#is his neck hurty here

[androideql]

can't a guy catch a fucking break??? just a little one? a week maybe??

#android talking #one of my cats' name is Yoyo #Yoyo came back with a gaping wound in his neck just now #he won't let me go near it (especially not with the hurty water) and he can't clean it himself #it's past midnight and emergency vets aren't a thing here #and live alone so i cant ask someone to hold his legs while I clean the gash #i managed to get a close look at it and it's not bad enough that it would need stitches #but it's deep enough that it could get badly infected very quickly #especially if mr idiot keeps scratching his fucking neck #i should have known this would happen #we have new neighbours they brought a new cat and Yoyo has been especially aggressive since then #i hope the other cat's ok #i'm gonna see if i can sleep #best i can do now is close all doors and windows despite this heat #this has been a vent post

[bonezone44]

Soooooo how’s Uncle Ezra doing? Good? Is he busy? You know what? I bet his lap is cold. I better go sit on it, warm his lap up for him. 👀

Lol he’s on my mind 😏

LOL omg i love you. 🙏

He's not busy right now. He's watching a Law & Order marathon. 😂

tags: fingering, staying distracted

word count: 686

+++++++

"You wanna come warm my lap up, baby?" Ezra asks with his arm out wide--his middle fingers flicking inward and calling for you to approach.

You step around the coffee table in your thick, fuzzy slippers and settle yourself between his spread thighs. His body is warm against your back and you rest your head on his shoulder.

His broad hands slide up and down your bare arms. "These wintry temperatures are too harsh for your exposed skin, angel," he says into your ear with his breath burning hot down your neck. He takes the blanket from his shoulders and wraps it around your body as well, protecting you both from the cold damp air of the basement. His hands find your waist and you can feel his hardness pressing into your lower back, almost against your ass.

You feel yourself immediately get wet.

"There," he says. "How's that?"

"That's good," you smile and nod.

He squeezes into your flesh, hands following along the shape of your figure through your pajamas. He nods toward the TV screen. "That Jerry Orbach is a masterful actor," he says as one hand slips beneath your waistband and underwear. He cups your sex. "Did you know he was the voice of the candelabra in 1991's Beauty and the Beast?"

"No," you sigh and grip his knees.

"Mhmm." Ezra continues. "And here he is performing a no-nonsense New York detective." He huffs. "They call that 'versatility,'" he says as he slips his fingers into your wet folds. He makes no comment about your gasp. Merely slides his fingers up and around your throbbing clit. "Now Benjamin Bratt's portfolio does not express the same range as Jerry Orbach's own, but that is possibly due to type-casting or perhaps lack of opportunities considering Hollywood's well-known prejudice against actors of color."

You're half-listening to Ezra, half-watching the Law & Order interrogation scene, and half-lost in Ezra's fingers smoothly working you over. Your fingers dig into his knees through the thin cotton of his sweatpants.

"Oh hey! Look at that!" he says as he strokes your clit faster. "That's that woman from Alias--what's her name?"

"J-Jennifer G-garner," you say through panting breaths.

"That's right!" Ezra's laughter shakes your whole body. "Jennifer Garner."

You whimper.

"Wasn't she just in a movie, too?" he asks, smiling against your cheek as he dips two fingers inside of you.

You moan and roll your hips against Ezra's clothed cock. "Y-yeah," you sigh.

"What was the name of it?" he asks. "Uncle Ezra might wanna take you to the show later." He begins to curl his fingers inside of you.

Your body twitches and your breaths stutter. "Umm... Uh...." You want to come but you also don't want him to stop. "It's... It's called..." You whimper.

"It's called what?" Ezra turns his head to get a better view of your terse expression. He's all grins. He grabs your breast over your t-shirt and squeezes it in his hand. His finger gropes for your protruding nipple--pinching it once found.

"Th-th-thirteen Going on Thu-hurty," you manage to say, eyes flicking between his and the TV screen. There's a Tide commercial on now. You remember the large laundry basket up in your bedroom. It's full of clean clothes. You need to fold them and put them away already. You want Ezra's cock in your mouth.

"Thirteen Going on Thirty, huh?" he says. He presses his palm against your clit as he fingers you. Your body is writhing and his fingers curl faster inside of you.

The orgasm hits as a surprise--going white behind your eyes and you moan so loud that Ezra's hand shoots up from under the blanket to cover your mouth.

He shushes you softly. "I've got you." His hand between your legs offers a few slow strokes to your overstimulated clit. "I've got you." Your body trembles in heated waves. He wraps both arms around you and his mouth finds yours for a rough kiss of his lips and tongue.

"My special baby," he says after pulling back. "Uncle Ezra's favorite little niece." He kisses you again with only his lips.

+++++++++++++++++++++

#my writing #ezra prospect x reader #uncle!ezra

[plushii-gutz]

Part 3 of Fallen Stars: Reality and Recovery. Keep in mind that this story can change based on the readers' interactions with Glaishur @frosty-glaishur. Also, I made a few references to another users OCs, specifically @bear-cubs-art-things I hope I wrote them accurately ^^"

ֶ֢︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

Lights buzzed quietly overhead as the shop worker stared tiredly at his tiny TV. It was a small convenience store, opened 24/7, and likely the only location open at this hour. They chewed lazily on a stick of licorice, a bit of lag between his eyes with every blink. It was far too late to still be awake. For the drumpler species, at least. He faded in and out of consciousness, dozing off for a second and jerking awake the next.

They woke up to the sound of their store opening. A small jingle played when a sensor is triggered by movement near the door, helping him be alert of when someone enters.

"Welcome to Leafy's Pick-up and parking," They yawned, " You can call me Junior. I'll be here if you need assistance."

The customers' steps grew distant, nearing the back of the store. The drumpler assumed they were either using the restrooms or looking in the freezer on the back wall. Either way, it gave them more time to wake up.

"Uh, Attmoz? Where are we supposed to get money from?"

Glaishur looked over the glass door, staring in at the many soda bottles and frozen goods. He had tied the blanket he carried around his neck in a cape-like fashion to make it easier to carry, as well as making him feel a tad bit cooler. It was like a cloak, worn by a mysterious monster. Was he a hero or a villain? The world may never know!

"I have three dollars in change that I found underneath the slide at that playground," Attmoz showed off the rusted coins, "and it's just one drink. Maybe a snack, too, if they're lucky. Go ahead and choose something, 'Vana."

Galvana stood on their toes, aiming for a drink a bit higher than they could reach. Attmoz moved it down, letting the little monster get a better grasp. It was admittedly adorable, the bottle almost being as big as the kid themself. They wrapped their arms around it, making it their final decision.

"Is that what you want?" The air monster made sure. Galvana nodded. The lid seemed a bit odd compared to the rest of the drinks, but it wasn't anything the two wouldn't be able to figure out.

"You mind if I look for somethin' ?" The cold monster asked. Obviously, the other two wouldn't mind, so he branched off to look up and down the many aisles.

Attmoz led Galvana to the front, putting the drink on the counter and the handful of change that rattled as it settled. Junior wiped his face, sitting up and processing the purchase with their eyes still stuck to their show.

"Is that all you'd li-.. like." He froze, now looking up.

"Yeah, unless you have an electrical outlet for this lil goober to play with," Attmoz joked. The drumpler stared between the two celestials. They then fell back, flat on the ground. They were out cold, terrified of the mighty gods before him. The two stood silent.

"Uh. You good?" Attmoz finally asked, looking down over the floor. With no response, he sat the coins down and handed Galvana their drink. Glaishur returned with a weird pink bottle, taking in the scene of the passed out drumpler and fallen chair.

"He's fine," the air elementalist stated. "Just a bit.. shocked. A little flabbergasted."

"Uh-huh.. Um. I got some Pepto Bismol."

"What is that? Paint?"

"Tummy hurty fixer."

After a bit more silence, Attmoz motioned for them to leave. Glaishur left a cool rock behind, hoping it'll cheer up the unconscious worker.

The streets were near empty of any monsters, allowing the three celestials to walk with no chance of causing another resident to freak out. The night was illuminated by the dull glow of streetlights and occasional shops. Surprisingly, even Glaishur seemed to be enjoying the time out. He still heard the faint voices in the back of his head telling him to leave Attmoz and Galvana to go home, but they were drowned by the thoughts of possibilities.

Sure, it'll take years to grow accustomed to the island, but there was so much he wanted to see and do. Though he'd have to keep a low profile, it would be worth it.

They stopped on the end of a sidewalk, sitting near the edges of an alleyway. Attmoz read over the instructions on the soda Galvana had chosen. It was a strawberry Ramune, requiring a small marble to be pushed down to carbonate the drink and open it. With a bit of help from Glaishur, it finally opens with a sweet scent. Galvana seems to enjoy it!

"Need help with your pink sauce?" The air monster teased. Glaishur did, in fact, need help. The label on the bottle made little sense, writing too small to read and words that neither understood. Attmoz used the small cup attached to the top in order to give what seemed like a good amount to his friend. One taste of the medicine and it was in the trash. At least the cold monster's reaction was funny. "It's like drinking chalk!" he said, tossing the bottle into the dumpster nearby. After a good laugh, they decided to make their way home. It was late, and Galvana seemed tired. It must have been a lot for the little one. Attmoz lifted them up and over his shoulder, starting the walk back.

"Hey, 'Vana?" He started. Galvana rolled their head a bit, watching Glaishur remove his blanket and make a kind donation to them. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I got a bit.. not cool. Not nice, either. I can't remember what happened exactly, but I did something real wrong, and I can't make it up to you either. Hell, it scared you into talkin'! How fucked is that? If you still choose to be mad, I get it. Maybe next time. I'm sorry, kid."

He wasn't met with a response, apart from his hair being tugged on a bit. He felt that Galvana would give him a chance, but it would require a lot of the trust that had been lost. He was willing to spend years redeeming himself. Galvana - and all of the kids - meant the world to him. He was willing to lose a bit of his childhood in order for them to have theirs, and this island had to be that gift.

Home wasn't far. Glaishurs eye was caught by the glimmering sky, stars that loomed over them for years all the same. But instead of calm, he felt sorrow. Those sparkling stars were nothing but blurred specks. Nowhere near the enchanting rays they once were. His sight had lowered drastically. Or perhaps his mindset of had. He didn't want to complain, but his return to life hadn't been as wonderful as he had wished. It has only been a few days, though. It was sure to change.

"Hey 'Moz?"

"Yeah?" Attmoz answered. Glaishur hesitated, quickly changing his words.

"Should we check on the guy who worked at that store?" He blurted. "Just make sure they're alright."

"Yeah, sure. Tiny here is sleepy, though, so you might have to make the trip alone. I'll wait outside for ya."

They made a quick turn back to the shop, looking in through the front windows. Junior was up and better, but not alone. With him stood a Bowgart, deep blue fur that stands out as much as Viola's, and a monster that Glaishur had never seen before. The Bowgart was visibly anxious, listening to the drumpler speak nonsensical gibberish. Something about seeing their life flash before their eyes, the fury of an angered God, and their soul leaving the mortal plain.

They bought a single soda and possibly stole some Pepto.

"... and all they left behind was this stone! I need to get this to a lab! It could be powerful - mythical, even!" Junior praised.

"It could also jus' be a rock," the plant monster shrugged. They got a few nudges from their friend.

"Twig, I think we should leave. We wanted to check on him, and he's fine. Mostly fine. Probably fine."

"Yeah. It's too late for this shit, Blue."

"Wait!" The drumpler yelled. "If you and your boyfriend stay, I'll give you half the profit! You saved me!"

"Profit?" Twig echoed.

"Boyfriend?" Blue grew tense.

"Yes, absolutely! We need to find the Ethereals and Mythicals! They should be able to track their creators with ease!"

The two monsters gave one another a look before backing out of the shop. Junior tried to convince them of the celestials returning to the monster world and failed.

Glaishur hopped back, running to the side of the shop and hiding. Attmoz stood up, confused as to what was happening. A quick gesture of the cold monsters hand sent him and Galvana into the shadows, hidden away from sight. Twig and Blue went to the right, directly towards them.

"Oh, thank the stars Galvanas asleep," Attmoz whispered to himself. Galvana rolled back, looking directly into his eye.

"Not."

It was all he could mutter out. Galvana seemed to debate this a bit before agreeing to keep quiet. They planned on getting back at him, though, just not tonight.

Blue and Twig walked past, leaving the two undetected. Once gone from sight, Glaishur ran over to join his fellow celestials. With a simple nod, they decided to take a shortcut. Through the alleyways and past an abandoned playground, they approached the hospital and soon the house.

ֶ֢︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

The door was still unlocked when they had gotten back. They were sure to lock it back, worrying that the worker would hunt them down. He had seemed to be crazy among the few that had come across, and his chances of being believed had to be minimal, right? Besides, they'd have to show themselves at some point. Maybe starting as just a rumor could ease the transition.

The three cleaned themselves of any evidence that they had been out, picking rocks from their pelts and throwing away the glass bottle that had been dragged along. Galvana snuck back into their room, as did Attmoz and Glaishur. Syncopite was still in a deep sleep, giving an easy entrance back into bed. Boo was still under the spare blanket, seemingly waiting for Glaishur's return. Now that he's back, perhaps he can finally show that spirit his plush. He wondered if they were one spirit or many. Too tired to think, the cold monster slipped into a dream.

Attmoz wasn't able to sleep. He only now remembered Furnoss's words, how they would be leaving this house soon. They hadn't chosen a spot to go yet, but he knew it would probably be best to avoid that area for a bit longer. Now, with everyone back, maybe the choice would be easier. In the nicest way possible, he'd rather have Glaishur give advice than Syncopite. It was clear the crystal monster was trying, but most contributions he gave fell flat. Still, whatever criticism they gave would be taken into consideration. It would be everyone's home, after all.

Attmoz assured himself that tomorrow would go by smoothly, that their actions would have minimal consequences, and their future awaiting would be good. He had Glaishur back - how couldn't it be?

#fallen stars msm #fallen stars au #fanfiction #this was kinda rushed ngl

[zoeykallus]

hi! love your stories:) i was wondering if you could write something touchy-feely with m or nb reader and rex?

Yet another first for me :) Let me give it a try!

Captain Rex x M!Reader - Fluffy One Shot - I'll Come Back To You

Warning: Fluffy / Hurty/ Slightly Suggestive

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

The past three days Rex has stayed with you, in your apartement, today leave ends and he has to go back in the fight. It's not easy for you to let him go.

___________

You feel him approaching you, just before his lips touch your neck and he puts his arms around you from behind while you are in the kitchen making some sandwiches. They're for him to take with him, you know how crappy those protein bars taste, you wish you could give him a month's supply of decent food.

You sigh softly and close your eyes for a moment, then hear his deep but soft voice close to your ear, " Are you making me food to take with me again?"

"Of course, you know me"

Rex laughs softly and kisses your earlobe, the touch sends a shiver through your body and you wish you could drag him back to bed with you, but you know there's no time for that, he has to leave soon. He stands a step away from you, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you.

As always, a knot sits in your stomach at the thought of Rex heading back into battle. Again, days, maybe even weeks of worrying about whether your beloved will return to you lay before you.

He knows you are worried and as you pack the sandwiches safely and neatly, he watches you, his gaze gentle and his mind searching for the right, comforting and loving words to say to you.

As you finish, another sigh escapes your lips, you look up from the travel bag you've put the sandwiches in and your eyes meet. Rex's amber eyes are so warm and loving, so full of strength and affection, always hypnotizing you with his gaze, including now.

"You know I'll come back to you, I always do," he says softly.

You nod, swallow and try not to be too sad for his sake.

"And why is that?" you ask with a smile.

Rex steps toward you, takes your hands in his, and smirks.

"Because you're the hottest guy this side of the Outer Rim," he teases followed by a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance and ask, "That's it?"

Rex laughs softly pulling you closer to him and wrapping his arms around you.

"Besides, you make the best sandwiches"

You couldn't help but laugh.

"You're a son of a bitch Rex" you say laughing.

He shakes his head "I'm the only son of a bitch who truly loves you".

Rex leans his forehead against yours, a tender, loving gesture. You didn't want him to leave, you wanted so much to beg him to stay, but you didn't, you knew Rex took his duties as a soldier exceedingly seriously, he would never stay even if you begged him, but that has nothing to do with you. Rex is a soldier through and through, dutiful, brave, upright even out of love he wouldn't change that.

He kisses you, his lips soft and warm, and you want to hold on to that feeling forever.

As your lips part, he smiles at you.

He looks at his watch and says, "I have to go".

With a sigh you say, "I know".

Rex grabs his bag and you walk him to the door. Your heart beats fast in your chest and you feel a deep longing for this special man even now, before he leaves your apartment.

He looks at you and you see in his eyes, he feels the same. You smile, Rex says so many things with his eyes without many words.

"I'll come back to you"

You nod.

"I know, I'll wait for you here".

One last fleeting but loving kiss, then he goes on his way.

It's hard for you to close the door behind him, you stand there for a long time before you finally close it and turn to your everyday life, the deep longing for your true love always omnipresent.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

#ct 7567 x reader #star wars #clonelove #captain rex #rex #captain rex x you #rex x reader #rex x you #the clone wars #star wars clone wars #clone wars #tcw #star wars the clone wars #clone troopers #rex x m!reader #romance #ct 7567 #rex one shot #asks

[randomwriteronline]

His wrist beeped. When he looked down, a few messages saluted him from the thin bright screen.

5:45. Bad news: caught the plague. quaranteening, wont come to work

5:45. Good news: no fever, just clogged nostril n throat kinda sore

5:46. Bad news: entire body fucken hurty

Ah. That's where she was.

5:47. agony?

5:47. Good news: dull ache

5:47. Bad news: annoying as hell

5:48. good. rest up.

5:49. Im gonna watch all of raikou man in one sitting

5:50. seems excessive.

5:50. I cantbpunch

5:51. Raikou man punch for me

5:51. Fucken grab those bastatds

5:51. Did yoy know theres a guy called mr no in raikou man

5:52. no.

5:53. DO NOT LOOK IT UP HES LOOKS LIKE A DIVK

5:53. Did you know. Its based. On a paldean gifaragaig

5:53. Giafarigarf

5:53. Falafal

5:54. girafarig?

5:54. No

5:54. Other bastard

5:55. Long ruckwn neck

5:55. tropius?

5:56. How tf dis you understand tropius from my attempts

5:57. long neck.

5:58. Whatever not important

5:59. After that. Lady oscar time baby

5:59. all of it?

6:00. Yeags

6:00. please sleep.

6:01. Oh im fucjeb gonna my head is heavy

6:02. Anyways. Is the ramen packets good for tonight bc i dont thonk i can do anything other tahn cjop veggies

6:03. you cant come.

6:03. ??? Yes???? I can??? You will eat bic

6:03. Bicth

6:03. Birg

6:03. Shat

6:04. take your time.

6:04. Im bitng your spleen

6:04. Oh wait no the goddamned. Plague. I agce it. Fuck

6:05. yup.

6:06. Eat

6:06. will do.

6:07. You better you fpeixe of fuck

6:08. My stomach is shifting to the side its veey annoying n uncormfortable

6:09. gross and concerning.

6:10. Yea

6:11. But anyways

6:11. Good day on the traisn

6:11. Kick ass

6:12. Ill ve here stretching my back and napoing probably

6:13. have a good nap!

6:13. Gnap

A couple hours later, his wrist buzzed again.

8:45. Mawile

8:46. B sent

8:47. Emolga with letter cover wnvelope envelope to your home

8:48. Falvour flavour packet inside

8:49. Flavour shrimp

8:50. When see envelope under door worry no

8:51. Remember eat when home

Emmet smiled a little.

8:52. thank you. is briosa asleep?

8:52. Yes

8:52. good.

8:53. Fememberd remember dinner

8:53. a bit early for that. but i will. thank you.

8:54. Remember!

8:54. will do! thank you mawile. take care of briosa.

After five minutes he got a thumbs up. Good to see they had found the tab with the emoticons.

At around midnight, while Emmet failed to force himself to wash the dishes, his Xtransceiver rang; he positioned it on the dinner table, at a good enough distance from himself so that his hands could come into view clearly.

“Hello,” Briosa croaked at the other end as he waved. “Did you get the flavor packet Guts sent you?”

Emmet nodded.

“Made yourself dinner with it?”

“Had a nice bowl of broth.”

At that she brought her own bowl into view as if it to toast with it: “That’s the life!” she laughed. “I had some... Fucking, spinach, in it, whatcha put in yours?”

“Cut some maccheroni and put them in.”

“Ourgh, fuck yes. Pastina. Did I ever bring you the turtlén?”

He shook his head.

“Gotta make ‘em. Gonna make some while I’m stuck here and bring ‘em over. You know, uh... Wanton soup? They’re kinda like that, but not fried. And it’s, I mean you’re not... Supposed, to add stuff. To, uh, when you make soup with... Turtlén - I mean you can also eat them dry with sauce, but broth is... So good.”

“So good.”

“So good.”

“Sooo good.”

“I’m gonna make stock broth and turtlén since I’ve got all this time. I’m gonna put that fucking delight in a bottle and drink it nice and lukewarm on shifts.”

“Not really hydrating, is it?”

“Yeah... Gonna put the broth in a bottle and boil the turtlén in it for you. When Mustrudi comes I’m gonna make you a lil’ bag of ‘em.”

“Why on Mustrudi?”

“Ah, tradition! You eat turtlén on Mustrudi eve. All the rest is usually stuff you can make cold, but not turtlén. Turtlén in broth on Mustrudi, with the snow out...” and she leaned her head back and gave a gurgle that sounded disgustingly funny: “Absolute delight. Peace and love on planet Earth.”

Behind her, Seismitoad made a long croak echoing the sentiment.

Emmet laughed softly.

“I’ll make ‘em,” Briosa promised, words slurring a bit. “Gonna steam clean ‘em and lock ‘em in the fridge for quaranteen and once I’m out it’s over for you.”

“Alright.”

“Over I say!”

“Go to sleep. How are you? Still hurts?”

“Nah, not much. Dull aches, but overall good. You?”

“Am alright.”

“Nice. Ok! Wash the dishes and get the hell to bed. You got work tomorrow. I’m gonna go sleep too. In solidarity. And also because I’m, kinda tired.”

“Good, good.”

They waved each other goodbye; Emmet finally managed to get himself to the sink, soap and sponge in hand, and slowly but surely cleaned his bowl and the little pot that had seemed like such a gargantuan task moments before.

#pokémon #submas emmet #briosa pokemon #random writing #im quaranteened rn and my back hurts and also i wanted emmet n briosa to be friendos and mention briosas vague love for 80s anime #its not that shes a super fan its just that i have a cd of all the italian openings and tigerman's is burned into my soul #lady oscar is the italian name for the rose of versailles which tbh. i like more than the original title #the rose of versailles = oh romance in france #lady oscar = intrigue of Gender #it also helps that lady oscar was a fucking BAMF despite her father being a dick and fersen friendzoning her in the cruelest way ever #also yall should listen to tigerman's italian opening (L'Uomo Tigre - sigla) its Great #finally! turtlén is just tortellini but with a milanese accent. my grandma makes em for christmas every year i help her close em #every time i introduce something abt briosa casually its like NEEDS MORE ITALIAN #so anyways yea thats why briosa is plagued #mawile doesnt have hands made for typing poor gal shes Doing Her Best

[winterdying]

ಠ-ಠ (〇o〇；) ಸヮಸ (-.-) (ó﹏ò｡)

physical detail ask meme

ಠ-ಠ: Do they like it when people touch their hair?

yes! he loves being stroked and pet, especially when he's relaxing. despite his- uh... mithraness, he's actually pretty cuddly. it's just like cuddling a bear: super cute, and just as dangerous!

(〇o〇；): What is their body language like when they are stressed? Do they try and hide the fact that they are stressed? How do they recover from said stress?

ooh, this is a good one! mithra's pretty honest with his emotions as anyone who has interacted with him can see; when stressed, he's the type to pace, pull at his stitches, rub at his neck/wrists... he doesn't even think of hiding this, because wizards are generally honest to a fault! recovering from stress can depend: back home, he would often seek out his sage to help him sleep, but here he can't really do that. maybe he just destroys things?~

ಸヮಸ: Do they lean back or forward when they laugh hard? Do they snort? Slap their knee? Do that seal-esque clap? Do they often laugh to the point that you can’t hear their laugh anymore?

the only time we see mithra laugh is:

when someone else gets hurt

when thinking of someone else getting hurt

in disbelief at human etiquette

suffice to say, he simply has a polite little "hahaha".

(-.-): How should one wake them up? Do they get out of bed easily?

as mentioned in my last answer of this meme, mithra sustained a serious injury to his very soul that basically makes him incapable of falling asleep without a single person's magic source- his sage. that being said, because sleeping is such a rarity for him, not only is it suicide to try and wake him up early (he will be extremely, extremely irate), he's also the type to lounge in bed as long as he possibly can.

(ó﹏ò｡): Are there any foods that make their stomach upset?

guys he eats rocks and shells and stuff nothing makes his tummy hurty

(that being said, he does have food he dislikes. according to the actual canon cooking minigame in the game, mithra dislikes: meunière fish, mimosa salad, sugary churros, cream stew, elder flower soda, tres leches cake, and sweet potato cupcakes. while it doesn't seem to upset his tummy, he certainly does not like very sugary/sweet things.)

#ooc #ask meme answers

[lovelyleons]

Studies of the sniper boy (part 1)

#piers nivans #resident evil #for future reference #re6 #aka everything leon loves about piers (and me tooooo) #his lips his eyes his cute NOSE #his lil adorable tuft of hair ; ; #his neck(also for fon) #HIS SCOWL #and blushy #XD #ok I’ll stop #some of the stuff I listed is in the other part sooo #it’s coming up here #and I stayed up too late drawing these #and now my head hurty #sniffle #my art

[poisonouswritings]

Smooches :(

I'm going to assume this is a request about the Last Legacy M4 since that's what I write the most of. Mayhaps this is your way of saying you want a smooch, in which case I say 'same'. But I'm not actually sure. So while I appreciate you thinking I'm smart enough to get this, I am actually Very Very Stupid and taking a swing in the dark here. Hope you enjoy!

GN!reader, fluffy fluff

Felix

I think Felix is a very big fan of casual smooches. He's been studying or working on experiments for nine hours straight and you just swoop in out of nowhere to kiss his cheek. Instant Dopamine Boost. Instant energy.

In as much as I like to joke about Felix being Easily Flustered, he's also the only Starswon (Rime notwithstanding) that's been in a canon long-term relationship. He's definitely get a lil embarrassed hehe blushy blushy man but he keeps his composure fairly well. Sometimes makes a little noise, sometimes shrinks up a little bit, the tips of his ears turn pink. But he'll look at you and pout and ask if That's All He's Getting™

If you sit with him while he's reading, I think he smooches you a lot. Doesn't even pull his eyes away from the page, just kinda leans over and kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck, whatever's close enough. He's Focused™ but he still wants to worship you a lil

When he's not distracted by studies, he's a bit more flustered but he still gives you a lot of little kisses and smooches and pecks

I think especially when something reminds him of Rime. I feel like we don't talk enough about Protective!Felix being afraid of losing MC. So anyways when something makes him think of Rime, it kinda automatically makes him think about how Rime died, and that stresses him. Even if it was Unavoidable, he still worries about that happening to you. So he'll randomly pepper your cheeks and lips with little kisses and hold your hand. Kisses the back of your hand too.

I feel like all of Felix is very soft,, includes his lips,,,, do with that info what you will,,,,,,

He do Big Spell. Head Hurty. When he tries to sleep, smooch his temple. Makes him feel better.

Anisa

Heheh...ehehehe.....cat wife kisses

Gods i miss her

I feel like she loves all types of smooches, but especially sneaky ones! She's spent such a long time following the rules and being The Model Citizen™ that she likes the thrill of it. She's also incredibly proud to be your Knight In Shining Armor!! And as long as you guys aren't doing anything too dirty she doesn't care who sees a bit of PDA.

I think she'd like being kissed on her hands/wrists, tip of her nose, and collarbone. If you wanna be cute and kiss her chest where your heart is, she'll be super flustered but like it (as long as you guys aren't in public at that point).

Her favorite places to smooch you would probably be,,, your forehead (she uses her hands to smoosh your cheeks a lil whenever she kisses your forehead) and the spot below your ear. Maybe nips at your earlobe a little bit when she's feeling flirty but probably not in public

I feel like she hugs you from behind a lot!! Possibly sneaks up on you to give you surprise kisses.

She comes home after a long day of work,, she's so tired,,, help her pull her armor off,,,, give her a lil kiss on the shoulder,,,,,, she melts,,,,,,,,, and when she has nights when the memories are too much for her to deal with and she can't sleep, cuddle her. In between stories and jokes and dreams you two shares, smooch her hand/wrist. Makes her very calm.

I think if you guys are laying around and just kinda relaxing and you suddenly start kissing her, she would purr a little. I don't even know if half-ilephtas can purr, but damnit, she does.

Sage

I was gonna say that I hc that the only source of wholesome smooches Sage ever had before you was probably like, when he and Tulsi were younger and say she was afraid of a thunder storm he would probably kiss the top of her head or whatever (which is something my older sister still does to me a lot when I'm upset) but after That Post from the Insta I feel like that'd be inappropriate,,, which is really shitty because siblings should be allowed to show affection for each other without people being freaks about it,,,,,

But anyways

I think Sage is used to making out and whatever, but soft lil smooches??? Foreign concept.

The first time you smooch his cheek out of nowhere he just bluescreens. He's dead. Gone. Vanished. Slain. He tries to be flirty to hide his embarrassment but you give him this wholesome little smile and he just puts his head down because he needs a second

He's a bit of an attention whore so once you start he doesn't want you to stop. If you're busy studying he 10,000% does the lil headbutt thing.

Definitely likes kissing your hands and nibbling on your fingers a lil but also your forehead, the top of your head, and the crook of your neck because he's trying to hide his face a lil cause he's blushing

Ooh big strong cat man blushing like a tomato because he's being sweet on his loving partner

I also think Biting Is A Love Language! You will get nibbled on often!! Obviously when he's flirty he's messing with you that way but even when he's just being a blushing dork, he gives you a lil love bite. Though I have a thing for marking so porhaps I'm projecting but I'm sure you don't mind

Loves it when you kiss his head/ears, his cheeks, probably his chest too. And if you kiss his scars? Especially while mumbling a bit of praise about how big and strong he is? He simply Ceases To Exist.

Purrs a lot. Is grumpy about it. If you tell him you like his purring then he isn't grumbly but he's still flustered. And going from intense making out to soft little smooches? He's putty in your hands.

Rime

The least visibly affected but probably the most internally screaming. During/after his redemption he feels a lot of guilt for the stuff he's done and, therefore, like he doesn't deserve anything so soft and sweet and loving. In fact the first time you lean in to smooch him he probably jumps a lil cause he wasn't expecting it.

But when you do manage to plant one on him? He does this slow blink and then smirks at you. Makes a catty comment about, gee MC, if you want him so bad you can just say so. But his ears give this little flick and he can't quite look you in the eye and You Know You Got Him

Did you guys knows that deers tails swish around when they're content? You nuzzle up against him and smooch the side of his neck and his tail does a little dance.

Yes I know that horns are keratin and therefore not really sensitive but I think if you kiss at the base of his horns he'll get flustered. Mostly because it's an intimate spot. You might have to gently hold him in place so he doesn't accidentally whack you with his horns or whatever. Otherwise he likes when you smooch his palms or nose.

For some reason I feel like he'd kiss your chest a lot, like where your heart is. Maybe as a lil apology for trying to kill you several times. Always very soft and delicate about it, like he's not entirely sure if he's allowed to do it. Encourage him and he'll calm down, but it takes time.

He has ice magic so I feel like his skin is always cold. Offer to heat him up and he rolls his eyes but his cheeks do get warm. So you've already kinda made progress. Yay you!

#fictif last legacy #last legacy #felix iskandar escellun #felix escellun #fictif felix #anisa anka #fictif anisa #sage lesath #fictif sage #rime solano varela #rime varela #fictif rime #felix x reader #anisa x reader #sage x reader #rime x reader #ozzy daydreams #anon asks #ozzy answers

[barbex]

13. Yours

For @18daysoffenders, another late entry. This is a continuation of the other prompt. (see @fustianriddles? only a little more hurty)

---

The lantern isn't lit and the door to the clinic is locked. Fenris knocks, once, twice, until he finally hears footsteps coming closer.

"Who is it? Do you have an emergency?"

"It's me, Fenris, and no."

The door opens for a small gap, Anders' face half hidden as he peers out. "It's really you." He stares for a moment, then opens the door wide to let Fenris step in.

Anders leads him into the small nook separated from the clinic with a curtain. It's surprisingly warm in here, a fireball smoldering in a bowl on the floor giving off heat. The warmth explains why Anders doesn't wear his feathery coat but just a linen shirt that barely covers his naked knees.

"Do you want tea?"

"Yes," Fenris says, lacking any other words he could say. He keeps staring at Anders' naked legs.

Anders follows his gaze and blushes. "Sorry, I didn't expect visitors."

Fenris internal catalogue of things one does as a guest is extremely limited. In Hawke's house, he'd have tea or wine in his hand and Hawke or Varric or Merrill would tell a tale or a story and maybe he'd even have something to add. But here? How can he tell Anders that the feather reminded him of his fragile strength, his stubborn kindness?

"So," Anders says, "I guess you want to talk. Just so you know, that doesn't make it easier. It's just drawing out the inevitable."

He doesn't want to talk at all. He doesn't know how. All he knows is that Anders smells of elfroot, that his lips are soft and the frown on his forehead too harsh. His eyes slide down and his hands find the sharp angles of Anders' hips. He grabs and pulls him closer.

Anders follows easily, his eyes half lidded as he lays his head to the side to let Fenris kiss his neck. The simple gesture emboldens Fenris, this he knows how to do. He shoves Anders against the desk, turns him around and slides his hands under his shirt, up his back, pressing his hips against his ass.

Fenris goes still. This is not what he envisioned. Anders' back is rigid, his fingers are clenching, his fingernails dig into the table. Fenris takes a step back.

Anders turns his head and looks over his shoulder at Fenris, a bitter fire in his eyes. "What? Keep going. You're not the first one who wants to take a mage like this."

"Like what?" Fenris presses out between clenched teeth.

"Like punishment." Anders still glares at him. "Not even the first one wearing armor while — "

A scream he has no voice for wants to break free from his chest but nothing comes. He stumbles backwards, the curtain ripping as he falls, the earthen floor hard under his back. Armor bites into his skin, armor he's still wearing, just like the men who abused Anders, why is he still wearing the armor? He pulls at buckles and straps, his fingers trembling and he has not breath, there is no air, no air...

"Fenris, breathe, it's alright, I'm here, I'm sorry, just breathe for me."

Amber eyes stare at him, wide and fearful. Fenris tries to stand up, but Anders pulls him back, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm sorry, so sorry, I'm such an ass sometimes. I shouldn't have said that, I know you're not like that, I'm sorry."

Anders holds him, back pressed to his chest. Air finally fills Fenris' lungs again, smelling of Darktown and elfroot. He breathes in deeply and tension seeps out of his bones. "Alright. I'm alright."

"Thank the fucking Maker," Anders says. "I'm so sorry, I... you make me so angry sometimes and then I'm lashing out like a stupid teenager. I keep forgetting..."

Anders' arms are warm around him and not even the coldness of the floor they're sitting on bothers him. "What do you forget?"

Anders sighs and presses his lips against Fenris' temple. "I keep forgetting that you're old and young at the same time. You have no reference. You don't know what it means to have a healthy relationship, to love. All you know is violence."

Fenris leans his head against Anders' shoulder. It's easier to speak like this, without looking at him. "He took and took and I had to be grateful for it."

"And that's not a real relationship, that's not love." Anders pulls him tighter. "It's supposed to be a balance, giving and taking. In pleasure as in suffering. It's when you're finding joy in the happiness of the other, when you want to be with the other because you both want to make each other better."

"It's not just sex."

"No." Anders kisses his temple again. "Remember how Hawke and Merrill sometimes look at each other? As if the rest of the world just disappeared? How they both blush when they hold hands under the table? Those little gestures, small moments. I think those are more important than sex. And I do think that sex is pretty great."

"But it isn't what makes a relationship." Something loosens in Fenris' chest as he breathes out.

Anders' breath brushes over Fenris' ear. "It's when you want to say 'I am yours' and you know you can because you're not giving yourself up, you're not signing yourself over to be owned. You say it because you feel safe."

Fenris breathes out, long and slow. He turns in Anders' arms so that he can look at him. "I can learn this."

"You'll feel it. One day you'll be sure." Anders wipes his eyes and looks away. "It will take time."

"Can you give me that time?"

A strange sound like a sob falls out of Anders' mouth. "Don't. I'm a mage, you don't want me."

"I can't help what I feel."

"No, no." Anders lets his arms drop and tries to scoot away from Fenris. "I'm not the one you want."

Fenris grabs Anders' shoulder, pulling him back. "I will decide that for myself."

#18daysoffenders #fenders #fenders fic #Fenris x Anders #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #my writing #slaps fenders ship #this ship can fit so much pain

[lifewouldbebetteronmars]

Castle Towers Fall

Chapter 14 *Angst Warning* *TW Blood*

Cordelia sat down in a chair with her baby brother and held him in her arms. He was sleeping now and she envies him.

She envies him for his world not being shaken up like hers just was. She envies him for being able to sleep as the drama started to unfold. He doesn’t understand what’s happening right now. That their older brother, isn’t really their older brother.

But that’s crazy because Alastair is her brother. He will always be her big brother who has protected her since the beginning. She can’t see him any other way, she wants to say it doesn’t matter that they have different fathers and that their mother lied to them for years. But she can’t.

Cordelia just wants to pretend that she didn’t hear her mother say they don’t have the same father, but how can she?

So she envies her baby brother for not understanding this, for not understanding that her world just came crashing down.

And Alastair’s did too.

Oh poor Alastair, oh her poor dâdâsh. He didn’t deserve this. Out of everyone, he didn’t deserve this to happen to him.

“Cordelia?” Cordelia turned toward the voice to see Thomas Lightwood.

“What are you doing here?” she asks quietly, trying not to wake the baby.

Thomas shrugged and sat down next to her. “I hope I’m not intruding, but I came to make sure every one was alright, Alastair didn’t look too good when you left earlier. Neither did you to be frank. Is everything alright?”

Cordelia didn’t particularly know how to answer that. It wouldn’t be fair to drag Thomas into her family’s drama. And she was sure Alastair wouldn’t want that.

“Yes. Alastair and our mother are just having a chat, which means I get to bond more with our baby brother. Alastair’s going to be so jealous.”

She tried to make her voice sound upbeat, but she knew she had failed by the look on Thomas’s face. But he didn’t mention it and just continued talking like normal.

“Does he have a name?” he said, looking down at the baby.

Cordelia shrugged. “Not yet. Mâmân hasn’t told us yet what she’s had in mind.”

“He’s kind of looks like Alastair.”

Thomas let out a small laugh when the baby smiled in his sleep.

“That he does. Luckily Alastair was adorable as a child. If he wasn’t, that would be an insult.”

“I don’t think I would believe you if you told me Alastair wasn’t cute as a child, he’s the kind of person who’s always looked cute, even-” he was blushing as he slapped a hand over his mouth. “I mean-”

Cordelia interrupted him. “It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone. And you do realize I saw you two in the library today, I’m not blind.” 

He blushed even redder at that, the red flush spreading from the tips of his ears and down his neck.

She continued on, in spite of his embarrassment. “And I think you’d be a good match for my brother. Providing that you don’t hurt him like his last lover did, Cortana and I would have a field day with you if you treat him badly. Not to mention Risa, she definitely wouldn’t like it either.”

Thomas gulped at her threat and nodded slowly.

“I promise that I have no intention of hurting Alastair. Not more than I already have, anyway.”

I would rather you hadn’t hurt him at all. She thought to herself. Cordelia didn’t know what exactly between Alastair and the Merry Thieves, but she knew that she didn’t like the way they had been treating her brother.

“Good because you’re one of James’s friends and I don’t fancy hurti-Alastair?!?”

She was cut off by her brother running from their mother’s room in near-tears. It seemed his fight-or-flight instinct had kicked in, this time in flight.

What happened in their mother’s room? Did he not like what he heard?

“Alastair! Dâdâsh, wait!” she said and almost ran out after him, nearly forgetting she had the baby until he squirmed at the sudden movement.

She turned to Thomas. “Do you mind holding the baby while I go find Alastair?”

“Of course not.” She was about to shift the baby into Thomas’s arms when the voice of her cousin Jem-Brother Zachariah-started to ring through her head.

Cordelia, your mother needs you. She wants you in her room, immediately. She was sure that if his face could show emotion, her cousin’s face would be twisted in concern.

Cordelia looked around, distraught and torn between the two problems at hand. Should she go to her mother? Or go and find her brother?

“Cordelia, go. Your mother needs you, it must be important. I’ll go find Alastair.” Thomas placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

She nodded at him and he turned in the direction Alastair had ran in, he couldn’t have gone far, she thought. He wouldn’t leave in a time like this.

But she pushed that thought out of her mind, as she started to follow her cousin back to her mother’s room. Cordelia walked in to see Risa trying to comfort her mother who was sobbing and breathing heavily, her skin noticeably paler.

“Risa? Mâmân? What’s going on?”

And that was when she saw the blood staining her mother’s sheets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dun…dun…dun!!!!

Seriously guys don’t kill me

Tagging

@youwerealwaysmysecret

@styxdrawings

@imchaotic-dontmindme

@devikaontheoffbeat

@banescrown

@kit-herondale-blackthorrn

@fantasy-rep

@king1pin

@the-come-n-stare-family

@lovelaces

@interestingdork

@doitforthecarstairs

@crispynun

@littlx-songbxrd

@regalremedy

@lightwoodmiau

@buttcrflys-rose

@alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1

@fatilightwood

@melanielocke

@writeordie-4

@thomas-thedavid-lightwood

Okay reminder, if you’re on the tag list and you change your URL, let me know

#castle towers fall #the last hours #alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #sona carstairs #baby carstairs #alastair verlac #ceo of the first alastair verlac fic #tw blood #thomas lightwood

[asknarashikari]

Part 2 of the Kento kun destruction: Touma, Rintaro, and Kento go back to the base with a bloody tied up Tsukasa and explain everything to Mei and the swordsmen, who proceeds to have no mercy on Tsukasa for making the baby cry. Also Ise joins them and shocks him holding his newly repaired Kento kun, but not before papa tells his son he’ll stop complaining about the plushie if he gets more cuddles from his baby (bonus points if Touma and Rintaro tease Kento about tolerating the plushie)

Maybe Tsukasa will finally learn... this time...

“Where did those three go off to...?” Mei wondered aloud as she paced the length of the main hall, worrying with her rings. “Running off without telling anyone what was going on... What got into Kento, anyway...”

“Ah, I’m sure they’re just fine, little lady,” Ryo reassured, as he watched over Ise who was peacefully napping. A patched-up Kento-kun was tightly clutched in the little dragon’s arms, the ripped seam stitched back together with a thread that didn’t quite match the rest of the plushie.

“It’s not normal for them to just run off like that though,” Tetsuo pointed out. “Not to mention, the last time Kento did something like this was the whole thing with Calibur, and we all know how that went.”

“Don’t remind me,” Mei muttered, her brows furrowing.

“Lighten up, Mei,” Yuri told her with a gentle smile. “Kento has Rintaro and Touma with him, right?” 

Mei nodded. “Yes, but-”

“So he’s definitely gonna be okay!” Ren stated certainly. “Besides, they’ll be back soon enough, so don’t worry about them!” 

Just as Ren finished speaking, the main door opened and in walked the three aforementioned swordsmen, carrying a familiar, bloody, beaten-up lump of magenta, bound by rope and gagged. They unceremoniously tossed him unto the floor, and everyone stared at the trio’s prisoner in shock.

Mei ignored the unconscious Kamen Rider on the floor in favor of fretting over her swordsmen. “Where have you guys been? I was so worried- Why do you have blood on your clothes?! You’re not hurt, are you?!”

“Sorry for worrying you Mei,” Touma apologized, not sounding very apologetic at all. “And no, we’re not hurt. None of this is ours.” He gestured at his senpai. “It’s all his.”

“What- Isn’t that Kadoya Tsukasa?!” asked Ryo. “What the heck happened to him?”

“We just had a little talk with him.” Kento said darkly, eyes stormy and fists still shaking with rage.

“Apparently... Pinky here was the one that destroyed Kento-kun and made Ise cry.” Rintaro explained, his expression more schooled, but still frosty cold.

Immediately, the mood in the room changed and everyone glared at Tsukasa in anger. “He did what?” Ryo asked dangerously, his grip tightening on Gekido. 

And, of course, this was when the magenta-loving Rider stirred, blinking back to consciousness. “What...?”

Not even a moment after he awoke, he found himself with a pair of blades at either side of his neck. “Do you have any last fucking words,” growled Ren, as Tetsuo joined him by pointing Suzune in gun mode at the back of his head. 

Tsukasa glared defiantly at the swordsmen. “You should ask... that hedgehog of yours why I did it to begin with...”

“We don’t care why you did it,” stated the eldest of the swordsmen, as he hefted his sword and pointed it at his neck, too. “You made our Ise cry.” 

“And we don’t take kindly to people who hurt one of our own,” stated Yuri coldly. 

Tsukasa audibly gulped as the swordsmen started closing in on him, but then there was a buzzing sound in the air, and they- and their swords- all reared back with alarmed faces. Before he could be relieved at their sudden distance from him, he shrieked as a bolt of lightning struck him, zapping him back into unconsciousness.

“What- Ise?!” Kento rushed to his son’s side, crouching down to his eye level. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Ise nodded at his father, and tilted his head innocently at him.“Did I do good, Papa? Is he hurty like Kento-kun is?”

Kento, and the rest of the dragon’s parents, blinked at the dragon in surprise. “Yes, I guess he is.” Kento replied. 

Ise nodded, apparently satisfied. “And Papa? Don’t hate Kento-kun anymore?” he asked sweetly, giving his Papa the puppy-dragon eyes.

Kento sighed, unable to say no to his baby. “Okay, Ise. I won’t hate Kento-kun anymore.” He playfully poked the plushie’s smiley face. “But Papa was only jealous because Ise cuddled Kento-kun more than Papa. If Ise promises to cuddle with Papa more, then Papa promises to not complain about Kento-kun anymore.”

Ise smiled toothily at his Papa. “Okay Papa, promise!” The father and son shook pinkies, before the little dragon jumped into his Papa’s arms, giving him the cuddles he was so apparently deprived of. The hedgehog plushie rolled about on the floor, momentarily forgotten by its owner.

“Wait, what? Seriously...?” Tetsuo said incredulously. “That’s why Kadoya went this far...?”

“Good fucking grief,” Mei groaned. “What are we going to do with you...”

“Oh, Kento...” Touma shook his head. “How many times do we have to go through this...”

“Well... at least he won’t hold a grudge against a plushie anymore?” Rintaro offered with a teasing smile.

“Shut up and lemme cuddle my baby in peace.”

#kamen rider saber #fukamiya kento #kamiyama touma #shindo rintaro #sudo mei #ise (oc) #akamichi ren #ogami ryo #daishinji tetsuo #yuri #kamen rider decade #kadoya tsukasa #ask #askrikkaiandhyotei

[laelior]

Echoes of Virmire

Mass Effect ~1600 words Originally posted in response to this post that posited what it would be like if the AI in the Catalyst took the form of the Virmire victim instead of the kid.

Lots of hurty feels

I’m not dead.

Everything hurt. Everything was cracked, burned, and bleeding. But somehow Shepard was still alive. Alive enough to feel cool metal against her skin and a blessedly fresh whiff of processed air across her face. Her pistol, the trusty Carnifex she never went anywhere without these days, pressed painfully against her hip.

Where is this place?

Last she knew, she’d been watching the Citadel arms open with Anderson, painfully aware that he was bleeding out and there was no amount of medi-gel that could save his life and that she wasn’t far behind, then everything went black. She felt like she was rising, leaving behind all the burdens and pain that racked her body. And then she was here, wherever here was.

She pulled herself up on all fours, feeling the shift and creak of her battered body in the process. Not even the finest cybernetics Cerberus could buy could withstand this much punishment. There, out a large panoramic window, there was Earth. She hadn’t gone far. Was this...was this inside the Catalyst?

In front of the window, she saw a tall, blue column of energy emanating from a strange-looking structure with a ramp leading up to it.

And maybe it was the pain, or the blood loss, or maybe she’d finally cracked under all the strain, but it looked like a shape was coming toward her out of it. A person shape.

As it drew closer, it coalesced into a human shape, tall, adult, but still formed out of the shifting blue light coming from the structure. It knelt before her, getting down to her level.

“Wake up,” it said in a spectral, reverberating voice, and there was something so familiar about it that she whipped her head up to look directly at it, and immediately wished she hadn’t when her neck and back screamed in protest. Her vision turned red, then black, then came back and the shape came into focus.

“No.” The word tore from her throat involuntarily. It couldn’t be. This was impossible. She forced herself to her feet, unable to believe what she was seeing. “I’m dead,” she babbled, sounding half-hysterical, even to her own ears. “I’m dead and this is Hell.”

“You’re in the Citadel. It’s my home,” the shape said. The shape that looked and sounded like it was the goddamn ghost of Ashley Williams.

“This isn’t…. You’re dead, Ash. You died three years ago. On Virmire.” Shepard half-sobbed. She still heard Ash’s voice in her dreams sometimes, reliving that decision over and over for years. Yet here she was, standing in front of her. This had to be some sort of trick. One last mindfuck, courtesy of the Reapers.

“I am the Catalyst,” the shape that looked like Ash said calmly.

“I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

“No,” Not-Ash stated. “The Citadel is part of me.”

“Ash...or whatever you are. We need to stop the Reapers. They invaded, they took Earth. They murdered Anderson. You need to help me,” Shepard begged. If this was some psychological warfare, it was working. Seeing her friend, her friend who died because of the her choice, she could feel something crumble inside of her, some invisible wall of resolve.

Is this was being indoctrinated feels like?

“I control the Reapers. They are my solution.”

“You what?”

“I control the Reapers,” Not-Ash repeated.

“Then why do you look like Ash?” Shepard held her side and fought the urge to cry. So much had already happened today, and now this.

“You know this form. She was important to you, in part because of the choices you made.” It turned and walked back toward the structure in front of the window. Shepard limped along behind it.

“What was that about a solution?” She asked, at a loss to ask anything else while her mind reeled.

She listened to Not-Ash explain the history of the Reapers and the circumstances of its own creation, asking a few questions along the way. Her mind wandered off pretty quickly, though, and all she could do was stare at the shape. It looked like Ash, it sounded like her. It had the same intonation, but there was something off, something hollow about it. This had to be just another trick, another way to fuck with her.

“How can you do this? We’re at war with the Reapers right now. They’re slaughtering us right now.” She demanded when Not-Ash explained the purpose of the Reapers. She flung her hand toward the window, where a battle raged between the allied forces of the galaxy and the Reapers in the skies above Earth, a battle for their very survival.

“When fire burns, is it at war? Is it in conflict? Or is it simply doing what it was created to do?” Not-Ash cocked its head at her, then added, “Some say the world will end in fire.”

Suddenly, Shepard couldn’t breathe.

“What did you say?” It was a quote. A poem. Like Ash used to do.

Whatever Not-Ash said next was lost in the rush of blood screaming in her ears. This was more than Ash’s shape and voice. Some part of it was more than that. Angry tears burned a trail down her cheek. How dare they do this to her, and to Ash, after all that had already happened. How fucking dare they?

“But you’re taking away our future, and without a future we have no hope. Without hope, we might as well be machines, programmed to do as we’re told.” Shepard demanded, hoping to get through to the part of the Catalyst that maybe or may not have been Ash.

As if to drive the knife deeper, Not-Ash quoted another line of poetry at her, “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers - that perches in the soul. You have more hope than you think.”

In the end, Not-Ash laid out her choices. She could destroy the Reapers, at the cost of all artificial life in the galaxy; she could control them but lose herself; or she could merge with them to create something new, something that bridged the gap between organic and synthetic, again at the cost of herself.

Shepard sat back down on the floor and cradled her head in her hands. Not-Ash had said that it took the form of her dead friend because she knew her. But it there was more to it than that. Ash was a reminder of the power of choice, a trophy to the harsh consequences that often followed.

And this Dickinson-quoting bitch was asking her to make another choice.

None of her choices were right. What right did she have to destroy EDI and the geth, or to take control of the Reapers and hope she didn’t end up just like them, or to remake the galaxy in her own image?

None. None at all.

A chunk of burning metal, detritus from the battle going on out outside, flew past the window. From an asari dreadnought, by the look of it. What were the crew compliments on those? She knew once, used it to show up that annoying reporter. Somewhere in the thousands. That many lives, snuffed out in an instant, all because some asshole eons ago thought they knew best.

“Well fuck that.” Shepard didn’t even realize she’d said it aloud until Not-Ash turned to look at her.

“Have you decided?”

She pulled herself to her feet again and unsnapped her pistol holster at her hip. The Carnifex was heavy in her hand, a reassuring weight. She tested her grip on it. Somehow, she was able to hold it more or less steady.

“I’ve decided I’m not going to play a game that uses the form of my dead friend to mess with me.” She held the pistol up. “Fuck the Reapers, and fuck you, too. You think you get to decide for all of us? What gave you the right?”

“It was neces—”

“No, it wasn’t. There were other options. There are always other options.” She could feel the fury rising in her.

“Your understanding it limited.” Not-Ash almost sounded annoyed, and Shepard found her mouth curling up at the corners in what must have been a ghastly impression of a smile.

“I understand enough. I’m not going to go along with the choices you’ve decided for me. I’m going to make my own.”

With that, she raised the pistol and fired off two rounds right at Not-Ash. The kickback reverberated through her whole body.

Not-Ash just looked. The silence that followed was as profound as it was deafening.

Then.

“Into the jaws of Death. So be it.”

Not-Ash turned away, and walked back toward the energy column. Shepard laid back down and looked out the window, watching as her allies lost the battle they’d all gathered to fight. If ever there was an appropriate time to quote Tennyson, she thought grimly to herself.

But as darkness began to close in around her, punctuated by brilliant orange explosions out in space, another poem came to mind. A beautiful one that Ash—the real Ash—liked to quote from time to time.

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.

She closed her eyes and let the currents of her pain and exhaustion carry her under. One day, someone would beat it. One day, they’d all be free of this damned cycle.

But now, it was her turn to get some rest.

And as she did, she thought that maybe real Ash was waiting out there to welcome her home.

#mass effect #fan fic #my writing #femshep #ashley williams #kind of #HEAVY on the angst #and gratuitous poetry quotes #canon divergence

[duskroine]

❰❰ SAVE ❱❱

comfy/hurty time! - accepting! 

small, very small tw - blood and violence

     She never expected for her legend to end this way.

     Crimson seeps through the fabric of her uniform top, soaking her fingers and the jacket in a color she hates seeing. A color she set upon her name. Crimson Ophelia; always to see a shade of red. That shade of red can’t be the blood spilling from her stomach, right? The wisps of anger pulling at her visions, alongside fleeting glimpses of black. Right?

               She wasn’t to die this way. Not here. Not now.

     Yet the blade that tilts her chin up has nothing but peril in its glint.

               “Finally,” the man hisses out, and Ophelia can only agree.

     She coughs, an incoherent splutter of words falling from her lips, too. “The... wh... child...” Her throat burns, as well the side of her neck where the sword still rests. The man grunts something out, maybe it was a scoff. Ophelia can’t hear him over the... the ringing in her head. Pounding like drums to a festival she’s only dreamed of going to. She wonders--he begins to speak--if this is how others feel when she speaks to them. Powerless. A victim to her endless torture.

     “Child?”

     “There... hah... the boy.” Ophelia coughs and yet again, does more blood spill. Only this time, it’s on the edge of the blade dangling her life from a golden strand. “I--”

     Her words break off into a choke, the man’s boot finding her wound quicker than she could have stopped it. Her fingers fall underneath his foot when it strikes her in the stomach. The blade has been moved back--enough space for the heroine to kneel over the ground she’s bled on. For how long? She can only... wonder...?

     “The runt ran,” he laughs, “but what does that have to do with you?”

     The drumming in her head beats faster, pushing her closer toward the cold, cold embrace she refuses to settle in. Another kick is aimed at her side and her opposite falls against the alley’s stoned ground. The pounding moves from between her eyes and sets in her ears. They’re louder... unfamiliar... she coughs again.

     “If... If he has r-ran then...” she smiles a bloody but bright one, “I can fall now.”

     Except when the sword is raised and she lowers her head, it’s not the heroine that hits the ground. Iron slices through air and strikes iron. Crimson shields over her right eye but her left is all she needs to see a different pair of boots shuffle in front of her. Ophelia’s hand grows feather light against the wound. It doesn’t fall though. Fingers--longer than hers, hard, gauntlets--press over her hand.

     “...ia?” She blinks. “Ophelia? Shit, it’s okay. I got you.”

     The voice pushes past the ringing--no longer a mind accustomed to the sound of beating and drumming. Footsteps, they were. “S...vain?” She can barely speak through the blood swirling on her tongue--the disgusting taste of iron so familiar yet disgraced.

     Ophelia only needs one eye to see that the clock has struck midnight. Prince Charming is here.

     “Yeah, it’s me.” Sylvain’s tone is darker, and whether or not it’s normally that way has disappeared from her memories. “Come on, Ophelia. Stay focused on me. We’ll get you help, I promise.”

     There was a time, she remembers, when she heard those exact words fall from his lips. Except there hadn’t been a sword ripping through her body. There hadn’t been a child to pull away and push deeper into the alley. There hadn’t been anyone but them two... and the orb descending from above. When Sylvain turns her over, the heroine can feel herself descending, too. As if she weighed everything when the blade pierced her skin and weighed nothing when it was yanked out.

     Sylvain doesn’t let her close her eyes for too long. She understands why--she doesn’t want to, though.

     “I’m...” Sorry? Hurt? Dying? “There was--”

               “--a child. Yeah. He’s with the other knights. Deep breaths, Ophelia.”

     And she does. Ophelia forces herself to inhale and... oh, why is everything black now?

#crestbound #ᴀ ɢɪꜰᴛ? ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʀᴏɪɴᴇ?! ᴏʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴜʀᴇ ɢᴏʟᴅ ɪ ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀ! ( inbox ) #ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʟʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ. ( prompts ) #{ imagine a sylvain support tag :sparkles: } #{ I HAD AN IDEA AND RAN A FREAKING MARATHON WITH IT } #{ still running as we speak... } #{ anyway. this is long and late and hi } #{ i grab ayer and shake her by the shoulders } #{ anyway x2. draft run between homework }

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch 97

We are inching closer and closer to the moment we’ve been waiting for in this story arc!  As a result, you may notice the chapters getting longer.

No worries, though. We will return to your regularly schedule fluff and nonsense soon enough ;)

Thanks go out to @baelpenrose, @zommbiebro, and @creakingcryptid for giving me such amazing ideas and characters to play with in this chapter, and extra thanks to Bael for beta reading and helping with this chapter and a few more to come.

The next gathering of Jokul’s ‘followers’ was roughly a week away.  I tried my hardest to focus on work, and if Tyche noticed that I was asking to spar much more than usual, she didn’t say anything about it. Maverick and Conor avoided asking about what happened at my meeting with Antoine, instead putting their energy into making sure I remembered to eat in the midst of everything.  I was more than halfway convinced that they were conspiring with Charly and Alistair, as well, due to the sheer volume of attempts made to offer me food while I was at work.

Further worsening my anxiety was the fact that I had no clue how much of it Xiomara knew.  She had been adamant that I keep my nose out of things, but here I was, neck deep in intrigue.  There was no way of telling in our day to day interactions, since she was as inscrutable as ever - businesslike and brisk in Council meetings, relaxed and friendly outside of work.  Even as I reminded myself that speaking about things openly would endanger me again, along with Antoine this time, I still found myself frustrated beyond belief. At no point in my life had I so much as fleetingly wanted to be, much less imagined being, a spy and yet here I was.

Halfway through my shift the day of the gathering, I sent a grateful Alistair home.  I wasn’t at all fooled by his forced patience: he had been one breath away from throwing a cup at me all morning.  Once he left, I signalled Simon, Arthur, and Parvati to my office. Ostensibly, this was a discussion of the potential for new Galactic courses being added to the curriculum.

In reality, we were planning a war of sorts.

Once everyone was seated, I nervously cleared my throat. “So, I know I invited you all here to discuss possibly adding Galactic Art History electives.  And I swear, that is actually on the books to discuss.” Carefully, I pulled out a device identical to the one I had seen Xiomara use, and switched it on. Simon’s eyes widened, while Parvati’s rolled freely. Arthur didn’t so much as blink. “Everything we are about to discuss stays in this room, no exceptions. I am not sure how much of this Xiomara knows, and nobody but us will know the entire plan. Is that understood?” I waited for confirmation before I continued. Once I had it, I took a deep breath and soldiered on. “Tonight, the four of us will be attending a gathering of Jokul Bjornson and his followers. I am doing this at the request of a member of that organization, whom I trust with not only my life but those of this entire ship.  However, contrary to past actions, I’m not an idiot. I negotiated to have someone there as backup, someone unknown to the member of that organization and unknown to be aligned with me.”

“We’re all three associated with you,” Simon ventured slowly. “Openly, even.”

I nodded. “Arthur will be in disguise. I’ve seen it, it’s good. I didn’t even recognize him.”

“But you need all three,” Parvati eyed me carefully.

“Simon is a decoy: someone known to be associated with me, very recognizable,” I gestured to him. “However, Simon, I just need you to be yourself, ask questions, look interested. If you see me, ignore me openly. Worst case scenario they will either ask you to leave or be forced to let you stay as my ‘backup’, okay?”

He nodded firmly with a determined look on his face. “I can do that.”

“Awesome,” I smiled before turning to Parvati. “Parvati, you’ll be the wild card. Yes, you are dating my fellow Councilor. However, you are also well known for speaking against the status quo, and that’s what this bunch thinks they are doing. Dazzle, keep your ears open, and keep them confused if you are there as my backup or not. Got it?”

She nodded solemnly before flashing a grin. “Performance art. I like it.”

I winked at her. “Got it in one. Arthur will be my actual back up, in disguise, being disgustingly friendly and agreeable with Jokul’s followers to the extent he can keep from vomiting. Something isn’t right in this so-called organization, so the goal behind this meeting is that my contact thinks that they and myself can talk some sense into Jokul.”

“Good luck on that,” Arthur muttered.

 That evening, Antoine and I approached the location where Jokul’s ‘followers’ were gathering.  Despite myself, I expected it to be some secret, dimly lit and clandestine location in the lower levels of the ship, near the Archives.  My mind even supplied it with a dirt floor and flickering torches, cult members gathered in robes, muttering chants or prayers.  Exactly one of those things was accurate, and I was surprised even that much was.  We arrived on one of the lower levels, at least. But we arrived at a rarely-used general mess.

Jokul’s group was gathering in a public cafeteria. It didn’t even have doors.

I bit back a groan and made a mental note to let Xiomara know her intelligence agents sucked.  Anyone could have just wandered past here, found them, and been done with this entire situation.  I scolded myself and focused on the fact that anti-climactic was good.  Less hurty, less dying involved.

Casually, I glanced around the room, making sure to take everything in and not let my gaze stop on any one person.  I had to trust that the others either had already arrived or would soon enough. “This isn’t quite what I expected,” I told Antoine quietly.

He smiled. “You have a very active imagination, so I am sure the reality did not measure up.”

“I’m going to remember that comment. My ‘active imagination’ is where some of your favorite meals come from.”

“So long as I am invited to family dinners again, I will eat whatever you put in front of me,” he sighed before glancing over his shoulder when a peal of laughter rang through the air.

Following his line of sight, I saw exactly what I expected: Parvati, this time in white slacks and a sweeping purple vest with gold details, holding court and charming suspicious cult members with what I presumed were tales of her days abolishing institutions. “Somehow I am not surprised she is here,” I muttered.

“She is dating Xiomara, is she not?”

“I think so? They don’t talk about it much,” I shrugged before reminding him. “However, she also was a guerilla protest artist and very vocal opponent of both the Baconists and the plutocracy.”

He arched a brow at me. “Is she the person you insisted on bringing?”

“I’m not even sure she can fight,” I evaded carefully. “And I would hardly invite someone so high-profile to be my super-secret back up.”

“Hmm,” he mused before just a bare hint of a smile. “No, but she is a wonderful distraction.”

He’s on your side, I reminded myself as an icy trickle of fear shot between my shoulderblades. “She’s not my back up plan, Antoine.”

That annoying half-smile stuck around, unfortunately. However, before he could say anything, a booming voice rang out. “Sophia Reid!  How daring that you walk directly in here, like a rabbit wandering into a wolf’s den!” I cringed at the awkward simile. He was trying so hard to be impressive. “Have you finally swallowed your cowardice and come to confront me without your human shields to save you?”

As Jokul approached, I glanced at Antoine.  Before I could say anything, I was cut off. “Oh no, Sophia, Antoine Costa is mine now. I have prized him away from your side, showing him the truth of what you are doing to him and everyone on this ship.”

“Feeding them?” I asked in confusion, leading to a scowl from Antoine. “What!?”

“Jokul, I brought Sophia here so the two of you could speak, face to face. My hope is, if the two of you understand each other better, this conflict can be resolved,” Antoine explained in his most calming, matter of fact tone.

Jokul spoke again, but I barely paid attention. I was distracted by a rolling gait rapidly approaching, paired with an ominous and excited - gods I hope that’s just excitement - chuckle. If “Solozo” wasn’t rubbing his hands together in pure glee, I knew he at least wanted to. “ - cannot even deign to pay attention to her betters!”

I snapped my gaze up to his face, which had nearly purpled in rage. “I sincerely apologize,” I ground out. “I have hearing problems, actually, so I was trying to figure out what you were saying without asking you to repeat yourself. It’s embarrassing when I have to do that, honestly.” I frowned and tilted my head to emphasize my point. “It helps if you speak slower and don’t raise your voice, unfortunately.”

Jokul startled, though whether it was at my admission of a potential weakness or the fact that I had pretty much asked him to talk to me like I was an idiot, I wasn’t sure. Gathering himself and resetting the sneer on his face, he carefully enunciated. “There is no conflict to resolve.  You want to be a tyrant, and this harmless mask you wear will not fool anyone for much longer.”

He really did think he was the hero, and my heart actually broke a little bit. “All I want to do is meet with you, in relative privacy. You and me, obviously, and two witnesses each to prevent any accusations of undue influence. You pick yours, I pick mine. And we talk.  Just that.” I tried. I really did.

“Pah!” he spat. “So you can try to poison me with your words like you have so many?” The irony of that statement actually caused me physical pain when I restrained my laughter. “If you want to negotiate with me, you may either surrender and step down from Council and any other positions of leadership, or you can fight me as equals.”

Before I could respond, laughter erupted to my left. When I turned toward the sound in time to see Solozo bracing himself on my shoulder with one hand, the other clenching his chest. “I can’t, I just can’t… Stop, please.  This is… Fuck. Just stop. Oh gods,” he gasped for a couple breaths before standing straighter. “I just can’t keep watching this. For starters, ‘equals’ is not the same thing as ‘intelligent woman who got elected without her knowledge and the moron who saw Vikings and based his whole life and personality around it. Number one. Number two, she came in here offering an olive branch, and you are reacting with fucking claymores. Very tacky. I’ll offer you one better, though: I heard from your followers here - they are chatty, by the way, wow - that you want to fight Sophia Reid’s pet warlord.”  He stood back and spread his arms. “I’m right here.”

Jokul looked confused, and I admit it was a fair reaction. Arthur still had his prosthetic stomach on, along with his makeup. To add to the air of ‘slob’, his button-down shirt was now untucked and hanging up to show an undershirt. “This? This is your champion, Sophia?”

Arthur glared before glancing down. “Right, you still think I’m overweight.” He reached behind his back and under his shirt slightly before the stomach deflated.  After tugging it loose and dropping it, he tried again. “I am Arthur Farro, Warlord of the Pacific Northwest. ‘Solozo’ is just a pseudonym I took from a character in The Godfather, and the fact that literally no one caught me on that says all of you have shit taste in movies.”

“Warlord of the Pacific Northwest?” I hissed. “Really!?”

He shrugged. “Guy’s file says he was a warlord, so it’s worth a shot. Maybe he’s heard of me. Or we had a skirmish.”

Jokul sneered some more, although I was starting to think that was just what his face looked like. “I will fight you, Arthur Farro, if only to show Sophia that she can hide all she wants and it will still never be enough.”

Even Antoine looked pained at the over-the-top antics.  I managed not to roll my eyes. Arthur didn’t even try.  “There is one catch,” he pointed out, holding one hand up to stop Jokul from speaking. “I win, you agree to have that chat Sophia specifically came here for.  If you win, she agrees to step down from the Council.”

I turned, eyes wide in alarm. “I can’t - “

Arthur just grabbed my wrist gently and shook his head. “She’ll step down from the Council if you beat me.”

Jokul considered this before adding, “And all positions of leadership. She can never hold one again.”

“Agreed,” Arthur nodded, sticking his hand out to shake on it.  As soon as that was done, he started to usher me toward the door. “Five days, Joke-kill?”

“It’s Jokul,” he growled. “And five days is suitable.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed as we made it through the door.

“Five days is traditional, Sophia. Travel time, rest, all that.”

“You are being - “

“Deliberately obtuse, yes. You’ve told me several times on various occasions. That idiot,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Doesn’t know you aren’t allowed to just resign from the Council without an elected replacement.  You’ve certainly tried enough times. Second, come ON! You can’t honestly tell me you don’t want to watch me humiliate him in full view of the ship.”

“Oh, this is not going to be public,” I shook my head hard enough to make myself dizzy. “We are keeping this quiet.”

“Which is exactly why everyone will know and want to see it.” When I groaned, he scolded me. “You can’t honestly believe that a challenge that was issued in front of at least a hundred people is actually going to be a secret.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” I groaned loudly.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #apocalypse #original scifi #original writing #my writing #hfy #humans are space fey #aliens #intrigue

[merakilyy]

Ricochet

1. Small kisses littered across the other’s face. 39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Hi Anon! I hope you don’t mind that this is a little bit hurty, but I did try to make up for it by inserting both prompts ^^;;

Summary: Lan Wangji comforts his husband after a bad nightmare. (970 words)

Send me a kiss prompt~~

~~~

“No! Stop!” Wei Wuxian screams incomprehensibly as he shoots up in bed. Tears stream down his face, blurring his vision. There is some light streaming into the Jingshi but it is soft and muted. It is still the early dawn, still several hours before Wei Wuxian’s usual waking time.

The bed shifts as a familiar weight moves beside Wei Wuxian. A hand comes to rest on his back, rubbing soothing circles all over his muscles -- sore from both fulfilling his marital duties with Lan Zhan, and from his violent thrashing in his sleep.

Breathing heavily, Wei Wuxian’s limbs feel as though they have turned to stone. His entire body just feels so heavy and Wei Wuxian wants nothing more than to just melt into the earth. His body is wracked with shivers as he shakes violently, still recovering from his nightmare.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji tries to say placatingly, even though Wei Wuxian can clearly hear the strain in his voice. This is not a regular occurrence, and Lan Wangji certainly has his own share of bone-chilling nightmares, but Wei Wuxian’s nightmares still happen often enough that Wangji knows better than to pull Wei Ying into his lap and hold him safely within his arms. It will only make matters worse if Wei Ying feels trapped, as if the very air he breathes is closing in on him.

There is nothing Wangji wants to do more than to shield Wei Wuxian from worldly perils, to place himself firmly between his husband and that which dares to threaten him, but it is difficult to do that when what troubles Wei Wuxian is not something that is easily seen.

So as Wei Wuxian’s breaths slowly catch back up to him, Lan Wangji is careful to keep his touches scarce. He perches on the edge of their bed, close enough that Wei Ying will sense his presence but far enough that Wei Ying will not feel trapped. 

As he waits for Wei Wuxian to slowly crawl out of the last remnants of his nightmare, Wangji patiently wipes the tears from Wei Wuxian’s face with his silk sleeves. 

The silencing talismans placed all over the Jingshi are for their everyday activities, but serve the secondary function of keeping their respective nightmares private. 

Finally, an indeterminate amount of time later, Wei Wuxian begins blinking the fogginess in his eyes away. 

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks softly, voice strained.

“I am here.” Moving closer to Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan leans in to kiss away the slowing trickle of tears on Wei Ying’s face. He does not touch Wei Wuxian any more than necessary, keeping their touch limited to one point of contact at a time, knowing that Wei Ying will insert himself into Wangji’s embrace when he is ready.

For now, Wangji is content to kiss away each tear that escapes.

“What time is it?” Wei Wuxian eventually asks, allowing Lan Wangji to kiss away the last of his tears. Blinking slowly, Lan Wangji watches the awareness trickle back into Wei Wuxian’s eyes. 

“Still early,” Wangji says vaguely, because he does not know the time either. “Do you wish to talk about it?” He asks as he always does. Even knowing Wei Wuxian will always shake his head, it is important to give Wei Wuxian this choice. 

And Wei Wuxian does just that, shaking his head as he says, “Already forgotten.” 

From his own experience with his own nightmares, Lan Wangji knows that when the nightmare is easily forgotten, its effects last all that much longer. 

Wei Wuxian drags himself into his husband’s lap, limbs still uncooperative and weighing him down as he more or less throws himself at Wangji. Lan Wangji does the rest, shifting Wei Ying’s weight until he is tucked in comfortably against his chest, head resting on Wangji’s shoulder and face buried in Wangji’s neck. 

His body isn’t quite shaking anymore, but his muscles periodically spasm. Well practiced at taking care of a post-nightmare Wei Ying, Lan Zhan simply runs his hand up and down Wei Ying’s leg when it shudders -- as if Wangji is appealing to the tendons underneath to give Wei Ying a break.

“Lan Zhan, shouldn’t you be leading today’s morning meditation?” Wangji can feel Wei Ying’s breath tickling his collarbones as he speaks. After mourning for so long, it is comforting to feel evidence of Wei Ying’s aliveness from the warmth of his breath to the heavy thumps of his heart.

“My husband needs me more,” Wangji responds with absolute conviction, causing Wei Wuxian’s heart to do a little flip just as it does everytime Lan Wangji says something so shamelessly tender.

“My heart…” Wei Wuxian groans, not having the energy to say anything more. 

He doesn’t need to. The corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth quirks upwards, knowing exactly what Wei Wuxian wants to say.

“Sizhui will know to fill in,” Lan Zhan adds, pressing another kiss to the top of Wei Ying’s head.

They stay like that for most of the morning, curled up in each other’s arms and nestled in bed surrounded by blankets. Only a handful of words are passed between them, but Lan Zhan does his absolute best to caress and cuddle every last one of Wei Ying’s woes away.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian finally whispers after Lan Zhan says it is approaching lunchtime. His arms -- his entire body, really -- still feel like overcooked noodles but he summons enough strength to pull himself up high enough to pepper little kisses all over Lan Zhan’s cheeks and across his forehead. Wei Ying’s kisses are both an expression of his gratitude for his husband’s patience, and an apology for interrupting his husband’s day. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums contentedly, happy to hold his husband and soak up each of his loving kisses. “Between us, there is no need for thanks.”

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #sizhui is the best boy #my writing

[imcrushedbyarainbowoffical]

Tooth Hurty

A03: Tooth Hurty   

Word Count: 349

Characters: Remus and Logan 

Relationships: Intrulogical

Trigger Warnings: Minor sexual reference

~

Remus had tried everything! Everything! Deodorant, bath bombs, plates, wood, pillows, ice cubes, he even tried gum! Yet, no matter how many times he chewed on his favorite blood flavored gum, he still couldn't get his teeth to stop hurting.

"Looooooogaaaaaaaannnnn!" Remus whined, thumping his head against Logan's dark blue door.

"Come in!" Logan called back

"Loooooggggaaaannnn," Remus whined again as he opened the door and made a beeline for the bed, flopping onto it with a huff.

"What's wrong honey?" Logan asked

"Teeth hurt," Remus said "Again."

"Have you tried ice or heat?" Logan asked

"Too cold and hot," Remus said

"Deodorant?"

"Too soft."

"Gum?"

"Too gummy"

"Alright," Logan said, "Have you taken any medicine, such as Advil or Ibuprophen?"

"Noooooooo!" Remus threw his arms and legs up and down in a tantrum "I don't like taking medicine," he grumbled.    

Logan sighed and got up from his desk, going over to the bed and sitting down, beginning to rub slow circles into Remus's back.

"Would cuddles be adequate then?"

Remus's eyes brightened and he wiggled around until he was completely covering Logan's lap. Logan chuckled and ran his fingers through Remus's curly locks, humming softly.

"Better?" Logan asked

"Mm, sort of," Remus mumbled, "They still hurt though."

"Hm, well, I was going to wait for your birthday to give you this but..." Logan flicked his wrist and a wrapped box appeared in his hand, "Here."

Remus leaped up and grabbed the box from Logan, ripping it open in less than a second and revealing a strange looking toy inside. "What is this?" Remus smirked, raising an eyebrow at Logan.

"It's not something sexual," Logan rolled his eyes "It's a teething toy for adults. I thought since you were having constant toothaches this could help you."

"Lo-Lo," Remus breathed "I love it!" he wrapped his arms around Logan's neck and planted a large sloppy kiss on his lips.  

"I'm glad you do," Logan replied

"And Lo-Lo?" Remus said

"Yes?"

"I love you," Remus smiled.  

"I love you too shark tooth," Logan smiled back, planting a kiss on Remus's forehead.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #ts remus #logan sanders #ts logan #intrulogical #sympathetic remus #sympathetic logan #sanders sides fic #hurt/comfort #fluff #tooth rotting fluff