#the skulk got him last season

[my-adhd-gremlin-blog]

For a man with no soul, Grian is very easy to possess...

#let's see #he got possessed by mycelium spores #hermitcraft season 7 #then mumbo juiced his soul out of him #hermitcraft season 8 #the skulk got him last season #hermitcraft season 9 #and now he does the oceans bidding #hermitcraft season 10 #am i missing anything #hermitcraft #grian

[convexicalcrow]

Cub didn't care that his clothes were getting increasingly covered in dyes. That was to be expected. He had so much testing to do of the fireworks his factory created, to make sure he was only selling his best quality work. Did some occasionally explode in his face and shower him with dye? Sure! Came with the territory. It's why he'd figured out how to enchant his glasses with mending, so they didn't break completely when a firework went off too close to him. They didn't break anymore.

He couldn't really smell anything else these days except for gunpowder, flowers, and redstone. Did that matter? Not really. It was too much fun to play around with explosive fireworks. It was all he thought about. All he dreamed about.

So of course he didn't notice that that small patch of cyan dye on the back of his lab coat wasn't just cyan dye mixed with a little black. He didn't notice the little shimmers of light, the places where it was clear that it wasn't dye but skulk. Cub had other things on his mind. he wasn't thinking about skulk.

But of course he was always thinking about skulk. It had never really left him, just gone dormant, waiting for the right moment to reappear. He'd felt it in his bones towards the end of last season, as he was tending to the museum. Was he afraid of it? Maybe a little, in the same way he was a little afraid of the Vex when They decided to possess him. It never stopped him going to ancient cities though.

That said, it had felt strange to be in the deep dark on a new world. The skulk felt both familiar and not. It had been like that when they'd visited the Emperors too. The skulk there was particularly vicious and possessive in a way it hadn't been on other worlds. Perhaps it's why he was possessed. He was stupid enough to go into the fog and get himself possessed.

But the skulk back on Hermitcraft was...

Cub didn't really know how to describe it. It had still sunk its tendrils into his brain, he had willingly obeyed it when it had need of him, but it lacked something. And the skulk on this new world was... pensive. Curious. It clearly recognised the dormant skulk within him, but didn't know why it was there.

Cub sensed it when he touched the skulk, walked over it slowly, hoping not to disturb the place. He knew how sacred this place was to the skulk. How he shouldn't disturb the Mourner. He understood now. He knew now. Wordless memories, pictures of ancient times that Cub couldn't really interpret properly, floated into his mind. The time before. The time before there was mourning and sadness and a need to isolate. A time when there was light, and life.

Whenever Cub found himself down in the deep dark, he always wanted to sink his fingers into the skulk, making contact, even if the skulk didn't seem to care about possessing him this time. It seemed to think him... not tainted. Sacred? Chosen to host the skulk and give it a body? Cub didn't quite know how to interpret the feelings.

No. It wasn't quite that. It was more... a feeling of kindredness. Was that even a word? Cub didn't know. He just knew the skulk didn't seem to see him as an enemy. As long as he was respectful in the deep dark, as long as he didn't awaken the Mourner, made no sound at all, he felt safe there. Which was both a familiar feeling, and also a strange one.

Sometimes, he felt he was always in the deep dark when was working in the factory. It wasn't his fault that the skulk really showed off the fireworks really nicely. It was like a substitute starry sky, but he couldn't deny that having the skulk close brought him a little comfort. It wasn't whispering to him, wasn't really doing anything other than just being there, but it was nice to have. Could he have just used black concrete? Sure. But why use black concrete when skulk was right there and available? He didn't need to craft that.

And maybe, every so often, when he was cleaning out the testing chamber, maybe his lab coat got a little more skulk stained, and maybe it was hidden just as quickly by all the dyes he was surrounded by as he got back to the work of testing fireworks and seeing just how many different combinations he could make and sell. And maybe that was for the best, somehow.

#hermitcraft #cubfan135 #skulk cub #hermitfic #fanfic #750words #i'm very normal about cub's dyed skin #it's fine #i'm so fine about this

[thecw-unicorn]

Holiday Dreams. Yandere! Giorno x reader

Also bigggg shoutout to the lovely @mrsgiovanna for helping a bit with this story!!!!

Giorno is aged up by the way!

TW: toxic, unhealthy relationship, nightmares, implications of abuse, depression implications

Every day was the same.

You’d awaken in your lavish prison, pick out an outfit from your designer filled wardrobe, and skulk around the manor for the day.

On the days you could find the energy to get out of bed.

Those days didn’t happen as much as they did when you first arrived. Those days also were filled with tears and fear. Although now, the tears remained, albeit happening occasionally and quietly. Nowadays, the sadness and fear is giving way to dull emptiness and despair.

You had been in Giorno’s home for several months. To be exact, 167 days. The late summer had turned to fall and now, to winter. The holiday season had arrived, which further upset you to have to spend it with your captor, the man who took and took until he was satisfied, the man who frightens you to your core instead of your friends and family.

Giorno had been an enigma from the day you met him. Even now, after spending as much time with him as you had, he was still difficult to understand and decipher. It didn’t help you were the complete opposite to him. One look and he instantly read your thoughts and feelings. It made you feel gross and unsafe, always having that deep never ending pit of anxiety resting firmly in your chest.

To his credit, he has kept his word. He’s never so much as raised his voice, let alone his hand to you. He always was kind and aware, keeping his distance and only initiated any form of affection when you were comfortable. He even gave you your own bedroom, albeit connected to his. He even got your things from your cheap apartment brought over, including your comfort items. All of your hobbies provided for—especially books. You had been an avid reader before but now the interest to partake has fizzled out.

Despite his best efforts to maintain some civility between you two, it didn’t stop you from getting on your knees, pleading, begging to be sent home and swearing up and down to never tell a soul. You could still sometimes see the discomfort in his eyes and voice when he dismissed you.

Which brings you to today. Day 168. Christmas. You had half a mind to stay in bed all day again, purely out of spite but today was different. You wanted to try to find some kind of solace today, even if it meant having to talk to him. Not for you, but for your loved ones. You had no idea if they were looking for you, but you liked to think they were. And even if they didn’t know where you are, wouldn’t they just want you to be happy?

You lazily make your way through your routine, your eyes noticeably red and puffy from last night. You make your way down the stairs, already regretting the decision to leave your room. Then, you see it.

Breakfast was nearly displayed on the grand table. You quickly recognize all of your favorites. Pancakes, waffles, fruit, eggs, bacon, and sausage. And there he is at the head of the table. His golden hair perfectly styled and outfit immaculately tailored to his body. His suit was a deep emerald green, complimenting and accented his eyes. There was swirls of a floral pattern in a silver thread. He turns to look at you, his eyes immediately light up by your mere appearance.

“There you are,” he says in his soft and warm voice. “I’ve been waiting for you. Buon natale.” He walks towards you, extending his arms out for a hug. You stand there, frozen in your tracks, not knowing what to do or think. His arms close snugly around your waist, and you catch a whiff of his elegant cologne. You figure it best to let him do what he wants. Things often were easier that way, as much as you hated to admit. Let him hug you, kiss you. Anything else you would probably panic, although luckily, he hasn’t attempted. He backs away after a moment, smiling softly at you, taking the moment to smooth your hair behind your ears.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks. You shrug your shoulders. The truth is, sleeping has been difficult for you, especially since your “arrival”. At first, you had nightmares, all regarding Giorno and what he could do to you, knowing nobody could stop him. While those were few and far between, your dreams as of late had been…strange. You had been doing your best to hide your sleep troubles from Giorno. Soon, you thought, he’ll know. He’ll see the dark circles and other signs. He always knows. Mostly fragments of a scene, and yet they were so distantly vivid it was as if it was real life. Another interesting aspect was that many of the “scenes” you had seen in your dreams often happened the next day or so. You had considered it to be simply deja vu at first, but the more and more it persisted. You quickly shook yourself free of the reflection.

Placed neatly in front of the large windows in the living room, setting the stage against the foggy Christmas morning of Southern Italy. It was a large and tall thing, flocked on every branch, with beautiful green, white, gold, rose gold, and purple ornaments delicately hanging on, with colorful lights carefully hung all around the tree. The final touch was the star on the very top, golden with stained glass. It was beautiful, even you could admit. Giorno always had wonderful taste.

Then, the presents. Dozens of them it seemed, all wrapped or bagged and placed all around the tree. Surely, they couldn’t ALL be for you. Some for the the staff, perhaps? Or for him? Maybe some were for decoration…Giorno catches you staring.

“Would you like to open some?” He asks. In truth, you wanted this to be over as soon as possible, despite loving the holidays. Celebrating with him seemed wrong. That it was cruel to be happy, or at least pretend to, with him. Besides, you didn’t think you could stomach the breakfast right now in his presence.

“Okay.” You say quietly. He leads you over, and motions to a plush seat. “Ah. I almost forgot.” He says suddenly. He pulls out a pen from his pocket, and right before your eyes it turns into a beautiful pink ranunculus flower. He gently places it behind you ear, adjusting your hair to keep the flower in place. His proximity to you makes your heart race. You blush, still not used to these intimate displays of affection. Giorno has used his ability in front of you plenty of times, and even then, it still amazes you. You could almost feel his smugness at never failing to make you blush. This time, however, something was different.

You noticed a hazy golden glow around him. Had it always been there? You couldn’t say for sure. Yet now, it’s more obvious to you. While still somewhat blurry, you could see it. That golden glow radiating from around him.

Giorno catches you staring. You quickly take your eyes back to the Christmas tree. Giorno’s mind was racing. Were you staring at his stand? Have you always seen it? Or are you just now seeing it? Are you a stand user? If so, what’s your ability? He couldn’t stop the overwhelming questions bouncing around his brain. He could feel unease creeping into his chest, spreading throughout his body.

Desperate to change the situation, he directs your attention back to the presents. “Why don’t you pick one out and get started?” He encourages. “They’re all mine?” You said, stunned. He smiles and nods. You hesitantly begin to pick out a gift while Giorno sits and watches. He should be happy, and excited the mere prospect of you opening your gifts from him. He’s always given you gifts ever since you came to his home, but it was different today. He knew how much you deeply loved and appreciated the holiday season.

While it should be a happy and joyous occasion, Giorno couldn’t shake that steady, unrelenting feeling of unease. He always kept a close eye on you, mainly to ensure your safety, but now he would have to watch closely for any…anomalies that may present themselves when regarding your theorized abilities. As he watched you open your presents, (with the occasional offer to put on any jewelry you had gotten), he thought about you. You were everything he could hope for. Beautiful, kind, his ray of sunshine lighting up his dark days of dealing with some of the most corrupt individuals that Italy had to offer. While quiet, and shy, it couldn’t be mistaken for being passive. You were also curious and had your own version of fearless when it came to seeking your interests. He loved it about you. He loved the days before listening to you talk and talk about your hobbies and interests. God, he loved listening to you talk. Now, you barely speak until spoken too. In the very early days of bringing you home, you cowered at his every move. He couldn’t blame you, taken from the life you knew but the most powerful man in Italy. Of course you were afraid, although it didn’t stop his heartbreak and the longing to comfort you when he found you crying or staring at him with petrified, doe eyes.

You had your own version of strength. A different sort. Not the kind that relied on brute physical force or a keen, intellectual mind. It’s not unlikely or impossible to think that you could have a stand, unique to your own personality. But the possibility brings a whole new set of troubles for Giorno. How strong would it be? If you could figure out how to control it, would you use it on him? Would you try to escape? To leave him behind in search of a new life far, far, away? He couldn’t process it. It was just too much.

You absentmindedly opened Giorno’s presents, one after another. More games for the consoles he had gotten you (making sure they were offline of course), a jewelry music box, more books to add to your ever growing to be read pile, clothes, shoes, jewelry, hair and skincare products, makeup, and much more. You didn’t think you had gotten this many presents in your whole life until now.

You had finally, somehow made your way to the last and final present. Jewelry you were guessing by the size and shape of the small box. You take the top off and notice it. A sterling silver chain, with a small flower charm on it. A rose, made of beautiful stained glass with 2 small opal stones on both sides of the charm. Beautiful, no question, but something was off about it. You had seen it before. Not in the sense that you had seen and Giorno had noted the object and bought it before, but you had seen it elsewhere.

In your dreams.

The realization makes you uneasy, and you could barely breathe, your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“Do you like it?” You barely make out Giorno asking. “Is it to your tastes? Would you like me to put it on?” You couldn’t focus properly. You had seen it before, you knew you had in your dreams. How did Giorno know about it? He’s been in your dreams before, but this was different. Such a seemingly small detail, yet it was so clear you remember. And it went from your imagination to now being in your hands.

“No.” You mutter a reply.

Giorno noticed your change. He still couldn’t stomach the idea of you being a stand user. He was unable to pinpoint the exact reason for your behavior switch. The necklace was beautiful, and reminded him so much of you.

Whether or not you were a stand user, he would get to the bottom of it. The idea of you keeping something from him was bothersome, to say the least.

He would figure it out sooner or later.

#jojo pt 5 #jojos bizzare adventure fanart #yandere jojo x reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo giorno #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo golden wind #vento aureo #yandere jjba x reader #jjba x reader #yandere jjba #don giorno #yandere giorno x reader #yandere giorno #yandere giorno giovanna #my writing #writing

[viky-somebody]

pretty cool fic list

dog at the door - fluffy_papaya (absolute fave. Red King)

I still Bleed When i Fall Down - Paranoid_Pug (MCC gets attacked by watcher hunters)

And The Universe Shifts - aayaptre (fandom history)

this is about a stuffed bird - Bee_4 (apocalypse, Mumbo and EX dynamic)

fixed and dilated - iamsolarflare (Hypno & xB special hybrid powers shenanigans) 

Cause We Are Whole - ooFFFF (Tango becomes a robot and finds a new friend)

Nothing But Flowers - nho (Etho & myceluim resistance +nho references, sadly unfinished)

Still the Echoes Give Us Light - doctortrekkie (VERY good watcher grian series, HC + Traffic life series events.)

Eldritch Horror Keralis - MawoftheMagnetar (exactly what it says. but also oh so much more)

prometheus and the livewire - storm_warning (Ren the king is struggling. Doc is quiet and theres no news from him)

They say that the world was built for two - GardenerGulfie (Ren and Martyn keep meeting in different lives. also aromantic Ren pog)

Torchlight - Skelew (Ren is a god of a dead city stuck in the form of a torchlight and Martyn is his only follower)

the last days of the free angel of carrows - Bee_4 (Joe Hills and Zombie Cleo run a paranormal activity agency in a modern city. Cleo is a literal undead, Joe is a renowned angel, and together they get tied with a conspiracy against the city mayor.)

Lady Cleo, King Ren, and the Trials of The Midwest - storm_warning (Cleo and King Ren get teleported to Ohio)

Against The Clock - Leopardmask (Set in season 8, Evil X got possessed and the Horse Head Farms plus Wels and Jevin decide to deal with that) (Jevin is a slime & vex hybrid)

The Sky Weighs Heavy Tonight - MaoftheMagnetar (pilot au, set in a world with genetic mutations caused by a past war. gone emotional)

Joehills' Moderately Haunted House - zombiiehorse (Modern au, Joe buys a new house for a suspiciosly low price)

Monsters Splitting Hairs - Silverskye13 (Ren, Doc and Gem live in a village, forced to disguise as humans, bc of the history of the town) (great worldbuilding)

Lonesome Dreams - doctorletmebebrave (Jimmy Solidarity gets separated after the dragon fights and accepts a deal from the Listeners)

Lend Me A Hand - SolSearchingNights (Ponk sneaks onto hermitcraft and vents to Doc about their relationship with Sam)

Redstone and Skulk - Silverskye13 (Tango's helsmit Tanguish & Helsknight, delicious hels worlduilding)

Åttiofem - MawoftheMagnetar (Iskall has a terrible day getting kidnapped and finally discovers something about his past) (slight Stresskall shipping)

there are many downsides to being a marine biologist - donnerstag (modern day au with hybrids, Doc is a scientist studying a siren!Martyn whos been newly caught for their facility) (DOCMARTYN FISH YAOI LETS GO)

Ad Nauseam - mycelium_menace (Dawndragon) (Joe Hills is stuck in a timeloop. One day, a wild Cleo appears to shake him out of his apathy)

Black skies have changed into blue - GoodTimesWithScar (Oli Orionsound finds a wild Martyn, whos been reverse isekai'ed back from the datastream)

(i'll tend to the flames you can worship the) ashes - darubyprincxx (amazing post-rapture season 1 empires work. Fwhip and Gem survived and are on the run. They find a Pixlriffs, who's been missing for 8 years.)

misc., *mostly* smaller fics

Empires & others

Ghosts in the Sky - trafficpose (space au Martyn/Docm)

Kids in empires, what will they do?  - Faffodill (Hermes, Michael and Grumbot messing around)

food IS a love language and i will fight you on this - darubyprincxx (Hermes overhears a discussion between his parents)

Empires Strike Back - Leopardmask (A retelling of the Hermempires crossover)

Count fWhip Fails a Blood Test - darubyprincxx (set in empires season 1)

survivorship bias - Bee_4 (Jimmy wakes up in a city of New Pixandria, after the season 1 Rapture, with little to no memory of who he was before)

Fuck Around and Find Out - Moonstone_Kat (Sheriff Jimmy wants to finally end all the jokes about him being a toy and decides to pull off the most elaborate prank on his friends)

hermitcraft

a not so calculated catch - vexberries (Mermaid Scar and a sceptic Cub, who does not believe in mermaids but gets a crush)

Four Hearts - PieOfDeath (Jlethubs valentines day fluff)

Wind Back The Clock - guy56 (Bdubs and Etho have existed in many worlds and timelines yet they still keep meeting each other)

Hermit City Heroes series - 2point5 (Superhero AU) (actually pretty long)

What's The Letter That Starts The Alphabet (Ayy!) - Darubyprincxx (Team STAR look at Rens Very Bad presentation)

Joe Hills, Joe Hills, Joe Hills - leopardmask (the guy gets possessed)

The Rising Moon, The Setting Sun (series) - Dillbug (Watcher Grian, worshipper Xisuma, runaway s9 Pearl + Bonus Drista)

We're not that different, you and I - swemae (grian and scar talk about vex magic)

cmon mumbo dont tell me youve never heard of a stable time loop - Sixteenthdays (Mumbo gets his soul back)

bad things come in small packages - kiwinatorwaffles (Jimmy is a Watcher and vouches for Grian to become one as well)

Found - sparxwrites (Grian saves Scar from the Boatem hole)

I lost the old, guess I need something new - SkyWillSomeTimesWrite (Grian needs glasses)

What Does It Mean To Truly Live? - Wrenny_Fang_03 (an okay Watcher Grian thing where Xisuma is also an ex-Watcher. not my thing tbh but it was alright)

A Dog's Nose - dontrollthedice (Ren asks about Etho and Beefs relationship)

Guys and Dolls - Leopardmask (cool Doll Grian concept)

Sticker War - darkleweather

Name-Calling is NOT supposed to suck this badly (One chapter with a cool concept. Grian hears everyone who says his true name)

Buddy System - (Ren & Grian in the End)

Healing Is a Four Letter Word - Hypno_cat (Grian is a cryptid, joins hc in secret and hides in the woods)

an observer in a land of none - jaysflight (vague fantasy, watcher Grian (Veld) and Scar) (really loved this)

Inversing Allocation - Interjection (5+1 watcher Grian stuff)

Following in Pandoras footsteps - Paranoid_Pug (Grian gets a surprise present)

send me a wave via subspace - FangirlOfPower (Joe is stuck and communicates with Cleo via voicemail)

When This World Is No More (The Moon is All We'll See) - Silverskye13 (Season 8 moon crush, sad)

To Convey a Certain Brilliance - Bee_4 (Joe dies repeatedly while trying to find hermits after the moon fell)

An Inhuman Waltz - MawoftheMagnetar (Jev stole one of Cleo's armor stands for unknown reasons)

It Takes Two to Tango - EyelessFog (Tango realizes he might be a system)

The Guppy Geiser's Miraculous Return - simplydm (the guppy geiser returns!)

Investigative Journalism - jaz_it_up (Pix and Sloy explore ruins of the season 8 world to find if anyone survived)

Heart Storm - Duchess_Of_Dumpsters (one cool chapter of Joe and Wels shipping)

The guy who conquers death- ooFFFF (Zedeath tries to hunt down Joe)

The Orange Promise - bloop_im_a_frog_now (Cub and Scar are forced to get engaged by Cub's rich parents)

dream smp~

passerine - blujamas, thcscus

His Curse of Binding - bari_astralis (greek mythology themed au with reincarnation into modern times. the events of the early dream smp seasons are ancient history) (cried my eyes out)

Incarnate Inchoate - underoriginal (Dream is sent to hermitcraft and is forced to rethink his life choices)

Up For a Fight? (Tommy escapes the server to live a life by a fighting arena, changes in a lot of ways) (some typos in the text)

Black Bird Fly - MollyPollyKinz (everybody has wings and magic powers and tommy is a kidnapped prince)

It Feels Like Murder (Dream finds Sams body in the prison)

something you can’t bottle up - doingthewritethings (Tommy is slowly dealing with trauma)

Watch Untill The End - Noem (Dsmp fic in czech, a small reimagining of how the server was created, tied in with Evo and Tekkit lore)

#fic recs #mcyt fics #fics i enjoyed ^^

[drabblesaf]

Movie Night Frustration - Steve Harrington Smut

REQUESTED: Nope. I haven’t written for quite a while, and I had a sudden inspiration strike last night (especially after S4 P1 dropped).

WARNINGS: Oral (both receiving), “sir” kink - MINORS DNI PLEASE

SUMMARY: You and Steve are on the night shift at the video store - you’re trying to do work and catch up on the week’s missed jobs, but Steve gets bored easily and needs something more than videos to entertain him. 

NOTES: Uh, hey. So, I’m kind of back? 

Maybe. I’m not sure yet. I’ve been really busy with uni for the past few years (in case you couldn’t tell from my utter lack of posting here) and now I’ve finished everything, I wanted to try and get back into my writing.

May be a bit rusty, so bare with me. I had inspo strike from the new season of Stranger Things, so here we are.

Hope you enjoy guys <3

Working the night shift at the Family Video Store was not how I originally planned on spending this evening. Sure, the pay was good for night shift, I couldn’t fault that. And any of the stock of candy we had left over was pretty much free rein until the next day’s batch came in - even more so once we hit the end of the week and needed to start clearing everything out. Those two things were no problem to me at all. The problem? Steve Harrington.

Steve had changed a lot since his time at Hawkins High. No longer a complete fucking asshat, he’d actually matured into a guy who gave somewhat of a shit. Shocking for the King of Hawkins to have such a redemption arc behind him. Maybe it was the fact he kept hanging out with the kids from sophomore year, Dustin, Mike and Lucas. Maybe it’s because my coworker Robin had actually knocked some sense into his pretty little head. Or maybe…just maybe, Steve was actually thinking seriously about his future and realising that he couldn’t be a dick forever.

Whatever it was, it still didn’t seem to occur to him that he could do his job without picking up chicks at the store - although maybe that was the same case for me too with guys. Somehow, Hawkins still had enough of a single male population that seemed to want to try their luck with the cute girls behind the movie counter, which always ended in Robin giving a heavy eyeroll and me gaining some dude’s home phone number or a reminder that they’d “pick me up at whatever time and we could go find a place to get away from it all”…which would almost always end in them wanting to go to Lovers Lake or Skull Rock, and Steve or Robin covering for me while I camped out in the staff room.

Surprisingly enough, this often worked quite well - I guess the boys were intimidated by my coworkers enough to eventually skulk out of the store, never to return again. This tactic didn’t work on the girls though, but then again, Harrington never seemed to have enough game to be able to woo them. Which is where he was stuck on this particular evening, moping as he stood next to the counter counting out the change in the register. “What’s got you so down in the dumps?” I said, staring at him from across one of the aisles, brush in hand.

“I’m losing my spark, Y/N. Losing my magic touch,” he sighed, idly playing with a cent in his hands.

“What makes you say that?”

“Have you seen the chicks that come in here? None of them are interested in me offering to take them to see the latest films in the cinema. Not a single one.”

“Have you tried just being yourself and not putting the charm offensive on all the time?” I asked, crouching down to remove the DVDs from the bottom shelf so they could get wiped down (those ones in particular always seemed to get some sort of sticky residue on them, and we could never quite explain why).

“Girls don’t like me “being myself”, (Y/N). Unless myself is King Steve, they don’t want to know me.”

“That’s not true, and you know it, Harrington,” I sighed, shaking my head as I carried the DVDs over to the desk, where he was now stood with his head in his hands. I reached over and ruffled his hair slightly, causing him to look up and give me a playful glare.

“Hey, leave the hair out of this,” he chuckled, poking his tongue out at me, before pausing and flicking his tongue over his bottom lip. He did this from time to time, but this time something felt…different. “(Y/N), what do you mean, I know it?” His brown eyes bore into my own, and I felt a shift, as if the world had just had a mass earthquake.

“You should be able to guess, Steve - you’re smart enough after all”, I said, voice wavering slightly. I wasn’t wrong, Steve was in fact very smart - after Nancy and him had split up, he actually put in a decent amount of effort to get his grades back up so he could get through sophomore year without too many issues, which - much to his surprise - he did very well, passing the year with 85% overall. And despite his general act as the King of Hawkins High, he could pick up on social cues well and did try to keep people around him who weren’t…douchebags, for lack of a better term.

He stared at me, raising an eyebrow, and I turned away quickly, busying myself with sweeping the dust off the (now free) bottom shelf. In a sense, there was definitely something that had shifted in the air between us, and it had been something I had been reckoning with for a while now. I’m not sure what it was, but there had definitely been moments between Steve and I that had left me questioning what his motives were every damn time. Did he want something to happen as much as I did?

The night wore on, and we were both beginning to get tired of doing all the chores that needed to be done over the night shift, especially closing up shop. We closed up early on the weekends, purely because most people were out partying or had already decided on what films they wanted for the evening - there wasn’t much chance of any late buyers coming in at the last minute unless it was Valentines Day. I occupied myself with finishing up rearranging the movies on the shelves, while Steve scribbled away in the notebook we had for accounting. “Hey, (Y/N), could you give me a hand? Just want to make sure I have everything accounted for in this, and that I did the math correctly,” he said, and I stood up from the final shelf, dusting my hands off on my jeans.

“Sure, I can do that. Final shelf is good to go, by the way,” I said, walking over to him. I could feel his eyes burning into me as I walked over, shedding my over-fleece that I wore as uniform (since the shop was closed now, there wasn’t much point in keeping it on). I chucked it under the till and pulled up a stool next to Steve, running over the numbers and trying to do quick calculations in my mind. All the while though, I could feel his presence right next to me, as if he was wanting to do or say something. After about 5 minutes of thinking over the sums, I nodded. “All clear, everything’s good to go,” I said, looking up at him. He swallowed slightly, his tongue flicking over his lips again as his eyes moved over my face.

The air got thicker all of a sudden, and it felt like something could happen any moment. “Uh, (Y/N), have you…” he started, and I paused, dropping the pencil to the table in front. He shook his head, mumbling a quick “Fuck it,” before crashing his lips onto mine. The kiss was needy, feverish - almost like it was something he depended on, like a lifeline. His lips and mine moved effortlessly against one another, tongues darting in and out and battling out in a war of dominance. His hands began roaming over my body, holding me steady on the stool as the exploration took place. This was a side I hadn’t expected from him, but I let it happen, moving my hands up to his hair as I did so. 

His lips began moving down from mine to my jaw, trailing their way down to the collar of my shirt - this caused him to pause momentarily, both of us gasping for air as he looked at me, moving a hand up to caress my face gently. I nodded, giving him the permission he sought to take my shirt off, leaving me in my bra and jeans. He resumed his prior actions, lips trailing down my collarbone to one breast, then another. Each of them had kisses pressed to them, before the bra itself was gently pulled down and his lips attached themselves to each nipple, sucking and biting on each one and causing small whimpers to fall from my mouth.

This only seemed to spur him on, and made him suck each nipple more feverishly as if it was his lifeline. Soon after, he realised other areas needed attention too, and his kisses moved further and further down my body until they hovered just above the waistband of my jeans. He looked up at me, and I nodded. “Please, Steve,” I mumbled quietly, and he licked his lips again, turning his attention to the button on my jeans, which he popped open deftly before helping me shimmy the material off my hips. 

He gave a few tentative kisses over my panties, causing some light moans to fall from my mouth, before that material was removed too and nothing was in the way of his tongue. He kissed the area lightly, before licking at it, causing my hips to raise up sharply to meet his mouth, and my hand to fall into his hair. Every single action he made had my body feeling like it was on fire, and very quickly I could feel myself reaching the high I was craving. He was licking and sucking at the area as if it was his entire life force, and it was very quickly getting me to where I needed to be. “Steve, fuck!” I whimpered, my hands tugging at his hair as he moved quicker, bringing a finger into play as well and curling it up right where I needed it. That was enough to bring me over the edge, causing me to scream and gasp as I met the high he’d been trying to elicit from me for so long. He kept lapping at my arousal as wave after wave of pleasure ran through my body, causing me to tremble at every slight touch he created.

After a while I calmed down enough and the room stabilised for a short while, for me to begin to realise that Steve was unbuckling his belt and beginning to remove his jeans. Shakily, I stood up, placing my hands over his and hoping he understood that I wanted to help him. He looked at me as I did this, and said quietly, “You don’t have to, y’know.”

“I want to.” He thought about this for a second and then nodded, allowing me access to the button on his jeans completely. I carefully popped it open, taking my time with the zipper - I wanted to at least try to savour this moment before it went away and we were forced into that pit of realisation of what we were doing with each other. He sighed slightly, bucking his hips up as I pulled his jeans down, looking face to face at his hard-on restrained by his boxers. It was straining to be let out against the cotton, and I could only oblige, causing a hiss to fall from his lips as he was exposed to the air of the store.

I expected him to be packing down there - he was “The King” of Hawkins High, after all - but I didn’t expect him to be bigger than I thought. I cautiously grasped at his cock, causing him to let out a jagged moan and his hand to fall over mine. “Fucking hell, (Y/N). Do you know how much I’ve imagined this scenario?” He grunted, helping to move my hand along his length.

“No, but I could probably guess,” I snarked back, before diverting my attention back to the matter in hand…quite literally. Tentatively, I poked my tongue out and licked a stripe up one of the protruding veins on his member, causing him to groan loudly, the noise only encouraging me further. I licked a few more times before turning my attention to his head, eliciting a louder moan from his lips, followed by several curses. 

“Fuck, so pretty…you’re doing so good sweetheart,” he sighed, hand falling away from mine and slowly coming back up to push my hair out my face, causing me to look up at him as he did so. His lips were slightly parted, and he was looking down at me through his eyelashes, eyes flickering as I looked up with his cock in my mouth. “Shit…so good, fuck. You’re killing me, doll.”

This was the only motivation I needed to keep on with what I was doing, and so I took him further into my mouth, bobbing my head up and down vigorously. It was difficult to keep this up for too long at a time though, purely because he was so damn big - but Steve seemed fine with anything I did as long as I was giving his dick enough attention. Soon, he began to twitch slightly in my mouth, his moans getting louder and his breathing quickening, to which he quickly pulled me off of him with a satisfying pop! He stood up over me kneeling on the floor, jerking his cock vigorously. “Where do you want it angel? Want me to cum in your mouth like the good slut you are? Say it, come on. Tell me, baby.”

“Please cum in my mouth, I’ll take it all in,” I whined - this act alone only served to encourage Steve further. 

“Want you to beg for it properly,” he muttered under his breath, and it took a moment before the gears finally clicked in my head.

“Please, Sir. I want to swallow your cum like the good princess I am for you,” I moaned, feeling myself begin to dampen again. This seemed to work, as barely a minute later the man above me was moaning loudly himself as he reached his own climax, the hot spurts of cum streaming down my throat. As soon as he had finished, I swallowed, opening my mouth to show him that nothing remained in there.

We took a moment to both catch our breath from the experience, and he was the first one to speak. “I think I’ve got my magic touch back, but do you wanna test that theory back at my place?”

“You’re on, Harrington.”

“Hey, that’s Sir to you, princess.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #joe keery #joe keery imagine #joe keery smut

[absurdthirst]

Coming Home for Christmas {Agent Whiskey x F!Reader}

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Writer Wednesday Week 42: 12/14/22 @writer-wednesday

|| Writer Wednesday || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s late, almost too late to be outside. The shops have all closed, everyone rushing home to be with their families. Not wanting to miss a second of eggnog and Christmas carols. Dirty Santa gift exchanges and last minute cookie baking. Everyone wanted to celebrate the season or their holiday. Everyone but him. 

The snow crunches under his boots, hands shoved down into the pockets of his coat. He’d forgotten his gloves in the truck that had given him a ride to the edge of town. Venturing no further than the highway. It had been a small miracle when the truck had stopped by the beat up and broken down Bronco to begin with. 

Snow looks pretty but it’s bone-chilling when you are out in it, the brim of his hat the only thing keeping it from soaking into his hair or settling on his neck where the collar of his jacket is pulled up. 

Dark storefronts and street lamps are his companions. The sidewalks are covered in a fresh layer of powder despite the piled high banks from where it had been shoveled earlier. Guilt settles into his stomach, curling uncomfortably as he realizes it’s been years since he’s been in this little town. 

Leaving in a fit of glory and self confidence only to skulk back into town unnoticed and most definitely with his tail tucked between his legs. Bridges burned and prestige lost, he’s not the man who had sworn to once turn this town on its ear. 

He’s got nothing but the clothes on his back, the few bucks in his wallet wouldn’t buy anything suitable to bring even if a shop were open. The tantalizing scents of candy and baked goods coming out of the bakery long replaced with the scent of snow. 

Shuddering, he lifts his shoulders high, nearly to his ears as he walks. The path was never forgotten even though it’s been a long time since he’s traveled this road. Honestly he had never thought he would be here again if he were honest with himself. 

Down around the corner and up the stairs. It’s not too far away. Unless you’ve moved. How sorry would he feel for himself if he knocks on the door and you aren’t there. If some stranger opens the door and gives him a questioning look. Someone he’s never seen before and they don’t know who you are. What if you’ve blown this town’s dust off your boots like he had? What if there isn’t a refuge from the proverbial cold for him?

He should have called, should have kept in touch, but he hadn’t. Every day it became a little easier to forget, to get wrapped up in the importance of his job, the excitement. Telling himself that he would check in, check up on you when he had a free moment, that he would do it later - until he had just….stopped thinking about it altogether. 

Now he’s here, every step bringing him closer to his destination. If you aren’t there, maybe you’ve gone traveling for the holidays, getting away from the cold and snow. It would be unusual, but then again, how does he know if your habits haven’t changed?

Turning the corner of the row of buildings, he sees the small alleyway. The familiar staircase that leads up to the door above the old apothecary turned coffee shop. The apartment that you had lived in for as long as he could remember. The cheerful lights twisting around the bannister invite visitors up towards the wreath adorned door. 

At the stairs, he pauses. Looking up to see the lights shining through the windows, a shadow of someone (maybe you?) moving through the space with the ease of someone who is home. He takes a deep breath, swallowing down his nerves as he takes the first step of seventeen that will take him to your doorstep. 

He sighs as he stands in front of the door. The one that he would have just walked into without a thought. Now he stands here, almost a stranger as he contemplates turning around and leaving without ever alerting you that he is here. You will be disappointed in him, you probably already are. He’s aware of his faults and the grievances that he has committed against you. 

Still, he’s here and his hand comes out of his pocket, curls into a fist and he lifts it up. Ready to knock and bring you to the door. Pausing again because once he does it, he can’t unring the bell as the saying goes. 

Three sharp raps. That’s all he gives. Enough to make his presence known but not enough to startle you. Listening to the sounds of footsteps bringing you closer. Then the clicking and sliding of the locks as you throw the bolt of the door. Good girl, staying safe while you are home.

His stomach clenches even as his eyes narrow slightly against the brightness of the light behind you when the door is opened. Your eyes widen in shock and he doesn’t miss the surprised gasp, even as he is sliding on a practiced, easy going smile, like it has been ten minutes since he’s seen you rather than ten years. 

“Jack!” You whisper, like you’ve seen a ghost. Maybe that is true for you, he’s the ghost of husbands past. 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Jack’s tone is as smooth as Kentucky whiskey. “Merry Christmas.” 

#writer wednesday #pedro pascal #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey fanfic

[readyforthegarden]

Silver Springs - Part Six

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Original Female Character

Synopsis: The year was 1976, the season was summer. The days were hot and the nights were hotter. Music was the best it had ever been, especially rock music. Sam Kiszka has been riding the high of being in one of the top bands on the scene, but when his bands tour is accompanied by another up-and-coming band, with a lead singer that gets on his very last nerve, will everything come crashing down or will they end up making music that changes the world?

Warnings: Smoking, drinking, drug use, smut 18+ only, Minors DNI

A/N: Posting a day early because I'm celebrating seeing Greta Van Fleet with my best friend tonight!!!!! I hope you all enjoy this chapter (especially you, Sammy Nation!) and I'll see you on the other side!

WC: 2492

🎶 🎶 🎶

Sam and Harlow merely stared at each other for a few moments before he stepped aside, letting her into his hotel room. She was holding a small clutch bag that Sam hadn’t seen with her earlier, but it was embroidered with violets that matched her jumpsuit. She was visibly nervous, her fingers twitching against the clutch in her hand when they weren’t brushing her bangs out of her face or making sure the straps of her jumpsuit were in place.

The silence between them was wrought with tension again. In the half an hour since their kiss, it had built back up, and neither wanted to be the first to take a stab at deflating it. Harlow cleared her throat gently, looking around the room, at the cheap art hung on the yellowing walls.

“Would you like a drink?” Sam finally uttered, gesturing to the small table in the room. An ice bucket sat, filled with half melted ice, and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Sam himself wasn’t a whiskey drinker, but it had been a gift from the hotel for them staying there.

“I’d like an explanation.” Harlow stared straight into Sam’s eyes, making him swallow anxiously. “You kissed me.” Sam ran his tongue over his teeth, nodded gently.

“I did.”

“You lied.” 

“I did not.” 

Harlow gave Sam an incredulous look before tossing her clutch onto his bed. Her hands found a home on her hips.

“You said you didn’t hate me.” Sam shrugged noncommittally. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s not,” Sam replied. Harlow groaned and splayed her own hand over her face, like she was battling a terrible headache before looking back up at the tall man in front of her. There was a smile of disbelief and aggravation on her face, and she bit her lower lip softly before speaking again.

“You don’t hate me, you just hurl insults at me all day and night for fun?” she scoffed. “This isn’t a schoolyard Sam, you’re not going to push me down on the asphalt and come and kiss my scraped knee when the other boys aren’t looking.”

“And what have you been doing? Hmm?” Sam cocked an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest, matching her defensive posture. “You antagonize me right back, don’t act like you don’t.”

“Oh please, Sam,” Harlow rolled her eyes. “I stopped that after the first week.”

“You did?” Sam asked mockingly. He gave an exaggerated frown, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess hanging off of my brother twenty-four seven wasn’t to get at me?”

“God, you are truly a narcissist!” Harlow laughed. “Josh is my friend. We had a quick connection but it’s nothing more. At least he got to know me while you were off skulking in the dark.”

“Oh and him holding onto you, his hand on your back, that’s how friends hold one another?” Sam sneered. Harlow’s eyes sparked with recognition, and Sam instantly regretted his words.

“Are you jealous, Sam?” she smirked. “Are you jealous that you think your brother is touching me?”

“I’m not-“

“Oh, but you are. I can see it. You’re positively radiating green.” Harlow nearly giggled as she stepped forward. 

“I don’t believe in your aura bullshit, Harlow, that means nothing.”

“I’m not talking about your aura,” she shook her head, nearly giddy. “You can see it in your skin. You look sicker and sicker when one of us mentions Josh.”

“Harlow,” Sam warned as she stepped closer.

“What?” she blinked innocently. “You seem to think I’m so easy I’d let your brother in my bed, let’s talk about it.” when she was point blank in front of him, she stared up into his deep brown eyes, challenging him. “Where do you think I’ve let him touch?”

“I don’t-“

“Don’t what, Sam?” Harlow blinked up at him, cutting him off again and pressing him further. “Are you going to tell me the truth? Do you think I’m fucking your brother? Does the thought of it drive you impossibly mad?”

Sam stayed silent, glowering down at her as his cheeks reddened. Harlow clicked her tongue against the inside of her teeth and hummed satisfactorily. 

“Guess I was right.” Harlow moved, grabbing her clutch off the bed and going to pass by Sam. In the blink of an eye, he had her by the upper arms, pressing her back against the wall of his hotel room. Sam’s grip was firm, yet lax, Harlow could rip herself away easily if she wanted to. He pressed his forehead to hers gently, eyes closed, already breathing like he ran a marathon. Harlow’s eyes were wide, waiting for his next move, yet they showed no fear.

“Tell me,” Sam breathed. “Tell me you want me.” his eyes opened slowly, gazing down into hers. “Tell me you want me as badly as I want you.” 

Sam’s hands were thrown off of Harlow’s arms as she moved them, and he stumbled back, but quickly regained himself as she threw her arms around his neck, having to hop to her tiptoes even in her platform shoes for her lips to reach his. Sam’s arms wound around her waist, holding her tightly to his body. His palms swept over the silk as one of her hands stayed tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other sliding down the front of his shirt and underneath the undone buttons. 

Her hand on his skin felt electric, the feeling surging through his veins, causing him to tug her tighter to him. Sam could swear her felt the hair on his arms stand straight up as the taste of leftover champagne on her tongue and her sweet perfume enveloped his senses. Sam’s hands moved up Harlow’s back, rounding her shoulders, gently Sam slid his fingers underneath the thin straps, letting them slide down her shoulders. Harlow’s hands came up, fumbling until she found the two buttons of Sam’s shirt that had been fastened. She undid them and Sam followed her lead, taking the shirt and almost tearing it off his body.

Harlow slipped her arms from the straps, and her jumpsuit fell, leaving her near nude in front of Sam, save for her heels and panties. In the dim lamp light, her eyes sparkled up at him, and Sam thought he could see a hit of insecurity there, but it flickered away as soon as it appeared. Her hand came up, resting on Sam’s bare chest, gently pushing and walking him back until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

Catching the hint, Sam let himself sit on the edge of the bed, welcoming Harlow as she straddled his lap, accepting her kiss as her hands wound into his hair. His open palms covered the expanse of her back, rubbing up and down slowly as he held her body to his. Her warm body under his hands felt like no other, his heart was beating out of his chest, whether it was from lack of oxygen between fevered kisses or excitement he wasn’t sure.

Harlow pulled back, shaking her hair back over her shoulders, catching her breath. Her hands fell from Sam’s neck and hair down to Sam’s belt buckle. It felt like an eternity as her hands worked the buckle and the button and fly of his pants before Sam’s erection was finally freed. A sigh tumbled out of his open lips as Harlow grasped him in her fist, pumping him slowly. 

Sam was mesmerized by Harlow, watching as she let a string of spit fall from her mouth onto the the tip of his cock, rubbing her hand over it to slicken it, making his thigh twitch. He brought a hand up to the back of her head, fisting in her hair and bringing her forward, locking her lips in a fiery kiss. Her bottom lip was still wet from the spit and Sam eagerly licked it, humming as she squeezed her hand around him. His other hand reached forward moving her panties to the side, letting his fingers glide through Harlow’s fold, a small smirk tugging his lips at how wet she already was. 

“Sam,” she sighed, resting her forehead against his, her eyes fluttering closed. Her voice was like honey to him, and he wanted more. He let the rough pads of his fingers circle her clit, causing her to draw in a shaky breath. Her hand had stilled on his cock, her hips thrusting softly against his hand. Sam leaned forward, his lips trailing from her cheek to her neck, nipping softly where her neck and shoulder meet, drawing another moan from her. 

Harlow suddenly moved his hand away, startling Sam slightly, but his eyes closed and head fell back as she merely scooted forward on his lap, rubbing her soaked pussy against his hard, straining cock. She was so warm against him, Sam could only imagine her warmth once he was fully inside.

“Say it again,” Harlow’s voice was slightly raspy as she commanded Sam, her body moving against his, bringing his tip closer and closer to her entrance. “Please, Sam, say it.”

“I want you,” Sam groaned, sucking in a sharp breath. “Fuck Harlow I need you.” Harlow grinned devilishly and finally positioned herself over his cock, slowly sinking down. They both let out a satisfied sigh of relief once they were joined. Sam’s large hands gripped Harlow’s hips, guiding her rhythm as she rolled her hips against his. Leaning forward, Sam captured one of Harlow’s nipples in his mouth, rolling his tongue over it.

The sounds spilling from Harlow’s lips were intoxicating to Sam, sending shivers up his spine and urging him to pull more from her. He nibbled gently on the swollen bud before moving to the other one, feeling her fingertips run into his hair, scratching his scalp and holding his face to her breast. Sam followed her lead, humming against her skin as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. Harlow swiveled her hips in response, and Sam pulled away with a groan.

“Fuck you feel good,” Sam moaned, his head tilted back. Harlow took advantage of his open mouth, licking into it with her tongue while one of her palms rested on his long neck, giving the sides the daintiest squeeze, sending another moan through his body to hers. Their bodies writhed together, moans falling from their lips as they both moved to satisfy their own needs as well as each others. Harlow began to tremble, Sam could feel her thighs quaking and her hand shaking slightly around his neck.

“Are you close?” Sam whispered in her ear as he brought a strong hand up her back, pressing her into his body as she was grinding against his hips while he took over the thrusting, his other arm supporting himself on the bed. Her head fell forward as she whimpered, nodding against his shoulder. “You wanna cum for me? Wanna cum all over my cock, baby?”

“Yes Sam,” Harlows voice was whisper soft, her body beginning to shudder. “Please don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan on stopping,” Sam chuckled between labored breaths. Their bodies were slick with sweat, and Sam felt near suffocated but the heat between them, her hair sticking to his neck as she held onto his shoulders for dear life, moaning out as he began using his one arm to pull her body down to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck,” Harlow cried out, biting down on Sam’s shoulder as she came to keep from screaming, causing Sam to suck in a harsh breath.

“Just a little more, baby,” Sam grunted in her ear, his hand falling to her waist and holding her hip again, beginning to pound up into her fast and quick, building her back up to another orgasm before her first one faded away. 

“Saaaam!” she whined, her voice juttering with the force of Sam’s hips and movements. “Oh god!”

“That’s it baby,” Sam coaxed Harlow through her second orgasm, steadily approaching his own. He grabbed the back of her hair, gently tugging her head back, making her look at him. His hand came down the side of her face, letting his thumb trace over her lips, tugging her bottom lip down until she opened her mouth, taking the digit and sucking on it gently. That was all it took for Sam to unravel, her eyes locked with his. He took his hand away from her face and brought his to hers in a kiss, slowly falling back against the bed and bringing her with him.

Throughout the night, Sam and Harlow couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The walls were down, and in the privacy of Sam’s hotel room, they were only each others. At one point, Sam woke up after dozing off and couldn’t feel Harlow next to him. He sat up, looking towards the door to see if her clothes were gone. 

Her jumpsuit was still in it’s heap on the floor near the entryway, the expensive silk wrinkling as it sat, and Sam looked towards the balcony, seeing the door open. Crawling out of the twisted sheets, he pulled on his boxer briefs and found Harlow, standing outside in nothing but her panties and Sam’s button down from the night, pulled together and held with her one arm across her torso. Her other hand held a cigarette to her lips as she stared out at the Chicago skyline. Sam wordlessly joined her, taking the cigarette from her hand as she held it out to him, taking a drag.

“What do you want to do?” Harlow asked softly. Sam knew what she was asking, and stayed silent as he slowly exhaled the smoke. He watched as lights in some of the buildings began to turn on, people getting up in the early mornings to start their days. He briefly wondered what it was like, to live normally like that, a nine to five with a traffic commute to come home to children and a spouse, or maybe to nothing.

“Whatever you want to do.” Sam replied, handing back the cigarette. Harlow took a pull, holding back an eye roll. As she blew out the smoke from the corner of her mouth. She turned towards him, stubbing out the smoke on the balcony railing. 

“I want to see where this goes.” she admitted to him, tugging Sam’s shirt tighter to her against the chill of the early morning air. 

“So then, we’ll see where it goes.” Sam nodded, looking down at her. Harlow reached up her free hand, giving his beard a small scratching under his chin before hopping up on her tiptoes and pressing a soft, slow kiss to his lips. 

“One place I want this to go is back under those covers, and warm my body up.” Harlow’s eyes glimmered up at him as she smirked. Sam moved towards the sliding screen and pulled it open, gesturing back inside.

“After you, baby."

🎶 🎶 🎶

Taglist: @joshsindigostreak @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @sacredthefran @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @demonrat444 @writingcold @dannyandthekiszkas @lightmylove-gvf @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @jankandjonch @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet@gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @starcatcherkiszka @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka fanfiction #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #jake kiszka #josh kiskza #danny wagner #sam kiskza x oc #silver springs fic

[devourbabydevour]

@jegulus-microfic, October 1st, Cemetery, 819 words, cw: light suggestions of violence and innuendo

Jegulus: Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU: "I May Be Dead, But I'm Still Pretty."

“Get lost, James. What part of vampire slayer don’t you get. See this pointy thing? This. Goes. Here. Quit skulking around here all the time. I am trying to work”

Regulus Black, cheerleader by day, vampire slayer by night (and also sometimes by day) points at James’s chest with an accusatory finger on the last word. A chest which is far too exposed for a cemetery after midnight in January.

Even though, it’s Sunnydale there's seasonally appropriate chill in the air and anyways Regulus does not need to be subject to potter’s pomposity — promiscuity even!

Whose chest glistens in the moonlight like that, anyway? It’s obscene is what it is. Regulus does not need these distractions. Between Barty’s latest demon related schemes and Evan’s dabbling in witchcraft, Regulus needs no more to deal with. That plus his parents ever increasing draconian punishments and restrictions he is constantly having to jump hoops to get around to keep up with slaying duties. His parents would rather bury their heads in the sand than face what's right in front of them-- and won't tolerate anything but the same from their children. Since Sirius left they were paying even more attention than ever to Regulus. He felt just about ready to crack. Plus exams are ever looming.

And to top it all off for some reason Potter seems hell bent on bothering him.

Pestering him--even. With small talk. And little glances. Always popping up, thinking Regulus needs something from him— be it a more accurate translation of yet another apocalyptic text (his own language skills are just fine enough to read: "you are all fucked, must be Tuesday" in many a language --thank you very much), or he'll try to help decipher the latest news of who might have come to town this week (but Regulus has that covered, knows a thing or ten about how to grease the right palms for information) --or worst of all --the incident last month with a last minute rescue from some damn vamps.

As If.

Regulus totally had that nest of vampires right where he wanted them --even if he was momentary tied up when James arrived.

Regulus has a damn job to carry out and he does it well. McGonagall and Dumbledore say he's best slayer in a generation. Thing is there's only one slayer in a generation. But a slayer's life is so short he supposes they've both seen their fair share of slayers by now.

He doesn’t need Potter’s help. It might not be a job he chose but a boys got to what a boys got to do. And Regulus has no say in the matter. When McGonagall showed up and spelled it all out for him Regulus — the golden child (the one his parents had created of convenience and their own desires for him) had resisted tooth and nail but ultimately when creatures of the night keep knocking down your door and the ones you care about are in danger -- It’s time to face up to the inevitable.

“Is that so? Then why don’t you do it already, love? And what was that? James-- that’s the first time you called me that-- used my name I mean. I think I'm seeing god right”

Scoffing "Well don’t get used to it Potter. And anyway I think that ship has sailed Potter. The already dead don't get to go to one of the nice places. But if you want to push your luck and continue trying to offer "your so called help" then I'm willing to bet there's a warm and cozy spot somewhere far, far away waiting for you that I'm happy to help send you to."

"Oh, love. I may be dead but I'm still pretty. And Regulus Arcturus Black, I don't think you need my help. I just love spending time with you. I like your quips and your threats and your power. It's incredible, I-- "

And no none of that. Regulus doesn't need Potter talking such nonsense. No. More. Distractions. Especially from conniving, meddling vampires who are also dirty brother stealers.

“Just give me one reason at all and you’ll be tasting wood. The only reason I haven’t dusted you yet is because Sirius likes you. And trusts you. For some reason. But make no bones of it—

James interrupts to start to say "I knew you still loved your brother, enough to spare me even."

Regulus pulls a dagger out of his thigh holster and presses the tip of it to James clavicle. Knocking him against a behemoth of a stone scene of the crucifixion. Name engraved at the base reads: “Salazar Slytherin”

“I will slice and dice and not think twice.”

“Kinky, pet. You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these nights” James presses a cold hand to his cold chest as though in awe.

“Fuck off, Potter. You don’t have a heart.” 

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer au

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

ok so i was gonna draw these but um. i got lazy. so i'm now just going to write up a tumblr post establishing this headcannon so when i eventually post my fic about it i can link to this as an explanation.

so hi gang. back when i first started cosplaying life series characters i wanted to make up a way that allowed me to more clearly distinguish my cosplays in between the seasons, even if it was just something small and for me, and this led me to here.

basically, what happened here is i decided to give each player a little mark/tattoo like thing representing themselves and each season they didn't win. this has now morphed into a headcannon, that all of the life series players have a physical reminder of every game that they don't win from the watchers, to remind them of what they're missing while they're gone, in an attempt to encourage them to come back. (they're not particularly effective, but oh well, the watchers like to commit to a bit). the winners don't get one because they accidentally set a precedent by not giving grian one (they didn't WANT him coming back), and while the same thing applied to scott, they don't quite feel the same way about pearl or martyn. however, it's also just a little bit of cruelty that there's not physical reminder of what you went through if you win. it only lives in your mind, as fickle as your mind can be, especially in these games. it's on brand for them.

i'm throwing everyone's marks below the cut, specifically what they look like post limited life. i will also explain why i chose each of them, because some of them are more obvious than others.

grian: three purple eyes on the back of his right hand. look the watchers are doing this, of course it's a reminder of what he's supposed to be doing instead of playing these games. for him, it's meant to serve less as encouragement to sign up again, but as encouragement to stop. if you hate us so much, why are you letting us give you more reminders of what you are to us?

scar: a (non painful, because it's not real) injury representing the way he died in each season. there's a bruise on his ribs that never goes away, covered by two scars from ren's arrowhead and grian's sword, tinged in a skulk-y blue.

scott: three flowers on the inside of his right elbow. a poppy for third life (duh), a lotus for double life (victorian flower language is "estranged love"), and hemlock for limited life (victorian flower language is "you will be the death of me").

jimmy: four canary feathers clumped together on his left shoulder. no explanation needed.

pearl: the first two phases of the moon (starting with the full moon) on the inside of her left elbow. obviously due to her name, but i think it's also important to note that last life began a few months into s8 and ended a month before the end of s8, so she would've had her first one show up a month before the moon… well...

martyn: three tally marks on his right eyebrow. this one is less representative of martyn and more of his relationship with the watchers. it's a small mark, it almost looks like a deliberate eyebrow slit or a scar if you're not paying much attention. but as time goes on, and martyn's understanding of/connection to the watchers increases, it's harder to mistake. it's harder to hide what's really happening.

ren: three crowns on the left sideburn. also very self explanitory.

bigb: an arrow, a diamond sword, a piece of dripstone, and another diamond sword on his clavicle. each represents the weapon that shows up around him the most in each season. he's killed by a bow and a crossbow across all three of his deaths in third life, he kills cleo with a diamond sword in last life and looses his first life to lizzie's sword, he is killed by mobs only in double life until grian and the dripstone, and bigb is killed by and kills with a diamond sword most often in limited life.

etho: four sticks of tnt behind his right ear. this is less related to his life series and more his general... everything. it's etho, of course it's tnt. the "behind the ear" thing is also very funny to me because it takes etho AGES to figure out where his is- he knows he should have one, everyone but grian has one, but someone else sees it first MONTHS after third life has ended.

impulse: four arrows on his neck, pointing down. his final deaths in third and last life are to bows, and his first (and arguably only, as bdubs looses the other two lives) death in double life is to a skeleton. the limited life connection is a little more sparse but 1. the watchers had already committed to the bit and 2. he killed quite a few people with bows this season, including bdubs and i am nothing if not annoying about those two.

skizz: three hearts on his wrists, one on the front and inside of his left wrist and one on the outside of his right wrist. hearts are the general symbol of the life series, but skizz is also the definition of "heart on his sleeve". in this case it's just on his wrist, cause i think it looks better than his shoulders/upper arms.

tango: lichtenberg scars along on his left ankle that spread farther every time he looses. these are the scars that you get from being struck by lightning. lightning strikes when you die, and tango's deaths continue to be the most frustrating part of every season for him, the part the watchers think he'd most want to rectify. i know the lightning strike on death wasn't a thing in third or double life, but shhhh don't worry about it. i'm retconing.

bdubs: numbers of a clock on his left side. limited life rounded out the 12, 3, 6, and 9. further seasons would fill in the rest of the numbers and the hands. this is also entirely self explanatory.

cleo: four red stitches around her right wrist. (the stitches existed prior to her playing in the life series, but they change colors one by one after every season. were she to run out of stitches, she would either start suddenly generating more on the same area or ones on other parts of her body would start changing color.) for her, it's just something small that she'd constantly be seeing, as she works with her hands often and the red stands out well against both green zombie skin and the more human colored parts. it makes the series stick in her mind, reminds her of what she still wants from it.

joel: four vertebrae outlined down the spine. the bones part comes at the start from his dogs in third life, and then it becomes more of an association with death as the seasons go on. it's specifically outlining his vertebrae because one thing about life series joel is that he has a spine. he is never a coward, even when it might serve him better to be one.

mumbo: one broken heart on his chest. as martyn discussed in his post limited life stream, last life messed mumbo up bad. like, so bad the watchers decided they couldn't put the guy back in. his is very literal- a broken heart over where his real heart is, where he took multiple injuries over the course of last life, for once, in a mostly non malicious way, a reminder that he shouldn't come back. (i say mostly because, hey, nice to give him time to recover, but it's less because they actually care about the guy and more because they know he'd be no fun like this)

lizzie: small fairy wings on her right shoulder. representative of the fairy fort, of course. were she to show up in another season, it would be something else to represent her alliances, because that's always where lizzie thrives in my opinion, with other people (even if fairy fort was a mess, lol).

#trafficblr #third life smp #last life smp #double life smp #limited life smp #eyes and ears #(technically. cause watcher shit. but i am slightly manipulating martyn's lore to serve my own means.) #(the sign up thing. for martyn they're trapped in this forever there is no escape but i think it's far more fun AND ups the tragedy #if they are allowed some agency. if they all keep putting themselves through it willingly because they need to see the people they can't #meet on their home servers. because they don't have a home server and want the brief stability. because they want to win. etc.) #also important note. pearl and scott and lizzie and jimmy's mirror each other's. because they. #my writing #save tag #ADDING THOSE TWO CAUSE THIS TOOK 900 YEARS TO FIND

[focsle]

One more for the morning. Haviland partakes in the favorite whaleship pastime of tying a rope to a sleeping man’s leg and dragging him up on deck. He had it done once to him (saying that the marks the rope left on his leg didn’t fade for a season), and vowed to never be on the receiving end again. But he’s happy to be on the other side of the rope.

“I had some sport again last night in our midnight watch. Our worthy shipmate Mathew who came out from home with us concluded he had been having Boatcrew watch so long that he would not heave out + stand his watch when the watch was called. So we let him lay in his Bunk until he got in a fine snooze again + then your humble servant went down in the forecastle with a rope and after a great deal of trouble finally succeeded in getting it made fast around one of his feet. I then went carefully up on deck where the other end of the rope was + 6 of us got hold of it and gave poor Matt what I call an after haul. To use his own words however he did not wake up until he felt himself strike the Deck right plump on his setdown. In trying to haul him up through the scuttle by his leg he got fast in the steps + then for the first time commenced to sing out bloody murder. After he got on his togging + came on Deck I commenced consoling him + he laid it to everybody else but me. This makes five times I have bent on him + I am the last person he suspects of doing such a deed.”

“This cold weather does not agree with some of our foremast hands + they occassionally when their watch is on Deck in the night time skulk down in the forcastle to go to sleep on the chest. My worthy colleague + shipmate John Darling tried the experiment in our midnight watch on Deck last night. I happened down + spied the gentleman fast asleep on some chests. Mat having had a strong haul from his Bunk only a few nights ago was bent on revenge; so I made the rope fast around Johns legs + Mat went on Deck + got the whole watch to hauling on John’s leg. He grunted + groaned but did not sing out, they had him most hauled up on Deck when the rope parted + down came John by the run again. I sat on in the forecastle + saw it all + thought I should die with laughter.”

#lad haviland #awhalin

[convexicalcrow]

Scar saw Cub crossing the Great Bridge from Pix's empire, eyes still sunken and glowing. He'd been trying to help with wrangling all of Joe's cats, but that was proving impossible, given he wasn't Joe, and the cats just did not care for him at all. Indeed, Joe had given up an hour ago, leaving Scar to feed over a hundred cats all clamouring after the fish Joe had left him with. Feeding a few cats was fun! Feeding this many cats was a nightmare.

To be fair, though, it had been a welcome distraction from Cub. Scar had grown used to always knowing where he was, because he could always find him through the hivemind. But he'd been cut off a few days back, probably when he got corrupted, and Scar hadn't expected that would hurt. Perhaps not seeing much of Cub helped the pain dissipate, along with all the work he was doing in Jimmy's base. Let his mind think of other things, his hands do other work, rather than think about Cub. He'd be fine, though, right? Cub knew what he was doing.

That thought lingered as Cub approached. His demeanor seemed… cheerful? He waved and jogged over, seemingly happy to see him. Scar, to his credit, was happy to see him too. He was just confused by what had happened and why he'd been kept out of potential prankage.

"Scar! Hello there!" Cub called as he fought his way through all the cats. "It's like season five all over again! Are these all yours?"

"Oh, no, no! They're not mine! Sir Joe of the Hills bred all these cats. I forget why now. I'm not sure he even remembers. I'm sure it was for something important, though," Scar said. "Haven't seen you in a while either, Cub. Been busy, hey?"

"Yeah, yeah, something like that," Cub said. "Just had some stuff to do, you know how it is."

"You've been spreading skulk all over the place, or so I've heard," Scar said.

Cub smiled. "Maybe, maybe. It's the best kind of prank, though, because it's invisible. You can't see what's causing the skulk to spread, just that it's coming from somewhere. It's genius."

"Genius, yes, and also very annoying. It's very you, Cub, I'm proud of you coming over this new server and pranking everyone just for fun. Right?" Scar said.

Cub laughed, and it wasn't a laugh Scar found reassuring. "Gotta spread the skulk, Scar, gotta spread the souls, and welcome the darkness, my friend."

Scar was afraid he might say that. Clearly someone had to intervene, and he wasn't sure anyone but him could get through to Cub. "Yeah, see this? This skulk possession thing? That's a problem. And it's not just my problem, but your problem. The Vex are so angry, Cub, because the skulk took something that rightfully belongs to Them! And even beyond that, I miss you! I can't feel you anymore! I want my Vex buddy back! Surely you're not going to throw away all our years of Vexing together away for skulk, right?"

Cub looked confused. "But I-I didn't… I didn't choose this, Scar. I didn't! I just- Shubble sent me into the fog, and I came out with all this extra power! And all we did was spread catalysts! There's nothing wrong with that, right?"

"We are holy vessels for the Vex, Cub, and that vessel has now been desecrated! And you're just going to laugh it off as a prank? Nothing serious? You are the greatest Vex magician the Vex have ever known. Come on, Cub, you're better than that. This isn't you. Come back to the Vex. Come back to me. I can't live without you, Cub. We've been through too much together. Please," Scar said, unsure if any of his words would work but unwilling to keep quiet about it. "How much of the last week do you even remember?"

Cub gazed away, scratching the back of his head. "Bits and pieces. But it's like that with the Vex. What's the problem? Also, once again, I didn't choose this, Scar. I was taken. I don't even remember how! I just walked into the fog, and walked out looking like this! I don't know what happened! And I can't fix it if I don't know how it happened, alright?"

Scar crossed his arms as he looked him over. Part of him didn't think Cub was lying. But Cub was good at lying about things just like he was. It's why they got on so well. "Do you actually want to fix it, or are you just saying that? Because you look pretty happy to me."

"In the lucid moments, yes, yes I want to fix it. I just-"

Cub was suddenly grasping his throat, and Scar panicked, grabbing hold of him tightly. "No! No, we're not doing this. Not today, skulk!"

Scar summoned some Vex magic and sent it all to Cub, focusing on burning back the skulk corruption as best he could. It was an imperfect spell, of course; Cub was the master of this stuff. But it did seem to work a little bit. Some of the skulk on Cub's skin did seem to retreat, and Cub collapsed in his arms, breathing heavily.

"Alright, skulk, you've picked the wrong vessel to infect. The Vex are coming for you, and you can't win," Scar said as he lifted Cub into his arms and carried him back down the bridge.

#hermitcraft #convex #cubfan135 #gtwscar #fanfic #skulk cub #scar pov #lost memories #forced possession #scar tries to help #with vex magic #and it kinda works #fog - skulk cub fic series

[ejzah]

Could you write a fan fic in which Deeks is forced to incapacitate Kensi during a case in order to save her life, and how guilty he feels after? I got the idea after rewatching last season's NCIS episode "Head of the Snake."

A/N: I am so sorry to the individual who sent this prompt on. It has been languishing in my inbox for so long.

***

The Least Damage

“How’s she doing?” Deeks asked, propelling himself off the hospital wall the second he saw Callen come out of Kensi’s room. He’d been skulking in the hallway ever since he got back from giving Sam his statement, dying for any piece of truth.

Callen started ever so slightly at Deeks’ sharp inquiry, but otherwise didn’t seem that surprised to see him there.

“You can ask her yourself,” he responded. “They’re supposed to release her soon.” He paused as Deeks nodded, not meeting his gaze, unable to. “Is there a reason why you don’t want to talk to Kensi?”

Deeks would have laughed if he didn’t feel so sick and genuinely awful inside.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Why? If this is about—”

“Yes, this is about me hurting her,” Deeks interrupted. It made him want to hit something just thinking about it. Instead, he held himself as straight as he could, his posture, tight, brittle, ready to crack at any second with the wrong word.

“Deeks, I know you’re upset, and things didn’t go the way we planned—”

“Go the way we planned?” Deeks stared at Callen in disbelief. Everything had gone wrong. “Callen, I hit her, tackled her to the ground, I strangled her until she passed out.” He choked on the last word and dipped his head. Eyes focused on the scratched gray and white linoleum, his voice was softer when he spoke again. “I’m her husband and partner. I’m supposed to protect her and I didn’t do that today.”

Callen stayed quiet for several seconds, long enough that Deeks decided he’d won the argument.

“Either way, you need to talk to Kensi,” he said finally. He started to say something, stopped, and then started again. “She was asking for you.”

“I don’t think I can—”

“Like you said, she’s your wife and partner, Deeks,” Callen reminded him, throwing his own words back in his face. “You owe her that.”

Deeks flinched; Callen might as well have called him a coward. He was right though. Kensi deserved the chance to see him, to tell him whatever she was failing regardless of his own guilt and fear. His shoulders caved, and he nodded, crossing the short distance to Kensi’s room.

“It’ll be ok,” Callen promised.

Deeks rapped on the door a couple times before opening it slowly. Kensi in the center of the hospital bed with her left cheek pillowed on her raised knees. She startled as he came in, head popping up, and a look of fear crossing her face for a brief second.

“Deeks,” she whispered hoarsely.

All he saw was the long cut bisecting the right side of her face, a deep, darker abrasion along her hairline. The ring of bruises around her throat.

Deeks gasped, flashing back to just a few hours ago. In a dark warehouse, surrounded by armed men who suddenly decided Kensi was a lability and turned their weapons on her. She’d caught his eyes, sending him a wordless message, and in desperation, Deeks acted.

He’d charged, engaging in combat with a level of aggression he never used with Kensi. Kensi fought back just as hard for the first few blows, then let him get a few good hits in. Let him overpower her and wrap his hands around her throat. Let him squeeze until she wheezed, panic entered her eyes, and eventually she’d lost consciousness.

His heart had thundered the entire time with fear as she dropped limply to the ground, bleeding.

“Deeks?” This time he was the one to jerk, taking an entire step back as he came to the present, faced with Kensi staring at him, disquiet in her eyes.

“Hey. How—how are you?” he asked, eyes darting over the IV inserted in her right hand and the brace on her other hand. He hadn’t even realized he hurt her wrist.

“Ok.” It came out nearly soundless and she winced, clearing her throat. “Just a few cuts. I told the doctor I was fine, but he insisted on keeping me for a couple of hours and a round of antibiotics,” she finished, shrugging it off like the list of injuries she’d just rattled off, the ones she hadn’t, were commonplace.

“Is there anything I can get you? You’re probably hungry,” Deeks rambled, needing to fill the silence.

“I’m not hungry. But you could warm me up,” Kensi said, holding out her arms. “It’s freezing in here.” Somehow she managed to fill the words with innuendo despite her hoarse voice.

“I’ll go get your bag.”

“No, I just want you to hold me.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Deeks told her, feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of touching Kensi right now with her injuries still fresh. He swallowed it down, grabbing at a handful of hair. “I hurt you and I can’t—god, I’m so sorry, Kensi.”

“Deeks, Jackson was going to kill me if you didn’t step in,” she said, sounding confused.

“But I should have figured something else out. I didn’t have to be so rough.”

“It had to be believable,” Kensi whispered. She held out her arms again, then made a frustrated noise when Deeks didn’t move closer, and unceremoniously yanked the IV needle out of her hand.

“Kensi!” She ignored his protest, sliding out of bed. He rushed over just in time to catch her as one of her legs buckled. “Kensi, get back in bed.”

“Not until you quit believing this is your fault.” She wrapped her arms firmly around his waist, linking her hands behind his back so her head rested on his chest. Deeks shuddered at her closeness, cherishing the feeling even as he told himself he shouldn’t be allowed this comfort. “Because I don’t blame you, Deeks,” she continued. “I trusted you to keep me safe and you did.”

“I promised myself I would never hurt you,” Deeks breathed. Kensi curled the fingers of her good hand in his hair and gently tugged until he was forced to meet her gaze.

“Deeks, listen to me. You didn’t choose to hurt me. I trust, I love you, and what happened today hasn’t changed either of those things at all.” She paused, shifting to cup his jaw. “And even though I don’t blame you at all, I forgive you.”

Deeks squeezed his eyes shut as tears filled his eyes and Kensi kissed the corner of his mouth. Something broke in him at that and he clasped her to him, burying his head in her shoulder as they clung to each other.

“I love you,” he managed, between sobs. Kensi made a hoarse sound, kissing him fiercely, and he felt her damp cheeks on his. Holding her as tightly as he could, Deeks promised himself he would do everything in his power to never let anything like this happen again.

***

A/N: Again, many apologies for not getting to this earlier.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #Kensi whump #angst #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

[fictionfixations]

Double Life Session 5 [Grian's POV]

Can I just.. talk about this for a second.

HOLY SHIT.

Okay. So I expected that they were going to die, but then they died TWICE- Can I also talk about how it wasn't even a minute in the video but I'm pretty sure it got all of us panicking at that HP bar, like holy-- Imagine they died from the cactus or stalactite [I'm pretty sure the cactus can get rid of your items though so that'd be awful]. That'd be a huge wake up call to the episode. Imagine they just completely died 3 times and was out of the series, they might've gotten a little close there. Just-- DAMN-

And not Grian just stealing Pearl's otherside disc and jukebox lmao and then coming back later for an allyship. Also Grian just kinda outed themselves by being in the WINDOW-- And also I actually can't understand why he couldn't get back in after getting out but maybe it's because jumping mechanics are weird over that and you kinda need to not? If that makes sense.

And then. So. They were HIDING- AND THEY JUST SO HAPPENED TO FIND oh i cant even remember the name's of whose army it was- AND ITS EVEN FUNNIER BUT AWFUL BECAUSE IT WAS A COINCIDENCE- i cant even be mad at them for saying something when the others were close enough and they could actually hear them talking, because WOAH. HOW COULD YOU NOT SAY SOMETHING WHEN YOUR SOULMATES ABOUT TO DIE- and then does die, AND HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A LOT OF ZOMBIES.

and then.. The TNT trap- bait? With the skulk sensor setting it off. THE POTENTIAL. I didn't even think about how skulk sensors could contribute to traps, and honestly I'm not actually sure how they work, but based off of Grian's hermitcraft video where he played around with the skulk sensors for like a jumpscare, they can work even when underground.

I'd imagine it's just a skulk sensor next to TNT or something like that, but does that mean you could do it underground, and then since the proximity mod alerts the skulk sensors with your voice, someone could assumedly just be talking to their viewers while walking down a path and then BOOM setting off a tnt trap and DYING. That'd probably be a little unfair though.

Honestly I thought they were going to shoot Scar off of the bridge though but honestly the tnt is worse. It also though shows what you can do with it and really makes it a threat.

and THEN theres the stalactite kill Grian did against Ren (and BigB), and WOAH. That was fucking sick. I mean I knew that stalactite does a LOT of damage depending on how far away it is from a player [even the intro did that when it almost killed Scar], but honestly I didn't actually expect it to get a kill. I don't think I even saw Ren coming when Grian broke it and it killed him.

W o a h .

I really don't think this season is going to last long. Especially when there are soulmates who share your lives. while it's beneficial since you could be out getting hurt and your soulmates somewhere else and eating for you so your hp goes back up, it also backfires because if your soulmate dies, you die too, and then it just almost doubles how easily it can be to get everyone to red, aka take session 4 for example. I think it'd be better to just have one soulmate go out at a time while another is in a safe place and watching the hp bar carefully to heal you, since if you both were to go it'd make you take double damage, but I also do understand that that can get boring, not to mention could be a bad idea in some cases, and there also isn't a way for you to speak to your soulmate through some soul bond or whatever unless you're near them so you can talk with proximity.

This session really.. showed how dangerous it is, honestly, and how easy it is to die. It was a real big eye opener.

also i completely forgot to mention this but jimmy is cursed. canon.

Quote: "That's the best thing I've ever done! -..Except maybe get married." -Grian sometime after killing Ren

#double life session 5 #double life spoilers #double life smp #grian double life #grian #double life grian #grian pov #session 5 #thoughts

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

So after watching the turf war again I have some interesting thoughts about Grumbot Prime and what his world may have looked like.

Essentially, in the various mind games Grian played, one decoy he set up was a set of signs that said he wanted to dethrone Scar and make Mumbo the mayor.

Now of course, this would be a hostile takeover and not an election so Mumbo would be a figurehead for a Grian dictatorship more than anything.

Anyway, my first instinct on this is to link it back to s6 and the hippies vs area 77 conflict, keeping in mind that technically that did involve a hostage (a villager who… belonged? To Grian? I do t know how to make that less weird but it was a hostage taken at Grian’s expense)

Maybe in that alternate universe there was some situation that led to Grian and Scar developing an intense rivalry during that, maybe people got hurt or killed? Bases destroyed? we could even push it back further to Scar’s characterization from s5 and how hostile of an entity he can be when he puts his mind to it.

To put Doc on the right team in s7 however I’d have to include that he likely didn’t support whatever Scar ended up doing to upset Grian during s6, maybe switching sides last minute?

Anyway, it would culminate into Grian attempting to bury the hatchet with Scar in s7 by having him and BDubs help with the town hall, only for them to immediately turn on him and declare themselves as opponents.

Scar wins, and Grian and Mumbo rather than rolling over and taking it, refurbish Grumbot to figure out how to get Mumbo on the diamond throne at any cost.

But these things don’t really pass season to season, so Grian and Mumbo do everything in their power to keep season 7 going as long as possible. In this world, season 8 as we know it never occurred, their season 7 stretched all the way through those updates which is why Grumbot Prime was upgraded with copper and skulk.

So the season switchover to our s9 would be their s8, and likely the entire switchover was caused by Grumbot Prime attempting to escape his parents who had gone mad with power, accidentally creating the Rift in the process and ending up on our s9 world.

[buckyodinson]

A Bard’s Wife

Jaskier x f!Reader

Request: something very flirty with season 2 era jaskier, where the reader has been helping him escort elves to cintra and there’s lots of tension and they finally kiss :)

Word count: 1.3k~

Warnings: none, really? very mild season 2 spoilers?

A/N: sorry this took so long!! work has kicked my ass, I’ve been bringing home books to mark almost everyday (as I write this, I’m currently staring at a pile on unmarked books too lmao) 

You watch from across the tavern as Jaskier charms the customers for yet another night. You’re sat with a drunk man at the bar who just won’t take the hint that you’re not interested. You humoured him at first, laughing at his terrible jokes, but then you’ve been trying to get rid of him since. You don’t realise the jealousy on Jaskier’s face as he watches you laugh at the man. There’s a polite smile on your face but on the inside you’re about five minutes away from kicking him where it hurts most.

Jaskier plays some fan-favourites, and as always, he finishes off with Burn Butcher Burn. He seems off today as he sings his final song, and you make a mental note to ask him about it at the end of the night. He received thunderous applause as the song comes to an end, though there is some grumbles as the patrons realise it means the tavern is closing.

Once the tavern is cleared out, you both collect your things and sneak down to gather tonight’s group of elves to take the boat to Cintra.

It’s all going well until Jaskier is asked for his papers. He doesn’t flounder though, using his usual witty charm to get himself out of trouble. But as usual, Jaskier can’t wind his neck in when it’s good for him, and he starts to run his mouth. As more men are called along, you realise that Jaskier is going to get caught out tonight if you don’t act quickly.

You mutter to the elves to move on your signal, before hitching up your skirt and moving quietly along the path until you’re stumbling out into the clearing, making enough of a noise to make Jaskier and the men surrounding him turn to face you.

You pout as you stagger over to Jaskier, careful not to laugh at his confused expression.

“You lousy bastard, Julian. Finishing and leaving me in bed like a common whore.” You lightly shove him when you reach him.

“Who’s this pretty little thing?” One of the men remarks.

“She’s-she’s my wife!” Jaskier gets the hint and stutters out.

“The bard’s got a wife! Never would’ve guessed it.” The men chuckle.

“Well, I don’t know how much longer I can put up with him. He may give a triumphant performance on stage, but elsewhere…” you just sigh and Jaskier’s cheeks burn, visible even in the low light of the evening.

“I’m sure we could show you a good time.” One of the men sneered and you tried to hide your disgust.

You stray from Jaskier and move around the men, turning their attention towards you and away from the path to the boat, leaving the coast clear for the elves.

“Oh I’m sure you could.” You remove the pin keeping your hair back from your face, and brush your fingers through it softly, watching the elves move in your peripheral vision. Jaskier notices too and moves towards you, to keep the men’s attention away from the boat.

One of the men skulks closer to you but before he can touch you, Jaskier steps in front of you with a scowl on his face.

“Don’t touch her.” He speaks firmly, and you’re stunned by his boldness, feeling butterflies in your stomach at his tone.

“You heard the lady. You’re not satisfying her, bard. Let a real man show you how to really please a lady.” There’s a teasing lilt to the man’s voice as he smirks.

Jaskier doesn’t stand down or move away except turning towards you, “Please, my love. Let’s go home. Let me make it up to you.”

You know he’s only playing up to the part to let the last of the elves get onto the boat unnoticed, but the way he looks deep into your eyes, you swear you could feel it in the depths of your soul. He holds a hand out to you and you smile as you take it softly.

“Alright then, love. Sorry boys, maybe another time.” You throw a playful wink their way as you grip Jaskier’s hand tighter and start to walk back to the tavern.

There are shouts and grumbles from the men as you walk away. You’re out of sight from the men fairly quickly but your hands are still entwined until you reach the tavern again, climbing the stairs to the room you’ve rented above it.

“Oh- uhh sorry.” He stammers out and drops your hand as he reaches for the key to your door.

“It’s okay.” You reply meekly as you both step in and close the door behind you.

You’re lighting the fireplace when Jaskier calls your name softly. You turn and look at him, met with the sight of him with his jacket abandoned and shirt halfway undone.

“Thank you.” He says earnestly with a smile.

“For what?” You chuckle, turning back to the fire and placing a pot of water above it.

“For saving my skin back there. Those guys would have ripped me apart if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“You don’t have to thank me. We needed to get the elves safely on that ship, I did what needed to be done in the moment.” You shrugged as you sat in the chair by the fire, letting the warmth seep into your skin.

Pretending to be Jaskier’s wife was an added bonus, sure. And hearing him call you ‘love’ definitely made you feel some type of way. But it was only an act. At least you were telling yourself that, anyway. You’ve always been a flirty pair, but Jaskier could never love you the same way you loved him.

He pours himself a drink and says something under his breath that you don’t quite catch and you’re about to press him when he speaks louder.

“Is it really that awful of a thought, being my wife?” He attempts a jovial tone, but there’s something sad underneath that reminds you of the way he sang earlier. He downs his drink and fidgets with the cup in his hands.

“Of course not, Jaskier. Any woman would be lucky to be your wife.” You smile softly.

“I don’t want just any woman though.” He muses, sparing a quick glance at you before looking away again.

“Then what do you want?”

“You.” You feel like the air is ripped from your lungs from that one word.

“M-me?”

“Yes, dove. It’s always been you.” He puts the cup down and walks tentatively over to you, kneeling down in front of you.

“Jaskier, I- I don’t know what to say…” you brush his hair out of his face and cup his cheek.

“Then don’t say anything.” He smiles and leans into your touch.

You reach your other hand to cup his face, and before you know it you’re pulling his face towards your own and kissing him with all your strength.

He takes a second to realise what’s happening but when he does, he’s snaking his hands around your waist and kissing you back with equal fervour, pulling you to the ground to sit in his lap.

You pull away breathless and look into those blue eyes you’ve grown to love over the years, “I love you, Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

He smirks and blushes at his full name, loving the way it sounds coming out of your mouth. “I love you too. More than the bee loves the flower, and more than the flower loves the sun. More than anything.”

It’s your turn to blush now, and he cups your face, loving the feel of the heat rushing to your cheeks. He presses his forehead against yours and you sit there peacefully for a few minutes before he breaks the silence.

“You’re going to pay for that comment about my not-so triumphant performance, though.” He raises an eyebrow.

You smirk, “Is that so?”

It’s fair to say Jaskier gave a very glorious performance that night, proving you incredibly wrong.

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