#with this single moment she absolutely captured my heart

[sbd-laytall]

[slashmagpie]

Break Like an Artist

My fic for @hermitadaymay's Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event! I was paired up with the wonderful @eydilily to create something spooky, dramatic and contemplative featuring Gem and Pearl, and it's been an absolute blast putting this together. Please go check out Eydi's art for this AU, it's absolutely gorgeous. CWs: description of a corpse, dismemberment, loss of awareness, fire/flooding/destruction, and depiction of a panic attack. Wordcount: 5.8k

There is a plague sweeping Pearl's hometown.

One by one, she watches as her friends fall to the infection, the colour and life drained out of them and leaving hollow, apathetic husks behind. Even with the devastating loss of her friends, her village, and her regular life, the worst part of this situation is not the infection.

It's that Pearl knows that Gem is the one spreading it.

[Read on AO3]

It’s a grey day in the fishing village that Pearl calls her home. Not that it’s ever not a grey day, at least not anymore. She stares out of her window at the thick encompassing fog that’s claimed the bay, at the desaturated buildings that dot the shore, and she twirls her paintbrush in her fingers. 

The canvas is blank, of course. She doesn’t remember the last time she sat down to paint and didn’t end up with a blank canvas. It must have been—months ago, at least. Back when the last monster from the depths had attacked, and not a single person had had the heart to fight back. When Tango’s house had been shattered in two, and Tango with it.

(He seems to be dealing well with the loss of his arm, at least. Or, as well as you can deal with anything, when the only things inside of you are all-consuming numbness and apathy. Pearl feels it in her chest, the yawning emptiness, and thinks that if she were to lose her arm right here and now, she also wouldn’t be able to summon the energy to care.)

She’d painted after that, though. She remembers it vividly, waking from a nightmare and running to her studio to capture lashing tentacles and inky waters and splatters of crimson blood. It’s a frenzied piece, a disturbing piece, and the moment she’d finished it she’d been filled with so much dread that she’d turned it around to face the wall and refused to look at it since.

The dread’s gone now. Along with the anxiety, and the uncertainty, and the fear. It’s all gone, and Pearl’s left sitting here, paints drying on the palette as she stares at an empty canvas.

Across the house, she hears her front door swing open and closed. A familiar voice shouts, “Pearl? Pearl, where are you?”

“Studio,” Pearl calls back, her voice flat. She continues to twirl the paintbrush as she waits for Gem to trek her way across the house to find her.

“Studio,” Gem echoes as she pushes open the door. “Oh, Pearl, are you painting again? Oh, I’m so happy for—oh.” The joy in her voice vanishes as she takes in Pearl, sitting on her stool, paintbrush raised and canvas empty. “Oh, Pearl…” 

Sympathy. Pity. Concern. Pearl can pick apart the emotions in Gem’s voice, even if she can’t feel them herself. She stares back blankly, because she can’t find it in herself to care about either aspect of the situation, whether it be her own inability to paint or the way that Gem’s looking at her like she’s a wounded animal.

“Come on,” Gem says softly, crossing the room and gently prying the brush from Pearl’s fingers. Pearl lets her. She’s not really painting, anyway. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we? A nap will do you some good.”

Pearl lets Gem help her up, lets Gem allow Pearl to lean on her for support as they make their way back to Pearl’s bedroom. It’s not like Pearl has any difficulty walking. She’s not sick, she’s not injured, she’s just…

Cold. Empty. Not quite lifeless, not in the way Mumbo had been when she’d last seen him, skin and eyes and hair all the same shade of grey-white-nothingness as he’d stared into the distance, completely unresponsive. Listless, maybe, is the better word. She’s halfway to a fate worse than death and she cannot find it in her to care at all.

She feels colder where Gem touches her. She looks down, and she’s not sure if it’s her eyes playing tricks on her, or if her skin is more desaturated where it brushes against Gem’s. She lets Gem help her into bed, lets Gem fluff the pillows and fuss around her, lets Gem sit next to her as she hands Pearl a bowl of soup (“Your favourite!”) and watches her to make sure she eats.

If Pearl were more herself, she would care about what Gem’s doing to her. Care enough to stop it, maybe. Care enough to—no, not to confront her. Every time she’d tried, the words had gotten stuck in her throat. Because she’s known for a long time who’s been behind all of this, behind the corruption leeching all colour from their village, their home, their friends—

And she’d never said anything. Too worried about Gem’s feelings. Too worried about their friendship.

…Pearl realises, as Gem goes to take the empty bowl and brushes her hands against Pearl’s, that she’s not worried anymore.

She waits quietly as Gem washes the bowl in her kitchen, chattering to fill the silence as she does, updating Pearl on their friends’ conditions. Her tone is bright and optimistic, even as her words are dour. Scar seems to be doing the same. Grian’s getting worse. Joel’s down to communicating only in broken phrases—but he should be fine. It definitely won’t be like Mumbo, or Cub, or…

Gem returns to Pearl’s room, regarding her for a long moment before bending down to give her a hug. “Get better soon, okay?” she says into Pearl’s ear. “It’s not the same doing my rounds without you.”

Pearl knows that she’s not getting better. So does Gem, so Pearl doesn’t bother pointing it out. She just nods, lets Gem withdraw, lets Gem run one last hand through her hair.

“You should rest, Pearl,” Gem says, stepping away from Pearl’s bedside. “I’m going to go check on Impy now—”

Pearl’s moving before she’s even properly registered it, grabbing onto Gem’s wrist with force, holding her in place. Gem freezes. Pearl looks up at her through strands of greasy, greying hair.

“Gem,” she says, and it’s the first thing she’s said in days, and her voice is hoarse and her throat sore from the strain.

“...Pearl?” Gem replies, and she sounds almost scared.

“Gem,” Pearl repeats, getting used to the sound of her own voice in her mouth again. “I know.”

Gem laughs. It’s a nervous, tittering sound, the laugh Pearl remembers from when they’d gotten into trouble together as kids. “Know what?” she asks, voice strained. 

“That it’s you,” Pearl says flatly. 

Gem stares at her.

Pearl stares back.

Gem swallows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. “Pearl—”

“I know you’re the one doing this to us,” Pearl says, more specific this time, choosing her words carefully, and Gem—

Gem tries to pull away.

Pearl tightens her grip. 

“Pearl,” Gem whines, eyes wide, tugging. “Let me go—”

“Why?” Pearl croaks, and Gem snaps her mouth shut.

---

Pearl’s in the midst of mixing a particularly tricky shade of green when there’s a loud, frantic knock on her front door. She sighs, setting down her brush to rest, and gets to her feet. “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on!” she calls as the knocks continue, echoing through the house.

She pulls the door open and Tango’s there, a nervous ball of energy, just about ready to bolt. “Pearl!” he calls. “Pearl, come on, we gotta go—” 

He grabs her by the arm and drags her off. Pearl just barely manages to close her front door behind her.

“Wha—? Where are we going? What’s going on?”

“Something washed up on shore,” Tango explains. “The whole town’s there, c’mon.”

Accepting that she’s not going to get an explanation out of him, and now deeply curious about this something, she lets Tango lead her down to the shore by the lighthouse. Sure enough, the whole town is there, a chattering crowd gathered around a spot on the shore that Pearl can’t quite see. Impulse is standing on the edge of the crowd and catches sight of them, raising his arm in a wave. Tango makes a beeline towards him, ducking under the crowd, and Pearl follows behind, apologising to False and Keralis as she bumps into them.

“Did you decide what to do with it yet?” Tango asks as he comes to a halt and finally lets Pearl go.

Impulse shakes his head. “We’ve decided it’s Gem’s call,” he says. “After all, she’s the—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence as the crowd suddenly goes silent and parts for Gem, her hair wild and eyes wide behind her thick-rimmed glasses. She’s got her lab coat pulled on over her day clothes, clearly not prepared for this in the slightest. She reaches the front of the crowd and stops dead still, staring at the thing that has washed up on the shore.

Pearl follows her friend’s gaze, and sees it for the first time.

It’s a body. Of course it is. A corpse, taken by the sea and ravaged by the waves and washed ashore by the brutal bay currents. The body’s clothes are torn and sodden, the skin beneath so pale that it could practically be paper. Pearl is stricken, for a moment, with the mental image of her taking a brush to this canvas, filling it back in with colour, painting contours back into its skin, breathing life back into the body.

She shakes her head violently, banishing the thought. Where did that come from? This isn’t a canvas, it’s—

It’s a person. A person who was alive, and is now dead, washed up on the beach like a dead whale and just as much of a spectacle. His eyes are open but rolled back, only the whites showing, and his hair is white too, just as pale as his skin. It stands as sharp contrast against the dark fabric of his torn clothes, a mask wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

Pearl swallows hard and averts her gaze back to Gem, who looks just as disturbed by the body as Pearl feels. It takes Gem longer to pull her eyes away, to glance around the crowd. “I’ll—I’ll take it back to my lab,” she says. “Investigate, and—and give him a proper burial.”

The words reassure the crowd, a low chatter beginning up again. 

“Skizz, will you help me carry him?” Gem calls.

Skizz does, stepping forward from the crowd and helping Gem maneuver the bloated corpse. Pearl finds herself looking at it again, noticing dark striations in the skin, caught in glimpses between the tears in the clothing as it’s moved. 

She shakes her head again, forces herself to look away as the body is carried out and the crowd disperses. The image of the body lingers in her mind. Something settles uncomfortably in her stomach, and she wishes that she’d never opened the door.

---

Things go back to normal after that. Or, well, as normal as they get in the village, at least. False monitors the currents and warns of any incoming floods or monster attacks. Impulse and Tango work maintenance on the fishing boats that Grian and Skizz and Keralis take out into the bay. Mumbo runs the fish market. Cub and Scar come and go along the trading routes. Joel maintains security, or at least the illusion of it.

Gem hides away in her lab running experiments she never explains, and Pearl paints.

She tries to return to her usual fare, brightly-coloured landscapes with fantastical features, but something about her paintings rings hollow when she looks at them. She decides she needs a change, to switch things up and just relax, so she pulls out her paints and a blank canvas and begins with no intentions. Her movements are fluid and free and thoughtless and she falls into a flow state that lasts hours, until she blinks her eyes and awakes to find a portrait before her, a colourless face in full saturation.

The corpse’s visage, so alive she can’t believe it’s not breathing, stares back at her from her easel, and Pearl flinches like she’s been burned.

She hides that painting away, face turned towards the wall, and returns to painting landscapes. They come easier now, and for a time Pearl feels normal, as long as she ignores the canvas in the corner.

It’s Impulse who notices that there’s something wrong first. It’s not surprising that he’d be the first to pick up on it, really. Skizz is his best friend, after all. Of course he’d notice when Skizz stopped laughing, stopped joking, stopped drumming out tunes with his fingers on the side of his boat. And when Pearl sees him, she notices changes too—his skin paler, like he’s spent several weeks locked inside a basement instead of out in the summer sun, his eyes no longer their regular bright blue.

“Hey, Skizzly,” she greets brightly, trying to play at normal, throwing him a bone to grab onto.

Skizz just glances at her before responding with a flat, “Oh, hey Pearl.”

Pearl’s smile falters. “How are you feeling? Impulse told me you’re a little under the weather.”

Skizz shrugs. “Fine, I guess. Did you need something?”

Pearl swallows, something cold sinking in her guts. “No, no, just checking in on you.”

“Gem already checked on me,” Skizz says. “She said I’m not sick.”

“Gem’s not that type of doctor,” Pearl reminds him with a weak smile.

Skizz shrugs again. “She’s the only doctor we’ve got.”

Pearl tries her best not to let that unsettle her.

---

It’s not just Skizz.

It starts with him, but it doesn’t end there. Keralis is next, and then Grian. Mumbo gets sickest the quickest, going from his anxious, affable self to a nearly-unresponsive husk within a week. That scares them all, because even Skizz is still responding when spoken to, still moving when instructed to, even after nearly a month of being infected with… whatever it is that’s going around.

False gets sick without anyone noticing, sequestered away in her lighthouse until she comes into town for groceries looking like a photograph that’s been left in the sun for too long, and that’s when people really start to panic.

And that’s when Gem declares, with all the authority that being a doctor of anthropology afforded her in a tiny town with no real doctor, that she’s putting everyone into quarantine until they can determine the source of the illness. 

“I’m not sick,” Pearl tells Gem when her friend knocks on her door, dressed in full lab gear, her hair out of its usual ponytail and falling forward around her face. She’s pretty sure she isn’t, at least, having hyper-analysed the shade of blue in her eyes in the mirror every morning for the past month. 

“I know,” Gem says. “I want to—I need to—can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Pearl says, stepping aside. “Of course.”

Gem enters, heading down the stairs into Pearl’s living space and staring at the paintings on the wall. Pearl watches her for a moment before stepping closer, resting a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“What’s eating you?” she asks.

Gem snorts out a laugh at that. “I’m not a real doctor, Pearl,” she says.

“I know that.”

“They all need me to be a real doctor for them. I—” She breaks off, runs an anxious hand through her hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I need help.”

Pearl raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know how I can help,” she says. “I’m even less of a doctor than you are.”

“I know,” Gem says. “But you’re my friend, and I trust you, and I need—please?”

She stares at Pearl, bright green eyes magnified through thick glasses lenses. Pearl has never been able to say no to those eyes.

“Okay,” she agrees, letting out an uncertain breath. “Okay. What do you need me to do, Dr. Tay?”

Gem laughs again, high-pitched and anxious, and Pearl feels hot and cold all at once.

---

They do house calls. Once a day, Gem and Pearl, and sometimes Impulse, will make a round of the village, checking in on everyone. Gem brings some of her lab equipment and a notebook, where she scribbles down all the readings she takes from her instruments and any observations she makes. After the first week or so, Pearl also takes to bringing a sketchbook and a small travel painting kit, attempting to record the desaturation rate in her friends’ colours. 

It doesn’t matter which way they look at it—the situation is bad, and rapidly getting worse. Most of the town is infected now, and Skizz is approaching Mumbo’s level of deterioration. Cub fell ill two weeks ago, and Tango—

Well, he’s not quite grey yet, but he looks washed out where he sits at his table, especially next to Gem, all bright copper and ocean blue and forest green. His voice is flat, all of the emotion in it gone, and while he responds in full sentences to Gem’s questions as Pearl attempts to capture the moulded-straw colour of his hair, none of his words sound like him. 

Gem wraps up her check-in, and Pearl follows her out, paints packed away in her bag and sketchbook held carefully so as not to smudge the paint. Impulse is waiting for them outside, staring out into the bay, where a low-lying fog has been hanging for days. 

He glances over at them, voice shaking as he asks, “How is he?”

Gem hesitates. “About the same?” she offers. 

Pearl shakes her head. “Worse,” she says, offering her sketchbook to Impulse, pointing out the differences in values between the colours she’d sampled from Tango two days ago to the ones she’d taken today. 

Impulse’s hands are trembling as he hands the sketchbook back to her. “What do we do?” he asks. “They just keep getting worse—Gem, what do we do?”

Gem’s eyes are fixed somewhere out at sea. Her expression is so scarily blank that Pearl would worry she was infected if not for how bright and vibrant she looks against the backdrop of the village. (Are the houses getting greyer? Surely not—surely it’s just the fog, and the fact that the sky has been overcast for a fortnight now—surely—)

“We look after them best we can,” Gem says. “I’m trying—every night I’m working on a cure.”

“And do you think it’ll work?” Impulse pushes.

“I have to,” Gem replies. “It has to.” 

Pearl swallows, and does not voice what all three of them are thinking: what if it doesn’t?

---

Impulse turns up one morning a shade dimmer than he had been the day before. Pearl notices immediately, her stomach lurching at the sight of him. He offers her a smile that’s smaller than his usual ones, a greeting that’s a little flatter than it would usually be. Pearl’s not sure if Gem even notices.

But Pearl notices, and her eyes sting, and she throws herself at him in a way that catches all three of them off-guard.

“Uh, Pearl?” Impulse says, stiff and uncomfortable beneath her. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Pearl mumbles against his ear.

“Pearl?” There’s a peak of distress in his voice but it’s not enough. Gem hears it, too.

“Oh no,” she breathes.

“Okay, guys, seriously,” Impulse says, pushing Pearl away. “What’s going on?”

They just stare at him.

Realisation dawns across Impulse’s face. “No.” 

“Maybe…” Gem sucks in a breath. She reaches out to take his hand and squeezes it. “Maybe you should go home, Impy. Get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Impulse protests. “I’m…” His protest crumbles under their gazes. He slumps, and Pearl knows that he would normally never crumble like that. He’d protest and fight back and keep working until he passed out on the docks and had to be carried back to bed.

“C’mon,” she says softly. “I’ll help you home.”

Impulse doesn’t protest that either. He knows, as well as the two of them do, how this ends. He knows that there’s no fighting this.

Pearl, very valiantly, does not cry about it.

---

With everyone except the two of them infected, Pearl manages to convince Gem to split the rounds, with her taking half of the houses, and Gem taking the other half, swapping halves every couple of days. Gem is reluctant, but she has no good argument against Pearl’s that this is more practical, and so she agrees.

And that’s when Pearl notices.

She thinks she’s imagining it at first, but the colour swatches in her sketchbook back up her suspicions, damning evidence she can’t ignore.

When she visits her rounds, she finds that the people she’s visiting appear to have stabilised, at least for a couple days, no greyer today than they were when she saw them the day before. And then she swaps with Gem, and notices that Gem’s half of the rotation are far paler, far less responsive, than they had been the last time Pearl had seen them. They stabilise for a couple days, and then they switch, and Pearl’s original rotation have deteriorated massively in the several days since. 

There’s really only one conclusion she can draw from that, and she doesn’t want to draw it. She doesn’t want to believe that the one responsible for this is—

The fog is a permanent fixture of the village now, blanketing the bay in a thick blanket of quiet. Pearl finds it hard to sleep, even the familiar sound of waves muffled by the mist. Kept awake into the early hours of the morning, she finds herself in the studio, a brush in hand, letting the paint take her where it will.

And where it takes her is familiar: the village, desaturated and coated in fog, dark looming shapes in the mist beyond, rising out of the ocean. And there, in the midst of the painting, a bright spot in all the gloom, is Gem, so vibrant she practically lifts off the page.

Pearl stares at it for a long, long time, and then places it face against the wall and tries her best to forget about it.

---

In all the dread, they’d forgotten something important.

The sea isn’t safe. It never has been. Growing up in the bay you learn how to weather the storms, to predict the tides, to flee from floods. You learn how to build barriers, and you learn how to rebuild once the ocean drags them down. 

Pearl knows that her village can handle the sea: she’s seen them do it time and time again over the years. Together, they move as a well-oiled machine, responding to threats from the depths with weathered ease. That’s why she doesn’t expect it, she thinks. 

There’s never been a monster attack that False didn’t warn them about.

But False isn’t capable of doing much of anything at the moment.

And so when the tentacles rise from the waves, there isn’t a warning.

Just a deafening krk-crash that wakes Pearl from a dead sleep with a bolt of adrenaline that’s nearly nauseating. She scrambles from her blankets, still in her pajamas, and rushes up the stairs to throw on her boots. It’s edging towards winter now, the weather much milder than the summer months, and though it’s not cold by any stretch of the imagination the chill of the air still makes her shiver. She grits her teeth, racing from her front door to the village proper, and there—

There’s a sea monster, dark purple tentacles reaching out to the shore, destroying everything in its wake. The fish market is half gone, and it’s awful, but it’s a relief, in a way, because nobody lives there.

“Gem!” Pearl screams into the night.

“Pearl!” she hears echo back, followed by distant footsteps, growing ever-closer. 

Gem’s face is flushed, her hair wild, her eyes wide. She’s also in her pyjamas, her lab coat that’s been ever-present for months now gone, and Pearl finds her eyes drawn to dark striations in her skin. They look like—

“Pearl,” Gem says again. “We need to get everyone out, away from the shore, up to the research centre—”

Pearl nods. “Got it,” she says. She points towards the docks and says, “I’ll head over there.”

Gem nods. “Be safe,” she says, and then she’s off again, pelting in the direction of the lighthouse.

Pearl doesn’t bother knocking as she throws Impulse’s door open. He’s still lucid enough that he’s been startled awake by the noise, though it hasn’t driven him to do much more than put his shoes on and stare out of the window at the dark shapes rearing up out of the fog.

“Impulse!” Pearl cries.

“Pearl?” Impulse says, glancing at her with dull eyes.

“We need to get people out,” she says.

There’s an extended pause, then, “Okay.”

“Can you get Skizz?” she asks. “Tango, too, maybe? I need to go to the beach, help everyone down there.”

Another extended pause, then a nod. “I can do that,” Impulse says. He moves too slowly, not driven by the same panic flooding Pearl’s veins, but it’s good enough. It has to be. Pearl doesn’t have time to consider the alternative.

She goes racing off for the beach. She throws open Keralis’ door first, relieved that he is, at least, wearing underwear when she drags him from his bed and into the night. She leaves him there while she grabs Grian from his hut, and then takes them both by the wrists, pulling them along behind her while she races for the cliffside.

It feels like hours that she races back and forth, grabbing her friends from their homes and dragging them in various states of comprehension to the safety of the cliff before running back into the danger zone. Grian’s hut is gone, and so is a large portion of the road. The tentacles have taken a chunk out of the farms further up the coast. Gem’s been taking the people she rescues a different route up to the research facility, the path that Pearl’s taking cut off to her by debris.

Once she’s got everyone on her side of town, she collapses panting on the grass, her lungs aching with the strain. There’s a fire somewhere down on the shore, someone’s lantern knocked astray by swinging tentacles. Her eyes burn just from looking at it.

A voice says, “I got him.”

Pearl looks up.

It’s Impulse, manhandling a colourless, greyscale Skizz.

Pearl goes cold.

“Where’s Tango?” she asks.

Impulse blinks. Slowly. Too slowly.

“Oh,” he says. “I’ll go get him.”

Pearl shakes her head, rocketed up to her feet by panic once again. “No, I’ll go,” she gasps. “You stay here.”

And then she’s off running again, beelining for Tango’s house, praying to any higher power that will listen that she’s not too late. Her lungs ache. Her legs burn. She can’t quite catch her breath. She’s shaking.

And then she’s knocking down Tango’s door, grabbing him from his bed against the far wall, dragging him away—

The roof coming down sounds like thunder, like the sky split open and gutted for parts. Pearl goes down hard, stars bursting behind her eyes, her breath coming out empty and then as a whine. She blinks, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark, for her ears to stop ringing, and that’s when she hears it.

It’s—not a scream. More of a whimper, or a wail, stretched out and awful and pained and punctuated by short, desperate gasps. It goes straight to her stomach, straight to making her sick, and she doesn’t want to look. Doesn’t want to move.

But, god, she has to, doesn’t she?

She wiggles her fingers, her toes, and lets out a deep groan as she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees. The world has narrowed in on itself, the open air of Tango’s house reduced to a crawlspace, and she shuffles down it, rubble and debris tearing her skin open and leaving bloody red marks on desaturated wood. It is a far cry from the blood she finds, practically brown with how much colour has been leeched from it. 

“Oh, my god,” she chokes. “Tango…”

Tango just moans in response. She can’t tell if he’s pale from blood loss or pale from the infection, but either way it has the effect of making him look half dead. He’s half buried beneath the rubble, body jerking with what she can only assume is pain, barely felt beneath the weight of numb apathy.

“I gotta get you out of here.” The words taste acrid against her tongue. Or maybe that’s the smoke. She can’t tell. “I’ve got you.” She grabs Tango by his good arm and grimaces. “It’s gonna be okay.”

It’s not a reassurance for him. Not really. Pearl’s familiar enough with his condition by now to know that he can’t really care about being okay at this point.

It’s more for her as she does her best to get leverage in the small space and pulls. 

When Tango screams, she knows it’s completely involuntary, an animal howl of agony that stops her short. Pearl gasps, tears on her cheeks, head spinning. “Please, no,” she begs, and she doesn’t know if she’s talking to him or the higher power that’s been ignoring her for weeks. “No, no, I gotta—I—”

“Pearl?”

“Gem!” Pearl cries. “Gem, please, I need—it’s Tango—he’s—”

“I’ve got you,” says Gem’s voice, familiar and close as footsteps pound across rubble. There’s a series of grunts and clunks as rubble shifts, and then there’s light pouring into the crawlspace, which is no longer so much of a crawlspace. Gem stares at the two of them, Pearl in tears on her knees and Tango half buried and lying in his own dull blood. 

“Okay,” she gasps out, and she sounds terrified. “Okay,” she repeats, steadier this time. 

Pearl wants to be relieved, but she’s just on the other side of hysterical. Gem’s holding an axe, which she must have used to clear the rubble, and she steps forward with it held between white knuckles.

“Hold him still,” she tells Pearl.

Pearl swallows. “Gem?” she whispers.

“Please.”

Gem glances down at Pearl, and god, she never has been able to say no to that, has she?

She shuffles forward, puts her weight against Tango, holds him still. Squeezes her eyes shut.

It doesn’t make it any better.

It doesn’t stop her from hearing the sick crunch of the axe cutting through bone or the blood-curdling scream Tango lets out.

It doesn’t stop her from feeling the sudden lack of resistance as she pulls Tango’s bleeding body away from the rubble, leaving his arm behind.

---

Pearl manages to hold it together until they’re able to get Tango safe and stable. Once the wound has been cauterised and disinfected and bandaged, and he’s left sitting with a mostly-unresponsive Skizz and an Impulse who’s just aware enough to be awkward about how little he feels for his friend, she walks away from the town’s refugees on the hillside until she can no longer hear them, and they can no longer hear her. She stands for a moment, surveying the damage below, the sun rising over the sea and the flooded streets and destroyed buildings, and she sucks in a breath that knocks her to her knees.

The panic attack comes in quick half-breaths and waterlogged wails, her hands gripping at her hair and pulling it hard enough to hurt. The world blurs around her as she chokes on saltwater and bile, her ears ringing with screams and funeral bells. When the hands settle on her shoulders she barely feels them—only feels them when they rise to her wrists and untangle her fingers from her hair.

“—earl? Pearl. Look at me. Come on, I know you can do it.”

“Ge-em,” Pearl chokes out. “I can’t—I—”

“I’ve got you,” Gem soothes. She takes Pearl’s hands in hers, squeezes them tight, real and grounding. “See, come on, that’s it. Breathe with me.”

Pearl blinks tears from her eyes as she tries to time her breathing to Gem’s. She’s not very good at it, her heart too quick and Gem’s too slow, but it helps, dragging her down from the high of panic. 

“That’s it,” Gem breathes. She lets go of Pearl’s hand, reaching up to push the hair out of Pearl’s face, cupping her cheeks in her palms. “See? Nice and calm. Everything’s fine, see?”

“Yeah,” Pearl agrees, and the words feel hollow. Her panic feels hollow, somewhere above her body, her soul sunken to somewhere below her knees. She sucks in a breath, lets Gem wipe tears from her eyes with her thumbs.

Gem is so bright. A searchlight in a storm, a ray of rising sun through the dark. The world seems to grey around her. 

Pearl reaches out, splaying her hand against Gem’s cheek, a clumsy echo of Gem’s own reassuring, grounding touch. Gem is still so bright, vivid enough that Pearl doesn’t think any paint could capture it. 

And Pearl, held in comparison, is grey and dull. A shade, drained of life.

She swallows. Lets out a shaking breath. Looks up into Gem’s green eyes, sees the fear and regret in them, and can barely summon her own panic or hurt in return.

“Oh,” she says, and the word falls like a stone, plunging into the depths.

---

Pearl lets out a breath. “It was the body, wasn’t it?” she asks, loosening her grip. “The one that washed up. It did something to you.”

Gem swallows. She pulls away, holding onto her own wrist where Pearl had dropped it, clutching it to her chest. “I’m so hungry, Pearl,” she whispers. “I fade so fast now. I need… I need…”

“You’re going to kill us.” Gem flinches at the words. “You know that, don’t you, Gem? You’re going to kill us. You are killing us.”

“I just need your colours,” Gem replies, a whine in her voice. “I just…”

“What happens when we’re gone, Gem? What happens when you’ve taken all the colours? What happens then?”

Gem stares at her. There are tears in her eyes. They don’t quite fall, but Pearl can feel them drip into her hollow heart. There’s an ocean between them now and Pearl doesn’t have the wits to cross it. She doesn’t care enough to cross it, and she doesn’t feel enough to care about that. 

“I have to go and check on Impy,” Gem repeats, her voice thick. “I’ll see you later, Pearl.”

“You won’t,” Pearl calls after her as Gem hurries for the door.

Gem doesn’t reply, just slamming the door shut in response.

Pearl sits in bed for a long time, staring at the wall with hazy vision. Her thoughts are muffled under the thick fog that chokes the village, and so when she finally stands, she’s not entirely sure why. She lets her body carry her back to her studio, picks up a canvas from against the wall, and places it on her easel. She sits down in front of it and stares.

Gem’s face stares back at her, the only alive thing in a dead and colourless world.

[0omillo0]

hi hi, i’ve been watching older skz yt videos and had the thought of being jisung’s girlfriend but also being apart of the skz film crew so being there for every single mv shoot, skzcode, etc. and jisung being so excited and waving cutely towards you while you’re behind the camera!

(i thought the idea was cute and i wanted to share but i literally have no one to share my skz thoughts with outside of socials and you’re the only page i’ve shared my ideas with so far although i’m anon, i’ve requested a couple of the angst han jisung stuff that you’ve written and your writing makes my day, i hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself riri 🥹🤍)

Behind the Camera, In His Heart

Han Jisung x Reader ; fluff

As a part of Stray Kids’ film crew, your job was to capture the group in their element. Whether it was filming chaotic SKZ-Code episodes or sleek music videos, you were always behind the camera, steadying shots, barking instructions, or adjusting lighting. But there was one particular member who made it increasingly hard to stay professional.

Han Jisung.

Your boyfriend.

The love of your life… and also the biggest distraction on set.

“Y/N!”

Speak of the devil. You glanced up from your camera settings to see Jisung waving at you wildly from across the set. Dressed in his MV outfit and absolutely killing it, he grinned ear-to-ear and waved both hands in a frenzy like he hadn’t just seen you fifteen minutes ago.

“Focus, Han!” Minho barked, smacking Jisung on the arm. “We’re not filming Y/N-Code. Stick to the choreography.”

Jisung pouted dramatically, tossing a betrayed look at Minho before giving you one last enthusiastic wave.

“Hi, jagi!”

From behind you, Seungmin snorted. “He’s like a golden retriever who saw their owner.”

“I think golden retrievers have more chill,” Hyunjin quipped as he adjusted his hair in the monitor reflection.

“You guys are just jealous!” Jisung shot back, folding his arms but still sneaking little glances in your direction.

“Yeah,” Chan added, rubbing his temples. “Jealous of how much Y/N has to endure that.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Being around Stray Kids day in and day out meant you were no stranger to their relentless teasing, but Jisung always made sure it was worth it.

“Jisung,” you called, leaning just slightly around the camera. “Focus! You’re holding everyone up.”

“I am focused,” he insisted, running his hands through his hair to look extra dashing. “I’m focusing on you!”

“Boo!” came the collective groan from the members.

Chan clapped his hands. “Alright, Jisung’s flirting session is over. Let’s run it again before I lose my mind.”

Jisung gave you a sheepish shrug before getting into formation with the others. But, as the music started and they dove into their choreography, he still managed to sneak little glances at you every chance he got.

Later, during a quick break, you were crouched behind the camera reviewing the footage when Jisung plopped down beside you, completely ignoring his makeup artist’s protests to touch up his hair.

“So, how did I do?” he asked, voice low and teasing as he nudged your shoulder.

“Pretty good,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the screen. “But you kept looking at the camera.”

He smirked. “I wasn’t looking at the camera.”

“Yah!” You shoved his arm, and he burst out laughing, the sound so infectious that even the other members glanced over with amused looks.

“You guys are disgusting,” Changbin groaned, tossing his water bottle at Jisung, who caught it with ease.

“Don’t be mad just because I’m in love!” Jisung shot back, leaning closer to you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“That’s it,” Minho said, deadpan. “Y/N, I’m banning you from set.”

“Hey!” Jisung protested immediately, clutching onto your arm like a lifeline. “You can’t do that! Y/N is my muse!”

Jeongin’s head peeked out from behind the snack table. “You’re only saying that because she edits out your embarrassing moments.”

You grinned at that, tilting your head toward Jisung. “Is that true?”

Jisung straightened up and shook his head frantically. “No! I mean—yes—but no! I mean—”

The rest of the crew burst out laughing, and Jisung flushed as red as his stage outfit, burying his face in his hands.

Despite the teasing and chaos, being on set with him was your favorite thing in the world. Because behind every take, every chaotic SKZ-Code challenge, and every beautifully shot music video, Jisung always made sure you knew how much you meant to him—whether it was through over-the-top waves, secret smiles, or soft words whispered when no one else was watching.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

taglist: @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[fraugwinska]

A very incomplete list of Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction Authors/Geniuses

I cannot believe the awsome, talented, absolute magnificent people I've met through this fandom. Writing FF for Hazbin Hotel has become one of my greatest joys in life, and reading the stories and creations of my fellow friends and idols is something that can brighten my whole week - and we don't gatekeep. So, if you're in search for a good read, here are a few of the SUPER AWSOME people I stalk (and I want to stress - this list is never going to be complete, but I'll try to edit it as there are just SO MANY GODDANG MASTERS out there!) @bapple117 If you love #RadioStatic, you have to read 'Bluest Monday' (completed) and the follow-up 'Say Hello, Wave Goodbye' (WIP) She'll break your heart in the most beautiful way. If you don't fancy that but Alastor is your go-to, then you will want to dive in head-first into "If You Can't Say Somethin' Nice, Don't Say Nothin' At All" (complete). But as before, be ready for a rollercoaster of emotional moments and extremely spicy shenanigans.

@hazelfoureyes Goddess of the smut, Hottest writer in Hell - If you're horny, Hazel has got you covered. Especially her 'The safeword is Radioapple'-Mini-series will make you sweat like a Zumba-Instructor on crack. Be prepared to blush, tremble, die and immediately ressurrect, because yes. She is THAT good.

Clover/corruptedteacups on AO3 With whooping 75 chapters and 300k+ hits, her Fanfic 'The Red means I Love you' is one of the best, most detailed slow-burn-pining-angsty-smutty-will-they-wont-they Masterpieces I've read so far. Alastor is magnificent and I guarantee you'll fall in love with Clover, the bunny who captures the heart of you deerest red demon.

@melodyonthewireless Highly underappreciated (imho), her fic "A Match made in Hell" (WIP) follows her OC Sybil down to hell, into the Hazbin Hotel and consecutively the arms of Alastor - but don't you dare underestimate the pink, harmless looking doe. Sybil's witch powers and her sassy, witty personality is quite the match to the established readio overlord. It's such a read, and the wait between chapters the sweetest agony!

@macabr3-barbi3 She delivers every. single. TIME. Her Short stories and One-Shots are like Pringles - Once you pop, you can't stop. I'm deeply in love with 'Dream a little Dream' (WIP), 'Nothing I can't Handle' (WIP) makes me run for a cold shower and did I mention the countless one-shot-candies that make you mouth water and your toes curl?

@slutforalastor/InconspicuousBosch on AO3 Whether it's the One-Shots on tumblr (omg the PRIEST ALASTOR BIT *fans face*) or the incredible Choose-your-Path-Fic "Say it with a smile" (completed) - you will be both amazed at the artistry of the wording and storybuilding and blushing at the sheer craft of the smut and sexual tension.

@impale-me-radio-daddy Founder of the kink #antlerplay, his series of 'The Lookalike' is steamy, outrageous, utterly magnificent and filthy down to the bones. Be prepared for some serious questioning of your own preferences, because you WILL get some epiphanies. And that's a PROMISE.

@hurthermore Listen. LISTEN. Bimbo is the mini-series that had me on a friggin CHOKEHOLD. It takes a special talent to make one so invested in THE radio demon, gentleman a la carte Alastor believably pining after and pounding a lovable, dumb airhead sinner with a fable for skimpy dresses and leave you at the end wanting for seconds and thirds!

As I said, this is a highly incomplete list, and I'll absolutely edit this list as I go. But I needed to put this out in the world. To all of the above, and all of those which I didn't include YET but most certainly will -

I ADORE YOU, I PRAY AT YOUR FEET, YOU ARE AMAZING BEINGS AND I LOVE YOU.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[simphornies]

Artistic desire [Husk x Shy!Reader] Fluff

A/N: This was a request sent by a lovely follower. I'm not particularly good at writing shy characters but I did my best. Hopefully this suits your taste.

Word count: 3.4k (3,481)

Warnings: none unless you count mentions of mommy and daddy issues

You were a bit of a social recluse. Your parents fucked off and died somewhere in one of the seven rings when you were a teenager and since everything is basically free, besides drugs and sex, you just stayed in your parents’ manor. The only person that really checked up on you everyday was Charlie. You crossed paths when you were younger, rode through the emo phase together and now you’re both older.

Before her hotel opened up, she was eager to tell you of all the plans. Every. Single. Plan. Of course, you didn’t mind the chatter through the phone. You enjoyed something that filled up the empty halls in your home. You helped her redesign a bit but after a while, you were in a pit of…the opposite of an art block?

You spent every waking moment, painting and creating art. If you thanked your demon parents for anything, it’d be the part where their powers passed onto you naturally. Your mother was a beautiful muse, perfection in keeping everything aesthetically pleasing. Your father painted his muse at every given moment. You didn’t necessarily hate them per-say but you sure as hell didn’t love them. The moment you kept something out of place, an inch off the center, your mother scrambled to fix it.

She didn’t yell or bother with correcting you, she would just obsess with the finer details. Your father never stepped up for anything other than painting. Hell forbid you switch up his paints and he’d be locked in his room all day. Finishing piece after piece.

You didn’t take after any of their obsessive traits. Instead you embraced the messy lines, the off-centered pieces. You embraced the imperfection and impurities that came with hell itself.

And that is exactly how you ended up in Charlie’s Hazbin Hotel. She convinced you to take your artistic abilities to brighten the place up. With the surprising help of Alastor, you chose compromise on the color palette. The fabrics, the decor, the lights, the curtains, the rugs. It was all your choosing. And when Alastor decided to phase in a bar with Husk included, the odd placement of green itched your brain in a good way.

The bar wasn’t the only thing that got you going. A surge of inspiration waved through your entire being the moment you saw him. The moment you heard his voice you wanted to capture it in art. There wasn’t a passing day where you didn’t sit at his bar, eagerly waiting for his next story.

At first, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you considering how well you got along with Alastor. But that opinion quickly faded the more you hung around him. Every time he’d tell a story, he noticed you always doodling in delight, listening to every detail. You didn’t participate in conversations much but he could tell you were listening to the whole thing. Your legitimate interest in his stories warmed his heart a little bit more than he’d ever admit. He soon realized that you two were probably the most sane demons in the entirety of the hotel.

“The usual?” He asks. You nod and continue to fill your sketchbook with drawings, the act visible to him by the way your eyes shine. He poured three glasses for you both. One glass of whiskey for him, a glass of champagne for you, and one of your old paint cups with water. He handed you your drink in a champagne glass and your cup next to your sketchbook. Last time he handed that to you, you accidentally drank the paint water.

You quietly thank him as you gleefully kick your feet in the empty space under you. The chairs hoisted you up enough for you to not touch the floor when you sat, something he found admirable. He hummed as he cleans a couple of glasses left over from when Angel was drinking.

Oh how he wished to take a peek at your drawings. He would never try to ask, he learned from one of your small conversations together that you said it’s like a diary. And he’d be damned if he pried into that. The only time he’ll ever get any information from people is when they’re absolutely fucked up wasted. He watched as your face was unbelievably close to the book, the sound of your pencil against the paper was soothing to him. Oddly enough, it was never complete without it.

“Hey, Y/N? Could you do me a big big big favor? Pretty please?” Charlie speaks up, breaking the silence between you two. He sighs and starts to stock up his shelves knowing that you were probably going to get hoisted away now. He feels the weird shift in his chest that made him realize he was actually in love with you this whole time.

“Yes, Charlie?” You looked up at her as you put your pencil down. “What can I do to help?” Your voice was smooth jazz to his ears. He wanted to hear you speak more. And he hated when other demons talked to him. But your voice. He’d fight in a war with the exorcists to hear you speak to him more. He secretly wished you said his name instead.

She gives you a guilty grin, “So, I was trying to make a sign for Sir Pentious and well…”

“It looks a little bit like vomit!” Nifty chimed in, unashamed.

Charlie laughed nervously, “I may have chosen the wrong green…Would you mind, helping me out?”

You smile, “Of course.” You get up, following Charlie and Vaggie to the opposite side of the lobby to give aid in their color struggles.

Nifty continued her cleaning and while she did, she realized that you had left your sketchbook wide open. Of course, as it is in Nifty’s nature, she snatches the book off of the bar’s countertop, just out of Husk’s view and takes a look at the page it was open to. She gasps and runs over to Angel and Alastor, eager to show her finds.

“My my. What a wonderful find you’ve got there, Nifty.” Alastor grins. He was not much of a lover but he sure as hell enjoyed seeing his little pet get flustered. And perhaps he’s been more tolerant lately so he figured he can have a bit of happiness in this hotel.

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Angel stares at the sketches you have of Husk. The two pages were filled with him and just him. Him cleaning the glasses, him fixing his hate, him with his wings out. Some were obvious direct sketches from his day-to-day life but the others were all from your mind. There was one of him in a fancy suit. One with his hair slicked back the way he briefly mentioned it during his stories of being an overlord. Angel stares at the page a bit longer before looking over at Alastor who shared his mischievous grin.

While you were painting the sign with Vaggie, Charlie is pulled to the side by Alastor. “Charlie, my dear. You would say that you are a lover girl at heart, would you not?” He asks.

“Uhm. Yes. Yes I am, Alastor.” She answers with confusion in her voice, “Why?”

“Why, Nifty had some groundbreaking finds just a moment ago that I believe I should be sharing with you.” He smiles widely as Angel hands her the open sketchbook.

“Somebody,” he whispers, “Got a little thing for Whiskers~”

Charlie takes one long look at the page and was about to start squealing in delight until Alastor puts a finger up to her lips. “Ah ah, my dear. Now’s not the time for that. Wouldn’t it be best that you talk about this with her in private.” He suggested.

“You’re right! Ohhhh my gosh! This is amazing!” She grins, “I’ve known her in all my years here in hell and I have not seen her take a liking to anybody. I’ll definitely talk about it with her!”

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

The sign for Sir Pentious was up in congratulations for his arrival and his development. Everyone was cheering him on by the bar. You scout around for your sketchbook, swearing you left it by Husk. He wouldn’t be the type of guy to take personal things like that.

Just as you were about to ask him where it was, Charlie quickly drags you into a spare room, filled with excitement. Excitement that drove you a bit nervous.

“Charlie? Is there anything you need me to do here?” You ask, scanning the empty room around you.

She simply could not contain her excitement. “It’s come to my attention that you, my lovely lovely friend, may have a teeny tiny crush on someone.”

Oh fuck.

“Haaaa. What?” You ask, trying to contain your composure. “I don’t like anybody. That’s funny. Hah hahhh…” You nervously laughed.

Just then, Charlie hands you your sketchbook. “Nifty found it and well…you left it open to your most recent sketches…of Husk!” She squeals.

Your face turns a bright red as you swiped the sketchbook out of her hands. “Charlie! Oh fuck, please don’t tell me you told him.” You were every shade of red possible in hell out of sheer embarrassment.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t take that adorable opportunity away from you and him!” She hugs her shorter friend, “So. Tell me all about it! When did it start? When did you know?” She gasps in excitement as she thought of more questions to bombard you with, “Why? How did you find out? What do you like most about him?”

“W-well I…” You stutter, hugging your sketchbook close, “I’m not sure when but I just know that, these last couple of weeks he’s been…um…you know. Kind of inspiration? My…muse. If you will.”

Charlie loved your answers and continued to ask more questions. “So when are you going to tell him?” She gasps, “Oh my gosh—You guys should totally go on a date!”

“A DATE?” You choke, “Fucking hell—Charlie. I cannot bring myself to do that. You’re the only person I can talk to without stuttering too much and you want me to go on a date with the very demon I like?”

The answer was yes and before you know it, you and Husk are getting pushed out of the hotel with a pile of cash in both of your guys’ hands, courtesy of Charlie. She somehow got you both into matching outfits. A dress with hearts on the collar with a white and red pearly necklace to match. Husk was somehow, probably by Alastor, shoved into his overlord suit and tie.

“You motherfuckers better not fuck up my bar! I worked all day to keep shit organized!” He yelled at the closed door, “I’m talking about you, Angel Dust!” He scoffed and fixed his sleeves.

You couldn’t bear to look dead at him. You safely got peeks from your peripheral. On one of your attempts, the two of you made eye contact for a brief second. You immediately looked away, muttering an apology under your breath.

“Are you gonna stand there staring at nothing or are we going?” He elbowed you gently.

“Oh! U-Uh. I’m not quite sure…where we have to go.” You admitted.

He rolls his eyes, “Thrown into battle blind, huh?” He chuckled before moving in front of you, “Take my hand. Can’t have other demons fucking with our artist.”

You look at him, memorizing the way his grin sat on his face. A light blush forms across your cheeks as you take his hand. He walks with you down the city and into the nearest fancy club in your area.

“Ah. I think this is gonna be a little…”

“You scared?” He grins, “You’ll be fine. You’re with me. I’ll fuck shit up if I need to.” He flashed you his playing cards, edges as sharp as can be.

You sigh and nod, walking in with him. He sat you down at a quieter side, as quiet as a famous club can be. You both share a bottle of whiskey, your sudden interest shocking him.

“You know, that art thing you do is mesmerizing.” Why did he have to bring that up now? You internally groaned. “It’s like magic whenever you put whatever’s in that brain on paper.” He stirs his drink with a claw, looking at you. You swear you see a bit of sparkle in his usual dull eyes.

“Th-thanks, Husk.” You stutter. The way his name came out of you warmed him up more than his drink. He wanted you to say it again so badly. "I’ve seen you do magic too y’know.” As much as he paid attention to your work, so did you. You have endless sketches of him playing with cards, fucking around with Angel’s hand with a smooth move so quick one could barely catch it without attentive eyes.

“Ohhh,” He leans in a bit, a teasing grin plastered on his face, “So you watch me that close, huh?”

You choke on your drink, spitting a bit out, “Wh-what! No.”

He chuckles a bit, leaning back, “Cut the act, Y/N.” He closed his eyes, putting his glass up to his lips, “Alastor told me already. And Nifty. And Angel. And Charlie, you know she can’t keep a secret well.”

You were a mess. They told him and they didn’t tell you that they told him? You’re definitely messing with their rooms later. But how much did they tell him? You can’t pinpoint it. “I-” You coughed, trying to clear up your throat from your near death experience via literal drowning in alcohol. “I can’t help that you’re just…nice to draw.”

You turn away, a bit ashamed and definitely flustered. He was quiet, watching you intently as he sipped on his drink. “I like drawing anything I like.”

Now it was his turn to choke a bit but you didn’t catch it. He wiped his mouth, “So you like me then, right?”

You turn to face him not expecting his face to be so close to yours. A little shift and you two would fall into a kiss. You weren’t able to read his face well. He had a blank expression. You stare at him, face red.

“It’s okay, fucker. You know how it is,” He elbows you, laughing a bit before grabbing your hand to drag you out of the club. “I’m the bartender that knows everything about everybody.”

He rarely used his wings, unwilling to accept his demon form. But tonight, he stretched his wings out. “What’re you-”

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” He looks at you over his shoulder, holding your hand a little tighter. You nod in response.

Without a second thought, he pulled you close to him, hugging you to his chest. You blinked and you were off the ground, soaring through the air. He held you close, careful to not let you fall.

“I want you to see something. Something I doubt anyone’s ever shown you.” He keeps his head up, unaware of how starstruck you’re looking at him. You were also too scared to look anywhere else.

He flies as high as he can, stopping at a certain point before holding you in his arms in a bridal style way. “Look around, Y/N. Take it all in.” He speaks softly. You look around and from where you guys are, you can see the entire Pentagram City. Your eyes are filled with a breathtaking view of the city you grew up in. He smiles at the sight of your interest, “As much as I fucking hate this place. It’s not bad when you can’t hear the chaos going on down there from up here.”

“It’s beautiful. I…I have to paint this.” You state, wishing you had your book with you. You rest your head on his chest. After a while you feel him fly towards a high point at the edge of the city, landing on a mountain. He doesn’t let you down as soon he lands though, he didn’t want to ruin your adoring looks at the view.

Your face is lit up with admiration, you feel at peace. It was quiet but a soothing kind of quiet. Your ears caught onto a different sound while you rested on his chest. Is he purring?

You look up at him, “Thanks for the ride, Husk.” Smiling warmly, you cupped his face in your hand. You swear you felt him lean into it. He puts you down gently before putting his hand over yours, returning your warm smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

He purrs softly, the vibrations reverberating on your hand. He nods. “Is it okay I…pet you a bit. You’re just so fluffy.” He went from looking at you with his eyes half shut to wide open, in disbelief. “I-It’s for my art! My drawings.” You laugh nervously, “You know…reference…” It was half a lie, which he is aware of, you actually do want to capture his soft looking fur in your drawings but wanted to know exactly how dense or fluffy it is.

He laughs, closing his eyes as he sat on the ground with you following after him, “You’re lucky I like you, Y/N. Go for it.”

He hated when people treated him like a cat but for you, he’d make an exception. He’d make multiple exceptions for you. You begin to stroke the top of his head, making sure you remember how it feels in your palms in case you never get the chance to do this again. His purring grew louder as he leaned into your touch.

You began to pet his cheeks, getting a closer look at his face, taking in every detail. From his heart shaped nose, to the way his eyebrows fluffed out of his face. He slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you. You were too mesmerized by how unbearably handsome he is to see him inching closer.

He grabs your hand on his cheek, “I could kiss you right now.” He could what? Before you got a chance to react he pulled you into him, his lips crashing on yours. You yelp before giving in and melting into him. The kiss didn’t last too long but it felt like hours.

You stared at him as longingly as you did dumbfounded. “Look, babe, I notice everything about you. Everything you do.” He holds your head in his hands. “I see the way you light up when Charlie brings you paintings. How you paint with that focused look. You’re one of, if not, the only demon with sense in that hotel and respect my boundaries. You’ve never pushed my buttons once. And I truly, truly appreciate it.”

You lean into his hold, holding his face in return, “I understand you a lot more than you think, Husk. I know it’s silly but I find comfort in you. I love the way your voice sounds. I love watching your magic tricks. I love the way you effortlessly make a drink without even looking. And I love the way you fight. You fill me with so much artistic desire and you get me out of the toughest art blocks out there.”

“And you help me stay calm when everybody gets on my nerves. I’ll take a fight on for you any day, babe.” He rests his forehead on yours, “Who would’ve thought my cold little heart could be warmed up in hell of all places, huh?”

He shifts and rests his head on your lap as you continue to pet him, humming softly as you did.

"And who would've thought I'd be able to get the grumpy bartender to purr in my lap?"

You two enjoyed the rest of your night together. He actually stole a bottle for you two and you both drank the night away.

.

.

.

“You think Y/N’s ruffling his feathers? If you know what I mean.” Angel laughs followed by a quick slap on the back by Vaggie. “Ow! It was just a joke. God, tits.”

“Oh I believe Husk is having a wonderful night.” Alastor grins, aware of what the soul he owns has done, “And might I say, he is quite the charmer. Truly a hidden gem. Under all that gruff he is but a little kitten.” He hummed, teleporting away into his tower.

Charlie was so excited and had set up a congratulations sign on the wall for when you two return. She was happy her dear friend finally found comfort in somebody.

[lovelyverosika]

I keep thinking about his angel eyes

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader

Part 3 —> Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: talk about self hate

A/N: Here is the part 3 everyone wished for. I decided to make a total of 4 parts, so you sadly still need to wait a bit for the end :,) Like always I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes.

Y/N POV:

I found myself in a room similar to a movie theater. I’m not able to move a single muscle in my body. Suddenly a movie started playing, memories of my life in heaven or more specially about Adam and me. I smiled and felt all warm and fuzzy inside as the memories of our growing relationship were displayed right in front of me.

The first time we met, how we fought at work, how we began to spend more time with each other, our first dates and how he took his mask down for the first time. This may sound exaggerated but that was the proof of how much he trusts me and oh lord was he gorgeous. His golden eyes had me captured the moment I looked into them…his beautiful angel eyes. Nothing was more beautiful than seeing his true emotions reflect in them. Everyone knew him as "The first man" or the self quoted "Dick master" but I know it better. Deep down he’s a insecure soul who’s desperate for admiration and affection, especially after loosing his two previous wives to the same man.

Of course he was a total asshole when I first met him but he changed for the better and that out of his own will, that is something not everyone is willing to do. In a flash of seconds more memories were shown: Our first kiss, anniversary and lastly our wedding. It was a very magnificent day, I never ever thought I will find a lover let alone get married to someone. Everything was just perfect until the court accident today.

Suddenly everything went black. I don’t know where I am or what to feel, this is stranger than any dream or nightmare I ever had. I slowly stood up as a sudden blow of cold air hit me. I wrap my arms around myself as I start walking around in this strange void. All I can hear is my own heartbeat,breathing and the sound of my heels clicking on the ground. After what felt like an eternity I found a single white door in the middle of this nowhere.

Not knowing what else I should do I open the door and enter another black space with a single mirror standing in the middle. This is all so strange and overwhelming I couldn’t prevent myself from tearing up..pathetic that’s what I am. I took a deep breath and walked towards the mirror. I looked like an absolute mess with my eyes puffy from all the crying.

Suddenly the reflection changed in how I used to look like back then in hell. "Helloooo, redeemed or not I’ll always be a part of you.”, my reflection said. I was completely stunned…how is that even possible? "Do you remember what you used to tell your friends back then in hell? You said and I quote: You don’t need to be perfect to be worthy of being loved or deserving a better life. Everyone deserves a second chance and that goes for you too." My old self gave me a big smile and I couldn’t help but smile too.

In a way she is right but accepting yourself is much harder than people say. It takes lots of time, patience and willingness. My reflection gave me a look full of pity before she started to speak. "You probably think he will leave you, hm? Of course that can be an option but would he really? It’s like Rosie said it’s difficult to admit things you’re not proud of but you’re still you. The fact you used to be a demon doesn’t change the person you really are, the person he grew to love and cherish. It seems like we’re running out of time..it was nice seeing the person I became. You’re much stronger than you think.", she chuckled and waved at me. "Farewell Y/N..it’s time to wake up now. Emily must be going insane from how much she worries about you."

My reflection disappeared and left me with a warm feeling inside my heart. With a smile on my face I walked through the mirror and woke up in a bed, which must belong to Emily. In less than a few seconds Emily wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. "You’re awake, I was so scared you wouldn’t wake up.", she said while sniffing onto my chest. I couldn’t help but smile, she’s such a sweetheart. "Shh, I’m here now.", I said while patting her back.

Part 4

[raveninfog]

Secrecy.

Authors note- hi everyone! I’m pretty new to all this and this is my first shot at writing. I’ve always been a spectator, just waiting on amazing authors to update their fics to reading one shots in the middle of the night cause I can’t sleep. I’ve always had ideas in my head about how I’d write and I decided to finally give it a try. Hopefully you’d all enjoy it. Also with that being said, please don’t be afraid to give me some advice on how I can get better as time goes on. 🫶🏼

Enjoy my loves!

Warnings- flirting, light swearing, nicknames, based in the late 40s. Kissing. Sneaking around, Best friend’s older brother. Sergeant James Barnes. Reader is 20 while Bucky is 24.

Genre- Oneshot! Fluff! Best Friends Brother.

You were sitting there at the dining table with your best friend Rebecca. Working on a school project you had to finish with her for your history class. Books laid out in front of you, papers, pencils. The sound of the front door opening was heard since the dining room was right by the front door of the small home. It was him, Rebecca’s older brother bucky. He was home from the base quite early today.

You’ve had a crush on him for a while, how couldn’t you? He was a sergeant, in the military, about to go fight in the war in a couple months. That crush reciprocated from Bucky, it had seemed like he felt the same way about you too. Which later came out to be very true. So you two had a little secret, a little secret relationship..no one knew about.

Not even Rebecca.

As you saw Rebecca get up and go to the kitchen to grab some snacks, Bucky came up behind you. He knew this was the perfect time too. The kitchen wall blocked off the area of the living room you were in. Your head turning to the side to where he was as you heard him, before he leaned in and kissed your lips passionately. His lips met in a fiery clash, soft yet insistent, moving with a rhythm that spoke of longing and urgency with yours. The warmth of his touch was intoxicating, every brush sending shivers down your spine. It was the way your lips fit perfectly within his, moving in sync, that made everything else fade into the background—a perfect balance of softness and intensity, leaving you two breathless and wanting more.

His lips were pliant and eager, parting slightly to deepen the connection, to draw the you closer. There was a slight pressure, firm and deliberate, as if to imprint the moment into a memory. The sensation was both tender and consuming, each movement speaking of unspoken words, of desire that couldn't be contained.

You were caught off guard of course, especially when you had turned your head and there was your boyfriend. You felt his lips on yours, before closing your eyes and kissing him back. The way he had bent down and had his hand on the back of your head, tilted upwards to get a good angle of your perfect lips on his . The warmth of your own breath and his mingled, and the world around you two faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your hearts and lips together.

“Is this how you say hello?...” you whispered to him in between kisses, when you pulled away just slightly for him to capture your lips again in a split second for a moment.

You could feel him pull away, to see if Rebecca was still in the kitchen. Hell, he could hear Rebecca going through the cabinets to find snacks or something.

To his luck, she was still in the kitchen. You had felt his lips right back on yours once again without even saying a single thing to you until he had finally pulled away to speak. He rested his forehead against yours, his thumb moving onto your cheek bone and caressing it gently before his thumb slid down to your bottom lip doing the same.

His lips curled into a soft smirk, his perfect little doll he absolutely adored with all his god damn being. It was almost surprisingly how Rebecca didn’t notice her big brother look at her own best friend with love in his eyes for you.

“What else do you want? A little love tap?” He teased you as he ran his thumb against your chin now.

You finally felt him pull his hands away from you, standing up straight as he fixed his uniform and took a shuffle back just in time as Rebecca had made her way back with some tea she had made. God, Rebecca was so oblivious to the point where it felt too easy. Too easy to the point it felt god damn suspicious.

“Let’s get this project over with so we can go to bed, unless you want Bucky to drive you home Y/N.” Becca said, setting the mug of tea in front you before taking a seat in the chair. Her face having a clear look of annoyance at the papers in front of her.

Bucky turned his head, looking at his little sister because he took a glance at you and cleared his throat a little.

“Why not tell dad to drop her off?” He spoke up. It felt like torture to say that, but he knew he had to play the game of keeping the relationship a secret.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and looked at her older brother before snickering at him.

“Well hello to you too, Why wouldn’t you wanna drop your girlfriend off?”

“WHAT?!” You and Bucky say in sync, shock spreading on his face while your cheeks turned completely red.

“What do you mean wha- oh come on, did you guys REALLY think I was that stupid..you guys aren’t exactly the best at hiding things. Especially since you two are always making out somewhere in the damn house.”

Buckys cheeks turned red as he rubbed the back of his neck, he honestly didn’t know what the hell to say to his little sisters revelation about her knowing everything. Clearly you were embarrassed, not to mention shocked about your best friend knowing. God you knew you and Bucky weren’t ever gonna hear the end of this. Not in a bad way really, more in an annoying way where she’d bring it up at every occasion she sees.

“Uh well…I-If that’s the case then yeah..I’ll drop Y/N off…unless she’s sleeping over.” Bucky said, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Ugh pervert..” Becca muttered in disgusted.

[hiramaris]

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 1

Summary:

A story revolving around the newly arrived resident farmer in the eyes of the personified perfection, the sunflower of Pelican Town herself, Haley. Or. When Haley finally met the person that caused ripples in what was once a stagnant town, and she didn’t know how to handle such massive change.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Notes:

Haley's heart events are just soooo wifey, especially after marriage. Her character development is well written off but I just can't help but notice that something is missing, like the heart events are just not that connected in some way. Stardew is an absolute gem don't get me wrong. I'd like to try and connect what I think is missing which is the reason this fic is created. P.S. Second try in making fanfiction. I apologize for any future grammatical errors or whatever. English is not my primary language.

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None so far? Just Haley being her usual self

Gif from reddit.com

Winter 25

Immobile.

Stagnant.

Bland.

What words could possibly do justice to describe this sleepy town? Pelican Town had its charms sure. It’s peaceful, the air is fresh, and would never choke you on your sleep plus it gives a really nice tan so Haley wouldn’t really complain. 

But it was just so... boring. Was that the right term?

The people are meh, nosy, and just as bland but they are good neighbors though don't get her wrong. They look after them— her and Emily when their parents can’t. 

Ugh.

Them again. Thinking about them just makes her angry— blood boiling and all that, and well… sad which is infuriating.

How can you just leave your kids just to go follow your own dreams and travel? And then act like you care just by sending some half-hearted letter? Sending a letter now and then was hardly enough to make up for their absence. How low could that be?

Emily doesn’t think so. But what does she know? Her cooking was as bland as the town, and her obsession with crystals and hippie clothes was just plain ridiculous. She knows nothing. 

Her sister is anything but pessimistic. She saw the light in everything whereas Haley ever saw them through the lens of her camera.

Capturing a single moment in a photograph was a thousand times more vivid and alive than the bleak and colorless reality she was currently living in.

She should be in college right now, pursuing her dreams, being the center of attention, and having boys falling over themselves to impress her. Or she would have been running her own photography studio by now in a city that never sleeps, schmoozing with some famous photographers and carving a niche for herself in the cut-throat world of photography.

But no, because here she was, stuck in a six-mile drive from the nearest city, life as directionless as the people in here.

Why am I even staying here? She wonders.

Oh, yeah— grandma.

This house is hers. Her house is the only thing that made her feel that Grandma is still here, with them. Even though Haley is talking big about leaving this town, she knew to herself that she doesn’t have the strength to just leave it just like that. Which is why they both tried to keep it tidy and well... avoiding it from falling apart.

Aside from that, there was nothing to do here. The only things keeping her sane were her camera, her phone, and the clothes she ordered online.

Oh, and of course, her best friend, Alex.

He's the only one— aside from Emily and of course, the Mullner residence, Granny and George are good people even though George is grumpy all the time,  that she's able to have a decent conversation. She and Alex are, after all, not the sharpest tool in the shed, and shared almost the same brain cell.

He’s that typical jock boy, ripped as hell but in terms of brain, well… meh. Not like Haley's any better so who is she to judge?

They went to the same school, belonged to the same clique, and were both popular, of course. He’s here to practice his grid ball or whatever but Haley knew better.

Alex, despite being the dungus that he is, has a lot on his plate already. He needs the peace this town can offer.

And maybe, maybe I need it, too.

Maybe being away from the city has a good cause, despite her constant complaints, this town has been her home for the past six years after all.

But she just really couldn’t help but dwell on this stupid thought of hers of being stagnant and directionless at this time of the year.

Winter.

Ugh. It’s stupidly cold outside and there’s no way she’s walking in six-inch snow just to get a quality photo, which isn’t much considering the lighting outside does not satisfy her at all. The only, and probably one good thing about winter is peppermint coffee. It's hot, minty, and makes her feel warm while making her mouth worthy of being sucked on— err... that's a want that cannot be sated as of the moment.

The bachelors in this town suck for real. They are not even worthy of a single glance. Apart from Alex, of course, but he's a friend so... no.

And what's made it double suck is that she ran out of peppermint coffee. Pierre is out of stock and there's no way she'll let herself be caught alive inside that creep manager's store that runs Joja or whatever. 

Now she's stuck sitting at the table, devouring a massive pink cake that could feed an entire family, enduring a coffee so bland it makes her want to try and drink tea.

She hates tea.

Oh yeah, she's also holding a note and a sunflower in her other hand. 

She doesn't want to read the letter but considering the gifts she just received, it’s probably just the same lame-ass apology about being unable to be here on her birthday this coming Spring 14th. Not that it mattered anymore; it had been two years of absence, and she had grown used to it by now.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the note onto the table, debating whether to toss it into the fireplace or tear it to shreds or whatever.

If it's just another excuse, she doesn’t want to hear it.

"Haaaay!" And there's a familiar voice. 

"If you don't have peppermint coffee with you I swear to Yoba—"

"What's the case, long face?" he quipped. "And no, I don't have anything with me."

She looked up from her cake, finding Alex strolling in their kitchen with one of his shit-eating grins, hair covered with a concerning amount of snow. She grimaced. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you."

He feigned a hurt expression. "I thought you loved me though."

"According to gossip, maybe but really, I don't," she deadpanned. 

He cackled at the mention of that. At the center of the gossip mill passing down from Marnie, Jodi, and Caroline, maybe Robin, too, and probably all the yoga club, is he and Haley dating. Which was absurd, to be honest.

"No, really, Hay." He finally turns serious. "What's up? What's got your face looking like that?" 

"It's just the stupid climate." Haley tried to lie. She didn't want to stir up drama at the moment. Alex frowned, catching up with her lie almost immediately. He caught sight of the letter Haley threw earlier. "Alex don't—"

Too late. He already got it. He sat down next to her as he read the contents of the note, his brows furrowing in what she assumes is annoyance. "Parents, huh? Same old, same old?" He raised an eyebrow.

Haley huffed and snatched the letter away. "Yes, the usual."

"Well." Alex propped his elbow on the backrest, a sly grin returning to his face. "I just got the perfect news that might take your mind off things."

Haley arched a perfect eyebrow, curious. Gossip wasn't his usual forte.

"Spill." 

"A new farmer is coming to town."

Haley's fork paused in mid-air. "Uh... I'm not sure how to react to that, and what's so great about it?"

His smile widened. "I heard she's from Zuzu City."

"I'm sorry, what?" 

"Why? Surprised another Zuzu native is coming here?"

"No, you dungus." She slapped his hand attempting to take a slice of her cake. "I heard you correctly, right? You said the farmer's a she? A girl is taking over that farm?"

"Yes," Alex confirmed, finally snagging a bite of cake. Haley makes a scrunched face in mock disgust. "The farmer's a she. Old man Railey's granddaughter actually. What's the problem though?" he asked in mouthfuls.

Haley stood up to grab another spoon. No way she's getting his imaginary cooties. Alex doesn't seem to mind; it only further encourages him to eat some more.

"Because it’s weird," she said as she sat down. "Farming isn't exactly a girl's job, especially for a city girl like her. I bet you she wouldn't last a month."

"Not all girls are like you, Hay— ow! What's that for?!" He rubbed his ribs where Haley just nudged with her boniest elbow of all time.

"As I was saying before being rudely interrupted." She rolled her eyes. "Farming is all dirt and nasty, smelly clothes. That farm was barely run by old man Railey before he died. What could possibly a city girl like his granddaughter could do with that rundown farm? I bet you it’s already smoldering by now."

"Good point," Alex said as he continued eating. Haley swear to Yoba all this idiot does is eat and relax in here.

He has a diet, right? So does she, and they're like eating a fat block of sugar right now.

Whatever. Pink cake has always been an exemption from all her seasonal dietary plans.

"But I guess we'll have to wait and see; don't you think so?" Alex turned to her after a few moments of silence. "I heard she's around our age. If it's true that farming is as difficult as they say, the least we can do is make her feel welcomed."

Haley barely nods in acknowledgment. 

This town is like a pond, where everything that enters stays and everyone already there remains. The city is a raging storm with ocean waves ready to swallow you if you go against the flow. A lot of people there has a sense of direction, one Haley aspires to have, and what Pelican lacks. You can't, at all costs, be still and unmoved and some people just couldn't do that.

And those people who couldn't stand the pressure, come here, like a moth drawn to a flame, seeking the mundanity Pelican Town could offer them. Perhaps they have grown weary of the constant hustle and bustle. Maybe city life has been too much. Maybe modern life has been too much for this farmer.

Who knows?

But one thing Haley doesn't like, and what keeps her unmoved and still, is change. Adapting, and adjusting isn't meant for her. It took years before she could finally settle a lifestyle in this town, and another two years of adjustment when her parents decided it would be a good idea to abandon them and go travel. She knew where to go, where townspeople go just so she could avoid interacting with them, she accustomed herself to their culture, and the perfect spots for taking pictures. She has it all memorized and planned out perfectly.

And this farmer will be an anomaly to her perfectly (not as perfect as she thought) crafted routine. New face, a new attitude, and just an overall new person she might be obligated to talk to for the sake of introduction.

Pelican is a stagnant pond, yet this farmer, this alien to her world, she's not yet even here but she is already starting to cause ripples.

And Haley doesn't know what to think of it.

~~~~~

Next

Notes:

The title was inspired by Cigarettes After Sex' Kiss it off me. Their songs are such *chef's kiss* and whilst I was listening to this song, it kind of, sorta, reminded me of how my farmer sees her wife. Thus kabooOm this fic is born

Edit: Because I'm procrastinating and I made sure to finish off my other story first, I decided now to transfer this story from Ao3 to Tumblr

[tomionefinds]

Spooky/Creepy Fics

h/t to mod @april-17-rose for the graphic!

For Spooky Season (mind the tags on all fics listed below)

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[fandom-smut-shots]

Luka Couffaine x Reader - Ride

Request: Do you accept requests right now? Cuz it would be nice if you could write something smut with Luka with him first as Viperion

Smut warning. Luka/Viperion and the reader are both legal adults.

Again, totally open to any gender for the reader, but if it’s not specified (especially with smut) I automatically write female. Use of one feminine pet name.

Words: 2,985

             Your heart hammered in your chest as you clung to the wall of the back alley, hiding in the shadows to the best of your ability. Akuma attacks were scary enough to watch on TV, but experiencing one yourself was absolutely terrifying.  Everything was loud – the thunderous roar of the akumatized villain, the adrenaline-fueled cries of Ladybug and Cat Noir, the frightened shrieks of victims and passersby. You panted heavily as you sank to the ground, tucking your knees against your chest and willing yourself to appear as small as humanly possible. All you wanted to do was hide. Utter helplessness stabbed at your heart, urging a round of tears to well up in your eyes.

           A wave of something washed over the city, and you gasped at the sudden serenity you felt in the air. Rising to your feet, you tentatively glanced around the corner to find the streets full of normal, non-victimized citizens. A sigh of relief fell from your lips at the realization that the miraculous heroes must have defeated the villain once again.

           “Are you alright?” came a soft, soothing voice from your right. You jumped at the sudden noise, turning to face one of the heroes that Ladybug and Cat Noir must have called in for backup. Viperion, his name was, if you remembered correctly. The snake hero. Damn, he was so much more attractive up close. You’d only seen him at a distance before, across town or on TV. But with him here, standing in front of you, you were likely to lose yourself in his electric blue eyes, gazing at you tenderly as though you were a close friend instead of just a civilian.

           “I’m fine,” you finally managed to exhale. “I ran over here to hide. The villain didn’t see me.”

           “I’m glad you’re not hurt,” Viperion smiled softly, and damnit if his tone didn’t send a chill up your spine.

           “Thanks for your help, Viperion,” came Ladybug’s familiar voice, and you turned to see her approaching from the left. “Oh, hey there. Are you okay?”

           You nodded. “Yes, I’m okay, thank you. You guys were amazing out there.”

           She smiled sweetly. “Just doing our jobs, but it’s nice to be appreciated.” She then turned to Viperion. “Thank you so much for your help. We wouldn’t have been able to capture the akuma without you.”

           The snake hero bowed politely. “It was my pleasure, Ladybug. I suppose you’ll be taking my miraculous back now?”

           Ladybug nodded. “I’m afraid it’s time.”

           “I should go then,” you murmured. As much as your curiosity was eating at you, you understood that their true identities absolutely must remain secret, even from a single random citizen.

           “Thank you,” Ladybug nodded towards you, and you returned it. You crept away from the alley, sauntering through town and making your way home.

           Moments later, a hand grasped your forearm, and you turned around with a gasp. The hand belonged to Luka Couffaine, your friend’s twin and your long-harbored crush.

           “Where did you come from?” you inquired, your eyes darting behind him towards the alley.

           “I was so worried about you,” he murmured instead, taking your hands in his.

           “What?” you questioned, tilting your head in confusion. “Why?”

           “I thought the villain had gotten you,” he admitted. “I looked for you in the crowd, but I couldn’t find you.”

           What? Luka was looking for you?

           “I was hiding,” you explained, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks as he tightened his hold on your hands. “Why were you looking for me?”

           The softest blush dusted his cheeks, and he ducked his head in the cutest way possible. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

           Warmth spread through your core as you gazed at the blue-haired boy. You gnawed at your lower lip, feeling a surge of confidence as you stepped closer to him.

           “Why were you so concerned with my safety?” you inquired, standing close enough that when Luka lifted his head, you could feel his breath on your face.

           Electric blue orbs bore into yours, and you felt your knees weaken. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to remain upright and confident.

           “I like you,” he murmured softly, lacing his fingers through yours.

           “You do?” you whispered back, your eyes darting between Luka’s eyes and lips.

           He dipped his head, resting his forehead on yours. “Yes, I do.”

           “I like you, too,” you informed him, removing your hands from his in order to place them on his chest.

           His hands found your hips, and his breath ghosted over your lips. You watched his gaze drop to your lips before meeting your eyes once again.

           “Can I kiss you?” You barely heard his voice, your eyes already closing from the proximity. You managed a nod, exhaling a sigh as his lips pressed tenderly to yours. Warmth flooded your chest at the contact, spreading through your belly before settling in your groin. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, but as Luka’s grip on your hips tightened, you found yourself growing more and more comfortable in his arms.

           “Can I take you home?” he whispered huskily against your lips. “We don’t have to do anything. I’d just really like to spend more time with you.”

           Your heart hammered in your chest. You’d had a crush on the blue-haired boy since high school, but you were certain he was in love with Marinette. You didn’t consider he’d ever see you in that light.

           “I’d like that,” you exhaled with a nod. “I have an apartment not far from here.”

           He pulled back to smile softly at you. “Lead the way.”

             It was a short walk back to your place, but it felt like forever as Luka laced his fingers with yours, gently squeezing your hand. Your entire body was tingling from the kiss, and you hoped it wasn’t too soon to take things further with the boy you’d loved for so many years.

           When you finally approached your front door, your fingers trembled as you fumbled with your keys. You hoped he didn’t notice as you struggled to insert the key into the lock before finally managing to click it open. He followed suit as you opened the door and stepped into the apartment, his soft gaze wandering across your furniture and belongings.

           “Would you like something to drink?” you offered awkwardly, standing in the middle of the kitchen. “I’ve got water and tea, or I could make some coffee.”

           Luka shook his head, padding closer until he stood before you. “All I need is you.”

           You exhaled a shaky breath at his words, gazing up into his cerulean eyes. “Are you sure?”

           In lieu of a verbal reply, he lifted a hand to cradle the side of your face, bringing your lips to his. You melted into the kiss, your eyes fluttering closed as you pressed back against him. Your hands rested on his chest as his other hand found the small of your back, pulling your figure to his. He began walking backwards, his lips still tangled with yours, leading you out of the kitchen. He managed to find the hallway before he reluctantly broke the kiss.

           “Bedroom?”

           You offered a nod, claiming his lips as your fingers fisted lightly in his jacket, keeping him close as you walked him towards your room. You reached blindly behind you to turn the knob, kicking the door open as you led Luka inside. He spun you around, closing the door and pinning your back to it. You exhaled sharply at the contact, surrendering to him completely. You could feel his smirk against your lips as he kissed you again, his hands sliding down your sides until they wound behind you to grope at your ass. You whimpered into the kiss, sliding one hand to the back of his head and tangling your fingers in his two-toned locks. He grunted softly, and the sound went straight to your core, adding to the heat pooling between your legs.

           “We don’t-“ he panted in between kisses, “we don’t have to do anything.”

           His lips peppered kisses across your jaw and down your neck, despite his considerate words. You gasped as he bit down on your collarbone, nibbling at your skin.

           “I want to,” you managed, lifting his head up to meet your gaze. “If you do.”

           He nodded quickly, kissing you hard. “I do. Very much.”

           His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, tugging you close to his body. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He carried you to your bed, kissing you passionately as he sat down with you on his lap. His hands groped greedily at your ass, and you moaned into his mouth, sliding a hand into his hair. You tugged experimentally at the two-toned strands, drawing a low groan from Luka’s throat that sent another rush of heat straight to your core. He broke the kiss, and you opened your mouth to protest. Before you could form a single word, his perfect lips latched onto your neck, sucking a deep hickey into your skin, and you whimpered, throwing your head back. You tugged harder at his hair, feeling him groan against your neck.

Your fingers pushed at the fabric of his jacket, prying it off his shoulders. He unwound his arms from your waist in order to pull at the sleeves, tossing the garment to the floor. His hands, warm from his natural body heat and calloused from years of strumming his guitar, slid beneath your shirt, over the bare skin of your sides, and your breath hitched in your throat. He removed himself reluctantly from your neck, gazing up at you to ensure the sound hadn’t been hesitation.

           His lips pressed tenderly to the underside of your jaw. “Are you good?”

           Cupping his face in your hands, you ducked your head, capturing his lips with your own. “More than good,” you huffed against his mouth.

           He smirked softly, a gesture that you felt more than saw, as his hands slid further upwards, pulling the fabric of your shirt along with them. You raised your arms above your head to allow the garment to removed completely, leaving Luka to stare wantonly at your breasts, still nestled in your bra.

           “God damn,” he exhaled, his hands slowly lifting to cup your boobs, squishing them experimentally. He tilted his head up to claim another kiss, to which you responded eagerly, as his hands slid around your back to unclasp your bra. You slid your arms out of it, tossing it aside and guiding Luka’s hands to your bare chest. He groaned into the kiss at the feeling of your skin beneath his hands, his fingers dancing across your nipples. You pressed closer, arching your back, and he took a nipple between his fingers, twisting it gently. You whimpered into his mouth and he broke the kiss, ducking his head to wrap his lips around the hardening bud. You tangled a hand in his hair, tugging at the cerulean locks until he groaned around your nipple. He sucked on it until you moaned loudly, detaching himself only to switch sides and repeat his assault on your other breast.

Lustful clouds fogged your brain as you lost yourself in his hands and lips, your own hands across his shoulders. Finding fabric where you wanted to feel skin, you reached lower, taking handfuls of his shirt and tugging upwards. Luka released your breasts and lifted his arms, wiggling out of his shirt before you threw it somewhere behind you. Your fingers danced down his chest and your teeth gnawed at your lower lip as your eyes raked over his toned figure. You’d always known he was the type to eat well and work out, but goddamn you hadn’t expected him to be chiseled like a marble statue. His lips split into a grin as he watched desire pool in your eyes, his hands resting on your hips and tugging them against his own. You moaned in surprise, grinding your hips down to repeat the sensation. The action pulled a moan from his throat as well, and you offered him a satisfied smirk.

           “How do you want me?” you found yourself asking, grinding your hips on his lap. You were almost certain there would be a stain on his jeans from the wetness seeping through your panties.

           “Just like this,” Luka replied, leaning back and gripping your hips in order to thrust upwards, drawing a whimper from your throat. “Is that okay?”

           “Fuck yeah,” you gasped. You braced your hands on his chest, pushing yourself off of his lap. He opened his mouth to question you when your hands found the fastening of your jeans, undoing the button and zipper before hooking your thumbs into the waistband. His mouth hung agape as you slowly slid your pants down your smooth legs, revealing more skin for him to grope and kiss and suckle. His own pants grew uncomfortably tight as he gazed at you in nothing but soaked panties, which you slowly shimmied out of, kicking them to the side once they reached your feet.

           “Your turn,” you grinned, watching as he scrambled to peel off his jeans and boxers. Shoes had already been discarded, and you both stripped off your socks before you climbed back onto his lap. Feeling his hard cock rubbing against your dripping cunt had you moaning lowly, resting your forehead against Luka’s in an attempt to ground yourself.

           “Condoms?” he questioned softly, trying to focus his mind on something other than how good your pussy was about to feel wrapped around his length.

           You reached out your arm, blindly feeling around for the drawer of your nightstand. Upon locating it, you pulled it open, thrusting your hand inside before pulling out a string of condoms and passing them to Luka.

           He offered you a husky chuckle. “How many do you think we’re going to need?”

           “Let’s find out,” you grinned. He mirrored your expression before separating one wrapper from the rest, tearing it open with his teeth. You rose up on your knees to give him room to slide it on, wrapping your arms around his neck and peppering kisses down his jaw. He tilted his head back as he took his length in hand, lining the tip up with your entrance. You moaned in unison as you sunk down to the base, your cunt clenching at the stimulation of being so full.

           “Fuck,” Luka groaned lowly as you began rocking your hips, lifting upwards and grinding back down. You braced your arms on his shoulders for leverage as you picked up your pace, rocking and grinding against his cock. He tilted his head up to capture your lips, swallowing your moans as you sloppily returned the kiss. Luka’s hands found your hips, pulling you down harshly on his length, moaning into the kiss at how deep he was inside you. He used his grip to thrust upwards into your heat, breaking the kiss to dip his head and sink his teeth into your neck. A moan ripped from your lips as you tilted your head back, granting him more access. Your nails dug crescents into the skin of his shoulders as you struggled to match his thrusts.

           “You feel amazing,” the blue-haired boy panted against your neck. “So much better than my imagination.”

           “You’ve imagined this?” you whimpered as he shifted his hips to thrust at a different angle, finding the special spot inside you that had you clenching around him. “Fuck! Right there!”

           He smirked, holding the angle to repeatedly hit that spot. You moaned shamelessly, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

           "Of course I've imagined this," Luka growled into your ear. “I just never thought you felt the same way.”

           His grip on your hips tightened as he felt you clench harder around him. His thrusts came faster, sharper, chasing your release and pounding relentlessly into your tightening heat. Moans and whimpers tore from your throat at the assault, your fingernails dragging across his broad shoulders, leaving red lines in their wake.

           “Cum on my cock, princess,” he groaned, nipping at your earlobe.

           “Fuck!” you yelped, your body seizing as your orgasm crashed into you. Luka moaned as you clenched impossibly tighter around him, biting down on his shoulder as you came.

           As you rode out your orgasm, the blue-haired man’s thrusts grew sloppy as he chased h8is own release. He wrapped one arm around your back, pulling your chests flush together. His other hand remained on your hip, holding himself as deep inside your heat as he could.

           “Oh, fuck,” he moaned lowly into your ear, his hips going completely still. His release unloaded into the condom as he remained inside you, both of you panting heavily.

           You lifted your head from his shoulder, gazing up at Luka. He offered you a smile, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. The hand on your hip rose to cradle the back of your head, gently carding his fingers through your hair. You rested a hand on his neck, the other caressing his toned chest.

           “I know we did things a little backwards,” Luka commented, resting his forehead against yours, “but I’d really like to take you on a date.”

           “I’d love that,” you grinned, stealing another chaste kiss from his lips.

           He began trailing kisses down your jaw, his hand on your back shifting to caress your side. You tilted your head to allow him more access, sliding a hand into his hair and gently tugging on the two-toned strands.

           “But right now,” he murmured against your skin, “I think we should see how many of those condoms we can go through.”

           You gasped as you felt his length twitch inside you. “That sounds like a fucking plan.”

[st-playhouse-story-blog]

Introduce AU (Stranger things or ST:))

Greetings, my dear visitor, if you are reading this, you are interested in what I have to tell here.

Well, yes, this is my own fnaf AU, inspired by the old Affinity AU from 2015-2016 by artist Mobox87, and the first four fnaf games.

Warning you that all characters are inspired by the old original designs from 2015-2016, in which I added a few of my own changes (a few because I am very attached to these old designs, also this is a tribute to the old AU Mobox and herself, no matter what kind of person she turned out to be).

Anyways, let's get started;)

Sooooo....

The time setting for AU takes place in 1985, around the time when Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was just starting its popularity in the small town of Hurricane, Utah. The place quickly gained popularity among kids thanks to its delicious pizza and singing, animatronic animals on stage that were adored by all kids. They're brought joy and laughter into children's lives, making it a place filled with daily frivolity and joy.

One of the security guards at the establishment with an ever-smiling face and angelic blue eyes, Vincent Bishop, became a close friend and companion to many children since their very first visit. This was largely due to his kind and understanding gaze, which made him a trustworthy and friendly figure for all the children. The man never hesitated to extend a helping hand to kids and did his best to see their faces light up with the same smile. He repaired broken arcade machines, assisted children who got lost inside, and even encouraged shy kids to gather the bravery to make new friends.

He had a special love and care for his beloved daughter, Brandy Bishop, who also adored visiting her dad at work, albeit not frequently...

Of all the animatronic performers, Brandy's favorite was Bonnie, the purple rabbit with a guitar in hands. The rabbit had captured girl's heart so much that she drew him everywhere — at home, at school, and even in the pizza place itself.

One day, she even attempted to speak with him...

Knowing of daughter's profound affection for the purple bunny mascot, Vincent gifted her a plush version of Bonnie on her 6th birthday. From that day, Brandy was inseparable from the plush toy and couldn't part with him even for a moment.

The girl's love for the purple animatronic bunny reached the point where any outfit her mom, Renata Bishop, sewed for her was either purple or adorned with images of the bunny.

Renata love her daughter so much and willing any of her wishes. However, she also knew when to be strict if Brandy misbehaved or took her makeup or dresses without permission.

The young girl always wants to be as beautiful as her mother.

Due to Rena taking on too much work and struggling to keep up with orders, they're rarely visited Freddy Fazbear's Pizza place together, despite Brandy's constant requests to go there...

One of the pizza joint's frequent visitors was Bart Bishop, Brandy's freckled, red-haired cousin.

Bart absolutely love this place and often hanging out along with his pals to see their favorite mascot, Foxy the Pirate, enjoy the pizza, play arcade games, and spend time with his unc, Vincent, who just happened to be his dad's younger brother.

Bart was a die-hard fan of Foxy's shows and never missed a single performance when visiting the establishment. He loved repeating each and every one of the sly fox-pirate's catchphrases and even emulated some of his habits.

He had an unwavering affinity for all things pirate-related.

Vincent was warm and responsive to Bart just like he do with all other kids. However, he could be stern when Bart misbehaved in the pizzeria, threatening to tell his dad, Scott Bishop, if he acted up.

Scott was the manager of the establishment and often swamped with paperwork and sorts of other administrative tasks. He is very concerned about losing his position, which he took immense pride in, and thus, often took on an excessive workload to preserve his reputation and maintain his standing in the eyes of his boss. As a result, he spent very little time with his own son due to his hectic schedule...

After the death of Margaret, his late wife, Scott was overwhelmed with grief and struggled with depression for some time, but he eventually managed to pick himself back up and refocus on his career and aspirations. However, his focus on work often meant that he overlooked his own son, almost forgetting about him at times. In an attempt to make amends, Scott allows Barty to visit the restaurant almost daily, where he can enjoy free pizza and other free activities, leaving him under the watchful eye of Vincent.

....

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Indeed, everything is splendid.

Everyone is happy, everyone feels just fine.

Isn't this what happiness is all about: having the people you love and cherish healthy and joyful, right?…

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Well, I really hope that you will like it here and you will love this family just as much......

[inlovewithgreta]

I just can not get enough of Joan Ferguson so THANK YOU for the great stories! If you feel inclined some time, can you write one where she's allowing someone to think she's (Joan is) submissive, but partway through Joan has enough of pretending and unleashes her true self? Kind of like a "I'm not what you thought I was and youre about to find that out" moment and she totally loves getting the upper hand and shocking the person. I can just imagine her trying to be weak for this person to get what she wants and once she has it, the fun really begins. 😁

Words cannot explain how much I love writing for Joan. She’s so much fun and I absolutely loved writing this request!! Thank you for requesting more of our favorite Governor!! These Joan requests make me so giddy! I hope you enjoy, my love!! <3

The Freak Unleashed - Joan Ferguson x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: Joan loves to tease and play with you.

Warnings: praise, bondage, oral sex, fingering, etc..

Word Count: 1.9k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @coffeebreath23 @bellatrixsbrat

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were buried between your lover's legs. Your favorite place to be. Pleasuring her to your heart's content. Tasting and savoring every single inch of skin.

Being between the woman's legs was your favorite place on Earth. There was nowhere else you'd rather be. Hearing her quiet moans of pleasure felt like Heaven in your ears. Playing over and over like a symphony.

You sucked on her most sensitive spot between her legs, earning another husky moan from your lover. You were buried deep between her thighs, flicking your tongue across her folds.

Your own cunt was dripping juices down your thighs as you ate her out. You were so turned on, and a complete wet mess yet your love hadn't even touched you yet.

You were in charge. Or so you thought.

Joan had already come twice along your tongue, and to be honest she was loving every second of it. But she had you right where she wanted you. Tongue deep in her pussy, thinking you had the upper hand. Thinking the night would be all about her.

But the truth was, it was only half of what she wanted. A bit of stress relief. But she needed you. To taste you. To feed her desires and hunger.

In one swift, sharp pull to your hair, the woman pulled you roughly up her body. "Joan!—" you gasped at her sudden boldness, not expecting her to be rough tonight.

Joan's breathing was heavy. The woman had never been more turned on. Seeing you go from being 'in charge' to wide-eyed submissive in a matter of seconds was sexy. Joan was yearning for more.

She grabbed your hips, rolling you onto your back so she could straddle your waist. Her hands took hold of your own, pinning them tightly above your head.

"My turn, baby," she smirked wickedly. "You're mine now."

"But— it was supposed to be me in charge tonight!" You whined.

"Did you really think I would let you, my sweet little submissive princess, be in charge?" She chuckled. "I had you right where I wanted you the entire time."

You let out a faux pout. Joan was loving every second. She ignored your bratty behavior to kiss a path down your jawline, along your neck, and down your chest.

"Oh!" Joan captured your nipple in her mouth, her tongue coaxing the bud into a point. Your back immediately arched, and your lover knew you were putty in her hands.

Your moans immediately filled the air as she suckled your bud. Hands were quick to fly to her hair, pushing her face farther into your chest. But the second they did, Joan let go of your nipple with a 'pop'.

Hands grabbed at your wrists once more, holding them above your head and forcibly keeping them in place. "Don't move," she commanded.

Usually, the older woman wouldn't mind your fingers scratching at her scalp. But tonight, she wanted to have her fun. To play with you. To fuck you senseless.

While you couldn't do anything about it.

You did as she said, keeping your hands still as she slid off your frame, to pull something from the bedside drawer. You shivered with excitement when you saw her hands holding rope.

Joan was quick to bound your hands together before expertly wrapping the whole around the headboard to pin you into place. She tugged to confirm you could move before her smirk came back.

"Perfect." You were officially bound and at her mercy. The same spot you never thought you'd see yourself in tonight.

Her plan had worked perfectly.

"Just how I like my little Princess..." Your doe eyes bore into her own as she snaked her way down your body once more. Joan placed numerous kisses along your skin.

"And so wet for me," she said, running a finger through your slick. You whined and bucked your hips, needing more. More of Joan.

She braced herself on her knees, lifting her ass in the air as she leaned forward to lick a strip up your folds. She explored the ridges and valleys, taking her time in working you up even more.

"Joan!" You whined, when she only paid attention to the lower half of your pussy. "Please..."

"Begging already? That's a new record," she teased.

You tugged against the restraints, and Joan couldn't help but chuckle. Knowing exactly what you were wanting. You wanted to tangle your fingers in her hair to pull her closer. But with the restraints, you could only use your words, as your body was no longer your own to handle.

"Joan, baby, please!" Your wrists were already begging to be released as you tugged and pulled at your constraints.

"Since my little Princess has been asking so nicely..." Her fingers dug into your hips after she finally gave in to your whines and pleas. Her tongue circled your clit while two digits pushed deeply into your cunt.

Moans of pleasure soon greatly filled the room, as Joan's speed turned into an unrelenting tempo. The wet sounds of your pussy and your pornographic moans had Joan groaning into your pussy.

The vibrations on your clit immediately sent you spiraling over the edge. You had come faster than expected, but with all the teasing coming from your lover, she herself was not surprised.

Knowing one wouldn't suffice, she kept her grueling pace on your cunt. First allowing you to ride out your first orgasm as long as possible, but to allow you to chase after your second.

"S-Shit, Joan!" Your head fell back against the pillows as your head grew dizzy. Your body shook, wrists pulled, and legs threatened to close around your lover.

Feeling herself wanting to tease more, Joan hastily pulled away from you after feeling your pussy clench around her fingers. You were already so close, dangerously close, and you let out a loud whine when your lover came to straddle your hips.

Your chest heaved against her own, and Joan could feel your heartbeat pounding roughly in your chest. Her breasts were pushed deliciously against your own.

"P-Please. Please don't stop, I need you!" Your voice was raspy and weak as you gazed at her with glossy eyes and a large pout.

"How badly, baby?" She gave you a wicked smirk as she moved your hair off of your sweaty forehead and cupped your face.

"So..so bad.." you wiggling and bucking your hips, hoping your cunt would rub against her own. "Joan, my love, please!" You could feel tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

You were eager to not only please her, but to finish satisfying yourself. She hovered, and let out a dark, lustful laugh at your actions.

"Always so eager to touch me," she noted. You tugged again at your restraints as the first tear dropped down your cheek. "Does my poor little baby want to be free so we can come together? Would you like that?"

"Yes! Please, Joan!" You immediately responded, in which Joan reached up to release you of your restraints. Your hands went to fly to her body but she caught your wrists, examining the marks from your tugging.

"Does it hurt?" Her eyes softened as she noticed the darkening skin and rubbed her thumb in soothing motions.

"No, I'm okay," you reassured her. Her shift from dominating to worrying caused your heart to leap in your chest. Joan would never, ever, want to hurt you.

She let you go, allowing you the freedom to eagerly run your hands down her milky skin. All the way from her breasts, to her hips, and in between her plush thighs.

One hand grabbed at the muscles along her back while the other slipped between her thighs so your thumb could rub circles along her clit before shoving two fingers into her dripping center.

You were already bucking against her own digits that entered you, matching the pace of your own. "Oh, God!" Your nails dug into her back, causing Joan to groan from the mix of pain and pleasure.

She was moving herself up and down to match your fingers with every thrust. You spread your legs wide to accept her probing fingers. Your own hips bucked, matching her movements to meet each of her thrusts.

You both wanted to meet each other with every stroke. Moans of ecstasy filled the room as you both bounced against each other's hands.

Her head fell between the crook of your neck, muffling her moans while she sucked across your tender skin. She was sure to leave marks, but you wanted to hear her. Wanted to listen to her moans, grunts, and overall pornographic noises.

"I want to hear you, my love.." you pouted.

Joan playfully rolled her eyes, pushing herself away from your neck to sit up more straight. Her free hand gripped roughly at the headboard, causing creaks to be heard.

You hummed as your eyes hastily fell to her chest, watching her rather large breasts swaying in front of your face. Your lover noticed your gaze heavily set. She knew how much you loved to play with her boobs. And she herself loved when you did.

"Suck 'em, Princess," she urged you. "Suck on my tits."

You wasted no time in leaning your head forward, taking one breast in your mouth and swirling your tongue around a pink nipple.

"Yess... just like that," she cooed. Her head fell back with the mounting pleasure of you finger fucking her and sucking her breast. You were working hard to please your lover, and it was working.

The rhythm you both set reached a fever pitch, and you feel Joan clamp around your fingers. Your own pleasure was becoming too much, and you felt yourself close to the edge.

"Come with me, baby." She grunted, rocking her hips against your hand.

Your cries of pleasure were muffled against her boob as your release immediately washed over you. Joan came right after you, clutching the headboard with a deathly grip.

You could feel her juices dripping down your wrist as your own covered her slender digits. You were both panting messes, savoring the moment as you slowed your movements to elongate her orgasm.

"Fuck, baby.." Her hand left the bed to rummage through your messy hair.

You were muttering her name, pulling away from her tit, but tugging her erect nipple between your teeth as you went.

Your bodies were shaking as you collapsed into each other's arms. Chests rose and fell in unison, limbs tangled, and bodies became one. You closed your eyes, feeling fatigue instantly wash over you.

Joan nearly melted into you, both of you focusing on catching your breaths as you laid in a comfortable silence. The bed sank as you both enjoyed the comfort.

"Are you okay, my love?" She asked, gazing into your eyes with love and affection as a hand fell to your cheek. Everything else in the world felt like a million miles away compared to the woman, your lover, wrapped in your arms.

"More than okay.." you smiled tiredly. You were beyond fucked out, and Joan couldn't help but chuckle at you.

Her lips gently pressed against yours, engulfing you in the most loving, tender, bittersweet kiss before placing another kiss to the tip of your nose.

Your eyes grew heavy, and Joan hastily made her way to the bathroom to wet cloth with warm water and clean you up. She tossed the fabric aside to slide back into bed, taking your wrists in her hands to rub lotion against your darkened wrists.

"I love you..." you muttered, with a sweet smile.

Joan left the lotion on the bedside table, before pulling you into her arms once more. "I love you too, Princess... Now get some sleep, we'll take a nice warm shower after you've rested."

Her fingers ran through your hair, scratching at your scalp as you melted completely into her touch. You were happy. Fucked out, and in your lovers warm embrace.

Sleep was quick to consume you, and Joan followed suit right after. Ensuring you had completely fallen asleep before allowing her own sleep to consume herself.

The last thing you remembered was her hands in your hair, the gentle hum of her voice, and her chin rested on the top of your head.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

general masterlist | pamela masterlist | taglist

[hobnob2020]

The Veilguard review

Big spoilers ahead for the people that haven't finished the game yet.

So after plugging 70+ hours I've finally completed Veilguard.

This will just be a general overview of how I felt about the game, I'll likely do a separate one for Solas/Mythal and Lavellan and one for a Lucanis romance.

First off I want to say that any negative criticism I had for the game I am reminded of how difficult this game was to get off the ground running in the first place; it experienced multiple layoffs, it pulled the team to focus on Anthem when it failed, the team was reduced, OG writers left and multiple people lost their jobs once their work was complete and lets not forget those that worked on this during a pandemic so I think it's important to keep coming back to this so that we can just appreciate what we had as an end product.

Now the end product itself, did I enjoy it? absolutely.

I've laughed, I've been giddy, I've been angry at times and in those final moments was reduced to tears that reconciliations were reached and it was the end of a very long 10 year wait.

I want to start from the beginning where we welcomed our Rooks because holy moly is the character creator detailed. I mean seriously every single Rook I've seen is a catwalk model 😂

Every faction felt different and the brief history to your character was really well done; I went with a female mage elf I the Crows and I loved being a Crow from the get go; the decision that she made that essentially forced her to leave the Crows because she'd basically f*cked up a mission was really interesting because there's still that tension once she returned with Viago (who I adored BTW, his disappointing fatherly persona against Teia's comfort and protectiveness was just perfect) and it set the course for every Rook wanting to prove themselves.

Briefly touching on the Inquisitors creation I was so happy that this was an early decision and hearing her say "it's good to see you again" was like a stab to the heart and felt like I was being welcomed back home after such a long journey.

Once into the gameplay it's hard to ignore how beautiful the graphics look, Minrathous' design was so unexpected and how the locals were treated makes me wonder how Dorian ever survived 😂

There were certain scenes that just blew me away and made me realise just how far games have come to allow us them; the moment you open the doors at Weisshaupt and see Ghilan'nains massive looming face in the clouds was just breath taking, in fact the two gods in general were very well done and there wasn't enough of them in my opinion.

The animation as a whole was very good and again compared to Origins this game is on a different level of good (hate to compare it to other games but Balders gate is probably the closest contender).

There's a particular scene with Lucanis as a romance where he walks over to you after you basically say you like what you see and that Spite doesn't define him, the way his face moves, the little smile, the way his eyes drop to your lips when you touch him floored me and I think having motion capture for this game definitely paid off.

The mechanics of the game were fantastic and as I've yet to play anything other than my mage I am excited to play other classes and possibly Warrior for the first time across 4 games, although Spellblade ruined a mage for me as I love being able to be upfront in a battle and found it perfect for my Crow mage.

I went with purple Rook for this playthrough as I wanted a charming Crow who had far too much energy and was awkward in the best way possible and loved every minute of it; Bioware has always been very clever at establishing the different personalities and how they affect the world around them. Going into a scene and having your Rook react by themselves depending on their personality makes the character feel real and that we aren't just following the same thread of dialogue.

When you first meet Solas they didn't lie that it would feel like an end game mission, the dialogue was fantastic, his voice actor is just incredible and he has a talent to be confident, insecure, determined and doubtful of his own words all in one and it was very easy to fall In love with Solas during inquisition.

I really enjoyed how the first decision you make as Rook ends with the gods escaping, either Harding or Neve being injured which puts doubts in your friendship and leadership from the beginning, that Solas who we'd believed to be the big bad was essentially trapped and looked like a kitten compared to these evil beings who want world domination, it really makes the player question how are we going to fix this massive mistake that we've created, because it takes the gods no time to get to work whilst we scramble to find a team and cleanse multiple parts of Thedas at the same time aswell as setting up base in the fade where we dig deep into the history of Solas and the ancient gods past.

The companions of this game I felt were individuals in their own ways with their own back stories and present problems but I felt as a whole weren't as good as say the previous game; there was no double crossing mages or people with their own greed and agendas, no hidden pasts like Blackwall which personally fell abit flat for me.

In fact I'd say the only one who had an interesting story was Lucanis after his imprisonment and demonic possession and the struggles that came with it.

I don't think I'll romance anyone else other than Emmrich as the others just don't interest me.

It just felt like you were constantly flitting to the Lighthouse and back to grind out companion tasks in order to gain approval and faction points, there was no option to just have a conversation like previous games instead it was very much on their terms and where you were in the game which was something i really missed.

Still, their personalities were very different and characters like Lucanis, Taash and especially Emmrich stole my heart very quickly.

The banter was top notch quality as per 👌 some of my favourites were from Taash and Lucanis, just being a Crow in the middle of their conversations about capes was hilarious at times.

The voice acting as a whole was very good, I felt with some characters particularly Neve it felt abit flat in moments but Bioware have a knack for finding talented voices; having someone as bubbly and excited as Bellara to the deadpan and slightly blunt at times Taash made for a very diverse team.

Returning characters was always a welcome and there were some surprising cameos such as Isabella in the Lords of Fortune faction.

I know alot of people were disappointed that this game felt limited in bringing over past choices but it needed to make sense; Sera isn't going to return and be found in the deep roads etc, it needed to serve a purpose to The Veilguards story and I'm happy with the ones we did get.

When it came to the three decisions from inquisition yes I was disappointed at first; why are we ignoring who drank from the well, why aren't we talking about Hawke, who's ruling Fereldon, who's Divine?.

I think we need to remember that after 4 games the decisions from little to big are so vast that there's simply no way to fit it all in and satisfy everyone and baring in mind this game is for new players too.

Having this game set outside of Ferelden means those decisions won't carry weight in Veilguard, who is divine won't affect us, where Hawke is doesn't affect us because we know they'll either be in the fade or fighting against the evil.

And yes a codex could of helped address any of this but again, it's a smaller team now at bioware and the focus is on Rook this time around, it's their turn and tbh reading codex' is time consuming when you've got gods to fight 😂

The only decision I really wanted brought over was who drank from the Well because as a Solasmancer he was so pissed at me but I think I know why it was glossed over.

I think having Solas being able to control your Inquisitor would have the issue of consent and violation and as a romance that doesn't feel right, especially given how Mythal basically manipulated Solas and used him as a slave it just goes into uncomfortable territory.

We could also argue that Solas absorbed Mythals essence so all that's left is her memories and the tiny fragment you find in the crossroads so essentially Mythal ceases to exist thus there's no pledge anymore for the inquisitor and that she only needed her help to fight Corypheus, who knows but I'm glad Solas wasn't able to do that to the Inquisitor.

The endgame was amazing, finally killing Ghilan'nain was so satisfying and Lucanis was an absolute bad ass doing it, seeing Solas become the dreadwolf and hearing his pained cries was heartbreaking even if he couldn't stop betraying my Rook 😂.

Forcing you as a player to lose a character despite high factions and hero status was brutal, and I unfortunately lost both Davrin and Assan. As much as I loved them both, it made sense to his character to die in that way, and Harding has so much more to do for the dwarves and titans.

I'll talk about Solas/Mythal and Lavellan on another post but I was very happy with how it ended, seeing the art concept of him making himself tranquil just shows how differently it could of gone, and I honestly expected them to die in each other's arms.

If I think of anything else I'll add it onto this post but yeah, 10 years man and it's over, well not over completely as I'm creating an Emmrich romance as we speak but I can't believe years of speculation and doubt is now in our hands forever.

Yes this game could of been better in parts and blew my expectations away in others but I loved it and I think the negative criticism over characters like Taash, the three previous decisions, crazy solasmancers which bring the team down is so unjust and people need to reflect on themselves as humans.

All I would say to those that critic this game as heavy as they have is to take their time and play it again, you'll find things you missed the first time around, really read the codex', just sit back and understand what the characters are saying, read between the lines and just take it back to beginning of this post, this game very nearly didn't happen and alot of talented people that have given you this game have lost their jobs so please just be grateful for what we do have and pray that this isn't the end of dragon age.

Edit:

The whole Varric thing was probably my least favourite thing about the game, not because he died but it just didn't make sense that Rook didn't know until the very end.

I had my suspicions because he was always tired and going back to bed and something about it didn't feel right.

For other companions to say "oh we thought you knew" was just silly, I could understand Solas using his powers to create an illusion but why not on all the companions because surely Rook at some point was like "Oh i'll take some food to Varric" or "have you been to visit him", without that Rook just sounds crazy 😂

[wordslikesilver]

Really mentally ill thinking about this scenario. Main character, die hard domme type of woman who’s madly in love with her wife and enjoys her sweetly and lovingly the way anyone ought to. The plot stresses and exacerbates her worst insecurities and fears until she’s vulnerable and collapse under pressure. The villain makes their checkmate move, actual mind control or brainwashing or some form of corruption to take the main heroine into their evil cohort, the final stroke that would seal them victory. MC looks broken and shadow eyed. Empty. Frozen in their moment of true despair, now taken advantage of to be used as a blunt instrument. The most powerful person you know, now shattered and twisted into something that doesn’t feel anymore. It doesn’t hear you anymore. All strength falters, when pushed to the absolute for long enough.

Leading up to this, again and again, we see our main character vow to her wife “I will always come back to you” and we see it as simply a promise to stay safe, to come back alive, etc… and the wife learns of what’s happened to the main character. She listens calmly as the ill news is delivered. She knows what to do.

The climactic moment, the villain is going to win, puppeting the main character, using her power to clear any obstacle before them, all her allies captured, restrained, incapacitated or killed and then—

“Stop,” her wife says, no louder than you’d speak to someone across the table. She’s finally arrived at the battlefield. It’s been so long since she saw her wife. A stirring like no other, begins within the caged mind of the main character. All this time, every time her allies tried to reach her, she barely breathed harder, lying face up in the dark liquid prison of her mind. Face down beneath a mountain of magic, torture and restructured neural pathways carved in by nanobots in her blood and the collar around her neck. Nothing was ever supposed to break her free. She was supposed to be gone. Not even the memory of her wife was allowed to her.

And her wife, her darling, gentle, mild mannered and sweet hearted wife, she walks up and places naught but hand on her darling’s cheek as she whispers, “Please come back to me.”

And while the main character is silent and still, despite all the cursing and orders given by the villain to cut this insolent woman down, within her mind, within the prison she is left to rot in, her eyes have snapped open. There’s been this. Aching. In her chest. It’s been so numb and so hard to truly feel it, but the feeling never truly left. Oh how she’s missed her wife. She moves to the source of this warmth, through all the chains and mires and mountains and magic and machines and nails and pain in her mind, all the bindings and control and corruption falling away as if they quite literally weren’t there. Like, useless to the point of could they have ever stopped her? Because her heart is full once again. The memory restored. The hole mended. The aching ceased and serenity returned. The control is broken with a touch and a whisper.

I’m slamming my head on the desk, I’m too hopeless of a romantic to ever look at a character being mind controlled against their will and think they can’t be brought back by the one they love. More than that, I’m too much of a romantic to ever think it would need more than a touch and the scent of the person they love to break the spell. A whisper. A soft request. I am brought back by love. Tenderness will make my knees buckle every single time. I am an aromantic’s most insufferable individual to ever experience, like girl, you couldn’t bring her back with your tears and crying out to her, holding her in your arms, begging her to stop this? Skill issue. She smelled cinnamon on the wind and remembered all our previous lifetimes together, running just to find me.

[kordyceps]

OK I mean obviously I'm reading your steter stuff on AO3 but I'd love to know if you have an all time favourite? Either your fave of your own work, or fave of another author's that you rec/reread/still think about a million years later (or both lol)

Oh man, okay, sorry for taking so long to reply to this ask! But it's such a good one and I unfortunately have the memory of a gold fish, so I needed to do Research™ (aka reread all my favs again lmao) so I could answer it properly. 😂

I only have one Steter fic of my own atm, so I guess that's my de facto personal fav for now…

But as for other folks' work, god, there are sooooo many great Steter fics out there!! So these are just a handful of my top favs, and definitely not a comprehensive list!

Five Times Peter and Stiles Troll the Pack by taylorpotato Rating: M | 2.5k | requires an AO3 account to read Stiles and Peter yell at each other in Polish, misleading the pack into think they're fighting, when in reality it's all just like completely fuckin' filthy dirty talk lmao. Short, but very funny, and such a perfect capture of their mischievous dynamic. 10/10, would recommend!

The Devil You Know by Twisted_Mind Rating: E | 11.6k Peter is there for Stiles when no one else is, and uses that to slowly manipulate his way into earning Stiles' explicit trust. And ooooh boy, is it so delicious and spicy. God damn! Cards on the table: this fic definitely won't be for everyone since it wades into some darker waters. But oh my god do I love love LOVE Peter's characterization in it. God, I feel like I could write a whole damn essay about this fic, but then I'd just end up spoiling the whole thing LOL. Just--if you like darker, manipulative Peter and enjoy your sweetness just a wee bit twisted, then 10/10 would recommend!

The Prince and the Pease by luulapants Rating: E | 47k | requires an AO3 account to read Medieval/Royalty AU where Peter is forced to cede his claim to the throne and become a "guest" of King Deucalion's as part of a peace treaty between the two kingdoms. Stiles, who is suspiciously far too mouthy for your average servant, is gifted to Peter as a bedwarmer. This one does such an incredible, masterful job at translating the characters into its setting and time period. The sass, the wit, the wordplay! You can definitely tell the author knows their shit, and my god is it fantastic. The plot itself is also so satisfying -- lots of great ups and downs, and, ugh, just so good! (Be sure to read p2 for the full ending btw!) Needless to say, 10/10, would recommend!

Keeping him (It's all about intent) by sittinginmytincan Rating: M (& E for oneshot sequel) | 121k Stiles winds up slingshotted into his own future, where it turns out he's married to Peter Hale of all people. His only way back is with Lydia's help, but she's gone mysteriously missing somewhere on the east coast while investigating some strange disappearances. Man, this fic….. I feel like the writer for this one must have received a checklist of things I'm into and decided to mark nearly every single one of them lol. Time travel, woke up married, magical theory, an enthralling af plotline -- and it's so thorough. Like, everything is so incredibly well thought out, the characterization is on point, and the development of Stiles and Peter's relationship is just chef kiss. Definitely 10/10, would recommend!

The Striking Complication by aurevell Rating: T | 118k I don't even want to write a summary up for this one because the mystery of it all and peeling back what's happening piece by piece is, imo, the best way to experience it. This story is intense as fuck, near relentlessly oppressive, and impossible to put down. It keeps you constantly at the edge of your seat as you try to figure out what is going on and how Peter and Stiles will survive it, with these heart-wrenchingly sweet breather moments sprinkled throughout. If you enjoy time loop stories, this one is an absolute must read! 10/10, would recommend!

build-a-beau by veterization Rating: E | 41.5k Tired of his dad always worrying about him being single, Stiles decides to pay for a fake boyfriend service so he can finally get his pops off his back about it. It goes about as well as one can expect a fake texting boyfriend you accidentally catch real feelings for can go lmao. This fic is wonderfully witty, with really fantastic banter between the two of them, and it's just so very fun getting to watch the pretend part of their exchanges slip more and more into something genuine. 10/10, would recommend!

Under the Songbird's Wing by mia6363 Raing: E | 87k Stiles is captured and held in captivity alongside Peter, Deucalion, and Satomi Ito. To survive, Stiles runs through lacrosse drills and tells stories, eventually persuading his fellow cellmates out of their shells and establishing a profound, unbreakable bond between them. This one is HEAVY, folks. Like, heavy heavy. But, god, it's also such a beautiful exploration of the characters and the bonds they develop through shared captivity. I don't even know what more to say, really, it's just haunting and lovely and awful and wonderful all at once. In the mood for something that hurts? Then 10/10, would recommend!

[docholligay]

Shamash answers: ANime final

Overwatch headcanon or idea: Angsty

Only four people answered so you all win, and even more than that, you all get double the points your placement would usually garner! Thanks for playing!

3rd place, for showing up! Two points!

Dallas it, only this time it wasn't all a dream: Someone gets murdered by someone in-house- who was it?

@amhrancas ENJOY YOUR POINTS you delightful weirdo

3rd place, for being something that I imagine happens ABSOULTELY, 2 points:

I don't know enough of Overwatch, but maybe Mercy knowing Pharah has been seriously hurt and having to delegate treatment to someone else, because there is someone else in a more critical condition requiring brilliant Dr. Ziegler's personal attention. She does her best to focus, but her mind keeps drifting.

@vassekocho I actually think this happens after Lena and Fareeha get rescued from Moira. Fareeha is very badly hurt and in an insane amount of pain, but if Angela, who knows her body better than anyone, does not get it together Lena will DIE on this fucking table. She might anyway! But she definitely will if Angela doesn't start thinking about her instead of her wife.

For hitting the nail on the head, 2nd place with four points!

As Lena's symptoms progress but before it might be noticeable, she starts requesting adjustments to her equipment. She's able to play it off for a while, but Winston is observant, and he can only let himself be in denial for so long. When Lena requests aim stabilizers, he can't put it off anymore. She's too proud of her skills, of how well she can control her speed and her body, to ever even think she might need an assist like that. It turns into a fight, a row even, and is the one and only time Lena shouts at Winston to get away from her.

@katrani I think Lena gets pretty sensitive about how she's falling apart, especially before it gets so bad that she has to be like, "WELP" and spends a lot of time trying to convince herself and others that it's not a big deal and it's not that noticeable and she covers it just fine and the people that love her are constantly torn between wanting to honor Lena's desire for everything to be as absolutely normal as possible for as long as possible, and wanting to be like, "Okay can we all just get real for a moment here and admit you might need help with something?" And the more simple that 'something' becomes the more Lena wants to (and sometimes does) react like a toddler and throw a fit proclaiming she can DO IT.

For legit pulling at my heartstrings, 1st place, with six points!

Winston walks into his apartment, softly closing the door behind him. The party had been nice, and certainly what Lena would have wanted. Good food and good booze, a gathering of friends to celebrate a life rather than wallow many months after her death. He had laughed, though his heart wasn't in it. Joked through the pain. Assured everyone that he was fine. Declined Emily's offer to spend the night. She had grief enough; he would not burden her with his. He meanders into the kitchen, lit only by the glow of the full moon through the window. He retrieves a single, solitary cupcake and places it on the table, lighting the candle that is already set and sitting upright in the swirl of frosting, the light reflecting off the glass frame nearby. He stares, for a moment, at the irreverent grin, at the personality which could never truly be captured in a still frame yet somehow comes through in spades. "Happy Birthday, Lena." His voice is quiet, misting into the air as tendrils of smoke from the candle. "You are so, so missed." (Or: Winston pays a private homage to Lena every year on her birthday after her death.)

@seolh I love this. I am so glad you suggested prereleasing the questions if this is what I get in return!! Of course Lena's friends and family would gather and celebrate with plenty of beer and great shitty food, and absolutely she would want people to laugh and make fun of her and get drunk and have fun. It is exactly how she would want to be remembered.

And of course Winston can't do it! I mean, he can fake it, but every time he hears someone make a joke about her, or laugh about something she used to do, all he can think is, 'But she isn't here. How do you do it, when she's not here?' And it takes a fair amount of time and also Avi, for him not to just feel empty all the time. But he never stops feeling a twinge of pain on her birthday, on Christmas, any time that reminds him of how she should be here. Even when Emily remarries, he wants to be happy for her and will play at being happy for her because lena would somehow raise herself from the dead and beat him if he didn't, but it feels like betrayal to him. How could you not mourn her forever?

(Lena, of course, in the afterlife jsut going, 'Win, win, let me go. PLEASE. It isn't loyalty; it's just sad." )