#anyway back to the cave and shout out to those of you that have now read the same section three times this truly is the last time

[blissfulalchemist]

“ all i want to do is kiss you. all day, every day. “ + sahar/marc o:

Ash my dear Ash I have a little something (aka I was rereading wips and found this one only needed a few more lines to complete) so have a part 2 of this piece here so check it out if you need a refresher or you’re new here! Given the events of the show this is very much canon divergent.

Summon the God Part 1

word count: 3.7k and no warnings other than it gets a little weird

Sahar turns over in the white sheets, arm reaching out for the empty space next to her, the scent of salt floating on the breeze. Her eyes lazily open to the sound of muffled humming, looking around for its source. The generic light wood and white wall pairing makes her think she’s woken in a hotel, the two suitcases tossed at the end of the bed pointing to her not being alone, and while the curtains are still drawn enough of a breeze moves them to let some of the day’s sun into the room. The hardwood floor is cold beneath her feet as she puts on the too big t-shirt tossed on the chair, making her way towards the living part of the hotel room. With the door open she can smell chocolate chip pancakes and see more signs of a couple enjoying time away from home. She rounds the corner hesitant in her identification of who’s humming until her eyes land on him.

Marc Spector.

Her Marc Spector. With his brown hair and matching eyes, scars covering his body with the most prominent just above his left eye separating his eyebrow, smile that always seems to be filled with mischief, and height that makes her stand on her tiptoes to kiss him properly. He flips the last pancake onto a plate turning off the stove to finally face her, “Good morning my love. Did you sleep okay?” Sahar bites her lower lip, nodding, “Perfect. What shall we do today?”

“I can think of a few things,” she takes the plate from him, setting it on the counter, arms wrapping around the back of his neck. He smiles, fingers tracing down her cheek and jaw, the other hand resting firmly on her hip. Sahar pulls him down, lips pressing against his, fingers entangling in his hair, heat traveling down her body as she coaxes his mouth open. She can feel the way he pulls her closer, how he starts to smile and sigh when he finally pulls away.

“We should eat some breakfast first, my love,” he whispers, “I worked very hard on it.”

“No help from Steven? I find that very hard to believe.”

“Scout’s honor,” he chuckles, kissing her once more, “So let’s eat first-.”

“And then we can-.”

“Then we can do whatever you like,” he looks out the glass doors leading to the beach, “It looks like the beach is empty.”

Sahar hums, “Will you save me if I start to drown?”

“Always.” He kisses her again, rubbing her upper arms, “Come on, before it gets too cold.”

———————————

He sits up with a gasp, hands reaching out, clasping onto Layla’s as she pushes back his hair, “Marc? Marc, you're okay. You’re safe.”

It takes a moment for his breathing to settle, looking around frantic, “Where-? Where are we? What happened? Harrow?”

“Shhh, easy, easy. We’re fine,” her thumbs rub circles on the top of his hand, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“The temple, you and Sahar coming after me,” he pulls the metal necklace off his chest, stumbling as he gets to his feet, “We have to go. Now.”

“Wait, Marc, hold on.”

“What? Layla we don’t have time. We need to get Sahar and take down Harrow before it’s too late,” he grabs onto Layla’s shoulders looking around the room, “Where are we?”

“Did you-? Did you get your power back?” She looks to Strange who shrugs his shoulders, “Did you reconnect with Khonshu?”

“What? Yes. Yes. Now let’s go.” He turns, “Where’s-,” Marc stops, breath catching when they land on Sahar’s comatose body. “No,” he shakes his head, “no, no, no! Fuck!” 

His fingers run through his hair, starting to pace, “Marc, she’s fine, just unconscious,” Layla says, handing over a shirt.

“How long has she been like that?”

“A while, not as long as you though,” he curses under his breath, “Look we can wait a little longer-.”

“No, we can’t. It's time we don’t have and are we even sure she’s going to wake up?”

“Of course she is.”

“Her body maybe.” Khonshu says, looking her over, “There’s something else going on.”

“Well that’s just great,” Marc throws a hand up, “Just great. Is there any way we could finish this without her?”

“It’s possible, yes.”

“Then you think we can just-.”

“Not unless you want to be at a lower power. The more avatars we have the better.”

“I thought she didn’t have a connection to you,” Layla asks, the old god and Marc locking their gaze on her, and then at Strange, “How is she going to be able to help you?”

Marc waves his hand, brow furrowing, “Wait did you just say that she doesn’t have a connection to him?”

Layla sighs, “It's a little complicated.”

“Is it the whole different universe thing,” Steven asks, “That would make the most sense.”

“Wait since when was she from a different universe and I not know about it?”

“Well since she told me not too long after we met up with Layla in Egypt.”

“As if this couldn’t get any weirder,” Marc grumbles.

“YOU!” 

The room stops with a new voice, finding a man dressed in a white suit, bandage on his nose, fists forming at his sides, brown eyes narrowed and blazing beneath matching hair. Strange crosses his arms, rolling his eyes, “Had to just jinx it didn’t you?”

The man rushes at the god, arm cocked back, “This was your doing! It’s always your doing!” Khonshu steps to the side, causing the man to miss, “What did you do with her? Where did you take her?”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

He lands on his knees above the tossed necklace, “That’s-. That’s one of my darts.” His teeth begin to grind as he picks it up….tries to at least. He tries again, fingers brushing along the edges, the cold of the metal moving through his gloves, but unable to keep it in his fist. “What?”

“Oh, you think this is some magical projection of hers,” Steven asks, eyes big as he reaches a hand out, “Does look rather dapper though don’t he?” The man makes a grab for Steven’s wrist, hand passing through it, “Oh now that’s fascinating. Doctor Strange, is this your doing?”

Layla starts to laugh, shaking her head, “At least one of us is making sense of this.”

Panic builds on his features, “What the fuck. The hell did you do to me, you bird brained dick!” He stalks over to Steven, who stumbles back half a step, “Where is she?!” He growls out, inches from Steven’s face, “What did you motherfuckers do to-?” His eyes flick behind Steven, face softening when he identifies Sahar, “Sahar.” 

He walks through Steven who shudders at the sensation, covering his mouth with wide eyes, “Who-? Ohhh. You’re Marc aren’t you?”

“Marc? She knows another Marc?” Khonshu questions.

Layla watches as the stranger kneels down, fingers tracing along the scar down her friend’s neck, “Marc? As in Marc Spector?” Steven nods, “So you’re the Moon Knight, just from another earth?”

“Yep. It's how she found me, us, so quickly. Looked for people with the names Steven Grant or Marc Spector.”

Marc turns, looking over at Steven, “She went looking for me.”

“Figured she could go back home if she found you,” Strange says finally, “Or at least a version of you.”

“No wonder we couldn’t find any trace of her.” He pushes some of her hair back, muttering, “I found you though, my dawn, I finally found you.” Marc sighs, “I have to assume she’s in this state because there’s some world saving to do.”

“Yes,” Steven answers, picking up the necklace, “but we need her to take down Harrow.”

Marc watches as he puts the crescent dart back on Sahar’s chest, “How did she get like this, Strange?”

“Performed a ritual that-.”

Marc nods, cutting him off, looking back at his doppleganger, “Then you go. She’ll catch up.”

“But-.”

“I know her, better than anyone, and if she were able to, she’d tell you to go on without her for now.”

“Khonshu says we need her though,” Marc tells himself, the doppelgänger grinding his teeth, “We need to speed this up. Magic man, you got anything that could help with that?”

“Marc,” Layla chides.

“Well then you tell me what to do if she doesn’t wake up?”

“She will,” Marc pulls out his mask, pulling it on, “I’ll make sure of it, but you have to go.” He looks at Strange, who nods quickly opening a portal, “I’d wish you luck but if you’re me then you won’t need it.” He watches as the portal encases his doppelgänger and Layla, disappearing back to wherever he assumes they’re needed, letting out a sigh. “Thank you,” he whispers, kneeling back at Sahar’s side, “What did you do Dawn?” He smooths out her hair, “Was it her that tried to call on Khonshu?”

“Yes,” Stephen answers, “She and Layla mistranslated the ritual, or they didn’t care in the moment, but it wasn’t to call upon his healing.”

“It was to call him down to his avatar,” he finishes jaw clenching, holding back the tears wanting to form when he finds that he can’t properly hold her hand. “Badar and I felt it, felt the change….So why did I end up here? And like this?”

“That may have been my doing,” Strange tosses the enchanted cube straight up, catching it with ease, “Called to you like it did the Spider-Men.”

“And I’m sure once my Strange’s attempt to figure out what happened wears off I’ll be back home…,” he looks over at her, frowning, “without her.” Stephen nods, eyes squinting at the sudden jerk of Sahar’s body, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s-. I think she’s fighting for control,” Marc’s eyes go wide, “I thought she was doing fine since everything was reading normal.”

“Khonshu. He’s fighting to get through.” Marc stands, “We can’t let that happen. You need to send me in there. She doesn’t know how to fight his tricks like I do.”

“Look, on a technical level this is beyond my comprehension I could screw something up,” Stephen holds his hands up, stopping Marc from attempting to grab onto him, “however, you’re doing some kind of astral projection so you can get yourself there. More so now since the walls between universes and dimensions are so thin.” Marc gives a sharp nod, taking a deep breath, “Oh, one more thing: Tell her I said I’m not cleaning up the mess if she doesn’t make it back.” Marc smirks, shaking his head as he fades away.

—---------------------------------

Sahar turns over in the white sheets, arm reaching out for the empty space next to her, the scent of salt floating on the breeze. Her eyes lazily open to the sound of what she assumes to be muffled scuffling, looking around for its source. The generic light wood and white wall pairing makes her think she’s woken in a hotel, the two suitcases tossed at the end of the bed pointing to her not being alone, and while the curtains are still drawn enough of a breeze moves them to let some of the day’s sun into the room. The hardwood floor is cold beneath her feet as she puts on the too big t-shirt tossed on the chair, making her way towards the living part of the hotel room, where she hears humming mixed in with cursing. With the door open she can smell chocolate chip pancakes, the chocolate possibly a little singed, and see more signs of a couple enjoying time away from home. She rounds the corner hesitant in her identification of who’s humming until her eyes land on him.

Marc Spector.

Her Marc Spector. With his brown hair and matching eyes, scars covering his body with the most prominent just above his left eye separating his eyebrow, smile that always seems to be filled with mischief, and height that makes her stand on her tiptoes to kiss him properly. He flips the last pancake onto a plate, smoke rising from it, turning off the stove to finally face her smiling for a moment before saying, “Good morning my Priestess. Did you sleep okay?” Sahar bites her lower lip, nodding, “Good. Then let’s get you some breakfast.” He gestures to the small breakfast counter, hesitant to guide her with a hand on her shoulders, “You’re going to really need your strength today.”

“My strength,” she asks with a full mouth, catching the way his hands fold in front of him, attempting to hide what looks like bruises starting to form, “Why?”

“Because it’s time to go home,” she looks at him confused when his smile falters, “I think we’ve over stayed our welcome.” 

“But we just got here. Just the other night, I’m not ready to go home yet, Marc.”

“I know,” his hand reaches out to hers, “but we have to. People need us.”

She grasps onto his hand, turning it over, “I thought you said we weren’t going to work while we were here?” She glowers at the forming bruises, throwing his hands away as she turns away from him, ”This was a time for us to get away from that whole life.”

He steps in front of her quickly, pushing back her hair, breath catching, “I know, I know, but Sahar there’s more going on here.”

She pushes him away, “Then we mind our business Marc. I just want to live in peace with you, even just for a little while. Is that too much to ask for?”

He frowns, grabbing her hand, fingers lacing and unlacing with hers, “God I wish it were that simple.” He meets her gaze, “Unfortunately we’re never this lucky.”

She exhales slowly, giving him a soft smile, So that’s what this is about, she cups his cheek that he leans into with closed eyes, “Must you always be so pessimistic, Marc?” She leans up to kiss him, his body tensing a moment before relaxing, his attempts to slow down and savor the moment obvious, “We may not always be lucky, but for now we are and we should enjoy it.”

She kisses him again, body molding into his, hands running up her curves to wrap his arms around her and pull her as close as he can. Her nails start to dig into his back, attempting to wrap her legs around his waist, moaning into the kisses that have grown hungrier, the cold counter against the back of her thighs startling her when he lifts her to it with a groan. He begins to kiss down her neck, sucking and biting just under her jaw, the middle of her neck, the start of her scar, and the crook of her neck. Sahar gasps, leaning back to give him more skin to work with, heart racing with each moan and growl he gives her, fingers entwined in his hair guiding him, leading him lower, to touch her more, let his fingers trail down her hips and play with the edge of her underwear. He pulls her hips to his, feeling the heat and hardening length, body aching for him, Love me. Touch me. Fuck me. Let me be yours and only yours.

She’s just about ready to voice her thoughts when he pulls away with a groan, breathing heavily, eyes closed and away from her. “Fucking shit,” she hears him whisper, “I didn’t expect it to feel this real.”

“Feel real?”

He frowns, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, “I can’t tell you how much I wished for this moment, to kiss you again,” his fingers trail down her neck and arm, “to feel your warm skin beneath my fingers, and as much, as much as I want to indulge us both in this reunion….I-I can’t.”

“Marc? Marc, what's wrong?” She holds his face, forcing him to look her in the eye, “I thought this is what you wanted, what we both wanted.”

He exhales slowly, thumb brushing away her fallen tear, “Believe me all I want to do is kiss you again. To hold you all day and live a life where we could be some kind of normal every day.” Marc puts her hands down in her lap, taking a step back with a deepening frown, “But I can’t. We can’t. Sahar you have to fight through this fantasy, you can’t give in to him.”

“Give in to who?” She asks before the two look over at the opening door to another Marc, Sahar looking between the two. 

The new one rushes to her side, pulling her down from the counter and stepping in front of her. “Who are you? And what are you doing trying to fool the woman I love?”

Marc looks at the closet with a knitted brow, “Sahar don’t listen to him. He’s not real.”

“I-. What do you mean?”

“It’s one of his tricks,” he moves to grab her, the clone blocking his path, “He’s trying to get you to stay here. To satiate you so he can have control of your body.”

“This is ridiculous,” the clone turns to her, “Trust me, my love, everything he says is a lie. Wouldn’t it make more sense to break a person if they wanted total control?”

“I mean-. Sure I guess.” She shakes her head, rubbing her forehead, “Or this is just another hallucination. Just need to take a second to-to figure everything out.”

“What is there to figure out? You know which one is the real one.”

“But what if-.”

“No, Sahar, nothing like that is happening.”

“He’s lying to you.” When she looks at the Marc that’s spoken, his clothes have changed to an all white three piece suit. “Please listen to me, you’re in danger, the world you live in is in danger.”

“The-. The world is fine though….right?” She looks to the other one, “That’s why we could take some time away here?”

He smiles, grasping onto her arms, “Exactly. Why would I ever lie to you like that?”

“Because it’s what you do,” Marc growls out, “He can twist this world! Make everything the way you wanted.”

“Why would he-?”

“Because he wants power,” Marc pushes himself out of the way, looking into her eyes, “He’s an opportunistic dick trying to use your kindness against you.”

“Sahar please,” the other pleads, “Look at me. You’re seeing things that aren’t there again.”

Marc spins to face him, pushing him against the wall, “Stop trying to get her to trust you.”

A hand finds its way onto her shoulder, “Sahar,” she does a double take when it’s Marc once again. Eye rapidly moving between this new one and the two on the verge of a brawl, “Sahar, can you feel this,” he asks softly placing her hand against his chest, “hear my voice, and smell the sea salt.”

She starts to nod, the first Marc’s eyes growing wide as he rushes to her, “No. No!” He directs her attention to him, “Look at me. Focus on me. Right here. I have a story I can tell you-.”

“There’s no one there my dear,” he says stepping through Marc to place a hand gently on her cheek, “It’s just you and me.”

“You’re not the real thing,” Marc growls out, lunging at himself causing her to take a step back, hand covering her mouth. All three shout and call out to her, each pleading and trying to convince her of being the real Marc Spector, each and every one of them making more and more compelling arguments. The longer she finds herself frozen next to the couch the closer they get, their voices blurring and getting louder.

“Stop,” she says, covering her ears, “Stop. Get out of my head.” Still they press on and she hunches over, tears forming in her eyes as she shuts them, “Get out of my head! I don’t want you here. Get out! Get out! Get out!” She screams loud enough for the furniture to move a few inches, two of the three Marcs vanishing through the wall, the last trying to hold his ground.

“Sahar please, don’t do this,” he says, stumbling, “Don’t push me away.”

“I said to get out!” Another wave from her scream and the room grows suddenly quiet, labored breathing an echo as she slowly opens her eyes. The room’s still and silent, even to the ringing that comes from needing to hear something. Her heart slows until it falls in sync with the clapping coming from the corner behind her. She turns slowly meeting green eyes framed by brown hair with a short neatly kept beard on a smiling face. He still wears the loose white t-shirt and dark green plaid shirt over it and blue jeans that always seemed to have some mud stain despite living in a city where mud was rare to find. When he’s satisfied that she’s turned enough to face him does he walk closer, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “Well, well, Sahie, I gotta say that was pretty impressive.”

“Cole?” Her brows knit, looking around the empty room.

“It’s not easy kicking people out of this place,” he chuckles, “especially one that’s good at resisting and is an actual person with an attachment to you,” he lets out a low whistle, “Takes a lot of skill.”

Sahar shakes her head, “No. No you can’t-. You can’t be real!”

“Oh I am, er well, sort of. I am real in your mind and I’m the same Cole that came during your grief.”

“So….if that’s the case then….something is wrong with me.”

“Well not you specifically, more like something is wrong with this whole situation.” Sahar opens her mouth to speak, “Which we are going to correct.” Cole stands walking to the closet, Sahar watching his every movement.

“But what about Marc?”

Cole opens the door simply frowning when another Marc falls out beaten and unconscious, “Huh, you mean this guy?”

She sighs, crossing her arms, “Guess that’s all the proof I need to know it was really him. God what did I do?!” She holds a finger up, “Don’t answer that, especially if it was going to be with some snark.” He holds his hands up with a chuckle, “So how do we fix this? How do we get Marc back?”

“Oh it’s easy,” he puts an arm around her shoulder pointing towards the front door, “We just take a walk down memory lane….”

#but have some blorbos of my heart and better descriptor of cole as I finally found a good fc to reference #when will part 3 come out? who knows! I gotta still find the memories to write out #anyway back to the cave and shout out to those of you that have now read the same section three times this truly is the last time #x: sunlight #x: a little more complicated than that #six1six verse #the written word

[ceilidho]

prompt: simon notices you in the stands (welder/amateur rugby player au). (nsfw, 1.9k)

-

She’s in the stands again, and he doesn’t know who for. 

The same bird as the time before, and the week before that. Always a few minutes into the match, like she snuck in through the backdoor. She always leaves in a hurry, up and out of her seat with her jacket already tugged on, her strides quick on her way out the main doors. 

In the years since joining this amateur league, Simon’s never been tempted to talk to any of the people in the stands. For the most part, they’re there for one of the other players anyway. Wives, girlfriends, sisters—the odd cousin or fuck buddy, those girls dipping in and out, replaced by newer, sparklier versions of each other, the older ones licked clean. 

His focus narrows when he steps onto the field anyway, shrinks like horse blinders sunk down over his skull. Hardly a reason for him to spare more than a glance towards the stands.

Rugby’s not a sport for spectators. At least, not such a low level league. Barely amateur—just some of the locals with a bit of built up stress and aggression to work off. It’s why he’s here after all. Simon spends the hours of his day hunched over sheets of metal and carbon steel, sweating into the metal mask pulled down over his face and staring without blinking into the heart of the flame just inches from his face. 

His nerves are a closed fist in his chest and it grows and grows until he steps out onto the field of the local rec centre and hears the timer overhead start to count down and feels someone’s chest cave in when he drives his shoulder into their solar plexus, hears the breath whoosh out of them, their next breath in thin and febrile. 

It sets his head right. Violence with no consequences. At the end of the game, he looks the man he just bruised and bloodied in the eye and shakes his hand. Puts the world to rights. 

And he needs nothing more than that. His bills are paid, bloodthirst sated, thirst quenched when the team hits up a pub after the match, after which he slinks off into the night to head home with his hood drawn over his head, the size of him rarely inviting more violence. Occasionally it happens that someone with the bad luck of choosing him to mug wants to prove that they have the bigger cock, but that never ends well. Not for them at least.

Simon would fight for a living if welding paid him less. As it is, he satiates that beast in him on the field or the occasional back alley, and it keeps him in check.

But now there’s a bird in the stands drawing his eye and distracting him from the match. It rubs him the wrong way. The blood pumps through his veins more viciously, and the pretty thing in the stands watches the game completely unaware, a serene smile on her face. His gaze keeps being pulled towards where she and a couple clusters of fans sit and nurse paper cups of tea.

She cups both hands around her tea and he wonders absently whether she’d have to hold his cock the same way. 

It’s Gaz who calls him out on it first, panting hard after the first period and frowning at the scoreboard. “Not to be a dick, but that was bollocks, Simon. Never seen you miss a pass like that.”

Few people could get away with speaking to him like that, but Gaz is right. He’s been playing like shit, too preoccupied by the bird watching him with wide, rapt eyes. 

He doesn’t know how to apologise though, so he doesn’t. “Graves is a useless twat. Can’t throw for shit.”

Gaz rolls his eyes. “Not saying he isn’t, but you’re distracted. Where’s your head at?”

“Stay out of it, Garrick,” he says, not even bothering to meet his gaze, the warning clear in his voice. 

“Sorry for caring,” Gaz shouts after him as Simon jogs away.

He asks around at first, trying to find out if she’s someone’s relative or girl, but all the guys just shrug, no answers. If she’s someone’s, they aren’t staking a claim on her. It’s good news for him. Bad news for anyone else taking an interest in the girl that comes to their every match to cheer them on.

His urges sit deeper than the abyssal plain.

She’d probably turn tail and run if she knew the hunger festering in his belly. She sits sweet and innocent in the stands cheering him on and all Simon can think about is pushing her knees up to her ears and feeding his fat cock into her pussy. Shoving his tongue into her cunt, licking her from hole to hole. Sucking each puffy lip into his mouth until her moans go garbled, eyes unfocused. 

No, Simon thinks when she jumps to her feet enthusiastically at the end of the match, she probably wouldn’t like that. Women rarely do. Objectifying them and all those other terms that Gaz likes to wax on about, Johnny nodding along like he isn’t the same kind of mutt as Simon. 

Even during the day, she troubles his thoughts. Troublemaker. He thinks of her when he cleans and buffs in between passes, mind not lulled into the rhythmic emptiness of usual. Even the sound of steel sizzling in his ears doesn’t clear her from his thoughts. Instead all he can think of is her walking into the shop in a little skirt and top, and dragging her to the back where he’d bend her over the closest desk and pull her panties to the side before sinking in to the hilt, mask still on. 

He’s never gotten his cock wet on the job—never been tempted to. For her though, he’d make an exception. 

By the next match, Simon’s made up his mind. When he sees her sneak in after the match has already started, he feels his blood pump harder, his tackles extra rough. His opponents walk away wincing and cursing him under their breath, but it only makes him preen when he glances over to find her watching him, hardly able to pull her eyes away. Price would call it peacocking. He wouldn’t be wrong. 

He approaches her himself at the end of the match before she’s had time to pack up and leave, leaning over the railing separating the field from the stands, covered in sweat and grass stains and bleeding from his right eyebrow.

She stares up at him wide eyed, looking a little lost for words. “Hi?”

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, blunt. He’s never had it in him for pleasantries. Why waste time when he can see even now the way her eyes rove over his chest appreciatively? 

“…No,” she finally answers, shaking her head. “Just home for supper.”

“Look like you could use a good fuck. Come round back with me?”

The blatant proposition makes her eyes widen, but Simon doesn’t see the problem. Figures if she doesn’t have a man, there’s no issue with him trying out for the part. He waits her out though, vaguely admiring the pert shape of her mouth, lips round with shock. 

Finally they come back together and she chews on her lower lip nervously, caught off-guard but considering it. He doesn’t hold it against her. His bird’s pretty enough, but he doubts she ever puts herself in the position to be asked. He sees the yes in her eyes before she says it.

Still, he enjoys the way she stutters it out softly, eyes downcast. Simon doesn’t bother with his goodbyes to the guys still on the field before ushering her out of the arena and down the hall to the locker rooms with a hand on her back. He drags her into the first empty supply closet he finds, locking the door behind them. She breathes a bit heavily, almost stumbling over her feet, and that’s the eagerness he’s been looking for. Proof his bird’s just as hungry as him. 

She definitely is, Simon thinks, smug when he hoists her up and her legs wrap around his waist without a second thought, her eyes already glazed over. Like she’s been waiting for this for weeks, cunt already sopping wet when he nudges her panties to the side with his knuckles and buries his cock into her. She grips him like a vice, slack jawed and whimpering into the stretch. He likes that. He likes it more when she digs her nails deep into his back, leaving her mark behind. 

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me,” Simon huffs into her neck when she tries to grab his hair instead, what little of it she can. He stares with eyes half-lidded at the way her tits bounce with each thrust. “I like it rough.”

She clenches up at that, dripping wet. Almost a shame that he couldn’t get his mouth on her first. He’ll have to follow her back home like the mongrel he is, mess her pretty bedsheets up and make her scream until she can’t even face the neighbours the next day. 

He doesn’t need her to tell him to know that she’s a good girl, doesn’t do this ever. Only for him. He can tell by how tight of a screw she is, practically purring in his arms; it’s a fight to bully his cock into her. It’s nice when she stutters it out though, strokes his ego the right way. 

“D-didn’t think you’d notice me,” she says, all shy even with her legs spread. 

“Hard not to, pet,” Simon teases, endeared by her soft edges. His slot right in, if not a bit jaggedly. “Been panting after it for a while, haven’t ya?”

“I just wanted to get out of the flat for a bit,” she whispers.

That shifts his perception of her a bit. Infinitesimally so, but still. He didn’t expect the bird to have a lonely flame in her heart. 

“Well, I noticed,” he grunts, and then bends to suck at the salty skin at the crook of her neck before pumping a load into her.

She’s a real good girl. Comes nice on his cock and muffles her whine by biting into his shoulder. He can’t wait until he’s covered in her bites, until his nipples hurt from making her chew on them and his neck is littered with hickeys like a schoolboy. 

Taking her home is easy enough after that. She lets him drive them both back to her place, handing him the keys with a little yawn when he tucks her into the passenger seat of her own car all limp and pliant. 

And he’s right, of course. He makes a right mess of her bed come morning. 

When he leaves after a morning fuck in the shower and breakfast, the cold sinks into his stomach like a lead weight. The fist in his chest is clenched as ever; Simon hadn’t noticed it loosen in the bird’s presence, but he feels it now drawn tight again. Maybe he thought fucking her would finally shake her from his head, but instead it’s made it worse somehow. The lonely flame in his own chest flickers.

He stands in the middle of the sidewalk and thinks it over while angry nine-to-fivers snap at him before really taking him in and scurrying along. Then he turns back around, heading back the way he came.

The next time Simon sees her in the stands, he feels his smile like a phantom limb. He doesn’t have to ask to know she’s there for him.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #cod simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader

[tragedybunny]

Something Like Love - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has failed to seduce you, but even so, a bond has begun to grow between the two of you. It all comes to a head when Astarion almost loses you.

You infuriated Astarion. At first it was because stopping to help every person you happened upon was delaying dealing with his problems. Now that you had been traveling together for some time, not only were these little side adventures a delay, but you didn’t seem to be careful about how much they took out of you and how tired they left you. Even your other companions didn’t seem to care, letting you agree to solve every problem that you came upon and even adding to the pile.

But not him. Astarion was always right there at your side with a glare and a snapping refusal, which you’d usually brush off, but at least he tried. The rest of them just smiled and nodded, without noticing the circles under your eyes, or how slow you moved some mornings, or how thin you’d gotten. Protector wasn’t a position he normally found himself in, but you were different, you were kind to him, without expecting anything in return, as far as he could tell anyway. The two of you hadn’t even slept together, not for lack of trying on his part. The couple times he’d tried you firmly refused, and yet somehow you stayed kind to him, even still offering him your blood. In fact you didn’t seem to want anyone in camp. That was also exasperating. How could he expect your continued kindness, and protection which he desperately needed, without repayment? And what was he better at than sex?

So he resolved he’d give you whatever small gestures he could. Whenever you tore an item of clothing, he’d mend it at first chance. When the group made camp for the night, he always made sure your tent was up first, in whatever spot you wanted, and helped you pack when it was time to move on. Every battle, he stood at the backline with you while you cast spells, aiming arrows at anyone who got too close to you, his first priority keeping you safe. And he still tried to keep you from overextending yourself, despite no one ever listening to him. Which had led to the shouting match with Halsin earlier. Well it wasn’t really a shouting match, the Druid had remained frustratingly placid in the face of Astarion’s blustering. He’d already been vocally unhappy about looking for this Thaniel or whatever, but you’d found him, and still Halsin asked more. “We need to worry about Thorm, we don’t have time to keep bothering with this!”

“Curing the land could help break Thorm’s hold. I know you all don’t owe it to me.” Gods why did he ask like that, all humble and dissembling. You would cave to that for sure,

“You’re right, we don’t.”

“But…”

“Hells, can’t you see how much all of this is taking out of her!” Astarion had exploded, voice loud enough that some of your other companions jumped.

“It’s fine Astarion,” you’d gently placed a hand on his arm, “let’s finish this.”

With a frustrated growl, he’d yanked his arm away, regretting the hurt on your face. “Fine.”

That all led to this moment, you’d fended off the creatures summoned by the corrupted spirit, and Astarion watches as you calmly approach it. Speaking softly, your words soothe it, and he could see it starting to trust you. As always, you amaze him with your ability to solve things with your words, but he feels a twinge of something else, a want for something like those kind words that fell from your lips so easily. The spirit vanishes and Astarion finally feels a bit of relief it seems over. That is until your knees give way and you collapse to the jagged paving stones beneath you.

He's at your side instantly, a scream tearing itself from his throat. “Somebody fucking help her.”

Shadowheart js the first to respond, hands peeling away the light armor you wear, revealing gashes left by one of those shadow creatures that had gotten close. Teeth bite down into his lip to hold back a sob, he hadn’t even noticed, he’d failed the one duty he had. That ire finds a new target easy enough though, as Halsin attempts to join Shadowheart in tending to you. He’s barely started to kneel next to you when Astarion lunges, hissing and fangs flashing. “No you stay the fuck away from her, this is your fault!” For a second his face falls with guilt, but Astarion is in no state for empathy, all blame now on the Druid in his mind.

Hands fight to grab hold of him, to get close enough to tear his thick throat out. A pair of strong arms wraps around his waist, pulling him back from his murderous goal. “Easy Fangs, she’ll be alright,” Karlach tries to reassure him.

He struggles against her iron hold, still flinging curses and furious words. “That’s not the point, this shouldn’t have happened. But no one wanted to listen to me, none of you selfish idiots care when you’re asking too much!”

That was it, they’d all turn on him now, especially without you aware enough to defend him. To his surprise, Karlach just holds him slightly tighter, and keeps whispering that it was going to be fine. Wyll comes over to lay a hand on his shoulder, face stoic. "Shadowheart has this.”

At least Halsin has stepped back, expression troubled. Good, let him suffer. A spell glows in Shadowheart’s hands, suturing back together your skin, and your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, for a moment before closing again. Karlach wisely releases him, leaving him free to hover over you and ward off Halsin as he takes a hesitant step toward you. He’d be damned if anyone else was carrying you, the lot of them were untrustworthy. Reverently, he leans down, taking you in his arms, and lifting you from the ground. Gods, you were so small, there was almost nothing to you. How did you seem so imposing most of the time?

Silently, the group makes it’s way back to camp, Astarion holding tightly to you the whole way. When they reach the cluster of tents, he goes straight to yours to lay you down gently in your blankets. Turning back to the rest of the party he snarls in their direction. "All of you better stay the hells out of this tent until she's properly healed," he snaps the tent flap shut and wishes he had a door to slam on their faces.

Sitting down next to you, he pulls your hand into his and tried to forget about the stinging in his eyes. "You're going to be alright Darling. You have to be."

For hours he sits there, hand holding yours, waiting, watching your chest rise and fall, the reassurance he hadn’t lost you. Losing you, he can’t even fathom it. His protector, companion, he'd even go so far as to say friend. Even if you didn't notice how he was always at your side whenever you stayed up to launder your clothes, or how you never took a turn to cook alone, or how he was always walking right next to you on the road.

You sigh in your sleep and he feels a tug in that place that sometimes wonders if you could be more than friends. Which was stupid, you hadn't even wanted sex with him. Besides, what you already gave him was more than he deserved considering what he had been planning after sleeping with you.

Finally, exhausted, he drifts into meditation, still holding onto you, until your sleep heavy voice pulls him out of it. "Astarion?"

His eyes are wide immediately and without a second thought, he throws himself into your arms, nuzzling into your neck. "You're awake." Then he starts crying like an idiot; ugly, undignified sobs against your skin. "I was worried," he tries to explain leaping on you and his ridiculous tears.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you." You put your arms around him, accepting him without question, like always.

"You silly, silly girl, you were the one that almost died. Don't apologize to me." He's trying desperately to stop bawling uncontrollably.

"I know, but I don't like to see you upset." Ever so lightly, he can feel your hand brushing through his hair.

"Why," he's managed to get himself somewhat under control, but doesn't move from where you've let him lay. "Why are you like this? Always giving, even when it's too much for you?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Because I care about you."

"You do," he asks, unwilling to let himself believe what he's heard.

"Well, I care about everyone," of course he should've realized, "but I care about you a very great deal, Astarion."

Astarion freezes, the words leaving warmth in that secret place inside that he's been trying to keep from himself and you. "I don't understand."

"I see you. I see how hard you try and how far you've come, and how much you try to do for me." There's a smile in your voice and impossibly he thinks it has something to do with him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" His hand searches yours out and your fingers interwine.

"I didn't think you were ready to hear it. But today it was almost too late to tell you." You've placed both of your hands over your chest and he can feel your heartbeat.

"I…I don't know how I feel." Inwardly, he quails, worried that will drive you. "But this is nice."

"It's alright Astarion, there's no rush to this." Impulsively, he leans up to leave a feather light kiss on your cheek, grateful for you in ways he can't understand.

#Astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #x reader #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing

[letorip]

somethin' stupid [ii]

"and though it's just a line to you, for me it's true and never felt so right before"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: it's all her fault, and wednesday can't help but feel it in her bones.

warnings: mentions of blood, the police (gross), hospitalisation, crying

word count: 4.8k

A/N: thank you all for the love and support you have given to this silly little story of mine. it is absolutely insane. red font denotes the thoughts of those around you. kind of worried i may have rushed the ending, but i hope you like it anyhow. right, anyways...

===+++===

It took an additional thirty four minutes and twenty eight seconds after the beast sunk its claws into your chest, for Wednesday to come wandering out of the line of trees stretching to the cloudy sky and onto the nearby mountain street, still wearing your bright yellow raincoat bunched around her wrists.

Finding the cave had not turned out to be entirely as difficult as she had expected, and she managed to find its charred remains just as Eugene had said. There was no evidence to gather, really, and there never had been to begin with.

In the far away distance, only lightly covered by the rain, it sounded as if a flock of birds were screaming at each other and fighting, and the noise rang throughout the forest before settling in Wednesday’s ears. She had already been annoyed and frustrated enough tonight. The extra noise just set her even more on edge than before.

It took another sixteen seconds and a few steps closer then, for Wednesday to realise the noise bleeding from around the bend in the road wasn’t in fact, a group of birds. Instead, it was the worst sound Wednesday could ever want to hear.

Within an instant, Wednesday took off running, every sickening realisation clicking at once. The vision that had been plaguing her nightmares and every interaction with you came back in full force. Her stomach began to churn as she went, heart burning and ears ringing. She knew.

When Wednesday rounded the curve, she saw the cars and their sirens.

The red and blue lights bounced off of the dirt and pavement even from far away, reflecting in the rain water as it pummelled to the ground. Five police cruisers sat strewn every which way along the shoulder of the road, headlights on and pointed into the underbrush. Officers wandered the clearing, pointing their flashlights into the dark and yelling loudly to each other in an attempt to overcome the rain.

As Wednesday rushed towards the vehicles, a man stepped out of the closest car to her, wearing a plastic blue poncho that did mostly nothing to stop the merciless pounding of the furious rain. He spoke into a little radio on his shoulder, staring out into woods at his men while they searched.

Wednesday’s loud steps from her thick shoes warned him of her nearing, and the man turned, hand dropping from his radio. She was immediately displeased, greatly so; the man was Sheriff Galpin. He looked just as unhappy to see her, frown drooping into a wry glower.

“Addams what are you doing out here??!” He shouted at her over the storm, hands placing themselves on his hips. “It’s sure as hell past your curfew, now go back to Nevermore, dammit!“

Wednesday walked right up to him then, tugging him roughly by the poncho and his collar, which she balled up dangerously in her fist. It was a warning, and she meant it. Potentially, she meant it more than any threat she had previously given. “Who did you find.”

Sheriff Galpin’s eyebrows lowered, a line appearing in his forehead as he stared her down. “That’s official Jericho Police Department business, missy. You need to-“

Her grip on his clothing tightened. “Now.” Her voice shook a little. “Who did you find.”

He looked at her for a moment in the flickering blue and red of the dark, examining the look on her face. Her eyes were shining, though she would never admit to it. The old sheriff sighed. “Some kid from Nevermore was attacked. You might have known ‘em. Name was like, (Y/n) or something.”

Wednesday’s hand went slack, dropping back down to her side. “Were…,” she swallowed, attempting to cool the heat rushing to her face. It felt as if the Earth had just broken away from its orbit, to float off directionless into space. “Were they killed?”

For the first time, Sheriff Galpin seemed almost soft. He bent down to her a bit, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly as if to say ‘there, there.’ He had never liked the Addams girl much, though that seemed highly irrelevant in the moment.

“Uh, luckily no, though the camper who found them said they were awful close. The EMTs got here just in time. They’re headed to the hospital.”

Wednesday pulled back, tensing at his hand. “Give me a ride to the hospital,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. The sheriff shook his head.

“Nuh uh, no way. You’re going back to school, kid. It’s too late for you to be out here anyways, and I’m sure Weems would like to know why the hell you were out past curfew in the first place.”

She glared. “I need to be at that hospital.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes at her, any moment of softness gone upon remembering why he disliked her and her family so much. “Like hell I’m going to take you there.”

Wednesday blinked at him.

===+++===

The night was still dark but no longer raining, when Sheriff Galpin speedily dropped Wednesday off with her bloody fist at the front step of the hospital.

Punching the tree again and again had hurt, the sharp bark slicing through the skin of her knuckles, but it also meant she needed a nurse and potentially stitches, and there was only one place capable of offering such services. Suffice to say, the sheriff wouldn’t become her fan any time soon.

The clock had slowly crawled to four in the morning, and though Wednesday was exhausted, and Enid and Thing were potentially freaking out back at the school as to where the hell either of you were, Wednesday was a bit more concerned with figuring out where in the hospital your room was. Oh, and maybe aiding her fist, which was now dripping blood onto the patterned green carpeting as she went.

Upon entering and striding right up to the front counter, Wednesday had gotten straight to business. She held up her bloody fist, placing it with a 'thud' on top of an infographic that sat on the reception desk. The previously sleepy-looking teenage receptionist stared at Wednesday with a look of wide awake, abject horror. “Tell me where the ER is,” she said.

"Uh...over there?” said the girl, raising a weak finger towards the doors in the far left and unable to pry her eyes away from Wednesday’s hand.

Wednesday nodded a single time before walking off, leaving the receptionist to lean over the counter and watch her go. The sign over the door was marked 'ER,' and Wednesday followed down the brightly lit hall until she arrived at a new waiting area. The people in there looked much worse for wear than the empty entrance at the front.

Nervous parents sat cradling their obviously sick children, a construction worker was repeatedly coughing in the corner with his head propped up, trying to stay awake, and a woman in a pantsuit was cradling her foot in a cast and wincing. If this was an omen to who was in your company, it was certainly a bad one.

Wednesday did just as she had before, walking right up to the desk with her hand and showing it to the nurse at the front. Only this time, the woman gave her a worried look, picking up the black phone to her right immediately and dialling a few numbers into the keypad.

“Uh, stay right there, ma’am,” the woman said. Wednesday nodded. She didn’t intend to go anywhere anyways.

The nurse who had come to find her was an older woman, with smile lines crinkling around her mouth and winging off the corners of her eyes. She looked almost like a grandmother, except the electric pink afro she had curled off of her head in coils that spoke of youth and vitality and fun. Enid would have liked her, and Wednesday knew you would have too, but she hated the colour pink just as she (mostly) disliked fun people.

The woman had gotten straight down to business, pulling Wednesday into a room with a metal tray of supplies already picked out and holding up her hand.

Even being someone who enjoyed pain as she did, the antiseptic stung when it was placed over the scratches on her fingers. She hissed a bit, and the nurse glanced up at her with pitying eyes, grabbing the supplies for her stitches off of a metal tray.

"You said you punched a tree?"

Wednesday was suspicious of the woman's sudden interest, but nodded. The nurse could probably tell her where you were anyhow. She didn't like making friends, but she could at least make allies. She had called you one of her allies when you had asked. Remembering that hurt now.

"Yes,” she replied, a bit annoyed with the question.

"Why'd you do that, then?"

"I needed to come here. It's important." The nurse began to stitch her up, and Wednesday flinched at the sudden contact.

"What’s important about here?"

Wednesday glanced down at her soaked, dirty shoes. "There's someone staying here I need to see." The nurse looked up at her then, studying her carefully.

"You're here for that kid that came in after being attacked." Wednesday swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. The nurse sighed, wrinkles filling her forehead as she finished up Wednesday's middle finger and moving to her ring finger, holding up the pad to the light. "They were rushed into emergency surgery about twenty minutes ago. You'll have to wait here a while, and just to warn you: it isn’t pretty." Wednesday sent a small glance to her, one that spoke of a timidness the situation had drawn out of her that wasn't previously there.

“Why don't you go home for the night? Get yourself cleaned off and dry."

She shook her head at the woman, frown deep and telling. "I need to be here when they wake up. They don't have anyone else. Both of their parents are deceased, and I need to be there for them."

"I'm sure they would appreciate you coming this far, honey. They're very lucky to have someone who cares for them as much as you do. I've been a nurse for a loooong time, and trust me when I say you've done plenty."

She certainly had not. Wednesday was not immune to the morbid irony of the situation at hand. In reality, she had cared all too much, pretended that she cared not at all, and tricked you for the longest time into thinking she cared too little. Caring had gotten her nowhere- worse, it had gotten you into an ambulance.

"I'm...worried," she struggled to spit the word out at the nurse, who looked at her with soft eyes of encouragement. "I've said some things, that I don’t think I’ll be able to apologise for."

"Shhh," the nurse hummed, finishing Wednesday's final knuckle and taking out some bandages to wrap around the raw skin. "You'll get the chance."

“I’m not sure I will,” Wednesday's frowned deepened. Her lip threatened to quiver a bit, but it was true. She had been so foolish to bring you along- so selfish to allow you to push the bounds of your own safety. It sat lodged in her stomach like a tumour, growing and growing.

If this is what it meant to love you, Wednesday wasn't sure she was ready.

The older woman gave her a sad smile. "Look, there's no shame in making mistakes. The shame is in being too proud to ask for forgiveness for them," she said, standing up from her chair. "They'll be in room 304, I think. Should be out of surgery in a couple hours, in case you want to…”

“I’m not leaving,” Wednesday insisted. And she didn’t, for a while.

Very little could spook an Addams, especially one such as Wednesday, but she had decided it was all too much, seeing you after surgery. It was an utterly horrific sight. Had it been anyone else, Wednesday would be staring at the intricacies of the scars waiting patiently to form, marvelling at the magic of twisted skin and scabs. But no, it was you in that bed, wheeled right in, and she felt the rare urge to vomit.

You were hooked up to so many machines. Buzzing, whirring, and beeping were the only things keeping you alive, and it served as a painful reminder for everything that could have been lost.

A ventilator sat over your mouth, covering your soft lips and strapped to your jaw. Live, it said, as did the several needles and monitors that were hooked into the skin of your hands and arms. There was too much surface area covered. Wednesday, even if she had wanted to, couldn't have held your hand.

Blood was still very much crusted to the planes of your skin in parts, or at least what was visible of it behind your bandages. The white cotton sat in squares and rectangles, taped to your chest and along the stretch of your cheeks and face. You would never be the same, and Wednesday knew it then.

Always, you would bear the evidence of the attack when someone saw you for the first time and winced a bit, and Wednesday held herself as partially responsible. Her love was too thick to sit in. Wednesday Addams swallowed the tears she would deny crying.

She sat with you an hour, then she walked down to the payphone on the corner and called Enid as the sun finally settled for the morning sky.

===+++===

In the three weeks since your attack, you had yet to wake up. The doctors said it was a coma, and that they had no idea when you would wake, if at all, and that only made Wednesday feel worse. She had gone to visit you before, after, and sometimes even during class. Her own hand had healed nicely, though there would be a permanent scar over the knuckle of her index finger from a particularly nasty cut,

On one visit, Enid had said it was as if you "were sleeping," but Wednesday couldn't disagree more. When you slept, it was on your side with your mouth, open, snoring softly. No, instead, you looked like a dead body. Even after acquainted with the room, Wednesday still felt a great pain in her chest upon seeing you every day like that.

Principal Weems had been more than angry, discovering another student had been hospitalised as a result of Wednesday's actions. She was also worried, and annoyingly tried to sign Wednesday up for more sessions with Kinbott.

That wasn't what Wednesday needed, and she shrugged it off as such, every time Kinbott tried to bring up what happened to you, like she was waiting for her to burst into tears. An Addams didn’t cry. Instead Wednesday let the guilt eat her alive.

She also hungered for vengeance. Strewn across her floor was a giant mental map of everything involved in the case, from photos of the bodies (Enid had fainted twice) to crime scenes, and even potential suspects, all laid out accordingly.

As soon as visiting hours were over, she bid you adieu and threw on your yellow raincoat that still smelled like you, before heading out into the dark to solve the mystery. Maybe it was a way to say she was sorry, maybe it was a manifestation of you potentially never waking up- Wednesday didn't know.

What was even more frustrating was how she knew you held the final puzzle piece. She wasn't a fool- your ability to see into the thoughts of those around you was probably what had caused the attempt on your life in the first place. You had intentionally placed yourself in harms way, then, turning off your abilities for her.

You were incredibly powerful for one so laissez-faire about life- a fact that only offended Wednesday more, as you had been the target and not her, or someone else. You, who had just worn your heart on your sleeve to her, listened to her throw it away, and then immediately gotten attacked. You didn't deserve that, just as much as Wednesday didn't deserve you.

Then came the question of what you did deserve to hear when you awoke. If she was such an excellent writer, why couldn't she think of what to say to you if that ever happened? It still didn't feel good enough, no matter how many times she rewrote the letters or changed the order of the sentences. Nothing seemed to feel good enough.

===+++===

Around the fourth week, Wednesday began to leave you long thoughts, like diary entries. She didn't even know if you could hear her, from in there. You had been taken off a ventilator and it looked as if you were finally starting to level out a bit. Wednesday didn't know why, but she suspected you could hear her thoughts.

So she started thinking to you.

It had started small, at first. 'Today is the twenty-sixth day of you being asleep, you know. If you don't wake up, I swear I'll kill you.' She didn't even know if you could actually hear her, or if you'd want to, considering your last interaction. Wednesday itched to talk to you again, and her recounts grew longer and longer.

'Today is the twenty-eighth day of you still not waking up. Mayor Walker passed, yesterday. I have my suspicions of Xavier. He seems to meet with Dr. Kinbott frequently, and it's possible she's Laurel Gates. I'm not sure if I told you about this yesterday, but I summoned my ancestor a few days ago, Goody Addams, and she warned me of the Gates Mansion.'

'Today marks an official month, 31 days, of you not being awake yet. My Uncle Fester is in town. He sends his regards, by the way. He's the bald one I spoke of before, and he was eager to meet you... Enid and I visited the Gates' Mansion with Tyler. We were attacked and Tyler was injured. I know that may alarm you, but I assure you, I'm fine... If you don't wake up... I'll curse you forever.'

She didn't mean it.

‘Today is day thirty six and you’re still not awake. Enid will be waiting with you while I go confront Xavier and have him arrested. You must forget this when you wake, but I miss you… I’m not proud of it but I do. I said I wouldn’t care for you this way but look at me now. You didn’t spoil anything, (Y/n). If you said you loved me now, I would say it back. Give me the chance to say it then, or else.’

Wednesday waited patiently for another minute, hoping even a little bit that her mind would spark you to life. When nothing happened she sighed just as she had every previous day. Enid gave her a sad smile.

“Go get him, Wends. We’ll both be here when you get back,” she said. Wednesday glared at the use of the nickname, but grabbed your yellow raincoat off the back of her chair, shrugging the oversized jacket on and heading out the door. If there was one thing she thought would make amends, it would be catching your attacker and achieving revenge all on her own.

Of course, thirty seconds later, when Wednesday was long gone, you shot up right like a rocket, and Enid let out a scream.

===+++===

You were climbing, it felt like. You weren’t sure what, but you were pulling yourself up and out of something, pads of your fingers gripping the surface and lifting. It was one clutch after the other, and you had no idea how long or where you could possibly be climbing to.

Were you dead? That was entirely possible. You had blacked out with Tyler’s claws ripping and tearing at your chest and come-to in the back of the ambulance as it sped towards the hospital. A nervous-looking paramedic stood over you, casting a shadow over your eyes, and from there you had passed out again. Maybe you had died then.

Of course, it was a possibility. Not a welcome one, but it was still a possibility. Either way, you had to figure out a way to warn Wednesday about Tyler. Maybe if you just kept climbing. Time seemed to slow down, and it was one hand after another.

There was definitely sound coming from the outside world, and it wrapped around your head in mumbly nonsensical jargon. You recognised the voice, that was definitely Wednesday, and she was definitely close. Every now and again small words like 'Xavier,' or 'Kinbott,' would peek through the mist and you were left to wonder as to why they were relevant.

You climbed a bit harder. The voice would come in and then out again, and you were left wondering if days were passing or maybe it had just been an hour. All you knew was to keep climbing. Your fingers felt raw, your arms ached to stop, but you kept going to keep Wednesday safe, wether she wanted you to or not.

Before you knew it, a hand came forward for the last time, and it was like a button had been pressed. Suddenly, you weren't in any void, or any back of an ambulance, you were in a bland hospital room, sitting straight up and looking right at a mortified Enid.

"Oh my god!" She yelled out, pointing at you in surprise. "OH MY GOD!!!" 'WHAT THE FUCK!!!!'

"TYLER!" You yelled back.

"WHAT?!" Enid yelled.

"IT'S TYLER! And hi!"

Enid fainted again, just in time for a nurse to rush in upon noticing you were awake.

===+++===

One thing you had missed dearly whilst in a coma were fruit cups. You sat rather contentedly, eating a mango fruit cup in your soft hospital bedsheets and leaning back against a checkered pillow. From around you in the hospital, noise buzzed in your mind. It felt good to have your blinders off for once, even if it meant you had to focus in on Enid and the noise directly in the room with you.

"Thirty six days???" you asked. Enid nodded.

"Wednesday- I mean all of us 'But mostly Wednesday', were worried sick that you wouldn't wake up. Are you okay? What was it like in there?" 'How the hell are you still alive???'

You shrugged. "Not really sure. I just remember my arms hurt and I was in this void-thing, trying to pull myself out..." You grew serious. "I need to speak to Wednesday."

Enid leaned forward. "And you're sure it was Tyler? He doesn't seem like he could hurt a fly."

"I saw him, Enid. He was covered in blood and he was in his own head thinking about the attack and how pleased Laurel would be for him to succeed. It's him."

"Wednesday thinks it's Xavier," she said. You shook your head.

"She's wrong. I know she's sweet on Tyler, but-"

"-She's not sweet on Tyler, (Y/n). 'You CANNOT still believe that after all of this...though I guess you were comatose' I've said this since the beginning of the year, you bozo. She's sweet on you, and you two are such idiots running around and pretending like you don't know."

The painful memory of your final interaction before the attack came back in waves, pulling you under and tugging you into the deep. You cleared your scratchy throat, still sore from its lack of use. "Enid, Wednesday made it perfectly clear how she felt about me."

Enid rolled her eyes. "You two, I swear you're going give me grey hair. Oh! Speaking of appearances," she sat up. "You haven't seen how you look yet!"

You frowned, not entirely sure you wanted to. You knew you had facial scars- the sharp slashes to your nose and cheeks were enough to know that now, but you weren't sure how much you wanted to see them. Enid pulled out her phone camera, flipping it around to selfie mode.

It wasn't as bad as you thought- a giant twist of a scar curved around the apple of your cheek before reaching up through the lateral third of your eyebrow and stopping shortly after. Another crisscrossed over the bridge of your nose. Still bad, though. They were noticeable, and those were only the ones on your face. You frowned, and Enid seemed to regret asking to show you them. 'I just messed up, didn't I.'

'Oh my, cara mia' said someone's noise in the doorway. You looked up, hearing her arrive, and there she was. Wednesday stood looking almost nervous, hands crossed over her chest awkwardly, like she was uncertain if she was welcome. You tensed. "You're awake," she said.

You nodded. Then you did Wednesday a favour and turned your own noise off to give her the privacy she coveted. Wednesday sent a look over at Enid who just stared. When the werewolf didn't take the hint, Wednesday cleared her throat.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry," said Enid, standing sheepishly. "I guess I'll just go get some food from the cantina...even though I already ate and want to see how this happens," she muttered. Wednesday sent her a much sharper glare, and Enid scurried out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Wednesday spun to you. "If you died, I would have killed you."

"I know," you nodded. "Enid told me you were here all the time." She frowned.

"Never speak of that again," Wednesday said, seeming almost embarrassed. "Enid wasn't supposed to tell you that."

"She's not really good at keeping secrets. You probably shouldn't have told her anything if-"

"-Did you hear them, when you were in there?" She asked, cutting you off mid-sentence with what she had really been wondering the entire time, but too nervous to ask. You blinked.

"Hear what?" If she had been saying important things to you whilst you were under, you didn't know what she was referring to. The look on Wednesday's face was unintelligible.

"I said some important things, (Y/n)," she said, fidgeting with her fingers. "I sent them through my thoughts."

"You also said some important things before I was attacked, Wednesday. You called me a lost puppy."

"I know," she replied. "I was worried this very thing would happen if I didn't."

You snorted cynically. "Looks like it happened when you did, actually." She looked wounded by that, and now you felt bad. "I didn't mean it that way, Wends, I'm just trying to warn you-"

"I love you too," she said.

Any thoughts or words you potentially could have come back with were lost, slipping through your fingers and tumbling to the floor. Wednesday took a step closer, placing her hand on the bed next to you, flipping it over to show you her knuckles. A few small pink scars littered the skin there. You picked it up in your own, brushing over them with your thumb.

"I meant it. I love you too. Even with your scars- which are magnificent." Wednesday thought for a moment, then looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you with a love that is more than love."

"That's Edgar Allan Poe," you whispered. She nodded, then she swallowed, forcing the words out.

"I see now, that I was...wrong. I have been deceitful, and I have been unkind. I pushed you away when you deserve much more than that- likely much more than me. I cannot express how earnest my regret is, and just how much I want your forgiveness-"

"Yeah yeah, stop talking like an old English guy," you said with a laugh, pulling her scarred hand to your lips. You sat up a little bit more, and though it hurt, you pressed your lips to her palm. When you pulled away a moment later, she kissed you full-force. Her hand moved to your neck, playing with the hair there and delivering the perfect amount of gentle longing that made you fall back against the pillow.

She pulled away all too soon again, but the small smile that teased the corner of her mouth spoke of future ones to come. "You said you were going to warn me of something?" She said in between attempts to catch your breath. You raised your eyebrows, remembering the dire information at hand.

"Oh, yeah, Tyler attacked me," you said, leaning your neck back against the pillow.

"What?!" Wednesday said, pulling away with her eyes as angry as ever. "Why didn't you lead with that??" She didn't want to believe it, but she knew you wouldn't lie.

"I got there eventually, and you needed to apologise!"

Wednesday sighed, shaking her head. Though she would never admit it, she did truly miss your ridiculousness. "Anything else?"

"The master of the creature-"

"-It's called a Hyde," Wednesday corrected you.

"Yeah, that. The master of the creature wears red boots. I saw it in Tyler's vision."

The girl in black stood up, heading for the door. "Thank you, cara mia. I'll be back when this is over."

"Go get 'em tiger." She turned to you, unimpressed.

"Shut up."

"Yeah yeah, love you."

After a moment she sighed. "I love you too."

thank you all so much for your support on this story! i absolutely will be writing again, and am here to stay. i cannot thank you all enough, and as always, PLEASE tell me or message me about any typos as i will fix them ASAP. i'll definitely come back and change this later if i feel like it. i tried not to rush the ending but was also majorly conflicted as to where i should leave it off. so if it bugs me later down the line, i'll change it.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine

[dovedewdrop]

Scratch My Back

Masterlist

Joel Miller x reader

word count: 889

Summary: The tide is pulling you under, just like it has plenty of times before. Your husband helps you communicate.

A/N: I’ve been struggling with my mental health & looking after myself for a long, long time and I was getting myself all psyched up to get a shower but I didn’t end up getting in and decided to write this lil thing that I’ve been thinking about for a while! I hope you enjoy it and if anyone out there is reading this and is struggling too, just know that you are not alone and that if Joel Miller were real, he would scratch your back❤️

Also thank you so much for 100 followers🥹🫶🏻 really brightened up my spirits a lil bit💓

Warnings: No Outbreak. Depiction of poor mental health. Sadness. One big loving man (it’s Joel Miller) (Not a warning but I didn’t want it to seem all doom and gloom😅) No use of Y/N.

To Joel, it was just a Wednesday, your day off. To you, the ceiling was caving in. Before he left for work you were sound asleep, your thoughts at bay, laying still against the sand, he placed a gentle kiss to your temple before rolling out of bed. Now that you were awake your thoughts were thrashing against the cliffs, the mental whiplash you were facing ultimately draining your body of all its energy.

You watch the clock on the bedside table blink from one minute to the next. You thought about all if the things you should probably be doing; showering, tidying the house, preparing that home cooked meal you’d been promising your husband for over a week but all you could do was slip in and out of sleep, that was the safe option, the one that would keep you somewhat sane until he returned. You didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want to text him those three words because you knew he would stop everything for you, everything would be put on hold so that he could soothe you and you didn’t want to add that onto the ever-growing list of things to feel bad about. So you waited.

“Honey?” His voice reverberated off the walls, the sound of his gentle tone floated up the stairs. You didn’t have the energy to shout back, the sound of his boots hitting the wooden steps told you that it wouldn’t be long until he was by your side anyway. He took in the sight of the drawn curtains, the sight of you facing them, still in your t-shirt and underwear and you felt the bed dip behind you, the warmth of his body encompassing yours, his scent filling your scenes. 

“Something happen?” A gentle kiss placed to your shoulder blade, the feeling of his lungs emptying and filling behind your back soothing you. You shook your head, allowing a silence to draw over you both as Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you further back into the curve of his body. He was always so patient with you, so tender.

“Scratch my back.”

Scratch my back, a cry for help. A promise made between two lovers. A rule established when you’d first started dating. Joel knew that you struggled with your mental health, you’d opened up to some extent, brushing him off with a ‘I’m having a tough day but I’ll be ok x’ text in the beginning, even then he gave you your space. 

One week in spring however, everything was not okay. He hadn’t heard from you in four days, no text and definitely no phone calls. At first he thought that this was your way of letting him know you were no longer interested and selfishly, he couldn’t let it end that way. So after days of mulling it over and chewing his bottom lip raw, he drove over to your apartment and that’s where he found you, dark circles engulfing your eyes, threatening to swallowing them whole, hair unwashed, apartment flooded in gloom.

He took a bath with you, washed your hair as best he could. The spring air still had a slight chill to it so he’d made sure your new set of pyjamas were on the radiator ready for bed and he laid with you in silence until you turned into his chest and he felt the wet of your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt. 

“You don’t have to talk to me.” He pressed a kiss into your hairline. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to talk to me, I mean obviously you can, when you feel comfortable and ready to but there is something I want you to do for me baby,” another soft kiss. Your eyes travelled up his face to finally look him in his eyes, those soft brown eyes that made you fall in love with him in the first place. All you could do was give a small nod, you would do anything he asked. “I want you to come up with a word or a phrase,” he continued, “so that when things get bad and you don’t feel like you can talk about it…” he trailed off, his hands drawing shapes up and down the length of your spine.

“Like a safe word?” He let out a huff of air at that, a small smile adorning his face.

“Yeah, kinda like a safe word, so I know that you’re safe,” his palm came to rest on your cheek, thumb cupping your jaw, “up here,” and his fingers tapped gently on the side of your temple.

“Scratch my back,” It was soft, the way it came out, tears threatening to spill over, “because if you promise to scratch mine, i’ll always scratch yours.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling then, the last thing you wanted was for Joel to see you like this and to become his burden, but the way he’d shown you such care and compassion made your head feel a little less foggy, you wanted to promise that you could do that in return, that it wouldn’t just be him constantly looking after you.

“Oh sweet angel.” Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks now, pressing a light kiss to your nose and then your lips.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #dovedewdrop writes

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny chapter 4

Ice cold water splashed on Danny's face, soaking his hair. Danny woke up blearily wondering when his roof had started leaking.

He opened his eyes hand almost gagged . He was met with the exact person he wanted to chew apart.

Jason was running across building at top speed. Danny's apartment was a wreck and he was nowhere to be found. Jason had only looked away for a few hours, who knew Danny would be targeted already.

Well there was the News that had displayed him the previous day.

"Wakey wakey hero"

Danny squinted as his vision became clear.

"A clown?"

"I saw your little show and decided to break out of Arkam sooner just for you. It's my turn to put on a show now"

Danny wanted to strangle him right then but there were people around. Well they were just henchmen, if he knocked them out then they would see anything.

More importantly he had a few ideas on how to handle the joker.

"Put on a show, how about I do to you what you have done to countless of my patients" Danny threatened glaring murderously.

"Patience, I'll kill you after I tune in out friends"

Danny rolled his eyes. Back in the cave Batman had received an alert that Joker had broken out of Arkham.

Apparently he had kidnapped a prestigious doctor too.

"Incoming video call" the bat computer alerted.

The screen went black for a second before a smiling joker appeared in front of the camera.

"Hello batsy"

"Joker" batman growled.

"My friend here-"

"Shut the duck up! We are not friends GOD!"

Batman was taken aback.

"I'm going to beat the everloving hell out of you!" Danny shouted.

"He's cranky, I'm going to kill him slowly, break his resolve-"

"NOT BEFORE I BREAK YOUR FACE!"

Joker looked seriously annoyed.

"Let's get started shall we"

Joker picked up a crowbar.

"Remember this batsy, this should be so much fun. I just love reunion's"

Joker smiled before turning away from the camera.

"Joker!" Batman shouted from the other end of the screen.

Joker raised the crowbar and brought it down crushingly hard into Danny leg.

Batman waited for the screaming, but it was silence.

"Oh my bad, ~ow that hurts so bad~" Danny mocked.

He had phased out of his bindings and was now standing off to the left of joker.

"What- how did you get over there?!"

Danny gave Joker a sadistic grin.

"I'm a doctor Joker, I don't kill, but I did promise someone that I would tear off your arms if given the chance" Danny said as he rolled up his sleeves.

Batman was frantically trying to find them before the good doctor did something he regretted.

"Get him!"

Danny smiled and took on the henchmen, knocking them out quickly.

"How in the hell?! Just how weak are those stupid-"

A punch to the face caught off Jokers words.

"Hey joker, buddy. It's time I break you, permanently"

"Wha-" screams of utter agony filled the room.

Jason had found the building joker was holding Danny. He hadn't started to worry until he heard screaming.

Jason ran as fast as he could. The sight he was met with was not what he was expecting. Joker was laying on the ground with his arms bent in ways they were not meant to bend.

"No,no wait, Im sorry for kidnapping you AAAAHHH"

There was a satisfying crunch sound followed by a pop. Danny turned his head sensing another presence.

"Oh hey!"

"Hey?"

Danny had his foot on Jokers back.

"I was just teaching him a lesson" Danny said with a shrug.

"But his arms are still attacked to his body, I thought you said you were gonna rip them off"

"Well I mean, I broke most of his fingers, hell probably need crutches to walk right after this anyway"

"MY LEGS ARE FINE" Joker shouted from the floor.

Danny shoved the crowbar through his leg.

More screams followed.

"Like I was saying, he's gonna need help walking, hey Hood?"

Jason tilted his head, "hm?"

"I'm not going to jail for this right, it's definitely self defense right"

"You'll be fine, I mean, you might wanna get out of here though. The bat daddy is on his way"

Danny nodded glumly.

"I want to make something clear" he said crouching down to the half conscious Joker.

"I'm not proud of what I did today, but I can't stand by and watch you kill or injury any more people. You, will never touch another person again or I will come back for you"

His tone was more menacing than he realized and the Joker was terrified.

"That's the dude that killed me"

Danny whipped his head around.

"What?! He's the one who beat you death with a crowbar?!"

Jason flinched.

"Sorry, I know that not a comfortable subject I shouldn't have brought it up"

Jason shook his head.

"It's not you who should feel sorry right now"

Danny grabbed the crowbar and Jason had to take it from him.

"Your not killing anybody today Doctor. You still have patients waiting on you"

Danny sighed.

"Alright, let's tie him up and get out of here then"

"What?" Jason asked. He wasn't sure why Danny was thinking about him.

"Well I'm not gonna leave you here to face off with Batman"

"Too late, both of you better start talking. Now" an intimidating voice ordered.

Danny half near jumped out of his skin.

"Um hey bat-babe. See, my friend here and I were just passing through and we'll be on our way now. Bye"

Jason grabbed Danny and shit his grapple hook at the nearest window.

Danny was pulled into the air, gliding as Jason swung. They landed on the nearby road and didn't stop running.

They crashed at Jason's place instead of Danny's.

Danny was out of breath by the time they reached Jason's apartment door. Once he was inside he fell the the ground laughing.

"Hahahah, I can't believe you did that!" Danny cried out as he tried to breathe.

Jason took off his helmet.

"Really? Well best believe it because Batman is a hard nut for sure. Your gonna be on his wanted list now"

Danny's laughter was cut short. Jason turned and saw tears.

"Danny? What's wrong?"

"I can't go to jail Jason! I'm too young, I have my career and I'll be targeted for my good looks!" Danny sobbed.

"Your not going to jail" Jason said sitting down in front of his couch next to Danny.

"And if the bat come for you I'll wrestle him alright"

"Mhm"

Jason stared in front of him.

"I don't think Joker will be able to hurt anyone for a long time, you did something amazing Danny. Your amazing you know that"

Silence...

"Danny?" Jason peeked around Danny's shoulder to see Danny's head slumped down.

He smiled to himself, today had been a hectic day especially for a civilian.

Danny twitched in his sleep. Jason picked Danny up carefully and laid him on his bed before turning him in.

Danny woke up the next morning on the floor not sure where he was.

Flashbacks of yesterday popped into his head without permission. Joker, Batman and...Jason!

Danny sat up and saw the mess he had made of Jason's bed. Everything was pulled off the bed, nothing survived Danny's late night wrath. Danny worked quickly remaking the bed with help from his skills earned during his intern days.

He only considered it finished once there were no wrinkles too be found.

"Hah, I need some water" he muttered before making his way around the unfamiliar space. On his way to the kitchen he spotted Jason on the couch.  His arm was thrown above his head and the couch looked entirely too small for the man.

"Pfft"

Jason opened one eye.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Noo, I just noticed how manly you look today"

Jason sat up.

"Yea alright wise guy"

Danny was about to make a wise crack when his eye caught sight of the clock.

"OH MY GOD!" he shouted horrified.

"I don't report to work yesterday!"

Jason grabbed the panicking man.

"It's ok, I called the hospital and explained that you were in danger. They took a little to convince but I managed to get you the day off"

Danny almost fainted.

"I can't take a day off! What about the patients??"

Jason sat Dany down and kneeled before him.

"Do you not have faith in your fellow doctors?"

"I-I do"

Jason nodded.

"Danny, all you've been doing is looking out for your patients. In order to care for them you also need to be healthy"

"I'm healthy, look at me, I have muscles" Danny said jabbing his arm as if to prove it.

"I see that" Jason said unimpressed.

"But I'm talking about mental health. Take a day and just let someone else take care of you"

Danny scoffed.

"Yea right, like who?"

Jason smirked.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #batman #danny fenton #redhood #jason todd #joker #dc universe #fanfiction #lol

[folkloresthings]

seb + reader are in the car and they get in a fight. reader gets out of the car, it starts raining, and seb can’t find her and starts freaking out. when she finally gets home he’s super relieved and apologizes and they make up

vaguely inspired by the all too well tv (10 min vers.) music video but less toxicity 👍

BOILING POINT. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

the space between you had never been so tense. sebastian’s hands were gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, your nails nicking at the hem of your dress. it was almost dark out, and you were headed back from a fancy dinner with some of sebastian’s colleagues.

it was your first time meeting most of sebastian’s work friends. people higher up in red bull, bosses and executives and what not. you’d been nervous, but sebastian didn’t seem to think he needed to help ease your nerves. for the most part, you spent the night in the corner of the room, cradling a wine glass and making awkward small talk. sebastian was laughing and making jokes and brushed you off any time you tried to speak to him.

“so, you’re not speaking to me now either?” you mumble, hating the silence.

“you’re being dramatic,” sebastian sighs, head falling back against the headrest as he turns another corner.

“you barely said a word to me all night!” you exclaim, sitting up. you look over at him, his eyes fixed hard and cold on the road. “it was embarrassing!”

“i was working,” he hisses, glancing over at you briefly. “i didn’t have time to talk to you, because i had to impress those people if i want to keep my job. you know, the job that pays for your dresses and holidays and—”

“stop the car.”

sebastian looks over at you, cheeks red with frustration. “what?”

“i said, stop the car.” you can feel the tears stinging your eyes, sebastian’s words pulling at the wrong heartstring. he got like this sometimes, all hot and harsh, but he was never mean. not like that.

he laughs a little, under his breath, but pulls the car over anyway. he doesn’t expect you to actually get out, only to make your point and shout at him a little more and then go home. but you click the door open as soon as the car rolls to a halt and slam the door behind you.

“y/n!” he calls, rolling down the window. “get back in the car!”

you don’t listen, arms crossed and legs moving quickly. sebastian’s used to your stubbornness, and he’s still to caught up in his anger to apologise. “fine! i’ll meet you at home.”

about halfway there, the heavens open and it begins raining heavier than sebastian had anticipated. the rain seems to clear his thinking a little bit, turning the car around with a sharp sigh. he follows the exact same road he took, but you’re nowhere to be found. he tries some other back streets, and still nothing.

panic rises in him. you’re out there, somewhere, cold and wet and sad — and it’s all his fault.

thirty minutes of looking and no avail, sebastian heads back to the house in hopes of finding you. he could have cried when he sees you there, stood at the door, drenched. you spot the car pulling in, watching as sebastian switches off the ignition and climbs out.

“you’ve got the keys,” you tell him, justifying why you were simply stood on the doorstep. your cheeks are red and blotchy, eyes swollen from where you cried the whole way home. sebastian sighs, hurrying over to unlock the door and usher you both in.

“come on, take these off,” he’s quick to help you remove your coat, your shoes, every piece of clothing that’s soaked through. fetching you some pyjamas, he helps you put those on too. when you’re sat at the end of the bed, still not speaking, hair towelled dry and mascara staining under your eyes, sebastian caves.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters, kneeling between your legs. begging for forgiveness. “i should have been better tonight. i should have kept you by my side, showed you off. i shouldn’t have said all of that stuff — i’m an idiot.”

you sniffle, letting his hands wander over you, lips pressing apologetic kisses to your thighs, your stomach, your hands.

“i’ve got the perfect woman, and i act like a fool,” he admits, reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, kissing your cheeks. “i’m so sorry, liebe. you can hit me, if you want.”

it pulls a small smile from you, one he celebrates with a kiss to your lips. swiftly and easily does he lift you from under the arms, switching positions so he’s sat on the mattress, you on his lap.

“what can i do to make it up to you?” he gives you a suggestive smirk, fingers dipping under your waistband. “give me the word and i’m yours, baby.”

you can’t help but smile, shifting a little in his lap, pulling a small groan from your boyfriend. “hm. don’t think you deserve that tonight — but some hot chocolate would be lovely.”

he groans again, this time in despair, falling back into the mattress and taking you with him. you giggle, tucking your head in his neck as he attacks you with kisses. eventually giving up, leaving you to curl up under the duvet as he drags himself to the kitchen. when your hot chocolate comes, it’s a work of art, topped with cream and marshmallows and chocolate shavings.

“only the best for my love.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel blurb #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader

[five-rivers]

Art Nouveau Chapter 1

@scarletsaphire

Set in my 'Painting in Different Colors' series!

Danny and Frostbite had just finished their spar and were walking back to the main hall to have some frozen chocolate (much better than hot chocolate) when a group of yetis waved them over.  They looked like they'd been arguing with each other, but they didn't seem angry, just frustrated with each other.  

“What is it, Driftice?” asked Frostbite.  

Danny trailed after him, feeling a little awkward.  Was this something he should be overhearing?  Or was it some intra-tribe thing he should bow out of?  

“Flashfreeze thought there might be a color shift spinward of us, near the false horizon.”  He gestured towards that edge of the island.  

“I am not the only one who thinks there has been a change.”

Frostbite looked in the direction Driftice had indicated.  “What kind of color shift?”

“Purple, I think,” said Flashfreeze.  “Or blue, perhaps.”

“I see,” said Frostbite.  “Great One, do you detect any such change in color in that direction?  Your eyes are different from ours, and may see it more sharply.”

Danny, who had already been looking in that direction, shrugged.  “Maybe?  I think it might just be that there are a lot of doors over there, though.”

“We could get out the telescope,” said Frostbite.  

Some of the other yetis made faces of distaste at that, but Danny perked up, levitating slightly.  “You have a telescope?  What kind of telescope?  Can I see it?”

“Yes,” said Frostbite.  He shot a look over Danny’s head, which Danny chose to ignore.  “It’s a rather large one.  Quite impressive, if I do say so myself.  I think you would like it.”

Danny nodded.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a telescope I didn’t like.  Unless it was, like, broken.  Or bad.  But you wouldn’t have a bad telescope, I’m sure.”

“Then we’re decided,” said Frostbite.  “We’ll see the telescope.”

“Yes!” shouted Danny, pumping his fist.  “Telescope!”

“It is this way,” said Frostbite, waving Danny towards the buildings and caves that made up the village proper.  “We keep it put away so it isn’t damaged.”

“Cool,” said Danny.  “So, is it a reflector or a refractor?”

“A refractor.  It is made of ice.”

“Of course,” said Danny, nodding.  “The lens and the tube and everything?”

“Yes,” said Frostbite.

“It must have really thick lenses, then, since ice has a lower refractive index than glass.”

Frostbite gave a great shrug.  “It is what it is.  We tend not to work with glass outside of medical settings, so the lenses seem to be the correct thickness to us.”

That made sense, overall, and for a short time, he just followed after Frostbite, glancing at the yetis behind him.  “What’s the big deal about the color being different, anyway?” he asked.  

“No one has spoken to you about the turning of the ages?” asked Frostbite, sounding surprised.  “Princess Dorathea?  Lord Clockwork?”

“Nope,” said Danny.  “Haven’t heard of that before at all.”

“One moment, Great One,” said Frostbite.  He called to the other nearby yetis, and started giving them instructions, directing them to one of the larger caves.  Together, they started the work of extracting the telescope.  

“Can I help?” asked Danny.  

“In this case, it is best to leave the work to those who know how to handle the telescope.  Now, where was I?”

“You mentioned the ‘turning of the ages?’”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Frostbite.  “Where to begin…  The Infinite Realms are made up of ectoplasm.  Ectoplasm is substantially different from normal matter.  So, the laws upon which it works are also different.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  The physics of ectoplasm was one of the things his parents studied.  He had a passing understanding of how it all worked.  

“Instead of, say, quantum spin, or quantum flavor, particles of ectoplasm might be better described in terms of color and character, qualities that go hand in hand.  On occasion, the character and color of the Realms shift.  The shift begins in one location, then spreads, until it has reached every corner of the Realms.”

“So… Ectoplasmic particles don’t have spin?”

“They do, to some degree, but that subject would require a great deal of additional explanation.  The important part is the change.”

“Right.  The change in color?”

“In color, but also in character.  In mood, or aesthetic, some might say.  Others might call it theme.”

“... I don’t get it,” admitted Danny. None of those things sounded very scientific to him.  

“Let me attempt to explain from a different angle,” said Frostbite.  “Every so often, the ambient ectoplasm of the Realms undergoes a change in color and character, which is called the turning of the age.  As the two are related, the color of the ectoplasm indicates to us the character of the coming age.  The character being how the Realms as a whole both look and behave.  The aesthetic, if you would.”

They followed the telescope up a nearby hill.  

“You are aware that different cultures had different views of the afterlife?  Some very similar, some very different?” 

Danny nodded.  

“Some of that is caused by natural portals during the relevant time periods leading to different Realms, but the larger differences can be ascribed to the portals leading to different ages.  For example, the popular conception of Hell was likely inspired by a red age.  During red ages, temperatures grow more extreme, islands crash together to form larger landmasses, ghosts take on a more monstrous, demonic mien and become more aggressive.”

“Wait, so this shift affects ghosts, too?”

“How could it not?  Like anything else, we change with our environment.  When the laws of nature change, we must adapt to them.  That being said, the internal ectoplasm of individual ghosts rarely changes color.  Yours will, in all likelihood, remain green.”

“Well, I guess I'm glad Flashfreeze thinks it's purple, then.  Red sounds kind of awful.”

“It might still become red,” said Frostbite.  “It is not at all uncommon for the color to change before the age has completely turned, or for an age to last only a very brief time.”

“So, turning into a demon is still on the table.”  As if he didn't already have enough trouble with his reputation back home.

Frostbite laughed, and patted his shoulder.  “Yes, but red ages have their good points, too.  They are exciting ages of alliances and camaraderie, and many a quiet injustice has been revealed and overturned in a red age.  But we ought to see if there even is a change in color before we speculate any more on the age to come, hm?”

“Okay,” said Danny, watching as the yetis heaved the immense telescope into position.  The white ice sides, taller than he was, twinkled in the light of the Zone.  

Flashfreeze looked through the eyepiece first.  They seemed to look for a long time, but then they stepped back and nodded, decisively.  “I was right,” they said.  “It isn't doors.  The ectoplasm over there is turning purple.”

.

“Okay, will you tell me what a purple age means now?” asked Danny, aggressively stirring his frozen chocolate with a spoon made of ice.  The telescope had been swarmed by yeti scientists immediately after Flashfreeze had made their pronouncement, and Danny hadn’t gotten a chance to look through it at all.  

“Yes, yes,” said Frostbite.  “Yes, but purple ages, or violet ages, are not nearly as easy to define or predict as some others.  They can be highly variable.”

“But they’ve got to have some common points.”

“That they do.  The principle commonality is rules.”

“I thought all of them shared rules.  All of the ages where the colors were the same, I mean.”

“Well, yes, but purple ages tend to apply more rules, and to a greater degree.  Rules similar to Frailties.”

Frailties were curses imparted by the five great rivers of the Ghost Zone.  The Styx, which bound one to promises, the Acheron, which defined uncrossable boundaries, physical and social, the Cocytus, which engendered weaknesses, the Lethe which granted forgetfulness, and the Phlegethon, which caused something like addiction, a dependence on a stimulus, most often blood or fire.  

“So, instead of demons, it’s more like vampires?”

Frostbite chuckled.  “I do not believe that has been the first guess of anyone I have ever explained this to.  Then again, I haven't explained it all that frequently.”

“Not vampires, then?”

“Vampires would not be out of the question, actually, what with their rules regarding thresholds, their diets, sunlight, and all the rest.  There was an age of vampires that was purple.  But most people think of fairies and the fae, not vampires.”

“We’re going to turn into… fairies.”

“Do not sound so skeptical.  There are a great variety of fairies, hence why purple ages are so unpredictable.”

“But fairies.”

“Or elves, or fae, or a variety of other subsets of such creatures.  Take unicorns, as an example.  While usually universally violent, when a purple age comes over the Realms, they become tamable by virgins.”

“That’s still weird,” said Danny.  

“The tendency towards rules extends to social structures as well.  That’s how it always is in these cases…  Last time we made all sorts of roles and positions and held all sorts of elections, competitions, what have you, in order to fulfill them.  Hierarchies.  Royalty and nobility are very popular in purple ages.  There is a great tendency to titles and epithets, as a depressingly common frailty is that of being bound by one’s true name.”

“Which river does that?”

“In most ages, it is a rare interaction between the Styx and the Acheron.  But in purple ages…”  Frostbite shrugged.  “Every age has something common to it that is rare elsewhere.  For example, cyan ages - that is the color between blue and green - tend to have a greater number of half humans.”

“Really?” asked Danny.  

“Truly,” said Frostbite.

“Do you think we’ll have one of those, soon?”

“Impossible to say.”

“What about red ages, what do they have?”

“Wars, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right for demons.”  He shook his head.  “What else should I look out for, in a purple age?  Or is it too unpredictable?” he added, remembering some of Frostbite's earlier comments.  

“Ah, well, beyond the emphasis on rules…  Any turning of the age comes with physical changes.  It may be quite some time before you see any, the change has only just begun, but it would be wise to keep your eye out.”

“Do you think that it'll affect my human form?” asked Danny, frowning over the brim of his cup.  

Frostbite frowned as well.  “It may.  There are unfortunately few studies on the matter.”

“You'll probably be seeing a lot of me, then.”

“A silver lining, no matter how the coming age unfolds.”

Danny looked away and drank his frozen chocolate to hide how hard he was blushing.  

.

“So, you’re going to shrink and grow wings?” asked Tucker, raising an eyebrow.  

“I mean, maybe,” said Danny.  “I could also become a vampire.  Or maybe a werewolf.  Those have a lot of rules, too.”

“And Tinkerbell-lookalikes aren’t the only kind of fairy,” said Sam.  “Elves, hobgoblins, and banshees are all kinds of fairy, too.”

Due to various construction noises at Fentonworks - apparently something about the change of age had tripped some detector or other, and Danny’s parents were very excited about it - Team Phantom had retreated to Jazz’s usual haunt.  The library.  Specifically, one particular reading room in the library.  It was very cozy, with the three of them, and verged on tight when Jazz was in there.  

Of course, as soon as Danny had thought that, Jazz returned with a teetering stack of books.  She dropped them on the table as soon as she shut the door.  

Tucker sneezed.  “Blegh.  Dust.  This is why hard drives are the superior form of data storage.”

“Books can’t be defeated by magnets or overheating,” pointed out Jazz.

“Sure they can.  It’s called fire.”

“Is… is this an RPG book?” asked Danny, tugging one of the books out of the pile.

Jazz blushed.  “It’s– Well, yeah, but it’s something people did research for.  It’s all based on actual folklore and modern takes on that folklore.  I thought it would be easier to digest.”

“Gimme,” said Tucker, reaching for it.  

Danny moved it out of his reach.  

“I’ve also got the Encyclopaedia of Fairies, Collected Celtic Folklore, and a bunch of fairytale collections, of course,” said Jazz, ignoring Tucker and Danny as they wrestled over the book.  “Do you want The Dark Side of Fairytales?”

“Yes, please,” said Sam.  “I think I’d lose it trying to work through the others.”

“I was thinking we could list common weaknesses,” said Jazz.  “Physical characteristics are probably too varied, but the list of what works against fairies should be a little bit easier.”

Tucker managed to get the book away from Danny - via treacherous use of Danny’s ticklish spot - and Danny decided not to push Jazz by using his ghost powers in the library.  Sulking, he took the encyclopedia.  That, at least, would be organized.

.

“I regret all my decisions,” said Danny.  

“Is there any weakness here that isn’t contradicted by something else?” asked Sam.  

“Iron, I think,” said Tucker.  “I haven’t found anything that contradicts iron.  Unless, you know, fairy knights wear steel armor.  That’d do it.”

“Well,” said Jazz, with forced cheer, “we can still take the most common ones and test them regularly, to make sure they don’t trip you up later, right, Danny?”

“I guess,” said Danny, eying an illustration of a troll.  “I hope I don’t wind up looking like that.”

“Don’t say that,” said Tucker.  “You’ll jinx yourself.”

Danny let both the book and his head fall to the table with a thump.  

.

“Have you noticed anything?” asked Jazz, a couple weeks later.  

“No,” said Danny, as he had every time.  “I haven’t even gotten into the bathroom yet.  Give me a break.”

“I just think that you should probably get checked up.  There could be internal changes.”

Danny, who had just endured an interminable week of sex ed in health class, groaned.  “Don’t say that, that’s gross.”

“It’s not gross, it’s just the way things are,” protested Jazz.  “I know you haven’t had a chance to go since Mom and Dad started in on… whatever… but I think you really should.  Your health is important.”

“Fine,” said Danny.  “But later, and only if I can get past Mom and Dad.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” said Jazz.  

Danny felt like she was asking a lot more than that, especially so early in the morning.  He liked the Far Frozen, but it was, as the name suggested, far away.  The commute would eat up his weekend.  

“You guys’ll have to patrol without me, you know that, right?”

“It’s fine,” said Jazz.  “I’ve been practicing, and it’s been quiet.”

It had been, too.  Danny mumbled something like agreement in response and slipped into the bathroom.  

The first thing he did was poke the various iron bits that he and his friends had scraped together, on the premise that no one knew what ‘cold iron’ really meant.  There was a horseshoe nail, a broken piece of wrought iron, some regular iron filings, steel screws of various types, a lump of iron ore, and, Danny’s favorite, a tiny iron meteorite in its own case.

(Danny had taken to carrying that last one around in his pocket during the day and putting it away at night.)

None of them had given Danny so much as a rash.  That done, he checked his ears.  They weren’t pointy.  Teeth.  They weren’t sharp.  Fingers.  Had the right number of joints.  Skin.  Still a pale pink.  Eyes.  Blue, with round pupils.  He ran through the same check as Phantom, although that one naturally had different results. 

Either way, he couldn’t find any changes.  He hadn’t even grown taller, as far as he could tell, which was too bad.  He was among the shortest in his grade, although luckily not the shortest.  That honor fell on Mikey. 

He sighed.  He almost would prefer the changes to just happen already.  But he knew better than to say anything like that out loud.  

He grabbed his toothbrush.  If he really was going to the Far Frozen today, he’d need to get ready.  

.

The Ghost Zone looked different.  

Not a lot different.  The sky was still mostly green, islands and doors still floated lazily about, and small ghosts flitted to and fro.  There was, however, a haze of sweet-smelling purple mist in the air, and the grass growing on the ground had taken on a more natural hue.  

There was also a change in the quality of light and temperature of the Zone.  Most of the time, the Zone felt timeless, as if it was stuck in an eternal, neon night at the bottom of a very deep cave.  But today, it felt a lot like stepping outside on an autumn morning.  Which, incidentally, was what it was back in Amity Park.  

It was weird.  Not bad, but… weird.  Definitely weird.  

He took off towards the Far Frozen, making note of other small changes as he went.  Doors and islands, at first glance largely unaffected, seemed to be clustered closer together.  Several of the trees he passed looked alive, rather than dead.  The wind, when it blew audibly, sounded musical.  

Yes, Danny was definitely leaning towards fairies rather than vampires.  

However, Danny was only about halfway to the Far Frozen when he came upon a lair that simply should not have been anywhere near there: Clockwork’s tower, Long Now.  

Once he recognized it, he hovered for a few minutes, trying to figure out why Clockwork would be here.  None of the reasons Danny could think of were very good.  He rarely put himself so directly on someone’s path unless it was important.  And, in Danny’s experience, important often meant calamitous.  

It was a lot less disturbing when he went looking for Clockwork.  

Nevertheless, Danny shook himself and flew to the tower.  If Clockwork needed him…  Well, it was important.  Reaching the Far Frozen could wait.  

He touched down outside the large double doors, which opened immediately, and went in.  The atrium of the tower was empty, however…

Danny crouched down to look at the floor.  The last time he was here - about a month ago - this floor had been plain stone.  Now, it was inlaid with graceful swooping patterns that reminded Danny of vines, or maybe visualizations of how planets moved.  They were still somewhat indistinct, half-formed, but they described a path.  After another moment of hesitation, Danny followed.  

The path traced a spiral through Long Now, leading Danny through rooms he didn’t know existed.  As Danny went, the purple haze got thicker and thicker, to the point where Danny could swear he tasted lilacs on his tongue.  Finally, though, it deposited him in a circular courtyard.  

There was a garden in the courtyard, and at the very center of it was a tree.  Both the garden and the tree were divided into quarters.  One, had plants and trees just starting to put up new growth, and young, early spring flowers.  Another was rich and bright with full foliage and the buzz of summer insects.  The third looked much like Amity Park did now, wreathed in the golds and oranges of fall, with fruit growing on branches.  The final one was wintery, cold, but still vital with winter-blooming flowers.  

The tree at the center was partially in all four quarters, and looked it, with one quarter of the tree in bloom, a quarter in full leaf, a quarter bearing fruit, and a quarter bare.  

It was a very Clockwork garden.  

What wasn’t like Clockwork, however, was the number of other guests.  

Frostbite was there, and given the other two, Danny flew over to him as quickly as he could without damaging any of Clockwork’s plants.  The others were Fright Knight and Undergrowth.  

Clockwork, meanwhile, had his back to them, looking up at the tree.  

“Doubtless, you are all wondering why I have summoned you here,” said Clockwork, turning away from the tree to face them.  To Danny’s surprise, he was sporting a pair of legs.  He eyed them with interest.  He’d never seen Clockwork with legs before.

“The thought had crossed my mind, meddler,” said Undergrowth.  

“Before it is fully set, an age can be manipulated,” said Clockwork, gliding across the ground with small, even steps.  “Influenced.  Changed.  Not at all easily, but I have put the first building blocks into place.”  He waved his hand through the air, purple swirling after it.  “I intend to do so in your favor.”

“For what purpose?” asked Frostbite, just a touch of a growl in his voice.  

“I am not sure you would believe me if I told you.”

“I would,” said Danny.  

Clockwork smiled.  “Mischief, mainly.  I have few enough chances to divest myself of some of the Observants’ control.  This, establishing a hierarchy that they are not party to, is one of them.”

“And what hierarchy would that be, Lord Clockwork?” asked Fright Knight, his voice almost as deep as Frostbite’s.  

“The seasonal courts,” said Clockwork, gesturing to the corners of his garden.  “Summer and Winter, Fall and Spring.  The wheel of the year, all things moving in order.  With this changing of the age, seasons will come to the Realms, as will night and day, and the phases of the moon.”

“And you’ll make yourself stronger by marking the passage of time,” said Undergrowth.  “I see how that helps you, but I have no interest in that.  How will it help us?”

“Seasonal courts must have their rulers,” said Clockwork.  “I think you would serve well as the King of Summer.  And, you, as Champion of Autumn.”  He turned slightly to Fright Knight, and as he did so, his hood fell back, revealing silvery white braided hair and pointed ears.  

Actually… Clockwork had stayed in one, young and relatively handsome, form this whole time.  If Danny looked closely, the other three ghosts around him also looked more… polished, maybe.  It’d take a lot of work to make Undergrowth look like anything but a plant monstrosity, but he had more flowers growing from his vines.  Frostbite’s fur looked shinier and sleeker.  Even Fright Knight seemed less tarnished and bloody.  

Danny raised his hand to his own ears.  They weren’t nearly as pointed as Clockwork’s, but the taper was detectable.  Had the concentration of purple ectoplasm here accelerated the change?  Or had it happened when Danny first came through the portal?

“As for Chief of the Winter Court, I do not think I would ever find anyone more suitable than you, Chief Frostbite, who have managed the Far Frozen well for these past centuries.  And, finally, for our Prince of Spring, one who embodies youth, change, and life.”

Clockwork had, without Danny realizing it, gotten close enough to touch Danny’s face.  He flinched back, surprised.  

“I have ice powers, though,” said Danny.  

“As there is snow in spring,” said Clockwork, unconcerned.  

“And… I’m not sure about the responsibility.”

“You could be a figurehead.  But the symbolism is necessary, to wrest control from the Observants.  Even now, they are attempting to force things onto a path more suitable for themselves.”

“I don’t know…”

Undergrowth scoffed.  “It hardly matters.  I accept your proposal.  It has been some time since I ruled, and it’s high time I do so again.”

Clockwork nodded.  “Then stand in summer, King Undergrowth.”

“I will take on this task as well,” said Fright Knight.  He walked to the autumn section of the garden and drew his sword, setting the tip in the soil.  

“You’re doing this much, just to annoy the Observants?” asked Frostbite.  

Clockwork tilted his head to one side, regarding both Danny and Frostbite.  “There are some other forces at play as well, admittedly.  Rest assured, this path leads to the greatest good.  I cannot reveal more than that.”

“Then I accept,” said Frostbite.  “But be warned: if I should discover treachery at the end of this path, it will not go well for you.”

Well, Danny could hardly say no after all of that.  He still had to check.  “So, the greatest good?”

“That is correct.”

“And saying no, that wouldn’t lead to something on the level of, you know.  Dan.”

“Not on his level, no.  Not for you.”

Danny squinted at Clockwork.  He had to wonder if that careful phrasing was a way to get around a restriction on lying.  

But Clockwork had helped Danny, more than once.  Even if Clockwork wasn’t being entirely honest, Danny should at least return the favor.  

He scuffed his feet against the garden path, then looked up.  “What do I need to do?”

#danny phantom #phic #phic phight

[loupy-mongoose]

*Ahem*

Happy Halloween!! ^w^

Bug Fables.

It's my current favorite video game, and actually, you can thank it for Linden Roots existing~

I'll explain, but in order to do so I have to dive into spoilers for one of my absolute favorite plots for one of my absolute favorite characters, so I need to slap on a;

MASSIVE SPOILER WARNING!

In my opinion, this game is best experienced SPOILER FREE, so if you haven't played it and want to some day, I recommend skipping my info dump below. (This info can be acquired before beating the main game though. :>)

You're okay with spoilers? Yes? Okay, carry on.

So.

Those who are familiar with Leif's story will probably see how Bug Fables influenced the creation of Linden Roots.

A long while ago, I mentioned Randy being inspired by my favorite fictional character.

That's Leif.

Leif is a moth who is ancient.

And dead.

Loooooong before the game takes place (I can't find an exact timeframe; it's like a generation or two), Leif went with a team of bugs to explore a cave, but ended up dying in there. In that same cave, a group of scientists later experimented on cordyceps. Now, as soon as they became relevant to the story I was HOOKED.

I learned about cordyceps as a kid, and they scared the crap out of me. But it also was one of those morbidly fascinating things I'd look into once in a while. (Before anyone tells me, yes, I know that's what's in The Last of Us.)

If you don't know, IRL cordyceps basically turn bugs into zombies.

Anyway, the scientists were trying to find a way to create eternal life (what else is new lol), and did this through cordyceps. Which, as one could guess when dealing with zombie fungus, ended up going badly for the scientists.

One of the "failed" experimental fungi was thrown out, and found its way to the deceased Leif, and brought him back to life. It took on his memories, and Leif woke up without knowing what happened, until you dig into his story during the game. So the "Leif" we know in the game isn't truly Leif, but is the fungus living as him.

Now... I'm sure that sounds a bit familiar...

This idea of a character being dead-but-not struck a chord with me. It fascinated me to no end.

But there's more to it.

As one might expect, Leif has some tragedy surrounding him.

While playing the game, you can stumble upon his decedents.

This here is Muze. With a 'z'

This is Leif's great great however-many-greats grand-daughter, who you meet in the game's present day.

When he was alive, he had a wife.

His wife was Muse. With an 's'.

We never get to see what Muse looked like, but he says in-game that Muze is a spitting image of her. Hence why Akoya is dressed as she is in my pic. She's dressed as Muse.

Now, according to the developers, Muse was pregnant when Leif went into the cave where he died.

And he didn't know.

There are several moments in the game that show Leif's potential as a father, but one in particular stood out to me.

(Note for the images; Leif refers to himself as "We/Us".)

Oops, I forgot one. Vi finishes by shouting "I said it's not happening!"

The text in the last shot bounces/wiggles in-game, indicating playfulness or joking.

If you're familiar with Goombario and Goombella in the Paper Mario games, this dialogue is this game's version of that. You can have the main characters give flavor text on any area and most characters in the game. (And I recommend doing it often, as it adds SOOO much to the game! ^v^)

This bit takes place in the first room after Kabbu and Vi meet Leif. And at the end of the room, an event happens to change what's said for the rest of the game. Meaning, the only time you see it is RIGHT after they meet; He was getting playful with these two bugs he'd met only moments ago.

I'm sure it can just be seen as sarcasm, but having found this dialogue after learning about Leif missing out on raising a child, I saw it as a clue that he would've been a great dad. And it shattered me. ;w;

Randy and Akoya are wish-fulfillment. They're my version of Leif and Muse. They're my way of giving Leif and Muse what I'm sad they missed out on, while also keeping some of the angst, lol. Thankfully, they've evolved into their own separate characters that I feel I can be proud of, but Leif's story and tragedy still has a deep, well-protected place in my heart.

Anyway, thanks for checking out my ramble. I accept no blame for any potential spoiler you might've seen against your will. XD

#Pokemon #Linden Roots #Art #Bug Fables #<3

[scarad]

to kill a god - sagau.

tw: suicide, self harm (mentioned), yandere/cult themes (implied)

oh, how cold you were, awake on the dim floor of a cave. your body shivered and ached and you felt as if death lurked at every corner. how did you end up in a world you thought you'd love, only to find that teyvat was not as kind to outlanders as shown in game — especially not to those bearing the face of their "darling god"?

you didn't want to be here, not anymore. not after seeing the glares from people you idolized. not after being chased across the world the day you awoke in teyvat. not after being forced into this unknown place, now cold and starving, on the verge of death just to escape impending doom.

[ more utc ]

you knew you would die anyways, and you never liked life before, so why now? why are you running so fast, trying to hard, just to survive in a world where your perish is the hope of all citizens?

as you sobbed into your tattered clothes, thundering footsteps sounded from outside your little shelter. your eyes, though bloodshot, snapped upwards, fear clouding your vision. your head was pounding, and so was your chest. slowly, you rose to your shaking feet, backing up into the furthest corner of the cave as you covered your mouth.

your heart was thumping, racing so fast at the thought of fighting so hard to live. you weren't even doing anything but running. how cowardly, you ran do much, only to have your last day spent holed into a cave, sobbing until your eyes were red.

you fought so damn hard, so why? why did life persist on throwing its hardest obstacles your way?

yeah, you didn't exactly enjoy your life on earth — you had little friends, and your family was never around, so you would spend your days envying those more fortunate — but now? you'd kill to have your old life back.

your eyes widened at the realization, and soon, the outside world had drowned itself out.

a simple solution was brought into reality, and soon, you were running outside of your solitude, the gloomy and thundering skies welcoming your presence.

the leader of a small search party — you recognized her as kujou sara — turned to you at such a speed, you were worried they'd gain whipslash.

" there's the imposter! " kujou announced, pointing her bow at you. " capture them to bring to the shogun! her highness will be pleased to know that— "

your hair whipped and thrashed with the storms, and you felt the slits on your wrist opening with the harsh weather. it hurt, it hurt so so much, but you persevered, shutting her up as you took steps away from the cave.

" tell your beloved shogun, " you huffed, rushing to falcon's coast with the shogunate's behind you. your body ached, but you continued your fast trek, shouting to your pursuers, " that i'll meet her in hell! "

you stopped at the cliff, turning to stare at the tengu. her eyes widened, " you wouldn't dare— "

but without warning, you took a step off, closing your eyes as the wind increased tenfold. finally, you'd be free from this hell, and you wouldn't have to run anymore. their lovely god would remain untarnished, and you'd escape the agony.

slowly, you faded away from reality, tears slipping out of your eyes. glitter surrounded the tears, but your vision was too hazy to see it's sparkle.

the sparkle that was once in your eyes had faded as you shed your last tears. your body was numbing, why weren't you dead yet? your wrists ached more than ever, more than when the pain was first inflicted.

slowly, you smiled, eyes fluttering shut. your body fell limp, collapsing against the coarse sand of the shores. you heard heavy thumping from behind you, but you paid it no mind. finally, you were unbound, your ties to this world forever severed.

and etched into kujou sara's mind was the masterpiece of gold that was falcon coast — a masterpiece she'd witnessed created first-hand. a masterpiece born out of the anguish of her god.

"blood runs cold," they say, and for sara, that certainly was true, but for you? no, your blood runs gold.

part two:

#genshin impact sagau #sagau angst #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #sagau brainrot #sagau #kujou sara #self aware genshin au #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you

[ikkosu]

psst. if you want, do you think you can write some headcanons about Skylynx from the TFP: Predacon's Rising movie? if not him, predaking would be fine too. need more love for the predacon bois

a/n : ahhh! Predacons! I love them 😭 but I haven’t watched Tfp in a while and predaking is the only one I’m familiar with. I think I went a little haywire on this,,,,

PREDAKING HEADCANNONS

you’re working with robots now, huh. er, autonomous sentient, lifeforms—say it right or shockwave will have your head— and, simply, you’re going to lose your itty bitty mind

the fact is this: you’re an archaeologist, stationed in the raging hot deserts of Nevada, as per your own request, for a find many people in your career would die for. that is, excavating a site that would definitely hit a Jack pot load of bones. can you believe that? prehistoric bones! imagine the things you could do with it. new species to discover, new ecosystems, new—

for unfortunate reasons you’re not disclosed with , it appears you wouldn’t be the only one dying for a find like that

in a desert, remote region in Nevada night had plunged the horizon. the crew had clocked out in their respective tents, and the flaps billowed as a cool breeze pass

”c’mon, kid, we can continue tommorow.” one of the guys said.

but you, the ever so persistent little idiot, were too preoccupied dusting this strange rock you’re certain is a bone,,,it’s a bone! to hell with whoever says it’s not. you’re a hundred percent certain it is,,,,you’re also guts deep below ground, dusty, sweaty ,,,and christ, who’s flaring this red light into your site, it’s hurting your eyes—

with a scowl, you swivel up — then , stoned up and cold like the bone you’re holding

oh, those are someones’s eyes

not very,,,mhn,,, not very friendly eyes, you see, eye? light bulb?

either ways, there’s too much purple, and the darkness had elevated it’s glaring stare and— you’re greeted with the sight of something swirling, yellow, as bright as the sun — is that a gun?!

you try to scream.

yeah, not very effective since claws had already sprung out to latch onto your body, yanking you out with its thumb against your lips, preventing you any ability to shout. hence, with the tried.

the creature, really you’re going to settle for robot, but you know it’s scientifically inaccurate given that it’s intelligence and emotional—

“it appears you have excavated the very piece I am looking for.” it hummed and you stilled, blinking, wide eyes and frantic. oh, god help me it can talk. its claws plucked the bone you were clutching close, ignoring your protesting hands trying to grab it back.

“most certainly logical, how did you find this?”

you’re going to die. you’re going to die. You’re going to die, but hey you replied anyways

"W-we take pictures above ground t-then scan the photos. S-sometimes we use remote sensing techniques when—“

“us that so? perhaps you can have some use with your hands then.”

— that’s how you find yourself in a laboratory, tinkering away on projects by his behest.

you’re not even sure if you’d call it one, given how many ethical protocols shockwave, he said his name was, had already breached. hell, the list can go on and on until it stacked up ‘till the height of the himalayas. you’re sure he doesn’t care. Why would he? He’s not even giving you proper safety gear.

at least, when you told him to he acted like it wasn’t a priority in the first place. and imagine this! there’s others like him too! others that are way too annoying to be considered a decepticon second in command

‘he’s a walking problem, purposely pestering you, disrupting your projects, calling you fleshie and how you’d look perfect as a red stain on the cave floor…

and then there’s this other problem,,,

“your fear for such a creature is illogical.” shockwave had brisked away without much of a glance when you tried to latch onto his pedes. “even your desperation to get away from it so. are you sure you wish to be left alone?”

“don’t be a prick! you can’t keep me with that thing forever!” you pointed at the glowering beast stalking you from behind the beams

“innacurate terminology.’’ He simply said. “a ‘thing’ would assume he’s an inanimate object.”

“ he’s a dragon!”

“innacurate, he’s a predacon.”

“I— what the hell even is that?!”

‘before you could plough a rock to his face you feel something hard, almost like tendrils, wrapping around your body

warm, misty air hissed at your face and you quivered, limp in their hold.

“do not make me repeat myself as I have always done so before." he said stiffly, "be gentle, predaking. I wouldn’t want my assistant to be damaged — a quest to find another is not an easy task.”

then turning on his heel, he left.

bastard had left you alone with this abomination.

Oh, joy.

You can’t get a sense of peace

everywhere you walk it follows. Why? You don’t know why. is it because you pat its head once and called it a good boy? Or that other time you tickled it's jaw and it purred? Though, in restropect you were a bit drunk off your ass ingesting Cybertronian booze by accident — as per Starscream request and amusement.

And now it won’t stop pestering you

You really wish it did.

He does this thing where, oh look it's waldo! And tackle you to ground, even thought you've told the dragon many times not to do that lest you're churned into a splatter of red on the surface

He'd also do this thing where he'd dangle you off the edge pretending to drop you,,,and when he does you're soaring towards the ground at god knows what mph before getting swooped to safety by the same dragon that tried to kill you

For a Predacon he's incredibly...sentient in a way it's aware of what he's doing most of the time

Feral cat behavior

A blurred line between black cat plotting to kill you and golden retriever,,,plotting to kill you with affection

And incredibly possessive at that

Talking to a vehicon? Oh, dear there you go again, hanging by his maw, shirt clamped between his teeth as he drags you away to that horrible, horrible cave

It's damp and it stinks! And he's nestling you like you're some egg desperately in need of protecting

And everytime you'd wrangle out of its— his— you're not even sure anymore — chest , the Predacon simply, with a pinch of his claws on your shirt, tugs you back into his embrace

Sometimes, if he's feeling mirthful he'll fall asleep with his fangdclamping down on a bit of your shirt to prevent you moving

"Let me go god damn it!"

And you know shockwave knows. He doesn't say a horse cobbler about it because it has it's uses

when Predaking decides havoc is what he needs on his agenda today shockwave will simply pluck you up from the ground and hold you to him like a candle

Most often than not the dragon will stare at you like dogs do when presented with a chew toy

and, technically, you are in some aspects

forget transportation, what better vehicle do you need when you can just hang from a dragon's maw as he brings you to the decepticon leader?

Starscream, hell even airachnid, would've exterminated you if not for your darling dragon by your side

and, to be honest, you did kind of grew fond of him. he'd take you on rides up in the air, and he'd nuzzled you close on stormy, cold days. Sometimes, you clean away the rust on his plating when you're free from Shockwave's obviously illegal work conditions

That's until he became a fucking robot

you didn't realize it was him at first, hearing a new rhythm of footfalls echoing across the cave, until the familiar paint scheme slapped you with the answers

What do you mean you're not a dragon this whole time?!?!?!?

you back away from him against the cave wall. you're not sure what to feel as he saunters towards you.

It ties between disappointment and embarrassment because did you really say good boy in a baby voice to a fucking man this whole time?;?-?-??&?

"Do not fear." His voice was far from sweet, god was it rough and deep,

It made your stomach do a 180 backflip and cracked it's head wide open

"Do not try to run."

when his talons curl around your waist, lifting you up to his eye level and the imperceptible smirk on his face is present, you knew you were fucked

"How obedient you are, my little pet."

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #predaking x reader #predaking #tfp x reader #transformers prime #transformers prime x reader

[luv4fandoms]

The Rut (David x Fem! Reader)

It is finally here! The last installment of The Rut series! I am so happy that everyone enjoyed this series, it was definitely fun to write the boys in just complete feral mode lol. I'll definitely be writing for stuff for the boys in the future!

(Also since I've been asked, this isn't really a poly relationship series, this is a "only (insert boy) likes reader" kinda thing).

I really wanna thank everyone who has commented on, reblogged, or just liked this series. Y'all really kept me going when I had writers block, and I couldn't have finished it without y'all. And a big shout out to @auntvamp who came up with the original headcannons about the boys in rut, because without them, this series wouldn't be a thing lol. I'd highly suggest reading that first.

Lastly I'd like to thank @santacarlatourism for their headcanons of each boy's scent on my post

I also got inspired by these headcanons

For this I know a lot of people write David as a rough dom but I wanted to explore something else, I don't think David would always be rough with his mate, I see him having a soft side too, so this is that, and also him slowly losing control lol.

Paul, Marko, Dwayne,

Word Count: 5,376 (of course this cocky mofo ended up with the longest chapter 🤣)

Pairing: David x Fem! Reader

Warnings: DETAILED SMUT! THAT IS ALL THIS STORY IS!! MINORS DNI!!

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

"Don't invite him in"

That's what Dwayne had told you when he informed you to stay away from the cave for the next couple of days. You were confused when Dwayne had met you at the entrance the night before, usually David was the first one out and ready to leave, typically smoking while the others got ready. You were fully prepared to spend the night at the boardwalk with the boys and your favorite vampire, but Dwayne had quickly shot down those plans.

"Wait…A rut? Like how animals have ru-"

"Yes just like that" he told you as he walked you back to your car.

"When we go into these we are very dangerous to you, since you're a human and not a vampire like us you're far more…"

"Fragile" you finished, the boys had all told you that before, taking it upon themselves to protect you all the time because you were "like a China doll" in Dwayne's words.

"So that's why you need to stay away for a couple of days," he explained, to which you could only simply nod as you climbed in your car. Your thoughts suddenly taking a turn as you thought of him…they were all extremely attractive…him especially…and you were sure him taking a partner for a quick time was something he had done before…would that happen again? After all, if he was gonna kill them anyways why not? It didn't matter if they were fragile right? But why did that thought make you wanna cry even more in this situation?

"It isn't like that" Dwayne's voice broke you out of your thoughts and you were unsure if he had read your thoughts or could just read your emotions.

"Go home y/n, don't overthink ok, you can come back soon" he told you with a small smile as he shut your car door, watching as you started the car and rolled down the window when he knocked

"And one more thing" he told you while leaning in.

"Don't invite him in"

So here you were, sitting in your room, listening to music and drawing, wishing you could just go hang out with the boys, you hadn't really realized just how much of a staple in your life they had become until now. Night's seemed boring without them…without him. Sighing you sat your sketchbook down on your nightstand after you realized that in your zoned out state you had successfully sketched what was probably the twentieth picture of him that resided in the book. Stretching, you got up and changed the music, putting on your newest Billy Idol album. You had joked to David before that he reminded you of the singer, a comment that although he didn't reply to, he seemed complimented by. You had actually come across David listening to a Billy Idol cassette tape one day in the cave and it only solidified that thought even more for you lol. You began dancing around as White Wedding started to play, losing yourself in the music for a moment, before you heard a gentle knock on your window. Your body froze instantly, shifting your gaze to the closed curtains. You slightly wondered if it had been the wind, but only slightly, you knew that was definitely a knock.

"I know you're in there Sweetheart, no use hiding" You immediately felt a shiver run down your spine at the voice, a deeper tone with a slight growl mixed with it told you he was currently vamped out.

'Don't invite him in' Dwayne's words rang in your head, earning another low growl from outside.

"You don't take orders from him, understand?" Oh shit, he was reading your thoughts. You had made him promise when you first learned what they were that he wouldn't do that anymore. A promise he seemed like he had no problem breaking tonight.

"But.. David…Dwayne said it would be dangerous to-"

"Funny" you heard him let out a dry chuckle.

"I thought I just said you don't take orders from him" You gulped at his tone, a sarcastic David was a dangerous David at times, and you had a feeling this was one of those times.

"Let me in Doll, I'll explain it all better than he could" You hesitated still, true, Dwayne hadn't explained very much, and you were still curious. And if you were being honest, when vamped out David probably had the most control over himself out of all of them, besides maybe Dwayne…Maybe it would be safe if you let him in. Slowly making your way over towards the window you heard what seemed like a pleased…purr? You pulled back the curtains, meeting the golden gaze of the vampire on the outside of your window. His figure looming on your small balcony. You unlocked and opened your window, leaning out to speak to him. When suddenly your lips were captured in a searing kiss, his gloved hands holding your face, softly yet firm as he pulled you closer, fangs brushing your lips as he opened your mouth with his, tongue dominating the kiss. You weren't sure what was making you dizzier, the kiss that was quite literally stealing your breath away, or his scent. David always smelled like a mixture of cigarettes, the cologne he always stole that had a very earthy smell to it, and a scent that you could only describe as simply him. But tonight his scent seemed to be cranked up to a hundred, clouding your brain of anything but him. When he finally seemed to remember you needed to breathe he pulled away, forehead resting against yours as he watched you try to catch your breath, pupils blown and heart racing as you met his gaze.

"David," you spoke quietly.

"You're gonna be a good girl and let me come inside, right?" He asked, watching the shiver that went down your spine at the nickname, a mental note he tucked away for later.

"Right?" He asked again, watching as you slowly nodded.

"Words Sweetheart" he gave you that little smile as he ran his thumb over your lip.

"You can come inside" you spoke once you found your voice.

"That's a good girl" he spoke, before the next thing you knew you were back inside your bedroom and being thrown onto your bed.

"Clothes off Sweetheart, I'm going to fuck you first, then I'll explain everything" he commanded, staring you down as he slowly took his coat off and laid it over your desk.

"W-What?" You stuttered, looking at him with wide eyes, did he actually just say that so casually? He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, waiting.

"I thought you were going to be a good girl tonight y/n" he spoke while slowly pulling your chair out and sitting down.

"I-I.." you weren't sure what to say at the moment, voice gone as you got lost in that golden gaze.

"I don't mind punishing you" he warned, and the look in his eye told you that part of him wanted to, wanted you to misbehave so he could. Deciding to play it safe, for now, you quickly took off your top and bottoms, leaving you in your simple lace panties, bra having been discarded earlier in the night. You watched his gaze darken as he took you in, golden eyes turning a bit orange.

"Come here" he spoke simply, but his tone told you that there was no arguing. Slowly you stood from your bed, taking careful steps over to him, stopping once you stood directly in front, your legs lightly grazing his knees. You slowly met his gaze again, those hard features and burning eyes, you knew anyone in your situation would have ran, but you knew David, and maybe some deep twisted part of you wanted this more than you even recognized. Wanted to be completely dominated by this man, this creature. Maybe you should have also not thought those things so loudly, if the absolutely predatory grin was anything to go by.

"Completely dominated huh?" He asked while leaning back in the chair, he watched as you gulped, listened as your heart picked up speed, smelled as a fresh wave of arousal hit you. It wouldn't take much to have you exactly where he wanted you, completely willing, completely his.

"On your knees Sweetheart" he told you with a low growl, and he watched as you instantly fell onto your floor, hands hovering just above his knees before lowering themselves to the ground. Good girl, you already knew to wait for his orders. He watched you watch him, watched as you tried not to show how much you were trying to gain some form of friction against where you needed it most. He could feel himself stir even more at the sight, could feel the inner beast trying to claw its way out, yelling at him to simply take you, stop these foolish games and claim what was his. He hated that feeling, hated losing control. Deciding to relieve both himself and you he tapped his belt buckle, eyes still never leaving you as you looked up to meet his gaze before setting to work undoing his belt and then pants, looking up to silently ask if you should stop or keep going.

"Well? You've been a good girl so far, are you afraid to unwrap your treat?" He smirked, watching the blush crawl up your neck and cheeks as your eyes went back to his pants. He lifted himself slowly so you could take them and his underwear off, pulling the material down to his ankles, stopping only because his boots got in the way. You went to remove them but he stopped you with a hand on your head.

"Those can wait" he told you, sliding his hand from your hair to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your lip before slowly parting them, watching as you wrapped your lips around his thumb, eyes sliding closed as you sucked the digit. David watched you intensely, feeling himself jump at the sight, and knowing that he wanted, no, needed your lips around him, now. Gently pulling his thumb away with the thinning self control he had left he opened your mouth, watching as your eyes met his.

"I have something better for you to use that pretty mouth on" he told you, watching as your eyes moved to finally take him in. He was average length, but pretty thick, a size that had you both clenching around nothing and also afraid of him not fitting. Again, reading your mind, you heard David chuckle.

"That's why we have to get both of us nice and wet, I think you know how to do that, don't you?" He asked, letting go of your mouth and leaning back in the chair, legs opening just a bit more.

"Yes sir" you nodded, sitting up a bit, hands finally touching his thighs, you could hear the low rumble leave him as he stared at you, you had taken a chance by calling him sir, but you had a very strong feeling he had that sort of kink, after all, David always loved being in charge.

"Look at that, I don't even have to teach you manners, you are already trained for me" he smirked, gathering your hair in his gloved hand as you slowly wrapped a hand around his length, feeling it twitch, before lowering your lips to close around the head.

"Already my good girl" he sighed, watching as you ran your tongue along the slit before lowering your head, hollowing your cheeks, and taking more of him in while running your tongue along the vein on the underside. What your mouth couldn't take, you hand took care of as you began bobbing your head, twisting your fist as you stroked in time with your bobs. You hadn't expected David to be a moaner or a talker, so when you only received grunts and huffs you knew not to be disappointed. You let those guide you, noting when he would tighten his grip on your hair, or when he would ever so slightly lift his hips, when he would hold his breath, or when his grunts sounded a bit more strained.

"Teeth" he grunted out at one point, tightening his grip on your hair again. You weren't sure what he meant, so you went off of what you guessed and prayed that it was right, you were doing good so far, you didn't want to fuck up now. Letting your teeth graze against his length you felt him stiffen, and instantly you feared you messed up, but that was when you heard it, the first moan, even if it was extremely quiet. With more confidence you let a little more of your teeth scrape along him as you worked, hearing his breath quicken once more. You chanced a glance upwards and noticed a sight you didn't expect, David with his eyes closed, head slightly tilted backwards, and mouth slightly open. Feeling brave after your achievement you decided to try something else. Sneaking your other hand up, you gently wrapped your hand around his balls, just as you took as much of him as you could and swallowed. Feeling him stiffen instantly, and hearing a clearly strained.

"Fuck" before his eyes met yours, orange gaze blazing before you were suddenly tossed on the bed, watching as he tore the rest of his clothes off.

"Did I say you could do that?" He asked, caging your body with his. You slowly shook your head but David caught your jaw in his now gloveless hand.

"Did I?"

"N-No sir" you replied, honestly a little scared, as well as turned on. David looked almost unhinged at the moment, like he was a breath away from just bending you over, and maybe that's what you wanted.

"So why did you think it was ok?"

"I-I just"

"Just what? You had been doing so well"

"I just wanted to make you feel good" you told him, and watched as he stopped, and blinked down at you. Honestly he hadn't expected that reply. He figured you were tired of playing the good girl role and wanted to disobey, wanted him to put you in your place, wanted him to just take you already…He hadn't expected you to tell him you were just trying to make him feel good.

"Just trying to please your master?" He asked with a smirk, watching as you nodded, eyes wide with an innocence that he knew was false, but God did you know how to play on that. He knew how dirty your mind was, he had read it so many times, times where you would come to the cave, wet and smelling like pure heaven. He wanted, no, needed to know what had gotten you that way, so he'd delve into your mind, needing to know if he'd have an easy kill that night or would it be something else, and what he'd find would cause his own stirrings. Things that you had read about in your little erotic novels, but played out by the two of you. You riding him, which he'd have to be convinced about. Him bending you over his motorcycle, that he could and would definitely arrange. Then there were the ones that filled your mind after you learned that he was originally a gunslinger before he became a vampire. It seemed your naughty little mind lived on the saying "save a horse, ride a cowboy". That heavenly smell surrounded him once again as you looked up at him, muttering such words that had his thin self control on the verge of snapping.

"Always wanna please you sir" you whimpered, slightly wiggling under him, no doubt seeking friction for the overwhelming heat that was bothering you. He decided to take pity on you, at least that's what he'd tell you, when really the beast in him was clawing at his mind for a taste of you.

"Such a Sweetheart" he smiled, leaning down to kiss your neck, chuckling as you leaned your head to the side, already willing to give him access to your blood, but that wasn't the taste he sought, at least not at the moment. Pressing gentle kisses down your collarbone, stopping to give your breasts attention, he swirled his tongue around your nipple before closing his lips around it, fangs grazing your skin as his hand came up to pinch and play with your other one, before his mouth and hand switched. Only when he felt like he had made you a breathless mess did he continue his journey down, hands sliding along your sides as he kissed down your stomach, pressing kisses to your hip bones before hooking his claws into your lace panties. His eyes met yours, a sinister smirk on his lips as you watched him tear your panties in half, the sound of tearing fabric meeting your ears while your eyes never left his. You watched him toss the pieces to the sides of the bed before he pressed kisses to your thighs, so close to where you wanted his mouth but never giving you what you needed.

"Beg" he told you, watching as your eyes met his again, having closed them for a moment.

"Please David" you whimpered, yelping slightly when his hand landed a smack on your thigh.

"Care to try that again?"

"Please sir, please I've been good" you begged.

"Have you? I don't think you have"

"I-I was just trying to make you feel good" you explained again, watching as he stared at you.

"Please sir, I promise I'll be good" you told him, gripping at the sheets, trying to will him to do something, anything to calm the fire that was slowly burning through you. Meanwhile David was fighting with himself, he wanted to tease you, have you a real begging mess, but the other part was clawing at him to just give in and take. This time he decided to give into that beast within and in an instant his mouth was on you, tongue swiping along your slit and watching as you threw your head back, a loud moan of his name tearing from your lips. He decided this time he wouldn't reprime you for it, mainly because he was becoming too lost in your taste, his own grunts muffled as he buried his face deeper, nose brushing your clit while his tongue dipped inside. He felt your legs close around his head, his hands still resting on your thighs, and again he decided to let it slide, instead grabbing your hips and letting himself explore you, commiting to memory every swipe of his tongue that had you moaning his name, every suck that had you gasping, every twist and turn that had your heart beat picking up and the beast in him clawing at the fraying seams of his control. He wanted to slam his fingers in you, listen as you moan at the fact that something was finally filling you, but he knew that his claws and that sensitive of an area shouldn't mix, so he settled on completely devouring you, being careful of his fangs as he brought you closer to your edge. Your legs tightening around him, hips lifting to try and get closer, hands grabbing at his hair while your head was thrown back, eyes shut and mouth open, begging him to not stop, telling him how good he felt and how close you were. He could push you off the edge in just a matter of seconds…could…but wasn't going to. Easily unwrapping your legs from him, he lifted himself away from you, watching as you whined and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Chest rising and falling rapidly as you slowly came down from the high he had built you up to.

"Why?" You whimpered, and David simply smirked as he wiped your essence from his face.

"You still had to be punished Sweetheart" he told you, watching as you pouted, head turned to the side while you tried to catch your breath. He chuckled at your pouting, knew how frustrated you were, because honestly he was at that point as well. He knew that playtime was up. Grabbing your thighs again he pulled you down the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips. He watched you gasp at being manhandled but he knew you liked it, he could smell that you liked it.

"Now, are you gonna be my good girl again? Or do I have to punish you again?"

"I'll be good I promise" you panted, wanting that high again that only he could bring you to, he'd make sure you knew that, that only he could make you feel this way.

"Good girl" he growled, reaching down to drag himself through your wetness, watching as your hips lifted slightly, trying to coax him in.

"Such a greedy girl" he smirked, before slowly entering you, watching as you threw your head back at the feeling of finally having him inside you. It took him a bit with how tight you were, but once he was fully seated he had to take a moment. Because right then, for the first time he felt overwhelmed. Sure he had partners in the past, but nothing felt like this, as if he needed more proof that you were his mate. And he knew that you probably wanted him to be gentle, but he knew that wouldn't be something he could offer, not this night at least.

"I'm not gonna be gentle Sweetheart" he felt he should warn you, felt you deserved to know before he just took you.

"I didn't expect you to be" you smiled, and he knew you knew enough of what was going on with him to know he was losing the control he loved so much, so he never broke the gaze you two held as he gripped your hips and pulled back, only to slam forward, watching as you threw your head back. He listened to your cries for him, your heartbeat singing as it sped up again. He watched as your eyes rolled back, mouth opened as you didn't even try to hide the gasps, and moans. He found his own eyes closing as he sped up, thrusts now slamming into you as the bed shook, his grunts were drowned out by your cries and that was ok, he didn't need to be loud, it was your job to tell everyone who was making you feel this good. Sir had long been forgotten and he couldn't find it in himself to care, wanting you to cry out his name until your throat went raw.

"Fuck" he panted out through gritted teeth, the feeling was picking up, the knot tightening in his stomach as he felt you grow tighter around him. Shit you were gonna make it hard on him to even fuckin last, especially when you were begging for him, begging for him not to stop, begging for him to make you cum, even begging for him to make you his, as if you weren't already. Your orgasm hit you both by surprise, you suddenly became like a vice around him and he immediately stopped, watched as you shook, you entire body trembling as you flew over the edge, he slowed his thrusts, gently rocking you through it, and also keeping his own orgasm at bay

He watched you blink before your eyes met his, looking up to see if he would say something about you cumming without permission, which, any other time he may, but right now he just knew he needed you to cum again, because you were absolutely beautiful when lost in pleasure. You watched as he unhooked your legs from him, instead lifting them as he pulled out and crawled over you, pressing his forehead to yours as he wrapped your legs around him again, his one hand coming up to hold yours, while his other game up to hold your jaw.

"You got another one for me Sweetheart?" He asked, not breaking eye contact as the hand on your jaw left for only a moment as you felt him enter you again, making you gasp.

"Yes" you whimpered, already lifting your hips to meet his.

"My little mate, always so willing" he smiled, fangs grazing your lips before he captured them again, he soon started thrusting again, and you moaned in the kiss, allowing his tongue to enter and dominate before he pulled back, fangs lightly grazing your lip and drawing blood, to which he quickly licked it up. His hips thrusting forward harshly as he tasted it, the flavor exploding on his tongue and heightening his sense to focus on the precious liquid that flowed just below the skin. He knew it would be dangerous to feed on you while you two were in the middle of this, he could lose any control he had left if he did, and he wouldn't know what to do if he killed his mate. So instead he focused on the other liquid you were producing, the liquid that was currently coating his thighs as he thrusted into you. Your moans were echoing against the walls and in his brain as he allowed himself to slip away, focusing on the feeling of your body sucking him in, gripping him tight in your soaking heat, God you were so hot against him. He knew his temperature was running hotter than normal due to the rut but yours was like fire. He was also losing himself in your scent, not just the scent of your arousal, but the scent that was simply you, a scent that he would never admit, but one that he loved smelling around the cave or against his pillow when you would take a nap in his spare room. He lost himself in how soft your skin was under his hands, how you completely gave yourself to him, willingly submitted yourself to a beast like him even though you had been told it was dangerous. How you were crying out for him, begging him, praising him, God your praises.

"Yeah? Only I can make you feel this good?" He panted against your lips, eyes still closed as he continued to lose himself.

"Fuuuuck, only you David" you told him

"Only I know your body like this" he growled, picking up speed.

"Only you" you panted.

"You're mine" another growl

"Shit..Only yours"

"Completely mine" he grunted

"Fucking…Always"

"My mate" he groaned, and you allowed your eyes to open slightly, expecting to meet gold but instead noticed that his eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed as his mouth opened slightly, hot breaths fanning your face.

"Say it" he panted, eyes not opening as he picked up his speed again, angling himself until he was hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars

"Your mate" you moaned, eyes closing again as your head fell back as far as his hand would let it, his grip leaving your jaw to grab the back of your head, forehead never leaving yours.

"My mate" he panted, breaking off into a groan.

"Fuck" he moaned against your lips, his control a hair's breath away from being gone, the faster your heartbeat raced, the less he had.

"Cum for me" he groaned, knowing he wasn't going to last much longer. The hand that had been holding yours quickly found your clit, rubbing circles that had to shooting towards your peak.

"Fuck! David!"

"That's it baby, let go" he surged forward, panting against your mouth as moans began to leave him, the sign that he was about to finish as well you realized. Your hands shot into his hair, pulling the locks until his face left yours and buried into your neck. It was something you knew you both wanted, something you had fantasized about, and something you know the rut would most likely want him to do.

"Make me yours" you panted, officially snapping the thin string of self control he had. Instantly his fangs sunk into your skin, drawing a high pitched moan from you as your legs locked around him, your body squeezing him as your second orgasm washed over you, and he was right behind. As soon as your blood entered his mouth he was gone, he knew you smelled like heaven, but you tasted like it as well, and that paired with your even stronger orgasm had him slamming forward, hips stuttering before stilling as he filled you, a deep growl leaving him and vibrating your chest as he pour himself into you, claiming you, marking you, just like his fangs did. He gave a few slow thrusts before he stilled and pulled his mouth away, his fangs leaving your skin as he licked up the blood that trailed out and sealed the wound, the only evidence being two small marks. You both stayed like that for a moment, his face still buried in your neck while your hand was tangled in his hair, the other running along the scratch marks on his back that you didn't even know you had made, he knew though, he quite enjoyed the tiny bit of pain.

"That was really dangerous" he spoke after a moment, drawing your attention to his gaze, now far less orange and far more gold, the red hue having disappeared.

"I think the danger started when I invited you in" you laughed, watching as a smile graced his lips.

"You were told not to, and here I thought you knew how to follow orders" he tisked, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Kinda hard to know which rules to follow when my master says the opposite of others" you smirked, earning a growl that vibrated your chest.

"Always my orders"

"That's what I thought" you smiled, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss that he happily returned.

"You really like being called that" you joked, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Just means you know your role" he stated.

"Oh? So I'm nothing more than your pet?" You asked with a pout.

"You know you're not, you're my mate" he stated as if it were the simplest thing, which to him it may have been, but to you.

"What does that mean exactly?" You asked, watching as he just blinked at you.

"No like…is that what vampires call girlfriends or.." you trailed off when he started lightly running his finger over the bite marks he made.

"Why do you think I came here even though it was dangerous?" He asked.

"Honestly, I'm not actually sure" you told him truthfully.

"I actually figured you would just go pick up some random at the boardwalk" added while staring at the skin of his arm that you were currently drawing patterns on with your finger. You tried to hide the sad tone but you knew he could easily pick up on it, knew because he was soon turning your face towards him again.

"This doesn't work that way." He started, brushing your hair out of your face.

"None of us have ever been through this before, I'm the first. We just know about it from Max telling us" he explained.

"This rut, it's triggered by us finding our mate. In human terms I guess the closest thing would be a soulmate"

"So I'm…Your soulmate?" You asked, your smile growing.

"Far more than a pet now huh?" He smirked, leaning down to kiss you again. Chuckling when you pulled him closer to deepen the kiss.

"Would this be the right time to tell you that I've kinda had a crush on you for a while?" You laughed, watching as his smirk grew.

"Oh I already knew"

"Wait what?!"

"You think very loudly Sweetheart"

"Wait…How long have you been reading my thoughts?! I told you not to!"

"Long enough" he stated, while lowering his mouth to your ear.

"Now, let's see if you can last for longer than eight seconds Darlin'" he purred, a deep southern drawl ringing in your ears and you knew you were fucked…in more ways than one.

Of course I had to throw in some tidbits about my headcanon that David was originally a gunslinger from Texas lol.

Taglist

@its-monster-mash, @arenpath , @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx , @katpursley94-blog , @theamericanjewitch , @shewhomustnotbenamedsworld , @thelostone91 , @blazeflays , @ilikechocolatemilkh , @babyloutattoo89 , @bigcreatorwombatdreamer , @non-binary-disastrous-mess , @2525sc , @kitteebree , @besas-stuff , @justaspeachy , @faefairi3 , @its-freaking-bats, @santa-carla-boardwalk-1987, @urmothersmistress , @nickangel13 , @lostboysmate1987 , @simpin-for-slashers,

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x you #the lost boys x reader #the lost boy smut #the lost boys rut #tlb x you #tlb x reader #tlb smut #tlb rut #tlb david #david the lost boys #david x reader #david x you #tlb david x reader #the lost boys david x reader #tlb david smut #tlb david rut #the lost boys david smut #the lost boys david rut #david x reader smut #vampire rut #vampire smut #vampire x reader #kiefer sutherland

[theosphobia]

Hello rvbblr, rvb tumblr, the 3 people always liking my posts.

I bring my first ever fanfiction. and its rvb. idk how ao3 works so im just gonna drop it in here and hope thats accceptable.... erm... anyways

Everyone got seperated; the reds and blues were scattered in a pirate stronghold. Their long range comms were down and pirates lurked around every corner trying to hunt the sim troopers down.

Washington had just survived a scuffle, breaking into a run as he heard familiar shouting not too far off. Just around a couple shipping containers, Wash found Caboose standing over a pirate, Freckles' barrel smoking from fresh fire.

The blue caught the solider in the side of his vision and raised the ai-assisted rifle towards him, confetti dispersed from the gun.

"Friendly Signature Detected."

"Agent Washington! Uhm, he was like that when I got here."

Wash pushed the thought of Caboose firing at him away, he was just glad to see a friendly face.

"Caboose! Have you seen anyone else?" Wash asked, jogging up to the larger character.

Caboose looked back down at the pirate he was resting his foot on,

"On our team Caboose."

"Oh! No." Caboose shook his head and moved away from the body, sizing up to Wash.

"Are you doing okay? You hurt anywhere?" Wash started to walk and the other followed closely.

"I'm a little stressed out... and hungry.." he started. "We should find Griff next!"

Wash chuckled and patted Caboose on the back, "Hey Freckles?" The gun chimed in response, "can you find any other friendly contacts?"

"Nearest Friendly Tag is 356m away. Identification: Lavernius Tucker."

"Awesome, Can you guide us to him?" Wash asked. The custom laser sight on the rifle turned on and pointed forward. Caboose stared curiously, turning the gun from side to side, the line remained aimed toward its original path. Caboose gave a coo of amazement.

"Lets get going, the sooner we find the others the better."

--

Wash and Caboose followed Freckles' guide until they hit a large pond in the cave; they could see the remainder of the pirate stronghold on the otherside, but the water seemed to stretch to the walls, and they couldn't see the bottom. The laser ran true straight across the water.

Washington stopped for a moment to think while Caboose took a couple steps into the pond.

"I saw something over here! It might be those sim troopers!"

A voiced called from not too far away. Wash cursed to himself, a group of red dots were moving towards them on his motion tracker.

"Maybe they know how we can get across!" Caboose cheered, turning around towards the noise and started walking. Wash caught him by the arm,

"Caboose no they're trying to kill us remember?"

"Oh yeah.."

"There's no time, we're just gonna have to go through it." Wash sighed, leading the blue giant back towards the water and stepping in.

"Uhm I can't swim very well.." Caboose started, standing a bit back from Wash.

"We're not swimming, our suits will recycle air for a while, we should just be able to walk along the bottom." Washington informed him. The other man didn't argue, stashed Freckles, and followed along, both of the started to move as fast as they could in half-ton armour in water as the shouting grew louder.

They were fully submerged for a while before Wash started to notice something wrong, he was wet.

"Uh 'boose.... buddy, not to scare you or anything but I think my armour is filling up with water." Wash could feel a cut in his kevlar around his neck. He must have gotten it in that fight earlier.

"Wuh oh.." Caboose had stopped and turned to look at Wash, somehow he had managed to be moving faster than the freelancer. "Should we go back?" There was a tinge of panic in his voice.

"We can't... we just have to move faster, it can't be that much farther now" He tried holding his hand to seal the hole but water still managed to seep through his fingers, the water was hitting his waist now.

Caboose nodded and reached back, grabbing Wash's free hand, and started pulling him along so their treck sped up.

At some point, the weight behind him stalled.

"Agent Washington?"

"It's in my helmet."

Wash couldn't see, but Caboose's eyes widened. He moved closer to Washington,

"Freckles uhm.. how much further?" The blue asked as he began picking up Wash and slinging him over his shoulder without protest.

"Nearest Friendly Tag is 189m away"

Panic was rising in his voice, "okay thank you Freckles!" His speed was considerably lessened with the extra weight but that didn't stop Caboose from making his strides as quick as possible.

--

Wash had stopped responding about halfway from their predictament. Caboose didn't stop moving until they breached the shore on the other side.

Caboose laid Washington on the ground and unholstered Freckles, laying it behind them.

"Freckles you lookout for bad guys."

"Affirmative."

Oh crap oh crap oh crap... Caboose's hands shook as his fingers fumbled with the clasps on Wash's helmet and chestplate.

Water poured out as the seals broke, Wash's hair clung to his forehead. His chest laid still.

What do I do what do I do?? Think Michael think!! Caboose tried to remember what Doc had taught them ages ago. CPR CPR...

"First check to see if they're breathing! If they're not then you'll probably have to perform CPR. Since Grif already knows how to do it he'll be my demonstration."

Caboose glanced at the still freelancer, his chest was still, their chest moves when they breath right?

"Remember, you guys are wearing half-ton armour so you won't have to compress as hard as you would if you weren't. You should press down twice per second, there's songs that help but Beyoncé is timeless so we're gonna use Crazy In Love." Caboose positioned himself above Wash, tried to remember the correct hand shape, and hovered above the freelancer's chest. What if I mess up I don't want to kill Wash he's not special like Church is... he won't come back..

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. He started compressing, finding it easier to just count than remember Doc's silly song.

"Every 30 or so compressions try and give rescue breaths! Tilt their head back a little while pinching their nose to open their airway. Then you're gonna blow into their mouth a normal amount just enough so their chest rises; do that twice. If it doesn't rise make sure they don't have anything stuck in their throat. Grif is that gum I see in there?"

Caboose quickly brought his face to Wash's, blood splattered across his visor.

"Haha whoops sorry Washington!" He brought his hands back to unclasp his own helmet and set it to the side; turning back to brush away some of the bloody nose with his hand.

Caboose lingered slightly, he could feel the air around them now, he could also feel the lack of air coming from Wash's mouth. He cradled the back of Wash's neck in his hand, pinched his nose with the other and started his rescue breaths.

He fell into autopilot, repeating the steps in his mind over and over as he did them until a sharp breath came from Washington, as did a mouthful of cave pond water.

Caboose helped him sit up as Wash coughed up his missing breaths; his gaze fixated on the older man's movement.

"Caboose?" The blue's eyes bore into Wash, he seemed terrified. The feeling broke at the sound of his name however.

"Agent Washington you're okay! You should avoid drinking pond water, I don't think it's good for you." There was smeared blood on Caboose's face, Wash dipped his hand into the water and rubbed it against the stain.

"How'd you get blood on you 'Boose? Where's your helmet?" The other blue wore his helmet so often it was rare to see his face, his hair had gotten a bit longer and Wash could see wearing smile lines from his angle.

"Oh uhm! So when we got out of the water you weren't breathing so I tried to give you Cee Pee Arr but I forgot to take my helmet off! So now you have a bloody nose and you shared it with me when I gave you rescuing breaths!" He smiled, reaching beside him to grab his helm and snapped it back on, his second face returned.

Wash rubbed the back of his hand against his face, his helmet was off as well, and his own blood smeared against the glove.

"Holy shit you saved my life Caboose."

"I did?" His head tilted and he perked up again."I did! Oh my god does that mean my team kills go down? Because I saved you?"

Wash chuckled, clasping his breastplate back on and grabbing his helmet.

"Sure it does."

"Oh! You should probably cover that hole in case we have to go swimming again, Church always packed some for me..." Caboose dug around in his utility belt and procured a large patch used for underarmour sealing; he handed it to Wash and watched as the freelancer slapped it against his neck and rubbed it down.

"Geez thanks Caboose, you're really on it today." Wash said as brushed his hair back and locked his helm back in place.

Caboose wiggled from his seated position, paused, and grabbed Freckles before firing behind him.

Confetti dispersed from the rifle.

"Friendly Signature Detected."

"Caboose what the hell?! Did you really just try to shoot me?"

"Hi Tucker!"

#please be lenient im not good at writinf #im also horrible at character comprehension so if theyre ooc leave me alone sobs #“He would NOT fucking say that” moment #comments r appreciated.... #rvb #red vs blue #rooster teeth #michael j caboose #caboose rvb #agent washington #david washington #wash rvb #my writing #fanfiction #rvb fic

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

Harrowhark Nonagesimus

Characters

<< Previous: Cytherea | Masterpost

-

The legend herself. I still love her so much.

I also have some questions, and some answers. This is gonna be a long one.

How did she open the tomb?

I puzzled over this for most of the book. Always assumed that John was lying when he said it was impossible - but then again, Gideon was around, so did she get Gideon's blood somehow? Or was it something else?

The proof was right here - right after John was revealed to be Gideon's dad:

It was worse when I was a kid. I remember the time you caught me telling her, I love you, and I can’t even remember what you said, but I remember that I had you on your back—I put you straight on the fucking ground. I was always so much bigger and so much stronger. I got on top of you and choked you till your eyes bugged out. I told you that my mother had probably loved me a lot more than yours loved you. You clawed my face so bad that my blood ran down your hands; my face was under your fucking fingernails. When I let you go you couldn’t even stand, you just crawled away and threw up. Were you ten, Harrow? Was I eleven? Was that the day you decided you wanted to die?

Harrow was ten; she had Gideon's face under her fingernails. Harrow opened the blood ward when she tried to kill herself. This makes a lot of sense. Mystery solved.

Is Harrow actually insane? Is the Body more than a hallucination?

Simply put: No, and yes. The Body is the manifestation of Alecto herself. She hitched a ride with Harrow's body when Harrow opened the tomb. She's been "haunted" by Alecto, the same way she was haunted by Wake for most of HtN.

I realised that this must be the case when I read this, after Harrow tries to kiss Alecto's ghost on the mouth.

As though you had crossed no boundary, and above the soundless rough shouting in your ears, the Body said: “I have to go away for a while,” and you regretted everything. “I have done wrong,” you said. There was the tiniest suggestion of a furrow in that cool unbreathing brow, and she said, “How?”

Alecto isn't upset that Harrow kissed her. She simply has to go away for a while. I thought about this. I read it as upset in my first read, but now it doesn't feel that way at all. "As though you had crossed no boundary", questioning why Harrow would think she'd done wrong. Alecto isn't upset at the kiss. She just has to go do Important Alecto Business.

Harrow interacts with Alecto throughout HtN. The Body is always there, until it isn't. Picking up on what we learned about Revenants from Wake, Harrow is haunted by Alecto in the same way. Dulcie, in the bubble, confirmed that she could sense someone other than Wake. Alecto came forward to Gideon when Harrow's sternum was shattered, her tomb was empty in Harrow's final vision.

Alecto isn't a revenant. She may not even be a ghost. Some essence of her, however, managed to cling to Harrow and infiltrate her mind. Alecto's powers must be strong - did she have enough of a connection with Harrow to adhere to her body? Wake needed Harrow to die to come forward - Alecto may have no such limitations. She's there, in Harrow's peripheral vision, most of the time. I don't think she had the limitation of needing that connection. Anyone or anything would do, hence the locked in an ice cave behind a million wards. Not exactly a revenant, as Alecto's body is almost certainly still alive, but an ability to cast her spirit and let it cling on to something, anything that moved in there.

Is Harrow actually insane? Well, on one hand, yes. She's Harrow, after all. She's had to live with what she thought were hallucinations all her life. She's been hearing things like the Secundarius bell and doors closing/banging as well, which might also be Alecto's input - some sound comes in even through the ice?

Alternatively, well, Harrow has 200 souls inside her, from the kids that were killed. (How did the Ninth, a house of mostly decrepit elders, get 200 children anyway?) Those kids will have left some kind of mark on her soul, and they all would have heard the bell and doors during their short lives. Maybe it's just a reflection of this.

This means that the hallucinations we've seen Harrow have, are all likely caused by souls hitching a ride with Harrow. Wake, Alecto, the unnamed 200.

Doesn't mean Harrow hasn't been hearing things and seeing things that were ostensibly not there, though. All throughout her entire life! That kinda stuff would drive anyone a bit mad.

Mind you, Cytherea under her bed was absolutely real. Ianthe took advantage of Harrow's vulnerability in that moment.

I'm still convinced that Ianthe is with Eden in some way. Eden came to Canaan House first, retrieved Camilla, Coronabeth and Judith, along with part of Palamedes's skull. Cytherea somehow managed to call BoE to the scene before she died. Harrow wiped some memories - maybe she strategically also wiped this memory? I really wanna know what happened at this point in the story.

Okay well I think it's time to talk about what and who we know.

>> Next: Ianthe, Coronabeth and the Blood of Eden

#tlt theories #no nona the ninth spoilers please #tlt liveblog #the locked tomb liveblog #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #harrow nonagesimus

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Ghosts of Our Past: pt 11

DP x DC crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne sibling AU

Ao3

Masterpost Prev Next

It's Wednesday my dudes, here you go

---

Constantine: Ya better not be asking because the pajama party managed to both find one and piss it off.

Batman: That is not the situation.

Constantine: Can you leave it alone? If yes: do that!

Batman: I am simply asking for information.

---

"Coffee buddy!" Danny called as Tim (or did he prefer Drake? He'd heard him called both so maybe it was just whatever?) walked into the cave shortly after Alfred. Who was liminal but in a weird way... Danny was guessing he was just your standard immortal. Anyway! Tim looked like he hadn’t slept in the time between now and when Danny had last seen him.

"Coffee buddy!" Tim shouted, as dramatically as he did, then in more of a whisper, "You have to help me! Alfred has cut me off!"

Danny glanced at Alfred, who had definitely heard him. Nope! Not worth the risk! "I can guess why. I might be half dead, but at least I don't look it,"

Everyone tensed at the joke, the opposite of what Danny had been going for. Scratch that, everyone but Jason tensed. Jason let out a snort. "They don't think those jokes are funny,"

Danny pouted almost as much as Tim.

---

Jazz chose boots instead of heels. Armored HAZMAT instead of a blazer. Hair pulled tightly back instead of free and unthreatening. If her roommate was still awake, she'd probably mistake her for an intruder, but she was not, and Jazz was gone before that could change. Gotham was over a days drive away— but only if she insisted on obeying physics.

---

Danny had waited until later in the night to tell Damian "We should talk." And had Damian stiffened but agreed. Because of the lateness someone suggested that Damian guide his brother back to the hotel. While, again, Damian agreed, the tension did not lift. They moved silently until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry." Danny "I should've come back for you, I was a coward, probably still am, but—"

"No— you’re not— Stop apologizing! I should be apologizing!"

The air was a swirl of bitter flavors, Danny gave a nervous laugh before starting. "It's fine— I mean, it's really not, but we were little kids and like, super brainwashed. So it's not purely your fault... I mean I don't blame you for it... anymore..."

"Just like that?" Damian's voice was small. Doubt was sour like inedible berries, honey sweet hope did little to balance it.

Danny sighed, "Dami, I've spent the last seven years trying to sort this out in my head. It's not 'just' like anything."

He turned around, his back to Damian as he climbed. "Like this, it freaks me out, and at first I thought you'd been hunting me, but you weren't and intentions matter."

Like all the ghosts who'd been teaching him how to ghost by lightly punting him, or his parents before the ectouranium incident. Damian had waited a moment before following him, putting enough distance between them that Danny didn't feel like his heart was going to leave his chest. Even if Danny wasn't actually that worried about being stabbed, he would be fine, he wouldn't even bleed if he didn't want to. Trauma was dumb like that though, and he appreciated Damian's patience.

His younger brother pulled himself up after him. "But I did. I meant to."

Guilt was another flavor Danny couldn't describe with human terms, but this specific guilt satisfied something entirely in-human inside him, a part that still hadn't let this death go. "And you did. But would you do it again?"

"No!"

"Then we're cool about that."

"And about you remaining hidden." Damian adds. "I would not have responded the same if you had returned to Nanda Parbat..."

"But you got out," Danny marveled. "I hadn't let myself hope, Dami... I'm so proud of you,"

Damian sniffled, and Danny pulled the younger boy into his arms.

---

Back in the cave, Bruce moved to the comms control panel, and silently hit mute. They didn't need anyone else listening in on this.

The league communicator buzzed.

Constantine: And you're sure it's a Doorway Spirit, not just a Barrier Spirit?

Batman: He said Doorway.

Constantine: Who said it?! Bats if someone is fucking around with one, ya lead with that!

---

Cleaning tears out of domino masks wasn't hard, but it did make one feel foolish. Danny seemed way too amused but the fact.

"They're designed to keep outside contaminants out. The usual amount of tears is minimal." Damian pointed out.

"It still seems dumb." Danny finished wiping his on the hem of his shirt. At least they both had hoods, otherwise they'd have to find a more secure location with fuzzy lenses.

"It is certainly an oversight." Damian agreed.

"Makes sense tho?"

"What does?"

"If you're having a crisis in the mask you probably should go home. And if you can't see, then it's gonna be hard to keep working."

"Sometimes we are still needed. It is something to improve."

Danny paused, mask still in hand. He looked Damian in the eye. "Even with all of you? It gets that bad?"

"There are times, it's not— Danny..." Damian took a step back.

"Is everything... oh, it's my eyes again isn't it." Danny flushed, and his eyes returned to blue. "That's just something that happens with me, it's not a sign I'm about to go all murdery or something."

Damian nodded slowly, Danny certainly seemed in control of himself, and earlier with Todd he'd focused on defense. That did not seem like someone under the influence of pit rage.

"I've got it on the list of 'things I need to explain at some point,'"

"You have a list."

"Yeah, I have a list, my life is weird. You should probably have a list too."

"I do not."

"I'm sorry?! Do you think I missed the Bat cave dinosaur?!"

---

Batman: Constantine. What do you know?

Constantine: for certain? Almost nothing. These guys are rare, and powerful.

---

"Why is there a magazine butt plate catch?" Jason asked, completely serious. Tim was too sleep deprived to not giggle.

"Replacement." Jason chided, almost sounding fond... Tim must be getting slap happy. Jason held up the offending piece of metal. "Where did this come from?"

"Probably from when Danny took apart the gun,"

"What?"

Tim was already pulling up the mask footage. They watched the two minute explanation, then, gun bits on the pavement.

"He didn't even look at it..." Tim realized, considering that the part on the table wasn't that easy to remove. He was also 90% sure you needed tools to take a gun apart that completely.

"You know what, that tracks." Jacen said, like he was aware of something Tim was not.

---

Batman: Do you want to have this conversation in person?

Constantine: *Read 1:46 AM*

---

"So... Do you play Doomed?"

"Tt, Of course,"

"Oh, so you're good at it." Danny inferred, hopping down onto the fire escape.

Damian followed, noting how the metal had been silent for Danny, but made a soft clank when Damian stepped. The more Danny relaxed the more effort Damian had to put into tracking his movements. "Of course,"

Danny made a mock-offended gasp, "You're just saying of course to be annoying!"

Damian hadn't been, he had been distracted by the almost unnatural stealth. However he did not say this. He gave a sly smile. "Of course,"

"Well then, I don't suppose you'd want to come in and meet my friends?"

The game had been a trap. Damian was not going to admit defeat so easily... and well, he did want to meet the people his brother chose to occupy his time with. "Of course."

Danny beamed as he led Damian to the hallway window. He pulled it open in a too-smooth way and Damian knew that opening windows from the outside did not work like that. It did not, however, even surprise him at this point.

"They're going to love you," Danny said, right before pain exploded in the back of Damian's head. Then, the world went black.

-

-

-

I've made an executive decision that nights in Gotham are longer than nights in nearby locations. Most people won't notice or will think it's their imagination, Amity kids noticed immediately but shrugged and decided that technically meant they got to sleep in.

I don't think it's actually gonna come up in fic, but like nearly every plot point in Gotham happens at night, and I'm implementing a "magic" system, so Gotham gets quirks.

1. I was gonna have bats find out that Dami did the stab here, but then I realized how much potential there was in Danny just casually mentioning it.

2. Danny figures, he told them what he was, so he's done putting a ridiculous amount of effort into being human.

3. Cliffhanger

4. Why does Ao3 add in automatic spacing in the chapter text but not the notes section? It's weirding me out

Tag list:

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare

#dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #ghosts of our past #grey writes

[googleitlol]

I have no clue if I already posted this under a different name or something, but it's not in the masterlist so I'm posting it anyways

Dove Masterlist:

Reasoning

“If you needed a distraction, you could have communicated that instead of tossing me to those demons.” You grumble, looking up to the Monkey King a few paces above you. As to not alert the demon that the two of you were coming, Wukong decided against flying. It meant that both of you had to hike up most of the mountain to get to the cave. According to the sage, the home of the thief was about another half hour ahead, but you had to climb up a cliff to make the rest of the trek.

It wasn’t too high up, definitely not as tall as the cliff you had to jump when being chased before, but still enough to cause your wrist injury to hinder your speed. Wukong, as usual, doesn’t make anything better with his snide comments about your slow pace. “But seeing that look of shock on your face, it was so satisfying. You think I could muster the willpower to pass out on that?” 

His snickering makes you grumble as you continue to climb. He’s already at the top, crouching down to watch as you rise higher and higher. Every now and then, you grit your teeth, your wrist shrieking in protest each time to reach or pull yourself to another stone. A glance up shows the relaxed grin on Wukong’s face, his tail swaying slowly behind him while he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. Such a smug bastard. You would love to knock that stupid look off his face if it weren’t for his– what, five immortalities? 

Your thoughts come to an abrupt stop when your hand slips. Your heart leaps to your throat before you quickly readjust your grip on the steep cliff and give yourself a moment to breathe. At this point, the injury feels ablaze, screaming out in retaliation against its use. It didn’t matter, you’re nearly there–

A hand reaches down, and you look up in confusion to find Sun Wukong leaning over the edge. What, is this a joke? Does he plan to take your hand and toss you back down to the ground? It’s funny he thinks you might fall for the same trick twice.

You ignore his hand and continue to climb. “You’ll only make it worse.” He sighs, though you don’t acknowledge it. You’re nearly there, just a few more…

“Hey!” You shout as a tail wraps around your waist and hoists your flailing form into the air as you try to reorient yourself.

You quickly find yourself face to face with the Monkey King, the unimpressed expression on his face is only amplified by his crossed arms. “Stop ignoring me, you're hurt.”

“Okay, I’m up. Now put me down.” You grumble, only to find the infuriating sapien still as a statue. “We’re wasting time just standing around, now let me back down!”

“You want to keep moving? Then listen to what I’m saying.” His frown deepens and he turns with you– quite literally– in tail. A little further from the edge of the cliff, the monkey demon sets you down on the ground, against a tree and sits with you.

Plucking one of his hairs, it starts to warp. The thin hair turns white, lengthening until it resembles wrappings. Wukong pulls your hand closer, and you hiss slightly as he does. Surprisingly, you hear what you think might be a quiet, “Sorry,” as he softens his grip. Instead, he holds your wrist over his lap and begins to wrap it, strangely careful as he does. You only notice now how swollen the injury really is.

His eyes focus on your wrist as he speaks. “Sometimes I forget how fragile you humans are…” His chuckles are met with silence as you glare into the side of his head. You wouldn’t even have to take this moment to take care of your wrist if not for his stupid stunt.

The quiet laughter dies down when met with your cold stare. “Even if I tried sneaking past the three of them with you, they would’ve caught us.” He ties the wrappings together before grabbing two nearby twigs.

You scowl at his words. “Oh, really? Am I some bumbling idiot to you?”

“Whether you are or not, they would’ve known you were there.” He shrugs playfully before placing both sticks on either side of your wrist. “Any demon would know, you stick out the moment you get close enough.” His casual words make you frown. “What are you talking about?” How are you so apparently obvious?

“How do you think I recognised you the day Master freed me from the mountain?” Wukong laughs, using more wrapping to secure the twigs to the sides of your wrist. “Even without contact, that feeling of yours is quite palpable.” His words make you pause, taken aback by the statement. Is that really true? 

Monkey King continues. “That thief noticed it last night. He obviously recognized it, too. That’s what we will use to our advantage.” He grins, tightening the wrap just a bit too much, making you hiss under your breath again.

With your wrist now secured, you pull your hand back and cast him with a side glance. “You did it on purpose that time.”

“I won’t deny that I did.”

He ignores your growl and bounces back to his feet. “Now come on, let’s go.”

#when they're both stubborn <3 #i swear i posted this one but i can't find it on my page ;-; #journey to the west #jttw #jttw sun wukong #little dove #sun wukong x reader #jttw sun wukong x reader