#once again: this is a wip. so the animation is Not Great

[paci-transformers]

I swear I did not animate this poorly on purpose. It is only intended as a WIP showcase, because I have yet to sleep but it is also 7 AM.

...anyways. ProwlRod stuff. :)

Song: Pretty Boy by Sub-Radio

[Prowl model by Pharaoh-Yami, Rodimus model by dancing-robots, both users are on DeviantArt]

[steviewashere]

Another little WIP Snippet, except this time it's from the start of my second part in my text fic universe. Things get a little meta and a little wild all in one.

CW: Referenced Omegaverse/Aspects of Omegaverse (this is not an omegaverse fic though)

————— Eddie: stevie i’m gonna write fan fic about us <33

Steve: Do I wanna know what fanfic is?

Eddie: for the sake of my brain I need you to just pretend to know..ok?

Steve: Fine. Sure. Whatever.

Steve: So…are you writing about us going to see a movie or something?

Seen less than 1 minute ago

Eddie: mmmmm or something………

Steve: Oh god, what are you doing?

Eddie: sex :3

Eddie: animal style :D

Seen 5 minutes ago

Eddie: do you think you’re more alpha or omega or a beta???

Eddie: this is important information to me

Eddie: I need you to respond now

Steve: Isn’t that alpha stuff just stupid shit that conservative cucks argue about online?

Steve: Where they try to compare themself to Patrick Bateman as if that’s a good thing?

Eddie: …yes…but that’s not what I’m talking about right now.

Eddie: basically do you think youre more

Eddie: …actually

Eddie: don’t answer any of my questions right now I’m taking this into my own hands

Steve: I think I just felt a disturbance in the force. What the fuck are you about to do to me?

Eddie: well you want six kids somehow

Seen less than 1 minute ago

Steve: Eddie…

Eddie: :3

Eddie: youre gonna be bouncing on my knot

Steve: What the fuck does THAT mean?

Eddie: shhhhhhh….daddy says that kitten doesn’t need to worry about that right meow

Steve: Don’t call me that.

Steve: Also. If anybody’s any sort of daddy in this relationship it’s me and I think you know that.

Steve: Also also. You saying that pun gave me the ick.

Seen less than 1 minute ago

Eddie: Who the fuck taught you what the ick means?

Eddie: I’ve never heard you say those series of words ever. In my life. You have never. And I mean never. Said that to me ever.

Eddie: Are you online?

Eddie: Are you lurking somewhere online?

Seen less than 1 minute ago

Steve: …

Steve: Robin forced me to download TikTok.

Steve: The shopping menu is bullshit and super invasive.

Steve: But also people on there are funny.

Steve: And also there’s people on there who share facts about praying mantises and sharks and I didn’t know I could learn so many facts, but I’m having the time of my life. Did you know that hammerheads go hunting by themselves? So, because they’re carnivores, they hunt down other sea wildlife. And they can dig through the sand on the ocean floor to find stingrays to eat. Also, great hammerheads—which is what I’ve been talking about—they have pups once every two years or something and can have, like, fifty of them in one litter! Live pups, too! Not eggs! They don’t lay eggs like other fish do, like clown fish, you know? Isn’t that crazy?! That’s crazy!

Steve: Well…smooth hammerheads have up to fifty, last I heard. Great hammerheads can have, like, up to forty-two. But that’s still a crazy number!

Steve: Imagine having that many children at once?

Steve: I can’t even handle the seven I accidentally picked up over the last few years! They’re not even my children!

Seen just now

Eddie: can you come home from the gym and talk more shark facts with me

Eddie: I love when you talk about sharks

Steve: You should make me talk about shark facts in that fanfic thing of yours.

Eddie: come home and give me an in person example of you talking about sharks. I wanna get the gleam in your eyes when I write about you.

Steve: Okay ❤️

Eddie: I love you so fucking much

Steve: I love you too

Delivered 10 minutes ago

Steve: Also, I looked up what you were asking me.

Steve: You should make both of us alphas. And then you should…hold on I have to look it up again.

Steve: You should “bitch” me. Wow, that sounds really derogatory. Is that derogatory? Side note, how many feminists do you think are into this omegaverse stuff? Do they “get the ick” when reading about bitching or is it like a secretly sexy thing to them that they’re too ashamed to admit out loud?

Steve: Okay, I’m reading some…some Arcane Jayce/Viktor thing on my phone right now and I think you should definitely still “bitch” me. The way this bitching thing works changes so much from story to story, I don’t even know what’s lore accurate to the omegaverse or what’s just people’s kinks taking on new shape.

Steve: But you should do it me on, like, accident. And I should be kinda mad at first, but then I realize that I love the new version of myself. Like so much more than I loved my previous self. And that I am happier in my new body and stuff. And you should delicately eat me out because you’re still nervous about fucking up with me, but then I yank you by the hair and make you choke on my “slick”—why is it called that; I don’t think I like that part very much, but whatever. And I’m all euphoric and shit.

Steve: And then I have a pussy like I was destined to have.

Steve: Okay, some of this stuff is so cool. Also, there’s some depressing stuff in this ship’s tag.

Seen just now

Eddie: got a boner too fast. Nosebleed.

Eddie: also. babe, I think you might have something to work through, maybe.

Eddie: and also I feel like I just created a monster. are you reading fics right now instead of coming home?

Steve: I’m eating a cheesy Gordita crunch in my car while reading and sipping on my large ass Baja blast. So…yeah, I guess.

Steve: I’ll be done soon, though. It’ll be fine.

Delivered 2 hours ago

Eddie: so are you coming home now?? do I need to report you missing???

Steve: Do NOT read the playlist jayvik fic. Do not do it. Oh my god. I’m gonna throw up from crying I am not okay right now.

Eddie: oh no you discovered it

Eddie: just…just get yourself calmed and come home when you can please don’t drive with tears in your eyes I don’t need you dying

Delivered just now

Steve: You are not allowed to kill either of us in your fanfic.

Steve: But I still want you to do that bitching thing.

Steve: Please.

Eddie: I don’t wanna push you in any sort of way…but do you think that we should maybe have a conversation about why you’re so fascinated with that part?? It’s starting to not sound like a kink.

Eddie: in fact, I feel like I have it on good authority that this wasn’t a kink to start with.

Steve: Maybe, but I’ve gotta focus on driving now, so I’m not worried about any of that stuff right now. Bringing you a Doritos taco. And your piss colored Mtn Dew.

Steve: You should suck my dick when I get home to make me feel better.

Steve: After you eat and brush your teeth, though. I don’t need nacho cheese powder on my dick.

Delivered just now

—————

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt.1 here | pt.2 here | pt.3 | pt.4 here

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,495.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself by asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you how much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[the-californicationist]

Ursa Major: Ch. 01

In honor of WIP Wednesday, I thought I’d share Chapter One of my 100k+ word WIP on Tumblr! It’s your responsibility to check AO3 for tags. Thanks for taking a look ✌️🩷

You stood, transfixed, as you saw two bull elk, locked at their antlers, fighting for territory. The wide nares of their snouts were flared and desperate for air, gasping for a breath that they would never take. The taxidermied animals were perched, caught in a perpetual battle above the baggage claim carousel of Whitehorse International Airport. Their big, furry bodies were poorly reflected in the shining aluminum of the bag ramp, scuffed and scratched from years of loose luggage rattling over its gleaming slats. They looked as if they were poised over some frozen lake, their forms distorted in the gray ice, faces blurred so that the battle was even more gruesome than it seemed, every detail between them hidden by the frozen sheets. 

You peered down at your phone, checking through your emails once again. Your package of equipment had arrived at your client’s office, and he’d been nice enough to send a confirmation picture. He was standing in front of a mirrored window, and you finally got to put a face to a name. 

Mr. John Price, owner of The 141 Logging Company, had great taste in music. His Arctic Monkeys band tee looked well-worn and long-loved, its logo chipping and faded. He was bundled up in his Carhart coat, holding his phone in a gloved hand, and his pants were practically painted with saw dust. You closed the email. You weren’t sure why you kept pulling it up. It wasn’t like his face was going to get any clearer, and you weren’t really sure why you cared. 

Okay, let’s be truthful; you knew why you cared. He was absolutely killing your checklist.

Back in the eighth grade, you had lain on your floor with your best friend Martha. Her braided hair with its hot pink bobbles swayed back and forth as she insisted that you make The Checklist. Otherwise, she’d said, how will you know that you’ve found The One? So, with much convincing, you’d finally caved. 

He’d definitely have to love animals. You were going to be a vet one day, and that was a non-negotiable. He’d be sort of hairy. Martha had turned her nose up at that, but you’d seen that movie with Hugh Jackman as Wolverine before, and you refused to budge. He’d also love nature. Martha had protested that you double-dipped since you already had animals, but you insisted. You would never live in a city when you were a grown-up. Never.

And he’d need to have kind eyes. What color? Martha asked. But, you shrugged and said it didn’t matter. You knew, though, that in your heart of hearts, that you’d know them when you saw them. They’d be eyes that lit up the room when he smiled. When he wasn’t smiling, they’d be soft and patient. They’d look at you while you spoke, and the edges of them would fold together when he laughed. 

You turned back to the elk. Their eyes, distant and unseeing, shone like onyx marbles. The two animals stared at each other as they experienced their terrible, static afterlife, forced to face their mortality every morning when the sun came in through the windows of the small airport. You wondered how their skin had been stretched to fit over their hollow sculptures; you wondered how much of them was real and how much was just an illusion of reality. Perhaps there were more things like these two beasts in the space that surrounded you. Just how much of this world was truly a façade? 

He’d left you some voice messages, preferring to send memos instead of typing to text. It was nothing personal, just dates for meetings and practical matters. But, you found yourself replaying them, indulgently, listening to his unique, British vowels rumble around in a deep, dark register, reminding you of your neighbor who used to smoke. It was a raspy sort of tone, full of softness despite the gravelly texture. You listened to him speak his address in your headphones. Then, you played it again. The way he said Alaska Highway was particularly delightful. You tried to stop, a part of you policing yourself, finding it odd that you were enjoying the voice of a strange man. But, what was the harm?

If you listen to the voice of Master Logger John Price, but you don’t tell anyone, will anyone ever know? If a tree grows in a forest, and it dies there, and all of its pieces rot away, and no one was there to see it, was it truly real? 

These elk had been real, you were certain of that. Their hooves had crunched through dry grass and fresh snow. Their antlers had shed and grown back again. Perhaps they had even battled when they were alive, their blood pumping through their huge hearts, stirring their muscles and making them whistle their war cries into the frigid mornings. 

That was the thing you liked most about working with animals. They made you feel real. In fact, sometimes they made you feel primal, as if you were with them at the start of all of this. 

Before the airports and the electricity and the capitalism there had been quiet, uninterrupted mornings where the biggest news was that one elk had bested the other. You would pick winter berries and watch them posture against each other across the frozen field, unhurried in your work, knowing nothing of time or its passing. Nothing had been obscured then; no bodies were posed carefully for your enjoyment. There was only the animal need to eat and mate and sleep. You reminisced about a life you had never lived.

Just when you thought your backpack might never be delivered, and you too would be frozen here for all eternity, just like these elk, the baggage carousel came alive. All the metal clattered together like the opening tuning of an orchestra. The whining and whirring of the machine spinning awake jolted you back to reality where you waited a little impatiently for your colorful Cotopaxi to come tumbling down the slide. 

You checked your phone. The inn you had booked belonged to an old friend of yours, and she had promised to send you the address. You sent her a picture of the elk locked in their ritual.

You: made it to the great white north

She took a few minutes to respond. Your bag was still missing from the chute. You shuffled aside and helped an older gentleman with his insanely heavy case. Then, a soft pop notified you of her reply. 

Marie: looking forward to having you here!

She tacked on the address, and you pasted it into your map app. The airport, it seemed, was right next to downtown Whitehorse, but you’d need to take a cab all the way around it via the Alaska highway in order to make the loop. Ten minutes. Short and sweet. You hoped the bed would be serviceable. 

It wasn’t like you needed to get comfy. You were here to get in and get out. These logging companies never wanted an eco-specialist to stick around for too long. They could only keep up their angelic act for a short period of time before they went back to ravaging the landscape. People like you would just be in the way of their profits. You wondered if Mr. Price was like the rest of them, or if the kindness you thought you saw was genuine. 

You were looking forward to seeing Marie, though. She had been Marie LeBeau back in vet school when you enrolled together in the DMV program at Washington State, but she was married now. You hadn’t updated her contact card, yet. It didn’t really matter. You guessed you’d get to meet the husband on this trip. Apparently, it was his inn, and she just helped him run it. As a small animal vet in a tiny little town, you supposed Marie’s spay and neuter jobs weren’t enough to keep food on the table. 

A flash of color popped up in the carousel, and your bag emerged. You hoisted it up by the shoulder strap and marched to the car park. Your work boots made sticky little squeaks against the linoleum floor as you made your way outside. It was warm for the Yukon, even for June, and although there was a chill in the wind, the sun beamed down through the 70 degree weather. By all accounts, it was turning out to be a beautiful day. 

Hailing a cab wasn’t too hard when they were all parked there, waiting like fish by a dock, knowing they’d be fed. You picked the first one on the line and showed him the address. Of course, in a small town like this, there were only so many places travelers could go, so he wasn’t too surprised. 

The drive was short, and you admired the general splendor of the mountains and the quaint little town as you made your way in. Your driver pulled over, grabbed your bag from the trunk, and patiently waited for you to pull out your cash. He left you his card, 

“That way you’ll always have a ride, darlin’.”

“Thanks very much,” you smiled, leaving him a tip. 

He returned the smile and drove off, back the way he came. You turned around to face the old inn, feeling the afternoon sun kissing your cheeks and the wind rushing to make them pink. The tips of your hair stung them like needles, biting into your flesh relentlessly. You tugged it back with your scrunchie. 

The building looked like it used to be a factory of some kind, and its clay bricks told a story of many years worth of wear and tear. The giant buzzing neon sign out front said WHTHRS. All the vowels were out. You wondered about the odds of that before looking up further at a great stallion, bucking in his bright white neon piping, his hair billowing and yet static, captured in an eternal winnie. His rider was struggling to keep his seat, but his hat was held tightly in his hand, blinking sporadically in the dimming sun. 

The inn was situated on the corner of 2nd Avenue and Main Street, so there seemed to be plenty to keep you interested, at least for six or seven days. But, you were eager to get to work. Even in a tiny town like Whitehorse, the bustle of cars and people was a little much. You missed the woods, like a feral cat who had allowed herself to be domesticated, and a part of you still longed to be wild. 

“There she is!” You heard Marie’s distinct Southern drawl shout from the doorway to the inn.

You smiled, opening your arms wide for a tight hug, burying your face in her long hair,

“Marie! It’s so good to see you.”

It truly was a relief to be with your friend again. You studied her face. She hadn’t changed a bit even though vet school had been nearly a decade in the past. Her dark hair still had that signature white streak in the front. She’d always blamed it on a birthmark, but it wasn’t until you went on a two week trip down to Costa Rica on a field work assignment that you believed her. It was such an elegant shock of white, it looked like she’d dyed it on purpose. 

“How was your flight? Here,” she grabbed your bag, “Give me that. Come in, come in! Logan’s at the bar.”

She popped into the inn, and you followed close behind. Once inside, you took in the mesmerizing transformation of the run-down factory. They had done so much work on the inside, it felt like you had been transported to a different building altogether. The high walls stretched up so far that the golden glow from the lanterns and lamplight couldn’t reach the arched ceiling. The metal I-beams that spanned across the large, open space were imposing; it made you imagine how this place had looked when it had been filled with machines.

To the left of the entrance, Logan’s bar was generously stocked with gleaming glass bottles of liquors and wines as varied as you could imagine. The rich amber liquid of a whiskey bottle swirled around like boiling honey as the bartender poured it out into a waiting glass. The bar was wide and inviting, and the bartop itself was made from one long piece of live edge maple, shiny from sealant, showing off a gorgeous grain.  

The bartender, who you assumed was Logan, was scruffy to say the least. He had a bit of a mullet, and his sideburns were serious business. But, he was painfully attractive, and his eyes held within them an animal magnetism. His golden irises didn’t even seem real. When he smiled, your subconscious registered how sharp those bright white teeth of his were, but you smiled back, extending your hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” that sharp smile was back, and his voice slid over you like warm honey, “I’ve heard more about you than I’ve ever heard about anyone, so we can skip this part, if you like.” He laughed good-naturedly, and you could see exactly what Marie liked about him.  

“I’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Make yourself at home. Looks like we’ve got you all set up in the loft.”

You peered up the small wooden staircase toward the loft area, shrouded in darkness due to its height, and you noticed two doors. Logan pointed to them and explained,

“We’re on the left, and you’re on the right. Marie will take you up.”

“You live here?” You turned to Marie in surprise, not realizing their inn was also their home. 

“Yeah!” Marie shrugged her shoulders, “It’s easy enough. If we really need a break from the crowd, we’ll stay out in the cabin.”

“Mm,” you raised your eyebrows, teasing her, “Romantic.”

She gave Logan a look that stopped your giggling, surprising you with her candidness, 

“You have no idea.”

You followed her up the stairs and deposited your bags in your suite. It had a small bathroom and a kitchenette; everything you would need for your stay. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but it would do its duty. 

You started to unpack, chatting with Marie and trying to fill in the gaps each other had missed. You’d been on this sort of job three dozen times in the past year, and you were a traveling pro. All your clothes were pretty much the same; wool layers and flannels, waterproof hiking pants and all of your various undergarments. Then, stuffed at the bottom of your pack where he always was: Mr. Claw. Your mom had given him to you, along with some flowers, when you graduated with your DVM, and you didn’t go anywhere without your mini DJUNGELSKOG stuffed bear. You supposed you should feel some sort of shame as an adult woman carrying around an IKEA children’s toy, but you didn’t care. It brought your mom back, just for a moment, and that was all you wanted, sometimes. 

After unpacking, you made your way back down to the bar with Marie. You peered over the railing from your high vantage point, admiring the bar’s bustling, homey energy. Then, you spotted him. Your client was talking to Logan. He was much bigger than the barkeep, which you hadn’t really expected from the photo. Aside from his size, he was handsomely made, and just in your taste, too. All of your suspicions about him checking things off of your list were coming true. 

He was built with heavy muscles and bone, his posture exuded slick, easy confidence, and his fashion screamed masculinity. His thick, dark hair was cropped short on the sides, and he’d shaved only the chin of his facial hair; it was a unique choice, but it suited him. Even through layers of warm clothes, you could see the outline of mountainous shoulders rolling around in his jacket sleeves. He was also holding a black, full-face helmet by his side, his huge hand tucked into the mask’s hole, clutching it by the plastic jaw. A motorcycle in the Yukon was a brave choice. 

Marie’s eyes followed your gaze, and when she realized your fixation, she raised her eyebrows at you, 

“Guess you’ll be having fun on this trip, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes were still watching him. He drank. He talked. You studied it all as if it was your new purpose. 

“Aren’t you working on an ecological report for 141 Logging?”

“Yeah,” you finally met her eyes, nodding. 

She pointed down the stairs from where you stood in the dark rafters, 

“That’s the owner; John Price. C’mon, let me introduce you.”

You wanted to tell her that you knew him already, but that wasn’t quite right. One blurry snapshot and a few replayed voice memos wasn’t truly knowing a person. So, you followed Marie down the stairs, trying to fix your face. You coached yourself to be professional, and as he spotted you, you realized just how hard that was going to be. Those bright blue irises of his hunted you like a hawk, tracking you without moving an inch from the bar, pinning you down handsfree. His eyes were alluringly kind but calculating. 

“John,” Marie motioned to you, “Meet your new ecologist… and doctor of veterinary medicine… and professional researcher… and –”

“Hey there, Doc,” he interrupted Marie’s generous introduction, “John.”

His voice was even more decadent in person. People usually wielded your title like a weapon, trying to hurt you with it, or sometimes themselves, but not him. He said it with respect and a hint of amusement. His smile was genuine, if not a little aggressively friendly. You tried to ignore the way his hand slid into yours to shake it, engulfing yours with its immense size, as if his palm could swallow it whole. He lingered on you more than normal. It was as if he was testing you, seeing if you would run from him. You held fast, letting the warmth of his fingers melt into yours, comforting you even though it was the hand of a stranger. 

“Nice to meet you in the flesh, John. Looking forward to seeing your land.”

“It’s a little late for a tour, I’m afraid. Thought I’d come down to get you around 0400 tomorrow. Take you to the site with plenty of morning to spare. You said you wanted to lay out your cameras? Got that big shipment up at the office with your name on it.” 

He finally released your hand, much to your dismay. How was it that you missed a random man’s touch already? You weren’t usually this easy to please, but (you admitted to yourself with a little shame) it had been quite a while since someone had caught your eye. It was always work. That was what you told yourself. The work won’t hurt you. Do it for the animals. People just cause problems. So, you leaned on your old mantra like a crutch,

“Yeah, they should’ve sent you about a dozen trail cams and the wildlife field kits. If it’s okay with you, I’d just like to check the traffic you’ve got in that area. The report that came in said something about a grizzly hybrid? We’re a little too far south for polars.”

He shrugged, being a little more dismissive than you thought he should have been,

“Just some spooked tourists. Sure it was just a normal grizzly.”

His body language shifted from confidence to a reserved protectiveness, and you could almost taste the tension in the air. You eyed him with suspicion now. You knew that a grolar bear would be a problem for him. They were a protected species, and their discovery on his land would shut down his operation in that sector for good. 

“Did they get any footage?” You asked, trying to pry a little further.

“No,” he shrugged and turned away from you a bit, going back to his drink and downing it in one go. Clearly, he was done here. You got the sense he was holding back some information from you, but you weren’t concerned. You had a plan.

“Well,” you tread carefully, “Best for you and your bottom dollar if we make damn sure.”

He smiled, but it didn’t spread wide or reach up into his eyes, and that same aggression was back. White, sharp teeth lay all in a row. You’d thought Logan’s grin was wolfish, but John’s was something even more savage. 

He was friendly enough, but you needed to remember that he was there to harvest trees and nothing more. These companies were always in it for the profit. Even a logging venture as highly rated on sustainability as his still needed to sell products. You just didn’t want that poor bear to be caught in the crossfire. If he was out there, you’d find him.

“Alright, Doc. See you in the morning, then. Logan,” John reached across the bar to shake Logan’s hand, took one more long look at you, slid on his helmet, and pushed his way through the double doors. 

Whatever John Price was hiding, you were looking forward to finding out.

Logan and Marie convinced you to stick around the bar for a couple of drinks, and you watched them dote on each other. There was no mistaking their love. It was as bright as their neon outside, and buzzing with their own unique joy. You weren’t jealous. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. But, just like having curly hair and seeing someone’s bone-straight locks, unstyled and naturally uniform, you knew there were things that other people had that weren’t for you. 

You dismissed yourself, slinking up the stairs to lay in their spare bed, and before you slept, you called your mom. 

It rang three times, each with its own infinite silence between their chimes, and then, when she picked up the phone, it clattered a bit, getting stuck as she balanced it between her cheek and her shoulder. You had this next part memorized, and your mom's voice came through, loud and clear. 

“Hey… uh, hey! It’s Claire. Couldn’t make it to the phone – I know, shocker! Leave me a message. Uh, okay, bye!”

A deafening beep stung your eardrum. You knew it was coming. It always came. But, you sort of liked it now. The pain was familiar, and at least it was something you could feel. 

You reached over to the wall, crossing the chilly expanse of your bed, and turned the radiator up a bit. Snuggling down into the sheets, you clutched Mr. Claw to your chest, wishing with all of your heart that he was real and that you could be buried in his fur, warm and very much not alone.

[icyowl]

Save Me

Pairing: Vampire Megumi Fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: You discover Megumi's true nature in the worst way: when he nearly devours you in a frenzy. Gojo saves your life, but Megumi is held captive under the school, starving, unable to consume any blood. Can you save him? Will you try after what he's done?

A/N: I promise i'm not dead! Sadly I keep running out of steam before I finish any WIPs, but I powered through for you on this one! Been wanting to do vampire megumi foreverrrrrrr

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The hot blood pouring from your shoulder had been reduced to an afterthought now that the vampire who nearly tore your neck open was barreling after you. There was only one thing you could do:

Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun

Out the bedroom, through the hallway, down the stairs — you passed through most of the building without really taking it in. All that existed were the dank/steaming/slobbering/moist snarls behind you and the burning in your lungs. Air couldn't come fast enough.

His weapons — a pair of bloody inch-long canines and countless claws — were one bad step from having their way with you.

A flash of guilt had your steps slowing for a fraction of a second. You could maybe reason with him or somehow pull him out of it, so, against better judgement, you turned-

“Megu-”

The crazed animal that took his place slammed head-first into the wall next to you, missing your carotid by one flinch of your quivering muscles. Splintered wood sprayed everywhere. If your survival instinct hadn't kicked in when it did, you'd be right in his war path, and likely ripped open (again). Face still partially embedded in the wall, mouth gorging on wood fractures, one of his pulsating eyes fixed you in its wild gaze.

Red hot, with a slitted pupil constricted to a razor sharp sliver.

It wasn't simply inhuman; it was the farthest thing from human. Curses didn't compare to whatever was in those now-ruby eyes.

You gave yourself splinters trying to yank yourself out of his reach. Maybe you could have reasoned with him, maybe you should have, but you didn't trust him not to kill you if you tried. What about the movies where the monster's love interest could subdue his deadly instincts? Yeah, this wasn't a movie. Fuck that.

Every slip of your feet on the hardwood flooring sent a bolt of fear through each nerve in your body. Where could you go? Did you stay away from people and keep them safe, or try to find help? Could you manage that while keeping yourself alive? Air stung your lungs with every brash inhale and your legs began to fatigue. How much longer could you keep this up?

You exploded out of the dorm into the muggy summer air. In time, he would catch you, end you, devour you. Bad idea or not, you needed help.

A bear trap full of claws closed around your side. You screamed as they tore through your clothes and into your skin. In a fit of sheer willpower and for the second time that day, you deliberately pulled your skin from him, the ripping and tearing only worsening. It sucked, but you didn't have a choice. Could you try and lose him in the forest? Lock him in a building? Lure-

You were too busy keeping an eye on the gnashing teeth and snarling yowls of your boyfriend to stop yourself from running head-long into someone. After recovering from the initial shock of hitting the ground hard and heavy, you looked up to a moment of great stillness.

Gojo stood, one hand in his pocket, and the other outstretched to Megumi. What had once been your violent animal now floated helplessly in the air, his lashing talons catching nothing but the humid breeze. He growled deep in his chest, trying with everything he had to break the invisible chains keeping him suspended and kill you, and yet Gojo simply smirked, humored by it all.

“Megumi,” he chided, “I told you something like this would happen.”

It was almost laughable — almost — now that you were safe, alone, staring down your ordinary visage in the bathroom mirror. Three days until you could get a full night's sleep, five days until every sound didn't send your heart into overdrive, and now, one week removed from the incident, you could nearly believe it never happened. Apart from the bandages. Megumi had done a number on you and likely would have feasted on you had Gojo not happened to be in the way. His moans were pained, and when his words turned to garbled growls. . . all this time, he was so different from you, and all this time, you hardly suspected a thing. How could you not see something so important? How could he have deceived you so completely? Would he have ever told you? Was he fine with hiding so much of himself from you?

Your shoulders dipped down and forward. Megumi’s backpack was still at the foot of your bed. His cologne was on your pillow. You smelled it last night before you dreamed of him — a ballad of warmth and peace. Every time you looked at your phone screen you saw a glimmer of his grin from that trip to the carnival however long ago. Dark bruising curtesy of a healing hickey on your throat snickered at you from the mirror; he had been so gentle then.

You would have gone to him already, had Gojo not turned you away at the basement door. It probably wasn’t a good idea to go down there before you’d healed — what if you made it worse? If Megumi lost control from some kissing, what would he do when he saw the bandages or smelled the stitches digging into your skin? But it didn’t feel right to know he was locked up just a ways away while you hid like a child in your room.

Your phone’s buzzing nearly sent you through the ceiling.

Principal Yaga.

“Hello?” You asked warily. Was a week really all he’d give you before he sent you back to class? Your wounds could hardly be considered healed.

“Fushiguro needs your help. Come to the sealing chambers if you can. We're out of options.” His tone was grim (when wasn’t it?). All at once your heart galloped like you were back in the courtyard running for your life. You didn’t see your reflection in the mirror. The lack of color, slack jaw, none of it. All you saw was an image of the man who read to you at night now locked away in a dark room, bound and gagged, a starved circus animal.

At the first door of the sealing chambers it wasn’t Yaga who met you but Gojo. Even with the blindfold, you could tell he wasn’t happy. He held the door open without a word. As soon as you entered the dark hall, tortured cursed energy pressed in on your chest. Sealing tape lined the long corridor Gojo led you through, along with every staircase and every doorway. Talismans of different origins and scripts from countless religions hung from the ceiling. You’d be fearful if Gojo’s words hadn’t kept you preoccupied. Megumi had been unable to keep down any blood he’d been given since your attack, and, since he’d been starving enough by then to trigger a frenzy. . . he was in dire straights now.

“Why can’t he keep anything down?” You asked.

“It’s called taste aversion. You get food poisoning from a restaurant, you never want to go to the same company or get the same kind of food again. His goes beyond that, though. The mind is an incredibly powerful thing – the shame, self-loathing, guilt – his psychological barriers are just as real as any physical ones. Without consuming any nutrients… he’s dying.”

As soon as you walked through the next door to a long, narrow walkway with cells on one side, the shouting and thumping reached your ears.

“No! Don’t bring her in!” Megumi said from down the hall. He could smell your cozy allure, the infernal whispers beckoning the frothing beast under his skin to break through. His teeth ached.

Your stomach squeezed when you saw him; shackles held his wrists on the end of chains bolted to the ceiling. He was on his knees, covered in grime, and wearing the same clothes you’d last seen him in. Stains and a few empty bloodbags dirtied the floor.

As soon as he saw you, he shoved his head in his shoulder to the point of cricking it and slammed shut his bloodstained eyes.

“Get out!” He screamed.

You looked at Gojo who was already studying you. His message was clear: do what you think is right. No judgement. If you ran away yelling, he wouldn’t hold it against you. This was merely something he was willing to try, if you were too. You looked back at Megumi. Dried blood caked his wrists where the cuffs had dug in. His skin touching the metal puffed out smoke where the skin underneath burned. They must have chained him with silver. His skin was pale and gaunt, a sure sign of a starving man. Bits of his hair lay around his knees where it had fallen out. Around him, the walls were etched with staines, fingernail scratches, and symbols of faith.

You knelt across from him. The hard floor pushed at your knees. All you could think to do was roll up your sleeve and hold it out to him. “I’m letting you take my blood, so no more of this aversion stuff. I’m telling you it’s okay, so you can’t reject it.”

Something guttural made you flinch back. He kept his eyes shut even when he turned to say: “I’m never touching you again. I don’t want you here, understand?”

You sighed. Water flooded your mouth and eyes. “You have to eat, Megumi, or you’ll die.”

“Then let me.” He bit back.

You looked to the teacher for answers. Gojo held you in his eyes for a long moment before nodding and bringing up two fingers. Using infinity, he forced the cuffs open. Megumi’s ruby eyes shot open, looking at his hands, sharpened nails still present, to you, and to Gojo.

Megumi only had time to hiss before Gojo was behind him, wrapping an arm around Megumi’s neck and wedging his student’s chin in the crook of his elbow. Gojo’s other hand spread out on the back of Megumi’s head, forcing it forward and putting him in a suffocating headlock. Megumi lurched and growled but couldn’t budge Gojo’s insurmountable strength. He turned frantic when you approached and his noises turned to snarls, hating showing this side of you but hoping he’d reach that primal flight reflex inside you and get you to fear him, to run and leave him in his misery.

“Don’t do this.” Megumi warbled out. His voice was whimpering and tortured. It broke off with a foreign growl. His instincts tried to make him submit. Your heart pulled itself from your ribcage when his eyes watered and his canines descended against his will. Every part of his body was trying to reach for your supple skin, close the gap, find that sweet release, but his mind was fighting valiantly to resist the pull. In the middle of the war was his heart, damaged and vulnerable and begging for salvation.

“It’s okay.” You tried. You pressed your arm against his lips. Still, he wouldn’t budge. You pressed harder, until his teeth were smashed to your skin, yet he wouldn’t bite.

Gojo tightened his hold until Megumi involuntarily gasped for air, giving you a chance to dive your arm into his open mouth and impale it on his fangs. It fucking hurt, sure, you yelled and flinched in spite of yourself, no doubt making it worse for Megumi, but you were far more focused on him. Megumi clawed at Gojo’s arm, trying to pull away, but soon the sensation of your blood flowing down his throat hit his nervous system and he stilled, eyes glazing over and a tear escaping down his cheek. Audible swallows interrupted the sudden quiet and you let out a heavy breath. As scary as he might have looked, glowing eyes and snarling face and intermittent growls, the relief you felt at hearing those quiet gulps washed over you from head to toe.

His claws turned from trying to push himself out of Gojo’s hold to pulling you closer. Megumi’s grip became untamed, readjusting and tightening, not caring how he tore open your skin. Hot tears fell from your eyes. You weren’t sure how long you could keep from wailing. “How much does he need?”

“Depends.”

Sweat was breaking out over your face. “What?”

“If you can hang in until he recovers himself, he might see he can control it. That should cure the avoidance, but it won’t be fun, and it might not even work. It’s up to you.”

Your neurons turned to sludge, so all you did was nod. Against your will, your sense of balance was leaving you. To comfort Megumi, and anchor yourself, your other hand rested on his head, petting the thick, unruly strands.

“It’s okay. Even when I saw what you were. . . I trusted you. That’s why you bit me before; because I believed you wouldn’t kill me. I’m sorry I wasn’t someone you thought you could trust. I. . . I’ll be better, from now on.”

Again Megumi’s struggling changed. His eyes, previously wide open yet unseeing, slammed shut, his face pinching in a struggle. Moans of pleasure became grunts of effort. Your forehead fell against his. From here, you could smell your blood and his shampoo in the small space between you. “It’s okay, don’t fight it. I want to help you. I want this.”

Though he writhed against Gojo’s abominable strength like a predator in a bear trap, you were growing statuesque. Cold crept up your arm. Blood turned frigid in your veins. Shadows settled in your ears and eyes until the world seemed very far away. All you felt were the fine serrations on his canines as Megumi’s movements wove them deeper into your sinew. His growls took on a melodic quality, a primal war chant from a bygone era. It was a deep rumble you imagined sounded just like the thrum of the earth. This was easy. Peaceful, even.

A herculean pull yanked your arm off his canines with a squelching pop and spray of blood. Megumi’s effort made you tumble onto your back. Blood poured from the wounds on your arm. When he could finally get his eyes to focus, you were unconscious and unmoving.

Some sort of hissing moan escaped him. The fresh blood in his belly threatened to come up. “No. . . no.” He groaned around his fangs. His words were unintelligible. Gojo could sense his cursed energy - the guilt within - and let him go. Megumi crept to you, and stopped with his hand just above your arm. He strained over the sound of his tears to barely catch the whoosh of your breaths. Alive. Still alive.

Something gripped his muscles - not hunger or thirst, but a different kind of insatiable desire. A feeling to have you, not as food, but as. . . something necessary all the same. He had to draw you to him or risk some kind of death; he could feel it in his bones. At the edge of your consciousness, your latched into his grimy shirt, right where the lurch in his stomach had begun to calm. Megumi worried about his claws on your skin - he’d hurt you so many times with them already - but nevertheless couldn’t let go.

“That’s pretty cute, like a dog growling over its bowl.” Gojo remarked, smirking at the glare his student was giving him. Megumi didn’t even notice the hisses leaving him or the baring of his sharp fangs. “Tell me, do you feel sick?”

Fire or love tinged his vision an opaque red. His teacher, the prison, even you were reduced to a slurry of wavering shapes and twisted movement. The blood had begun to settle in his stomach, and with it came the grip of shame. Fck, what had he done? He was such a monster he couldn’t even see that carnage he left behind, but he smelled the blood mixing with the dirt on the ground under you, could feel it coagulating between his fingers and cooling under his nails, heard the weak rasp of your lungs fighting for every inhale. He had ruined you.

Something gnawed at his stomach. His hand rushed to his mouth. The blood roiled in his belly and began digging its way up his esophagus. How could he have done this to you?

Still blind, he felt your chest tense, heard your hand push through the air, but nevertheless flinched when your wobbling fingers brushed at the blood and tears drying on his cheek. Your thumb pushed away his upper lip to caress the flat of his fangs. “Please,” you whispered, “don’t stop me from helping you. Don’t keep me from loving you. It’s what I want more than anything.”

And more than his desire to protect you was his need to fulfill you.

Megumi swallowed the tears and the blood at the back of his throat. If this was what you wanted, then he had to try. If he was good for anything, let it be this. He pressed his forehead to yours, staining your face and filling your nose with the stench of dirt and blood. Who knew love was so vile.

“Not that this isn’t cute, in a teen angst sorta way,” Gojo chimed, “but she needs a transfusion. You need to let go.”

Megumi’s eyes cleared. The first thing he saw was your gaze, glassy and sluggish, but unwavering from his own. He smelled the oxytocin wafting from you.

“No,” he shook his head while his fingers kissed your face, “she only needs me.” His hand dove into his mouth and with a silent snarl he burrowed his fangs deep in his wrist. You tried to stop him, but weren’t fast enough. The sound of it should have made you flinch, but the gleam of his scarlet eyes and the slitted pupils had you fascinated. He pulled his mouth away with a wet schlop and held it against your lips.

You pulled your lips around the wound and began to suck. To be fair, you didn’t expect to feel different right away, but as soon as you swallowed, a warmth spread out from your core - knitting the cuts, curing the bruises, and healing the puncture wounds. The pounding in your head, the adrenaline dumped in your veins, it all dissipated in the gentle heat of a morning sun. After a couple of gulps Megumi’s own bite mark had closed, leaving nothing but a pleasant aftertaste under your tongue. Even his own blood didn’t want to harm you by tasting bad.

Megumi’s head lurched towards the door, seeing past Gojo, hearing something far away.

“Who’s coming?” Gojo asked.

“Yaga. Nanami and Ieiri, too. They’re not happy.”

A rush of hurried steps followed some time after. Yaga was sweaty and livid.

“Gojo,” he roared, “she was meant to comfort him, not feed him!”

Gojo rose to stand in front of him. “I wasn’t gonna let anything bad happen.”

“This,” he threw a hand at the two of you, “doesn’t count as bad?! You’ve endangered your own students!”

Gojo was having none of that. His playful tone evaporated. “If I thought for a second he might kill her, I’d have stopped him instantly.”

The bickering continued in your peripheral. All you concerned yourself with was brushing the dirt off his face while he watched, listening to the ever-stronger beats of your steady heart.

[wangxianficrecs]

had a marvelous time ruining everything by livinginaworldofnoise

had a marvelous time ruining everything

by livinginaworldofnoise (@gh0st-0f-luke)

G, WIP, 4k, Wangxian

Summary: “Great news, though—well, actually, it may depend how you define ‘great.’” Wei Wuxian folds himself into a cross-legged position and makes a sweeping gesture with one arm toward the closet, from which Lan Wangji can now hear a strange rattling noise. “While you were gone I managed to catch another one!” “Another . . . cat?” Lan Wangji pulls the closet door open wider and stares at the cage he finds there, inside of which a small black cat is clinging to the ceiling bars with all the desperation of a cornered wild animal. “That’s Volcano!” Wei Wuxian says by way of explanation. “She’s a little spicy.” OR: 5 times wangxian's feral kittens get in the way of lan wangji proposing + 1 time they help Kay's comments: I for one think that Tectonic Plate is a wonderful name for a cat. This story is a lot of fun and very cute and Wangxian are such cat people. Love seeing them having to interact with a fluffle of half-feral kittens and I really enjoy Lan Wangji's POV in this. He's so funny! If only he was allowed to propose to his boyfriend! Excerpt: Lan Wangji shakes his head. An urgent care trip to treat Jiang Cheng’s idiocy doesn’t exactly set the right tone for a romantic evening, so Lan Wangji has already written off the idea of proposing tonight. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll order takeout when you return.” Wei Wuxian grins and plants a very welcome kiss on Lan Wangji’s mouth that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jiang Cheng, who pretends to gag. Lan Wangji ignores him and pulls Wei Wuxian in for a second kiss, mostly out of love but perhaps partly out of spite. Lan Wangji lets out a small sigh after the brothers depart, feeling like the perfect proposal is once again slipping out of his reach. Is he just going to keep postponing this dinner date for eternity? He can’t bring himself to blame Volcano, though. Biting Jiang Cheng is a very reasonable thing to do in her position. Lan Wangji can’t say that he wouldn’t be tempted if he were a cat. And if he gives Volcano a couple extra treats when he goes in to feed them some wet food, that’s no one’s business but his own.

pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, established relationship, 5+1 things, fluff and crack, humor, marriage proposal, cats, pets

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 4

Just moving right along! We have hit the halfway point! And I've got 6/8 chapters done! And with any luck the whole story will be finished by the end of the week, allowing me to go back to writing the other stories full time.

Tomorrow I will be releasing "The Last Dragon Slayer" So that should be fun. And WIP Wednesday will be a little different, too. Here's the link to the full explanation for that! Come join the chaos!

In this we have more trauma dumping from Steve and I had too much fun naming the horses.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

The next task I chose for the dear little elf I thought would be easier on them. After all just because they had trouble with people and wanting things to be perfect, surely they must be good with animals.

Surely.

Surely not as it turned out.

I had just come from my workroom where I had been meticulously going through my list as new kids made the list and others would swap lists, when I noticed that door to the reindeer stables was flung wide open and multiple reindeer were milling about the field, moving only when the elf drew near, to run away.

But once the reindeer spotted me, they trotted peacefully into the stable and the elf sank to the ground with a choked off sob.

“I was brushing Donner when Vixen managed to open the lock to her to stall,” the little elf wailed. “So I rushed to grab her, but that was when Donner decided she wanted to be free too and bolted. And...”

“And in your rush to catch those two,” I said with a sigh,” the others made their escape.

The elf nodded sadly. “I’m just no good at this.”

I got down on one knee and lifted their chin slowly. “No good at what, little one?”

They swiped at their eyes with the back of their hand and hiccuped another sob. “Being an elf. I’m like that stupid dentist in that really creepy kids movie from 1960s.”

I chuckled. “Even if you were, it just means you haven’t found your vocation yet. We’ll get there.”

The elf nodded slowly and I helped them to their feet.

~

Steve felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach as he drove out to the Sinclair farm. He hadn’t seen a single deer, much less a reindeer as he drove the narrow pass up to the house. Nope. So far only horses. Lots and lots of horses.

A whole herd of the skittish, four-legged tanks on fragile sticks they called legs.

He was tempted to just back up out of the road, turn tail and call in sick or something. Because this was not going to go well.

At all.

But as he was slowing to a stop to do just that, someone pulled in behind him. Cursing up a storm and berating himself for this, he sped back up again, not stopping until he pulled up along side a 1974 Ford F150.

As Steve got out he realized the other driver was Claudia Henderson with a ragtag group of teenagers in tow. And it looked as though she had almost the whole set.

“Where’s Max?” he asked about the missing member as Will, Mike, Dustin, and Ellie all piled out of Claudia’s car.

“She got here earlier,” Mike said with a whine. “Perks of having a boyfriend whose dad owns horses.”

Steve gulped and nodded.

Just then Eddie’s van pulled up and Steve relaxed a little, not really wanting to reason why he thought that. Somethings were better left alone until 3am on a random Saturday three sheets to the wind drunk.

Eddie got out of his van with a cute little hop and slammed the door behind him. He came bounding up to Steve with the perfect dimpled smile and said, “Hey! You beat me here. I thought for sure I would be the first to arrive!”

“You’re literally last, dude,” Dustin said rolling his eyes. “My mom made thermoses of hot chocolate for everyone.”

Everyone mobbed Claudia for their hot chocolate when Max and Lucas came out of the house, a man following close behind, Steve assumed was Mr. Sinclair.

“Great!” Mr. Sinclair said with a bright smile. “It looks like everyone is here. I have my daughter Erica and Robin out hooking up the horses to the sleigh. So if everyone will follow me.”

Steve started picking at the skin on his nails as he trailed behind. Intrusive thoughts spiraled around in his head with every step he took.

“Hey,” Eddie said softly. “You okay? You look a little green.”

Steve ducked his head sheepishly. “I didn’t realize it was going to be horses. The one sleigh ride I’ve been on it was reindeer.”

“You have a problem with horses?” Eddie asked tilting his head to the side. He looked around at the all the horses milling around in various paddocks.

“When I was eight my mom wanted to learn horseback riding because she was a polo champion when she was in college,” Steve explained licking his lips nervously. “It didn’t go well. The horse was supposed to be even tempered and great with kids.”

“I’m guessing not so much?” Eddie asked gently.

“Went off on a tear,” Steve mumbled, “and then started trying to buck me off, but foot was caught in the stirrup so I was shaken around like a ragdoll until someone could calm the horse enough to let me down.”

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Damn, I’m sorry. Well, at least it isn’t Christmas related trauma. Because seriously, dude you have a lot of that.”

Steve looked him dead in the eye and said in all seriousness. “The horse’s name was Noël.”

“Shit, really?” he asked with a grimace. Steve nodded grimly. “I think Christmas might be cursed for you. Sorry.”

Then Eddie took Steve’s hand in his and Steve looked up at him in awe. “You’re going to in the back of the sleigh with everyone else, but you get nervous, just give my hand a squeeze, okay?”

Steve nodded and they walked all the way to the barn hand in hand.

They had barely reached the barn when the doors burst open and one of the horses flew past them, causing them to leap back to avoid being trampled. Then another came dashing out, and what happened next would live in Steve’s dreams for a very long time.

Eddie grabbed the bridle of the second horse and hauled himself up on it’s back, instantly calming the animal. Then he urged the horse forward into a gallop, chasing down the other horse. Once they were neck and neck, Eddie reached out and grabbed the bridle of the other horse and brought them both to a stand still.

Robin came running up to Steve just as Eddie managed to catch up to the other horse and get it to slow down.

“That was hot,” Steve said, never taking his eyes off of the other man. “Please tell me you saw how hot that was.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I’m a lesbian, I can’t comment on his hotness. Sorry, not sorry.”

Steve turned to her with his eyes wide. “Well, speaking as someone who is into both. Trust me that was very hot.”

Eddie trotted back up to the barn, cheeks rosy from the exertion and the cold, biggest grin on his face. He stopped in front of Robin and Erica, who had also come out of the barn looking sheepish.

“Erica Jean,” Mr. Sinclair admonished her, both hands on his hips. “What are Fili and Kili doing out? I told you to get out Merry, Pippin, Samwise, and Frodo.”

Steve giggled at the names and Eddie gave him a surprised kind of smile when he realized he recognized the names of the horses.

“Fili conspired with Kili to escape,” Erica huffed mirroring her dad’s pose. “They weren’t anywhere near were we were harnessing Pippin and Samwise, but Kili managed to lift the latch on Fili’s stall and the little bastard did the same for his brother.”

Mr. Sinclair sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll make sure to get a couple of padlocks to keep the little escape artists from getting out.” He turned to Eddie. “Would you mind holding onto them until we get the other horses setup in front of the sleigh?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure thing, boss.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to ride,” Dustin said, staring up at Eddie like he was some kind of superhero and he wasn’t the only one. Most of the kids were doing the same thing. The only ones that weren’t were the Sinclairs.

“My grandma had horses when I was growing up,” he said with a sheepish grin. “But I haven’t been on a horse in almost a decade, so um... don’t try that at home. It could have ended very badly for me. I did it without thinking.”

Mr. Sinclair chuckled. “It was probably a good thing, actually. Had you thought about it, you probably would have mistimed the jump. You did good, son.”

He walked into the stable and motioned for Robin and Erica to follow him, Lucas trailing behind.

Eddie gathered up the halters and slid off the horse. He started patting the other’s nose as Steve crept closer. Eddie spotted him and hid his smile in the mane of the horse he had been riding.

“These aren’t the horses that will be pulling the sleigh?” Steve asked when he was close enough for Eddie to hear him.

Eddie shook his head. “These are riding horses and aren’t really suited to pulling sleighs. They can be used like that in a pinch, but when you see the other horses you’ll know what I mean.”

Steve inched forward a little bit more. “They won’t hurt me?”

“I promise,” Eddie murmured. He held out his hand and Steve took it gingerly. He brought Steve’s hand to touch the horse’s nose. The horse snorted but stayed still under Steve’s touch.

Steve giggled. “He’s so warm.” He let Eddie use his hand to stroke the horse’s nose. “Who’s a good boy?”

Eddie pointed over Steve’s shoulder. “Those are the horses that will be pulling the sleigh.”

Steve turned around to Erica, Lucas, Mr. Sinclair, and Robin all came out each with a massive horse.

“Big boys,” he muttered as his eyes continued to move up and up. “They could step on me and they wouldn’t even notice, you’d have to scrape me off their shoe.”

Eddie chuckled. “Probably, but they are unflappable. Come on,” he said, tugging the two idiots forward. “Let me put these two away and I’ll have Robin introduce you to the draft horses.”

Steve nodded nervously.

Eddie whispered something to Robin as he passed and she nodded. She came up to Steve and handed him an apple.

“They’re sweet boys,” she said gently, “but you really want to win their hearts? Apples. Keep your hand flat and let them munch away.”

Steve walked up to the horses and stopped in front of the closest one.

“That’s Sam,” she said, “he loves apples.”

Steve held up his hand and let Sam take the apple. Sam happily munched away and then sniffed around Steve for other apples. Robin pushed his head out of Steve’s space with a laugh.

“You greedy guts,” she said brightly, pulling out another apple. “Can’t have just the one.”

Sam huffed his agreement and munched away at her apple too. “Horses are better than reindeer,” she muttered darkly.

“That hasn’t been my experience,” he said rolling his eyes as he pet Sam’s nose.

“Yeah?”

Steve told her what he told Eddie and she nodded. “Yeah, that sounds rough. I do these type of gigs every year and there is always a reindeer or two who thinks being an ass is more fun.”

He chuckled at her animal joke and she grinned back at him.

“Yeah,” she declared, “you’re sitting next to me on this ride.”

Steve smiled at her. “I’d like that.”

Of course that meant that he sat between Eddie and her, but that was okay.

As they were getting settled on the sleigh he noticed Eddie slapping his neck and looking around.

“You okay?” he asked as the sleigh jerked forward.

Eddie’s lips were pursed to together. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He bumped their shoulders together. “I promise.”

The horses led them through the town and forests and every gasped and pointed at the lights strung up along the way, drinking Claudia’s hot chocolate and listening Charles Sinclair’s, as Steve found out his first name, stories about the town and the different places they were going through.

They stopped at Lover’s Lake and there was Mrs. Sinclair with buttered scones and hot apple cider. As they ate their fill and watched the moon on the lake, Eddie bumped shoulders with Steve.

“You still afraid of horses?”

He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t know what happened that day, but I learned that everyone can have bad days. So, thank you.”

~

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @tartarusknight

[notyourmamasdeerbat]

WIP Wednesday!

Happy Wednesday, lovelies! Made it halfway through the week! You're doing great, and I'm so proud of you 🧡 Thank you so much for all the tags! @hedwigoprah @strugglinggranola @woundedsoul12 @caughtnyact @blackwall-my-tiny-husband I think of you all often, I always look forward to Wednesdays and all the treasures you guys keep! Thank you for sharing yours. I apologize in advance for the nonsense below the cut

First up, and most recently, once again I cranked this out at like 1 a.m. it's the bad idea don't do it batty / cringefail Modern AU rookanis. And I was in the shower wondering if I wanted to make this a murder mystery when it hit me like a ton of bricks that a BODY will be DISCOVERED. Uh Oh! But who would frame Caterina Dellamorte for murder? (Gee. It's probably a long list in all honesty but *looks into the camera like I'm on the Office) But the CRINGE FAIL bit is ME DISCOVERING THIS ABSOLUTE BANGER THAT LITERALLY COMBINES MY TWO FAVORITE EVER ARTISTS

And all I could think was "omg. I need to see Rook absolutely losing it at the clerb" so I give you Dellamorte the Lesser (love you, Illario) plotting shenanigans for his recently returned cousin (is it a distraction for something worse. absolutely. is it also because he has a bet going with Teia that he can't give Strife six heart attacks in a row. Maybe.) I thought maybe the Cantori Diamond could double as an exclusive night club (just for the excuse of dressing everybody up leave me alone) I don't think anything will come of this as like a full fic anytime soon but enjoy???? it bit me in the ass *

Illario followed his gaze, alighting on the archaeologist in gold and leather on the dance floor in the flashing lights, bouncing and swaying to the beat with the biggest, sunniest grin, eyes squeezed tight shut as they danced– hips swaying, spot lamps and strobe catching on the ice in their crystal glass and the shimmering orange shadow on their eyes and temples. 

“Ohhh. They are lovely.” 

Lucanis frowned from where he was leaning in the shadow of the bar, craning his neck to try and glimpse the elf he’d been tracking— just as they slipped out of sight. He scoffed into his drink, irate with himself. 

“I can arrange something,” Illario said slyly. 

“Please, cousin,” Lucanis drawled. “I am here on business.” 

“Business can come with pleasure! Trust me, they are adorable. And achingly sincere– not so much to be affronted by a one night stand, but enough to buy you flowers. You would get along. That is Messere Aldwir, one of dear nonna’s excavators. I am apparently off limits.” 

“Why would you foist me upon an employee who has no interest in you?” 

Illario pursed his lips as he settled beside his cousin, looking wounded. “You misunderstand. The attraction is there, but I exist in a limelight Rook’s superiors disapprove of. You– you are perfect.” He cast him a crooked, irritating grin. “Shy. Less famous. Vaguely interested in matters of intellect and academy. Coiled up tighter than a screw from stress. I do not see why if I can’t have fun, you cannot in my stead.” 

“Less infamous. And I’m not here for fun.” Lucanis peeled his gaze away from the dancer in yellow and brown and their jingling bracelets. 

“They are sweet. Mischievous. They don’t know we’re related. Go.” Still grinning, Illario gently pushed Lucanis to the threshold where dark wood met polished concrete. Lucanis planted his feet with a thunderous scowl, gripping his cousin’s sleeve. 

“No– Mierda, Illario, I swear–” 

“Oop!” An errant arm smacked Lucanis across the chest as someone was nearly bowled over by a drunkenly staggering patron– her drink sloshing as she jerked to save it, an elven woman with an impossibly large bun of dark hair, her eyes bright and expression horrified as Lucanis jerked back from her, wiping droplets of kahlua from his satin vest. “I’m so sorry!” He barely registered the cry over the din as another roaring song burst forth in earnest, rumbling the floor. Evidently a crowd favorite, as the throng shrieked and began jostling in some semblance of unison. 

Illario stepped forward to catch the elf and smooth things over with a laugh and a glittering smile, just as Lucanis’ shoulder caught against another’s chest. They jumped, and carefully grasped his elbow on instinct, eyes a little wide, still beaming. 

“Oh fu– Maker! Hello!” Rook laughed, blue gaze sparkling in the half light as they gently steadied them both, releasing Lucanis hurriedly. “I’m sorry, didn’t see you there!” They shouted over the music. 

Lucanis shied away from the swaying skirt and mesh sleeves of a couple racing to join the crush of a rapidly forming pit. He cleared his throat, scowling, brow furrowed as he felt a headache roaring to life in the back of his skull. “It’s nothing,” he shouted back, voice hoarse. 

“Oh, your vest,” Rook lamented loudly, frowning at the splattering of dark splotches. “It’s very nice!” 

“It was,” Lucanis replied, trying valiantly to resist the push and pull of the crowd that seemed to be drawing them closer together. “But it’s nothing. These things happen.” 

Rook barely heard him, but held up a finger with a frown, reaching into one of the many many pockets of their pants and retrieving a small pack of crinoline covered wet wipes. “Here!”

YEAHHH IDK BUT OF COURSE NIGHT OUT WITH THE GALS (so so tempted to bring Neve. Agony, but Harding is back home in Southern Thedas) TURNED MEET CUTE RAPIDLY ENCROACHED UPON BY VIOLENCE. Will Lucanis ruin the rest of his very expensive outfit? Will Rook put one too many martini glasses to use out of sheer panic? Will Bellara put a professional hitman's entire dumb ass in the hospital? Find out next time on, uh, title pending. FOR THOSE OF YOU WAITING ON CARRY THE DAGGER AND UNCOMBED I BEG YOUR FORGIVENESS DAVRIN HAS LEFT ME IN THE DUST. I FULLY INTEND TO LOCK IN THIS WEEK.

Also!!! Those of you participating in the much beloved (for good reason) Thursday Bangers, I've missed TWO. So I combined them both and I am fully blindsiding you with more Rookanis (I'm so sorry they consume my every waking thought. I have no excuse. So here is the DUBIOUSLY SPICY NSFW that I fully intend to finish this week as well. Spite approved toxic(?) yearning.)

Baby I’m so into you Darling if you only knew All the things that flow through my mind - “Fantasy” by Mariah Carey + And I'd give up forever to touch you ,  'Cause I know that you feel me somehow,  You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be  And I don't wanna go home right now ~ Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

Look sometimes you just need to linger on the edge of fantasizing so hard about your new lover in waking you end up jorking it later in the day after it makes itself vividly known in sleep. Solas knows what I'm talking about. NSFW BEYOND THIS POINT. NEVER EVER FEEL PRESSURED TO INTERACT WITH THAT KIND OF CONTENT IF YOU DO NOT DESIRE TO. I LOVE YOU. YOU ARE VALID. YOU'VE BEEN NOTIFIED. **

Want to feel. To hold. To bite. 

Lucanis fixed his gaze on the ceiling, tongue working on the inside of his cheek, blood hot and irritation boiling under his skin. He kept his hands folded over his stomach, forcing himself to lie still on the cot. 

Why do you wait? Spite demanded, jostling against his mind. You dream! Wish! But never. Move! 

Finally getting to sleep through the night only for what. Dreams. 

Vivid dreams, voicing his most private thoughts aloud. The sounds. Rook’s breath in his ear, against his pillow, the soft sighs and groans and keening whines, the rippling of the muscle between their shoulder blades, the soft curve of their thighs– each traitorously recontextualized from Lucanis bearing witness to laborious stretches, donning and shucking armor, thrown lazy grins, in months of travel and combat to… 

His face burned. His stomach was tight with the heat of desire. A new, but not unwelcome sensation. Though the longer this went on in the small hours of morning, the more uncomfortable it all became. 

They were supposed to be taking this slow. 

Oh, but he wanted. Unfamiliar with wanting, he’d woken in a daze, confused and skin sticky with sweat. He swore he could still taste Rook on his lips– espresso and lemon zest, herbs and incense smoke. But the imagery faded, slipping like sand from the sieve of his mind. A rapidly evaporating mirage, the impression of mouth on his neck, hands on his chest, gone in whispers and gossamer mist. 

Ohhh. Spite whispered, grinning ear to ear.  Lucanis. Is. Afraid! 

Blushing harder, heart thundering, the assassin endeavored to sit up with a groan, putting his feet on the floor and his head in his hands. “Leave it, Spite.” 

Coward. You kiss Rook all the time! Go. Ask!

“I can count on one hand,” Lucanis argued stiffly. “We are taking this slowly. And for good reason.” 

You kissed Rook just now–

Lucanis groaned. “That is different!” 

Why? 

“You know why.” 

So you dream it. Now go do it. Make it real. It makes you… Spite huffed. Happy.

“I–” The assassin massaged his temples. “This is too much.” He’d have to visit the baths. Scrub the feeling off him… change his smalls. Hot water pools, the roar of the waterfall… shimmering blue springs shining in the light, its surface sparkling like stars caught in the little ripples surrounded by clean marble and blooming vines. 

Rook kept that herbal mud-salt they favored in a small tin by the base of one of the pillars. He could smell it so clearly, imagining smears of gray-blue on his hands and neck. 

Rook, their back to him, running their hands through their short dark hair and wringing it out, the dark sleeve of geometric whorls and standing harts and halla gleaming like runs of ink, the fall of the Black City on their shoulder reaching like angular fingers up to the tattooed scars on either side of their neck. Droplets tracing, running down every muscle, every crevice and curve and lightning strike, perfect hips disappearing under the wavering surface of the bath, that low divot of shadow just barely hidden in the dimples of their spine–

Mierda. That was too far. What was wrong with him today?

You hunger. Spite huffed and pressed close to his side, hooking his chin over Lucanis’ shoulder. For Rook. 

Lucanis’ face burned. He ignored the demon as he got to his feet, and Spite drifted after him looking annoyed. 

It feels… Our body– A soft snarl of frustration, as if uncomfortable with Lucanis’ silence and this new concept of subconscious fantasy. The dream did not. Hurt you. Kept it. 

Hurt him? Lucanis winced and started to put the kettle on the stove and warm the samovar for coffee. “It was not my intention to involve you in– in– I did not expect the… dream.” 

Is that. An apology? Spite gave him a toothy grin, lingering in his periphery. 

“It's as strange for you as it is for me,” Lucanis attempted valiantly, rolling back his shoulders, before another whisper of electric warmth tangled up his arms at the unwanted memory of fingertips at the hollow of his throat, and the assassin shrank in on himself again. “I don't… want to confuse you.” He shook his head to dislodge the sweetened ache, working his jaw. This was completely unwarranted and deeply inappropriate. Unprofessional. 

You don't mind, Spite insisted. Not really! You hunger, you eat. You thirst, you drink. You want, you find? Find Rook! Sate. It. Take it! Rook wants. The same. 

“You don't know that. Now be quiet.” Lucanis crossed the pantry into the kitchen, every movement carefully measured. 

‘You don't know that,’ Spite parroted, mocking, and Lucanis could feel the demon rolling his eyes. Rook likes kissing you. You know. That! 

The softest of warm laughs against his mouth, a wavering sigh, Rook’s eyes closed in a blissful finality, still tasting of hazelnuts, sugar and coffee from dessert. Blushing furiously, Lucanis mentally waved Spite off. “Mierda. Be quiet.” 

Shame. You are full of shame, and mesh that does not help you. You are afraid! 

“Spite, that's enough,” Lucanis growled. He didn't trust himself to say more, not with his blood running hot and his body aching to move.

Fine! Starve! The demon folded his arms and vanished, lurking somewhere in the recesses of Lucanis’ ribs to revel in the racing urge in his veins and pout. 

He had to collect himself. Come to his senses. First, coffee.

:) if you made it this far I'm sorry again (not really. cringe is dead and I am free) DRINK SOME WATER. *throws a quilt at you* UNCLENCH YOUR JAW. DROP YOUR SHOULDERS. <3 For those interested or haven't already dropped their WIPs: @fenrelmercar @draco-illius-noctis @redheadsramblings @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @davrinsleftpectoral  @sunny374940 @nevarrantorte @caughtnyact @seaglassmelody @jenn2d2 and YOU 🧡

[rangersoup]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Thank you @emsprovisions @lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @annoyingcloudearthquake @futures-tense @carlos-in-glasses @nisbanisba and @captain-gillian for tagging me! Here's a little bit from Turn and Burn, my Carlos being good with horses fic (im working on it again! i caught some inspiration from my trip to the farm yesterday):

 TK doesn’t know much about horses but he can still tell this one is angry. She hasn’t tried to kill Carlos yet, but he can see in her cold blue eyes that she wants to. He didn’t think it was possible for an animal to look so hateful… so evil, but somehow she is here proving him wrong. Lilith really seems to be the perfect name for the mare.

“Baby, are you sure about this?” TK asks for what’s probably the tenth time. There’s a million and one ways this could go horribly wrong, and he doesn’t want to be here to see any of the possibilities unfold. “There’s other horses. Why don’t you just train one of them instead?”

“Because I’m sure about this one,” Carlos replies, walking the mare to the edge of the round pen. He had lunged her with little fuss. She had only bucked once or twice. She seems like she’s calmed down, TK wants to believe that she has, but those eyes, he can’t past the devious glint in them. “She’s going to be great.”

She’s going to kill him is what her eyes say.

Carlos wraps the lead rope around the fence post and knots it once, then steps up beside the horse. TK holds his breath.

“How’s my sweet angel?’ Carlos asks, patting her on the neck with a gentle hand. She looks at him but doesn’t react. “That’s a good girl.” he offers her a treat. She thinks about it, but doesn’t accept it. “No sweet tooth? That’s okay, your mom likes grass better too.”

He turns and grabs the saddle pad draped over the top rail of the fence. The mare’s head goes up and her ears prick forward. She’s paying attention now, and the look in her blue eyes only seems to get more dangerous. TK doesn’t let his breath go.

“We’re not going to do anything crazy,” Carlos explains to the horse. “We’re just gonna look at it and maybe try to put it on.”

“Baby, please be careful,” TK pleads as his husband holds the pad out towards Lilith. She blows air out of her nose and takes a step back, eyeing it nervously.

“It’s not going to do anything to you,” Carlos promises without acknowledging TK’s plea. He keeps it angled towards her until she lowers her head and reaches out her nose to sniff it. When she finally does, he lowers it and offers her the treat a second time. She doesn’t take it. He repeats the process a couple more times until the horse stops reacting to him lifting the pad. TK finds his ability to breathe again. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he thought.

“Now, will you let me touch you with it?” he asks, stepping closer to her with it. He lifts it up and reaches towards her shoulder with it. This proves to be too much. She pins her ears back flat against her neck, arches her neck and rears, snorting angrily. TK’s breath catches as Carlos takes a hop back putting a safe distance between himself and the angry horse. She rears a second time, yanking on the rope tying her in place causing the whole fence to groan. She paws at the ground, her powerful neck still arched and swishes her tail angrily.

“Maybe you should stop for the day,” TK suggests as Carlos stands back and crosses his arms over his chest, watching his horse throw her temper tantrum.

“No, we’ve gotta end on a good note,” Carlos explains. “She already got it in her head that if she acts like a bitch she’ll get her way. Stopping now will just reinforce that.”

“Yeah but if you don’t stop she’s going to try to kill you,” TK reasons, begging him to call it a day.

“She wouldn’t be the first, and won’t be the last,” Carlos says over his shoulder, before turning back to the mare who is still throwing her head and beating the ground with her front foot. “Are you done yet?”

She stops and glares at him. TK didn’t think horses could glare, but that is the best description for the look she’s giving Carlos.

“Good, now we’re going to try this again,” Carlos says, picking the saddle pad back up. “You’re going to let me touch you with it, and then we’ll call it a day. Sound good?”

The mare snorts, and TK finds himself agreeing with her. It does not sound good. Carlos lets her smell it again before trying to touch it to her shoulder. This time when he reaches for her back, she lifts up her back leg and throws a very purposeful kick in his direction. He hops out of the way only narrowly avoiding catching a hoof to the gut. TK flinches for him.

I know wednesday is almost over, but open tag! anyone who wants to tag me in what they post is welcome to!

[thesweetsimmer111]

Since everyone is

Hey Sav! Hope you are doing well!

Since everyone has been asking about the romance interactions mod, I really wanted to ask about on of your other ones. Is there any chance you have made any progress on your more pregnancy interactions mod and if so are there any sneak peeks? I've been really excited about my sims using an actual pregnancy test along with other animations too.

Regardless, you and your mods have been a real gem for this community and I can't wait to see what you have in store for us! Be sure to take a break if you really need it though, we really appreciate your hard work! ❤️

Hiya! I am doing great, thanks 🥰🤗

I haven't really made much progress with the animations for the next pregnancy interactions update, but once I release the romantic interactions mod I will be getting started on it and hopefully getting it out around Christmas time again! But I do have most of the code done so if you really want to know more about it you can look through it and see what will be new there 😄 (plus a small WIP preview of the happy reaction from getting pregnant!)

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (1/24/25) - "Animal Shenanigans" Fics - part 2

I had so many lovely fics featuring Aziraphale and Crowley with animal friends, I had to break it into two parts.

Click here to see my first post. And you'll find all my past recommendations here. Once again, I'll start with a puppy story. How could I do anything else? On his lunch break, Crowley sees a beautiful Samoyed off-leash in the park. The dog is beautiful. But his person turns out to be even more so. So Crowley devises a scheme to meet cute with the dog's handsome person by attracting the pup with a ham sandwich. Organically Sourced Serotonin (T) is by KissMyAsthma and leukozyna.

One of the funniest fics I've ever read is You Don't Need a License for That (M) by @waitingtobebroken. Crowley works in the town's licensing bureau. Aziraphale comes in for a business license. Then returns several times for increasingly ridiculous licenses--including one for an exotic animal. It's ridiculously silly and made me laugh out loud throughout.

In the charming meet-cute story by @itsscottiesstark, Love me Good (E), Crowley admires the beautiful cat across the way and leaves a message in the window for their person. This leads to an interesting correspondence and more.

The illustrated tale, Purrchance to Dream (M) by @ukcalico and @vavoom-sorted-art is an angsty account of Crowley being followed by a mysterious, fluffy white cat after Aziraphale returns to heaven. This WIP is currently on hiatus. But the story and beautiful art make it worth checking out. And perhaps leaving a comment for the writer and artist sharing your appreciation for their work so far.

The Grass is Always Greener (M) by @beerok23 has Mr. Brown and Crowley competing for Aziraphale's affections. Alternating POV includes some by Crowley's cat, Comma. Of course, Comma is the one with the brain cell.

Dog lovers, in particular, will adore When Harry met Bentley (T) by @doomed-spectacles. Crowley has a nervous, retired racing greyhound. Aziraphale has a basset hound. They meet at the dog park when Aziraphale offers shelter under an umbrella during a sudden rainstorm. Vavoom. Excellent banter. Fluffy enough that you'll need a pet fur tool to clean up after reading. I loved it!

Azeutrecia tells a silly story in the correspondence between the new Supreme Archangel and Crowley. In The Kids Are All Right (T), Aziraphale is incensed to find that Crowley has moved on without him and is living in the country with all his girls.

In Slinky Snakes (T), my perennial favorite, AppleSeeds, tells the story of the magician Aziraphale who performs a magic show at a caravan campground. Crowley presents reptiles. And he's very attractive. But every week, his snake tattoo is in a different place. It drives Aziraphale insane.

And finally, a new fic just published yesterday that is sweetness itself. In Darling! (G) by @eybefioro, Crowley and Aziraphale move to the South Downs where they are adopted by the town cat, Darling. Charmingly told from Darling's point of view. I'll return next week with more fan fic recs organized by theme. Please reblog. And follow to see other fics I reblog periodically. And don't forget--always thank your favorite fic writers. They're a gift to the fandom.

I'll be back next Friday with more great Good Omens fan fics on a new theme. In the meantime, check out my other favorite fics on this pinned post of weekly Good Omens fan fiction recommendations.

[echostalker]

Dazatsu Month Day 1 and 8 (WIP)

“I can’t do this anymore Dazai-san!”

“Atsushi-”

“I have to leave. I have to get away.”

“Calm down. Atsushi!”

“Osamu! Please.”

“….”

“I have to go. If…if I stay here….Please Osamu. Let me go.”

“….Okay.”

Dazai Osamu let out a loud groan of boredom as he spun his chair. Gods does he hate paper work. How does Kunikida enjoy this? The six years he known this silly little man, he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Paper work this, paper work that.

Ugh.

Dazai could feel goosebumps of disgust run up his tied up arms.

“Oi! Do your work you wast of bandages!” The said man snapped from his desk without looking up.

The older brown haired man gave a playful pout, not that the blond could see. “But Kunikida! If I do anymore, my arms will fall off. How could you be so cruel.”

He cooed in a tone he knew that would clawed into his brain. The rust brown eyes dances as the thin string of patience came close to snapping. Dazai counted the minutes as he always did, wanting to know if he could break his record from last time. The bandaged covered man’s lips curled into a facsimile smile, trying not to giggle.

“What a horrible co-worker I have.” He continued with a cheerful, mocking tone. His expression filled with pillory as he caught sight of trembling shoulders. Huh, only 30 minutes. One minute less this time. Have to do better next time. “Kuni-ida.”

“YOU DAMN BASTARD!” Kunikida Doppo snarl a like a tiger (Dazai twitched slightly. Tiger…no. He has to focus on this, not that.) as he slammed his hands on the table. The chair he was using flew backwards and hit the wall causing everyone to look up with a sigh. “HOW DARE-”

“Gentlemen. Enough.” A strong voice rang out, freezing everyone in place.

“President.” Yosano Akiki acknowledged standing up, pulling whining Ranpo Edogawa along. The others followed. “Is there something you need sir?”

The leader of the Armed Detective Agency, Fukuzawa Yukichi, gave her a sharp but not unkind nod as he used his wooden cane to help him glide into the room. Dazai shift his footing, trying to stand still, at the sight of the timeless ruler of their small kingdom of light walk tiredly towards the door of their work place. The ex-mafia, not the first time, cursed at the Decay of Angels for destroying the image of immortality that was once the great swordsman.

“We have a case. A string of mysteries murders that looked as if the victims were attacked by a wild animal.” The strong baritone of the president called for his unwavering attention once again. He reached for the silver door knob and pulled it open with such grace that a dancer would feel envy. “Thankfully we have someone with such knowledge of animal attacks.”

“Good afternoon everyone. It’s nice to meet you all.”

Dazai felt as if he was waterboarded.

That voice…

Air felt thick and dry.

It’s been so long since he heard such a soft tone. But was slightly different now. Stronger. More assured. Firm but still gentle with a hint of sass and defiance intwining.

“I mean sure we already met but it’s been four years now. So it’s like our first meeting all over again. Anyways, I’m in your care!”

Standing tall with a fanged grin was…

“Atsushi!” Kyouka Izumi breathed with wide blue eyes.

~.~.~.~

Will add more in ao3 later. Maybe it’ll be a one shot or maybe chapter story. I don’t know yet…hmmm

[xomakara]

Hearts Unfolded: XOMAKARA'S 1K EVENT

[EVENT CLOSED]

First, I want to say and express my thanks to each and every person who has followed me since I started this blog back in 2023. It’s been a slow climb but I’m thankful for everyone that has followed me for my works and/or random gif reblogs haha. When I first started on this writing journey on tumblr, I never imagined meeting such great friends and fellow creatives. I’m so happy to have met these wonderful friends that get the brain and ideas churning, playfully scream at me to work on a random idea that pops into my head and be able to spazz on just about everything. Thank you (to name a few) @lovetaroandtaemin, @heechwe, @unholywriters, @kwanisms, @aeristudios, @wooahaeproductions, @pars-ley, @rems-writing, @acupoftaewithsomesuga, @itsnotmydejavu and many others that helped cheer me on and supported me on this writing journey. Thank you all (vocal readers and silent ones) and I hope you all continue on this journey with me as I grow as a writer and create new stories.

Rules: (thank you @wooahaeproductions for the idea)

You can request an idol from the groups that I mainly write for (ATZ, NCT, SVT or someone from Beast/Highlight, Nuest, Monsta X, and BTOB if you want) and one of the prompts below. The word count for these fics will be 2K or under as I'm trying not to make these too long since I have other long wips.

I will take one request for each prompt so please make sure to check the list. If it’s crossed-out, someone has already chosen it. If I get any duplicates, I will ask you to choose something else.

I will write SFW and/or NSFW but please take note that I will not write NSFW for NCT’s Chenle, Jisung and NCT Wish (since I do not write for them at all). Please note that I do not write anything that will contain: works with minors, incest, pedophilia, any forms of graphic sexual assault, graphic abuse, glorifying violence, animal abuse, glamorizing saesang behavior, eating disorders, mental illnesses.

If you are a minor or have an ageless blog, please DO NOT INTERACT.

This event will be open for a week (4/29/25 to 5/6/25) to fill up slots. Once slots are filled or when the deadline is reached, this event will be closed. Not sure if I can write 52 prompts but it’ll be a nice challenge if it's all filled up!

I do not have a posting schedule, so these will be posted as I finish them but I promise that it will not take months for me to write/post (unlike my usual wips lol). I do have an adult life filled with work and other responsibilities outside of tumblr (as I'm sure you all do).

event masterlist here → HU: Masterlist

Prompts are listed below (credit to writewithharte):

Rekindled Flames: Two high school sweethearts reunite at a mutual friend’s wedding after years apart. [atz san, lexi]

Love Letter Mystery: Someone keeps leaving anonymous love letters in a librarian’s return books.

Second Chance at Love: After a bitter divorce, a single parent finds love again with an old college friend.

Forbidden Romance: Two people from rival families fall deeply in love. [atz wooyoung, queenie]

Love Across Time: A modern-day character falls in love with someone from the past through an old diary.

Celebrity Crush: An ordinary person’s celebrity crush becomes reality when they accidentally meet. [nct jaehyun, markhyuckiesblog]

Love in the Workplace: Office rivals slowly realize they have feelings for each other. [atz wooyoung, ley]

Cupids in Training: Two beginner cupids are assigned to make a mismatched pair fall in love.

The Accidental Text: A wrong number text leads to an unexpected romance.

The Bucket List Romance: Two strangers meet while completing their respective bucket lists.

Virtual Love: Two gamers fall in love through an online game, unaware they are rivals in real life. [atz wooyoung, aeris]

Fairytale Retelling: A modern twist on a classic fairytale romance.

Historical Romance: Love blossoms between a noble and a commoner in a historical setting. [atz seonghwa, megan]

Unexpected Roommates: Two strangers are forced to live together due to a housing mix-up.

The Pact: Two friends agree to marry each other if they are still single by a certain age.

Road Trip Romance: A long road trip leads to unexpected love.

Love Potion Mishap: A love potion goes awry, causing unexpected feelings.

Dance Partners: Rival dancers are forced to partner and find they have chemistry.

Love and Magic: A romance in a world where magic is real.

The Makeover Bet: A bet leads to a makeover and unexpected feelings.

Secret Admirer: Someone starts receiving gifts and notes from a secret admirer.

Holiday Romance: A romance blooms during a festive holiday season.

Matchmaker’s Mistake: A matchmaker accidentally sets themselves up with a client.

The Wedding Planner: A wedding planner falls in love with the groom/bride-to-be.

Love at First Sight: Two people experience love at first sight and navigate its challenges.

The Time Traveler’s Love: A time traveler falls in love with someone from a different era. [nct doyoung, maren]

Survival Love: Stranded together, two people fall in love while surviving in the wilderness.

Best Friends to Lovers: Two best friends realize they have deeper feelings for each other.

Love Undercover: Undercover agents fall in love during a mission.

The Bookstore Romance: Two book enthusiasts fall in love in a quaint bookstore.

The Proposal Bet: A bet to get a stranger to accept a fake marriage proposal turns into real love.

Love on Set: Actors fall in love while filming a romantic movie.

The Forgotten Ex: An amnesiac rediscovers love with their ex.

Healing Hearts: Two broken hearts find solace and love in each other.

The Royal Romance: A commoner and a royal fall in love, challenging royal traditions. [atz mingi, izzy]

Blind Date with a Twist: A blind date set up by friends leads to unexpected results.

Love at a Coffee Shop: Regulars at a coffee shop find themselves drawn to each other.

Art of Love: Artists find love while collaborating on a masterpiece.

Love and War: In times of war, two enemies fall in love. [svt seungcheol, rose]

Arranged Marriage Turned True Love: An arranged marriage leads to genuine love and affection.

Love in the Countryside: City dweller falls in love with a countryside local.

A Second Glance: Overlooked love becomes apparent upon a second chance.

Time Loop Love: Stuck in a time loop, someone falls in love with the same person repeatedly.

Love in the Stars: An astrologer finds love that defies their astrological predictions.

The Heirloom Ring: A lost heirloom ring brings two people together.

The Guardian Angel: A guardian angel falls in love with their human charge.

The Chef’s Special: A chef falls in love with a food critic.

Fate’s Design: Two people keep running into each other, seemingly by fate.

Love in the Rain: A chance encounter in the rain leads to a lasting romance. [nct johnny, dawn]

The Musician’s Muse: A musician writes a hit song for an unknown muse. [atz mingi, rem]

Island Getaway Romance: A vacation romance that turns serious.

The Last Letter: Discovering a last letter from a deceased loved one leads to new love. [atz jongho, aren]

Looking forward to seeing what idol/prompts you guys ask for!  Thank you once more and here’s to another milestone! 💚🩵🩷

[bluetorchsky]

Update on @capturecharlesau's blog!

Hey everyone! I have another update in regards to Min's blog, since I've managed to get in contact with her.

Long story short, Min is still trying to figure out how to get back in but it could take some time before that can happen. She has stuff happening on her life at the moment, but she is hoping she can be back in time for Danny's birthday in February!

She did want me to pass on some messages though. For starters, this post she was able to make on her blog before she got kicked out again, is a teaser to a comic she is working on! While she is off Tumblr, she will be working on these pages and she hopes that once she is able to get back in properly, she will be able to post all the pages she has done by then. She is also working on her first THSC animation project! Planning for an animation and making the frames do take a lot of time, so she's working hard to make it look great!

You may have also seen her post from a couple of days ago. Again, while it seemed like she was able to get on and stay on, it has kicked her out again. She’s unable to answer any asks or make any new posts, so that’s why she hasn’t been on after making that recent post.

That's all I have for now. Min wants me to reassure you guys that she is doing okay, but she is taking a break while trying to figure out this issue with logging in to Tumblr without getting kicked out. She even wanted me to show you this doodle she made to reassure y’all! It’s a WIP of her comic that she mentioned she’s been working on! (It's Reginald when he's in his 30's!)

I’ll keep y’all updated whenever I hear from her, so don’t worry!

[yuudoufu]

WIP GAME !!

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

thank yew @veifei for the taaag ^^ given word was ACHE

A

“All you had to do was ask, Felix.” Vein has this palpable playfulness to his words, and it’s hard to tell whether he’s joking or not. Maybe he isn’t. Xia Fei’s heart does a little flip. “What? Too embarrassed to have me with you? Didn’t know you thought of me that way.” “No!” Xia Fei blurts out faster than he can stop himself. “I just—I just didn’t want to bother you. You seem so busy this week already and—and the rumors.”

C

Could he? What an amusing little thing this scholar is—asking the warlord not in permission, but instead in a hidden command. Vein grins amidst the huff of laughter he fails to hide behind his hand and watches with great interest as Xia Fei’s ears tinge a lovely red underneath the sun’s kiss like the dahlias in his hands. What a strange thing to see, Vein muses to himself, something that retains its kindness even in his presence which heralds bloodshed and misfortune. What an even stranger thing to feel, Vein wonders as he takes Xia Fei’s hand and leads him across the stream with the water arching its body around their ankles, something so soft in the serrated edges of his heart.

H

His treacherous heart lodges in his throat when Vein says this, like it’s surprised to know Vein’s read him once again, like this hasn’t happened more times than Xia Fei can count, like it's just suddenly remembered the vulnerability scrawled in all caps over its arteries in the same way red helvetica is on sweetheart candies.

E

Everything about Vein demands attention: his tailored suit the same as the underwing of a carrion bird, his damn too-flashy-for-a-low-down-party car, the long cigarette weeping smoke between his fingers, his rigid stare deadly enough to skin an animal’s flesh from its bones. How Xia Fei managed to get a plus one like Vein is beyond him. How Xia Fei managed to even bring up the topic of attending a party to Vein is even further beyond him.

i uhhh lowkey dont have anyone to tag here standing emoji.. have at thee though my word will be FISH if anyone wants to join LOL 🐟

[sunny374940]

WIP I'm Late Again

Hello @notyourmamasdeerbat <3 ty for the tag!

Let's see if there's anything presentable in the mess that are my wips :D

So that emmrook sickfic with a side of hopeless pining is still in there and shall be finished one day. A discussion of sleeping arrangements is happening.

“We need to put him somewhere,” Harding said. “He is not sleeping on that awful piece of furniture he has in his room.” Emmrich sounded so outraged. “I could let him use my cot,” Neve offered. “That is hardly an appropriate sickbed,” Emmrich scoffed. Harding chuckled softly. “I'm not going to offer up my bedroll, I know what you'd say.” “Quite.” Bellara took a breath, but Neve was faster. “Your sleeping situation isn't any better than mine, Bel,” she said and Bellara audibly deflated. “Yeah, I guess you're right.” “That’s settled then. I shall lend our leader my bed,” Emmrich said and Rook would have gone red in the face, if the fever hadn't done it for him already. Of course the only person with a reasonable bed besides Davrin would be the Fade expert Rook was hopelessly pining after. But a bed did sound really nice right now. Harding was as surprised as Rook. “You have an actual bed? Where? There's nothing in your study. Does it come out of the wall or something?”

“There is a movable bookcase. It appeared one night after I bemoaned the lack of proper sleeping arrangements.” “Ohhh. Can I see it?” Bellara asked. “The bookcase, I mean, not your bed. That would be weird.” “Of course. I will show you the mechanism once our leader is healed.” Harding’s chair moved back and she stepped up next to Rook. “Alright, I'll carry him there. I think I'm the strongest out of the four of us.” “Much as I do not doubt your strength, Lace, I think you might drag Rook along the ground a tad,” Emmrich said. Neve got closer too. “We could always levitate him. I know a good spell for that.” Emmrich’s hand ended up on Rook’s shoulder. It felt too good to be thought about any further. “I don't think he would appreciate that, the weightlessness makes the stomach churn even in a healthy man. I shall carry him, I am not as frail as you think me to be.” “You?” Who said that? All of them? “Yes. If Rook has no issue with this.” Rook dragged a hand out from under his cheek and gave a thumbs up. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. “I will take that as a sign of approval,” Emmrich said and the hand Rook wasn’t thinking about squeezed his shoulder gently. “M-hm.” Rook was maneuvered into standing by sure hands that were stronger than he'd expected from the professor. And then he was hoisted up into equally strong arms and he did have an issue with this after all, because this was Emmrich picking him up. Kind, enthusiastic, brilliant Emmrich, who was also very beautiful and with whom Rook was hopelessly infatuated since their first meeting.

The next chapter of shadows is coming along. Rhys is being tormented by pretty pictures. And our little group of adventurers has acquired a child.

“Uncle Hiss?” A pair of eyes was just barely peeking out over the edge of his desk. Rhys decided that he wouldn't be wondering who taught Pip to call him that. It was Finn, anyway. “Yes, Pip?” “Play with us?” “I'm a bit busy, little one.” “Please?” The eyes took on the saddest look Rhys had ever had the fortune of seeing.  “Go on. You need a break and so do I,” Holly said, snapping her book closed. “You might be right.” “I know,” she nodded and left to join Finn on the bookshop floor. They were sharpening their blades again and the knife from Ciaran was receiving special care. Rhys got up from his desk with a sigh. “Where is Ciaran?” he asked Pip. “Upstairs. We’re drawing!” Pip announced with great pride as they walked up the staircase. And they had been drawing indeed. Holly had acquired a box of crayons and some paper for the boy and there were many sheets of it scattered on the floor, covered in drawings of various animals. There was even a rather frightening dragon, complete with sharp teeth fit for devouring princesses and a flame just waiting to set a village on fire. “Look! Cee made this! I told him to draw something pretty!” Pip was waving a piece of paper at Rhys, so he took it to have a look. It was a portrait. Beautifully rendered, even if in crayon. And it likely shouldn't have been surprising, given Ciaran’s badly concealed looks before the curse, but Rhys’s eyes still widened when he realized that he was looking at himself.  “Do you like it?” Pip asked with a tug at the hem of Rhys's shirt. He found that he had to swallow a sob before he answered. “Very much. Do you think that I could keep it?”

And you know what? Fern and Gareth are still taking up way too much space in my brain and the proposal fic is gonna happen one day. Once I figure out the ending.

Fern was in the kitchen, bopping along to music, and he was baking again. And he had no clue that Gareth came in. This could be fun. Gareth waited until he set the bowl he was holding down on the counter, because he wasn't a complete bastard and also didn't want to clean up whatever was in it off the floor. He snuck closer until he was right behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, burying his face in the side of Fern’s neck. Fern would have jumped, had Gareth not been holding onto him. “Would you stop doing that?” Fern sputtered. “You are going to give me a heart attack one of these days.” “Nope. You're too funny when I startle you.” “I am glad to amuse.” Fern turned around in his arms, eyeing him with suspicion. “You are plotting something, I can see it on your face.” “I guess I am,” Gareth said and he was sure he had the dumbest grin on his face, but didn't care one bit. And his plans were about to go to shit anyway, because he wouldn’t be able to wait any longer. “Oh gods,” Fern sighed. He had such an exasperated frown. “Should I be worried about your nefarious plot?” “That depends. How scary does this look?” He pulled the ring box out of his pocket and Fern stared at it, ears perked up. And then he turned and ran upstairs, leaving Gareth standing there with the closed box still in his palm. What in the hells was that about? There was a rustle from the bedroom as a drawer slid open and then Fern closed it with a bang and he was rushing back down the stairs to stand in front of Gareth once again, slightly out of breath. “I apologize for interrupting you. Please continue.” Gareth realized that maybe he should have thought this through at least a little bit. But there was nothing to do but roll with it now. “So. Uh. Want to marry me?”

No pressure tags for @lavender-tea-fling, @mercars-musings, @redheadsramblings, @spinfins, @sorrowsfallallaround, @andthekitchensinkao3, @bygonesigh, @themontess, @tinygameralec, @starfleetteddybear, @thedissonantverses