#t fic tag

[ratanslily]

The Morning After.

Book: Astrea's Broken Heart. Type: Edit + Ficlet. (523 words) Pairing: Cassiel x Audrey. Rating: T Trigger Warnings: None, Except slight suggestive content. Open to change, if necessary. Tags: @agattthaa , @rc-catalog

A/N: a continuation of the beautiful @agattthaa 's Starved. Please read that before this <3333

Warm rays of sunlight streamed in through the window, disturbing Cassiel's peaceful slumber. His eyes shoot open, looking up at the ceiling. beautifully decorated room, soft cushions, fur blankets..where has he woken up?

His eyes fall on Audrey beside him, her drool adorably pasted all over her pillows (and some on his chest), her body still bare from last night's lovemaking. Memories rush back to him in waves as the scent of their joint act hits his nostrils like a tidal wave, and he shudders, remembering how they teased each other into a night both of them will never forget.

No, No! He can't be thinking again, or else he'll get a morning wood, yet another chance for Audrey to tease him.

That damn bat. Cassiel mentally takes a note to thank the creature for matchmaking them because they both are stubborn as hell not to do it themselves.

~~

Cassiel rarely sleeps peacefully. Whatever he did in life rushes back to him at night, haunting him, torturing him mercilessly. so most of the nights, he either tosses in bed restlessly or goes by the Astrea's statue to train himself.

But this night? This special night? He slept like a baby, entwined with the most gorgeous (and infuriating) woman he's ever seen. She's such a vixen.. a very beautiful one at that. She keeps his fears and nightmares at bay, and he finds comfort in her arms. He won't tell her that, though.

They clung onto each other all night, as if they were both afraid the other would leave, disappear or just run away from this.

A soft smile makes its way on his face when he sees her sleeping face, lips parted slightly, the lipstick smudged all over (from his doing), her hands on his waist, legs intertwined with his. God, he hopes she sleeps like this for a few more minutes so he can apprecia- oh, no.

Of course, she had to wake up.

Ofcourse, her lips had to curve into that annoying smirk, on having caught Cassiel being soft red-handed.

He immediately shuts his eyes, putting on the most neutral expression ever.

"Ha, I saw that, Cassiel."

".."

Cassiel mentally rolls his eyes, opening his lids with a defeated sigh.

"You have drool on your face."

"I had you inside me last night."

"..."

Audrey's smirk gets more smug when she sees that she's left him speechless for the second time this morning. The day is already off to a great start. Now for her third shot..

"If we have a daughter, I'm going to name her Cassie."

"Audrey, what on earth?"

"Hehehe... just 'kid'ding."

God, this woman. her charms.. they can shut him up real quick. she got him bad. Like, real bad. She makes his eyes roll, but only he knows how much his heart flutters on her teasing.

(She knows it too, she can feel his heartbeat rising up in her proximity.)

~

"I didn't.. think you'd actually stay here till the morning.."

Audrey scoots close, drumming her fingers over his chest, tracing invisible patterns.

"Ofcourse."

Cassiel finally looks at her with that soft expression again.

"I'd be nowhere else."

[dandelionjack]

the ninth doctor trusted rose enough to believe she would stay with him after his face changed. and twelve took some convincing but towards the end of deep breath accepted that clara would stay by his side no matter how old he looked. but thirteen was so used to losing people. her previous self had loved clara and lost her, he had looked after bill and failed to save her, he had tried to redeem missy and (to his knowledge) lost that cause too. no wonder she wouldn’t trust yaz to stay for her fourteenth face. no wonder she believed she ‘had to do this next part alone’. she had grown quietly distant with the new knowledge that she was no longer even an ordinary gallifreyan, not something of this universe, but outside of it, alien even to the aliens. isolated and inaccessible, standing on an invisible pedestal her ancestors placed her on — a pedestal that more resembled a cage. glass walls on all sides like the forced regeneration chamber. thin glass wall between her and yaz now, transparent but too solid to break through. harder than azbantium when there’s no solid footing to stand on.

of course yaz would run when she saw her new self. of course she would leave. companions would never stay now, they would never fully understand. when thirteen said that she would need to do ‘this next part’ alone, by ‘next part’ she meant ‘the rest of her (potentially eternal) life’. it’s the classic gambit: push the one you love away before they get the chance to reject you. because they always will, now. either that or they die in horrible circumstances. better to flee like you’ve always done.

this is why the bigeneration was a narrative necessity, why the giggle was the perfect vision of a positive finale. the original version of the doctor gets to settle down with people that he won’t lose. people that he won’t turn away from. people whose hearts he won’t inevitably break. he’s sitting there in the back yard and he’s not going anywhere…

…yet somewhere out there in sheffield lives a police officer named yazmin khan. she’s not all sunshine and rainbows — all cops are bastards, after all. sometimes she takes her nameless rage out on a shoplifting suspect. sometimes she hands a parking ticket to a kid that didn’t deserve it. and sometimes she does genuine good for the community, sometimes she goes to the club and dances with strangers, sometimes she sits on the sofa and watches a documentary about space exploration and laughs at the painful inaccuracies. and many miles south, the doctor spends time with his family, but he’ll never get the courage to visit her. because she’d want to run away with him again. and he could never give her that, not anymore. anything but running.

yazmin khan loved the universe in the eyes of her doctor. oh, that doctor in the garden? the stay-at-home-doctor? he’s brilliant, but he would never be enough for her. his presence would never replace the cosmic vistas and myriads of stars thirteen gave her. and she’s never coming back

[muirmarie]

spock with memory loss but not emotional memory loss. he can't remember anything since he left vulcan, but he looks at jim's and leonard's faces and he's like. hmm. i appear to be in love with both of these men. fascinating.

except. y'know. they are absolutely NOT together.

[hi hey have some absolute crack underneath the readmore]

mccoy being a ridiculous mother hen in sickbay and kirk running down from the bridge every hour on the hour all "UPDATE, BONES????" is not. is not helping spock's assumptions.

mccoy GRUDGINGLY allowing spock out of sickbay because lord knows there's some big thing happening and they need the beds, and spock doesn't need immediate medical attention, he just needs, y'know, a cure for the weird memory loss disease he's picked up. you heard me, this isn't amnesia, this is a weird space memory loss disease that mccoy is going to CURE, thank you very much.

he only allows spock out of sickbay if kirk keeps an eye on him. spock's like =/ when will you be joining us, doctor? and mccoy, not nearly as suspicious as he should be because he's so delighted that there's for ONCE a version of spock who actually appears to not be running away from medical, is like !!!!! once i'm sure everyone in sickbay is stable i'll come down to check on you!!!! i'll check on jim too!!! i'll run my scanner over everyone who will allow me to make sure they're okay!!!!! (jim: >=| i did not consent to this. bones: shut up idc i'm already scanning you.)

kirk takes spock back to kirk's quarters figuring they'll bunk together so he can keep an eye on him/make sure the space forgetfulness disease doesn't make him forget anything else.

spock's like. hmm. is this where we live? why don't we keep it warmer for me =/

kirk, oblivious doll that he is, is like yeah, all the quarters are like this, this is indeed where we live! isn't the enterprise the most beautiful ship there is!! also i am so sorry let's crank this place up to a sauna asap

meanwhile spock is sleepy what with the space forgetty sickness but he's like. determined to wait until their bf joins them so they can sleep in a cuddle pile. it seems polite. he's pretty sure he'd be a polite bf. amanda would definitely want him to be a polite bf. plus he feels certain that he needs to make sure the doctor gets some sleep after working non-stop in sickbay. like. that feels like that should somehow be his and jim's responsibility. that feels right.

bones shows up two hours later with his tricorder and even darker circles under his eyes than normal, and is like all right, time to check on my favorite patient <3 (he's still not used to spock not snarking back at him, and is more than a little =/ when spock just sparkles a bit instead of slamming him with an insult, tbh)

spock and jim get a clean bill of health (beyond, y'know, the space-nesia), and mccoy's like, all rightie, i'll be back in the morning to check on you!!! tell me immediately if anything changes!! i should go back to sickbay and check on things

spock: =( what.

mccoy: i need to keep an eye on everything in sickbay

kirk: no he's right you need to get some rest, bones. the on-duty staff will keep an eye on everything, but you've been going non-stop between spock and this new thing

mccoy: i'll grab a nap in my office don't worry

spock: =(((((((

mccoy: ...spock why are you holding onto my wrist. spock why are you - spock why are you dragging me over to the bed. spock - jim why are you laughing

kirk: i mean it is an effective solution

spock: i have the space forgetties and i can't even sleep with my boyfriends????? illogical.

mccoy: ......

kirk: hmm.

mccoy: ????? hmm???? HMMM???? IS THAT ALL YOU GOT????

kirk: i mean, it does sound illogical when he puts it like that

mccoy: ????? i don't know what the two of you have going on on the downlow, but i'm not dating spock. spock, i'm not dating you.

spock: no, no i definitely love you both, so it would be extremely illogical for us not to be dating, and i am, above all else, logical, so ipso facto we must be dating. it's far more likely you just don't want to say we're dating because you'd feel like it would be a shock to my blank slate brain. occam's razor.

mccoy: we're - we're definitely not dating

spock: hmmm jim i am worried that leonard may also have the space forgetty disease.

kirk: bones, just sleep here tonight, it's not a big deal

mccoy, slightly strangled, because he is extremely in love with these two men and this is a bizarre situation even for them: JIM, I -

spock, aggressively laying in the center of the bed and then trapping mccoy next to him by sheer strength and mccoy's surprise, and unfortunately, having pegged mccoy within 5 minutes of meeting him again, saying: what if the space forgetty disease makes me worse during the night and my doctor bf isn't even here to help me =/

kirk: [unhelpfully giggling]

mccoy: gdi why would you say that now you know i can't leave - this isn't you winning this is me GRACEFULLY changing my mind and we are NOT dating and if you use this forced snuggling against me when i ONCE MORE SAVE THE DAY and figure out a CURE to FIX your STUPID VULCAN MIND then i will -

kirk: [leaning over and kissing bones' forehead to shut him up and then walking around the other side of the bed and getting in next to spock] you forgot the key word, there, bones

mccoy, visibly restraining himself from frothing with rage: what.

kirk: yet, bones. we're not dating yet.

[elmocult]

thrashing him like a dog toy. i will draw more of this dude trust

not!lauriam belongs to @rosie-kairi :]

[gelo00]

Stop tickling that spot you say? The lips on your face are telling me no, but the ones between your legs are salivating; I think I’ll listen to the honest pair.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Half questioning my memory of the post s4 era, half side eying a certain character, so correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think there was ever a time when the Buddie fandom fully took the single “Evan” from the season 4 finale as Eddie receiving “Evan” privileges from then on. From my recollection, fics stayed mostly consistent with their uses of “Evan” by Eddie, perhaps just with an emphasis on important moments (love confessions, Christopher’s adoption papers, wedding vows, NDEs, etc.) after the finale. And I had to stop myself from wondering why that is because I know why. We all know. Because nobody wanted to use “Evan” in fics when Buck had just told his parents that people who know him call him Buck. So Buddie fandom heard that, accepted it, and uses it only sparingly. In canon and fanon, even Maddie only rarely uses “Evan” anymore, and it feels even less common for her to use post-Buck Begins (if at all, actually). So the fact that Tommy and BT fans tend to use “Evan” (at least, this has been my experience) is so utterly jarring. Buck told everyone his preference, and I believe LFJ has spoken about being told to use only “Evan” when referring to Buck, so I simply do not understand anyone who believes that BT is in love already or endgame. Yes, it could go the “Buck gave Tommy ‘Evan’ privileges off-screen” route, but then why push it off-screen? It would be a major allowance made for a new love interest, and a significant step in Buck’s character arc. Yet we see nothing of the sort. So why would anyone believe that’s what happened? The last we heard, Buck had told his parents and everyone else to call him Buck exclusively, with the minimal exception of Maddie (who was, for most of his childhood, his one and only lifeline and confidant). That sort of history and characterization is not ignored if there is not something very wrong with the writers’ room. It was not even ignored by a significant portion of the fandom post-season 4, although Eddie gaining permanent “Evan” privileges would’ve been a strong indicator of a Buddie endgame (had an on-screen explanation of Eddie gaining this privilege been released). It was not ignored, and it did not change the nature of Buck in fic nor fanon. So why in hell is the same not holding true for a brand new relationship like BT?

[spirk-trek]

Contact Fanzine #6 | Merle Decker, 1979 These pieces were drawn for Home is the Hunter by Bev Volker, which can be read here in PDF format (beginning p. 214)

[catfuyus]

“mikey’s not good with being vulnerable”

“hmm?” you turn to emma, a little confused by what brought this on.

she continues unprompted. “he shuts down any time something sensitive might be coming up. he tries to handle everything alone…without ever letting anyone in.”

you know it’s true, based on what you’ve heard from his friends and family, but can’t remember a time when that’s ever been true for you.

“that’s why i like him with you,” she finishes. “you have a way of drawing it out of him. I’ve seen it,” she smiles warmly, directing her attention back away from you and to your lovers who are goofing off some distance away. “you’re good for him.”

you worry about why emma brought this up, nibbling your lower lip away as you watch mikey load up another snowball to throw at draken.

“has he been acting weird, you think?” you finally manage to ask.

emma takes a long sigh, eyes never leaving the boys. her engagement ring sparkles on her finger as she raises a hand to rest on her cheek. “he’s definitely planning something. something you might not like.”

dread settles in the pit of your stomach as your eyes automatically search for mikey’s dark hair. something you might not like? that can’t be too many things. you know mikey well enough to know he’d never do anything to hurt you, or even anything that would piss you off. but something you don’t like? that’d make him feel vulnerable? your guesses are limited.

mikey turns to you and waves with a charismatic smile. you smile and wave back just before draken plows him in the face with another snowball.

you and emma laugh as mikey shakes it off. It’ll be fine. whatever he’s planning, it’ll be fine. you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

[gods-perfect-idiots]

something something blood-soaked hands cradling your face something something

anyway here's the post btw

[ratanslily]

And the roses will bloom again.

Book: Astrea's broken heart. Pairings: Audrey (mc) x Cassiel. Tags: @agattthaa @rc-catalog Warnings: angst with fluff ending [i guess] , just some mentions of blood, self- loathing. Rating: T to be safe. word count: 1191 approx.

A/N: Set in a AU in which Audrey turns down Cassiel's offer to come back to Astrea, and he takes his frustrations out on his garden.

"Couldn't keep her here.. couldn't keep her safe. What kind of a knight are you, Cassiel? why do you even try?"

Cassiel's mind is a flurry of self-loath and fury, a sword in his fist, swinging left and right in his favourite rose garden, just by the statue of Astrea. His eyes shine bright red, a snarl on his lips as he mutters poisonous words, all for himself to hear.. and suffer.

"Worthless.."

One swipe, and the front row of roses are slashed, their red petals gracing the pathway like blood drops.

"Helpless.." Another swipe, and the newest buds are ripped from their stems, forever cursed to never bloom in the sunlight.

"Useless!" Few more swipes, and the garden seems akin to a battlefield, petals sprayed everywhere, fallen roses sprawled on the ground. A garden which was once a place for Cassiel's peace, his haven, his refuge, the one sight he looked forward to coming every night…. was no more.

Just like Audrey, the one who made his heart thump with energy and vigour, his reason for waking up every day, was no longer at his home. at their home, rather. But is it really a home if she's not here?

A dilapidated desert stood in front of him, and even the usual still Astrea's statue seemed heartbroken at the sight. A lonely night greets him. The house, inhabited, feels abandoned. as if the very essence has left it forever.

A broken Cassiel sinks to his knees, dropping his sword aside, as if he's disgusted by the metal. by his hands, who destroyed the very thing he loved. by himself, for not being convincing enough to bring his Audrey back to their home.

"Come back.. to me.."

But his words are met with the radio silence of the night, only crickets to answer his plea.

He lowers his head in front of the ever calm, ever wise moon, a tear escaping his eyes. two more roll down, glinting in the moonlight. they drip the ground, wetting tje broken petals and roses, as if apologizing to each and every fragment of the barren rose garden.

Oh, only if those tears could water this broken garden, nurture it back to life.

but It cant.

~~

"Cas.. Cassiel..?" Slow, timid steps echo in the garden. His ears perk up. Oh, it can't be, can it?

Cassiel could recognise those steps in his dream. He turns around when he feels her warm hand on his tense shoulder, and looks up at Audrey standing behind him, her face glowing in the moonlight.

She was looking down at him, her face full of sadness and concern, her usually bright and lovely eyes dimmed with despair.

She was crying, wasn't she?

Seeing her here.. in the flesh, and not in a dream, made him sober up a bit. his red flashing eyes dimmed back to normal, the tension in his body diluting little by little.

~~

She didnt want to be back. No, Not after that incident. After what she saw scarred her, made her feel afraid of the house she called her home. of the people she deemed as her family.

her found family.

Audrey was not a stranger to a harsh childhood, but a stranger to familial bonds. she had.. herself. that's it.

but that changed, after she came here. after she met them. the four who took care of her. the four she took care of.

but that one incident.. shook her to the core. her trust was broken.

but what didn't break, was her feelings for Cassiel. that string.. that kept her bound to Astrea.

that string, which implored her to follow her gut and come back home, to her Cassiel, despite turning down his offer to join them back.

and now she's here.. in the midst of withered and slashed roses, a rarely vulnerable Cassiel on his knees, and without thinking, she joins him, her knees resting against the soft grass. Reaching out for him, she wipes his tears away with the palm of her hand, and strokes his tear stained cheeks softly.

"Audrey? what are you.. why are you.. here? You shouldn't- oh, the roses, I-"

she understands him without him saying much, and immediately wraps him up in a bone crushing, yet comforting hug.

Over the times they've bickered and bantered within the four walls, or in the same spot they're in, she had learnt on how to pick up on his behavior. on his needs. and he did, too.

For a second, Cassiel freezes, not knowing how to react, but eventually gives into the hug, his strong arms snaking around her back to hug her back.

And the old grump in him is back again.

"Damnit, Audrey. You're going to crush my bones like that."

"Hush. You're strong enough to take a woman's hug. besides, I wouldn't hesitate to do that if it stops you from crying."

As if to prove her point, she squeezes him tighter, attempting to push him back to the grass. but Cassiel's reflexes are faster.

He pins her to the ground instead, careful enough to lay her where there arent any thorns, but just rose buds and petals, the softness making sure her back doesnt get any scratches.

"Not so strong now, are you?"

Cassiel's smirking face graces her view when she looks up at him, the moon behind him providing a perfect background.

"Hmph. Whatever. I'll get back to you, one way or the other."

A slight pause.

"I'm not leaving you anytime soon. Can't live without disturbing your peace of mind, you know."

His eyes widen. at first, with shock, then surprise, and eventually happiness.

"So.. you're back.. for real? back to the house.. back to us.. back to me?"

She laughs, all the pain, the fear pushed aside. for him, for them. There's no past right now, just the present.

"Back to our home, yes. and Back to you, obviously. Back for you, rather."

She reaches up to cup his cheek, and Cassiel finds himself leaning into it. But a hint of regret still flashes in his eyes.

He can be hot headed, violent. but in reality, he's just a person who is hurt at his heart. he doesn't know how to handle his emotions easily. that's why the poor flowers had to take the hit.

Audrey leans in, and presses her lips to his forehead.

"You're kind of like these Roses, you know?"

"Huh- what? that's ridiculous. Don't go all Raphael on me now.."

"C'mon. you know it's true. at first glance you seem thorny.. prickly-"

"Excuse me? I'm clean shaven."

"- but you're actually soft once you look past the surface."

"cliché."

Audrey rolls her eyes, and pushes him away playfully, and sits up on the grass, looking around.

"Anyway. Now that I'm back, I'm going to fix this mess. Tomorrow you're going to take me to a nursery to find supplies, and we'll grow roses here again."

"You don't need to-"

Audrey stops him, placing a hand on his chest. He silences himself instantly.

"Yes, I need to."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

And the roses would grace Astrea once again.

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

Ooh! Please could you do Ethdubs with 10 or 20?

Etho moved around his kitchen, making his coffee with the old French press he hadn't touched since the day Doc had gifted it to him. He was tempted to turn his generator on just to power his coffee machine; but they were barely into late fall, the power outage caused by an accident involving a power line instead of the usual snowstorms that would cause two to three in a span of two months when winter hit. He didn't need to waste the gas when the power would be back on today and he only needed to fend off the cold with his own jacket and some coffee made with a French press and water heated on his gas stove.

He poured the small pot of boiling water into the French press, because void knows he doesn't actually have a kettle, and leaned back against the counter to let his coffee steep or whatever you were supposed to do with a French press.

It was the quietness of the moment that let him hear the soft scrap of wood, something that was usually so quiet it couldn't be heard over the usual bustle of his own movements let alone if he had something playing on the TV or his radio tuned to the news. He glanced at the board trim of his counter, a singular spot he had learned to find after many of visits from the second resident of the house. A little door, cut into the board trim, barely noticeable from the outside unless you knew where to look and even then it was pretty well blended into the grain of the wood. It was pushed open and his housemate, wrapped in his usual cloak covered in dried moss, dragged himself out.

The moment Bdubs saw him he was sent the fiercest glare he's ever gotten from him. Etho was really hoping he wasn't about to be blamed for the power outage. If Bdubs yelled at him about the cold he'd probably trudge right out to the generator and flip it on, and wouldn't that be annoying? Going the whole morning without flipping it on just to let a little guy bully him into it.

"Etho," Bdubs growled, crossing his arms the moment he was standing in the middle of the counter.

"Bdubs," Etho replied calmly, though after a moment he shifted his gaze and started glancing around the kitchen. Even at three (and a 3/8ths!) inches tall Bdubs had an intimidating glare.

"It's cold," Bdubs said shortly.

Etho hummed. "I thought you had the best insulated walls a borrower could ever have?" He questioned, directly quoting Bdubs from a few weeks ago.

"I do!" He was quick to defend. Offense to defense in an instance. "I- I just-! Why on Earth is it so freaking cold? You usually flip the generator on within the hour!"

It was still weird, but something he was getting intimately used to, hearing Bdubs talk about his usual habits. To Etho, they had only known each other a few months, having caught Bdubs when he was attempting to borrower while too sick to stand. Bdubs, however, had been in the home for about as long as Etho himself had. Years to memorize his schedule and habits and favorite foods. Bdubs knew him with an intimacy that very few people even got close to. He was slowly doing the same with Bdubs, learning each little thing about his housemate, to be able to pick up where and when he'd be and what he'd do and say. Getting to know every bit of him that he could.

"The power should be back on soon. It's not that cold, Dubs, you can wait it out."

"Maybe for you!" Bdubs shouted back, "Big oaf! You're big enough to heat up a whole room yourself."

Etho chuckled, "I'm really not."

There was a half second of silence, not anything anyone else would notice but Etho had gotten used to Bdubs' quick tongue that any moment of hesitation to think meant he was about to say something really interesting. "Well prove it then! If you're soo cold too, then I bet you couldn't warm me up."

His eyes immediately shot back down to the borrower. Bdubs was still arm crossed, still looking determined as ever to get what he wanted. Etho thought he had just wanted the generator back on, for the heater to start warming up his tunnels in the walls again. Seems he had something else in mind now.

Etho couldn't help the growing smirk, "Oh? Is that what this is about? Want me to warm you up?"

"N-No!" Bdubs replied, "Don't think I want this! I just think you're holding out on me. You could easily control the heat in the house and you're purposely making it cold to spite me! Now, I would be inclined to believe it's "not that cold" to you, cause the whole being a giant thing, but you insist you're freaking cold too. So, I know you're just being mean to be mean. How about that?"

Etho rolled his eyes. "Right. I see. Okay, I'll "prove" to you that I'm "cold"," he said, making the quotations with his fingers.

Bdubs either didn't notice or didn't care. "You better!"

Etho hesitated a moment, definitely still not used to picking up Bdubs, before setting his hand down on the counter. Bdubs had less of a moment of hesitation before climbing right on.

Bdubs blinked down at Etho's palm his own palms pushing into the skin (along with his knees), "What the heck? Why are your hands actually just as cold as mine?"

Etho slowly lifted Bdubs up, his other hand cupping around the back so there was one less side for Bdubs to tumble off of. "Told you."

Bdubs shot him a glare as he stood up. He looked around for a second before spying the sleeve opening of Etho's jacket. "Ah-ha!"

Etho had no clue what he was doing until Bdubs had shoved his entire hand down his sleeve. The little limb was cold against the warmed skin within his jacket.

"Just as I thought! You are holding out on me, your jacket is better than my moss- better at keeping in heat that is. My moss is the best in every other way, of course."

Etho sighed heavily. Bdubs was gunning to try and get into the jacket and that meant one of two actions. Either sticking Bdubs in one of the pockets until he complains about the amount of swaying and Etho takes him out for him to complain again OR Etho sits down somewhere and lets Bdubs curl up wherever he wants and Etho gets nothing else done until the power comes back on.

Then, Etho remembered another option.

He set Bdubs back down on the counter, ignoring his complaining, and flipped his jacket open. He has an inside breast pocket, one that he did not often use.

He dug his fingers in, making sure it was empty, and pulled out a packet of travel tissues and set it aside. With nothing else inside the pocket he scooped Bdubs back up. He gave the borrower a moment to realize what was happening, and when no actual complaints came out his mouth, he slipped Bdubs into the breast pocket and let his jacket sit against his chest again.

For just a moment the weight of Bdubs was heavy in his pocket. Especially as he readjusted and got comfortable, but soon it was as unnoticeable as the packet of tissues had been.

"You good, Bdubs?"

Instead of the usual shouting, Bdubs voice came out quietly, something so soft in the words, "Your heartbeat is so loud..."

"Wh- What was that?" Etho asked.

There was some sputtering and then, "Nothing! Just that I was right! This is much warmer. I am a genius."

Etho let the blush creep away from his face, chuckling softly, "Yeah. You're a real genius."

[nombitenary]

If Chris was traveling with a group, do you think they'd eventually get suspicious of him for all the gradual disappearances? ;p

Chris is the sort who, if with a group, would probably end up convincing them to let him just carry them in his mouth. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he's very persuasive when he's hungry (even if he doesn't always realize it).

[asmolbirb]

Something something a metaphorical examination of William Laurence that frames his life as a series of awakenings that ultimately culminates in him finally having the space to take a midday nap. Sleep framed as healing; rest framed as safety. &c.

[spirk-trek]

Contact Fanzine #6 | Merle Decker, 1979 These pieces were drawn for Home is the Hunter by Bev Volker, which can be read here in PDF format (beginning p. 214)

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

•The End-Motel AU Masterlist• !!!DISCONTINUED UP FOR TAKES!!!

•The Bikers - OG post

•Quick Summary

•End Motel

•-—••••••••••••••••—-•

~{ That’s it from me about this but if anyone wants to use this AU pls just Tag me so I can read it anyway byeeee }~

[desceros]

ajkfljskj I saw you were taking requests now and I lowkey just- 👀 I'm having sexy Bayverse Turtles intrusive thoughts. Imma share a Leo one. Ever imagined Bay!Leo sharing his hobbies with reader after she earned his trust and teaching her Japanese calligraphy? Him watching her skin glow in the candlelight, dreaming to use her naked body as a canvas for a Japanese love poem written in kanji? Sexual tension, mixed with slow, agonizing brushstrokes? Cuz I have 😏 -💙

so i got this and immediately i was like 'omg. this would work So Well as a deleted scene of sorts for tea-verse' so that's what it ended up as. kind of sexual tension but it edges more on pining. also, i'm burning now, thank you everyone for playing, we had a great run here on desceros dot com leonardo x reader; T, GN!reader, 1.8k; leo pining like a TREE. officially takes place after the leaf scene in this fic if you want context for some of the subtler touches but tl;dr reader always makes leo his tea. (the fic itself has a female reader but this snippet is GN)

He wonders if you know. 

You’ve caught him staring, before. It makes his shell feel tight, his skin too-hot. Even with mating season coming up, it’s too soon for him to be reacting like this; the burning ache that comes just from the bell of your voice, the alluring sway of your footsteps as you come to his side. And yet he does. Because it’s you. Just because it’s you.

“Okay, I’m excited for this,” you tell him, teeth biting into a smile as you tuck as close as you can without touching. He knows you do it for him, that you stay away because of his wishes, but it’s an agony all the same. The sweet smell of your soap haunts him, even under the burn of the incense that ghosts the room with smoke.

“Yeah?” he asks, pleased when he sees the happy, easy glow of your face. 

“Are you kidding? It’s so pretty,” you say. “Plus I like how the ink smells. It smells really nice with the tea when I bring it in.” 

Pretty, he echoes, trailing his eyes down to your throat, your shoulders, your hands. The way all your angles and curves catch the candlelight and dance in a softness that makes his palms ache with emptiness.

…He wonders if you know how soft you make him.

“Okay. Tell me the names for everything,” you tell him, studying the tools laid out before him, a gentle eagerness brightening your eyes. He smiles, turning his head and gesturing at everything to share its proper name in Japanese, then English. Grinding the ink, he explains the process, looking to you and your fascinated expression and trying to remember to breathe.

“What do you want me to write?” he asks once he’s ready, causing you to look at him and smile.

“What do you want to write?” you ask. 

Reaching out, he picks up the brush between his fingers. He studies the paper before him, blank and infinite, but his mind is somewhere else. 

…It had rained, a few days ago. You’d come into the lair drenched, laughing as Splinter had sent him off to bring you a towel. He’d returned in time to see you lift your shirt, squeezing it out over the storm drain, miles and miles and miles of skin stretching before his eyes. The curve of your spine as you turned to speak to his father, the arch of your hips as you leaned to twist the fabric, the pull of skin over your flesh. Breathless, motionless, frozen, he’d faltered in the doorway, ensorcelled by the image forever, marked, seared into his mind.

It’s that sight that comes to his mind, now, as he closes his eyes. 

He could do it, he thinks. He could ask you to turn, to pull your shirt over your head. It’s so easy to imagine the way your shoulder blades would curve, the dip of your spine, the way you’d shiver when he pressed the brush to your skin. It would tickle, at first, until you got used to it; then you’d sigh, still, and let him spread his soul onto your canvas.

Oh, all the things he wants to write there, where it would sink into your flesh like a brand. All the little ghosts of you that haunt him, memorialized with love in charcoal: the way your teeth catch your lip, the flash of skin at your hemline when you stretch your arms above your head, the wet press of your tongue to your lips when they're dry, the way your eyes flutter shut when you have your first sip of tea, the hum of pleasure you give when it tastes good. 

…He’d make you feel so good.

“…Leo?”

Leo opens his eyes, feeling the hunger in them, letting them get as far as your mouth before he turns them back to the paper before him. A pointless daydream, a torment of his own making. 

“…Sorry. I was just thinking,” he says, and it’s not a lie, not entirely, but also nothing but. There is nothing just about the way that you consume him.

It’s easy, then, to think of what to write. In long, elegant nine strokes that pull from his shoulder, he glides the brush over the paper. Each inch of ink carries a memory of you, your hands as you pass him a teacup, your care in checking the flavor, your endless drive to perfect the art just for him. 

“…Tea,” you recognize, proving your familiarity with the subject. He smiles; of course you’d recognize it, what with how often the two of you share.

“Tea,” he echoes, waiting until the ink is dry enough to handle before he takes the paper and hands it to you. “Here. For you.” 

“Wh—Really?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“Of course. It’s about time I gave some tea to you, after all,” he says with a smile that makes you laugh. He tucks the sound into his heart, next to all of the others. 

“It’s beautiful, Leo,” you compliment, holding it before you. Your eyes take in every stroke, awe open and genuine, before they meet his own and your smile goes warm like the sun. “Thank you. I’m going to hang it somewhere nice in my apartment.” 

And oh, but you are the sun, he thinks, heart pounding as he watches your fingers trail down the edge of the paper. Reaching out with warmth, lighting everything you touch, smiling as everyone around you basks in your radiant glow. What is life without you, he wonders, chest aching and so full and so empty all at once it hurts. Madness. 

…He wonders if you know.