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wereh0gz · 7 months

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Corrupted - Oneshot (?)

Final Horizon's ending, but things go very, very wrong.

This au is driving me insane enough to get me back into writing fanfic after months of not writing. Might do more maybe idk.

Anyways. Woe corrupted au be upon ye.

Word count: 1697

The End looms over Ouranos island, its overwhelming presence crushing those below it. The Titan floats before it, beaten and powerless, yet kept up by its invisible puppet strings. A golden star glimmers defiantly, his piercing blue eyes staring death itself down.

"Sonic! It's now or never!" Eggman calls out, readying the rifle stolen from the Titan.

Sonic quickly flies into its giant barrel, focusing his power, ready to unleash it and end this nightmare once and for all.

"Sorry, Master King," Sonic says as he turns to face his enemy, "Looks like I'm going all-out after all."

He closes his eyes, tapping into the cyber-energy he kept locked away per the Koco's advice. It tingles in the tips of his fingers like electricity, spreading to his palms, up his arms, to the rest of his body. He shakes uncontrollably, power surging through his very veins, burning, corrupting.

No, wait, this isn't right. This isn't–

He yells out, pain consuming his entire being like a raging wildfire as his body spasms. Noise floods his ears, his mind racing, thoughts turning into static as he feels something snap.

The chains break.

The rifle fires.

Everything goes white.

Tails, Amy, Knuckles, Eggman, and Sage all watch with bated breath as a blue spark shoots out of the rifle, flying sporadically towards the entity looming overhead. The blue bullet pierces it, causing it to explode into thousands of fragments, raining pieces of heaven over the isles as the hellish red sky fades to a pleasant blue dawn, and the Titan falls dead onto the marshy battlefield.

The blue spark falls with the rest of the glimmering stars, crashing like a meteor, leaving a crater on the ground and burning the grass around him.

Now free of their corruption and back in physical forms, Amy, Tails, and Knuckles rush after their fallen friend, calling his name worriedly. They freeze at the crater's edge when their eyes land on Sonic, shaking as he slowly pushes himself up, eyes unfocused, growling and baring his teeth. His body is consumed by glowing cyan corruption shifting and flashing like pixels on a broken screen.

"Sonic?" Tails mutters, reaching out to him.

Sonic's head rises, his eyes darting from place to place before stopping at Tails, a black spiral staring deep into his very soul.

"Watch out!" Knuckles exclaimed, pushing Tails and Amy out of the way as Sonic lashes out, snarling and lunging at them.

Sonic knocks Knuckles down, pinning him to the ground.

"What the hell?! What's gotten into you?!" Knuckles kicks him off, sending him flying into a nearby tree. Sonic screams out in pain as he collides and falls to the ground.

"Tails, what's going on…?" Amy asked while summoning her Piko Piko Hammer.

"I-I don't know…" he stammered, "Maybe… maybe he couldn't handle all that power after all..."

Knuckles pushes himself up. "Whatever's happened to him, we gotta snap him out of it!"

Before they can do anything, however, Sonic disappears in a flash of blue, leaving a shockwave that knocks the three to the ground, and burnt grass in his wake. When they come to their senses, Sonic is nowhere to be seen, but explosions boom in the distance.

Eggman descends in his Eggmobile, followed by Sage floating next to him. There's a grim look on his face.

"Foolish hedgehog," he said, "he got in over his head and lost all control. Should've known not to take that kind of power lightly."

"This… out of my infinite calculations, this is the worst-case scenario." Sage shook her head. "He's been completely corrupted. If he's in this form for too long, he will–"

"No!" Tails interrupted, "I am not losing my brother to this!" He looks up to her, brows furrowed and a fire burning in his eyes. "Sage! You can track his movements, right?"

"Yes."

"You!" He looks to Eggman, who's scowling, "You're going to help us catch him!"

Eggman scoffs. "And what makes you think I'll help you?"

"Well, Sonic could come back at any moment, and, in this state, it's very likely he'll send you into orbit with zero hesitation the moment he sees you," Tails threatened, "plus, you're the only one with any tech on hand that could help us catch him. So either you help us get him under control, or he ends you along with us and the rest of the island."

"Tch– oh, fine!" Eggman grumbled, "I'll do it, but don't you dare think I'll ever help you again. This is the last time, got it?"

"Hmph." Tails glared at him, earning him a glare back.

Another explosion reverberates nearby, followed by Sonic screaming, catching everyone's attention.

"If my simulations are correct…" Sage began, "It should be possible to repurpose one of father's energy generators to siphon the Chaos and cyber energy out of him. But doing so comes at the risk of his life." Eggman seems to smile at that last sentence.

"Guys, I don't think we have much time left! H-how are we supposed to catch him like this?" Amy asked, gripping her hammer tightly.

Tails' heart drops, but he shakes his head. "It's worth a shot. It's not like we have any other options." Tails turns to Amy and Knuckles. "We're going to distract him while Eggman gets whatever he needs to catch him and bring him back to us. We don't have any time to waste, so let's go!"

Amy and Knuckles nod, and with that, the three set off after Sonic, following Sage's lead while Eggman goes in search for the necessary pieces to bring him down.

Noise. Too much. Hurts. It hurts. Head hurts. Burning. Too much noise. It hurts. It burns. It–

"You think you can escape the inevitable, mortal?"

…?

"Fool. Don't think you have bested me simply because you have destroyed my physical form. You cannot kill me, for I am infinite."

…!

"Your arrogance shall be your End."

Sonic's screams echo throughout Ouranos, he screams until his voice cracks and gives out. The pain, the burning, he can't take it. Can't think. His heart pounds in his chest as his form flickers red. He can't stop moving. He can't.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

"There!" Sage said, pointing at Sonic as the rest caught up to her. "He's becoming more unstable! We need to act quickly!"

"Got it, kid!" Knuckles responded, "We'll take it from here!"

Knuckles immediately goes in for a punch, but Sonic is quick to dodge and retaliate, lunging at him and biting at his arm. Knuckles cries out in pain as he tries to shove him off.

Amy swoops in and, with a well-timed swing of her hammer, knocks Sonic away.

"I hate to do this to you, Sonic, but it's the only way!" Amy exclaims, but it falls upon deaf ears.

Sonic growls and pounces, bashing into her and knocking her down. Her hammer slips from her hands and falls just out of reach.

Before he can attack, Tails shoots him down with his arm cannon, the electric shot stunning him for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sonic," he muttered, seeing how much pain his brother was in.

Eggman and Sage approach from behind Tails, with some kind of device attached to the Eggmobile. A claw stretched out from the bottom of the floating vehicle, snatching Sonic while he's stunned.

He squirms and kicks and yells out in a vain attempt to free himself from the claw's iron grip. The device begins to rumble, and…

Sonic screams as the device drains him of his energy. Electricity sparks around him, the Emeralds finally leaving his body, flying off in different directions. It rips into his very being, tearing the corruption away from his body and into the Eggmobile's engines. The vehicle trembles, becoming overloaded with power.

"Father! Get out!" Sage cries.

Eggman hastily leaps out of the vehicle, barely landing on his feet, just as its internal mechanisms begin to explode under the immense pressure. The claw releases Sonic, letting him fall limp onto the grass as it crashes mere yards away and combusts.

"Sonic!" Tails, Amy, and Knuckles cry out as they rush to his side.

As he lies motionless on the grass, the voices of the crowd of five fade into merely distant echoes, until the burning pain that seared his body subsides, and everything goes quiet.

…

… It's dark.

His body felt so… drained. And heavy.

What's that noise? … Voices?

"I don't know how much longer I can keep him stable, father…" a younger, worried voice says, strangely sounding like it's coming out of a speaker.

"Just a little bit longer, Sage. The inhibitors are almost done… There!" an older voice says.

"Great! Now get them on, quick! Before the cyber corruption gets any worse!" a high-pitched voice exclaimed.

A hand gently lifts his left wrist, and something clicks around it. Then his right. Then around his ankles. Whatever it is feels heavy, and cold. But, somehow, the rest of his body begins to feel lighter.

"It's working! Oh my gosh, it's really working!"

"Pfft, of course it is! Thanks to my- and Sage's- ingenious design! And no thanks to you."

… What are they talking about…?

His eyes inch open, bright, white light filtering through, blinding him. He groans, closing his eyes again and rubbing them. His head hurt.

"Sonic? Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Another new voice spoke up.

"C'mon man, you've been out for almost two days now. Get up, sleepyhead!" Yet another new voice, deeper and rougher.

He feels a large hand push him. He jolts.

Suddenly, he found himself on the other side of the room, looking at five strangers that stared back at him with confused and worried looks on their strangely familiar faces. A fox with two tails, a pink hedgehog, a red echidna, and two humans, a giant clad in red with a dignified mustache, and a child that didn't look quite real.

His quills bristled. He felt his chest tighten, his breathing quicken, his hands trembling.

The fox looked at him with terrified blue eyes. "Sonic…?"

He tilts his head, confused.

Who's… Sonic?

#sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #dr eggman #sage the ai #sonic frontiers #sonic frontiers spoilers #sonic frontiers final horizon #corrupted au #☆my writing☆#no beta we die like sage did in the og ending #anyways i wrote this in like a couple hours and it's probably not very good bc i'm out of practice #but i am also very Not Normal abt this au so. here #have at it

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bargainbincheese · 13 days

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I have invented An Animal.

I'm writing a scene where the protag gets attacked by one right now so I decided to draw them to try and visualize them better.

Pecarli are pretty important in my story! "Pecarli" is the Targasi word for them, but outside of their range most foreigners call them stilt dogs. That's what you'll see them referred to as in textbooks and stuff. Locals really hate it when you call them that though because they are not dogs.

They're a remnant of a coastal forest full of megafauna that was chopped down and became a weird type of ecosystem I'm calling heathland. It's a marsh with very tall grass in the wet winters that looks more like a desert in the dry and hot summers. Without vegetation adapted to prevent erosion, you get a lot of destructive wandering dunes when it's dry or windy, which is often. Most of the forest creatures died out with the trees but some critters are actually adapting perfectly to the new ecosystem and pecarli are a great example of that. Their long legs are good for traversing both the dry dune fields in the summer as well as the marshy wetlands of winter. They can run faster than anything else in the region, so that's how they hunt. They're not stealth predators. Often they'll run straight towards herds of goats, grab one, and then run away before anyone can do anything about it. Like the little domesticated goats they hunt, they're very omnivorous. Their diet is similar to bears. In addition to goats, they eat berries, shoots, roots, eggs, leaves of certain plants, and will scavenge any dead animals or fish they can find.

Pecarli aren't very dangerous to humans. They're killed by shepherds and thus don't tend to get big enough to hunt people. If you cornered one it would easily kill you, but in the wild they're really skittish and get spooked by loud noises. If you see one, you're supposed to yell at it until it leaves. Get too far away from civilization though and the pecarli start to get Big. To venture into the deep heathlands you need to be capable of fighting off a very large animal because nothing in the world can outrun one of these things in the soft terrain.

Mega-forests also still exist in the world. Legends say that there, the pecarli grow as tall as trees.

#worldbuilding #creatures #i don't draw very often but i did my best lol #www #my drawings

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sagemonsters · 8 months

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Kaia on ko-fi has a blind date with...

Stelios the Centaur

Stelios has the lower body of a chestnut draft horse and the upper half of a muscular, redheaded human man with lots of freckles. He works as a ranger in a large, mountainous wilderness park, and takes his job very seriously. He is always rescuing lost hikers and tending their injuries, and sometimes scaring off bears! He carries emergency medical and food supplies in his saddlebags and always has a helping hand at the ready.

Ecology is Stelios’ primary hobby, and it’s not just for work. He is very passionate about reforesting now-barren former woodland and getting rid of invasive species. He can talk for hours about it, but also wants to hear about your own interests and passions. He understands what it feels like to realize that you’re the only person in the room who truly cares about a particular subject, and knows how to push forward against other peoples’ indifference.

Stelios loves gaming, but unfortunately rarely has time for it due to the nature of his work. He’s easily frustrated by technology and prefers tabletop games to video games (and yes, his D&D characters are primarily druids). When you invite him to a TTRPG session, he makes every effort to clear his schedule and come to the event; he wants to make more friends.

Stelios drinks a lot of coffee… maybe too much. Although he isn’t picky about what kind of coffee he drinks, he makes a point of avoiding chain coffeeshops and tries to support small businesses in his area, especially ones owned by queer folks or else that are havens for marginalized people.

CW for giant arachnid (scorpion) + use of firearms

“Get on my back,” the centaur wearing a ranger’s jacket mutters to you.

“Why?” you mutter back, although you are nonetheless already very close to the centaur’s flank in the steep-sided, marshy gully.

“It’s doing a threat display,” the ranger explains, eyeing the giant swamp scorpion with its enormous, snapping pincers and venom-dripping stinger, “we don’t have much ti—”

The massive arachnid rushes forward at you, its legs thudding into the soft ground. You hoist yourself up onto the centaur’s back faster than you thought possible outside of an adrenaline-fueled emergency, and the centaur wheels around and gallops as fast as he can away from the threat—but not fast enough. The boggy terrain is slowing him down, and the swamp scorpion’s wide, flat feet help it move more quickly.

You pull a pistol out of the holster at your hip, twisting on the ranger’s equine back to fire off a few shots at the scorpion. Even on the back of a struggling centaur, your aim is true, and black ichor gushes from the scorpion’s new injuries. It squeals and twitches in pain, slowing down just long enough for the centaur to reach the end of the gully and start climbing up a slope onto firmer ground. Unwilling to leave its lair, the swamp scorpion remains behind to nurse its wounds.

“You could have used that a little sooner,” the centaur grumbles. “The noise of a few shots might have scared it, at least.”

“I don’t have a permit to hunt scorpions,” you explain. “I wasn’t sure I was allowed to shoot that thing.”

“You would have been in luck if you’d tried—they’re invasive, so we would pay you rather than the other way around—and self-defense is a valid defense against being fined. I’m Stelios, by the way.”

You introduce yourself as well, and Stelios lets you hitch a ride back to the nearest ranger station. Along the way, he offers some suggestions for how to replace your lost hiking and camping gear more cheaply, and you have a good time chatting with him and swapping emergency medical treatment tips. Once at the ranger station, the swamp scorpion’s lair is reported so that a better-equipped team can handle the giant arachnid, and a kindly human ranger offers you a ride in an ATV back to the park’s main entrance.

All in all, it turned out to be a pretty fun-filled day.

see here if you'd like your own blind date with a monster!

#monster romance #monster lover #sage's monster matches #terato x reader #terato #monster x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader

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hearts4linkle · 9 months

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goodbyes. | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

warnings : angst , first time writing , i think its gn!reader

A hot searing feeling shot across your chest, causing you to halt in your footsteps and fall to the ground clutching at the growing wet stop on your uniform.

why was it red?

oh.

you were dying.

the pain began to spread throughout your body as you laid in a muddy ditch, separated from the rest of your team.

"[y/n], whats your status?" ghosts voice came through your earpiece, his voice echoed like it was miles away, despite being directly in your ear. a sniper you thought, eyes slowly scanning around the surrounding area, trying to find a culprit to your demise.

"[y/n]! come in!" it was ghost again. the cough rattled in your throat, red splashing onto the marshy ground below to confirm your suspicions, the bullet had punctured a lung. ghost seemed to had heard the cough, his voice coming in more strained and panicked than before. "fuckin' hell [y/n] where are you?" you built up enough strength to answer him, chest rattling with every breath as you fought to stay conscious.

"im not going to make it, go LT." your throat ran dry, immediately forcing up another cough and causing the metallic taste in your mouth strengthen as you laid bleeding out. the noise around you was beginning to be overrun by a faint ringing noise as you tried to focus on what he was shouting down the comms at you, trying to hold on so he can be with you in your final moments knowing damn well he'd try and find you despite telling him to go.

thick tears began to stream down your face at the thought, slowly closing your eyes and succumbing to the heavy weights seemingly place atop of them.

simons heavy footsteps and shouting caused your eyes to snap open, letting out a soft chuckle as you coughed again, feeling your body growing fainter and fainter with each passing moment. your whole body felt numb as ghost took you again his chest, cradling your head in his large hands as the world world began to fade out.

you could hear the sniffles he let out, trying to suppress his sobs although you could hear them rattling inside his chest, the soft drum of his heartbeat beating rhythmically, only then did you embrace death welcomely, drawing in a final shaky breath as you went limp in his arms and letting death embrace you with open arms, you felt safe and ready to let go.

then there was nothing.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst #angst #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost x reader

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groundcontrol21 · 1 year

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A Little Help from My Friend (M, Musketeers)

So the hindbrain wrote this one. CW for: inducing, contagion, mess, stuffy-talk, character with the kink, and absolute desecration of characters from classic literature. Very glad Mr. Dumas is not around to see what I've done here. How far we've strayed from the light.

This is a marked departure from what I usually write and I honestly don't know what came over me. I'm very nervous about posting it for some reason (?) so please be kind.

“Hehh… uhhh…” For the umpteenth time that day, the sneeze which had been building and dragging Aramis to the precipice now abandoned him there, snuffly breaths hitching as he rubbed his hands over his face with a groan. “Snf!” His nose squelched as he rubbed at it, in one last vain attempt to coax the sneeze forward. He huffed miserably. “I’m so ill, Porthos.”

As attractive as it was to watch Aramis’s face go through the slow, agonizing permutations of readying to sneeze time and time again, Porthos felt terrible for him. “I know,” he said, biting at his lip. “I didn’t have it half as bad as you.”

Aramis coughed, the sound wet and congested. Porthos’s own cough hadn’t sounded that bad, had it? He thought back to when he’d been sick with this cold. The first couple days it hadn’t been bad enough to keep him from duty, so Aramis had merely hovered beside him like a worried nursemaid, urging him to drink often and offering his own waterskin when Porthos’s had run dry. Then when Treville had taken him off duty to prohibit him from sneezing on the royal court, Aramis had been with him in his every spare moment, pouring him tea and washing his sodden handkerchiefs. Really, Porthos supposed, he should have expected that just as soon as his own sniffling diminished, Aramis’s increased, as though the cold had just seeped from his head into his friend’s.

Aramis’s croak drew him back to the present. He flopped his arm around miserably on the bed. “I’m beginning to think I’ll ne-eh’hehhh—never be well again. Snf!”

Porthos couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “Well, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Aramis shot upward, curled in on himself in what Porthos was sure would end in a sneeze, only for his nose to be left a dripping, flaring, unsatisfied mess as the sensation abandoned him once more. “HEHH...ohh.” He pressed the back of his hand hard against his nose with a set of marshy sniffles. “If I could only sneeze, the world would look so much brighter.”

In more ways than one, Porthos thought, making a concerted effort to swallow down the fluttering feeling in his stomach. He felt bad enough that he was enjoying his friend’s misery in a way; he would be damned if Aramis found out about that fact. Whereas the day previous Aramis had been veritably unable to stop sneezing, each expulsion somehow leaving him sounding more congested than the last, today he was many times taunted but never satisfied. Yesterday had brought its own challenges when Porthos had come to check on him, namely the need to hide any untoward reactions to his friend’s desperately ill sneezes, but when Porthos had agreed with Aramis’s plea for the heavens to make him stop sneezing, it hadn’t been with this new misery in mind. Misery for Aramis, but also for Porthos, because these near-sneezes were hardly any better.

Aramis coughed again, rubbing at the swollen glands near his jaw. “Oh, and my throat,” he moaned with a harsh swallow. “And my ear.” He winced as the coughs continued and Porthos felt his heart split in two. No sooner did the coughs cease than did his breaths begin to hitch again–

“Hehhh…Ihhh…IHHHhh–”

–only to fade away into nothingness once more. Poor Aramis let out a hoarse, throaty groan, and that pitiful noise not only increased Porthos’s concern but also must have banished whatever sense he possessed, for he suddenly heard himself saying, “I think I know something that could help you with the sneezes.”

Luckily, Aramis’s eyes were closed as he pinched and rubbed at his leaking nose, for Porthos was sure he looked like the portrait of a mortified man. His hands shook slightly and he blinked; help him? Dear God, what was Porthos thinking, exposing himself like that? Worse, what if Aramis accepted? How could Porthos pretend to be normal in that?

A second passed in which Aramis said nothing, and so Porthos rushed in with a fumbling attempt to somehow explain his offer. “It’s something I’ve done–uhh, it’s a bit unconventional… but…” Good Lord, Porthos thought, he was merely digging himself deeper into this godforsaken hole.

“Porthos,” Aramis sighed, cracking open a tired eye at him, “at this point I would join the Cardinal’s Guard if it would make me feel better.”

Porthos gasped in mock scandal. “You don’t mean that.”

He was stalling, this much he knew, but he also knew he would rather be trampled by every horse in the garrison than continue this conversation, even though Porthos had been the fool who brought this whole predicament upon himself in the first place.

Aramis said nothing in reply, merely fished his handkerchief out from beneath the blankets and gave a liquid blow into it. He fixed his gaze balefully on Porthos when he finished, rubbing at his nose with the corner of the cloth in slow, slurpy circles. He looked so utterly miserable, his cheeks flushed, his nose chapped, his eyes bruised with purple, that Porthos knew instantly he would swallow every inch of his pride to make him feel better.

“Sit up, then,” Porthos said, and said a quick prayer to nothing at all to help him, for surely this was out of God’s domain. “I have a feeling this might help you.”

Aramis grumbled and groaned but did as Porthos bid him, dragging himself into a seated position and swaddling the thickest quilt from his bedsheets around his shoulders. Meanwhile, Porthos went to the post at the wall where he had hung his own hat and plucked one of the feathers from it. He cared far less for his hat than Aramis did, and anyway he knew that Aramis was planning to give him a new one for his birthday that year, as the man could really be horrible at keeping secrets sometimes. As such, one feather now could be sacrificed to the cause.

Porthos returned to the bed and took a seat across from the bundled, shivering Aramis. His heavy-lidded eyes fell upon the feather which Porthos twisted nervously between his fingers and he grinned, even as Porthos wished the floor would swallow him whole.

“Ahh, I see,” Aramis murmured, and Porthos nearly lept to the ceiling.

“You-you see?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve done this before, too?”

At this, Porthos’s heart nearly stopped. He felt dizzy, felt his mouth drop open, unable to believe what he was hearing. Aramis continued. “With a feather, I mean. I used to know a woman who was quite, shall we say, fond of sneezes.” Porthos could already feel his cheeks burning, but then Aramis’s eyes took on a far-off sparkle, glimmering with pride, and the words which accompanied them were almost his undoing.

“Especially mine, so she said.”

I’m inclined to agree with her, Porthos thought. His cheeks felt positively aflame now, and Porthos hardly knew how he managed to keep his voice from being a croak as he asked, “By fond do you mean…” He licked his lips, almost praying that Aramis would spare him completing his question. “Aroused?”

Aramis smiled. “I was trying to be discreet, but yes.” That same faraway look of pride gleamed in his eyes again, and Porthos wished he could slap the man for it. “Ah, I wonder if she’s found a better sneezer than I.”

At once, Porthos’s mind supplied him with I doubt it, and wished he could slap Aramis for prompting that, too. To hide the tremble he felt rising in his voice, Porthos scoffed. “You,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Discreet.”

“I am very discreet, dear Porthos.” Aramis laid his hand across Porthos’s, the one which held the feather, and Porthos could feel the man’s fever even through his fingers. “Notice how I have not so much as disclosed her name.” Removing his hands, Aramis pressed his thumbs beneath his eyes, near the bridge of his nose and massaged himself lightly. He groaned softly at the contact. “Snf! Now, enough reminiscing. My nose is positively stopped full and it n-n-eh-needs your help. Snf!”

If the Lord did exist, He must have been very displeased with Porthos, for He was surely testing every mite of Porthos’s resolve this day. Porthos raised the feather slowly, his hand trembling so badly he was worried he might jab Aramis in the eye with it. He was almost unable to look Aramis in the face but he forced himself to, trying to distance himself from the thought that he was really doing this, that he was really putting a feather to his friend’s blocked, sniffly, cold-ridden nose just as he’d always–

“I don’t think it’ll take much,” Aramis said thickly. “Snf! I’ve been hovering on the brink all day.” He caught Porthos by the wrist, stopping the feather a mere hairsbreadth from its target. “I might—snf!—I might sneeze on you.”

Porthos cursed the stirring he felt in his trousers. “That’s alright,” he managed, hoping he didn’t sound quite as breathless as he felt. He tried to don an air of uncertainty; it wouldn’t do to seem to be enjoying it so much, for God’s sake. “I-if it was my cold first, that means I shouldn’t catch it again, right?”

“I should hope not bc I—snf!— I feel miserable and I’d feel even worse if I made you this miserable too.”

Porthos made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat and worked to push aside any thought that wasn’t of concern for Aramis. The man was freely admitting to feeling miserable, for God’s sake. Porthos could help him, would help him, and would not let any silliness get in the way of that. If this is what it took to alleviate the smallest bit of his brother’s discomfort, so be it. Porthos could deal with himself later.

Porthos brushed the feather delicately beneath the red, chapped skin of Aramis’s nose, and the man gave a full-body shiver at the contact, bundling deeper into the blanket tucked around his shoulders. He coughed lightly, his nose already beginning to twitch and flare, and Porthos knew the man had been right, it wouldn’t take much. He inserted the very tip into one of Aramis’s nostrils, gave it a slight wiggle, and that was all it took before the man’s breath snagged on a ragged inhale.

“P-hhhooo’ohhh’ISHHHUHHH! Ihhh’KSSHHH! Ihh’HESHHHH!”

The dam finally broken, Aramis sneezed and sneezed, collapsing forward with each expulsion. Porthos could see the wetness hang in the air between them, could feel it land on his cheeks. Mess trailed down in ropy tendrils from Aramis’s nose and he cupped his hand in a futile and retrograde act of containment. “Heh’KMMPPFF! Hehh’RMPFFF!”

His hands shook with the fervor of his movement, and he was not successful at keeping them plastered to his face. As they broke away they brought with them a strand of mucus, clinging to his fingers, but still Aramis was far from finished. “Heh’ZDSHHH’ooo! Ihh’GSHHH’ooo! Hehh’ihh’INGSHHHH!” He sniffled almost convulsively between each sneeze, desperate for air. Porthos felt a mist on his cheeks and for a moment he was paralyzed.

Porthos wouldn’t have minded if the man kept releasing a fountainous spray upon him, but to preserve his friend’s dignity he cast around feverishly in the bedsheets. “Damn it, Aramis, where did you put the handkerchief?”

Aramis was pinching his reddened nose, his fingers glistening with the mess which had spilled onto them. Already his hair was wild and framed his face like an unholy halo. “Udder the pill-Pshhh’IEEWWW! Pillow? Heh’DSHHH!”

It was not under the pillow, nor tangled in the bedsheets, but had rather fallen to the floor halfway beneath the bed. Porthos scrambled to retrieve it as his friend released sneeze after sneeze of the wettest, fullest sort, as though they had been building in his head the whole day. They probably had been, the poor man. He started to cough, only for more sneezes to cut him off.

“Heh’RSHHH! Heh’TSHIEW! Oh, thagk you,” Aramis sighed as he hurriedly took the cloth from Porthos. Their hands brushed, and Porthos swallowed heavily at the dampness he felt on Aramis’s fingers. He watched as Aramis took a deep breath before blowing what must have been every bit of fluid in his nose into the handkerchief. Once he had finished, he folded the cloth, turned it over, and blew again, before seeking out a dry corner and nuzzling into it, massaging his nose between the folds and making stuffy noises of relief.

He lowered the cloth for a mere moment before his eyes clouded over again. “I’ve got… sdeeze! Ahh’TSCHOO! HEHH’TSHHH!” He blew his nose again and coughed throatily into the handkerchief, before his breath crescendoed into one final, massive sneeze. “Ahh’hihh’HITSCHHOOO!”

Aramis buried his nose in the folds again and simply held it there as if to let gravity drain away the rest, shutting his eyes in the utterly exhausted aftermath of such a display. Porthos was grateful for the man’s distraction, for he was finding it increasingly difficult to sit still.

“Oh, Porthos,” Aramis groaned in a positively sinful manner as he finally lowered the handkerchief. “Snf, snf! Snf!” The sneezing had clearly shifted the congestion in his head, but already he was beginning to sound all bunged up again. His cheeks and nose were flushed scarlet, his hair a tangled mess, his eyes streaming, and before Porthos could stop himself he squirmed and gave a minute groan of his own.

Then, to Porthos’s horror, Aramis smiled at him. “Am I wrong in saying that you appear to be enjoying this quite as much as Ju—my friend?”

At once, the room began to spin. Had he really been so obvious? Porthos’s breath quickened as thoughts and curses jumbled together in his mind, his hands beginning to tremble, his legs starting to bounce in agitation. He would have to leave and hope Aramis would forget this; he was not some oddball lover who–

Aramis’s hand was back on his thigh, stilling its motion. “Porthos, mon ami,” he said lowly, and Christ Almighty, every ounce of congestion was back weighing on his voice. Porthos could not look at him. “I will not judge you. I—heh’TSHIEW!”

As if on reflex, Porthos found his head snap up at the sound, and he damned himself. Aramis had twisted away to sneeze at his shoulder, but he turned back to Porthos with a bleary sniffle. He smiled at him again, and though his eyes were tired, they held nothing but gentleness. “What a man likes in bed is between him and the parties in it.”

Porthos could hardly believe what he was hearing, could hardly believe what had happened and what was continuing to happen. He spluttered, choking over thank you for not thinking I am a deviant, and I hope I haven’t made things odd between us, until all he could think to say was, “But I–we–we’re not in bed!”

Aramis gestured to the mattress on which they sat with a laugh. “In any case, I am glad someone is eh-enjoying my… my cold. Hhhh’KSHHHH’uhh!” The sneeze burst from him too quickly to be adequately covered by the handkerchief, and so Porthos saw a heap of wetness slide out from his nose before being sniffled back. “Snf! Guhhh… Because it certainly isn’t me.”

Aramis gave his nose a haphazard swipe with the cloth. “We could do some more if you’d like. There’s still a lot—a lot…” Aramis trailed off as though forgetting his train of thought, but the true reason for the pause became apparent when his breath gave an almighty hitch and his eyes flickered shut. “Hhhh’RSHHHH!” He sniffled thickly and gave a rueful little smile. “A lot left in there.”

Warmth pulled at the base of Porthos’s belly, but he dared not hope. “Are you sure?”

“After a day of being clogged up with no respite, sneezing like that was nothing short of divine.”

You can say that again, my friend. Porthos smiled, anticipation thrumming in his veins as he picked up the feather once more, the realization washing over him that he would get to see that divine display again, that he would be able to watch his friend’s beautiful sneezes crash forth and not need to look away for fear or propriety’s sake. It was dizzying, and Porthos felt as though he might burst with it.

Again, Aramis took him by the wrist. His eyes were alight, but serious. “Tell me how to make this more pleasurable for you.”

Porthos must have been dreaming. “P-Pardon me?”

“My l-friend, she liked it when I tried not to sneeze after she’d tickled me.”

Porthos’s voice, when he found it, was naught more than a rough whisper. “I—uh—I’d like that too.” If he ever found this woman, he would fall at her feet and kiss them.

“Noted,” Aramis said with a grin. “Snf!” He slid a knuckle beneath his nose. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold back given how congested I am, but on my honor as a Musketeer I will try.” He patted his breast proudly, and Porthos thought he might love the man for it. “What else?”

And if Porthos thought he loved the man before, he was surely infatuated by that comment. What else, the man asks? As if this weren’t already everything and more. The heady thrumming pulsated in his ears, and he could hardly feel his lips as they moved. “Tell me how you feel.”

Aramis blinked at him blankly, and for a moment Porthos feared all was lost. Stuttering, he pushed ahead. “Y-your symptoms. How miserable you feel.”

“Oh, you like it when I complain?” Aramis flashed him a sparkling, devilish grin, and in that instant Porthos saw what every woman must see in him. “You are in luck, dear Porthos, because I feel awful.” He frowned, shaping his features into a dramatic pout. “Every part of me feels run-down and achy—“

Porthos danced the feather ever so lightly across the man’s septum, marveling at how much it quivered at such slight contact.

“Snf! And sh-shivery. Snf! Like I have a-a f-fehhh… a fever.”

Porthos pressed his hand gently to Aramis’s warm forehead, his fingers stroking back the sweat-damp hair. “I think you do, poor Aramis.”

“Poor me, indeed!” Aramis cried hoarsely, breaking off into a few sharp coughs directed at his shoulder. Porthos’s fingers slid to Aramis’s jaw and he guided the man’s face back to him. Porthos ran the feather against his septum again. Aramis’s entire face twitched, but he soldiered on.

“My throat… my…” His expression went lax as the feather ghosted against his skin and his eyes fluttered to half mast. He gripped Porthos’s thigh, his fingers flexing and relaxing, his nails digging into the flesh. “Oh, I have to sn-sneeze. Hehhh—“

Were it not for the iron grip of his friend’s hand, Porthos felt as though he might float away into the ether. “Keep holding on,” he croaked, sounding almost as wretched as Aramis. “Keep talking.”

Aramis doggedly blinked away the tears which had begun to form in his eyes. “Oh, snf!” His nose was red, chapped, and quivering, and yet Porthos taunted it more with the feather. Aramis squirmed. “My throat feels like I’ve choked on my sword. My ear feels hot and full. Snf! Hehhh…. Oh, and my nose. Snf! How is it possible for it to be so stuffed up and… and so runny… HEHhhh… Snf! At the same time?”

And indeed, Porthos could see the evidence of such a predicament, a line of mucus dripping from one of Aramis’s nostrils no matter how forcefully his nose twitched and sniffled. It wouldn’t be long now, and so Porthos made the final gesture, inserting the feather into the snotty nostril inch by inch with a tantalizing slowness. Aramis squeezed his eyes shut and moaned, his breath already beginning to hitch. Porthos wiggled it a couple times and then withdrew it at the same pace, drawing with it a thick rope of slime.

“Ohhhh…” Aramis was trembling, his breath shaking as he fought against his body’s urge with every ounce of strength. But he was no match, this Porthos could tell; he was going to lose this battle, and lose it quickly.

“I’b really…hehhh’EHHH...huhhhh—Snf, snf!” His voice was rapidly taking on a breathier and breathier quality with each word he spoke, and Porthos’s heart raced. “Really dot feelig—HESHHHOO! Ihh’TSSCHHH! Uhh… I’b dot feelig well at all, Porthos. Heh’TSHIEWWW! Oh…”

They were both done for now, Aramis lost in a violent haze of sneezes, even more vigorous now than the first, and Porthos swirling in his own private ecstasy. “Heh’ZDSHHH! KSHHH’uhh! Hehh…Ihhh..HEHISHHH! Hhhh’ITSCHHH! Snf! Huh’TSHHHH’ooo! Nggghhh…”

Aramis rubbed at his nose with the handkerchief as he sniffled and sneezed, letting it fall to the side with a sigh of irritation upon finding the cloth utterly soaked. Mucus dribbled down his lips no matter how many times he sniffled, and the sharp inhalations made him cough.

“Let it all out,” Porthos rasped, “you’ll feel better.”

“I deed–de-heh’HESHHH’oo! Snf! Oh, Porthos… Heh’KSHHHIEW! Snf, snf! A haddkerchief–snf–please! Ahh’TSHCHH!” It was true, Aramis’s face was a mess of fluid from his eyes to his chin. Porthos dug out a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and passed it to Aramis, before flopping back against the bed and tending to himself as Aramis blew and blew. All the while, Porthos lay on his back, panting, staring at the ceiling as visions of what he had just seen danced across his view.

“Ugh, I’b exhausted,” Aramis said upon finishing, before dropping abruptly onto Porthos’s chest, pillowing his head against his breast and curling up beside him. Porthos stroked the top of the man’s head, gratified when the man let out a hoarse and congested, yet content hum at the contact. He pressed a long kiss to the hot skin of Aramis’s forehead, suffusing it with the thank yous and I love yous and my heart breaks when you aren’t feeling wells that he could not put into words. Aramis turned and pressed his nose into Porthos’s shirt, drawing a long breath in before muffling his next sneeze into the fabric, though some still spilled over onto Porthos’s exposed skin where the shirt came undone at his chest. “Ehh’KMPFFF! Oh…” He sniffled and laid his head back down on Porthos’s chest, before murmuring tiredly, “You’d best hope you can’t catch this again.”

#groundcontrol's sin #my writing #snzfic #mess #inducing #coldfic #the world needs so much more historic snz fic #what's a musketeer feather for if not this huh?#sick ara/mis

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ladymercury8 · 2 years

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Rain-Dropped Leaves | Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: It's midnight on a hot summer's day, it's raining, and you managed to drag Steve Harrington outside. [0.8k]

Warnings: None. Pure fluff.

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Rain. A cascade of tears billowing from the clouds. Dripping and pouring, kissing the damp ground; clinging onto glossy leaves, spreading a pattern resembling a ladybug; melting into growing puddles, marshy and swampy.

You were inside, curled up on the giant windowsill of Steve’s bedroom. His buttercup yellow sweater bunched up in your hands, your toes curling against your fuzzy socks, forehead pressed against the windowsill.

It was a soothing sound. Constant, rhythmic. The pain of the heavens causing the cleansing of the Earth.

Steve lay sprawled on his bed, arm behind his head, naked chest inclined upwards.

“It’s so beautiful.” You dared to break the silence.

A white flash of light emerged, and seconds later was followed by a deep, rumbling, thunderous noise. Rumbling, like Steve’s chuckle when you lay on top of him.

Steve only hummed in response, scratching his chest with a yawn.

It had been a scorching summer day, the only thing that had saved you was the air conditioning in Steve’s house. And only now, near midnight, did the rain come beating down on Hawkins – a lukewarm storm, rinsing off the heat.

“Let’s go outside,” you turned towards Steve, already leaping up.

“Yeah, that’s a no,” his eyes followed you, as you began pulling on your leggings.

You grabbed some of Steve’s clothes, tossing them at the foot of his bed. “Please, Stevie?”

“Uh no,” his eyebrows were furrowed, head shaking – though far from vehemently.

You got on your knees on the bed, crawling up his frame, near-straddling. Back arched, your lips pressed against his chest, then traced upwards to his neck, eliciting a groan from the depths of his throat. Kisses like rain, scattered and wet. You pushed off, lifting your face to his, blushing at his intense gaze. “Pretty please?”

Steve bit his lip, but your puppy-dog eyes, wide and lovesick, were too powerful. He was completely under your spell. A puppet in your hands. A cloud in your sky.

“Come on,” he huffed, pulling the covers off himself, getting dressed as you thanked him a dozen times. “Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky you’re cute, Y/L/N.”

Bodies waterproof, hair exposed, feet covered in rubber boots. You borrowed Steve’s boots from when he was younger – they were massive, and the result was your foot swimming in the expanse of space, shuffling along.

Steve stepped out, opening his umbrella in front of him, reaching for your shoulder to force you to stay within the confines of his ‘umbrella bubble.’

But that’s not exactly what you had in mind.

From the doorway, you sprinted out. You spread your arms around you, spinning, face up towards the sky, relishing the feeling of tepid rain falling on your hot skin, trailing lines of fissures that made your skin a mosaic.

You laughed, your entire body growing wet and soaked and heavy. Cooled, at one with nature. “Come on!” You called out to Steve, who hid like a cat avoiding torrential rain.

But Steve was a romantic at heart. Cheesy. From a movie.

He threw the umbrella to the side, running up behind you when you weren’t looking. His arms wrapped around your middle, puzzle pieces reunited, lifting you into the air and spinning you in circles while you squealed.

He eased you down softly, and before he could react you had stomped on the ground, spraying his trousers with water.

“Oh no you don’t!” He howled, starting to chase after you. Although he was an athlete, it proved a formidable task with the weight of his clothes and in the blinding rain.

You suddenly gasped, feeling yourself falling forwards. In the canyon of your boot, your foot had mistimed its step, and you were heading down towards the muddy grass.

But Steve would never let you fall.

Only a foot behind you, he caught you nimbly by your hips, in one rapid motion twirling you so that you faced him. Your hands were situated against his chest, your breaths heaving. You looked up at him through clumped eyelashes.

His hair was soaked, and he pushed it back with his hand, spraying you with gentle droplets. His lips were parted, rivers of rain flowing down his face.

You instantly climbed on the tops of your toes, reaching for his neck, pulling him down towards you and crashing your lips together. The rain pulled you closer together, sealing your lips like glue; the thunder echoed your desperation and fervor.

On the muddy grass, soaked to the bone, you were two plants. Limbs intertwined like roots, lips locked like petals. Two plants made of earth and rain. And you knew his mouth like you knew the feeling of water and the heat of the sun. It was natural. It was meant to be. It was part of you.

“Wanna head inside?” Steve mumbled against your swollen lips, hands secure at your waist, hot breath fanning your cooled face.

“Only if we can continue this in the shower,” you grinned, his lips spreading in the same contortion.

Two plants, roots inseparable, rain-dropped leaves holding hands.

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Thank you for reading! x

#lady writes #so much love for this man #fallingintofiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #1980s #joe keery #joe keery imagine #x reader

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fandom-blackhole · 11 months

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Snow

AN: Well it started storming here again and made me think Rain again and since the original thought had more to it I thought I might expand on the the world for those who are interested. I did make some decisions about the battle droids and Obi's home planet, Stewjon, that Im sure isn't canon but I don't really care, its my fic and I'll do with it as I want lol. Anyway if you like this let me know, and if you'd like me to do the rest of the story that I thought up let me know! Thanks for reading <3

Summary: Reader can't help but remember the first time they encountered snow.

WC: 3.1k

<<Rain

Night finally fell, and with it so did the sound of the blaster fire that had been ongoing all day. You'd always found yourself thankful that the Separatists were too stingy to give their battle droids infrared or night vision allowing you and your men to have reprieve if only for a few hours from the exhausting battles. On nights like this you thanked the force for it even more, the fighting had been near nonstop for the last few days and the marshy planet you were on was frozen near solid as it had entered its winter months, making the surface slick and hard to fight on. Your men were ready to drop from lack of good rest and you were tense and tired with headache pounding right between your eyes after what felt like a never ending day of fighting.

Dragging your feet back to your tent, you cursed the council for sending you to a place that was so cold, but immediately felt bad for the thought. The order was stretched thin with the war, more and more battles kept popping up and not enough of you to fight them. You were at war, you weren't meant to be comfortable, but you hated the cold, you always have. And you hated the fighting, not because you weren't good at it, you were a jedi you had to be, but because your heart was never in it. The disruption and chaos that rippled in the force from it felt like constant pin pricks all over your skin as so many things called out for your attention through it and always made you feel suffocated. As a padawan your training had been more focused on the gathering and protecting of information, studying and learning things about the galaxy not running around and fighting to keep the peace like the others. You found more reward in the archives than on distant planets or successful missions. But all of that was in the past, in a time of peace, now it was nothing but a distant dream in the midst of wartime for you.

Thoughts wandering into the nostalgia of past as you trudged along on the frozen muddy earth, you didn't quite register the feeling of a pin prick of iciness against the swell of your right cheek that faded nearly as quickly as it was felt as the cause melted against the heat of your cheek that burned against the cold. Subconsciously though, you felt a shiver at the feeling and pulled your hood closer to your face, just glad that the jedi order provided you with items that regulated your body heat nicely against the biting weather.

You paused in your path however, as that thought repeated in your mind, and your tired brain finally registered the frozen fluff falling around you, the ones meeting your face and melting, and the ones making their homes along the outside of your coat. You'd only experienced the snow a handful of times, and you never truly could figure out if you liked it. You disliked the cold, yes, but with snow- a bit like with the rain- the force quieted. Unlike the rain though with its full pause in quiet serenity akin to taking a deep breath after a long day, the snow seemed to cause the force to buzz just slightly, like the quiet static of a comm in between messages, nothing grating, but a soft background noise that swirled around you and made you take in the burning cold air and watching the plume of frozen breath disperse in the air as if to take your stress along with it.

You stood still and watched the flurries fall around you, almost languidly, and couldn’t help but smile, their unhurried pace bringing forth a welcoming calm after so many stressful days. In the low light of the camp with the haze brought on by the falling snow you found the memory of the first time you truly experienced snow surfacing.

You had been assigned to a simple mission: transport provisions to an older temple in the Mid Rim that was home to only a handful of Jedi Masters and to collect a crate of ancient texts to be looked over and restored at the temple on Coruscant. At the time you were still younger, only having completed your trials and becoming a jedi knight a few years prior, and this was the first longer mission that you’d been assigned. You weren’t the only one going on the mission however, as the council had heard rumors of pirates having been circling that area of the Mid Rim they saw that it may be more beneficial to send along help just in case there was a conflict. The help had been in the form of your closest friend and also recently knighted jedi- a year after you which you still teased him endlessly about, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his young padawan, Anakin Skywalker, which you had been immensely happy about as you never really got to see either of the two very much- the council seeming keen on keeping young Skywalker out of the temple often, leading to him and Obi-Wan to rarely even have time for a simple chat.

The whole trip took the three of you roughly a week to complete, four of the days had been spent traveling to the planet and back to Coruscant after spending three days on the planet to unload the requested provisions, pack away the books and scrolls for the trip back, and to of course refuel. All in all the trip was easy, calm, and in Anakin’s words, “boring as kriff,” of which Obi-Wan chastised him for such foul language for a jedi learner, but you could only laugh at both Anakin’s antics and Obi-Wan’s resulting exasperation. You and Anakin did seem to be on the same page about one thing however, and that had been complaining over how cold the planet had been. The planet itself had been situated farthest from its system’s star, resulting in a freezing atmosphere and barren surface. The only hospitable places being those deep underground near natural hot springs from the depths of the planet’s core. You did find that you liked the planet in its quiet beauty, the nearly untouched blues and whites of frozen mountains were quite picturesque, as well as the surrounding silence through the force of few living creatures on the planet disrupted and created a studious calm, one you wished you could bottle up and take back to Coruscant for the days where the billions of life forms flowing so near each other in the force caused you to be distracted in your work and occasionally cause lasting migraines you still were working to control. But as nice as the silence and the landscape were, one thing overpowered any thoughts of staying, the constant feeling of never being warm enough, the tips of your fingers almost constantly being numb, the ever present need to wear thick clothes and a coat, the freezing cold that chilled you to your bones.

You found yourself jealous over Obi-Wan’s nonchalant state over the temperatures however. He walked around as if the cold didn’t bother him, even though the tips of his ears and nose were constantly a rosy pink color. You cursed him in your head and shot daggers at him anytime he teased you over your shivering state. Anakin however, your little hero, always stuck up for you and seemed to find ways to get back at Obi-Wan for all his teasing even if it meant harsher training sessions the for himself, of which truly wasn’t anything harsh, just longer periods of meditation typically, which little Anakin loathed.

Most of your days on the mission had been spent watching the back and forth between Obi-Wan and Anakin, recognizing just how like brothers the two of them acted. Your heart warmed at the sight even if something in the back of your mind kept echoing the melancholy of loneliness and the wanting to have someone close to you, wishing to care for and be cared by another however against the jedi ways it was. Even with the creeping loneliness, you continued watching the two, through meals, lessons, and even nights. You couldn’t help it, something about seeing Obi-Wan’s everlasting patience and care for the young boy stirred warmth in your heart. It was his gentleness, how he stooped to Anakin’s level to speak with him, how he praised even the smallest accomplishment in his training, in seeing him comfort Anakin from nightmares in the dead of night when he himself was still half asleep after being awoken. Everything was bringing back the soft affections you had for Obi-Wan as children that you had thought you had long since let go.

Those feelings came back quickly and so strongly that you had found yourself spending your nights sleeplessly wandering the ancient temple’s library, browsing the yellowing pages and letting the echoes of the past connected to the writing wrap around you in quiet mumbled and incomprehensible words through the force. But most nights as the quiet echoed around you louder than anything back on Coruscant, you couldn’t stop your mind from pushing its way back to thoughts of Obi-Wan. Since his knighting, he’d started to let his hair grow out, the ends curling against the tops of his ears and the back of his neck in soft waves, making your heart sing with want to rake your fingers through it, to hold it softly between your finger while those jewel colored eyes echoed back the affections you harbored for him. Your mind also wandered to neatly grown out facial hair he was letting curve around his jaw and hide the youngness of his face, to make him appear more mature and worthy of his status as a jedi knight and worthy enough to be training a padawan of his own, something you knew he still struggled with in the absence of the man he looked up to most, his late master, Qui Gon Jinn.

It was on the third and last night of your stay on the planet that found you wandering away from the scattered library and to the door of the temple, too lost in thought to really notice where your wanderings had led you until you found pause as the force started to light up in a soft static. Glancing out a carved window, for the first time you watched as snow lazily drifted towards the frozen ground, drifting in the slow wind and building up and layering on top of eachother blanketing the ice below. For the first time in several nights you found your thoughts blank, almost meditative in your paused state of just watching, observing the delicate dance of each falling flake.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there frozen like the rest of the planet, frozen in the moment in time, but you were eventually broken from your revelry by a whispered voice to your right.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d believe that this is the first time you’ve seen snow.”

Having not noticed his approach, too absorbed in the blank trance circling your mind and buzzing soft static of the force, you startled slightly turning to find amused blue depths watching you. Feeling a bit embarrassed you turned back to the window, replying in a similarly quiet tone that had an edge of wonder, “It is the first time I’ve seen snow.” Pausing you hummed before you continued as you could feel his gaze watching you questioningly, “Well, I guess not technically the first time I have seen snow, there was piles of the stuff on Ilum when I took the trip to retrieve a crystal for my saber, but…this….this I’ve never gotten the chance to witness.”

When you had turned back to glance at Obi-Wan his eyes had softened from amusement to an emotion you could not place as he studied your features for a moment before turning back to the window to watch the snow fall. You watched him watch the falling of the flakes for a few seconds before turning to watch again yourself, the quiet swirling between you both before Obi-Wan broke it once more.

“There’s not much I remember of my home planet, I am not even really sure that the few things I think I may remember are true…..but one of the things I think I remember is that there was snow. I remember flashes of running around in it, playing games with young friends- maybe even siblings- and a warm joy whenever I glanced out the window and saw the ground littered in white.”

The quiet admission caught you slightly off guard, making you look back to Obi-Wan catching a few seconds of a reminiscing thoughtfulness written on his face. Obi-Wan had never talked about his home world, never shared stories about it when you and the others gathered in circles as younglings and spoke of what little you could remember. For much of your younger days you’d just assumed that he’d been born on Coruscant and home wasn’t as out of reach as everyone else’s, until one night as padawans you’d both snuck from your rooms to the temple gardens and under the starry sky he’d pointed at one and told you that was his home.

Now though, your heart ached as he shared the memory he had obviously held so guarded for so long, opening himself to you in almost a deeper way than he ever had before. But before you could get too caught up in that thought he turned and smiled at you, saying, “Come on, you need the full first impression.”

Gently he led you out the door, pulling you along until you stood a hundred or so feet from the temple. Holding your hand out once you stopped, you huffed a quiet laugh as snow floated down and landed in your palm, melting on contact. Looking up, you see Obi-Wan’s fond gaze taking you in as you say, “It tickles almost when it lands on your skin and melts so quickly.”

Obi-Wan laughs at your almost childlike wonder and just watches as you continue to let the snowflakes wet your palm and as you lift your face to the sky watching them fall down towards you in twirling paths. You grinned as the snow dampened your face slowly, leaching heat from your chilling figure, taking joy in the fact that you could stand longer in this weather than rain without getting drenched.

When you finally turned back to Obi-Wan you found that he hadn’t moved his gaze from you, watching you with the same fond smile as if he didn’t want to miss a second of witnessing you experience something so simple for the first time and finding happiness in your own joy. From his own still watching, you could see unmelted fluffs of white decorating his honeyed hair and a few dotting his beard. He seemed to almost glow in the surrounding white and with the frozen drops decorating his appearance you think that you could easily mistaken him for deity, one who’s home was amongst the snow and ice as they fell and claimed him as theirs now. But what truly caught your attention however, was the few pieces of snow latched to his lashes, framing his bright, warm blue gaze in a contrasting ice.

You found yourself being drawn closer to him, and the closer you got the more you felt a tell-tale brush of warmth within the force that you only ever have felt when you were around Obi-Wan. The warmth was always paired with the soft emotion filled look in his gaze, the one you could never place, or never let yourself place in fear of what you might find it to be, but now as you inched closer you couldn’t let yourself be afraid of it as your heart thudded in your chest, as you felt your own warmth reaching out in the force meeting his and swirling together until each were indiscernible from the other in a way you felt it never would be again. As your the toes of your boots bumped into his own, your eyes danced between his own, letting your walls down, allowing your emotions to fill you as you finally let yourself see the mystery emotion affection finally as it swirled Obi-Wan’s gaze as he met your own eyes, refusing to look away for a second as, to wrapped in the bubble of warmth dancing around the two of you, separating you both from the world outside.

Softly and ever so slowly he raised a hand and rested it on your cheek, his palm warming the iciness as he whispered, his face inching closer as your own followed suit, “You’re freezing, darling, you need to get inside.” A shaky breath left your lips as they brushed his own at the closeness as you replied, “Just a few more minutes ....please.”

It was as you remembering how your eyes fluttered shut and how Obi-Wan’s calloused hand smoothed against your cheek that you were pulled from your memory, the present flooding back into your awareness all at once as you felt a hand on your shoulder and a worried voice ask in a tone that seemed as if the question had been asked repeatedly already, “General, are you alright?”

Lowering your head from where it had been angled towards the sky, you forced a small smile to your face as you met your clone commander’s helmeted gaze. “I am fine, Pollux, just…just tired.”

“General you're shaking from the cold, how long have you been out here,” he asked as he started leading you towards your tent.

With a sigh and a shake of your head, as you trailed beside him, “Would you believe me if I said only for a few moments?”

“Not for a second, sir.” You let out a small laugh, interrupted by a larger shiver, before saying, “Join me for a cup of tea, Pollux? I have the feeling we both could use the warmth….and I would rather like the company.”

As the two of you reached your tent, Pollux pulled off his helmet and nodded, fatigue echoing on his face, “That sounds lovely, though you must promise to rest afterwards.”

Smiling, you laugh softly again replying teasingly, your smile coming easier now, “Always worried about me and my health, Commander.”

As he entered the tent he shot back a quick, “Someone has to be, sir.”

Before you entered though, you glanced skyward once more, letting another snowflake leave an icy kiss on your cheek as the lingering warmth from the memory finally leaves you and you enter your tent.

#obi wan x reader #this one isnt necessarily angsty more so just melancholic/reminiscing of old fond memories #idk ik o said on the last one i was gonna leave it but i keep thinking/rereading rain so i had to continue or id go insane lol #id say im leaving it alone at this one but i probably wont #plus it feels as if i need a true ending for the story now #(which i do already have a plan for ig i just need to share/write it)#anyway i hope you liked this one too #also this is brought to you by me listening to the night we met on repeat #thanks for reading #also commander pollux is my clone oc and he shows up in alot of my thoughts #i love him hes one of the best :)

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three-out-of-four · 8 months

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“Heelloooo, Marshy~! What did you nee—” (*Grimsley dramatically enters Marshal’s already unlocked apartment, only to pause in his theatrics the moment he sees his friend.*)

“Are you alright…~?”

(*Marshal sits on the floor just below his couch, leaning his back against the piece of furniture. Next to him sits an open laptop with several open tabs showcased on the screen. Marshal himself looks a tad upset and clearly overwhelmed. Dark brown eyes flick up in recognition to the gambler.*)

“Sup.”

“…Sup…~”

(*Grimsley frowns, slowly moving to make his way toward the martial artist. With careful movements he sits next to Marshal, leaning into him a bit to take a look at what’s on the computer screen… Asexuality, huh…? Interesting…*)

“Did ya see anythin’ me and Nox were talkin’ about just now?”

“I’m afraid not…” (*He glances at the laptop one more time, already beginning to figure out what this may be about, despite no previous knowledge.*) “Would you like to talk about it—”

“I think I’m asexual.”

(*There’s a moment of silence after Marshal abruptly makes his statement. The Fighting specialist doesn’t make eye contact, avoiding Grimsley’s questioning gaze.*)

“Oh yeah…~?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“A week or so…”

“You know that’s perfectly okay and acceptable. Being ace, I mean.” (*Grimsley’s tone and expression are patient and open. After so many years of Marshal dealing with the shit he’s done, the least he can do is be a listening ear and a supportive friend.*)

“Yeah I know.”

“And you know I support you, yes~?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what has you troubled…?”

“I’m…” (*Marshal laughs a bit, though it comes out a bit watery.*) “Fuck, I’m just emotional ‘bout it, and I dunno why.”

(*The Dark user moves to put a hand on his friend’s knee.*) “That’s quite alright, Marsh. Emotions are only normal, after all. Why don’t I go get us something to eat and we can talk a bit, hm~?”

“Yeah, alright. That sounds…nice.”

“Fabulous~! I’ll be riiiight back~” (*Grimsley pushes himself off the floor, swiftly moving as he thinks on nearby takeout places. He pauses when Marshal makes a choked out noise, looking back at the martial artist with a quirked brow.*)

“I-… Thanks, Giima. I ‘ppreciate you bein’ here. You’ve come a long way…”

(*He’s silent for several moments before his expression softens.*) “Now now, don’t get too mushy on me…~” (*His hand grabs the doorknob, adding one more thing before he leaves the apartment.*)

“Any time…~”

#pokemon #pkmn irl #pkmn rp #marshal irl #grimsley irl #offscreen post #long post

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caemthe · 7 months

Text

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies. ( repost, don’t reblog! )

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

𝐑𝐄𝐃

wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets

𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

tagged by: @toadmiretoweepover ty for tagging me! tagging: @rvinfall @memovia @ryogai @holyrisen @oblyvn @astrcls

#dee. º ( saber. )#tagged. ° ( thank you! )#/ long post #/ from now on when i try to explain dee's vibe i'll just show this post lkjhghjk

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marshmellowtea · 28 days

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i just need. a guy. to lay on me and cuddle into my arms while i tippy tap on my laptop. warm living breathing weighted blanket

#and by guy i mean [static noises]#idk take your pick of whatever adam scott character i'm being weird about atm #marshy speaks

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endlss-voiid · 8 days

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

bold what applies to your muse.

italicize what sometimes applies.

repost, don’t reblog!

B L U E

R E D

Y E L L O W

G R E E N

marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests/ labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns

B L A C K

W H I T E

TAGGED BY. No one. TAGGING. Anyone who wants to participate in this.

#/ There is freedom in horror / ( DASH GAMES )#/ Darkness incarnate / ( LUPIN INTROSPECTION )#/ Macabre understandings / ( AESTHETICS)#/ swirling darkness / ( queue )

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arcxnumvitae · 17 days

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies. ( repost, don’t reblog! )

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

𝐑𝐄𝐃

𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

#q 4 cash #{Mhoirbheinn Games

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oculusxcaro · 8 months

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂

rules: bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies. ( repost, don’t reblog! )

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways 𝐑𝐄𝐃 wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art

Tagged by: Nobody, stole while exploring! Tagging: @acidbite, @arkhmlcst, @babydxhl, @bdybag, @byanyan, @elisethetraveller, @grasshopperqueen, @novaless, @paleobird, @sanguine-salvation, @smilingmxsk, @the-rorschach-mask (and your other muses!), @twcfaces and anybody else who'd like to do this???

#🌈 || dashboard games #🌈 || memes #Didn't feel up to doing much today oof #Not feeling quite so iffy about writing though so that's good!#Just something simple and fun before bed since I haven't seen this one going around #Thought you all might like to try if sinday isn't your thing!#Bolded ones are more recently relevant #Italized are hinting to her past like travelling through the wilderness to Gotham asdfghh #Fingers crossed this coming week is a bit more lively #Also ew I can't believe it's my birthday next week #Not this week coming but the week after >:(

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