#(rocking back and forth trying not to become depressed again) (its not working) (yes it is) (no it isnt) (ye

[zxrtecs]

okay maybe its bc i stayed up all night but i feel like im doomed and ill never be safe so i should never leave the house and i should never ever share any art of any kind again and the world is doomed and im gonna die forever. but im hoping its just me staying up too late

[thalassic-p4rk]

I Have Time || 10th Doctor x reader (oneshot)

A/N: howdy! this is my first fic ever, so its gonna suck ass but that’s probably okay. Originally this was going to be about Rises the Moon by Lianna Flores, but i figured this was more fitting :) pls leave comments if you want more stuff from me, or just things i can improve in general. maybe if ppl like this, i’ll write another one. but for now, allons-y!!

Summary: Ten handles the death of the Master about as well as you’d think, and falls into a depression. One night, the reader comforts him after a nightmare about the past that recent events have brought up.

Warnings: depression, anxiety attack, nightmares, insomnia, accidental s/h

W/C: 1,147

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The Master was dead.

You were sad, yes. But you had only known him as a maniacal tyrant, as the man who killed your people by the millions. And although you had barely survived, trying to get by post-apocalypse, you were the only one to remember. All the dead had been brought back, the planet reborn and memories wiped from everyone’s minds except you and a select few. From your perspective, you considered everything to be even now. You could shatter into a million tiny pieces with ease, but nonetheless you were always quick to pull yourself back together and move on, so that’s exactly what you did.

So it was ironic, but not surprising, that the ever-stable Doctor was having trouble with that.

It broke your heart seeing him like this. Your Doctor, always such a strong, unmovable support, who always had a smile on his face despite the unending grief that seemed to have taken up a permanent residence in his warm gaze, was completely and utterly broken. Sometimes, when he was asleep, you would step out of the Tardis, wherever you were parked, and scream. You screamed, yelling profanities at the sky. You cursed the universe, unable to comprehend why it was putting him through this. Your Doctor, your beautiful, wonderful, kind, lovely Doctor, did not deserve this. He did not deserve any of this. You were angry at everyone and everything, because he didn’t have the strength to be.

It was one such night. He hadn’t left his room in the Tardis all day, and you were angry again. You couldn’t let him see you break down. Not when everyone always depended on him constantly. Not after he had already helped you through so many panic attacks and depressive episodes. He always took care of you and everyone else in this blasted universe, whether they deserved it or not. Now it was your turn to take care of him. If he saw you like this, he would only feel more guilty. You just... felt so helpless. You would give anything to help him. Anything to make him feel better. If you could take the weight off his shoulders and carry it yourself, you would do it in a heartbeat. You let out another sob. You hated feeling useless, hated that he had to go through this, hated that there wasn’t anything else you could do to help him. You take a deep breath, and let it out as a shaky sigh. It was probably around two in the morning, and you should go back inside. Your silk pj’s did nothing to ward off the chill.

As soon as you close the door behind you, you notice something is wrong. You scan the room, immediately alert, but you can’t pinpoint anything in particular. It just feels off somehow. You hum in interest, before deciding that you’re too tired to care. You take slow steps down the corridor to your room, paying rapt attention to any subtle movements or noises. 

Nothing.

You huff and open your door, taking a step through the threshold. You freeze.

Was that a whimper?

You halt all movements and hold your breath. A low whine reaches your ears, coming from across the hall.

Coming from the Doctor’s room.

You turn on your heel and take off sprinting for the door at the end of the hall. You don’t bother knocking, your panic and sleep-addled brain running on pure adrenaline. You open the door and let your eyes adjust to the dark. 

A part of you dies at the sight in front of you. 

His eyes are squeezed shut, nose scrunched up in a way you would usually find adorable, but now it just made him look more pitiful. He’s whimpering and writhing on the bed, tangling himself in the sheets and trapping himself further. You jump into action, running over and sitting on the foot of his bed, before noticing the fresh scratch marks running down his arms. Did he do that to himself? 

Studying him carefully, you notice tear tracks running down his face and his teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip. He goes to tear at his arms again, and you brace yourself, knowing this was going to be a struggle. You grab his wrists in both hands and pull them above his head. He continues his thrashing, and while you hate to make him panic further, you know it’s necessary what you were about to do. You push yourself up on your knees, still pinning his hands above his head, and swing your leg across his waist, straddling his torso. You carefully avoid sitting on top of him fully and cutting off his air flow, instead merely hovering above him, as you scan him for any other injuries. Besides a bloody lip, he seems to be otherwise alright physically. 

He’s still thrashing against you, but now you have the advantage and move both his wrists into one of your hands. You use your newly freed hand to gently touch his cheek, wondering for the second time that night why he had to go through this. You make shushing noises, trying to calm him. When that doesn’t work, you maneuver next to him, and wrap your arms around him as gently as possible, trying to convey a sense of safety. He slows his thrashing somewhat, seeming resigned.

An idea pops into your mind, and you think of a song from Earth that you sang to yourself when you were frightened as a child. You let go of his arms as he calms down a bit and bring your hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it soothingly. You take a breath, lean into his ear, and start quietly singing.

The lake sort of knows me.

You can feel the instant he wakes and becomes aware of his surroundings. His entire body goes lax in your grip as his honey-colored eyes flutter open.

Was it you who promised time?

He looks at you, warm eyes so full of grief and he lets out a shuddering breath as the fear leaves him.

Lead me to a land so green,

His mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out and you just hold him tighter.

So she’ll stay awhile.

You kiss his forehead, drawing constellations on his cheeks, his nose, his lips, with your fingers.

Please take me there, I am ready.

He curls up into your chest as you continue to pet his soft, mussed up hair. 

The ship sways, 

You rock him gently back and forth, back and forth, to where the melodies of the song would end and begin if you were playing guitar.

but the heart is steady.

His breathing evens out as he slips back into sleep, this time more peaceful, listening to your single heart beating.

I have time.

-fin-

[kenganparadise]

Could you make a relationship&nsfw headcanons for Jun Sekibayashi?🙊 I love that man❤️🙌🏻 thank you!

AHHH THANK YOU!! I love this man so much! I’ve been DYING for someone to request him!! Thank you!!

Sekibayashi-

• I will fully stand by the fact that Seki is one of the best- if not the best- partners in Kengan Ashura/omega. He’s one of the most nontoxic people to be around.

• With Someone he genuinely cares about he’s considerate, loving, honest, and he wears his heart on his sleeve.

• If Seki has a partner that suffers with mental illness- depression, anxiety, PTSD, panic disorder- he is the greatest to be around. When his S/O goes through a depressive episode he’s always there to motivate them. He is the king of motivational speeches. 

• He’s always there if his S/O is having a pannic/anxiety attack. “Shh Shhhh. You’re okay. You’re safe.” He whispers to them as he hold them in his arms. Hell rock them back and forth lovingly. He’s got their medication and a water ready to go.

• Seki is good at comforting and motivating people. It’s all apart of his natural charisma.

• He gives his S/O hugs everyday. He can’t go a day without giving his S/O physical affection. It’s a necessity. He’s a really physically affectionate guy. Even if he’s mad at his S/O he’ll always grumpily kiss their forehead.

• Seki tells his S/O exactly how he feels at any given moment even in front of his co-wrestlers. It’s known in SJPW that Seki and his partner are like parents so some of the other wrestlers. Seki is The mom of course 

• Especially Haruo. It’s really important to Seki that Haruo and his partner have a good relationship. Haruo is his adopted son after all.

• DON’T let him fool you. Sekibayashi Is a very hairy man. He just shaved his body hair to make himself more aerodynamic and also to avoid chafing while wrestling. If he’s got a break or is out due to an injury you bet your sweet ass that hair is going to be grown out.

• His chest hair is super sexy tho.

• Once wresting is back on its regularly scheduled program he will have to shave it all off again.... this means he might have to ask his S/O for help. His S/O would be minding their own business and “Babe I need help. I can’t reach this one section on my back. Can you help me please?” He’ll timidly peak his head in. “Dammit, Jun, not again.”

• Seki is a major cuddler. Especially at night. It doesn’t matter is it’s 90 F (32 C) outside and the AC isn’t working, Seki will try to cuddle. Even though he sweats up a storm he needs to be holding his S/O. Even if his S/O pushes him away hell still try. He also snores too, super loud.

• He has a mental list of all his S/O’s favorite foods, snacks, drinks, and deserts. He tries to surprise them often. Every time he’s out and spots their favorite treat he’s gotta stop.

• In fact, he memorizes all of their likes and dislikes, he wants to know everything that they enjoy. Everything he’s out shopping or just on an errand he’ll spot something they might like, he can’t help but buy and surprise them with it. His S/O’s favorite things become his favorite things. 

• Seki‘s love language is well... everything!! He wants to show his love in as many ways as possible. Through gifts, words of affirmation, quality Time, and so forth. There’s nothing Seki wont do for his beloved, he can never say no, and he can never stay mad.

• He is so incredibly loving. He will remind his S/O every day about how much they mean to him and how much they are loved and appreciated.

🔞WARNING NSFW AHEAD🔞

• Once again Seki is one of the best lovers in the Kenganverse. His ultimate goal is to pleasure his partner, he wants them a sweaty satisfied mess after he’s done with them.

• His kisses are breathtaking. He’s such a good kisser it’s not even funny (he practices on his pillow) He knows exactly how to leave his S/O gasping and breathless. He loves pulling away and seeing their bruised swollen lips.

• He’s sloppy with his tongue, he’s eager to taste and explore his S/O’s mouth.

• This man sucks toes and eats ass. No debate.

• He’s eager to please himself and his S/O. The first time he waits, he’s a patient man. He wants his S/O to make the first move. He doesn’t want to rush them, he wants them to make the first move when they’re ready.

• It’s date night at his place. He made popcorn and bought all of his S/O’s favorite snacks. The couple are on the couch enjoying the movie. He’s got an arm around his S/O and their head is on his chest.

• His beloved puts their hand on his thigh. Seki tenses, their hand is so close to his clothed crotch. His leg bounces. He controls himself and represses his sexual desires.

• Their hand moves up, closer. He gulps and stares down their hand. Their hand moves to the inside of his thigh. They know what their doing. But do they know what they’re doing to him?

• “Seki.” They purr. Hearing them say his name like that is enough to get the blood pumping. “Yes, Y/N?” He says under his breath. They turn to meet his eyes. The lovely eyes he can get lost in are clouded with lust. He licks his lips in anticipation before smashing them to their.

• Once the party has moved to the bedroom he slowly strips his S/O of their clothing. The first time he is going to make sweet love to his beloved.

• He’ll kiss up and down their body- he enjoys giving body worship. He’ll ask permission before removing each piece of clothing. Nipping and sucking up and down till he gets to their underwear.

• He takes them off with his teeth. Then he begins devouring them. He’s so good with his tongue. He’s sloppy and the sounds he makes is enough to make anyone blush.

• He’ll make his S/O cum at least once. But honestly he could go on all night just going down on them.

• “Remember we can stop whenever.” He lets his S/O know, and he holds true to that. If his S/O gets uncomfortable or wants to stop at any given moment he will. He won’t complain, he won’t get offended, but he will ask if they’re alright. He’s understanding and he wants his S/O to enjoy themselves.

• Seki is wearing protection of course. This man practices and preaches safe sex.

• He kisses them hard on the mouth as he uses his hand to lines himself up. He makes eye contact as he pushes himself in slowly.

• His dick is quite the stretch, he makes sure to coat himself up with lube for more comfort. His cock is fat. It’s a little thicker near the middle. He’s got a couple veins on the top, the tip is a nice deep red color. The skin is a little deeper than the skin on the rest of his body. He’s uncut. He manscapes if his S/O wants him too.

• His thrusts are slow at first, he kisses his S/O’s face. “You look so beautiful right now.” He purrs into their ear, he means every word.

• Slowly his thrusts will pick up speed. He cradles His S/O’s head in his hands, he kisses them deeply and swallows every moan. Between kisses he whispers how beautiful his S/O looks, how good they feel, and how hot they are. He gives them nothing but praise and he means every word.

• He makes sure his S/O cums before him. Then buries his face in the crook of their neck, his thrusts pick up speed. He moans their name as he cums. His loads are absolutely massive. 

• Seki is wonderfully and out of the bedroom. After the initial first time Seki will pretty much do whatever his S/O wants, he will indulge whatever kink they have. He’s eager to please.

• He does have a katoptronophilia kink. He loves sex in front of mirrors. He wants to watch himself fuck, and he wants to watch his S/O get fucked from every angles. He also really gets his rocks off from watching his S/O’s expression as they watch themselves in the mirror.

• He prefers love making, but he likes to get rough now and again. God he’s so strong. He can basically lift his S/O into any position and throw them around (if they’re into that of course) his hips can be wild as they trust into his S/O. Hell have them screaming in no time at all.

• Aftercare is One of Seki’s favorite moments, he loves cuddling with his S/O in the sticky sweaty afterglow. He thinks they look so beautiful. He’ll kiss their forehead and ask if he can do anything else for them.

[prinxlyart]

Oh thos warm moments of redemption hit me right in the feels >///<. (I'mma definitely gonna compile all your headcanons in one doc and you can't stop me!). Anyways, now getting back to lumity (prepare thyselve because I'm HUNGRY): How does the redeemed Odalia's relationship with Luz and Willow develop? And regarding our three girls in particular, how do they act right after their proposals, during the wedding and on their honeymoon?

(Lmao please, lord knows I’ll never put any of these into a doc)

Hmmm, that’s a really good question. Er, several questions. Imma go in order of how they were asked.

[tw: for mentions of severe depression /thoughts of suicide starting with bullet #4. I’ll be sure to add the warnings before and after the section as well. Please continue with caution.]

Blight Parents’ relationship with their daughters-in-law:

I think just due to how they got to where they are by this point, they both have a soft spot for Luz. She’s the one that reached out to them in the first place after all of their kids left the family. They feel a v specific gratitude towards her and Camila both because these humans work so hard to get shit done. It’s an admirable trait. One they’re glad the Nocedas aimed at them. It’s taken so much time and energy to get the Blights be, like. Tolerable people? And then even more to get them to actually act like parents.

I think at first, any time they’re unsure of how to act or react to a situation, they’ll go to Luz for guidance. They’ve gone their whole lives up until just a few years ago acting a certain way and just flipping all that? It can be difficult to break those habits. Any time they feel they should react in anger or irritation or disgust, they stop and think “no, wait. What would Luz/Camila do? Would they get mad...?” And they just give her a look of confusion and guilt before Luz mimes the sort of reaction that would be healthiest. Any time Amity catches them literally looking to Luz on how to act supportive she just rolls her eyes. They’re trying and that’s what matters.

I think at first they just don’t know how to interact with Willow. They apologized for how they treated her in the past at great length, but Willow just sort of nodded along quietly. They weren’t used to that sort of reaction (granted they’ve only just started doing this “apologizing” thing for a few months at this point in time. They’re still getting the hang of it). So they sit uncomfortably for a while until Willow sighs and sort of sits up straighter. She’d resolved to tell them about how their careless and cruel treatment of Amity was the first step in a chain reaction to Willow’s life becoming absolutely miserable for years to follow.

Not only was she forced to lose her best friend at that birthday party, but she had to do so in the cruelest way possible. Amity explained to her years back that she pretended to not like her because she couldn’t do magic to hide the fact that her parents threatened Willow. Because the Blights are supposed to be perfect. Amity has always been smart and she knew what would happen if she let it slip that they had threatened her. If Willow knew the truth, she’d tell her dads and her dads would try to confront them about it. It would end up turning into a scandal (although Amity admitted she wasn’t familiar with the word at the time; it was just one of those words she heard her mom use a lot for situations that were bad). So as a result of Amity doing her part to “protect” the Blight name, she shunned Willow from her life and broke both their hearts in the process.

[TW: discussion of severe depression and thoughts/intentions of suicide. If you’re in a vulnerable headspace right now, please scroll until you see the next notice signaling the end of the section. And please, if you’re struggling with depression and/or thoughts of suicide, please please please seek professional help.]

Willow recounts the years of endless bullying, not always by Amity’s new friends, but often by them. She tells them how Amity wouldn’t necessarily participate so much as observe with a carefully schooled expression. And then there were times when Amity did bully her, and that hurt so much more than everyone else combined. All so she wouldn’t be publicly shamed or get in trouble with her parents for associating with someone like Willow.

She tells them that it literally took Luz coming into their lives for any of that to change. Amity had turned 7 on the birthday she cut Willow out of her life, and they were 14 when Luz showed up. Half of Willow’s entire life up to that point had been friendless (or nearly friendless) and so severely bullied that she was actually debating growing a Graveleaf plant to brew tea with. She still has to take a daily healing potion prescribed by her doctor to keep her mind from falling back to that same state it used to be in. Yes, her life has greatly improved ever since Luz showed up and helped repair her friendship with Amity. Yes, it’s only gotten better since then. Yes, she loves her fiancées with everything she has. But that doesn’t mean all that pain has suddenly been erased and it doesn’t always stop her brain from sinking back into its depressed state.

Needless to say, the Blights are absolutely floored with all of this information. They’re both frozen in shock, they don’t know what to do or say to such an admission. Willow just continues though. She tells them that she’s so grateful to have Amity back in her life. That with therapy, her daily medicine, and time, she’s come a long way from where she once was. Her bad days aren’t nearly as bad as they were when she was a kid. She has both of her fiancées to support her and love her when she’s feeling down. She tells them that no, she can’t forgive them for what they’ve done. But she accepts their apology and appreciates them making the effort to make things right. Seeing Amity happy because her parents are actually trying to be better makes Willow happy.

I think......Alador would be the one to go to Willow and kneel before her and take her hand, apologizing with as much intent as he can muster. He’s a little more in touch with his emotions these days than Odalia is, and he’s lost a family member to suicide before. He knows how devastating it can be to everyone around them and he’s mortified at the fact that Willow had almost done the same. He understands how much she means to Amity and he comes to the realization mid-apology that he could have very well lost his own daughter in a similar fashion had Willow gone through with that. Odalia goes white as a sheet at hearing that, steadying herself in her chair and it makes Willow feel queasy, but she’s glad that he understands the severity of what they’d done. She does put a hand to Alador’s shoulder to comfort him as he reels from this realization and he stands properly again to wrap Willow in a hug as he cried, still muttering apologies through his tears. I think it takes a while for Odalia to be able to speak again, but Willow is able to see that that struggle means it’s rocked her to her core. Once Odalia is able to also stammer out her own apologies, Willow just gives her a small smile and nods.

[END OF SECTION. Now it’s all fluff from here on out. Have fun, kids.]

After that discussion, Alador and Odalia double down on the whole “being better” thing. During one of their weekly tea meetings, they ask Camila how they might start doing that in their daily lives too, not just for their children. Camila doesn’t know the first thing about their jobs or what they do or the people they work with, so she tells them to make a list of things they can think of that might’ve been considered hurtful to some degree. The tea definitely goes cold long before the list is done; Camila actually needs to leave before they finish it. The next meeting, there’s a comically large scroll of shit they’ve done sitting on the table and they are sitting with their heads cowed in shame. I think Camila pops an ibuprofen before her headache settles in.

They still don’t know how to do nice things without throwing money at it first. That takes a while for them to wrap their heads around. Luz and Willow aren’t ones for like. Big, extravagant, expensive things. They prefer the heartfelt stuff, like hand-made gifts or thoughtful acts of service. (Amity, however, insists they accept her parents ridiculously expensive weekend getaway trip to the Iliac Crest Hot Springs; the top of the left hip bone of the Titan. A well-known vacation spot for romantic getaways. Willow only accepts because she knows they’d never be able to afford that on their own and Luz accepts it as a wedding gift and an opportunity to go to a part of the Boiling Isles she’s never explored before.)

Alador is like every dad ever; he loves talking about random trivia shit to anyone who will listen. Luz is literally the only person that will listen because even though she’s lived in the Demon Realm for years now, she still doesn’t know all the “fun facts” that everyone else has grown up with. Sometimes she’ll bring up points about random trivia bits Alador is going on about and put in her own two snails about something she’s experienced regarding it, and she and Alador will go back and forth for a while like that, talking about the stuff they’ve experienced relating to that thing. Willow thinks it’s adorable and Amity is mostly just exasperated (but she also thinks it’s cute and she loves watching her dad bond with her fiancée like this).

Odalia will occasionally ask Amity about her abominations and they’ll sort of awkwardly talk for a while about the technicalities and ingredients and Odalia will mention adding an ingredient Amity’s never even considered before. When she inquires further, Odalia tells her that she’ll sometimes work with a friend in the Emperor’s coven that specialized in the plant track to experiment with creating abominations with different kinds of ingredients for different tasks. Amity is shocked and impressed to hear about her own mother mixing magic and teases her for breaking the rules right under the emperor’s nose. Odalia stammers at that (she’s still getting used to Belos no longer being in power and the stigma against mixing magic still runs strong in her mind), but eventually admits that yes, technically she’s mixed magic. Amity makes her promise to show her how with Willow and they make a whole day of it.

Spending the day making weird abominations with Odalia Blight was Not something Willow thought she’d ever say she’d done, but hey. She didn’t think King could beat Luz in that one eating contest either because where does he put all that food, but he ended up winning anyway. Willow and Amity are actually super excited to try mixing their knowledge of magic together; it almost feels intimate in a way. It’s something neither have tried before and are able to try for the first time together because it’s their specialties. Odalia guides them through the process of mixing different types of plants into the abomination mixture to make abominations specific for extra strength or abominations that help enhance healing magic just due to its properties. They all end up having a lot of fun that day, just making all sorts of varieties of abominations. By the time the day is done, they’re all covered in abomination goop because one of them accidentally exploded. Luz managed to get a picture of them all laughing together and covered in goop before they go to clean up. It’s one of her favorite pictures.

As time goes on, things get less and less tense between the Blight parents and Luz and Willow (especially with Willow). They grow more comfortable with being good parents, good people, and just kinder and more loving in general. There’s one day when the Blights come to visit and they greet each girl with a hug and kiss without really realizing it. They all go to settle down in the living room, but Amity’s still frozen at the doorway, covering her mouth and trying desperately to wipe away the tears that crept up at the display of affection. No one else had thought anything of it, but that was the first time her parents had shown the same and love and affection to both of her wives without any hesitation or fear of crossing boundaries. She cherishes the memory of that moment often.

Proposal Reactions:

I genuinely don’t know how these girls would propose to each other. There’s any number of possibilities; they’re all so creative. The part of me that wants to make funny cartoons would have them each scrambling to figure out the best way to propose to each other and getting into ridiculous hijinks when they try to get their friends’ help (Amity would ask Emira and Edric [and the detention gang by extension; Viney’s remained best friends with Jerbo and Barcus after all this time]. Willow I think would recruit Gus and oddly enough, Lilith [she sees Eda as too much of a mother to Luz to feel comfortable with asking her to help her propose to her daughter]. Luz would definitely ask Eda, King and Camila to help but regret it almost instantly). Of course everyone would end up tripping over one another and each proposal attempt would end in disaster but all three girls would see the resulting destruction (maybe several things on fire?) and just laugh their asses off. Because wow, this could’ve gone so much better, but hey, you guys wanna get married?

The sappy romantic in me tho. Would want them to discuss it thoroughly before hand; agree that yes they’d love to get married, they’re just not sure if it’s the right time. But Luz, being the person she is, would go and recruit everyone’s help in coming up with the best proposal ever. Willow and Amity are both busy with their respective jobs just enough to not notice all the scheming going on. And then one day when all 3 of them have the same day off, Luz takes them out for a fun day (whatever that entails; maybe a day at a carnival or just wandering around town or something). At the end of the day, she takes them somewhere significant (this could literally be anywhere, Grom Tree is a good place because of the view it has over the cliff’s edge, but yknow. Whatever suits their relationship as a trio) and everything is decked out in lights and decorations. And Amity and Willow are both stunned and enthralled by the display and they turn to see Luz down on one knee and holding two small boxes, holding one out to each of them and a super nervous smile on her face. Amity and Willow maybe accidentally tackle her to the ground when they tried to hug her.

During the wedding:

I think they’re all stressed during the wedding itself. They’re excited, of course, a whole ceremony dedicated to the three of them vowing to spend the rest of their lives together. They aren’t capable of imaging a life without each other at this point. But that doesn’t stop the nerves from settling in.

Eda’s constantly telling Luz to calm down before the ceremony actually begins; Luz is found pacing and coming up with doomsday scenarios out loud at light speed like she always does when she’s nervous. Camila and Eda are also nervous, but they’re doing their best to keep it together for Luz’s sanity. Camila’s making sure (with Emira, as Em is the Maid of Honor) that everything is going smoothly and according to plan. But she has similar nervous habits to Luz when she doesn’t have something to focus her attention on. She ends up fussing over Luz’s hair and getting rid of any imaginary wrinkles in her outfit, making sure her makeup is perfect until Eda tells her to quit treating Luz like a dress up doll. Eda’s really good at pep talks, even when she’s nervous, but she manages to calm both Nocedas down with her patented Soft Encouraging Voice.

Amity’s freaking out in her own way in a separate room with all of her girls (Emira, Skara, a fully and properly redeemed Boscha). She’s freaking out similarly to Luz in that she’s mumbling to herself all sorts of ridiculous what-ifs and wishing desperately that she could just be with Luz and Willow already because they bring her the most comfort. She’s not pacing like Luz though, she’s sitting while Emira and Skara do some intricate thing with her hair while Boscha’s doing her makeup but that doesn’t stop her from wringing her hands and bouncing her leg (something that Boscha has to tell her to stop doing every 30 seconds or she’ll mess up the makeup she’s doing). Emira’s giving her advice for every little “what-if” she can hear coming out of Amity, with some silly remarks from Boscha and Skara that actually puts Amity somewhat at ease. Having her girls acting calm and natural did help. She thanks them for doing as much at the reception.

Willow’s trying to get herself into game mode with a pep talk. No place for nerves, only well-thought action. She’s actually got Viney there with her (who had to kick Gus out because he was crying at just the sight of Willow in her wedding dress), as well as Bo and Kat (I think those are the names of the two healing track girls....someone tell me if I’m wrong, but I think Bo is the one in the Human Appreciation Society and I think Kat is the one with the glasses that played on Boscha’s team in the Grudgby match). Willow’s girls are all hyping her up like she’s about to enter a Grudgby match rather than a wedding ceremony, and the ridiculousness of it all is staving off her nerves. Viney’s also giving her own personal experience as advice; she may or may not have tripped during her own wedding and is making sure Willow knows how to avoid that at all costs.

I genuinely don’t know what the role of the Best Man is, but I know in one of my past headcanon posts I mentioned that both Edric and Gus are asked to fill that role (there’s no such thing as rules when you’ve got a human and two witches getting married on the boiling isles). I think while Emira and Camilia are helping their respective brides-to-be get ready, Edric and Gus are taking over making sure everything is running smoothly and all the guests know where to go. When they’re just sort of standing around and waiting for their next task, Gus starts tearing up again at the thought of Willow in her dress. Willow’s like the big sister he never had and now she’s getting married. Gus is constantly having to perform minor illusions on his face to make it look like he’s not about to cry or has already been crying. Edric hasn’t seen Amity yet, but he’s secretly doing the same thing whenever their minds aren’t preoccupied with whatever Event Tasks they need to focus on.

I think.....rather than a one-by-one thing, all three of our girls enter at the same time from different doors. Luz comes in from the left side door, Amity comes in from the right, and Willow comes in from the main entrance at the back. Luz is practically vibrating with nerves and excitement and the only reason she doesn’t run to the front to sweep her beautiful girls into excited, passionate kisses is solely due to her own mother’s iron grip on her arm as she walks her up. I actually don’t know if Alador has redeemed himself enough at this point for Amity to allow him to walk her up to the front, but I also think Edric would be too much of a mess to do so. I think a lifetime of keeping up a mask helps Alador maintain his composure long enough to get Amity up to the front and to take his seat before he lets the waterworks take over. I actually don’t know which of Willow’s dads would walk her up; we don’t know enough about either of them to make personality judegement calls. Whichever dad can hold it together for longer, probably.

Polyamory isn’t a new thing on the Boiling Isles; it may not be practiced as often among witches, but demons do it all the time, so the person officiating their wedding (it could be literally anyone, I have no idea. Maybe principal bump, just for funsies) knows exactly how this ceremony needs to go. They all planned beforehand exactly the order they’d kiss one another once they were proclaimed officially married: Luz would be too excited to wait and would kiss each of her girls first, Amity then Willow, and then Amity and Willow would share their own kiss once Luz had gotten that out of her system.

Honeymoon:

I don’t know enough about honeymoons to know if there’s a difference between a honeymoon and a normal vacation except Now You’re Married. Maybe they go on a grand expedition around the Boiling Isles? Maybe they honeymoon in the Human Realm? That’s exactly like the proposal situation; it could be literally anything. Far too many variables and ideas that could make it perfect for each of them. Hell, they could probably just say they’re going out and doing all sorts of stuff and actually just locking themselves in their house so they can just be together and relish in the relief of no longer needing to plan such a large and important event. They can just enjoy each other’s company as Wives now. I really don’t know.

Regardless of what they do, I think they’d be like any other person on their honeymoon: absolutely love struck and over the moon with how much they love each other. Sometimes they’ll catch one another staring and tease each other about it ( “awww you liiiikkkke meeee” “we literally just got married” “yeah I know but stiiiiiillllllllll”)

I actually don’t know what else you expect me to put here, so I guess I’ll just say they lived happily ever after, the end.

[hahanoiwont]

@bluerose2017 replied to this post: I feel that Frisk would get along so well with the more murder type sanses. Like Dust Sans from Dusttale, Nightmare, Killer, and Error. Frisk would understand their motives for being the bad guys.

Yes!!! oh boy, yes. ok ok let's go down a really self-indulgent path with this, alright? we're about to have good fun. which i will put under a cut bc it may get long. (EDIT: haha yeah it got long. multiverse shenanigans ahoy)

so let's say Frisk follows the path from Fall Into Grace. They go straight to Horrortale, and they stay there for a bit--sure, Ht!Sans starts out hostile, but the both of them slowly learn to trust each other. By inches, they try to come to understand each other. They both have in common that they were lurched from a deeply violent society into Regular Undertale (but spooky); they both clearly broadcast their trust issues, and therefore can work on them together. At the end of Horrortale, they're planning on sticking it out together on the Surface.

Then Frisk disappears. In Horrortale, their disappearance is while Sans is looking elsewhere--it's just like HT!Frisk's disappearance originally, except this time, they got everyone to the Surface first.

So now, Horror is having his triggers stomped on. Not a fan. He wonders at first if this is just what happens--maybe Frisk is meant to disappear, and HT!Frisk didn't mean to abandon the Underground to its fate. Maybe Frisk isn't a human at all, but some sort of apparition that appears periodically and vanishes just as quick. Maybe he's still starving and it's all a delusion his mind made for him as he's dying.

Or maybe Red crashes through, absolutely ready to shoot first and ask questions later. And suddenly Horror has his answers. Alternate universes. Obviously. Very stabby alternate universes.

Frisk, meanwhile, lands in Dusttale.

Dusttale, to my knowledge, is the AU where the human (whether it's Frisk, Chara, or the player is unclear to me) does genocide after genocide, resetting dozens or hundreds of times until not only does Sans remember, he also goes insane. Given the inevitability of all his friends dying, and how his low stats prevent him from fighting the human until they've killed enough people that his karma effect becomes useful, he decides he's going to kill everyone, gain the LV for it, and then kill the human as soon as they come around.

This is not a great situation for Frisk to be wandering into. Given that they're nearly identical (clothing aside) to their Dusttale counterpart, and Sans is insane anyway, they're not likely to see mercy in this world. Frisk walks in, sees that Sans is crazy, dies, walks in, sees that Sans is crazy, dies, walks in...

Eventually, a la WT!Swapfell, Frisk figures out the right ways to dodge as much as possible of the initial ambush; but they can survive for minutes at a time, if that. This Sans's stats are hopelessly inflated, and he doesn't play fair. It comes down to their DETERMINATION versus his, in a mirror of the same struggle that drove him crazy in the first place. This time, Sans is inevitably killing every monster, and Frisk is the one who can't save them. But, in a conflict of interests like this, Frisk is always going to win--they have an unfair advantage, straight out. They're simply more DETERMINED.

Eventually, Sans is stumbling bleakly through his genocide, disassociated to the point of hardly understanding what he's doing and why. He kills people because he kills people. He has a vague certainty that he's keeping them safe, but he doesn't understand how. He knows that he used to be different. He knows this is somehow Frisk's fault. But his ability to remember across RESETs is being buried under his inability to think straight under the massive trauma. He doesn't understand why he's killing his brother. He knows he doesn't want to. He knows that Frisk can probably tell him, but he also needs to kill Frisk very quickly, before they can gain EXP from...the piles of dust?...because there are no surviving monsters to kill.

He finally stops before killing Frisk and asks them why. Why are they making him do this over and over again? Why are they looking at him like that? Why is everyone dead? Why, when he's felt so numb for so long, does it still feel like it hurts?

Frisk has no idea why this Sans has killed everyone. Months have passed in increments of a day or less, as Sans swiftly and efficiently executes all of his neighbors. He's learned every place that people will go, and he shows up where the most people are congregated at a given point in time, leaving nothing but dust by the time Frisk gets through the Ruins. They've never gotten out in time to save a single monster. They're pretty sure Sans is possessed, or something, because this isn't something he would ever do (insert irony with Red's desire to kill literally everyone in Underfell).

When Sans doesn't kill them right out the gate, as it were, they begin to hope that whatever has been forcing him to do this has let go, or at least worn out enough that he's beginning to fight through it. They're not totally wrong--whatever is left of Sans is waking up, a little bit, as he leaves behind his scripted execution.

Frisk goes to Dust and tries to hold him, rocking back and forth like Red would do for them when they woke up out of a nightmare. He almost kills them for it, but what's the point? They'd just come back, and Dust would have to kill everyone one more time. He's tired. He lets them do what they want. It mostly makes him feel worse, but he doesn't stop them.

There's a strong parallel here to Going Big; Going Home. In that story, Red went into a deep depression spiral for months following his realization that he couldn't bring himself to kill every monster in existence even if it would save his brother; in this story, Dust has killed everyone already and no longer sees any point in much of anything, struggling to understand what has happened to him and why he did what he did. He wants to Fall Down quietly, but his newfound stats and his desire to survive until he's sure Frisk is dead won't let him. Also, Frisk is standing in his way.

Seeing as Dust is apparently going to be docile and passive for the time being, Frisk takes his hand and walks him through Snowdin.

They see a vision of a massacre.

Piles of dust, items lying around as if people just dropped dead in the middle of whatever they were doing. Doors are hanging open from where people went to greet their friendly neighborhood skeleton and ask what he was knocking for, only to die in seconds. The Underground was only somewhat prepared for a human to go through and get violent, and they weren't prepared at all for one of their own to kill them. Frisk sees every evidence of a very efficient, merciless slaughter. Dust is looking blankly at it all, like he can't quite put together what it means.

Frisk gets a strong feeling that they shouldn't visit their brothers' home.

Instead, they bring him to a cabin far removed from town, visible only from Glyde's ledge, and push him to sit in a wooden armchair. They pat his hand to tell him to stay there while they look through the cabin for dust. They don't find any. Dust could have told them they wouldn't, except that he's having trouble finding his voice right now. He waits where they put him until they give him the all clear.

He's supposed to watch the human. They're supposed to be doing something for him to watch them for. But the kid in front of him seems mostly interested in holding his hand and trying to smile for him. He sits in stasis, with his drive all run out but without anything else to turn to.

The first week is mostly silent. Frisk doesn't speak, and doesn't really communicate anything that Dust would need a response for. Dust chats with his hallucination of Papyrus sometimes, but since Frisk can't see him, the conversations end there.

On a given day, Frisk will set Dust up in the chair with a book that they've decided he'd like, sometimes with a blanket or a glass of milk to go with it, and they'll venture out to the Underground. Dust will shadow them from a distance as they investigate for survivors. There aren't any. They'll come home with some supplies and fill up the cupboards. Dust will already be there, right where they left him, with the book opened up to a random different page than before. If it's towards the end of the book, Frisk will decide that he liked it and try to find more books of that kind.

They'll go to the kitchen and try to put something together for dinner, and Dust will take all the cooking implements from them and actually make the thing they're trying at. He silently revokes their cooking privileges when they try to shatter a bottle of vinegar into a salad. Papyrus says he should have just eaten it. He also says that Dust is infecting Frisk with his horrible tastes in food, just like he's probably infecting them with the dust on his hands. How long until they're a killer like him? Dust tries to argue that they were the killer in the first place, but the words ironically die in his mouth. The truth is bitter, and he's not even sure what it is anymore.

After that, Frisk is allowed to taste test and get ingredients, and otherwise they're watching with their eyes and not their hands.

Once the food is eaten and cleaned up, Frisk will bring out something for the two of them to do together. Board games, card games, hangman, puzzles. Frisk always deals for two. Dust doesn't see a point in fighting them on it, which Frisk decides is a very hopeful sign. Sometimes he breaks the rules and just sort of moves one thing to another spot blindly, but he is moving!

Frisk usually wins these games on account of being the only one paying attention, but since they let him keep his illegal moves, he wins Sorry by sorta pushing his pawns into his safety zone on the fourth turn. After the game, Frisk always decides it's bedtime, gives Dust another book, and leads him to a bedroom, where they leave him to take it from there. Rinse and repeat the next morning.

The second week, Dust starts glancing at the titles of the books he's given, and maybe the summary if it seems interesting. He tells them not to bring him encyclopedias anymore. They bring him a dictionary instead. It takes him four minutes to decide whether killing them is an appropriate response.

(Verdict: no. It wouldn't make a difference, anyway.)

The third week, he walks with them on an outing. Frisk steers away from population centers and takes a back way through Waterfall to look at the lights. They sit there in silence--even Papyrus is quiet. The echo flowers have each had their messages replaced with a single, loud clap. Nobody says, "Why are you doing this? What--Sans, wait, wait--!"

The fourth week, Dust starts reading the books he's supposedly been reading all day during the night. It's weird to feel bored in the ashes of civilization. He tells Frisk short, single-sentence descriptions of the more interesting ones. They seem happy. Dust is pretty sure there's some sort of Stockholm syndrome going on here, but he's not sure which way it goes.

One universe over, Red and Horror are searching through a universe that seems like it's had some extradimensional interference, but it can't possibly be the one Frisk is in, because it's a dead Underground. As far as they can tell, there are no survivors. Still, they keep coming back to it--it's the only potential positive they've found. And even though the universe seems to be a dead end, things keep moving in it--a book vanished here, a cupboard rearranged there. It's like someone is very stealthily looting the place.

After seven weeks of quiet, routine days with quiet, routine ups and downs, Dust is taking charge of a few things. He tells Frisk what groceries to get, and decides what to make for meals. He's attempting his first joke in a long time when he dryly bans Monopoly forever, but somewhat to his surprise, Frisk listens. The Monopoly board doesn't come out again. He's not sure what to make of this--that the person who drove him crazy is the person who's trying to make him sane. Most of the time, he chooses to forget that there's anything but this. Two people exist in the world, and one of them is an unstoppable killer and the other is a patient, even-tempered pacifist. He can't even tell which one is which anymore. It's whatever.

Left to his own devices, Dust may have spent years or longer like that. The Underground may not have the resources to sustain all of its inhabitants without things like farmers or energy, but it's got plenty for two people. But Frisk writes a very short letter for him, saying, can we try again? Can you not kill Papyrus? I miss him and I want him to be alive.

Well, with an argument like that.

Dust doesn't really want to see a RESET. It feels like it isn't worth it, having everyone alive again just to watch them die. Even if Frisk doesn't kill them, who's to say Dust won't? Even if he doesn't kill them, who's to say that Frisk won't, either? Maybe the Underground will just cave in. Dust is sure he can't have that life again, surrounded by living people when even Frisk and his hallucinations seem like a crowd sometimes. He's pretty sure his LV stopped going down a few RESETs ago. He doesn't think he can be Sans again.

Eventually, he decides it doesn't really matter what he wants. Frisk will do whatever they want and there's nothing he can do to stop them.

After the RESET, Dust wakes up to his brother's voice, telling him it's time to start the day, and also his brother's ghost, already with him as always. He goes to the square just to see if he's gonna lose it and kill everyone, and now that he's looking, he notices the split-second flinches when people recognize him. Most of them don't even notice it in themselves, but they know he's something dangerous. He heads to the Ruins door and waits.

It's easier once Frisk comes out. No one in the Ruins is dead. Dust and Frisk both didn't kill them, this time around. If he sticks really close to Frisk, he can pretend everyone's apprehension is just for the human in their midst. After all, Frisk is just as much a killer as he is. It's not his fault his LV's stuck at 20.

Frisk has a tough time making friends. The people of the Underground seem to expect them to be some terrifying killer, and everyone seems to want to protect each other by killing Frisk. It doesn't help that Dust doesn't like people in his space much, and flashes his spooky-eye look at anyone who gets within about three feet of the two of them. They're not quite sure who he thinks he's protecting, but they trust him to have good reasons to do what he does.

The only time Dust leaves their side for any significant period is when they're with the real, alive Papyrus, who frets about his brother. Sans has gone missing, he explains, but no one will believe him because they've all seen him around. But he hasn't come home. People who don't come home are missing. So Sans is missing. He's certainly missing dinner, and Papyrus needs to get him to come home before he eats nothing but ketchup and grease for his meals. Frisk knows their own Papyrus well enough to see what he isn't saying--that Papyrus needs to get him to come home before anything bad can happen to him. That Sans disappearing when he seems so listless and blank can't be a good thing. That Papyrus is scared for his brother.

Dust can't stand to see his living brother. The idea puts him in a cold sweat. If Papyrus is living, then Papyrus can die. He prefers the phantom--cruel as he is, at least he'll never leave Dust alone. Dust can never hurt him and never kill him. Frisk can't even see him. As long as Dust is alive to see him, Papyrus's ghost is safe.

When Frisk breaks the Barrier, Dust disappears quickly afterwards. They find him standing alone a little farther down the cliffside, isolating himself; and they grab his hand again like they always do, to bring him back home. They're surprised when they fall out of the world--they almost forgot. They'd almost hoped it wouldn't happen.

Dust doesn't try to stop them. Just like always, he follows them through. He kind of hopes for oblivion, for an end to choices that he always makes into mistakes, but he's not so lucky. He wakes up to Frisk's frantic shaking in a patch of flowers far Underground. This is Underswap, and Dust is about to have a horrible day.

I think in this AU, I'm going to leave Killer's story--mostly because I don't know his backstory very well, just that he's Nightmare's right hand man and assorted other factoids. And since Nightmare isn't technically a Sans, just the embodiment of negative emotions, his universe wouldn't even be in the running for Frisk to land in--similarly, I am too charmed by Error's story to change it. So here's where I think this goes from here.

Nightmare arrives in Horrortale, intending to recruit Horror. The guy's life is miserable, there's no reason for him not to hop out of his universe to cause mayhem as long as it's better than starving. But the universe isn't the same anymore. Nightmare considers wrecking stuff in order to snack off of negative emotions, but Horror and Red are scanning the hell out of the universe, so Horror is able to pick up on a hole being punched in it and appear in a matter of minutes. He asks why Nightmare is here, and Nightmare says honestly that he was here to recruit him as part of a small team to complete certain missions, embodiment of negativity, eternal struggle in the multiverse between Nightmare and Dream, food and five-star lodging provided, etc. But it seems like he's got something going here, so...?

Nightmare is honestly fairly impressed that someone noticed him entering the universe so quickly, and he's hoping Horror may still be interested. It's too bad that Nightmare can't get Horror's lifelong trust and allegiance by rescuing him from a bad situation, but he's certain he can make it work. He only has one minion as of right now, that being Killer, and he'd like to have at least one more (if only so Killer will stop bothering him when he's trying to Plot Evilly. Also, Dream has two friends to Nightmare's one minion, and Nightmare can't be lagging behind, that's just unacceptable).

Horror may not need immediate rescue himself, but he sure knows someone who does. He asks a few careful questions about the multiverse--would i be able to visit other universes on my own? Yes. am i allowed to interfere with other universes? Encouraged, even. Especially where spreading misery is concerned. can i take someone out of a universe if they don't belong in it? What an oddly specific question. Nightmare is beginning to think he'll have a way to endear himself to Horror, after all.

Horror dismisses his questions as mostly being about the job he'll be doing--after all, if he's fighting people who travel between universes, of course he'd want to know if there are ways to track people across universes, or to tell if there's someone in a universe that doesn't belong there. Nightmare lets it pass without comment for the time being, but decides to keep an eye on the situation, to try to figure out what exactly Horror is looking for. If he's willing to leave his whole life behind and set himself up for a lifetime of fighting just for a chance to find it, then Nightmare has an easy way to earn his eternal loyalty. Muahaha.

Now of course, this is all for Evil reasons and not because Nightmare isn't sure how to make people like him if he doesn't provide some service or do some great favor for them. He certainly hasn't seen people love his brother for the happiness he provides, and said "I could do that >:( I could do Good Things for people and then they would Like Me and not hate me >:( and in fact I would do it while being Very Evil so I know they'll like me for me and not just because I'm, for example, a paragon of light and hope in the multiverse >>:( and then I would have better friends than Dream. and he will be super jealous. because i will have friends who like me. so there >>>:( this is what WINNING looks like, brother >:("

Now this would leave Red in the awkward position of being in the wrong universe and also missing in his own universe. I am not sure what I want to do with him here--he could come with Horror, and just sorta hang out as a Bad Sans. I know he's not normally one, but he comes from Edgy Universe so I could see it? But also, I know canonically Error steals from Red's chocolate supply, so I think it would be kind of hilarious if Error's been pissed bc his stock isn't being replenished, being as Red isn't around to buy more. And Nightmare could just. dump Red back in Underfell. Both as a favor to Error, to try to secure his loyalties at least a little, and as a show of how Powerful and Evil he is for his brand new recruit. Both options are tempting...I am undecided. But uh, something happens with Red. He is somewhere. Horror probably wouldn't just ditch him in Horrortale on his lonesome.

Now, Horror and Killer get along alright. Killer's got the sarcastic fast-talker charm, and Horror is getting used to being able to hold conversations at a normal speed again. And both of them get along with Nightmare. Killer is witty and challenging, and Horror is loyal and hardworking and (VERY important) knows how to cook great meals. No more mediocre fried rice. Scrambled eggs are no longer mysteriously watery. It is shocking how much home life improves with good food, and Horror is a big fan of having a seemingly endless pantry. His stipulation that a portion of everything gets sent home to Papyrus is a pain at first, but it's not so bad once it gets ingrained as a normal part of mealtimes. Sometimes his Papyrus visits, and that goes about as well as meeting family members of a dear friend for the first time can go. A bit awkward, but it settles into something positive.

The only weird thing is, with every new universe, Horror insists on making sure there's no one there who isn't native to that universe before havoc can begin. It's not a huge pain or anything, and it is a good move strategically, but it's a very specific request. Once it happens enough for Killer to get curious, it isn't long until the cat's out of the bag--a story of a sibling accidentally cast aside, a world that was cruel and unfair to them, a misunderstanding that made their brother think they were horrible and abandoned him to an awful fate when actually they'd done nothing wrong, and an endless journey that never seems to point home. And Horror was willing to put aside everything to try to bring them back--if not home, then at least to somewhere safe. To build new common ground together, after the old grounds went up in flames. To understand their side of it and see that they weren't wrong even if things looked kinda bad on their end, actually everything they did was completely justified, Dream--

Suffice to say that Nightmare is sympathetic. That is, he can see the strategic advantage to helping Horror find this sibling of his, and reunite them. Because then he'll have an endlessly loyal minion, and probably also an endlessly loyal minion-in-training. Obviously. He doesn't even believe in brotherly love, so obviously it's not out of some imagined desire to see his friend family underling scrape a happy ending out of what seems like an unrecoverable falling-out (complete with literal falling, in this case) with his sibling. It's just a matter of spending a tiny amount of effort searching for a months-old trace of a magical trail that's interrupted by not existing in some parts on account of time travel.

Killer iirc can't feel much of anything but hate, but he doesn't hate Horror, and it's not like he's forgotten what emotions are entirely. He does want the guy to be happy. They're kinda buds and Horror watches obscure competition shows at 3am with him when they both can't sleep. It'd be a little awkward to have a Frisk around, but at least it's not Chara. Most people he meets on a day-to-day basis are technically versions of him, anyway, and it's not like he can't differentiate them. He'd put up with it for Horror's sake. He'll only stab them if they're possessed, probably.

Thing is, when they do find Frisk (eventually Nightmare thinks to call in a favor from Error), Frisk is traveling universe to universe with some apathetic LV 20 Sans who is still trying to figure out when murder is and isn't the way he wants to solve his problems. Namely with other Sanses, since he has enough self-hatred that he can't imagine it's much of a loss. Thing is, he fcking hates it when Frisk time-travels, and it makes Frisk miserable, too, so he can't just murder every Sans who annoys him even slightly...but most Sanses don't take kindly to some LV 20 stranger wandering through...which means everything would just be easier if they were to go missing...not like more dust on his hands is gonna make a difference, right?

But no, Frisk always insists on going back to when the local Sans was alive, and it's just a waste of time and energy. So Dust mostly doesn't kill anyone who isn't a real jerk first. Mostly.

This is the scene that Nightmare & Co come upon when they finally catch up. They have to take a moment to regroup, because who even is this guy? He never leaves Frisk's side for long (local Sanses have a tendency to ambush and kill him for being a violent lunatic if they can get him alone, and then at least one party dies, and then time travel, etc.), he talks to thin air, he's generally Kinda Creepy.

Their initial thought is to try to get Frisk alone, but Dust in this time has noticed that they're being followed by a group of very suspicious characters, and tells Frisk to go on ahead while he lurks. It comes to a pretty devastating battle, between Dust's combat prowess and the gang's equally impressive abilities (Killer having done his own geno run, Nightmare having an impressive body count and also massive raw power on account of being kind of a demigod, and Horror himself being no slouch in combat). Frisk sits over in the next room like they're in the waiting room for a dentist's office, poking at echo flowers and waiting for their brother to be done with Mysterious Errands while ignoring three separate variations of Megalovania in the background.

Then Frisk figures, wait, there are a maximum of two Sanses...but three Megalovanias...that ain't right. Also, Dust said he wasn't gonna kill the local Sans this time. He didn't promise, but he said he would try, so he really shouldn't be sneaking off to pick fights. This is the conclusion Frisk comes to about six seconds before the wall is destroyed by stray blaster fire.

What they see through the wall is Dust, teleporting right out of combat to make sure they didn't get hurt or vaporized, and out of the rubble they can make out a goopy octopus Sans, a Target Sans (which makes other Sanses...walmart brand? food for thought), and a Sans that takes a second to place, because they really weren't expecting to see Horror here. And fighting Dust. Frisk is disappointed in him.

When the dust (magical and otherwise) settles, everyone ends up having a civilized conversation by the combined forces of Frisk and Nightmare. Killer and Dust were having fun, but not much was getting accomplished with massive property damage. It comes out that Nightmare's crew was coming by to get Frisk and rescue them from their endless tumble through the multiverse (which Error claims is giving him a headache anyway), and Frisk is very happy to agree to that part, and also to go live in a cool castle "for the time being." Allegedly, they will find somewhere else to stay soon, because Nightmare is not running a daycare for wayward interdimensional youth.

Frisk's condition is that Dust has to come with them, since he's been hopping through dimensions following them for so long now that they don't know what they'd do without him. Literally, every time the Barrier comes down, he waits for the hole in the world to open, takes a couple warm-up steps, and dives through after Frisk--he hasn't found a universe he could stand to stay in, yet. He hates the idea of living among people he remembers killing over and over again. At least if he follows Frisk around, he's with someone who seems to care about him for mystery reasons, and he might some day find an AU he'd be okay with. Maybe whichever one they settle with, if they find a way to stop falling. Which, it seems like they've got an opportunity here.

Nightmare is a-okay with gathering another unhinged duckling to take under his wing and occasionally let loose on unsuspecting universes (it's enrichment!!). He's seen that Dust is a great fighter, not too broken up about collateral, and having him around will make Frisk happy and therefore Horror will also be happy, therefore eternal loyalty, profit, etc.

(It has been a long time since Nightmare has been able to make someone he loves happy. It's been even longer since it's been so easy--what's one more mouth to feed? What's one more person who thinks Nightmare is capable of good without changing who he is?)

So Dust and Frisk end up moving in and Dust takes his place with the Bad Sanses.

Now there are a million things that could happen from here--well-meaning intervention from someone who discovers these psychopaths have kidnapped an innocent person for Clearly Nefarious Reasons, an intro scene between Frisk and Error (Error mentions that he's stolen their SOUL in uncountable universes and Frisk has no notable reaction to this, which really sucks the fun out of it for Error, so they end up watching trash TV together until Horror comes in to get Frisk for supper), Red's reunion with Frisk is gonna be great in any WT spinoff and especially in this, and general family sitcom shenanigans would be fantastic (can. can Dream babysit Frisk while everyone else is out. Nightmare absolutely forbids it bc Dream is a bad influence he doesn't like his people meeting Dream bc what if they like Dream more than they like Nightmare but what if it happens anyway. Ink wanders through while Error is babysitting and decides to Help, leading to an awkward day out with the Star Sanses, most of whom do not know Frisk at all. Ink forgets exactly who he's babysitting for and assumes they'll just come by and pick Frisk up eventually, which does happen, but there are a lot more accusations of kidnapping going around than is really necessary. Frisk and Blue are happy to see each other again at least).

Anyway this is,, a fantastic idea. rife with opportunity. I love it so much thank you for proposing it. wow,,

[100hearteyes]

Lexa travels back in time to prevent her girlfriend’s death, for which she was responsible, from happening.

TW: past character death, grief.

(thank you @butmakeitgayblog for the moodboard and beta’ing.)

–

Three moments.

Three key moments, however inconsequential they may seem, triggered a chain of events which culminated in Clarke and Lexa meeting for the first time.

For Lexa, it was instant attraction. For Clarke, although they would only find out many years later, it was the promise of doom.

“You can’t just erase me from your existence, you know? I’ll still be there.”

I might still die, is what Clarke doesn’t say. Lexa hears it anyway.

Nowadays, Clarke is but a ghost. Literally. Lexa has no idea how or even why it happened, but it had been an exact year since her girlfriend died when her non-corporeal form first showed up.

It was… gut-wrenching. Lexa has no words for how painful it was to see the love of her life in otherworldly tones of grey and not be able to touch her. It’s become easier with time, but she suspects this hollow ache that pulsates every time Clarke appears to her will ever go away.

“You’re the one who told me there was a way. You said it would work.”

This Clarke is Clarke, or rather the continuation of her; but she’s also not exactly the woman Lexa knew, regardless of the shape she has taken. This Clarke is rude and unsympathetic and has little to no regard for boundaries.

She’s an unpleasant version of the love of Lexa’s life.

Still, it’s hard to dissociate them. Lexa must do it, though, for the sake of her own sanity.

“I said you could avoid being the reason why I die,” Clarke states. “I meant it. You can.”

This journey has taken Lexa to remote places and from each she took tokens of different cultures and outlooks on life. She’s learned about grief and guilt. She’s learned to accept what she cannot control and respect what she doesn’t know. Above all, she’s come to a realization: if this doesn’t work, she can take the final steps to let go. This isn’t the final step towards the precipice.

Two years ago, Lexa would’ve lost herself looking for Clarke. Now, she’s finding herself again, parsing through the grief and plucking the parts of her she’d lost after everything that happened. And the puzzle is coming together, piece by piece and day by day, creating a new version of her which may not be whole anymore and may not be exactly who she was before — but it’s her, and it’s imperfect and it’s beautiful.

Lexa has learned to love herself again.

So this isn’t a desperate Hail Mary, her one last resort, the final step into madness. If anything, wherever it may lead her, this is closure.

The first door she opened was in Cape Town, South Africa, where Clarke was born before her family moved back to the States.

It was a cold December morning. On her side of the door, Lexa was thirty and falling apart. On the other side, Clarke was five and building a tower with Lego blocks.

Lexa felt herself staring long into an abyss.

All she had to do was relocate a single object and leave through the same door she’d come from. Days later, when she returned to her home country, she found out Jake was still alive. His daughter was not, though.

The second door she opened almost three months later. February 25th, Lexa’s home city. All she did was drop Anya’s phone into a lake.

When she came back, all her problems were gone.

It sent her reeling.

Lexa began to wonder; was she doing this for Clarke, or for herself?

She was meant to open the third and final door just a week later, but spent the 3rd of March holed up in her apartment, curled into a ball on the couch. She had jumped into this without a second thought, out of a selfish desire to relieve herself of the guilt of Clarke’s death.

Someone else had paid the consequences. Someone else was making her mistakes now and paying for them. Someone else was going to have a loved one ripped from their life.

What right did Lexa have to unload her burden onto someone else’s shoulders?

It took her months to get back on her feet. If the past year and a half had been an amalgam of denial, anger, and, with her selfish undertaking, bargaining, her second voyage in time had triggered the stage of depression, reflection, and loneliness.

It was then that she finally came to terms with ghost Clarke’s presence in her life. The afterlife form of her girlfriend gave her the tough love she needed to push herself off the ground. Clarke punched Lexa into motion and through it, Lexa found acceptance.

Lexa loves herself, now. She loves herself like she never did before, even when Clarke’s love made her feel invincible. Now, she sees the cracks and hard edges, the places where the cloth of her doesn’t reach far enough to breach the gaps, and she’s made peace with it.

Her shortcomings are no longer defined by her limits, but rather what she lets herself be limited by.

Lexa flexes her fingers. “What happens if I open this door?”

“I turn right instead of left. We never cross paths on the Brooklyn Bridge.”

This door has been locked for two years. Lexa never opened it, afraid of the crushing feelings that may lurk behind it. Behind it is Clarke’s studio, where she spent hours painting, the outside world all but forgotten. Lexa would sit in the corner, laptop perched on crossed legs, pretending to work but really watching Clarke print her talent on canvas.

Lexa feels ready to open it, now, even if what she finds behind it is a row of paintings leaning on purple walls, rather than gray skies and the wooden planks of the Brooklyn Bridge.

She has two conditions, though. Her fingers tighten on the handle.

“Do you live?”

“Lexa, you know I can’t–” Clarke stops short at Lexa’s stern glare and sighs. “Yes.”

But that’s not enough. Lexa won’t be selfish again — she doesn’t just want Clarke to survive; she wants her to live.

“Will you be happy?”

Clarke averts her eyes, then swallows. However, when her eyes meet Lexa’s after she’s taken a fortifying breath, there is nothing but honesty in them. “Yes.”

“Were you?”

Lexa’s heart constricts as Clarke’s eyes well with tears. What does it take to make a ghost cry?

Clarke nods, tries to get hold of her emotions. Her lips tremble and Lexa wants desperately to take her in her arms. If only she could.

“More than I can ever put into words.”

–

March 3rd, the day everything changed.

Twice.

The day Lexa found Clarke and the day she lost her.

Lexa opens the door and finds herself once again on that day, seven years ago, when she was trying to balance three cardboard boxes while speed walking down the Brooklyn Bridge, trying not to crash into any people — or worse, topple over the railings and fall to a wet death.

It was fruitless, of course. Just about to cry mission accomplished, she collided with something solid and everything in her hands went flying.

Not this time.

This time, Lexa changes the course of events and Clarke never crosses that bridge.

She watches from afar as her past self makes it to the other end of the bridge unscathed and a whole new life rolls out in front of her.

“You did well.”

Clarke appears at her side, colorless though still beautiful. There is a nostalgia to her expression, a knife that slashes at the relief that blankets it.

As she studies Clarke’s face and her mind fills the grays with color, drawing memories along the light edges dark lines, Lexa finds herself unwilling to let go. She moves to take Clarke’s hand, but catches herself at the last moment, remembering the colors she’s seeing are a figment of her memories and there is nothing she can touch.

Clarke notices, though, and regards her with such sympathy and compassion Lexa wants to run away with her and never open the door again.

“Come with me.”

They stroll down the bridge, side by side, their tranquility offsetting the electric current stringing everyone around them; the runners and the hurried, the young and the old, together. They find a bench to sit on and stay there for a while, watching the river run its course and the sun arch over the city and the people fall into slumber as the hours go by.

Can she stay here? Can she live a life in a world not her own, in a time asynchronous to hers, under the guise of having Clarke at her side?

She knows the answer to those questions. She’s long since learned that what she wants isn’t always what she needs — and vice versa.

“I’m proud of you.” Lexa meets Clarke’s gaze. Human or ghost, and despite the absence of color, Clarke’s eyes are beautiful. Lexa has always found solace in them, a rock to hold on to in times of need. She hopes she’s been able to provide even a fragment of that same comfort. “How are you feeling?”

It takes Lexa a few moments to sift through the throng of thoughts and feelings which this day has brought forth. Even now, she has doubts. But greater than anything, and the driving force behind her actions, is the desire to make things right.

She finds a feeling amongst the rubble and makes it hers. Peace. She feels…

She feels at peace.

However, after spending two years with the grumpy ghost of the woman of her life, Lexa is also feeling nostalgia as well as the pain over her upcoming loss.

Ghost Clarke was a way to remain connected to the past. Now, Lexa has to let go of that too.

“I hope I was able to make a difference,” she finally replies, eyes still locked with Clarke’s. “It’s not even about my guilt anymore. It doesn’t matter if we meet, either. I have made my peace with what happened. I just… I wanted to give you a chance.”

A chance to live; not just survive.

“You did it, Lexa.”

Lexa has made her peace with her role in Clarke’s death as well as the tragedy itself. The wound will always marr her skin, but it will no longer hurt when she touches it.

All she cares about now is for Clarke to be alive and most of all happy, even if it’s not with Lexa.

Several hours later, Lexa’s hand is once again resting on the doorknob, this time waiting to go back to her world — or whatever of it is left.

Clarke is staring at her, bottom lip trapped between her teeth. At Lexa’s questioning look, once-pink lips pull up into a rueful smile.

“Everything will be different.”

Clarke will be alive, her life will follow threads unknown to her till now. Lexa knows things will change. She also knows she will never see Clarke again in whatever shape or form.

Each time she remembers that, the ground beneath her quakes. She holds tighter onto the doorknob, determined to stay on her feet.

When she meets Clarke’s eyes again, they’re shining with unshed tears. Lexa nods, solemn.

Words would taint the moment.

“It was never about me, you know? I just wanted,” Clarke moves as to reach out, but catches herself. She clears her throat. “It was never about what would happen to me. I just- I wanted to lift the weight of guilt off your shoulders, give you closure. I-,” she chuckles humorlessly, eyes flitting to the ground for a moment before meeting Lexa’s again. “I need you to know, I’m still me. There was never… I never would’ve been able to help you if I didn’t put some distance between us. That’s why I behaved differently. But I was always still me.”

And Lexa knows this, knows what she’s saying. She always has.

“Your happiness is all that matters to me, Lexa.” Lexa opens her mouth, but a shake of Clarke’s head stops her. “Please don’t. Otherwise I’ll say something to make you stay.”

Lexa aches to touch her, kiss her, though she knows she can do neither, and her hands shake with the urge to close the space between them.

Instead, she turns the handle and opens the door. Before she can go, though, she turns to face Clarke one more time, needing to commit every single detail to memory, as though every line of Clarke’s face, every nuance, every emotion, isn’t already burned into her mind’s eye forever.

So she knows the broken words before Clarke speaks them.

“I love you, Lex. And I’ll always be with you.”

It’s with those soft words cradling her heart that Lexa crosses the threshold.

–

One of the first things Clarke told her, when they started, was that Lexa would remember everything, both her own memories and her new version’s, but the original ones — the timeline where Clarke died — would fade with time.

Clarke also told her things would change.

So Lexa was expecting to step into a different world and to be surprised at how much had changed around her.

She just wasn’t expecting her life to be quite so different.

Clarke’s friends are no longer her friends. She expected that, but the reality of it is overwhelming at first. She realizes, now, she often took them and the support they gave her for granted. Suddenly, having none of them to lean on, she feels crippled.

On the other hand, she has a different, better job. And as it turns out, her new self has left behind the concrete stuffiness of New York and embraced the free-spirited intellectualism of San Francisco, which isn’t just a different city — it’s on the other side of the country. Any latent hopes she might have had of somehow finding Clarke have vanished.

It takes her a while to adapt to all the changes, but a year later she’s back on her feet and the life she had before is now but a distant memory. She still dreams about Clarke, though the dreams are fewer and further between. Selfishly, she thanks the universe for the small reprieve.

Her old problems don’t haunt her anymore and, if not for the absence of Clarke, this would be a perfect life.

At least she’s doing her best to make it so.

She’s also learning to treat herself better than she did in her past life. Embracing the practice of being kinder to herself is refreshing. Freeing.

It’s the pursuit of one such self-indulgence that she finds a small coffee shop downtown, which she starts going to every day before work.

Today is no exception.

As she waits in line, Lexa distracts herself, noting down her to-do list for the day ahead. As she’s debating whether to go to the grocery store before or after her late afternoon run, she doesn’t notice her pen sliding down the page and falling to an early demise, until she feels a tap on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, you dropped this.”

Lexa turns around to thank her good Samaritan, a gratitude sat ready on the tip of her tongue, only for her breath to catch at the sight.

Because she’s as stunning as ever…

Clarke.

[blackrose343]

Unforgettable Night - NSFW

This fanfic is for 18+

Warnings: Sex

Kuroshitsuji / Black Butler - Sebastian x Female Reader

Fanfic Summary: For a long time Arthur Wordsmith could never forget his time at the Phantomhive manor. As his friend you tried to comfort him yet he would never reveal what happened. Every time you would mention it, Arthur would automatically become frightened. A new professor arrives to the school you both teach at. Your acquaintance with the new professor makes Arthur uneasy. Yet you can’t help yourself from indulging in your desire.

4,129 words

Still binge watching Kuroshitsuji and decided to revisit this fanfic too.

It was just past nightfall. Drizzles of rain were starting to come down, becoming liquefied tears. Lightning was hitting the ground with a mighty fist. Thunder could be heard from all over. There were stacks of papers to grade, a medium sized candle, and a cup of Earl Grey on my desk. Professor Wordsmith, my colleague, was seated at the desk waiting for me to bring some snacks. He seemed to be more tense and worried than usual tonight. I admit, I knew him for quite some time, but I could not tell what was bothering him right now or any other time there was a thunderstorm.

He has been like this ever since he came back from a party held by Earl Phantomhive. I have asked him multiple times to tell me what had happened, but he always starts to shake with tremendous fear and becomes as pale as a ghost. I would advise him to go to a psychologist, but I - along with the majority of the people - am extremely skeptical about them. 

I set the tray of food down on the table and looked into Wordsmith’s eyes through the candle’s flame. He gives me a small and innocent smile, trying to hide the fear radiating off of him. I wanted to put the poor man’s head in my bosom and rock him back and forth like a child, but refrained from doing so. “Arthur, you need to let this go. It has been years since that night has happened.”

“I wish I could, but that night is stuck in my memory. It is as if that entire time at the Phantomhive manor happened yesterday. I can never forget that night. Never.”

“Please, drink some tea. It will calm your nerves.” His hands shook as he took a sip of his tea. I took a bite of one of the cookies I set down. Its crumbs got on my dress, but I paid no heed to them. I wanted to calm Arthur down as much as possible before we went home for the night. “I wish you could forget about that night. Your wife is very worried about you. It may not be long till your daughter notices. You did say that she saw you burn a stack of papers, which I am assuming was about that night.”

“Let’s change the subject. Just saying ‘that night’ is starting to get me scared.”

“Do forgive me. I did not think it would. What a horrible thing I have done to you, my good friend.”

“Do not fret over it. You do not completely understand how it has affected me.’

“But, if it wasn't for that event, you would have never gotten an idea or inspiration for that story you wrote.”

“I know, but please.”

“Of course, I understand. Oh, did you hear of the new professor that is going to start working here tomorrow?”

“No, I did not. Have you?”

“Yes, some of the women said they were able to get a glimpse of him when he filled out an application to work here.” As I explained to Arthur what the other faculty members said about the new professor, his face paled. It was as if a vampire was sucking all of his blood from thin air. He quickly got out of his chair and ran through the door. “Arthur!”

I grabbed the candle and followed him. I did not think Arthur was the athletic type. He was running away from here as if a ghost was haunting him. He went around the corner towards the exit. As I turned the corner, I slipped. I had to claw my nails into the wall to prevent myself from getting caught on fire. Once I got my footing right, I stood up and saw that Arthur was gone. I quickly went back to my office and called his household. I told his wife what happened and to call me if he came home safe.

Today, I awoke to such a wonderful morning. Everything about it was perfect. Bright and warm sun, chirping birds, everything that Spring stood for in a nutshell. I thought it was a shame to waste, so I decided to have my class outside and have my students write about what they thought Spring meant to them.

I was on my way to my classroom when I caught Arthur from the corner of my eye. I went over to him and greeted him a good morning. He did the same and apologized for his actions from last night. I told him not to worry about it. He calmed down when I told him my plans for the day. Arthur thought it was a marvelous idea.

We started to talk about how his wife reacted to his actions and what he did to calm himself down when he returned home. He then told me how his daughter asked him to tell her a story to help her fall asleep. Arthur said that he made her pray to God before he told her a story. Honestly, I think it is stupid that people waste their time doing that, but I will not judge him for it. “Speaking of which, why are you wearing a pin of a cross? This is a public school.”

“To calm my nerves.” He gave a nervous laugh while he rubbed the back of his head. I wanted to tell him wearing a pin would not do anything, but I will accept anything that makes him feel safe. I also wanted to ask him why now of times he would wear it, but the bell rang. I was about to say goodbye to Arthur, but he beat me to it and sprinted away. I was bewildered, but turned around.

My face crashed into someone’s chest. Instinct made me take a quick step back. A strong, lean arm wrapped itself around my waist helping me regain my balance. I looked up to be met by a pair of crimson eyes behind a pair of glasses. Slightly messy raven black hair was framing the man’s pale face. It was the most handsome face I had ever seen. I can see why the women were awestruck when they saw him. “F-forgive me. I was not paying attention to my surroundings.”

“The fault is all mine madame. It was so rude of me to run into a beautiful woman such as yourself.” I had the feeling he was only saying that because he was trying to falter me, but I was faltered. I could feel a rosy blush run across my cheeks. Everything about this man was getting me hot. I felt like I was going to melt. This man was every woman's dream. He was handsome, intelligent, polite, and strong. I want to know what type of man he is in bed.

“Forgive me for I must get to my class.” I quickly left him like a school girl running away from her crush. I never knew I could feel like that again. The first time I felt like this was when I first met Arthur in high school.

Once I arrived to class, I apologized to my students for making them wait for me. We went through with my plans from earlier and they were successful. I also found out about the new student in my class, Ciel Phantomhive. I was shocked that his father would make him go to a school like this. It wasn't particularly bad per say, but usually the children of high social status would have private tutors come to their home.

The rest of the day was nice. Arthur seemed to have calmed down a bit and I got the majority of my papers graded. I finished most of what needed to be done, but alas, I could not get Professor Michaelis out of my head. Damn, that man is such a charmer.

As the next couple weeks passed by, I became more acquainted with Professor Michaelis. I noticed Arthur started to drift away from me and barely said a word when we had lunch together. It was making me become depressed. I want to be friends with Michaelis, but I do not want to lose Arthur in the process of it.

I was in my office grading timed essays from today when Arthur came in. He seemed a bit paranoid. He locked the door and came to my desk. His eyes went directly to mine, penetrating through the candle and locking my eyes with his. It had been a long time since I have seen Arthur like this. I had a feeling it was about my acquaintance with Sebastian. I was correct.

Arthur tried to convince me to stop trying to be friends with Sebastian, but I refused to do so. He did not explain to me why I should stay away from him. I gave him reasons to keep trying to convince me otherwise. I was so caught up with supporting my choice that I did not notice Arthur getting furious. He slammed his hands down on my desk, making everything shake momentarily. Shock took over, making me stop in the middle of my sentence. His hands were curled into fists. His teeth were clenched together.

He took a couple deep breaths and then put a stack of journals on my desk. I looked at him, bemused. I did not know what to do with these, but he would not answer. I gingerly picked up the book at the top of the stack. I quickly skimmed it and then read it meticulously. My eyes widened. These journals contained the story of that night at the Phantomhive’s party. I understood what was happening. Not only was Arthur finally allowing me to know what happened, but the books also had the reason why I should stay away from Sebastian.

Days passed as I read his story. I got so absorbed in it that Arthur offered to grade all of my papers until I finished reading them. Sebastian seemed to notice and only spoke to me for a few moments. Arthur really did remember everything as if it happened yesterday. Everything was so detailed: the dresses, rooms, even the food. I understood why Arthur did not want to see another body, but I did not understand why he was afraid of Sebastian.

I was in my office, finishing the last part of the book while organizing my office. This certain part was making chills go up my spine. I started to forget that this was what Arthur experienced. All of it was merging into a fantasy novel. I stopped reading it to give myself a break and to remind myself that this was real, not fantasy.

I started to boil some water and grade some papers Arthur left for me. I sat down at my desk and took a deep breath. I did not want to grade papers, but I knew I had to since I had to give them back and go over them tomorrow. Grading papers made me realize how much I missed over the past few days. I started to remember conversations I had with the other professors. Some of the women always talked about Sebastian and how they envied me. Some faculty members talked about how brilliant Ciel was. I was looking over Ciel’s essay when I remembered that conversation. “Damn, he is brilliant. The others weren’t lying. Well, his was the last essay to grade. Now I can finish that book.”

I took a sip of my tea as I reached across the desk to get the book. My middle finger pushed it off the desk, but did not hit the floor. I looked in the direction the book fell and saw someone getting up. The candlelight didn’t give off enough light to reveal the black silhouette in front of me. However, the candle’s light was able to reveal the silhouette was reading Arthur’s story. “Excuse me, but that is private. Please give it to me.”

“I’ve been wondering what you’ve been reading for the past few days, but I did not think it was this.” The silhouette turned towards me, letting the candle’s light reveal who it was. I knew it was Sebastian since I could never forget those eyes. He was looking down at me with the book in the air, a smirk on his face. I started to get a good idea of why Arthur wanted me to stay away from him even though I did not get to the real reason yet. “You are about to get to the greatest part. Though, I am shocked that Mr. Wordsmith would allow you to know this was all real.”

“As you probably know Mr. Michaelis, Arthur and I have been friends for a long time.” A thunderstorm started, making me feel how Arthur does every time one occurs. Fear started to creep up my body, but I was not going to allow Sebastian to see it. Sebastian smirked and started to read where I have left off. The room became eerie and cold. Goosebumps were appearing on my arms. Sebastian was taking his time walking to me. A dark aura (which Arthur described as an ill feeling) started to surround me. I looked all around me and saw that I had no escape.

“Do you want to know why Mr. Wordsmith fears me?” It was difficult to see yet I saw Sebastian change. Not his clothes but his appearance. His eyes glowed red with a slight pink hue. Claws formed. It was obvious Sebastian was not human. My instincts told me to try and run, but I knew it would be of no use. I also did not want to leave. I seemed to feel more at home around his aura for some peculiar reason. I wanted to reach over to him and pull him towards me. I wanted our lips to connect. I wanted his aura to engulf me. I wanted this man to drown me in pleasure. Sebastian’s smirk grew as he noticed what I was starting to crave.

He was in front of me. My heart was pounding so fast, so hard. I thought it was going to explode. My forehead was forming droplets of sweat. My lips were parted, waiting for either myself to say something or for Sebastian to claim them. He bent down to my level, letting one of his claws lightly caress my face. He was watching my every move, every expression, everything about me.

He had his thumb on my lower lip, slowly sliding and pressing it. His claw left a shallow cut on it. My saliva dripped on it, making it sting. It did not hurt, but made me give him a low moan. My breaths got shallower with each passing minute. He lightly blew on the cut, hearing me sigh in pleasure. He wrapped his arm around my waist again, just like the first time we met. He pressed my lip some more, forcing blood to come out of the cut. He was going to place his lips on mine, but changed his mind at the last second. He stuck his tongue out and started to lick the blood coming out of my lip. I took a sharp breath and moaned. I could feel my breasts hitting Sebastian’s chest.

He stopped licking my cut and brought his mouth to my ear. He softly whispered that he did not have to be as scary as Arthur described him. I knew that he was telling the truth. I knew that this was going to be a one time thing. I allowed him to do as he pleased. I knew this was his way of making me not tell anyone his secret. Right now, I did not care about anything except the pleasure Sebastian was going to give me. I wanted it and would do anything to have it.

Sebastian sucked on my wound and then claimed my mouth. I wished that he did not force my arms to stay at my sides. Oh, how much I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and deepen our kiss! Our tongues fought for dominance, but he quickly took it. I could feel saliva going down my jaw and onto my neck. I could feel my breast coming out of my dress.

His grip loosened as his lips left mine. A pout formed on my face. He chuckled and licked away my line of saliva. His warm tongue traveled from the base of my neck to the corner of my mouth. I turned my head towards his tongue, wanting it to claim my mouth again. Sadly, Sebastian pulled his head away and offered me his hand. I looked at it questioningly. I did not understand why I would have to get up. “I think your tea would have been better if it has some ‘milk.’“

Sebastian was showing me the sexiest, most erotic smirk I had ever seen. Butterflies started to flutter in my stomach. The darkest blush was forming on my cheeks. I had never been talked to so inappropriately. I knew I should have been appalled, but I was one of the rare ones that liked that type of stuff. He seated himself in the chair with his legs spread apart. He was waiting for me to make my move. I gave him a sweet and innocent smile then got down on my knees. I placed one hand on his thigh and the other on his hardened member. I started to gently rub it, earning a slight grunt from him. I then undid his fly and let his member come out. My blush deepened, for it was huge. I had to admit, his cock was the greatest I had ever seen, for I did not see that many in my lifetime. Everything about it was perfect: its condition, size, thickness, the tip, everything. I started to do exactly as he did to my lips - I licked the tip of his member. I could sense that he was becoming annoyed with me, but I did not care.

I took the tip into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it. I closed my eyes as I started to bob my head back and forth. I varied my rhythm. I could feel him pulsing inside of my mouth, ready to come. He pushed his member into my mouth, partially going down my throat. His claws punctured my head, but I did not notice. He took his member out of my mouth. I was able to taste some of his seed as it sprayed my chest. 

I leaned my head on his leg and gave out a sigh of satisfaction. I was looking up at him, waiting for his next command. He raised his hand and motioned for me to come to him by swinging his index finger back and forth. I quickly got up and Sebastian ripped my dress off. I was standing in front of him with my corset and panties. My breasts were completely exposed to him. I wrapped my arms around my waist and looked down. He pulled me towards him. One of his hands was swirling around my breast. He then pulled on it hard. I let out a scream mixed with pleasure and pain.

He set me down on his lap. My knees were right next to his buttocks. I lowered my hips so they were above his member. He started to play with both my breasts. He sucked on one and pinched the other. I couldn’t stop my loud moans from escaping. The pleasure from my breasts and precious spot were killing me. His member was rubbing against my “lips”. I wanted him to penetrate me and rip my underwear apart. I couldn’t hold myself back any longer and came. “Se-Sebastian!”

After I regained enough stamina, he made me squat above his lap. He told me not to move and tore my panties off. Slowly, I lowered myself onto him. I whimpered as I got closer to the base of his cock, but sighed when he was completely inside of me. I felt as if I was going to come again and it felt so good. I held onto his shoulders and started to move.

It was very clear to Sebastian that I had never had sex in this position. He held onto my waist and started to guide me. When I got the hang of it, he loosened his grip and resumed to playing with my breasts. My moans started to fill the room. I could hear some of Sebastian’s grunts in the background.

I had one hand on his shoulder; my other one was getting my hair out of my face. My head was leaning back. My breasts were jumping up and down while Sebastian played with my nipples. I could feel my climax coming again and picked up the pace. I was so close to coming again, but Sebastian stopped me. I looked at him with dismay on my face and pleading eyes. Again, he smirked at me while he laid me down on my desk.

I was flat on my back with my hands pinned behind my head and my legs spread apart. I quickly covered my opening and started to rub my insides together to reach my orgasm. I was panting, looking up at my tormentor. He brushed his fingers down my sides. It sent chills up my spine. I loved and hated the anticipation.

He continued this torture to the rest of my body until he sensed I was reaching my orgasm. He quickly put his hands between my legs and forced them apart. A little mewl escaped my lips. He stopped what he was doing and forced himself inside me. The top half of my body lifted itself up while my head was forced back. He was pounding into me so hard that I thought he was going to break me. I couldn’t stop mewling and moaning in pleasure. Something told me that he loved that sound. I wanted to do anything he liked so he could pleasure me.

My legs were wrapped around him. My feet were clinging to his pants. My wrists were fighting for freedom. My body was sliding up and down my desk. My mind became hazy. I could hear things falling off of my desk: papers, books, pens. I could feel our sweat mingling, the fire he sent through my mouth and body, and his claws that were cutting me. I could also feel my orgasm coming.

My moans became louder and sighs were escaping my lips. He actually let me come this time, but he was not done. He was still pounding into me. I could not stop my juices from flowing freely from me. Tears were forming in my eyes. I felt something playing with my clitoris for the first time. It felt wonderful and made me come again. Sebastian entered into me once more and released his warm seed inside.

Before his orgasm finished, he took his member out of me and let his seed cover me from head to toe. My body couldn’t stop shaking. My lungs were trying to gather as much air as possible. Sebastian unwrapped my legs from his and let them dangle off of the desk. I felt like a whore, but I guess I was one for tonight.

As Sebastian tidied himself up, I lifted myself on my elbows and watched him. There was neither a wrinkle nor a crease on him. He looked impeccable. It’s impressive how he can always look like this even when having sex. It was more impressive that his clothes were not dirty. Everything about this man was impressive.

After he left, I quickly ran to the school’s showers and cleaned myself. The next day we both acted as if nothing happened. Though I admit, I could not help but blush when he passed by me. Arthur is still worried about me hanging around Sebastian, no matter how many times I reassured him that he would not harm me.

When I got to class, I gave my students a free day. Some of their papers were covered in come or destroyed. It was a good thing I recorded the grades in my grade book. Sebastian came in and asked if he could speak with me. I gladly agreed to do so. Ciel looked at him, annoyed. I blushed, knowing that he knew what happened last night. Sebastian pulled me out of the room and told me to ignore him. He lowered his head and kissed me. I gave in immediately. I would do anything to have him again.

[epiitaphs]

🎁

spotify wrapped meme 

tw: drug abuse, alcohol abuse, body horror/gore mentions (nondetailed), suicide mention/discussion, suicidal thoughts, blood, panic attacks

75. DROP DEAD - Gvllow

Yes I’m too late When I lost my best friend I’ll never forget that He sent me a text before the last breath

He leaves both his work phone and his personal one in the first safe house. The SIMs are drowned and snapped, the phones nothing but shattered plastic and glass. He couldn’t help but stare at the last text he’d gotten from Jim. It was nothing special - some confirmations that Sebastian had asked for and a mention of future plans that were now never going to happen. They weren’t a distraction or a source of hope, he thinks, rereading the words over and over again until they have no meaning and he’s no longer really seeing the phone in front of his face. They were a foreshadowing and he should have seen it. He should have seen it some many other places too, small presagements of what was to come. 

It’s stupid to be doing this, he realizes, when he’s in a new car. What’s he running from? He might as well have kept that phone with those last messages because it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter if anyone catches up to him because it’s all over. He doesn’t give a shit about the web. It will fall, he imagines, with the two heads of it gone, but he doesn’t care. Why keep control of the world when the one man he’d want to rule it with is gone? 

And yet he keeps running. Just a little more. One last safe house, one that he bought independently of Jim, though there’s no question the man knew about it. He doesn’t know why - why not go somewhere that reminds himself of Jim. That’s stupid. Everything reminds him of Jim. The fact that he’s still alive reminds him of Jim. He’ll see how long that lasts. People on all sides of the law will be looking for him. Sebastian’s never been good at just lying down and dying but this time might be the time. He shouldn’t have smashed that phone. He laughs at that just a little - shot himself in the foot there a little bit. Everyone who’s ever worried about him would be fucking proud. The laugh is barely a laugh. Sounds like pain. He’ll get desperate enough soon. 

Ain’t nothin’ funny ‘bout being depressed When it feels like your whole life is already dead

He’s a ghost walking through the world. Sebastian had always been the one who was supposed to die on a rooftop with a bullet in his head. The bullet that killed him had missed his own brain, but it had killed him all the same. There’s nothing. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s been here. Everything’s blended together for a multitude of reasons. Right now, he’s trying to convince the crawling sensation that’s taken up residence on the back of his neck and in his shoulders that he’s allowed to move even an inch without something happening. He wants to move, in theory, but he can’t force his limbs to do it. They feel locked into place, his mind telling him that even sitting up will bring about the end of the world. Sebastian wishes he could tell his brain that the world’s already fucking ended. 

Even when he manages to sit, the tightness of his throat chokes him. At least the hangover he’s got makes him nauseous enough that he doesn’t have to even consider being able to sleep. It won’t happen for a little while longer and that’ll be nice. It won’t stop the panic from creeping in anyway, the need to sit there in the safest corner of the room, the urge to check that the door’s still locked, that there’s no one outside the windows, that no one’s hiding somewhere in the minimal space he’s slowly making his grave. He’ll have to leave it soon, though. He’ll walk through the world a ghost and maybe no one will recognize him - enough that they’ll let his physical body continue to decay until it matches up with the way he feels in his mind. 

I’ll see you when I go to sleep That is the only time we ever speak

The moment plays again and again and again in front of him. If he hadn’t been paying close attention to Jim as well as the target, he would never have seen. But he did and it haunts him even while he’s awake. He almost wishes for the feeling of David’s body, rocks in his back, hot sun, and blood in his mouth. Not that he really has to - occasionally he’s sober and asleep at the same time and he’s very well reminded of it. But now, the dream doesn’t end there. Sebastian wasn’t there to really see it up close, but his imagination fills it in for him. The blood in his mouth becomes Jim’s and Sebastian’ well acquainted with the end result of a bullet to the brain. There’s plenty of imagery that comes to mind.

The guilt - the thought what would your mother think doesn’t even cross his mind when he finally exits his grave into the real world. The world of the living. It feels like there’s a veil, another realm that he’s a part of. He’s not even sure he should be allowed to cross back and forth, but he does. He does and he comes back - the world of the dead welcoming him back with open arms and a comforting darkness. He knows his tolerance is shot, that he’s probably still a bit drunk, that overdosing would be so easy because it’s been so long but he needs it so badly. Sebastian prefers a slow death right now and he’s not quite there yet. He’d rather sleep like this, hope that what he sees is either more pleasant or nothing at all. The familiarity of it is something he wishes he could feel with Jim, but that’s not possible is it?

Can I breathe please?

Sebastian put all his eggs in one basket, all his faith in one man. Pull the keystone and the whole arch crumbles. And crumble it does. He doesn’t know why Jim did it. Why Jim didn’t tell him. Maybe he does - because he would have died trying to prevent the inevitable. That’s what should have happened, because here he is, more or less dead. There’s a weight on his chest, there’s something stuck in his throat. Soon there’s going to be a day where he has to make a decision. Is he going to pass into another stage of grief or is he going to stay here forever until it kills him. 

Maybe the answer’s already given. He’s alone, and Sebastian never did that well. Maybe he knew. Maybe he decided the moment the gun was shot. That’s what killed him, so yeah, he’s known since that day. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but at some point it will have been long enough. Either some external force will pull him out of the world of the dead or he will simply sink deeper into it until he cannot leave. He knows what will happen. It’s a foregone conclusion but the part of his mind that’s still clinging to straws hasn’t given up just yet. A drowning man will let go eventually. 

There’ll never come a fuckin’ week Where I can’t think about you

He feels like one of those dogs that sleeps on its owner’s grave. All he can see if that moment again and again and again and nothing’s enough to stop it completely. There will always be a moment of clarity where he sees it happen in front of him. He still doesn’t know how long it’s been. It’s probably been a couple weeks, but that’s a blind estimate that he has no way of verifying. He wouldn’t care if he did.

Maybe the day’s come. 

[glitterdreamsz]

Wrapped Around Your Fingers (Part 1)

Pairing: Roger x reader, Brian x Reader Summary: Roger and (Y/N) usually hooks up and made it clear that there will be nothing more than sex. But what happens when Brian asks reader out? A/N: I AM FUCKING BACK!!! I missed you so much guys and i am so happy to be back here after a really shitty and depressing time, i swear i won’t disappear again. I hope you will like this series. And don’t worry, me writing something new doesn’t mean that i won’t keep writing A Penny For Your Thoughts and dad!roger stuff Warnings: smut, swearing, bad writing, english is not my first language so grammar mistakes Words: +2.3k

October 2019 “(Y/N)!” Mary greeted hugging you tightly. “Sorry, I’m late, as always” you said chuckling “Been stuck at work once again” “Oh don’t apologise to me” she nudged your arm and let you walk in the apartment. There were orange, black and red decorations everywhere, you could tell that Freddie really tried his best for that Halloween party. “But maybe you should apologise to that blonde fella down there” Mary said gesturing towards Roger who was sipping his drink while talking with Freddie “He kept grumbling where you were and why you didn’t come at the studio like you said you would have” You shook your head smiling “Then I’d better go over there before he will come at the museum looking for me.” Both girls walked to the two guys who were talking about some new music for their band “Here you finally are!” Freddie exclaimed once he saw you “Right in time for taking a picture of us” and with that, he took Mary’s hand pulling her close to him and next to Roger. “Nice costume Rog” You chuckled putting the camera in front of your eye and looking at the drummer who was wearing a clown hat and a giant wooden ribbon.

“Shut up” he groaned after you took the picture “At least I dressed like something and not wearing a boring black dress. Let me guess, should you be a sexy witch?” he smirked walking closer to you. “Excuse me?” You lifted up some rose steams that you were holding in your left hand “I’m Morticia Addams, how can’t you get it?” “Oh so original” Roger joked “But as soon as you put those flowers down you’ll become a witch.” he said wrapping his arm around your waist and moving you closer to his body. “A very sexy one” he almost whispered in your ear. “I got it” you chuckled “This dress shows out my boobs, you don’t need to remark it for the whole night.” “I could remark though the fact that you didn’t reply to any of my messages nor any of my calls today. You  were supposed to come to the studio, we recorded some new stuff.” He made it sound like he was offended but you knew that everything was fine since you at least showed up at the party. “I had to work more than I thought and you know, you aren’t supposed to answer your phone while you’re working.” “I still wonder how you manage to work all those hours, don’t you ever get tired?” “No” you shrugged “I like my job.” “Don’t you ever get tired of talking about some paintings done by other people every single day?” “I studied for it Rog” you smiled “I like talking about painting to other people.” “Have you two done being antisocial?” Freddie broke your conversation and as you turned around you could see that John and Brian were standing next to him. “Hi (Y/N)” Deaky greeted you with a nod of his head. “We have never met before” The tall curly boy said “But I’m Brian” he reached out to shake your hand and you smiled while doing it. “Yes, we’ve never met before but I could say that I already know who you are. I’m (Y/N) by the way.” “Wait, you’ve never met Brian?” Freddie asked almost shocked. “No” Roger answered for you. “He spent the last months in the hospital and at home because of his hepatitis and that never made him met her before.” When people saw you and Roger they thought you knew each other for years. Truth is that you’ve met him only five months ago. You broke up with your boyfriend and you wanted to have only girls night out with your friends. That night you ended up in a pub in which this band Queen was playing. By the end of the show you were pretty tipsy and what you remember was that you went home with the drummer of the band and you had quite an eventful night. That wasn’t, though, the last night you saw him. He asked for your number and texted you any time they had a gig around the town. Neither you nor he wanted anything serious, you just came out of a three years old relationship and he, well, he was all about rock and roll and groupies. So that was the agreement you came out with: only sex, no feelings. You could be good friends but nothing more. “So, now that we all know each other, who wants a drink?” Freddie asked with a bottle of wine in his hand “Let’s get this party started!” he almost shouted for how excited he was. ***

“Let’s go home” Roger whispered in your ear. Those words gave you goosebump and you didn’t know if it was because you already knew what would have happened at his flat or for the atmosphere that there was at that exact moment. His cologne filling your lungs, your back pressed against his chest, your hips that swang against his, his arms wrapped around your waist. “Now?” you asked as you didn’t stop moving to the sound of the loud music. “Everybody’s still here.” “And so?” “So, everyone will see us leaving and they will definitely know that we left to have sex.” “Since when do you care?” “It’s just that it’s Freddie’s party.” “You haven’t been at my place for the whole week because of your job.” His lips started to leave a trail of kisses along your neck. He knew all your weak points. “And I really need you, right now” Roger proved his point pressing his hips closer to yours and you bit your lower lip as you felt his hardening against your bum. “I have to find Freddie and let him know that we’re leaving.” You could feel Roger smirk against your skin when those words left your mouth. “Don’t worry love, I’ll text him later that we were in a rush but we enjoyed his party.” You didn’t have the time to object since Roger took your hand and made his way to the door. “My car’s on the back” he said handing you your jacket “Wait for me here outside. You just nodded and walked outside the main front door. “Already leaving?” You turned around and saw a tall figure next to you, Brian. “Yep, Roger was getting a bit bored.” ****

It was all a rush. The door slammed behind Roger’s back as his lips were on yours, your hands through his hair as you pulled him closer. You didn’t want to waste any time as your fingertips started to unbutton his shirt. You have both waited a whole week for this, you weren’t sure if Roger had slept with any other girl in the meantime but you surely didn’t see any other guy, you were way too busy to see anybody else. Your lips found their way down to his chest which was moving up and down with his heavy breaths “Let’s go to my bedroom” Rog managed to say as his arms pulled you up and guided you down the hallway. In just a few seconds your clothes were off, just as were Roger’s, both of your eyes full of lust, both of your hands couldn’t leave each other’s body. You stepped to his bed pulling Roger with you, you left some bites on his neck as he hovered you. Your hand went down to his shaft and started to move back and forth. Roger laid his head against your shoulder as some soft moans left his lips. “Let’s not tease, let’s just fuck, it’s been a whole week since I’ve done anything” “Then…stop wanking m-me” the blonde managed to say. “Or I’ll come” “Wow Roger Taylor, are you really this weak?” you teased him, a smirk on your face. “You’re not the only one who didn’t have sex for a whole week.” He told as his hand went down to stop yours from its actions. “No groupies?” you frowned. “Will you just shut up?” “Or?” you smirked teasing him. “Just shut up” Roger mumbled as his lips found yours and his hand reached down your wrist to stop your movement and remove your hand from his hood. Your fingertips were pressed on his back as you felt him slide inside of you, his forehead pressed against yours as his breaths became heavier. “Fuck, I missed this” Roger managed to say. You moved your hips upwards as to tell Roger that you wanted him to move “Already so eager?” he asked still not moving, he wanted to feel you as much as he could and needed some time not to come too soon. “Will you just shut up?” you mocked him trying to mimic his voice tone. Roger shook his head chuckling as he started “Happy now?” You pulled him closer to you and kissed him “Shut up” you mumbled as the kiss deepened. “Let’s change position” Roger suggested as his lips were on the valley of your breasts. “What were you thinking?” “You on top” “Oh, you want to keep it vanilla today.” You couldn’t help but keep making jokes about him. That’s how you managed to make the sex less intimate, to see it just as simple sex between two people who just hook up and nothing more. But that wasn’t what Roger was showing at the moment when you were riding him and he decided to sit up. You have never been this close during sex, with your chest pressed against his. His hand reached for a lock of your hair and put it behind your hear, his eyes locked on yours as his thumb traced your lips, this was all new. And you didn’t know what was happening but that didn’t make you run away, it was comfortable, it made your heart beat faster but it was fine.

*****

“Where are you going?” Roger asked as he watched you getting up from his bed and recollecting your clothes. “Home?” you replied as if it was the clearest thing. “Stay the night.” “It’s not what we do” you said looking at him while putting your panties back on. “I know, but it’s four am and I don’t want you to get kidnapped by someone.” He retorted reaching for the cigarettes that were on his bedside table to smoke one of them. “I’ll call an uber and it will arrive just here at your flat so no one will kidnap me.” You moved closed to him and stole the cigarette from his fingers and took some drags. “Come on” he groaned as he sat up “We will see each other tomorrow again, there’s no need for me to stay here.” His hands reached for your hips and you could feel his calloused fingers against your naked skin. Roger made you move between his legs. “Stay” he insisted as his lips left some kisses on your belly and down to your hips bones. “Plus I’m hard again, so there’s a reason for you to stay. “Roger” you chuckled running your hand through his hair as you took another puff of his cigarette. He took that as a positive response and laid back in bed pulling you down with him causing you to laugh.

****

“Morning” Roger greeted you as he held his head up with his hand, his eyes on your naked figure. “Morning.” You smiled as you rubbed your sleepiness away from your eyes. “Did you sleep well?” You nodded in response “Even though you kept stealing my blankets.” “Was that the reason why you snuggled on me?” He had a cocky grin on his lips and you kicked softly his leg to make him shut up, but that only made him laugh. “Don’t you have rehearsals today?” You asked pretended to be offended by his behaviour. “Yes” “And don’t you have to go then?” Roger looked at his phone “I still have one free hour.” “And you have nothing better to do rather than making fun of me?” He snorted acting annoyed “Can I make an important question now?” You nodded looking at him. “What does a poor guy have to do to get a blowjob in the morning?” “I don’t know” you shrugged. “Maybe ask for it in a nice and polite way.” “(Y/N), could you please suck my dick?” he pouted pretending to look cute. “Fine” you sigh trying not to laugh “But only cause you said please.” And with that, you got under the bedsheets.

*******

“Your friend, (Y/N)” Brian said as he put his guitar back on its case. “Hmh” Roger mumbled as he kept a cigarette between his lips and started to pack his drumset. “She seems nice” “Yeah, she’s pretty cool” the drummer nodded not paying attention to his friend. “What’s going on between you two?” Brian asked once he closed the guitar case. Roger turned around to face him, a frown formed on his face. “What do you mean?” “You know, are you two dating? I mean, you seemed quite close” “No” he took another drag on his cigarette “We just fuck, that’s all, nothing more.” “Oh” Brian sat on the floor and drew some imaginary lines on the floor “So, you don’t care if she goes out with other guys?” Roger just shrugged as he kept working on his drum, not understanding why Brian wanted to know so much about your relationship. “Because you know, I was thinking.” The guitarist started to stutter “Would you be mad if I asked her out?” Roger suddenly got up taken aback from what the guitarist just said and that made him hit his drum cymbal with his head. “Fuck” he cursed massaging his scalp. Why did Brian want to date you? He just met you at the party, yes you were drop-dead gorgeous but he didn’t even know you so well. And fuck, Roger just said that you two have sex together so why would Brian want to go on a date with someone who bangs his bandmate? Roger looked at his friend and replied “No, you can ask her out if you want to.”

———————————————–

I couldn’t not add this photo that reader took about Roger, Mary and Freddie at the party

TAGLIST: you can add yourself in here ! if your name is overlined is because damn tumblr didn’t let me add you @queenrrogertaylor @spideyyypeter​ @rockyroadthepastryarchy​ @borhapqueen92​ @jennyggggrrr​ @queen-crue​

[lemonz-and-limez]

Grief

NOTE: This is sad, dealing with topics such as death and grief. See me down below for a longer than usual Author’s Note

Sheldon ran his hands across his face as if trying to wipe the exhaustion away. He’d stopped crying ten minutes ago; however, now all he could feel was nothing. It felt like a bottomless dark pit in which he was alone. Where his voice echoed off of the obscurity and right back into his face. Where the all-consuming darkness was really the magnitude of the situation weighing down so heavily on his mind that he just decided to stop feeling.

He’d been there for his mother. He hugged her, cried with her. Grieved with her. He’d done the same with his sister. And his brother, and his aunts and his uncles. He drained his emotions in their grief. He allowed himself that. But in the end, there was nothing left for him.

No hugs.

No shared tears.

No mutual grief.

He was left to his own devices, and his own deep, dark, humiliatingly depressing grief.

No one batted an eye when he quietly left the room to escape to the hospital garden. He’d cried for almost an hour, and no one came looking for him. He’d found his solitude amongst flora and fauna of the small Medford medical center.

Normally, Sheldon would relish in his isolation. But MeeMaw was dead, and he was alone.

Alone with seemingly no one to turn to for comfort.

Tears came rushing back to his eyes in a torrent. He hated this. Losing his dad felt similar, but at fourteen, Sheldon could look to his mother for support. She was there every step of the way to guide him through his heartache.

But this was MeeMaw, she was different. Her love was overwhelming; not just for Sheldon, but for his mother alike. This death felt like physical pain, he couldn’t imagine what it was doing to his mother.

When Sheldon held his mother right outside of his grandmother’s hospital room, it was almost as if he could feel her coming apart in his hands. He told her the news that MeeMaw had passed and Mary had nearly collapsed as if her legs had become putty. She let out a wail so loud it almost sounded inhumane. Her hand gripped the chain of her cross necklace so hard that it snapped in two. And through it all, Sheldon held his mother; letting her transfer her grief to him.

Mary had let her grief manifest because that was all she could do. Thankfully she had someone right there with her to guide her through it. Yet, Sheldon let his rip him up inside. Every tear he shared with his family was a crack in the dam he had built up in the week MeeMaw was in the hospital. Every hug felt like little pickaxes tearing away at its walls.

And yet, through it all, Sheldon felt like he couldn’t unleash his misery on anyone as he had let everyone else. He’d had family when his dad died, but his current family was all the way in California. Sleeping, utterly unaware of what was happening. And his wife, bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh, was less than a mile away in a hotel room. Right where he left her when he got the call at 1:30 in the morning.

Yes, he was alone, but in most ways, he brought it upon himself. And those tears that had resurfaced just moments earlier spilled over his cheeks. Sucking what little moisture Sheldon had left in his body, out.

He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. Once again letting the black abyss consume him once more.

Suddenly, through the darkness, a light shimmered in the dark. The illumination nearly blinded his pain, and he felt a momentary calm come over him. Snapping his head up, he came face to face with his Amy. The one constant he could count on.

Her eyes, like so many of his family, were glossed over with pain. But this pain was clearly meant for him.  He was hurting, she was his wife, in turn, she too was feeling pain. For him.

She had placed a hand gently on his shoulder. It was the lightest of touches, but it snapped whatever resolve he hand left in him. He buried his face in her midsection and held on tightly to her waist.

And just like that, he allowed himself the right to grieve. Melting in Amy’s arms and she reached down and pulled him up into a hug. He let his chin come to rest on her shoulder, and his tears slid down onto the soft cotton of her shirt. His hands stayed stationary on her waist, holding her a little too tight. His body shook as he let the death of his dearly departed grandmother wash over him.

His lips quivered with every exhale and every time, Amy’s grip on him tightened. “Shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart,” she whispered in his ear as she rocked him back and forth. Just like his mama had when daddy died.

Eventually, he sobs dwindled into nothingness, and all that was left was the vibration of his body as shivers coursed through him. Amy ran her hands gently down his neck and pulled him back. She wiped away two tears that had stuck to his face with her thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” she consoled, continuing to stroke his jawbone with her fingers. Yet, with no energy left in him to cry, all he could do was nod. “Your mother called me,” Amy announced after a brief moment of silence. “Told me what happened and that she hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” Sheldon mumbled in reply, wincing slightly at how hoarse his voice was.

“She also said that you weren’t allowing yourself to grieve.”

Sheldon’s head sunk. Even though he wasn’t intentionally trying to, he caused his mother even more distress. He thought that because he wept with those wept that he’d done his part. Even though he had two Ph.Ds. and a Nobel he still failed at social cues and responses. In his head, he’d done everything right, but all he wanted was for it to be his turn.

Amy continued. “She told me that your aunts and uncles tried to comfort you, but you would just cry silently as they held you.”

That glint of deep concern returned to Amy’s face. “Why aren’t you letting them help you?” She asked, running her hands up and down his arms in question.

Sheldon sunk back against the bench behind him, exhausted. Honestly, now that he was being questioned about it, he didn’t know. Everyone in the family knew of Sheldon and Constance’s bond, so, why would Sheldon think they expected something from him first. If there was something his mother’s side was not, it was selfish. It was insulting to them for him to think that they expected something from him first.

“I talked to them before I came down here, they want to help you, Sheldon,” Amy said, sitting next to him on the bench and wrapping an arm around him. “Let them help you because the next few months are going to hurt like hell.”

“It already hurts like hell,” he mumbled.

Amy squeezed him tighter. “I know it does, so, let your family help because they’re the only people that are feeling this just the same as you are.”

Sheldon lifted his head to look at her, his eyes starting to feel the weight of exhaustion. “Will you help me?”

“You don’t even have to ask that, because you know I will!” Amy choked out, leaning over to kiss him on his tear-stained cheek. As soon as her lips left his skin, she immediately wiped any residue away with her knuckles.

She stood up before him and extended her hand. “Come on,” she beckoned. “Your mother is worried.”

Sheldon let his wife guide him through the corridors and hallways of the hospital to the waiting room where his family was congregated. His mother was the first to jump up, and even as she enveloped him in a hug, Sheldon refused to let go of Amy’s hand. He needed her to anchor him, to not allow him to collapse under the chaos.

Grief was messy and complicated, but Amy had helped him get over his fear of things that were messy and complicated. With her at his side, he knew he could get to the other side of this long dark tunnel. He wouldn’t exit the same man as he had entered, but rather a stronger one. But he needed his mother, sister, brother, friends, and family.

But he needed what outshined all of them. He needed his constant.

He needed Amy.

A/N: I feel like I own an explanation. This last month has been absolutely insane for me. both physically and emotionally. This Wednesday will mark the one year anniversary of a death in my family and that’s what I am going to blame for this messy one-shot.

I have been keeping up with all the amazing work you guys have been doing.  Those of you who have stuck with this fandom and put out some amazing content, I truly do appreciate it, and will be trying harder to show it. 

Now that I am starting to find equilibrium again, I am truly happy to be back. Thank you for reading this ridiculously long (and most likely annoying) authors note.

[mrneighbourlove]

Shadow Hunt: Ch 1. Setting up the Players

Clara sat back quietly onto the seat of the psychiatrist’s chair, taking slow deep breathes as instructed by her doctor. Work had been dragging on her, and with the anniversary of most of her friends’ deaths at the hand of the being known as Vul’kar tomorrow, she was feeling incredibly depressed.  “Can I have another pillow?”

“Of course.” Doctor Kai Neighbour gave a light smile as he got up to select another pillow from his cupboard. Doctor Neighbour had only been working as a professional for six months, but he was the leading psychologist in Hyrule. Sure, this only came about due to most of his predecessors being killed in wars, or having traveled to Danjur to seek asylum from all the death, but Doctor Neighbour was absolutely dedicated to helping all walks of life in Hyrule. No matter if they Moblins, Hylians, or Lorleidians, he wanted to be a neighbour to them, someone they could trust. Everyone had difficulties after all. Handing Clara the pillow, Doctor Neighbour took his seat with easy care. “More comfortable?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Clara relaxed with a few more breathes. “Doctor Neighbour. It’s been getting more stressful. The days are going by harder and harder knowing that my friends are all gone. I don’t know why I’m still sad about this.”

Doctor Neighbour gave a light nod of his head. He too lost people he cared for during the eclipse. “Grief is something that might never go away. Its hold on us being an overbearing force in our lives. We have to accept that, and we have to know that its normal to still feel sad. To be numb to your friends’ deaths wouldn’t be good now. You know in your heart that you care for them, and they’ll be with you.”

“But what do I do now? If it’s not going to go away, how do I cope with it?”

“Do you have any friends that survived the eclipse?”

“Yes… but…”

Doctor Neighbour made sure to not fully interrupt her as she spoke, clueing in at the appropriate time. “Anyone to go to? Old or new friends?”

“I was in a chess league with Prince Ralnor as a teenager. But he’s so busy helping the king. And I heard he’s married and has a child.”

Her psychologist could only smile, and softly clapped his hands together. “Our worries come from a place of possibilities, but possibilities we never achieve due to the worry of only the worst outcomes. And we won’t ever achieve the positive outcomes if we don’t take the chance to reach out to them.”

Clara was still somewhere in the middle of assurance and worry. “Are you sure he wouldn’t tell me off?”

“Clara. I’m sure if you took a deep breath, take that confidence I know you have, and knock on his front door, he’d be more than happy to play a game of chess and catch up with you.”

Clara appreciated her doctor’s positivity. His never give up thinking and to always try made her feel better now. “Alright. If you think that’s what it takes.”

“I’ll even write a note making it mandatory.” Doctor Neighbour smiled another on of his soft smiles.

The meeting lasted half an hour, and after talking about work and saying goodbye, Clara took her bags and walked up to the castle palace. When a guard asked what her business was, she simply showed the doctors note. She couldn’t believe it actually came down to that. Making her way through the palace with a guard escort, she took a deep breath, and searched deep for her confidence. With a steady smile, she knocked on Ralnor’s door.

“Ukuri! Let papa answer the door!” The moment that girl started to hobble around, Ralnor knew she’d be a handful. Picking his daughter up, he quickly placed her back in a crib. “Stay there.”

When the Prince answered the door, Clara was surprised by how much he had grown. They hadn’t seen each other in plenty of years. He still had that long golden hair like his mother though. She instinctively brushed the hair out of her face. “Hello Prince Ralnor. I’m not sure if you remember me. But we used to play chess together.”

“Clara.” Ralnor mimicked her hair gesture with his finger. “You still do that thing with your hair when you’re worried.”

“Oh gosh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Its been ages, hasn’t it? What have you been up to all these years?”

“Well, I started using my teaching degree and ran a chess club for students, as well as anyone in Castle Town who was interested.”

“I heard. In the Brazzer Corner.”

“Yes. Its…. Its all gone now.”

Ralnor didn’t show a lot of emotion, but he understood it and picked up on it well in others. Clara was clearly hurt by the destruction Vul’kar rained upon Hyrule. Her presence here most likely meant she was looking for a friend. Her nervousness deduced this may have been a last resort. Shyness perhaps? The prince didn’t see why he couldn’t give her his time. He did remember how she was one of the few Hylians to be kind to him without an ulterior motive. “Would you like to come in Clara? I have some water if you’d like.”

Clara wasn’t one to hide her emotions. The fact she was actually let in felt incredibly gratifying. “Thank you. That would be very kind.” She took notice of the little one in the pen, reaching up. “Oh my goodness. She’s adorable.”

Ralnor finished pouring the glasses of water, looking proudly at his daughter. “Yes, she is. My little Ukuri, pride and joy of my life. She has her mother’s charms.”

“I’m sure she’s lovely.”

Ralnor took out an old, but richly engraved wooden chess piece collection, carefully setting it on the table. “Would you like to play? For old times sake?”

Clara felt her heart flutter, excited to play chess with an old friend. “I would. I’m sure you haven’t gotten rusty.”

“Not at all. It’s my favourite hobby.”

“Well, I’m sure your daughter can be a good referee.”

Taking their seats, the two of them played a long, yet fun game of chess, slowly catching up over lost time. Clara carefully moved her bishop to take Ralnor’s rook. “So, how did you and your wife meet?”

“My father always did want Covarog to have a Gerudo wife. Cass disagreed heavily with being forced into any relationship, even with a crown Gerudo prince. To appease my father, I proposed a relationship instead. With time…” Ralnor calculated his move and moved his knight into position. “… we formed an organic love with one another.”

“That’s very sweet Ralnor. I told you that you were likeable years ago.”

“It’s all about confidence now, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.” Clara moved her rook into place. “Check.”

Ralnor’s lips curled into a light smile as he moved his king into a specific space. Clara took a pawn with her queen. With this move however, Ralnor slipped his knight into place. “Check…” He watched Clara scan the board. Ralnor placed all his pieces perfectly. And she was so close to winning to. How’d she miss that? “… and mate.”

“Wow. You beat me.”

“Well, I should after years of practice. Not a child anymore now.��

“And without mothers help too. I’m sure Zelda would be proud.”

“Well, she did pay a lot for those lessons.” Ralnor shook Clara’s hand in good sportsmanship. “Good game Clara.”

“Good game Ralnor. I do hope we can do this again.”

Ralnor carefully put his chest board away, with all the pieces placed in cushioning. “I do as well. With all the recent events in the past few years, it has been difficult to find some quiet time for one’s self.”

His daughter cried out to him, wanting attention. Going over to her crib, Ralnor picked Ukuri and rocked her back and forth in his arms against his shoulder. “Really though, it was good to see you again Clara. I should really feed her and get her to bed. Not too awake myself either.”

“I understand. I’m sure that you have a private school in mind, but I’d be honoured to teach Ukuri when she’s old enough to start taking school. That is, if you’d ever think of enlisting your children into public schooling.”

“That’s something my wife and I would have to discuss; however, I will consider it as an option Clara. Do have a goodnight getting home. Would you like an armed escort?”

“Oh, please, that’s not needed. I should be fine getting home on my own, thank you.” Clara gave Ralnor a soft hug, surprising the prince. “Thank you for sharing the evening with me.”

“It’s no problem at all. Good day now Clara.”

The young women waved goodbye and took her time getting home. The sun set slowly onto the country of Hyrule. The reconstruction of castle town had been slow, but most of that was due to the city expansion plan. Building the area much larger than before, as well as having defences around the city and castle for greater protection. Two times the city was battered by destruction in the last few decades, so architects under the orders of the King and Queen wanted to make sure that the city could be organized effectively for a large population under evacuation quickly.

Her new house was right next to what would become a moat canal. The area had to have its construction completed before filling it with water that connected from the river. Going through her bag, she looked for her key. Every house on the block needed a key. For some reason, King Ganondorf was obsessed with the rule all new houses needed keys. “Stupid little silver- where are- there we go.”

Opening the door, she took a deep breath. Her house was oddly cool walking in. Setting her bag down, she took a sharp right into her kitchen. It was a small house, with narrow 90-degree angles. Grabbing her cupboard door, Clara heard her cat bounce up the stairs as she looked inside decide what she’d have one her late-night sandwich. The creaking of her steps gave it away, as well as a light purr.

Grabbing the kitty kibble, she poured some out for her cat to eat. Clara was ready for bed, so after eating her sandwich, she threw her clothing off and walked up the steps. More 90-degree turns up tight corners, she took a direct left at the steps, entering her bedroom. At least she was able to afford a nice big bed. Part of her wondered why she got a queen-sized bed if she never had anyone with her in it.

Crawling into bed, Clara relaxed, feeling the heavy blanket over her body. Her head turned slightly to hear her door creaking open. From this angle on her bed, she couldn’t see her cat come in. Closing her eyes, she tried to get comfortable. That was when she felt some weight beside her, pressing into the sheets. “Molly?”

Turning her head towards where the weight was, she saw only her closet. It was dark, but when she looked down, Clara thought she saw the imprint of a hand on her sheet. That was when she felt a shift at the edge of her bed. And it was subtle, but as she turned her head, she saw the blanket slightly move, a shape getting closer to her. Her brain was firing like crazy. Clara couldn’t help it, but a reaction of her unconscious curiosity got the better of her, and her eyes looked down at under her blanket.

In front of her was a man in thick, black latex all around his body, bar a tiny zipper keeping the mouth closed. She could only see the man’s eyes looking into hers. They were full of ill intent. Psychopathy. As she let out a scream, the figure reached out with a black hand covered in blood for her neck. He pinned her naked stomach with his knee as he started to choke her.

Carla felt her oxygen being choked out as the latex man choked the life from her. Reaching for a night candle, she smashed the candle stick against his head. The man let go of her temporally, allowing Clara to get up. Before she could get off the bed fully, she felt her back spike in pain with the sound of a sickening slice across her back. Clara gasped as she fell to the floor. Getting out the door, she looked across the hall to the bathroom, where she found her cat Molly, gutted and left smashed in the door.

“No. Please, take what ever valuables I have. Please don’t kill me!”

She turned to see the man crawling towards her, like a beast on all his hands and feet. His head never bobbed, entirely focused on her struggle. He was a gimp, his body tight and black as death. Raising the sickle in his right hand, Clara couldn’t stop him from stabbing into her leg. With a twist of his wrist, the maniac curved the sickle, and cut Clara’s right leg completely off from the kneecap. She whimpered, trying to scream when he crawled on top of her, holding his bloody hand over her mouth. His other hand trailed her naked body, the cold against her skin. Clara felt terror like nothing she ever felt in her life until now. She whimpered loudly when she felt a tongue trail the back of her neck. The man got a taste of fear, and was satisfied. Her terror was replaced by simple, effective, and life ending pain when the maniac took his sickle, and from between her legs, cleaved upwards on her body.

It was a slow end as Clara couldn’t even scream, overcome by shock and agony. She barely felt her body dragged to her window, the killer still crouching low as he dragged her mangled body. As her insides fell out, her mouth barely made an audible help, seeking sanctuary with her friends.

~

A man was walking in the cold morning of castle town. He had a morning routine every day. Run around the full area of the town square, go through the alleys, down to the empty moat, up the tall stair way, then back to his house. As he ran through the moat, he felt something drop on his head. It wasn’t supposed to rain was it? Looking up, he saw a nightmare come to life. Crows gathered around the body of a mutilated woman hanging from her bedroom window by her intestines. He screamed with absolute terror; his legs frozen with fear by the sight.

~

Ralnor received a knock at the door from a guard. He was preparing Ukuri for breakfast when he was interrupted by loud knocks. Grumpy he was interrupted, he opened his door in a huff and a cold face. “I’m very busy right now, so what-”

Ralnor stopped when he saw how pale the soldier was. “S-s-sir. I’m so, so sorry.”

The prince felt an awful feeling in his gut. “What is it soldier?”

“There was an incident down in the town. That friend of yours that was here yesterday. She’s…” The soldier could barely get her sentence out. Ralnor already calculated the dreaded words that would come next from the reaction of the women in front of him, but he still wished she didn’t speak them. “She’s dead my prince.”

Ralnor clenched his fist. Why? Why did this happen? “Get one of my sisters to look after my daughter. And give me Clara’s address.”

“Sir. I don’t think you want to see her…”

Ralnor gripped the soldier by the collar, glaring deep into their eyes. “I didn’t hesitate in giving my order. Now you shouldn’t hesitate in carrying it out.”

The soldier gulped, but the fear in her eyes didn’t waver. “… Very well. Prepare yourself Prince Ralnor…”

Ralnor received the address and quickly made his way down. Townsfolk surrounded the house, with local guards keeping people out. There were a few people crying from the agony of the news, and one investigator came out, puking into a bush. The prince hopped of his horse and showed his royal identification. “Let me through. I won’t ask twice.”

The investigators looked at each other, wondering if he had the authority to propose such orders, but there were no arguments. “We’re all taking a break. We moved the body from the window onto the bed, but warning my prince… it’s graphic in there.”

Ralnor slowly made his way in. Blood was smeared on the door way and trailing down the walls. The prince’s eyes followed the first blood trail to the kitchen. The freezer, kept cold by Zora ice, had bloody hands prints all over it. Opening the door, Ralnor flinched at the sight of a poor beaten in cat with a human heart stuffed in its mouth. Whoever did this wanted to take his time, send a message. Be some sort of sick artist. The cat’s wounds were horrific. It most likely suffered for a while, which meant the killer had time to kill it before Clara arrived home, and to do this with her heart, he had the time to be creative after her death.

Closing the fridge, Ralnor turned to go up to the steps. Making the first turn right, his mind raced seeing Clara’s leg against the wall. Pausing, Ralnor turned right again to the upper hall. His eyes rested on the massive pool of blood, mixed with other bodily fluids.  The carpet was stained, a darkness that would have to be utterly ripped from the foundation. Choosing to go right, he saw fur and blood smearing against the bathroom door. That must have been the point of origin of the cat’s death. Walking to the bathroom, Ralnor took note how clean it was compared to the rest of the house, save a little pile near the door. Looking at the toilet, he noticed some blood stains on the toilet seat. Taking a gander inside the toilet, there was wet blood. Did the killer wash his hands inside the toilet bowl?

As Ralnor walked out and opened the bedroom door, his analysis of the situation was forgotten immediately. He didn’t see the corpse of a random stranger, or even someone who worked for his family. He saw his friend. Clara laid on the bed, her body split open down the middle down up to just above her belly button. Her left breast had been cut open, where her heart was removed. The guts that had fallen out were stabbed into the wall in shape of a symbol Ralnor couldn’t make out. Her intestines were removed from her body by the investigators, but Ralnor could tell she was hung by them. The look in her eyes and face, the fear, shook Ralnor to his core. She died terrified.

Ralnor bit his lips in fury. Who would do this to her? Why would anyone do this? They killed her like a monster. She didn’t deserve this fate. Clara was a teacher; she never would have hurt anyone. By the gods, why did this happen under his watch? He should have insisted that she had a guard escort her. No. The killer was waiting inside. Her fate was sealed with or without Ralnor’s assistance. His teeth broke the skin of his lips, and blood dripped. Wiping his mouth, Ralnor shook subtly. After being powerless as a child to stop Kanisa from being kidnapped, after being a puppet to Vul’kar, letting that demon posses his body, and being so sick of the hidden depravity that made Hyrule stink, the Prince had enough. His friend’s death would not stand.

“Clara. I’m so sorry this happened to you. But I swear to you, I will look for who did this. I will find them no matter where they have hidden. I will make them suffer more than you ever did. And then I will kill them.”

_________________________________________

Next Ch. 

[angelskyladiana]

Tenebrae (Lucifer’s daughter)

Chapter 2: Shitty shitty shit shit

Summary: Lucifer never loved anything, or at least that’s what people thought. It wasn’t Eve and long before Chloe- he had Tenebrae. His daughter.

Warnings: Fluff.

Word count: 1656

(Baby daughter)

CHAPTER 1

-----

"What! What do you mean it's my job now?!" Mazikeen yelled after Lucifer had suddenly just dropped a bombshell of news on her.

"I mean, I need you to take care of Tenebrae,"

"You named it?!"

"The spawn of Satan needs a name, doesn't she?" Lucifer questioned her, playing with Tenebrae's fat, tiny hands.

"That's how you get attached Lucifer!"

"So what if I am?!" He yelled back, Maze's head snapped to meet his eyes. A look of almost depression grew on her features. Her brows were scrunched, lips in a scowl and her eyes glaring holes.

"It will make you vulnerable Lucifer!"

"She will not! She will make me all the more powerful!"

"Says the king of Hell! Lying on the floor!" She moved and stood above him. Her heeled boots next to his arm as she peered down at the Devil.

"She was not comfortable on the throne, and the floor is much too dirty,"

"So, what? You decide to become a seat yourself?!" She questioned, indicating the position Lucifer and the baby were now in. Lucifer was lied down on his back, the child laying on his chest with her head in the crevice of his neck. Tenebrae's murmurs and gurgles were loud in Lucifer's ear.

"No, of course not. I became something much more..." he mused, glancing up at the demon for a mere second before training his eyes back on his daughter's tiny body. Oh yes, he became so much more, he became a father. How poetic.

"As disgustingly adorable this is, what do you mean I have to take care of it?"

"Since I am, in fact, Satan and it is my job to punish souls, I cannot spend every waking moment with my little shadow," he said, shifting the baby so she was sitting on his chest, his hands under her arms holding Tenebrae up, tiny feet touching his bearded chin.

"You've got to stop with these nicknames,"

"But there are so many to choose from," he said, pocking faces at the blue-eyed babe, "I could call her, Tenny, Brae, Ebb, Rae or Nee-"

"I get it! I get it!"

"Good. Now, take the child. I'm off to torture a few more souls," Lucifer jumped up, cradling the child, "if even a hair on her pretty little head is missing, you will know the true meaning of hell." He spoke, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead before hesitantly handing her over.

Mazikeen held the devil spawn at an arm's length, looking at it with a distasteful gaze. It gurgled, clenching its fists towards her.

"Oh, look! She likes you!"

Maze's eyes snapped to his, "and what do I do with it?"

"Don't kill her. I'll be back in a jiffy." Lucifer said, leaving promptly. Tenebrae mewled after him, but to no avail, instead once again clenching her fat fists at the demon holding her.

Mazikeen watched Lucifer leave before training back her eyes into a glare at Tenebrae. The baby stared back, still grabbing, but then started to fuss. Her bottom lip pouted out and her electric blue eyes began tearing, slobber began falling from her open mouth. Maze's eyes went wide, oh god. Her eyes widened, "don't you dare,"

Tenebrae let out a howl and began crying loudly.

Maze cursed aloud, quickly bringing the baby closer to her body and rocking her back and forth almost violently. But nothing was working, the little devil was being unreasonable, "ugh, shut up!" Maze angrily whispered, still rocking Tenebrae. After an eternity of rocking the child, the demon was at her tipping point. She let out a growl, confusing the child greatly enough to make her stop crying. Mazikeen pulled Tenebrae at arms distance once again, tilting her head in confusion.

Tenebrae began sooking.

The demon growled again; Tenebrae stopped and giggled. Maze's eyes narrowed and she growled again. The baby erupted into louder giggles. "This is funny to you?" She queried, bouncing the baby in her hands- finding it made her giggle louder and squeal with delight. A wicked smile crossed the demons face as she bounced the baby an inch out of her hands before catching her again.

"Figures. Spawn of Satan.." Maze threw her slightly higher, "deafening creature..." She threw her higher, "can't believe he actually kept you..." even higher, Tenebrae went, still giggling. "Why would Lucifer want to keep a nonessential, monotonous-" too high, Tenebrae went up, yet did not come down.

"Shit." Mazikeen swore aloud, staring up at the baby now, somehow, stuck to the ceiling. "Shitty, shitty, shit, shit," The demon continued swearing, the child was not coming down. How the hell? She began crawling... and crawling... until she was out of the throne room and in the hall Lucifer had disappeared down- on the ceiling. Spawn of Satan indeed...

"Tenny!" Mazikeen yelled, jogging until she was underneath the baby's small upside down body. Also, not realising she had called it a nickname that would stick for hundreds of years. "Tenny... c'mon, you don't really want to stay up there..." The baby sat down on the roof after hearing the nickname for the second time, Maze smiled, "that's right, Tenny, c'mon down..."

The child just giggled down at her. Mazikeen tried again and again to no avail of getting the child again. Her chubby little hands clapped together as the terrifying demon attempted to jump for her even though there was no way possible she could. How in hell did she get a baby stuck to the ceiling? Maze's body gave out and she lied on the floor staring up at the baby. She scowled at every smile and look of pure bliss that graced the child's face. Lucifer was going to kill her.

Lightbulb. Maze sat up so quickly that if she were human she'd have a headache from it. A wicked smile lit up her face. If the demon spawn wasn't going to come to her, she'd have to go to it. Mazikeen approached the red wall, it's rough surface would be the only reason she'd be able to hang on and climb. Even so she would be hanging upside down to get to the baby.

It was either that or die by the hands of the devil, so she started the climb. Not even two feet above ground level her foot slipped and she hit the ground. A growl escaped her lips and not long after a high-pitched giggle from above her surrounded the room. It was enjoying her struggle. She only growled louder before tearing off her shoes and throwing them away, half wanting to throw them at the child. She began her climb again, and this time it proved to be more successful.

A lot more successful. Before she knew it Mazikeen was hanging off the ceiling with her legs dangling only two feet away from Tenebrae. She reached out with one arm, almost falling, but stabilising herself. It was a long fall. Lucifer with all his ego decided he needed the highest ceiling to ever be made, high enough he could almost reach his beloved father. Of course, being a demon the fall would hardly affect her, but there was no way of telling what it would do to the tiny child. Tenebrae giggled, tilting her head as if trying to see Mazikeen right ways up. The demon groaned, tossing her head back in annoyance and exhaustion.

She was dead. Her eyes shut close and she was ready to let go of the ceiling. Ready to accept her fate. Until something warm touched both her cheeks, her eyes flickered open to the baby that had crawled over to her. It's face was pressed against the demons, grabbing at her cheeks. This was hell. The worst thing she could ever imagine had come true.

The devils manipulative baby was stuck on the ceiling torturing her. Although it did slightly warm her nonexistent heart. Maze smiled back but it was quickly gone as she realised what was happening. She was feeling...

She couldn't handle it. This couldn't continue. Maze let go, hitting the ground with a thud. Her back ached from the way she fell but it was better than being up there. Lucifer was still going to kill her anyway so it would all be over soon. Speaking of the devil... The sound of heavy doors from the room over screeched, signalling the one and only had entered and was coming towards then. Maze sighed, leaning her head back on the black marble floor. The doors in front of her began to open. Gulp. "What the bloody hell is going on here?!"

Lucifer's eyes scanned the room, immediately seeing Maze lying on the floor. He hadn't been gone very long and this is what he comes back and sees?

Tenebrae gave out a delighted screech the moment she saw him, attempting to crawl towards him.

"I thought you said getting attached was wrong, Maze?"

"This isn't what it looks like,"

Lucifer could only chuckle at his favourite demon lying on the floor with Tenebrae sitting up on her stomach. Seemed they had gotten along well. Maze being the hypocrite she was, was now in the position he was only a short time ago. His smirk didn't fall as he walked towards them. Maze flared at the child for the billionth time that day. The moment the door began opening, Tenebrae fell from the ceiling and landed on top of Maze just in time.

"I told you she liked you," he spoke, picking up his child and moving her to rest at level with his head. He began walking out of the large room. The infant looked back at Maze over her father's shoulder with a gummy smile.

Although Maze was still peeved with the child, she couldn't help but smile back.

CHAPTER 3

[voltaicfox]

We Have An Eternity- Part 1

(WARNING: This is a Dream/Ink ship based story. If you do not like that, or ships in general, I advise you to look away, and find something else to read!)

So here’s the deal. I recently found a fanfic I had begun to write about half a year ago and well, to put it bluntly, I liked it and didn’t want it to go to waste. Lately I’ve needed something to do for fun, so I figure actually finishing this story and posting it is an excellent thing to do!

That being said, DO NOT EXPECT THIS TO HAVE ANY CONSISTENT UPDATES. This is 100% for fun, is very experimental, and will still be taking a back seat to my projects such as Underplead. And remember guys, if you don’t like the ship, don’t read. It’s that simple.

Chapter One (You Are Here)

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

We Have An Eternity

Setting: Decades after the fallout between Ink and Dream Rating: Pg-13 Warnings This Chapter: Depressive Topics Pairings: Dream/Ink, Night/Cross (Sans) POV: 2nd Person Dream Characters Used This Chapter: Dream (by @jokublog​), Ink (by @comyet) and Geno (by @loverofpiggies​)

Part One: An Old Acquaintance

 You feel a yawn begin to form as you arch your spine into a locked, curved shape as you hear your bones crack and rattle against one another. Sighing, you run your gloved hands along the smooth curve of your cheek. How long were you asleep? It felt like ages. Hopefully it wasn't as long, you note to yourself. The multiverse couldn't afford for it to be.

Your mouth feels dry, and an aching tension lingers in your vertebrae. Stifling a groan, you wince as the stiffness gives you a dull reminder of an unfriendly memory. You can recall feeling even more rigid, the time you spent turned to stone haunts your mind. Just the thought of such a sensation is enough to make you get to your feet in an attempt to shake the feeling.

However, it does not take long for your spirits to lift. Your relatively new outfit gives you a childlike sense of pride as you hear the sound of your boots hitting the chilled, packed dirt path beneath you, your cape making a soft, stirring noise as it blows behind you in the breeze. Pure joy fills you as you reflect upon the growth you've undergone over the past few centuries.

You aren't regularly one to self-reflect, but the feel of the crisp morning air and the bright, joyful sunlight gives you a sense of peace and awakening. It just feels nice to self-meditate, and you allow yourself to, knowing you won't have time to later. There are people to defend.

Oh right. You come to the realization that you are a guardian. A guardian that is needed to defend the multiverse from misery and despair. Sighing, you accept that your moment of relaxation has come to it's end. A sickening feeling comes to your gut, and you know something is not as it should be, as always. You allow yourself to focus on your aura, trying to find where the feeling is coming from. It is a nearby Aftertale universe giving off the strong sense of negativity. The strength of the feeling is weak enough to tell you that your brother is not there, but not taking action would only give the prince of negativity a chance to escalate things.

You had a good rest in the forest of Haventale's Mt.Ebott, but now it is time for you to go. Channeling your energy, you summon your staff, its sky blue handle absorbing the chill from the air and reflecting sunlight off of its smooth, shiny surface. The reflected light soon turns to shimmering, as the staff develops a curve and lengthens. The handle gains a golden grip, and vines to elegantly wrap around its now-auburn surface. You are no longer holding a staff, but an ethereal bow. Slinging it around your back, you quickly teleport to the universe in need.

The buckles on your outfit jingle as your boots make impact with the pitch black floor. Though you cannot see it, the floor is there, along with the rest of the pitch black room. Taking a moment to observe your surroundings, you become lost in thought. Nothing but pitch black, you think to yourself, I couldn't spend even a week here, no wonder Geno Sanses go insane trapped in this place. Only when you hear the cold, shrill chuckles of a distant voice are you shaken from thought, a chill making its way down your spine. As you look, you see a round, huddled figure in one corner, white with red splotches and, from what you can tell, rocking itself back and forth. The laughs come from it. They are not laughs of joy, but rather malice. A malice that you are all too painfully familiar with. That malice is why you are here.

Gingerly, you attempt to approach the figure, gently placing your feet down. While you walk, you hear the laughter turn into screeches, cries, and even begging. As you get close, the figure does not move. It is a Sans, as expected, and the light in his one good eye socket is trained on the tail of the scarf resting by his bloodied slippers. You touch his shoulder as he begins stop making any noise. Then, after a few moments, a croaked question escapes his mouth. You try desperately to understand, but the words are lost in his despaired, pained, and hushed tone. Politely, you ask him to repeat the question. After a burdened sigh, he tries again, slightly louder.

"Do you know what it's like?" he asks.

You know you could pretend to not understand. After all, he hadn't specified what feeling or scenario he referred to knowing the pain of. However, telling him you did not know what he meant would be a pathetic facade. You know what he feels, and in fact, you DO know how it stings from a first-hand experience. Oh, how you wish you could avoid the question, lie, anything to prevent the flood of emotion that would hit when recalling such pain. The pain of watching a loved one go through awful things, and being helpless to stop it. 

On the other hand, you know avoiding the question won't help make this better. It commonly works more efficiently to open up, something you've learned from centuries of experience. You take a deep breath, swallowing the burning feeling in a throat that doesn't exist, pushing back tears and keeping a level head. When you are sure your voice won't shake, you finally begin to speak.

"I do," you begin, "and it hurts. I know. I can't pretend I'm going through this entrapment or isolation, but I do know how you feel." For a moment, you pause, noticing with a pang of sadness that the Sans has begun to cry. You fight to get the rest of the words out, anguish threatening to overtake you. You still manage. "You love your brother very much. I know that. I know it hurts to watch him die." Taking a moment to think of what you'll say next, you sit next to the depraved skeleton, his eye socket still transfixed on the dust-covered scarf. Gathering yourself, you continue to tell him of your past, your issues, and the overwhelming dreads you face every day, though the story is hard to force out, almost as if it's fighting to stay in your mouth. As you tell the Sans of your struggles, he begins to stop crying. First the tears slow, then reduce to only a few, then stop all together. All that is left in his eye socket is pure desolation. Still, he's not crying. It's a start. You, on the other hand, continue to fight to keep it together. Even once the story is over, it feels like a battle to stay focused, to stay clear-minded, and to not collapse. Then, dead silence. Neither of you make a sound, and for a moment you aren't sure whether that makes things better or worse. Before you can decide, the Sans looks up for the first time since you have arrived, the dim light of his eye socket now fixed on you. "Who are you?" he asks. You're used to the question, and can gauge exactly how to answer. Another skill you didn't perfect right away. Forcing a smile, you return his gaze and prepare to answer. Right before you state your name, however, you are interrupted by a voice. "Have you got this under control?" That voice. The familiarity. Hearing it causes you to gasp, and for a brief moment, you struggle to breathe. You don't look. You don't move. You would have been fine never hearing this voice again. It's not evil, but it's not good either. At least, not as good as you had once thought. Realizing that the first time had hurt enough, but this? God, please be my imagination, you think to yourself, please don't let it be him. Your thoughts are rapid, and you struggle to pull yourself together. After what feels like forever, you finally rotate your head slightly, stiffly, to confirm your worries. Standing there, you see exactly what you feared. A short, colorful skeleton wearing a long, brown scarf, a singular ink blotch on his right cheek, and one giant, iconic paintbrush. It's the monster you once called a friend, and he's staring right at you, discomfort filling his gaze. You've come, after years of avoidance, face to face with Ink once more. Your posture stiffens, each bone being straightened and tensed as you work to keep all feelings under control. But how can you? Of all the emotions you feel right now, anger, resent, disgust, even melancholy, one holds strong. Just one feeling sticks out above the rest. Heartache. Your chest feels heavy, and you begin to breathe unevenly. Oh god, why won't he leave already? Then you remember the Sans in desperate need, sitting right next to you. You cannot help him with this menace standing right there. It is time for you to be firm. Clenching your jaw, you force yourself to look at Ink. As your eye sockets meet, you almost lose your stern demeanor. Come on, Dream, you say to yourself, he's not what's important right now. Deal with this later, you have a person to help. With that, you are finally able to speak, even if not much. "Yes." you growl, the tone cold and unforgiving, just as intended. "I'm doing just fine, as a matter of fact. The last thing we need here is you." Did you see that correctly? There's no way, and yet you're so sure. It was brief, but evident. No, it had to be, you're certain you saw it. Ink showed a look of hurt. Unfortunately, the look more likely scathed you worse. After a moment, Ink sighed, looked away, then responded. "No need to be short," he muttered. "I was only making sure this situation was being defused properly." Properly? Was he implying that you couldn't do missions on your own? What right does he have to judge when he himself are willing to watch anything happen with no qualms? Last you checked, the only one truly helping the people of the AUs was you. Not Ink, nor anyone else as of late. What was he even doing here, didn't he know this was your job? Your peripheral vision reveals a bright yellow glow emanating from your cheekbones. Great. Now you're blushing with anger. You've had enough. "Just leave." you muster, a hint of outrage creeping into your voice. "We both know who the real defender is here. You have no intentions to help others, you've made that clear. Just go." Ink opens his mouth, about to argue, but for some unknown reason, stops. Instead, he heaves a sigh, casts one last regretful look at you, and reaches for his paintbrush. He hesitates, but you ignore his presence, and turn back to the victim in need. However, while you're expecting him to look forlorn, you are instead met with a wide-eyed smile, his gaze penetrating any comfort you had. It's unnerving, and you're cautious at the sight of it. Then, something resonates from deep within the skeleton. It's more laughing, only this time, the pain is gone. All you can hear is pure insanity. The chuckles first come quietly, then louder, then even louder. You resist the urge to block out the noise, or worse yet, leave. The loss of control is so evident, however. So painful. Reminds you of too much. It's a miracle you're able to hold your ground. Shrill laughter continues to get lost into the depths of the void as the Sans fights to get a hold of himself. Right as you are about to break, however, his voice becomes hoarse, and the giggles quiet into a hushed wheezing. This is your chance. You have to figure out how you can help. Voice shaking, you allow yourself to talk to the Sans. "If I m-may ask, what d-do you find so f-funny?" He goes silent at once, the smile on the skeleton drops into a blank look, as if it's the dumbest question in the world. As if you should know. It makes you squirm. "W-well? I-I'm only curious, i-is all." you clarify. Enthusiastically this time, he answers your question. "It's just.... we spend our whole lives thinkin' there's something greater out there. Some forces, good or evil, balancing our world, calling the shots, and bein' all powerful." He stops and casts an eager smirk at you. "I always thought that these forces were proof at a greater power, proof that I would never accomplish my plans of stopping time itself." He pauses, seeing your expression. "What? Yeah, even as determined as I was, I always had a feelin' I'd be stopped." Once again, he goes silent before bursting into more fits of barking laughter. You urge him to go on, to finish his thought, but you aren't so sure you want to hear the rest. Something about his tone deeply unsettles you, like a crow's caw during nightfall. You have to hear the rest though. It's your responsibility as a guardian. Taking a deep breath, he halts his laughter and gains a raspy, malicious tone to his voice. "But now that I've met these so called 'forces', I've found that they're as clueless and helpless and pathetic as ME." This makes you tense up, a ominous feeling lurking in the foreground of your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ink freeze in his tracks, paintbrush posed to create an exit, but stopped in mid-air. The insane skeleton clearly has developed a sense of overconfidence, but for once, that's not a good thing. Not when the skeleton wants to end his own world. Despite fighting the urge, you are unable to stop yourself from taking two steps backward. The jingle of your boots alerts the Sans, however, and his eyelights return and become directed at you. You gulp, and prepare to make a retort to diffuse the situation. "W-well, um... Geno, is it?" The skeleton nods. "We aren't... helpless... there are just several of us. With any group of people comes arguments and disagreements, surely you know that!" As you finish your sentence, Ink nods in agreement, his paintbrush reattached to his back. Geno barked a loud laugh, before breaking into eerie chuckles. "Oh no, don't try to lie to me. I can see EXACTLY what's going on." He then winked. "You 'gods' don't have everything figured out. There is no plan. Everything that happens-" He gestures around himself. "this is ALL spontaneous to you! So if I fight back... you have no clue what I'll do." His grin becomes wider, stretching across his face in a look of pure madness. You sigh. He has a point, but then again, he isn't the only one who has had this train of thought before. "While that may be true, you aren't the only one." You cast him a look of warning. "We have had others say similar things, and I assure you, all of us are far from helpless! I don't advise fighting against us. Besides, we just want to help you! Most of us, anyway..." Geno, not uttering a response, stands up. His eye sockets are dark and hollow, his grin is unmoving, and his face is pointed to the floor a few inches in front of his feet. He summons a bone in his hand, and then looks up, his non-melted eye glowing. Then, he allows only a single sentence to escape him. "I don't care what you advise."

[kaylahill94]

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[my-emotional-self]

Let Me Protect You Chapter 17/?

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC Emilia

Word Count: 2,032

Warnings: Swearing, Mild Smut (oral sex, male receiving)

Rating: Mature

Summary: After Emilia’s fiancé cheats on her, she moves to California to live with her brother Eric, who just so happens to be good friends with Chris Evans.  Follow Emilia and her roller coaster life through heartbreak, love, and emotional trauma. Will Emilia choose to let Chris into her heart, or will she remain broken and alone forever?

 “It’s time to repay the favor” you say as you drop to your knees.  You were eye level with his well-equipped cock and it was perfect. You placed your hands on his shins, and ever so slowly used your nails to scratch lightly, all the way up.  You saw Chris shutter and tilt his head back, sighing heavily, once you reached his thighs.  As your hands reached higher on his legs, you moved in to start kissing along his hipbones.  Chris reached one hand to steady along the wall, while the other found its way into your hair.  You gave him slow, sensual, wet kisses from one hip to the other.

When you decided you’ve teased him enough (hey, you said you’d repay the favor and he teased you first), your gently gripped his smooth shaft.  Tilting your head up, you smirk at Chris seductively and you could physically see him gulp.  You kept eye contact with Chris as your tongue darted out from your mouth and licked the pre-cum off his tip.  

“Fuuuuuck me!” Chris drawled out.

You swirled your tongue a few times more, circling his tip before you licked a strip from base to tip on the underside of his penis.  That action led to an animalistic growl from Chris and it turned you to the point where you had to clench your legs together, your throbbing clit making it hard to concentrate.

Gripping his base, you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, using your tongue muscle to lick the vein on the underside each time you bobbed your head in and out.  You used your teeth to gently, very gently, scrape against his head and Chris gripped your hair, not prepared for that.

“Holy fuck baby, do that again please” he begged, his voice hoarse from the noises he was making.

You did as he asked, loving the way he sounded and begged for you to continue; making you drip even more with wetness.  You took him into your mouth again, using your hand where your mouth couldn’t fit and started sucking as you moved your head.  Chris’ breaths becoming labored and he started jerking his hips forward; his release becoming evident.

“I’m-I’m so close” he groaned.

You hummed at his response and that was the tipping point for him.  His hot, salty seed shooting out and coating your throat as you take it all in your mouth.  Chris pulls out of your mouth and leans his back against the shower stall, panting heavily. You use your tongue to clean up some of his cum that dripped out and onto our lips.  Getting back up to your feet you give him wink.  

He chuckles quietly as he shakes his head.  “That was amazing beautiful.  Thank you.”

You lean up to capture his lips in yours, raking your nails down his chest.  “Told you I’d repay the favor.”

“Fuck baby, I was not expecting that at all tonight.”

“Well, I was hoping to put you in a good mood” you say to him “because we need to talk.”  You lower your head, too afraid to see what he looks like.  You bite at your lips, afraid he was going to get me.  He grasps your chin in his fingers so he could raise your head up.  

“Is everything alright beautiful?”

You let out a defeated sigh “I hope so Chris…..I really hope so.”

 Chris decides the two of you need to finish your shower first.  He moves you to stand underneath the showerhead as he reaches for the shampoo bottle and squirts some onto your head.  You had started to reach up to lather it yourself, but he grabs your hands and places them at your side.  “Let me do it for you sweetheart…just relax.”

And that’s exactly what you do.  Your shoulders loosen up as his hands start to massage the shampoo into your scalp. You hum as he does so, noticing this man not only has magic hands in bed, but also in the shower.  After your shampoo was washed out, he repeated the process with conditioner.  He then proceeded to wash your body, scraping his nails against your hardening nipples. “Tease” you say to him playfully as he snickers.  “You love it” he banters back.  Yes, yes you did.  You loved what he was doing to your body.

Hair washed and body cleaned, you two towel off and get dressed.  You decided on a pair of leggings and a tank top; you were always warm after a shower.  Chris was in sweats and a t-shirt as you both got comfortable on the bed.  He didn’t push you to talk right away, and for that, you were so grateful.  While you sat there in silence, he reached over and took your hand in his, giving it an encouraging squeeze.  

Like always, as if he could read your mind, Chris called Dodger into the room and onto the bed. Dodger laid right next to you and you reached out to pet him; almost instantly calming your nerves and fears. Concentrating on Dodger’s fur as you pet him, you began.  “So…umm…my appointment today didn’t go as good as I hoped” you started.  “I ah…I was ummm…fuck.  This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Just breathe beautiful…take your time…whenever you’re ready.”

How in the almighty universe did you land a perfect person like Chris?  He was always there for you, grasping your hand when you needed it most, using encouraging words to get you to open up.  You had to muster up the courage and just spit it out.

“I was diagnosed with high functioning depression, anxiety, and borderline personality disorder” you spit out rather quickly.  You sat there, head hanging down as your hand threaded into Dodger’s fur.  It was silent.  Too silent for your liking.  Tears were spilling over your eyes and you started sniffling.  You knew it; Chris was going to leave you.  He hasn’t said anything yet; the silent making it evident what his decision was.

“Baby” Chris said quietly trying to get your attention.  You sat there unmoving. “Ems”, he tried again, but you were a statue.  “Emilia!” Chris exclaimed, emotion to his tone. “Look at me.”

Lifting your head gradually, you turned in his direction, using the back of your hands to wipe away the tears falling down your face.  

“Do you think I’m going to leave you because of what you’re diagnosed with?”

Without answering vocally, you nod your head yes; eyes pleading with him to stay with you.  To continue to protect you and support you. He was a great support system; the best you’ve ever had.  You couldn’t lose him yet, you’ve barely just begun.  

Chris pulled you in for a hug, holding you tightly to him.  “I am not leaving you over this sweetheart….not a chance.  You are a strong woman.  You will get through this.  I’m staying right here with you to help you.  Emilia you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“But this is just so much more than I thought it would be.  It’s more pressure on you Chris.  I don’t want to drag you down because I don’t know how long this is going to take.  I can’t rely on you for everything all the time.  I need to get out and find a job…and maybe move out of Eric’s guest house. I feel like I’m worthless here in this relationship and we’ve only just begun.”  Your sobs were now falling freely and Dodger moved even closer to you, feeling your sadness.

Chris rocked you back and forth in a soothing way trying to calm you down.  “Lets take this one step at a time baby.  There is no need for you to rush out and find a job or move out of Eric’s place.  When he gets home you and I will both sit down and talk to him about everything. You need to get better first and foremost Emilia.  I can take care of you, and so can Eric.  You can always stay here with me anytime you need to.”

“Yeah but..” Chris cut you off with a kiss to your lips.  “No buts Emilia” he stated.  “I’m not kidding.  You’re not bothering me by being here and I have more than enough money for anything you need.”

“Chris I can’t ask you to spend money on me like that.  We are days into our relationship for fucks sake.  I would look like I would be taking advantage of you doing that.”

“You aren’t taking advantage if I’m offering.  Let me do this for you.  All I want is for you to get better baby.  You are my number one priority right now.”

“Are-are you sure you want to support me in this?  In all of my crazy assness?”

Chris leans his head back as he grabs his chest laughing.  “YES! Yes I want to support you and your crazy assness.  Plus, I love your ass” he says leaning down to grab your butt.  

Squealing away from him, you jump off the bed and start running down the hall yelling “Dodger save me!” Dodger starts barking and you let out a laugh as you run down the stairs.  “Get your sweet ass back here!” you hear Chris yell as he runs after you.

You make it as far as the bottom of the stairs before your being hauled up by Chris and he starts tickling you.  You can’t stop giggling and while you hate being tickled, it felt good to laugh. “St-stop it…no!!” you say trying to wiggle out of his grasp; his hands never giving up at his tickle torture. “I’m gonna pee if you don’t stop!!” you exclaim between laughter.  It worked and Chris stopped his torture and set your feet on the ground.  

“You’re too good to me” you assert as you beam up at him.

“You deserve it” was his response as he leans down to claim your lips on his.  You would never get tired of kissing Chris.  His kisses were like nothing you have ever experienced before. It sent shockwaves through your body, straight to your core, every time.  You didn’t know kissing someone could do things like that to your body.  

“So, I uh, I’ve been meaning to ask you something” Chris states hesitantly as he pulls away from the kiss.  

“Sure, what is it?”

“Scarlet and Mark both have birthdays at the end of November but they are going to be out of town filming a movie so they wanted to do a Halloween type of bash before they left. They rented out a club and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

You thought about it for a minute.  Chris actually wanted to introduce you to his friends and by seen publicly with you? Of course it was a celebrity party, so they probably would only have mutual friends there and no pictures would get leaked of you and Chris together.  It seemed like a fun idea.  You’d never been to a Halloween party before.

“Are-are you sure you want to bring me?  You want to introduce me to your friends?” you asked shyly.

“Baby of course I want you to come and be there with me.  And everyone will love you!  Plus, Renner’s been wanting to talk to you since he never got the chance at Eric’s party.”

“Well…I mean it does sound fun.  Do we get to dress up?”

“Fuck yeah!  Everyone is going all out with costumes.  We can even do a couples costume if you want beautiful.”

You smiled at him as you nodded your head yes.

The two of you got ready for the night and climbed into bed.  You were curled up into Chris’ side, his arm draped around you as Dodger lay at your feet, snoring away.  This was perfect.  This was the life you always dreamed about.  You’ve had a lot of ups and downs the past few weeks, but it was all worth it to be where you were right now.  You closed your eyes, embracing the dark as Chris’ heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

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[himbowelsh]

Can I request headcanons? Luztoye, Webgott, Baberoe, Winnix, Speirton & when both or one of them quits smocking? How they cope and how they help each other?

Luz/Toye

oh god, these two would be disasters in totally different ways.

luz is a chainsmoker. that’s just the way he is. anything else would be weird, and kind of unluzish, so the very idea of quitting gives him big time anxiety.

it’s only when joe decides he’s gonna quit (joe, being a physically fit guy, isn’t wowed by what smoking is doing to his stamina) that george decides he has to do it as well.

he stands by joe, supporting him as much as possible, and making a point not to smoke around him. gradually, his own hypocrisy catches up to him; he feels terrible seeing joe suffering and knowing he’s not doing the same.

joe doesn’t handle withdrawal symptoms at all. he can’t sleep at all for the first few nights (and george stays up with him to keep him from breaking). he gets nervous, agitated, and blows up at george at the worst times.

only when he gets his temper back under control (after the first few days, when the symptoms aren’t as bad) he apologizes, and thanks george for being so supportive. “it really means a lot to me.”

george feels like he’s been punched in the face.

after that, he KNOWS he has to quit. so once joe has gone an entire month without smoking, he announces it too.

george has an even harder time than joe. he can’t hold still for more than a few minutes; his head feels like it’s splitting open; and he doesn’t sleep for sixty-seven hours.

when he starts crashing, joe is there. joe calms him down, not reacting even when george starts cursing at him for “talking me into doing this”. he forces him to lie down and rest against him, rocking him back and forth and singing in his deep voice until george finally gets to sleep.

he wakes up after sleeping an entire day away, and he feels a lot better. that’s when he knows he’s beat it.

(once they’re both nicotine-free for a month, george goes out and buys joe a cigarette-shapped cake to celebrate. he thinks it’s hilarious, even when joe smacks him)

((the cake is delicious.))

Webster/Liebgott

webster is 200% the guy who bemoans what a disgusting habit smoking is and how they should quit while he has a cigarette in his hands.

liebgott is very reluctant to quit, but with all the persistence of a dog terrified of fireworks, webster wheedles him into it.

liebgott gets nicotine patches – because he says webster will never be able to handle the stress of withdrawl, but the truth is he isn’t sure if he can do it.

they stay on the patch for about two weeks before webster is feeling great. his withdrawal symptoms have shrunk down to about nothing (not that he had many in the first place) and he no longer craves a cigarette. he’s so proud of himself that he convinces lieb they’re both ready to go off.

liebgott smokes again that afternoon.

“okay,” webster says calmly, in the dying embers of their massive blowout argument over the topic which culminated in the relationship equivalent of “IT”S MY LIFE, MOM.” “that’s fine. i’m happy if you don’t want to quit.”

“no you’re not.”

“yes i am.”

“you’re not.”

“i am.”

“you’re a goddamn liar, web.”

so liebgott starts his quitting journey again, cold turkey.

it’s… ugly. there’s no better word for it. there’s a lot of stress, a lot of screaming, and liebgott somehow breaks an entire table. it was an accident. neither one knows how it happened.

finally liebgott just slams webster against the wall and kisses him, and that’s how they get out their frustrations for those few days.

by the time liebgott finally crashes, webster is so exhausted that he goes down right along with him. the next day liebgott is chipper and teasing him. “why didn’t we try this before?”

(there are a few bumps in the road, but liebgott manages to kick the habit. web has never been prouder of him.)

Babe/Roe

gene knows how bad smoking is for you! he’s a doctor, okay, he gets it, and he needs everyone at work to stop giving him those loOKS

renee is the one to finally guilt him into it, and once she does he ropes babe into it as well because “no way am i suffering alone.”

they try three times, and every time one of them breaks. there’s just no winning. one of them admits defeat, and then the other follows them for a smoke break.

babe finally realizes that if they’re going to do this, they’ll have to do it one at a time – so he volunteers to be the sacrificial lion.

it is actual hell.

by the middle of the second day babe is anxious and twitching. everything stresses him out; he yells at bill and hangs up at him when the sound of the phone ringing irritates his headache. he even snaps at the dog, which is something he never does (babe lets their dog get away with murder)

gene approaches it from a strictly clinical perspective. he knows all the symptoms of nicotine withdrawal and is convinced he can help babe through it with medicine as his guide.

that certainty shrivels and dies when babe’s shaky hands drop a glass in the kitchen, causing it to shatter, and he just starts crying.

gene has to reassure him that it’s okay, bundling him up and sitting on the couch to watch babe’s favorite comfort films as they wait it out.

he stays depressed for a few more days, and it kills gene to see his normally sunny boyfriend like that.

then babe is finally through the storm, and he is THRILLED with himself.

“you gotta do it too gene, come on, you’re gonna get though it like I did… you’ll be better than me, you handle things way better, come on…”

babe is unprepared to handle a nicotine-deprived gene,

it’s like gene without his coffee in the morning, only WORSE. this gene is closed off, testy, and snaps at babe over the stupidest things. he doesn’t mean to – and he apologizes a few minutes later – but it still hurts.

babe takes his eyes off gene for a few minutes and finds him fumbling with a cigarette pack.

“i can’t do it, babe. i can’t, i’m sorry, i tried –”

babe does the first thing he can think of – he traps gene in a bear hug.

gene can’t move, he can’t light a cigarette, and babe is content doing this for three entire days if he has to.

it’s only when gene finally drops the cigarette pack that babe lets go and looks him in the eye.

“do you want to do this?”

“yeah.”

“do you really want to do this?”

“yeah, babe, i do. i really do.”

“then…” leaving the cigarette box on the floor (he’ll throw it away later) babe guides gene into the kitchen. instead of smoking, they cook together – it keeps gene occupied, and babe can keep an eye on him.

that becomes their new hobby, instead of smoking together. it’s a lot more productive.

Winters/Nixon

lol richard “real life captain america” winters smoking? yup, probably not.

however, nix smokes like an ancient car one minute away from giving out on the freeway, so of course he has to bear the full brunt of dick’s silent but poignant disapproval.

he’s the one who decides to quit, and brushes it off with some comment about, “seemed like it was time to change it up a bit. may as well put myself through hell while i’m at it.”

dick is THRILLED, and ready to support him in any way possible. he’s got water bottles, movies, puzzles, anything to keep nix’s brain occupied. he reads up on smoking symptoms, and is sure he can handle it.

nix is derisive about the whole thing until he actually DOES it.

it’s as hellish as he thought, and he can’t stand it. he doesn’t actually lose his temper at dick, but he is restless and irritable all night. finally he storms off for “some air” and dick is sure he’s lost his will.

he comes back past midnight, shoulders slumped and frown deepset on his face. dick has waited up for him.

reassurances are on the tip of his tongue, promises that he can try again, that this isn’t the end – when nix looks up at him, and gives a close-lipped smile.

“i didn’t give in,” he says, and the pride in his voice is unmistakeable. “i didn’t, dick.”

they spend the rest of that night watching netflix and kissing each other until nix finally falls asleep. dick couldn’t be prouder of him if he tried, and he makes sure nix knows it.

Speirs/Lipton

i definitely think after lipton picks up smoking, he’d be eager to quit the habit as soon as possible.

for speirs it’s a bit harder, because he’s smoked for most of his life, so he’s kind of confused what he’d do without it.

so he sort of watches lipton kick the habit before deciding to do so himself.

it’s torture for speirs to see the love of his life (he’s referred to lipton as that more than once, because he’s shamelessly romantic like that) go through it. lipton is too stressed to get any work done for almost a week. he’s anxious, he has trouble sleeping, and towards the end of the week he’s so lethargic and depressed that speirs is genuinely worried about him.

but he comes out stronger than ever, and is so proud of himself that he delight is infectious.

the next week, speirs quits smoking.

he doesn’t lose his temper, and he doesn’t get nervous. he just… doesn’t sleep. for three days. he doesn’t stay still, he doesn’t stop moving. he deep-cleans the entire house. he cooks dinner for them, then for winter and nixon, then for kitty and harry, and goes out to deliver them all. he works out until he can barely walk. he cuts down a tree.

(its the dead tree in their backyard that they’ve been meaning to cut down for ages, but still.)

lipton is worried.

he eventually coaxes speirs into the bathroom with a request for help with the shower. a bath is already set by the time speirs gets there.

lipton is patient; he helps strip his boyfriend and settles down into the bath with him, allowing him to relax against his chest. he washes his hair, massages his aching muscles, all the while scattering light kisses along his neck.

by the time they get out, speirs is already half-asleep. lipton guides him to bed, where he collapses, and stays there for the rest of the night.

once they’ve finally quit, they’re so proud of themselves that they go out and join a gym together. speirs insists it will be their new “habit”; lipton isn’t thrilled about all the running, but is willing to go through it for his boyfriend’s sake.