#and i didn't want to write that......... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkskinned · 9 months

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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

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gay-impressionist · 10 months

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france is burning.

667 people were arrested last night. they are curfews in place. public transport is partially closed at night.

nahel, a 17-year-old, was shot tuesday by the police during a traffic stop. he wasn't violent or armed, he wasn't a threat. but he broke the law and tried to drive away, so the cops killed him.

and now france is rioting.

there is a video so the government isn't trying to deny the facts for once. but the minister of the interior (in charge of the police) still insist that the police shot less people since the 2017 law on public safety.

but an analysis of police statistics by Le Monde, the most read newspaper in france, says otherwise. when the police shot on average 250 people each year in the five years prior to 2017, that number became 297 after 2017. for shots fired specifically on moving vehicles, the average used to be 119 and it's now 150. before 2017, there was an average of 0.06 deaths per shot. now it's 0.32.

more than ever, the police shoots to kill.

so france is burning.

#i wanted to write something small because there's nothing on tumblr #but it became longer and longer #i didn't add pictures bc it always seems voyeuristic to me. this isn't click bait. i'm not here to exploit the pain and the anger in any way #but a kid died and hundreds people are being arrested and tumblr doesn't say a word #upthebaguette #whatthefrance #acab #tw death #tw police brutality #france things

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mrtequilasunset · 7 months

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Unprovoked

#My private partner. My private partner I do private things with in private. We are very private about it. Privately.#he could have let you make an ass of yourself on your own but he didn't #he wanted to roleplay with your crazy ass #this whole exchange is my favorite tbh #still convinced Annette would overhear this convo and write a 13 yr old girl fic about them #disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #plaisance #drama disco elysium #kimharry #harrykim

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confessedlyfannish · 13 days

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Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense

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jvlianbashir · 28 days

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"the creator said in a reddit thread -" "the official twitter account posted that -" "the actors confirmed in a livestream that -"

i don't care and that's not real to me. put it in the text.

#for fun stuff like 'this character's favorite food is meatballs' im like cool but for worldbuilding and stuff? nah #i do understand some nuance with writers or w/e who were held back by corporate teams on confirming a character is gay or something #and wanting to talk about their hopes and intentions #but this is rly about the opposite with creative teams wanting the points for diversity or plot choices #or world building without putting it in the actual story #esp if its bc they just didn't want to piss off bigots or can't write well #sw giving backstory on the sith fleet situation in a TWEET will always be infamous to me #not st #doctor's log

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kamaluhkhan · 3 months

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anti-curse

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader

summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3

when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.

given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.

archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.

so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner.

“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”

the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.

that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.

you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank.

if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it.

you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations.

“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”

the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”

"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined."

percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”

leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.

you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.

“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”

“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.

“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”

“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.

"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.

"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.

"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."

"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.

"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"

you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."

"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."

"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.

"that's...that's different."

"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"

you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.

"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.

"then what did you mean?"

percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”

“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”

percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition.

“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.

“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes.

her conclusion makes you freeze.

demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were.

what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.

you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.

you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?

either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.

without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze.

“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.

#Spotify #when i was younger i didn't think people would want to read all the stories i'd make up in my head about this series #so im glad the percy jackson renaissance is here #there's something so healing about writing + sharing this blurb even if i'm still nervous #might fuck around and write another part because i have so many ideas of where this could go #percy jackson #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo #saf writes #riordanverse

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obsidianbit · 6 months

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I love this gay ass show with its literally life ending injuries that heal immediately, but only when convenient to the plot, and its ridiculous use of modern phrases, and its laughing in the face of historical accuracy, and its kissing the face of the fans instead of trying to outwit them, and the way everyone involved in the show seem to go 'I KNOW RIGHT! I'M EXCITED TOO!' instead of mocking the fans

#i have so many feelings #i can't quite express the way everyone involved seems to want us to love the show #like when you love something so you show it to a friend and vibrate with excitement while you watch them love it #so that you can scream about it together #it feels like djenks and the writers and the cast and the crew are in on the joke *with* us #which contrasts so sharply to the way so many fandoms find themselves to *be* the joke #the joke being how much we love the show #the fact that everyone involved cares *so much* about the show is really obvious #not just this is a fun show but this is a *meaningful* show #i truly have never felt so much like i have a community as i have with this show and the fans of it #it is also one of the only shows i can think of (maybe some of neil gaiman's adaptations?) where the trademark over analysing and meta #and theories of the fans isn't ridiculed #this ties back into the being in on the joke thing #back when we didn't know blackbonnet was going to be *canon* canon #and djenks reaction to us freaking out that we were RIGHT was basically #well yeah?#i want to write a love letter to everyone but i don't know how #ofmd #mine #our flag means death #david jenkins #ofmd s2 #ofmd 2 #kissing david jenkins on the mouth

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cybertronic69 · 7 months

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☁️ COZY.

she adores you.

warnings: bff!ellie + top!ellie + bottom!reader + fingering + finger sucking

- ☁️ -

you and ellie have been best friends for quite a long time. you're always together, maybe at patrol, maybe on the packed streets of jackson or maybe in her room, just like you two are now.

"so... that's the dvd you found?" you're holding the little object in your hands, meticulously analyzing it.

"yes, babe." ellie smiles at you. she was always calling you those sweet names, touching you and using her gentlest voice that made you melt everyime. "joel said that this movie was huge at the time." joel also said that this was the movie that people took their girlfriends to watch. she didn't plan on telling you that part.

"that's so cool, els!" you smile softly at her. "you always find the best stuff at patrols." oh, that she does. so much that she found something straight out of her dirtiest wet dreams. an 8 inches silicone strap on that she dying to show you. she needed to see your reaction. would you get all flustered? would you laugh? would you tell her to fuck off? well if you let her, she would gladly fuck y- "els?" your voice snaps her out of her fantasies.

"sorry, babe... got distracted." she puts the movie on and sits down on the couch. "come here..." she pats the spot next to her. you sit down by her side, and she immediately wraps her arms around you.

"so what's the movie about?" you rest your head on her shoulder.

"i dont know..." she knows. "probably some cheesy stuff." you hum and start paying attention to the movie. ellie starts paying attention to you. as the movie unwinds, the scene that ellie was waiting for so long finally starts. she tries her best to be subtle while watching your reaction to the two girls making out on the screen. she caresses your arm with the tip of her nails, and you shiver. you shift on your seat, and she notices your breath getting slightly heavier.

after a few moments of silence you decide to speak. "els..." you say in quiet voice.

"yes?" she whispers and her voice send shivers down your spine.

"did you ever..." you start but your voice cracks.

"did i ever... do this?" she whispers in the same tone as before. you just nod, not trusting your voice at the moment.

"yeah." she merely answers. you hum and stay silent, now pretending to pay attention to the movie. "did you?" ellie is directly looking at you this time. you just shrug and she laughs quietly. "what's that supposed to mean, babe?" she gently brushes your hair out of your face. "are you shy?" she tucks your hair behind your ear.

"leave me alone, ellie" you look away, ignoring her.

she chuckles. "what happened to 'els' now? am i losing my privileges?"

"what privileges?" you mumble.

"the privileges... of being the person you like the most." she simply answers. you try to think of a comeback, but it's not successful, so you just stay silent. "wanna know something?" she caresses you cheek. her touch feels so good and inviting that you have to fight the urges to lean into it like a kitten. you look at her and nod. "you're my favorite girl" she whispers softly. the faint glow from the tv is bathing her face, and her pretty green eyes are sparkling as she stares at you. you open your mouth and close it shortly after. she always makes you dumb. "i could..." ellie starts. "i could treat you good, babe."

"you already do, els..." you mumble.

"yeah, but... i could treat you good in ways that you're not used to." she's still caressing your arm. "better than anyone else. im better than anyone else for you."

you stare up at her. "els..."

"let me show you..." she touches your bottom lip with her thumb. "can i?" you take a deep breath. even her smallest touch can make you dizzy and leave your heart beating like crazy. you slowly nod. ellie cups your cheek, and soon your lips are on hers. she wraps her free arm around your waist and pulls you closer, making your bodies press against each other. as the kiss gets more heated, she sucks on your tongue, and you whimper. ellie has to fisically fight to urge to bend you over and fuck you right there. she slowly pulls back from the kiss with little pecks and wipes the saliva from your lips with her thumb. as you try to catch your breath, she takes the thumb into her mouth and sucks on it.

"what the fuck, ellie..." you whine with your eyes glued on her actions.

"what?" she grins. "you want a taste too?" she starts to trace your bottom lip with her middle and ring finger. you part your lips almost unwittingly as you stare at her with big wide eyes. your gaze drifts down to her tattoed arm right in front of your face. you take in how pretty the view is. long and slim fingers, cold veiny hands, ink filled lines on her skin, and suddenly, you feel your mouth watering. ellie, still staring at you with a slight side grin, slowly pushes her fingers into your soft lips as she analyzes your every little reaction. when her fingers touch your hot tongue, she bites her own lip. and that was it. you knew this got out of hand already, so why not just follow the flow? you wrap your lips around ellie's fingers and close your eyes as you suck on them. ellie also closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling a little too much. so much that she can't stop picturing her fingers sliding in and out of a very specific area your body that is just as warm as your mouth. "babe..." ellie's voice is hoarse when she opens her eyes, staring at you with a heavy gaze. you let out a soft noise around her fingers, and ellie lightly grips the hair on the back of your head with her other hand. she starts moving her fingers back and forth, still being careful to not hurt you. when her fingers hit the back of your throat, your eyes tear up. "shit, babe... you're gonna cry?" ellie whispers, trying to tease you, but her voice is a little too shaky for that. when you nod, she nods with you. "im gonna give you something to cry about..." she grabs your jaw, pulling you into another breathtakingly kiss. she lays you down on the bed, still on top of you, and starts to kiss your neck. your head is spinning. everything feels too good. her lips burn your skin, and your hands grab anything they can find. heir hair, her shoulders, her back. "hey..." ellie whispers as some sense starts to appear in her head again. "is... are you okay with this?" her voice is breathy, her skin is hot, and her lips are glistening with saliva. when you nod, she shakes her head. "need you to say it... tell me you want it."

"please... fuck me..." you whisper in a whiny voice.

"shit... you dont need to ask me twice..." she buries her head on your cleavage, kissing your breasts. "always wanted to do this." she adds with that little grin of hers and for a moment, she looks like your silly best friend with that boyish charm of hers. you were about to point that out to mess with her but then her hand cups your clothed pussy and your voice dies in your throat.

"a-ah... ellie..." you hide your face on her neck.

"gonna fuck you... just like you asked, babe." ellie's mind drifts to her finding that is now carefully kept on the bottom of her closet. maybe... maybe she could... no... no need to rush. right now you're taking her fingers only. and you're going to like it.

in a blink of an eye you're naked and she's still clothed. you almost pout at this. you wanna see her too... "els... take it off..."

she grins and shakes her head. "you'll have the chance..." she pecks your hard nipple and you shiver. "...later... now it's all about you, babe...." she mumbles, almost in a trance, as she plays with your breasts, taking them into her mouth and gently squeezing it. you have your suspicious that this was actually all about her since she was almost drooling on your tits but it feels so fucking good that you dont have the strength to tease her about it. with one hand on your left breast and her mouth on you the right one, you almost forget that she has a free empty hand, so when her fingers slide through your slit, you jump in surprise. ellie chuckes. "you didn't think i could just ignore this pretty pussy did you?" she quickly pecks your lips and kisses her way down your torso stopping right in front of your soaked cunt. she takes a minute to take in the view, her hands holding your thighs apart. you glance down at her with shaking hips and she looks like someone who is about to have the best meal in their fucking life. yeah, this is actually all about her. "shit... such a pretty fucking pussy..." she whispers, her warm breath making you tremble even more. she blows some air into your clit and chuckles when you squirm. "cute..." she gently pecks your clit and you whine. she puts your legs on her shoulder and closer her eyes when she licks your slit from bottom to top. she moans. "tastes perfect, babe..." ellie mumbles against your pussy, her nose touching your clit. "need you to cum on my face..." when she starts eating you out for real you almost scream because what the fuck. why is she so good at this? when did she learn? with who? a pang of jealously hits you with the thought of your best friend with other women. your hips tremble hard and you grip on her hair trying to pull her back because it was too much. you're gonna cum like this. you're about to say something to her when she slides two fingers inside your pussy and you see stars.

"nngh... ellie!" you cry out and she smiles softly.

"come on... just let it go... there's more after..." ellie's voice is soft as her fingers hit that perfect spot inside you everytime. you're crying. it's so fucking good. you cum hard all over her fingers. when you finally regain some composure, you see ellie licking her fingers clean, and you groan.

"who the fuck are you..." you're totally pissed off at this point. she's too good at this.

ellie laughs and buries her head in your neck. "i'm els."

you flip her around and straddle her hips. "who are the bitches?" you whisper.

she has a stupid grin on her face. her hands grabs your hips. "what bitches?"

"that you're fucking." you whisper and deep down you know you're being insane.

"right now it's you." she laughs and undoes your pout with her thumb. "and i want it to be you... for a long time... maybe even..." ellie's cheeks are red now.

"is that you trying to ask me to be your girlfriend?" you cross your arms. "im gonna pretend it didn't happen and give you second chance to do it without the word 'bitch' being mentioned."

ellie laughs again and pulls you against her, hugging you tight. "i love you..." she whispers. "im gonna make it right next time..."

you bury your head on her shoulder, slightly embarrassed. "good." you huff. "and... i love you t-too..."

ellie smiles. you need to get strapped.

- ☁️ -

#ALMOST slipped a daddy kink into this but the voices didn't win today #also i really really really want to write a part 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #tlou 2 ellie #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader

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egophiliac · 7 months

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so on the subject of the "Crowley is secretly Revaan/Laverne/Levin/please Twst give us his name" theory, I think my feelings are best summed up as "I don't really buy it, but it's funny". like, in all seriousness, I'm not opposed to it; I have enjoyed the writing in Twst so far and I'm willing to trust that whatever happens will, you know, make sense and not be terrible. but I'm just not really convinced by the current evidence! maybe that'll change once we learn more, we'll see!

with that said, may I propose a few alternate theories about the possible Crowley/Revaan connection:

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #on this installment of things nobody asked but i'm going to talk about anyway #disclaimer that this is mostly a joke please don't get mad at me #(legit no shade to anyone) (speculation is one of the fun things about an ongoing fandom and you never know what'll turn out to be true!)#more seriously i do think there may be some connection that just isn't clear yet #but the more little breadcrumbs we get about what revaan was like the more i think crowley just doesn't act like him #i adore crowley don't get me wrong #(yes he's a dipshit. this is a feature not a bug.)#but like.#not to harp on the scene about lilia's nrc invitation (i am absolutely going to harp on it)#i do not believe that crowley would go through the trash to fish out the pieces and put them back together and save them #just because it was lilia's. just because lilia might want it again someday.#crowley can ✨yasashii✨ all he wants but we know what he's like #and i REALLY do not believe that lilia wouldn't recognize him. i didn't believe it before and i extra don't believe it now.#then again i do tend to be incredibly off about speculation so! who knows! i will trust the writing for now!#i do 100% believe that meleanor would fall in love with the world's biggest dumbass and then double down super hard. that part tracks.#that said i have decided that ambrose being revaan is actually the funnier option just because it would make crowley SO mad #it wouldn't make sense for him to be mad about it and that would just make him madder

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lolottes · 4 months

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Ida is Constantine's good ex.

They separated on good terms after a few months because Ida wanted to start a family and not Constantine (for obvious reasons). Then, despite Ida's efforts to keep in touch as a long-distance friend, she quickly no longer received any news from him.

So when she sees him barely older and seeming lost in his town… she takes him for a ghost who has retained a very human appearance. She rushes to him because she is surely not the only one to notice the presence of a “tourist” in town.

She takes a minute to pity him and apologize. He hadn't ignored him, he was dead!!! Then start explaining to him why as a ghost it's not safe for him here even though it's very nice of him to visit <3

Constantine had not informed Ida about magic, after all it was one of his exes from before his cancer (a little near the time when he stopped responding to her) and his first triple sale of soul for escape death. But he knows Ida well enough not to contradict her. In addition, she gives him all the information in flash notes that he is looking for.

…

Okay, he also missed Ida. It felt SO strange to see her old. But she apparently hadn't lost anything from a mental point of view

This is how Constantine was invited to have tea and catch up on lost time at Ida's in addition to having a more complete debrief of the Amity Park situation

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #ida manson #john constantine #amity park #I didn't write it but I'm not sure that Ida would be against going to bed with a ghost #after that I'm not sure on Constantine's side #Constantine doesn't have the heart to tell Ida that he was alive all the time #but that he had been so caught up in the magic tricks to dodge his cancer that he had completely skipped it #and even after n 'never thought about contacting her again #even though she's one of if not the friendliest ex of all.#if he had done it or at least talked to her about magic and his survival #maybe she would have contacted him before the situation got to this point #seriously there is a government agency that wants to start a dimensional war and a couple mad scientists far too intelligent for the good #ida becoming a JLD contact? more likely than you think #my #my prompts #prompt

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chronicowboy · 13 days

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something id really like to talk about is christopher's role in this episode. like we knew there was going to be jealousy about eddie and tommy but ive been wondering since the synopsis dropped if there was going to be any mention of christopher. and not only was there mention, but there was so much and it was so rich? buck worrying about tommy meeting chris and being replaced in that aspect of the diaz's life, "i don't think you should lie just to ingratiate yourself with a child", christopher's star wars rankings that buck clearly knows by heart, eddie asking buck to watch chris on karoake trivia wednesday, tommy bringing chris up in their conversation and making it clear that buck could never disappear from the diaz's lives in any way because of how much chris loves him and how obvious that is even to a relative outsider. like yes i'm obviously incredibly focused on bi buck and so fucking emotional about that. but the fact that they made christopher such a big deal in such a big deal of an episode for buck speaks volumes. and i'm just so fucking grateful to the writers for that because it would have been so easy to leave that out to fit more in.

#sami rambles #sorry im really emotional about the chris stuff #i had to stop myself from writing 'what if eddie asks buck to watch chris to hang out with tommy' in a textpost so many times #bc i didn't even want to think about it #and god. i love you 911 on abc!!!!#911 spoilers #911 show #evan buckley #christopher diaz #buck and christopher

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positivelyadhd · 21 days

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i have been reading through the diary I kept from ages 14-17 and realising how helpful it can be to keep a record of how you're feeling at different moments.

not only is it helpful to write down and process how your feeling and give yourself time to truly think about it, it's nice to have something to look back on. to not just remember how you felt about a certain situation but to actually have yourself from that time tell you.

and also, from an adhd perspective, it's really lovely to have reminders of things I'd almost entirely forgotten. it's easy to think that your life right now isn't interesting, but in 5 years time? to know what songs you were listening to or book you were reading or even that Thing that you were so worried about but now you can't even remember the details. it's nice to have a physical reminder that time passes and things really can get better.

#i think part of whats makes it so special to me is that (like it is for a lot of people) those ages where so *much*#and i was so stuck in my head and socially anxious and i feel like those years of school rly shaped who i am now ect #but id kind of forgotten? its become a blur emotions over time and its nice to see it clearer #but also how i changed? and to read into it and see what i did or didn't write #im also a big fan of the inner child and doing things for your younger self and its a lovely gift to have her speaking to me directly #also if you want to journal i highly recommend doing it in a normal notebook rather than a pre planned one #it gives you the freedom for it to be whatever you want with none of the pressure #recovery #tips

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fortheloveofexy · 3 months

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it's a pet peeve of mine when ppl frame Andrew as hating Aaron and being needlessly cruel to him... bc while yes, their relationship is fractured and strained, Andrew genuinely cares about his brother and wants the best for him, he just doesn't know how to show that in a normal way.

like he might not know how to express it in a healthy manner but Andrew LOVES Aaron, like he truly just wants Aaron to be healthy and safe. It's like, his whole Thing. Aaron is one of the most important people in his life. Andrew wants him around. He'd do anything to protect him.

I guarantee Andrew wants to be emotionally close to Aaron too, he just doesn't have the tools to do that and the thought of letting someone in terrifies him. He also has no concept of what a healthy sibling relationship looks like, so he has no frame of reference to work from.

#i love bickering twinyards as much as the next guy but sometimes ppl write andrew has if he thinks aaron is a waste of space #and that just isn't true #andrew values his brother #he wouldn't insist on keeping aaron close if he didn't #when ppl do this is just so obvious to me that they're using andrew as a mouthpiece for their own dislike of aaron #and like ok yeah you're entitled to not like a character i guess #but it's just so wildly out of character to me for andrew to treat aaron like shit for no reason beyond Being Cruel #like yeah andrew can be mean when he's feeling defensive or trying to make a point #and yeah he can treat people like shit if he's got a reason to justify it like Keeping People Safe #but he's not needlessly cruel to the people closest to him without cause #like neil says #everything andrew does #he does For A Reason #even neil isn't needlessly mean to aaron tbh #like he doesn't like aaron much at certain points but if he picks a fight with aaron it's never without cause #and he's genuinely happy for aaron when things work out with katelyn in the end #and he wants aaron to have a relationship with andrew as well! like it's important to neil that the twins have a healthy bond!!#anyway im getting off my soapbox now this is just something i was thinking about today a Lot #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court

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llamagoddessofficial · 3 months

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How would Farmer Sans handle hearing that MC was sick? Maybe they usually meet up a certain time while managing their morning chores and they’re just.. not there, only for him to later find that they’re bedridden

"hey, pumpkin."

The sound of Sans' voice, regardless of how soft it was, made you panic.

You sat bolt upright from your spot curled into the couch, jolting out of your strange fever dream. A cooling pack fell off your head, and a blanket you didn’t remember grabbing slipped from your shoulders to your lap.

Immediately, you could tell that you weren’t on your home couch. You didn’t recognise the blanket someone had tucked you under. You weren’t cold, you couldn’t smell the usual mix of dust and gradually fading damp - in fact, there were many wonderful scents mingling in the warm air, soup and tea and a sweet bread aroma that made your stomach rumble.

It certainly wasn’t where you expected to wake up, after you fell asleep in front of the dodgy TV once the painkillers finally kicked in. This was someone else’s couch. And after a few bleary moments, you recognised it all.

... It was Sans’ couch. You were in his house.

You looked up a little to see the man himself, as handsome as ever, leaning over the back of the sofa and looking at you. A gentle flicker of relief passed over his face.

“rise and shine,” he said, voice as warm as the room. “how’re you feelin’?”

Huh?

...

Your eyes widened. "S-Sans!?"

Bad decision. At such a sudden vocalisation, your body decided that was the perfect moment to send you into a horrendous coughing fit that made the inside of your throat feel like someone had gone at it with sandpaper.

Sans just put a big gentle hand on your back, letting you work through it, quiet as you hacked your lungs up.

Eventually the coughing eased off; once you had control of your body again, you turned your gaze back to him.

"Y-you...” Your cheeks were starting to burn. “why am I...?"

“you weren’t answerin’ the phone. i got worried.” As he spoke, you kept messing with your shirt, nervously pulling it down over yourself. “came to check on you, an’ you were totally out of it, could barely answer me. i had to go work, but figured i should bring you somewhere me an’ pap can keep an eye on you.”

... Oh no. You put your hands over your face, slowly getting quieter and quieter as the situation dawned on you. “Y-you really didn’t need to...”

“course we did. ain’t safe for you to be so sick all on yer own.”

This was a nightmare. Now, on top of being sick, you were absolutely mortified at Sans seeing you in this state. Tired, achy, sweaty... you were dressed in a stained old shirt and pyjama pants, visibly unshowered and pretty much as ungroomed as one could get. You distinctly remembered throwing stuff on your floor before you fell asleep, too weak to get up and go put it in the garbage - empty blister packs and used, crumpled tissues. Did he see all your dirty trash when he came to find you?

You wanted to melt into the couch. He had seen you delirious and ill, at your absolute greasiest and grossest. Stars, what did he think of you now?

“I-I’ve been out for hours?” you asked.

“mhm.”

Your whole world was coming down around your ears. Why couldn’t Sans have just let you die at home, where no one would see your shame?

“you didn't tell me you were sick,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear. There was a strangely... sullen edge to his tone?

Your face was on fire. You had already intruded so much on him and his brother’s kindness over the last few weeks. Sans had repaired your stove and water pipes, bought you fresh food from the farm, helped fix a leak in the roof, not to mention when you asked him to stay the night like you were a frightened baby. Now here you were; being sick and disgusting right in the middle of his house.

Before he could say anything else, you pushed the blanket off you, swinging your legs over the side of the couch and scrambling to your feet.

“I-I should get home,” you said, hoarse.

Immediately, Sans’ brows raised. You didn't look at him for long, walking unsteadily and trying your best to concentrate on not tipping over.

“I’m so sorry to intrude. I’ll just-”

... Your feet went out from underneath you.

You squeaked, loudly - but Sans didn’t care, he scooped you up like you didn’t weigh a thing. To him, you probably didn’t weigh a thing. You could feel his massive strength through his clothes, and you immediately knew that if he wanted to, he could’ve thrown you straight into the air like a child.

You couldn’t tell if it was the height that was dizzying, how close your face was to his, or if you were just way weaker right now than you realised. But immediately your hands balled in his shirt.

"... easy," he murmured, one arm under your thighs. "i don't bite."

... Your face filled with so much heat it felt as if the tips of your ears were going to set alight. You tried to say something, but when you opened your mouth, literally nothing came out. Not a sound. All you could do was hold on to his shoulders.

Sans’ voice became normal again, jokingly stern. “sorry. not goin’ anywhere on my watch, pet. you need to rest. look at you - yer burnin' up.”

Your whole body had tensed up. But not out of fear. You just stared into his eyelights.

He very gently sat you back down onto the couch, putting the cold pack into your hands. “you stay right there, ok? i’ll getcha some soup. it should be ready by now.”

"O-ok," you helplessly replied.

Sans moved away, disappearing into the kitchen.

...

There wasn't much else you could do, but lay down and put the cooling pack back on your head... trying to figure out how to make your heart slow down.

#llama writes #sans: [uses his 'talking to a scared horse' voice]#mc: Why the fuck am I into this??? WHY AM I INTO THIS??#also hes upset because he wants to look after her and he doesnt like that she didn't tell him earlier #he likes caring for you. how could you deny him the opportunity #do you HATE HIM???

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