#(and still in great condition and even has tags! so I'm guessing he was just sitting in a closet/attic somewhere before being sold)

[amiguruineapig]

Bonus points if you comment the brand

[alienaiver]

Catch and release

Komori Motoya x Chronic Pain/Disabled GN!reader but reader is described wearing skirts

content: It's Komori's birthday and you wanted to dress up nicely for the dinner party. Just your luck that your planned outfit and your disability decides to have a playfight. It's a good thing you have your high school sweetheart to cheer you up when navigating the new world of dynamic disability.

tags: fluff, sfw, birthday fic, post-timeskip, disabled!reader, body positive and poc friendly reader, canon compliant, no use of y/n, sweetie + my love + baby as petnames, sappy and supportive boyfriend, childhood friends to lovers, established relationship, childish/cheeky komori, chronic pain/disability condition is not mentioned/left vague on purpose but reader does need a cane (type of cane not described either), genderneutral reader, unbeta'd but proofwritten twice, sakusa's there too but only to suffer the humor of literal kids

wordcount: 1.1k

notes: guess who learned something new today about cane usage and long skirts! 🙋🏼‍♂️ its a journey! luckily i have some soft, comforting boys to maladaptive daydream about taking care of me 🥰 i hope you enjoy this little work of mine! either as a disabled person or as an abled interested in learning something new!!!! im smooching u all, have a lovely evening! i also know im a ✨ little ✨ early about komori's birthday but who doesnt think about him 24/7?

also happy disability pride month ✨

"you ready?" Komori calls from the entrance, where his keys are circling his finger, making a jingle sound. It's his birthday, and you're going to a restaurant with his parents for dinner. Sakusa's even agreed to stop by.

He hears you hum from the bedroom before your steps sound through the living room, a little uneven but with your usual speed. He whistles when he sees you, but his eyebrows still raise at your choice of clothes.

"You changed." he states blankly, unsure what else to say. The outfit was important to you today, and you took great care in planning it last night, which is the reason he sends such an apparent statement your way.

You avoid his gaze as your lips draw a thin line, "yeah, don't worry about it," you say hastily, clearly eager to end the subject as you pick up your shoes from the rack. "Don't get me wrong sweetie, you look amazing. But I thought you wanted us to color match today?"

From the bench where you're tying your sneakers you glimpse at him for a split second, but it's long enough that Komori notices the disappointment you're trying to hide from him. He sighs and bends down in front of you, "what happened, my love?" his thumb grazes your cheek before it drags a sliver of hair behind your ear. From this angle he sees your small pout more clearly. He puts down his keys to let his other hand hold your head as well.

You sigh and lean forward. He meets you halfway and revels in the contact of your foreheads touching. He's always loved being close to you.

"I need the cane today."

Ah.

You recently learned bitterly that long or airy maxi skirts and canes don't match up. It's not like they tangle extremely and directly cause you to fall, but it changes the pressure in which you need to pull and move your cane for your next step if it's windy, which can cause mishaps. You haven't fallen because of it yet, but you've decided you don't want to risk it.

And then you need your cane on his birthday, where you'd planned such a skirt. He winces and you sigh. There's a distance of walking from the train station to the restaurant, so he can't offer much of a different solution than your own.

Then he kisses your nose, "I'm sorry, baby. Is there anything you need?"

You close your eyes and try to relax in his closeness. His left hand has traveled down to rub your arm, and you don't have the heart to tell him that his touch aches today. Not on his birthday.

"No, it's... It is what it is, right?" you ask and he nods hastily, "I know it might not help on the disappointment, but I still think you look absolutely amazing. And I'm glad you're listening to your needs and doing what you have to, even if it sucks major ass."

You snort and shake your head at him. He prides himself in the smile he won from your lips before he claims them with his own, sighing at the contact. He's needy today you notice, before you kiss him back with the same energy, trying to push away the negative thoughts clouding your mind. Today is about him.

When he pulls back he looks so lovestruck that you can't believe that you're high school sweethearts. Who gets this winded from a simple kiss from someone they've been with for over 10 years? Slowly and little by little, warmth and light fills you up again. He comes back for a quick peck before he gets back up and smiles down at you, flustered.

"Which cane would you like today? Personally I think the blue one with flowers would match your blouse perfectly!"

He turns his back to you as he opens the entryway closet, and you hum behind him thoughtfully, "maybe the grey one will garner less attention. I still feel awkward being both dressed up and so visibly disabled."

You're still getting used to using canes publicly, embarrassed and afraid someone will see you as a fraud if you're able to walk a few steps without it or if they suddenly deem that you're using it wrong. You know it's irrational, but it's taken you great courage to accept the dynamic part of your dynamic disability.

Komori's been supportive and understanding in every possible way, never batting an eye at any need you're voicing. He only complains when you hold back needs or lie about how you're feeling when you're out doing something together. You'd be, too, if the roles were reversed so you're glad he always lets you know while you learn to navigate being a burden - and being okay with burdening the people you love.

You admire his back. Broad, reliable and secure and always ready to support you. You still can't believe that you've been so lucky with him, grateful that your distasteful joke about his eyebrows he overheard in your second year somehow made him interested in you. You still cringe when you think back on it but he tells the story with a joyful and prideful expression every time.

He turns around with the grey, foldable cane and starts unfolding it for you, doing a little shimmy of a dance for you while doing it. You throw your head back and laugh, "so the birthday boy's the one giving a show this year?" you joke and he smiles cheekily at you, the expression making you flustered. Maybe you're just as bad as him, with the lovesickness. Sakusa will roll his eyes today, surely.

"Well... My favorite entertainer is indisposed, so if my lying hips can delight and beguile my audience, I'm happy to shake things up a bit."

He leans down with the cane, offering it as a sword to a knight. You snort and receive it just as gracefully, before he reaches a hand out to help you up, "I'll order your favorite from the menu and give you half of it if you kiss both my cheeks and my forehead in front of Omi."

You're busy laughing at his childish antics getting up, so you miscalculate your balance and fall into his arms. He catches you easily, like he always has and always will. You bite your lip, "then I'll order your favorite dessert if you do the same to me."

His antics may be childish, but they definitely match yours.

"Happy birthday, Motoya. Thank you for always catching me and helping me release the tension." you say and kiss him, hoping your emotions reach him. The smile he can't hold back against your lips tells you he might've gotten the memo.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 20 of Nona the Ninth

I suspect Hot Sauce will be back. I don't think her only contribution to the plot will be to headshot Nona. We also haven't learned why she's called Hot Sauce yet, which I feel is still a loose string

Ok, so they just thought that Nona was going to chill unconsciously for a while and I guess them shooting at her was just a reaction to hearing her beat down the door? And obviously they shackled Camilla and Palamedes because Palamedes did observable necromancy on Nona earlier

Is that the secret she told Hot Sauce? Hot Sauce thought it could be solved with organ transplants, but maybe she was just speculating. Palamedes thinks the problem is that her body is rejecting her soul, so not actually a physical problem. But wouldn't Pyrrha also have been having the same problem? Or is her situation special because G1deon became a Lyctor and she was just tagging along for 10,000 years? And Harrow went half of her life with Alecto haunting her, but maybe she didn't get kicked out because she wasn't the primary person in control of her body, sort of like how Palamedes isn't getting kicked out of Camilla? And Wake was stuck in a sword for 18 years, but maybe inanimate objects aren't opinionated about what soul they're being possessed by

And also... Ulysses and Titania were already dead before John ever knew them, and it sounds like we don't actually know whether or not John found their original souls when bringing them back to life, or if it was two random other souls - wouldn't their bodies have rejected the new souls if they weren't the actual original souls, if what Palamedes is saying in this chapter is true? If I remember the timeline right, they didn't become Lyctors for like hundreds of years after the Resurrection

This is a great point that I don't think has been explained yet - Lyctors' bodies are invisible to other necromancers, even to other Lyctors, but Palamedes did something to Cytherea's body back in Gideon the Ninth that helped kill her. So how did he do that? Even Harrow as a Lyctor wasn't able to do anything to G1deon's body without getting him to eat her own bone marrow

Ugh. I don't get like ~~feelings~~ about the whole Palamedes/Dulcinea thing because I feel like it was kind of awful and not a fun way, but still

So this obviously isn't going to happen now that he's spelled it out, but that honestly is exactly what I'd expect out of this story at this point

Is "water bottle" a reference to something?

I mean, we already have several examples of Lyctorhood that can't be described as "half-dead cannibals" or "a mutual death" - we have G1deon and Pyrrha who were both alive in the same body, and they were supposedly an actual Lyctor and not like Harrow was, and then there was John and Alecto, who both survived in different bodies and may have conditional immortality supported by the other person. But Palamedes thinks that "true Lyctorhood" is when both people die? Or does he think that all the existing Lyctors are just at an incomplete stage of a longer process that results in the death of both people? Did John and Alecto both die during whatever happened to them? I mean, obviously Alecto died at some point, but I'm very muddy still on what are the exact conditions that cause a planet to die other than it being flipped with necromancy

I hope Camilla/Palamedes and Nona do go to visit Gideon soon, since that seems to be where most of the other interesting characters have wound up as of the end of this chapter

So in addition to being the Angel, and also "Aim", which is probably the first word of a BOE name, they're also "the Messenger". "The Angel" was the name the kids gave them, and angels are messengers in Christian theology, but it's really not clear to what extent Christianity or Christian theology has survived in any population in this book, and if John imported the idea of angels into Nine Houses theology, that hasn't been mentioned anywhere in any book yet, so it's not clear what "angel" actually means to either the Nine Houses characters or the New Rho characters or the BOE characters. If we go with the idea that people are still speaking Modern English somehow, then I guess it's possible that "angel" survived as a word meaning "messenger" in House/English, although that seems unlikely to me since in most vernacular contexts it just means something along the lines of "being of supreme goodness" these days. But are we meant to conclude that the kids heard someone call the Angel "the Messenger" in some language and translated that into "The Angel" in House/English? And again we have they/them pronouns, and no explanation of why they are important or the reason for all the special rules around them

Also I do love that We Suffer's reaction to chapter 19 was "you're the most horrifying thing I've ever seen. Lots of blood and guts, very impressive, 10/10"

I guess the "key" is Gideon's body, because it open the Tomb? I'm curious as to what exactly We Suffer knows about that

Hmm, I guess from Corona's perspective, it would have made sense for Harrow to tell people about meeting them, Camilla extracted her promise to not tell anyone when Corona couldn't see or hear them

Funny that this is the version of this they play. I love how Corona has been trash-talking Judith for ages, but I honestly think this is just how the twins express affection for people? When we're first introduced to Ianthe she's trash-talking Corona, and they both trash-talk Babs despite the fact that I think Corona at least liked him, but for some reason Ianthe assumed that when Corona was trash-talking Judith it was because she didn't like her

It's pretty funny that Judith described Corona as having been "radicalized" in As Yet Unsent, but now it's Corona who takes the risk to rescue Judith from BOE and bring her back to the Nine Houses. I don't think Corona is actually loyal to any side at this point, she just wants to save Judith, and possibly be with Ianthe, although I'm not sure about that, either - if Ianthe keeps insisting that the best thing to do with Judith is mercy-kill her, I think Corona may switch sides again in the future. She seemed genuinely swayed by what BOE told her in As Yet Unsent, but I think she's ultimately more like Pyrrha where she thinks it's all fucked and just wants to protect her loved ones, rather than being like Palamedes who wanted to go be a big damn hero and find a way to save all the people in the cages and all the people in the barracks. Or maybe Corona is still loyal to BOE, and just thought she could deliver Judith to safety and continue relaying information back? But she had to know that stealing Judith would be considered a betrayal regardless

Who is John's "real" enemy if it isn't BOE? There are the resurrection beasts, for sure, but I'm not sure they actually have the ability to keep fighting them now that it's just Ianthe and John

I'm not sure why Camilla seems to telling We Suffer not to kill (presumably) Ianthe (or, I guess, Naberius's body)? I don't think Camilla has any love for Ianthe and probably Babs getting headshot at this point would be at least a little inconvenient for her

It sounds like John is not in a good place right now, between "mid-dismyriad crisis" and "I've been on-call as Teacher's whipping girl"

I'm curious what exactly Pyrrha told them. It definitely wasn't everything, because Ianthe is referring to "Harrow" and not "Nona", and also Ianthe didn't know anything about Judith being alive and a prisoner, and Judith was a major tactical element since they were using her to work the stele on their ship

[alchemicaladarna]

Well...Happy 1 year of QSMP I guess...

There's just no easy way to say anything about everything that's been happening the past few weeks and everything that's happened since yesterday because it's a fucking dumpster fire and I'm just so tired of it all to be honest...

But this post isn't about that.

I still want to celebrate this server's first year anniversary because of how much it means to me personally. I made a post talking about how I initially started watching the qsmp (two days early 💀) but I'll reiterate what I've always said:

That despite all the problems of the server, despite all the damage that has been done, never forget what it has managed to achieve and hopefully continues to achieve in the future, under better conditions.

The QSMP's mission was to unite people from all over the world to play together and be friends despite speaking different languages and having different cultures. It united communities and formed friendships across the globe. Personally, achieving that takes more than just sticking random people in the same room together because it's about making genuine connections that could last a lifetime. And the qsmp achieved that. I'll never stop saying this because despite all its glaring problems, the qsmp is revolutionary for all the good it has managed to do.

Ok, like think about the translations alone. I'm using Bad as an example because he's the only one so far that I've seen do this but, BBH has set up live translations of multiple languages on his screen so non-english speakers can still understand his streams and his vods even if he's not playing on the qsmp. That wouldn't have happened without the QSMP's influence. That's fucking incredible!

Think about all the CC's and admins that became friends after meeting on the server. Former admins like Lumi (Pomme) and Shade (Dapper) still talking to Bad on his chat and watching his stream. That's still really awesome! Not to mention all the amazing collaboration projects with many qsmp members outside minecraft like Ordem Paranormal and Liar Liar, to name a few.

Look, the last three weeks have been extremely difficult on everyone. I myself am tired of the situation and scrolling through the tag, especially after yesterday, just makes me sad tbh. For the first time since these weeks, I felt so despondent and shocked about everything. It got to the point where, after Shade and Lumi announced their departure, I called my mom and broke down sobbing and vented about the whole admin situation. And bless her heart, my mom actually listened and I'm going to share the advice she gave me:

"Let them fix the problem. Let the company do the restructuring they need to do because right now, it sounds like they have a lot of problems to fix. It's going to take a long time before things can go back to any sense of normalcy, so while they do that, focus on yourself for now. If you're so invested in all the problems of this online world, maybe it's time to step back for now. Maybe it's time to focus on the real world."

And well, she's right. I've been so upset about the situation that my mental health wasn't faring well because of it. Yesterday was kind of a wake up call for me I guess?

I've been in this fandom for 10 months now. It's the longest time I've been invested in a community and qsmp has and will always have a special place in my heart. But I think it's time to let go and move on for now. I'll keep my hopes up and hope that the future is bright, and the qsmp will continue because it has so much potential to achieve more greatness, but I'll leave the project to rest and focus on other endeavors for now.

I'll be posting art and checking in on stuff from time to time, and of course, I'll be watching BBH, but it might be time to depart and say, "Thanks for everything, and I'll see you later."

Most people will be ashamed to mention the fandoms they've been a part of when they were younger, but 10 years from now, if anyone ever asks if I was a part of the qsmp fandom, I'll gladly say yes and tell all the good stories I have about it.

I love the community we made here on qsmpblr, and if I trust the QSMP's mission of uniting people, then I trust that, no matter what happens, this community will be here when I return.

Because...Despite everything, it's all about love, right? And no matter what happens, the love is still there, and will always be.

Thank you for the journey <33

[delusionaid]

HEADCANONS : click the link to get some random headcanons for your muse.

Diluc is very good at using chopsticks. (Business trips to Liyue? I'm gonna give him a personal hc here and say Crepus forced him to learn how to eat with chopsticks when he was younger so he'd be able to do it as an adult. Diluc loathed it then but is grateful now.) Diluc almost drank the lethal dosage of caffeine once. (Boy has a thing for knocking himself out with drinks, apparently.) Diluc can play the guitar. (*Lyre) Diluc is smart but also very stupid. (I mean..) Diluc is a sleepwalker. (*TALKER. He's a sleepTalker. Kaeya can attest to that from the time he was new to the house and they had to share a room for a while. He usually says nonsensical or incoherent things, but it can be quite entertaining. He never remembers doing it the next day.) Diluc has one, very simple word that they cannot figure out how to pronounce. (I got this 3 times. Must be true. Want to guess the word?) Diluc desperately needs a hug but doesn't know it and refuses to ask for one. (Ok this is actually canon on this blog so well done.)

Wriothesley can play the piano. (I kind of like the idea, to be honest. It's hard to imagine what life with his "parents" looked like. I like both the version where it was really terrible living conditions and they were mostly neglected, but I also like the thought that they had to learn certain things and present a certain way in order to be "of value" to those they were "sent to". So some of them being able to play music could be an idea to play with.) Wriothesley needs a nightlight to sleep. (Hm, not sure about light, but I like the idea that he almost sleeps better when there's noise because he's always had that. First with his "siblings", then living in the street, then the Meropide, and even now the room around him probably makes noise all night long. Silence would be deafening.) Wriothesley's least favourite subject in school was Math. (shrug.png) Wriothesley could easily survive The Hunger Games. (I got this twice so it must be true. Grim.. but I somehow agree. There's some analogy to his life there, I think.) Wriothesley is smart but also very stupid. (WHY DO ALL MY MUSES GET THIS.) Wriothesley likes to eat straight coffee beans. (...Listen, we've all done strange things when hungry.) Wriothesley stole a lollipop at the checkout when they were 5 and they still feel guilty about it. (Nah, he earned that lolly.) Wriothesley is an ugly crier. (You know what, I'll take it. Most people are.)

Alhaitham is tumblr famous (Got this twice. For what I wonder?) Alhaitham is very willing to eat inedible things. (<.< Is this a slight against Kaveh's cooking?) Alhaitham is a dog person. (I disagree, he's a cat person. He likes that they're independent and don't want him to play with them 24/7.) Alhaitham sleeps in until noon. (I think he has, on occasion. He's not an early bird but he isn't (my) Diluc either.) It would not take much for Alhaitham to turn evil. (Literally canon every time he brushes some evil plot and rejects it only because it turns out to be flawed.) Alhaitham is great with kids. (...I mean. Depends on the kid.) Alhaitham has a diary that they write in with a glittery gel pen. (Fun fact, I think if he found a glittery gel pen that wrote really smoothly, he'd use it. Like who cares that it glitters if it's personal notes, the writing experience is pleasant. But he's not going out to buy glitter gel pens specifically.) Alhaitham needs a nightlight to sleep. (I wanna say.. used to need. Now he just sleeps in a bedroom with a window that lets in a lot of moonlight on most nights.)

tagged by: @apocryphis thank you! tagging: @voyagaer @liliavanrouge @dhabibi @nagareboshiko

[arrow90-alrakis]

OC Profile

Tagged by @spyridonya thank you so much!!! ^^ I'll be doing this for Lark and Ri!

I'm still afk and idk who already did this, so I won't tag ;3 feel free to join!

NAME: Larksharius

NICKNAME: Lark, Noachi (from Rimerock), and other retired nicknames used in the Abyss they don't want to mention

GENDER: Agender (they/them)

STAR SIGN: The Rider (Gemini)

HEIGHT: 6'2 ft

ORIENTATION: Demiromantic, Pansexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Unknown - archlich

FAVORITE FRUIT: No? They can't eat anything and already forget what was their favorite.

FAVORITE SEASON: They don't have preference. If you ask them, they just smile and try to guess your favorite season to answer you. (Their guesses are usually pretty accurate)

FAVOURITE FLOWER: Lilies

FAVORITE SCENT: Dried flowers and herbs - They run a herbal medicine business in their spare time. And that warm, icy smell they refuse to describe—the smell of Rimerock after sunbathing.

COFFEE, TEA OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Tea, sometimes with stevia sweetener

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 0 (As an imperfect archlich, they can't sleep.)

DOGS OR CATS: Both, but they are reluctant to adopt pets. Their husband had experienced so many family deaths that neither of them wanted to add to those numbers.

DREAM TRIP: Every plane if not too dangerous. They are a planar traveler and have already been to many.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: They are immune to cold damage. However they value creature comfort (even their lich body can't feel much of the benefit), so yes as many as they can.

RANDOM FACT: Their current patron once owed them a great favor in a very distant era, but after reincarnation, neither of them remembers.

---

NAME: Rimerock

NICKNAME: Ri, Stevia (from Larksharius), Grey (a shameful name given to him by his fallen gold dragon brother Neralshul)

GENDER: Cis Male (he/him)

STAR SIGN: The Bridge (Pisces)

HEIGHT: 6'6 ft

ORIENTATION: Demiromantic, Demisexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Unknown - silver dragon

FAVORITE FRUIT: He's not picky, but if spoiled, he will eat anything not too sour or bitter.

FAVORITE SEASON: All except winter. He's a frost dragon but he likes to bathe in the warm sunshine.

FAVOURITE FLOWER: Those with less strong scents. Being too close to flowers with lots of pollen usually makes him sneeze.

FAVORITE SCENT: Larksharius (He doesn't know what Lark puts in their sachets/incense/herbal baths but they smell so good.)

COFFEE, TEA OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Tea with any sweetener, hot chocolate. He doesn't really like bitter taste but he won't complain.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 0-2 if at war, 6-8+ after retiring from the battlefield

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs. He loves cats equally but his appearance often scares them, even though he has no intention of doing so.

DREAM TRIP: Anywhere with his partner

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: He was used to taking short breaks in poor conditions, so 0. Nightmares prevented him from sleeping well. But now Lark spoiled him rotten, he needs at least 1 blanket big enough to wrap them both.

RANDOM FACT: Although he is a tall and fierce old warrior, he loves children and is surprisingly popular with them. He doesn't like anyone except his partner touching his dragon form, but children are allowed. Sometimes you can find a silver dragon basking in the sun and children riding on his tail.

[danikatze]

How about B, I, K, M, N, O, U for the alphabet ask thing?

Alphabet Asks

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

hahah well TJ.. as you know you've been very influential when it comes to ships - especially for Naruto. First one that comes to mind is KakaGai, but there's also YamaSai and KankuSai and ShikaCho. All of them I still love <3 Also, thanks to you I shipped GaraShir before I even watched the show. And there are just countless ships from other fandoms that I'm not (really) a part of that I have a soft spot for, because you sell them so well :))

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

Errr I guess you could say HP? But that's not Tumblr's fault - all it did was share the messed up things Rowling said and did and gradully all of the moments HP got tiny kid me through rough and lonely times started feeling like a very big lie and I can't even think of it fondly anymore.

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Oh gosh, so many, but let's go for Fjord from Critical Role. All the little and big steps he takes towards learning to accept himself throughout the campaign and the way they don't come all at once but are spread out over like a hundred plus episodes, including inevitable steps backward. The strength it took for him to walk away from the one who gave him conditional power and to accept unconditional love that is extended by his friends and the Wildmother. His arc just makes me so emotional and happy every time I think about it. I love him and I love his journey and I cannot wait to see it animated.

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

Yamato from Naruto seems like a perfect friend. He's kind and loyal and usually a reasonable, level headed person who can calm you down in stressed situations. But he's also someone you can have fun with!

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

For Saraiya Goyou: 1) anyone other than me making stuff for it lol. Usually I don't mind it so much, but sometimes I almost desperately wish I would see the tag update and it's not something I made. 2) drawings and fics from the past are mostly for Yaichi and Masa. I'd love more art and writing for other characters and pairings (romantic or otherwise) 3) sneakily shared fan translations of the prequels and spin-offs would be great lol. They're never going to be translated officially, but scans are taken down immediately as well. I bought Futagashira but I have no way of reading it unless I learn to read Japanese myself ^^;

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

Shuffle produced Pulling Teeth by Green Day. "I'm all busted up, broken bones and nasty cuts, accidents will happen, but this time I can't get up." That's definitely Meg and Zagreus from Hades. They beat each other up on a regular basis lol and I was so bad at this game in the beginning I got Zag killed by her a lot (sorry Zag..) Not top 10 ship for me, but I like them well enough!

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

1) Matsu from Saraiya Goyou: during my first reread the manga, after I learned that he loved Yaichi, I fell in love with him through his subtle and heartbreaking expressions. That's when I really got to know and understand him more. I love that he's charming as can be for his job, but doesn't know how to behave around his friends. He's so skilled and he knows it, yet has such a low self esteem. He's just a highly skilled, very pathetic little grumpy guy that deserves all the love in the world. And I give him as much as I can. 2) Caduceus from Critical Role: perfect, big, chill cow man who has the best advice and calming words for others, but can't recognise his own problems, let alone how to deal with them. He's so dumb and wise and I love him. 3) Gerry from the Magnus Archives: he's one of those people that seems to be full of contradictions. He's so bitter and stubborn and impatient and crude, but in a way that feels friendly? His life was so full of grief and horror from the moment he was born and he just wants a break from it all, but at the same time he can't stop himself from helping people who are about to fall - or have already fallen - victim to the horrors. The fear and defiance he lived (and died) with is heartbreaking and admirable.

[emptyofdust]

Tag Game - First 10 Lines

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and  tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and  share anyway.

hi @picnokinesis and thanks for the tag! let's pretend it hasn't been an entire month since you tagged me, and that i didn't spend a whole 15 minutes trying to remember my password to this account before giving up and resetting it. sounds good? sounds good.

i don't exactly have 10 doctor who fics, i don't think? we'll see how far we get with the wips floating around my onenote, and if it's not 10, i'll pad it with other fics -- it'll be a guess the fandom sort of thing, fun for the whole family (although, if you do guess the fandom from one line, i'll be genuinely impressed). starting with the completed ones:

you're the one that i need, i'm the one that you loathe ; nebulously mid s12 thoschei one-shot

“I think it should be me who kills you.”

2. it makes me who i am (i burned it all but i'm doing fine) ; canon divergence where 13 thinks to dive into the matrix mid s12 and sort of uh. breaks her own mind, it's fine, she's alright. thoschei one-shot.

She stands alone, and watches the flames dance.

3. on the catfish and its adaptive capacity in adverse temporal conditions ; you guessed it, mid s12 thoschei one-shot. 13 pays a visit to O for ScienceTM. it doesn't go great.

This is arguably not the most brilliant plan the Doctor’s ever come up with.

and now for the wips. titles are temporary and, were i to finish any of these, would probably change 3-6 times before actually being posted

4. i've loved you for a hundred years (certainly fucking feels like it) ; human au spydoc one-shot that got away from me a bit and that i never ended up finishing.

There's a star in his kitchen.

5. the enemy of my enemy, and other cautionary tales ; i don't even know what this was going to be, but it was going to involve a team-up with Jack and the Master, and some shenanigans. maybe even some hijinks? hard to say.

"So," Jack says, wondering why the hell he's still standing here, "explain to me again why I should care?"

6. driving lessons ; a tentatively thasmin one-shot set between s12 and flux, exploring how yaz learnt to pilot the tardis as well as she has, aka 13 teaches her something instead of apologizing every time she behaves like a dick. might still finish this one, actually

"Want me to show you how to reset the chronion collector brackets?"

7. help is on the way ; a jack/13 one-shot set after once, upon time, because how could i not bring jack into the aftermath of whatever the hell happened in that episode

She holds it together for a remarkably long time, all things considered.

8. another night and i'll see you (another night and i'll be you) ; power of the doctor one-shot, exploring whatever the fuck happened with that doctor/master combination. got distracted from it, but honestly would like to go back to it at some point because seriously, the implications

He— she— they— are bleeding.

the other doctor who wips are not at a stage where they have opening lines, so bonus round!

9. a day in the life, and other team building exercises ; okay, this one's an easy fandom guess, but it's not about to be posted any time soon, so shouldn't give me away

"Warden," Camilla says, with all the neutrality only a lifetime can teach, "is that a knife?"

10. quick study ; teaching one's teammate to drive when one's teammate also happens to be an alien with a bit of a kleptomaniac streak

"This just seems so unnecessarily complicated."

and that's 10! this was very fun, thank you again for the tag! I don't really have many mutuals on this account, but if you see this and are interested, consider yourself tagged! i love reading these tag games

[putschki1969]

Hello Sarah! I hope you are doing great!

I'm a bit baffled. I saw a story of Keiko speaking about something health related and tagged Hikaru on Instagram. Did something happen? I hope all are OK! 🙏 Apologies if it is something minor and I overreacted.

PS: Unrelated to the main question but I was really surprised by Keiko's skills on the guitar, it's not an easy instrument, looking forward for more guitar plays from her!

Hi there! I'm good, thank you!!

I will be honest, I wanted to avoid talking about the whole thing because it’s always a pretty slippery slope towards scaremongering but here’s the gist of it:

Over the past few days a number of announcements have been made. On July 21, the producers of Hikaru’s second stage play “Ambient Border” had to postpone their show indefinitely due to various members of the company having contracted COVID-19 (Note: the play was scheduled to run from July 27 to July 31). On July 22, the He-el-ical// staff team cancelled Hikaru’s Animate release event in Shibuya for the following day with Hikaru’s poor physical condition being stated as reason for the cancellation. On July 23, it was finally confirmed that Hikaru had tested positive for COVID-19. On July 24 (yesterday), Keiko expressed her concern for Hikaru in one of her Instagram stories. They have been in touch of course (so I guess Keiko knows how Hikaru is doing right now) but Keiko still can’t help but worry. She wants everyone who is struggling with the virus to take good care of themselves.

On July 25 (today), Hikaru took to Twitter to release a personal statement. She apologises for taking so long to address the matter and she is incredibly sorry for causing any inconvenience due to the cancellation of the above mentioned events. She is determined to recover as quickly as possible.   

Update: Keiko briefly talked about Hikaru in today’s Instagram Live. She didn’t mention anything that would lead me to believe that Hikaru’s condition was critical. Keiko just wants Hikaru to rest properly.

So yeah, that’s basically what happened. Let's not give way to panic, let’s just hope for the best 🙌 Everyone and their mother has had COVID at this point so I’m sure everything will be fine🙏

As far as Keiko’s guitar playing is concerned, yup, you are absolutely right! It’s amazing how much she can do already! I am not surprised though. Keiko is nothing if not tenacious. She seems to be practicing a lot these days. She even keeps her nails short on one hand to make it easier to play. 

[hotdamnhunnam]

Hi, I haven't seen any request with Raleigh Becket, so him with🥶,☕,😚(kiss). (Also I'm sorry I barely ever request anything and I suck at picking characters and emojis or prompts). Hope you won't have much trouble with this.

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! No need to apologize at all, this is great lol, and I’m glad to have gotten a Raleigh request! 💗

..................................................

Iced Coffee Kisses

Pairing: Raleigh Becket x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, Raleigh crushing on a girl & being the awkwardest turtle in the world Word Count: ~1.2k Emoji Prompt: 🥶☕️😚 (key words are in bold)

It’s fucking cold.

The frigid air bites through his coat as falling snow dampens his hair to darker gold. He really isn’t one to bitch about conditions, but he shouldn’t even be in this position. Though his shift is done, the officer in charge is in the middle of some speech, some protocol he needs to teach, and he wants everyone to listen. Raleigh Becket is a good boy so of course he feels compelled to do as told.

There’s a completely selfless reason as to why he’s fucking miffed: he picked up coffee for somebody at the tail end of his shift. It’s in a little paper cup with a cheap plastic lid, and cooling off with every passing minute. He’d have just gotten a new one, when this stupid speech is done—but as the officer goes on and on and on, it’s getting late and Raleigh knows, by now the cafeteria is fucking closed.

When he’s at last released he hurries to the dormitory halls—toward your room—rushing as briskly as he can without the risk of spilling cooled off coffee all over his balls. From all the cold his crotch is numb, so if this drink splashed from the cup and stained his pants he probably wouldn’t even feel a thing at all.

Maybe it’s good if his dick’s broken ‘cause whenever he gets close to you it tends to want to stand up stiff and tall.

When he arrives and softly knocks his frostbit knuckles on the closed door of your dorm… for the first time all day he finally feels warm.

Warm turns to hot now as the door swings open, and you’re wearing your pink panda bear pajamas just as he was hoping. Or not hoping, to be more precise—he always loves to see you looking so damn cute, till he reminds himself it’s rude, and has to turn away his eyes.

The pink of your pajamas pales against the rosy petals of his lips. He’s just a friend but times like this you wish that he would fucking grab you by the hips… slam you against the wall and claim your ass as his, with a big fat passionate kiss…

Of course that isn’t what he does. At least not yet. He’s still the same virtuous golden boy he always was, even more bashful and respectful now than back when you first met.

“Hey!” he greets you with a goofy smile as he holds the coffee up, big hand wrapped tight around the small white cup. “I, uh—I know you said that you’d be working on that huge project all day, most likely staying up all night. Figured some coffee couldn’t hurt, right?”

Beam at him sunshiney bright. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you!” I seriously love you.

“It’s… it’s more like iced, I guess,” he tells you with a grimace. “Got held up but tried my best.”

“I love iced coffee,” you reply honestly. “Thanks so much Raleigh, this—this is really sweet.”

You take the cup he came to offer you and all you feel is heat.

***************

“I like your dorm.”

He instantly regrets that you invited him inside ‘cause now he’s sitting here beside you on your bed and starts to squirm. He’s saying stupid shit and finds his mouth is spouting off impulsively before the thoughts can form. “It’s… really warm.”

You don’t want him to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but seeing him all shy and awkward is so cute you can’t be blamed. Your tone is playful and indulgent and you hope he knows that you don’t mean to mock him. You just really want to fuck him. “Leigh, you do know that our rooms are all the same?”

The only person in the world who gets to call him by a girl’s name.

Rolls his eyes, hoping you don’t notice the bulge between his thighs. “Obviously. But the, uh—pictures you’ve put up are really lovely.”

Gestures at the walls. You’ve been meaning to decorate a bit more but you’ve not gotten around to it at all. There are, like, two photos hung up but otherwise you can’t deny your room is ugly. Even more so when in contrast to the sheer beauty of godly golden Raleigh.

Though he knows your bed is just the same as everybody else’s, he can’t help but feel it’s extra fucking comfy. He feels home here on your mattress. Warm and fluffy. “How’s the coffee?”

“It’s… it’s iced,” you answer with a tender smile as you take another sip, lick the cool liquid off your lip. Shift closer toward him on the bed. “But like I said—I really like it iced. It’s nice.”

“I like your eyes.”

Dude, what the fuck. He wants to hide under a rock. There’s not a rock in sight though so the poor guy’s out of luck. He wants to run but he’s forgotten how to even fucking walk. You touch his forearm through his coat and it’s as if you touched his motherfucking cock.

“I like yours too. They’re really blue,” you coo, sweeping a tuft of snow-kissed gold off to the side so you can see his blushing face in fuller view. “Leigh, you do know I’m really into you?”

He swallows hard and doesn’t think he’ll make it through, if you continue. He’ll combust to fucking pieces if it’s true. “…Into?”

You nod and set the nearly empty cup of coffee on the nightstand, freeing both your hands. “I’m really not that subtle with my hints to you.”

“What hints?” This blonde buffoon is seriously sitting here without a fucking clue.

Even that one time when you literally asked Raleigh if he wanted to take you on a date he thought you meant as friends or something and he still wasn’t convinced.

Leigh sees you as some kind of Disney princess way beyond his league—your bravery and brains and beauty make him weak—he doesn’t have a clue that he’s your fucking prince.

So you decide your hints are gonna have to get a little bold. “You know the coffee that you brought may have been cold… but you’re still super fucking hot.” You watch his eyes widen to take in what you’ve told. Whether he finds himself believing it or not. “Believe me, Leigh—I like you, like, a lot. I think about you every fucking night and get off on the thought.”

Oh my God what the fucking what. Now any chance he had at answering coherently is shot. He fumbles frantically for words and gives you what little he’s got. “I do… I do that when I think about you too?”

He says it like a question as if there was any doubt that you already knew.

“I know you do,” you purr. Lean in to finally kiss him hungrily and hotly—then shift suddenly—down to your knees before him on the floor. You love his kisses but you’d love to kiss him elsewhere even more. “You know I never thanked you properly, for that lovely iced coffee that you got me… thankfully that is exactly what this slutty little mouth of mine is for.”

..................................................

Emoji Fic Masterlist

Emoji Fic Tag List – below; if you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

@happyhunnams @band--psycho @est11 @edonaspanca @starbooty @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @coffeebooksandfandom @thesuicidalflower @flaireandsynch @helloheyhihowdyheya @gemini0410 @waywardodysseys @zozebo @bettergetusetoit @emilykjh @little-diable @rocketqueen @mrspeacem1nusone @miss-smutty @rayslittlekitten @abby-splace @chubbychubbs28 @miraclesoflove @tegggeeee @hunnambabe @missusnora @kesskirata @vixenrebellion @thexhostess @pomegranatearildreams @kandii395 @severewobblerlightdragon @itspdameronthings @niki-xie @cind-in-real-life @saweetspoiled @poge-life @few-proud-emotonal @samanthaisnthome @melodranas @soaharleys @charlie-hunnams-old-lady @simpmasterjr @nataliewalker93 @lovebarefootblonde @marvelousmermaid @tsukuyomi011 @sciapod @midnight-dreams-23

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

[penisman420-69]

A gentle glow from the computer screen washes over the dark desk, colors flickering in rapid motion. The monitor whirs in self defense of the growing heat. The ceiling fan lays mockingly silent in the stifling air. Reclined in his seat, Dream's head is tilted back to watch the wooden slats for the slightest tremor.

Betrayal.

Beads of sweat collect near his hairline. He tugs absently on the sticky plastic of his headphones, where they rest around his neck. The small light on the exterior blinks green.

"Dream?" He hears George say faintly.

"Wait, did he leave?" Sapnap asks.

"It says he's on the call, still." George's voice slowly grows closer. Dream begins to detach his eyes from the fan. "Dream?"

The concern in his voice makes Dream sit up. He pushes his headphones back on and wipes his face. "Yes, yes, hello, sorry. I zoned out for a sec." He blinks to register what's on his screen, seeing green grass blocks and Sapnap's avatar crouching in front of him. "Shoot, did you end the stream?" He quickly tabs out just in time to see George laugh.

"No, but I'm about to. Couldn't end it without you saying bye," George says. The small considerate act is enough to bloom a warmth in Dream's chest.

He smiles. "Oh, alright. Bye stream!"

"Bye!" Sapnap yells.

George waves to the camera. "Bye you guys, thank you so much. Also, pray for Dream's air conditioning."

"And my broken fan," Dream adds.

"Bye bye," George repeats, then disappears from Dream's view. This stream has ended. A familiar feeling creeps into Dream's chest whenever that message appears post-stream; disappointment clouded with confusion. Today, it is accompanied by trickles of regret.

He frowns. "Sorry I spent so much of your stream complaining about the weather," he says, clicking back to the server. Sapnap has placed an oak sign before him that reads: wee waa dream can't take the heat. He rolls his eyes and breaks it.

"It's fine, really. I just feel bad for you," George says. His avatar bounds over and starts placing doors on the ground. "Any idea when it'll be fixed?"

"Soon, I hope," Dream answers with a huff, opening and closing the doors to appease George. "I don't think I can take much more of this." They'd been playing for the past three hours, meaning Dream had been accumulating enough sweat in his boxers to stick to his chair for much longer than any man should. Physical comfort was a key component for him to stay mellow, and not much could distract him from itchy tags and blistering heat. Not much, that is, besides gaming. "Seeing you was nice, though, something about your cheerful face distracts me from my agony," he confesses, words leaving his mouth before he can attempt to filter. He cringes. What was that?

"Oh my god, shut up," George says. He sounds embarrassed.

Sapnap coos. "Maybe I should stream with my camera on too."

Dream laughs, running away from the two of them to ease his sudden spike in nervousness. "That would keep my attention."

"Oh yeah, are my streams not interesting enough for you Dream?" George says, flying after him.

"What?" Dream says, feeling a pang of guilt. "What makes you think that? I love your streams."

George continues to act offended. "If you loved them you wouldn't zone out randomly."

"I didn't mean to," Dream whines, which only makes the other two laugh. "I just got distracted by my misery, and tried to airbend a breeze in here."

"Yeah right," Sapnap says, "you couldn't have been doing just that for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Dream repeats, bewildered. He didn't feel it had been that long; he was exploring the map and then clicked onto George's stream to see where he was, and of course George was smiling and yelling, but somehow so full of energy and spirit, and the hot air started to seep into Dream's soul—

"You were AFK for a while," George says, "we were still talking to you though and thought you'd muted yourself or something. Chat thought it was embarrassing."

"Oh," Dream says.

"Hold on, did you mean to mute yourself?" Sapnap asks, laughing as his own words leave his mouth. "Lil too excited watching George?"

Both Dream and George explode in disgusted yells. Good lord, Sapnap.

"Sapnap!" George sends a series of hits raining down onto his avatar. "You are so inappropriate off-stream."

"You're gross," Dream says with a laugh, but it's feeble and half-hearted. His pulse is rapidly drumming inside his skull. He is not lost to the strange dilemma of why he faded from their call for so long to stare at his George-less ceiling. Why did George have anything to do with it? Envy, perhaps, of his friend's ability to be wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. He brushes it off. "It's true, though. George's face does get me excited."

George groans, making Sapnap and Dream laugh. "Now you're just trying to make me uncomfortable."

"Flustered, you mean," Dream inputs quickly.

"Okay, no, I'm sick of you two," George says, immediately exiting their server. "Consider this a rage quit."

GeorgeNotFound has left the game. Dream sends a :( into the chat.

"Noo, Georgie," Sapnap pleads.

"You did a great job today," Dream says, wholeheartedly. "I'm going to re-watch what I missed of it later." George laughs.

"I seriously have to go. I'll talk to you soon," he says, a small sound emitting from Discord signifying he's left the call.

The feeling returns to Dream's chest—it's akin to the cold rush that follows when he removes his hands from a steaming coffee mug. Some nights after their friends have logged off for good, he'll do anything to avoid giving in and going to bed. Twitter, mini-games, coding, creating playlists. His favorite nights, though, are when George wakes up early enough to keep him company. Their conversations radiate with the warmth of both the Florida night and the English sunrise.

So whenever George jokingly becomes angry with him, Dream can't dispel the tiny tremor of worry that maybe he's gone too far. He doesn't like to mull over the thought of them really fighting; it would terrify him like nothing else. He knows George will call again tomorrow, and that he isn't nearly as upset as he lets on. Yet he still finds himself carefully watching the dot next to George's name switch from green to a pale grey.

"I think I'm gonna hop off too," Dream says to Sapnap.

"Alright, seeya."

After disconnecting, he swivels around in his chair to face his bed. The dark comforter has been kicked to the floor, sheets askew. The window above his bed is shut tight to keep out the humid air and insects, but he can see the soft orange streetlights in the distance.

He sighs and wishes for rain.

He remembers running barefoot on his neighborhood streets as a child when storms would roll in from the sea, splashing in gravelly puddles and letting the cool raindrops dampen his hair. That space was always euphoric—a brief temperance from the smoldering air, green palm trees swaying in the wind, the hint of thunder and lightning—but it feels so far from him now. Especially in this dreadful weather.

He turns off his computer and begrudgingly gets in bed. He's nearly grown accustomed to the dark when his phone vibrates, the notification lighting up the room. He squints.

A text from George.

I feel like this song is a good way for me to get back at you, it reads. Dream clicks on the link, opening his Spotify to a new 'Glass Animals' song.

"Heat Waves," he responds, smiling. Very funny.

He'll listen to that in the morning. As he sets his phone back on the nightstand, Dream finds himself warmed by the gesture, even though it was an insult on his behalf. George is a thoughtful guy. Nothing wrong with appreciating that. Not that Dream finds it unnerving that interacting with George has a direct correlation with his general contentment and moods; in fact, it isn't worth the overthinking.

Settled by his own logic, he allows his body to focus on sleep. He slips in and out of shadows, occasionally tossing and turning in irritation at the cotton sheets. The fabric clings to his dampened skin up to the moment he sluggishly kicks it away. Something clatters to the floor, but Dream rolls onto his side.

Eventually, the night cools enough for him to sink deeper, and deeper, until he turns his head from his soft, warm pillow to a cold pile of sand.

Confused, he grasps at the foundation beneath him only for the rocky grains to slip through his fingers.

He sits up rapidly, glancing at the beach now surrounding him. Although the image is narrow, he can tell there is a murky-purple lagoon lapping a few feet before him. The moon ripples across its ominous surface. The night is quiet; a taunting breeze brushing the back of his neck and bringing chills down his spine.

He looks down at his hands, seeing his bright sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. Bright green.

A sinking feeling begins to rot in his stomach as the familiarity sets in. He's been here before. He shifts his head cautiously, realizing where the shadows at the edge of his vision are coming from, and raises a hand to gently graze the ceramic covering his face. He doesn't need a mirror to know what the mask looks like.

He pulls up his hood, tensing as he anticipates the next subject he'll recognize. At any moment, behind his right shoulder, a voice will call from the edge of the trees that'll say—

"Dream?"

He freezes. That's—that's not right, it isn't supposed to be—

"George?" He asks quietly, turning around with caution. George stands a few feet behind him, goggles perched atop his head and an axe in his hand. He's looking around their location, dazed. The starry sky reflects itself on his lenses.

He walks across the sand towards Dream slowly. "Where...are we?"

"Um." Dream considers curling in on himself, but can't help fighting the comfort of honesty. "My head, I guess." He knows from experience that this place values integrity more than anything. Facing it head on, so to speak. He just doesn't know why he'd let George in here—it isn't safe.

"It's pretty," George says, sitting on the sand next to him.

Dream's heart aches faintly at his remark. Once, he'd thought it was pretty, too. He can't find the words to tell George that after so many years of frantically slipping on the sand, coughing up lung-fulls of the dark water, and running from the woods—it has become a thing of nightmares.

He stares at George. Can he feel the memories here?

"So this is..." George gestures around with his axe vaguely. "Florida?"

Dream cracks a smile. "Yeah, you finally made it," he teases softly. George's grin is bright enough to make him look away. "It's a lagoon I used to come to as a kid."

"You make it sound like that was lifetimes ago."

Something foreign and lost weighs on the tension in Dream's features, forgotten behind the ceramic. "Maybe," he says, "I've had multiple lives here."

George says nothing. He lifts a moon-soaked hand to point at the water. "Do you see those?"

Dream turns his head, and small glowing blobs appear near the shore. Their light blue color is stark against the darkness as they float idly.

"They're moon jellies," Dream says in disbelief. He's never seen them here before. The curling darkness steals all hint of life besides him, his beating heart, and occasional whispers in the wind.

George hums in approval. Dream looks at him again, grateful for the mask covering his own features. Pale moonlight makes George's skin glow a soft porcelain, pink lips pressed together in a delicate brush stroke.

The word bubbles up from deep in Dream's chest, winding into his bloodstream and landing gracefully in his head.

Beautiful.

He wants to back away from it, to shove it deep down. But for once, it feels safe here, safe to admit it to himself without needing an air of humor to skate by on. Here, it isn't a joke.

"Why are we here?" George asks in a murmur, gaze lifting to face Dream. The word here hangs with a heavy lilt, as if he'd meant to say, what brought me? Who pulled me?

Was it you?

In his large brown eyes Dream can see the faded reflection of his sloppy black and white smile.

"I know why I'm here," Dream says carefully, "but I don't know why you are." A brief rustling of leaves and twigs behind them causes him to tense again. "It's dangerous here, George. We should go."

"Why? Don't you want to stay in this memory?"

Dream ignores the comment, and lightly wraps an arm around his shoulders to help him up. George doesn't try to stand. He keeps them rooted to the white shore with a confused frown.

"Nothing is going to hurt us when I'm here," he says.

Dream feels his face grow hot. "Knock it off. This is serious."

George looks at him earnestly. "I'm being serious."

Now that his arm is draped protectively over George's small frame, Dream becomes extremely aware of how close they are. He can sense George's body heat, watch his chest rise and fall, see the goosebumps on his neck. Dream's heart begins to pound. For how long has he wanted to meet him? To hear his voice in person? The fear inside him slowly begins to ebb away into fondness.

The moon jellies rapidly multiply until the lagoon is dappled blue, and gleaming.

George grins. "I told you it's pretty."

"Because of you," Dream says warmly. Even though George rolls his eyes, he means it. They laugh lightly at each other, glowing water and gentle sparks blooming as the moment passes.

George's gaze lingers on Dream for a few heartbeats, before letting go of his axe. He raises his hand to reach for the ceramic mask.

Dream freezes as his eyes follow the motion. His hood falls when George runs his fingers gently through his wavy hair—he can't remember the last time he let someone do this. It feels intimate. It feels terrifying. His eyes shut when George finds the metal clasp on the back of his head, he exhales when he feels the weight of the mask drop from his face.

The breeze is cold on his cheeks. He can smell the nearby saltwater. He opens his eyes, and sees twice as many stars as usual.

"How did you do that? I've never..." He looks at George, who is smiling softly.

"I know honesty is important to you," George says. His hand moves to gently touch Dream's cheekbone.

Dream reaches and delicately takes George's hand in his, slender knuckles and fingers sliding together with timid grace. He feels alive. He leans closer, studying George's eyes until he slips down, further, to his soft lips. His breath is trembling.

"And what if I kissed you right now?" He murmurs, heart racing. "How honest would that be?"

George's eyes grow wide. "I—well, Dream—you—" he stammers, giving Dream exactly what he needs to let go.

Their movements happen nearly all at once—the inclining of George's jaw, the slide of Dream's hand into his hair, the connection of their lips. The kiss is raw with emotion, and gentle. Hot embers rise from Dream's chest to heat his face. The soft presence of George's mouth against his own is surreal, as their senses collectively slip away into the dreamland. His hand rises to softly cup George's jaw. He pulls his face closer, breath hot, heart stuttering. Nervous energy quickly ebbs into a strong hearth of longing, as he kisses George again, and again, and again. George emits a soft noise that makes Dream melt. He can feel George's hands in his hair, then on his neck, then on his chest.

Dream pulls away to capture brief puffs of air. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as he looks at George's flushed cheeks and mouth kissed red. Because of him. A low feeling stirs in the space just below his ribcage, the first flickering of a dangerously hot flame. All of it, all of George, just for him.

Dream parts his lips to say something, anything—and promptly wakes up.

I have heatwaves saved on my computer it doesn't phase me anymore I've read this several times you can't hurt me with this

[rikuphobic]

A gentle glow from the computer screen washes over the dark desk, colors flickering in rapid motion. The monitor whirs in self defense of the growing heat. The ceiling fan lays mockingly silent in the stifling air. Reclined in his seat, Dream's head is tilted back to watch the wooden slats for the slightest tremor.

Betrayal.

Beads of sweat collect near his hairline. He tugs absently on the sticky plastic of his headphones, where they rest around his neck. The small light on the exterior blinks green.

"Dream?" He hears George say faintly.

"Wait, did he leave?" Sapnap asks.

"It says he's on the call, still." George's voice slowly grows closer. Dream begins to detach his eyes from the fan. "Dream?"

The concern in his voice makes Dream sit up. He pushes his headphones back on and wipes his face. "Yes, yes, hello, sorry. I zoned out for a sec." He blinks to register what's on his screen, seeing green grass blocks and Sapnap's avatar crouching in front of him. "Shoot, did you end the stream?" He quickly tabs out just in time to see George laugh.

"No, but I'm about to. Couldn't end it without you saying bye," George says. The small considerate act is enough to bloom a warmth in Dream's chest.

He smiles. "Oh, alright. Bye stream!"

"Bye!" Sapnap yells.

George waves to the camera. "Bye you guys, thank you so much. Also, pray for Dream's air conditioning."

"And my broken fan," Dream adds.

"Bye bye," George repeats, then disappears from Dream's view. This stream has ended. A familiar feeling creeps into Dream's chest whenever that message appears post-stream; disappointment clouded with confusion. Today, it is accompanied by trickles of regret.

He frowns. "Sorry I spent so much of your stream complaining about the weather," he says, clicking back to the server. Sapnap has placed an oak sign before him that reads: wee waa dream can't take the heat. He rolls his eyes and breaks it.

"It's fine, really. I just feel bad for you," George says. His avatar bounds over and starts placing doors on the ground. "Any idea when it'll be fixed?"

"Soon, I hope," Dream answers with a huff, opening and closing the doors to appease George. "I don't think I can take much more of this." They'd been playing for the past three hours, meaning Dream had been accumulating enough sweat in his boxers to stick to his chair for much longer than any man should. Physical comfort was a key component for him to stay mellow, and not much could distract him from itchy tags and blistering heat. Not much, that is, besides gaming. "Seeing you was nice, though, something about your cheerful face distracts me from my agony," he confesses, words leaving his mouth before he can attempt to filter. He cringes. What was that?

"Oh my god, shut up," George says. He sounds embarrassed.

Sapnap coos. "Maybe I should stream with my camera on too."

Dream laughs, running away from the two of them to ease his sudden spike in nervousness. "That would keep my attention."

"Oh yeah, are my streams not interesting enough for you Dream?" George says, flying after him.

"What?" Dream says, feeling a pang of guilt. "What makes you think that? I love your streams."

George continues to act offended. "If you loved them you wouldn't zone out randomly."

"I didn't mean to," Dream whines, which only makes the other two laugh. "I just got distracted by my misery, and tried to airbend a breeze in here."

"Yeah right," Sapnap says, "you couldn't have been doing just that for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Dream repeats, bewildered. He didn't feel it had been that long; he was exploring the map and then clicked onto George's stream to see where he was, and of course George was smiling and yelling, but somehow so full of energy and spirit, and the hot air started to seep into Dream's soul—

"You were AFK for a while," George says, "we were still talking to you though and thought you'd muted yourself or something. Chat thought it was embarrassing."

"Oh," Dream says.

"Hold on, did you mean to mute yourself?" Sapnap asks, laughing as his own words leave his mouth. "Lil too excited watching George?"

Both Dream and George explode in disgusted yells. Good lord, Sapnap.

"Sapnap!" George sends a series of hits raining down onto his avatar. "You are so inappropriate off-stream."

"You're gross," Dream says with a laugh, but it's feeble and half-hearted. His pulse is rapidly drumming inside his skull. He is not lost to the strange dilemma of why he faded from their call for so long to stare at his George-less ceiling. Why did George have anything to do with it? Envy, perhaps, of his friend's ability to be wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. He brushes it off. "It's true, though. George's face does get me excited."

George groans, making Sapnap and Dream laugh. "Now you're just trying to make me uncomfortable."

"Flustered, you mean," Dream inputs quickly.

"Okay, no, I'm sick of you two," George says, immediately exiting their server. "Consider this a rage quit."

GeorgeNotFound has left the game. Dream sends a :( into the chat.

"Noo, Georgie," Sapnap pleads.

"You did a great job today," Dream says, wholeheartedly. "I'm going to re-watch what I missed of it later." George laughs.

"I seriously have to go. I'll talk to you soon," he says, a small sound emitting from Discord signifying he's left the call.

The feeling returns to Dream's chest—it's akin to the cold rush that follows when he removes his hands from a steaming coffee mug. Some nights after their friends have logged off for good, he'll do anything to avoid giving in and going to bed. Twitter, mini-games, coding, creating playlists. His favorite nights, though, are when George wakes up early enough to keep him company. Their conversations radiate with the warmth of both the Florida night and the English sunrise.

So whenever George jokingly becomes angry with him, Dream can't dispel the tiny tremor of worry that maybe he's gone too far. He doesn't like to mull over the thought of them really fighting; it would terrify him like nothing else. He knows George will call again tomorrow, and that he isn't nearly as upset as he lets on. Yet he still finds himself carefully watching the dot next to George's name switch from green to a pale grey.

"I think I'm gonna hop off too," Dream says to Sapnap.

"Alright, seeya."

After disconnecting, he swivels around in his chair to face his bed. The dark comforter has been kicked to the floor, sheets askew. The window above his bed is shut tight to keep out the humid air and insects, but he can see the soft orange streetlights in the distance.

He sighs and wishes for rain.

He remembers running barefoot on his neighborhood streets as a child when storms would roll in from the sea, splashing in gravelly puddles and letting the cool raindrops dampen his hair. That space was always euphoric—a brief temperance from the smoldering air, green palm trees swaying in the wind, the hint of thunder and lightning—but it feels so far from him now. Especially in this dreadful weather.

He turns off his computer and begrudgingly gets in bed. He's nearly grown accustomed to the dark when his phone vibrates, the notification lighting up the room. He squints.

A text from George.

I feel like this song is a good way for me to get back at you, it reads. Dream clicks on the link, opening his Spotify to a new 'Glass Animals' song.

"Heat Waves," he responds, smiling. Very funny.

He'll listen to that in the morning. As he sets his phone back on the nightstand, Dream finds himself warmed by the gesture, even though it was an insult on his behalf. George is a thoughtful guy. Nothing wrong with appreciating that. Not that Dream finds it unnerving that interacting with George has a direct correlation with his general contentment and moods; in fact, it isn't worth the overthinking.

Settled by his own logic, he allows his body to focus on sleep. He slips in and out of shadows, occasionally tossing and turning in irritation at the cotton sheets. The fabric clings to his dampened skin up to the moment he sluggishly kicks it away. Something clatters to the floor, but Dream rolls onto his side.

Eventually, the night cools enough for him to sink deeper, and deeper, until he turns his head from his soft, warm pillow to a cold pile of sand.

Confused, he grasps at the foundation beneath him only for the rocky grains to slip through his fingers.

He sits up rapidly, glancing at the beach now surrounding him. Although the image is narrow, he can tell there is a murky-purple lagoon lapping a few feet before him. The moon ripples across its ominous surface. The night is quiet; a taunting breeze brushing the back of his neck and bringing chills down his spine.

He looks down at his hands, seeing his bright sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. Bright green.

A sinking feeling begins to rot in his stomach as the familiarity sets in. He's been here before. He shifts his head cautiously, realizing where the shadows at the edge of his vision are coming from, and raises a hand to gently graze the ceramic covering his face. He doesn't need a mirror to know what the mask looks like.

He pulls up his hood, tensing as he anticipates the next subject he'll recognize. At any moment, behind his right shoulder, a voice will call from the edge of the trees that'll say—

"Dream?"

He freezes. That's—that's not right, it isn't supposed to be—

"George?" He asks quietly, turning around with caution. George stands a few feet behind him, goggles perched atop his head and an axe in his hand. He's looking around their location, dazed. The starry sky reflects itself on his lenses.

He walks across the sand towards Dream slowly. "Where...are we?"

"Um." Dream considers curling in on himself, but can't help fighting the comfort of honesty. "My head, I guess." He knows from experience that this place values integrity more than anything. Facing it head on, so to speak. He just doesn't know why he'd let George in here—it isn't safe.

"It's pretty," George says, sitting on the sand next to him.

Dream's heart aches faintly at his remark. Once, he'd thought it was pretty, too. He can't find the words to tell George that after so many years of frantically slipping on the sand, coughing up lung-fulls of the dark water, and running from the woods—it has become a thing of nightmares.

He stares at George. Can he feel the memories here?

"So this is..." George gestures around with his axe vaguely. "Florida?"

Dream cracks a smile. "Yeah, you finally made it," he teases softly. George's grin is bright enough to make him look away. "It's a lagoon I used to come to as a kid."

"You make it sound like that was lifetimes ago."

Something foreign and lost weighs on the tension in Dream's features, forgotten behind the ceramic. "Maybe," he says, "I've had multiple lives here."

George says nothing. He lifts a moon-soaked hand to point at the water. "Do you see those?"

Dream turns his head, and small glowing blobs appear near the shore. Their light blue color is stark against the darkness as they float idly.

"They're moon jellies," Dream says in disbelief. He's never seen them here before. The curling darkness steals all hint of life besides him, his beating heart, and occasional whispers in the wind.

George hums in approval. Dream looks at him again, grateful for the mask covering his own features. Pale moonlight makes George's skin glow a soft porcelain, pink lips pressed together in a delicate brush stroke.

The word bubbles up from deep in Dream's chest, winding into his bloodstream and landing gracefully in his head.

Beautiful.

He wants to back away from it, to shove it deep down. But for once, it feels safe here, safe to admit it to himself without needing an air of humor to skate by on. Here, it isn't a joke.

"Why are we here?" George asks in a murmur, gaze lifting to face Dream. The word here hangs with a heavy lilt, as if he'd meant to say, what brought me? Who pulled me?

Was it you?

In his large brown eyes Dream can see the faded reflection of his sloppy black and white smile.

"I know why I'm here," Dream says carefully, "but I don't know why you are." A brief rustling of leaves and twigs behind them causes him to tense again. "It's dangerous here, George. We should go."

"Why? Don't you want to stay in this memory?"

Dream ignores the comment, and lightly wraps an arm around his shoulders to help him up. George doesn't try to stand. He keeps them rooted to the white shore with a confused frown.

"Nothing is going to hurt us when I'm here," he says.

Dream feels his face grow hot. "Knock it off. This is serious."

George looks at him earnestly. "I'm being serious."

Now that his arm is draped protectively over George's small frame, Dream becomes extremely aware of how close they are. He can sense George's body heat, watch his chest rise and fall, see the goosebumps on his neck. Dream's heart begins to pound. For how long has he wanted to meet him? To hear his voice in person? The fear inside him slowly begins to ebb away into fondness.

The moon jellies rapidly multiply until the lagoon is dappled blue, and gleaming.

George grins. "I told you it's pretty."

"Because of you," Dream says warmly. Even though George rolls his eyes, he means it. They laugh lightly at each other, glowing water and gentle sparks blooming as the moment passes.

George's gaze lingers on Dream for a few heartbeats, before letting go of his axe. He raises his hand to reach for the ceramic mask.

Dream freezes as his eyes follow the motion. His hood falls when George runs his fingers gently through his wavy hair—he can't remember the last time he let someone do this. It feels intimate. It feels terrifying. His eyes shut when George finds the metal clasp on the back of his head, he exhales when he feels the weight of the mask drop from his face.

The breeze is cold on his cheeks. He can smell the nearby saltwater. He opens his eyes, and sees twice as many stars as usual.

"How did you do that? I've never..." He looks at George, who is smiling softly.

"I know honesty is important to you," George says. His hand moves to gently touch Dream's cheekbone.

Dream reaches and delicately takes George's hand in his, slender knuckles and fingers sliding together with timid grace. He feels alive. He leans closer, studying George's eyes until he slips down, further, to his soft lips. His breath is trembling.

"And what if I kissed you right now?" He murmurs, heart racing. "How honest would that be?"

George's eyes grow wide. "I—well, Dream—you—" he stammers, giving Dream exactly what he needs to let go.

Their movements happen nearly all at once—the inclining of George's jaw, the slide of Dream's hand into his hair, the connection of their lips. The kiss is raw with emotion, and gentle. Hot embers rise from Dream's chest to heat his face. The soft presence of George's mouth against his own is surreal, as their senses collectively slip away into the dreamland. His hand rises to softly cup George's jaw. He pulls his face closer, breath hot, heart stuttering. Nervous energy quickly ebbs into a strong hearth of longing, as he kisses George again, and again, and again. George emits a soft noise that makes Dream melt. He can feel George's hands in his hair, then on his neck, then on his chest.

Dream pulls away to capture brief puffs of air. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as he looks at George's flushed cheeks and mouth kissed red. Because of him. A low feeling stirs in the space just below his ribcage, the first flickering of a dangerously hot flame. All of it, all of George, just for him.

Dream parts his lips to say something, anything—and promptly wakes up.

oop there’s the entire first chapter of heatwaves

[emmapills]

TIML is here!

Hey, y'all! This is my first longer chaptered fic and I'm so excited! There are quite a bit of notes and disclaimers I'd like y'all to read, but if you want to skip, that's totally okay! Thank you SO MUCH to @gaycrouton​ and @waterbending-warrior​ for the beta! Y'all ROCK!

Link

Notes and Disclaimers

The X-Files | MSR | Modern-ish AU | Scully-centric

tagging @today-in-fic​

Description:

Dana Scully is a young divorced single mom with a past. Fox Mulder is an FBI agent still living in his. By chance, they meet and have a one-night stand. Dana's life changes when she gives birth to her ex-husband's child and the darkness never seems to leave. She gets recruited into the FBI and moves from California to DC with three children in tow, hoping for a fresh start. When she's assigned as the chief pathologist to assist with Mulder's cases, she tries to stay away, having sworn herself off men. But, there's just something about Mulder she can't quite put her finger on.

Disclaimers: I do not own The X-Files, Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, or any other characters associated with the show. They belong to Fox, 1013, and Chris Carter. I only own my OCs.

It was a cool April morning in Palo Alto, California when 23-year-old Dana Scully hurried up the courthouse steps, her heels clicking against the concrete like seconds ticking on a clock. She had five minutes before she had to meet with the prosecutor, and “late” was not in her vocabulary. Briskly walking past the different people, she briefly questioned their presence. Smoothing down her smart and sensible navy-blue blazer, her hand paused as it met her small, but somewhat noticeable, pregnancy bump. Her hand left almost immediately, and she focused on the task at hand. The prosecutor was waiting for her when she arrived, and led her to the witness room and gave her instructions.

“Now, I know you’ve been told this many times before, but just as a reminder: you’re what’s called a ‘character witness’, so you’ll only be called to testify if necessary,” the prosecutor reminded. “I know it’s not what you imagined you’d be doing today, but you may be needed. And both the judge and defense know of your condition, so the defense knows to tread lightly when it comes time for their questions. However, I fear they won’t, so I’ll remind them to go easy on you.”

“It’s alright. You’ve prepared me should I need to go up there and testify. I can do this. I just hope that you’re able to put him away.”

The woman put her hand gently on Dana’s arm. “I promise I’ll do all I can.” She looked at her watch and told Dana she needed to go.

“There’s water available and outlets if you need to charge your phone. I’m sorry I can’t do much else.”

The prosecutor walked off and Dana took in her surroundings. There was a table with an older-looking coffee machine and a pack of water bottles. While the room was small, there was room to fit another table with a chair and a loveseat in the corner. She lowered herself onto the loveseat and shifted so she was on her back, feet dangling off one of the armrests.  

It had been a couple of hours she had waited but it felt like three times as long. She mostly texted either her mother, father, or sister, letting them know how she was and just needing someone to talk to. If she wasn’t glued to her phone, she paced. And paced. At some point she looked out the window unto the pedestrians below and wished she could take any one of their places right now. Today was an emotionally wrecking day, and it helped that she had most of her family nearby.

Around noon, she was called to testify. Dana Scully, Part 25. Her heart sank to her feet. Anxiety and doubt started to intrude her thoughts. She honestly didn’t know if she could do this. How many people can say they had to testify against their ex-husband? Okay, probably many, but this case was unique. These thoughts were enough to busy her mind until she found herself with her right hand on the Bible promising ‘to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth’. She sat down and tried her hardest not to look to where she knew he was staring holes into her.

The prosecutor stood up and started to ask questions.

“Can you state your full name for the record?” The prosecutor sounded professional in tone.

“Dana Katherine Scully,” Dana answered.

“And what is your relationship to the defendant, Ms. Scully?”

“I’m his ex-wife.”

She continued to ask the basic questions. When were you married? When did you separate? Divorce? Do you have any children? How many? What are their names? When were they born? Are you employed? Are you in school? For what? Where? How long have you been attending? The questions seemed to go on and on. Until they got to the question she wished she didn’t have to answer.

“Ms. Scully, do you know why you have been asked to appear in court today?”

“Um, my ex-husband has been charged with…” God, she couldn’t even say it. Be strong, Dana. “…sexual assault.” She refused to look at him, but she knew he was wearing one of his notorious smirks.

“Has your husband ever assaulted you , Ms. Scully?”

“Objection, your Honor. We are only in court for the case of Hannah Carson, not the alleged assault for Mr. Lake’s ex-wife.” The defense attorney finally spoke, his voice low and with a ‘no-nonsense’ tone to it.

“Withdrawn. Ms. Scully, to what degree do you know Miss Carson?”

Dana’s heart was speeding up and her hands felt clammy. Just breathe, Dana. “I don’t know her.”

“Let the record state that Ms. Scully does not know the victim. Now, I’d like to start asking about your relationship with the defendant over time.”

Oh, God. She knew what was coming. Soon she’d be asked about what it was like being with him, and no doubt they’d eventually get to her...it was still hard to think about it, and she lived it. She was prepared to answer the questions, but she wasn’t prepared for the emotional state she was sure to be in after this. Why couldn’t they just have accepted her written testimony? But no , she just had to do this in front of however many people. She had a death grip on her knees and prayed for the universe to open up and swallow her whole right about now.

“When did you two meet?”

Okay, here goes nothing. “Um, I was fourteen.”

“Can you tell us about the day you met the defendant?”

X

2000

“Danes, are you kidding?! You’re telling me you turned down Jack Willis for the homecoming dance? Are you okay?” Melissa teased, her mouth full of Blizzard.

“I’m just not interested in going with anyone. Besides, I’m only going because if I don’t, you’re just going to drag me.”

Melissa chuckled and ate a fry from her plate. “You know me so well, oh dear sister of mine,” she joked.  “It’s your freshman year, and you got asked to the homecoming dance by a senior. Do you know how many girls wish they were you?”

Dana only shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. I’m just not interested. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to refill my drink.”

She got up and walked over to the drink machine. Opting for water, she quickly refilled her cup and was about to walk back to the booth she and Melissa were seated at before she ran into a tall person, spilling her water all over them.

“Oh my gosh, I am SO sorry!” she exclaimed as she grabbed the nearest napkins and handed some to them, and the rest to clean the floor. The person kneeled and helped her.

“It’s alright.”

She looked up and was face to face with a boy. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint from where.

“I really am sorry again.”

“It’s okay, I promise.” He smiled, and Dana could feel her cheeks flush. He was so handsome. “Hey, you go to Hoover, right? I’ve seen you around school a few times.”

“Yeah, I just started in August.”

“That’s cool. I’m a junior. You going to the game tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m going with my sister.”

“I’m going with a few of my buddies, so I guess I’ll see you there. Or ‘run into,’ I should say,” he joked and winked at her, causing her cheeks to flush again. “I’m just kidding.”

They finished wiping up the spilled water and after he threw away the wet napkins, he held out his hand and she took it.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked, not letting go.

“Dana.”

He shook her hand. “Well, Dana, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Hunter. I’ll see you around.”

He walked out the door and Dana looked at her sister, who sat there open-mouthed, apparently having had watched the whole interaction. Great , she thought. I’ll never hear the end of this.

[satansfavouritesons]

Be patient with me pt. 3

Pairing:Cedric Diggory x Sytherin Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: trigger: toxic parents & swearing

A/N: I hope this was a satisfying ending also request are open now. I'll post the list of people I write about later

part 1 , part 2

Did Cedric Diggory just snap at me? Was this real? I couldn't process what just happened, I mean of all people Cedric was the least to get frustrated with a person.

I was currently lying in my bad and getting this kind of stomachache, like I'm not sure how describe them but sometimes you feel so uneasy or you feel regret that you body decides to make the situation even worst for you. I sat up because I didn't want to risk throwing up in my bed because of this weird feeling inside of me. Honestly I can't tell if I'm angry at him or at my behaviour...well he said that we will have a conversation about that tomorrow so it would be wise for to lie down at least for a bit.

When I woke up I start to realise that I have no idea if I should confront him with our last encounter or wait until he is ready to talk about this. Obviously the stupid person I am, I decided to confront him first because I wasn't willing to wait for his Royal ass to find me... but something made me freeze when I saw him sitting at the Hufflepuff table. I couldn't bring myself to walk there and confront him but why? What was I afraid of? And since when am I this nervous around him.

Fuck it, I'll talk to him later and with that I settled down at the Slytherin table. That didn't mean that I didn't shot glances in his direction. Unfortunately I wasn't as cautious as normal so my friend Arthur caught me in the act. "Didn't think you were the type to daydream about a boy"

"I beg your pardon?!", I replied confused.

"Well I have some advice for you, love . Advice number 1. don't make it to obvious otherwise everyone at Hogwarts will find out that you are one of Diggory's fangirls and advice number 2. you better hurry up I heard he is still a virgi-"

before he could go on I needed to take more drastic measures so that's why I slightly hit him with my book.

"Will you shut up for Salazar's sake, I can't recall since when it's any of your business who I find intriguing ?!"

As much as I wanted to wipe Arthur's shit eating grin out of his face, I had other plans. I stood up and wanted to go to the Hufflepuff table but again hesitated which meant I sat back down again. That shit went on for 4 more times before Cedric looked at me. He kept his stare for what felt like an eternity but suddenly broke eye contact and went back to the conversation he had with his friends. What the actual fuck?! When is the right time to talk about it? I inhaled and tried to calm my nerves. I decided to leave the Great Hall and go to the library... I needed to return that book anyway.

Arriving at the library I headed straight to the History section to choose another book. I need to admit the last one was pretty boring. It had alot of details but it surely did focus on the progress of every event rather than the historical events on their own. I hope the next one will be-

"Y/N"

I knew exactly who called me and with that turned around, faced Cedric and waited for him to say something.

"I have Quidditch practice in 15 minutes so how about we talk about you know 'the situation' before Herbology class because I have a free period then?" Cedric eyes were hopefully searching for my answer.

"Yes sure".

Great now I need to wait another 3 hours ... I guess since I have some spare time now I could go and head back to my dorm room and sleep for awhile. I really could use some extra sleep. But of course my pathetic fate had other plans.

A letter was lying on my nightstand and as much as I can tell it's a non magical one. That only means trouble because I knew exactly from who this letter could be. I knew I had only had some spare time before meeting up with Cedric but I also knew that if I ignore this letter from my parents I will probably forget it completely which means I can bet my sweet ass that I will have a huge problem because I didn't write them back. So I decided to open the envelope...

My eyes teared up when I finished reading the letter.

'DISOWN' ?! How am I supposed to find a place to stay, a job and proceed with school at the same time? Couldn't they wait until I graduated?! And where... where am I supposed to stay when summer holidays start?I have only 3 more months to figure this out.

It didn't shock me in the slightest that my parents disowned me but it did shock me that they did it before graduation. I was so filling with anger that I didn't realise that I was crying. I went to the mirror and wiped my eyes dry before heading straight to my escape place which is near the Forbidden Forest on a rock because I feared my roommates may return from their classes and I couldn't bear that they see me in this state. The reason why this place is my escape place is because I haven't seen 1 person going here and except for my friends nobody knew that I went there. So I sat down on the cold stone and stared at the Forbidden Forrest.

I didn't even realise how much time has past but regardless of my promise to meet up with Cedric I remained where I was and gazed blankly into the void. So many thoughts crossed my mind right now. No matter if it's about how I'll survive during summer holidays since hogwarts sents all students home or if it's simply about since when my parents stopped caring about me.

I couldn't tell to be honest it seemed like their hatred was always present or at least that's the only memory I have of them. Nevertheless I couldn't possible have a conversation with Cedric in my state of mind. I probably couldn't concentrate on what he says and just ignore him while thinking about my current situation. I'm going to explain myself afterwards right now I need to clear my mind.

But honestly it still shocked me that people don't realise that a child won't fix a doomed relationship. I mean why did my parents decide to keep me anyway if the result would be traumatising and abandoning me. Some people just shouldn't have the right to become parents in the first place.

I wiped my eyes dry and tried to think rationally about my next steps. Maybe if I talked with Slughorn about my situation he would understand and have a word with Dumbledore if it would be possible for me to stay at hogwarts during summer. Slughorn seemed to be a trustworthy teacher so I think I could talk to him ... well so is McGonagall but I don't really have anything to do with her. She just seemed like a compassion, caring teacher but-

"Y/N?"

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck .

"I thought we meet up before Herbology? I've searched you everywhere and only when your friends told me the places I could possibly find you, I did" Cedric said frustrated.

"I'm sorry Cedric, I didn't feel in the condition to talk. I would have apologised afterwards " I replied but still keeping my eyes on the forrest not daring to look at him.

"Have you- you cried, didn't you? Your eyes are puffy and red... Y/N... if something is bothering you, you should have come to me immediately" Cedric said with a soft voice and placed his hand on my shoulder. My body shivered when he touched my shoulder.

"Sorry I- I didn't want to scare y-"

"It's okay Cedric, you didn't and I know I can rely on you but I-... I don't know...". I could see him frowning and biting his lip from the corner of my eyes.

"Do you want a hug?" Cedric asked hesitantly.

This really caught me of guard and I just looked down on the ground before nodding my head. He started of with an awkward side hug, not knowing if pulling me into a firm hug would be to much but I did exactly that. I swung my arms around his torso and buried my face in his neck and stated to unintentionally sob.

After awhile I calmed down and slowly pulled back because I thought if I kept hugging him I couldn't stop anymore. He was so soft and smelled like honey and chopped wood. It was really hypnotising but also calming.

"Remember when you told me that Slytherins tend to say 'I care about you' instead of 'I love you'? You know I'm not a Slytherin but- Merlin.... Look what I'm trying to say is that I care about you a lot and it hurts me knowing that you are holding on to many unsaid things which is eating you up inside everyday. And I was so stubborn to see that so that's why I got so frustrated with you. I thought you avoided me on purpose or something. I need to give credit to your friends for that because I didn't realise that by myself", Cedric confessed while whipping away my tears from my cheek.

I looked into his eyes and honestly I didn't know what took over me but I pecked Cedric lips for 2 milliseconds and pulled back with wide eyes. Slowly regret started to built up and I felt completely embarrassed. It took Cedric quite awhile to proceed what just happened but he quickly pulled me in another, longer and more passionate kiss.

When we pulled back he pulled me into his embrace and mumbled into my hair

" Please whenever you feel the need to talk to somebody about ANYTHING at all just tell me. I will always be here for you."

This time he hugged me like a fragile glass figure that could break if you hugged it to tight. But I simply hugged him like I never wanted to let him go which results him to tighten his hug.

"I do have something important to tell you but this can wait because I want to enjoy this moment", I replied.

"Whenever you are ready, darling. I'll be patient".

Tags:

@yourmagestyqueen @3rd-beatle @l0ttadreamz @black-dhalias

[robinsnest2111]

indirectly tagged by @lampmeeting

it's not part of the original thing but I'm gonna add a silly little self portrait as well~

Questions to get to know you a little better:

1. What do you prefer to be called name wise? Robin or any kind of nickname related to that you can come up with lol Some of my favourites are Rob and Robble

2. When is your birthday? November 21st

3. Where do you live? A little town in Niedersachsen (Lower Saxony), Germany. Known for being the summer residence of a royal bloodline some 200 years ago. Yes there's a castle :P

4. Three things I am doing right now? Trying to forget the nightmare I just woke up from, thinking about getting a few more clementines from the kitchen and fininishing a little sketch I started yesterday

5. Four fandoms that have piqued my interest: Metalocalypse (ofc), Hogan's Heroes, Ghost BC, What We Do In The Shadows. Those are the main 4 at the moment but there's always a chance for other fandoms to take over for a bit.

6. How has the pandemic been treating you? ....yeah. Not so great. My grandma died suddenly at the start of the pandemic, I had to leave my internship I was super happy at early because of lockdown, finished my last semester at college with horrible online classes, had to move back in with my parents, cut contact with someone I've known almost all my life, barely passed my finals, still on the hunt for a job (started applying to places in September) and am close to losing it any day now lol Also pandemic means no flea markets which was one of the few things keeping my brain happy and occupied while giving me a chance to ride my bike around the region for hours :^(((((

7. Song(s) I can’t stop listening to: Sadly no particular song coming to mind right now, but I've had Ghost's entire discography and Dethalbum I, II, and III on rotation for months now lol. This Toss A Coin To Your Witcher Remix has also been stuck in my head for a while and is always worth a listen (Also have some silly techno/hardstyle remixes stuck in my brain permanently because I listened to them as background noise while trying to make my final college projects somewhat decent. Terence Hill & Bud Spencer - Lalalalalala, Da Tweekaz - Jägermeister, Star Wars Hardstyle, DJ Ötzi - Anton aus Tirol, Das Leben des Brian - Schwanzus Longus)

8. Recommend a movie: The Road to El Dorado by Dreamworks, a children's movie, I know... Each song is an absolute banger tho (even the German versions!), the jokes are silly but fun, the queer/gay hints add that little spice that I subconsciously picked up on and felt comforted by as a kid and the design of the everything is just (chef's kiss) Also the chemistry between the 4 main characters is gud as heck. It's the childhood movie I latched on to the most, my mother had to rent the dvd almost every single day until I bought a copy myself lol

9. How old are you? 24 orz I don't feel like it at all...

10. School, university, occupation? Finished college in August, unemployed because no one wants to hire in the creative field during a worldwide plague :^)

11. Do you prefer heat or cold? As long as it's under 35°C I prefer heat. My hands and feet are icicles 95% of the time after losing weight :^(

12. Name one fact others may not know about you? Since I'm an expert oversharer you probably know almost everything about me already orz But uhhh. Lemme see... I learned how to operate a laundry machine at the ripe old age of 20 at my internship at a hair salon lmao My mother never had the nerve to show me how on the modern machine we have at home (along the lines of "you will fuck it up anyways so let me do it >:^(((" which is an overarching theme in her raising me lol), but the older machine with the simpler dials at the salon was a good start to learn and honestly one of the things at this internship I'm still super grateful for...

13. Are you shy? Oh hell yeah I am... It's all the years of getting only negative feedback for trying to interact with others lol

14. Preferred pronouns: He/Him mostly, still figuring out if I still like they/them or nah (since in German there are no neutral pronouns that aren't neopronouns I've automatically gotten more attached to he/him lol)

15. Biggest pet peeves: I feel so mean for admitting it but honestly: Any noises my parents make. If I'm having a particularly bad low brain energy day even hearing them breathe makes me wanna run away and scream in anger... (Doesn't irk me with anyone else tho, which is weird...)

16. What is your favorite "dere" type? Oh there's more than 4 types now?? I've always liked Kuudere types the most out of the original 4 types, but I guess Shundere and Utsudere are right up my alley too!!!

The Kuudere (クーデレ), sometimes written Coodere or Kūdere, type refers to a character who is often cold, blunt, and cynical. They may seem very emotionless on the outside, but on the inside they’re very caring — at least when it comes to the ones they love.

The Shundere (しゅんデレ) type refers to characters who are sad and very depressed. While a full smile on their face might be out of the question, their love interest can help them open up and feel accepted.

The Utsudere (うつデレ) type refers to a character who is often sad and depressed. There is a reason for the character’s despair such as being bullied at school. Even if their life improves, they are often wary of other characters’ motives.

17. Rate your life 1-10? Maybe a 4? 4.5 at max

18. What is your main blog? The one I'm posting this on lol

19. List all your side blogs and what they’re for:

yorkiesart - old as hell and inactive artblog

bleedingheartbird - very triggering and depressing vent blog :^(

yorkie2111 - my very first username, a sea and ocean themed aesthetic blog now mostly for when I miss Denmark a whole lot (kinda inactive)

robinsartnest - a second attempt at a separate art blog, inactive as well lol

20. Is there anything people should know before becoming friends with you? I'm a clusterfuck of several undiagnosed mental illnesses and probably other conditions that I'm trying to figure out and deal with on my own until I can get professional help and some diagnoses. At times I'm weird and distant and overall very depressed and unpleasant, I've already hurt so many people this way and am trying to be better every single day. Basically I've never been given the "How to properly Human" manual and am frantically trying to get it right without hurting too many innocent people in the process.

Anyway, if you are nice to me I will love you forever ♡♡♡ :'3c

idk who to tag so if you wanna do this, do it~