, but that was no longer an option for you, especially if Ellie was planning on lingering around.

"I can drive you home, if you'd like." Abby stated, her firm hand resting on top of your shoulder, noticing you shake from the cold weather of the night. "I haven't drank all night, if that makes you feel better?" She firmed, the corner of her lips stretching out into a slight smile with hopes of helping you perk up a little. It was working.

"I don't want to trouble yo-"

"If you truly don't want to, that's okay," she reassured, "But if you're just saying that not to be a burden on me, that's silly. You look stressed, I'd like to help."

Her catching you out made you chuckle, you were once again, reminded that you had been having great conversations with her before that interruption. You let out a sigh,

"Okay, you got me, I'd really appreciate a ride." That caused her smile to grow, as she looked down at you, straightening herself up before grabbing her keys from her pocket.

"Perfect, let's go."

--

The car was slightly frosted over, a cool air flowing through the vehicle as Abby handled the steering wheel with the utmost confidence.

"Thank you,"

"You don't need to say thank you, glad to help," Abby spoke.

A few silent moments passed, questions noticeably waiting to be asked,

"So, what happened back there?"

You stilled, an air of shame washing over you,

"Um," You were slightly embarrassed, after all you were flirting with Abby at the party just seconds before the whole ordeal with Ellie, you didn't want her to think a certain way about you. Especially since she was so kindly driving you home.

"Something happened with my ex," You sighed, deciding to bite the bullet.

"Doesn't sound too good," She responded, eyes darting to glance at you before focusing back on the road. You didn't live that far from Dina's, you were probably due to arrive soon.

"That's an understatement," You paused, "I just don't understand women."

Abby let out a quick laugh,

"You and me both,"

"I mean, she ghosts me, then shows up with one of her new conquests and then fucks me in the bathroom because she saw me talking to you and leaves?" You blurted out, clearly needing to vent about it, you suddenly remembered you never ended up actually sending that text to Dina.

"Oh," Abby paused, clearly not expecting that, she recovered and quickly added, "That's awful, I'm sorry." You studied her a little, looking for any signs that she was disgusted or put off, there didn't seem to be any.

"Don't be, Ellie's not exactly the picture of healthy relationships."

"Wait, Ellie? Williams?"

"Yeah?"

"Damn, hasn't changed, has she?"

"What do you mean?" You pressed, recognising the familiar turns of your street, you mentally swore, of course it starts getting juicy just as you begin to reach home.

"Just... had an issue with her a while back, after one of our basketball games,"

Abby's car slowed to a stall, the lack of momentum had emphasised the hum of the engine and the repetitive blinks of the indicator.

Abby turned now to look at you, turning off the engine, her right arm resting on the steering wheel, your eyes couldn't help but glaze your attention on the curves of her muscles, you looked away before she caught you staring.

"Honestly, it was so long ago, but she kinda got involved with two girls on the team," You silently gaped at her, wordlessly allowing her to continue, this was news to you - did Dina know any of this?

"Basically, neither of them knew about it until Ellie got caught making out with someone else during that party after the game. We all kinda lost our shit with her and I think there was punches thrown? Kicked a lot of shit off between the team and kinda ruined the flow of our games for a while, we're all over it now but..."

"Oh," Was all you could say, you really dated Ellie not knowing anything about this. Has she always been the type of person to jump from ship to ship? You shuddered at the thought that you were just another addition to a rather extensive list.

"Sorry, I thought you would've known about it," Abby sympathised,

"No, it's not your fault." You sighed, at least now you knew the kind of person you were actually dealing with. It fuelled your anger, especially with how she behaved earlier.

A still second passed inside the car, the indicator still blinking and you suddenly felt all the more embarrassed.

"Well, sorry about all this, thank you for the ride home. I do appreciate it," You unclipped your seatbelt, turning your body slightly to grab the handle and make your exit.

"You gonna be alright?" Abby questioned, her blue eyes looking up at you, there was an unreadable expression within them, not pity but something else.

"I think? Probably just gonna rot for the next few hours," You paused, turning to face her fully. You were still on edge from before, and with this new information you didn't feel like being alone. You shouldn't do this, you shouldn't do it at all. She's probably so tired of your shit already. Yet the words forced themselves out faster than you could do anything to stop them,

"You don't have to, but would you like to come in? I could make you a hot drink or something as thanks?"

The corners of her lips turned upwards,

"I'd love to,"

—

You had brewed two mugs of hot chocolate, turning away from the counter to face the tall blonde that now sat in your living room.

"Thanks," she smiled as she took the hot cup from your grasp. Joining her on the couch, you hesitated - what now?

Do you pop a movie on? Do you play music? Your brain was begin to work overtime as you suddenly felt awkward.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," you say, finally adjusting to get comfortable on the pillows.

"You were staring at your drink for a while, there." She chuckled, blowing on the hot drink before taking a sip whilst maintaining eye contact with you.

"Got lost in the sauce again," You joked, not wanting to speak about Ellie any longer.

"Happens often?" She teased, one corner of her lips quipped up slightly.

"More than I'd like to admit,"

"Thanks again, for the ride."

"You don't have to keep saying thank you, angel, it wasn't even a ten minute drive." She explained, you felt more at ease. Abby truly was something else, she had this comforting air around her where you just felt safe and understood.

"Still, you didn't have to,"

"Darling, I'm gonna need you to stop saying thank you for basic human decency," She insisted, her tone firm but gentle, her eyebrows moved in a way you could only read as 'you know?'.

"You don't owe me anything, alright? I just wanted to make sure you got home okay." Abby proclaimed, her voice lowering, becoming shy, almost. "If it helps, I'm glad Dina introduced us."

You felt a tug in your chest as you processed her words. You met her eyes, a warm feeling washed over you, uh oh.

"I'm glad she introduced us, too."

She seemed satisfied with that, a smile coating her lips as she turned her attention back away to her drink.

You decided to get yourself off the couch, Abby's light eyes following your trail, still encompassing the almost finished mug with her hands. You bent down, on your knees in front of her, Abby was suddenly glad your back was facing her, as her eyes would've certainly made you privy to where her gaze had landed.

You reached underneath your coffee table, aimlessly throwing your hand underneath it into the separate compartments. Abby was mentally cursing herself for looking, yet your shirt had ridden up slightly, the bend of the dimpled bottom of your back leading to the perfect curve of your ass— Abby looked away, she didn't want to think thoughts like that about you, not under these circumstances, at least. Stop being such a lesbian, Abby- She thought.

Truth is, Abby really liked talking to you at Dina's party. She was enthralled as soon as Dina brought you over to her, your thick curls perfectly framing your face, she thought back to when you told her your name, the way your velvety lips moved with the words and the way your eyes sparkled as you took in her frame.

She quickly discovered you were easy to talk to and there was clearly mutual attraction there, but she didn't want to pressure you into anything, especially since Abby figured Ellie had done enough damage for one night. Abby thought to what you said, how all of that happened because Ellie saw you talking with her, it angered her, you deserved so much better than that, but it also gave her an odd feeling of subtle pride. Ellie felt jealous over her? Well, then she should've acted right, Abby thought, thoughts interrupted by your voice.

"Ah!" You breathed out, finally grabbing what you were looking for. With your free hand, you pulled the hem of your shirt back down a bit, turning to Abby who was busy downing the rest of her drink to avoid looking at you.

She propped the mug on the table, before muttering,

"Jenga?" A chuckle escaped her, a warm feeling grew in her chest as she saw the impish look on your face,

"Come on, it's old but it's a classic— and, it has questions on them, what do you say?" Abby took in your features, eyes glinting with excitement and lips curved into an expectant smile. Her breathing sped up, air suddenly trapped.

"How can I say no to that?"

—

"I give it a week." Dina exclaimed, an isolated smirk on her face, you had just told her about your night with Abby after her party. You had ended up just playing silly board games and talking most of the night, to Dina's discontent apparently as a she was currently placing bets on when you and Abby will undoubtedly sleep together, her words.

"Dina!"

"Come on, you're lesbians. It's the prophecy."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at her as you secured your earrings on.

You glanced over at yourself on the full length mirror in Dina's bedroom, unsure.

"You look hot, don't worry," she smiled, "Lowers my bets to less than three days." Dina finished with a wink, walking with you to the entrance of the house.

Her confidence only seemed to make you more nervous, Abby had invited you to a party with her teammates, you would've dragged Dina with you but lucky for you, she had already made plans with Ellie.

Ellie. Even mentally, her name was thought of with disdain. You hadn't seen her since that night, nor did you want to. Right now, your focus was on Abby, and you didn't want to let her have enough power to sour your entire night.

Your phone buzzed, a message from Abby saying she was parked outside,

"She here?"

"Yeah,"

"Alright, well good luck~" She gushed, almost pushing you out the door. Dina felt content, knowing that she was helping you get over Ellie, even a little. She loved you both, but she couldn't sit back and watch that particular fire burn itself out.

You stepped out of Dina's place, making your way over to the only car outside you recognised, where Abby was standing in between the driver's seat and the car door. God, she looked good.

Abby glanced up from her phone before smiling widely at you.

"Hey, pretty, you ready?" Her voice was so soft, you found yourself hanging on every syllable she uttered. You tried to control your facial response to her words, even though, you are almost certain that she knows exactly how you feel about her. She seemed to get this impish expression in her eyes. Mirth.

You wonder if she feels the same thing.

"Born ready." You smile back up at her, Abby opens the passenger door for you and waits until you're fully settled into the seat before shutting the door, making her way around to her side and joining you.

Clicking her seatbelt into place and switching on the ignition, her larger hand finds its way on to the top of your thigh, fingers spaced out confidently as her thumb strokes your skin over your jeans.

You fight the urge to adjust your body, suddenly hyperaware of the way your body is reacting to such a simple act.

"Let's go then,"

—

Abby stops by her house before the party, had to grab something apparently.

She parked her car inside the blocky carpark for her apartment building, managing to find a space somewhere in this car maze. Turning the ignition off, she moved her hand off your thigh, not before turning her gaze towards you.

It looks like she has something to say, yet no words escape her.

You take the opportunity to look at her, her features, your eyes trailing down her face to her plump lips.

"You're beautiful, you know." You say to her, you feel yourself enter some sort of daze. No other thoughts, all you can think and inhale is Abby. Your mind completely clouded and the only clarity being her.

You see a flash of red cross her cheeks, though she quickly steeled her expression, the left corner of her lips tilting up as her eyes landed on your own lips.

Abby clicks off her seatbelt, her hands coming back to return to their comfortable spot on your thighs, slightly wrapping her fingers around the outside of them as she lightly grabs you a little closer to her.

Your faces are inches apart now, you glance down at her lips, clicking off your own seatbelt before placing yourself on her lap in the driver's seat. You connect your lips with hers as your hands meet the back of her neck.

Abby quickly responds and returns the kiss, tightening her grip on your thighs, her other hand running up your side, softly making contact with your back.

You slowly wind your hips across hers, dragging yourself up using the force of your legs which are spread over her lap.

Her mouth opens slightly as you start making out. Tongue softly brushing over her bottom lip before you gently bite and pull her skin down, causing a moan to escape her lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're going to make me do something stupid." Her voice low, warm with honey.

Her hands crawl back down to the top of your jeans, underneath the fabric to meet the back of your ass, kneading your skin with a strong grip, groaning as she was actually touching you after cursing herself out for even glancing at your exposed back the other night. A part of her was relieved that you wanted this just as bad as she did.

"Like what?" You tease, placing gentle kisses on her neck, alternating different amounts of pressure as you kissed up to behind her ear.

"Like fuck you in my car." You shuddered.

"Maybe that's what I'm after," You drag your hips across hers again, meeting her lips once more in an ardent kiss.

"Careful," She whispered, fingers tightening around the ample skin of your cheeks, pecking your lips lightly, "Don't do anything you'd regret."

You chuckled, "Baby if I regret anything, it wouldn't be you." Looking at her through your lashes, eyes doe and wanting, lips plump and swollen, Abby found it harder to be a voice of reason, especially when the very picture of enticement was sat pretty on her lap, uttering words that were ever so sweet and inviting. Her resolve was dropping, made obvious by the way her chest raised and sank with each breath, her pupils blowing out the blue of her eyes slightly. She decided, then, that you were going to be the death of her.

Your lips met again, the pacing quickened this time, "Well, in that case," she muttered, taking advantage of the way her hands were already cupping your ass to slowly drive your hips over her thigh. Abby inched her head into the curve of your neck as she left feathery pecks on the supple skin, lifting her knee an inch higher to graze your centre, the tips of her eyebrows lifting as she spoke, “Can I?”

Needing to take a deep breath to calm your speeding heart rate, thinking if she really needed to ask at this point when you were so clearly turned on right now. “I swear, I’ll die right now, if you don’t,” You managed to let out, trying to rub yourself against her as the pressure building up was getting unbearable. Abby breathed out a soft laugh, resuming her attack on your neck and up to your earlobe, you almost cried from the sensitivity that eagerness had cursed you with, you were thankful that night had fallen, the darkened shadows of the late hours hiding your depraved salacity.

Tongue grazing the skin underneath your ear, Abby shuffled a little in her seat, exposing something solid underneath your leg, concealed under her jeans, your eyebrows furrowed and eyelids jolted open, had that been there this whole time? The newly discovered information had your mind reeling, obscene thoughts reigning your head as you realised she must’ve been walking around with that thing. You wondered if she always walked around with that thing. The thought was too much, your core became increasingly warmer and damp, throbbing as she kneaded you over the plastic extension of herself.

“Fuck,” you gasped, mewling at the rigidity of her strap through your clothes, rubbing up against you. You couldn’t hold your tongue, “You always keep that on you?” voice breathy as her hands met the skin of your torso underneath your shirt, your stomach tensing as the skin rippled with shivers from her touch. Not even letting her answer your question, you spoke again, voice wavering, “We’re gonna be late to meet your friends,”

“Honestly, pretty girl, I couldn’t give a damn about that right now,” Abby’s voice deepened, coated with a thick wave of carnality. Her wandering hands gently lifted your top, exposing your breasts to her as she placed her tongue over the hardened peaks, before speaking again, “Not when you’re in front of me looking like that,” Her demeanour was composed, trying to mask her ardour and the slight tremble in her hands that she prayed you didn’t notice, but she, too, felt the innate fervency that was electrifying the air. She looked you over, shirt lifted, mouth agape, body gleaming in the scarce light from the windows, twitching with anticipation. Your eyes watching hers, cheeks warming under her heavy gaze. You were absolutely delightful, and she couldn’t hold herself back from indulging, nor did she want to.

Her hands finally reached the waistband of your jeans, fingers twining around the belt loops as she pulled them down to your knees, allowing you to rushingly pull off the remaining fabric that clung to your legs, carelessly shoving them down somewhere to the bottom of the car floor. The remaining baggy shirt draping over your thighs. It was a sight for sore eyes, Abby thought. You unzipped her pants, eagerly pulling out her strap that she had been walking around with. You looked up at her, a hint of a smirk on your lips, Abby placed one hand at the base, angling the tip against your covered slit, watching as your slick seeped further over your lace underwear, leaving a distinctive translucent mark of your arousal. You moaned, eyes shutting as you bent your head down against her clavicle, hiding yourself from the embarrassment you felt at being so exposed in your desire for her. She wasn’t even in, yet, for fuck’s sake, and you were already weak.

“Don’t hide, baby,” She uttered, voice quiet and sweet as she bit back her own moans at the sight. Abby slipped the tip under the hem of your panties, the stiff cap of her strap rolling over your folds, spreading your slick up to your clit, in full sight as the thin, wet fabric of your underwear clung to her shape, exposing the sinful silhouette of her strap under your panties, “Wanna look at you.”

Abby smirked as she felt how little friction it took for her strap to slide up against your folds, “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet,” Her voice tense, groaning as she watched her own movements, teeth grabbing the bottom of her own lip as the tip became covered in slick, hidden beneath the fabric, “All wet and ready, could just slide right in,”

“Abby, p-please, can’t take it,” You whimpered, the pressure against your clit was stirring you towards insanity, but it wasn’t enough, not when she was teasing you with the damn thing, not when she was so, so close. You couldn’t take her relentless teasing any longer, spurred and waiting as you could only sit there as she decided to mess with you, you thought you’d come right there and then.

“Please what, baby?” She smirked, the edge of her lip tilting up as she watched you lose more and more of your patience, hips jutting towards her as a means to feel more of her. Lips meeting the edge of your jaw as she left the softest kisses on your skin, pausing to look over at you, the way your expressions morphed into desperation and eyebrows pinched together, just waiting for her to move properly. “Please, just p-put it inside, need to feel you inside, Abby-please” The desperation in your voice pulled at her, her own heat throbbing as she admired you, thankful that someone up there had blessed her with this sight tonight. Whichever lesbian gods resided up there to gift her such a vision. The sight of you falling apart and begging for her made her lose all the remaining composure she tried so hard to cling on to, as she slid up into your walls, you welcoming her as she slipped right in. You were so wet that she could hear the perverted sounds of your pussy sucking her in, your hands clawed at the back of her neck, head against her collarbone as you bit into her shoulder, grasping on to any remaining dregs of stability you could find. Your hips began to roll against hers on their own, seeking their own path.

“There, that’s it, baby. See, how you can take it,” Her words were anything but innocent, yet the saccharine tone of her voice was pulling you further into your climax, like a siren dragging you into deepwater, you were rendered wordless at this point, having been so turned on for so long must’ve melted your brain to mush, so you could only lean against her and ride her out. Could only sit there and take it, “You’re such a good girl for me, baby, that’s it,”

“You feel.. s-so fucking good, Abby,” Your babbles seemed to exacerbate Abby’s movements, lack of coherent words spurring her on as the harder thrusts hit the back of your cervix, drawing out the loudest sound you’ve ever heard be forced out from between your lips, you lifted your head to look at her, she looked just as ruined as you. Her eyes fixed on where you and her strap connected, folds gripping her each time she pulled out, “Fuck, baby, you’re taking me so fucking well, like you were born for my cock,” Her words were now blatantly sinful, Abby’s head just as mushed as yours felt as she rambled, drunk on feeling as if the strap truly was attached to her. She was usually such a gentlewoman, patient and respectful, but now? In this moment you saw another side to her, one that was so carnal in her desire and knew exactly what to say to make you see double. “I can almost feel you clenching around me,”

“Fuck-mm, Abby, I’m so close,” Her strap was splitting, your eyes shut as the repeated hits against your walls reverberated through your system, you bounced your hips against hers, sucking her further in. The insides of your thighs were drenched, your slick having dripped down all over her strap as she moved. You felt your brain almost explode when Abby’s fingers met with your clit, rubbing against the bud as her other hand reached up to grasp your jaw, with a little pressure, just enough for your plump lips to jut out slightly as she reconnected your lips. Her name sounded so sweet on your tongue, the familiar swell of pride returned, proud that it was her name you were currently moaning out, hers and hers alone. She wondered if Ellie ever made you like this, or if it was reserved just for her.

You could die happy, you thought, if this was the last humanly pleasure you felt. Her tongue moved against yours, before biting your bottom lip, you couldn’t focus on anything but her, the way she was making you feel. Your vision becoming slightly blurred as the pressure in your lower stomach built up, tightening as you felt it increase and increase as her fingers played with the bundle of nerves paired with the repeated beats of her pressing herself into you. Her hand loosened its grip on your jaw, she reached to the hem of your shirt, lifting it to reveal your breasts, nipples stiff as the movement of your bodies made your breasts spring up and down, the skin of your ass recoiled as gravity worked its magic, Abby was entranced, mesmerised as she watched you glow closer. Your hands grabbed at her, running down from her neck to reach her well-built biceps, nails digging into the buff muscles, drawing tiny red marks which contrasted against her skin. Playing basketball must really keep her busy.

Abby was no fool, she had clocked you staring at them enough, she let out a grunt as she felt the sharp sting on your nails. The act prompted her, losing the grip over her mouth as she was incited to new levels. “Like my arms, sugar?”

“Abby..” you mewled, pushing your face into her neck in the embarrassment that you had been clocked, “They’re just so big,”

Abby chuckled, “I’ll show you what they’re capable of soon enough,” Her words went straight to your core, making you clench tightly around her.

“For now, I want you to come all over my cock, sweetheart,” She grabbed at the skin of your breasts, kneading her large hands over them, pulling and tweaking your nipples as your body fell into her, lips open as the overstimulation hit its peak, eliciting a final drawl from you as your body shook against her. “Fuck… there you go, baby,” she dragged your orgasm out, still pushing her cock into you as you rode it out, “Fuck.. fucking orgasm lasted so long,” you sighed into her neck, mumbling voice wobbled as your legs twitched against her, spilling your cum all over her strap as it leaked out of you. She slowed her thrusts, keeping herself inside you until you were done. Your sensitive walls still reacting to her.

You felt completely worn out as she finally slipped out of you, you shyly lifted your head to make contact with her gaze, her eyes warm and gleaming as she attempted to hold back a smile, “That was..” You could hardly finish your sentence, placing a soft kiss against her lips as she grabbed your neck, holding your head up and rubbing her thumb over the soft skin of your jaw. “Wow.”

“Speechless, huh?” She couldn’t contain herself, an air of cockiness in her demeanour, her mind wandered to what this meant for you both now.

“If you think we’re still going, I have bad news,” You muttered, still in a daze as a wave of sleepiness hit you,

“Sweetheart, we’re not going anywhere but upstairs to my apartment,” You smiled at her, this was exciting. You felt comforted with her, “Don’t think I’m not returning the favour, by the way,” Abby laughed, nodding as she kissed your neck.

“Shit, I owe Dina 20 bucks,”

“Wait, what?”

—

like, comment or reblog to your hearts desire if ya enjoyed :p

[thewisecheerio]

Messmer's Insignia

This is Messmer's insignia, stamped all over his Keep, as well as his soldiers' shields and tents. This post is going to be a canon-compliant lore analysis, meaning that not all of this will be explicitly mentioned in canon but will attempt to be compliant with what we do know explicitly.

There are a few important elements coming together to make the insignia: 1. The left-hand flame 2. The right-hand woven ring 3. The outer ring 4. The overlaid, central spear

I'd like to pick these apart in the same way you might pick apart a heraldic coat of arms to look at what each piece might mean individually, as well as what the placement of some elements relative to others might symbolize.

The Left-Hand Flame

Along with the horizontal panel of flames, this is obviously symbolic of Messmer's flame. However, I do want to note that you can absolutely see a cute little winged serpent shape hidden in the flame's design with its head on the right, its tail on the left, and the central portion of the flame forming a wing. (Or maybe it's a dragon. Or maybe I need to seek help for my advanced brainrot, which is causing me to see things. You decide!) Given that Messmer's Phase 1 design—and his public persona—is a mixture of flame and specifically winged serpents, this seems an apt way to capture both ideas in one. A bit on the nose maybe, but hey, his day job is genocide, not graphic design (insert obligatory gRaPhIc dEsIgN iS mY pAsSiOn here).

The Right-Hand Ring

Many people have connected this to Marika's circlet, which I'm not sure I see. Her circlet is a lot more angularly braided, rather than the smooth coil shown here. Plus, I think that Marika's circlet is supposed to be similar to Miquella's Circlet of Light, in that it signifies a (fully) divine aspect of the wearer—something Messmer assuredly is not, since he is a demigod without grace (or, at least, with only the artificial grace bestowed by Marika's seal alone). But either way, none of what I'm about to say contradicts this interpretation, and you can have both be true at the same time.

Rather, I think a different interpretation might be that this is intertwined serpents, similar to the shape his own winged serpents make as they coil around his body. The winged serpent is typically a symbol of Caduceus in alchemical lore, of which Elden Ring is rife. The Caduceus is explicitly two intertwined snakes topped with wings. So that seems like the most straightforward interpretation for what this might be a nod to.

To learn more about Caduceus's role in alchemy, I highly recommend the two videos linked below by Max Derrat and Smoughtown. But the short of it is that the binding ritual that produces a rebis—a divine, single (merged) soul of masculine and feminine energies (e.g. Marika/Radagon)—requires some sort of binding material to happen properly. In alchemical lore, this binding material is the "prima materia", or the formless base of all matter in the universe associated with chaos and the void. The material is often referred to as Mercurius, named for the god Mercury who carries a Caduceus staff. Thus, we end up with binding/prima materia = Mercurius = Caduceus = 2 intertwined serpents.

(Side note: This is also an EXCELLENT reason to believe that Messmer is the son of Marika and Radagon. The White Queen and Red King of alchemy are often shown with the Caduceus between them, which would seem to fit well with the idea of Marika and Radagon having a child between them that is associated with dual serpents.)

I also think there is a connection to the (singular) base serpent by way of the alchemical Caduceus, however. Besides the prima materia/uniting matter, Caduceus is also often used as a symbol of duality. Namely, it is a symbol of the tension between "higher" and "base" desires, with the former being associated with wisdom and the latter being associated with chaos. We absolutely see this in Messmer's lore, as we learn from the Winged Serpent Helm that his winged serpents act as wise friends that keep his base serpent in check. As such, the duality of the Caduceus may also represent the duality of the winged and base serpents. So this coiled symbol involving two snakes might also represent the singular base serpent indirectly, making it function like an image-based palimpsest. When we peel back the layers of one, we find evidence of the other.

The Outer Ring

I mostly think this is just meant to be a uniting graphical element. However, it is cute that it kind of evokes the imagery of a Great Rune, all of which are rings. Messmer does not have a Great Rune, as he did not participate in the shattering. So instead of an actual Great Rune, he ends up with this imitation insignia instead. Adorable. Maybe this is why his otherwise heraldic-looking insignia was designed as a circle instead of the more classical forms that heraldic coats-of-arms tend to take.

The Central Spear

In the center of the insignia, we get a spear wrapped with a singular(?) serpent. The question mark is there because we do not actually see the serpent tail, so you would be reasonable to question whether this is truly a singular serpent, or something like an unending ouroboros. (Or, you know, both.) I'm going to go forward with the assumption that this is a singular serpent. Cutely, the head of the spear forms the serpent's head.

Obviously, the most straightforward part is that the spear is Messmer's spear, the Spear of the Impaler. I find it highly apt that the spear *overlays* the other elements of the insignia, almost dominating them. War is definitely the thing Messmer is most publicly known for, as a myriad of NPCs—both spirit and corporeal—curse him for the honorless war that he has wrought without mentioning much else about him. Meanwhile, his internal relationship with his flame and serpentine nature is something really only known privately. After all, the Fire Knight set tells us that it was only those few knights under his personal command that knew the truth of how he felt regarding his flame and his serpentine nature.

Armor of the Fire Knights under Messmer the Impaler's personal command. Distinguished by its red cape and twin golden snakes which adorn the neck, enhancing incantations of Messmer's flame. These were the only ones who truly knew Messmer. His flames, like serpents. The painful fate that accompanied his accursed form.

Building on this, the dominating nature of this graphical element is important in another way. The flame and other serpent imagery seems to be something intrinsic to Messmer: he was born with a serpentine nature, and was either born with or cursed with flame very early in his existence, too. Meanwhile, war is something that was *imposed upon him* as a request by his mother, as we learn from his armor set. He doesn't do genocide just because he enjoys fighting like Godfrey or Radahn; rather, he does it on behalf of Marika and ends up pretty sad, tired, and self-hating because of it. In this way, warfare ends up as an intrusive element in his life, similar to the way the spear almost seems to be a dominating, nearly intrusive element in the insignia's design.

The serpent coiled around the spear is also really interesting, because it appears to be a singular serpent in contrast to the dual coil on the right. The most straightforward interpretation is that this is a nod to his hidden inner nature as the (singular) base serpent.

Given what we learned above about the Caduceus itself symbolizing a tension between higher and base desires—and repeated in Messmer's story as tension between the wise winged serpents and base serpent—I find it apt that the snake more associated with base desires is the one wrapped around the tool of war. I enjoy the link between warfare and base desires, as it ties into Elden Ring's overall themes around cycles of violence, explicitly characterizing the desire for violence and war as base.

The Central Spear: An Alternative Interpretation

This next bit is unhinged brainrot territory and what I think is a weaker interpretation of the spear symbolism than the above, so be warned. But I also think something interesting can be said if you look at this as a nod to the Rod of Asclepius. Asclepius is the god of healing and medicine, and the Rod of Asclepius (containing a single serpent wrapped around it) is often used as a symbol of medicine both in real life hospitals as well as in alchemical lore. Messmer's most obvious connection to medicine is Marika, as the Blessing of Marika and Remembrance of the Impaler items tell us that she attempted to heal him before finally gouging out his eye to seal the base serpent away instead.

So if this is a nod to his mother's attempts to heal him, two things are true. First, this is an adorable nod to mom from Elden Ring's biggest momma's boy. Second, one might also read into it that these attempts to heal him of something he was naturally born with—and isn't intrinsically evil in and of itself, as far as I can tell—were actually intrusive.

Certainly from Marika's perspective, she worried that others would judge Messmer for his serpentine nature. In some sense, she was right, as Messmer's followers (like Black Knight Andreas) specifically rebelled against him after learning of it. But if your child is disabled or otherwise different in some way and people will judge them for it, is that actually a reason to seek a cure rather than an accommodation, especially if the cure comes with other costs? The answer is complex and varies by individual, of course. But in Messmer's case, we see signs of self-hatred and even neglect as a result of being taught that the base serpent is intrinsically evil. For evidence of this, see the linked post about how there are bits of shed skin on the base serpent, which is a symptom of neglect for snakes!

If Marika's cure resulted in self-hatred and neglect of a critical aspect of his being, can it really be said to be medicinal? Or is it just as intrusive an element in his life as warfare seems to be? I think if you believe the latter, this could be another reason to read this part of the design as intrusive and dominating over the other elements in the insignia that represent his natural self. That said, I think the base serpent interpretation is the more lore-accurate one, but it's fun to think about what it might mean as a symbol of Marika's attempted healing, anyway!

To Sum Up...

So overall while the design is maybe a slightly messy conglomeration of ideas and images, I think this insignia gives us so much. We get fire imagery, winged serpent imagery, base serpent symbolism, a graphic palimpsest of the winged and base serpents and the duality of man, warfare, warfare as a base desire, maybe a cute nod to Great Runes, and maybe even a cute nod to Momma and her attempts to heal. In this way, I think it functions in the same way as coats of arms do in heraldic design: they can also be pretty graphically messy, but it's on purpose to fit a lot of symbolism into a small space.

[longer-than-i-should-admit]

(Mildly spoilery ramble about Solavellan and that damned lyre in [one of] Solas' hideout[s] below the cut.)

I am an inconsolable mess thinking about this sad old bastard knowing how to play that thing. For someone several millennia old it only makes sense he might have picked it up at some point a time or two. It's then only a logical extension of supposition to conclude that he might be able to sing, as well, as eloquent and measured with his words and cadence as he is. (Yes this is a Hallelujah post bc the brainrot's real.)

Imagine Rook freeing Solas from the Fade prison in preparation for all the stuff going on. He's weak and tired from the experience and needs to recoup a bit—not bedrest, but Rook hounds him to relax around the Lighthouse for a while and take it easy.

Lavellan's back, advising Rook or helping Varric or w/e. She's doing her best to give him space. It's awkward and it's tense and they barely even exchange words when they do happen to cross paths. (Did this place feel so small before? Rook wonders.)

Solas is obviously going stir crazy. He's read all the books in the library numerous times before. He cannot cast very much if he's to conserve his mana for whatever threats they face. He's decidedly a little burnt out on exploring the Fade, just for a while. He starts micro managing the crew, pedantic and critical at his worst due to boredom, stress, and worry all at once. They plead Rook to distract him, take him out to town somewhere to shop or some shit, anything.

So Rook brings him the lyre from his hideout in Minrathous. It's dusty by then and horribly out of tune, but no one dared to touch it. Rook isn't even sure that the Dread Wolf has any musical capabilities, wonders if this was part of one of his many ruses (never trust the humble guises of Fen'Harel, they think), but it's something to keep his hands busy, his mind occupied, and his mouth shut for a time.

Solas looks displeased, unimpressed. Put upon by Rook's unspoken meaning to keep himself busy and occupied and out of their way. He's unused to relying on others to carry the weight of such a task, but he acknowledges by now that the Veilguard knows what they're doing and does it well. Better than he could manage by himself.

So it works, for a while. They don't see him out and about. He recluses himself into his rooms and only emerges when he's hungry or someone comes to ask him for help—which does visibly improve his mood. Oftentimes he has pigments staining his hands and plaster smudged unconsciously across the glass-sharp arches of his cheeks, too. The furrow between his brows aren't so deep now that he's had some time to decompress, even if it was unwilling at first.

It doesn't last forever. Something happens. Rook defers to Lavellan. Solas overhears and protests. He doesn't want her involved, and Rook knows keenly by now that it's only in vain effort to keep her away from the immediate danger that the Evanuris pose. It's among the first times they've actually had an extended conversation and it's to argue. Varric told Rook that was normal for them—debating was one of their favorite pastimes, once upon a time, though for different reasons. Lavellan would provoke Solas into ranting to ruffle his feathers and to hear his passion. Solas would cave because he knew that even if she did not end up agreeing with his viewpoint on things, she would still hear him out and give him credit where it was due. A balance of the difference between knowledge and wisdom, a scale of moderation between righteous indignation and the humility of admitting the limitation of one's perspective and experience.

It's rife with undertones, however. Pointed remarks that Rook doesn't readily understand but can intuit easily enough. Rook didn't have to know that they were in a complicated (romantic?) situation to tell that there was much tension, history, and uncertainty in the undercurrents of their bickering. Rook steps in before it gets too vicious, watching with trepidation as the battle of wits and logic gave way to old hurts and unhealed wounds of emotions too strong to ignore during as dire times as these.

They part and put the length of the Lighthouse's grounds between them to clear the air. Rook sighs and wonders how in the Void they would be able to stop the end of the world if two lovers could not smooth things over long enough to cooperate.

That night, at supper, Solas emerges with a brumous cloud brewing over his shoulders (not literally, but just about; Rook can feel the charge of his mana as acutely as the tumult of his thoughts in the back of their mind) and takes a set next to the hearth, lyre in hand. Lavellan stiffens from her seat at the end of the table, watching him with wary and skeptical eyes. Solas' fingers thrum over the strings lightly, filling the abruptly silent room with a rasp of harmony...

And he began to sing.

Rook doesn't recognize the song at first, but within the first couple of lines they watch Lavellan's eyes mist over. Soon enough, the meaning becomes clear: it's the tale of the Inquisitor—and thus her connection to Solas, the most he's ever revealed to any of the Veilguard intentionally or indirectly both. But Rook can tell that it means more to the Inquisitor than anyone else. His voice is plaintive and sincere, reverent like he uttered a benediction. Rook sees for the first time the strength that lay between them, the intimacy, the unique relationship only two unwilling religious visionaries could share.

Despite the tears glittering along her lashlines, Lavellan offers Solas a watery smile once he finishes and clears her throat before asking him if he remembered the shanty Maryden used to play in the Herald's Rest. Which one? Solas asks, looking an odd mixture of embarrassed and relieved at once with his ears flushed bright pink. Any of them, Lavellan supplies. I never knew you played. You never asked, Solas says, then amends with a gentler tone, but I never offered, either.

Things get better after that. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief that the two finally found some common ground upon which to make amends.

They learned that Lavellan could sing, too.

Their harmonies echoed through the arcane-saturated stones of the Lighthouse on some occasions after that, filling the empty rooms with steady rhythm, but not always in melody. The same cadence that guided Solas' ode to his once unwitting Herald seeped into their every shared conversation, be it about the Fade or anything else.

Rook found that it became one of their favorite songs—a missing piece they never noticed before. That Solas eventually thanked them for it was an added side benefit.

[laurenkmyers]

the hyunchan brainrot is fucking rife today

what do you mean hyunjin stripped chan on stage? what do you MEAN?!

[anistarrose]

Why are A CYBER'S WORLD and WELCOME TO THE CITY... Like That?

[Title text: "Why are A Cyber's World and Welcome to the City.... Like that?" with the track names in all caps. End text.]

I know now is a weird time to come down with Deltarune Brain-Wormes (affectionate), but as is always the case when I come down with the Brain-Wormes, I rewatched the Andrew Cunningham video on Gaster's Theme, as if this time I'd make a new connection that somehow eluded me all six or so times before. Except... this time, I actually did realize something!

For context, Andrew identifies a Gaster's Theme reference in Welcome to the City with "low-ish" probability of brainrot, ie a relatively reliable quote of the leitmotif — and he finds this mildly vexing, as did I. Because Scarlet Forest has a very strong Gaster quote, and that makes two consecutive "second areas" in Dark Worlds with Gaster-y music, yet no clear thematic connection to the good doctor — unless you presume Gaster to be the egg man, who appears in both areas — but then A Cyber's World immediately quashes that connection, by sharing the Gaster-adjacent melody that Welcome to the City has, and we all know Cyber Field has no egg man.

So, like... that clearly begs the question, what's up with that? Waiter, there's some Gaster in my Cyber World! Is this not a reliable Gaster's Theme sighting after all? Did Toby just let it slide in by accident?

Well, I don't think so. And upfront, I don't actually have a lore explanation for the Gaster hints. But I do have evidence that Toby did it on purpose, for some reason — and that we might need to pay more attention to Cyber Field and Cyber World going forward. Because, I mean, just look at this:

[ID from alt: a screenshot of the 6th and 17th tracks in the Deltarune official soundtrack. They are A Cyber's World? and Welcome to the City respectively, both written in all caps. End ID.]

I don't even know where to begin with the weirdness of these two tracks, as they appear on the soundtrack. I mean, they're capitalized! They're the only capitalized tracks from Chapter 2 that aren't Spamton-related!

Gaster talks in all caps! The secret bosses, which are rife with musical and textual Gaster references in their own right, talk in all caps! The only Chapter 1 tracks in caps are Another Him, The World Revolving, and The Holy! Almost as Gaster-y as you can get! Yet while we're back in the Card Kingdom, neither Field of Hopes and Dreams, nor Scarlet Forest, are in all caps! So why are their analogues?

And if that wasn't weird enough... Cyber Field and Cyber City have the sixth and seventeenth track, respectively! You know, like stats of 666, like fun values in the 60s? Like Entry Number 17? Chapter 1's sixth and seventeenth track, Cliffs and Checker Dance, are neither in caps nor otherwise reeking of Gaster! Genuinely, what the hell is going on here?

...Did Toby literally just happen to notice these tracks were 6th and 17th respectively, and throw in the caps to fuck with us? The Gaster motif sightings make me seriously doubt it. And the fact that Kris and Susie's first foray into the Cyber World, walking on green platforms that by all means look identical to the Cyber Field proper is suspiciously silent, with no sign of the Cyber Field theme — until Queen shows up with two whole tracks, ensuring A Cyber's World gets pushed back to Track 6 — well, it could absolutely just be to build an unsettling atmosphere while the player is presumably disoriented. But there's so many Gaster-colored flags here that it needs to be examined, right?

The only other thing I can think of is how Gaster really put emphasis on "fields" in the Chapter 2 announcement... but that doesn't explain why Field of Hopes and Dreams isn't equally suspicious, nor account for the weirdness of Cyber City:

[ID from alt: a tweet from Gaster, via the Undertale account, reading: "The second field. The second connection." in all caps with a link to deltarune.com. End ID.]

Truly, I don't know. This seems like something we might not be able to solve with the information we have as of Chapter 2, but it's simultaneously hard to leap to that conclusion when this doesn't even look that much like a recurring pattern from Chapter 1. Is Gaster or a related entity naming these tracks — like how Gaster names certain "devices" in the code all caps, for things like the Goner Maker sequence? I mean, maybe, but then why? I have more questions than answers.

In summary, I guess... you know how Deltarune showed us that in hindsight, Waterfall in Undertale had been really freaking suspicious, in some ways we recognized but other ways that were right under our noses? I just think that Cyber Fiend and Cyber City might wind up in a similar position, after future Deltarune chapters.

[deepspacedukat]

The Baker's Baker - Part One

So, this is the fic I made the poll about. 75% of you said you were at least open to other David Birney characters depending on the character, so here it is. I honestly have no excuse. David Birney played a hot character in "Murder, She Wrote" and I have caught the brainrot. Spoilers for S10E3 "The Legacy of Borbey House." I know I changed part of the story, but it doesn't stray too far from the original, hence the spoiler warning. I'm not tagging anyone for this fic, because, even though some Letant Enjoyers might like this, I don't think anyone came to my blog for MSW fanfiction lol. To those who choose to give this little brainworm a read, I hope you enjoy.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Lawrence Baker (MSW) x Reader

[A/N: Future chapters will contain smut/smut adjacent content, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mild rudeness, flirtation, mention of a missing person per the episode plot, vampire rumors, utilizing cupcakes for flirtation, readers owns and works in a bakery, reader has history with Borbey House but that'll be expounded upon in a later chapter.

~*~

Cabot Cove was rife with rumors surrounding the property across the street from my front door. Borbey House had stood empty for a year and a half - some residents wondered if anyone would ever buy the place until a couple of weeks ago. I only caught a glimpse of my new neighbor as I was getting home one night. Dark hair, a darker suit, and the jaunty strut of a man who was utterly confident in himself - whoever he was, the new owner of the Borbey Estate was much flashier than the usual Cabot Cove crowd.

I only saw him once, though, along with a couple of curtain twitches from one of the upper windows. Any other time a person emerged from the house, it was without fail a harsh looking man with a square jaw. He and his employer both seemed rather ominous to anyone who believed in superstition, and the Borbey legacy was already saturated with those. All the mysterious deaths years ago...it was a wonder that anyone was interested in buying the place when it went on the market.

Legend had it that the original owner, William Borbey, had been a vampire, and given the new owner's tendency to avoid going out in the daylight coupled with how quickly gossip of any sort traveled through Cabot Cove, rumors about his condition spread rather rapidly. I couldn't really blame the man for not wanting to immerse himself in the insanity that was a small town like this. I had hoped I'd catch another glimpse of him eventually, but after that first sighting, all I saw was his - was the man with a square jaw a butler or a chauffeur? Both, perhaps?

This morning, however, my luck changed - for better or worse, I couldn't definitively say. It wasn't often that our postman switched mail around, but today I'd opened my mailbox to find a letter addressed to one 'Mr. Lawrence Baker.' Glancing at the address confirmed my suspicions: this belonged across the street.

With barely a moment's thought, I hurried back into my house and dropped off my own mail, scooping up a box of assorted cookies I'd packaged in advance for the bakery in the process. There were plenty more where that came from, so I figured it couldn't hurt to give Cabot Cove's newest resident a warm welcome.

Straightening myself up a bit, I grabbed the misdelivered letter and the box of cookies and walked across the street. Before I even got the chance to knock on the door, however, it was practically flung open. Mr. Baker's butler scowled silently, expectantly down at me with cold, hard eyes.

"Uh, hi! I–"

"Do you have an appointment?" His question was clipped and rough. Was that a German accent? Interesting.

"No, but–"

"Then begone." With that, the door was slammed in my face.

Oh, hell no. Tall and scary that man might be, but I wasn't about to just let someone treat me like that.

I was secretly quite proud of the firm, confident sound of my knuckles rapping on the aged wooden door. Once more, it was thrown open, but before Mr. Scary got the chance to do something more drastic than slamming the door in my face, I held up the letter so he could see the typeface on the envelope.

"This was delivered to me by mistake this morning. I was just coming over here to give it to its proper owner." After a tense moment of silence, the letter was snatched from my hand. "And these are from me. I run the bakery on Main Street and I wanted to officially welcome Mr. Baker to the neighborhood."

Shoving the box into the stunned butler's grasp, I turned on my heel and started back to my house, standing as straight as possible to cling to my remaining dignity. Well, that had been slightly more humiliating than I'd expected. So much for being neighborly–

"Excuse me, miss?" A smooth, sophisticated voice called out from behind me before I was more than a few feet down the front walkway. Looking back, I saw a familiar dark-haired figure stepping around the gruff-mannered butler to stand in the doorway. Red-lensed sunglasses rested atop the bridge of his nose, but it was still undeniably the same man I'd seen that first night. Lawrence Baker, in the flesh. Up close, he looked...well, extremely handsome. "I'm sorry for the rough reception. Peter is used to dealing with less pleasant visitors. I'm afraid most people don't like an outsider invading your peaceful community."

Taking a few small steps toward the door, I gave my elusive new neighbor a tentative smile and attempted to ignore the way his pale blue button-down shirt clung to his figure so perfectly.

"It's alright, but I promise not all of us are quite so prickly. I'm sorry if you've been on the receiving end of any sort of intolerance," I said, and he leaned jauntily on the door frame as a grin stretched his lips. The lines on either side of his mouth spoke of the many smiles he'd worn over the years. "Anyway, I should really let you get back to your day. I just wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood. If you need anything, I live just across the street."

"I'll be sure and keep that in mind, Miss...?"

I introduced myself, keeping a respectable distance between myself and the front door. The longer I looked at Mr. Baker, the more I wanted to do something ridiculous, like take up sketching just so I could capture the shape of his lips when he smiled.

"I couldn't help but hear what you said a moment ago. You run the local bakery?"

"Yes, I do. If there's something you'd like that I don't normally offer, I take custom orders." My brain went somewhere it definitely shouldn't have, and I fought to keep myself from blushing.

Instead, though, I had some restraint. Excusing myself, I retreated quickly back to my own home. I took a seat in the kitchen and glanced at the timer I'd set for the cake in the oven. There was still a while until I needed to check it.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting at my kitchen table lost in thought when a knock sounded at the door, jolting me back to reality. A brief flash of fear zipped through me at the prospect of Mr. Baker or his butler - somehow the name 'Peter' didn't fully encompass that man's personality - coming to throw my cookies back in my face and threaten legal action if I ever set foot on their side of the street again.

"Why, you look as pale as a ghost, child!" Seth exclaimed when I opened the door. I'd almost forgotten that he and Jessica were coming over for lunch today. Inviting them in gratefully, I stole a quick glance across the street and was just in time to see a curtain twitch in one of the upper windows of the Borbey House.

There was nothing I could do but close the door as if to block out the storm that was my neighbor's red-tinted gaze.

"Are you alright?" Jessica's hand rested gently on my shoulder, and I gave her a grateful smile.

"Oh, yes! I'm fine. I just had a very odd encounter with the new owner of the Borbey place," I told her as we all made our way into the kitchen. A couple of hours passed, and with lunch consumed and my new cake recipe freshly sampled by the three of us, I'd heard several bits of gossip about Mr. Baker and his butler.

"You say he had red lenses in his glasses?" Seth asked as he cut himself another slice of cake. When I nodded my head, he hummed thoughtfully. "Those have a few uses medicinally, dependin' on the shade. He could be sensitive to light. Until he comes into my office, though, I'm afraid that's all I can say."

With a wry smile, Mrs. Fletcher leaned back in her seat.

"I doubt that will do anything to dispel those ridiculous vampire stories that have been making the rounds, lately." She was right, of course. "Be careful, dear, you might find him knocking on your door one night in search of something more than just cookies."

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I felt suddenly better than I had all morning. Trust Jessica and Seth to know how to lift my spirits.

"I'll be sure to wear a garlic necklace and keep a stake handy," I joked. Allowing my smile to fall in favor of something more serious, I switched topics. "Any news about...?"

Jessica and Seth glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"You'd be one of the first to know. The last tip-off the Sheriff had was a dud. Lady was in her fifties. Definitely not Laurel Perrin," Seth murmured setting his fork down. Had he already eaten his second piece of cake? Mentally, I marked that recipe down as a success. I'd have to make one or two for the bakery this week to see how people reacted to it. "I...I know you were her friend, and I don't mean to sound disheartenin', but the chances of Laurel turnin' up after all this time..."

The doctor laid his hand over mine where it rested on the table, and I looked pointedly down at the wood grain beside my fingers.

"I know, Doc. I just...I can't give up hope. Neither can Dave or Charlie. Not until we know for sure, one way or the other. You can understand that, right?"

"Of course, we can. Closure is a somewhat universal longing, especially for those closely involved in situations like this," Jessica murmured wrapping her arm around my shoulders in a reassuring hug. "Now, why don't you tell us how the new space for the bakery is working out?"

Never had I been more grateful for a change of subject.

--

Six days later, I was in the middle of serving who I thought would be my last customer of the night when the bell over the bakery door jingled.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," I called over my shoulder as I boxed up a dozen brownies.

"No problem, take your time." I blinked a couple of times as I finished up. I knew that voice. Forcing myself to stay focused on my current task, I served my regular customer and handed him his change.

"Thanks, Jim. Have a safe drive home, okay?"

"'Course, ma'am, and I'll be sure and tell the wife you asked after her," he said tipping his hat as he turned to leave. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as I turned to the new arrival.

"How can I help you tonight, Mr. Baker?" The man in question was clad in a crisp, black suit that was probably worth more than my entire inventory, but the smile on his face softened his visage into something more personable.

And his eyes! I hadn't been able to see them properly when they were hidden behind his tinted glasses, but they were the clearest blue I'd ever seen.

"Would you prefer the socially acceptable answer, or the truth?"

Oh, color me intrigued! Clasping my hands and resting them on the counter, I narrowed my eyes at him playfully.

"Hm. Let's have the truth first, then the respectable excuse," I murmured, and he stepped up to the counter, tracing his fingertips over the refrigerated cases as he moved closer.

"Alright. I was fascinated by you the moment I saw you walking up the drive. The way you handled Peter's abrupt dismissal made me realize I'd made a mistake in avoiding contact with my neighbors," he said leaning one forearm on the counter. "I wanted a chance to see you again...to talk to you longer than just a few seconds, and this seemed like my best bet. In my defense, I had no idea that I'd have such a gorgeous neighbor."

I forced the muscles in my face to remain neutral. No smiling, not yet. I had to be casual. If I let myself smile now, I might explode.

"And the respectable excuse?"

"Ah, that. Well, I heard about the special you were having on cupcake orders and thought I'd come take advantage of the discount," Mr. Baker said with a smile, and I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh. "What?"

Crooking my finger at him, I coaxed him into leaning close enough to whisper in his ear, trying to add to his anticipation.

"The special is on brownies today, not cupcakes."

A warm, velvety laugh spilled from his lips as he leaned back again.

"Oh, damn, there goes my airtight alibi," he mused when his eyes met mine once more. "I guess that blows my chances of you accepting my invitation to dinner..."

I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Dinner?"

"Yes, but I doubt you'd be interested in socializing with a man who can't even get his excuses in order beforehand," he teased. Giving me a shrug and turning to a cloche-covered tray of brightly-iced cupcakes, he pretended to study them as I forced my brain into gear.

"...What day did you have in mind?"

The wide grin he gave me lit up the whole shop.

"How about tomorrow night? From what I understand, your shop is closed on Sundays, isn't it?"

"That's right. Sure, why not? Tomorrow sounds great," I answered lifting the cloche off the cupcake tray. "In the meantime, if we're going to sell that poorly-constructed cupcake excuse, you can't leave here empty-handed."

"Ah, thank you. We wouldn't want the rest of the town to think you were in danger from a reclusive vampire," he muttered with a gleam in his eye as I boxed up an assorted half dozen cupcakes. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing at all. These are on the house."

His eyes went wide, and he placed one of his large hands gently on my arm.

"I didn't come here to swindle you out of your merchandise. I don't want you to think I can't afford a few baked goods."

"This has nothing to do with your ability to pay, Mr. Baker. Haven't you ever had someone do something nice for you before, just because they could?"

Something like comprehension flickered across his face.

"Not...in a very long time, no," he said just above a whisper, looking at me as though I'd transformed right before his eyes. Placing one of my hands over his where it still rested on my arm, I spoke just as quietly.

"Then it's about time someone did." A moment's weighted silence passed between us before I got back to the cupcakes, closing the box and sealing it with one of my labels. "There you are. And if you really want to do something to repay me, tell me this: what's your favorite dessert?"

He was silent for a moment while he considered his answer, but ultimately he shook his head.

"I'll have to think that over. It's serious business deciding something like this," Lawrence said with a faux stern expression plastered on his face.

"Oh, naturally. You can tell me over dinner, assuming you've selected by then," I said with an equally stern expression, but when a bright smile broke across Mr. Baker's lips, I cracked and let out a quick laugh.

"I look forward to your charming company tomorrow night, my dear," he said, and without a moment's hesitation, he caught one of my hands in his grasp and brought it to his lips. My heart fluttered in my chest, the traitorous bastard, and before I knew it, Mr. Baker had taken his box of cupcakes and left.

Resisting the urge to squeal or smile so hard that my face broke, I went to the door and flipped the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed.'

When I got home that night and exited my car, I glanced across the street. Instead of the usual twitching curtain, I was just in time to see both Peter and Mr. Baker in the latter's sitting room, nibbling on what were unmistakably a pair of my cupcakes.

If I'd been any happier, I might have floated away like a balloon.

--

"You're having dinner with the man? But neither you nor anyone else in town knows him very well," Doc Hazlitt protested the next morning as I chatted with him over the phone. He'd called to ask what day that new cake would be added to the bakery's menu so he could give me some extra patronage. Once I assured him it would be a Tuesday addition, he moved on to a rumor he'd heard about Lawrence Baker kissing my hand during business hours and leaving my shop with a box of desserts. I hadn't disabused him of the notion, hence his current state of agitation.

"Doc, I am perfectly capable of handling a simple dinner. I'm not a little girl anymore," I said, and a sigh crackled down the line.

"I know, I know, but I don't want you to get hurt. I was the doc in the ward when you were born, and I've known you all your life. Is it any wonder that I feel a little nervous about you gettin' involved with a man who's only been in Cabot Cove for a handful of weeks?"

"Y'know, that's another thing, Seth," I started as I cradled the phone to my shoulder and slipped a tray of scones into the oven. "People around here act as though every new arrival or outsider is here to pillage the town. Why can't someone move in and be given the benefit of the doubt for once? Mr. Baker is perfectly friendly–"

"–And rich, to boot, meanin' he is used to gettin' exactly what he wants–"

"That's enough, Doctor. You haven't even met the man. You have no right to judge him until you've at least tried to get to know him." I didn't even try to keep the reproachful edge out of my voice. "Please, at least try to be open minded. If not for his sake, then for mine."

"I'd still be grateful if you gave me a call tomorrow morning so that I know you survived the ordeal," he requested, and after a quick agreement, he finally let me go.

Seth was right to an extent. I barely knew him, and Borbey house, despite my personal history, was still surrounded by gruesome stories and the ghosts of its past. It wouldn't hurt to be a little cautious.

Although, a benefit of spending time across the street was that I'd have a chance to change that surly butler's opinion of me. That was something I definitely needed to do, especially if I was going to be acquainted with his employer. Maybe with the right dessert, I could lower his defenses enough to show him I wasn't just a pest to be swept out onto the street.

~*~*~

[prpfz]

Hey! 🦇 I’m Fever, 25+, they/him, full of Dragon Age brainrot. Especially Solas/Rook, because the enemies-to-lovers pipeline is my jam. Or enemies who’re also lovers.

I just beat Veilguard, and man, the bad end is rife for RP potential. So I’m looking for other 21+, preferably 25+, people to write these two with.

So general, barebones plots I’d love to flesh out with someone. All of these are M/M only: HUGE Veilguard spoilers, forward warning

— The bad ending happens the same. Rook used his own blood to trap a very angry Solas in the Fade, and Rook is trapped with him. All of Rook’s allies are dead. Solas still has the Blight to cure. They’re both now trapped in this prison of regrets, full of them. Do they fix things? Do they not? Do they escape the prison, only to find the Fade itself blighted?

— Something else with them? Hell, considering the Blight is the untethered fear, sorrow, rage of the Titans, we could totally do a Titan plot for them. Especially since Solas is trying to fix the Blight anyway

For all of these, I do have a preference for writing Rook. I have a Qunari Grey Warden necromancer; a transmasc human Antivan Crow spellblade; and an elven reaper of the Mourn Watch. Feel free to ask about any of them, I love them all

That said, I’m not at all against writing Solas. He’s in my top three Dragon Age characters for a reason

— A secret third thing! I am unashamedly obsessed with Dirthamen and Falon’Din. I have so much theorized about them, and whatever their ish is. There’s no plot for this, but I would love to do something with them, their tragedy, their enmeshment, their very simple and very complicated love for each other. Could be incestuous or not, depending on how we view a singular soul split into two separate people.

— A secret fourth thing! Felassan. I loved him in The Masked Empire, and I loved him in Solas’s memories in Veilguard. An AU where Felassan survived the end of The Masked Empire, despite or because of Solas, and they end up working together, or against each other, on the friends-comrades-enemies-lovers pipeline during the events of Veilguard could be very fun

As for me as a writer:

— Average between 200 - 700 words a post

— Absolutely loves plotting

— OOC chatter is also great, related to RP things or not

— Will post at least several times a week

— Very understanding of outside life coming first

— My hard limits are no pregnancy plots between the main characters; no rape between the main characters (though dubious consent is absolutely fine); no excessive gore just for the sake of excessive gore; and no 🍪. For most other things, so long as it makes sense for the plots/characters, I likely won’t mind it. Feel free to ask; the worst I’ll do is say it’s not my vibe, and give you a genuine thanks for asking in the first place

— I write/chat on discord exclusively. Other than the initial meet-and-greet on tumblr, u kno

— I will write so many side characters to keep things moving, but unfortunately I won’t double

— Very willing to explore the darker corners of Dragon Age lore. Veilguard may’ve forgotten the slavery, the child assassins, the broodmothers, but we don’t have to

— Very down for writing NSFW

— In that vein, I will not write strictly submissive or dominant characters. Switches, plz, variety is the spice of life

Give this post a like if any of this interest you, and I’ll reach out!

give a like and anon will get back to you

[domain-of-sentience]

whats the thing you love most about senti or hua? im curious 😮

wow hard question considering i love everything about them

for senti i would say her personality draws me in the most. back when the v4.6 trailer dropped and i saw how unhinged and smexy she was i knew i was gonna get the world's most lethal brainrot 🥹 i just love how crass and egotistical she is but inside she really cares about other people (well mainly old timer) and will do everything in her power not to reveal that fact (moe)

i already loved her writing but then recent chapters really accentuated how restrained she can be despite her lack of "filter" and care for the fate of humanity. she's not someone who just watched a long movie about someone else's life, she gleaned so much wisdom from it that she's seen as an honorary flamechaser. as a result she knows how to pick her battles and will be an absolute asshole when things are in her favor (sexy)

as for fuhua, i love immortal characters who are rife with suffering.... her back story gripped me hard and is still death gripping me. i like how she has gone through so many identities that her sense of self has become muddled, but if there was one thing that stayed true it was her mission. i hope she gets to retire and explore the world like she wanted in PE 🥺 (along with senti also

[fancifulplaguerat]

Daniil & Antiocheanism

Welcome to my combination Antiocheanism Daniil Dankovsky brainrot. 

Antiocheanism is a fictional sect described in the zine which comes with Deathconsciousness by Have A Nice Life. The religion is seemingly a response to existential fear, a means to reconcile the knowledge that we all have to die. It provides a very nihilistic answer—there is no hope or meaning in Antiocheanism, whose tenets emphasize that by virtue of being alive, we are all already dead; nor do our deaths matter, and there is not afterlife because God has no care or use for the dead. The central idea of Antiocheanism is that “truth is death, and death is truth,” which I read as that by facing death, one accepts the truth of what it is to be human. There are some quotes from the zine which are distractingly rife for Daniil comparison so I’m now going to go apeshit in a means fit for polite society. 

The first scene I want to bring up is “What Happens When We Die,” during which a boy approaches Antiochus and his followers with a string of cryptic questions (this is the scene I posted screenshots from): 

“All these questions you ask” the child began “are only comments, they dance around the problem with fine words and delicate manners they approach you but you circle your real desire, arms locked at your sides as children circle in our games hands over eyes in giddy enjoyment you do not wish to find that which is obscured you wish to not find it.”

[...] 

Cassius, the doctor who tended to those with sores and lesions and poured into their wounds foul salts grew angry and replied with a harsh voice “We seek Truth only that we seek, and we spend our lives in searching with words we reveal that which is covered we root out that which is false those whose falseness is discovered in the contradictions of their language there are none here who avoid truth”

Any fellow Daniil Enjoyers will probably see the glaring connection here of a doctor professing an obsessive adherence to and pursuit of truth. I also feel that Cassius’ response carries a similar sentiment to Daniil’s notorious “The truth is my shepherd. Whatever happens, I will find answers, and justice will be restored.” Truth is both Cassius and Daniil’s guiding principle, and though I find it a stretch to apply justice to Cassius’ lines, I think there is a common idea here of pursuing truth to find the ‘correct’ and the ‘right;’ “I will find answers, and justice will be restored,” versus “we root out that which is false / those whose falseness is discovered in the contradictions of their language.”  But what truly made this a Category 5 Daniil Dankovsky Moment for me was the preceding passage; what the boy says to anger Cassius. 

The boy accuses Antiochus’ followers of avoiding their real question: “What happens when we die?” I find it interesting how he frames the followers avoidance as a game, like they are playing at being enlightened, but fail to actually confront the truth that they seek. The image of the Antiocheans as children covering their eyes reminds me of Aspity accusing Daniil’s attitude towards death like that of a child covering his eyes. The context differs, and it is almost definitely coincidental, but there are interesting parallels to be drawn here. Like Cassius, Daniil is a supposedly enlightened intellectual who is accused of not properly understanding or recognizing death, i.e. the truth. And again I love the truth framing here because Cassius, who is so dedicated to truth, is avoiding facing the ultimate one he seeks, just as Daniil resists accepting or understanding the game’s proposed truth about death. 

Now I want to turn to “truth is death,” which occurs at the end of Antiochus’ description of what happens after death with yet another Category 5 Daniil Moment: “Because you sought truth / and now you have it. / Death is Truth / and Truth is Death.” Antiochus expands on this later, when he bombards a noblewoman attending one of his sermons with his philosophy to the point that she “tells the truth” in committing suicide. The end of Antiochus’ monologue feels particularly Marble Nest to me: 

“because death is truth - and truth is death - and we move towards that which is true - and move to death - you have the courage to run towards it - to welcome it - to not live in fear of it - to not live in dread of it - always pretending, always lying - saying you don’t see it, that it is not there - that these people are alive - that you are alive - when all you are is dead and a liar - the same as everyone else - why do you not tell the truth? - why don’t you tell the truth?” 

This passage is not 1:1 with The Marble Nest, but Antiochus and Aspity occupy similar roles in both works. They try to convince their respective targets to stop ‘pretending’ by avoiding the reality of death; rather to understand death, but not fear it, for through understanding and lack of fear is ‘proper’ death. Aspity tells Daniil that, “there is fear swelling inside you. And fear won’t help you understand how to die properly.” Daniil needs to understand death, that is the point of his Fever Dream Adventure—Aspity says that Death wants Daniil “to understand why it haunts you, and it won’t take take you in until you do.” Then there is the final dialogue with the Executor where Daniil can agree to die, in which case Death will say, “Good. Finally you understand,” and fuck I still get chills over “Let’s see who you are. Give me your hand.” / “Here it is.” 

I think you can take confronting death in The Marble Nest in many ways, but I personally see it as expanding on ideas from Patho Classic—that dying is not the end, that everything can endure, with the added meta layer that Daniil is a fictional character. Unlike Antiochus’ philosophy of 'we are already dead, so just die,’ The Marble Nest feels more like a narrative that is simultaneously about acceptance and resistance. Neither is framed as a wrong choice—if Daniil chooses to stay alive and replay the day, it seems positive in its own way, again very “Do not go gentle into that good night / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” I still believe what I said before; I don’t find this choice depressing, I think it’s very human, about hope and endurance, how we keep going despite futility. For the purpose of this comparison, about how we keep going despite death waiting for us, and act and find purpose and meaning even if it’s futile, even if it’s just out of pure stubbornness. This is almost directly opposite Antiocheanism, which is ‘we’re going to die, so nothing will matter in the end, and if nothing matters in the end, it doesn’t matter now.’ 

The only choice that is arguably wrong in The Marble Nest is if Daniil agrees to die without understanding. At this, the Executor will deny him and say, “‘Are you ready to die?’ This is what the question was. The wording is important here. You're dying. But you aren't ready. What's the point of such death? You never braved the abyss; you fell limply down its chasm.” I think Daniil dying without understanding would be akin to him merely surrendering to Death, whereas Death wants Daniil to understand why he could not win. 

I have more thoughts but I’d rather this post not get too unruly so. Go listen to Deathconsciousness and give Daniil a tender little kiss on the forehead

[fruit-salad-ship]

Can I request some Witcher au Drabble my brain is in need of some brainrot after a exhausting last few weeks

Sorry to hear youve been worn down a bit, ive tried to scramble together something, but admittedly witcher AU is a fun one but also one ive not explored as much with feeling and emotion.

Hope this is better than nothing at least.

It starts in a bar, plums been sulking the whole way home as the pair ride back, now held up by the fireplace chewing through slightly old bread and some kind of cured meat with a pout on her features that Peach cannot ignore. The rain hammers on the window, the establishment is rife with drunkards, and people seem to have taken shelter here from worsening weather. “How many times do I have to say sorry?” Plum shoots her company a glance and goes back to the fire, huddled under a cloak that still feels damp. “More.” She wasn’t exactly angry, more, embarrassed, frustrated. The other patrons in the bar could feel the sheer cold energy coming from her, her menacing stare and both the woman’s gear keeping them away. No one cared much for Witcher’s, let alone ones who didn’t even fit the conventional definition for the hunters. Peach picked up a jug and leant across, refilling the little fighters glass as a small peace offering. “You-“ “Don’t.” Plum cut the broader, taller woman short immediately, and peach dared not continue, holding her hands up in defeat as she huffed back into the chair she occupied.

She was mad. This had been their first job alone, no one higher up in the ranks with them to make sure things got done, and plum was over the moon with the fact that she dealt the killing blow. The whole ride towards this grim little town was originally spent with her stomach in knots, thinking they’d fail, they’d die, all the worst outcomes, she planned and overthought every detail. All the while her partner, this egotistical, calm woman, just as new to the work as she was, simply rode, joked around, took time to rest without too much though, assuring her things would be fine. They were opposites, one worrier, and one carefree. Their hunt had been successful, they had trained twice as hard as the others in their order to make up for their gender, an issue that plagued them since being taken in by Witchers. By all accounts they should not have come through, Peach in particular had undergone a far more violent transition. But they got to the area where a Nightwraith was known to frequent. In a moral boosting act, Peach feigned injury and fell as if downed by their foe. Plum, overcome with worry pushed past fears, casting Yrden and ending the creatures suffering. She returned to peach’s side, triumphant but thinking her childhood friend dead, or close to. In that moment Peach kept the act up to mess with her a little but it allowed Plum to admit some…more personal feelings, assuming this might be the last chance to do so. The shock when her companion opened her eyes and sat up perfectly fine was so great she fell back onto the dirt a little. The realisation that she’d blurted out feelings, and Peach was in fact conscious and now AWARE of those feelings was crushing. And so now, they sat in this uncomfortable realisation.

Plum sipped, glaring over her goblet, trying not to feel completely stupid. “What I said was in the heat of the moment, and not true. I was scared, thought you’d die!” She observed, expected peach to be sarcastic, to take a dig at her, but she didn’t. There was a pause as the big woman watched the fireplace, before a short calm ‘mhm’ followed. She drank, and did not focus on the topic at hand. Somehow this made things worse. “What do you mean ‘mhm’? What’s that?” “It’s just a ‘mhm’, don’t read into it so much.” There was another pause, peach took the jug in her hand once more and stood to leave with a huff. “Where’d you think you’re going?” “Away, I can’t apologise, you’re in a foul mood, it doesn’t matter what happened, but you’re not going to let this go, so i’m better off letting you cool off. We’ll get back on the road first thing tomorrow.” And with that she skulked off out of the bar into the rain. Plum knew she’d be hanging around with her horse, not going far, so retreating to the room they’d rented that night was the best she could do to put her angry energy somewhere.

It wasn’t until the late hours that she was awoken, the sound of the door opening, familiar footsteps making their way inside. Plum didn’t move, feigned sleep, heard the form pause before sitting on a chair she knew was by the small window. Some gear was removed, probably anything water logged, the drips from it loud on the wooden floors. Peach sat quietly, a little drunk, cold, wet, and very conflicted, refusing to get into the only bed in the room. Damn tiny Inn had three rooms, only one of which were available. Go figures. So a chair would do, give the poor woman some space. Her guilt of playing a trick on her during their work was heavy, she made a mistake thinking it’d just push the smaller person to be a little braver with the fight, not…everything else. Sometimes she could stand to be a little more serious about things, her teachers always scolded her for messing around, for not being focused on the task at hand. This was a lesson well learnt. She tried to get comfortable on this hard chair, finding a position that wasn’t too bad, attempting to get some rest listening to the sheets of rain on the window. She could sleep just about anywhere, this was arguably a bit of an upgrade to rest on the road.

Plum lay, waiting, listening, realising that the woman with her was not coming to bed, she’d be worn out riding home tomorrow, perhaps… no. No way. Peach wasn’t getting a free pass on this one. She huddled up tighter under the blanket and stood her ground, didn’t give in. Not for the first 20 minutes at least, able to hear her partner slipping into a deeper sleep, peaking over. She’d leant herself on the window ledge, awkwardly crumpled to balance herself in a way that didn’t mean she’d instantly fall if she moved around, clothes still dripping wet, swords and heavier gear placed on a table close by.

“Idiot.” Slipped from her lips, this is how people got sick, though she recalled that peach never seemed to grow ill, not since she was turned, she’d grown in stature, in durability, and became something…different. None of the historic texts of their order covered whatever she was now. Whatever they did to her, it created something new, something that sometimes felt unnatural. The memories of hearing the elders discussing what happened rung out, Plum had turned over what was said a million times in her head, recalling being hidden in the shadows assuming Peach dead, they were just kids, she was so sure she’d never see her friend again. But her midnight trip to steal a snack from the kitchens got her more than she bargained for. She knew more than Peach did… Plum sat up and looked at her. Growing irritated that she was considering this, slowly feeling the floor come into contact with the bottom of her feet, standing, approaching. Two steps from her, she noticed Peach’s eyes open, reflecting back what little light was there, a red reflective sheen to them, something Plum had seen in bears and wolves, but never humans, not until this one. She reached out, touched the woman’s arm, unsurprised by how cold she was, Peach use to be so warm, but now she was always cold as the grave. “Come to bed.” There was no arguing. She got up and followed the little hand that pulled her, being stopped a few steps in, plum turning back to touch the shirt she was in, still soaked from rain.

It was lucky that the dark masked her reddening cheeks. First the impromptu confession during work, now this, pulling the clothes from her body, hanging them to dry. She could hardly see, and Peach wasn’t about to let her friend know that her vision allowed her to see more than most, picking up on the little micro movements in her companies face that showed she was going through a lot of complex feelings right now. The bigger woman said nothing, a welcome feeling of warm hands on her skin from time to time, until she was pulled once more, now unable to hide behind clothes, to a warm, far more comfortable bed. There was a quiet moment where they lay beside each other. Face to face, each on their side, huddled under admittedly scratchy sheets, but neither cared. That empty quiet lingered for a moment, Peach said nothing, she’d done enough damage for one day. Plum wanted to say so much, but there was comfort to this quiet, for the first time since she’d said too much, they reconnected in the silence, this was her best friend, someone who understood more than anyone what it was like to walk in her shoes, both having been worked to the bone their whole lives, bound together by some strange twist of fate. It was not lost on either of them how important this moment was, Peach put her hand on her companions side, pulling her in closer, tucking her up under her chin, feeling a little hand placed on her back, the weight of an arm over her side something that felt so natural. Plum could feel the scarring on this woman, gouges in the skin that told many a story, burying her head in the cold chest, able to for a moment hear a heartbeat, feint and very slow, so weak for someone so strong. It didn’t use to be like this.

One day Plum would tell her, tell her she’d found her father while digging for information during a job, a lord who saw a daughter as a waste, who got rid of her, that she had two brothers out there who got given the world, while she was thrown away. Tell her that she died, that she died a dozen times in fact, each time brought back by the very order she swore to stand by obediently as a test, an experiment. Tell her they turned her to one of them expecting her to die, and yet she did not, they were willing to lose her for the sake of scientific curiosity. That whatever happened to her was so horrifying the order swore to never perform those methods again, acknowledging their mistakes in secret amongst elders. But right now? It didn’t matter, nothing else mattered but being in the arms of someone who was always there for her. Neither had to say sorry, it was an unspoken feeling they understood.

In the dark Peach felt a kiss, one small little gesture left beside a collar bone before Plum curled up tight and drifted off. The words from their first job bounced around in her mind in the quiet, entranced by the heat of this little woman in her grasp, a woman who’d admitted feelings Peach never thought she’d receive from anyone. There was so much more to fight for now.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Questions about me!

Thanks for the tag, @sleketon666 ! 😄 won’t tag anyone else as this briefly veers into somewhat personal mental health territory (and is under the cut for mentions of that.) This was fun!

Do you make your bed?

Yes. Not super perfectly but I just kinda automatically tweak the covers on a morning.

What’s your favourite number?

Don’t think I have one. Numbers are more useful and interesting in aggregate haha.

What is your job? // A job you had that would surprise people?

Hmmm well not to go into too much detail, but my real-life work is in science. I guess that might surprise people who know me for my creative side over here! (But also problem-solving inherently requires creativity, and a good plot a good dose of planning and internal logic. Perhaps they aren’t so dissimilar after all ;) )

If you could go back to school would you?

What? Primary school? Secondary school? Non. Secondary was rough until sixth form. I was so fucking bored a lot of the time, and harassment in my school was rife. Although I would love to do lessons with my art teacher again; she was wonderful!

University-wise: already did. Horrible undergrad, in a very high-pressure place, that completely destroyed my sense of worth and all my plans for the future. Took a few years out, went somewhere less horrible, and crushed it. Ta-da! (I mean I’ll forever have a lot of lingering self-doubt but you know. I did the thing. And proved to myself I both love it and am good at it).

Can you parallel park? // Can you drive a manual car?

I hate cars (on both an experience level and an environmental/political level) and will avoid learning to drive for as long as I possibly can. Luckily I love big-city life, which makes that easier!

Do you think aliens are real?

For sure, in a balance-of-probabilities way. The universe is vast. Will we ever find them? Again, the universe is vast. At the very least though, there’s some alien microbes wiggling away out there. That’s fucking cool.

(And watch the science on this, bc we FINALLY have telescopes capable of surveying the spectra of some exoplanets. Exciting discoveries about other planets’ atmospheres to come, and their reflected light, which can provide indirect evidence of life!)

What’s your guilty pleasure?

Oh boy. Bad reality TV. It’s a guilty pleasure because I know it’s a) completely engineered and b) exploitative. (And c) complete brainrotting rubbish). But then someone says “the new series of Too Hot to Handle is out!” and OOPS I am THERE.

Tattoos?

Nope. I’m not a tattoo person. I think some people carry them off but I wear a lot of different clothing silhuoettes and don’t enjoy tattoos half-peeking out of cut-outs. (I just like a “neat” personal style I guess?)

Favourite Colour?

Mmm midnight blue-purple. Some colours are contextual: that one is always perfect. (But I love colour full stop!)

Any phobias?

WASPS holy shit wasps. I know it’s irrational as fuck, and I know they’re important to the ecosystem. That is, in fact, one of the few things I cling on to when they’re really freaking me out. But suffice to say, you’ll never catch me sitting outside a pub in September.

As a kid I was terrified of hand dryers and air conditioning vents. To the point I spent every supermarket trip looking up to see whether I was standing under a vent or not. It is perhaps not surprising I ended up with OCD lol.

Favourite type of music?

Late 70s/Early 80s new wave. Talking Heads and Blondie my beloveds. 80s alternative generally.

Do you talk to yourself?

Unfortunately mostly when I’m struggling with OCD. I’ll curse myself out and say horrible things to myself aloud as effectively emotional self-harm. It’s not nice. (Don’t worry, I’m ok ATM. And have had therapy).

I will muse to myself a little sometimes, on a more fun note.

Do you like puzzles?

Yes! I go through occasional phases of being seriously puzzle-obsessed. Love a good overly-complicated Sudoku variant.

What did you want to be as a child?

Palaeontologist, all the way. I LOVED dinosaurs and would read my dinosaur books constantly. I think my faves were T-rexes (OBVIOUSLY) and Parasauralophus (probably not how you spell that and I suspect my ten-year-old self would have done a better job!)

Coffee or Tea?

Love them both. I drink more coffee atm but tea is great too (Lapsang Souchong being my absolute favourite. I need to order more!) I am 100% a caffeine addict but I find it so soothing. Even when I’m anxious, I want a cup of tea (yeah, yeah, sensible it is not. But ahhhhhh so relaxing).

Favourite Movies?

Star Trek: The Voyage Home. Just everything good about TOS Trek. Wonderful.

The Sure Thing: Underrated 80s romcom gem about an uptight, studious girl and a slacker-but-sweetheart boy getting stuck on a road trip together. It’s got a lot of humour and a lot of heart. Plus a great instance of the “confession via essay read in class” trope, which I love. The gif below is from this movie!

It’s a Wonderful Life//A Muppet Christmas Carol - I adore a good Christmas movie, and these are the best. I’m an atheist, but I adore Christmas; to me, it’s about kindness, family and community, which is why these films have me bawling my fucking heart out every year. (Yes, I cry when muppet Tiny Tim says “god bless us, every one”. Fucking come at me. Sniffle).