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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

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Built on a Lie

Prompt: I like the possible idea of Janus being a absolutely crushed to find Roman bleeding out due to a bruised ego in his room after pof was uploaded. After all most Sander Sides Fans hated Roman after he mocked Janus's Name.

Thanks for the prompt, babe! I hope it’s what you wanted!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: arguably roceit i guess??? it’s just focused on them, can be platonic or romantic if you want. same with LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Warnings: sympathitic janus even if it might not seem like it, sympathetic feral protective remus, roman is a hurt boi

Word Count: 5010

The wedding is tough.

After the wedding is an ordeal.

After after the wedding…hurts.

The Mindscape is all but deserted. No one wants to come out to the common areas for risk of running into someone who they had…disagreements with or getting swept up in a painfully awkward conversation. Patton lingers in the kitchen, Virgil almost never opens his door, Logan works, and Remus, well…Remus is the only one still behaving as normal.

Janus is grateful for his consistency.

In all honesty, and oh, the irony, he doesn’t enjoy this. He doesn’t enjoy the others walking on eggshells constantly, nor does he thrill at how they seem to jump at everyone, not just him. His point was made. That is his job.

But he’s not so sure he fully anticipated the cost.

At the very least, Logan seems to get over their troubles first. He approaches Janus a few days after the wedding and offers one of his philosophy books. Janus accepts it gratefully and by the time he’s finished it, Logan starts talking again. It’s not the greatest thing for the Mindscape that Logan is willing to talk to the others again.

Patton comes around next, simply because he’s the kindest. Janus pities him a little for it. But sure enough, the common areas start to ring again, drawing Remus out from the depths to cause his chaos.

Virgil appears next, summoned by the repeated calling of Remus’s antics and Janus’s exasperation. And sometimes, well, sometimes it seems like they’re back in their hallway, with Patton and Logan looking on with the air of some bemused anthropologists.

All the Sides reemerge and start trying to figure out what’s going on except for Roman.

Roman is nowhere to be found.

“He…he just needs some more time, I’m sure.”

“Roman is prone to fits of dramatics. It is unsurprising that he chooses to have a repeat performance.”

“Princey’s a bit of an asshole, it’s gonna take him a while to own up to what he did.”

“Catch!”

Janus grunts and staggers under Remus’s weight, eventually getting them both with their feet back under them on the floor. He adjusts his hat and looks disapprovingly at the amount of slime Remus has managed to get all over himself.

“What were you even doing?”

“Exploring the precise relationship of viscera to ventricles inside the heart of a blue whale!” Remus shakes his sleeve. “They lied about how bit the veins and arteries are.”

“How did you—nevermind,” Janus sighs, “I don’t want to know. Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Not paying attention.”

“…Roman’s not or you’re not?”

“I’m not!” He flicks some slime at Janus’s hat. “But you should be!”

“Yes, well, when slime starts to emerge from every corner again, I’ll chase you down.”

“Ooh, promises, promises.”

Janus doesn’t hurl some of the slime at Remus as he sinks out.

Roman still hasn’t appeared and the others are starting to notice. Thomas isn’t exactly in a position to do a whole lot of things, but at the very least he’s not doing what he perhaps should have been capable of. Logan notices and at first, chalks it up to the fact that they are in a pandemic; lapses in peak physical and mental performance are not unexpected, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s a little more than that.

The Mindscape grows dimmer, more sluggish. Thomas doesn’t seem to want to do much of anything, let alone work.

“I don’t understand,” Patton mumbles one afternoon when they meet—sans Roman—to try and figure out what’s going on, “I know I’m having a few—um, it’s not Thomas’s feelings that are causing us problems.”

Janus doesn’t make a note of how Virgil quickly presses his arm against Patton’s shoulder.

“There are certain things that are to be expected under times of great stress,” Logan muses, “and certainly any pre-existing problems will be exacerbated, but…this was not anticipated.”

Remus cranks the chainsaw and sets about carving up a new slice of…whatever he’s working on. “We’re in a pandemic, Spectacles!”

“I am wildly aware.”

Virgil stares at the chainsaw—which is fair—then up to Remus. “You ever been in a pandemic before, Remus?”

“Nope!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Okay, so that makes sense. But L’s right, this feels…weird. Like we’re missing something pretty big.”

In unison, they all look towards Roman’s seat.

The room falls as quiet as it can with Remus’s chainsaw still in the background.

The big, red, overstuffed armchair looks…different, without Roman lounging in it. The blinds aren’t drawn but it looks like the coloring has faded significantly, as though it’s been out in the sun for far too long. The seams look as though they’re struggling and there’s a dark imprint on one of the arms.

It’s not a shock to Janus to discover he’s never really looked at the chair before.

“Has anyone heard from Roman,” Logan asks quietly, “since the wedding?”

Virgil shakes his head, glancing around. Patton looks down at his chest.

“You think this is Roman.” It’s not a question.

“HIs tantrums do not normally last for this long,” Logan continues, adjusting his tie, “and whilst I admit that perhaps our circumstances have contributed more than I anticipated, I do not believe that is how Roman feels.”

“Princey has been away for a really long time.”

“Thomas is starting to get hurt by it,” Patton mumbles, laying a hand on his chest, “I can—I’m starting to feel it a little.”

“So we need to get Princey’s head out of his ass again.”

Logan sighs. “Most likely.”

“I didn’t want to rush it,” Patton says, glancing at Janus, “but you guys are right. I think he’s being selfish now.”

At the word ‘selfish,’ Remus freezes.

The chainsaw splutters and dies to the floor with a heavy clunk.

“Remus,” Patton scolds, “be careful with the…”

He trails off when he notices what the rest of them have.

Remus is standing completely still—an impossibility for Remus—his head tilted back, eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling. His nose quivers, almost like a bloodhound.

His nose twitches.

His lip curls up into a snarl.

His morning star appears in his hand with a growl as he tears off toward the stairs.

“Remus? Remus!”

“Wait!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Remus!”

Janus closes his eyes, reaching out to see if he can tell where Remus is going. His eyes shoot open.

“Roman’s room. Now.”

Virgil grabs Logan and Patton and sinks out.

Janus tries to appear in Roman’s room only to hit something burning cold. He hisses and flinches away from it, only to realize that he hasn’t materialized properly and is stuck. The burning cold reaches further, further, into his scales, digging under them, until Janus yanks himself away and appears, panting, in the hallway outside Roman’s door.

Virgil appears too, still holding the others. “What the fuck was that?”

“Did he block us out?”

“None of us have the ability to do that, other than Thomas.”

“Did he get Thomas to block us out?”

“I don’t know!”

A loud crash jerks their attention to Remus. He raises his morning star again and drives the spikes deep into the bright red of Roman’s door.

…that isn’t nearly as bright as it should be.

Remus snarls again and wails against the door. The wood starts to creak and buckle under the onslaught. He hefts the weapon again and shatters the door with a thunderous crack.

The morning star is hastily flung aside as Remus claws at the splintered wood, yanking it away from the hole he’s made.

The door groans and yields.

Remus rushes through, Virgil on his heels. Patton and Logan attempt to follow only to run smack into both of them.

“Why’d you stop, kiddos, we can’t—“

“Let us through, why did you—“

When those two fight their way through and into silence, Janus sighs and gingerly steps through, nudging Logan and Virgil aside to look at what’s got them so shocked. Roman in the middle of a sobbing mess of tissues, probably, or an empty room signifying he’s gone off on some quest in the Imagination, or even a pouting Roman glaring at them for ruining his door.

He gets around Virgil’s shoulder and his blood runs cold. Burning cold.

If they weren’t in Roman’s room, he’s not sure he’d be able to recognize this as Roman.

His pristine white costume is stained an ugly brown. The gold trimmings fall limply off, hating on by barely a thread. His hair sticks to the floor in horrid, matted clumps. His hands are speckled and stained with more blood, some congealed and crusted from the puddle on the floor. His legs bend at awkward and uncomfortable angles. One of his arms is stretched away from, reaching for something.

Or anything.

They dare not move. They dare hardly breathe.

Remus takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. He circles the body on the floor, not caring about stepping in the blood, crouching down on the far side. His face is drawn, paler than Janus has ever seen it go, he looks sick.

If…if Remus looks this bad—

Remus looks up at the others. His face darkens.

“Explain,” he whispers, his voice low and soft and dangerous, “now.”

No one can find words to even try.

When no one says anything, Remus crouches down and, with a tenderness that shocks Janus, lays his hand on Roman’s side.

“Roman,” he whispers, almost inaudibly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Ro-Bro, it’s—it’s me.”

“Wha’re you…here?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Remus growls, looking up at them again, “maybe no one was.”

“’S fine.”

“Roman, it is about the furthest from fine that it could be.”

“…’ve had worse.”

“…okay I was wrong. That is the furthest from fine it could be.”

Judging by the way Roman’s body slumps, his eyes must fall closed again. “You c’n go. D’n’t have to stay.”

“Not on your life.”

“’S fine, Re,” Roman slurs, “the others will…wonder where you are.”

Remus stiffens. His hand tenses on Roman’s side.

“No,” he says softly, “they won’t.”

Roman twitches, his head rolling up. “‘M sorry, Re.”

“What the absolute fuck are you apologizing to me for?”

“Thought they’d…care.” Roman’s head waivers and drop back down. “‘Bout you.”

Patton can’t stifle his whimper.

Roman twitches again. “Wha…”

“They’re not gonna wonder where I am,” Remus growls, “because they’re here.”

Roman’s going to panic. He’s going to freak out and they’ll have to reassure him. Or Roman’s going to be angry and they’ll have to stop him from hurting himself. Or he won’t believe Remus and that…that might be the worst.

…Janus should really stop thinking that.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re they here, Re,” Roman mumbles, his body sagging to the floor again, “‘m I late for s’mething?”

Remus snarls and Roman flinches.

“Don’ be mad, Re, please, ‘m sorry—“

“I’m not mad at you, Roman.”

“But you’re mad.”

“No.” Remus stares at them, his voice still even and soft. “I’m enraged.”

Before they can say anything, Roman hisses and jerks. Remus’s hands instantly flit to Roman, searching for whatever’s hurt him.

“What’s happening, Ro,” he growls, “whose ass do I need to kick?”

“You can’t,” Roman wheezes, “can’ stop it.”

“The hell I can.”

“No, you—you actually can’t,” Roman says, reaching for Remus’s hand, “help—help me sit up?”

“Ro, you’re—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“’S fine.”

“I don’t think it is!”

“Please?”

Remus sighs, gingerly wrapping his arms around Roman’s bruised and bloody body. “Come on then.”

Roman’s costume clings to the floor and his back as they sit up, the stain darkening and drying on the belly of his tunic. His head lolls against Remus’s chest, breathing heavily for a moment before he finally looks up.

Oh, his face…

It’s an absolute mess. Blood and salt and other things Janus couldn’t hope to figure out cling to every scrap of skin they can as he squints at them.

“You broke my door.”

“You were in trouble,” Remus replies easily, hoisting Roman to sit properly.

Roman sighs, his breath rattling. “Did I miss a meeting?”

“We…” Logan swallows. “We just came from one.”

“Oh.” Roman closes his eyes. “I’ll…gimme a minute, I’ll—“

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I gotta do the meeting, Re.”

“The hell you do.”

“You—you don’t have to worry about the meeting, Roman,” Logan says firmly, taking a step closer, “we—what happened to you?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What does he mean?” Virgil explodes. “Roman, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Roman hisses again. “Don’ have to shout, Virgil.”

“Of fucking course I have to shout! Look at you!”

“I believe that might be more of a reason not to shout,” Logan says quietly. Virgil huffs, balling his hands up into fists.

“What the fuck happened, Roman,” Virgil repeats, “and don’t pretend like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

Roman sighs again, something whistling, what happened to him?—and sits up away from Remus. “I can’ shout, come closer.”

Logan and Virgil immediately walk forward, crouching down a respectful distance away. Patton takes a moment longer, creeping forward and reaching out a trembling hand toward Roman.

“K-kiddo,” he mumbles, “I’m so—so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“’S okay,” Roman slurs, leaning back against Remus, “’s okay, Pat.”

“Patton?” Logan turns. “What do you know?”

“Yeah, Patton,” Remus growls, “why don’t you tell us.”

Patton shrinks back. “I—I—“

“Shh,” Roman mumbles, clumsily patting Remus’s hand, “don’ do that, ’s okay.”

“No, Roman, it’s not.”

“...kiddo?”

Roman nods.

Patton takes a deep breath. “You guys know that—how Roman gets hurt sometimes when Thomas does something that, uh, doesn’t turn out great?”

“We all get hurt, Pat,” Virgil says, “that doesn’t explain this.”

As if on cue, Roman hisses again.

“No, no, Virgil,” Patton mumbles, “it’s—Roman’s the only one who gets physically hurt when this stuff happens.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he looks at Roman’s injuries. “Of course…”

Despite everything, Roman smiles tiredly up at him. “Figure it out?”

“You’re the Ego,” Logan mumbles, “and thus it follows that you would get…bruised.”

“Wait, that’s a literal thing?”

“Apparently so.”

“Jeez, Princey,” Virgil mumbles, “you coulda told me.”

“You were busy, didn’t wanna give you anything else to worry ‘bout.”

“That’s not—Roman—“

“But Thomas has been inside,” Logan interjects quickly, “alone, he hasn’t—we haven’t done anything since the pandemic began.”

“It’s a pandemic, Lo,” Roman says, “no one’s doing much of anything…besides staying inside, reading things, watching things…”

“So how is this happening to you, Roman,” Patton says, wringing his hands, “what—what’s doing this to Thomas?”

“Fuck,” Virgil says, burying his hands in his hair, “Princey has this been happening to you since the wedding?”

“Mm,” Roman hums, leaning heavily against Remus.

“People are watching the video,” Logan whispers, “and they’re—well, they’re talking about it.”

“Are they—are they still saying Thomas should’ve…” Paton gulps. “Done something different?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m sure they are but Thomas…Thomas hasn’t been looking at the comments from the video, not really. Virgil and I have specifically told him not to.”

“So then why is Thomas still being hurt by it? Why are people still attacking Thomas?”

“Not—“ their heads all jerk around to look at Roman— “not Thomas.”

He waves a hand at himself.

“Wouldn’t be like this if it were them attacking Thomas.”

“Then what—“

“They’re attacking you?” Virgil’s eyes go wide as they scan over Roman’s injuries. “Directly?”

“Mm.”

“Oh, kiddo—“

“Princey, what the hell—“

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve—“

“What for?”

In response, Roman’s eyes raise slowly, and look at Janus.

Everyone else follows, looking back toward the door, realizing that Janus hadn’t moved closer with the rest of them.

Roman’s gaze isn’t cold, but it makes him feel cold.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“My name,” Janus breathes, “it’s…they’re mad at you because of me.”

“Told you,” Roman slurs as his eyes close again, “gotta come closer. Can’ shout like this.”

Janus swallows heavily, his throat dry, clutching his cloak tightly around him as he edges closer. Roman mumbles to himself until Janus is close enough to hear him.

“There we go…” He cracks a bloodied eye open. “You’re right. They’re angry at me. Rightfully so, but…yeah.”

“Because you made fun of my name?”

They all rush forward as Roman keens, his hand flying to his gut and hissing.

“Fuck, Princey, is it—is it still happening?”

“Mhm.”

“How do we—how do we stop it?”

“Can’t,” Roman mumbles, “wasn’t lying. Nothing you can do. Not until it’s over.”

“It’s been ages since the wedding, Roman, how much longer is this going to go on?”

Roman makes a vague noise of ‘I don’t know.’

“But—but—“ Logan looks frantically back and forth between them— “surely they can’t all be angry at you, that would be—“

“They’re not,” Roman mumbles, “not all of them, but it’s—it’s most of them.”

“How is that possible?”

“Some of them really don’t like me—“ Roman hisses again— “some of them really like J-Janus or Remus or…or Logan, or Patton—“

“What?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“And some of them just think that it’s—what I did was—“ Roman stifles a whimper, biting his lip— “really bad.”

“But then why…why aren’t the rest of us being affected like this?”

“You’re not the Ego.”

Remus snarls again as Roman jerks, a new bruise blooming on the underside of his neck.

“…ow.”

“We have to get you cleaned up,” Logan mutters shakily, trying to stand.

“Not much point right now,” Roman sighs, absentmindedly nuzzling into Remus, who tightens his grip protectively around Roman, “‘m just gonna get all messy again.”

“Not if we stay with you,” Logan promises, “not if we help.”

“…don’ have to.”

“What the hell are you—“ Virgil shakes his head. “Of course, we’re gonna help you, Roman.”

Roman just looks at them and closes his eyes.

“Ro—kiddo,” Patton says, reaching out for him, “why don’t you believe us?”

“You haven’t exactly…done that before.”

“We didn’t know!”

“You did.”

Patton��s retort dies in his throat. He looks desperately around for something, anything—

Janus is in shock.

Roman…oh, Roman…Janus knew Roman was the Ego, but he didn’t—he hadn’t—

Fuck, were the bruises from what he said still there? Not—not just that awful, awful thing about comparing Roman to Remus, but…from before?

How many times had Janus hurt Roman…and hadn’t cared?

“…I’m sorry, Roman,” Logan murmurs, breaking the silence, “will you let me help now?”

Roman looks up at him. “I’ve been awful to you,” he mumbles, “you don’—don’ have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do,” Logan says, “because you’ve been wonderful to me too…and I am not blameless in this either.”

“But they don’t know that.”

“I do,” Logan says firmly, “and they will.”

The smallest smile tugs at the corners of Roman’s mouth as Logan stands up to go fetch the first aid kit.

“Princey, I—Roman,” Virgil stammers, “fuck, you—oh my god—“

“I’ve been awful to you too, Virgil.”

“And I’ve been fucking worse right back!” Virgil squeezes his hands tight. “And I—you’re the only one who gets yelled at for it. Fuck, I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, I’m gonna—can I help too?”

“…if you want.”

“I’m gonna go help Logan get the shit,” Virgil mutters, getting to his feet and tearing out after Logan.

“…oh, kiddo…”

Patton’s eyes begin to tear up.

“I thought—I thought you needed more time—“

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Pat,” Roman manages, “it’s not fun, trust me.”

Patton’s laugh comes out more like a sob.

“I won’t hold it against you, and you can—“ Roman hisses again— “help if you want.”

“Do you think you can drink something?”

“…I’ll try.”

Patton’s gone in a flash.

Janus looks at Remus. Remus glares at him and pulls Roman closer.

“…we should…try and get some of that off,” Janus tries, “so we can see what, um…”

Remus’s stony silence as Roman starts to drift again cuts off Janus’s words.

“…Remus…”

“You are very, very lucky,” Remus whispers, cutting him off, “that I’m not about to leave my brother’s side for a long time.”

Janus nods.

“Start on the buttons,” Remus says, “at his wrists. I’m not sure how much of this we can save.”

He immediately sets to work, trying to communicate how sorry, sorry, sorry he is with every gentle brush of his fingers against Roman’s skin. Remus summons something for them to lean Roman against as they start to gingerly remove the tunic. It’s worse than Janus thought.

Roman is one big pulsing wound, little nicks here and there and varying shades of purple, red, green, yellow, all coming from one massive sore in the center of him. As they watch, more injuries appear, little bruises that make his breath hitch, and occasionally a small swipe along his ribs. As Janus works the cuff over his wrist, one of his fingers blackens and swells as it breaks.

“Oh, Roman…”

“Sit up, Ro,” Remus whispers tenderly, peeling and unsticking the tunic from his back, “okay, there we go. Are most of them…up here?”

“They all look to be coming from…that,” Janus says, indicating the giant wound, “so…”

And indeed, as they watch, Roman keens again and the wound deepens, more blood beginning to trickle out.

“Are all of these—“ Janus indicates the injuries littering Roman’s body— “comments?”

“Mm.”

“Then what—why is this one…?”

Roman’s eyes drift closed and his head lolls back.

“’Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache.”

No.

“’Otherwise, between you and Remus—‘” Roman winces as the wound digs deeper— “‘I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.’”

…no…

Janus reaches out a trembling hand and lays it next to the wound. It’s…it’s warm under his touch but…wrong.

A snarl jerks his hand back and he looks up to see Remus glaring at him.

“Remus—“

“Save it.” Remus glances toward the door. “The others will be back in a moment anyway.”

Sure enough, Logan and Virgil bust through the broken door, their hands full. Logan immediately sweeps his gaze over Roman and kneels down, reaching out.

“May I touch you, Roman?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you.” Logan slots a hand gently behind Roman’s hand. “We’re going to try and get the blood off of you first, alright?”

“Mm.”

“This might sting,” Logan cautions, starting to rub an antiseptic towel down Roman’s arm, “my apologies.”

Virgil takes another one and carefully cleans Roman’s other arm, mindful of his broken finger. As they work, Patton reappears, holding a bottle of water and a glass of juice.

“Come on, kiddo,” he says softly, taking Logan’s place behind Roman’s head, “drink this for me?”

Roman manages a few sips of each.

“Good job, kiddo, there you go…” Patton glances down. “Does it seem to be stopping at all?”

As if it can hear him, the wound starts to bleed again.

“Oh, Roman…”

Logan glances between the wound and Janus, his brow furrowed.

Please, Logan, for once…don’t be so smart.

The way Logan’s eyes widen and narrow say that it’s too late.

“This one seems to be the origin,” Logan says instead, turning away, “all the others seem to stem from it.”

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “so what’s that one?”

Janus’s mouth runs dry as Logan turns to him expectantly.

“Well,” Remus growls, “go on.”

“I don’t—what if it just makes it worse?”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

“I didn’t—“

“Oh, shut up,” Remus cuts him off, “you knew. You knew.”

“Remus—“

“You wanna know how I know that?” Remus draws away from Roman just enough to clench his fists. “Because I found you after the wedding. You were all curled up on the floor and you were so upset.”

Roman stirs. “…Re…”

“And I asked you why, and you said it was because Roman made fun of your name,” Remus continues, “and I thought: ‘huh, that feels a little weird. Where have I heard that before?’”

Patton shrinks out of Remus’s line of sight.

“Then I remembered! The courtroom,” Remus continues, a manic smile on his face, “and your little plan to make sure Roman felt like he had no idea what was going on.”

“…J, what is he talking about?”

“Oh, he’s not going to tell you,” Remus says, “but I will.”

“Remus—“

“You said that you knew Roman,” Remus says, talking right over him, “and you knew that if you pushed him in the right direction, you’d be able to get him to listen to you easily.”

Even Logan pauses.

“Do you remember what you said, Janny?” Remus’s eyes bore into Janus’s mind. “Do you?”

“…Remus, please.”

Remus’s grin drops.

“You said,” he whispers, “that if you just fucked with his name, he’d be in the palm of your hand.”

And he was.

"Conveniently, everyone seems to have forgotten that. Forgotten what you did. Or they don't care."

Remus tightens his grip on Roman.

"But not me."

Guilt presses hot and thick against Janus’s throat. Unbidden, huge, fat tears start to form in his eyes as he stares at the wound on Roman’s gasping chest. Distantly, he thinks he can hear the others muttering but all he can think about is how much of this is a lie.

Roman isn’t the evil twin.

Roman isn’t Remus.

Roman isn’t stupid.

Roman isn’t worthless.

Roman isn’t a toy or a puppet or a tool.

Roman isn’t selfish or greedy or arrogant.

Roman is hurt and scared and Janus is so, so sorry.

He lets out a growl of his own and presses his hand hard to the wound.

Lie. Lie.

This is a lie.

Truth is hard and unyielding and painful but nothing is more painful than knowing that all of this is built on a lie.

Janus grits his teeth and concentrates, his hands trembling as he presses it against the wound, searching, searching for—

There.

He closes his fist around the lie and yanks, pulling the words and the hurt and the ache out of Roman’s chest in a bright flash.

When it’s gone, Roman’s chest is heaving, bruises still littering his torso, but the big wound is nowhere to be seen.

Panting, Janus clenches his fist until the lie shatters into pieces, the shard disappearing into harmless puffs of air.

He looks back.

Logan and Patton are staring at him open-mouthed. Virgil has his hands bunched up in his hoodie. Remus just stares at him, his face unreadable.

And Roman…

Roman looks up at him, panting too, but it doesn’t feel quite so wrong anymore.

“I can’t promise that this one won’t hurt you ever anymore,” he vows, “but I can promise that it will never have that much power again.”

Roman reaches out a hand. Janus lets him pull him closer.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

Janus huffs. “I can also promise that you’re not nearly as sorry as I am.”

They let their eyes fall closed as Janus’s hands steady Roman, landing lightly on his sides and just resting there. Roman tips forward and his forehead lands against Janus’s.

For a second, the room just breathes.

“Can we clean you up,” Janus whispers, “the rest of the way?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, Roman,” Logan says instantly, “what do you need?”

“Can I—wanna sleep.”

“I don’t think you’ve got a concussion, so that should be alright…” Logan glances at Patton. “Let’s have you drink a little more and then you can rest, hmm?”

“Okay.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Patton coaxes, “here we go…”

As Virgil and Logan set about cleaning again, Janus runs his hands slowly over every injury he can, plucking out what little lies there are and sending them away. He can tell by the weight of Remus’s stare on him that he’s not in the clear yet, but the way Roman starts to sag slowly makes it easier.

“Alright,” Logan murmurs after a while, “I think that’s all we can do.”

“…sleep?”

“Yes, Roman, you can sleep now. Would you like us to help you to your bed?”

Roman blinks, his hand reaching out for— “Re?”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“Re…” Roman mumbles sleepily as he all but collapses into Remus.

“…yeah I’m okay with that.”

Logan jerks his head towards Roman’s mattress. Together, they drag it down to the floor and help Remus get Roman onto it. Logan murmurs that he’s going to go put the first aid kit away, but that he’ll be right back. Patton gathers up the glasses and leaves with the same promise.

Virgil glances back and forth between Remus and Janus.

“…you guys remember that this is about what Roman needs, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay good.”

Virgil reaches out to brush a little of Roman’s hair out of his face.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

Logan and Patton reappear at the door and slot themselves in around the mattress. Remus looks at Janus.

Janus deliberately sits between Roman and the door, something he’s seen Remus do too many times.

Remus nods.

This conversation is far from over, but right now…

Right now, Roman mumbles sleepily and grabs onto Remus’s sleeve.

There is truly so much that they never see, isn’t there? Logan wasn’t wrong, the amount of Roman that’s never been on camera is truly staggering.

Janus has let that lie of omission cause too much damage for too long.

Right now, he’s got work to do.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @private-snippers @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know!

#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #lamp #dlamp #dlampr #roceit

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jeankirstein4ever · 4 years ago

Note

Hey I’d like an aot match up plz :)

Description: istj, 6w5, aries sun, sag moon, libra rising, and hogwarts house: I’ve gotten both ravenclaw and slytherin

I’m pretty introverted and kinda shy until I get comfortable with people. If I’m not comfortable with the person I will be absolutely silent. I do like to have fun with my friends and go out though, at least until my social battery is drained. When I’m upset I usually get over things pretty quickly and I don’t hold grudges unless someone does something super fucked up. I’ve only held two grudges in my life and they lasted for years. I’m super protective of people I love even though I suck at showing affection. My two main hobbies are reading and video editing. As for my sexuality I don’t have a label but I do have a male preference. Some traits I’d look for in a partner are funny, reliable, and charismatic. My love language is quality time and words of affirmation.

My physical description: I’m Mexican-American and pretty tan. I have brown eyes and brown curly hair. I don’t really have acne and i have thick arched eyebrows. My height is abt 5’5. I’m also plus size not super big but not thin either. Anyways tysm hopefully you get to answering this and I hope you have a great day <33

Aot Matchup

A/n I'm sorry this is so late

I match you with armin

You and Armin have a very stable relationship, from the moment you two started dating it was obvious that this would be the last relationship you would ever be in

Armin bought your engagement ring two weeks into your guy's relationship, eren and Mikasa had both said it was a pit preemptive but Armin was sure that you were the one

You and Armin regularly have picnics at the beach and on the beach that consists of you both laying on a picnic blanket, sprawled out reading your favorite books

On the days that your feeling drained he would run a bubble bath and burn some candles for you

Both of you have a rather busy schedule so little acts of service along with quality time mean the absolute world to the two of you

Armin tends to hyper fixate on certain things to a point of self-destruction, so when you come into his office with a blanket and a cup of tea, kindly telling him off for not taking care of himself, his heart MELTS

Before you moved in with each other you would fall asleep on the phone every single night.

He would refuse to go to bed until he was a hundred percent sure you had fallen asleep, the sound of your snores lulling him to sleep

When you did move in he was nervous as hell

Would you like his apartment? Was his room big enough? Did you like how he decorated?

All of his irrational fears were washed away the second you walked in and proceed to fawn over every possession of his

Mood board:

Playlist:

La Ve En Rose - Chloe Moriando

J’ai Deux Amours - Madeleine Peyroux

Always Afternoon - Medasin

Cloud 9 - Beach Bunny

Matilda - Alt - J

I wanna be yours - Artic Monkeys

Take A Slice - Glass Animals

Ophelia - Mumford and Sons

Like I need you - Keshi

Wedding vows:

My wife. You are going to be my wife, I still can't wrap my head around how I got to be this lucky. From the moment I met you I knew you were mine, just as I am yours. You continue to amaze me and leave me in awe because of how caring and kind, endlessly stunning you are. When I first met your parents they asked what my intentions were with their daughter, at the time I simply stated that I planned to love you and shower you with love until my dying day. Now I realize that while I still plan on all of that, the fact is I can't life without you in my life. My mind goes blank without you, your my stars and sea. My wind in rain. My everything, forever. I love you.

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catharrington · 4 years ago

Text

Strawberry Seeds and Love Potions. (T, 2.4K words)

@harringroveweekoflove day 2: LOVE POTION && MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURES. Also including: witch Robin, post season 3 recovering Billy, flustered but giving it his best Steve, and cat boys. Or cat men? No, cat boys.

***

The coffee mug clicked onto the table with an otherworldly menace. Steve’s brown eyes darted to it, then back up to Robin. He furrowed his brows in a question. But before he could open his mouth, she held up her hand.

“It’s not poison,” she explained.

“Could have fooled me, Robs,” Steve hissed.

“It’s called a potion, dingus. It’s going to help!” She pushed the cup farther down the bar. The diner around them was mostly closed, and Robin was the only waitress in the place. Her peach colored apron brought out the green of her wide, devious eyes.

“Potion... poison... that’s like one letter different,” Steve leaned back in his stool away from the mug.

“Wow, so you know how to spell. What other skills will you showcase, The Amazing Harrington?” Robin’s lips curled up in an evil grin, leaning her body over the bar to dig the insult farther.

Steve just scoffed. Putting his elbow up on the bar and shielding himself as he tried to get back to the open College text book he was supposed to be reading. All the words were rushing together in swirls of black and white. He pushed his thumb into his curved bottom lip to try and force himself to focus, chewed on the pad of it, but he could swear the mug was mocking him.

Could swear he could smell that strawberry pink liquid Robin had poured for him when he ordered a simple black coffee.

“Drink it,” Robin snapped.

“No,” Steve growled.

“Are you going to grow a backbone and actually confess then?” She quirked one brow up.

Her face was so condescending. So smug. Steve hated how much he knew that look, how it made him sort of fond for her.

“I mean,” he sighed. His walls crumbling in defeat. His fingers coming up to join in worrying his bottom lip. “I mean I might?”

“It’s been a year Steve. A year of following him around like a little stray kitten! A year of ‘Oh Billy, I’ll give you a ride!’ ‘Oh Billy, how was physical therapy?’ ‘Oh Billy, pay attention to me!’—“

“I get it, I get it!” Steve turned towards her again to motion with his hand to keep it down. Waving his wide palm around until Robin’s pursed face cracked into a giggle. “Just keep it down, would you?”

And he turns over his shoulder to survey the empty diner before he’s got enough courage to look at her again.

“Yeah, okay. I’ve got a fat, stupid crush on Billy. And I know that I’m the most embarrassing and dumb guy you know. But...,” he trails off. Eyes wandering back down to the coffee cup. “It’s not the same as Nancy Wheeler or even Tammy Thompson. So much can— no, so much has gone wrong. If I... confessed right now, It would just make everything too much for him.”

His fingers nervously tick across the mint green bar. Wishing like hell he could cross them in front of his chest and make a barrier.

Robin takes a step forward. Her own fingers an inch away from his. She twitches like she can’t make up her mind if she wants to grab them. Like someone worrying their bottom lip if they are going to pick the last slice of pie in the diner’s glass container. But she does, reaching out to lay her skinny fingers and their chipping black nail polish over his own.

“Dingus,” she starts lovingly, “you don’t know any of that.”

Steve scoffs, rolls his eyes like he’s going to turn away, but Robin holds his hand tightly.

“You don’t know if it’s too much for him, or what he wants. And you don’t,” Robin took a second before continuing, her breath hitching, “you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

Hawkins, Indiana is the poster town for unknown tomorrow’s. Steve knows way too well about that. The tunnels crawling with slime and vines that play host to the monsters of the world.

But Billy, he surely knows better than anyone. It’s been a whole year but noone’s going to ever forget what he did. What happened to him under the control of a creature called The Mind Flayer. How Billy used himself like a human shield and died to try to make up for it. Just to come back with an electric jolt to his tattered heart.

They had to stitch new lungs inside his chest. He called himself Zombie Boy now. Called the patchwork scars heavy metal.

Steve just smiled. Nodded his head as he watched Billy climb out the crumbled wreckage of his shell. Climb out a new man, a man Steve caught himself falling head over heels for.

“You’re right, Robs,” Steve exhales.

“Oh, what was that?” Robin giggled, leaning in to hear better.

Steve pushed her away by their joint hands. Wiggling his fingers afterwards as if cursed.

His breath quipped and held tight in his chest as he turned back to the coffee mug. It sat waiting for him. The light red liquid swimming with foam and black seeds at the top. As if no matter how long it sat, it was always freshly prepared.

Steve gripped the handle of the white mug hard. Thought about how quick Billy’s body hit the ground when he died. How quick it all felt to Steve who had to helplessly stand back and watch it all.

He lifted the mug to his lips and drank in desperate, greedy gulps.

And as he finished it and slammed the ceramic back down on the bar, he didn’t immediately feel different. His mouth felt strange, the red juice had a powdery after-taste and much more seeds than his gag reflex was expecting. But as he screwed up his face from the flavor, he didn’t feel changed. Or empowered. Or whatever Robin was trying out with this magic spell.

“I don’t—,” Steve started, but his voice stopped just as it started. His head pounded like a drum was beating right next to his ears.

Doubling over in his stool, he gripped at the sides of his head in a panic. His whole skull felt like it was vibrating. Shifting around even, his scalp moving at the top of his head as if something were to burst out.

Steve grabbed two fist fulls of his hair and groaned through the wave of pain. Burying his chin in his chest to try and stop the noises before they came. It was so painful, but somehow only lasted a second.

As sudden as it came, he felt fine again.

Steve jerked his head up to scream at Robin , when he noticed her eyes wandering to the top of his head.

He followed them with hesitant fingers, slowly running up his now messy head of quaffed brown locks under his fingertips brushed something new.

Giving an undignified yelp, he drew his hand backwards as if burnt. His eyes were wide and pleading with Robin. But she watched him right back with the same face. As if she didn’t make this, as if it wasn’t her poison potion that created this.

Steve timidly touched the new addition to his head again. This time he didn’t finch as his fingertips sank into hair that felt soft as fur. Following it up to a point, and then feeling as it curved inwards to softer peach fuzz.

He could feel something, as his fingers moved, he could feel them as easily as if he were touching the lobes of his ears.

Because he was touching his ears.

A quick glance to a dingy mirror hanging at the back of the bar confirmed it for him. There was a pretty pair of brown cat ears sprung from the top of his head.

“Robin,” he breathed. Unable to fully grasp how he felt. “What was that drink exactly?”

She blinked at him, gathering her thoughts before she cleared her throat. “It’s um, it’s supposed to be a charm. An aid, like-like an enhancer. It said it would bring out the traits that the person you craft the potion for desires the most.”

Then she stopped to laugh, her red lips caught between gaping open or turning up on the corners in a mocking laugh. “I didn’t— wow! I thought worst case scenario would be you’ll turn into an asshole like you were in high school. B-But this?”

Steve looked from her back to the mirror. Wrapping one hand around the pointed triangle of his ear. Pushing it down just to watch it perk back up again.

“I’m... I’m a cat boy?” Steve stutters out a gasping breath.

“Well, more like a cat man, really,” Robin tries to help. “Come on, you’re almost old enough to buy beer.”

“Really helpful, Robs, thanks so much for the curse and now the insults!” He shouts.

Holding up her hands in defense, her smile doesn’t drop. Even in her shoulders Steve can see she’s quivering with laugher.

He feels along the base of his new ears. How the fur is the same color and melts almost perfectly into his own silky hair. How it feels good, actually, to scratch his blunt nails there just like how a house cat would enjoy it.

“This isn’t some trait. Or some, something that Billy would find attractive in me.” Steve groans. “This is some freaky kink!”

Robin finally clasps her hand over her mouth to dam up the waterfall of laugher. It hits against her palm in a muffled, annoying, cruel noise. She shakes her head as if she wanted to argue but couldn’t get past how funny she found it.

“You must have mixed up the wrong stuff, Robin! Put the wrong magical thing in the mixture!” Steve tried to shake his head out to unstick his thoughts.

He runs his hands through his hair as he does when he gets flustered, and now his cat ears bend with the motion so they don’t get tugged on. Folding neatly onto his head before bouncing back up to attention.

It felt so weird, but somehow it didn’t feel very different at all. They acted as if they’ve always been there.

“Yeah, okay, that’s it,” Steve nodded to himself. “You gave me the wrong potion. It’s okay, it happens! Just whip up a new one that’s for reversing cat ears. That’s in your witch book right?”

Robin kept her hand over her mouth and kept shaking her head. She wasn’t replying to anything Steve said. And it was honestly making him more mad than the new ears on top of his head.

“Hey, is it really funny enough for all that?” he mused.

Then Steve looked back up at the mirror. He turned his head side to side to admire the way his ears moved with him. How they were his hair color on the outside then a flushed pink in the very middle. How there were strands of lighter brown between that and those reminded him of how highlighted his hair gets in the summer sun.

“I don’t know. I think they... I think they sort of suit me?” He shrugged.

Robin dropped her hands and her laugher was louder without it, but she managed to catch her breath to finally reply. “Oh, they suit you alright. You’re a natural at this stuff, Garfield.”

Steve furrowed his eye brows. Cat ears folding down on his head in defense. “I’m not orange,” he hissed back.

Robin opened her mouth with likely more insults and no actual help from the aspiring witch who caused all this mess, when she was interrupted. The bell above the entrance letting out a loud ding.

The front door, painted in matching mint green like the bar, swung open. And like he was summoned, like his ears were simply ringing so much from being talked about he hunted down the source, in walked Billy.

He was wearing a grey hoodie. One of many that he collected once he got discharged out of his hospital. This one Steve was familiar with, because it was his. Handed down with a coat and a couple other winter items as Steve feigned indifference over concern about Billy’s California blood staying warm. An old Hawkins High baseball league logo sitting right in the middle. It’s fading green and orange design still bright enough to make Steve’s breath catch in his throat.

“Hey, Harrington,” Billy greeted. He lifted his big, scarred hand to wipe the hood down from his head. Letting loose the wild mess of short curls that are regrowing on his head.

“Hey, Billy,” Steve croaked out. His voice was awkward. His face, he knew, must be blushing bright red.

He turned to seek help from Robin, but the swinging door that lead into the kitchen was rocking back and forth on its hinges. She must have run away as soon as Billy came in. And Steve was too busy watching his entrance to even notice.

Cursing under his breath, Steve racked his brain with an excuse. Some logical way to explain why he had sprouted two new fluffy ears off his head.

He felt like he was playing a pinball machine in his head. Flashing lights and jingling noises were going off. But nothing was coming to him. He couldn’t find any words to offer at all to Billy.

So he whipped his head to the side, watched as Billy stopped glancing around the empty diner to finally settle on Steve.

And he watches as Billy’s gorgeous, totally unfair pretty blue eyes lift to see the cat ears on his head.

“Woah, Harrington,” Billy exhales like he’s blowing a mouth full of cigarette smoke. “That’s really—,”

“I know, Billy, okay! It’s um, um?” Steve waves his hands around as if that can turn the wheels of his thinking some more. But he can’t think. Not well anyway, when Billy’s standing here looking so handsome, so warm, and so alive right in front of him.

“Yeah, okay, I can totally explain this—,”

Billy cuts him off with a soft chuckle. Just under his breath. Steve closes his mouth quick enough to make his teeth click.

“I don’t know, Steve. Ya don’t have to explain it. It’s kinda cute, actually,” Billy drawls out his words low and soft. And then smiles at him.

A second ticks by. Billy’s boots skid on the tile as he steps even closer. All the way until he’s right next to Steve. Grabbing the back of a stool right next to him.

And Billy hasn’t taken his eyes off Steve’s ears once. And he’s got a little sparkle in them like the first time Billy got a point over him during basket ball practice back in high school. And oh, oh.

“Cute?” Steve parrots back.

“Yeah, super cute,” Billy confesses.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #my fic #harringrove fanfic #steve/billy #harringrove moodboard #harringroveweekoflove #harringrove week of love #cat boy Steve #cat boys in my Harringrove week of love? it’s more likely than you think #my moodboards

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svnflowervol666 · 5 years ago

Text

Luna de Amor (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex

Author’s Note: A reupload as my original post did not make it to the tags. This is the first time I’ve ever posted a full smut scene on this blog, so, go me! Based on this ask. Smut usually takes me a while longer than other pieces, mostly due to the fact that I like my smut to be as thorough as possible, meaning I have to triple check everything about seven times. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Requests are still open, so send me whatever you’d like to see next, NSFW or otherwise! Take care and tpwk.

Before Y/N came along, there were many ways in which Harry would conquer the restlessness that crept up on him in the middle of the night. He would go for a run on the nearly desolate city streets, he would hunker down in his home studio and work on his latest song, he would read a few chapters in his current favorite french novel. There were dozens of outlets Harry had familiarized himself with to utilize for when the time came in which he just couldn’t manage to fall asleep despite knowing that he should. He was older now and staying up all night like he would as a teenager just wasn’t good for him in any capacity anymore.

All of these outlets, but they suddenly went out of the window when he met Y/N. She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with or even met before, but he supposed that’s how it always was when you were in love with someone. He swore he could stare at her features for forever, that she was more intoxicating than any substance or drink. But looking at her in the glimmering moonlight that shone through the cracked shades was not what put him to bed whenever that frustrating feeling of not being able to close his eyes and be at peace with himself came insidiously slithering into his head.

There something about the way her hair was mussed about her head like a halo around her pillow, or maybe it was the way that she was sleeping on her stomach so that the swell of her breast peaked through the comforter. Either way, Harry couldn’t help but feel his cock swelling in his boxers the longer he traced his eyes over the shape of her sleeping body next to his.

He slid his body over towards her, turning her and wrapping his arms around her body so that his front was flush with her backside. Warmth radiated from her sleeping form and Harry’s hands found their way to her breasts. Harry began kneading them softly in aim to draw her from her slumber, but the most he got from her was a shift in her bum on the mattress which caused Harry to hiss at the way she unknowingly ground herself against his cock.

His next attempt was to go for her neck. Harry always teased her for being so sensitive there but at the same time, there was nothing more that he loved than feeling her turn to putty in his hands when his lips roamed about the column of her throat. He started nipping at her skin with his lips, just barely meeting his skin with hers. Goosebumps raised in response to his touches as his kisses grew sloppier and sloppier. It was when he’d hit her sweet spot with his tongue that he heard the sound he’d been searching for. Harry swears he’s never heard anything more heavenly in his entire life, that soft, half-groan half-moan that fell from her parted lips. It brought his neediness to the forefront.

“Baby,” Harry grumbled against the crook of her neck, tickling her with his outgrown stubble.

Amidst her hazy state she was able to hum back at him, though it sounded once more like a broken moan.

“Need ya t’ wake up,” he hoarsely whispered as he began working himself against her backside, slowly but surely rutting his hips into the skin of her bum to ease some of the tension that had built up in his cock.

He couldn’t see the way the corners of her lips turned up knowingly. She was no stranger to this Harry, the Harry that woke her in the middle of the night with an itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch on his own. It was almost comical to her, the way that he’d do just about everything in the book besides coming right out and tell her that he was horny that he wanted a shag. Sometimes, she’d tease him and pretend to be asleep longer than she actually was before turning over and giving him what he wanted, but not tonight. Unbeknownst to Harry, he had stirred her from quite the dream, so there was no need to dance around the ledge this time.

With a sigh, she resituated herself in the bed, turning in Harry’s arms so that their faces sat mere inches from each other.

“Hi,” she sang through her sleep-ridden voice.

“Hi,” Harry repeated back to her in the same groggy tone.

“Need some help?” she quirked her brow and gestured downwards to the tent in his boxers.

“Maybe,” he answered with a sleepy chuckle.

She knocked him on his back so that she was straddling his waist and sitting on his painfully hard cock. He hissed at the commotion, but the feeling soon turned to euphoria when her hands snuck into the waistband of his boxers and she took his length in her fingers. It felt heavy in her grip as she smeared the silky beads of precum along his tip, coating him in preparation to make home within her tight, warm walls.

“I was dreamin’ about you,” she spoke lowly as she gently twisted her wrist around his cock, revelling in the way Harry’s brows were furrowing together in response to her touch.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “We were kinda like how we are now. But this is much better,” she finished with a tantilizing pump of her hand.

Harry’s hips jutted into her fist, wanting more than just her teasing touches. It almost made her laugh aloud, how needy he could be in the middle of the night like this. She wanted him just as much, only due to her still-drowsy state, she was able to control it.

She leaned down and laid her body flush with Harry’s as she kissed him for the first time since he’d woken her up. They tasted of the remnants of their minty toothpaste but mostly of morning breath, but that was the furthest thing from their minds. Harry held her close to him as his tongue slipped between her lips, aching to get her going as quickly as he could. His arms slid under the ratty t-shirt of his that she slept in so that he could lift it off of her frame, breaking the kiss for only a fraction of a second.

Once her chest was free of clothing, Harry ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and spine, chilling her skin with the metal of his many rings. He ducked his head down to kiss the center of her chest and then outwards to her wrap his plump lips around her erect nipples. Those velvety smooth sighs of hers turned into the moans that Harry adored oh-so dearly, and she began to feel the wetness from her core start to pool at the front of her panties. One of her hands was still lost in his untameable curls, but she was able to move the other down to grip his cock in her digits once more.

“Ye’ ready?” Harry asked, his hazy, hungry eyes peering up at her.

She nodded as she sank down slowly, splitting herself on top of him. Harry always swore that the way the wrinkle between her brows reared itself and her lips parted just slightly when she first felt his cock first enter her was by far his favorite face of hers. Well, his second favorite, apart from the face she made when she came, he supposed. He gripped onto her hips tightly as she lowered herself fully onto him, exhaling a sigh of relief when she made it all of the way down to the base of his cock.

They soon found their rhythm, her bouncing and rolling her hips against his while they chased their highs. Her early morning sensitivity caused her to melt in his arms with the way the tip of his cock was able to brush against all of her sweetest spots that made her eyes roll back into her head and a shiver run down her spine.

All that was heard in the otherwise silent room were sounds of wet skin meeting harshly each time she pushed herself back onto Harry. Their lips chased each other in between thrusts, eager to be as close to each other as they possibly could. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back and in the grooves of Harry’s stomach, the two of them yearning to reach the point to where they both saw stars.

Her bouncing soon turned to lazy, unmotivated rocking as she found herself almost physically unable of continuing. The tendons in her thighs were screaming for relief and the heat that surrounded her made her feel like she was trapped. She could feel herself right there, right on the brink of getting to where she needed to be, but she was frustrated beyond belief because knew she couldn’t get there alone.

“Harry,” she whine as she tugged on the ends of the chocolate curls on the nape of his neck.

He sensed her weariness, but he was waiting to see how long it would take her to beg for him to take control of the two of them.

“Ye’ gettin’ there?” he huffed in between each manual breath.

She raised her eyes from being buried in Harry’s neck to look at him.

“Please,” she moaned.

With one fluid motion, he had her flipped over onto her back and his cock plunged in her soaking cunt once more. She cried out at the new angle of Harry on top of her this time, watching his dainty, jade green cross necklace dangle inches away from her face.

“‘ve got ya, baby,” Harry muttered into her ear as he mouthed against her neck, “ye’ can let go.”

He continued to drill his cock into her heat, each time brushing against the spongey part of her walls that made her thighs shake and reflexively want to close. Harry caught wind of her trembling and forced her legs open with his one of his strong hands while the elbow of his other arm balanced his body on top of hers. Their stomachs brushed against each other with every thrust, only adding to the overwhelming sensations that they were both feeling.

“Ye’ so perfect. So good f’ me.”

Harry’s words of encouragement took her right back to where she was before, right at the brink of breaking. Her moans went up an octave and Harry could tell by the way she had started to clench around him that she wasn’t going to last much longer. He knew for certain that with the way that her cunt was so expertly gripping his cock that he wasn’t that far behind her.

“Ye’ gonna cum for me, lovie?”

She could barely make a sound, so she opted to grip Harry’s shoulders even harder than he was as her answer. This made Harry smile and only pushed him to fuck her harder, even deeper so his hips would certainly leave light purple bruises on hers come morning.

Her release sprung onto her quickly, so quickly that it caught Harry off guard and forced his own release out of him as well. His milky seed shot deep into her, painting her walls and filling her up so thoroughly that it seeped out from around his cock and onto the satin sheets. They both laid there for a moment, Harry laying his full weight on top of her while they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeats. She twiddled with the clasp of Harry’s necklace while he pecked at her sweat-slick breast with his lips.

Once they’d caught their breathe, Harry reluctantly pulled his cock from her cunt, making her wince as the sudden emptiness. He watched with a fascinated expression as his cum ran from her properly swollen center before reaching across the bed for the shirt he’d pulled off of her body a while back. With caring hands, Harry cleaned the two of them up, tossing the soiled garment somewhere off into the floor to be dealt with another time.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled into her skin as he crawled back into the covers with her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Anytime,” she laughed, still somewhat out of breath.

“But will you please go to sleep now? You have an interview in the morning and you only wake me up for sex when you can’t sleep so I’m assuming you’ve been awake this whole time,” she sounded like a parent talking to Harry, which he adored.

She felt Harry’s laugh reverberate off her chest and shake her body, to which he then promised her he’d be good and go to bed.

All of those outlets, taking walks and writing songs, but none of them compared to this one.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #442

“the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right?”

Would you ever sell your soul? No. Do you believe that something is going to happen in 2012? Welp, clearly not. I never believed it. Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon? No, but I'd love to! When was the last time you slept in someone else’s bed? Uhhh not since I visited Sara, I think. Do you like your music loud or at a reasonable level? Loud, for sure. Louder than I should listen to. Did the last person you kiss have a tattoo? No. What’s the last song you heard? "The Bird and the Worm" by The Used. Has anyone told you they missed you lately? No. What are you most likely to do when you’re exhausted; take a nap, drink some coffee, or go for a run to get yourself pumped up again? Naps definitely win. What are you most likely to pick if you got to choose your topic on a research paper; drug abuse, mental illness, or the death penalty? Mental illness, for sure. What is your favorite month of the year and why? October, bc aesthetic. What’s your least favorite animal? Probably wasps. They're mean fuckers that kill bees. What was your class song when you graduated? Some super shitty country song. Have you ever had to spend the night outside (not camping)? No. What`s the scariest living animal that you`ve petted? A tarantula, I'd say. She was a sweet rose hair that I literally did pet, which you absolutely should not do to tarantulas, but I knew nothing about them at the time. The urticating hairs on their abdomens cause serious itching, and I tell ya, that sure happened. So did you play old school Nintendo or Atari or Sega? If so which one? We had an old Atari for a long time. When/where did you meet your first love? In the hallway, during my sophomore year of high school. Is there anyone you dislike, that you have to see/speak to regularly? Hm, what qualifies as "regularly," really? I don't like my sister's husband, who I see semi-regularly, but I don't really talk to him. Does your family eat any unique foods for Thanksgiving that aren’t the norm? If so, what are they? Nah, not that I can think of. If you eat oatmeal, do you add water or milk to it? What is your favorite flavor? Milk; I don't like it with water. I only eat the apples and cinnamon kind. Was the last video you watched on YouTube a music video? If not, what was it of? It's a let's play. Have you ever been brave enough to cut your hair in a very different way? If you have, did you regret your decision after? Yes, and I still love it. What was the last book you had to read for school? Did you enjoy it, or were you just trying to get through? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. I loved it. Has anyone you know personally ever won the lottery? If so, how much did they win? Would/have you ever play(ed) the lottery? No to both questions. I have a very addictive personality, so I don't really mess with dangerous things that might tempt that behavior. What band/celebrity/etc. do you know the most information about? Who would you like to learn more about? Markiplier, ha ha. As for who I'd like to know more about... hm. Have your friends met the last person you kissed? Girt has. Who has made the biggest difference in your life? Jason. You get a text from someone saying that they want to hang out - who would you most like it to be from? Also Jason. -_- What is the name on your birth certificate (feel free to withhold your last name for privacy reasons)? Brittany Marie is all you need to know. Even if shopping isn’t your favorite... every girl has a favorite store. What’s yours? My favorite physical store is Hot Topic, but my favorite store overall is Rebel's Market, which I'm pretty sure is just an online source. Which type of undies do you wear most: Thongs, bikini/briefs, bootyshorts, or granny panties? Don't you dare laugh, I prefer "granny panties" lmfao. They're what I'm comfortable in, okay. How many nail polishes do you have, if you were to take a guess? *I* have none. Idk about Mom, but I know not a lot. Are you on birth control? Do you use condoms? I use birth control to regulate my period and ease cramps. If I was sexually active though, both would be musts for me. When did you start your period? How did you react? Who did you tell first? When I got home from school sometime in middle school. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I was EXTREMELY upset. Like, I cried, because I didn't feel like a kid anymore. My mom was the first to know. Have you ever had sex while on your period? If so, would you ever do it again? NO NO NO NO THAT SOUNDS SO GROSS LKASDFJ;AJW;LKERJA;WEJLRKQWLKE;JR. Which way do you swing (boys, girls, or both)? I'm bi. Or pan. I really don't know. Tell me ALL about your longest/most serious relationship. Are you still in that relationship? How about I don't, because doing that I'm sure will send me in a PTSD spiral. No, we're no longer together. Who is your ALL TIME best friend (don’t count your boyfriend, either, silly!)? Sara. I don't think I've been as close with any other best friend. Which one of your friends has the best singing voice? SARAAAAAAAAAAA. What shade are you in foundation or concealer? I don't have a clue. I don't wear either. Have you ever showered with someone? Boy or girl? Were you completely naked? "Were you completely naked." No, I shower with underwear on. I've showered with my little sister as well as my best friend as a kid. I've never shared a shower as an adult and don't want to. Do you think you’re good enough for the person you like? No. Are you a cuddler or no? If I'm really into you, YUP. And if it's not hot. Wouldn’t it be kinda annoying to have to share a bed every night? No. I miss it sometimes. Have you ever walked on a beach at night? Yes. It's beautiful. Could you go the rest of your life without drinking alcohol? Pretty easily, yeah. Would you marry someone you didn’t love if you were paid 10 thousand dollars? No. I just wouldn't be able to stomach doing that. I'm solely marrying for love. Have you had sex today? I haven't in many years. Do you still care about your last ex? Very very much! Do you own more then one bathing suit? Nope. Is there any alcohol in the fridge? Yeah, but none I like. Who have you recently made up with after fighting? Nobody. Who do you WANT to make up with? Jason. Megan. Do you get scared easily? Hm. It really depends on the situation. Have you seen UP? Never the full movie, actually. I need to. How many coats of mascara do you use? I use it so rarely that I barely know. Two, maybe? What’s your favorite bracelet? The one Sara gave me. I used to always wear it, but it's worn down with time and is too loose for me now, so it's just with my jewelry. What color hair does your mom have? It's naturally gray now, but she dyes it black. Favorite song to listen to when you are mad? "Headache" by Motionless In White does it. What restaurant would you want to work at? NONE. I ain't working with hungry people. I don't want to work with people - period. When people ask “how are you?” do you say “good” even if you aren’t? Depends on who's asking. If it's a stranger or someone I barely know, odds are I'm just going to reply with "fine" or something like that. Were you honestly a good kid? Yes. Is anything wrong with your eyes? I have to wear glasses, so. Have you kissed or hugged anyone today? No. What is your mom’s and dad’s favorite TV show? I don't really know for either. Mom watches loads of shows, and I don't live with Dad, so. I know he really likes The Big Bang Theory, though, which Mom also loves. Have you ever suspected your mom or dad of having an affair? No, but ~supposedly~, Dad did with his now-wife. I don't know what the fuck is true between my parents, though. Do you think buying second hand clothes is gross? It depends on the type of clothing (ex., used underwear is a huge fucking no), as well as the state it's in. Does it gross you out when your parents kiss? They're divorced. That would be incredibly weird, uncomfortable, and impossible with how I know at least Mom feels towards Dad. Do you have a playlist made on YouTube? Yeah, multiple. Do you like dollar stores? I mean, sure? They have good deals occasionally and are a good option to stop for a quick snack or something. Mom doesn't actually *shop* in them, though. What’s the last thing you bought from one? I think a honeybun. Do you think it’s weird how babies are made? Well, yeah. Science can be crazy, though. Have you ever lost a friend over the opposite sex? No. Are you comfortable in a short skirt? I wouldn't be comfortable in ANY skirt. Do you and your family go on a vacation ever year? We essentially never do. Vacations cost money. We don't have money to spare. When you were going out with your last ex and you had the chance to date your celebrity crush, would you have left your bf/gf for them? No, because it's not like I know him personally, while I know her very deeply. Who was your most romantic moment with? Jason. Do you sweat easily? Like you wouldn't BELIEVE. A side effect of one (or even multiple) of my meds is hyperhidrosis, so I can sweat an ocean in two minutes, it seems. It's disgusting, and I am so self-conscious about it. What’s one memory you wish would just vanish? Just a specific moment with Jason that is particularly agonizing to recall. Are you in love with someone? No. Partying or watching a movie? Partying isn't my thing. I'd have more fun watching a movie with friends. What pisses you off the most? Child molesters/rapists, probably. Where do you want to be at a year from now? I just want a job by then, dude. I also hope I've lost a lot of weight. Do you like pickles? Only dill pickles. If you saw someone broken down on the side of the road, would you stop to help? Honestly, no. I don't trust people. What do you do with your plastic grocery bags after you unload your things? We put our plastic bags into one big bag for later use. Have you ever slept in a water bed? Yes. How often do you use Flickr? I don't. I only ever check my friend's for meerkat photos, ha ha. Share three nice memories you have of the person you fell hardest for. No, unless you want me to cry. Have you ever made any of your friends cry? Not deliberately of course, but yes. Do you look decent in your most recent photograph? God no, I look high. Out of all the guys you know, who would you trust to not cheat on you? Girt. I know he never would, especially because HE'S been cheated on. How do you plan on disciplining your children? NOT by physical means, I can tell you that much. If I actually had kids, I'd teach them through (hopefully) primarily deeply talking things out. If need be, there'd be time out, grounding, things like that. I do NOT support methods like spanking your kid, so that's a big no. If you could live in another country, would you? What country? Yes; Canada. If you could change your name, what would you change it to? Quinn, probably. What’s one health problem you wish you didn’t have? It's a tie between depression and anxiety. What is your cure for hiccups? NOTHING works for me. It's the worst. Did you ever do anything in class that annoyed other students? I mean, I don't think so. Have you used a Ouija board and had a freaky experience with it? I've never messed with one, and I don't want to. I don't know if I believe in their supernatural abilities or not, but I ain't fuckin around and finding out. Do you stick with a political party, or vote for who you like best? I pick based on their policies and morals, not necessarily their party. Do you know anyone who is an albino? No. Word search or crossword puzzle? Word searches. When you watch a game show, do you like to see people win or lose? Aw, who wants to see them lose? It's great to see people win and be so excited. Do you have a pair of fake redneck, vampire, etc. teeth? No. What is your favorite Pixar film? Finding Nemo. Do you get really mad when you lose a game? Not at all. I'm not very competitive, and games are about having fun. When was the last time you used a pay phone? I actually don't think I ever have. Who did you have your most amazing kiss with? Jason. Do you go to church every Sunday? I never go to church as I'm not religious. If you had to get famous for one of the following, which would you choose: music, acting, writing, modeling? Writing. What do you think of girls with huge boobs that don’t wear bras in public? Who the fuck cares. If they're comfortable and at least have a shirt on, let 'em. Most women have breasts, big whoop. Do you even like politics? God no. What’s it like at raves? Oh god, I'd never go. Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? lol yes

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''self esteem'' by the offspring

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light-of-valentia · 5 years ago

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Boys’ Snuggling Headcanons

ok so for whatever reasons my writing is blowing up now, so i’m gonna take advantage of that and write some probably shitty headcanons right now n post em!!! i’m gonna write these for ALL the student boys too, not just golden deer! i got admin lil right next to me so we talkin these over and writin em together- admin belle

adding this cut bc this is gonna be REALLY long and i dont wanna eat up yall’s dashes kdfhgjdfghlkh, no nsfw content or spoilers though

Black Eagles

Hubert von Vestra

Not super big on cuddling most of the time, as physical affection isn’t his best love language

He has really clammy hands and while he isn’t self-conscious per se, he knows he wouldn’t want to be subjected to such clamminess himself

Likes to slip an arm around his your waist

Doesn’t like to face his partner while cuddling

Holds himself close to his partner’s body while they fall asleep

He will absolutely play with your hair once you are asleep though

Ferdinand von Aegir

Affectionate both in public and private, but more so in private

“A true noble would always shower his dearest in affection”

If you’re ok with it, he would love subtle cuddles in public, like slipping his arm around you if you’re near him or “stretching” to sling his arm over your shoulders to pull you closer

Prefers to be a big spoon, but if you really wanted to be the big spoon, he would 100% let you

He is touch-starved please snuggle him

Likes to run his fingers through your hair and ramble about how amazing you are, how he loves you, etc.

Caspar von Bergliez

He HAS to be the big spoon

Even if you’re much taller or larger than him, he thrives off of feeling like he is protecting you

He loves it when s/o lays their head on his chest

Thrives off of nuzzling his face into the crook of his partner’s neck

Loves to hug his partner tight and close to him, like he’s never gonna let go

If you or he had a bad day, expect cuddles the minute you two get a chance

Cuddles happen on his bed because then when his you is gone, it still smells like you

Linhardt von Hevring

Sleepy boy loves snuggling, but you’ll never hear him say it

Reason?? He’s never awake long enough to realize

If you two are on a couch or bed and he’s drowsy, he’ll just use you as a pillow

He’s like a koala he’ll just latch on

Loves being the little spoon but, again, won’t admit it

Likes to face you and run his fingers through your hair

The pillow he lost on campus was because of him using “I lost my pillow” as an excuse to use you for one

Blue Lions

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

He is so cuddly oh my god

Physical contact from you is just so healing to him he is so touch starved PLEASE cuddle him

He will totally walk around with you in his coat like a bat with his wings folded around you, hugging you to his torso

He is super shy, but also very clingy, so this is how he gets his necessary dose of you during the day when you aren’t alone

If he had a rough day or he is being bothered by memories from his past, he will come into your room crying and that’s how you know it’s snuggle time

Absolutely loves being the little spoon but he will never admit this to you

Depending on his mood, sometimes he just likes to curl up around you and hold you tight, and other times he just likes to bury his face in your chest as refuge from the world

Also reeeally loves to face you when cuddling

He really likes to lay on your chest and feel your heartbeat

This boy just loves to snuggle so much, the physical contact and closeness just puts him at ease

If you let him, he will cling to you like a stuffed animal while you both fall asleep

Sorry his are so much longer than the other ones- baby boy has been through a lot and he really needs his snuggles

Dedue Molinaro

Not super cuddly by nature, but if you’re into it, he’ll absolutely do it with you

He is like a human furnace, so cuddles with him can be with or without blankets

Faerghus winters too cold for comfort? Call in Dedue and you two will warm up with couch snuggles, hot tea, and books

He always smells like nice spices from whatever he last cooked

It’s usually you who initiates cuddle sessions, though he sometimes will when he is particularly exhausted

He doesn’t get too reachy and ansty with snuggling- he likes to use it to calm down both physically and mentally

Likes to fall asleep with a hand or finger over yours

Ashe Ubert

Lowkey extremely cuddly, but not as dramatic about it as Dimitri

He loves to be the big spoon; he has always been fiercely protective of the ones he loves, having had to provide for his siblings from a very young age, and this definitely shows in his desire to protect you

However, if you want to be the big spoon, he usually won’t object. He tries to be manly and dominant, but sometimes, he can’t help but find himself as putty in your hands

He l o v e s to snuggle you up from behind and nuzzle his face into your hair- the smell of it is heavenly to him

He doesn’t really care if you’re dirty or freshly-bathed, the smell of you and especially your hair is so comforting to him

Loves to hold you tight and run his fingers through your hair or massage your body

After a long day, Ashe likes to lay down with you, your legs and bodies all tangled up together, and just gaze into your eyes

The look he always gives you when you’re snuggling is absolutely radiating with love

Having you asleep in his arms is like the goddesses’ gift to him, and he just likes to pet your hair and comb it, give you little butterfly kisses wherever he can, and administer all sorts of innocent little gifts of affection

Sylvain Jose Gautier

Snuggles with him tend to be either very playful or emotional depending on how he feels

Some days, he just likes to cling to you and massage wherever his hands wind up and gush to you about how lucky he is to have someone who loves him for himself and not his title or crest

Likes to tickle you sometimes, and use your giggling moments of vulnerability to get himself closer to you

If you have longer hair, snuggling Sylvain means he’s gonna end up playing with it

You will have conversations while snuggling and Sylvain will just be twirling little strands of your hair and sometimes even braiding it

Loves falling asleep on your chest, feeling your heartbeat and knowing that you’re real and you really do love him

Felix Hugo Fraldarius

He really likes to feel warm, and he gets his warms from snuggling you

This never happens in public though, always behind closed doors

The first few times you snuggle, he refuses to face you because his face in full blush and he can’t let you see it oh no

Lowkey loves the smell of your hair and how soft your skin is

Likes to ghost his fingers through your hair and nuzzle into your neck

On the rarer occasion, he will be whispering sweet nothings and just snuggling you and clinging to you and humming

He tries to make himself the big spoon, but if you play your cards right, he is putty in your hands

Golden Deer

Claude von Riegan

Likes to start off snuggle sessions with some teasing, but if they don’t escalate into makeout sessions, he likes to enjoy a relatively peaceful silence with you

He likes to do little things in private to get your attention for some snuggles, like pinch your side or tug your wrist lightly

He doesn’t mind maintaining physical closeness with you in public either, though

He absolutely will pull you towards him by the waist, give you a kiss, and snuggle up to you for a hot minute in public, and he really does not care who is watching unless you do

He loves facing you and peppering your face, neck, and collarbone with soft little kisses

Big spoon. Rarely lets you be the big spoon, and when he does, he is such a tease about it

He likes to rub little circles into your lower back and waist

Loves holding you up close to him, chests flushed together, his head resting on top of yours

He really likes it when you tousle his curls and brush through them with your fingers

If you have a developed chest, he has no shame in using your breasts as pillows

Likes it when you fall asleep on top of him

He isn’t clingy per se, but he is like a magnet to you and he enjoys having a physical closeness to you

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester

He tries to upkeep his chivalrous noble attitude while snuggling, but after a little while, he drops the act and just tries to enjoy the moment

Loves to converse with you while your bodies are tangled together

When he’s stressed, he loves it when you give him little back massages

If you’ve recently bathed, he lo o o ves the smell of you all fresh and clean while you snuggle

Sometimes, he fills idle air with praise of you, but other times, he just likes to savor silence

Snuggling with him usually only happens in private, since he gets very flustered with PDA that is not initiated by him

Raphael Kirsten

Big boy like to hug

He is generally super warm, but his hands and feet can be cold

His hair is v e r y soft and he likes when you ruffle through it

He likes to lay down with you and hug you to his chest

Alternatively, he doesn’t mind a bit when you just sprawl over him and use his muscular torso as a pillow

He likes the thought of long snuggle sessions with you, but he tends to fall asleep early on

Ignatz Victor

He likes to be very gentle whilst cuddling you

Prefers to face you so that he can take in and admire how amazing your features are, you’re like a muse to him

Massages? Massages.

Likes to spritz whatever couch or bed you’re using with rose or lavender oil for a nice added aesthetic to relax in

Snuggling is very sensually relaxing to him, and he loves to brush through your hair, take in your scent, and soak up everything you have to offer

Likes to be the big spoon, since it gives him an opportunity to show how much he appreciates you, but doesn’t object to being the little spoon

Glasses usually come off whilst snuggling so he doesn’t break them, but if you are both being still, he will put them back on so that he can appreciate how beautiful/handsome you are

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pandoraimperatrix · 5 years ago

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Silver Line

Do I bring any of the prompts you sent me? No.

But only because I thought no one would send me anything so I started writing this immediately after I wrote that post oops XD

Thank you all so much of the prompts, I’ll try to come up with something for each of them, but you will have to be patient with me <3 My requests are always open by the way! But enough babbling.

DickKory | Hurt/comfort, fluff, post season 2 | 2k | read on AO3

Dick woke up by the sound of something crashing in the kitchen. He sighed. Rose and Hank had trouble sleeping and would raid the fridge at odd times, Dick was not happy with that habit of theirs, but if everything was clean by morning, fine by him. He was trying to play cool lately. By his own personal experience, too much discipline caused more harm than good. He turned in the bed, trying to seek his fleeting sleep when he heard another crash. Jesus. What the hell they were doing? Dick got up, found Conner in the corridor. Sleepy eyes, he was not a night person.

“I think Kory needs help.” The boy said to Dick.

Dick frowned.

“Kory?”

Conner yawned.

“It’s her heartbeat.”

“Thanks buddy, go back to sleep.”

If it was any other hour of the day Dick was sure that Conner would have insisted to go with him, the boy absolutely adored Kory to the point of being a little clingy, but as soon as Dick said the word “sleep” his eyes closed and the floated back to bed. Dick would have chuckled wasn’t for the worry brewing in his stomach.

He walked stealthily to the kitchen, and first observed, Kory was on her knees, picking up shards of scattered glass and cursing under her breath. She didn’t look hurt, there was no blood, so that was a relief. But Kory was as much of a night person as Conner, and there was an open tequila bottle on the counter.

“Kory?”

She stood up immediately, turning to look at him, she pushed a piece of burgundy hair away from her face, and gave him a large smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey. I hope you weren’t very attached to a couple of glasses. It seems I’ve got a case of sloppy hands.”

He narrowed his eyes, far from being convinced.

“You’ve got sloppy hands?”

For a moment her smile cracked, and there was anger in her eyes, but it didn’t last. Kory reapplied her smile.

Dick sighed and, despite himself, pulled off from the kiss.

“Yeah. So clumsy.” She said in a mocking tone as she approached him, Dick swallowed hard as her green eyes darkened. One of her hands stroked his naked chest, first with her nails easing her palm to his skin, the other hand went to his hip and before he could fight the mist that covered him brain whenever she was that close, she was kissing him.

Kissing Kory was always almost too much, the powerful intoxicating sensation taking all his senses at the same time, her smell, the taste of her lips, the feverish warmth of her skin, she was outworldly and her kiss was as such.

“No.” He managed, but there was practically no distance between them, Kory’s eyes were still closed, she had a pained expression on her face.

“What?” She asked weakly.

Dick held her in place by her forearms, stroking her smooth dark skin with his thumbs.

“You are hurting. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why.” He coaxed her softly.

She let out a dark humourless chuckle, but leaned in, resting her forehead against his.

“Funny hearing that from you.” Despite her attempt of humour, her voice sounded tight, breaking Dick’s heart. He kissed her forehead.

“I know. I’m surprised too.”

She kissed him again, and one more time, it was too hard for Dick to resist. This kiss was more urgent. She parted his mouth in almost a forceful way, licking his lips sensually, and the hand on his chest slid to the back of his head, pulling the roots of his hair, Dick pressed her body against the counter, forgetting about the glass shards but luckily not stepping on any of them. Kory moaned softly and Dick rose his hands to her face, but noticing wetness under his thumbs, he stopped the kiss again. She tried to seek his lips to reconnect, but he refused.

“Talk to me.” He pleaded.

“Can’t we just have sex?”

“I’m sorry, Kory.”

She sighed and untangled herself from him. The pain of her depart stinging almost physically.

“Fine. Goodnight, Dick.”

“Kory. Please. I want to help.”

She gave him the saddest smile.

“You can’t.”

“Let me try.”

“This isn’t something you can fix, Dick.” She said in an annoyed tone, but Dick saw it as a positive signal. One, she hadn’t left; two, she was still talking. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Of course it has. If it’s affecting you so deeply. I care about you Kory. I know we’re not using any labels, but it doesn’t matter how we call each other. I care about you.” He repeated. “You know that.”

She just looked at him for the longest of the times, a pained expression in her face, holding her arms around herself so tightly.

“It’s my powers. I don’t think they are coming back anytime soon.”

That raised his eyebrows. He had tried to touch the subject of her powers before, but she had always refused to engage in that topic of conversation.

“Oh… You know why?”

“Yeah…” She trailed off.

Dick walked around the shards on the floor and scooped a new couple of glasses from the shelf, he poured the tequila in them and handed one to Kory. She gave him a smitten smile when she accepted her glass and drunk it all in one go, crushing her entire face and then relaxing, looking more like herself.

“Tell me.”

“That’s your plan? Getting me drunk so I will talk to you?”

“I just took a page from your book.”

She chuckled, the glint of her eyes coming back.

“If I do recall that night, I didn’t get you into talking.”

“Oh, I remember talking. I said your name plenty of times.”

This time he got an actual laugh, but his heart faltered a bit when she passed him by, but soon he noticed that she was not running away, just moving to the sofa, where she sat with her long legs folded beneath her, bottle of tequila in hand. Dick followed her sitting by her side, his hand itching to touch her thigh, but he stopped himself, touching Kory was something very difficult to stop.

“So, what you want to know?”

About her? Everything.

“Your powers. Why you say they are not coming back?”

“You see… My people, tamaraneans, we are very different from you. Not because we can fly and-“

“You can fly?!”

“Yes. Well, now I can’t. But I should be able to. As I was saying, it isn’t exactly our so called powers that make us different. But the way we work as people. Here on Earth you think that denying your feelings is strength, in Tamaran it’s the opposite. Denying ones feeling’s is cowardice, it makes you weak, and that is what I am now, weak.”

“Kory… I don’t think I can grasp it completely, but you have always been so open… What you say makes sense.”

“What I meant is that my powers and my feelings are connected. I think I couldn’t fly before because I didn’t know who I was, and after that the whole issue with Rachel… I have to feel joy to lift and I couldn’t feel it properly knowing I almost killed her.”

“But there is more, there’s something you are not talking to me. There is something to do with those loose ends, doesn’t it?”

She gave him a fond smile and took a sip of the tequila, handing the bottle to him. He raised her his still full cup wishing he had already been done with it so he could touch her fingers and drink from where her lips had been, but he wanted a clean mind for that conversation, and Kory’s presence was compromising enough.

“Always the detective, you don’t forget anything, do you?”

He just gave her a half smile and waited.

“Yes. That was what I meant. Dick, there is no way to say it easily… but in my planet I’m royal.”

“Royal?” He reapeated.

“My father and mother, Myand’r and Luand’r they were the King of Queen of Tamaran. I was… I am their second daughter.”

“So… You are a princess.”

She smiled, this time it reached her eyes, filling them with mirth and something else that Dick couldn’t decipher.

“You are taking this surprisingly well. I thought it would be more shocking.”

He chuckled and decided to take a sip of his glass.

“Oh it is shocking. I’m not lying, I’m surprised. But it also makes a lot of sense.”

“How come?”

“Oh no Kory, don’t think you will divert me like that.”

“I would never!” But she was looking amused.

“Come on, your highness, finish your story.”

“Don’t you dare calling me that again.” She gave him a mock-annoyed glare before lowering her eyes and looking sad again. “My parents are dead. At least that's what she told me, my sister. She is a-“ Dick didn’t understand what she said after because out of Kory’s lips came a string of what clearly were angry insults – angry enough her eyes changed colours and the tips of her hair sizzled – in a language he never heard before.

“So… You have a difficult relationship with your sister, I gather.”

“She killed them.”

Emotion left Dick’s face for a moment.

Kory avoided his eyes and sniffled, taking another sip of the tequila. But when she was taking the second sip, Dick pulled the bottle from her hands dropping it on the fluffy carpet. He slid closer to her, forgetting all the resolve to not touch her, he was so close that she was almost on his lap, he held her strongly as she sobbed against his chest.

“My strength, my fire they come from pride, from anger and I can’t…” She said against his chest, her worlds sounded muffled trapped between them. “I can’t feel strongly anymore because of this sadness this melancholy it muddles all my feelings together.”

“Oh Kory…”

“And I feel so useless. I can’t go home, she blew up my ship. I can’t help you, because my powers are gone. And I miss Donna like crazy, she just died like that and I did nothing. I only thank X’Hal that Rachel is not here because I couldn’t bear if she had to see this mess I made of myself.”

“Hey, hey… You are not useless. Not in the least. You are always putting out fires and being the calm reasonable voice here, always taking up responsibly and if I knew all of this before I wouldn’t be let them overwhelm you so much with problems that next to yours seem so stupid.”

“Dick…”

“I’m actually see now how much of a selfish prick I have been to not notice all of that was happening with you.”

“It’s not your fault. I was gone and I never told you anything, and you had so much on your plate too.”

“It’s not an excuse. Kory… I have no idea of how we can solve your problems with you sister. I may find a way to get us a spaceship but I don’t know what would await us. So I think the more urgent issue are your feelings and that’s really a new field for me, I come of a family or emotionally repressed bachelors and snobbish emotionally distant butlers.”

“Hey… Calm down. That’s why I didn’t want to talk to you. Dick, those problems are not yours, there is no us, those problems are mine. You have no obligation to take responsibility.”

He pushed her hair away from her face, but looked a little bit hurt by her words.

“I told you before. I care about you. And I will do everything I can to help you.”

She just looked at him, that wonderful man, always trying so hard. Kory kissed him again, this time chaste, but far from being soft, just a firm touch of lips, but so emotionally charged she could feel the electricity, her heart beating faster.

She finally broke the kiss resting her forehead against his. In a practical way, nothing had changed. Her sister was still a sadistic murderer, her powers were still gone, her best friend still dead, and yet she felt something fluttering inside her, something that felt like hope. That was Dick Grayson’s superpower. He somehow always made it feels like there was a silver lining, even in the more impossible situations.

“Come to bed with me?” He asked softly.

She opened her eyes, his were still closed.

“Yes.”

She looked as his smile appeared first, and then his eyes opened slowly. Kory threw her arms around his neck capturing his lips, and Dick rose from the sofa with her, who suspiciously felt lighter as he carried her to his room.

--------------------------------

I know there are other stories in this theme, probably better than mine, but I was in need of some good old hurt and comfort and I missed DickKory like crazy after spending so much time with BatCat (that I love so much too). So have at it.

#dickkory #nightwing #starfire #dick grayson #kory anders #koriand'r #dcu titans #teen titans #my fic

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princessanneftw · 5 years ago

Text

Livestream the summer solstice: my big survival plan for English Heritage

The charity is set to lose as much as £70 million this year, but its chairman, Princess Anne’s husband, Tim Laurence, won’t be beaten, he tells Richard Morrison of The Times.

Watching the sun rise at Stonehenge on the summer solstice, seeing those ancient stones perfectly aligned to the first rays of dawn; that has to be one of the world’s most magical heritage experiences. In any normal year more than 20,000 people, not all of them card-carrying druids, would gather to see it.

There’s nothing normal, though, about this year. On June 21 the 4,500-year-old monument will be deserted — by government decree. Instead, English Heritage (EH) will live-stream sunrise at Stonehenge. In the words of Tim Laurence, EH’s chairman, it will be a “self-isolating solstice”. And he’s doing his best to put a brave face on it. “For once the stones will be totally peaceful,” he says. “And nobody has to get up at 3am and get very cold.”

True, but if any one event symbolised how much coronavirus has wrecked Britain’s cultural calendar, this “self-isolating solstice” is surely it. That must be particularly painful for Laurence. Just turned 65, he had a highly successful career in the Royal Navy, where he ended up as a vice-admiral. And by the royal family’s eventful standards he enjoys a remarkably untroubled private life as Princess Anne’s husband. He took on EH in 2015 with instructions from government to wean it off public subsidy (which is being tapered down from £15.6 million a year in 2016 to nothing by 2023) and turn it into a self-supporting charity. And until two months ago he seemed to be steering his sprawling new ship very well.

“We’d had five terrific years,” he says. “We now have over a million members. Last year we had 6.4 million visits to our 420-odd sites. And from starting off in a negative financial position when we took the charity on, we had built up a financial reserve. So we were able to invest in some brilliant projects. We spent £3.6 million restoring Iron Bridge in Shropshire, which now looks fantastic and is secure for another century — despite all the terrible flooding on the Severn — and £5 million to build the new bridge to Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, which provides a much better visitor experience.”

Then the pandemic struck. Along with every other heritage organisation, EH closed all its staffed properties on March 19 (though 200 free-to-roam landscapes remained open). “We have to put this into perspective,” Laurence says. “Our problems are very significant, but as nothing compared to the challenge facing the health and care sectors.” Nevertheless, the result of what Laurence calls “putting everything into mothballs” has been, he admits, “a very serious loss of income”. He won’t put a figure on it, claiming with reason that the situation is too fluid, but even if all of EH’s recovery plans go well the charity seems set to lose between £50 million and £70 million this year. And if coronavirus refuses to be subdued, the outcome could be far worse.

In the context of the £200 million loss apparently run up by the National Trust in the past two months, EH’s problems might seem minor. Unlike the National Trust, however, EH doesn’t have £1.3 billion of reserves stashed away for a rainy day.

It didn’t help that lockdown started just before Easter, the precise moment when many heritage attractions traditionally open for the summer. EH has lost not only millions of paying visitors, but also the revenue they generate in its shops and tearooms. Laurence also decided to offer a three-month extension of subscriptions to the million-plus supporters, who are paying £63 a year for individual membership, or £109 a year for a family. “We wanted to thank them for staying with us,” he explains, “and to recognise that they aren’t getting as much value as normal out of their membership.” Probably a necessary public-relations move, especially in view of the reported mass exodus of members from the National Trust, but it put another big dent in EH’s revenues.

Those members haven’t been entirely deprived of EH’s services. Like many cultural organisations, EH has had a big surge in online visitors during lockdown. “Things like Victorian cookery lessons from Audley End [near Saffron Walden in Essex] or dance lessons for VE Day are getting massive attention this year,” Laurence says. So, he hopes, will an 80th-anniversary online commemoration of Dunkirk, designed to retell the story of the evacuation via a daily Twitter feed. That will provide a virtual experience for the thousands who would otherwise have visited Dover Castle, one of EH’s most popular sites, from where D-Day was masterminded.

Yet even the most vivid online experience can’t compensate for the visceral excitement of a physical visit to a dramatic historic site such as ghostly Witley Court in Worcestershire or the gaunt remains of Whitby Abbey. What if EH couldn’t reopen this year? Will there be another extension of membership? “I’d like to think that won’t happen,” Laurence replies. “We have a tentative date for reopening from government, and all our focus now is on getting things going again, rather than fearing the worst.”

That tentative date is July 4, but EH will take things slowly. “Our plan is to open a relatively small number of our staffed sites then, focusing on those that have lots of outdoor space,” Laurence says. “Stonehenge, for instance. The key is making sure that people feel safe, and we are putting in a huge amount of work — in close conjunction with other heritage bodies — to devise procedures to keep staff and visitors totally protected.”

One-way systems for visitors and PPE for staff? “Yes, and limiting visitor numbers, probably by having pre-booked time slots,” Laurence says. “I know it’s a bit of a bore for people, but I think visitors will appreciate the certainty of knowing they can get in. Then it’s about enabling social distancing to be maintained, and very high standards of hygiene wherever people have to touch things.”

Laurence won’t put a date on when a second wave of reopenings might happen. “The thing about the government’s guidance that I am most in tune with is the step-by-step approach,” he says. “We have to see what works and change it if it doesn’t.”

Is he convinced, though, that the public is ready to come back? Recent research suggests a high degree of fear about returning to any cultural activity. “Not everyone thinks the same way,” Laurence says. “What’s clear is that visiting places where there’s a degree of freedom and open air will be much more attractive than enclosed spaces at first. Of course we have a lot of enclosed spaces as well, so we have to find ways of overturning people’s reluctance to enter them.”

Even if people do flock back, however, EH is still left with an enormous black hole in its finances. The government is advancing funds that EH would be due to receive later this year, and there are discussions about bringing forward next year’s grant as well. These, however, are small sums (£8.8 million next year) compared with a possible £70 million loss. Will Laurence be asking for an additional bailout?

“It seems likely that we will be operating under [social distancing] limitations through the whole of this year and possibly next,” he says. “In that case, inevitably, our visitor income will be reduced. If we can’t get the income, we won’t be able to do all the conservation work and projects we’ve put on hold for the moment. Therefore we will have to ask government for more support.”

And an extra two or three years to be added on to EH’s planned transition from quango to independent trust? “That is also a discussion we need to have,” he says.

Could philanthropy help EH through its troubles? In the past five years Laurence has had some success at attracting private money, notably bagging a £2.5 million donation from Julia and Hans Rausing to help to build the Tintagel bridge. The trouble is that, as Laurence points out, “almost everyone who has got money to spare at the moment is thinking first about supporting health charities and care homes”. The Rausings’ recent decision to give nearly £20 million to charities tackling the pandemic is an obvious case in point. Nevertheless, if EH is to get back on track as an independent charity, it needs those big donors on board as well as the subscriptions of its million members.

Laurence spent his final navy years in charge of the Defence Estate, responsible for nearly 2,000 historically important buildings and monuments, so he was well aware of the challenges of conserving old buildings before joining EH. Even so, he admits he was a “slightly strange choice” to be its chairman. “I’m not an academic, not a historian, not an archaeologist,” he says. “Yet in some ways I represent a lot of our members. I’m a fascinated amateur. I absolutely love the history of this country. I love the sites we look after, and the story each tells.”

Tells to whom, though? The biggest challenge facing the whole heritage sector is arguably an urgent need to widen its demographic appeal. Can Laurence, in many ways the ultimate establishment insider, relate to that? Can he recognise that EH, like the National Trust, has an image problem? The perception that it’s a club for white middle-class people?

“There’s an element of truth in that,” he admits. “We are putting a great deal of effort into appealing more to — I hate using these categories — BAME [black and minority ethnic] people, who represent something like 14 per cent of the UK’s population. We have made a very strong statement by recruiting two outstanding representatives of those communities to our trustee board: David Olusoga [the historian] and Kunle Olulode [director of Voice4Change England]. They are helping our gradual transition towards being more appealing to non-white people. The important point is that we reflect not just the bricks-and-mortar history of England, but waves of immigration into this country over thousands of years. We have a story to tell to everybody.”

EH’s online output can be accessed through english-heritage.org.uk

#tim laurence #timothy laurence #dunkirk #english heritage #british royal family #brf

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darkanachronism · 5 years ago

Text

Keziah Mason Meets the Whateley’s

"Who 're yew an' what're yew doin' in my lab?" Wilbur demanded, looking down at the old woman.

"Depends," she started, "on why you smell like Yuggoth."

~~~~~

What’s this, me posting writing on main? More likely then you think. Anyways have the Lovecraft crossover no one asked for.

Wilbur had been preparing the shed for some time now. He didn't have to yet, but he would eventually with Twin getting as big as it was.

For now though, he just wanted a bit of space. A little respite from his mother, from his brother. From the Byhakee it had upstairs.

Just a quiet place to read, to write, to study.

Admittedly it was a rather sad little makeshift lab, but it was his nonetheless. The chairs and tables fit him, he barely had to stoop to get in the door, yes this was as comfortable as he could hope to get.

Wilbur was just about to enter with another armful of books when he heard a crash from inside.

The crash, and accompanying string of curse words belonged to an old woman stumbling out of a corner, tripping over a pile of books and face planting onto the floor.

Keziah Mason has taken a wrong turn on her trip back to Arkham. Something she immediately decided not to tell anyone about, in a rush or not this was an amateur mistake.

She rolled onto her back and cussed again. Being fairly certain she'd heard some bone or other make a noise it shouldn't. And took in her surroundings, digging in the pockets of her robe for something to throw at whoever owned the place.

The door creaked open and Keziah was staring down the barrel of a revolver.

Fuck.

"Who 're yew an' what're yew doin' in my lab?" Wilbur demanded, looking down at the old woman. She looked harmless.

So did lots of things.

Keziah blinked in surprise, trying to take in all of the massive figure that loomed above her, to place the unearthly stink that came off him, and come up with an answer to his questions all at once.

"Depends," she started, "on why you smell like Yuggoth."

She managed two out of three, and to stall for time on the third. The gun lowered just a little, Wilbur's brows furrowing in surprise. Not the answer he’d been expecting. Or for that matter one he’d accept.

"I’ll answer yew once yew answer me seein’ as I asked first an' I've got the gun."

No point in distracting himself.

"Both valid points. I'm Keziah Mason, and I took a wrong turn. Now you."

Cryptic and sort of a non answer, but in certain circles her name preceded her, and in others bothering to explain that you were not just a common burglar but an fiendishly intelligent witch who could use her knowledge of advanced physics and arcane secrets to travel long distances via interdimensional shortcuts, well that sort of talk was just as likely to earn you a bullet as keeping quiet. Even if the man towering above her could barely pass for human himself.

" 's just how I smell is all." He answered her first question. "And I'm Wilbur Whateley." She hadn’t asked for a name, but it seemed polite to give one.

Whateley, of course, everything clicked into place.

“Yog-Sothoth’s kid then?” She asked quirking a wiry brow. She’d expected more...Tentacles? Maybe a tail or something. Still, something around the eyes put her in mind of the fathomless space beyond spaces.

The revolver dropped to Wilbur's side as he tried to puzzle through how to respond to being called out so casually. He nodded. Not sure what else to do.

"Help an old lady up would you?"

Wilbur did, hauling Keziah rather artlessly to her feet, still baffled into silence.

"How'd yew know that?"

Keziah shrugged. “Your family’s been at this for a while. Honestly I’m surprised things lined up."

"Yeah, guess et were a bit 've wurk on granpa's part." Wilbur trailed off mumbling, scratching the back of his neck and looking around for something else to discuss. The topic of his conception was awkward, he imagined that was one of the few things he had in common with any other teenager.

"Sorry, didn't catch that. Tinnitus." Keziah said, adding the explanation with a grimace. It was a small price to pay for visiting The Court of course, but a deuced nuisance most of the time.

"Uhh, Nuthin'." Wilbur said, before changing the topic abruptly.

"Yew still didn’t explain why yer here."

"Told you I took a wrong turn.” She was trying to sound casual, but perhaps came off as a tiny bit defensive. “Just a tiny miscalculation on my part. We are in New England aren’t we?"

"Dunnich."

Keziah pulled a face and Wilbur laughed.

"Take et yew've visited before?"

"Not if I can help it. Is it still as painfully backwoods as it was in...1786?"

Wilbur quirked a brow, sure, she looked old, but not that old.

"Nah, et's wurse."

"You poor thing." Keziah patted him on the arm, it was about all she could reach.

The condescension wasn't appreciated, nor was the physical contact, Wilbur pulled away from that, but since she evidently loathed Dunwich, he let it slide.

"Where were yew tryin' t' get then?"

"Arkham."

"That ain’t far,” Wilbur started helpfully. “Yew culd take our horse, Long as yew return et."

It’s not that he was a particularly generous man, he had no natural inclination to help a stranger out. But it wasn’t as if he was planning to ride anywhere any time soon.

Keziah chuckled.

"Thanks for the offer, but I can get there faster." Keziah glanced around the makeshift magical laboratory, looking for something.

"Do you have some graph paper I could borrow?" She asked after a moment.

"Uh, yeah I c-" Wilbur was cut off by a tentative knock on the half opened door.

"Wilbur, dinner's rea-," Lavnia called out, opening the door as she did so. Ordinarily she wouldn't but in like that, Wilbur had been so insistent on his privacy lately. But he’d left it ajar, so she didn’t see any harm.

She paused mid step to stare. In what world did Wilbur have company? And how had she missed the woman showing up in the first place.

"Who's yer friend?" .

Wilbur looked between the two and stepped out of the way to make introductions.

"Uh, hi Ma, this is-"

"Keziah Mason. One of Nyarlathotep's Thousand Favoured." she said, brushing past Wilbur and offering the other woman a hand to shake. No need to be cagey about who she was now.

Lavinia very quickly wiped her hands on her skirts before accepting, clearly flustered by the title drop.

"I'm Lavinia Whateley, pleased t' meet yew."

Wilbur wasn't half so impressed, actually he had to wonder what she did to earn the Crawling Chaos' attention. Or if she wasn't just full of shit like so many magicians turned out to be.

"I'm sure it's mutual. Don't let you keep you from Dinner though, I was just about to leave."

"Yew dun half tew, ef yew dun want. I mean, yew culd stay fer diner ef yew'd lak. We dun often have guests, 'specially 'un so destingished."

Wilbur winced at his mother's gushing and hand wringing. She was special enough in her own right that she shouldn't be tripping over herself to impress some witch who couldn’t even keep her angles right.

Admittedly Wilbur’s understanding of interdimensional travel and the mathematics involved in them were shaky at best. But he could make an educated guess as to what a wrong turn meant.

Keziah considered the invitation, taking a quick look at each of the Whateley’s to guess at how much of an intrusion she’d be before answering.

“Why not, I don’t really need to be back until Sunday.” She gave a casual shrug.

Lavinia positively beamed when the older woman accepted her invitation. A reaction that made Keziah question the other woman’s sanity just a bit.

“Well, house es this way ef yew tew want t’ follow me. Sorry ‘bout the house bein’ in a state, et’s ain’t usually this much ‘ve a mess.” Lavinia gestured for the other two to do just that, before backing out of the door way.

Wilbur let Keziah go out ahead of him and locked up behind the trio.

Dinner at the Whateley house was usually an awkward affair, consisting of strained attempts at small talk from Lavinia and increasingly successful attempts to avoid that small talk on Wilbur’s part. So a third party was appreciated, and it really didn’t take much to set Keziah off.

An idle question about how exactly she knew the Whateley’s from Lavinia prompted wild stories about Wilbur’s great great grandparents, questions about Yuggoth from Wilbur earned an even more energetic response. All the while Keziah displayed the kind of table manners that startled even Wilbur.

It was increasingly difficult to imagine the hunched old woman tearing into a drumstick with clawed hands and trying to explain the Dho Formula through a mouthful of chicken rubbing elbows with The Outer Gods, acting as a messenger for Nyarlathotep himself.

But she did know things. Gods did she know things. His grandpa has known some and read some, and Wilbur had done his best with that meager tutelage and a plethora of crumbling books. But Keziah, she rattled off facts and incantations and corrections to his magical theory like other people talked about the weather.

The conversation was beyond Lavinia’s grasp, she nodded when she thought it was appropriate. And was quickly forgotten by the other two. She didn’t mind though. It was a rare treat to see Wilbur so animated.

Dinner ended with everyone in a good mood, Lavinia offered to clear up and let the other two retreat to Wilbur’s lab, Keziah still had to work out exactly where she’d gone wrong in her calculations earlier, and Wilbur was eager for a crash course traveling the space between spaces.

“Don’t worry kid, I’ll work slow so you can keep up.”

The teasing earned her a sour look. Even as Wilbur bent over the desk to see what she was working on.

“I’m sure I’ll manage just fine, I’m sharper ‘en most folks.”

“So am I.”

If Keziah made things a little unnecessarily complicated just to show off who could blame her. Wilbur was a nice enough kid. But she couldn’t let him think he was smart just because his dad knew absolutely everything there was to know.

Still, she helped. More than slaving over his books alone could. And after some untold hours. Keziah stood up, stretching and cracking her back and knuckles as she did.

“I think that’s enough for the night. I’ve got to get back to Arkham, and I really hate to travel when I’m tired.”

Wilbur looked down at her with a frown.

“S’pose ef yew’ve got tew. Like ma said, yew can come back whenever yew like. Jus’ use a door next time.”

Keziah let out a low scoff and rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not kid, doors are for people with no imagination.”

She traced a quick sign in the air, lines lingering that glowed a shade no human eyes could really appreciate, and without another word Keziah stepped through the corner of Wilbur’s laboratory and was presumably back in Arkham. The space she just occupied tilting strangely before folding in and righting itself.

Wilbur stared and wished he’d had his better eyes out to watch that. Probably would have been quite impressive to see in five dimensions.

#Wilbur Whateley #Lavinia Whateley #The Dunwich Horror #Keziah Mason #Dreams In The Witch House #my writing #I don't know how much of my writing I'll post #but I may as well right

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