#soc drabble

[undercover-grisha]

Jesper Fahey was lying on his boyfriend’s stomach. His hands were stretched out under Wylan’s back, between the man’s cotton sleep shirt and his skin. Jesper was lying on his stomach, his curls getting slightly squashed by the shirt he was pushing up with his abrasive head, interrupting the intended flow of clothing. He could hear Wylan’s stomach settling against one ear, the other exposed for all the sounds the rest of the world to funnel into his mind, like the bird up far too late outside, the branches scratching against the window, Wy’s gentle whistle of breath as the man slept soundly.

Jesper Fahey was lying on the best thing in his life, and he was seriously considering tossing it all away.

He could feel the cards of a full hand rubbing against his nerves, could feel the celebrations as he won a small fortune, could feel the slaps on his back and kisses on his cheek as he slowly bet more and more and more. He could feel the mood slowly, slowly falling as he ruins all he’s been given.

Jesper could feel the coins slipping through his fingers, and Saints, wasn’t that the rub.

He even missed the feeling of failing. The spin of Makker’s Wheel was addictive, sure, but failing?

Failing was cocaine.

He could fail, could run his allowance down, could get thrown out on his ass, and would get picked up the next morning. Kaz would pick him up.

Wylan’s slight whistle changed pace and the man turned over, moving Jesper with him. Jesper moved with him, unconsciously, mind broken from its thoughts. He let Wylan go and crawled up the bed to better be beside him, pulling his love against him. Wylan shifted, settling into the snug position of almost completely on his side, propped up against Jesper’s hold. Jesper rested his face against Wylan’s back, nose poking above his shoulder. His arm rested under their pillows, stretched long and at the risk of falling asleep. A slow, sleepy, freckled hand reached back to ruffle Jesper’s hair.

And Jesper breathed out, and Makker’s Wheel didn’t disappear, the touch of the cards didn’t leave, the roll of the dice, the flip of the coins. But he could feel his arm falling asleep, slowly, softly, and Jesper imagined their entire tomorrow, their entire future, their entire lives in between blinks.

And then…

The wheel stopped spinning.

[sky-neverending]

silly kaz and jesper drabble!!!

Jesper was under the water for exactly 2 minutes. He counted.

Sputtering, he pulled himself from the dirty stream and onto the canal bed, coughing up water and whatever else he had inhaled when Kaz had tossed him in.

“I am never going on a boat ride with you ever again,” he gasped, nails digging into the grass and rocks beneath him. “What the hell was that for?”

Glaring, Kaz wore the same expression as he always did, blank and forlorn.

“I was testing something Matthias said.”

“If you say some bullshit about witches-”

Kaz splashed him, soaking Jesper further.

[heythinkyface]

wylan is like... weirdly good at a lot of things. he can try something for the first time and already have this strange affinity for it. jesper is always in awe of the immense talent that wylan posses, like he is magic in some sort of way. yes, jesper is a little jealous.

what jesper doesnt see though is wylan beating himself when he isn't automatically good at something. the way wylan blinks back tears, the way his hands shake, the way his heart pounds. wylan has always felt this need to be perfect at everything he does.

he knows, deep down, this comes from the way his father treated him. if he couldn't read, he'd be perfect in everything else he did in a sour attempt to gain his fathers love. it never worked.

wylan will never admit it, but hes terrified that jesper will leave him if he isnt perfect. he needs to be perfect.

it goes on like this for months before wylan finally snaps in front of jesper. they're having fun, trying out something new for the first time, and wylan finds it... difficult. he isn't perfect at it. and he just... snaps.

wylan starts crying. its silent at first as he tries to swallow back the sobs, until he cant. it takes jesper by complete surprise.

his hands shake as he tries and tries and tries to get the hang of whatever they're doing, but he just cannot get it right.

when jesper finally grabs wylans trembling hands, he startles, eyes wide with - what jesper can make of it - fear. wylan just stares at him, expecting the worst, expecting yelling, berating, screaming, hitting-

but jesper just hugs him. hugs him so tight, so close to his chest, that wylan feels the breath squeezed out of him. it takes him a while to eventually calm down and hug jesper back, his nose buried into jespers shoulder as he relaxes.

when hes finally feeling okay again, jesper convinces him to try again. and he does. and though he isnt perfect, though he struggles with getting it right, that fear that had lingered for so long finally started to leave.

jesper helps him, as much as he can. and wylan, for the first time in what feels like forever, feels like he can be just normal, that he can make a mistake and learn from it.

because he knows jesper loves him, and that nothing in the world - not even his flaws - could ever change thatm

[jazzythursday]

Prompts: Twist | Venture | Ground | One sided dialogue (1072 words)

It’s a good night. As good as you can get in the Barrel, anyway. Jesper would probably say that good nights are made for the Barrel, that that’s where all the fun is. Wylan doesn’t exactly disagree, not entirely, but he still isn’t as sure that the gambling halls and rowdy clubs make for as good a time as they do an overwhelming one.

It makes for an interesting cocktail. Raucous celebrations and bright colourful lights. Loud music, bodies brushing and bumping each other, squeezing together in a space packed with twice as many as was likely recommended. A venture he’s familiar with, now, though he still feels out of place. He’s never liked crowds, though he supposes he can’t say he’s had enough experience to make a proper case about it. He’s generally distrustful of crowds, and somewhat awkward, and so it’s hard to say if Wylan truly dislikes them, or dislikes himself in them.

He doesn’t have to contemplate it for long. Jesper slips into the seat beside him and hands him his drink with a wink and a smile. Wylan smiles back, doesn’t try talking over the loud music.

It’s easier now, especially with Jesper beside him. Easier to know what to do with his hands, where to look, what to say. He doesn’t always need to fill the silences with Jesper. He doesn’t always need words. The rest, well, easier to slip his hand into Jesper’s, easier to look at him, instead of anywhere else. He’s a remarkably grounding presence in the midst of the chaos he loves so much. Jesper practically glows here, eyes alight with excitement and thrill, reflected back from the pink and green and blue of the bright signs and sconces.

Kaz keeps them busy, and so they don’t get to do this often. But tonight the Barrel is in full swing. Drinking, dancing, dice and debauchery, as Jesper likes to put it. It’s a dizzying affair, and Wylan knows he likes the novelty, that he can enjoy it, for a time. He likes Jesper, whenever and wherever they are.

“Having fun?” Jesper asks, and Wylan nods. Sips his drink, because between Jesper and everything around them, it’s always hard to find words to put to feeling. He is, he’s having fun, but the words are out of reach, and he doesn’t strain to grasp them. Having fun is an effort, and it’s a taxing game he knows how to play, how to stretch for as long as he can, because it’s worth it. Wylan doesn’t reach for words, he thinks in music anyway. He’s focused on being here, too much to divert attention to talking about it. Like a generator conserving energy to keep the power going, sacrificing some things in favour of more important ones.

He’d worry about being rude, about expected responses and giving into his more base oddities, if he didn’t think Jesper is too used to it by now to be phased. Which he isn’t. He just keeps smiling, bumps their shoulders together, legs tangling under the table.

Wylan tilts his head towards the dance floor, raises his eyebrows. Jesper’s smile widens into a full grin. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask.” Jesper pulls him onto the floor, and Wylan laughs as he scrambles out of the booth and nearly drops his drink trying to put it back down on the table.

Jesper does not drop his hand once, as they make their way out, expertly weaving through the twisting walls of bodies bending together so much like the buildings of the streets outside. He leads him into the throes of it, and a bit off to the side. Not quite the centre, not quite out.

Jesper spins him by the hand he’s still holding, and Wylan laughs as he goes. They dance, and everything narrows until it’s palms pressing together and the loud base of the band. They’re not too bad, but Wylan isn’t paying much attention to them. He’s focusing on Jesper. On the warmth of his hands on the dip of Wylan’s waist and his breath against his ear when he leans in to whisper to him about all the little dramas he’s made up about the other club goers. The bartender is sweet on a girl who’s sleeping with the boss, a couple to their left are world class circus performers, on the run from their skiv of a ringmaster.

This is the game of the night, of many before it. It’s Jesper’s game tonight, as Wylan has none of his own to offer up. He nods and snickers, which encourages Jesper more than enough, it seems.

They dance until the bass becomes grating, laughing starts to strain, and the club gets progressively louder and hotter with the bodies inside it. Everyone else is too drunk to pay attention to who they stumble into, and who they stumble into seems to be, with increasing regularity, Wylan. Like a switch flipped, or a curtail closed. And Wylan wants to leave.

“This is getting boring, isn’t it?” Jesper asks, leaning in even further and wrapping an arm around him.

He knows this game too, all too well. It’s another one of Jesper’s favourites. This is getting boring, isn’t it? Always conveniently pinning it on something else, always giving Wylan an out when he needs one. He’d be put out about it, if not for the promising smirk and dark eyes that paint Jesper’s face when he looks at him. The knowing and understanding tilt of his neck, raising of his eyebrows.

Wylan nods into Jesper’s shoulder, and receives a squeeze against his side and an all too quick peck on the lips in return.

“Want to find some more fun of our own, then?”

Wylan smiles, and it’s not forced, not for Jesper. They leave the club, and make their way back home. Jesper swings their hands as they walk, filling the silence with comfortable talk the entire time. Pleasant with the lingering buzz of drinks and dancing and the promise of what’s to come. Wylan contributes where he can, but Jesper doesn’t push, doesn’t expect, doesn’t read more into silences where nothing is written.

It’s not until later that he finds his voice, though words by that point are needless things. Wylan presses his feelings and his thank-you’s into hard and heady kisses, and knows that Jesper hears them as loud as if he’d shouted.

[dreamtigress]

Several Sentence Sunday

Today's sentences comes from 'Metamour Meeting'. I have a series of drabbles/ficlets and short scenes that will eventually be going up on A03. It's mostly Original Character content, exploring little moments in the OC's lives that are tangential to Kaz, Inej, Jesper and Wylan's stories in my canon. Here, Zurye is visiting Alexi's house for the first time.

When Zurye knocked, a curvaceous redhead answered the door, dusting her hands on an apron. 

“Good afternoon. Can I help you?” There was a smidge of Kaelish accent to the woman’s Kerch.

This must be Alexi’s wife, Zurye thought, based on the description from Oxana. “I’m looking for Alexi. My name’s Zurye Omari. I'm new to his crew.” 

“Oh, hold on,” the redhead turned and bellowed into the house. “Alexi!”

A startled smile came to Zurye’s face. “Ahh, thank you.”

“No problem. I’m Neve, by the way.” She returned the smile, then peered past Zurye across the street. Muttering quietly, she observed, “That boy is horrible at stealth.”

A quick glance revealed a Kerch boy with long blonde hair ducking behind a neighbor’s porch. Zurye recognized the Dregs tattoo on his right forearm. “Is there a problem?”

“I don’t think so. Pretty sure Mister Brekker has the Dregs watching over us. That one across the street has been here all this week. I’m of a mind to invite him in for cookies. Speaking of which, would you like to come in? I just pulled some hand pies from the oven.”

Given that Zurye hadn’t eaten lunch yet, and the smells wafting from the house were mouth watering, she agreed. “That’d be lovely, thank you.”

Soft tagging: @hotpinkmurex, @tinyarmedtrex, @polycrowtruther, @intosnarkness, and @magicandpizza, if you have sentences you want to share today.

[olskuvallanpoe]

new fic: the water is fine (drabble)

kylan (six of crows), 405 words

summary: “kaz and wylan were both children of the water, both made of the same material. [inspired by "the water is fine" by chloe ament]”

[kittyslvs]

ARMOR ; KAZ BREKKER

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!oc

word count: 284

summary: things aren't going well between Alinora and Kaz, it seems like someone needs to end something, but what is it?

warning: nop, probably ooc :))

mari´s note: i had this saved in notes since the second season of sab came out, so I checked and wanted to upload it ;) hope you like it.

Her relationship with Kaz was very confusing, because he always put a barrier between them. And this is valid, he still has a trauma with Jordie's death, with physical contact and trust issues.

But, she's also human, she's tired of those boundaries; Alynora was tired of Kaz Brekker's armor.

She tried to talk about it with Kaz, obviously it didn't end well; Alynora trying to remove Kaz's armor; and him, putting on a new one. It was a vicious circle, a very tiring one.

After the fights, both ignored the fact that it was unhealthy not to try to improve what they were fighting about. It was something that slowly consumed them, making their mere presence toxic to the other.

The "cheerful" or "enthusiastic" spark of the female was slowly fading away, and she couldn't permit that.

The truth is, like Kaz has his armor, Alynora has one; Ketterdam was a place fully of blood, death, and fights. Everyone tries to get an armor to protect them, for some people, their armor was violence or something else. But she's was different, her little inside kid protects her to the darkest of the city, so she couldn't lose it.

The armor that protects her in the worst moments of her childhood, a childhood who was lived in the streets of Ketterdam, with hungry and danger.

And if save her armor means let go the only love that she has, she would do it. She'll do it over and over again.

 Because her love for Kaz was no greater than her love and appreciation for the "insignificant" thing that kept her alive always.

Maybe in another situation or universe she could be with him, without armors.

[ethereal-maia]

why write my essay that’s due tomorrow when I can write my marya hendriks fanfiction?

[dreamtigress]

Huh. I'm game.

HEY i see a lot of artists doing this but as a writer how about you send me a number 1-100 and i will try to write a short drabble based off whatever song that corresponds to in my spotify wrapped

fine print is fine print. fine print is i reserve the right to not answer if i dont want to. however i will try. we will see!

[undercover-grisha]

Relapse (Jesper Fahey Drabble)

Jesper ran his hand over his hair, and sighed. His eyes hurt. His lungs hurt. He was tense, and tired, and his neck hurt from where the bouncer had thrown him out by his collar. His body moved on instinct, and he slammed his foot into the trashcan beside him. And again, and again, and again. He kicked brick instead of tin and grasped at his knee, dropping curses in every language he knew. He stamped on trash, as if the paper wrappers from street food owed him ten thousand kruge.

Kaz watched from the side, hands clasped on his cane. And waited.

“Fuck!” Jesper cried, and kicked at the wall again. His eyes were teary and red, the bright gray sheen clouded in disappointment and loathing. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Kaz waited.

Jesper finally stopped his fit, and just seemed embarrassed now. He stood away from Kaz, shoulders visibly shaking, trying to reign himself in as he made plans.

“I’ll win it back,” he muttered, flexing his fingers for guns he’d left at home. He sniffed, and scrubbed his hands over his face yet again. “I can… I almost…”

“You can’t, and you didn’t.” Kaz said, voice echoing.

Jesper ground his fingers into his hair, nearly ripping the curls from his scalp in some sort of an effort to escape his body.

“I…” he wallowed for a moment, drinking his plans and pleas and profanities back.

Kaz slowly, slowly, pressed his hand to the back of Jesper’s neck, resting on the tight tendons that suggested sleepless nights. He could almost feel Jesper’s heart beating in his neck like an out of time clock. Kaz stood there as Jesper caught his breath, looking at the street as the boy swiped aggressively at his nose. Then Jesper turned so suddenly that Kaz’s hand jerked down to his shoulder, ready to push away, purely on instinct.

“What do I do now?” He asked, barely a whisper, and tried to redeem himself with a clearing of his throat. Kaz’s eyes flicked over his face, not studying him, he knew Jesper well enough that trying was no longer required. He could just read.

“You go home.” Kaz said simply. “You talk to Wylan. Let him fawn. You lounge in your money. You stay away from the Barrel for a while. And when you feel itchy, you come find me, and I’ll give you a job. Part time. Bartender or something.”

Jesper stared at him, just an infuriating inch too tall, gray eyes big and moony. He sniffed, and wiped at his nose. “Yeah. Yeah.” He said finally.

Kaz patted his shoulder to get him going, and Jesper finally turned, albeit somewhat stiffly, and they began to walk back to the Van Eck Estate.

“You’ll have to wear the Crow Club uniform. I don’t allow gauche in my club, you know.” Kaz noted. And Jesper laughed, maybe a little too loud, head thrown ever so slightly back, and Kaz’s lips moved into a small smile.

And the boys walked home.

[sky-neverending]

double drabble! posted this one on ao3 but sharing it here too! (tw for violence/stabbing)

Jesper reloaded his gun, wiping the blood from the handle where he had hit one of the Dime Lions over the head with it. He gave himself just a moment to admire his reflection before spinning around and letting a volley of bullets find their way to each target.

He was in his zone, jacket twirling around his body as he maneuvered around the alleyway with style. Each of his bullets hit true, just like he knew they would. Everything was going absolutely perfectly, not a hitch in the fine-tuned plan Kaz had set for them.

And then somebody screamed.

The scream echoed through the damp alleyway, freezing Jesper where he stood. He spun around, eyes widening as he saw Wylan on the ground, blood dripping from his foot.

A man stood above him, knife in hand. He brought it back down to Wylan's foot once more, sinking the sharp blade into the already broken skin.

"Jes!" Wylan screamed, breaking Jesper from his shock. He automatically sent a bullet straight into the man's head, rushing forward as he fell away from Wylan and onto the cobbled streets.

Jesper clenched his fists at his sides and pulled Wylan from the ground.

[heythinkyface]

so close (enchanted)

listen, this song is gorgeous. i will never, ever get over its beauty and how this long feels like falling in love. so, naturally, i have made an ENTIRE wesper scene to it in my head! let me lay it out for you.

WITH music time stamps :)))

-

it all starts when kaz comes to them with another silly little plan and they all need to dress up as fancy, rich people to get into a ball. a great big fancy ball, with lots of food, drinking, and most importantly, dancing.

so jesper and wylan are situated on the floor, right on the dance floor. they've been told to just blend in, don't look suspicious, pick up little bits of information. kaz has reminded them that, at ALL costs, they need to blend in, whatever is to happen.

the band starts up. everyone starts moving to dance, in their partners, all ready to go. wylan panics and is like 'shit, what do we do jes?' and jesper, without missing a single beat, grabs wylans hand and pulls him to the middle of the room, getting ready to dance with him. because, as kaz said, at all costs. (0:00-0:46)

the music finally kicks in and everyone starts to dance, including wylan and jesper. wylan has not a single idea what is going on, and just follows jespers lead, because he trusts him. trusts him that this is needed to get through the plan. (0:46-1:23)

so they start dancing, close together, flowing with the music as perfectly as they can. wylan had no idea that jesper knew how to dance like this, but hey, he learns something new every single day apparently.

wylan is just... heart eyes. the actual definition of heart eyes. he knows they're in the middle of something important, but he just help admiring how beautiful jesper is, how close he's holding him yet how soft his hands are on his waist. he's completely in love. suddenly, the plan doesn't matter as much anymore. its just him and jesper, on the dance floor, hearts and hands entangled with one another. (1:23-1:58)

they are both entirely entranced by one another, their eyes never parting. the rest of the room has picked up on this, the two handsome gentlemen dancing in the middle of the floor like they're dancing on clouds. naturally, the crowd starts to part as they spot this, just watching these two dance because it's all they can do. it's so natural. the crowd begin to watch in awe.

wylan and jesper dont even realise they are the only ones on the floor, all smiles and giddy giggles, just happy to be with one another. (1:58-2:18)

they are so incredibly in love with one another, it's unbelievable. nobody has anything seen something so pure and beautiful as this. as the music swells, jesper wraps a sturdy arm around wylans waist and picks him up off the floor, the two twirling around, having completely forgotten they are here to actually steal stuff. the only thing they seem to be stealing is each others hearts. eventually, as the music begins to soften again, jesper puts wylan down and for a moment, they stop. wylan wants to say so much, as so much, but he instead opts for the option he knows best; he kisses jesper with every ounce of love and wonder his body can produce. jespers hands are firmly holding wylans waist, wylans hands every so gently cupping jespers jaw, slightly pulling him down so that he doesn't have to strain on his tip toes. (2:18-2:30)

jesper is taken back, but smiles as they part. they rest their foreheads together and take a moment to catch their breath, before jesper whispers something to wylan that he at first thinks he imagines, and he looks at him all doe-eyed and surprised, about to burst with absolute joy. before wylan can respond or ask about it, the music starts up again, and jesper whisks him back into the dance, their bodies moving in perfect time. (2:30-2:46)

by this time every one is dancing again, but still keeping their eyes on these two love-struck idiots in the middle of it all. it is quite literally like the world revolves around them. again, its all smiles and giggles and stolen kisses, and wylan swears his heart is about to explode in his chest. (2:46-3:10)

as the music finally comes to an end, they slow to a stop, just standing and holding one another, their bodies pressed flush up against one another. kaz and nina are watching, hidden in the crowd that didn't join the dance floor. nina's jaw is basically on the floor as she turns to kaz, who actually has a bit of a smile smacked across his usually stoic face. its then she realises that kaz knew exactly what he was doing by placing them two on the dance floor together. she turns to him, smirking and says 'you had this planned all along, didn't you?' to which kaz just looks at her and says 'perhaps.' (3:10-end)

-

i am SO happy for people to take this idea and expand on it, give it edits, give it fics, give it art - whatever you want. because i love this, i am obsessed with it, and i need you all to know what i see when i listen to this song. hence why its in my wesper playlist.

[am-ace-stelaire]

I really want to get back into writing but idk what to do with my OCs (apart currently remaking their character decription (it's so long they are so many)) but her you have a TimeLapse file to consolidate some worldbuilding

uuhm i hope you enjoy!

File: TLC-AO-137

"This is not a door"

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

Classification:

Squall

Eidolon

Memetic

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

Confinement: TLC-AO-137 is to be contained in an thermically independent from the rest of the site 10-by-10-by-5-meter square room in Site G. All walls in a nearby 25m radius must either be jagged or built at an angle between 80° and 70°. The nearby rooms are devoid of anomalies and restricted areas, expect for the hallways leading to the containment chamber, the entrance airlock, and the affiliated research lab. The nearby empty room are to contain nine 2 by 4 1-meter thick smooth, blank concrete walls placed perpendicularly to the ground, all facing toward TLC-AO-137’s containment cell to prevent any security breach. Access to TLC-AO-137 is prohibited unless authorized by B-Level personnel or above for monthly clean-up or experimentation and no destructive objects such as hammers or pickaxes are allowed in the vicinity of TLC-AO-137.

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

DP-1102 Declaration of Marcus Consmith at the Paranormal Bibliotheca in Chicago, Illinois. I’ll go straight to the point, I’m not Marcus Consmith, I know that’s the name I gave when I entered here and I know it’s the name on my ID, but I’m not him, I cannot stress enough how much I am not him. You must understand how real this is, I swear I’m not crazy but, I have all his memories, all his knowledge, I even have his body, but deep down I know I’m not him, I know it.

I never thought I would ever be here, or at least Marcus never did, but I’m not him so I guess it doesn’t matter, this place always seemed like a weird art experiment, and kids keep talking about the weird stories you some time publish, you probably don’t know how much they love those! Or maybe you do, you probably had a bunch of teenagers coming here with fake stories they came up on the spot after losing a dare, you probably have thousands of those. But I am not here to start the next urban legend, I don’t even want you to publish this! But I guess I need someone to talk about it.

Could we keep it relevant to the case?

Yes sorry, I, well Marcus, always worked with kids, at least as long as he could remember, Guidance Counselor he was, always loved to help strays. It was the middle of March when a new kid approached him, Romeo Doe I think his name was, and handed him a small haphazardly written note asking for me… Marcus to help him back home, he wanted to help. The kid was an orphan, no parent or relative had been on his register, so Marcus expected Romeo to give him the address of an orphanage, but instead it was an old wooden house with a clean façade and well-kept garden, probably would have been in pristine condition if it wasn’t for the few broken windows. Marcus probably thought it was a joke at first, but Romeo’s voice called for him from inside the house, and so he opened the gate and entered the garden.

It was hot in the garden, way hotter than it should have been for early Spring, it was as if the whole place had been stuck in an eternal Summer, I can still feel the warmth in my bone, slightly too hot to be comfortable, and I know it lingers in my soul. When Marcus got to the door and opened it, it wasn’t colder, just the same exact warmth as the rest of the garden, I should have ran I know it, yet I walked inside and asked for Romeo. But Marcus was met with silence, so he walked along the hallway across the staircase and throughout the first floor, looking for that kid, but nothing was there expect the old furniture of a house misplaced in time, for the large ornaments in every corners, for the empty frames lining the walls. So he climbed the staircase and had gone onto the next floor.

It was weirder up there, the still air still as hot as in the garden, the rooms still has old as the other, yet it felt different, and I could have swore I saw one of the wall move slightly. I walked inside and cautiously adventured even deeper, looking for that kid, at this point I don’t know if I continued because I thought Romeo was in real danger or because I thought it was a prank and wanted to get back at him, but I continued either way, and that’s when I found it… …That’s when Marcus found it. A narrow hallway, the top of it way higher than necessary, with blank concrete walls, not wallpaper, no empty frames not furniture, just a blank concrete hallways, empty of everything but a red doorway painted on one of the wall, similar to those markings you see on a construction site, and over it was spraypainted in black a sentence “This is not a door”, the paint seemed fresh, I could still see and smell floating particles in the stagnant air of the hallways which was just slightly hotter than the rest of the house, not enough to make a difference, but enough to be barely noticeable.

And Marcus reached his hand to touch the paint to see if it was truly fresh, but instead of the texture we expected, our hand met nothing, nothing at all, it had gone through the wall. And I still don’t know why we did it, I know horror should have surged throughout our body, but instead it was a mix of a pure unaltered curiosity, and a sweet cold breeze. And so we reached deeper, our wall arm was inside now, and we still reached nothing, and we walked inside, fully immerse in that weird feeling of soothing cold.

But only I walked out.

Marcus was gone and I had taken his place, the cold replace with that aching warmth once again, but it was deeper than before, as if it was telling me that this wasn’t my place, that I shouldn’t be here, that I shouldn’t be at all.

This warmth it, it filled me with rage, and without thinking I franticly searched for anything big enough in the house to damage the wall, anything to break that door and make this warmth stop, I somehow knew that the room was only hot because of that door, that destroying it was the only way for Marcus to come back, to take back his place, and as soon as I found an old iron mace, I rushed back to the empty hallway and, with all my strength, threw it at the door, leaving a huge dent in the wall, and I kept hitting the wall over and over again, I’m pretty sure the door was gone after the first impact but I just couldn’t stop hitting that wall, it was still so hot and I was so angry, I think I finally let go of the mace after twenty or so minutes, and I turned back to leave, only for my eyes to lock onto the other wall, at the edge of the hallway, there it was in the exact same condition as before, the doorway was still there, but in a different spot, and I’ll be honest I fled right here and there, this was too much and I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran down the staircase and through the garden, but even as I left it the warmth was still there, it just didn’t leave.

It’s been three day since, I’ve been locked in my apartment, locking myself is the only way I found to stop myself from rushing back there and destroying that thing, I can’t sleep anymore, all I think about is this frame it’s like it burned it’s image in my retina. I needed to gather all my strength to get myself here, I’m still not sure if I believe you’re a serious organisation, Marcus Consmith sure didn’t, but at this point I’ll take whatever I can get.

Additional information: The following day, Marcus Consmith was accompanied to the closest TimeLapse containment site for further research and an amnestic treatment while a small task force was sent to the location of said “old house”, further research in Marcus Consmith‘s declaration reveal that Romeo Doe did not exist, no documents, no register, nothing was assigned under the name “Romeo Doe” that could correspond to Marcus Consmith‘s description of a young boy.

The task force reported the presence of said “Doorway” as well as a deep dent in the opposite wall, confirming Marcus Consmith‘s declaration. Furthermore, they also declared the presence of a strange heat in the vicinity of the house. Since Marcus Consmith‘s experience with this doorway, no on-site tests were made and it was decided to try and move the door to the nearby Site G. This was done after separating the portion of the wall with the doorway from the rest of the house and extracting it via the roof using a helicopter and a harness.

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Research Report on Site G after the Arrival of TLC-AO-137 and witness Marcus Consmith whose anomalous properties are linked. By Dr Maria Keal, Level C

I’m making this so soon because of the security problems TLC-AO-137 poses now, and why we need further research into how to contain it. As of now TLC-AO-137 is contained in a maintenance hallway, now restricted, instead of a classic temporary holding cell due to weird events following it’s second encounter with Marcus.

Marcus Consmith was brought to the Psychological and Amnestic center of site G about 3 hours before TLC-10-137 was here, The following interrogation did not bring any new information as the subject kept saying that he was not Marcus Consmith. Even weirder, classic amnestic treatment did not work on him, even up to class 4, so it was decided to use an intraosseous class 8 amnestic, but any needle did not seem to be able to penetrate deeper than Marcus Consmith‘s skin.

Further anomalous manifestations happen at the arrival of TLC-AO-137 in vicinity, as it directly impacted Marcus Consmith, leaving him staring at a wall in the direction of the mobile storage unit where it was located, following it with his eyes wherever it moved. As soon as TLC-AO-137 was removed from the mobile storage unit and stopped moving, Marcus Consmith stared at it for a few seconds before bursting through a nearby wall and rushing toward the anomaly with an extraordinary strength.

I couldn’t hold him back, I’m an ordinary researcher, not a guard or one of our anomalous agents, so when he surged out of his static state, I couldn’t do much expect rush after him, I did catch up but slightly too late, Marcus Consmith was hitting TLC-AO-137 with a crowbar, and whenever he was able to put a dent in it, the doorway moved to a nearby wall and he would rush to it’s new location.

A security team was dispatched quickly and tried to restrain him, but in the struggle Marcus Consmith fell and hit his head on the floor, he didn’t hit the floor that had and didn’t fall with that much speed.

Yet it still killed him on the spot, chunks of his head had literally broken off the rest of his body, they were of pure white, untainted by any drop of blood, with intricate design of golden patterns and blue flowers, further analysis of Marcus Consmith’s Corpse revealed that outside of a small layer of skin that had quickly disintegrated after his death, his body was entirely comprised of the same white porcelain-like ceramic, the inside side covered with those blue flowers and golden pattern almost like a pristine Japanese vase, even stranger, nothing was in this ceramic shell, it was even empty of air, as if the inside were repelling it away.

Marcus Consmith’s corpse is now sealed in an airtight safe waiting for further research, TLC-AO-137 however as kept being a problem. Since Marcus death it has let out a strange heat around it, it seems to stop at around 10 meters away from it but inside this area it’s unbearable, it’s hot like we’re in the middle of a scorching summer, and sadly TLC-AO-137 is now located on a wall right by the lab.

It caused more problem since, a few researched have tried to reach for the doorframe of TLC-AO-137, almost beckoned by the promise of the cold, even though we all know what it did to Marcus, one guard even managed to get in, probably because he was closer and was supposed to monitor the maintenance hallway it now is located in, and as soon as he emerged back in, the heat was gone once again, but the guard kept saying they were someone else, they didn’t know who but they kept insisting that it wasn’t their body.

We locked the guard in another room, and since then heat still hasn’t returned, but the guard is still trying to breach through, swearing that they’ll break every wall if it means stopping this heat, they’ve grown stronger since too, and I don’t think we’ll be able to hold them for long, we need to find a way to contain TLC-AO-137 quickly before another casualty, but I fear it’s too late to save that porcelain guard.

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- Final Research Report -

TLC-AO-137 is a 2 meter tall by 1 meter wide frame of a door spray painted in red over a flat surface, on it are written in a dozen centimeter tall script made of a visually similar paint, black this time, the sentence “This is not a door”, said text overlaps the red frame in two points as if written over it.

TLC-AO-137 is able to change the molecular composition of the wall, letting objects go trough it, any object placed inside will come back a few seconds after entering, however, any organic material inserted will be changed into a white ceramic, with a composition and texture similar to porcelain, carved and painted in a golden fractal pattern and scarce light blue flowers.

If the organic tissue is animal in origin, it will, when entering the frame, go through a similar transformation, but this time leaving a small layer of skin over it, thick enough to let the subject unknowing of their physiological change. Any of those subjects displaying sentience will be referred to as TLC-AO-137-A

TLC-AO-137-A instances display a severe disillusion with one’s self existence, rejecting the idea of being who entered TLC-AO-137 after exiting the doorframe. They also display a deep discomfort, claiming to be “too warm inside.” TLC-AO-137-A instances will also overtime want to destroy TLC-AO-137 more an more, being closer to TLC-AO-137 seems to aggravate this effect. Instances of TLC-AO-137-A unable to come in contact with TLC-AO-137 due to physical obstacles like walls will grow in strength overtime until able to break through said obstacles.

TLC-AO-137 displays the ability to emit a strong sensation of heat to sentient beings in a 10m radius, but no heat signature can be found; being subject to this heat sensation for longer period of time will slowly lose interest in everything that isn’t TLC-AO-137, and long exposure will lead them to try and reach inside TLC-AO-137. Extraction from the 10m radius of TLC-AO-137 for an extended time period will lessen and stop said effects. TLC-AO-137 will stop emitting heat if one or more instances of TLC-AO-137-A exists at a given time.

Termination of TLC-AO-137 as been found impossible, since any destruction of the structure where TLC-AO-137 is will just relocate it to a nearby wall. However further research suggest a tendency for TLC-AO-137 to prioritize available walls in a 25m, only going further if there are no available walls in the area. TLC-AO-137 as also displayed a total inability to relocate onto jagged, damaged or angled surfaces, and will only relocate onto relatively smooth, flat perpendicular walls.

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Additional File, Access restricted to Class A personnel or above:

TLC-AO-137 was used in an previous instance of the Pheonix Protocol, as placing material human in origin in TLC-AO-137 would leave them unable to rot, spoil or degrade until the underlying ceramic was broken, this was used on corpse to preserve them so they could be used by Dawn, as their human origin was compactible with TLC-AO-002 and served as host bodies without the drawback of taking over the mind of a sentient host. This was however dropped a few month later after the discovery of another anomaly better suited for this result was discovered, this mixed with the advances in cloning technology would lead to the current instance of the Pheonix Protocol, since TLC-AO-137-based host bodies were easily destroyed due to their thin skin and fragile ceramic frame.

[jazzythursday]

Prompts: Diamond | Longing | Corrosion (876 words)

A sharp intake of breath, only to be met with brackish water climbing up his nose and through his airways. The cold and harsh slap of it, fresh and stinging with remembered wounds.

In dreams, it came all at once, shifting and writhing like the letters on ledgers he couldn’t ever read, couldn’t ever touch. Memories corroded with salt-brine and time, gone hazy and altogether larger in his head than they could have possibly been in real life. Linearity was a thing made impossible, and life was circle.

In dreams it was hands, it was water, it was falling.

In dreams he was choking, and it was Prior’s hands, until it was his father’s. Wylan was on the boat, and he was dying. He was in his father’s office, and those same hands wrapped around his neck with hatred burning in ice blue eyes like nothing that Wylan could ever hope to change. He was swimming, he was walking, he was floating, he was gone.

He was looking up at stars shining like diamonds in the dark, and his mother was next to him. They were lying on their backs on a blanket in the yard, and he was smiling. Looking up at clusters of light that he was told made shapes. Made stories. She was teaching him the lines and shapes of them, holding his hand up to trace the pinpricks of white on the dark canvas with hers, like she did when they were painting.

She was pointing at the Great Bear and the Small Bear that lived together in the sky. A mother and her son. So they could be together, always. Safe in the stars.

Like us, Mamma? he asked. But she blew away with the breeze like dust shimmering in the sunlight, before she could answer.

She was gone, and he longed to be held in a way that didn’t hurt. He longed to be touched in a way that didn’t bruise. He was looking up at stars that didn’t speak, couldn’t help, didn’t hear. He was choking on the alphabet, words forced down his throat by hands that used to brush his hair and kiss his head. He was swimming to the Barrel but he was still a child, the child he’d been. The child that, no matter how he tried to hide it, he still felt he was. The child that cried for her, though she was too far away to hear. The child that cried for the solitary mother bear in the sky, and he was alone.

He was at the bottom the canal, where the light couldn’t reach, where stars didn’t shine, forgotten like the bodies in the barge, left to rot like a living corpse, like a bloodstain on a cream carpet. A beaten cheek resting tiredly above. A body left to pick itself up or else die with it’s shame spilling out in ruby red and tarnished gold and saltwater.

He was alone, always alone, and it was worse than the rising waters and cruel words and crushing hands. It was worse.

Wylan woke gasping, hands immediately pulling the collar of his nightshirt away from his throat to press to his beating pulse and hold himself there, chest heaving. His eyes clenched tightly on their own accord, and he pinched his mouth shut as nausea raced through him with the fear that pounded in his heart.

Dreams, always in dreams. It was reality falsified, memory made gruesome. The nightmares slipped through his fingers, ephemeral. Fear and remembrance and cursed imagination, coming for him with claws.

In dreams, Wylan drowned, but in waking it was this:

A warm body, just next to his. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. A boon in a black sea. Ghost light in the shadows. Stars, shining through the dark.

Wylan breathed.

There was soft tones and honeyed words. Gentle murmurs in his ear and quiet comforts, calling him home. A hand smoothed lightly over his hair, a kiss pressed softly to his temple.

Wylan opened his eyes.

He saw the question in Jesper’s eyes, and he nodded. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him gently back, and he went without hesitation. Everything was still, if not for the way his breathing was unsteady and rough. If not for how he shook. He buried his face in the crook of Jesper’s neck, and hid.

Jesper’s hands were sure, and steady. They smoothed over his hair and rubbed softly against his shoulders until the tenseness of his muscles started to loosen. Jesper kept speaking, dulcet tones and soothing reassurance and, It’s okay, love—We’re home—We’re safe—I’ve got you—It’s okay—Wylan held onto the words as much as he could (held onto Jesper even tighter). He let them guide him back until his heart stopped pounding and his hands stopped shaking and the world felt a little more real.

“Jes,” he croaked.

“Back with me, love?”

Wylan nodded, burrowing closer.

“You’re here,” he said. He did not mean for it to sound surprised.

“Always,” Jesper said, lips pressed into Wylan’s hair, hands holding him together at his sides. He did not ask what Wylan meant, he already knew. “I’ll always be here.”

In dreams Wylan drowned, but he always had this to wake up to, every time. And every time he did, Wylan knew, without a doubt, that he was no longer alone.

[jinxvex]

19 | she/her | black | scorpio | midwestern alt femme ⚢

nsfw sapphic blog! (men/non-sapphics + minors dni!)

psych/soc student. strongly opinionated. energy drink enjoyer.

arcane + tlou writer! (sevika. vi. jinx. caitlyn. ellie. abby. mel.)

i do take requests + asks! send 'em over! it may take time to write + i won’t write anything i’m not comfortable with! (ex: weird shit like incest/ageplay/scat + you get the gist.)

rules: juh vibe ꈍ ꈍ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (don’t be a bigot! + i have a gf!)

(๑>؂•̀๑) masterlist below! ↓ ࣪ 𓈒☣︎⠀

oneshots are in bold!! // most are nsfw!!

sevika

♱ possessive!sevika x bartender!reader (drabble)

♱ gf!sevika x reader (established relationship) (hcs)

♱ gf!sevika comforting you through a migraine (drabble)

♱ casual dominance w/ gf!sevika (hcs)

♱ enemy. (enemy!sevika x bratty!reader)

♱ use me. (councilor!sevika + freeuse) (drabble)

♱ more freeuse w/ sevika... (blurb/drabble)

…

violet

♱ gf!vi x daydreamy gf!reader (hcs)

…

jinx

♱ until you. (gf!jinx x doting (affectionate)!reader)

♱ dom!jinx + laughing at you during sex! (blurb)

♱ fantasy. (meandom!jinx x oblivious!reader)

…

caitlyn

♱ gf!caitlyn x emotional/sensitive!reader (hcs)

♱ lesson learnt. (mommy dom!caitlyn punishing you) (drabble)

…

mel

♱ insatiable. (sub!mel x dom!reader tribbing) (drabble)

ellie

...

abby

♱ numb. (mean!dom abby punishing you) (drabble)

♱ mean!dom abby fucking you in a headlock! (blurb)

...

misc.

♱ dom, sub, or switch? ft. sevika, vi, jinx, caitlyn, mel, ellie, and abby (hcs)

…

wips.

♱ fitness trainer!sevika x beginner!reader. gf!sevika x doting (affectionate)!reader. bestfriend!sevika x virgin!reader. gf!sevika x emotional/sensitive!reader. gf!vi x reader (established relationship hcs). bestfriend!ellie x alternative!reader. caitvi x reader.

༊࿐ started: 11/30/24. updated: 3/16/25.

thank you! enjoy! + leave feedback ❧ ©jinxvex.

[olskuvallanpoe]

fic: he’s in the driver’s seat (drabble)

wesper (six of crows), 686 words - hurt/comfort

summary: a drabble surrounding wylan’s understanding of love as told through the driver’s seat of a car