#the solitude of cinders

[fanaticsnail]

Struggling with insomniaaaaaaa do you think you could write an xReader where they help them with insomnia? Whichever character you'd like, I love anything you write ❤

I feel for you, my love. I also struggle to find rest, and who better to aid us in our sleep than the special clumsy man on his birthday week?

Close your eyes and breathe

Masterlist here

Synopsis: Struggling to find rest, you decide to take yourself to the kitchen in the marine base. You stumble upon your commander slouched over his desk and asleep on a pile of papers. Taking him to his quarters, he wants to help you find rest in slumber.

Themes: Rosinante x marine!reader, gn!reader, insomnia, friendship, comfort, fluff, smoking, undercover Rosinante, existing friendship, unspoken feelings.

Trudging through the cool hallway with grogginess laced in each heavy footfall, you had finally given up on finding solitude in the warm embrace of sleep. The arms of lady slumber had eluded you once again, and you had simply had enough of attempting to woo her.

It didn't matter what you did these days, there was nothing that aided you in your sleep. You had heard about powdered vitamins, eating a banana or drinking warm milk, running a mile before a scorching bath in the onsen. You had tried it all, and your body would refuse to hede the call of your mind and find rest at your request.

Finally reaching the mess hall on the marine base, you flick on the switch and notice a figure slouched over a pile of paperwork. Black feathers lay askew, his face pressed into the scattered parchment and smearing ink over his pale cheeks. Rosinante had fallen asleep at the table again, likely working too hard to get everything done before he was called away once again.

You scoffed to yourself, rolling your eyes and clicking your tongue at the image of his peacefulness in absolute discomfort. His lanky form folded itself beneath the table, his hair messy and askew, and his soft red hat flopped nonchalantly over his ashtray. With the whisper of the final ignition of his nicotine laced tobacco threatening to ignite him where he slumbered, you hastily stalked to his side to aid him.

Pressing your thumb on the filter end to reduce the cinders, the hiss of the cigarette under your pressure stifled the last of the flames. A low moan from the lanky man slouched on the table indicated the depths of his rest. You shook your head, choosing to aid your fellow marine in finding a true place to sleep in the barracks.

Rosinante returned to the base bi-monthly, often filling out detailed paperwork for Sengoku regarding the current plans Doflamingo had that was successfully sabotaged by the younger Donquixote brother. Courier bird, or word by snail, was too risky of late, this manner seemed to work well enough for all parties. Doflamingo thought it was therapy for speech to return to him, and Rosinante would be able to speak freely at the base. It was truly a win-win, a fool-proof alibi.

Until now.

You sucked in a deep breath, shaking the shoulder of the lanky marine to rouse him. He groaned, nuzzling into the desk and smearing the paper with his warm cheek squished against it. A dry, humorless laugh fled from your lips as you tried again to wake him.

"Rosinante," you murmur in a low warning, "Rosinante, wake up. You're asleep at the table again." He groaned, rolling his face and taking one of the papers with his cheek. You couldn't help but laugh at him, his peacefulness disturbed by his reports.

Inhaling a breath of determination, you lean down and hook your arm beneath his shoulders and elevate his bicep to curl over your shoulders. Bending at the knees, you use your strength to take the weight of the bigger form of your fellow marine. A soft murmur of your name flees his lips as he groggily awakens.

"Easy does it, commander," you inform him in his daze, "I'm taking you to the barracks." He whined at you, giving you his full weight as his legs fell heavy in every step.

"You don't have to do that, mi amor," he groaned, fully embracing you and caging you beneath his arms, "I need to do my reports anyway. I n-need-," he fully nuzzled into your neck and leaned on you, "-I need to go to bed. You're right, m'sorry." You shake your head and continue to balance his weight on your shoulders and hip.

Each step felt heavy in nature, his grogginess not helping with his clumsiness. You groaned as he tripped over his feet just as you made it to the door, your feet colliding with one another and both bodies slamming into the plaster wall.

"Could you be any more clumsy, commander?" you groaned at him, his own laugh huffed through his nose as he attempted to steady himself. Reaching for the handle, you open his door and usher him inside.

"What are you doing awake anyway?" Rosinante asked you, allowing you to guide him to his bed. You usher him to the mattress and place him clumsily on the bed. Collecting his coat and shoes, you lay him on his bed and draw up his covers to fall haphazardly up his chest.

"Can't sleep," you shrug, tucking the top sheet and duvet into his sides to snugly ensure his comfort. He hums at you, a tight-lipped and soft smile acting as gift to his gratuity. Nodding in response to your work in tucking him in, you begin to inch away from him to return to the mess hall.

"If that would be all, commander- oh!" You squeaked as two strong arms wrap around your chest and tug you into the bed beside him. The encumbering warmth from the larger man felt inviting, but the tension rose in static electricity to ignite every follicle on your skin.

"I've got a sleep trick for you," he growled into your neck, throwing the blankets over your body and drawing you closer, "Get comfy, you're not going anywhere." You huff in protest, attempting to wriggle out of his grip. "Oi, lie still. Now."

You growl in frustration, giving into the knowledge that your commander was not going to allow you to leave. "Aye, sir."

"Good little marine," he praised into your shoulder, a shudder coursing through you at the deep baritone in his voice, "Now shut your eyes and breathe."

"Oh really, Rosinante-?" You utter sarcastically, halting as he growled at you his commands.

"-Breathe slowly." You huffed your disagreement, wriggling back against the larger commander to make yourself comfortable. Rosinante had been your friend in basic, your comradery growing as your training became stronger in intensity. Sleeping beside one another in the field was not foreign to you, but in his bed? Another beast entirely.

"Close your eyes," he whispered into your neck, your breath hitching automatically in response, "You don't have to sleep. Know that. You don't have to do anything other than close your eyes and breathe with me." You nod softly, his smile felt against your hair as he enjoyed your movement in acknowledgement.

"Aye, sir," you offer with no maliciousness or sarcasm. He hummed deeply, drawing your body closer to him. With your back on his chest, his arm cradling his own head while his other caged you in closer, his hand sought your own out and laced fingers with you.

"Just relax into me," he whispered, nuzzling the crown of your head with his forehead, "Breathe with your eyes closed, and I'll be right here. I'm here, you're here, nothing else matters." You sigh deeply, enjoying his solidarity to keep you by his side.

"And if I don't sleep?" You ask him, prompting him to draw you in closer.

"I'll keep you close to me until you do," he whispered against the shell of your ear. You nod, offering him a last somber confession.

"And if I never do?"

He wriggled himself further up against you, caging you against his much larger body. Brushing his lips against your cheek, he nestled himself behind you and relaxed against you within his bed. His scent was all over the pillows, his cologne and stale cigarettes lingered in the fabrics beneath your head: a combination that felt comforting against your senses.

"I'll still be right behind you to whatever end, mi amor." His breathing grew heavy, his body overwhelmed by the sleep that had long since been denied to him. "Just close your eyes and breathe deeply. Stay with me until I let you go, to whatever end finds you."

Lying behind him, the arms of lady slumber lay just beyond your grasp. The heavy breathing and ultimate comfort found by the man behind you had your heart swell in empathetic bliss while he found his rest. If you did not find rest tonight, you found ultimate comfort in your friend and commander who held you within his protective embrace.

Rosinante's deep breathing felt blissful against you, the soft rumble in his snore almost cute amongst the sweet bugsong chirping in the reeds. You knew how hard he worked, and you knew how hard it was for him to feel fully relaxed enough to sleep blissfully these days.

Leaning into him, you flutter your eyes shut and mirror his breathing. Deep breath in, extended breath out; all with your eyes closed to follow his explicit instructions. Your actions mirrored his, the lullaby of his gentle snores calling to you in each soft wave.

Relaxing into his embrace, you finally ask lady slumber to welcome you into your arms once more, just as Rosinante welcomed you within his. You hoped she'd answer your call, but if she didn't, you found comfort in the knowledge that at least one of you both did.

Smiling to yourself, you felt Rosinante's embrace tighten around you as he clutched you further into himself. Holding his hand, you caressed his knuckles with your thumb before you finally felt the waves of sleep weigh you down and call you home in the arms of your favorite commander.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[arc-misadventures]

Having A Rough Day Buddy?

Jaune just standing in the middle of the street looking off into the distance. Where his silent solitude was broken by three individuals jumping out of a car with their weapons drawn, or in an fighting stance.

Emerald: Hands up where I can see them!

Jaune: Huw…?

Emerald: I said, hands in the air, now!

Jaune: No.

Emerald: I said hands in the air!

Jaune: I know.

Emerald: Then why aren’t they in the air?

Jaune: I don’t want to.

Emerald: But… I have a gun…?

Jaune: I know.

Emerald: I have two guns… pointed right at you. Right at this very moment.

Jaune: I can tell.

Emerald: Then why aren’t you… reacting to… any of this?

Jaune: I don’t care.

Emerald: But… I… have a gun…?

Jaune: It doesn’t really bother me.

Emerald: T-This doesn’t make any sense…?

Jaune: Too bad.

Emerald: Uhh… guys…?

Mercury: I’m sorry, Emerald… Are we here to mug this guy, or kidnap him for information? I… I forgot which…

Emerald: N-Neo?

Neo: 🤔❔

Cinder: Oh you fools! Hands in the air, or I’ll gut you like a fish!

Jaune: No.

Cinder: Did you not hear me; Hands in the air, or I’ll kill you!

Jaune: So?

Cinder: I just threatened to kill you… a-are you not going to react to that…?

Jaune: No, no not really.

Cinder: But… death…?

Jaune: Okay then.

Mercury: H-Having a rough daddy buddy…?

Jaune: More of a rough life really…

CMEN: …?

Jaune: …

Mercury: C-Can we just leave…?

Emerald: I wanna go home…

Neo: 😭

Cinder: T-This isn’t over!

Jaune: Tomorrow then?

Cinder: Wha? Did you…? What?

Mercury: Just get in the car. Get in the car!

Emerald: We’re in! Drive drive drive DRIVE!

Jaune: …

Jaune: …

Jaune: Okay…

[gorjee-art]

It happened slowly, yet steady. At first, it was memories and words that seemed to escape the lamb. Their thoughts ever circling softly, around their duty. Jokes and laughs became fewer. Joy and merriment seemed to disappear. It wasn't until they stopped to recognise their own name that they felt haunted by something ominous. A ceaseless pull towards ruin. A temple once divine laid barren and wasted. A single promise made... now forgotten. Nothing could have prepared them for the feeling of their own body becoming their tomb. Like a drop of water will hollow out a rock. It was a slow... yet stedy process. All the while, the one who waits... could just watch. A face who once inspired, frozen cold. Into a mask. Words that could sway your heart, now gibberish. Out of order. Their memories, once great comfort to one's mind... now a painful reminder of what has been lost.

Your art inspired me to a little writing and how I can't help to think of the agonising process of slowly losing yourself and for those around them. Kinda like dementia.

'Round the bedside, the soft velvet sinks where Narinder sits, head in hands lost in thought beside their leader. Laying bedridden, a haunting gaze sits glued on Lamb's face as they stare up at their tent, their crimson eyes tracing the golden trinkets and ornaments hanging adorned up above as if it was the night sky, clinking as they bumped into each other, twinkling as it reflects the soft glow of the sunlight peaking from tattered cloth. Many followers had come to peek at the tent to no avail, as the loyal disciple's cold tired stare told them everything that was needed to be known. The heat of the summer sun, the nauseating incense stained on everything, along the buzzing cicadas outside this blasted tent, were nagging at Narinder. What was meant to be a moment of solace, of peace, became an unbearable assault on his senses. He could feel his heart knocking at his ribs, pounding with the further progression of stress, with his wandering, wavering, mind. He felt as though he was going mad.

He pulled at his face, claws digging into his cheeks lightly parting heavy lids from his bloodshot eyes. Turning slowly to look at the lamb, only to quickly regret this choice, he choked a shivering groan and returned to his original position, eyes shut tight. Years. Thousands of years, of work, and knowledge of what was forbidden was required, knowledge that mortals could only dream of having, that they killed for. In the silent pits of the underworld, where the sands of time are eternal, he bided his time, to think, to learn, and observe the world that sat above him out of reach. With all this time...he still had no idea of what to do in this situation. No plan. Not a single clue. Of what was happening to someone he deems as a dear friend. He couldn't even stomach looking at them, grief was a feeling long forgotten in those years of solitude, and thinking of himself above such futile emotions was quickly proven wrong.

The noise of summer, the stench of blessings, the heat clawing at his skin...All too loud. Rising from the lavish silk beds, he desperately tried to calm his racing mind, clinging to his chest to slow his breathing. His eyes wide, full of madness and cindering rage, boiling beneath the surface. He became desperate for some fresh air, wiping the sweat from his face, disgusted once he felt the horrid matted and damp fur on his neck, his hand grasping at the entryway outside. Only for his prickled fur to rise, he hissed at the blasted bells as they clattered at the response of the harsh tug at the cloth. It was so loud, everything was so horribly loud, the noise could wake the dead, and then-

There was a laugh.

Narinder froze still. The sounds of nature became hushed. He blinks, and tries once more...to look at his leader. To see a smile and a face being buried in pillows, attempting to muffle an unknown sound. "Ita etiam, ego te slishu..."

"Lamb...?" He whispered to himself in a desperate plea, but there was no response. At least. Not to him. "Allo te," Lamb yawned in playful annoyance.

Gobsmacked, Narinder observed Lamb speaking in a dead language. It was soft but strained as if they just woke up from a gorgeous sleep. They rubbed their eyes, and lent out their hand, twiddling their fingers as if beckoning someone. Despite Narinder not understanding a single word of their gibberish, it was obvious that Lamb was cooing at an invisible creature. "Te vu stika? Mrow tü destrüir a te ura? Naglia sillabla..." They began lazily petting the air, clicking with their mouth. Narinder could somewhat understand what they were saying...something about...a silly animal? Disturbing their peace...? Or is it hour? His mind couldn't be trusted at this moment, but he knew what it was. The tongue of the lambs, it was ancient but it lived on in very few who conversed with the people. The culture was dying alongside the newborn god, but to see a glimpse of what can be considered a memory. Ached.

Lamb pulled their sheets aside and stood from their bed, stretching their arms, bones crackling. "No...What are you doing?" he hissed, "You're ill! Stop!"

But his pleas were ignored with furthering gibberish. "Uschia looh tge fas, Amir...Ego malavair gulae tuae spolia..." Lamb chuckled softly, reaching out for their precious shepherd's crook. "Tge qvai pensas habere prandium.? Uovs?" the crook's bells jingle softly as if a warm greeting. Lamb lightly bats the wooden crook against their temple, gently attempting to wake themselves up for the "morning". Narinder shook his head in disbelief, hoarsely whispering "Please" and "Lie down" in a hellish loop as Lamb began singing, clumsily opening the "door" with no knob, passing through the cloth and into the village. Haunted by the image, his claws shook, he saw what might be the last of the lamb's understanding. Staring into nothing, he felt his chest tighten hearing the hushed horrified gasps of the followers outside. He didn't know the language, but he knew that song, the song that every lamb knew, and sang in their tongue before their deaths.

"Oh the Joy, We dance our lives till Spring." "Oh the Joy, The roads are gone, but I've stayed." " There is no Morning Star, There is no Morning Star." " Lo, a burning light appears, Hope is burning bright and near." "I work my day, to feed and pray." "Sleep the night, I dream of love." "Oh, my mountains and valleys." "Protect this land from harm."

They've sung it straight from the heart.

...followers were inspired.

[nectardaddy]

iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer

cw/notes: feelings of inadequacy, depression, anxiety, implied self destructive behavior, probably ooc idc, I've written multiple fics based on this album alone so fuck they might be similar but it's a banger, title is funny for the bit, lots and lots of metaphors, she/her used, this was healing, not proofread

"I'll wreck you to pieces, Hajime."

A testament she told him often - a warning. A call to action, a challenge. It was dangerous, adrenaline coursing, and idiotic. Stupid to think a man, such as he, could take broken shards of a person and fuse them together - to make her whole again, to trust him.

The first time he told her he loved her she heaved in solitude. The weight of the emotion so dizzying and nausea inducing, mind reeling every second she thought too much of it. "What the fuck?" Thoughts wobbling before crashing down completely, cinder and dust wiped from a heart that thought it couldn't feel anymore.

Love isn't real. But the rush of the feeling was painful, making her ill to even mention. So she ignored it, shoving it down to the farthest crevices of her mind as to never see it again. Locking it away in depths even she couldn't reach; hoping it would never, ever, breech the surface again.

But the dreadful feeling of falling persisted. Dragging her, kicking and screaming, into her own horrors. Collapsing under a weight so foreign it made her stomach go to her throat. She knew the end before it even started - she would break him. Take the sudden feelings he so willingly offered within her palms and squeeze. Crack it, puncture it, kill it. Render it useless until he took it back, haunted and jinxed. Leave him in ruins, a mess of himself, dial and changing his thoughts until he would fear her own woes.

So when he said it a second time, despite her actions and regardless of her resolve, she told him he shouldn't. Holding a gun to the thought of being capable of love and pulling the trigger - but met with a misfire. Fuck.

She would leave him smoldering, extinguish any and all light he gave off in a instant if she were to placate to the feelings. Sucking the life out of him until he were nothing but a shell. But he didn't mind the sting of such a fiery heart. Taking the pain and sear of her heart on the chin, pushing past a heavy, morbid soul and cradling it. Caring for it, nurturing it, soothing every uncanny bump or groove before returning it - as it wasn't his to take. A soft smile in return, although set alight, that struck the match and lit the blaze. "Take your time - but I can take it."

She didn't stop the emotions that crept into her from the action, a heat that coursed through shallow veins. Singeing and crumbling her unlovable fate until it fell at her feet. Watched as he waited in the foreground, with a smile that didn't hide lies, with a resolve that didn't decay like her own. Waiting like a lovesick fool for the woman who swore she would never love again, white knuckling the grip he had on the feeling. Unwavering in his decision to not turn tail and run.

The third time he said he loved her, she said it back.

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Just saw your thunder empress and besides wanting more of her, there's a character i really wonder what they would do in that situation. What if it was Cinder that went back in time? Would she even want to come back to remnant? Would she mellow down?

But i still also want more Nora

This may be my greatest Alternative Rusted Knight yet!

Blake: *Raising Gambol Shroud* Cinder.

Weiss: *Readying Glyphs* We don't want to fight-

The Wildfire Mage: Then I would be most gracious if you were to lower your weapons!

Yang: *Guarding Ruby* What? Why would we do that?

The Wildfire Mage: *Brushing the hair out of her face* Because I am not this "Cinder" you speak of - That name is familiar, but I cannot recall where i might've heard it before.

_WBY: *wary glances at each other*

Ruby: Are- Are You okay?

The Wildfire Mage: I ... my memory is, as always, somewhat faulty, but putting that aside for the moment, I am quite well! More than that, despite your mistaken belief that I am "Cinder", I am quite happy to see more humans! The last two I met were so ... So ...

Blake: Do you think more people than Alyx have fallen down here?

Weiss: Well ... We did?

Yang: She's just been staring into the distance for a minute now.

Ruby: Uhm, excuse me? Miss Mage?

The Wildfire Mage: Hmm? Oh! Yes! You four! I should count myself Lucky to meet such prolific Hunters given the seeming Multiplication of Jabberwockers! It's very well, given Lewis and ... And Alyx ... uh ... were ...

The Wildfire Mage: ...

The Wildfire Mage: They were but Children! They should not have had to escape such horrid beasts, much like the kind they informed me of from their home! With so many Deadly being running about back there, I see not why they would want to leave the Ever After and return to "Remnant!"

The Wildfire Mage: After all here is safe, sound, and protected from ... from ...

The Wildfire Mage: ... Uh, again my apologies, My mind is scattered as ashes to Wind! perhaps we should head to my home - quickly, before it becomes too dark to travel!

~In the Punderstorm~

Reflection: What are you doing ...

The Wildfire Mage: Why do you follow me? Hear your voice in those moments-

Reflection: We are strong now ... Need no one ...

The Wildfire Mage: To be alone is to suffer; I know you know that.

Reflection: Alyx ... She wrote lewis out of her story ... She is like us-

The Wildfire Mage: She may be like you But I am no liar, nor a Deciever! You are a cruel, injured being. Leave me be.

Reflection: I am you.

The Wildfire Mage: By what means?

Reflection: I am your Truth. You Restrain us, when we are strong enough to do whatever we want!

The Wildfire Mage: Indeed We are, And I quite enjoy the freedom to be kind.

Reflection: Kindness is WEAKNESS.

The Wildfire Mage: It is as much as solitude.

~The next day, after getting attacked by Neo and her Jabberwockers~

The Wildfire Mage: So many souls ... Those - Those Jabberwockers are chasing you!

Ruby: I- I-

The Wildfire Mage: What? YOU WHAT?

The Wildfire Mage: All you ever do is get in my way! You ruin all of my PLANS You PETULANT, SELFISH GIRL!

The Wildfire Mage: You help EVERYONE but ME!

The Wildfire Mage: And of course NEO-

The Wildfire Mage: ... Neo ...

_WBY: *Ready weapons*

The Wildfire Mage: I ... I remember you all now ...

Cinder: ... I ... I remember myself now ...

Cinder: ... Leave. I don't know how to get to the tree. I don't care. Here? In the Ever After? No one is after me - No one was ...

Cinder: I'm sick of this. I'm sick of facing you. Leave.

Weiss: Really? Just like that? After everything you've done to us-

Cinder: Yes. Now go before I change my mind on fighting you.

WBY: ...

Yang: *Collapsing Ember Celica* Fine. We'll go.

Blake: ... Thank you for not fighting us Cinder.

Weiss: Are you two Serious! She's nearly Killed me before!

Yang: Adam Nearly Killed us! If we fight her, someone isn't making it out of here! I- We- I don't-

Blake: *Taking Yang's hand* We don't want more blood on our hands Weiss. Even if we win, we just prove her right.

Weiss: ... Fine. Ruby Where do we- Ruby? RUBY!

~Later~

Cinder: *Making Tea for herself*

Reflection: They could use our assistance.

Cinder: Shouldn't you be locked in a punderstorm?

Wildfire Mage: We are strong enough to do whatever we desire. I do not wish to be heard in lacking moments.

Cinder: Fine. Why Should we help them?

Wildfire Mage: They need it.

Cinder: They've never helped me.

Wildfire Mage: You've only hurt them.

Cinder: Well that's just not fair for me to have to help them when no one's ever helped me!

Wildfire Mage: It is not. Alyx was an active hinderance - you lied and deceived them into believing you were Me, so that you could follow them on their story, to escape.

Cinder: ... And?

Wildfire Mage: Your heart is full of rage. Justified against the world, but not those you've hurt most. So many have fallen by your hand, so many that lived good lives, that, if they were given the chance, would've saved you.

Cinder: ...

Wildfire Mage: You hate the thought of kindness because you never experienced it. It infuriates you because it's given to all others.

Wildfire Mage: Every burning thought has been brought about by those that control you. Your arm was as much a collar as Madam's, burning and binding you to your master's will.

Wildfire Mage: You have no master now, aside from yourself.

Cinder: And why should I listen to you.

Wildfire Mage: I am your truth. They restrained us, and now we are strong enough to do whatever we want.

Cinder: ... I want to be free ... I want freedom ...

Wildfire Mage: Then kindness will be our strength, but only if we share it with them, and they share it with us.

~~~~~

REDEMPTION ARC REDEMPTION ARC REDEMPTION ARC-

[caliburn-the-sword]

I think in the man vs bear debate, the girls’ stances would be as follows:

Cinder chooses the bear without hesitation. Being a cyborg, she has been on the receiving end of the worst dehumanisation and degradation that humanity has to offer. She feels safer in solitude than with an unknown man that would likely see her as worth little more than the grime beneath her nails

Peony being young and naive chooses the man, “because what if it’s Prince Kaito?? That’s worth the risk. He’s so dreamy~”

Scarlet, during the events of tlc Scarlet, would say “why bother making a choice?? They’re the same. Both are animals.” After what Wolf’s brother puts her through, she chooses the bear because “the average bear would be kinder than the average man”

Cress is also naive having spent her formative years isolated on a satellite and would pick the man because she craves human connection and believes in the goodness of everyone. I think her experience of the world would dampen her spirits and she’d lose a sparkle in her eye when asked the question again and she chooses the bear

I think that Winter would choose the bear because she genuinely believes that she could befriend the bear (and she could) and that they would make for interesting conversation

Iko chooses man because all she has known is the kindness of men since she’s only spent a brief amount of time in a more humanoid body, and it hasn’t shaped her the way it has other women during their formative years. She is fortunate in a way that so many of her friends are not

[bestworstcase]

Do you have any parallel shots between Cinder and Salem (definitely used the wrong word, mean shots that mirror each other, like the ones with ruby in v9 that parallel the ones with salem that you've talked about a few times)? Making an AMV so want for that but also think it'd be interesting to see in general, and thought you'd be a good person to ask.

recursive story. off the top of my head:

this move is literally right out of salem's playbook ->

drownings, symbolic and otherwise ->

interesting.png ->

solitude / loneliness ->

That Moment ->

[creative-frequency]

Raphael x Reader: Act I: The Words

Summary: Despite your drunken ravings tonight, you still remain Raphael's most precious client. And he always takes good care of his clients. This is the third flashback oneshot for the main story. Word count: 2963 Notes: Drunk Tav, a devil and some unresolved romantic tension.

My writing masterlist

Why was the Underdark so gods damn… uneven?

You had to squint to see where to put your foot next amidst the rocks. And even then it didn’t go where you aimed to. Your knee and ankle ached with each step and it was easier to just drag the leg after you instead of walking properly-ish. Your prevailing state of intoxication didn’t exactly make moving easier, but alcohol did help in numbing the pain as much as the temporary solitude did this far away from camp.

Stupid bulette. Stupid tadpole. And most importantly stupid you for not preparing well enough for a road trip in the Underdark. Who knew how many days you would have to spend underground. 

There was no one around to take the irritation out on, but… you did possess the means to summon a certain someone to listen to your nescient complaining. Was it smart? Of course not. You would most likely have to pay for the senseless act of stupor, but being less medicated and more drunk than you would’ve liked to be, somehow made the idea sound absolutely perfect! Like poking a sleeping devil in the eye.

You lifted up your hand, glared at the magic ring with burning ire and recited the incantation:

“Dominus! Inferiooor ad ge–, ad me– shit. AD TE. Me flerco–, me… fleurgh, ugh. For fuck’s sake. Flecto inferni.”

Nothing happened, no surprise there, but your brows furrowed furiously as you squinted to look around. No flames or cinders were to be seen.

“Get your ass over here, you stupid devil,” you cursed and kicked a pebble into the darkness. The sounds of it tumbling down echoed in the chasm.

“You would do well to mind your manners.”

“Oh–!”

You fell promptly to your butt on the cold, hard ground and wailed aloud since your injured leg bent painfully.

What stood in front of you was not the handsome man you had expected to see. It was a towering devil; red skin, majestic horns, leathery, gargantuan wings and claws at his fingertips. His eyes were no longer soft brown, but instead they burned with deep saffron, surrounded by inky black.

Raphael the devil had a pained look on his face and he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

You struggled to get up to save some modicum of self-respect in front of your patron, but trying to put weight on the leg made you wince instantly.

“A tumultuous evening, I presume?” Raphael asked, looking at you from dirt-caked hair down to the injured leg.

“What?”

“I see you’ve decided to take the scenic route to rock bottom tonight. Why haven’t you healed yourself, little raven?” he asked and tutted.

“I am doing it right now,” you replied quickly and a ravaging blush rose to your face. You would have rather died than admitted to the devil that you had ventured into the Underdark ill-prepared.

“Then why, pray tell, are you bothering me?” The snarling words revealed a glimpse of sharp canines.

You braced yourself and channelled the earlier irritation back through the stinging pain. There were also the three times you had already had to explain why you wore a ring in your ring finger and why the infernal rune R was carved on it. You still absolutely refused to take the easy way out and just comply with Raphael’s absurd practical joke with the ring. You would never ever pretend to be married just for his amusement.

There. You were irritated enough to tell stupid, handsome Raphael why you were bothering him tonight.

“I have WORDS for you. So. Uh. Listen carefully, Raph.” Your body swayed a little on the cold, hard ground. Trying to focus on Raphael’s burning stare was immeasurably difficult.

His eye twitched, but that was the only visible reaction. Though, he looked immeasurably displeased.

Scraping around the leftovers of your dignity, your back straightened and you started yapping:

“I have given my, MINE only, soul to you, but you – hic! – won’t remove this teeny tiny” – you made a point to show the size of the worm by pinching your thumb and index finger almost together and squinting at the space inbetween – “worm from my head.”

Before you could finish inhaling for the next words, Raphael leaned right to your face (you couldn’t help realising how huge his horns were!) and snarled:

“You haven’t given anything yet. And with that tadpole eating away at your brain, you might not have a soul to offer in the end.”

You gulped and your hand dropped. Your brain was processing rather slowly, but this revelation caused pause. Mind flayers didn’t possess souls. Well, not knowing before your outburst turned out to be just embarrassing.

Raphael pointed a sharp claw in the air and continued:

“Be grateful that I’m willing to uphold our bargain, forasmuch as I’m invested in your success, my due payment relies on it.”

You didn’t know what to say. Suddenly it became apparent that Raphael found this deal far less favourable than you did. All this time you had thought he had arranged the shorter stick for you to pick and that devils didn’t make bargains that weren’t advantageous to them.

“See that this is the last time you bring this up.”

Nodding furiously, but stopping just as quickly because it made your head spin, you said: “Uh-huh, yes, saer.”

You hiccuped and the pitiful sound echoed from the rocks around you.

Raphael straightened up. “Good. Time to go, then.”

You were sure he was going to just leave you to sit on the ground, but with the snap of his fingers, you found yourself at the House of Hope in the familiar dining room – still inelegantly sitting on the marble floor. And you hiccuped again.

Raphael sighed heavily, though you thought you noticed a hint of amusement in there. He walked over to you and before you could protest, leaned over to lift you into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

“This is emrass–, embar-…sing. Just. Let me down!” you yelped, but held on to his shoulders. He was so tall and you were so high up in his arms that it was enough to trigger reasonable fear of heights.

“Glad we agree on something, little raven,” Raphael muttered.

He walked towards a hallway in resolute steps. People dressed in rags scurried away to give the master of the house a wide berth. There was a faint jingle with each step and in your state of inebriation you were almost sure you were just imagining it.

“Where are you taking– hic! Me?”

“To heal.”

You were taken aback.

“Why?”

An almost smug half-smile twisted Raphael’s lips. His mouth too seemed huge in comparison to yours.

“As I’ve told you, I take care of my clients and despite your drunken ravings tonight, you still remain one of my most precious ones.”

Oh. Heat ravaged your face. Did the devil like you?

Door after door passed as the hallway curved. Each breath teased your dulled senses with Raphael’s scent: surprisingly sweet and musky with smoke somewhere in there. It was gradually lulling your consciousness, as you slowly sobered up, into comfort within the devil’s arms.

As he carried you, you settled to stare at his pretty face from such a close distance. You had never seen a cambion this close. The booze was probably shielding you from freaking out. Despite the infernal red shade of his skin and the burning eyes, his facial features were the same. The same dark eyelashes and brown curls at the tips of his hair.

Raphael was pretending as if he didn’t notice you staring, or he just didn't care. But his lips looked soft and you wondered how they would look like travelling the planes of your naked skin. You bit your lower lip, already feeling the heat and pressure gather between your thighs.

Raphael glanced at your face with an unreadable expression. Could devils smell dirty thoughts? Gods, you hoped not. Your cheeks were blazing.

“Tell me, Raph,” you blurted to divert his attention.

His molten eyes narrowed with warning. You failed to notice as you were busy looking anywhere but at his face.

“Is there a practical reason you’re sooo handsome? Hah! A handsome devil, just like–, just like…”

You couldn’t figure out what the devil was like until his icy stare shut you up.

“S-sorry…”

Raphael finally paused in front of a force curtain covering a huge doorway. It was like solid crystal and streaming water, sparkling in the low light of the hallway. You barely got a good look before it simmered and disappeared completely.

Inside revealed to be a large circular room. The inner circle was surrounded by large stone columns, candles littered every surface as the only source of light. In the middle of the room, amidst teal-hued vapours was a pool with two faucets constantly flowing more steaming water into it. Intricate rugs and plush cushions lay on the floor around it. At the back of the room, high archways lead to balconies overlooking the desolate plains of Avernus.

“Ooh, who is this?” an unknown voice drawled, “A new plaything?”

“Out, Haarlep,” Raphael said in a tone that left no room for arguments. The low voice made his chest rumble pleasantly against your body.

Raphael stopped by the pool, precariously close to the edge. When he stilled and the humid air clung to your every breath, his scent lingered. You couldn’t help the few deep breaths to inhale it, to almost taste it on your tongue.

“You smell like cherries,” you muttered to the devil, “So sweet…”

He cocked a brow at you.

“Swim, little raven.”

Raphael dropped you unceremoniously into the pool of restoration. The impact sent a jolt of pain from your knee through your whole body, but before you even hit the bottom, the pain was already alleviating.

Gasping, you emerged to the surface. Raphael was chuckling, arms crossed over his chest.

“You–! Insolent… devil!” you screamed, spitting water from your mouth.

It took mere seconds to realise your body had never felt more comfortable or healthy, at least not during your tadpoled life.

“You’re welcome. As much as I’d love to stay and chat, there are important matters that require my attention.”

“W-what, you’re leaving?”

“Would you rather I joined you in there?” he asked with nonchalance, his horned head tilting with curiosity.

Yes.

Moments ago the wine in your blood would have provided enough liquid courage to ask him to do just that, but now you hesitated, knowing the devil was just teasing you.

“N-no.”

“Adieu, little raven.”

Just like that, he was gone in flames. You were treading the water, still wobbly on your feet, but feeling constantly better and better.

You looked around the room that was likely Raphael’s private boudoir. The lavish and intricate design of the furniture and multiple paintings depicting the devil himself were way too over the top.

“He always did seem like a guy to have a painting of himself above his bed,” you scoffed out loud.

Since no one was there, you warily settled to sit in the pool and brushed your hair with your fingers. Your leg moved without any pain and all the scratches and bruises were gone from your body, as well as the effects of the alcohol. Shame. The water was almost too hot, but you revelled in it. It had been ages since the last proper bath.

Since there was no sign that Raphael would return any time soon, you started to plan for the next steps – despite how gratifying it was to soak in the bath.

A counter by the side of the pool had a neat pile of towels on it, so you slipped out of the water and paused to wonder if you should take off your wet clothes or not. There were no conveniently placed bathrobes or any clothing in sight, but a huge wardrobe loomed at the side of the room.

Surely there was no harm in borrowing a dry shirt, in the least?

You tiptoed to the wardrobe, huffed in relief since it was open and spent only a second to snatch a white, frilly shirt to change into. It smelled like Raphael – a fact you tried really hard to ignore along with the tender feeling that rolled into your chest.

You left your wet camp clothes by the pool and accepted the momentarily discomfort of keeping your wet undergarments on. Surely they would dry soon enough with the warm temperature of the Hells. Changing into a clean, dry shirt felt amazing. You didn’t dare wonder what Raphael thought of your rummaging through his wardrobe, but he wasn’t there to reprimand you. Come to think of it, what a poor host he was, leaving you alone like that.

The way out of the boudoir was once again sealed by a magical curtain, so you took that as an invitation to look around the room by yourself. The upper part of the room was reserved for a huge bed that looked like the most comfortable one you had ever seen. You would’ve sold your soul again to get a break from camping and get a goodnight’s sleep in a proper bed.

Although… Raphael was nowhere to be seen and it was probably already midnight. You were dead tired.

“Don’t mind if I do…” you mumbled to yourself and climbed into the massive bed, diving under the covers. The sheets carried a strong scent of cherries and burnt sandalwood, mixed with rich, alluring musk.

Within minutes, you drifted into sleep and spared no thought to how worried your companions likely were.

—

“Rise and shine, little raven.”

Your toes curled at the deep, soothing voice. It was just like it had sounded in your dream, but the details were hazy red and enveloped in the misty warmth of the pool. A pleasant feeling wavered through your body at the memory.

“Mm. Is it morning already… Raphael!”

You jumped to sit up on the bed, staring at the master of the house in horror.

He stood by the bed, once more in his human guise and a dark smile on his lips. He mused: “Indeed it is. I see you made yourself at home in my absence.”

“You just left me here! What was I supposed to do?” you argued back and hogged the covers closer to your chest.

Raphael chuckled. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

He offered his hand to you, signalling that it was time to leave his bed and get back to reality. After hesitating only for a heartbeat, you took the hand and let him pull you up, almost right into his chest. He steadied you with a hand on your shoulder and an examining look. A lighter version of the smirk persisted.

Once again you realised how the dark honey-tinted brown eyes of his human form were actually really pretty. Heat radiated off his body, maybe an effect of being in Avernus or a devilish side-effect of his. Nonetheless, it felt nice after being stripped away from the warmth of the bed covers.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave looking unkempt like that,” Raphael said in a soft tone that sent pleasant shivers running up your neck and pooled heat into the pit of your belly.

You started to realise you had just slept in the devil’s bed.

Before you could do anything but swallow, Raphael started undoing the buttons of your – no, his – shirt.

“What are you doing?” you gasped and clutched his wrists. His skin was so warm and the faint smile on his lips was nothing if not suggestive.

“Re-doing your buttons, my dear,” he replied with a hum of a chuckle. “You’re welcome to keep the shirt, but at least try to look like you just haven’t spent the night revelling in debauchery and sin.”

“But I was just sleeping!” you acclaimed.

“My point exactly.”

Your face was burning. From the devil’s expression you easily read that the bastard was enjoying this.

Raphael took his time undoing and buttoning the shirt, fingers travelling dangerously close to your chest and over your navel. An accidental brush of fingers there and another here. You just stood still, breathing shallow in a way that surely didn’t go unnoticed by him. You were fighting the unwanted tingling feeling and heat coiling inside you.

His hands lingered at the last button. You made the mistake of looking up at his face and were encountered with a heavy look that sent you reeling. Your pulse quickened. He was so close, you could have just pushed up to your toes and–

No. No way in Hell. Raphael was gorgeous, but you were not about to sully your soul by sinning with a devil. No matter how inviting the smile on his very kissable lips was or how amazing he smelled.

You had to break the spell somehow.

“Raphael?” You hated how tinged with desperation your voice was.

“Yes?”

You looked away as his hands parted from you. It was a little easier to breathe.

“Um. Thank you for your hospitality,” you said in earnest.

He huffed. “You are very much welcome.” He took a step back and a strange sensation that his thoughts mirrored your own carnal but hesitating ones crept into your mind. Raphael continued: “I’ll add it to your tab, little raven. But now it’s time for you to go.”

Your head snapped up.

“Wait, what tab–?”

In a swirl of devouring flames, you found yourself back at camp and a second later all your companions started yelling. Only then you remembered that your camp clothes had been left by the pool and you were not wearing any pants.

[fuck-john-calvin]

Because of some cool art you made I want to dip my toe into the Mechanisms.

where do I find the story?

So I don't know how much you know about them, but the basics are:

The Mechanisms is a band in which each member has a persona. They are a crew of immortal space pirates, roaming the galaxy in search of violence, fun, and stories to tell. Each persona character can be referred to as a mechanism, as in a member of the crew, but they each also have a mechanism, a clockwork prosthetic of some sort that was installed after they each had their own tragic story and made them immortal.

When they find a good, long, juicy tragedy, they turn it into an album. They also have two anthology albums, with some songs connecting to the wider stories and some completely independent of them, and a couple containing mechanisms lore. Their last album is from the live show of their final performance.

All of these albums stand on their own, and there is no particular order you need to listen to them in. They each contain characters and places from classic stories, putting unique sci-fi spins on them all and following queer narratives. I'd say bury your gays, but honestly, it's more like bury your gays and the entire planet they lived on, along with everything they ever held dear.

here's a summary of each, stolen from the mechs blurbs themselves:

Once Upon a Time (In Space)-

This tale tells of those embroiled in the rebellion against the tyrant of New Constantinople, Old King Cole. It tells of the love of Cinders for her captured Rose, of the treatment of Rose at the hands of Cole's genetic scientists, and of the bold but savage leadership of the rebel General Snow. And it tells of the final fates of all of these.

fairy tale but make it a rebellion. their first album, contains many of their most popular songs. solid. not personally one of my favorites, but the one I'm most likely to be listening to a song from on any given day. our boy jack and pump shanty are excellent.

High Noon Over Camelot-

A tale of hope and despair aboard the Fort Galfridian, long lost to the outside world, where the chaos of centuries of solitude has been brought in check at last by the guns of the Pendragon Gang. But the visions of the mad prophet Galahad, and the schemes of the Pendragons' lieutenants Mordred and Gawain, threaten to cast the station back into anarchy. And all the while, the Sun grows hotter...

arthurian legend has just become a space westerner in which everyone rides motorcycles and a fiery death threatens them all. haven't listened to it yet, but I've heard great things. Blood and Whiskey is a banger, and Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere are in a polycule, something I didn't know I needed until I heard it suggested.

Ulysses Dies At Dawn-

Ulysses Dies at Dawn. That's the word on the street, at any rate, if you talk to anyone who saw what went down at Calypso's Bar the other night. Who is behind the thuggish band known as the Suits - Heracles, Ariadne and the others? What is Ulysses's secret? And what is hidden within the security of the Vault?

I'm going to be completely honest with you. I think this is no-contest their best album. It's greek mythology in noir film style, with heavy usage of blues and rock. I don't even like blues, but I love each and every song. This one is also a little easier to follow than the others. I'd recommend starting here.

The Bifrost Incident-

The Bifrost Incident. Any schoolchild could tell you about it. The fall of the old order; two hundred years of Asgardian hubris come together in a single epoch-defining event. The maiden voyage of a train through the stars, vanished without a trace...

Remember how I think the last one was the best one? Well, this is still my favorite. Norse mythology framed as a mystery on a train, with a twist completely out of left field that leaves you reeling. Thus, it is probably the most difficult to follow, or at least, it was for me. The art you liked-which wasn't mine, unfortunately, credit to the artists is on the post if you want to check those blogs out-featured variations of the narrator from this album. let's just say I'm. not so normal about them.

well. ANYWAYS. this was...probably longer than what you wanted. Or than what I should have given. I don't get asks a lot and an excuse to talk about the mechanisms is always something I am willing to abuse.

If you do end up listening to any of their music, please tell me what you think! I'd love to hear it, and it's always nice to talk about them with someone else :)

[ilyuu-archive]

ft. xiao. (just a quiet night on a balcony with him.)

cw : modern au, fluff, established relationship, smoking, a kith, no really it’s all fluff, let me know if i missed anything else!

happy birthday melon <3

it’s nearly midnight.

a thin stream of smoke strays from his lips. it makes space for the air, breeze - cool wisps of whispers in his hair - as nightfall breathes it in.

in the silence, something sizzles. in the dark, something smolders.

xiao tips his head off to the side, along with the cigarette in his forefingers, crumbles of cinders falling atop and into an ashtray. he feels his fingertips warm, a bit too close to the lit end of said smoker.

his head is just that - a haze. a cloudy haze of solitude and quiet that he has long acquainted himself with. …as his other hand softly, yet a bit awkwardly, as if not used to this sort of gesture, combs your hair. it all but coaxes a quiet sigh from you.

your head resting on his shoulder, you feel the veil of sleep slowly slip atop of you, everything around you becoming a bit more darker around the edges. in spite of that, and him telling you to sleep (over and over and over and—), you kept saying you’re awake, if anything alright.

“just… wanna spend some more time with you, ‘s all,” is what you said a bit ago when he (finally) asked.

one of your hands held his, the one atop of your head, and twined your fingers. a wave of warmth seemed to sweep, and it ebbed and flowed across his skin in a way that you can only see as cute. even underneath the skies, able to share as much of its subtle light as it can, can you still catch a bit of color seeping into the crests of his cheek.

it’s those same hands that held late night talks, caffeine mornings, and in every season with minute and second.

it’s those same hand came to cup his cheek for a moment, a gentle, almost feather-light touch, as you tip it towards you… and you spare a small peck on the corner of his lips. the way his eyes widens, his irises wavering, with a feeling that you had long put a name too lighting up your world.

you can still catch scent of heavy smoke clinging on his skin, his clothes, his everything, even with a bit distance. you find it comfortable, more than anything. you breath in the fumes, and a faint air settles in your chest, lungs, as you feel his hand staring anew.

and as he lets go of yet another breath, a cloud of smoke swirling around him almost innocuously, his gaze takes you in for a bit before his voice, a bit heavy with lead, “happy birthday.”

i came crawling out of my hiatus just for this dw i’ll immediately hibernate *finger tuns*

general taglist (open!) : @starz222, @haliyamori, @kazumist, @mikacynth, @angelkazusstuff, @doumalove, @kpop-and-otome, @emo-mess, @streetbystreets, @auroratumbles, @mastering-procrastinating, @qqingxin . . .

[miralines]

A Moss-Covered Home

a little cinderrose ficlet I've been meaning to post for ages, inspired by @bookshopsbizarreblog's suggestion of "a moss-covered home" for their ship name. This isn't canon to any of my other ouatis fic, but I thought I'd finally share it for @mechtober-2024! Alternate prompt: haunted ^-^

Many years after Briar and Cinders have parted ways, years after Cinders mourns the woman who never was her wife, Cinders has settled down someplace. A little cottage in a densely-forested part of Perrault. She’s finally home. It’s terribly lonely, but she prefers the quiet to everyone demanding her time and her stories and her opinions, so she can endure it.

She endured the solitude for thirty years, after all. She’s long used to it by now. Cinders knits, sings, picks up reading again to pass the time, and more years pass quietly.

And then things start happening. She finds objects in places she didn’t leave them. The windows are open when she swore she had them shut. She thinks perhaps she’s just aging; she’s quite old by this point, old enough to be expecting death in the next few years. But things keep happening. More and more. And as time goes on, she begins to feel a presence, warm and familiar.

She doesn’t know if it’s just her mind, but it comforts her. She welcomes the presence. She walks around her mossy cottage, speaks to it sometimes as she does. It’s remote enough here that no one can hear her. Cinders swears sometimes she can almost hear a voice.

She takes to setting out an extra plate for it. It’s her companion in the last years of her life. 

And then her health declines. She knows the end will be soon. One evening, she’s sitting by the fire, resting, feeling the presence. Wishing she could touch her.

As she thinks it, the presence resolves into sight. It’s Rose. Still fresh-faced and youthful, looking the way she did in that lifepod all those years ago, but seeming older and wiser. Seeming to match Cinders. She smiles, and reaches for her. 

Cinders takes her hand.

Her body is found the next morning by the girl who delivers her groceries. Cinders is mourned across the galaxy as one of the last major heroes of the rebellion. And then the galaxy moves on, as they’ve been doing for decades.

In the cottage, Rose and Cinders sit together, invisible to anyone but each other. They’re together at last. The cottage falls into disrepair, the moss overtaking it, but what does that matter to a ghost? It isn’t their grave, but it is their resting place. It’s their home.

[thelastwarriorofsunflowers]

RWBY Roleswaps that are interesting:

1. ⁠Pyrrha and Cinder; they both have the same backstory and beginnings, but a divergence happens. Cinder instead of killing her abusive family goes with Rhodes instead as a Hunter’s Apprentice allowing her to become a prodigy with weapons and gaining her semblance. Pyrrha on the other hand is still the champion, but eventually she snaps at the pressures of her image and worth. Pyrrha would then run away from this spotlight, and find solitude in being known as a villain instead of a champion.

2. ⁠The relationships of Ren & Nora, Blake & Yang. You could either have Ren & Yang or Ren & Blake, while the one who doesn’t get with Ren gets to be with Nora. I would personally do Ren & Blake with Nora & Yang. It would be interesting to see instead of opposites attract here, it would be the same types of people together.

3. ⁠Willow and Jacques, a lot would be different here I think. With this I would also change the Schnee siblings around too. Whitley would be the oldest, Winter is the middle, and Weiss is the youngest. This would create the dynamic of Weiss being the one who is against Winter, who in the show is the closest Schnee siblings. Another dynamic that would be interesting is Whitley and Winter being the closest instead because they have the weakest in the show.

[scham-wcan]

10. …desperately.

for cinwin *bats eyelashes*

:3

You got it!

The day had been long, deplorably so, between the voracity at which she trained and the cosmic levels of solitude she felt during the lit hours, Cinder was ready to collapse in on herself. Even the books she made active use of devouring line by line and page by page were escaping their intrigue today as she laid back in one of the mighty seats of their apartment.

Dog-earring a red cover bound book and tossing it aside, its form clumping into the folds and leather of the couch beside her, Cinder turned away towards the main room’s window. Although it was midday, it was difficult to tell, a mighty snowstorm which blackened the skies in sheets of white and ice barrelling down against the buildings. Harsh sounds of whipping cold sounded like a whip cracking against the thickened windows and structure, that alone would have Cinder curling up upon herself as she was now. Knees to chest and arms, prosthetic and not, clutching tightly at them for just an ounce of security though even that proved faulty.

However when another racket joined the grave whips of snow, Cinder spun around to their door, as the noise of lock and key turning brought heat to her chest.

Groaning was the next thing she heard, alongside the lumber of thick soled boots, “Urgh!” Rang out in terrible annoyance. “The roads are a nightmare, forget it, I will be working from here today.” Winter did her best voice work when she tried sounding venomous, but in this moment she sounded all too tired to be more than annoyed and exhausted.

“Is the coffee still warm?” Winter called out as she turned her back for their hook, not noticing the somewhat rampant noises of house shoes on hardwood behind her. “I do not care what the programs say that chill is as bad as the snow-!”

Her voice caught in her throat just as she managed to hang her coat, caused by the hands and arms of growing warmth which currently ensnared her middle. Blossoming hot air near blistered her frigid nape as Cinder’s lips precisely found the corner of her jawline; it forced a gasp through Winter all the same.

Stinging hot as her lips left, Cinder could only smirk at the corner of Winter’s surprised eye. “Was that truly necessary? I feel like my heart is going to bound from my chest, Cinder.” Turning within the rather tight hold enough to put them front to front, Winter’s red hued glare did little to dissuade the touch of excitement within that golden eye.

“It was desperately needed, Fräulein.” her voice curling into a lull as she inched herself closer to Winter.

Blustering slightly at the title, Winter rolled her eyes with force. “At least lock the door before you make me miss my morning events?” A stray low kick sent the door quickly to close as a soundtrack of throat drawling laughs inched onto frozen skin once more.

[leohtttbriar]

im assuming that if voyager season 2 had room for one more filler episode, it'd be about them stopping by a planet with a grand as heck Flower Show (complete with ribbons and garlands and a local celebrity judge) that tuvok wants to enter. So he enlists kes's and b'elanna's help and takes them on a hover-bike trip through some wildflower fields and shows b'elanna how aerial roots of many different types of orchids work and shows kes how to properly mind-sense the needs of a useless house plant without burning it to cinders and then they help him win the big prize. and then he does the vulcan equivalent of sobbing into his tea (staring down at it while he speaks in a deep monotone about how much he Thinks of his family on the perpetual quotidian) and b'elanna builds him a music box or something cute and tuvok, overcome with logical affection, is like, "you are going to learn how to meditate, too, so help me god." and then b'elanna sits in on kes's lessons (from then on) tinkering with some project that isn't life or death and tuvok no longer has to rationalize the benefits of solitude.

the c-plot is tom trying to figure out if harry is avoiding him. (he's not.)(he's just distracted by a wart on his thumb that he's convinced is cancerous but is, in fact, just a wart.)

the b-plot is some space drama, idk.

[ficklecat]

And I’m taken, woah, oh

By the madness

And the tripping

And the touching

—

Kakashi watches him sleep.

He is - for once - so still, so quiet sans the deep-breath snores and gentle sleeping mumbles that escape his familiar lips. Kakashi watches and breathes alongside him, presses his flat palm on the hair of his chest, lets his fingertips sink into the malleable heat of his pectorals, pulse aflutter against his skin.

Kakashi imagines sliding in under that skin, sinking into him, slotting their bones together like fitted wooden pegs, an ancient belonging he feels so deep inside him his body burns with its knowledge.

Gai stirs ever so gently and Kakashi is frozen, quiet, still, watching as he adjusts and settles again, limbs and muscles sheathed beneath scarred flash that he knows so well he can map it in his mind. Even without the Sharingan, Kakashi’s memory is unyielding. He lets his gaze dance across the sprawl of his body, hardly illuminated in the moonlight, stripes from his windows and curtains painting pale silver glow across his chest, legs, face.

Kakashi commits these details to memory, etches them deep between the folds of his mind like initials on tree bark - the way Gai’s dark hair is mussed yet shining still, the way his high cheekbones are cut by shadows in the dark, his full lips barely parted, his bright eyes closed and flickering behind his eyelids.

Kakashi breathes again, slides his open palm down to the dusting of dark hair across his belly. He traces little shapes, lines of scarring, letters and characters and smiles as he sees Gai’s flesh jump and twitch, feels the goosebumps rise across his skin. He moves his fingertips up, draws a heart at his chest, slides across to wrap his arm around him and nestles closer.

Gai smells of heat. Charcoal smoldering, burning wood, spiced aromatics, peppery enough to make Kakashi’s nose wiggle a bit. He presses the tip of it to Gai’s temple, nuzzles, inhales. He lets the scent crackle like firewood up into his head and feels its sparks and cinders behind his eyes. He lets it warm him all the way down to his toes, lets his body fold in and around him like he’s huddled for warmth and Gai is the only source.

Kakashi has known no peace such as this.

He knows no other sense of calm and solitude as these nights beside his burning beacon, his Polaris, the only love deep enough to have dug a wellspring where a cavern once was in his heart. It flows now, so free and full, its waters sparkling and rushing to fill his eyes with the immensity of his devotion, and he has to take a sharp breath in to keep it at bay. This comes so easy now, being so moved even to tears in the face of this certainty, the overwhelm of desire and affection that pulses in him right up alongside the beat of his heart, like a murmur he can hear with every breath, a stutter he can feel with every touch.

This had taken time. Patience. Yearning. Pain. It had taken death and back. But to admit to this need had been his greatest feat, his most profound accomplishment, a legacy more than any he’d leave - to relinquish to the terrible thrill of loving this man. And it had taken even more to allow it to move him this way, to allow it to settle inside him and burn and burn and burn until the waters of his own heart allowed it to simmer pleasantly, Gai’s heat to his cooling, Gai’s fire to his wet and withered soul.

They’re older now. Changed and changing. Imprinted on each other’s lives so well and clear Kakashi has a hard time recalling a time without him, despite his impeccable memory. It doesn’t matter, either way. His presence in his life and heart were as natural as the breath he was born with and the last one he’ll take in this life.

Kakashi leans a bit to press a kiss to his temple. He lets his lips linger to feel Gai’s steady pulse on them, drifts on the rhythm like he’s bobbing on the sea.

He knows no love as deep as this one.

He feels it in his veins, feels the ache of it inside his chest, the desire to be closer until they’re no longer separate things.

Kakashi watches him sleep until his own eyelids grow heavy.

He lets them close, breathes and sighs, and lets Gai’s warmth bring him to the morning.

[bharv]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by the ever delightful @rowanisawriter!

I'm slogging through this bloody tief party.

Three of the torches have burned themselves out to cinders by the time Gale returns, and Glim has convinced the Druid Halsin to join in the revelries. She is sat atop his shoulders directing him forward and back with a squeeze of her thighs as if she is riding a horse. 

“Three steps in!”

Her mouth is still at the flute, and though her playing is still exceptional she misses the odd note though peels of laughter as he tries to keep up with the fleet foot of Bex, who is dancing a rather enthusiastic jig.

Glim is so free with touch, he realises. His mind is a veritable log-book of every moment that she has placed her hand on his, or gently squeezed his shoulder, or held her hand to him in healing. Every single moment is burned into him after years of solitude, but she gives of herself so freely, without much thought at all. As is her right to, of course. There is no formal understanding, and no reason for her not to act as is in her heart. In her nature. She is a traveller, an adventurer, and a lover of the world, after all.

With a shriek she slips sideways from his shoulders and he feels his heart in his throat until he realises that she still has her legs wrapped around the elf’s thick neck. She hangs from him like a garland and does not stop playing even as her breath is ragged with laughter. She does not stop until the last note is played and Halsin’s hands find her hips, pulling her back up to applause from the dwindling revellers. Glim’s hand runs through his hair playfully in a moment that could be a second, but to Gale feels like an eternity as he watches.

He could swear he sees the druid’s lips linger on her stomach as he lowers her to the ground.

He needs more to drink.

I tag @smoreofbabylon @thievinghippo @senseandaccountability (if you are back in the realms from real life at all!) and @todderwodders if you are all up for it.