#(it feels so weird to be on this side of the fandom now. 6 months ago I was the one making questions and discovering st)

[moonchild-in-blue]

Hello!! 8D I'm new to the Sleep Token fandom; I saw like 2 concert videos on my TikTok feed yesterday morning and proceeded to complete the fastest casual to full blown fan speedrun of my life in a single day XD And I don't really have anyone I can yell about them to, not even the person who originally introduced me to their music, so :P I'm still working my way through listening to their full discography, but I wanted to say a MAJOR part of how fast I got into them I feel is because of the Wembley show from this past weekend?? It says so much about Vessel that he handled the whole thing the way that he did, and the more footage I see from that specific show the more my heart is FULL for this man <3 That on top of the cool and intriguing lore, AMAZING aesthetics, and of course the music (which I was already into before but even moreso now XD), and it was a RECIPE for a hyperfixation :3 I also wanted to say as a newbie that I love the new masks?? Especially Vessel's; the red edgings are SO cool and put even more emphasis on his TEETH :P His whole look is Iconic (though I wonder if that cloak must be heavy to wear??), I love that the other members of the band are developing their own distinctive looks too?? And it's super cool to see how their look evolves as they become more and more successful, just from what I've seen so far <3 I also just REALLY love how more and more music artists are embracing the innately religious experience that comes with a live concert?? As you can probably tell I'm a Swiftie so I had the same thought about the Eras tour XD but also with other punk-rock/metal artists like Ghost :P So calling their shows a "Ritual" or a "Worship" is metal as hell, I think :3 Plus just as a somewhat personal note, lately I've been running out of podcast episodes that I feel comfortable falling asleep to, and I already want Vessel's voice just PUMPED DIRECTLY INTO MY VEINS, so the natural progression I think is using ST to fall asleep to as well?? Which I mean, given their lore and everything, worshipping the eldritch god of sleep, feels appropriate XD Last thing -- so far my fave song of theirs is The Love You Want, I can't stop listening to it :3 I originally got into them through The Summoning, of course, and now I also love Alkaline cause it was in one of the videos I mentioned XD I started downloading more and more individual songs that I saw mentioned by name on here until I just caved and basically downloaded their entire discography, it was gonna happen anyway at this rate XD But I'd love to know what your faves are, too!! <3 (and bless you for reading this long-ass message from a total stranger lol XD)

Hello there! Wow, that's quite the achievement!! I totally understand though, once you get sucked into their tar trap (hehe) it's pretty much impossible to leave (not that I have ever wanted to).

Welcome to the family!! I hope you enjoy your stay here - there are warm beverages and snacks on the table, take as much as you want and get cosy. 💙🍵🍪 You are more than welcome to scream about our beloved cryptics - we shall all join you, like a pack of feral wolves howling at the moon Sleep 🐺🌕

I have recently gotten an ask from another lovely new member of this weird little community, and did an introductory post of sorts. I will link it here - it's a nice read, and there is a very good post linked there with some more background on the band - how did they start, album evolution, some important lore info, etc etc, by our lovely local archivist and knowledge keeper hehe. It's an incredibly thorough and comprehensive read - 100% reccomend!

So, about Wembley. Yeah, I think we're all still collectively recovering from it. There was A LOT of expection for it, being their last Ritual of the year, and the biggest headline to date, and even more things happening (New masks, iii's return, and of course Vessel's unfortunate situation). Vessel, the band and choir, and every single crew member involved did a fantastic, admirable job under the circumstances.

I won't dwell too much on it, as I've already shared my thoughts on another post, as so did many others, but yes - the fact that Vessel chose to perform at all given his condition, and somewhat stil managed to blow everyone away, is nothing short of an indicative of how sweet and beautiful, and loving that man is. I have nothing but respect for him and the guys - it must've been pretty hard on them as well to perform in such sad circumstances. The show was incredible, and my heart is still so so full with it 💙

The masks are pretty amazing!! I'm personally still attached to the old black ones, and in mourning of iii's victorian child look, but I do loooove the new costumes (they got me feeling some type of way, but I won't be weird here. Just Thinking Things)! Very yummy 😚 The new Choir outfits are INCREDIBLE aaaaaa (you will see me fangirl about them a lot).

Vessel's mask in not new per-se - he's had this one since May or June I believe (around the time TMBTE came out). His mask (and shoulder piece) is AMAZING, I am so in love with it still. It was done by Hysteria Machine - the same artists who did the new Espera (my lovely choir ladies) masks (debuted in the first German Ritual of December). His cloak is actually super lightweight, and the shirtless look helps to keep him cool during his adorable zoomies hehe (not sure about the fur on the back - but he seems to be okay with it, for the ~aesthetic~. My love is a nerd lol)

Yeah, the religious vibes are definitely there, even if just for the lore. I'm not a fan of neither Taylor Swift nor Ghost, so I can't really comment on that, but concerts to have a very transcedent feel to it. "Worship" is kind of a tagline for the band and fans, while Rituals are the actual shows!

I have lost count to how many night's I've fallen asleep to Vessel's voice lmao. As someone with severe insomnia issues, their music is nothing short of divine. 💙

I too was a victim of The Summoning - I suppose it really worked! TLYW funnily enough was my least favourite from that album during the first 2 or 3 listens. Then I watched the live performance for it and OMG. Now it occupies a very special place in my heart - even more after iii's brief absence!

My favourite song is Atlantic - it will forever and always have my heart. Very closely followed by Chokehold / The Apparition / Drag Me Under. Special kiss with tongue to Fields of Elation and Jaws (among others)! Do not sleep (hehe) on their eps/singles!!!! They are fenomenal!!! I always reccomend you listen to the albums in full, at least at first, to really get the full experience. But of course, you do you hun!

If you like the lore aspect of the band, I'd definitely recommend you scroll through the ST lore tag. There are so many amazing posts with lyric analysis, lore headcanons, among others. Also thought the fanart tag!!! The amount of talent and care in this fandom is insane. Everyone is so kind and loving and sweet here - I'm sure you'll have a good time! Don't be shy, go full unhinged if you so wish, and feel free to drop by anytime with any thoughts, questions, or anything else 💙

#fellas we got one more!! the cult is growing hehehe #(it feels so weird to be on this side of the fandom now. 6 months ago I was the one making questions and discovering st) #(and now I get to help?? Wack. Spreading Sleep's message as intended - Vessel where's my kiss) #darya answers #sleep token

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: The Birds and the Bees

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Ship: Joel Miller x you (cishet f reader) / Ellie x Riley mention

Tags/warnings: underage child overhearing sex (but it's not weird I swear), queer thoughts, Joel is such a dad, Rough Sex, unprotected sex, piv sex, some mild dirty talk, trying to stay quiet during sex.

Summary: Ellie hears mommy (you) and daddy (Joel) have sex. I guess that's the plot.

Words: 2,257

A/N: WARNING can be a bit spoilery for episodes 6 and 7! Thanks to @rambling-in-purple for reading the Ellie part to make sure it wasn't weird <3

Ellie is almost asleep when something draws her back into the real world, and for a moment she has no idea where she is. Where did these clean sheets come from, this comfortable bed, this warmth? It takes her brain a few moments to realize that she is in Jackson, the safe haven reached yesterday. Today. What time is it?

A sound makes her sit up in bed, heartbeats quickening with growing fear. She had thought this place was safe, but that sound is definitely not reassuring. She reaches for her knife on the bedside table, just as she hears the sound again.

A creak. And it's growing rhythmical. And along with it, muffled moans.

Ellie's first instinct is that there is a fight going on in the next room. A life or death struggle between Joel, you, and a deceitful Jackson resident. Or maybe the infected finally got in? Is Jackson already overrun with infected, or did a roaming band of bandits get in?

Another creak, then a louder moan that gets cut off, and it dawns on Ellie.

Oh. Oh.

Being shown around Jackson, you seemed relaxed for the first time in, well, all the months Ellie had been with you and Joel. It was nice to see you like that, and Ellie wished that Joel could unwind a little as well, but Joel wasn't a person who did that. Maria had taken you and Ellie to the house, Joel had gone to see his brother, and returned in a huff. Ellie, in clean clothes washed hair, had gushed to him about the hot shower, but his demeanor had been so dark that she had fallen quiet. Just then, you had appeared out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, and Ellie had seen the looks you and Joel exchanged. You excused yourself to have an early night and took to your bedroom - the one you shared with Joel. Ellie didn't think twice about you two sharing: she had understood long ago what you were to each other, in addition to the protectors, family, you were to her.

But it's one thing to understand that two people love each other, and know what people in love with each other do, and actually hear it.

Conflicted, she lies back down, turns onto one side, wrapping the pillow around her head to muffle the sounds. It's too intimate, too private. It's wrong to listen to it.

Still, the reverberations travel through the wooden build of the house, and she feels them on her skin. Rolling onto her back again, she lets go of the pillow and stares up at the dark ceiling.

It's not the first time she's heard people having sex. She knows what's going on between the two of you and for what it's worth, she's happy for you. There is something so comforting about your obvious feelings for each other, and how they have spilled over onto her. Ellie knows that she was more or less forced upon you but since that night in the Boston QZ, a lot has happened. You're her family now, and she's happy that you and Joel can be safe and comfortable enough in your borrowed bedroom to have sex.

And it is kind of exciting to hear it, even if it's private. Ellie may be a virgin but she's not frigid. The moans she can hear must be from you, and she wonders what it is Joel is doing that's making you sound like that. Not that she wants to think of Joel like that, God no, that's just gross. The whole idea of a man sticking his dick into her feels gross. But surely a woman must be able to make another woman sound like that? Maybe she could ask you. If she wants to talk to you about sex, and that's a big if.

It hits Ellie that if you're her family now, then it would be like asking her mom about sex. And whatever is going on right now is like hearing mom and dad have sex. And that image is just too much for her teenage brain. When the bedframe starts knocking on the wall between her bedroom and yours, she sits up again and bangs her fist at it.

"Keep it down, you two, some of us are trying to sleep here!"

The noise stops at once, and she grins to herself as she imagines your aghast faces - especially Joel must look absolutely shocked.

"Serves you right," she giggles to herself before scooting down and tucking herself in. Sleepy and amused, she wonders what sex feels like. If she will ever have it. If she even wants it. Is there ever going to be anyone that she'd care to do it with? Will anyone ever find her attractive? Her thoughts stray to Riley, and how sweet it would be to share this comfortable bed with her, whispering in the night, kissing, maybe more - but she quickly brushes those thoughts away. That wound is still too fresh.

A muffled thud is heard from the other bedroom, but she doesn't care anymore. Curling up on her side, she succumbs to exhaustion and the soft mattress.

"Shit!"

"Fuck!"

Your heart is pounding, your mouth is dry, your breathless profanity barely audible against Joel's cheek as he's buried to the hilt in you. He was in a mood when he came back from seeing his brother, and you knew there was no point in trying to make him talk about it. Even in a huff, however, the sight of you in a towel was rare enough for him to stop and stare.

"Take a shower," you told him, seeing that all he wanted to do was pull the towel off of you, "and come to bed."

Strangely enough, he did as he was told, but even hot water wasn't enough to keep him in the shower for more than a few minutes. When he came out, naked and dripping after barely having had time to dry himself off, he joined you between the threadbare but clean sheets.

"It's been too long," he told you, breath hot against your skin, hands already cupping and squeezing and claiming. You hummed your agreement as you let him cover your mouth with yours, sucking the breath out of you as he laid on top of you, his broad frame blocking out everything else. His weight on you, his clean, naked skin against yours... it had indeed been far too long for indulgences like these. You remember stolen fucks and sleepless nights in the QZ, clothed on cold hard floors during runs, but the last time you could take your time like this? And even with all the time in the world, both of you were in a desperate hurry. He sank his thick cock into you before too long and you welcomed him deeper by wrapping your arms and legs around him. When you moaned, he covered your mouth with his large hand and grunted in your ear:

"I know, pretty girl, I know, I feel it too, but you have to stay quiet for me."

You whined into his palm, and he replaced it with his mouth, swallowing your moans as he thrust into you with a renewed fury. The bed creaked but you were too far gone, too cock-hungry to care if Ellie heard you.

Which she did, of course.

Joel froze at the banging on the wall, and he inhaled sharply when Ellie yelled out her request for silence. Mirth replacing dismay as you recognize the teasing tone of Ellie's voice, you start to tremble with held-back giggles. With a grunt, Joel heaves himself up on his elbows.

"It's not funny," he lets you know in a morose voice. You raise your hands to his cheeks, feeling the heat in them. It's too dark to see, but your tough, no nonsense man is fucking blushing.

"It is a little funny," you whisper back and pull him in for a kiss. "She's fucking with us, you do know that, right?"

"We're gonna traumatize her - "

"This is gonna traumatize her, and not everything else she has lived through and seen?" you scoff. Your hand slides around to the back of his head and grab a fistful of hair. "Wise up, Miller, and fuck me."

"We can't - "

"I swear to God, Joel, if you don't get me off, I'm gonna go naked into the street and find someone who will!"

Your threat, unfounded though it is, gets him back on the right track.

"Yeah?" he breathes in a low growl, lowering his face over your chest, his tongue licking a wet trail around your knotted nipple. "You'd let just anyone touch you? Let anyone do this to you?" He licks your nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, making you arch your back as you clench your teeth against the moan threatening to spill out of you.

"Joel...!"

"Hush, my pretty," he hisses, sliding one hand to your breast and burying his fingers into the plump flesh as he lowers his mouth to your ear. "You have to stay quiet if you want me to fuck you till you cum. Can you do that?"

Your whimpered yes is followed by a choked cry when he slams into you anew, this time wrapping one arm around your thigh to get in deeper. You hold onto the bedding, the headboard, willing it to creak less as Joel picks up where he left off, doing his best to resume his devastating pace yet without causing any more noise. It's difficult, but when Joel puts his mind to something, he always follows through. He braces himself against the bed and you whine when he takes his weight off of you. You want to be deliciously crushed, taken, rendered breathless and immobile, but now you are free to rub your clit as he fucks you. Your slick walls clench around him at once.

"Fuck, that's tight," he groans above you, baring his teeth. "So fucking tight when you do that."

You stare up at him through the dusk, caress his flexed neck muscles with your half closed eyes as the pressure rises inside you. You whisper bitten off words, as if Joel needed your words to know that you are so close to exploding, imploding, the mesmerizing rise and fall that you so desperately need. He dips down to steal your breath away with a kiss and you suck eagerly on his tongue while simultaneously panting for air.

He almost slips out when you cum, your slickness and spasming muscles nearly pushing him out. You press your lips together, will yourself to swallow the sounds that threaten to come out when your body trembles under him. Your body, so sensitive all of a sudden, wants to push him away, but instead you pull him down over you and move with him, desperate and wanton.

"Cum," you beg of him in a whisper that might just as well be a scream, you have no idea as the blood roars in your ears, "cum, baby, cum in me, please cum."

Your overstimulated pussy feels the heat of his load spreading inside you when your words rush him to his climax. The strangled sound he emits is one that you've never heard from him before, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly to you. His heart beats rapidly against your chest, where your own heart trying to match his rhythm, and when he tries to catch his breath there's only a stutter. He's sweaty but you can smell him and it's clean, fresh perspiration. His hair is still damp, and you run your fingers through it, smelling the shampoo which no doubt is handmade of herbs by someone in Jackson. He clearly took the time to wash his hair, which surprises you.

It feels nice. Normal.

"You smell nice," you murmur to him, sniffing his sideburn demonstratively.

"You do too." He brushes his lips across your face in a light peppering of kisses, each one a lingering declaration of love on your skin. "You felt so good, baby, this was good."

You hum softly as he slides out, slick and seed trailing in the wake of his softening cock.

"Might want to go again in a minute," you warn him with a happy smile that you hope he can hear, even if he can't see it. Joel groans as he rolls over onto his back next to you.

"Too old for twice in one night."

You chuckle, feeling the post-coital relaxation weighing you down in the most delicious way. Once was definitely enough. But you wish that every night could be like this.

"You think she's still awake?" Joel asks, and for a moment you have no idea who he's talking about. You had quite forgotten that the two of you were not alone in the house.

"I'll talk to her in the morning," you offer with a yawn. "Woman to woman."

"And tell her what?" Joel sounds both cynical and troubled, which amuses you greatly.

"About the birds and the bees," you giggle, shoving him playfully. "And what happens when two adults like each other very much."

He scoffs but takes your hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss before placing it over his heart. The conversation is over for his part, so you lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

#the last of us fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #ellie williams #my fic

[georgiapeach30513]

I'll be honest, while Deuxmoi always and still does post a ton of BS, thanks to the development of this never-ending saga...I'm starting to really feel like she's been used intentionally to push this narrative along all the way from the very beginning. Aka 2021.

A very out there theory but hear me out: Early on, the fandom had the general consensus DM was BS. Especially in regards to CE. Because DM was the one that first started spreading his super secret GF nonsense back in 2021, right before the introduction of Soba Saga. Her almost nonsensical rants about her having legit sources on this secret GF - while doing weekly podcasts where she insisted she never got any intel on him because his circle was so tight knit (interesting how that suddenly changed out of nowhere when someone showed up) - just made her seem like crazy cat lady gossip conspiracy Marjorie Taylor Greene on steroids.

She was the first to post that "dating Soba for over a year and everyone in PT/her circle knows about it" in early 2022.

They go public in late 2022. 2023 There's some Sunday Spotted (I could be wrong) vDAY post about CE and "fiancé" being seen in town at dinner (sounds very similar to the most recent vDay sighting). That was about 10 months before the super secret wedding and there had been no announcement of being engaged, minus the Tumblr blogs and random third rate tabloids and troll twitter accounts passing on the rumors. DM starts spreading around the same time some Tumblr blogs get the intel about secret engagement, wedding, rift in the family, people on his side not liking Soba, etc. Eventually it is revealed DM was right all along???? In a complete turn of events her credibility goes from zero to 1 (grudgingly of course, while she continues to spill BS daily)

Meanwhile, DM gets the first RPatz sighting with Scarlett and crew at dinner. Nobody believed it - as Nancy mentioned, it just seemed too farfetched with the way that restaurant was set up.

Then in early 2024 we get an actual RPatz sighting with with Soba/CE, and separately, sightings with Scarlett and Colin. Now there's more "credibility" to that random other sighting even if it still can't be proven.

Now...possible project with RPatz and CE's name circulating. Maybe just gossip fodder, maybe some truth to it. Time will tell. Coincidences once again.

DM gets the sighting of CE in LA with Russos. He actually confirms that one himself a month later.

Simultaneously, DM gets random sightings of CE doing other stuff where soba is not mentioned. Nobody knows really what to believe anymore.

But for every 15 BS things she posts, she actually gets 1-2 right. It starts to completely make her a hit or miss source but enough to get people riled up and worried if/when she gets something related to CE/Soba.

In a way, this strategy, if it were to have any salt to it, is kinda interesting. It also sort of enforces the idea of possible foul play. Because if CE is truly in such a happy, private, loveful relationship, why use somebody as uncouth as DM to throw out breadcrumbs? Especially since, in the past, his fanbase and most Tumblr blogs believed it was only legit if it came from someone like People Mag (his team's go-to). Ironically, Page 6 has been getting most of the exclusive scoops this time around, in addition to weird low rate tabloids that eventually make its way to the top.

I know I sound like crazy qanon conspiracy theorist, but I guess people see what they wanna see. But for the people who believe this relationship isn't as genuine as some want to believe, it kind of tracks that somebody's PR team pushing this out in ways to sort of make you wonder, question, and push back on the validity. Just enough to make you think, maybe, maybe there's something going on BTS that they're not saying but they're kinda telling. But you'll never know what the truth is. At least not for now.

I do find DM’s role since 2023 to be very interesting indeed. You missed nothing. Not one thing. She’s made herself be credible enough during this, but also, she’s questionable. So of course, take everything she says with a grain of salt.

I made this comment a bit ago to someone else, he still uses People. Who got the Jinx articles first. Think about that for a moment. He. Just him.

As far as the last paragraph, what I will say is celebrities need to be talked about. Good or bad, they need the press. They need to be in the front of people’s minds. What better way to have them in people’s minds, and to have fans talk about something long past their expiration date than by playing a game. PR has become such a hot topic word, and I think very few people even understand it. But to me, if you’re having to play so many games, what really is real? Live your life. Isn’t that what we continue to be told they’re doing?

[scentedpepper]

Missions, Malaise and Migas Pt. I | Leon Kennedy

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Final Part

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Male Reader

Summary: Leon and Y/N have some underlying issues. Ones they tried to warn DSO about.

Content Warnings: None (?) see below

Other Pairings: Luis Sera x Reader [not 'til pt. 2]

Author Note(s): Guys, let's note RE is a game where big monster throws you into wall and you eat herb to heal. This idea is very much so present here however, I wanted to incorporate some realism as well while still maintaining that superhuman feeling to y/n.

This is again targeted at male readers because they don't get enough attention BUT you can pretty much still read it despite your gender!!

This takes place AFTER the mission to rescue Ashley but not too long after.

There's pretty much no content warnings for this one other then like description of injuries.

Oh, also Luis is alive in pt.2 because I love him

You can't remember the last time in the past four months when you'd actually been able to breathe.

Every inhale had been choked with spores, filled with the odors of infection and death; every exhale had brought on chills, fearing what genetic monstrosity might rise up behind you.

You'd be a fool to think that sitting back in your cot, against a tree, some abandoned building wall or even within the warmth of DSO headquarters would grant you it. A deep inhale. A calming expansion of your lungs.

Because there was your partner, Leon S. Kennedy, butting his head. Like the virus scratching up your insides, clawing to the top until it etched its fingernails against the walls of your throat and brought upon a sharp, painful cough.

It's been nearly a year now. 10 months and a half. And you weren't sure if this was like the phase married couples went through where the adoration melted and was replaced by hot pits of lava and fire shooting out your mouth with every word or– well, there was no or. That just seemed to be where you and Leon sat, in limbo, glaring at each other from across the rope.

Only good thing about ropes was climbing them. Scaling it up to get the advantage, bring him down so you could win. Everything was a game with you two, always had been. Didn't know when it started but knew when the tension began to boil over.

Maybe you should've seen it. Hell, with the way you two complained to your superior for a partner switch –or rather no partner at all– you should've expected. Expected it like you expect a high-speed car to mangle your body after deliberately stepping into its path.

That's what it felt like sometimes with you two. A car crash.

When you first met, you were like two dull kitchen knives being pressed and sliced against each other until an edge formed. Sure, the rough, uncut, jagged edge hurt with every prick and prod but it was the start to a bond. And then you were learning to work the edges on each other's weapons to ensure a lethal and clean cut. —Until, you weren't.

He was civil enough in the beginning —and so were you.

But when things began to slip into that weird, unspoken comfortableness of having a missions partner. The one where you find yourself up shits creek together, bathing in lakes and rivers and showering under the rain together. The one where your hearts are sewn intricately within each others and the responsibility of one another's lives rest against your shoulders.

That one.

That's when things began to slowly unravel for you and Leon.

And now you were here.

Free falling from the side of a mountain.

Deeper and deeper.

Winding, swirling, spinning.

And you're grasping. Grasping for the rope like Leon is.

Your fingers graze it, trap it, and you fight to ignore the razor sharp burn of it against your palms.

But your body isn't stilling yet, and your grip isn't strong enough, and you're being slammed into the harsh rock of the mountain.

It falls again.

This happens two more times over.

And on the last, you're holding on for much, much longer and you almost believe you're stable when your eyes begin searching for your partner.

He's gone.

The ropes blowing in the wind.

He's gone.

Your eyes move rapidly, panicked but before you can do much of anything the wind catches up to you again and your body is crashing right back into the mountain side.

Upon collision, you lose your grip and you're plummeting.

You don't have time to think about your partner as your raw hand clamps down on the rope for the fourth time. Your red palms leave your life line stained and your grip slippery but the blood, or the wind, or the friction, or the speed, or even the rain isn't what sends you fumbling in the air like a baby bird this time.

There's a pop. A sick crunch.

You don't hear it over the rain and wind and the beat of your own heart.

But you feel it.

The pain isn't delayed. It's hot and sharp and sends an immediate chorus of curses from your mouth as your arm goes limp. No grip. Nothing.

You have nothing.

Your body is in gravity's hands. You can't reach the rope. And your right arm is flailing in the wind like a deflated balloon of some sort.

The trees come on quickly.

But for a long moment you stare at the wall you had so harshly collided into, disorientated, your body shifting and swaying with the rushing of the wind.

In another moment, you think there's hands on you.

Frantic and needing, fighting for balance, fighting to save you.

But they're only your own.

And you're ignoring the slight pain that slips through the pump of your adrenaline as you fight against the wind to grab your right arm and tuck it beneath your chest.

Your body curls in on itself, your head tucks into your knees and your free arm wraps around the top of your head, securing yourself into place.

For seconds that feel too long, there's nothing but the rush of wind in your ears and it's almost peaceful. Like floating, drifting, basking.

But then your body is crashing violently, violently through the trees, through a bunch of saplings. Your ears pick up on their snapping, crunching, –it's fleeting. Your body's slowing down considerably but the ground hasn't met you yet. The weight is shifting, your body is jerking and dipping destructively and suddenly, your stomach feels unsettled.

But then you go still. Completely.

The rain stops.

The wind stops.

It's for two seconds, maybe three. Then your ears cut back into reality and your eyes peel open and you find yourself on an enormous branch, right in the crook of its "elbow" so to say. Your body bounces up, nearly slips from the spot, but your left arm shoots out, tightens and your knuckles turn white.

It's not enough.

You're slipping.

Fingers dancing over the wet tree bark as you begin to lose your balance completely, unable to spread yourself out enough because of your hurt arm. You fight but you fall, landing hard on the next branch below. And the next one beneath it.

Violent coughs threaten to bubble through your throat with the impact but you push them down. Because right now pain is a good thing. Means that everything is alive.

Your back feels like it might snap in half if you hit one more branch. So you opt for your stomach and maybe then you can brace yourself, grab something, anything.

Your ribs make contact first. Your body twirls. Not an inch unscathed.

Again and again, you meet with the branches until you fear that it may never end.

But then there's warmth. It's enveloping you and for a moment you think it's your own blood. Or the air being knocked from your lungs when your body finally lands in its final resting spot.

No.

These arms...

"Reach, to the side!"

There it is.

A small bit of bark you can snatch.

You latch onto it, press yourself against the tree.

"Alright, I got you. " Leon whispers above you but it feels too far away as you allow your left arm to slacken, resting the rest of your weight on the tree.

"Shoulder?"

He's asking about the limp, near useless thing that was hanging by your side. You open your mouth to respond, not with much success. The movement nearly cuts it off.

"Yes..." The word forces itself out, strained and bitter. And then you're shaking your head and swallowing past the lump in your throat. "No, I think it's dislocated. "

"Can you manage?" His assessment of you is quick.

"I can't move it. " You spit out and your words are still breathless. Winded. With your face buried in the tree bark, one cheek against the cool, rough surface, you scoff, "Don't think 'm goin' anywhere. "

You want to laugh. But there's nothing funny about this. Just empty air and a thick heat that seems to be simmering between the two of you. The tension is threatening to spill.

"Stay here. "

His voice is too far. His weight is leaving your branch. And your fingers grab ahold of the fabric of his sleeve.

"Where're you going?"

Leon hesitates.

"Ada can help us. "

Your breath whips back into your body.

"Ada?" You question and your eyes are searching, really taking him in now. His form. The rain has soaked him. His breathing is just as heavy. His jacket has the largest tear down the side, the lining popping at the seams and tucked into his waistband is a hookshot. Adas.

"When the fuck did Ada get here?" Your tone is one of bewilderment as you stare at your partner and finally put together how he went so unscathed.

"Back on the mountain. "

"Shes been following us you?" You inquire.

"I didn't realize she was there until she was grabbing me out the air. "

"For a top agent, you got shit on her, Leon. "

It's out of your mouth in a hurry, a slap to the face. It's anger on your part. You turn your cheek against the tree and your eyes focus on the town, not Leon.

You hold grudges. Not that he knew the reason for this one.

He's silent for a moment, his anger seeping through it as he scans the surrounding area. Looking for Ada, no doubt.

But in a little voice he hums a retort.

"Could say the same thing for you. "

Your head snaps up, cheek no longer nursing the rough grooves and ridges in the bark.

"'Scuse me?”

He's quiet again.

"Oh, you don't have some bitch-ass comment to make?"

"Are we really fighting right now?" He looks at your with narrowed eyes and whip of emphasis on his tongue.

"I'm just speaking in a language I've only ever known with you. "

"What does that mean?" He says, turning his attention on you full now.

"Don't act all almighty, Kennedy. I've treated you a hell of a lot better than you have me. ”

"Oh, my bad. What am I? Your husband?" The annoyance is obvious. His voice grows sharp and jabs at your neck as if threatening to slit it. "Because the whole relationship rule to the game is when you see the one person you hate in this godforsaken town you fucking say it. "

You say nothing.

It strikes a chord in you. Rocks you.

But you light like gasoline at what he's referencing and you're opening your mouth again.

"I don't hate Luis. " You spit it out before your voice falls flat and its like a cool cord wrapping around his neck and choking him.

He makes a noise of bewilderment and his mouth falls open.

"I–" His words catch on his tongue as his adam's apple bobs in his throat.

His eyes search for yours, dark and boring into them with a burning intensity that nearly turns your insides out. Or maybe that's your adrenaline. You're not sure.

"I'm getting Ada. " It's final.

And then he's slipping down the tree without a sound. Just him. Your teeth grit into each other, hand clinging to the tree bark.

You and Leon. Tearing at each other like it's a five dollar shirt.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #angst #male reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #luis sera x reader

[pbpsbff]

happy 1 year of r&r :)

i know it's a lil cringe to like. celebrate the birthday of a series on ao3 but r&r is literally my child. my baby. i birthed this series. and you all signed up for this when u started reading my fics thank u

soooooooo thank u guys for all the support i've received over r&r i know it's hard to stay a consistent reader when my posting schedule is entirely non existent but i am so grateful for everyone who's stuck around this long and been with me for this journey (calling it a journey because a year ago i did not have any sort of overarching plot in mind and now we're 17? 18? fics deep and so many things have happened and i'm usually just as surprised as my readers) it's rlly u guys that have kept me going this long

ANYWAY. i rewrote this like 500 times cause i hate being like. overly sappy on this account because it's way funnier to act like a celebrity with a huge ego, but real talk i am so proud of everything i've done w this series & what it's become in the past year

i've been posting my writing online since i was like 10, so we're going on almost 9 years now and i don't think i've ever ever ever received as much support for something as i have for r&r and something about that is soooo special to me??? idk it's just so nice to see a completely self indulgent series become so loved by others, especially since the only other fics i had up before gmm&m were a little more on the "i'm gonna write what seems popular right now" side???

like shoutout to everyone who was here before/around when i started the series because my account was so empty like. 2 fics and one gets updated every 6 months. r&r pulled me out of the trench i fear. it also cured me of my very horrible disease that makes me delete all my fics after 9 months and then completely disappear from a fandom so everyone say thank you r&r

but yeah idk where i'm going with this i'm very grateful for r&r and all the friends i've made and people i've met through it because i was very lonely before i rejoined tumblr and r&r was like. 90% of the reason i made my account

AND SPEAKING OF FRIENDS. thank u to

@spidergrotto & @sapoteylx for being the first ppl i met on here to openly talk about and support r&r which i thought was so so cool even if you guys have become my haters in the past few months i've known you :/ thank u r&r nation u keep me humble and miserable (and i am very thankful for our friendship i think some aspects of r&r would be very different if we'd never met)

& ao3 user classactical because you've been here since like. a month or two into the series i think and i always always always look forward to your comments because i feel like if you comment, i did a good job on the fic LOL thank u for sticking around for so long, even if ao3 has been actively working against you for a whiiiiile

there's a lot more i want to say and a lot of people i want to mention but that would take a very long time and i always feel weird tagging a lot of people in posts so just know if u read r&r we are kissing rn. or high fiving idk whatever floats ur boat i guess

but yeah anyway tl:dr happy birthday r&r i'm very proud of this series & very thankful for everyone who has read any part of it ever u guys are so cool and hot and have amazing taste and i'm taking your kudos and bookmarks etc. as you swearing your allegiance to me and promising me your undying support no matter what (legally binding btw) thank u guys

#r&r tease #ough i cannot believe r&r is a year old #happy birthday r&r you are my favorite child #gonna go post that fic now #or in like 10 minutes #idk i haven't edited anything #stay tuned

[lemon-ren]

Okay, quick question.

Would you be interested in reading shin soukoku fan fiction? I've been in a writer's block for a while so my supernatural fic is on hold, but holy fuck does the bsd fandom lack proper slow burn 100k+ shin soukoku fics that aren't straight up smut or have smut in it and I wish to write a fic for Atsushi and Ryuunosuke, but idk if anyone is interested and now I'm rambling...

Okay so who is interested in slow burn shin soukoku multi chapter no smut and mostly story based with in character characters?

Also question: if the answer to the previous question is yes-

Options:

1. Time travel (no not the MC is a baby, but like a fix it of sorts where Aku and Atsu accidentally travel back in time)

2. Right after the 6 month deal (6 month period of Atsushi and Akutagawa being frienemies and despising themselves for falling for each other)

3. Beasts AU (based on BSD Beasts where Akutagawa and Atsushi become friends and are sort of mutually pining but both of them refuse to acknowledge it since they are on enemy sides and Akutagawa has beef with the PM)

4. AU (where Atsushi and Akutagawa end in an alternate reality (possibly created by the book) in which neither of them exist and the PM doesn't exist and ADA is not ADA, but a regular police/detective agency since abilities don't exist and Aku and Atsu keep forgetting that major fact so they are being hunted by the government for being "potential escaped experiments" and no matter how much they despise each other they know that they can't get out of this alone)

5. AU 2 ( Atsushi starts developing difficulty controlling the tiger in his sleep after the headmasters death and the ADA can't keep an eye on him all the time, so ADA and PM collectively decide to look over Atsushi on missions so they don't get an actual man-eating-tiger on the run, of course Akutagawa would be the primary babysitter ;p)

6. AU 3 ( Akutagawa has undiagnosed Autism and Atsushi is the first to figure it out, of course the ADHD were-tiger thinks Akutagawa knows this fact about himself and he just keeps asking Ryuu weird questions on missions and carrying noise cancelling headphones because he doesn't know if Ryuu will ever need them and he is so in denial of his feelings he says it's nothing but him being a caring business partner, it doesn't work because everyone in ADA and PM thinks he is madly in love (he might be) but in reality he is just really caring and doesnt want his PM partner to die)

7. AU 4 (Akutagawa sleeps during the day because of his job, until three months into the deal with Atsushi when the were-tiger appears half dead on his (very not publicly known about home) doorstep and he has to stay up for an entire week because Atsushi's heart keeps stopping and the healing isn't working properly while Ryuu just tries to keep his partner alive telling himself that it was all because he is the one meant to kill him)

I like all of these but can't decide which one to write first, so... Help?

#bsd #shin soukoku #fanfic author #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke

[cursedcola]

TWST: The Hall Of Mirrors - Baby Update, January 24’

ART:

Guys I don’t think I’m going to be able to put art in the game because I lack a tablet. As much as I want to, it would require making *way* too many images.

So, I’m making the TW game a pure piece of interactive fanfiction as a text-based game only. I’ve poured so many hours into it and I think I would rather go extend the plot/add on details so you can visualize it rather than stress anymore about putting art in. I know I said previously that I was taking time off from it, but I actually spent a good chunk of my free time last month trying to get art to scan in. Twine does not like imagery. No, no it does not.

So I’m just going to take a wee bit more time and make the plot more detailed. I also really want to get back to writing more here >_<

PLOT:

Like I said, I’m taking more time to add in detail. Without art I feel that it needs more to make the visuals pop.

AUDIO:

I haven’t given up on this bit quite yet. Since this is a fan game that isn’t getting monetized or anything, I don’t feel the need to make original music. I’ll see if I can find anything I like enough to fit the vibes

~ On that note, this is the last written update I’m giving. I might post some pictures when I feel it's in a good place, or ask if anyone would like to test the game out (catch any technical errors or bugs)….but yeah, I’m pretty much done now? I think? Hard to believe I’ve slowly been writing this since July. It’ll be weird to not work on it anymore, but also nice since I want to write other things hehe. I will say that this is the biggest thing I have ever made for any fandom, and I hope it's something I can look back on fondly.

(Small rant below about the art because I’m me and my perfectionism demands I offer an explanation)

Like, I did the math and it just isn’t feasible to do with what I have sadly. The game was going to have 15cgs for each route’s climax. I also got a bit crazy and even did base sketches for 15 cga for the after endings without really thinking about how rough it was going to be. You can customize your Mc by their clothing, body size, eye color, hair length and color, and hair type. If I had a tablet then I could make a singular CG as the base, and then basically make a bunch of copies where I make small changes so that the proper combination will pop up depending on the choices you made. It would have took a long time but I could have done it - although using a quick combination showed that there were hundreds of different possible combinations.

I mean, there are 2 clothing options, 4 body types, 8 eye colors, 4 hair types, 4 hair lengths, and i think 6 hair colors if I remember right. I also put in customization features that have you answer Q’s that I can’t predict to edit the cg with. Regardless that’s 2X4X8X4X4X6 = 6,144 possible combinations for ONE cg. That’s kind of rough even with a tablet, so without one is just like…death. It would be 2x4x4x4 = 128 different iterations of the image (as things that are not just color changes that can be quickly altered). That’s 128 versions of 15 images. That’s 1,920 drawings. Even if they were going to be in a very simple artstyle, heck even a sketch, it’s not feasible.

I love Otomes and have always wanted to play one where your customized MC is featured in the cgs. Making a game like that is one of my life goals - but not for a fan game. If I’m doing that then it’s going to be an original work.

I’m sorry for hyping it up and making false promises. I really did want to make it happen for my mini fangame, but this is kinda just my little side project and stressing over it was zapping the fun away. So now we’re going back to plan A and just sticking to a text game >_<

#twst otome update #TWST: The Hall Of Mirrors #update #this is the last update i’m making

[concussed-to-pieces]

Wolves At The Door; Part Ten

Fandom: Resident Evil [Village]

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: Heisenberg puffed out a breath, gazing off into the distance. His factory was out there in the rain, waiting. Waiting for his return.

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our tenth installment! Nearly to the epilogue, have a little faith. Enjoy!

Tag List: @cookiethewriter @amneris21 @topgirl17 @vodkafolie @a-smol-witch @clockworkmidnight @calwitch @silver-quinn01 @velvet-paradox @hijackser @mrs-wolfwood @nonstop-haikyuu @mic-sunderland @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fullofmoonsandstars @stargazerofgoldenwords @imthegreenfairy86 @karlskitten @nitrogennightmare @chunnies @thirstworldproblemss @highly-unknown @tartimaar-bloggeth @thesmartbiscuit @spoopyredacted @crowtrobotx @kotall-ohh @doggydale @jackie-loves-yalls-writing @simplysolo @teeheemax

x. Prelude

1. Indebted

2. Blood On Your Hands

3. Brush With Death

4. Come To Bed

5. Smells Like Snow

6. Hot Iron

7. Turnover

8. Backslide

9. Tender Gray Light

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains mentions of blood, canon-typical violence, gore, and graphic depictions of mental and physical duress. Stay safe!]

The rain was welcome to Karl, for it heralded the return of spring. However, it made for miserable walking. The former Lord forged doggedly onward despite the downpour, rainwater dripping from the wide brim of his hat.

The sky was still dark. He had no idea what time it was, whether early or late. It had been months since the time had mattered to him, the man all too willing to move through life at the pace of your choosing. But last night's events seemed to have ruined that.

Dinner had been silent, the two of you refusing to really engage with one another after…what had happened. Karl was irritated with himself and a bit irritated with you as well, if he was being honest. Granted, he knew he wasn't exactly emotionally mature, but gods almighty he had told you not to look at him! He had wanted to avoid this…weirdness, this strange feeling in his chest, and now he didn't know how the hell to fix it.

You eventually went to bed alone and he was still awake staring at the ceiling hours later when he had finally made his choice.

He knew what he had to do. To an extent, anyway. He cringed as he thought of how hard he had bitten you, so strong you ruin everything you touch. 

He couldn't do that again. He wouldn't do that again. He couldn't keep slipping up. These moments of weakness, of forgetting himself, cutting loose…it was irresponsible. Risky. Wrong. He needed to put himself to use, take himself out of the equation.

He needed to go to the source.

For his own sanity, whatever was left of it, but also…Karl shook his head, feeling stupid.

He started sprinting.

…

You woke after a poor night's sleep to the sound of rain. Specifically, to the sound of a drip, drip, drip. You groaned, pulling the quilt up over your head. You didn't want to patch another leak. 

“Karl,” you mumbled, flinging your arm out to the side. You met nothing but more sheets and blanket, and then you recalled what had happened the day before. Sitting bolt upright, you ignored the puddle on the floor in the corner as you called, “Karl?” Your fingers gripped the quilt in a stranglehold when there was no reply. “Karl?” 

You moved from the bed, more than a little stiff, and hurried to pull on your shoes. 

The living room was empty. The stove hadn't been recently stoked, the couch was cold when you touched it, and the blanket the two of you had…well. The blanket was folded and placed over the arm of the couch. 

In a daze, you moved to the kitchen and picked up the large pot, then returned to your room to place it under the leak. Fix the roof. You would need to get the ladder, patch, the patching fabric…when was the last time you had even used the patching sealant?

You felt your eyes begin to well up, but you roughly dashed the tears away. Don't think about it. Do the job.

It was pouring outside, the rain washing away the last of the snow downhill into the river and exposing the muddy grass of your yard once more. You huffed out a shaky breath as you did up your rain gear, the front snaps still fiddly even after all these years. 

The ladder was stored underneath the porch and still partially frozen to the ground. A few sharp kicks loosened it enough for you to yank it free. Your fingers were so cold already that by the time you realized you had somehow cut yourself on the cheap aluminum stepladder, you were halfway to the roof. Muttering several choice swears under your breath, you just ignored it and continued upwards. Leak was priority. You could handle that.

Once you found the leaking area on the steep roof, you propped yourself up with the ladder and got to work placing a patch. Load the putty knife with wet patch material, spread it evenly, carefully pat down a precut piece of fabric, and then smear the second layer of patch. 

It was so quiet. 

The only sound was the rain hammering on the hood of your rain suit. You felt like you could hear the absence of noise, but in reality you knew you were just imagining things.

There had been a time when you were thrilled with the quiet. When you wanted nothing more than this…deafening silence, just the susurrus of wind and the far-off calls of birds, entirely removed from human companionship. You had been content for years.

A few tears slid down your nose, landing on the fresh patch with a wet little splat. You sniffled, frustrated with yourself as you used the heel of your palm to scrub at your nose. 

The ladder suddenly tipped, one leg sinking deeper in the mud and throwing you off-balance. A frantic noise escaped you and then you were slipping, falling off the edge of the roof.

…

Some stupid asshole had put up a chain link fence around the entire valley, the whole length of it covered with ridiculous signs. 

KEEP OUT! This area under military surveillance. Trespassers will be shot. KEEP OUT! ENTER AT OWN RISK!

Karl scoffed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and then easily clearing the fence, landing silently on the other side. He felt a bit foolish for doing so once he straightened up; down the fence a ways was a section that had been peeled apart from the inside. Upon closer inspection Heisenberg found tufts of white, matted hair and crusty ichor coating the ragged edges of the torn fencing.

Lycans. Clearly they came and went regularly. Maybe the military presence was gone? 

After using his power to secure the fence again, Heisenberg turned on his heel, squinting through the rain as he moved forward to the edge of the small valley the village was nestled in. Or rather, it had been nestled in. 

The entire village looked like it had been sacked and burned. Massive tire tread marks were still frozen into the mud, criss-crossed this way and that. Some heavy equipment had been brought in to demolish the already-frail buildings, but over the tire marks were hoofprints, footprints, pawprints. 

So there were still lycans here. 

Heisenberg puffed out a breath, gazing off into the distance. His factory was out there in the rain, waiting. Waiting for his return. The former Lord shook his head, cautiously making his way down the slick road into the village proper. He had no idea whether the area was still under active surveillance (snipers specifically had him a little skittish), and the last thing he wanted was to be caught unawares.

The ground was littered with what seemed like hardened ash, chunks of it wafting into the air when it was disturbed by Karl's boots. With it came the scent of rot, of decay, and very, very faintly, the smell of mold. Heisenberg's nose twitched and he shook his head, as if to dismiss the familiar odor. They had burned Miranda's ‘god’, then. 

As they should have. 

He only vaguely recalled some towering thing briefly glimpsed through the back of the Duke's wagon, but if the tenacity of Winters was anything to go off of, he and that slinking, sneaky bastard Redfield had no doubt put the titanic growth and its root system dead to rights. 

Karl found his thoughts growing more and more distracted as he crossed the marshy land that bordered what once was Moreau's reservoir. Judging from the frozen mud puddles, the sluice gate had either failed or been victim to the same demolishing that the rest of the village had suffered. 

He ought to have been able to see his factory from where he stood, but to his muted dismay it also appeared to have been toppled. Not all that surprising when he actually thought about it, though. A majority of its structural integrity relied on (essentially) constant input from him. A comparably-small percentage of his power had been dedicated to keeping the factory upright. He had nearly forgotten about it, that's how much of an afterthought it was. Through his will alone the building had endured; he wondered dimly if it had collapsed when he had or if it had propped itself up until the militants crumpled it.

All that was left was to see whether the lower levels had survived. 

The real chore was locating an intact bulkhead, but even that wasn't such a struggle. The problem with said bulkhead, however, was the goddamn Morlock-esque conglomeration of prints around the half-ajar door, and while Karl didn't fancy himself much of an Eloi, he also wasn't enormously fond of getting swarmed in the depths by lycans or their pet vârcolaci.

He stood by the door for a long while. Long enough that he was fairly confident even the world's shittiest sniper would have taken his head off. The signs had just been scare tactics, or just remnants of the military force that had since moved on to more important things. This site was back in lycan hands, whatever was left of them. 

And he was about to delve into the belly of the beast.

Why? Why the hell am I doing this? Karl knew the answer to his own silent question but it had always been his nature to rail against the inevitable, the inexorable. 

Poor Heisenberg, so strong you ruin everything you touch.

The ladder rungs were slimy with mud, coating his palms liberally. Karl swore under his breath. He had forgotten how filthy everything was. Hard for mold to thrive if the environment was spotless, after all! You just kept your cabin so clean…it felt like a loss, somehow, to descend back into the grime and darkness, the fecund catacombs that housed his quarters and manufacturing operations. His mind wandered anew to his Haulers and Soldats. Were any of them still left? Or had they all fallen to Ethan's unquenchable fury?

Again, that grudging respect for Winters, warring with his faint annoyance at the man for entirely razing the place to the ground. Bit rude, really, but understandable. 

Through the inky blackness that closed over his head, Karl sent out a mental pulse on force of habit. Metal, all around him, gears and machinery, radios and televisions stirring at his proverbial touch. Once a fortress of science, now an uneasy, creaking tomb. His breath caught in his lungs. He had never felt so claustrophobic in his own damn factory. 

You didn't have any electronics in your cabin. He hadn't realized until just now. The total absence of buzzing screens and subaudible hum of current had been such a blessing, and he hadn't even noticed until it was thrust upon him once more.

There was some commotion at the base of the ladder still far below him, startling Karl out of the reverie he had fallen into. He gritted his teeth and stretched out a hand, using his power to search the factory for his enormous hammer. From his left came a crashing din in the distance, crumbling stone and shrieking metal heralding the flight of his monstrous weapon.

Heisenberg grinned with a bleak sort of humor, catching the haft of the hammer and then releasing his hold on the ladder. “Papa's home, you greasy freaks!” He roared, plummeting like a rock to the floor below.

I can use this stupid, dangerous strength to make their home safe again, cut the lycans off at the source. I can use it…I can use it to keep them safe.

…

Rain was pattering against your face. You spluttered, opening your eyes slightly and then quickly closing them again in a grimace as a fat raindrop slammed into your eyebrow.

Ugh. Your back hurt. 

You gingerly sat up and rotated your stiff neck, grateful that nothing seemed to have been dislocated. Your right leg was scraped badly through your rainsuit; you must have caught the ladder on the way down. At least you hadn't broken the leg! You could live with the deep abrasion and bruises, but if you had broken it–and with Karl missing…

‘Missing’? No, he left.

Tears closed your throat and you struggled to exhale, irritated by your immediate response to thinking about waking up alone. You were fine. You needed to get back inside and dry off.

Your head started to pound as you struggled upright, grabbing the side of the cabin to steady yourself. Your right knee throbbed anytime you so much as thought about it, so you did your best not to. 

Just get inside.

You hobbled forward, fumbling with the stairs of the porch until you finally managed to get up them backwards. You were now sweating from the effort, nauseous and dimly terrified. You had never felt quite so alone as you did at this moment, your nails digging into the boards of the porch as you dragged yourself to the door.

Just get inside. 

You collapsed inside the door, shoving it closed with your arm. Shaking fingers unbuttoned your rainsuit, and you carefully peeled it off. The right leg of the suit was ruined, but you might be able to salvage it. Numbly you continued to extract yourself from the suit, leaving it in a heap by the door. You then automatically limped to the kitchen, filled your kettle with water and placed it on the wood stove to boil. You would need clean water to take care of your wound, and unfortunately at the moment your largest pot was currently camped out in the corner of your bedroom. The kettle would have to suffice.

He couldn't look at you.

Don't think about it.

The bite mark he had left on your shoulder was still tender to the touch.

Don't think about it.

Your head ached and you squinted, trying to hold back more tears to no avail. They spilled down your cheeks after a brief struggle, causing you to huff out a shuddering breath and sink down on the couch. 

In a rare moment of weakness, you opened your mouth to voice an honest emotion. “I…” You swallowed thickly, feeling foolish for talking to an empty room. “I miss you, Karl. Please come back.”

But silence was all that you received in return.

…

The only noise that met his ears was a steady drip, drip, drip. The ground beneath his feet had finally gone still, no more writhing bodies or snapping jaws to break. 

It had been like a never-ending nightmare din ringing inside his skull. Squealing, snarling, biting, clawing, the baying for blood and his own voice shouting until he was hoarse. The abrupt silence was nearly bliss. Heisenberg mused on whether his eardrums had ruptured but, no, the dripping persisted. 

His arms and legs felt like lead. How long had he been down here? Days? Weeks? Karl sank to his knees after a moment, propping himself up with what was left of his hammer.

From overhead came a creaking groan, the remaining structure of the factory dangerously close to failing. Karl had laid waste to the floorplan as he eradicated the den, the hive, so it wasn't really a surprise. He had no idea where he even was in the factory anymore. Even with his improved eyesight there wasn't much to see, and less still to orient himself with. 

Had he gotten them all? 

Gods, the exhaustion that was speedily overtaking his body was almost impressive. Clearly he had stretched himself a little too thin. How much blood had he lost? Down in the darkness all he could see was that his hands were a deeper gray than his upper arms, blackened tendrils writhing upwards along just beneath his skin. That was to be expected, he'd been bitten more times than he could count. His entire left hand hung at an awkward angle from his wrist and with a grunt Karl reset the appendage. The pain was what stunned him, its lightning-flash freezing him in place. 

A huge piece of sheet metal hit the floor beside him, then another, and another. It seemed that even the lower levels were caving in on themselves, finally succumbing to the damage and his weakened state. Without warning a cinderblock slammed into his head, nearly flattening him before he caught himself. Karl snarled, mentally shoving upwards with all his power and hearing several more pieces of metal ricochet off of one another and bury themselves in the masonry. 

A wet cough suddenly rattled his chest and Karl wheezed for breath, trying to remember what the hell had happened during his prolonged struggle. Black fluid splattered onto his hand when he hacked out another cough, and Heisenberg realized that there was a deep wound in his chest. He hadn't even felt it, hadn't noticed. Wasn't really a point to plugging it either at this stage, what with the whole factory coming down on top of him. 

A sense of calm washed over him. It felt a bit like inevitability, and he just didn't have the strength to fight it any longer.

Karl slumped down by a retaining wall, the cold stone pressing comfortingly into his bare back. He tipped his head to rest it against the wall, squinting pointlessly upwards as more dust rained down. The framework beams had begun to collapse, finally yielding under the immense strain to careen to the ground below.

Heisenberg bowed his head, his palm covering the wound in his chest as an afterthought. He could feel the hitch of his own breath, the former Lord understanding in a cold, clinical manner exactly what the hell was happening to him. His lungs were in agony, burning, his chest felt like it was going to burst–

He heard the metal plummeting through the air right before it struck, an enormous, knife-like edge driving home in the meat of his shoulder and pinning him in place. Karl retched, his mind shying away from the brilliant stab of pain. Before he could draw another breath a huge beam crashed down on top of him, jamming his chin against his chest. His last conscious thoughts were strangely (or perhaps, not-so-strangely) about you. 

Sorry sugar…guess I wasn't strong enough to make it out alive…

Buried there beneath the wreckage, crushed by the weight of his own hubris and surrounded by a mountain of corpses, Karl Heisenberg finally went still.

Epilogue

#karl heisenberg #lord karl heisenberg #eventual romance #fix it fic #au #resident evil #re 8 #re 8 village #resident evil village #resident evil karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine #re 8 karl heisenberg #slow burn

[haztobegood]

⭐️ Annual Writing Self-Evaluation 2023 ⭐️

I love doing this every year. (2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022) I can't believe I've been writing for six years now! I looked through my past annual posts and got a bit emotional, it's amazing to see how much I've grown and changed.

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 7

2. Word count posted for the year: 11,572

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction, Music RPF (The Snuts)

4. Pairings: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson/Jack Cochrane, Louis Tomlinson/Bodyguard

5. Story with the most: Kudos: No (Birth) Control Bookmarks: No (Birth) Control Comments: Good Dogs Don’t Bark

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): Chaos is a 100 word drabble that I'm very proud of. I tried for months to write a Louis/Bodyguard fic for the Louis Rare Pair fest and it just wasn't coming together. Putting a hard limit on the word count was a fun little challenge that helped me get the idea down on paper. At first I didn't know if I could build a steamy plot in so few words, but it worked out in the end and I couldn't be happier with it!

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): Of the stuff posted this year, I'm not unhappy with anything, but if I had to rank everything, chapter 2 of Good Dogs Don’t Bark is at the bottom of the pack. I was in a weird mood writing-wise when I wrote that chapter and it reminds me of that time whenever I think of it.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: @allwaswell16 read Chaos on her podcast! I dedicated the drabble to her for inspiring and encouraging me all year when writing has been a struggle, and for being such a supportive mod for @louisrarepairfest!

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: All year! This is the least I've ever written since I started. Life has been full of big changes and it threw off my writing habits. I've also been very stuck in my head about certain aspects of writing that I never used to think twice about. I'm hoping now that life has settled and I've got somewhat of a new routine figured out, I can set some intentions and build up my habit again, because I really miss writing.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: This scene from Baking Memories made me burst out laughing when it came to me:

Looking down at his six little pies, Louis is starting to feel like a proper baker. Jack finishes up his last and says, “Alright, let’s top ‘em.” “I bet that’s your favourite part,” Louis jokes raising his eyebrows teasingly. “At least these don’t talk back when I’m topping.” “Oi!”

More under the cut.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: From No (Birth) Control

He picked up another potato. Twisting the paring knife expertly around the spud, the thin brown peel sliced away from the white flesh in smooth, practiced movements. It was easy for Harry to get lost in the meditative efforts of slicing, dicing, and peeling. Just two potatoes remained when Harry caught Louis’ piquant scent through the open window. Harry paused his singing and peeling as he breathed in deeply. His sense of smell was always attuned to his alpha, but this close to heat the pull was even stronger. The back door opened. The scent enveloped him, stronger than the savoury aroma of the roast, as Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s middle, hugging him from behind. Harry melted back into his touch, forgetting about the half-peeled potato in his hand. “Hi baby.” Louis said, leaning in to drag his nose along the curve of Harry’s neck in tender greeting. “Alpha,” Harry sighed, tension he didn’t know he’d been holding meting away. He could stay like this, content in his alpha’s arms, forever. Louis licked up the side of his neck. The blatant scent marking sent shivers up Harry’s spine, and a light nip of sharp teeth over his bondmark started to make him wet. He would be half-tempted to bend over the counter, if it weren’t for the roast cooking in the oven and the twins playing in the yard. Harry bit back a whimper. “Lou, no,” he groaned. “I need to finish dinner.” With all his resolve, Harry gripped the paring knife tighter and focused his attention on peeling the remaining potatoes.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I've learned to be patient with myself. I have a lot of wips that I've started in 2019 or 2020 that aren't even close to being finished. I used to be so frustrated that I couldn't finish them, but now I've learned that sometimes the wip needs to sit in the dark cavern of the drafts folder to age like fine wine.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I want to be more intentional about setting time to write. I miss having a regular writing time and want to be able to work on some of the exciting ideas I have.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): @allwaswell16 and @himynameiszayn are the most supportive friends, they were always around to offer advice, help me think of words, and cheer me on when writing was hard. I don't think I would have written half the amount of words I posted if it wasn't for them.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: I listened to The Snuts so much this year after seeing them play during FITFWT, so it was only natural for me to write a fic featuring Jack. I love the silly Christmas video the band shared a few years ago and knew it was perfect idea for the fic that became Baking Memories!

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: I touched on it a bit above, but sometimes taking a pause on a wip you're struggling with is a good thing. Give yourself grace to move on when an idea isn't coming together the way you want. It doesn't mean you need to give up on the story completely, it might just be the wrong time.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I am looking forward to writing something for @wankersday again, and I am getting closer to finishing my alien!Harry fic that's been 5 years in the making!

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I tag @banaanipoika9 @louandhazaf @hazzabeeforlou @beelou anyone else that wants to do this!

#fics and wips

[nevertheless-moving]

Hi! I love your writing snippets - have you thought about posting them on ao3

Thank you!! Yes, I have thought about it, for sure! I'm nevertheless_turtle on ao3.

(I have... six fics, all of them star wars, half of them unfinished, last one updated in January 2022. Unless someone decides to put a million dollars in my kofi jar, this is for Fun, so unfortunately once the hyperfixation fades...it fades*.

:( star wars back and forth tumblr fics with star wars mutuals my beloved... murderbot discord i loved collaborative storytelling with ya'll and i miss you...i don't know how to make friends on the internet i just talk blorbos in situations and my blorbos drift over time... hello stormlight archive fandom)

! anyone want to talk about putting my type of blorbo, which when i check my notes is a pathetic wet person who is very good at killing but somewhat tries to avoid it, if you want to talk putting someone like that in a Situation, Hey! i may or may not be your person. this ask is really getting away from me i might be tired from walking a bunch of miles today...

*i do historically cycle back around to fandoms! i was lurking on tumblr for over a decade before i posted anything and there was definitely a cyclical nature to it! i consistently knit furiously for 3 months and then take a 4 year break! star wars fics wait for me!

aNYWAY writing fic directly into Tumblr adn/or Discord or if i don't have internet connection then a fuckin shitty notes app appears to be the Key for me?? like i tried fic writing before that in Word or Docs and it just didn't go?? idk! I think it's like the comic sans trick.

wait i still haven't answered the question.

you know, the thing is, when i write a snippet at the end of 5 paragraphs of background meta for an au, or a literal bullet point list, i'm not really sure how to post that to ao3. can you post chatfic and bullet points to ao3? it feels weird? idk. real question for the crowd in the midst of an extremely incoherent ask answer. let me know what you think!

me to myself: the question. scroll back up. what was the question. myself to me: that was answering the question! somewhat!

Right now a bunch of fic writing is churning around and out of brain, and circumstances have aligned for better or worse such that i have time and mental energy and ideas to write. we'll see how it goes. Once I get a bit more posted on tumblr i'll probably put things together and either make seperate works for different aus, or a masterwork of different tumblr aus that i don't think i'll develop further. i may turn some of those bulletpoint lists into cleaner fics for posting, making my earlier point moot.

some of my aus i already have a bunch written on my phone over meals or stopped in the middle of a side walk or on bus and train rides (why would an ELEVEN HOUR TRAIN RIDE not have an outlet to charge my laptop??). so. if i clean that stuff up ill probably post it to tumblr, then immediately notice the spelling mistakes, edit, then post to ao3.

a perfect system.

for my most recent snippet, well, that's actually self contained (not an au that requires 6 paragraphs of background to understand the snippet) and not a chat fic, so i WAS thinking i would just post it to ao3 soonish. i asked in the tags if anyone felt like betaing for ao3, i am wildly but unquestioningly assuming that the sorta individual who would want to beta a fic for me are reading the tags on my tumblr fic post. if anyone likes betaing stormlight or is interested in betaing a specific au/fic idea i've mentioned, hit me up.

TLDR above, tumblr is a for fun rough draft looser writing form place for me. ao3 feels like its asking for a bit more polish and structure. i have writing bees in my brain right now so i'm slightly more focused on that then editing, but if anyone feels like doing some form of beta, reach out and we can chat about it. regardless, i will clean up at least some of my recent snippets and post to ao3 eventually.

#stormlight archive #nevertheless meta #star wars #murderbot diaries #fandom

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Don't Go on That Date (Stephen Holder Drabble)

Fandom: The Killing, Stephen Holder, f!reader

Summary: Your partner is not happy that you are going on a date with someone else. Will he admit why?

Word Count: 692

As you stood up from your desk, you asked, “Hey, Holder, I’m going to take off early so I can go home and change for my date. Can you finish up the paperwork on the Miller case and drop it off with the Lieutenant?”

Your partner grumbled irritably. “I ain’t your secretary or your errand boy. Finish that shit yourself.”

You were taken aback by his tone and his rejection of your request. Just moments before, the two of you had been laughing about some idiotic story he told you, and now he was acting like you had run over his dog. “What the hell! I finish your paperwork all the time! Besides, you’re the one who actually cuffed the guy. Your arrest, your paperwork. So, if anything I should be saying that to you.” You tossed the file at his chest angrily. “Now, I’m leaving. Hopefully, you’ll be over whatever put you in such a pissy mood by tomorrow.”

“Fine. Go. Have fun screwing that jackass.”

“I don’t need your permission and I’ll screw whoever I want!”

You grabbed your jacket and bag before storming over to the door. But just as you rested your hand on the handle, Holder’s voice called out from behind you. It was timid and soft, barely more than a whisper. “Don’t… don’t go on that date.”

You turned around to face him with an exasperated sigh. “Why?”

He wouldn’t meet your eye as he mumbled, “You know why.”

It took a second, but the realization of what he meant and why he was suddenly acting like this slowly dawned on you. As you walked back over to where he was slouched in his seat, you dropped your stuff on the desk. Leaning over, you place one hand on either of the armrests of the chair, essentially trapping him in place.

“Say it. If you don’t want me to go, I need you to say it.”

His leg began anxiously bouncing as his jaw tightened, but finally, he looked you straight in the eye and said, “I don’t want you to go on a date with that douche bag. You should be goin’ out with….with me.”

You stared at him in stunned silence before asking, “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Holder shrugged. “You’re my partner. Didn’t want to make things weird. But every time you go out with one of these jerks, it kills me a little more. Seein’ the way they treat you. I know I’m not the smartest, or the handsomest, or the most successful…but mama, I would treat you so good. I could make you feel so good.” He smiled as he slowly ran one of his fingers up and down your arm where it still rested on the armrests. You shivered slightly as his touch left goosebumps in its wake. But his smile dropped as he realized what he was doing, and he quickly pulled his hand away.

However, you grabbed it and wove your fingers into his. He looked up at you, eyes searching your face for some sort of sign about what this meant. “You really are an idiot, you know that?” He turned away, wounded by your words, but you turned his head back to face you so you could explain. “I was practically throwing myself at you for months, but you never seemed to notice. That’s the only reason I’ve been going on all these dates. I figured if you weren’t interested, I should try to find someone who was.”

He sat up straighter in the chair. “Yo, I’m interested. I’m so interested!”

“Well, in that case…” You dropped your hands from the armrests and lightly ghosted them over his thighs before straightening up and walking to your side of the desk. “I’m still going home to get ready for my date. Pick me up around 6?”

He nodded furiously as he scrambled to find the file so he could finish the report in time. Smiling happily, you grabbed your stuff and once again headed out of the office. And as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but release a sigh of relief. Finally.

#sfw repost #drabble #stephen holder drabble #stephen holder #detective stephen holder #stephen holder x reader #stephen holder x you #the killing #joel kinnaman #fluff

[fallingdeeperintothispit]

10 characters/10 fandoms

Thanks for tagging me @dirtbag-linecook-kyloren! Let’s get into it 🦆

We’re gonna go chronologically just like the post I was tagged in because it’s late and I have no original thoughts!!

1. Kirishima Eijirou / Boku No Hero Academia

So sweet. My boy. And so criminally underrated. I feel like I really connected with this character back when I was in the fandom, because for those who don’t know his origin story was that he was super boring and bland in the (Japanese equivalent of) middle school, and when he got to high school he had completely changed his personality and flourished. I wanted to be him in a way, strong and brave. (Was this where issues with gender began? Maybe.)

2. Pitch Black / Rise of the Guardians

HOOOOH BOY. So many people identify Jack Frost as their first animated crush, but goddamn it if I didn’t immediately start being totally obsessed with Pitch. Now, as the years have passed, it’s become difficult for me to tell if I wanted to be with him or /be him/, but I always thought that he deserved much better than he got.

3. Sokka / Avatar the Last Airbender

Sensing a pattern? Yep it’s another unappreciated side character used for relief that I identified with and stuck to like a cactus. I actually really liked his character when I first watched the show, and now am an avid Zukka fan! Will I ever write a fic for that? Maybe. But don’t worry, Kylux will forever and always be my main source of inspo. Those blorbos were made for each other.

4. Runaan / The Dragon Prince

Listen. LISTEN. I started watching this show years ago and it is SUCH A COMFORT. I adore it. As I watched the show, of course I immediately connected with Soren, but something about Runaan’s character and the fact that he was so powerful and cut off but also a father and a lover and he NEVER GOT JUSTICE,,, it impacted me. I’ve read every SCRAP of fic I can about his life pre-TDP. Love him to death. Save my boy next season please!!

5. Saiki / The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.

Something about a generfluid aromatic main character just hit home for me. The fact that it was so normal that Saiki was born a girl and just changed his gender and no one cares is such a tiny moment in the show but it introduced the idea of “this is ok” to me. I hold that show in a special place in my heart. Doesn’t hurt that it’s also hilarious.

6. Muriel / Good Omens Season 2

We come to the present! Or, well, a few months ago present. Loved the kiss scene. Cried at the ending. Something about Muriel made me want to protect them. They’re so,,, blorbo. Kinda reminds me of Mitaka, now that I think about it 🧐

7. Jim / Our Flag Means Death

Oh boy. OHHHHHH BOY. Him. I love him. I want to be him. Just,,,, JIM. His origin story, his love interest, his bloodthirsty personality, that one scene with Spanish Jackie… just a chef’s kiss all around.

8. Armitage Hux / Star Wars - Sequel Trilogy

SAY IT WITH ME: “HE WAS DONE DIRTY!!” He had so much potential and they just SQUANDERED IT. He could have been the next Thrawn! He had the brains for it, and the wit. I don’t know why Ylasmirs aren’t used more in Star Wars cannon. Did I mention that Hux was a GENIUS?! He built a better, more powerful Death Star and was killed by A CHARACTER THE FANDOM HAD JUST MET. Also, he was the spy??? REALLY?? …I’m so normal about him.

9. Clyde / Logan Lucky

Recently watched this movie with my family and adored it. It’s up there in my list of Perfect Heist Movies! I feel like Clyde’s character was really well executed, and at no point was he made lesser for being an amputee, which I really enjoyed. Also, with the Ferrari movie coming out, maybe another heist is set to happen 👀

10. Stensland / Crashpad

Listen. This movie. This fucking movie. It was SO BAD. And kinda misogynistic? But… I really enjoyed Domhall’s acting. Stensland was lovable and dumb and my heart ached for him when he got rejected. Does that excuse the movie’s weird ending? No. But I still like the character.

Honorable Mention: Captain Phasma / Star Wars - Sequel Trilogy

I love Gwendolyn Christie. I love a woman who can beat the shit out of me. I love a woman in armor. Need I say more? Also, that character’s death was very anticlimactic and I feel like she should have been in TROS.

No-pressure tags! @fridayincarnate @dragonflies-draw-flame @ironsoulmaker

#ask game #armitage hux #captain phasma #saiki kusuo #sokka #stensland #clyde logan #kirishima eijirou #runaan #jim ofmd #muriel #pitch black

[joys-of-everyday]

Attachment

I have been away for a while, during which I have finished a degree (whoo!) and lost all of my drafts (sad!). I had a fancy website for organisation and I closed the tab and 6 months passed and I simply cannot remember where they have gone. So, back to word documents and I’m never putting my faith in a website again, at least not without bookmarking it. Any threads I was working on are gone. Adios! Probably for the better, since I’ve lost my momentum on them.

I’ve sufficiently curated my feed such that fandom discourse mostly doesn’t reach me unless I actively go out and search for it, and who has time for fandom discourse when you’re crying over exams, but inevitably SY vs SJ drama peaks in sometimes and… isn’t discourse so fascinating? Don’t you want to overanalyse it like you have nothing better to do in your life?

I love discourse, truly. It gives me so much joy.

You know, back in the ancient days (2020), I got into cpop. Cringe. Why is the idol fandom like this? Why am I like this? Anyway, I discovered an idol whose words… touched me. Deeply. Utterly transcendent. Relatable af. My gawd my blorbo understands me like nobody else etc. etc. I literally wrote down quotes and stuck them to my wall, that was how far it got (and I didn’t even have the excuse of being a teenager).

Now, unsurprising to those with any awareness of how the internet operates, as quickly as discovering the parasocial love of my life, I ran into the fans and the antis. ... .... *sigh*. There’s a lot to say about the dynamic of these groups, but what strikes me about that time is a vivid memory of obsessively reading anti content and feeling… well, hurt. More than hurt. Personally attacked. It was like everything I found relatable in this idol was being publicly criticised by the faceless masses, and all my worst fears about how people hated me were right there on the screen. I had to remove myself from idol news because it was really starting to get to me.

And as much as it was distressing, it was fascinating for me experiencing it, because I was a sensible adult (questionable) by this time! I knew the difference between reality and fiction! (and idols, as a brand, are basically fiction) But in relating to a figure on screen, in attaching a metaphorical part of myself to that figure, I’d opened myself up to a strange kind of vulnerability. Through this proxy, I’d put myself out into the world, and was automatically interpreting any negativity, regardless of whether it specifically applied to me or not, as an attack on me.

This, of course, is stupid. They weren’t attacking me. They didn’t even know of my existence. Even if, yes, the things being criticised were sometimes related to me and my experiences, 1) they were not criticising me and 2) online criticism tends to be… a teensy bit exaggerated.

To bring this back slightly, fictional characters can be an extremely powerful way to work through feelings that are a little bit too ugly to confront with directly. Maybe I’m weird, but I do this intensely. Most of my emotional processing involves sobbing over made-up situations involving fictional characters at inconvenient times of the day. The flip side to this is that what should be not-that-deep discussions on fictional characters are quick to turn personal, and are completely blown out of proportion in my mind.

I don’t really have a point here. This is mostly a self-conceited ramble about some experiences I’ve had. But some advice, which you are welcome to ignore if it’s not relevant: you are not a character on a screen. Any judgement of characters on screens are not a judgement of you as a person. And if it ever feels like it’s getting to you, go touch grass. Or open a window. Or - as my algebraic topology lecturer liked to say - drink a vat of gin. Whatever works for you.

#what do I even tag this as? #post-exam derangement #fandom discourse #fandom #fandom culture

[thelonesomequeen]

Hello! I'm soo sorry to bring this up again but i'm not sure if anyone asked this question so i thought i would ask. Some people on IG were saying that alba has a small baby bump that was visible at the VF red carpet, although i don't see it and i onky think that the color white of the dress maybe accented that tiny bump wich isn't a baby bump but just a normal bump, so i just wanted to ask what you thought about that.

And same question for the recent photo that came from justin's sister's story. I mean you can see how small her waist looked from the side so i don't understand how some people could also think that there was a baby bump. What are your thoughts on that?

Sorry for the long message and thank youu for giving some of you time to my ask (wether you post it or not) ❤️

I think she looked very flat stomached in both pictures and don’t see a sign of a bump. In the white dress specifically, she did that weird new pose a lot of women do with the arched back that tends to slightly pop out the entire torso area. But it feels gross saying that because I just don’t like when people pick and poke and continuously look at a woman’s body for a baby bump. There are also multiple medical reasons a belly could slightly bloat stick out to (outside if you know, just having organs in there 😂) and I think people just need to leave women and their bodies be in terms of pregnancy until they announce the news themself or until it becomes blatantly obvious because she’s many months along.

I don’t mean that towards you specifically, but just generally.

As for the fandom and the discussion around it all. I’ve said this before, but they’re now married and they’ve both said they want kids. A baby is just the next step in the natural progression of things. I think people have gone from wedding watch to baby watch because it’s just what’s most likely to come next for them. But I do wish people would kind of just let them breathe and enjoy their newlywed status without harping on the baby thing. I’ve been married for almost 6 years now and it honestly gets annoying when people keep questioning you about when you’ll start a family. Mostly because it’s not anyone’s business, but for some couples who may be struggling with things like financial issues (and having kids isn’t cheap) or infertility issues, it can be a really hurtful question 🦎

[ohraicodoll]

Figment | Chapter 6

(Gif credit to thisgameisonnintendo) Chapters:  6/7 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne Additional Tags: Mix of TV Dream and Comic Dream, Spice a little later, kinda enemies to lovers, Cause Dream likes when people backtalk to him, lots and lots of tension Summary: She had only been able to enter other’s dreams two years ago, but she knew the rules. Don’t interfere with the dream. Don’t create anything in another’s dream. Don’t destroy anything in another’s dream. But then she stupidly broke one of those rules and the Lord of Dreams does not take kindly to others messing with his domain. Chapter Summary:   Luck, the knife's edge, and the closing of the chase. Chapter Warning: (18+, minors DNI, Contains sexual content) Read Here on AO3 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 (Also reminder that the entire series and sequels are all on AO3 if you prefer there)

CHAPTER 6

Anissa had been right in one fashion. I was going to have all weekend to think about Morpheus. And it was torture. In the waking world, there was little magic and nothing could keep my focus. The amount of cold showers I took was ungodly and I put the blame solely on the Dream King for my hike in water bill. I tried to read but couldn’t stop imagining candle lit ballrooms and his lips on my skin. When I tried to clean and sweep my apartment, the echoes of a waltz were in my steps. If I was jittery before about going to sleep, I was an absolute bundle of nerves now. So I got dressed and went on a walk, figuring it was better than pacing at home. I didn’t know what I was doing, what this game between us meant. And the anxiety I was feeling was so close to early dating jitters that I wanted to smack myself because this was probably nothing, an itch for us both that needed a release. We were two adults that, at least on my side, were very attracted to the other. That’s all. It didn’t have to mean anything. Anissa had said there was nothing wrong with some fun after a breakup and that’s all this was. Fun. A curiosity. Because who wouldn’t want to when an anthropomorphic being seemed to like to flirt with you. Life was already weird once I started dream walking, now it had taken such a deep turn. The wind was cool against my skin, the turning of the seasons coming at last, and I shoved my hands in the pockets of the light jacket I wore. For the first time in a while, I realized any tendrils of emotion about Thomas and the breakup had worn away to only faint wisps. The entire month or so since had been a whirlwind of emotions but not about him, but about Morpheus. I shivered, almost as if I could feel those twin stars on me then. I slowed, brow furrowing, and looked behind me. Nothing. The sun was high with hardly any shadows, nowhere he would be hiding and watching. It was merely an echo. Swallowing, I turned back around, wondering if the chill of the air was going to be enough to cool the heat rising in me. Everything was a confusing mess but I knew one thing. When I went back to the Dreaming, I wasn’t going to wait for Morpheus to come for me. I was going to find him myself or try all night. There was no way we were done and I felt like we had finally hit a turning point from light flirting. We’d gone far past that the night before. There was no hiding mine or his interest. All I could do was wait for now until night fell and I could go back and finish this game. ___________

Apparently, Dream was not going to make this easy and was no doubt aware I was looking for him. He’d thrown down the gauntlet and had decided I needed a challenge. Immediately upon entering the Dreaming, I was in my office at work, the fluorescent lights casting the empty cubicles in bright light. I was still wearing the camisole sleep shirt I had gone to bed in along with the very small shorts. No outfit change this time. I huffed and turned, trying to imagine the library or Lucienne or Morpheus himself, hoping that a door would appear and take me straight to them. I’d never had proper control over the ability, usually going along with wherever they wanted to lead me. With a few people, it had gone to their dreams if I was highly emotional or thinking about them too much. But that was for humans who had their own dreams and I didn’t think that would work for the Lord of Dreams himself. Two doors and two different random dreamers later, I had finally found myself somewhere vaguely recognizable and was annoyed. It was a grove alongside a small pond, fish jumping and flying on tiny little wings and the grass so tall it reached my hip. I skimmed my fingers through it and it coiled into me like an eager pet. On a ladder propped up against a huge tree was a…man, of sorts, with a pumpkin for a head. He wore overalls and chewed on a cigar, large tree clippers in hand as he snipped away some of the lower branches. I think I had met him previously, before Morpheus, before the chaos, but I hadn’t gotten his name. No other person was in sight, which was a good hint that this was in fact the actual heart of the Dreaming and not a personalized dream of someone else. I pursed my lips and walked over, grass almost purring against me as I moved through it. “Excuse me,” I called out, hearing him grumble under his breath. He paused and half turned on the ladder to look down at me. “Yo, it’s you,” he chuckled, “You’re the dream walker kid, right?” I raised a brow and shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.” Taking a few steps down, he braced a thin wooden elbow on the ledge, “I’m Merv, we met kinda. I think ya handed me some tools while I was installing that dumb fountain near Cain and Abel’s place. What’s up?” I smiled, remembering the encounter hazily, and tried not to wonder at the way the carved facial expressions were so emotive on this gruff pumpkin, “Um, I was wondering if you could tell me where Morpheus is?” Merv pondered and scratched his pumpkin chin, the ash from his cigar raining to the ground, “Er’ the boss should be up in the palace or like his throne room. But you’re kinda shit outta luck, you’re on the opposite side of the Dreaming if you’re wanting to walk there.” Of course the first door to this place would be on the opposite side. I let out a frustrated groan and gave Merv a tight smile, “Thanks, I’ll probably just try and test my luck instead.” He shrugged, tree trimmer dangling from his gloved hands, “Sorry, kid. I’d say you could call out for him, but the big boss is in a mood so who knows what he’d do.” Oh I’m sure he was. Nodding, I turned and found a door already waiting for me. Merv mumbled about it being a cool trick, but I only waved goodbye and went through it, deciding I better get to it if I was going to find Dream. I found both a bog and a desert before finally ending up in the library. Fingers trailing along the shelves, I walked around for a while before coming across Lucienne sitting at her desk. A cart was next to her, piled with books along with stacks all around her on the wood top. As I approached, she raised her head, pushing round spectacles up her nose, and smiled kindly, “Oh you’re back.” I smiled and nodded, “Hi, Lucienne, um, I’m looking for Morpheus. Could you perhaps help?”

There was a small wince and she lowered her pen to the desk before clasping her hands before her, “Lord Morpheus is in his throne room, but unfortunately is not taking visitors and asked not to be disturbed. Is there something I can help with in his stead?” That jerk really was making me jump through hoops to chase after him. I suppose when you control the playing field you can do what you like. Grinding my teeth together, I smiled tightly, “No, no, you’re fine. I was needing to speak with him, but I guess I’ll wander around for a bit then and catch him another time.” She nodded, oblivious to the simmering frustration and annoyance at his royal highness that was mounting in me, “Well, if you need anything I would be happy to assist.” I thanked the librarian and slowly walked off, chewing on my lower lip. I was so close, the library being within the palace itself which meant his throne room couldn’t have been far. But this was the Dreaming and nothing was obvious, able to shift and morph at his whim. If there was a clear way to him, he’d have wiped it clean. Finding a small alcove on the lower levels, I leaned against a wall with a stained glass window. My luck wasn’t that high, apparently, and I knew there had to be a trick to this dream walking thing. If my thoughts could bring me to certain people, it had to be able to take me where I wanted. The downside being that I didn’t know what his throne room looked like. Closing my eyes, I rolled my head back until it rested on the window behind me. And I imagined Morpheus, the way his skin glowed in the darkness and shadows hugged his body like he was made of them. The sharp blue of his eyes in the waking world and the endless void of black and stars in the realm of dreams. The velvet soft feeling of his cloak wrapping around me like it was an extension of him. I pictured all of him, remembered the thrill of his fingers gripping my thighs and the hard press of him against my wanting body, the raven locks under my nails. His voice could set me on fire alone, deep and low and intoxicating. He was the very embodiment of dreams, alluring and fearsome. A soft snick sounded close and I opened my eyes. There was a door in front of me, made of stained glass and pointed like a cathedral window. The colors were bright and vibrant, depicting a night sky and green fields, bright red poppies dotting it. The details were gorgeous, intricate, and my heart raised because I knew. This was his door, either conjured by my mind or an invitation. I wasn’t sure which, if he had simply gotten tired of waiting on me or what. But I didn’t care. Pushing off the wall, I walked slowly, the wooden floor creaking against my bare feet. I trailed my finger over the glass image and watched in slight fascination as the scene shifted and moved. The clouds drifted and the stars twinkled, flowers swaying softly in an invisible breeze. I swallowed thickly, trepidation coursing through my veins. If this was the way to him, there wasn’t really any backing down to what it would lead to. Him, the Lord of Dreams, a monarch of this realm. I’d always known what he was but the magnitude of him hadn’t hit me since that night trapped in the nightmare.

That same man that had me chased by a monster had also danced with me at a ball despite proclaiming he didn’t dance. Smiling faintly at that thought, I grasped the small doorknob and pushed the stain glass door open before my confidence could falter. The throne room was before me, stunning in its magnitude. Everything was made from a dark gray marble in what would have been bleak if it weren’t for its surroundings. The universe was its backdrop, stars and auroras swirling in place of a ceiling and high cathedral arches rising to the sky. A series of pillars lined the walls, various statues emerging from them depicting what I could only assume were various gods. Three gorgeous stained glass murals colored the room in a kaleidoscope of colors, fighting against the harshness of the gray stone. And in the far back stood a staircase that almost looked like it was floating, no railings to hold onto, curving towards a dais that held a throne. But even in all that magnificence, my eyes instantly found Dream, a ripple of black at the bottom of that staircase, and my heart jumped into my throat.

It was possibly the most relaxed I’d ever seen him, sitting on the lower section of the steps, cloak draped behind him like a spilled pool of ink. His legs were slightly stretched out before him and he was leaning back on one elbow, an open red hardbound book in his hands. His head was still lowered, reading whatever was before him, but I knew better now. Lord Morpheus knew I was there, had known I was looking for him, and had deigned to wait. The door snicked shut behind me and dissolved as I started crossing the large throne room, bare feet padding softly against the floor. I expected the room to feel cold with all its stone and only the lights of the stars and stained glass illuminating it. But instead it was pleasantly warm and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was his doing. The walk was ungodly long to reach him, most likely on purpose, and the dreamlord still didn’t seem fit to lift his head from his book until I stood at the base of those steps a couple feet again from him. I stared at him, the sharp angle of his nose and jaw and the way his messy black hair wisped around him. The edges of his cloak were less defined, more a blanket of shadows, and the flames subdued. Finally, he dragged his eyes away from his book and looked up from beneath his brow, those pinpoints of light latching onto me and a barely contained amused smirk on his lips. He was enjoying this, enjoyed having the upper hand and making me come chase him down. “Apologies, your highness, if I’m interrupting your important book reading,” I bit out, lifting my chin, “Lucienne said you weren’t taking visitors but I figured you’d make an exception for a formal complaint.” Morpheus’ brows raised at that, something close to surprise lighting those black eyes, “A formal complaint? Of course, that is a rather serious matter.” He closed the book with a snap, eyes roaming over my form and taking in the thin top and small sleeping shorts and bare feet. I must have stood out against the grandeur of the room but I didn’t care. I was jumping off a cliff already so nothing mattered. A playful smirk tilted the corner of his lips in amusement, voice low and melodious, “And who is your complaint against? We shall get this matter settled at once.” My skin flushed under his gaze and I took my first step onto the staircase, the act intimidating in itself, before I could talk myself out of it, “My complaint is against the King of Dreams, Lord of the Dreaming and the Nightmare realms.” Dream slowly set the book down on the steps beside him, drawing himself to sit up with an elbow braced on his raised knee. Still the picture of nonchalance but I definitely had his full attention now. “Are you positive?” he asked, slowly, drawing the words out as staring down from his seat above me, “An accusation of that nature would demand my full attention.” My body trembled at his words and the way his gaze burned into me. There was a double meaning there. We both knew where this game we were playing was leading us, knew the edge we were teetering on, and he wanted to know if I was sure this was the path I wanted to go down. But I was sure, was eager , and had resigned myself to not backing down the moment I decided to chase through the doors to him. I took another step and another, body humming with nerves, “I’m positive.” His eyes darkened and he tilted his head, “Then what is your grievance against the accused?” Oh I could give him a list of grievances at this point, but I swallowed them, going up two more steps, “Well, there’s a few but first off he’s an ass.” Morpheus paused, brow furrowing as I’m sure that wasn’t what he was expecting me to say because who in their right mind would insult the King of Dreams to his face, “Is this how you attempt to win people over?” I climbed another step and put my hands on my hips, “Secondly, he likes to interrupt me.” If he was one to roll his eyes, he most likely would have. Dream instead narrowed them at me, amused and incredulous at the same time, but thankfully not furious, “Apologies, little dreamer, would you care to elaborate on your first charge?” Smirking, I waved behind me, “Do you know how it took me to not only find this place but then cross your ridiculously large throne room? It is unnecessarily large.” He raised a brow, “I shall take that into consideration next time I rebuild this room or when I wish to be barged in on.” “You should,” I agreed and struggled to keep a grin off my face as I climbed higher on the staircase and worked to cut the distance from between us, “Honestly, I only have eight hours max in the Dreaming and a whole hour is going to go towards crossing this room.” Dream sighed, “Your other complaint or should I attend to more pressing matters?” I was only a few steps away from him now, eyes level as he remained lounging before me, the picture of utter casualness. It was startling to me that it was getting easier to read the small hints of emotion playing on that usually stoic face. His lips were pursed in a smirk, curious at where this game was going and my brashness. The twin stars in the dark blanket of his eyes twinkled and roamed over me. I had been terrified of this man once, this being. Now I smiled, chin raised, “My other complaint is that he’s rude.” “Little dreamer,” the King of Dreams started, that smirk growing into an amused smile, “I believe this is less a complaint and more an attack on my character.” But I shook my head,  “You see, it’s incredibly rude to up and leave abruptly in the middle of things.” And with one final step, I was standing higher than him, forcing Morpheus to look up at me, “I didn’t know the Lord of Dreams was in the business of leaving things unsatisfied.” The word was thrown between us, a challenge if nothing else. Because though he was a king and immortal, he was still a man for the most part. Stubborn, egotistical at times, and prideful. And with mauve stars in his hooded eyes, Dream of the Endless looked up at me and smiled beguilingly. “Now that is a most grievous error.” I swallowed, shivering at the heat in those words and the way his stare completely seemed to strip me down to my base essence. But I’d come here with a purpose, brazen abandon leading me here to these steps, leading me to stand before him. It was time for me to jump off the knife’s edge. So I scrounged up the last of the bravery I had and let it carry me down river. Slowly, I lowered myself and straddled him, closing the distance between us completely and putting a knee on either side of him on the hard stairs. Dream’s hands instinctively grabbed my waist and slid up, receiving me, bracing my body and bunching up the fabric of my nightshirt as I seated myself on him with my own arms resting on his shoulders. My heart was pounding and I was on fire already, his hands burning through the thin fabric and grazing the skin underneath. My whole being throbbed, a sharp heat shooting down to my core, so sensitive already at being pressed against the rigid length of him. His face was close, tilted and staring up into mine with hunger and pleasant surprise at the boldness of my action. I felt out of body, heart in my throat and hammering through me. But Dream sat up fully, wrapping an arm fully around my waist to support me and the other going to caress my cheek. The power in that gaze, like I was a goddess to be worshiped and revered, was breathtaking. “So what now, Lord Morpheus?” I whispered huskily, “How will you address my complaint? Will you finish what you started?” A low, dark laugh left his lips and his hand slipped down to grip the back of my neck, his nose teasing along my jaw and up, a trail of fire in its wake. He pulled my head down so his forehead could meet mine, grip possessive but still gentle. Our gazes held each other, my breath shuddering against his skin and the way his scent completely engulfed me. He smelled of dewy morning and campfire smoke and the fresh night air after you’ve left the bar. I could drown in the dark abyss of him, in that gaze, burn under the heat of the stars in his eyes. I’d let him devour me whole and thank him for it. Lips grazed mine in the barest hint of a touch and I whimpered, a low keening noise that slipped out despite my bravado.

There was only a blink of a second before he pulled me roughly forward, sealing his mouth hungrily against mine. I moaned deeply, feeling myself come apart in that very instant. Gripping him tightly, chest pressed fully against his, I ground down into him while one hand dove into that ink black hair. All that tension, that delicious string that had been pulled and pulled and teased between us snapped and I was carried away in the flood that it was holding back. His tongue teases at the seam of my mouth and I opened for him, the hand at the back of my neck pulling me deeper into the kiss. Everything about this was brutal, teeth clashing and mouth bruising, his fingers digging into my skin and nails scraping his scalp. That wonderful, deliciously deep moan left him and echoed into my mouth and I grinned in triumphant against him. Wrapping fingers in my own hair, he tugged my head back and ripped his lips from mine to move to my neck. I was panting as he licked and sucked at the skin there, making his way down. His teeth clamped onto the hard pulse of my heart and I gasped, sudden and sharp, at the pain and absolute pleasure that rocked through me. I arch against him, drowning in the delightful heat of him underneath me and gripping the sharp angle of his shoulder under his cloak. His tongue lapped at the tender flesh, soothing it, “Is this what you wished for, little dreamer?” “God yes,” I breathed out in desperation. Lowering my head to look at him under my lashes, I growled, “And I swear I will tear this room apart with my bare hands if you try and wake me up again.” I kissed him, swallowing his chuckle and smiling against his lips as it turned into a moan as I rocked against him. He was hard, the length of him pressing against me through our clothes, the apex of my thighs perfectly aligned to rub against him.

“Wicked creature,” he growled and control of the kiss shifted, him doing what I wanted and devouring my mouth, tongue exploring every hidden part of me. None of it was enough. I wanted to feel him, touch him, feel the press of skin against skin. He’d tortured me long enough, drawing me tight like a bow until there was no room for gentleness or patience or tenderness. My hands were clawing in the night rich fabric of his robe, pulling it from his shoulders as his hands slipped under my shirt and found the naked skin of my waist, relishing in the soft flesh there. His arms were lean and pale, all angles, and there was something fascinating that under the ethereal cloak and power, he wore just a simple dark gray shirt underneath. I almost laughed at how he looked so human without the cloak but he was there, sucking my lower lip into his mouth and clamping down gently with his teeth. His hands slipped lower, kneading the skin of my bare thighs and gripping them tightly against him. The thumbs of his hands traced slow, languishing circles on the skin of my inner thigh and I could have cried at how close he was to where I wanted him. My inhibitions were out the window, completely taken over by the fact that I was wrapped up in this godlike figure. I kissed him deeper, heady and breathless, tongues exploring. Pulling back just a little to meet his gaze, I nearly came apart completely at the sight of his pink swollen lips and blazing eyes. The longing dragged a deep growl from my mouth, “Dreamlord, I’m going to need you to get on with it and fuck me already before I lose my goddamn mind.” And Morpheus grinned and it was a thing of wonder and terror, dark and predatorial, star points in his eyes red novas, “As my lady commands.” Then his mouth was crashing into mine and we were falling backwards. A flare of panic briefly shot through me, remembering those dreams of falling and jolting awake right before you hit the ground, but in the next second my back met cool sheets and Dream was above me. We were being swallowed by a luxurious black cloud of silken sheet. His weight on top of me, the full length of his slender, hard body against mine and resting between my thighs. Power hummed along every inch of my skin and I closed my eyes, relishing all the sensations as he laid kiss after kiss along my neck, licking and tasting. Hooking a finger under my shirt strap, he slid my top down by the strings until my breasts were exposed. And those eyes flickered up to mine right as he pulled a hard nipple into his mouth. I cried out, loudly, hand diving into his raven black hair and dying as he sucked and nipped, the long fingers of his other hand gripping my thigh and hoisting my leg around his waist. He was straining against the fabric of his pants, the rough feeling of them against me startling another moan. I was so sensitive. I was burning, completely boneless and pliant in his hands, eager for him to do anything and everything to me. He let go of the tender bud of my nipple with a wet pop and kissed a line down to the space between my breasts, tongue licking the spot. My eyes opened and suddenly, our clothes were gone and my mouth went dry at the sight of him, sinewy muscle lining a slender body, pale ethereal skin glowing in the blackness of the void we were in. He lay between my thighs, over my own naked body and I knew this could only be a dream, because no creature as beautiful and dangerous as him could ever be human and exist in the waking world. I reached for him, pulling him to me, and moaning as he slid that hard, silk-like body along mine to kiss my lips with equal hunger. My hands couldn’t stay still and I touched every part of him, tracing the carved lines of his ribs and the ripples in his back and watching him twitch as I drew swirl after swirl into the sharp hollow of hip bones. He was so hard, teasingly grazing at my wet entrance and I tried desperately to lift my hips and get him exactly where I wanted, to sate that inferno that was swallowing me whole. But his hand dug into hips, fingers bruising and able to keep me still with one hand alone. “Do we need a lesson in patience, little dreamer?” he hissed into my mouth. As if we were still playing the game, chasing, clashing, trying to get the upper hand. I bared my teeth, growling a warning viciously like a trapped animal, “Morpheus.” And then he was pushing into me and I shattered completely. He was large and filled me up to the brink, sending me tumbling with a cry. Dear god, he was perfect. He was everything. My head fell back as he pushed in, inch by inch until he was fully seated inside me. I was so wet and aching for him that there was nothing but glorious friction as he moved. He kissed me deeply as he began moving, pushing and pulling in smooth, slow motions, almost fully drawing himself out before sinking deep back into me. I was suffering, dying, wanting him to slam into me over and over again, sink his teeth and leave marks all over my skin, completely lose himself in me. My legs wrapped around his waist and tightened, pushing him deeper and he moaned, the dark head of hair falling to my chest as his breath hitched. He felt so impossibly good and I wanted more and more. His face was half hidden in shadows but I could feel his eyes on me, dark and aroused. Before I could catch the movement, his hand rose and roughly grabbed both my wrists, bracing them above my head in the soft blanket there. My upper body was spread for him and completely bared, restrained and at his command. And his pace sped up then, a shift as if he knew what I craved, going harder and faster. His groans filled my ears and I moaned in unison, wave building and building. Each motion was primal and deep, a welcome abandon after all the delicious tension between us. My body coiled around him, skin hot and sensitive and vibrating in complete pleasure. I could feel us pushing close to the edge and didn’t want it to stop, wanted to cling to him, stay in the crashing waves of arousal. Dream shifted and I cried out as he angled perfectly to hit that deep, sensitive spot inside me. We were sweat coated, grabbing and tasting each other. My hands clasped in his, we crashed and crashed into the rhythm of our bodies. He was buried so deep in me and both of us moaning between frantic breaths, lips bruising in their haste. And then I was falling, moaning his name loudly as my release crashed into me with a fury, ecstasy coursing through my nerves, my blood, every inch of my being. I was being ripped apart and put back together over and over again. I clenched with my orgasm around him and he followed the drop, nails digging into my thigh as he ground hard into me at last, moaning into the skin of my neck as his own release came. I was floating, body lost in the black silk of the sheets and his hot, sweat slicked skin. I could feel my breath coming out in fast ragged pants, chest rising and falling under the surprisingly comforting weight of him. His hand released my wrists, gently massaging the tender skin and I wrapped them around his back. I was a boneless mess, fingers reflexively running through his pitch black hair and face tucked into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, leaving soft languid kisses against his skin. He groaned, both of us utterly spent, and raised himself up to look me in the eye. For the first time since that café, Morpheus looked relaxed, color in his skin and tension gone from his face. I smiled at that, slightly proud that it had been me, a nobody human, that had done that to him before stretching up to kiss him. It was soft and tender, the blazing reckless heat from earlier satiated and gone. But his lips tasted like the night sky and rain and I would never get enough. Dream pulled away and laid a kiss on my bare shoulder, “Are there any other formal complaints you would like addressed?” The man had jokes and I decided I liked playful, relaxed Morpheus. I grinned, tongue between my teeth, keeping in a moan as he shifted inside of me, “I believe they’ve all been taken care of. Thank you, your highness. Your customer service is excellent.” He smirked at that, shaking his head, and nipped the skin under my ear, an involuntary giggle leaving my lips. We laid there together, limbs tangled, pressing languid kisses against each other’s cooling skin. He told me stories of the Dreaming, of the world before me, and about the denizens of his realm. I took in every second of it, enjoying his skin under my hands, the hypnotic deep hum of his voice, and the way he skimmed his nose along the sensitive points of my body.

Because my life had been a blank book to him before he was freed, I told him of my childhood and family and wanting to be a writer. He never trivialized my experiences or feelings despite being as old as the stars. He held me and listened, soaking in my humanity and short life. Hours later, I could feel my body grow heavy, a feeling almost like a tug at the base of my stomach. And I knew time was up. I clung to him, kissing him hard and rough, desperate to stay. But the King of Dreams sorrowfully laid a final kiss on my forehead and everything melted away. I woke up in my bed, an ache between my thighs and body thrumming with longing. I was alone.

#dream x ofc #dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #morpheus x ofc #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #the sandman fic #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman fanfic #sandman fic #sandman fanfiction #sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x ofc #dream of the endless #morpheus #lord morpheus #sandman #the sandman #the sandman netflix #series: fragments #fic: figment

[bigjimbopickens]

hi sorry to bother you i know this is like a dead issue now but i was a massive fan of kevin before the hogwarts legacy shit, i’m a trans guy and i stopped watching him because of it. i really miss his content though, his channel is pretty much all the games i like and my sense of humour, but i feel so conflicted about wanting to go back to his content. i was just curious what your thought process was around rejoining the cult? i know it’s kinda weird to ask now since it’s been like 6 months since it happened but i feel really weird about it.

also like. no pressure to answer i don’t know if this is crossing a line or anything sorry

It’s okay don’t worry :) enough time has passed, to me at least. Tbh this is the first I’ve heard about this in a while lol.

It’s okay to feel conflicted. I don’t speak for everyone here but everyone I talk to regularly has forgiven him but won’t forget that this happened.

I do believe he learned from this, he hasn’t done anything HP related since then, besides for a few ps1 Hagrid cameos (which is fine, ps1 Hagrid has been a channel meme for a while). I just hope this doesn’t age poorly.

What started getting me back was a bit after the apology post I noticed that other YouTubers were doubling down on their decisions or just not saying anything, including ones I used to respect. Even though I wished Kevin did more than just a Reddit post, I’m glad he didn’t stay silent and admitted he fucked up. His intention wasn’t malicious, unlike a lot of other creators, which is why I was more forgiving with him compared to others. Though I still lost a lot of respect which was regained over time.

Oddly enough what got me to really respect him again was his video on those American Superpastors and Megachurches. Having grown up in one (though in Canada, they exist here but aren’t as big) it was very healing. He couldn’t say it because he didn’t want to get sued, but he was very heavily implying that he believes it’s all a huge scam and they’re exploiting people. But he’s right, I’ve witnessed it myself. Never would’ve expected him to make a video like that and be so bold with it. I’m glad Europeans see what goes on here and think “what the fuck?!” Great video definitely recommend.

Other than that, mainly just enough time passed where I no longer feel that way. I missed the sense of community which is why I rejoined the fandom but it’s not my main one anymore. I mostly do my own thing these days. It was awesome going to Vancoufur as Werewolf Jim and meeting CMK fans there too, I could’ve sworn I was the only British Columbian in the entire fandom. Though I don’t fully trust the fandom still, mainly people I don’t recognize. But not anyone here, Tumblr isn’t really the site for those people.

Not much else has really changed in his content, just no more HP videos in general (as of July 22, 2023) and the fast-paced editing has mostly stopped. He now only uploads on Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays now + any 2nd channel content, song covers or streams. The community has changed a lot though. The Reddit protests caused the subreddit to shut down so it’s gone, so there’s now no longer one big gathering spot besides Discord, which is the one side of the community I’m not in.

It’s really your choice if you wanna start watching again, anonymous user. Do whatever makes you happy :)

Since this is related, I haven’t heard a thing about HL since February. It really was just a mid game that was only popular because it was controversial. Transphobes really spent a lot of money on this, they’re the real losers. I know single player games get less players overtime but a lot of them still get talked about, replayed or are still relevant. Idk just my thoughts. If you really want a magic game with custom spells, play Oblivion’s Mages Guild questline or modded Skyrim.

Also sorry if I got back to this so late. I haven’t had a stable connection for a while until now. I’ve been away, escaping wildfires. Average Canadian summer activities.