#so then i thought well what would Developed tentacles look like???? which prompted me to draw the pink one

[mechawolfie]

I made. more dragons

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Want of a Spider

Prompt: Just reread unwanted and God I forgot how good it was also if it was a book I would buy so many copies of it also could we get a oneshot of mabye a few years later after everything happened to see how the boys are doing I just want to see them happy together

Ah, yes, don’t we all? 

Read on Ao3 

(Un)Wanted Masterlist

Warnings: implied/referenced panic attacks, nothing too severe, shapeshifting

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Word Count: 6888

A child runs to a garden.

Five fae take the child as their own.

Slowly, the child grows into something new.

Set after the events of (Un)Wanted.

It starts slow.

 Slow enough that at first, Virgil’s not even sure it’s happening. The garden is…weird, to put it mildly, and it’s not like living with a bunch of fae is going to give anyone a baseline for what’s normal.

 He’s just finished baking a new batch of bread with Patton. Patton’s room smells amazing, the bread looks warm and soft and part of Virgil—a part that Roman and Janus have been slowly encouraging to speak up more—wants to grab it and rip a hunk off with his teeth, temperature be damned.

 Part of him would rather not have a burned tongue for the rest of the day, thank you very much. Then he won’t be able to actually enjoy the rest of the bread, just the too-sore feeling of his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

 …and part of him still doesn’t know how to eat properly. Or that it’s okay to want to eat.

 Patton must catch that last thought buzzing around because he looks over with a frown, reaching out to pinch the offending buzzing thing out of the air and squash it, rubbing his fingertips together until it poofs and disintegrates. The accompanying bubble of relief works its way through Virgil’s chest.

 “Thank you.”

 “Of course, kiddo, that seemed like a nasty one.” Patton finishes drying his hands off and surveys their handiwork. “Well! That went well.”

 Virgil snorts. “Ah, yes, I forget that throwing flour at whoever you’re baking with is always important.”

 “Don’t you look at me, you started it!” Patton points his finger at him. “You’re the one who threw it at me first.”

 Virgil blinks. “You bumped me while I was trying to measure it out.”

 “I did.” Patton nods. “And then you bumped me back.”

 “Yes. Bumped. I didn’t throw it at you.”

 “You did, however, decide to wipe it off my face without getting the rest of it off your own.”

 “Because you threw it at me!”

 Patton throws his head back and laughs, which of course makes Virgil laugh too because have you not seen his face when he laughs you try keeping a straight face. The memory of the two of them absolutely covered in flour, barely any of it in the bowl where it was supposed to go, is enough to make him scrub his hands through his hair to make sure that yes, he did in fact get all of it out.

 “Oh, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while,” Patton murmurs as their giggles slow, shaking his head and going for the plates, “but I think that’s given the bread enough time to cool off.”

 “Does that mean we should call the others?”

 “If you want to.”

 Virgil closes his eyes and reaches, searching for the tether in his chest. It takes a few pokes and prods but eventually he feels something warm and pushes.

 “Hello, yes, hi, I heard something about fresh bread?” Roman pops up first, giving Virgil a gentle squeeze.

 “Don’t start without me!”

 “Hey!”

 Virgil giggles as Remus drops straight onto Roman, almost knocking them both to the ground. He hears an exasperated sigh behind him and turns, seeing Logan shake his head at the twins.

 “You would think,” he mutters to Virgil, “the two of them would develop a little more sense of spatial awareness after the first…oh, ten times they’ve knocked things over.”

 “I don’t think they’ve ever had to.”

 “You’re right.” Logan shakes his head again and turns to Patton. “It smells delicious, you two, congratulations.”

 “You haven’t tasted it yet,” Patton reminds, “we have to wait for—“

 “Fuck.”

 Virgil holds a hand to his chest as Janus chuckles, having appeared out of fucking nowhere just behind him as he turned to see where the snake was. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as Janus rubs a circle between his shoulder blades.

 “Sorry, little mouse,” Janus murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear, “I didn’t mean to startle you so badly.”

 “It’s fine.” He leans into the touch for a moment longer. “I, uh, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

 “Never, little mouse, you have my word.”

 “Thanks.”

 “Remus, I swear—“

 “Just let me go and it’ll be fine!”

 “Kiddos,” Patton scolds, all but prying the twins apart, “if you don’t stop fighting, there won’t be any bread left for you.”

 Virgil has to stifle a chuckle at how fast the two of them break apart, sitting and folding their hands in their laps to patiently wait for their bread. Judging by the way Janus presses a little closer behind him, he knows what’s going to happen before Patton turns to him.

 “Virgil? Would you like to do the honors?”

 “Uh, sure.” Virgil takes the bread knife hesitantly and examines the loaf. It looks too pretty to cut…but it smells incredible. “How—uh, how much does everyone want?”

 “If you let them,” Logan says wryly, “they’ll eat the whole loaf. Take what you want first.”

 “Will not!”

 “You, you absolutely will.”

 “Hey!”

 The knife hits the cutting board with a soft tap, the slice falling neatly onto the plate. Patton takes the knife when Virgil offers it, taking over the slicing as Virgil scoots around the edge of the counter to sit with his slice.

 It looks so..perfect. And as he lifts it up and bites into it—

 Yeah, he could eat this for the rest of his life and be happy.

 Judging by the way the rest of them devour the loaf, they agree.

 “You did wonderfully,” Logan murmurs amidst the smatterings of compliments, “this is delicious.”

 “Thanks.”

 “You must remind Patton to make this again with you, it tastes much better.”

 When he doesn’t answer right away, Logan glances up, smiling when he catches sight of his red cheeks. Leaning closer, he places his chin on Virgil’s shoulder and turns to whisper:

 “Don’t let Roman see that if you don’t want to blush any harder.”

 Now that right there is a very good point. In an effort to hide it, he takes another bite of the bread, only to frown when something’s different.

 Logan seems to notice and tilts his head. “Is there something wrong? Does it taste strange?”

 Virgil opens and closes his mouth a few times. “It feels gummy.”

 “Really?” Logan has another bit of his own. “It doesn’t taste that way to me, perhaps…?”

 “Here, try mine.”

 “…no, it still tastes the same. Have you had something to drink recently?”

 “Not as recently as I probably should.” Before he can blink, Logan’s holding out a glass of water. “Oh. Thanks.”

 “Let’s see if this helps.”

 Well, the gumminess is no longer in his mouth. He’s not sure if he can still feel it in the back of his throat. He takes another bite of the bread—and oh fuck is it good—and it seems to go away.

 “That might’ve been it.” But maybe it wasn’t.

 “We’ll keep an eye on it, though,” Logan says easily as if he can see where Virgil’s mind wants to go, “let us know if it changes, okay?”

 “I will.”

 Which is why, later, when he’s sitting out by the lake to watch the moon ripple across the surface of the water, he feels it return and coughs, coughs, coughs until something flies out of his throat.

 He frowns, bending down to stare at the thing glistening in the grass. He tilts his head.

 What the fuck?

 Something else is still in his throat. He coughs again, and more of it shoots out, sticking to the grass with a horrid sound.

 Okay, nope. He’s not dealing with this by himself.

 Remus? Remus, can you help me with something?

 Sure. Gimme a sec and I’ll drop in. Are you okay?

 Virgil takes another look at the glistening…thing on the grass.

 I don’t know.

 An instant later, the water bubbles and Remus rises up, propping himself up with his tentacles as he shakes the water off. Virgil throws his arms up to protect his face from the shower of droplets.

 “Oh, oops.”

 He waves a hand. “It’s fine, it’s just water.”

 “…yeah.”

 “Do I want to know what else was in that?”

 “Probably not.”

 Virgil sighs as Remus clambers up to sit next to him, leaning his head on his shoulder. Remus’s hand cards gently through his hair before prompting him to sit up.

 “What’s the problem, little monster? How can I help?”

 In response, Virgil points at the glistening mess on the grass In front of him. Remus leans forward, following Virgil’s finger, frowning until he spots the mess. His eyes widen.

 “Whoa. I’ve never seen that before.”

 Virgil’s heart sinks. If Remus has never seen it before…

 “Where’d it come from?” Remus looks over his shoulder. “Was it Ollie? Uma? One of the others?”

 Virgil shakes his head.

 “Really? So Roman’s babies did that? Huh, I gotta tell him, he’s gonna get a kick outta that.”

 “No.”

 Remus frowns at the truly quiet noise Virgil makes. He nudges him gently. “No? No what, little monster?”

 “It—“ Virgil swallows the gummy thing in his mouth— “it wasn’t Roman’s.”

 Remus’s frown deepens. “Then what—“

 His eyes go giant when Virgil coughs up another one. It lands on the grass with a splat.

 “…oh.”

 Virgil turns to him so fast he can feel his neck protesting. “Oh? Oh what, what does ‘oh’ mean?”

 Remus smiles. He smiles so wide it makes Virgil’s face hurt by proxy. His eyes dart back and forth between Remus and the stuff on the ground.

 “Remus, what?”

 “You’re changing,” Remus says softly, still smiling as he reaches out to pull Virgil close, “you’re changing, Virgil, that’s it.”

 Um, excuse me, no part of that is reassuring, thank you very much.

 “What do you mean I’m ‘changing?’”

 “You bonded to us, Virgil,” Remus continues, “you opened that connection.”

 “Okay…?”

 “That means—well, it means you’re no longer fully human, little monster.”

 Wait, what?

 He’s—

 “You mean I’m part fae now?”

 Remus nods. “You’re one of us, little monster, you’re ours. Which means that some of your magic—“

 “I have magic?”

 “Everything has magic, Virgil. But yeah, it means through that connection your magic’s starting to get a bit of its own shape.”

 Virgil looks back down at the mess. It looks…well, it doesn’t look quite so scary anymore. In fact, as he looks at it, there are parts of it that he may actually be able to call…

 …pretty.

 “My own shape?”

 “Jan-Jan looks like a snake, yeah?”

 “Except he’s got six arms.”

 Remus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that doesn’t make sense to me either. But Janny’s a snake, I’ve got tentacles, Logan runs a little colder than the rest of us, and Pat’s got an impressive sense of smell.”

 “…what about Roman?”

 “Roman’s magic just kinda…” Remus wiggles his fingers. “Does that. You’ve seen it.”

 “Yeah…yeah, I’ve seen it.”

 “He spoils you.”

 “…he tries.”

 Remus gives him another gentle nudge to show he understands. Then he nods to the grass.

 “That’s probably the start of it, little monster.”

 “Will it hurt?”

 The shameful question bursts out before he can stop it and he winces, curling his arms tightly around himself. Remus just wraps his arms around him too, holding him close.

 “I don’t know, Virgil.” He tightens his grip. “But I do know you won’t have to do this alone.”

 The dark pit in his chest softens ever so slightly. He tucks his head under Remus’s.

 “I know.”

 He goes to Logan next. Knocks on his door and waits patiently—okay, maybe not that patiently—for Logan to open it and tilt his head.

 “You needn’t do that, you can ask for me directly if you like,” he says after he’s welcomed Virgil inside.

 “I know, I just…felt better doing that.”

 “I understand.” Logan smiles and adjusts his glasses. “What can I help you with?”

 “I, um…” He shifts his weight from side to side. “I found something.”

 “Oh? What did you find?”

 “Do you remember when I said the bread tasted gummy?” Logan nods. “Well, I, um, found out why.”

 Logan’s eyes widen as Virgil holds out a dish with some of the stuff on it. He takes it slowly, adjusting his glasses again as he stares down at the glistening substance. His eyes dart from it to Virgil and back.

 “Remus said I was changing,” Virgil offers, “because of the bond, and I just—I just wanted—“

 He swallows.

 “…wanted to know if it would hurt,” he finishes lamely.

 Logan takes a deep breath and sets the dish aside, reaching for his notebook and flipping it open. He scribbles something down and looks up, a smile slowly forming on his face.

 “I’m incredibly glad,” he says softly, “that the bond is holding and that you are staying.”

 “Wait, there was a chance it wouldn’t work?”

 “There was a chance it wouldn’t be formed at all,” Logan corrects, “not that it would fade once it was made.”

 “So...?”

 “So you’re one of us now, Virgil,” Logan says, holding up the dish, “this proves it.”

 “What is that?”

 Logan’s smile grows. “I’ve got no idea. Let’s go find out, shall we?”

 He beckons Virgil closes, moving across his room to…an area with machines that Virgil has never seen before. He watches as Logan carefully separates a piece of the substance to place on the bed of…what looks like a giant box but what is probably so much more complicated.

 “You can come closer if you like.”

 He shakes himself, looking up to see Logan considering him curiously.

 “Sorry.”

 “No need to apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Logan lets their shoulders brush together as he comes to join him. “This is one of my favorite tools.”

 “What’s it called?”

 “I call it the universal scanner, though I believe Roman calls it the Answer Box.”

 “The what?”

 “It answers most of the basic questions I can have about something, I suppose.”

 “So he called it the Answer Box?”

 “I don’t believe Roman’s ever claimed to be the best at naming things.”

 Virgil snorts. “Then you were not there for the argument the two of them had over who was naming Oliver’s new adopted jellyfish.”

 Logan shudders. “No, and I’m quite glad for that.”

 The scanner begins to beep, little pulses of light going off around the stuff lying so innocuously in the middle. As it keeps going, something starts to twist in Virgil’s chest.

 What if something’s wrong? What if this isn’t a sign of Virgil changing and it’s something dangerously wrong with him? What if he’s changing and it’s bad? What if they decide they don’t like him or he’s dangerous?

 What if they realize the—

 —the humans were right?

 A rush of cool surges up his arm and he breathes, reaching out to take Logan’s hand and squeeze. Logan squeezes back, stepping a little closer and watching as the machine slows down. Across the room, one of Logan’s screens lights up. He gives Virgil’s hand one last squeeze before stepping away, going to look at the results.

 “What does it say?”

 “Chemical composition, tensile strength,” Logan murmurs, “as well as magical signature.”

 “Magical signature?”

 “Who it belongs to,” Logan clarifies, shooting him a smile over his shoulder, “you, Virgil.”

 “I have a magical signature?”

 “You do.”

 He looks down at his hands, turning them over. “What does it look like?”

 Logan thinks for a moment. “Do you remember the colors that your aura turns when the Claims are shown?” Virgil nods. “The colors are the various signatures.”

 “So yours is…?”

 “Dark blue, I believe. Roman’s is red, Remus’s is green. Patton’s is light blue.”

 “Janus’s is yellow, I guess.”

 “I believe he prefers ‘gold.’”

 “He’s so pretentious,” Virgil mutters, “gold, honestly. Shut up, it’s fucking yellow.”

 Logan chuckles. “You can tell him that if you’d like.”

 “Maybe I will.”

 “But to answer your question,” Logan continues, “your magical signature is your color.”

 “…which is what?”

 Logan looks at him strangely. “Do you not remember?”

 “Remember?” Virgil shuffles nervously. “Remember what?”

 “The day you were taken,” Logan says softly, sending a dark bolt through Virgil’s stomach, “and we brought you home, do you remember what happened in the garden?”

 V jolts awake, flails desperately, against Roman, against Logan, against Patton.

 “V, V, honey,” Patton tries, “you’re safe, honey, it’s just us, kiddo—“

 “Virgil.”

 Virgil breathes, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Logan sends another calming pulse into the air, calling his name quietly until he can look up.

 “My apologies,” Logan murmurs, “I did not mean to do that.”

 “It’s fine, you didn’t—“ he takes a breath— “you didn’t mean to.”

 Logan accepts it with a nod. “I merely meant that your aura was particularly strong that day,” he says quietly, “and perhaps you remembered it. But you did not, and that’s okay.”

 “Sorry.”

 “You haven’t done anything wrong, Virgil, it’s alright, there’s no need to apologize.”

 He blinks, looking back at the bed of the scanner. “So what is it?”

 “Simply put? It’s a web.”

 Virgil blinks, longer this time. “A what?”

 “A web, Virgil,” Logan repeats, “your web.”

 A web, that means—that means that Virgil—he’s—

 “So what am I going to be?”

 “I believe…” Logan turns the screen to face him. Virgil’s eyes widen.

 “A spider?”

 “I believe so, yes.”

 “But—“

 Logan raises an eyebrow when Virgil cuts himself off abruptly, all but clapping a hand over his mouth.

 “But,” he prompts softly, “but what?”

 “…nothing.”

 He tilts his head.

 “It’s fine.”

 “You don’t have to lie to me.”

 “I just…” well, the more he thinks about it, the stupider it sounds. He’s trying really hard to not say it out loud, but…

 “You can tell me,” Logan says softly, “I won’t be upset.”

 “…but no one likes spiders,” he whispers, shame burning the inside of his throat where he can feel another web forming.

 Logan is quiet for a moment. Then—

“Come here.”

 Virgil’s head jerks up. “What?”

 Logan holds out his arm. “Come here, little one.”

 And Logan looks so sincere that he can’t help it, ducking under his arm and letting him gather him close to his chest. Logan hums gently, tucking Virgil’s head under his chin and holding him tight.

 “We like you, little one,” he murmurs, “and everyone else can leave you alone.”

 “…really?”

 “Yes, really,” Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “you’re wonderful, little one.”

 And Virgil opens his mouth to say something equally nice like ‘I like you too’ or even just ‘thank you,’ but nope, instead he has to cough out a web like a rude person.

 Luckily, Logan just chuckles again and gives him a gentle squeeze. “I must say, I’m curious about how that works. Would you mind if I helped you figure it out?”

 “Please.”

 So that’s how he ends up spending a lot of time with Logan, figuring out how much web he can shoot, how to do it on command so it’s not happening all the time, how to hold onto some of it so he can pull stuff towards him like a frog—apparently Patton gets a kick out of that when he tells him—and how to make sure it’s not constantly living in the back of his throat. It’s a fucking blast, actually, and he definitely uses it when Logan gets into an argument with Remus to ‘accidentally’ cough a web into his face. It’s priceless.

 That doesn’t mean it’s all good stuff, though.

 He wakes up one night with his room covered in webs, sticking to every single available surface, tying him up so he can barely move. His mouth runs dry, his throat aches. He blinks a few times and can’t get the gummy feeling to go away.

 Patton, Patton I—I—

 Virgil? Kiddo, can I come to you?

 Help me—

 “Hey, hey,” he hears not a moment later, right next to his head, “hey, kiddo, shh, you’re okay, I’m right here.”

 “P-Pat?”

 “Yeah, honey.” Patton waves his hand and a little glow appears in the corner of the room. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

 Virgil breathes, wincing when he feels the strands of the webs again. Patton makes a sympathetic noise.

 “Do you want me to get rid of them?” At Virgil’s insistent nod, he waves his hand again and they vanish. “They’re gone now, kiddo, it’s okay. Can you sit up for me?”

 Patton wraps his arms tightly around him and holds him close, warm, warm, warm, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 “Shh, shh, you’re okay, nightmare?”

 “Yeah.”

 Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

 “I think—“ Virgil swallows— “I think that’s why the webs came out.”

 Patton nods. “I can see they trapped a lot of it for you.”

 Virgil blinks. “Wait, what?”

 “The little buzzing things, the ones that love to fly around you.” He tips Virgil’s head to cup his cheeks, brushing his thumb along the curve of his face. “The ones I can dust off for you?”

 “What about them?”

 Patton nods toward the rest of the room. “Your webs were trapping most of them, kiddo, making it so you weren’t as badly affected.”

 “O-oh.” He swallows again. “But I—I didn’t like it.”

 “Making them when you weren’t in control?” Virgil nods. “I can understand that, it must’ve been scary to wake up with a room full of webs.”

 Virgil nods again, shifting a little closer to Patton. Wait—

 “If the webs were holding them,” he starts, “then why…why aren’t they coming back?”

 Patton chuckles. “They know better than to try and touch you when I’m here.”

 Virgil hums, burrowing into Patton’s chest and letting him idly flick away the few that dare get close. And yeah, that…that makes sense, but he would rather not be coughing up webs while he’s unconscious. For one, his throat still hurts.

 Patton just gently lays his hand against Virgil’s neck and strokes, once, twice, three times, encouraging him to swallow. He does, sighing at the rush of warmth that comes with it.

 “Good,” Patton murmurs, “do you want help to make the webs before you go back to sleep?”

 “Help to make them?”

 “We can set up a little bubble so they get caught, and so you won’t have to do it asleep.”

 “You—you’d help me?”

 Something flashes behind Patton’s eyes for a moment before it’s replaced by a soft smile. “Of course, sweetheart, I’ll always help you.”

 Virgil shifts a bit closer. “Can we stay like this for a little longer first?”

 “Of course, kiddo, you come here.”

 The webs help. A little. It takes some getting used to, and there’s definitely still times when he wakes up and his throat is all gummy from nightmares, but it does help.

 Then, of course, there are the new legs.

 Virgil’s eyes shoot open as something cracks. He floats, unaware of what’s happening, as cracks continue to shake the floor of the room. His head rolls to the side. What’s happening? Why can’t he feel anything? There’s just this white-hot tinge to the corners of his vision, almost as if he’s springing up out of his body, what—

 —no.

 No, no, no, he made it out.

 He was free, they were going to keep him safe, how—

 He gasps.

 Pain floods his senses, turning his blood white and his mouth opens in a silent scream. His jaw aches after the first few seconds and it aches, it truly does, and as his head lolls to the side all he can think about is how the wood at the bottom of the door doesn’t quite reach the floor.

 A golden thread inside of him snaps taut and yanks.

 “Virgil? Virgil!”

 “J?”

 “Yes, little mouse, it’s me,” Janus’s voice calls from somewhere above him, “I’m right here, darling, tell me what’s wrong.”

 “It—it hurts, I—“

 “Shh, shh—oh, darling.” A gloved hand touches his cheek to catch the tears. “Oh, little mouse, tell me what’s so awful, what’s hurting you?”

 Another sharp crack rings out and Janus makes a noise.

 “Virgil, you’re going to have to roll over.”

 Moving of any sort feels like the actual worst, thank you very much.

 “They’re trying to come out of your back, darling, any pressure on them is going to make it worse.”

 Blinking through the haze of white, Virgil manages to stare up at Janus. He watches his mouth thin to a hard line.

 “Come on, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, gently tucking his hand under Virgil’s cheek, “roll toward me, I’ll catch you, but you have to get off your back.”

 At the gentle urging of the thread, Virgil closes his eyes and rolls.

 “Good,” Janus soothes, cradling him as they lie down on the floor, “good job, darling, I’ve got you, little mouse, it’s alright.”

 “What’s—what’s happening?”

 “You’re changing, sweetie.” Janus rubs a circle into his lower back, away from the pain, “that’s all it is. Shh, shh, I know it hurts, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

 “Make it stop,” he whines, burying his face shamelessly into the crook of Janus’s neck, “it hurts.”

 “I know, sweetie, I know. You’re doing so well, it’s okay. You’re okay, I’m right here.”

 Janus wraps his arms around him carefully, avoiding the center of his back. One hand cups the back of his neck, another ruffling through his hair. Two stroke down his shoulders, trying to get the muscles to relax. The last pair sling around his hips and hold him close.

 “I know it hurts, sweetie,” Janus whispers, “but you have to try and relax. Tensing up will only make it hurt more.”

 “I can’t—“

 “You can, sweetie, they’re almost out, it’s okay.” He tips his head to press a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “You’re doing much better than I did when my arms were first growing in.”

 “R-really?”

 “Yes, sweetie, really…oh, easy, little mouse, shh, just focus on me…”

 Virgil clings onto him as his back keeps cracking, over and over. Janus is right, though, holding onto him makes it a little easier, especially when he reaches a hand up to brush the tears away.

 “I’ve got you, Virgil,” he promises, “it’s almost over, you’re doing so well, just a little more, now, stay here with me…”

 “I want it to stop, it fucking hurts.”

 “I know, little mouse, I know.”

 “Don’t think—“ Virgil gasps against his neck as another crack rings out, quieter this time, though— “don’t think that works anymore.”

 “You’ll always be my little mouse,” Janus whispers, “but you can also be my little spider.”

 Virgil blinks. His back still aches, but…the blinding white pain is gone. He tries to stretch—

 —and freezes when new things respond in ways that do not make sense.

 “Jan?”

 “You’ve got new limbs, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, giving his hair a ruffle, “can you try and move them for me?”

 Oh, he was not meant to have these muscles in these places. Still, he manages to figure out which ones he’s supposed to flex only for another jolt of pain to shoot through them.

 “Shh, shh,” Janus shushes when he winces, “I know it hurts, but you’ve got to start building up a range of motion now, otherwise they’ll get sore and stuck very quickly.”

 Virgil grits his teeth and bears it, listening to Janus’s gentle instructions on how to bend, unbend, and rotate the—four?—four new limbs coming from the center of his back. He definitely sheds a few more tears into the collar of Janus’s shirt, but by the time Janus rubs the back of his neck and tells him he’s all done, for now, his back does feel a little better.

 “You did so well, sweetie, I’m so proud of you.”

 “Can I never do that again?”

 Janus chuckles. “Absolutely, little spider.”

 Oh. Oh, fuck.

 Janus’s eyes widen as a brilliant blush starts to bloom over Virgil’s cheeks. “Well.”

 “No.”

 “But it’s been so long since I have seen you so flustered, little spider,” he purrs, gently knuckling the side of Virgil’s face, “can you blame me?”

 “Stoppit.”

 “Oh, darling, is it truly still so easy?”

 “Well, it’s easy once I’m already here!”

 “Mm.”

 Virgil does not squeak, thank you very much, as Janus sits up and pulls him fully into his lap.

 “And where is here, little spider,” he hums, bringing one hand up to cup his chin, “right…here?”

 Well, there go Virgil’s speaking abilities.

 Janus chuckles, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “It’s certainly been a while since I’ve seen you speechless, darling.”

 Virgil just mumbles and throws his arms around him.

 “Oh, it’s okay, little spider,” Janus murmurs, softer this time, “I’m done now, you have my word.”

 “Mean.”

 “Yes, yes, I know, I’ve been very rude to you.” Another kiss on his cheek. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

 “How?”

 As an answer, he feels hands begin to rub gently at the muscles in his back, encouraging the last bit of cramps loose. An exhale tears itself out of his chest as he sags forward.

 “Good,” comes the soft whisper, “good, little spider, just relax, I’ve got you.”

 Virgil mumbles, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. “Hurts.”

 “Still?” At his nods, Janus makes a noise of sympathy and redoubles his efforts. “It’s okay, little spider, I’ve got you, you’re here with me.”

 Something dark shifts in his stomach again. He tucks his head firmly under Janus’s chin and takes a shaky breath.

 “What is it, darling?”

 “When I woke up,” he mumbles, “thought it was—that I—“

 He swallows.

 “…wasn’t sure if I was…back or not.”

 Janus stills. The dark thing in the pit of Virgil’s stomach snaps.

 “You are here,” Janus says, a growl tinging the edge of his voice, “you are here, with me, and you are safe.”

 Arms wrap tightly around him.

 “None of them will touch you again,” he promises, “I have you. I have you, little spider, you’re safe.”

 Virgil just sits there, basking in the warm, golden glow, as Janus wraps the threads of Reality around them.

 “Keep me?”

 “I’ll keep you, little spider, I’ll always keep you.”

 He lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

 One last kiss pressed to his forehead. “Always.”

 The limbs are…interesting. The first time Janus takes him to the mirror to see them, Virgil almost runs away.

They look like spider legs, all segmented and hairy, but they’re a little too…purple to be just normal spider’s legs. Janus walks him carefully through how to stretch them, how to use them, how to turn them this way and that until it feels a little more like Virgil’s supposed to have them. He doesn’t seem to have to build up their strength as he would a new arm or leg—well, a humanoid arm or leg—but figuring out how to use them takes…a little longer than he’d like.

 And he never quite gets over how…wrong it looks.

 Freak.

 He does his best to hide it. It’s not like it isn’t expected, people don’t normally spontaneously grow limbs like, partway through their life anyway, let alone spider legs, so an adjustment period is expected, but…

 Freak.

 All things considered, he thinks he’s doing pretty well. He hasn’t lied to anyone—not that he really could—and no one’s asked him flat-out if he feels like they’re awful or anything, but…

 Freak.

 Then he makes his way back to his room as the sun sets one day and Roman is there, leaning up against the side of the house, waiting for him.

 He looks up and smiles, waving to Virgil and beckoning him closer. Virgil goes, valiantly suppressing the shudder at how fucking warm Roman is as a hand comes up to cup his cheek.

 Judging by the smile on his face, it’s not successful, but hey, he tried.

 “Hello, sweetheart,” Roman murmurs, “can we talk for a moment?”

 Virgil nods.

 “Thank you, sweetheart, do you want to go inside, or…?”

 “Sure.”

 Roman lets Virgil lead him inside and pull him to sit down on the bed. He reaches out to push Virgil’s hair away from his face.

 “Do you know why I’m here, sweetheart?”

 When Virgil shakes his head, he scoots a little closer and rests his hand flat against his back, just below where the legs come out.

 “…oh.”

 Roman nods, rubbing little circles. “What’s troubling you, little honeybee?”

 Virgil huffs, gesturing over his shoulder. “Don’t think that works anymore.”

 “Mm, Janus said you’d say that,” he murmurs, shifting a little closer and lifting Virgil’s chin, “talk to me, sweetheart.”

 Virgil shuts his eyes. A web crawls up into the back of his throat and he swallows it down, willing the buzzing things to stay away, held at bay only by the web still in his throat and the insistence that everything is going to be fine.

 “…freak,” he mumbles eventually, much to Roman’s surprise, “they called me a freak.”

 Roman’s hand stills on his back.

 “I jus’—“ fuck, why is he crying?—“I jus’—they made sense, and I—“

“Don’t, sweetheart,” Roman says quietly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Virgil’s, “don’t do that to yourself.”

 Swallowing the lump in his throat, he lets Roman pull him closer, fighting down the urge to sob.

 “Yes, that’s it, come here—come sit with me—there,” he murmurs, sitting Virgil in his lap, “you’re not a freak, Virgil.”

 He huffs. “Easy for you to say.”

 Roman pulls back, frowning. “Why?”

 Fuck. Well, now’s he got to explain himself.

 “Um—“ and great, Roman’s not even doing anything and he’s bright red— “you don’t have any of—“ he waves to the spider legs— “you look like a normal human.”

 He hesitates.

 “…and you’re really pretty.”

 Roman blinks. His lips part and his breath leaves him in a rush. Virgil winces.

 “Sweetheart, do you think you don’t have value if you’re not pretty?”

 “I mean…”

 “No,” Roman growls, sitting up a little straighter and cupping V’s face in his hands, “no, Virgil, pretty isn’t some kind of rent you pay to exist in the world. You don’t owe anyone that, sweetheart.”

 Virgil’s eyes widen as Roman holds him tightly.

 “You have more to offer than just your outward appearance,” he says firmly, “so much more.”

 “But I—I’m not—“ Virgil swallows. “I can’t do anything.”

 “What do you mean you can’t do anything, sweetheart?”

 “You guys, you can all—“ he waves his hands—“do things. I can’t. I’m just…here.”

 “Oh,” Roman breathes as his face truly falls, “oh, little honeybee, you don’t have to be useful to be wanted.”

 Wait.

 What?

 Virgil doesn’t—he doesn’t have to—

 “What?”

 Roman nods, pulling him closer still, “you don’t, sweetheart, we want you. We will always want you. You don’t have to do anything to earn it.”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 “You’re mine, little honeybee, as long as you want to be,” he murmurs quietly, “you don’t need to do anything to earn my trust or affection. It’s yours.”

 Well, now Virgil feels stupid. The spider legs twitch unhappily over his shoulder. Roman catches it.

 “Still not used to them yet, I see,” he murmurs, “that’s alright. I’m not trying to tell you you’re not allowed to feel upset, sweetheart, I promise.”

 “I know.”

 “Can I help,” he asks softly, “can I help you see they’re nothing to be ashamed of?”

 “How?”

 “Has anyone touched them yet,” Roman asks, “other than to help you learn how to use them?”

 He shakes his head.

 “May I touch you, sweetheart?” Virgil nods and Roman smiles. “Thank you. Now, come here—yes, that’s it—“

 Virgil leans right up against Roman’s chest, letting him curl his arms around to scratch gently, gently at the very center of the four legs. It sends a jolt through him, every nerve buzzing.

 “You don’t have to think right now,” Roman hushes when Virgil can’t find the words to say exactly how much this means, “not if you don’t want. You can just sit and feel, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

 Warm. Warm hands rubbing firmly up the limbs as Virgil’s frantic thoughts grind slowly to a halt. Then Roman’s hands find a spot just below the third segment and he groans, low and dark.

 “Shh, I’ve got you,” Roman soothes, squeezing just enough to rewire more of Virgil’s brain, “I’m right here, little honeybee, I’ve got you.”

 It’s so much. It’s so much and every single hair on Virgil’s body stands. He hears Roman chuckle from far, far away and all he can do is whine. Roman shushes him, calling him ‘noisy’ in the most affectionate voice but it’s so much.

 And yet, it feels like something’s missing. Like there’s an extra joint that isn’t quite sitting right yet, like there’s a layer in between the spider legs and his back. Roman keeps touching him, holding him close, but it’s not right.

 “Roman,” he manages, just as Roman’s fingers slide around the base joint, “Roman—“

 “Yes, little honeybee?”

 “Magic.”

 Roman stills and Virgil tries not to whine at the loss. “What?”

 “Use your magic,” he says again, trying to clear his head enough to ask properly, “it feels—I can’t—they’re not mine yet.”

 He’s quiet for a moment. “And you think that if I use my magic, it will help?”

 “Please?”

 “You don’t have to beg, sweetheart, you know I can’t ever say no to you.” Roman ruffles his hair. “But you know the rules, sweetheart.”

 Virgil nods and sits up, leaning away to look at Roman properly. “If it’s too much or it feels like it wants me to want, I tell you and we stop.”

 “And…?”

 “And if I don’t like something.”

 “Good.” Roman takes a deep breath. “Alright.”

 “Yes?”

 “Yes, little honeybee.”

 “…still don’t think that works anymore.”

 “Mm.” Roman tilts his head.

 Virgil shifts as a smirk crawls over his face.

 “Janus told me something else, you know,” he says softly as he reaches to coax Virgil back into his lap.

 “…what?”

 Red sparks curl up from his fingers. Virgil closes his eyes, waiting for the hand to land on his back or the legs again, only for them to fly opened, startled when Roman cups his chin.

 “Wha—“

 Oh.

 Oh, no—Roman’s eyes darken a little, the sparks fizzing on the soft spot under his chin. He tilts his head to the side and leans closer.

 “Hello, little spider.”

 Virgil will deny the squeak he makes until the end of time. Roman chuckles and runs his finger lazily across Virgil’s jaw. The magic trails after him.

 “Pretty little spider,” he coos, voice slipping back into that light, sweet, gentle thing that wriggles straight into Virgil’s chest, “blushy little spider.”

 “R-Roman!”

 “Hmm?” The finger swipes along the other side of his jaw. “What is it, little spider?”

 All that comes out is a keen.

 “You asked for this, little spider,” Roman reminds, tapping the tip of Virgil’s nose, “you asked for the magic.”

 “The magic, not the flirting!”

 “Oh, the flirting’s for me, little spider,” he coos, “just for fun. You’re so lovely, I can’t help it.”

 “Mmm!”

 “Is this not what you wanted, little spider?” When Virgil can’t say anything, Roman chuckles but lifts his fingers away to let him catch his breath. “What do you want, little spider?”

 “You know what I want.”

 “I do,” he says softly, “but I need you to say it for me. I don’t want to do anything without your consent.”

 “…will you touch my legs, please?”

 Roman smiles, running his finger up Virgil’s neck, up under his chin, lifting to press a kiss to his cheek.

 “Good, little spider,” he whispers, reaching around to leave a small trail down the middle of Virgil’s back, shushing the light whine, “just relax, now, I’ve got you.”

 Virgil melts, all but collapsing into Roman as his magic trails lightly up and down the legs, over his back, sometimes fizzling into his hair as he kisses Virgil’s head. His legs start to move of their own accord, pushing up into Roman’s hands as he rocks them slowly back and forth.

 “Are you falling asleep, little spider? Does that feel good?” He feels Roman smile against his forehead. “You can sleep, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

 The last of Roman’s magic fizzles away but his hands stay, rubbing, stroking, petting up and down, up and down. Roman’s so warm.

 “Just rest, little spider,” Roman hushes, “you’re alright now, shh…”

 He falls asleep to moonlight streaming in through the window, his head pillowed on Roman’s chest.

 Somewhere, a purple thread winds itself into a braid next to a red thread, a green thread, a light blue thread, a dark blue thread, and a yellow thread.

 ‘Golden.’

 He’s so pretentious, it’s fine.

 Virgil’s home.

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[bard-llama]

WiP List

This is gonna be looooong (like, REALLY long), so I’mma go ahead and give you a cut here. But if you’re interested in what i’m working on, take a look!

Order purely based on the order my tabs are in. I’m only counting WiPs that actually have more than a paragraph written, because if I didn’t, this list would be even longer. Also, pls don’t judge me but what I name my WiPs 😂

Post-Coital Smoke

Kinda what it sounds like tbh. I just wanted Iorveth getting high and admiring Roche’s body and then Roche decided to be a tease. At some point, I assume there will be sex.

Angst: Sex object Roche

Iorveth’s POV of realizing that Roche hurts himself whenever he flirts at Iorveth. Premise is that Roche has been groomed (intentionally or not) by Foltest to be his. So when he feels attraction towards Iorveth, he needs to be punished. And obviously Iorveth helps him learn that no, that’s not okay and idk recovery???

Midwinter Feast

This idea was 100% spawned by me trying to write holiday fics, but Foltest hosts a Midwinter Feast where they close the city for 12 days, leaving Roche to get along with the Nonhuman/Scoia’tael(ish) delegation during that time. Also, Foltest might be using the feast as a delaying tactic to resupply his army. I legit have no idea where this is going, I just thought the idea of Roche and Iorveth stuck at a feast for 12 days was funny.

Solstice Feast aka To Birth a Verdant Future

This was actually an xmas gift for @lutes-and-dandelions, but I havent finished it yet 😓 But the premise is similar to the former in that it’s another solstice feast. But it’s set post-W3 with Emhyr as Emperor throwing a party in the new conquered capital of Vizima. Roche broods a lot about Foltest’s memory and how he hates Emhyr and decides to distract himself by hanging out with Iorveth and suggesting they follow an old elven tradition. And that’s all I’ll say. XD

Next Year (Solstice Feast sequel)

Literally set the next year. This time they merge their lives by merging their people’s traditions.

Lily Preserved in Amber

Okay, haven’t gotten very far in this, but I decided it was an elven rite of passage to go searching through the forest for a sign of your future. And Iorveth finds a piece of amber with a lily preserved inside. I haven’t decided if it purely means Roche or if it means his whole family with Roche and Boussy and Anais and all. So far, he hasn’t even found the amber yet lmao. But he did just discover music!

Character taking control of the other and Character B just letting go and enjoying themselves

Under the subheading “Porn Snips”, so uh, yeah. Starts with Roche and Iorveth fighting to decide who gets to top, involves Roche getting choked, and Iorveth ripping Roche’s pants off. Oh, also, they’re currently at a fancy party hiding somewhere in the garden lmao

Based on @moonlights-ordinance‘s art

Moonlight’s working on an adorable piece where Roche leans his forehead against Iorveth’s back between his shoulderblades. I decided to make it post-W3 with both of them working as paper pushers/administrators under Emhyr’s Temeria. And Nilfgaard does not believe in chairs with backs (or, really, Emhyr wanted to see how long Roche’s pride would make him suffer. It’s a long time). The idea is to show development over time as they slowly get more comfortable with touch and start using each other as backrests. And then the sweet scene Moonlight is drawing.

Eliza for @useless-empty-brain aka Can’t We All Just Get Oolong?

Next is Iorveth’s POV, but I legit cannot figure out where to start. But we’re gonna see some of his thoughts (like how Eliza volunteered him to stay in Vizima for an unspecified period of time and he said yes even though he can’t and now has to commute regularly because he doesn’t want to miss tea with Roche but also doesn’t want Roche’s spies to catch on lmao) and his curiosity about Roche and Foltest and what Roche’s mission is (which I... totally know.)

Roche’s Scars

@moonlights-ordinance sent me a great pic of a mod for Roche where he had some pretty vicious scarring/mutilation. So of course I decided I needed to tell the story of each one. But really, it’s a story about the stages of acceptance with scars. Both Iorveth and Roche start out hiding theirs, but eventually come to reveal them comfortably in public.

Vernon Roche of the Scoia’tael aka The Value of a Man

Does my title give it away? Oops? So, this is a found family fic where Roche is captured by the Scoia’tael and the elves and dwarves slowly come to see him as - well, I was gonna say human, but as a person, I guess. And start feeling really, really guilty, especially when some not great things happen to Roche. 

Oh also, Foltest is a giant dick and uh, SPOILERS he does not try to get Roche back. Which leads to a whole subplot that will end with a found family for EVERYONE, because they all deserve to be happy dammit.

All of that was just one document lmao. I have 24 documents, some of which have quite a few WiPs in them. 😱

Kiss Prompts

24. Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer. AKA How to Fluster an Elf

When I got the idea for How to Fluster an Elf, I decided it was gonna fill the prompt dammit. And then it really, really expanded on me.

33. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

Roche dreams occasionally that Iorveth visits him and watches over him and sometimes speaks, but he can’t understand Elder Speech, so he assumes it’s all gibberish.

Then he finds out it’s not and suddenly he’s not so certain it’s a dream

16. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

Okay, I literally just need to buckle down and write some good kissing. This is set in (Im)Perfect Strangers and Iorveth is pouting about them leaving the gardens, so Roche makes it up to him.

25. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

This one won’t actually be published with the kisses ‘cause it’s porn and the rest are T-rated lol. Buuuut Roche and Iorveth are trying to have a secret liaison in the forest when the rain starts. Featuring nature magic, tentacles, and Iorveth getting filled.

Scenes from Another World (aka AU premise)

Old Men in Vergen

Set during Witcher 3, but with an established relationship. Roche comes to visit Iorveth in Vergen to ask for advice on leading an insurgency. Iorveth just wants to feed Roche while he can now that he’s not the one starving in the woods.

Language Aphasia/Deal with the Devil

I wanted to write Gaunter! So I decided that Gaunter is in a mood for some mischief (he calls it being generous) and comes upon a traveling Vernon Roche who wishes that he could be understand Iorveth. Then Iorveth’s Scoia’tael find a passed out Roche in the woods and bring him to Iorveth for judgement. Only somehow, Roche only understands Elder Speech now. He can’t understand Common at all. The Scoia’tael find this very offensive and Iorveth is mostly freaked out that someone who can do THAT was wandering around his forest.

Bunk Beds: The Portrait of Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Based on a silly comic, Ciri convinces Iorveth and Roche to try to help her destroy the portrait. Geralt gets pissed and sends them to Bunk Bed Exile. Shenanigans ensue and somehow they start to get along.

Iorveth’s Scoia’tael Giving Him Shit For His Taste in Men aka The Lovestruck Fox

Right now, working on a piece from the POV of a new Scoia’tael recruit who is discovering that Iorveth’s Scoia’tael roast the fuck out of him over his crush on Roche. 

Speaking of, anyone have suggestions on prime roast material? I am not this creative.

Let’s Torture Roche!

No, really. This one is pretty dark. And told in kind of a different style than my usual, because I felt like it. So, premise is that Iorveth and Roche were a thing in the past, but then Roche was recalled to Foltest’s side and he went. So Iorveth is understandably pretty hurt and pissed (this was decided for a prompt of someone breaking down as soon as they’re behind closed doors). Buuut what he doesn’t know is that Roche is not with Foltest of his own volition. Hostages, blackmail, and torture are all involved and Foltest is a pretty horrible guy. But of course we need a happy ending, so eventually, Iorveth will rescue Roche and they get to recover together.

Life Debt aka Iorveth is an Asshole

The concept for this was that Roche saved Iorveth’s life and now that they were no longer enemies (set during Witcher 3), his honor demands that he follow Roche around until he can repay the favor. Featuring Iorveth being a trolling asshole, correcting the new Temerian Loyalist’s fighting abilities, and Roche being very, very tired. 

In application, it’s mostly angst so far, ‘cause I had to set up HOW Roche saved Iorveth’s life. And then I decided to really hurt Iorveth. But tbh I will probably skip ahead after establishing this stuff, because I just want shenanigans.

King and Country

I’ve got several WiPs for this one, including the Stripes’ recruitment, their decision to change sides, the Stripes being double agents, and of course, Iorveth and Roche’s developing relationship. But hey, I’ve skipped ahead to writing their wedding already, so... you know it ends happily ever after?

Friday Fight Night for Jan 29 (which I did not make oops)

So, this actually turned into a long piece that’s gonna be part of my Chronic Pain series. Basically, King Foltest is treating with the leaders of the Scoia’tael in Temeria and Iorveth is one of them. Unfortunately, he’s having a REALLY BAD pain day, but he’s also determined to be there to represent his people. Roche helps him see sense. Possibly forcefully.

Exhaustion Prompts

“If we’re both in this state, we both really screwed up somewhere huh?”

Iorveth and Roche are trapped in a dream and I got a little stuck creating the creature that trapped them there. But pretty sure Saskia is gonna interrupt their flirting by saving them.

“You were almost dead from pushing it too far!”

In which Roche has a heart attack from too much coffee. Yeah. He’s okay, though! But PT is about to blow a gasket and coffee will very much be disallowed.

Found Family Prompts

Taking Out the Trash for @useless-empty-brain

Literally a story about taking out the trash lmao. We’re gonna see if I can make this intersting.

Touch Starved for @mochii-girl

Honestly, haven’t gotten much done on this yet, but I’m thinking puppy pile cuddles in Corvo Bianco

Coffeeshop AU aka Brewing Romance and Dissent

Ooof I’ve got a lot of bits and pieces of this written, but nothing quite finished, except for the moment when things change from “we flirt as I order coffee” to “I make you special drinks and invite you to come visit me after hours”. Writing a canon coffeeshop au when I know shit all about coffee is HARD.

Curse Breaking

Omg this is one of the first WiPs I started for Iorveth/Roche, no joke. STILL WORKING ON IT! The premise is that Roche finds a feverish and dying Iorveth in an empty Scoia’tael camp, saves him with the power of True Love’s Kiss The Power of Strong Emotions, Like That Which You Might Have For Your Enemy. Then they team up to go save Iorveth’s Scoia’tael from a big bad mage and Roche invites Triss along for the ride, which totally doesn’t make Iorveth jealous. I kinda stalled out at the part where they reach the mage’s hideout and see the results of the mages failed experiments. On Iorveth’s people. It’s gonna hurt. A lot. But afterwards, there might be makeouts. And some sort of implication that they’re all down to do this (minus the horrible, traumatic parts) again.

Roche POV bloodplay

Roche’s POV starting from before his first encounter with Iorveth. Then he has a weirdly sexually arousing encounter with the elf, and tbh, that’s as far as I got. But Iorveth draws blood from Roche’s neck, presses his thumb to it, and then licks it off his thumb. Next, Iorveth was gonna be the one getting Uncomfortably Aroused, but I haven’t gotten that far. No idea where this is going overall.

Iorveth Investigates Roche

This kinda isn’t a real WiP in that idk if I’ll ever finish it. I mostly started it to do some worldbuilding about what public information there would be about Roche. 

Voyeurism AKA Eye on You

Yeah, I don’t have much for the next chapter yet, tbh. So premise is that Iorveth accidentally ends up watching Roche get off at the brothel and finds it really, really hot. Hot enough to get curious and go back for more. Next one is going to involve thigh fucking and Iorveth might possibly get pegged by Daph??? idk

Fake Relationship

Poor @lutes-and-dandelions has been waiting forever for this one and I can’t even find a place to end the scene and post what I have so far. Premise is that Iorveth and Roche are both investigating their missing men and the trail takes them to the Murivel Resort for Couples. So they go undercover. Featuring Roche’s POV of being doubtful, Iorveth using the excuse to flirt outrageously, strip gwent, and a magic amulet that hids Iorveth’s scar and that Roche hates.

Competitive Makeouts AKA The Chase

This was kissing practice and it turned into a casefic! Which is awesome because I love casefics even though I haven’t published any yet. So in this one, as Iorveth and Roche sneak off to makeout, they also end up investigating a conspiracy in the Temerian military. 

Iorveth/Roche(/Kayran) + Roche/Foltest aka Every Kiss Begins with Kayran

In which Roche accidentally walks in on Iorveth’s monthly fuck date with the Kayran and gets invited to join in. Then, somehow,  it starts to turn into a relationship. With an elf and a tentacle monster. And yet, somehow, this relationship is healthier than the one with Foltest. The contrast opens Roche’s eyes.

Pining and Poignards

In which Iorveth stabs Roche with his favorite knife and wants it back and is also maybe pining a lil bit. Meanwhile Roche is rather pissed, but also curious and begins to teach himself Elder Speech to try to read the inscription on Iorveth’s knife. I stalled out in the scene where Iorveth accidentally watches Roche masturbate in the bath.

Iorveth tittyfucking Roche

Look, it’s what it says on the tin. Roche’s POV of Iorveth’s fascination with his chest and how it makes him feel and then there is sex.

Dirty Gremlin Man

Iorveth gets off on Roche being a sweaty, stinky human. Roche pins Iorveth in a fight and Iorveth gets very distracted watching a drop of sweat trail down Roche’s face. So distracted, in fact, that he doesn’t think twice before stretching out his neck and licking it. Then, of course, he remembers where he is. Featuring a very confused Roche, a smidge of jealousy, and Iorveth stealing Roche’s sweaty clothing to do unspeakable things to it. And somehow they get together.

Want me to sit in your lap?

Geralt LEGIT says this to Roche like 5 mins into the Witcher 2 and it’s GREAT. So of course, I had to write a scene where he actually got to. This is set post Witcher 2 while Geralt, Triss, Roche, and Ves are headed back to Temeria. Triss offers Geralt a little stress relief - which involves warming Roche’s cock and watching Triss and Ves get to know one another.

Red is the Rose

So, Chapter 4 is set post-Witcher 2 and Iorveth is obsessing over the fact that the Rose of Remembrance still has not wilted. He wonders what might be possible, so when he hears a rumor that a certain Temerian Commander was taken captive by Dethmold...

Dethmold most definitely dies. But unfortunately, that doesn’t save Roche from the curses he cast. So they go looking for Geralt to find out how to fix it.

This has only been 9 of my documents, y’all. I think I have a problem.

De-Aged Fic aka The language of friendship is not words but meanings

Ugh, I lost my momentum on this one, which sucks, ‘cause the next chapter is so close to done. Iorveth just needs to do a little freaking out first. But then they will both be back to adults and have to DEAL with the fact that they made good friends and would kinda like that again. I think this fic is gonna be purely friendship for them, but they’re gonna get there.

Glory Hole

A fic for the @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo where Roche hears a rumor that some Scoia’tael go to this brothel on the outskirts of town and hey, he may as well check it out, right? By going undercover and working the glory hole, of course. He never ACTUALLY expected Iorveth would come, but his legendary mouth was enticing enough to draw the Scoia’tael commander out.

Snuggling

Thirteen “accidentally” handcuffs Iorveth and Roche together when they capture Iorveth. This leads to them lying on the cot in the Stripes’ holding cell, spooning. There is banter and tickling and escapes not attempted and also maybe some sex with Inexperience Iorveth (i say maybe because I already started the sex, but idk if it will fit in). 

Petals and Stripes

A weed is but an unloved flower

Okay, the Stripes are going to attempt to woo Iorveth during a battle. Also, there is a stabbing. And then a kidnapping. And then, miracle of miracles, someone actually tries talking!

One person's weed is another person's wildflower

Ves’s POV! She cleans up the mess her idiots make and terrifies the life out of one elven suitor, but first she’s gotta deal with her own conflicted feelings about her Boss, the guy she relies on to show her the shades of grey in the world, loving the elf she’s supposed to kill. 

After that, I’ve got 2 more fics planned in this ‘verse. One is gonna be a fluffy and/or sexy date after Iorveth and Roche have gotten together. The other is a Scoia’tael side story, featuring lots of gossip about the humans sending their Commander love letters.

Love Shack

The Better Part of Valor

Ugh, I’m stuck on the sex again. Roche is having a really shitty day, so he goes to the cabin and signals Iorveth that he wants a round. Iorveth offers gentle (for them) sex and praise. And at the end, there’s a very significant scene where Iorveth removes his bandana. Roche buries his fingers in Iorveth’s hair, but doesn’t actually see his face, as he’s laying on his stomach with Iorveth on top of him.

Medicine

The morning after! Roche wakes up to find Iorveth in the bath, facing away from him, and notices a new scar. Iorveth has to deal with actually revealing his scars in daylight and they discuss the significant differences in elven and human medicine. Hint: I turned my own medical procedures into elven medicine, so it’s pretty fucking good.

PWP Ovi

Set ambiguously late, maybe after Thou Art More Lovely and More Temperate. Iorveth and Roche explore what Roche can take. We start with overstimulation, go into consensual somnophilia, come inflation, breeding kink, and oviposition. Because elves reproduce by laying eggs, which is not at all the case purely because I started this WiP ages ago and was horny.

The Picture Says It All

There’s going to be 5 more pictures that Rinn draws for Iorveth. Next is Roche hard at work, hunched over a desk. Then we’re getting some shirtless Roche, for “research”, of course. Then Roche cuddling with PT and the rest of the team, about which Iorveth is not at all jealous. Then a face study of Roche during a fight and uh, Iorveth is uncomfortably turned on. And finally, a drawing of their cabin with a silhouette in the window. She knows.

Roche & Rinn: The Haunting of Barrack 8B

Oh man, I really want to finish the next chapter, because I already have the one after that done. But first, we get introduced to Adda! This ‘verse is going to feature Adda the White a lot more than any of my others have done so far and I’m very excited. Also, Silas continues to be terrified of the ghost and the ghost and Adda become girlfriends buddies.

Roche builds Iorveth a home

Set late in the ‘verse, after Roche knows his feelings, but they haven’t said them yet (not out loud, anyway). Iorveth takes a trip to go meet Saskia do things off screen and Roche ends up turning to his old hobby, carpentry, to keep himself from pining too obviously. So obviously he ends up builing Iorveth a solarium. And a pillow nest. And a scaffold so that flowers that blossom in the moonlight cover the glass and give them privacy.

I got stuck here because Rinn needs to give Roche a hint to get him to build the pillow nest, but I hadn’t developed Rinn and Roche’s relationship yet, so had to go back and do that. But eventually Iorveth returns and they have wonderful I’m-not-saying-it-but-i-love-you sex in the new pillow nest.

Foltest (WiP): Long Live the King

This is actually the last fic in the ‘verse, so I don’t want to give too much away. But actually, I haven’t figured out what the next chapter is, BUT I have the chapter after that started and it is GOOD, just you wait!! I’m very excited.

Don’t Cry For Me, Temeria

This ‘verse alone, I have 14 WiPs and a dozen more unwritten ideas.

(Im)Perfect Strangers

I am frustratingly stuck on this chapter. Theoreatically, we are going to have a check in on how the mountain and the rest of our cast is doing and then Roche launches his Wooing TM plan (aka dinner, gift, and dancing).

Between Two Fools

Yeah, Roche and Iorveth have very different understandings of what their gifts represent. There is some soft happiness and then a swift rug pulled out from under Iorveth’s feet, I’m afraid. BUT we are almost to the part where the two idiots sit down and actually talk properly.

Unlucky Number Thirteen

Not only do I have more of Thirteen’s story planned, but I have ideas for ALL the Stripes to have stories. We’ll see how that goes. But for now, Thirteen starts spying for Roche. A lot of still-nebulous stuff happens, including Thirteen’s first time, for which he asks Roche to help. Additionally, once we reach the (Im)Perfect Strangers timeline, Thirteen has a special story all his own. It involves learning to read and a secret I shall not yet reveal.

Silas

Like I said, all the Stripes are hopefully getting stories. But Silas’s is coming along nicely. He starts a new life as “Silas��, as a man, and joins the army. Boot camp is rough and awful and he’s not very good at any of it, but one day, Roche comes looking for a recruit. He needs a codebreaker to decipher Thirteen’s scouting reports (another one for pictures). So Silas joins the Stripes, but he’s still terrified that they’ll fnd out and think he’s been lying to them. Fortunately, they’ll be putting his fears to rest.

Stripes Sex aka Earning Your Stripes: The First Time

PT’s POV! The Stripes (pre-Silas) are all still getting comfortable with each other as a team. But Thirteen has known Roche the longest and in a specific capacity. So one evening when he needs to get out of his head, Thirteen asks Roche to dom him. PT is confused and scandalized and then jealous, but he gets to join in soon too. Meanwhile, Finch and Ves have fun with their bratty arsonist and Fenn is loving it.

break (v /brāk/): to destroy someone's resistance

This is very long and entirely build up to porn. And then lots of porn. A question during a random conversation leads Roche to make Iorveth ask him to take Iorveth utterly apart in a consensual non-consent fantasy set when they were still enemies in the forest.

Bath House

This was supposed to be a simple PWP where Roche talks dirty to Iorveth under his breath while the two of them are at the bathhouse with Boussy (who LOVES baths and brought them to the fancy bath house), Anais, and Thirteen (who HATE baths and react to water much like a cat). They kinda took over the story and there has been no dirty talk yet oops.

Iorveth POV: Tutti

Iorveth begins to reclaim his love for music and lets himself improvise and compose again. And he ends up writing a song that is the story of his and Roche’s romance.

Daggers, Dumplings, and Dresses

The Elihal/Hattori side story! Though we haven’t actually met Hattori yet. So far, Elihal is expounding on his past and his relationship with Iorveth (he used to make all of Iorveth’s fancy gowns for concerts). Elihal and Hattori won’t play a HUGE role in (Im)Perfect Strangers, but they will be appearing!

Ves and Ciaran aka The First Rule of Fight Club

Ves is stuck walking a very long way back to Vergen with the memory of Ciaran’s skin against her teeth. And even though elves lie like breathing, she can’t help thinking about what he said about Roche not being worth her loyalty. Slowly, she begins to work some things out.

Sex with Saskia/Dragonfucking

Yeah, it’s what it sounds like. Iorveth tells Roche that Saskia agreed to a threesome and where to meet, but he neglected to mention the rather large dragon that was currently rimming his ass. Roche gets distracted from his confusion by the hotness and watches Iorveth get fucked by a dragon (with 2 dicks to fit 2 holes, of course).

Come Inflation + Piss Play

Um. Yeah, it’s a PWP where Roche asks Triss for a potion that will make him come a lot. And then Iorveth wants more. No idea where it’s going, tbh.

Stripes vs Scoia’tael: Water Balloon Fight

Literally a water balloon fight. For morale.

Baby Mama

Uh, the title is a bit telling here oops. But let’s just say Iorveth and Roche go on vacation to the cabin on top of the mountain again when Iorveth is hit with the sudden extreme urge to breed. Roche is down, but at some point, they do actually need to talk.

King Roche aka fics where Roche is in charge and hates it. Some are more in line with this than others.

Post W3 Becoming Terrorists Together

Ah yes, the murder husbands fic. Literally, Roche gets stuck leading Temeria under Emhyr’s orders and he’s good at it, but he HATES it. Enter Iorveth, who both points out security flaws, joins Roche for a surprisingly unawkward bath, and proposes that they go hunting down war criminals on their own time. How can Roche say no?

Pre-W2 Ambassadorial AU

Different first meeting AU! In this one, Iorveth is sent as the elven ambassador to Temeria and it’s about as much fun as one might expect. Triss and Roche, the other outcasts amongst Temerian court, decide to befriend him. Well, try to anyway. idk where this is going, but it’s been fun. Also, Iorveth wears a fancy braid over his eye, because I said so. Also, I might be planning an OT3 porn scene at some point, because it turns out, elves are VERY sensitive to magic XD

Leap of Faith

Okay, yeah, this has nothing to do with King Roche, but it’s the doc I was working in when I got the idea. In this one, a mage captures Iorveth for Foltest and starts torturing him. Roche, without really thinking about it, decides the mage goes too far, so he kills them. Leaving him with an elven prisoner and a castle full of people who will consider him a traitor for that. They escape the city, but now Iorveth has gotta convince Roche that no, the King really won’t forget that whole murder and prisoner escape thing. 

The whole point of this fic was for me to write them jumping off a cliff lmao. When am I gonna get to that? Probably like last or second to last chapter, tbh. Which should be... after the next one? No, I lied, it’s next chapter! I need to get on that!

An ill-favour’d thing, sir, but mine own aka Possessive Sex

Piss Fic

Um. Yeah. Roche is really horny when Iorveth gets home and is on him immediately, which is great, but Iorveth has gotta piss. Which becomes less urgent as Roche is determined to have his face fucks, but after he comes all over Roche’s face, it’s VERY urgent and Roche is a fucking brat and won’t move out of the way. So obviously the response to this is to piss on Roche’s crotch - which Roche is apparently more than okay with.

Cum Dumpster Roche

Yeah, this one doesn’t have much yet, I literally just wanted Roche getting railed and claimed and L O V I N G it. 

Possessiveness

Iorveth spends a lot of time thinking about his enemy, his nemesis. He’s researched Roche extensively, spent hours thinking up tactics and strategies to outwit his nemesis. He literally knows what Roche named his stupid weapons, but he’s never actually met Roche.

But he’s dreamt about it. The Roche in reality doesn’t look like the assumptions he made in his dreams, but who cares about looks? Because Roche is his, and certainly not some dh’oine king’s.

Tentacles + Breeding

Gods, this one is SO CLOSE to being done dammit, I just gotta finish it!! But it’s a fun one. Iorveth and Roche are fighting, when Iorveth suddenly starts fighting plants, which are fighting back. Then the plants notice Roche and suddenly he’s tied up with vines and his clothes are getting torn off and uh, he’s not supposed to find this hot, is he? But he really kinda does. And then Iorveth goes and claims him and tries to protect him from a nearly-extinct non-sentient plant that sensed a warm spot to lay its eggs until someone else could come along and fertilize them. Iorveth is delighted to be that person.

Dream: Pleasure Slave

Yeah, Roche really likes getting claimed in these. In this one, he has a favorite dream setting where Iorveth rules some grand elven kingdom and Roche’s only role is to bring him pleasure. Not to deal with politics or nobles or policy, but just to make Iorveth feel good. So far, this features cock warming, come inflation, a leather cock cage (so to speak), prostate milking, and a very nice silver chalice that Iorveth expects Roche to fill before they’re done.

Roche wears a collar

This was gonna be a simple lil thing based on me creating Roche in heroforge and giving him a lil hidden collar. But then Iorveth decided to get really sappy and had to design and create the perfect collar for his enemy. And then, much to his surprise, he gets the opportunity to PUT his collar on Roche. Which is great, except the sight distracts him so much that Roche manages to escape.

But the next time they meet, Roche is still wearing that collar, hidden under his chaperon and armor. Iorveth has feelings about that.

Standalone

Crones fic aka And Ghosts Did Shriek and Shrill

So this is the angsty fic that started from a crack premise. Er, one of them. I seem to do that a lot. But in this one, Roche goes to the Ladies of the Woods and asks for his men back. The Ladies agree, in exchange for 6 lifetimes of service. But no creature can reverse death. Which leads to the Stripes coming back to “life” as ghosts - only Roche is the only one who can see them. Ves can’t (not at first). 

Believe it or not, the whole idea behind this was the Stripes roasting Roche as he tries to flirt (terribly) with Iorveth. But uh... somehow it turned pretty dark. Like, it’ll have a happy ending for sure, but it’s gonna be a lot about processing trauma and grief and building families and also curing a plague, because that’s the first assignment from the Ladies.

Stripes fics

Cuddles with the Commander

This is intended to be a sequel to The Pride of Temeria, but I kinda got stuck figuring out exactly how Roche should react. Tbh, I don’t have much of this written yet, but the goal is for Roche to approve cuddles with everyone lmao.

Fire Breating

Okay, this one started as crack purely because I love fire, but it’s actually been really fun. So, Iorveth and Roche are established and Iorveth has been invited to a family night with the Stripes, which is kinda a lil awkward. So they decide to showcase some of their talents - which includes Roche singing musicals and PT breathing fire.

Iorveth is horrified that humans have harnessed this skill.

Iorveth’s missing eye

This is really short and idk if I’ll continue it, but the idea was for Roche to really wonder what was up with the bandana over half of Iorveth’s face was about. And then, of course, to find out.

Iorveth Gangbang

Why is this under Stripes fics, you might ask? Well, I have great news for you. Guess who the gang is?

In which Iorveth and Roche are in an established relationship and Iorveth gets tied up in the middle of the Stripes’ camp while Roche orders his men to take him apart. Iorveth very much enjoys himself, and then when the Stripes are tapped out, Roche shows ‘em how it’s done.

Kink Bingo fics aka that event that I totally failed, but hey, prompts are prompts.

Age Kink

In this fic, Iorveth and Roche both end up captured by unknown forces and end up imprisoned together. I think the Stripes and Scoia’tael are probably working together to find them and save them, but in the meantime, Iorveth and Roche decide to get to know each other a bit better. Featuring muscle spasms, blow jobs, and pain kink.

Eskel/Lambert (okay, a little out of place here, but eh, it’s in the doc and I am still working on it)

Started for a prompt on tumblr, Eskel and Lambert end up fighting and, trying to keep the peace, Eskel casts axii on Lambert. Which leads to Lambert confessing that he bit Eskel because it’s the only way he could get his mouth on him. This leads to some dodged confessions, some frottage, and some snarky banter, because of course it does. 

Tempt Not a Desperate Man aka the Fuck or Die series that started with Devour What’s Truly Yours

Fisting

The next part of the series, where Roche struggles with the fact that he’s been high key horny ever since the encounter in the woods with Iorveth and nothing is satisfying him. Iorveth, on the other hand, is jealous and annoyed that Roche keeps going to the whorehouse.

Then Roche decides to make a potentially suicidal move and enters the forest to try to find the clearing from last time. And, as you might guess from my heading, fisting will be happening. 

Iorveth POV: The Chaperon

Okay, I don’t actually have much of this written, but it’s really cute so - Roche keeps using his chaperon as a cum rag, so Iorveth knits and/or sews him a new one.

“Human Bootlicker”

PWP where Iorveth jokingly suggestions Roche should surrender on his knees - and then Roche does. And asks Iorveth to take his prize. Featuring Roche coming all over Iorveth’s boots from getting his face fucked, then leaning down and licking up the mess while Iorveth watches and then comes over his face.

One Accidental Proposal and Five Attempts At Accepting

So one of the themes of this ‘verse is gonna be the Elven Baths where the Roses of Remembrance grow. As in, they decide to make the elven baths a place they meet up. This is the first time Iorveth takes Roche there, and Roche does not know what significance the roses have. But he DOES know that Iorveth blushes cutely when he tucks a rose behind Iorveth’s ear, so...

Iorveth would like to accept, only Roche doesn’t know WHAT he’s trying to accept.

The Legend

So in the game, there is a legend around the statue of elven lovers above the elven baths. “Legend has it the lover’s sighs are enchanted within these very stones, though only those in love can hear them.” 

Iorveth overhears his Scoia’tael gossiping about the legend and comes to an abrupt realization that Roche and him were the ones they were hearing. Oops?

Standalone Fics

Letters

This is kind of a bittersweet WiP that I mostly wrote in one go and then went to sleep and kinda lost the will for it. BUT the premise is that post-Witcher 3 Roche is in charge of Temeria and his brooding is interrupted when he receives a letter sealed with a forget me not pressed into wax. Iorveth continues to send letters describing his life as a “civilian” in Nilfgaard and how much he hates it and Roche relates a little bit too much. Then Iorveth decides to run away and live on the streets as a musician and he might inspire Roche to start learning the cello and presumably at some point, they meet.

Identity Porn

Iorveth and Roche have a meet cute in Flotsam’s tavern while the elf is listening in for local gossip and Roche is passing through on his way to meet with the other northern kings to get support in fighting against the new emerging threat of the Scoia’tael. Neither knows who the other is, but that doesn’t stop them from starting a relationship where they meet every time Roche passes through Flotsam. But their house of cards can only last so long, and at some point, they will meet as enemies. Who knows what happens then? idk, not me.

Gwent pinup calendar aka Cards Out for Your Country

Hahaha, so I started this series in response to some WONDERFUL art of Roche with his Tits Out For Temeria. And obviously we need more of that, so I created a list of 24 characters who are asked to pose for some pinup art, all in the name of Gwent. So far, I’ve only finished Dandelion’s pose/the introduction, but I do plan to do as many of them as I physically can.

Gwent Game in Corvo Bianco

Wow, I didn’t even remember this WiP, so uh... clearly I haven’t worked on it in a while. But it’s Iorveth’s POV of how surprisingly comfortable he is in Corvo Bianco and Iorveth and Geralt get drunk and play gwent.

Zoltan/Jaskier/Priscilla

A giftfic for Wibbly that involves Zoltan being sappy about his bards and then Priscilla dominates them. Featuring all my headcanons about dwarven genitalia (two holes, one with a retractible dick).

Dijkstra fics

Noticing Roche’s Fucked Up Relationship

Anyone else randomly finding themselves shipping Dijkstra/Roche? No? Ah well. For this one Dijkstra observes Roche and sees a few too many reminders of himself with Vizimir, except Foltest is no Vizimir, and Roche clearly hasn’t learned to set up boundaries. Dijkstra feels weirdly compelled to help him figure that out before Foltest destroys him.

Developing Respect Fic

Also known as “let’s torture Roche 1.0!” This fic switches between the present, where Roche has woken up in a cell somewhere unknown and it brings back far too many memories for him to be entirely sure of what is happening when. In the past, he was captured by Redania while on a mission for Foltest, long before he was anyone notable. Dijkstra comes to visit, curious about this prisoner who refuses to break, to even tell them his name or confirm his country (but he has a Temerian tramp stamp, so they know lmao). So Dijkstra decides that this is not a man who will be broken through torture and decides to try conversation instead. The idea is to show them slowly gaining respect for each other, but like, obviously Roche is still a prisoner. Eventually, he’s returned to Temeria in a prisoner exchange, but meanwhile, in the present, Roche is all alone, with not even guards around and no way to free himself.

and that’s all!! I am... legitimately scared to count, tbh. This post is so fucking long, the number cannot be good for my heart. But, that said, please come talk to me about any ideas you find interesting!! Or anything you have questions about! 

And if you made it this far down the list... wow. Thank you, you rock.

[paradoxumfilum]

Old partners and new bounties

Inspired by prompt 1194 by @daily-prompts

======

“What are you doing here?”

“You asked me to come”

“That was a long time ago”

“Well, I’m here now. Just like old times,” I said with a smile, “I still want to help, and you wouldn’t have asked me here if you didn’t need my help.”

“Ok, I guess I still need you. It has been six months you know, and you didn’t even give me a reply to the message I sent you. So things may have... changed a little”

A small look of annoyance came over Ellie's face, it was clear she had wanted me to at least have given her a reply to the message she sent rather just showing up unannounced.

“What would have been a relatively simple bounty between the two of us has developed,” she continued, “Klark has retreated into the local asteroid field of this sector using it as cover to prey of the freighters that pass by between here and Xylon-22b. He is being harboured by his old gang who won’t hesitate to come to his defence when we go in there.”

“So, whats the plan then?”

“I was thinking to join the crew of the Eagle again, they know how we work and so shouldn’t be too difficult to convince. Plus they picked up a contract with the refineries on Xylon a month or two ago so will be heading that way anyway, we can ask them to disable one of their defence turrets to make them an easier target.”

“Sounds good, when do we leave?”

***

It took little convincing for the crew of the Eagle to allow us to join their crew for this bounty. We had worked together in the past and had complemented each other very well.

“How are my two favourite humans!” Greeted Zerg as we walked onto the ship, Zerg was the captain of the Eagle and was a Tauk. The Tauk are a six armed, bipeadal race with a short tail, they often are found working on freighters as Zerg does.

“We’re doing well Zerg! How has business been?” I called as we walked up the ramp into the cargo bay.

“Good, good, this new contract is very promising. I am assuming we have our usual deal?”

“Yes, of course. You and your crew will be getting a 30% cut of any bountys, hopefully this should be profitable for you as some of the gang members have outstanding bounties as well.” Ellie said.

“Fantastic, fantastic, glad to see you two are still together. You seemed to be arguing alot the last time we worked together.”

Me and Ellie shared a look, “Well... we aren’t really working together any more, this is more of a one time thing.” Ellie started, “Things weren’t working out so we parted ways, this is just a challenging case thats all.”

A look of surprise crossed Zargs face, “Oh, I do apologise, I hadn’t realised. Come into the galley and get yourselves a drink, we shall have a little catch up once I’ve helped with the undocking.”

***

The next morning the whole ship was on edge as we approached the asteroid fields, everyone knew that we were a suitable target. The only question was when would the ship be attacked.

The previous evening I had stripped and reoiled my rifle, a ritual I settled into with vigour. My rifle was old, battered and clunky, but she worked and had enormous stopping power. It was one of the few rifles around that still used kinetic rounds rather than energy pulses which made it much more suitable to bounty hunting where having to worry about the energy core didn’t matter. I had one made the mistake of stripping my rifle the same day we guessed we were going to be attacked, and it stayed in its disassembled state the whole day as we were attacked whilst I was still cleaning it. Not a mistake I made again.

Strolling onto the bridge I cocked the rifle, finding satisfaction at the sound of a round being chambered.

“You still use that clunky old thing? Not heard of modern weapons James?” Ellie jibed, gesturing to her sleek blaster that was slung across her back.

“Of course, Shelly is still reliable as ever” I said with a chuckle as Ellie shook her head remembering what I had named my rifle. “Any sign of Klark yet?”

“Nothing yet, the scanners still show no movement from the asteroid field” Said Zarg.

“Sounds like its time to play my favourite game then! The waiting game.” I said, taking a seat in one of the chairs on the bridge.

***

A few hours later the console started beeping, indicating that it had detected movement from the asteroid field.

“Alright, looks like its go time. Off to the bolt hole we go.” I said, rising out of the chair. “See you shortly Zarg” I called over my shoulder as me and Ellie walked out of the bridge.

The bolt hole was in fact a small space behind one of the wall panels near the airlock, there was just enough space for me and Ellie to squeeze into. The plan was generally to hide in the bolt hole until the pirate ship had docked and their docking party disembarked allowing for whoever was hiding to slip onto the docked ship whilst everyone was distracted. A short bit of shooting later and the pirates found themselves on a one way trip to prison, if all went to plan.

It was this short bit of waiting that was the worst part, being in a small dark space hearing only your own breathing and the clunking of ships docking together. It seemed to take forever and being in such a space with Ellie there too and our situation made it particularly uncomfortable. But eventually the sound of the airlock door opening was heard.

The muffled voices of the pirates drifted through the panel as they made their way onto the ship, they were shortly followed by the sounds of resistance by the crew as they were rounded up by the roaming pirates. It was time, slowly opening the panel we slipped out into the corridor. With adrenaline rushing every movement seemed to echo down the corridor into the pirate ship.

“Same as usual?” I whispered to Ellie, with a quick nod of confirmation I headed into the bowels of the docked ship as Ellie turned to head back into the Eagle to provide the docking party with an unwelcome surprise. Walking between the two ships I hit the emergency undocking button feeling the airlock doors slam shut behind me, now it was just me and a ship of pirates.

As the inner door of the airlock opened up I bought my rifle to my shoulder ready for whatever the door revealed. The thumping of people running towards the airlock was the only warning I had before a trio of pirate rounded the corner in front of me, the cacophony of blasters and rifle fire filled the room as the two groups opened fire. Diving to the console that controlled the airlock I took cover as the three pirates retreated around the corner, poking my rifle above the console I waited for an appendage to reveal itself. Without a conscious thought my finger pulled on the trigger as my mind registered that something revealed itself from around the corner, as whoever it was retreated back I kept up my fire and pressed toward the corner letting the sound of the rifle cover my movement.

With a shout I rounded the corner quickly firing off half a dozen shots into the three pirates, with shouts of pain they fell to the floor. Pausing I kicked away their weapons before pulling out their energy cores. Turning back to the three pirates, all three of them were Gucae. A silicone based race they looked very similar to Cuttlefish, they walked upright on their tentacles and were able to change their pigmentation to reflect their mood. Happy that these three Gucae were not in a condition to continue fighting I continued heading deeper into the ship.

Heading in the general direction of the bridge there was a flash of movement as a door closed ahead of me, I reached across to take hold of a stun grenade hanging from my webbing. Pulling the pin I hold the spoon down as I walk the few paces to the door. Reaching out I hit the button for the door, as soon as there is enough of a gap i throw through the grenade turning aside as I await the blast. Hearing the krump of the grenade I charge into the room firing at the stunned pirates inside. I had found the bridge, but the grenade hadn’t managed to catch all the pirates in the room as a flurry of hasty shots whizzed past.

Quickly diving to the floor I crawled behind a chair listening for any movement giving away anyones position. Hearing the creak of a chair behind me I leapt aside. An energy round smacked into the space I just was, leaving a scorch mark of the back of the chair I had taken cover behind. Levelling Shelly I let off a burst of shots in the direction of the shot, the bark of the rifle filling the room in stark contrast to the whine of the blasters.

“This would be a lot easier if you just gave yourself up” I called out, “much less pain for you as well”

The wet cackle of a Gucae came from the other side of the room. “Oh you silly human, who do you think that you are facing? I am Klark of the Ethereal Abyss, fear me!”

“I know exactly who I am facing, and it is me you should be fearing. Not the other way around.”

Spinning the chair I was behind around I raised myself up to kneeling position, resting my rifle on the arm of the chair. Dropping my hand down to my left leg I felt for my knife, pulling it from its sheath I reached forward and placed it over the muzzle of the rifle. Feeling it click into place I said “Last chance” hearing no reply I lifted myself into a crouched position. “So be it”

With a surge of movement I leapt forward, vaulting over the console. A battle cry coming from my lips I charged forward using the few seconds of surprise to rush the figure of Klark leading with my bayonet.  A grin comes over the face of the Gucae confident in his close combat abilities, as who in their right mind would rush a Gucae. 

Lifting up four of his tentacles I stabbed forward managing to nick one of them. Klark responded by jabbing forward with two of his tentacles from opposing sides, I quickly ducked underneath them. As I stood back up I took a pace forward attempting to shoulder barge Klark, he pushed back as I swung the butt of the rifle around smashing it into his body. With a grunt he shoved me off, two more tentacles shot out. One hitting me in my shoulder causing me to stumble back, the other I batted away with the rifle.

Planting my feet I thrust forward with the rifle, instinctively Klark put up two tentacles to stop the thrust. The blade cut through them with ease severing the limbs from the Gucae. Klarks body flushed a deep blue with pain before he responded with a flurry of blows that I was barely able to block. He slowly pushing me back. I swung with the rifle, firing off a few shots as I did so. As Klark flinched from the sound I flipped the rifle over catching the barrel with two hand, grimacing as the heat burned my hands. Swinging low I knocked the tentacles out from beneath him. Reversing direction I swung the rifle back down to hit Klark in the body before sliding my hand up the rifle to hold it properly once more. As Klark scrambled to push himself back up I gave a savage thrust downward.

A piercing shriek filled the room as the blade pinned Klark against the floor. “Do you yield? It would be such a shame to have to kill you” I growled. Klark cowered beneath my gaze as I gave the rifle a twist, blood starting to pool on the floor.

“I yield” He said meekly.

Releasing my grip on the rifle I walked across to the console, opening a comms channel to the Eagle.

“I’m all done here, permission to come alongside”

[hostgalli19]

Hallowvide Day 5: Barbed Wire & Aquaphobia

Chapter Summary: A feeling of dread curled in my stomach when I saw how dark the water in the cave was. There was only around three possibly four feet of "shallows" before it dropped off. My palms started to sweat at the thought of what could be in the water.

Note: Today’s prompt is, if you couldn’t tell from the title, Aquaphobia (fear of water). The artwork in this is done by Whizzer that he very kindly allowed me to use. He did it for Inktober Day 4: Ghost which gave me the idea for this story.

S Dark - He appears in a story I haven't posted yet but am in the process of writing S Mark - Sil's version of Mark Sil - Dark/Damien from another universe. See Chapter 9 of MFC

Length: 1,507 words (4 pages) Tag List: @darkipliertm​, @wilfordwarfstacheisbae​, @lamiasluck​, @scuttling-thoughtfully​, @matt10nt​, @bexiblitz​, @kraefandoms, @ameliachastain Link to Ao3, Day 3 and Day 4

Date: 05/10/20 Time: 9:15 pm - 10:55 pm 

I’m not a particularly stronger swimmer. I can do one lap of a 50m pool, its the second lap where I slow down and breathing becomes very difficult. 

Getting out the water after making my way slowly back to the other end of the pool was difficult. My body felt weighted down and heavy, pulling myself up the steps were difficult but I somehow managed. 

It was over. My legs felt like jelly,  I could barely stand.

I could barely speak with how heavy I was breathing. My teachers were always encouraging and let me go and sit down after that one lap. I was never able to do more than one. 

I know if I do laps more often I don’t really like swimming that much. Host knew very well that I wasn’t a very good swimmer, despite that I was very good at holding my breath.

I was relaxing in the sun, leaning back on my hands with my feet in the pool because it was boiling when I was suddenly pushed in. I tried to get back to the surface but something was weighing my limbs down. 

I tried to hold my breath but found it impossible the closer to the bottom of the pool I got. It felt like my lugs were being crushed. I pinched my nose and “popped” my ears. It helped a little though not much.

The pool was incredibly deep. Host had made the pool "as deep as it needed to be" since S Dark had appeared in the kitchen.

There were many tunnels and places to hide. It was amazing how quickly an ecosystem had developed after Host had added some fish, seaweed, crabs and other creatures. 

It would have been perfectly fine if Bim had turned him into a mercreature like he had promised he would when I wanted to go swimming.

I wanted to visit S Dark's cave and see what other pretty things he had collected. I tried to hold onto as much air as possible but it was so hard. I had to clamp my hands over my nose and mouth to stop any air bubbles from escaping. 

I tried to remind myself I was perfectly safe but it was impossible. I looked down trying to see what was wrapped around my legs and was shocked when I saw barbed wire attacked to... something was wrapped around my feet and carves.

It was then that the extreme pain registered and I screamed. All the air escaping my lung. I was breathing in water. I jerked when I felt myself touch the sandy bottom of the pool. 

The water was a bluish-green colour and looked really pretty with the light shining through the water. I tried to move, push myself up. Do anything but couldn't. I looked down, there was a heavy chain resting over my stomach.

I tried to move it but couldn't. I closed my eyes briefly. I opened them again when I felt someone shaking me. I stared at the person through blurring eyes. I blinked and realised it was Mark. 

I looked down when I felt smooth scales brush against my legs. His tail was light yellow at the top fading into gold, his fins were tipped with red. I was sure his eyes were glowing gold but I was sure.

He was moving his mouth like he was saying something but I couldn't hear anything. I felt so tried. I just wanted to sleep. I could feel him shaking me but wasn't able to open my eyes again once they were closed. 

The next time I opened my eyes I had to close them almost immediately due to the bright light. I still in the water, but sitting on the steps leaning against the warm tiles at the edge of the pool.

The first thing I heard was yelling.

Dark was yelling at someone.

"... could you do something so reckless. She could have died. I don't want to have to explain to Host that his sister had drowned," Dark yelled, I stared at his back, black tentacles leaked from his back, his aura was flickering. 

He was yelling at the Jim's who looked absolutely terrifying. I groaned. My legs hurt, I could barely move my arms. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much.

"Oh good your awake. I was afraid I wasn't fast enough," I opened my eyes and looked down when I heard someone speaking found myself staring at Sil's Mark, he looked relieved. 

I stared at the reddish-gold scales on his face, neck, shoulder and arms. He had webbed hands but was somehow still wearing his wedding ring. He smiled revealing sharp teeth.

"Wha happened?" I asked hoarsely, speaking hurt, it felt like I had swallowed glass. 

S Mark's smile disappeared and he turned to glare at the Nightmare Jim's were struggling to get away from a livid Dark but couldn't thanks to the pinkish-red aura wrapped around them. 

The look Wilford was giving them sent a shiver down my spine. They would've had to have done something serious to piss off both Dark and Wilford off.

"The Nightmare Twins tried to enchant barbed wire. Try not to move your legs too much. We haven't quite figure out how to remove it yet. We're still not sure how they managed to write the barbed wire around your legs without you noticing. They pushed you which activated the weight spell," S Mark explained. 

I looked down at my legs and saw the barbed wire had wrapped around my thigh as well. I don't think I could have moved them if I wanted to. I felt tired and found myself staring at S Mark's tail through the water.

I could see a ghostly figure walking down a beach. He was carrying a half-open shirt, his pants rolled up to his knees and carrying what looked to be a towel in one arm. 

I looked around, he appeared to be walking towards the docs or possible a cave though it was hard to tell. He appeared to laugh when a dog ran up to him and started barking. 

He smiled and picked up a stick and threw it.

Later, he was collecting shells and putting them in the towel. A feeling of dread curled in my stomach when I saw how dark the water in the cave was. There was only around three possibly four feet of "shallows" before it dropped off. 

My palms started to sweat at the thought of what could be in the water. I looked around and saw the man had placed the towel on a flat rock and had turned to get something a little further away.

When I looked back at the rock there was a mercreature with blue and green scales, wearing a blue stone necklace putting a very pretty shell on the rock. He ducked back into the water but it was too late, the man had already seen him.

The mercreature was shy at first but the man said something to him that made the mercreature laugh. It wasn't long before the two were chatting and laughing, clearly having a lot of fun. 

I jerked when I heard a sharp clicking and looked up. S Mark was staring at me with a raised eyebrow. I blinked slowly and shook my head. Wondering why it *felt* like I had been sleeping when I know I was awake. 

It was a strange feeling. It had never happened before. I looked up when a shadow appeared. Dark was standing over me. He didn't say anything just kneeled next to me.

"What did you see?" S Mark questioned, I stared at him. How had he known I had seen something. I laughed, I glared at him, very much wanted to hit, I couldn't have moved my arms had I wanted to. 

Dark reached over and hit Mark upside the head. I couldn't help but laugh. I felt... floaty. I'm not really sure why. S Mark muttered something under his breath that earned him another slap.

"That's the look Author gets on his face when he's seeing something," I stared at him, there was no way I see the future, that was Host's domain. 

Sure there were times where my imagination would go to some very strange places but I had never felt like this before. I just shook my head. I somehow knew S Mark knew what I had seen and was only asking because it was expected of him.

"What in the seven circles of hell did you two brats do to my sister," Host demanded, he looked livid, blood was far more blood then normal dripping down his face, his hair was messy and his ink-stained fingers were balled up. 

The Nightmare Jim's tried to run only to remember Wilford had them wrapped. I stared at Host, there was something wrong with this image but I wasn't quite sure what it was.

Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Its not as long as the other stories or even as detailed but I think it works.  If you want to read the other stories go to my profile and search “Hallowvide” and the particular day you want.

[homesception]

May 31, 2013 - part 1: wherein Lobac eats a cookie.

To be fair, it has been like two hundred years since my last update.  That’s a pretty good nap.  Just means I’m all the more rested to work on new stuff, right?  I mean, I need to keep a spritely pace up if I still plan on catching up to Lobac’s liveblog before said liveblog catches up to the comic.  Which for sure is still an actual thing at all, and not a bit of exclusive humor between friends.

Last time Lobac was getting into some theory crafting and analysis of the classpect system.  I didn’t have much to say about that at the time, particularly not much that wouldn’t qualify as spoilers, so iirc I was mostly just responding with random thoughts and video links, half of which are dead now.  There was a bit left over looking at the troll’s perster names, which was also good stuff, but lacking anything coherent to say about it, I’ll just gloss past the rest of that post, apart from:

Lobac said:

Thank you all for sticking around °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

As if you could ever get rid of me.  ~{@PQ}~

Moving on, we rejoin the comic with PM visiting the Black Queen to retrieve the mysterious GREEN PACKAGE, which had been impounded by agents of the Black Court as a result of a traffic violation.  The Black Queen cuts an imposing figure, and Lobac is, of course, duly imposed.

later, Lobac said:

Are those… tentacles ( ´ _ ｀) I thought only the imps were affected by the prototypings?

OH SHIT OH SHIT THAT LOOKS SO COOL HOT DAMN (゜▽゜) Wowow look at her joints! Look at all the carapace-y stuff going on there!

These days, Lobac’s soft spot for this particular sort of shiny, black, possibly betentacled monster-type aesthetic is well documented.  I’m pretty sure she would have loved the black queen’s design even if it wasn’t just objectively cool as hell, but that certainly doesn’t hurt.  I’m kind of sad that we never got a proper fight scene out of this particular version of her.

That’s not a spoiler is it?  I’m pretty sure that’s not a spoiler.

Yeah, the random objects the kids threw in the general directions of their seizuresprites are directly affecting the final boss. NOTHING COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG HERE EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

I don’t see the problem here.  Nothing the kids could possibly put in those sprites could be at all unsettling or dangerous.

haa haa.  hee hee.  hoo hoo.

Her face is so weird though It’s Jaspers-shaped, and her eyes are constantly narrowed, I can’t even tell whether it’s in distaste or amusement

Why not both?

Andrew sure is proud of that hand’s close-up She’s not even dramatically pointing she’s literally just saying “yeah I dunno anything about that kinda shit you best go down there and ask my pretty princess, I mean, subordinate”

It is a pretty great hand, honestly.  I think this particular image gets called back to a few more times yet.

Yeah Rose! You go and fulfill your as of yet unclear vaguely Seering-related destiny

Yeah, Rose!  Get on that, maybe!

ROSE NO YOU ARE 13 THAT IS GONNA TASTE AWFUL TO YOU Heh I legitimately don’t know whether her mom would be proud of or disappointed in her if she could see her now Is this an act of defiance or emulation Just silly teenage antics, probably, but I’d like to think she misses her

Rooooooose Rose nooooooooooooooooo （ ´ω｀） Ehehe I love how the artstyle turns super silly to reflect how upset/surprised she is

These two panels constitute one of the most iconic funny moments in the comic.  It works really well.  Shoot, I should have done the post topper-edit based on these, huh?  Oh, well.  The one I already did took like four hours, mostly due to my extreme rustiness, so I’m not going back now.

Otherwise, I also like to think of Rose missing her mom here.  Maybe not admitting it to herself, but still.  I also still ascribe to the “everything Mom ever did was 110% unironic, Rose made up the whole passive aggressive conflict between them in her head, her mom wasn’t passive agressive she was just a bonkers drunk rich lady” headcannon that I think I spoke about ages ago in this very liveblog.

Anyway, yeah, this is both a hilarious joke and a fantastic little character moment for Rose.  Another contributing factor to Rose being my big early favorite with a seemingly insurmountable head start in the ‘best character’ race.

Actually, lately, since the end of the comic, she’s been gaining ground again for me?  I mean, one of the trolls definitely surpassed her for most of my Homestuck fan life, but... eh, whatever.  There’s no way I can getting into how my feelings about those characters developed over the comics life without being way more spoilery than even I’ve already been, so that kind of talk will have to wait for later.  Even if later means ‘years from now’ or ‘never’.

BOO FUCKING YAH, IT’S THE WHITE QUEEN Or Windswept Questant, for now She’s also as of yet uncorrupted by the kids’ silly sprite shenanigans

Lobac had been waiting for this reveal for a while, I think.

PM: Command John to put the carved tablet into a pyxis.

You follow the command telling you to command John to put the carved tablet in the pyxis and type, “John, put the carved tablet into the pyxis.” You successfully do that, and he successfully does that too. Everyone is friendly and cooperative.

Ah yes, you so rarely get this kind of friendly cooperation from narrators these days

It was a rather uncommonly tidy sequence, for this comic.

Shit I just remembered those typing hands we saw when trying to name Jack, the reader is like a physically present entity??? Maybe???

What prompted this thought?  The earlier black queen hand image hanging in your head, then a bit about narrators entering text, and that old bit just pops up?  It’s cool how brains work, making intuitive connections and all that.

What if we eventually zoom out to reveal a human exile commanding everyone. We’ve only been watching that human mess around up until now. The real story begins when they just suddenly go “whelp that was kinda fun. gotta look for food tho” at an incredibly dramatic moment.They turn away from the console.  And then we watch them slump through the desert for thousands of pages and their journey of introspective self-discovery is the actual story. Yes.

Shit, Lobac just predicted the whole narrative!  No point in continuing this liveblog, I guess.  “[#P%]t

Well, obviously this means that WV has an uncanny knack for distances and PM has one for sounds AR can probably track down crimes by their scent He’s like McGruff the Crime Dog, but a little less fluffy

I used to love McGruff the Crime Dog.  Until I grew up and realized he was a tool of THE MAN.

dear gOD SHE REALLY IS PUTTING JACK IN DRESSES (*≧▽≦)ﾉｼ He and Slick are basically the same person, right? Oh man he is gonna stab the shit out of her one of these days

~{%|%}~

Jack Noir, more like JACK NO. NO YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE OUT THERE MURDERING PEOPLE AND FROLICKING THROUGH THE STREETS WITH YOUR ASSHOLE CREW. WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS IS PATHETIC o(`д´ ｡)

I’d say this is a “be careful what you wish for” moment, but I think Lobac knew exactly what she was doing here.

Ticket? Oh, this thing. Ha, ha, look at that, you are holding a ticket. How did that get in your hand? It belongs on the desk with the others. No, you are not here to pay a parking ticket. You explain to the frightening man that you are here to pick up that green parcel.

GIVE ME A C! GIVE ME A U! GIVE ME A T AND I AND E! sheeEEEE’S A CUTIE!!!!

Honestly, they’re all cuties.  the cuteness of the entire cast, even the villains mostly, in both visual depiction and personality, really is a big selling point of the whole comic.

There was a time when I wasn’t super into cute things.  I was never viscerally opposed to cuteness, never when through a virulently anti-girly-stuff phase, but these days I’m MUCH more into things being cute.  I just like cute characters!  Sure, I like things that are somber and spooky, but the best is when they’re somber and spooky AND super cute!

Like, Hollow Knight.  That whole game is like exactly my favorite aesthetic these days.  Sad and morose and dark and adorable.

But more often than not homestuck still comes pretty close to that ideal.  You just want to hug the shit out of all of these doofuses, a few stab wounds here or there be damned.  Speaking of stab wounds...

WHOOPS TENSION. THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT. I DO NOT ACTUALLY WANT YOU TO START KILLING PEOPLE OK

Maybe Lobac didn’t know what she was asking for earlier.

Wait, the crowns, what the fuck, he wants her to KILL THE KING AND QUEEN??? SHE’S JUST A MAIL LADY ヾ(´･-･｀)ノ”

How does he even know she’s desperate enough to kill people just to get one package?

The PARCEL MISTRESS departs with her mission of double agency. You wonder if she’ll actually be so foolish as to attempt to uphold her end of the lopsided bargain. You make a policy of handing out a REGISWORD and a HITLIST to just about everyone who enters your office. But you never think anyone’s actually going to GO THROUGH with it. 

What a phenomenal asshole That explains that

pretty much.  As for the box itself...

Yeeeeah you’re not actually gonna show me so, go ahead, taunt me, get it over with

PFFFFPFPFPFPFFF WHAT SOMETHING COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS APPARENTLY? NOT AS RIDICULOUS AS HIS FACE THO. Magnificent asshole cutie

Hahah, \[&P%]/

Anyway, at this point the action cuts back to the kids, and that seems a good a time as any to take a break.  I could just save this as a draft and finish the rest of lobac’s post later?  I mean, then I wouldn’t have to take extra time for another panel edit?  But I kind of want to post something now, so I guess well do this one in parts again.  part 2 scheduled for, let’s be ambitious and say may 2022

How did I ever use to have the time for this blogging shit?  I’ve been working on this for like six hours, and only got like a third of the way through one update?  I guess I was just younger then.

I’m so old now.  Time just gets away from me.

And my back hurts all the time.

[profoundnet]

PROFOUNDBOND MEMBER MASTERPOST - APRIL 2018

Header by @pantydean and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirety during the month of April.

Member Contributions for April 2018!

Masterpost below the cut.

60r3d0m - @60r3d0m​ - 60r3d0m

The Wedding Night

Summary: When a monster starts targeting newlywed couples, Dean does the logical thing and offers his hand in marriage. Cas accepts.

And it's all going good. Maybe Dean's a little too dedicated to the ruse when he accidentally calls Cas 'sweetheart' in private a couple of times, and maybe he kind of takes it upon himself to be the Best Husband Ever, ushering him around with a hand to the small of his back while uttering a disproportionate amount of praise, but other than that, it's all under control.

But then the monster attacks and Cas doesn't remember anything anymore.

And then there's a snooping innkeeper who makes it impossible to tell Cas about their sham marriage.

And it probably doesn't help that it happens to be their wedding night and Cas is intent on seeing their consummation through.

NSFW

Tags: amnesia, fake/pretend relationship, bed sharing, marriage, dubious consent, first kiss, first time, shower sex, fluff, humour, happy ending

amirosebooks - @amirosebooks - amirosebooks

Forgetting Your Blues

Summary: Dean Jones doesn't know his real name. He woke up on a public park bench a few months back with an empty wallet and a driver's license listing the name Dean Jones with his picture. The name doesn't feel right on his tongue, but he doesn't remember what part is wrong.

The cop who found him in the park got Dean a job in a local diner. The diner feels comfortable to Dean. He understands the rhythm of the place, the ebb and flow of the people and food, even if he's clearly never carried a tray of hot plates in his life. He settles into his new life. He makes new friends. He takes beautiful women and men and people to his bed for comfort on long nights. He has nightmares about blood covering his hands.

Who is he?

Why has no one come looking for him?

What has he done?

Why did he fall apart when he saw a guy wearing a tan trenchcoat?

Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence; Castiel/Dean Winchester; minor dean winchester/others; Amnesia; Temporary Character Death; Canonical Character Death; post season 12 episode 23 Fix-It; Getting Together; Fluff and Angst; Fade to black sex; Diners castiel with scruff; dean works in a diner; Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester

Dean's Season 13 Grief

Summary: A look at Dean's grief over Cas with Metallica lyrics

Cryptomoon - @cryptomoon​

Dean x Pie

Summary: Dean dreaming of his beloved.

Tags: Dean Winchester, Pie, Digital Art

Noir!Cas

Summary: Noir!Cas drawn for the Profound Robin round 2 banner.

Tags: Noir, Castiel, Digital Art

envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2

The brightness of the sun will give me just enough

Summary: To bury my love, in the Moondust

- For crypto's birthday

I'm Your Huckleberry

Summary: DEANCAS CREATIONS CHALLENGE

↳ Prompt: 13x06 Tombstone

Tags: 13x06

Moonlit Sky

Summary: They'd been busy on their actual anniversary, so Dean decides to make it up to Castiel.

Tags: Surgeon!Cas, Police Officer!Dean, Established Relationship, Anniversary, cheesy celebrations, Serenading, Domestic Fluff, Fluff

Appreciation

Summary: Over in the corner is Castiel Novak. He’s not been at the school long but today he’s all alone; just last week, Dean was sure he saw him hanging out with Samandriel and Andy but today they’re nowhere to be seen. That is until he looks elsewhere and find them laughing at each other on a different table.

Dean frowns. The guy doesn’t have his bag on him or any food in front of him. It’s far too early in their lunch break for him to have finished already.

Tags: High School AU, Light Angst, Fluff, sharing food, hand holding, First Kiss, Poor!Castiel

Foxymoley - @foxymoley

Trueform!Castiel

Summary: Trueform!Castiel with added tentacles for Soba's benefit. ;-)

Tags: Trueform!Cas, angel, spn, tentacles

Icarusinflight - @candybarrnerd - icarusinflight

trying to keep you

Summary: He reaches out for Dean's wrists, using the grip to pull Dean's hands from his pockets, and up to inspect. As he expected there's still traces of blood on his hands. They’ve been washed, but it's still there, under his nails and in his cuticles.

“Cas—”

“Don't,” Cas interrupts him. He doesn't know what Dean is planning on saying, but knows nothing good can come of it. Cas drags his eyes back up to Dean's face, and this time Dean looks at him, eyes locking on each other. “Just let me take care of you.”

Dean is a man possessed with a goal, the goal to get the colt back, and he'll do whatever it takes to get it.

Cas's only goal is to make sure the man he knows is still there when the dust settles.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, mentions of interrogation/torture, Praise, Cleaning, cleaning body and soul, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

in sickness or health

Summary: “This means forever,” he tells Dean, “this means in sickness and in health and it means I’ll never leave you, never again.”

A series of snippets in a world where Dean's memory sometimes fails him.

Tags: Amnesia, Memory Loss, Traumatic Brain Injury, sadness abounds, happiness too, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Dean takes a lot of knocks to the head and i think about that a lot

jad - @jadstiel​ - jad

diamond star halo

Summary: They're doing that thing again, where Cas is staring at Dean with the intensity of a dog trying to remind his owner that it's past dinner time. Dean's staring right back like the first one to blink is buying the next round. Sam's aware there's a conversation going on that he isn't privy to and he's used to it, by this point, but it's still *rude.*

"So, as I was saying," Sam tries to interrupt the resounding silence, "if we can just figure out a — "

"Sure," Dean says, and Sam stutters to a halt, because sure *what?* "I mean, yeah. Yes. Dude, you don't even have to ask."

Cas looks like Dean just slapped him in the face, bloodshot eyes comically wide in a *how dare you* or maybe a *are you drunk sort* of way. Sam can empathize.

Tags: literally nothing bad happens, it's all fluff, s11-ish shenanigans, nbd possession, accidental Marriage Proposal, look these things just happen, Dean/Cas Tropefest 5k Mid-Winter Challenge

levi_cas_tho - @levicastho - levi_cas_tho

A Kiss For Good Luck

Summary: “So, you gonna give me a good luck kiss or what?”

It’s clearly one of Dean’s attempts to act like a dick, but once the thought enters Castiel’s mind, he can’t shake it. Castiel has, much to his dismay, developed somewhat of a crush on the other boy. To feel Dean’s lips pressed against his own, even just for a split second, would be… Besides, for all that Dean puts Castiel through, he deserves at least a little payback.

Tags: High school au, Mutual pining, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, tutoring

MsCaptainWincheser - @mscaptainwinchester - rons_pigwidgeon

Lies & Other Word Scrambles

Summary: Castiel must suffer through an office social event after his boss threatens his job if he doesn't attend. Thankfully, a flirtatious 'intern' is there to help.

NSFW

Tags: Escort!Dean, office party, blow jobs

Neonbat666 - @neonbat666 - Neonbat

Must have been a blue moon

Summary: When the world is in shambles, and all hope seems out of their reach, there is only one person Dean turns to. Castiel picks up the pieces every time, even when the shards fracture him in return.

Created for the Deancas Tropefest

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester,Endverse, Angst Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, drug references, A bit of rough play, Hurt and comfort, Porn with plot and feels ,Human Castiel Alternate Universe - ,Croatoan/Endverse, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural)

Nera_Solani - @nera-solani - Nera_Solani

Treading unknown Waters

Summary: When a researcher on mythical creatures goes over board and strands on a desert island, she doesn't expect to get the opportunity to learn more about sirens than anyone ever has.

Turns out, they can be a lot more human than most people think...

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, desert island, siren Castiel, sailor Dean, shipwrecked, pirates, POV outsider, inspired by the fanfiction “Ensnared”

profound-boning - @profound-boning - profound-boning

Ocean Sized Love

Summary: Cas glances at the clock and acknowledges that he simply doesn’t have time to read and fully appreciate Dean’s letter right now, so he tucks it carefully into his bag in order to bring it home safely. Then, he carefully sorts the rest of the letters and bundles them up for his students to open when they return.

His mind wanders, however, to open seas and a hot sun, to the large ship and fast planes he’s read about so many times. To a crowd of sailors all described lovingly, and to one particular officer who has summarily captured the affections of one elementary school teacher in the Boston suburbs.

Tags:  Castiel (Supernatural) Dean Winchester Balthazar (Supernatural) Gabriel (Supernatural) Minor Characters, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Alternate Universe – Soulmates, Teacher Castiel, Military, Navy Dean Winchester, Soldier Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Pen Pals, Falling In Love, Meet-Cute, Aquariums, Past Balthazar/Castiel, childhood crush, Zero romantic Balthazar/Cas beyond one kiss

RavensCAT - @ravenscat-tumbler​ - RavensCAT

New Beginnings

Summary: Sam was freaking out. This could very well be the same banshee who took his brother’s hearing. He’s on the floor with his hands covering his ears as tight as he could press. He knows exactly what this monster was capable of.

Banshee’s usually only scream when they predict the deaths of a loved one but this one, this one was not like the others. This banshee seems to have gone rogue.

Tags: Deaf!Dean, Canon, banshee, rogue banshee, Dean & Eileen friendship, American Sign Language, coda 11x11, Fluffy Destiel, Destiel, Saileen, fluffy saileen, hearing loss at young age, Happy Story, minor sadness, Episode: s11e11 Into the Mystic, Post-Episode: s11e11 Into the Mystic, Happy Ending, Loving Castiel, Loving Dean Winchester, Loving Sam ,Winchester, Everyone is loving, Supportive Castiel, Supportive Sam Winchester, Sam & Castiel Friendship, Brotherly Love

saltnhalo - @saltnhalo​ - saltnhalo

Little Blue Dragon

Summary: Dean Winchester may have a reputation for being a skilled craftsman and blacksmith, but his life is just like anyone else’s. He’s over-worked and under-slept, and it’s all because of the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that tells him he’s… forgetting something. Still, he can’t let his weird dreams or errant thoughts get in the way of his work and his love for his craft. The strange feeling goes ignored.

That is, until he meets a man with jewel-blue eyes and an aura of intrigue. Castiel slots into his life in a way that Dean had never thought possible, and Dean grows accustomed to the mysterious man’s visits and brilliant smiles and tales of far-away places.

He’d never known he was missing a piece of himself until he met Castiel, and he thinks that Cas might feel the same way.

Until Castiel disappears from Dean’s life completely.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Magic, Blacksmith Dean Winchester, Mage Sam Winchester, Creature Castiel, Dragon Castiel, Pining, Soulmates, Minor Violence, Frottage, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2018

A Lesson In Obedience

Summary: Castiel steps in to help relieve Dean's work-related stress. Dean still brings some of his attitude to the table.

NSFW

Tags: TA Dean Winchester, Teacher Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Sub Dean, Dom Castiel, Dean in Panties, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Spanking, bratty dean, Aftercare, Disobeying Orders, Stressed Dean Winchester, BDSM, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings

sternchencas - @sternchencas​ - sternchencas

A Study In Fake

Summary: Although Dean has a job, he's always looking for some extra money, so he's bummed out when he can't take part in a lucrative couples study at the local college. At least until Castiel Novak steps into his life out of nowhere and a throwaway joke turns into a serious relationship. Well, a fake one, but nobody needs to know that, right?

Tags: fake dating, mutual pining, bed sharing, fluff

supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic​ -  supernatural9917

Crash and Slow Burn

Summary: Dean Winchester crashes his car and is rescued by Castiel Novak. It's the beginning of a beautiful friendship...

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters, Ruby/Sam Winchester, Sarah Blake/Sam Winchester, Daphne Allen/Castiel, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Police Officer Dean, Social Worker Castiel, Drug Addict Sam Winchester, Good Crowley (Supernatural), Slow Burn, Police Officer Benny Lafitte, Police Officer Bobby Singer, car crash, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Bromance to Romance

Do You Need a Stepdad?

Summary: When Claire Novak tweets a picture of her dad cooking, she didn't expect to go viral, or for everyone to be quite so hot for her dad.

Based on a photo prompt.

Tags: Meet-Cute, Twitter, Instagram, based on a prompt, Dad Cas

surlybobbies - @surlybobbies - surleybobbies

Freeze Frame

Summary: Dean's got about two minutes before Cas comes back, which is more than mildly inconvenient because Dean's just found out Cas is in love with him.

Tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, teacher castiel, minor sam/eileen, photographer castiel

Right Where We Left It

Summary: Flower emergencies didn’t hold off just because the love of your life was the only available florist in town.

(In the wake of Mary's death, Dean comes back to establish his flower shop. Cas avoids him - until he can't.)

Tags: Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Flower Shop AU , Florist Dean Winchester, Returning Home, Reunions, Background Claire Novak, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester

thatpeculiarone - @ilovetodreamx​ - thatpeculiarone

Curtain Call

Summary: Dean always had trouble describing things. However, if he were to describe his life, he would describe it as a performance.

Through the mechanical nature of his routine, to the smiles he forces everyday, his life is one big show.

And with any good show, there is always finale, a grandeur to finish it all.

Even the best performances, have to end at some point.

NSFW

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Mechanic!Dean, Steve!Cas, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, References to Addiction, Suicidal!Dean, Depression.

theaeronaut - @theaeronaut​ - Arronaut

 crooked halo

Summary: castiel lit up by his halo

Tags: castiel, cas, spn, angel

Dandelion Halo

Summary:Castiel's halo of dandelion seeds, starting to blow away

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, i wish for this

Dandelion Man

Summary: i don't even know. he has dandelions in his eyes, it's whatever

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, spn fanart

Dandelion man

Summary: Castiel's wings as drifting dandelion seeds

Tags: cas, castiel, spn, i wish for this

Tender

Summary: Dean and Cas laying in bed cuddling

Tags: cas, castiel, dean, dean winchester, spn, supernatural

Grasp

Summary: Cas and Dean hold each others faces looking very much like they're about to kiss

Tags: cas, castiel, dean, dean winchester, destiel, spn

Collaborations

The Sound of Silence

Author: Destimushi - @destimushi - Destimushi Author: envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2

Summary: It's been weeks since Dean's had pie, and Castiel hopes the diner they're going to tonight will have something to shut up his husband's constant complaining. Sadly, the odds are not in Castiel's favour.

Tags: deaf!Cas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, distinct lack of pie, Adoption

Iron and Ice

Author: A Diamond - @alxdiamond - A_Diamond Artist: Correlia - @correlia-be​

Link to art

Summary: Dean was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice he had a visitor until he turned to drop the last one into the quenching bath. It was just a customer, and one of his regulars at that, which made his surprised yelp and his half-undressed state both all the more embarrassing.

Castiel looked even more flushed with the heat than Dean felt, the color heavy in his face. Maybe he’d been exerting himself, or perhaps he was more sensitive to hot weather than most people. Either way, it made for quite a contrast against the patch of dark blue scales that covered his right cheek.

Tags: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2018 Mid-Winter 5k, Alternate Universe - Historical Fantasy, Blacksmith Dean Winchester, Dragon Castiel, Daring Rescues, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss

Change of Plans

Author:  envydean - @envydean - hollyblue2 Artist: dragonpressgraphics - dragonpress - pherryt Link to art

Summary: Castiel is grumpy when they get to the motel, and Dean is determined to find out why.

Tags: Fluff, hints of angst, bed sharing, Getting Together, Road Trip

Hand to Mouth

Author: noxlee - @nox-lee - noxlee Artist: uncelestial - @uncelestieldestiel Link to art

Summary: Dean Winchester has been a reckless daredevil since Castiel first met him in the fourth grade. Over the years, Castiel has been reluctantly dragged into all manner of dangerous situations by his best friend. But the stunt they attempt on the night of their college graduation goes horribly wrong, and Dean and Cas find themselves with badly burned hands.

They recuperate at the Novak family cabin, where both find themselves frustrated over the inability to use their hands for the most basic of daily tasks— not least of which is the inability to clean the pipes, so to speak. Born of boredom and desperation, Dean proposes a new dare that doesn’t just cross the line of friendship, it obliterates it.

But what’s fun and games for Dean turns serious for Castiel, who has secretly pined for his best friend since they were kids. Burns will heal, but will a heart be broken forever? To make things right, Dean may have to face his biggest feat of daring yet.

NSFW

Tags: Alternate Universe, Minor Injuries, Injury Recovery, Friends With Benefits, Pining, Porn with Feelings

Team Free Skiing

Author: supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic -  supernatural9917 Artist: Potatofu - @theabsolutemagicpotato - potatofu

Summary: Jack is obsessed with the Winter Olympics, especially the downhill events. The world isn't currently ending, so Team Free Will 2.0 + Mary decide a ski trip sounds like just the thing!

Written for the SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang

Tags: Team Free Will 2.0, ski trip, Jealous Dean Winchester, Winter Olympics, Fluff, season 13 divergent, SPN Holiday Reverse Mini Bang

Whisper Its Name

Author: supernatural9917 - @supernatural9917fic -  supernatural9917 Artist: Delicious-irony - @delicirony - delicious-irony

Summary: English actor Castiel Novak is determined to make Balthazar Roché's masterpiece novel into a film. All-American beefcake Dean Winchester is determined to shake off typecasting and prove his acting chops. Can they get past their initial dislike of each other and do justice to the tragic romance at the heart of Whisper Its Name?

Written for the Dean/Cas Midwinter 5K Tropefest based on art by delicious-irony.

NSFW

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Actors, costume drama, English Castiel

[words-writ-in-starlight]

TAZ Fic prompt: Taako and Kravitz on their second date please!

6300 words later, this is also on AO3.

PSA: there be some smut here.

Here is a list of the shit Taako has learned about the GrimReaper since threatening to execute some tentacle porn on theman—being?—several months ago:

The accent? Fake.  He’s not sure why Kravitzfeels the need to have a business accent, since his normal voice is soft andcharming, but sure, dude, some people have train names.

His hands are cold because Kravitz is dead.  This feels like it should have been obvious. 

Kind of a dork? It’s strange to equate the shy politeness with the same person who spenta good minute and a half shouting about Merle’s death bounty.

Likes red wine, can’t get drunk, which seemslike a shitty deal.

Taako is considering adding more information to that list,starting with a fucking loser andmoving on from there, because Kravitz just spent solidly five minutes trying toarticulate a sentence over the link between their Stones.

“Hang on, bubbe, let me take a stab at this,” Taakointerrupts, and Kravitz falls silent. “Drinks at the Chug and Squeeze again? Say, nine o’ clock moon time?”

“Yes,” Kravitz says, relieved.  “That sounds wonderful.”

“Sure about that?” Taako drawls.  “That was like pulling teeth.”

Kravitz laughs a little bit—nice laugh, another fact for the list.  “I—well, most people are pretty glad to seeme go.”

“I’m sure they are, handsome, it’s a pleasure to watch yougo.”  Kravitz makes a faint choking noiseand Taako snickers, which might be a little mean, but also, Taako doesn’tcare.  Taako carefully draws a brush fullof silver-green polish across his thumbnail and cocks his head at the Stone ofFarspeech.  “We haven’t died any timesthat I’m not aware of, right?  This isn’ta business thing or whatever?”

“Uh, no,” Kravitz says, stumbling over the words.  “I was—it was—I was thinking maybe a date.”

Taako grins.  WindingKravitz up is probably cruel, but it’s so eminentlygratifying.  “I’d take you somewherenicer for our third date, but there ain’t a lot of options on the moon,y’know?  I guess we could go to FantasyCostco and you could see how you do against Garfield–”

“Third date?”

“Sure, keep up.” Taako counts them off on his fingers, unnecessary but amusing.  “The lab, the Chug and Squeeze, andtonight.  Hey, if you count the nightafter Refuge separately I guess this is four.”

“The lab—Taako, I was under orders to hunt you down and execute you in the lab.”

“I dunno, homie, kinky tentacle shit generally counts as adate.  I’ll see you tonight, dress nice,okay-peace-bye.”  And Taako severs theconnection while Kravitz is still stammering through the start of his response.

Taako keeps snickering the whole time he finishes paintinghis nails, because the alternative is to chew on his lips and wonder what thefuck he’s doing.  At least the familiardetail work keeps his hands steady.

Kravitz is nice, is the thing.  Nice,fuck, Taako’s never really…nice isn’treally Taako’s type, see, because Taako’s a lot of things and nice isn’t one of them.  Taako breaksnice people.  Like Glamour Springs.  It wasn’t his fault.  It was all his fault.  You fedthem their death.  

Hell, Kravtiz has his big book of badness, shouldn’t he knowthat Taako’s a—an accessory to mass murder?

And for all his grim work—grim work, ha, Taako’s cracking himself up—Kravitz is nice, andgentle, and sweet.  He does things likesit with shell-shocked elves after time loops and laugh at little acts ofrebellion and splutter when Taako hits on him, and honestly Taako doesn’treally get his logic.  Taako is the bombdiggity, of course, but Taako’s also rude and prickly and downright mean sometimes and that’s not the kindof person that matches up with Kravitz. He doesn’t understand what Kravitz wants.  A date, sure. Maybe even a fuck, or two, and Kravtiz’s magically constructed body is apretty hot piece of ass so Taako would be fine with that.

But what the fuck else is Kravitz after?

Taako can hear Magnus’ voice in his head telling him thatnot everyone is after something, but just because Magnus is a big dumb lug whowears his big dumb heart on his big dumb sleeve doesn’t mean Magnus is right.

Everyone’s always after something, with Taako.

God, maybe Kravitz is just lonely.  For all that he’s a fine figure, in his suitand…well, his skin, when he’s wearing it, there can’t be that many peopleinterested in chatting up an avatar of death, a vengeful emissary of the RavenQueen herself.  And it’s not like he canjust go pick someone up at a bar, even if he had the free time—he’d still haveto explain that cold skin, and that would need to be one hell of a bluff.

That thought makes Taako feel a little steadier.  His hands don’t shake when he puts away thenail polish and turns to his closet, which is strewn half across the floorbecause there’s honestly no point inbeing a wizard if he can’t use it to keep his shit from wrinkling.

Right, then.  LonelyGrim Reaper.  Taako can deal withthat.  Besides, Taako hasn’t gotten laidsince before all this Bureau fuckery started—again, one hell of a bluff to pick someone up in a bar, and it’s not like themoon is that big—so he could stand tofuck a handsome semi-stranger in the Chug and Squeeze bathroom.

Or in his quarters, more likely.  Kravitz seems like ‘public sex’ is probablyone of his hangups.

Whatever.

He and Kravitz can go out and drink and harass the potteryinstructor, and then they can fuck, and it’ll probably be good because Kravitzjust screams ‘considerate in thesack’, and then they can both go their separate ways and get on with theirgoddamn lives.

Taako waits to feel the weight of anxiety lift from hischest, but instead it just settles into his gut, sullen and thick.  He shakes his head, trying to shake thefeeling away, and settles down to picking out some clothes that will get himlaid tonight.  His hair will be easy, asimple braid, something that will come undone in a rush if he needs it to—heconsiders putting it up, maybe something effortless like a messy bun, somethingthat would show off his neck, but. No.  Taako lets his hair fall fromwhere he’s holding it, looking away from the mirror as something kicks in his chest, like he’s seeing—likehe’s missing—like he’s—like—

The blue skirt will go well with his nails, he decides.

***

Kravitz shows up in the shared living room of the Reclaimerdorm at five minutes to nine, because Kravitz is a monster.  Taako had enough time to kill that he’s alreadyset to go, but it’s the principle of the thing. Who the hell is that punctual?

Well, Taako allows with a little smirk, Death, obviously.

“Hi,” Taako says, flicking his braid over his shoulder, andKravitz looks up at him and smiles—fucking beams,really, and Taako really needs to stop hanging out with so many horrifyinglygenuine people.

“Hi,” Kravitz says, a little shy, tugging at his cuffs likehis suit is real and not just a convenient manifestation of his power.  It’s a very sharp manifestation, though,Taako has to give him that, black and sleek with a pearly grey shirt and a darkred tie that makes him look a little livelier with its color.  “You look incredible.”

“Obviously,” Taako sniffs, stepping over to Kravitz anddraping a hand over his shoulder, toying with one of the long dreadlocks at thenape of his neck.  “But really, my dude,so do you.  Do you even have to try tolook this fine?”

“It, uh.”  Kravitzsmiles down at him, the red glow behind his black eyes warm and cheerful.  Kravitz is tall, almost as tall as Magnus,and he has a whole head of height on Taako, but he doesn’t seem nearly as biglike this as he does in his skeletal form. “I’m happy to put in the effort for you.”

“Good answer.”  Taakogives the lock in his hand a light tug—hey, might as well start as he means togo on—and makes a point to stroke his fingers along the curve of Kravitz’sthroat as he pulls his arm back.

Kravitz, of course, is incapable of blushing, because he’sdead.  But he looks like he mightspontaneously develop the ability in order to cope.  It takes him a beat to offer Taako hisarm—because Kravitz is a fucking gentleman—and allow himself to be pulled outof the apartment.

This is going to be a fucking walk in the park.

Drinks and pottery go very much the same, with quietconversation and Taako taking every opportunity he can find to get his handsall over Kravitz.  It’s not ahardship.  And besides, Kravitz is reallypretty funny, when he’s talking about things that aren’t his divine obligationto execute Taako and his—his coworkers. Taako learns that Kravitz was a bard, and that he can’t help the way hiseyes glow, and that he’s easy to embarrass.

It’s been about an hour and the two of them have split mostof a bottle of chardonnay when Taako sways over to Kravitz and rests his chinon the reaper’s shoulder, close enough that his breath stirs one of thedreadlocks closest to him.  His lipsalmost brush the shell of Kravitz’s ear—faintly pointed, enough to render Kravitz’srace firmly ambiguous.

“Hey, thug,” Taako murmurs, shamelessly enjoying the way hefeels Kravitz stiffen against him in surprise. “Do you want to get out of here?”

He lets his hand wander up Kravitz’s thigh, just in case hismeaning was unclear.  Kravitz doesn’ttake that as hard as Taako might have expected, but he also seems to havefrozen in shock, so maybe the two cancel out.

“I—are you sure?”

There he goes again. Being nice.  Taako almost grabs his dick in the middle ofthe room in revenge, but resists the petty impulse in a show of purewillpower.  He settles instead fortightening his grip on Kravitz’s leg, just hard enough to hurt a little.

“Do I not seemsure?”

Kravitz laughs a little at that, and it’s that easy.  Kravitz lets Taako pull him outside and steala kiss in the shadows of the quad—Kravitz’s lips aren’t quite cold, just…cool,room temperature, and it’s a little like touching solid water with the way theyslide over Taako’s, and he can taste the wine and power.  Magic like nothingTaako can recall, except maybe for the way that the relics leave a crackle ofsomething in the air after they’ve been used. Kissing Kravitz is something like that, maybe, like breathing in airthat’s had an enormous amount of energy put through it very recently, and whenthey separate and Kravitz looks a little rumpled, a little dazed, Taako feels arush of smugness unlike anything in recent memory.

Once they’re back in the Reclaimer dorm—Magnus is still outhitting things with Carey and Killian, and Merle is god knows where doing godknows what—Taako doesn’t hesitate to crowd Kravitz up against the nearest walland kiss him again.  More aggressively,this time, tangling his fingers in the cords of Kravitz’s dreadlocks andsighing into his mouth when those broad cool hands came up to rest on hisback.  Taako catches Kravitz’s bottom lipin his teeth and bites down, not quite hard enough to do damage, and Kravitzmakes a sound like a growl deep in his chest. It vibrates against Taako’s ribs where they’re pressed together and thesharp jolt of want takes him offguard for long enough to find himself pressed up against the wall in Kravitz’splace, with all of Kravtiz’s height caging him in, and it doesn’t feel likebeing trapped so much as being wanted.

It’s the first time that Taako wonders if he’smiscalculated, but then Kravitz lowers his lips down over Taako’s cheek and jawto the side of his throat and the thought is wiped away like someone fed it tothe voidfish.  Somehow Kravitz taking theinitiative is a shock, as if Taako had expected him to be a novice at thiswithout even realizing it, but he doesn’t seem lacking in experience and Taakois profoundly enjoying the benefits of it.

“Fuck,” Taako sighs as teeth scrape against his skin,tipping his head and pressing a thigh up between Kravitz’s legs.  He really should ask what Kravitz even is, ifthings like elf and human even apply to him, but whateverthe fuck gives him teeth like that, sharp and even, is a-okay by Taako’sbook.  

“Taako,” Kravitz says into the pulse at his throat as Taako’shands busy themselves with the knot of his tie. “If your friends come back and we’re out here, they’ll be unhappy.”

Oh, right, Taako lives with people now.  People who might possibly still want to hitKravitz with a war hammer over some limbs or some shit like that.  It takes him a few moments to conclude that thisis a sufficiently serious concern to justify moving, because thealternative—letting Kravitz fuck him against a wall in the next fewminutes—seems far more compelling.

“Merle’s never happy,” Taako says, and Kravitz pulls away tolaugh as Taako sulks at him.  This timeTaako really does grab his dick in revenge, reaches a hand between them andpalms Kravitz through his pants, and the way the laughter turns into a hissingcurse, a thoughtless push of his hips, is absolutely worth it.  “Fine,” Taako says, magnanimous, and reachesup to loop both arms around Kravitz’s neck. “My door’s the second one.  Youcan do the work, handsome.”

Kravitz chuckles again and complies, lifting Taakoapparently effortlessly, Taako’s legs coming up to wrap around Kravitz’s waistwithout regard for the indecent way it shoves his skirt up almost past hiships.

“Strong boy,” Taako muses, giving a teasing squeeze to oneof Kravitz’s biceps as Kravitz shifts his weight so that he can catch thedoorknob and open it.  Inside, Taako snapshis fingers absently to wake the spark of magic in his lamp, shedding brightlight across the room at once.  He wantsto see what it looked like, when one of the Raven Queen’s own elite comesundone in his bed.

“I execute necromancers, Taako,” Kravitz says with a smallroll of his glowing eyes.  “I’m very strong.”

“Mmm,” Taako hums, and when Kravitz tries to set him gentlydown on the bed, he twists his weight to trip Kravitz down beneath him.  

This, sitting on Kravitz’s lap and pressed up against himfrom hip to shoulder, is possibly even better than the wall, and Taako kissesKravitz again as he starts working on the layersof buttons in the suit.  It’s aproduction.

“Why do you wear so many fucking clothes,” Taako muttersagainst Kravitz’s lips as he finally manages to wrestle jacket, shirt, andbraces off in one motion.

“Sorry,” Kravitz says, his hands—almost as warm as Taako’sskin, from contact—sliding up under Taako’s shirt, slowly, as if giving Taako achance to pull away.  “Would you ratherthe cloak?”

“God, you’re such a fucking dramatic loser.”  Taako ends his statement with a firm grind ofhis hips, and whatever Kravitz was about to say dies unspoken, swallowed by achoked sound as he closes his eyes sharply and takes a deep breath.  His skin goes thin and transluscent over hischeekbones for a moment, the edges of a skull pressing through until he getshimself under control, and the high of that is palpable, better than anythingelse Taako’s ever tried, the high of having made a Reaper lose control withnothing but a twist of his hips.  

When Kravitz opens his eyes, they glitter, and he pullsTaako’s shirt off over his head, a clumsy tangle of fabric for a moment beforethe shirt is gone and Taako learns some interesting facts about himself, amongthem that, apparently, the temperature thing is a Thing.  He can almost taste the spark that jumps to his corewhen he presses up against Kravitz’s bare chest, almost cold against Taako’sflushed skin.

Wow.  If he wasn’thard before, he sure as hell is now. That’s a thing that he didn’t see coming.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, almost gasps, like he needs air atall, against Taako’s shoulder, “I’ll need to get up to get my pants off.”

Taako considers just—just not moving, grinding down likethis and kissing Kravitz until they’re both stupid with it, coming half-dressedlike a pair of kids, but the appeal of seeing Kravitz naked is pretty strongtoo.  He kisses Kravitz again, wet anddirty and deep, before he slides off and abandons both his skirt and his underwearon the side of the bed.

Kravitz is beautiful, Taako thinks somewhat fuzzily as hewatches him undress.  Like, Taako isbeautiful too, don’t get him wrong, humility is for other people, but Kravitzknocks him out a little in a way that very few people can claim to havedone.  It’s not just the symmetry of hisangular face or the way his tendons line his hands or the perfect vee shape ofthe bones at his hips, it’s also that he has something other about him, a statement worth making when you could hit abaker’s dozen races with a well-swung cat.

But that’s not to say that the muscles of his thighs and themotionless curve of his ribs and his cock don’t make Taako’s mouth water alittle bit.  The latter, in particular.

Next time, Taako thinks idly as Kravitz kicks away hispants, Taako should put a little more planning into this, because he’d reallyenjoy having that inside him.  As it is,he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t last long enough.

The thought almost brings him up short.  Next time? There’s not going to be a next time. Taako already decided that.

“Are you all right?” Kravitz asks—nice, even standing there completely naked, he’s still nice.

“Fine, babe, all fine,” Taako says, and holds out ahand.  “You planning to join me or what?”

Kravitz smiles and takes Taako’s hand and—fucking save him—kisses the knuckles as heallows himself to be pulled down onto the bed. Taako pins him down, and knows that Kravitz is letting him, and stopsresisting the urge to rub up against the cool silk of Kravitz’s skin, untilhe’s breathing hard and rambling and Kravitz is barely breathing at all.  

“Taako,” Kravitz whispers, one hand coming up to tangle inTaako’s hair while the other reaches down to find their cocks, his hand bigenough to wrap around them both easily, and if the cool touch of his skin was ashock against Taako’s chest, it’s a fucking religiousmoment against Taako’s dick.  Hedoesn’t even try to hold back the yelp, and reaches down to weave his fingersthrough Kravitz when it seems like he’s going to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Taako hisses.

“Are you sure, I know–”

“Kravitz, I swear to fucking—fucking everyone, I’ll burn aspell slot on your ass right now if you stop.”

He gets another laugh for that, faint and almost breathy.  Kravitz is quiet in bed, mostly soft gaspsand moans when Taako does something he likes, once or twice that bone-rattlingrumble when Taako lays his blunt mortal teeth against Kravitz’s collarbone andbites down hard.  But then he doessomething a little unforgivable—laughs and says, “All right, darling.”

Taako’s heart stops in his chest, and his mouth comes downso hard on Kravitz’s that he thinks he might be bleeding from where his teethhit his lip, but the kiss silences anything else Kravitz could say.

Kravitz seems taken off-guard when he comes, a little breathof ah escaping his lips as he goesstiff and his mouth goes still under Taako’s. His hand tightens around the pair of them, and Taako comes too, theworld popping with white lights at the corners of his vision as he shuddersthrough it.  The world seems to havenarrowed down to Kravitz, his hand around Taako’s cock and his fingers inTaako’s hair, resting against his neck, the places where his skin is warm fromcontact, the taste of wine and magic on his lips.

By the time Taako comes back to himself, blurry andblinking, his head is bowed down to Kravitz’s shoulder.  The hand is still at the nape of his neck,looser now, lax, and Kravitz’s other hand is resting on Taako’s hip, thumbdescribing an arc over the line of the bone, like Kravitz is happy to just…liethere, feeling Taako’s weight on him and not doing a thing about it.  There’s a scar on Kravitz’s chest, just belowTaako’s cheek, like someone put a spike through his heart—the only mark onhim—and it makes Taako feel almost special to be so close to it, like Kravitzis sharing something with him.

Taako gives himself a few minutes of that, of the wayKravitz noses kisses into his hair and strokes gently over his skin.

It’s…nice.

Kravitz is nice.

Taako doesn’t let himself think about that anymore as herolls to the side with a sigh and casts Prestidigitation to clean up.  He also doesn’t let himself think about theway Kravitz’s fingers lingered in his hair, or the soft warmth in those red-liteyes.

“Thanks, bubbeleh,” Taako says, plastering on his bestgrin.  “Call me later, or whatever.”

Kravitz looks bemused. Oh, fucking god, he’s actually going to make Taako kick him out.  “Taako?”

“This was fun, we should do it again sometime,” Taako says,ignoring the way that weight settles back into his belly, ignoring the way theback of his mind kind of wants to curl into Kravitz’s side with a blanket overthem, ignoring the look of confusion shading to hurt on Kravitz’s face.  This was just sex.  Just physical.  There’s no reason for Kravitz to look likeTaako’s personally cancelled Candlenights.

Kravitz seems to be getting the picture, though, because heslowly sits up, propped up on one hand.  “I—Ican go,” he says, like there’s an offer there, rather than an impliedoutcome.  “If you want.”

“As opposed to what?” Taako arches an eyebrow at him.  There’sa moment of silence as Kravitz studies him, his head cocked at an angle, tryingto parse something, and Taako waves a languorous hand at him.  “It’s all right, thug, I’m not gonna take itpersonally.”

“I’m sorry,” Kravitz says, falling back into stiff formality,and he does a remarkably good job for someone still sitting naked in Taako’sbed.  The look of confused hurt has beenerased, his face a politely emotionless blank. “It’s been some time since I did this. What are you not taking personally?”

Ah, right.  Kravitzhas been a wandering skeleton bounty hunter since forever.  Culture clash or some shit.

“I knew what I was getting into,” Taako says, keeping hisface cheerful.  “Just sex, right?  And don’t get me wrong, the sex was prettyfucking choice, I’m happy to do that again whenever you have a few hours free,but you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings or whatever.”

“Oh,” Kravitz says, quietly, and he stands, waves a hand,and his clothes sort of knit themselves back into being on his body, even histie perfectly knotted at his throat.  

He tucks both hands into his pockets, straightening up untilhe looks as forbidding and untouchable as he did the first time they met, hiseyes the only trace of any emotion as they linger on Taako’s face for a momentbefore they flicker away.  He bends downto catch Taako’s hand in his, and kisses the knuckles again—something lurchesinto Taako’s throat, words throwing themselves at his teeth from behind, someuseless stupid hey maybe you could stay,I could make you breakfast, did you know I’m a chef, and he bites them backmercilessly.

“If you ever need anything,” Kravitz says, still quiet, “callfor me.”

And then he gestures for his scythe and tears open the worldwith the blade, and he’s gone.

Taako lies down on his back and stares at the ceiling.  This is the easy thing to do, this is what heknew was going to happen.  Hell, giventhe circumstances, this might even have been the right thing to do.

So why does he feel like he just betrayed someone?

***

Taako’s not one for stewing. He’s not one for sitting and brooding and worrying about hisproblems.  He’s a master of the art oftaking any inconvenient emotion and kicking it off the nearest available cliff,never to be seen or considered again, because who has time for feelings, thesedays?  A Relic hunt would be excellent right about now, somelife-threatening shit to take his mind off everything, and by the time they gotdone being healed by someone other than Merle, he would have forgotten allabout this.  He would be more focused onwhether their fighter was finally going to kick the bucket—Taako needs a meatshield, all right, he’s a delicate little magic user, so if Magnus could livepast the age of forty for Taako’s sake, that would be amazing.

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a convenientlyapocalyptic artifact surfacing any time soon. If anything, things are calmer than usual, like the other two Relics aresquirreled away in some dark dungeon rather than out causing trouble.  The mood on the base is bright and confident,riding high on their successful rescue of Refuge, totally lacking in thetension that usually precedes a recovery mission.  Carey and Killian and Noelle spend all theirtime bounding cheerfully through the halls like baby deer.  Johann cracked a smile and laughed at a jokelast week.  There was a party on thequad.  Taako’s pretty sure he saw theDirector relaxing.

It’s loathsome.

It’s three days before Magnus asks Taako what’s wrong.  Taako rebuffs him easily and pawns him off onMerle, but it sticks with him.  Magnus isan empathetic guy, but he’s not a genius, and Taako’s not supposed to haveanything wrong to ask about.  

Five days after hooking up with Kravitz, Taako finds himselfin the Icosagon.  Training.

Taako does not train.  Beauty of Magic Missile: his aim doesn’t evenmatter.  Area effect spells are his bitch.  His ability to Fireball someone in the faceis entirely unrelated to his abilityto do pushups, Magnus.  Wizards do not train, they read some books and blow some shit up and call it aday.  Sometimes Taako deigns to do someactual calculations in order to maximize a spell’s efficacy, but that’s hislimit.

So when Taako realizes he’s halfway through a short swordtraining form that he barely remembers, he stops and considers that he mightneed to actually take steps to deal with this situation.

It’s just…he keeps thinking about that quiet oh as Kravitz stood up and it’sbothering him.  He’s not really sure why it keeps coming to mind, butwhenever he stands still and silent for a few seconds, it plays through hishead like a Fantasy Vine, a handful of seconds that just don’t quite makesense.

Kravitz had gotten what he wanted, right?  Company, affection, a roll in themetaphorical hay.  So who the hell gavehim permission to look at Taako likethat as he said oh and stood up toleave, is the real question here.

In Taako’s experience, the only real solutions to hisproblem are to get incredibly drunk or to actually interrogate the man himself.  In theory he could also just leave but avoiding the Grim Reapersounds like it would require a bit more effort than just wandering off the sideof the base.  Magnus and Merle wouldprobably come try to hunt him down, regardless.

And if he’s being totally honest he’s already tried thealcohol.  Avi brings the good shit tocompany parties.

“Yo, Krav,” Taako says, casting Levitate on his Stone ofFarspeech and giving it a flick to set it spinning.  He’s back in his room, with his feet proppedup on a desk that has never seen a scrap of Bureau-mandated paperwork and neverwill, if Taako has anything to do with it. “You busy, my dude?”

There’s a pause, long enough that Taako wonders if maybeKravitz isn’t near the Stone, before a voice answers.

“Taako?”

Kravitz sounds hesitant, and there’s a lift at the end ofTaako’s name that sounds like hope and kind of makes Taako want to throw theStone across the room and run.

“Who else, bone boy?”

“What can I do for you, Taako?”  Kravitz’s voice goes steely, and he asks, “Areyou in trouble?”

“What?  No!  I can go more than a week without gettingsucked into some kind of weird timeline bullshit, fuck you very much, and plusI have a Magnus for solving trouble, it would be cruel to deny him the chanceto…hit stuff.”  There’s a huff ofamusement on the other end, and a quiet shuffling sound.  “Krav, thug, I really gotta ask, does theGrim Reaper do paperwork?”

“Of course I do paperwork,” Kravitz says, a littleaffronted.  “Do you know how much work itis to keep files on necromancers and liches and whatever the hell you threeare?  Don’t you have to do paperwork forblowing up towns?”

“Magnus does paperwork,” Taako says, leaning his chair backon its rear legs.  “Sometimes I sign itif he asks real nice.  I dunno who doesMerle’s shit.”

“I should have known.” It sounds like Kravitz is smiling. Taako’s chest heats a little, a piece of charcoal flickering into anember, and shit, that’s not what he’s doing here.  “Also, it would be more accurate to call me a Grim Reaper.”  The warmth in Kravitz’s voice fades, and thefire in Taako’s chest follows.  “Is there…didyou—was there anything in particular that you wanted?”

“Yeah,” Taako says, and Magnus would be proud of him, hereally would, because Taako just fucking goesfor it, just rushes right in before he can think better of it.  “You want to come by?  Like, are you free right now?  To come to the moon?”

“Sure,” Kravitz says, and there’s a rustling sound, papersbeing moved around, before the Stone shuts off.

It’s barely a minute and a half later that the world ripsopen and Kravitz steps through, skin raveling itself into place over the smoothwhite bones of his skull and hands, his cloak fading away into his usualsuit.  The rift closes behind him, andKravitz is just standing there, hands in his pockets, looking unsure.

“Hey.”

“Hey, handsome,” Taako says, letting his chair thud backinto place.  “You want to do something?”

“Something—like what?” Kravitz isn’t an especially outgoing person, particularly since Taako’smajor points of comparison these days are a proselytizing cleric and the mostabsurdly friendly individual he’s ever known, but he seems more guarded thanbefore, almost like he’s expecting Taako to throw a spell at him again.  But he did come, when Taako called.

God, people were so much easier when Taako was younger.  He doesn’t really remember what changed—maybedoing the show made him overconfident—but he knows that when he was younger henever felt this clumsy and fumbling.

“Everything all right, Krav?” Taako asks, arching an eyebrowat him.

“Fine,” Kravitz says, and hesitates for a moment, and thenhe meets Taako’s gaze for the first time. “I don’t want to sleep with you,” he blurts out, fast, all in a rush,like he’s been planning it.  “Or, I mean,no, yes, I do, but not—I don’t—I think you’re confused?  About this?”

Taako opens his mouth with a fast retort, then snaps itshut, because he’s…he’s not sure what Kravitz is expecting from him there.  He makes a little go on gesture with one hand instead.

“I thought—I thought I had been pretty clear that yourbounties have been suspended,” Kravitz says, rocking back on his heels like hewants to pace but doesn’t know if it would be permitted.  “And Refuge is a nonissue, we already talkedabout that, so unless you and your friends start doing necromancy in your freetime, you’re not under my purview.  So—soI don’t want you to think that you’re making some kind of trade, here, with me,all right?”

“Some kind of—hang on, do people try to seduce the Grim Reaper?  Wow,”Taako muses, “I’ve got to admire that kind of confident crazy.”

A smile, faint but genuine, flickers over Kravitz’sface.  “Every once in a while someone triestheir luck.  Although having someonebypass any sort of seduction check and go straight for threats of tentacleporn, that was novel.”  The good humorfades, and Kravitz just looks tired and…lonely, Taako decides.  He’s spent a lot of his life feeling lonely,he knows what it looks like.  “And I don’twant you to be with me because—because you’re scared of me, or because youthink I expect something in order to keep your bounties suspended, or–”

“That, um.  Thatactually didn’t occur to me,” Taako interrupts, because Kravitz seems more thanready to keep up his nervous ramble indefinitely.  A surge of guilt rushes through Taako’s chestat the open relief on Kravitz’s face, and he sighs.  “I just—I just figured this was a casualthing.  Company, sex, not much else, youknow what I’m saying.”

“Is that what you want?” Kravitz asks, and the light behindhis eyes brightens as he focuses on Taako, until Taako imagines that he canfeel the weight of his stare, as cool and invulnerable as Kravitz’s handsaround his scythe.  “Company and sex andnothing else?”

“Hey, you know me, Taako’s easy.”  Taako waves a hand dismissively.  “I’ll take whatever.  What about you, thug, what do you want?”

Kravitz looks distant for a moment, then sits down on theedge of Taako’s bed, so that they’re facing each other, closer to eyelevel.  

“I really like you, Taako,” he says, and the sincerity inhis voice makes Taako want to kiss him, or maybe cast Blink and escape to awhole other plane—except, of course, that Kravitz is Kravitz and could probablyfollow him.  “It’s been—it’s been a reallylong time since I had mortal friends, let alone anything else, and I wasn’tmuch good at this while I was alive, either.”

“With that face?”  It’s wildly inappropriate given the tone, butoh god Taako can’t help himself,there’s no way that Kravitz wasn’t absolutely spoiled for choice during hislife.

Kravitz grins a little, reaching up to touch his cheek andjaw as if reminding himself of what he looks like.  “You’d be surprised.”

“Oh, I’d be fucking shocked,homie,” Taako says thoughtlessly, one hundred percent of his brain fullyoccupied with Kravitz’s words.

I really like you,Taako.  What the fuck is a personeven supposed to do with that.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, and Taako snaps back to the presentmoment.  Kravitz sounds like he’s maybesaid Taako’s name a few times.  “I just—ifyou’re not interested in dating me, you don’t have to worry about telling me,but I’d rather you be honest.”

“Are you,” Taako says slowly, lining up the same thoughts hehad before the date in a different order, “interested in dating me?”

Kravitz tips his head and says, “For someone so brilliantlytalented, you can be a bit dense.”

“Thank you.”

“Taako, you’re charming, and beautiful, and funny, and youhelp save the world.  Of course I’minterested in dating you.”  Kravitz looksdown at his hands, where they’re laced together in his lap, and he rubs a thumbup the line of a metacarpal, something that’s almost a nervous tick.  The pressure drags a line of white bonebehind it, until his dark skin knits itself back together.  “I would understand, of course, if you’relooking for something more casual.  I’mjust…I’m not built for it.”

God, Taako can’t deal with this.  This level of honesty is going to make him break out in fucking hives.  The way Kravitz glances up at him through hislashes, a tiny spark of hope in the black of his eyes, is like taking a MagicMissile straight to the chest.

“So, what, you want to hold my hand and cuddle and shit?”Taako demands, and he means it to come out harsh, but instead it sounds almostfragile.  

“If that’s okay with you.”

Taako scoffs.  “You’rea fucking sap.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone,” Kravitz says.  “I have a reputation to maintain.”

And then he offers Taako his hand, palm up, harmless andinviting.  I really like you, Taako.  It’sbeen a long time since someone made an offer like that, and it went so horrificallywrong last time Taako accepted more than a one-night stand.

But Kravitz is nice. And honest.  And he’s alreadytried to murder Taako and the others and then taken steps to make sure he doesn’thave to do it properly, which is a selling point, these days.  Half of everyone Taako knows has tried tomurder them, by accident or as a test or just because the three of them were inthe way.  

More than anything, though, Kravitz doesn’t say anything,doesn’t press, just sits there with his hand out as a silent offer, waiting forTaako to decide.

Kravitz’s hand is cold, still holding the chill of theastral plane.  Taako adds one more thingto his list of Grim Reaper Facts: his fingers fit perfectly with Taako’s.

[biolumitranslations]

The Devil’s Origin - Chapter 11

Book of Monsters

<< Congratulations! Although the Red Dragon is one of the most difficult monsters to tame, you have successfully made one your subordinate! It is a high-level species, so the benefits are very good. >>

The Red Dragon is only one of the most difficult monsters? What are the others like!?

“Devil, staying cooped up here just isn’t my style. I’ll start tracking down monsters and sending them here, okay?”

Alexius made a suggestion while cheerfully hugging me.

“I’d really appreciate that. With all the babies hatching, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to leave the castle right now.”

Although the range of my「Perception」skill has increased, it still has limits.

“No problem! If you mate with me again, I’ll search wherever I can!”

I wonder, did Alexius enjoy mating with me that much? It seems like he won’t reject anything I say.

Hey, this level 180 Red Dragon could be a powerful ally, after all!

“No, you don’t have to come back anymore.”

“Seriously, Velke, jealousy isn’t a good look for you.”

Apparently, Velke was itching to blast Alexius with some devastating magic, but after 500 years the difference between their levels was too big.

After finally releasing me, Alexius bid us farewell and flew off into the sky. I decided that I would explore my castle a bit.

It seems that the Devil’s Castle grew again after I mated with the powerful Red Dragon. So this is one of the benefits of a monster with a high level!

<< Indeed! Because you have reached level 38, the Devil’s Castle has developed three new rooms. When you hit level 30, you also gained the ability to summon the Book of Monsters! >>

What is that, a comic book?

<< It is a complete, illustrated guide to the monsters of this world. It holds all the information you will need to know about every species. >>

Oh, how useful!

I summoned the Book of Monsters. It was enormous, and looked positively ancient.

It was also very heavy. I could already feel my arms growing weak, so I took it into one of the new rooms and propped it open on the floor.

● SLIME ●

Population: 75

Habitat: Western Forest, Devil’s Castle

● VELLUCLESIS ●

Population: 4

Habitat: Devil’s Castle

Each entry went on to list countless more details on each species. More importantly, it seemed that this book could tell how many individuals there were of each species.

But, looking through it, almost all the other pages are empty. What happened? Where’s the rest? There’s only a table of contents with a list of monsters and their populations.

<< The Book of Monsters can only display entries for monsters the Devil has personally encountered. >>

Well . . . I guess that makes sense . . .

But what in the world is this book . . . is it some kind of monster, too . . ?

Hmm? The monster species are listed very clearly, but some of the names have faded to gray.

<< The faded names indicate that the species has gone extinct. >>

There were gray names on every page of the table of contents, making it glaringly obvious how many species were gone.

So, there were this many monsters that have died out . . .

Even looking at the surviving species, many had dwindled to ten individuals, or five, or less.

I felt a chill seeing the devastating reality of the monster’s situation laid out before me.

<< Do not worry! When you reach level 100, you will gain the「Demonic Refinement」skill, which is unique to the Devil! >>

「Demonic Refinement」. . .?

<< The「Demonic Refinement」skill will allow you to create a new monster species, or recreate an extinct monster species, by refining the semen of several existing monster species! However, you must refine the proper combination of existing monster species in order to successfully use this skill. >>

Refining semen?

<< By mating with several different species of monster in succession,「Demonic Refinement」can be used to refine their semen within the Devil’s body! >>

Hey, System! You don’t have to explain it in such detail!

I paled at the thought of a monster orgy. Mating with monsters was already a painful ordeal. If I were to mate with more than one at a time . . . I got scared just imagining it.

<< The more monsters you mate with, the more combinations for「Demonic Refinement」will be unlocked! Be prepared to mate with many monsters in the near future! >>

I quietly dismissed the Book of Monsters to escape from reality.

<< By the way, with your improved「Perception」skill, you can sense monsters within a wider range! You can also sense monsters with a higher level than your own! >>

Prompted by the System, I activated the「Perception」skill.

● TENTACLE ●     [ Level 5 ]

● RABBITFOLK ●     [ Level 8 ]

● LIZARDFOLK ●     [ Level 25 ]

● KELPIE ●     [ Level 31 ]

● SABER TIGER ●     [ Level 41 ]

● NAGA ●     [ Level 53 ]

● DRYAD ●     [ Level 80 ]

I detected them all easily.

I-It’s for the sake of the monster population! I’ll do my best . . . starting tomorrow.

I’m really curious about what else is written in the Book of Monsters . . . I want some Velluclesis trivia . . .

(By the way, all the monsters detected at the end of the chapter appear in the upcoming chapters . . . some of them are really funny!)

<< Chapter 10                    Chapter 12 >>

[ablessingofwickedness]

Sunday Times Bake Off Interview

Click on over here to read the article! But if you can’t get through the paywall ...

On your marks... Meet the new Bake Off team

For many Bake Off fans, last year’s shock departure from the BBC was bad enough — but things reached boiling point when three much-loved presenters quit. Has the (nearly) new team got the magic ingredients to rise again?

Francesca Angelini

The Sunday Times, August 6 2017, 12:01am

Beneath a blazing sun, before an immense Berkshire country house, stands a plump white tent strung with crisp bunting. Within, a handful of bakers are furiously beating sugar, flour and eggs, surrounded by fridges in pastel hues. Outside, an elderly terrier lollops beneath an ancient beech tree. The land of The Great British Bake Off is as comforting and familiar, as green and pleasant, as they come.

And then the idyll breaks. Noel Fielding wafts across the luminous lawn, a gangly tangle of gold boots, drainpipes and black locks. Sandi Toksvig, Fielding’s co-presenter, emerges from her dressing-room trailer, its entrance dotted with small gnome figures. And there’s Prue Leith, billowing over to a camera, hair on end. At which point, someone might as well have daubed pictures of Mel Giedroyc, Sue Perkins and Mary Berry onto the marquee’s side, so large is the elephant in the tent.

Even if you were living under a muffin tin last autumn, the din from the Bake Off hysteria will have reached you. So attached are we to this slice of Arcadia that the announcement that the show was moving from its 8pm slot on BBC1 to Channel 4 quickly became the nation’s most burning issue. Sorry, Brexit who?

After seven series, Bake Off had become the BBC’s prized diamond, pulling in record-breaking viewing figures of up to 15m. But the BBC insisted on classifying the show as “factual” rather than “entertainment”, which meant they couldn’t pay the production company — and therefore its presenters — what its colossal TV hit deserved. When Channel 4 offered a reported £75m for three series (considerably more than the £15m the BBC is believed to have offered), Love Productions jumped ship.

Only the talent didn’t follow. Bake Off’s beloved presenters, Mel and Sue, quickly announced they wouldn’t be “going with the dough”. Berry also told Love Productions where to shove it, citing loyalty to the BBC. It was only her blue-eyed co-judge, Hollywood, who chose to stay put. In the eyes of his outraged detractors, he might as well have taken a blowtorch to Berry’s victoria sponge.

BAKE OFF BY NUMBERS

180kg flour throughout the series

1,800 eggs

20 litres double cream

85kg butter

150kg sugar

Ten months later, the icing has settled. Paul and Mary has become Paul and Leith, which has a better ring to it, and Mel and Sue have been replaced by another waggish and cacklesome duo, Fielding and Toksvig. To make up for ad breaks, the show will be 75 minutes long; it’s not yet decided what time it will be transmitted, but children’s bedtimes must be a consideration. Other than this, Love Productions insists, nothing has changed. The format, the tent, the weather, the good-naturedness, the “On your marks, get set, bake” opener, the eggs, the chocolate, the essences, are all exactly as they were.

The question is, does this new foursome have the chemistry for the most successful modern TV series to carry on rising like an expertly whipped soufflé?

I visit the set in late June, on the hottest day of the year, and filming is in its early stages. I sit down with Paul Hollywood, Leith, Fielding and Toksvig in a hefty, high-ceilinged room of Welford Park, the stately home whose grounds have hosted the Bake Off set for the previous four series. A fan whirrs noisily beside a table heaving with chocolate bars. Outside, a former Gurkha patrols a footpath and two security guards with binoculars are trying to escape the sun. How are you all getting along, I ask casually, as Leith puts away her laptop.

“The relationship started off passionate, and now it’s gone cold,” Fielding chortles from deep within a fusty sofa.

“Yes, there was a lot of lust at the beginning,” Toksvig nods, deadpan.

And for the next 30 seconds, the pair can’t stop tittering, so I turn to Hollywood, who is disconcertingly shuffling a pack of cards. What has he been doing to get to know his new friends?

The usual, he says, dinner and beers down the pub after filming. And they’ve been reading each other’s books, he says.

“I’m reading a novel by Sandi about the Boer War that is simply marvellous,” says Leith, opening her eyes emphatically when she reaches “marvellous”.

“And I’ve just got a book of Noel’s, actually,” says Hollywood. Only he can’t remember its title.

“It’s a book of my art,” Fielding says softly.

“Brilliant,” Hollywood quips.

“It’s OK for you Paul, it’s pictures,” Leith chips in, which prompts more guffaws. In all the previous Bake Off series, the permatanned Hollywood was the star who came in for the most delicious mockings. Evidently nothing’s changed — though Hollywood is quick to point out that he gives Fielding as good as he gets. What do they wind each other up about?

“Mainly how different our skin tones are: I’m alive, and he’s not.”

“I sleep in a coffin, he sleeps in a bed,” nods Fielding, who on closer inspection is decidedly the whitest man I’ve seen. He eventually stops cackling to reflect a little harder. “We do all get on, which is odd, as you couldn’t have put more unlikely people together.”

“Yes, it’s a dysfunctional family, but it works,” says Hollywood.

Measured on laughs per second, that is clearly the case. They’re a hoot to interview, finishing off each other’s thoughts, launching into amusing and detailed anecdotes of evenings in the pub, throwing in sharp gags with the ease of people who have spent many long hours together.

Famously, though, Hollywood was very close to his previous Bake Off family. Berry would even offer to do his ironing after they’d had dinner together. Mel and Sue, too, had a soft spot for the cocky master baker. He says he still speaks to them all and bats away the question by claiming he’d “miss them even if they were on Bake Off”, since he didn’t see them at other times of the year outside of filming.

It’s nine months since Hollywood was bashed, in an especially nasty fashion, for staying with Bake Off and he still seems baffled by the response. In his eyes, all he did was remain loyal to the programme that had plucked him from obscurity after his bakery business had dissolved with debts, and thereby launched his stonking career. “Bake Off is where I belong. They gave me an opportunity in 2009 and I grabbed at it with both hands. I love Bake Off, it’s where my home is,” he explains, fixing me with an intense stare.

Hollywood is believed to have been paid, on average, less than £70,000 for each of the seven series he did for the BBC. Even if his pay did rise in recent series, it still didn’t put him anywhere near the BBC’s big earners such as Chris Evans, who last month was revealed to earn more than £2.2m. But the moolah, Hollywood claims, was not a factor. “You don’t get money for telly, you get money selling books. Money wasn’t the issue. I just want my job, I love it.” He is not openly bitter, but I’m pretty certain his mission is to make what he terms “the next chapter” of Bake Off even more honkingly successful than the first.

Of all the new appointments, Fielding’s was the least obvious. He made his name as part of the comedy act the Mighty Boosh, whose weird, psychedelic, surreal series, which ran late night on BBC2 in the mid-Noughties, was everything that mainstream Bake Off is not. His solo stand-up is equally absurdist and esoteric. He has previously admitted to snorting all kinds of things. He likes to wear drag. He can’t bake. But proving just how far the Bake Off tentacles reach, he has, he says, been obsessed with the show since series one, and would often watch it and think to himself that Mel, a friend, had the best job. “It’s the ultimate float TV. You chill out, have a cup of tea, try some buns … It’s not stressful.”

Critics have suggested that Fielding would be asked to rein it in. Actually, he says he is being encouraged to be himself. “Though I haven’t come in and tried to do what I do on my own shows. Bake Off has a very specific tone and I respect that. You have to come in and not knock the boat.”

And, for all his sweary wildness, he comes across as the most warm-hearted of the pack. He chatters, often at length, about how brilliant the bakers are, how impressed he is by their creations, and openly declares that he can’t help develop favourites.

Waiflike, he doesn’t strike me as a man partial to cake. And he hasn’t, it turns out, been eating many buns. “Sugar is a powerful thing, I get more work when I’m thinner. So I can’t put on weight. No one likes a tubby gut, is what I’m saying,” he laughs, looking towards Hollywood, who shrugs.

Toksvig, the Danish-British presenter of QI, is a more natural Bake Off fit. For a start, she can bake — the Danes know a thing or two about pastry — and she has the safe humour required of a family-show presenter.

“Sandi had never seen Bake Off,” Fielding says impishly.

“Shush,” she retorts.

“You lied to me, you said you’d seen every one,” says Hollywood with mock outrage. Toksvig remains silent.

What was your favourite episode, I ask.

“The one where they make cake? I don’t watch a lot of television, I’m more of a reader,” she laughs, throwing her hands up. In any case, she didn’t think it was a good idea to watch back through the series because “you wouldn’t want to be trying to emulate someone else’s brilliance”. Indeed, watching Matt Le Blanc and Chris Evans being shoved into cardboard Top Gear cutouts of Richard Hammond and Jeremy Clarkson does not make for compelling television.

In many respects, Channel 4 is banking on the show’s tried-and-tested format being its key ingredient, rather than its personalities. The fact that it thrives in 25 countries suggests they are onto something. “Format is king,” Hollywood says. No one, however, expects Channel 4 to come close to the BBC’s record-breaking viewing figures: where 15m tuned in to see Candice Brown win last year. Channel 4’s most popular show, Gogglebox, gets 5m at most.

How this slightly cheesy, joyfully warm, village fete of a TV series became the country’s most successful show is still being mulled over. For Leith, Bake Off’s attraction is straightforward. “People love competition and everyone loves cake,” she explains, in her rather clipped tone. “Even if you don’t allow yourself to eat much cake, you still like drooling over it … and it’s not out to humiliate anyone.” The former Great British Menu judge has perhaps the hardest role, stepping into national treasure Berry’s vivid judging pumps. Known for brazenly speaking her mind, she is sharp, witty and most definitely not a soft touch. Her catchphrase is “it’s not worth the calories” — though, despite being a healthy-food campaigner, she doesn’t see an issue with obese Britain being fed more cake. “I really thought twice about accepting Bake Off. I’ve spent my life campaigning about children learning to cook and healthy meals in schools, but I reasoned that, actually, baking is the best way to get people into general cooking. And that’s what we need the nation to do: to get interested in the kitchen.”

I suggest that this might not be the most feminist view, that making cakes narrows women’s horizons rather than broadens them. She doesn’t buy it. In fact, it makes her “quite cross”. “That whole attitude,” she shakes her head. “You know, there was a high mistress at [the leading private school] St Paul’s for girls, and I said to her once that the girls should learn to cook. And she said, ‘Over my dead body. My girls are going to be brain surgeons and astrophysicists. I tell them never to do anything domestic.’ And I thought, what kind of life are they going to have? If they grow up with that idea, then they are going to be cut off from some of the great pleasures of life.”

If the show’s popularity is anything to go by, Leith is spot-on: watching bakers whip up gingerbread houses, milk buns and scones gives its viewers untold pleasures. And every year, the standards reach new heights. This year is no different. Blown away by previously unheard-of flavour pairings and clever concoctions, Hollywood has given out more handshakes than ever before.

It must, however, be tough for a show that has grown so big that a binned baked alaska can become an item on Newsnight, and whose contestants can go on to win book deals, TV shows and newspaper columns, to maintain its gentle appeal. Surely it attracts more cut-throat sorts? “No, it attracts good bakers. You can’t say, ‘I’m in it for the money.’ You’ve got to be a brilliant baker first,” Hollywood says fiercely.

Bake Off stands out for its lack of gimmickry, emotional backstories and the sex factor. It’s the antithesis to Love Island

And an in-it-to-win-it attitude isn’t likely to get a baker very far. Bake Off’s currency is generosity of spirit and collaborative encouragement. It stands out for its lack of gimmickry, emotional backstories and sex factor, the antithesis to Love Island. Its best contestants will fall over a boiling saucepan of sugar to help each other out.

“It’s astonishing. They really are devoted to each other,” Leith says.

And then the electricity goes — stately homes, eh? — and we emerge from the porch to see the home’s owner tootling off under a sunhat to bottle-feed some lambs. The cameras stop rolling and flour-strewn bakers run out of the sweaty tent and tumble onto the grass, hugging each other and patting the terrier. For all the furore of last autumn, the happy magic still seems to be here in spades. The Great British Bake Off is coming soon to Channel 4

[salvagedmoose]

Prompt Drabble #01

I’ve decided to start playing around with some dialogue prompts, and I stumbled across one that fit Squidward to a T. [link] Dedicated to @shirohibiki for helping me develop the confidence to share my writing on tumblr for the first time. There’s absolutely room for improvement, but hey, I need to learn to let go.

Pre-relationship squidbob, rated E10+ for Squidward’s general outlook on life. Includes references to “Hello Bikini Bottom,” an episode that everyone should absolutely watch at least once.

It wasn’t the first and it most likely wouldn’t be the last time Squidward had an existential breakdown regarding his merit as an artist. There was something notable about this particular occurrence, though.

Namely, his two obnoxious neighbors were there.

Now, this wouldn’t have been so odd had he been displaying his talents publicly, but Squidward had simply been practicing his clarinet in the privacy of his art room when when the sponge and star barged in on him.

...Alright, even that wasn’t that odd considering their usual behavior.

But when Spongebob revealed the reason for their intrusion, it plucked right at Squidward’s last nerve.

“Patrick thought you might need some help with your dying animal!”

Squidward had already not been in the best of moods. He’d finally been able to line up a a new exhibition of his work, but, like all things in his life, it had been a colossal failure. Even calling it a flop would have been generous. The reactions from what few people he could convince to come had ranged from apathetic to openly hostile.

Having someone come into his own house and criticize his attempts at creative self-soothing was the last thing he needed right now. Thus, his response to his neighbors’ concern was to break down into sobs.

Spongebob immediately put a comforting hand on Squidward’s back. “Hey, hey, it’s gonna be alright. You’re safe here, you can let out your grief. Losing a pet can be one of the hardest-”

“There’s no dying animal, you barnacle-head!” Squidward’s outburst was immediately followed by more sulking. “The only thing I’m grieving is my future as an artist.”

“Oh, that’s it?” Patrick seemed satisfied with the answer. “Never mind then. Come on, Spongebob.”

Spongebob turned and firmly grasped Patrick’s shoulders, looking him fiercely in the eye. “No, Patrick. Our friend is suffering, and it’s our duty to help him through this tough time.” He turned back to Squidward and smiled gently. “Now why don’t you tell your old buddy Sponge what’s got your tentacles in a twist?”

Squidward scowled bitterly. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ask the people who walked out on my exhibition!”

Spongebob gasped. “That was this Saturday!? Oh, if I’d known I would have rescheduled Gary’s shots!”

Squidward had actually told Spongebob the wrong date on purpose in order to make sure he didn’t come and screw anything up, but that didn’t seem like information he needed to share now. “It doesn’t matter now! Everyone hates my visual art, and even my music isn’t appreciated!”

“That is not true,” Spongebob stated firmly. “I appreciate your creativity and artistic flair every day of my life, and I’m sure there are plenty of other people who do, too!”

“Yeah,” Patrick added, “they must just live on the other side of the ocean or something!”

Squidward grimaced. “Well I wish they’d show up sometime before I die of old age!” Squidward pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes in an attempt to hold back more tears. “I don’t want to fail just because other people have terrible taste.”

“And you won’t!” Spongebob spoke with every ounce of conviction in his porous body. “We just need to find a way to broaden your appeal until those other people show up. Then you’ll have more fans than ever! Now let’s think; what isn’t marketable about you right now...”

Patrick’s hand shot up immediately. “Oh, I know! Is it his frigid, pretentious demeanor?”

“Hey!” Squidward barked.

“Hm, maybe. It’s a place to start, if nothing else!” Spongebob pointed at Patrick. “Pat, go put on a pot of coffee. This could turn into a long night.”

“Aye aye, Spongebob!” Patrick saluted and ran out of the room.

Squidward turned his offended features to Spongebob. “I never said you could use my kitchen!”

“Don’t worry about it, Squidward, Patrick’s got everything under control.”

A muffled explosion could be heard from the ground floor.

Spongebob tenderly took Squidward’s hands in his. “All you need to focus on is your creative growth. Now, let’s start with Patrick’s idea.”

Squidward defensively pulled back his tentacles. “I am not frigid and pretentious!”

“I know that,” Spongebob placated, “but other people might not! Maybe you could work on that by trying to be a little more... open and vulnerable.”

“Are you saying this isn’t vulnerable!?” Squidward stood, walked over to a covered object, and removed the drop sheet to reveal a sculpture of a large-nosed, tentacled figure writhing, attempting to free itself from a mass of stone.

“Alright, maybe vulnerability isn’t what you need to work on right now.” Spongebob paused to take an appraising look at Squidward. “I know! If your problem is being too frigid, we just need to make you seem warmer! Show people the cuddly, inviting side of Squidward!”

Squidward leveled Spongebob with an existentially exhausted glare. “Art is suffering.”

A stiff pause passed between the two.

“...Okay. But that’s not all art has to be! It can be a celebration of beauty and joy!” Spongebob picked up Squidward’s clarinet which had fallen to the floor during his dramatics. “Here. You take this-” Spongebob handed the instrument to Squidward, “-and I’ll take this-” Spongebob materialized his ukulele from an unseen source, “-and we can play around until we find your happy sound!”

Squidward looked down to his clarinet and sighed. “I’m not sure I even have a happy sound anymore.”

Spongebob waved the idea away. “Nonsense! I’ve heard your happy sound before and I’ll help you find it again if it takes all night! Now just come in when you’re ready.”

Spongebob began to strum a bouncy, cheerful series of chords. 

Squidward watched as Spongebob’s eyes fell shut, his entire face relaxed and serene. Even while he felt a certain amount of resentment for the fact that Spongebob had broken into his home, insulted his music, and then decided that he knew more about artistic appeal than Squidward did, he couldn’t help but feel his muscles begin to relax from their tense state. 

As much as Sqiudward hated to admit it, Spongebob had more than a little musical skill. And he really did somehow succeed in projecting his contentment into his music. Heck, this wasn’t even the first time he’d been invited to play alongside Spongebob. Nowhere near it, in fact. While Mr. Krabs’s attempt at making a buck off their efforts had ultimately been a bust, it had given him plenty of opportunities to see Spongebob look every bit as comfortable with his music as Squidward felt on his best days. He could still remember how surprisingly good he felt after their big number near the end of that fiasco.

Spongebob’s eyes popped open long enough to shoot an encouraging wink in Squidward’s direction.

...Hmph. Being around Spongebob really was bad for his heart.

Now that his chest no longer felt like it was being crushed by all-encompassing dread, Squidward was able to take a breath, bring his clarinet to his mouth, and start a simple melody.

Spongebob looked up to Squidward and smiled. “See, there’s my happy Squid!”

A squeak came from Squidward’s clarinet as he internally bristled at being called Spongebob’s anything. Aside from that, though, he was able to maintain enough breath control to gradually become more playful with his contribution to the jam session.

Spongebob’s smile only grew. “Now this is the Squidward the world really needs to see. You sound good, you look good, and most importantly of all, you feel good. I’m so happy to be able to share this with you.”

Squidward was glad his mouth was otherwise occupied, because he had no idea how to respond to that kind of statement. Of course there was an instinct to deny that Spongebob had done anything to help him, but the proof was right there, vibrating through the water around them. He really did play better when he felt better and, well, he was feeling better now than he was before.

Eventually the pair came to a mutual close, and Squidward brought his eyes to an easy gaze in Spongebob’s direction. There it was again. That good feeling. 

“That was... nice.”

“It really was.”

They shared a companionable silence, until Squidward flinched at the feeling of a hand on his own. He’d been so occupied by Spongebob’s encouraging smile that he hadn’t noticed the sponge discreetly extending his arm to initiate physical contact.

Squidward’s hand clenched on his clarinet, but Spongebob’s was steady.

“If you ever need this again, let me know, okay? I’m always here for you.”

Knowing Spongebob’s track record, Squidward didn’t doubt that.

“Um...Thanks.”

Spongebob gently ran his thumb over the side of Squidwad’s tentacle. “You’re a special person and you have so much to give the world.”

Suddenly Squidward was remembering the way their hands had drifted towards one another after that big number so long ago. They’d been interrupted before any contact could be made, but if they hadn’t... what would have happened?

Squidward felt his and Spongebob’s joined hands slip from the clarinet to a comfortably hanging point between them.

What was happening now?

Their hands moved softly against each other, finding a way to accommodate their differing appendages while still maintaining firm, solid contact.

Squidward felt like he should say something.

“Uh... Hey, Spongebob.”

“Yeah, Squidward?”

“...I-”

Squidward’s attempted statement was cut off by sirens, followed by Patrick calmly opening the door to the room he and Spongebob were currently occupying.

Patrick brought his hands together and spoke in a level tone. “Mistakes may have been made.”

Squidward’s hand immediately jolted out of Spongebob’s. “What did you do to my kitchen!?”

“Nothing you need to stop holding hands about! I-”

“I was not holding anyone’s hand,” Squidward lied. “Now explain yourself!”

That very moment, a pair of firefighters entered the room, one holding the charred remains of a moderately sized hunk of metal.

“Excuse me,” the one holding the charred lump began delicately, “but are you the owner of a Primo Cappucino Assoluto E5000?”

Squidward gasped and ran over to examine the object. “Serafina! What happened to you!?”

The one holding the lump lowered his head while his partner took her hat off and held it respectfully over her heart. “She’s frothing milk in heaven now.”

And so Squidward ended up exactly where he began, sobbing dramatically while Spongbob and Patrick looked on, until he gathered enough fire in his belly to whip around to face the guilty party.

“You! Get out of my house, now!”

Patrick quivered with fear. “U-uh, okay,” he stuttered, and then promptly threw himself out the window.

Spongebob approached Squidward and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s okay! We can go pick up coffee ourselves; a change of scenery might help get those creative juices flowing.”

Squidward scowled at Spongebob. “The only thing I need flowing is the water out the door from you leaving!”

Spongebob pulled his hand away. “Alright, Squidward, I understand. You need to have some time to yourself to process your loss. Don’t be afraid to reach out to me, though, I really mean it.”

“OUT!”

“See ya later, Squiddy!” Spongebob waved and daintily slid out of the room between the two firefighters.

Once Squidward had had a chance to salvage what he could from his wrecked kitchen area, he flopped on his couch. He was exhausted in every manner imaginable. He tried very hard to focus on the parts of his ground floor that wouldn’t need massive renovation, and it was then that he noticed a small envelope slipped under his front door.

Squidward picked it up and noticed it was unmarked. Well, his day couldn’t get much worse, so he might as well open it.

It wasn’t difficult for Squidward to recognize the scrawled handwriting on sight.

Dear Squidward,

You’re not a failure.

Love, your number one fan

An amateurish yellow rectangle-and-stick figure was drawn at the bottom of the page, presumably in lieu of a signature.

Squidward sighed for the umpteenth time that evening. That ridiculous goofball really didn’t know how to leave him to wallow in his own self pity. 

...But that didn’t mean Squidward might not take him up on his offer of another casual jam session. Maybe. Someday.

[a-yato]

Grounded

Genre: Science Fiction

Word Count: 4,040

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: It’s looong

Summary: In a world where mysterious force fields pop up engulfing entire towns, humanity seems to be trapped. That is until two survivors, Kate and her former teacher, Mr. Jacks find a way to out smart the fields and escape.

Authors Note: This is something I wrote when I was fourteen, for a language arts course I had taken. The prompt of force fields was a prompt given to me from the class, though it took a rapid development for an eighth grade writing assignment ^^

 I take my mirror out and hold it under the force field again, wondering why it has to be like this. Whole towns engulfed by these mysterious blue fields, and they only thing needed to outsmart them was a piece of glass. My palms are sweaty with anticipation as I wait for Mr. Jacks to get here with the rest of the survivors, so we can finally leave this hell hole.

Looking behind Mr. Jacks I was confused. The only other person with him was his old rickety dog. My excitement dimmed as I asked the question, “Where is every one else?” Mr. Jacks just shook his head,

 “They didn't want to take the risk of disappearing like everyone else,” sighing, he sat on a near by rock for a moment. His dog came hobbling up to me, slobber edging out of his mouth. Not wanting to leave the others and not be able to find them again, I dug in to my pockets for my notebook.

“Well, I believe we should make a map. Though I haven't any paper on me,” I said, a thoughtful note in my voice.

Mr. Jacks just shook his head, staring down while looking deep with thought. Suddenly another thought occurred to me, “We don't have any food either,” sighing, I looked back at the field. With us we had an industrial pocket knife, a mirror, a backpack, and a water bottle halfway full. Mr. Jacks had also managed to convince the people back home to give him a water purification kit, but other than that there wasn't any food. Looking at the sun just making it's way through the sky, we set off.

Making our way through the city, it seemed empty and desolate. It was easy enough to find food, but the worry of disappearing was still strong through us. Walking silently, I started to wonder what our plan was. Every phone we tried had died weeks ago, and there wasn't any electricity. Though I couldn't see a force field, I wondered when we would see the next one. I knew we'd need a bigger mirror to get through this field, and we couldn't walk forever. Though I hated the idea of taking someone's car, I knew that we couldn't walk everywhere.

After looking around for five minutes, Mr. Jacks nodded at a green coloured minivan. Opening the door was easy enough, and Mr. Jacks Suggested that we take the back seats out, and search for a way to make cots. Finding bedding was easy enough, as there were cars everywhere with all different sorts of things in them. Afterward we went into a smaller building, and carried out a small wooden desk. It had enough drawers to fit our food, water, and even some maps that we had managed to scrounge from a subway station. Finally, after all of our work we were able to sit down.

The sky was nodding over the peak of the horizon, and we knew it would be night soon. I took a long swig of water and filled up the dogs dish with some as well, “Where do you think we should go,” I asked. Mr. Jacks furrowed his brows in thought, running a hand through his thinning hair.

Finally he spoke, “I think we should head to Washington, and see if they have any barricades there. This car doesn’t have much gas though, so we'll need to either cipher it here of see if there's a working gas station anywhere around here,” I nodded, though I didn't know how to cipher gas to another car. Laying down, I felt somewhat relieved and scared. And for the first time in weeks I got a good night’s sleep.

As I woke, I took a minute too look around and stretch. Finally I decided to wake up Mr. Jacks. Grumbling, he sat up. Before we left, I decided to go looking for clothes. Picking up a galaxy print backpack, I packed two other pairs of jeans, one pair of shorts, and three other t shirts and tank tops. I stuffed the rest of the clothes in the front pocket of my back pack.

On the road, we were both quite. The radio didn't work, but we didn't mind, it was nice to be somewhere in which the only noise wasn't a bunch of people whispering in panic. Soon we saw on the horizon, a gas station. It didn't seem like an intriguing discovery, but I noticed that as we neared the gas station, there seemed to be the edge of the field we were in. Mr. Jacks saw it to, and we both knew that we had a long journey in front of us. Pulling over at the gas station, Mr. Jacks started pumping gas, while I went in to get snacks, Mr. Jacks dog trailing behind me. Looking over at the candy bars I went to grab a KitKat, when suddenly a voice stopped me, “What do you think you're doing?”

My heart beat fast as I turned to face the voice. It was a tired, commanding voice. It's owner was around five feet tall, with pale skin contrasting to mine.

Their eyes were that of an ebony on the right side, and a hyacinth left eye. The colour of the actress Elizabeth Taylors eyes. The bags building under their eyes as deep and black as the night.

Their hair was a leather black mop of curls, not going any farther than their ears. With a lean build they wore a hoodie that faded from white to black, with what seemed to be an octopus tentacle pattern in white. The shirt they had on underneath it was dark purple a long-sleeved T-shirt. It seemed faded with age, as did the yellow logo it had in the center. The pants they wore were as black as anything, and looked to be skinny jeans. Their combat boots clashing with the rest of the dark colours, I'd never seen any in an aquamarine blue.

I didn't quite know what to say, as their demeanor was tense and unwelcoming.

Again came the words, “what do you think your doing?” I blinked, and stepped back. Finally I opened my mouth,

“Sorry I was just coming in to get supplies,” I only just managed to tumble out. Slowly I backed out towards the door.

Their voice was scratchy as they quipped back, “yeah I've always found KitKat's to be the most essential of nutrients.”

I didn't quite know what to do. Slowly, they moved towards the wall. I tensed, ready to sprint out, but relaxed as a light came on.

“There's a small generator over there, I've hooked it up to a series of lamps,” they drift off. I decided that it was safer for Mr. Jacks and I to leave, we didn't know this stranger and it was to much to risk anything bad happening.

“Well I'll just be going then...” I say, edging out toward the door. As I exited, I slowly walked toward the van. Mr. Jacks stood in front of it with a bewildered look on his face.

“Where's all of the food,” he shouted over at me. I made a motion with my hand to lower his voice, and finally made it to the van.

“There was someone in there, I think we should stop somewhere else, they didn't seem very welcoming,” I rushed out. Mr Jacks just shook his head.

“Now, I'm not going to deny that we all of the time in the world right now, but I want KitKat. Do they have any weapons?” I shook my head, I didn't see anything more than a few old looking lamps, and I wouldn't have called those very menacing.

“No I guess not, they didn't seem much older than me,” I looked down, it suddenly seemed idiotic of me to be so scared. We probably seemed like just another threat in this new world to them. Mr. Jacks caught on to my sudden guilt, and told me to get in the van. He turned and walked into the building. It took quite a while until I heard a door open and close, and out came Mr. Jacks with a broad smile. Behind him came the stranger, wearing a smirk on their face.

When he got to the van he opened the door, and out jumped his dog.

As my eyes adjusted to the sudden light he bellowed, “Kate, this is At! At's going to join us on our journey,” I internally groaned at the word “journey”.

At climbed in and sat down on the floor behind us cross legged. I could hear Mr. Jacks loading the generator into the back, but was brought back to reality when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Looking behind me I saw At holding out a KitKat in my direction. Slowly, I took it. Mr. Jacks dog came up to At, with the smell of chocolate in mind. At shook their head, and started petting the old thing.

“What's his name,” at called to no one in particular. It dawned on me that I never did bother to learn his name.

“Cisco,” called out Mr. Jacks. At hearing his name, the dogs head perked up. Cisco's Amber eyes twinkled in the spotted sunlight shining in through the windows. Getting in the van, Mr. Jacks started the engine.

“Well, we're off,” he said in a more chipper tone than usual. Driving down the road was silent, and looking out at the skies slowly starting to build up with dregs of grey almost put me to sleep. When the rain finally came, it was soft and slow, putting everyone at ease.

“I've always liked the rain...” At dragged out. Turning around, At was staring out the window.

“Do you know anything about the force fields, At?” I asked, hoping but knowing they probably didn't.

“I don’t…” He drags out.

“But actually I think I have a theory about it,” At started,

“Not much. but I've heard some wild conspiracies over the past couple of weeks from various idiots passing through,” they said.

We made small talk like that for the next hour and a half or so to come. Sometimes Mr. Jacks would have something to add in, sometimes he would just grunt. When the rain finally let up, we saw that it was close to evening.

“Well gang, I think we should make a pit stop and rest for the night,” Mr. Jacks announced. After we were all settled, Mr. Jacks broke out some Ramen and beef jerky. Carefully, we started a fire.

Though almost all of the sticks and logs we found were wet from the rain. Sat around the fire, we were all awfully quite.

“It'd be nice to have some music,” I said, speaking to no one in particular.

“There's a Jazz CD in the van if you want to jam with that,” Mr. Jacks said, feeling like he mastered the language of today. At and I both sighed.

“I have an Ipod I can hook up to the van if you want,” At mentioned. Mr. Jacks and I both nodded our heads, and At fished the device out of their pocket. After some grumbling and technical difficulties, the music finally came on. Playing an upbeat song I'd never heard before. Climbing out of the van, At offered their hand out to me.

“Don't you dance at all Kate,” At's raspy voice coerced me. I shook my head, At shrugged. Slogging out in the mud, At started to make an odd arm movement, and broke out in dance. Mr. Jacks burst out laughing over At's lack of beat.

“For someone who seems so cynical you sure aren't afraid to embarrass yourself,” I joked. At shrugged, and started bounding about. I was persuaded to dance that night, and even though none of us would spoke it out loud it, we felt like we were making the best of a bad situation.

“I call the cot!” I called out. At grumbled as he and Mr. Jacks were face to face next to the other piece of bedding.

“Well it seems one of us is going to have to sleep in a chair,” Mr. Jacks spoke out.

“And it won't be me,” both voices rang out at the same time. I found it funny, but the others were glaring at each other. Finally At got up and reclined the passenger chair back. I threw At a blanket.

“Fine, you both suite yourselves. At least I have a good view of the stars from here,” At yawned. I had to admit, the stars were bountiful tonight. It made me have a yearning for home, and how my family and I watched the stars every weekend when we went out camping. Even though I felt like crying, I smiled, and fell asleep with the happy memories of my family.

The next morning I was awoken with the smack of a pillow.

“Wake up princess, we're moving,” At shouted at me. I knew it was my turn to sit on the floor today. The sky this morning was a light blue, the air crisp. We drove for a couple of hours, making idle chatter and figuring out plans. It wasn't until after a couple of hours until I heard Mr. Jacks call out.

“We've reached the edge of the field!” He screamed. Looking out, I realized that we had. Taking out the mirror we brought, we walked to the edge of the barrier.

“And you're sure this works,” skepticism edging At's voice. I nodded, and positioned the mirror. Taking a look at my surroundings quickly. The road was empty, and we were far from the city. the grass was dead, and everything was muddy. Then it all disappeared, and I was blinded from the light of the mirror. For a split second, everything was still. Then however, I felt myself begin to pitch forward, and saw nothing but blackness. I heard the shouts of Mr. Jacks and At behind me, but everything soon dissipated, and I faded into the blackness.

When I awoke, I was laying on my back, still within the darkness. It was different this time though, because now I was starting to hear voices. At first I was hoping for it to be Mr. Jacks and At, bringing me back to consciousness. Then it came in to perspective, and it sounded like the monotone voice of a female.

Looking at the direction I assumed was up, I started to see stars. Except, they were getting bigger. But now I saw that instead of stars they were actually words. The words were what the female was reading.

“Player 1, Kate Atkinson,” I heard her say. She continued,

“level 2, lives down, 1. Times..” I heard her continue, reading all of my life accomplishments. It took me a while it sounded like something you'd hear at the end of a video game. Finally looking down, I gasped.

There in front of me was another version of me. From the limpid brunette hair hanging around my face, to my hazel eyes, everything. It seemed she was where the voice was coming from, though it sounded nothing like me.

I'd only been half paying attention to the stats being read but then I heard something that made me turn back to them, “Now beginning life 2,” and before I knew it I was back into the darkness.

When I woke up again this time, I was back in the plane. I heard the familiar bickering of my teammates, and the familiar noise that I had only just grown accustomed to being without. The feeling I had then was an incomprehensible amount of sadness, and I almost couldn't accept that it was all just a dream. Looking down at my feet, I lay back down. I lay down for a long time. Weeks seem to go by, and all I can do is lay there, accepting that there wasn't any real possibility of escaping.

No one seemed to notice, except for Mr. Jacks. Every day Mr. Jacks would come over and ask if there's anything I'd like to talk about. Everyday I'd tell him no.

It wasn't until around the third week until I gained the courage to go for a short walk, and when I did Cisco decided to go along, for the first time in a while I smiled, and scratched the dog behind the ears. Our walk was short, but it felt like I was getting back to a place of happiness.

Walking back, it was eerily quiet, not too many people. When I got back to the plane, I reached up into my shared compartment. Pulling a back pack down I looked at it. It had both the same look and fabric as the one I thought I picked up in my, “dream.” Looking over to my friend Cassy, I held the bag up.

“This yours?” I asked. She shook her head no. Opening it, I was shocked to see that it held the same clothes I had picked up back in the store in the city. My breath hitched in my throat. Taking the bag I started to usher myself back out of the plane. At the exit I saw Mr. Jacks.

“Where do you think you're going Kate?” He screamed as I ran out of the plane. Taking out the mirror I had stored in the front pocket I ran for the field. I knew I fell with the backpack on, but I never paid it much mind until now. After I had woken up all hope of ever leaving had become nonexistent. Now it was strong as ever, and it drove me. I'd never needed anything more in my life than this hope that I had now. As I approached the field I readied my mirror. Rushing my had to it, the mirror slipped through it, and I let out a cry of joy. Since I'd stopped so suddenly Mr. Jacks and Cisco ran right into me, and we tumbled on to the other side of the field. Both looked spazzed out for a moment, before Mr. Jacks just got up and brushed everything off. We talked out what we were going to do, and it went around the same as it did the last time we left the field.

Everything was the same. Getting the van, moving the desk, and even the gas station. I knew how to approach At a little better this time, and I made a better impression this time. Everything went the same as last time, and now I suggested a different rout. Mr. Jacks was a little confused, but complied anyway. Once again we reached the barrier again, and I looked at it closer.

I didn't see any differences on the other side, it all looked the same as the one we were on. At took the mirror, and opened the barrier. They leaned in a little too close for comfort, and before I knew it I was getting between them and the field. Of course this brought me to once again fall in, and to wake right back up again at the airport.

'Here we go again,” I thought to myself. Looking down at my shoes I took a breath. I felt like giving up again, but that hope I previously felt was still in me deep down somewhere. So I overcame the noise, the smells, and the odd looks from people, and grabbed my bag as well as Cisco and Mr. Jacks.

And our cycle repeated again.

And again.

And again.

I had just all but accepted it at this point. Every time I would try something different to see if there could be any other outcome, but I always ended up falling back in the field, and waking back up at the airport. After so many tries I just took it all in. You can only do the same thing for so long without getting bored though, as I found out. Every time I came back I tried to get to know everyone better.

I'd known Mr. Jacks since the beginning of the year, since I'd started lacrosse at the beginning of the school year. At however, was always very vague. From At's little mannerisms however I could see that they liked dogs and all sorts of other things. They couldn't sleep unless the blankets were underneath them, couldn't stand the smell of eggs, and that they didn't like the feelings of rings and bracelets.

One night I'd finally scrounged up the courage to ask At something that'd been on my mind forever, “At, what's your last name?” They looked at me, confused.

“At, I'm just At,” the tone of At's voice told me that that was the end of that question, and I guess I just had to get over it enough to forget about it. I guess I didn't mind though, it didn't really matter out here anymore. Looking down at my hands that night, I wondered if this cycle was always meant to go on. Would I just as surely fall down again tomorrow, and would I start over just as I had before? And god would that voice in my head just stop? It had been nagging at me the past couple of times I'd restarted, and I couldn't shake it.

If you were to listen to it more carefully, you'd hear that it sounded like more than one person. They sounded so familiar, but I just couldn't place who it was. With every spoken syllable, I heard the voices growing louder, it seemed like they were talking, some were screaming. I started to panic. My breath started catching in my chest, and now I was hyper ventilating. Tears streaked my face, and after a while of this nausea set in. I just couldn't get rid of the voices. Slowly shaking back and forth, I started to scream, and as I screamed the voices got louder and louder and louder.

I closed my eyes, and suddenly I saw a light. Taking in a deep breath I shot up.

Looking around me, I saw that I was in a bright room, and that I was laying down. Over me were some of my friends from the team, my parents and siblings, and Mr. Jacks. Many of them had looked to have been crying, and looking over at the doctor lurking in the corner I saw why. Apparently I'd been out for months, in some sort of coma. I'd only been about halfway through my lacrosse game when I apparently knocked heads with another girl. This had caused an extreme concussion, and I fell into a coma. Looking around, I realized that these were the voices I'd been hearing in my dreams.

My hearing was phasing in and out of definition, and I stared at the door way.

“Didn't you hear me Kate? You're not doing well,” I heard my doctor say. All I could do was nod, not fully taking in her words. I knew something had been found in me when I was tested in the ER, but I didn't care much to figure out what. I knew the doctor had previously said that people sometimes come out of their coma's right before they die, so I didn't make much of what ever else they had to say.

My family crowded in my room, and I'd already said everything that needed to be said to my friends. Mr. Jacks I allowed to stay, and even though I couldn't really register anything anyone said, I felt comforted by everyone's presence.

 Around the fifth day of my consciousness, things began to get fuzzy, and I didn't feel very well. I heard the faint muffle of crying, but there was nothing I could do about it. I didn't have any hope left now, but I didn't need it. I hoped that the others would find more of it than I did, because I felt strangely at peace now. Resting my head back on the pillow, looked out the window. Different passerby were on and about, but there was a certain black curly mop of hair that caught my eye. The hyacinth and black eye's caught my attention for a moment, and so did something else. On that oh so familiar face was a smile, a sad smile, but still more genuine than I'd ever seen on it before. I

Closing my eyes, I to smiled. I didn't know how to win the game. But honestly, I didn't need to.