#I like worm on a strings but all others disgust me

[tiphyrow]

I’ve been hearing about the Magnus archives for years now and finally decided to try it out. I’m really enjoying it but I have like crazy serious vermiphobia and didn’t know those little beasts were so crucial to the plot. Hearing, reading or saying the word makes me itchy and I’ve literally had nightmares about the type of stuff that happens in the podcast since I was like a baby. Obviously this has been a problem but i really want to keep listening so I’ve started imagining Jane prentiss like this.

It’s working

[redr0sewrites]

Can you write Vox x reader where like the reader just says like really unhinged things and just like vile things whenever they rage and stuff like the internet could be slow or smth and the reader is just like “IM GOING TO RIP OFF MY SKIN” idk man I’m kinda just self projecting rn like you can right anything with it tbh idk sorry for rambling anyway you don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna

THIS IS SO MEEEEE I LOVE THIS IDEA SM!!! sorry it took me a hot minute to reply to this i have over 70 hazbin hotel requests in my inbox 😭

🥀Cw: fluff, crack, silly vox

when he first met you, vox was charmed by your seemingly sweet nature- that is, until you were pissed

your unholy screech of how you were going to rip off your skin if he cut the wifi again was both endearing and confusing in his eyes

vox would just short circuit for a second, just blinking at you while he tries to process what you just said

once it clicks, he just starts giggling. vox very rarely genuinely laughs, most of his laughs are professional or part of the persona he adopts as the leader of vox enterprises, but when he's so shocked by what you just said, he can't control the booming laughter thay fills the room

he's wheezing and gasping, each barking laugh only pissing you off more

"what's so funny? if you keep laughing i am going to fucking break ur fingers like carrot sticks!" you snap, and vox only giggles harder

after a few seconds, you can't help but notice how adorable his laughter is, and soon you don't mind it as much

once you two are officially together, you notice how stressed vox often is, yet how he seems to visibly relax around you

the batshit crazy things you say, which normally disgusts other people, only seem to amuse him

its actually a wonderful dynamic because you bring some spontaneity and slight insanity into vox's otherwise irritating and depressing lifestyle, and vox balances out the crazy things you say and calms you down every time

you often find yourself searching for new phrases to baffle him with, and for new ways to make him laugh

after vox has a stressful day, he enjoys just listening to you ramble about the most insane things and adores hearing whatever fucked up saying you've adopted recently

vox notices himself beginning to copy your speech patterns. he only begins to realize when he slips in an exceptionally odd metaphor into a work meeting and everyone stares at him, yet his heart skips a beat at the thought

there's something so charming to him about the fact that he's adopting your mannerisms, and you truly make him laugh when no one else can

whenever another one of the vees pisses him off, he always comes to you for advice on incredibly deranged comebacks, and you never disappoint!

he's won multiple arguments by just repeating one of your fucked up sayings and the other vees being too lowkey shocked to disagree

vox LOVES IT when you diss people he hates, hearing you ramble some fucked up insults about alastor made him fall in love with you all over again

"that worm on a string fucked up karen cut bob looking ass- if i see him around here again im going to eat a fucking brick" *cue vox looking at you with the biggest heart eyes*

overall, you are both menaces, but you're menaces in love ♥️

vox lay with his head in your lap, the blue light of his screen illuminating the dim room as you rambled mindlessly about your day.

"and THEN, this fucking asshole tried to flirt with me! ME!! as if he doesn't know were dating! ugh, it makes me feel like i have an entire beehive living beneath my skin. i swear if he even looks at me again im going to lick wet cement i can NOT deal. how can you even work with him? he's such a fucking CREEP voxy, i'm going to cut off those ugly ass wings and shove them so far down his throat- hey, are you even listening?"

you look down to see vox half asleep, his eyelids drooping as his light dimmed. "keep talking.." he murmurs, looking up at you with a lazy smile on his face. "you're my favorite person t' listen to.."

i love the idea of vox with a partner who challenges his very idea of power. he clearly wraps himself in a sort of persona, surrounding himself with powerful people and acting like he's so serious and important. i love the idea of him falling in love with someone who can break down his walls in seconds, someone who can dismantle his entire bravado act and who allows him to truly be himself. this is such a wonderful prompt and i am eating this up. nonnie ur awesome!!!!

[sepublic]

Homesick!

I just gotta say I love the pun of this episode’s title; I thought Homesick would allude to it being about Luz missing home, but it was actually a joke on Hooty being sick!

That said, we DID get what would’ve been our first look at Manny, as well as an early version of Camila lore! Turns out she was going to be a nurse, but in the end I think I like veterinarian better. Still, I remember discussing healing back during S1A as a potential track for Luz because of this, so to see that theme be apparent with both parents was cool!

Manny’s face being shrouded also seems to indicate that the dramatic reveal behind him -the illness- was always planned, at least since the pilots. Luz said he drove an ambulance, past tense, which seems like some dark irony given he probably needed one at one point. Remember how some of us theorized after Reaching Out that the Abomaton alarm reminded Luz of an ambulance siren related to her father? Man… On the plus side! We can guess Camila and Manny met through their professions, so we could try applying that to canon as well! Compassion is such a Noceda trait I love it.

Likewise, I appreciate how these two leaked storyboards have Luz and Eda covering for each other! One sticks their neck out because something means a lot for the other, but the other decides it’s not so important they’d sacrifice the one for it… With this episode, Eda doesn’t want Luz to look like a dunce but Luz is honest and can’t bear to see her mentor be mocked either, and is trying to take responsibility for what she feels is HER mistake too! It’s really sweet seeing Eda inadvertently teach Luz the Healing glyph.

Speaking of, it seems we would’ve gotten individual glyphs for all spells, as the fandom once assumed! I guess the show did glyph combos to explain why Luz doesn’t immediately find everything, as well as create a sort of fun system behind Luz having to mix and match things. And we even got to see what we always wanted; Luz making an ENORMOUS glyph around her enemy! Goes to show my speculation that since glyphs rely on the magic around them, they aren’t physically taxing; Something we see brought up with Eda’s own magic.

Caduceia reminded me of an early Hermonculus, being a teacher who didn’t really care much for the actual students and even seemed to enjoy mocking them! She looks like Raine, so much that I wonder if the design was repurposed for them because it was such a nice one! I dig the play on Caduceus, with Snakeslie as a palisman! Snakeslie looks so much like a worm on a string. Given Luz and Caduceia are both healers, it’s neat they have a snake in common, though Caduceia’s seems to allude to her being a snake (liar); Her palisman’s name is literally Snakeslie. Snakes lie. Glad to see Stringbean with the positive rep!

I also love the gag of King calling himself the King of whatever’s convenient, and it was really cute seeing him want to prove his own worth! Because two witches, it’d be easy to feel like he has nothing to offer, which is part of Sense and Insensivity in canon! There’s parallels between the A and B-plots, with Luz and King feeling ineffectual and their owl friend supporting them, only to be helped as well! Eda and Owlbert are linked and hell so are the demon hunters and Caduceia!

The House Demon lore was neat, even if it was stuff we already figured out with canon; House Demons being like hermit crabs, and also rare! Seeing healing magic be used to make someone sick and even control their mucus/phlegm was disgusting yet fascinating! And I was delighted to see the demon hunters again, they’re underrated side characters imo and we even got a crew nickname for another one of them!

I also like the bit of the moral here; That sometimes, it’s not that a student is bad or isn’t trying, sometimes the teacher is failing them. Maybe some people think this generation is raised too soft and coddled, but I think it’s an important reassurance for a lot of kids who struggle and blame themselves for it; I’ve taken teaching classes before, and we were taught to be vigilant with ourselves as potentially inadequate for students. It’s the onus of the teacher to adapt to a kid’s needs after all, and actually care!!!

What an unexpected delight! I never imagined the crew made storyboards for additional episodes and not just the pilot! This one has no voice alas, but it’s better than nothing and I feel storyboards have such a nice charm to themselves as well! I really thought the pilot would be my last episode review, but I keep getting pleasantly surprised and gifted by this show…!

[jewbeloved]

Craig, Kyle and Stan's reactions after their gn! s/o asked if they would still love them even if they were a worm? LOL (all seperate plz! ^^)

Craig, Kyle, and Stan's reaction to you asking them if they would still love you as a worm💖💀💀💀

Warnings: None

Gender: Neutral

💙 Craig Tucker 🐹

This dude has said it once, and he will say it again.

Craig doesn't care if you're a worm, an airplane, an object, or whatever.

My man is loyal to personality and only cares for it. He doesn't care about someone's appearance.

I don't know what you want me to say otherwise.

"Craig- I'm a worm- how are you okay with this?"

"Don't care, you're still my s/o"

💚 Kyle Broflovski 🍀

I- i- i-...what? why on earth are you asking Kyle that question????

Kyle just looks down at the ground and sees you as a tiny worm looking up at him.

Kyle sincerely doesn't know how to feel about this 😭😭😭 he doesn't know if he's supposed to stay quiet and not answer your question...or he is supposed to feel disgusted.

Well whatever emotion Kyle chooses to show towards your question. He will still always love you in the end.

"So you do love me as a worm Kyle! :D"

"(Name).... don't ruin the moment..."

💙 Stan Marsh 🪩

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

Yeah, he 100% just said pure silence

He legit, doesn't know how to answer that question. Can you really blame him? 😭😭😭

You're an icky string like creature who wiggles all over the ground and on other stuff. How is Stan supposed to know what to say? 😭

*Stan gently picks you up to get a better look at you*

"Uhm (Name)? I don't know what to say...."

"Stan, it's just a question. Will you still love me if I was a worm?"

"........"

"Stan! It's just a questio- wait where are you going? Come back here!"

Que you chasing down Stan even though you're a worm.

Sorry if these are short, I didn't know what else to write for their reactions.

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 16

I saw the title and was like "oh god…"

Trivia: It's called Arachnophobia, calling it a fear. But it's actually most associated with disgust. It's the same for me. I'm not afraid of them. I am repulsed by them.

"It’s not the sight of a spider that gets me, not the legs or the eyes" - Nope, that already does is for me. In RL that is. I stagger backwards, my whole body screaming at me to get as much distance as I possibly can between that thing and me.

"It’s the presence of a spider. The knowledge of its being, somewhere near, waiting to crawl on you" - Yes, also this… It's one of the worst things, discovering a spider in my house and then lose sight of it. I usually avoid that room or area for the next hours then.

"and all the warning you get that gentle tickle of its legs as it climbs upon you." - PLS have mercy! T.T I hate this! I had a huuuge spider crawl up my leg when I was a young teen and at first I didn't bother to look when I felt it tickling but then it would stop and I looked and I fell of my chair, losing the spider and I was so scared to sleep in my room that night. I sleep with a night light since I was… 10 I think? So I can see the spiders at night… I'm fucking 31 years old! In our house all beds are positioned under roof slopes and somehow they always sit on that slope directly over the bed. Worst of it all, I once awoke, lying on my stomach, looking over my shoulder to see if my cat is there and I shit you not, there was a spider sitting on my should watching me sleep! It even bit me when I brushed it off (Not that surprising considering that I "attacked" it). I had night terrors for a week, waking up multiple times a night, panicking… I often dream about spiders jumping at me, grabbing me so firmly that they can't be shaken off…

I have a suspicion that the Hunt, the real Hunt not a normal cat, is actually effective against the Web. I first thought about this, when friends told me their Husky slurped a huge spider from the wall while casually walking by. I will get more into this at MAG 56: Children of The Night.

"Our building had acquired something of an infestation of some sort of insect I didn’t recognise – small, silvery worms, almost like maggots, but slightly longer – and I assume that they provided a good meal for the eight-legged little monsters." - OMG how this I miss this on all my relistens! And yes, we know from MAG 46, that the spiders eat the worms: "I think I saw some of the larger specimens actually eating the remains of the worms."

It's interesting how often the "mandibles" of this spider are mentioned. Spiders don't actually have mandibles. They have something that's called… chelicerae <.<

"There, sat upon it, black against the glowing background, was a spider." - This reminds me… When I watched Johnny English (haha, very fitting) in theater back in 2003… the entirety of the movie, a fat huge spider sat on the screen. My mum asked me how the movie was when she picked me up and I was "Terrifying, there was a spider on the screen the whole time."

"at that point it felt almost involuntary, as though some something were lifting me, hoisting me to my feet by unseen strings. " <.<

"Can you be haunted by the ghost of a spider that destroyed your childhood?" - Gosh, that line hit so close now. I love the foreshadowing in this episode.

Post statement was the moment (I even heard of a few others feeling the same way when they reached this episode) to fully snap at Jon. Like how ignorant do you have to be to think that a body would become completely encased in web after a week! I even angrily messaged my sister, who recommended TMA to me, why this stupid idiot even works at the Magnus Institute, if he doesn't believe even half of the tape statements (she just told me to keep listening, and if I wanted to hear Jon actually believing someone, I should briefly skip forward to MAG 22. And of course, MAG 22 was the episode that finally fully reeled me in and didn't let go of me again). Now, of course, I know that this statement makes so much sense for Jon to pull out his biggest denial mask…

A hard statement for all spider deniers indeed

[nityarawal]

2/27/23

I ordered the above anti-biotics from New dentist and have an appointment in May. 

I'm doing a parasite cleanse for Covid 2 w/ GSE, Aroma Oils, Food Grade Hydrogen Peroxide, Vitamins, Citrus & oils. 

I hope you all study Spirochates & take care of it. 

80% of our legal team is mentally incapacitated currently. ): 

Guessing if a virginal prude like me has 10 parasite varieties average court atty, officer & hooker must have billions & it's essential we close courts due to mass parasitic Germ Warfare from Cambridge Analytica.

I need my kids so we can detox them from drug & parent abuse.

Gratzia! 

Courts Failed! 

All my Dr's were 1000's of times better.

Not one judge was sympathetic with a mom nor child in CA courts for 50+ years. 

It's a disgusting model of Schmitz/Bush administrators created & not one governor or Senator managed to enforce constitution since. 

If you can't cancel violent expired orders and stop pigs from harassing my family this week- I'm leaving CA. 

I studied your mental incompetence Gag orders & Trafficking of courts and my vote is to close them all down. 

All 4 of my last landlords were court contentious and tried to drag me into their vanity cases. 

There's one important thing in the world- and my family missing for peace- that's a bond and respect for moms. 

Many Haters judged my mom for how x treated me- and tried to manipulate it into racist terrorism- but I blame our defense team for allowing M15 spies into create domestic terrorism & murder moms through military infectious diseases.

We need peace orders with all attys & Drs on team and full reperations financially credited to our charities. 

Sandiego & Riverside/LA courts all failed to practice ethical law. 

They failed medicine, law, hygeine 101. 

We don't agree to cooperate nor work with these disgusting parasites and need damages for their abhorrent crimes.

IEHP insurance failed & Dr. Cindy couldn't even write a benign prescription for anti biotic or ring worm hand cream- even as she saw them melt out of my hands in her office. 

She said keep doing what you're doing like your courts told me when I last served 18 mo. on Ashby Clark Sorrenson's parasitic sex sting. 

My X is in that group. 

No thankyou attys. 

Flattered. 

Not really. 

Mostly disgusted with so many pandering to limp & eunuched dicks from #PrinceOfPegging 

My next president will rise faster hopefully on global issues. 

VP & Governors are well aware of issues going on 6 years. 

If there hands are tied- then so our ours. None of us will be voting for any of the morons again responsible for Demise of America to 3rd world conditions through a simple divorce. 

It's a gross condonement of greed and sexual exploitation that needs to stop now. 

Do you know how many many men have tried to seduce me since Valentines? 

How many cops have stalked me? 

Knock this shit off & tell IRS we need last 50 years refunded to my family. 

They Terrorized my poor dad and gave both him & his atty heart attacks! 

TG my dad survived.

 I need him now. 

Sunil's "Spirochaete war" needs to super string back to UK where it originated. We're done with his disgusting germs & attacks in my family, communities, college & country thru Cambridge Analytica & Physics Epstein group.

He failed and is as big of a cockroach as his Epstein Boyfriend Parasitic pimp Daniel Smachtenberger.

Please confirm all court dates & insurance from IEHP is cancelled with damages. 

We recorded millions of Grievances like this for negligence and feel many wrongful deaths in community are due to lack of services and bribed in-house. 

Dr. Cindy had an Oath to someone other than hippa laws or me- as her fidicuary duty should be as a "patient."

The IEHP system failed & I've reccomended none of my friends use it. 

Dentist can't get me in until May thru Medical- there are no rentals here. 

I need my kids & assets so we can re-locate to a free state that does respect our founding fathers and mothers constitution.

Godbless,

Thanks!

Nitya Huntley Rawal

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Mik's Story

Just drink this and then I'll go... The words kept ringing in my head and a vague picture of a beautiful, exotic temptress pushing the wine glass to my side of the table appeared before my eyes. I recalled how I vainly tried to take my eyes off her and her long, black velvet hair, while a hand that apparently was mine moved towards the glass. "It's lilac wine", she added ever so gentle as the first divine drops of this mysterious liquid poured like soft rain down my throat. "Give me more, give me more..." I pleaded with her, but I doubt that she ever heard it since the next thing I knew was everything turning black, the world spinning round, seemingly forever, and a desperate urge of wanting to know why everything was so hazy came to my blurred mind.

It must have been a dream, I said to myself when I awoke, but I wasn't sure if the dream still was in command of me. I wanted to open my eyes to find out where I was, but something else got in the way of that wish. Something... painful. I managed to locate the pain to the upper part of my body and even though I found it painfully hard to breathe, it took a while to realize that it came from my neck. Within seconds my hands were fumbling in the area and they gave me the interesting information that it was a guitar string being tied to my neck that caused this dreadful pain. A qiuck glance around me confirmed this assumption. There it was, my new Yamaha acoustic, with a string missing. An "058 E string, I thought to myself as my eyes followed its way to the neck.

At last I was able to loose its grip somewhat, giving me a chance to breathe again. I took a deep breath and got up from the ground on shaky knees, grabbed the guitar and gee, did I wish I had four arms, because there was also my old guitar lying on the ground and there's nothing like writing songs on two guitars.

When I finally could pay attention to other questions, such as where I had woken up, I discovered the answer was a strange place. A field, a green field, and I don't know how it could have escaped my mind, but the field was packed with people. Some of them were sitting on blankets, others running back and forth in the most annoying and irrational manners over the ground. I turned my head to see the sky and saw not just a burning yellow sun, but also that the air was full of objects flying around, objects very much resembling of kites of all shapes and colours. The Kite Festival. I was pleased with my logical powers still being intact. Especially one kite made a more lasting impression: the biggest one of them all, looking like an angel, but with black feather wings unfurled, majestically sweeping over the clear blue sky. As this kite at one point came closer to me, I discovered that the angel in fact looked like someone I knew, or someone I thought I knew. I just couldn't figure out who it was.

I thought I'd solved the mystery, "it's Je...", when I felt the presence of someone standing close to me. The sound of a heavy breathing reached my ears and I wondered where it came from. I quickly turned around and there stood a guy in his twenties, in a dirty, muddy t-shirt, eating something that looked like... worms. Filled with disgust I stumbled backwards, still with the guitar in my arms and the string loosely attached to my neck, as if I was carrying a yoak. The guy just kept staring at me like I was crazy or something, chewing those worms that he picked from a can of glass. At the time it didn't even occur to me that he could very well have been responsible for the murder attempt.

"What are you staring at?" I said, but I instantly regretted the harsh tone in my voice. He didn't answer. He just kept staring. Suddenly he raised his hand and without thinking I threw myself to the ground for cover. But his fist never hit my body.

"Look", he said instead, pointing at the sky.

He then tried to say something else, but since he had his mouth full I couldn't hear a single word. I lied down on my back and looked where he was pointing at and there it was again, the big kite of an angel, now so close to us it seemed to fill up the whole sky.

"It'sch Scheff Buchkley!", he said, no he *screamed* it out, and out flew also a handful of worms from his mouth. The guy was not kidding. It was Him. And He came closer. Very much closer. In fact, before I realized it the kite was so close that it was all over me, covering my body from head to toe.

A minute later, when I got out of the state of shock this had caused, I managed to raise from the ground and the kite fell off me. But I wasn't completely released from it because its strings were now in some obnoxious way attached to my left foot. Oh well, I thought, there is probably a hidden meaning in this too, and I didn't think about it any more. Then my eyes spotted a girl running towards us, holding what appeared to be the other end of that string. She had funny looking hair and a troubled look on her face as if she was carrying all the world's misfortunes on her shoulders.

"Hey, I know who she is", whispered the guy with the worms. "She's a looney. I'm out of here! To Texas!".

I turned around only to see him crawling away on all fours, accompanied by a couple of angst-ridden oinks. Despite his unpleasant behaviour, I had actually begun to like the guy, maybe...I just didn't know him at all. I was, however, glad I would never wind up like him.

"what have you done to the kite?"

It was the girl's voice, performed in a dialect I'd only heard in movies before.

"Eh... I don't know", I replied, very confused as I was. Now I expected to hear some vicious curses coming out of the young girl's mouth, but she surprised me again.

"do you play guitar?", she asked, now in a surprisingly sweet southern voice.

"Well, in fact I've learned some songs from this Michael dude". I felt more assured now and I also remembered what I was supposed to do this day.

"And I'm going to Melbourne. For a session. That's why I'm carrying this guitar. I just need to buy a new string, because someone wanted to tie this one to my neck."

I wanted to reach out a hand to greet her, but then I came to think of that I didn't have four hands either, so I just threw out a "Hello, who are you?" at her.

"--i'm an artist. and life sucks", she said, spitting out the words as if they were chews of a rotten apple. Then she went on talking. I didn't understand much of what she was saying, but it made me interested and I got the impression that she was heading north.

"why don't you play some music for me now?" she said at the end of her speech.

Somehow I did seem to forget the dysfunctional state I was in - it suddenly felt like a natural thing to do. I lifted the guitar up, and started strumming. I sent a grateful thought to the person who tried to kill me for his choosing of a string you can do without in emergency cases, and threw myself into "Lover, you should've come over". D C Em. Beginning careful and smooth, I seemed to get strength from God only knows where, and my voice and guitar playing got louder and louder, still preserving all the sensitive anger and longing I had built into the song. My eyes were closed for most of the time, but when I opened them I saw that my audience had grown drastically from one person to a big crowd, all listening in solemn silence. This gave me even more powers and I felt like anything was possible. Which turned out to be true. While singing "sometimes a man gets carried away" a strong wind seemed to come blowing from under my feet, and it pushed me up in the air. My feet left the ground and with a little help from the kite that was unfolding, I started to float.

Still singing the song, I floated higher and higher, passing trees and some angry birds looking suspiciously at me - then there was the moon asking me to stay and even an angelic choir singing hallelujah. "It's not too late" I cried out and I meant it. I thought of all the good that life had given me - the Jeff Buckley records, the JB mailing list, the JB homepage... I thought of the Melborne people and of poor Ange, the smurfette, wondering if I could even steer this thing to Adelaide to pick her up on the way - I would just have to look for those toadstools. I thought of the lovely Meg and the kite girl, who I wished would not feel so miserable, and of the dumb Swede who turned crazy and by now was a patient at the JB rehab center, deliriously imagining being Yngwie Malmsteen, and of everyone else that meant something to me, all the disciples on the list, and then I didn't think much more, because for the second time this day everything turned black and only moments later I found myself hitting the ground.

As I was now balancing on the very verge of consciousness, I've only been told afterwards by St Peter what my last words on Earth was, but apparently I'd been praising Jeff Buckley as the reborn Jesus, pleading with Him to forgive me for my wordly sin-e, I seem to have spoken incoherent of a creativity crisis - that it took Him just a week to die, go to heaven and come back to earth, but some 2000 years to get a record out, and then, just before I passed away, embracing the starry infinity over my head with the grace of a lover, I uttered a plea: I know it's over, this is my last goodbye... I'm not afraid to go but it goes so slow...

Apparently there was something else I had to do before entering eternal life. Could I have remembered my father's voice as I was about to go? ("When you're standing at the pearly gates, boy, and you think of all the things you've done and haven't done...what will you say?"). I must have known there was something urgent I had to say as a final wish and that was: unsubscribe me from the JB list... please...

~written by Mikael Hols

[jeagerism]

my top 2022 books

i read a good few this year, but these are the ones that continued to stick with me, so. my books and my favorite quotes from em!

the cruel prince (holly black)

[enemies to lovers W.]

- "most of all, i hate you because i think of you. often. it's disgusting, and i can't stop."

- "but i will not stand in front of your happiness. i will not even stand in front of misery that you choose for yourself."

- "i hate him more than all the others. i hate him so much that sometimes when i look at him, i can hardly breathe."

- "what if the way i am is the way i am? what if, when everything else is different, i’m not?"

- "it occurs to me that if i kill him, i can finally stop thinking about him. if i kill him, i won't have to feel like this anymore."

the wicked king (holly black)

[my favorite out of the entire series]

- "kiss me again,” he says, drunk and foolish. “kiss me until i am sick of it."

- "if you’re the sickness, i suppose you can’t also be the cure."

- "yes, my great villan, my darling god. i will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as i can."

- "and the single last thing in my head: that i like him better than i’ve ever liked anyone and that of all the things he’s ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst."

the queen of nothing (holly black)

[enemies to unfortunate allies to lovers to enemies to lovers comes into fruition. i love this series with my whole heart.]

- "come home and shout at me. come home and fight with me. come home and break my heart, if you must. just come home."

- "by you, i am forever undone."

- "it’s you i love,” he says. “i spent much of my life guarding my heart. i guarded it so well that i could behave as though i didn’t have one at all. even now, it is a shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous thing. but it is yours.” he walks to the door to the royal chambers, as though to end the conversation. “you probably guessed as much,” he says. “but just in case you didn’t."

turtles all the way down (john green)

[this book is so incredibly important to me. i relate to it a great deal, and john green has always been a favorite of mine. his words are ones that stick with you, and there's absolutely nothing that could stop that. this is probably my favorite book i read this year.]

- "your now is not your forever."

- "you're both the fire and the water that extinguishes it. you're the narrator, the protagonist, and the sidekick. you're the storyteller and the story told. you are somebody's something, but you are also your you."

- "i was so good at being a kid, and so terrible at being whatever i was now."

- "i wanted to tell her that i was getting better, because that was supposed to be the narrative of illness: it was a hurdle you jumped over, or a battle you won. illness is a story told in the past tense."

- "she noted, more than once, that the meteor shower was happening, beyond the overcast sky, even if we could not see it. who cares if she can kiss? she can see through the clouds."

- "i thought, lying there, that i might love him for the rest of my life. we did love each other—maybe we never said it, and maybe love was never something we were in, but it was something i felt. i loved him, and i thought, maybe i will never see him again, and i'll be stuck missing him, and isn't that so terrible."

- "but what i want to know is, is there a you independent of circumstances? is there a way-down-deep me who is an actual, real person, the same person if she has money or not, the same if she goes to this school or that school? or am i only a set of circumstances?"

- "dr. singh told me once that if you have a perfectly tuned guitar and a perfectly tuned violin in the same room, and you pluck the d string of a guitar, then all the way across the room, the string on the guitar will also vibrate. i could always feel my mother's vibrating strings."

- "when observation fails to align with a truth, what do you trust--your senses or your truth? the greeks didn't even have a word for blue. the color didn't exist to them. couldn't see it without a word for it.

i think about her all the time. my stomach flips when i see her. but is it love, or just something we don't have a word for?"

the girls i've been (tess sharpe)

[it's hard to find quotes from this book, as it's just the act of reading it in general and experiencing it that's so inherently special, so emotionally impacting, that you've got to read it to know. it's a story about girlhood and being a mother and being a daughter to a mother who doesn't know how to be one. it's so good.]

- "practically everyone thinks they’re smarter than a teenage girl. it’s what makes being one so powerful, if you know how to use that giant mistake of an assumption."

love on the brain (ali hazelwood)

[oh god yeah i'm a romance novel gal now.]

- "you don't even have to admit to yourself that you love me, bee. god knows i love you enough for the both of us."

- "i know what she smells like. this little freckle on her neck when she pulls up her hair. her upper lip is a little plumper than the lower. the curve of her wrist, when she holds a pen. it’s wrong, really wrong, but i know the shape of her. i go to sleep thinking about it, and then i wake up, go to work, and she is there, and it’s impossible. i tell her stuff i know she’ll agree to, just to hear her hum back at me. it’s like hot water down my fucking spine. she’s married. she’s brilliant. she trusts me... and i want to tell her. i want to tell her that she’s luminous, she’s so bright in my mind, sometimes i can’t focus. sometimes i forget why i came into the room. i’m distracted. i want to buy her flowers, food, books. i want to hold her hand, and i want to lock her in my bedroom. she’s everything i ever wanted and i want to inject her into my veins and also to never see her again. there’s nothing like her and these feelings, they are fucking intolerable. they were half-asleep while she was gone, but now she’s here and my body thinks it’s a fucking teenager and i don’t know what to do. i don’t know what to do. there is nothing i can do, so i’ll just . . . not."

- "here’s the honesty: i’m in love with you. but that’s not news. not to me, and not to you, i don’t think. not if you’re honest with yourself—which you say you are, right?"

when the moon was ours (anna-marie mclemore)

[this is a book about growing up trans and as a poc in a town full of white cis people. it's so good, it leaves me endlessly undone. it's so special to me. it's about teenage love and family and culture, and it's just the best. this whole book is poetry.]

- "the difference between baptism and drowning is a few faithless breaths."

- "the way he loved her was his, even if she wasn’t."

- "we don't get to become who we are for nothing. it costs something. you're fighting for every little piece of yourself. and maybe i got all of me at once but i lost everything else. don't you dare think there's any water in the world that makes this easy."

[taiey]

It's honestly hilarious how often Elias in 160 goes "and then I got lucky!" when it was, in fact, the Web. 

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was. 

Yeah, you weren’t wrong about that one.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when Jane Prentiss attacked

The Web orchestrated literally everything about Jane Prentiss’s attack on the archives. In 032 Jane speculates that spiders led her to break into the attic where she found her wasp nest. A ghost spider drove Carlos Vittery to move into the apartment block above the basement where Jane was hiding; Carlos’s name also appeared in 123′s Chelicerae website code. Martin went back and broke into that basement in 022 because he remembered seeing “quite a lot of spider webs”. John sees a spider in 038 and squashes it, breaking a hole in the wall and setting off Jane’s attack before she had fully built up her forces. Spiders eat the worm corpses in the tunnels afterwards.

Meanwhile Jonah thinks periodic monster attacks are a natural inevitability. We learn in 167 that the Web fed Gertrude “a steady string of plans to foil”.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus.

This pleasant bonus was the result of the web table being delivered to the Institute alongside the web lighter.

Jurgen Leitner was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much Gertrude would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast. 

Given that John left Jurgen to smoke a cigarette with, uh, what lighter..? I conclude that the Web thought this too, slightly earlier.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right

I only noticed this recently, so I’m going to quote 117 at length here. They have entered the wax museum and notice:

DAISY Come on. ARCHIVIST Right. [He makes a sound of extreme disgust – it almost sounds like he’s straining with something.] DAISY Shut. Up. It’s just cobwebs. ARCHIVIST There’s no such thing as just cobwebs.

yeah the timing being just right wasn’t a coincidence.

I was a little put out when that idiot Jared Hopworth misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him. 

John went to Jared Hopworth because while considering anchors for the Coffin he listened to a tape that he found "in a corner of my desk drawer, covered in cobwebs” that described “the siren call of flesh”. Elias screwed up the timing; the Web fixed it.

Honestly, Detective Tonner has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

Daisy Tonner was forced into the Coffin during the Unknowing, in that waxwork museum festooned with cobwebs. Jonah didn’t have a plan for it.

I have two conclusions. One is that Elias is metaphorically bragging about how he became super rich with only talent, effort, and a small loan of a million dollars from his rich father.

The other is that the Web didn’t just benefit from the world ending. The Web made the world end.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Pearl, Ch. 4: Sea Legs on 7th

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s only a ten minute walk from the bureau to the courthouse, but Mulder is starting to regret not insisting they drive.

Scully’s having a rough day, if her sallow face and pursed lips are any indication. She’s uncomfortably quiet.

“You alright?” Mulder asks, hovering over her as they walk.

“M’fine,” she answers, because that’s all she ever says. “Just queasy today.”

“Let me know if you need to sit down for a minute,” he says, and she bristles.

“We have an appointment to make, Mulder,” she reminds him. “We’re almost there anyway.”

Mulder’s stomach is unsteady too; not from chemotherapy, but from nerves. They’re applying for their marriage license today.

It’s happening, it’s all happening, and all he can do is shorten his steps to match Scully’s pace as they walk. She senses this and starts walking faster in response. Scully has an incredible talent for pushing Mulder away in the smallest ways possible, telegraphing with her body that she doesn’t need his help or his pity or his accommodation.

And yet they’re heading to the DC Marriage Bureau. Funny, that.

Scully’s face is clammy by the time they enter the Moultrie Courthouse.

“Hey,” Mulder says softly, drawing her aside, “Scully, you don’t look too good.”

“Thanks,” she says stiffly, digging around in her purse and pressing a tissue to her lips.

“I mean… I-I think you should go home. We can do this another time.”

She shakes her head carefully, taking a deep breath. “We’d have to walk back to the office either way, Mulder. I’ll be fine. Do you have any gum or a mint, by the way? Something I can suck on. It… it helps with the nausea sometimes.”

Mulder rummages through his jacket pocket. “Just sunflower seeds,” he admits, “And… a nickel.”

Scully holds out a hand, and he places a few seeds into her palm.

“Thank you,” she says tightly, placing the seeds in her mouth.

In sickness and in health, Mulder thinks, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Her body feels rigid beneath his hand.

They file their license request without incident or fanfare, and Scully’s stride is clipped as they head back to the office.

Halfway up 7th Street, she stops walking abruptly and steadies herself with a hand against the rough brick of a building.

“Don’t ask me if I’m fine,” she whispers before he can say anything. “Just give me a moment.”

She takes a few slow, deep breaths. “Okay,” she says huskily.

“Shall we walk? If you need to lean on me, you can,” Mulder says gently.

“Despite how I feel right now, the world isn’t actually tilting sideways,” she replies. “I can walk on my own.”

He feels like a kicked puppy trailing after her, but dammit, she’s sick and being stubborn and his heart is turning to pulp beneath her low-heeled pumps and their names are next to each other on a piece of paper a quarter mile behind.

And Dana Scully, doctor and scientist and meticulous planner, manages make it all the way into the little basement bathroom before being sick.

Sometimes Mulder waits outside the restroom for her, to hand her a cup of water and make sure she’s alright; but today she’s spiky and tense and radiating that she doesn’t want him near. So he waits in their office, loitering by the filing cabinet, flicking through folders and pretending not to worry about her.

She walks into the room a few minutes later, and Mulder takes one look at her face before dropping the act.

“Scully,” he sighs. “Please. Go home.”

She looks up at him with watery eyes. “It’s just the chemo,” she rasps.

“Dana,” Mulder says, crossing the room and clasping her shoulders. “You need to rest. I can manage alone for the afternoon, I promise. You finished your report, our license application is in, things are stable.” He changes tack, infusing his words with forced levity. “Go sleep it off, have some tea, watch shitty TV. Play hooky for me, okay?”

She’s silent, then he feels her deflate under his palms. “Fine, I’ll go,” she says hoarsely. She clears her throat. “But I’m going make arrangements with an officiant when I get home, because-”

She abandons her sentence, and Mulder drops his hands to his sides. Because time is ticking, he thinks. He can read it on her wan, pinched face.

“I’ll stop in at a jewelry store on my way home, get us some rings,” he offers, wandering behind his desk and nudging his chair awkwardly with a knee.

Scully ducks her chin in an abridged nod. “I doubt we’ll have much need to wear them outside the ceremony, so they don’t have to be anything special. Plain bands are fine.”

Mulder nods. “I’m on it. What’s, uh, what's your ring size?”

She looks up at him, blinking. “I- I don’t know,” she admits. “I’ve never had occasion to find out.”

Mulder purses his lips in thought before leaning down and opening one of his desk draws. He digs through a clutter of office supplies before finding a ball of string. “C’mere,” he says, beckoning her over. “Give me your hand.”

She holds her left hand out, and he loops the end of the string around her ring finger, pinching the cord where it overlaps.

“Do me a favor and cut it right there,” he says.

She grabs a pair of scissors out of the pencil cup on the desk and snips the string, leaving him with a short piece the circumference of her finger.

“Good enough?” he asks.

“It’ll have to do,” she replies.

Mulder hadn’t put ‘shopping for wedding bands’ on his bingo card for 1997, and he’s admittedly out of his depth. The guy behind the counter at the little jewelry store on Prince Street in Alexandria isn’t helping his confidence.

“You want a wedding band?” he says, sizing Mulder up with a once-over. His eyes pause on Mulder’s tie for an uncomfortable two seconds too long, and his nostril flare with what could be disgust.

“Yeah, uh, one for me and one for my partner- fiancé,” Mulder stumbles, correcting himself unnecessarily. “Nothing flashy.”

Picking out his own ring is as easy as pointing at a plain gold band and slipping it on his finger. It fits well enough, and the jeweler packs it away into a tiny box.

Mulder feels somewhat ridiculous handing a jeweler a tiny piece of string and saying ‘this is how big my fiancé’s finger is’. The look the man gives him doesn’t ease the feeling.

“I can’t guarantee correct sizing with this,” the jeweler cautions, gingerly holding the string between two pinched fingers as though it’s a live, writhing worm.

Mulder shrugs. “I’m, uh, sorry, but that’s all I have to go on.”

The jeweler huffily wraps the string around a ring-sizing mandrel, and Mulder thinks he catches the man rolling his eyes. What a dick.

“Alright, so according to this highly sophisticated piece of string, she’s a size six,” the jeweler says flatly. “That’s the average size we carry for women. We can resize most ring styles for you later if it’s the wrong fit.”

“Right, thanks,” Mulder mumbles, scanning the glass case for a suitable ring.

His eyes wander over to slightly higher-end territory, and he immediately sees It.

It’s a simple ring, a thin gold band with a single pearl bracketed by a trio of tiny diamonds on each side.

He has a sudden vision of Scully tucking her hair behind one ear, wearing those delicate pearl stud earrings he secretly loves, and he feels a slosh behind his kneecaps at the image.

Fuck it. She deserves something pretty.

“I’d like that one,” Mulder says, pointing to the pearl ring in the case.

“That’s a promise ring,” the jeweler informs him. “A bit subdued for an engagement.”

“We’re a subdued couple,” Mulder replies, pulling out his wallet.

We.

Scully gave him no budget; and besides, this was his gift for her. That’s how tradition goes, right? Man buys woman ring. And from the sour look on the jeweler’s face, this ring isn’t even that expensive.

The man snaps the little velvet ring box shut and puts it into a crisp bag with the other box. “Will that be all?” he drones.

Mulder holds out his debit card. “I’ve done enough damage for one day.”

[willowisbunger]

God Im Sorry (A tapeworm clef fanfic)

Before we begin. This is all for jokes. I am so sorry for anyone who has to read this. Its also just a draft and will be complete at some point. For now enjoy what little I give you.

You find yourself resting on the couch of your dearly beloveds bed quarters. You scroll through your phone looking fondly at old text messages of when you and your husband to be's first text messages. All the ridiculous nicknames you two exchanged, all the flirting, photos, and various other things you two have sent to each other over the years. You couldn't help but giggle. You find it hard to believe this all started cause you decided to help some weird blonde guy with a ukulele out with his broken leg.

You two have been dating for almost 8 years and two months ago, the man, Dr. Alto Clef. He took you on a date. Just a nice simple stroll around the woods, which ended in a nice picnic by a river. In which you saw the man you have fallen head over heels for, get down on one knee and began plucking at the strings of his ukulele. Singing a sweet melody like a song bird in the spring, before pulling out a wedding ring and asking those simple words of "will you marry me". Your heart flutters with glee as you chuckle. You feel giddy and so over joyed with happiness. Right as your giggle fit calmed down you heard the front door open, and there stood your beloved. With a wide grin on his face as he held some folders in his hands. He had a doctors appointment that day since he had been feeling strange. With his face showing his usual bright beaming smile and his three beautiful eyes showing their usual mischievous gleam, it was clear that he was in more than perfect shape.

"Heya there pumpkin. I'm home. And I've got some great news." He spoke in a raspy slightly southern voice. At first it was grating on ya, but now its like all your favorite songs combine into one incredible tune. "Welcome home sweetheart!" You chirped as you ran up to your beloved teddy bear to give him a quick peck to the lips as you hugged him close, "What's the good news teddy? I can tell from that big dumb grin of yours ya got somethin real good to tell me. What did the doctor say?" You said as you affectionately pinched his cheeks causing him to laugh as he took both your hands to hold. "Well besides me being fit as a bull. Looks like I'm gonna be eating for two from now on."

You blinked and tilted your head in confusion, slowly processing the information as you stepped back a lil. "How? Babe I never top and we always use protection. Who-" "Oh no pumpkin. I ain't pregnant" He interrupted, chuckling as he ruffled your hair. "I got a tape worm. The doc took some sonograms of my stomach to see if there were any issues and yeah, there's a lil fella in there. Look." The blonde handed you the folder, which you opened and began reading through and your face turned pale at the sight of the tape worm in the photo of an ultra sound. You gagged a lil as you shoved the folder back into clefs arm. "Babe that's not okay!!!! That's a parasite!!!! Its gonna just keep reproducing and shit and its gonna fuck up your insides." You said quite loudly, usually you were quiet but this, this was making you quite distressed. Your fiancés face turned from a smile to a disappointed frown "I thought you would've liked clef junior....".

You stood baffled at the situation before you. Your dearly beloved, just, accepting and seeming to be happy about the fact he has a god damn TAPE WORM living inside of him. You've seen some shit in your days working for the foundation. A sheet of music that makes people go bonkers and try to bleed, Kondraki -clefs ex- ridding on god damn 682, and other shit that would boggle anyone's mind. But this. THIS RIGHT HERE. Just.... Leaves you speechless. "Pumpkin?" the third eyed man spoke in a concerned tone, which rarely came from him. "Are you okay?" You held your head in your hands as you sat back down on the plush couch and just took a deep breathe, and just as quickly as you sat down you sprung back up, grabbing your jacket and zipping it up. "Babe.... I just.... I need a moment.... I'll be out for awhile.... This is just, strange even for you and I need a moment to think about this." You sped walk past your -potentially ex- husband to be to the door. You shut the door, seeing Clef's face look uncharacteristically sad at you. It hurt you a little to leave your teddy bear like that, but you still needed time to just, think and process this whole situation.

You leave the housing area for researchers and quickly the site as well. You hail a cab and as soon as you enter the bright yellow vehicle you tell the faceless driver to "Take me to the nearest motel." Which he happily complied especially with the hefty tip you gave him. You just, Needed awhile to think and god knows how long that could be so you may as well rent out a room away from that hell site foundation to have a clear mind. After all who knows what might happen. Fucking Dr. Bright could tell you to give it a chance and raise the worm together with your teddy bear or some shit. You never know with this job and the people you worked with. While in your thoughts you rented out a room, room 105. Great another reminder of your hell job, even though it was just the simple numbers of 0 and 5 you can't help but be reminded of your faceless higher ups and the fact you work for them.

You found your room and quickly made your way inside to flop down on the bed, beforehand making sure to put up the "Do not disturb" sign and locking it. You burried your face into the hard cheap pillows of this motel, missing the one you had back at your place with its soft textures and the scent of your beloved.... Which once again brought you back to the worm. That fucking worm. Why the hell was your husband so keen on keeping it? He's at least some form of scientist he should know that tape worms are a dangerous parasite that affect your health. You stare up at the popcorn ceiling just, trying to wrap your head around WHY. Why would your partner; your future husband; the one who knows everything about you and you know everything about them.... just why are they keeping the tape worm?

You of course knew the stuff your teddy was known for, sleeping with that statue after a date, killing a dangerous reality bending child, father to 166 (who you were honestly happy to take in as your new step daughter). Out of everything. The tape worm makes you break. Makes you rethink your relationship with the man you've been dating for years at this point. All you can do at this moment is sigh, hearing the phone in your coat pocket buzz. You pull it out and set it to "do not disturb" as you set the device aside on a night stand. "Maybe I should sleep it off. Maybe I'll have a clearer mind then...." You say to yourself as you threw your coat off and roll onto your side. Feeling uncomfortable in your current clothes but you didn't pack a bag so, you just ignore the discomfort until eventually.... You drift off to sleep. The shallow hum of power surging through the building and the busy city outside envelop you as you feel unconsciousness take over.

While in your state of unconsciousness you hear a silky smooth, deep yet gentle voice speak to  you. "Y/N... Y/N its time to wake up Y/N". You slowly awoke, opening your groggy eyes, what laid before you, you didn't know. They had a handsome chiseled face, comparable to the statues found in ancient Greece with even a similar tone of white marble. They had thick luxurious hair that went down to their waste, rippling muscles that went down both torso and back.... They were ungodly white though. And didn't have legs. You stared at the bottom half and slowly processed what you were looking at..... A fucking tapeworm man. A fucking humanoid tape worm what the fuck. "Im going back to bed" You said as you laid on your side, and tried to ignore the hallucination.

The tapeworm creature, slid over you just to get to the side you were facing. You shivered feeling it’s disgusting body wiggle about. You close your eyes tightly as you did your best to ignore it. You could feel yourself holding back even more shivers as you felt their cold hands touch your face. “Y/n…. Look at me…. I just want to talk.” “And I just want to be left alone and not think about tapeworm men trying to seduce me while I’m contemplating breaking up my engagement.”

[silkentragedies]

A boyfriend sounds good, but…

Non idol! Jung Wooyoung x fem! Reader

3.1k words, Highly suggestive at best, making out, FLUFF, E2L vibes, College AU

Warnings: Mentions of STDs, making out. ( This is so self-indulgent it’s horrible lmao- also, not explicit at all.)

This piece of fiction does not reflect the actions of the real-life Jung Wooyoung. Not meant for minors. 

College was supposed to be late night parties and hurried submissions, overdosing on caffeine and woefully unedited essay compilations. College was supposed to be hellish hangovers and greasy weekend brunches in bed, helter-skelter running to part-time jobs and missing classes with snoozed alarms.

You got all of that, of course, but you also got one thing you didn’t ask for, in fact, wished beyond wishes that it wouldn’t happen but of course, your guardian angel was up to some mischief: You got yourself an archenemy.

Jung fucking Wooyoung.

It all started off small, of course; bumping into each other rather violently in the hallways on orientation day ended with your coffee on the floor. Minor detail- his phone had also dropped on the floor.

You apologized profusely- he seemed like an upperclassman with his leather jacket, slim but solid build, a head of double-toned hair and oh were those tattoos peeking out of his collar- no point in causing a ruckus on the first day. You even offered to pay for the damage. 

And then he opened his mouth. 

“Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

The sheer annoyance in his tone rubbed you the wrong way- obviously you had to respond, you weren’t the only one at fault- 

“Sorry, but you weren’t watching where you were going either. So don’t tout the blame to me-”

“Oh, whatever, just keep your money. I can get it fixed myself.”

The audacity of this bi-

“Good for you then, because my offer is off the table now, pretty boy.” 

A smirk curled up his lip- “You think I’m pretty?”

“About as pretty as a skunk, especially with that hair.”

You had to tamp down the urge to childishly stick your tongue out at his bemused, mildly annoyed expression before walking past him.

 Lamenting the loss of your morning coffee, you hurried your way to the orientation venue. At Least he was an upperclassman. Thankfully you wouldn’t have to deal with him-

“Did you see that hot guy in the leather jacket and that black-blonde hair ?”

Fuck’s sake. 

“His name’s Jung Wooyoung and apparently all the upperclassmen already have an eye on him. He’s in our major so we really lucked out, hot guys-wise.”

Fuck’s sake.

Surely you could just avoid him and pretend he didn’t exist?

But no.

Jung fucking Wooyoung turned out to be the apple of the campus’ eye in a matter of 2 weeks. He was as new to the university as the rest of you and yet, managed to look more put together, cooler than the rest of you still struggling to figure out class numbers and professor names.

He was the upperclassmen darling- people drooled over him, wanted to befriend him, and invite him to all the big parties…

and fuck- even the teachers were already wrapped around his infuriating pinky finger. They allowed him to waltz into class 25 minutes late, smile his infuriating innocent smile and chill in the back row, scot fucking free.

A month in, he’d gotten into the Dance Club too-  cementing his legendary status in the university. It was unheard of, after all, for a freshman to get into the unattainable Dance Club in his first attempt. 

You happened to visit one of the club’s performances one weekend and even you couldn’t ignore the sheer talent he radiated. It only infuriated you more to watch Wooyoung hog the stage’s spotlight with almost no effort- all perfect lines, sharp and clean movements…

It’s fine, you could still ignore his existence

But no.

Another thing about Jung Wooyoung- he found sick pleasure in annoying the living daylights out of you. 

It was so juvenile, so high-school, so immature of him- sticking gum in your hair, snapping your bra strap, kicking the back of your chair, striking up nonsense debates with you in class…

And then he had the nerve to laugh in your face when you glared at him with hellfire in your eyes because you were too polite to lash out in front of a professor.

Of course, you exhibited no such restraint outside the classroom.

“You vs Woo” was a commonplace explanation for the commotions that blazed up in the campus courtyard every other day. You were like wolves, the way you snarled at each other, not hesitating to slash at each other with as many cutting words as you could find. 

This went on for months, an entire semester marred by an enmity that seemed to stem from nothing- until one day, mister Jung Wooyoung really fucked up.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? FACE ME, YOU COWARDLY WORM!” Your angry yelling and thudding on the door had Wooyoung’s roommates Yeosang and… Choi San? running to open the door to their shared dorm room. 

You barged into Wooyoung’s room, unplugging the game he was playing. “What the fuck-”

“You dirty fucking bastard. You shameless shitstain of a fucking human being-” 

Slap. Wooyoung reeled back. In all this time, you’d never actually hit out at him physically. It had always been words. Maybe this time he crossed a line?

“You told Changbin I had a fucking STD. THE GALL OF YOU-” You lashed out at him with every few words, pushing Wooyoung further back against the back wall of his room. 

“How fucking dare you make assumptions about me like that. you lowlife scumbag.” You snarled in his face, now having him trapped between you and the wall.

You were smaller than him by quite a bit- it was almost amusing to see Wooyoung cowering in front of you, lowkey terrified of what you’d throw at him next. 

“Okay okay, fuck, I’m sorry!” He burst out finally, cutting you right across your angry rant. “I didn’t mean it like that!! I swear, I didn’t even know you were the one he was talking about. And I only told him to be safe from STDs, not that anybody had one.”

“What makes you think I’ll believe you, Jung,” You screeched. “You’ve always been a dick in general to me. I wouldn’t put it past you to say something like that and lie to my face about it.”

You back away, almost disgusted at being so close to him, “Seriously, dude. Get fucked.” Flipping him off before leaving, you turn around to look at him still standing where you’d backed him up to, an evil glint in your eye.

“It will be so fucking unfortunate if somebody told the campus gossip blog you had erectile dysfunction and your hookups were all fake.”

\

Safe to say, Wooyoung never made digs at your sexual activity again.

Neither did he have much sexual activity of his own for a while. Not that there was much sexual activity in your case either.

Maybe it was that exact…starvation that led Wooyoung to behave the way he did.

What was juvenile teasing became more… flirtatious?

Oh gods, what the fucking fuck is going on-

Suddenly, it wasn’t gum in your hair, it was soft whispers against your ear, breath warm against your cheek

It wasn’t kicking the back of your chair, it was leaning in front of you to fistbump Lee Felix on the other side of you until you could smell his intoxicating chocolate-honey-sweat scent.

He’d taken to taking his leather jacket off and sitting through classes (he still turned up late for) in a muscle t shirt that showed off his toned arms- 

All of his movements now seemed to be designed to tease the crawling under your skin you hadn’t been able to quench recently-

Not that you were a serial hookup kinda person, but you’d been fairly sexually active until semester exams and Wooyoung’s rumors had brought around quite a dry spell for you.

It was like every action of his sparked something wildfire hot in your head, tension stringing your senses into overdrive- were you imagining it?

Wooyoung was having some troubles with said crawling under-skin himself. 

Since when did you wear skinny jeans like that to class? Did you always have such a pretty neck, just waiting to get marked up? Did you always have that sway to your hips when you walked out of class?

The forced abstinence was doing bad things to him. 

It did rather amuse him, however, when he could see your breath catch a little from his murmurings in your ear, or squirm in your seat when he spoke to Felix before the professor arrived. It was the little things, truly. 

You still fought like a cat and dog though- there was no way the two of you would ever let on that your scope of noticing each other had gone beyond annoyance and rivalry a while ago. 

//

“Fuck no. I’m not doing this fucking project with you. It’s worth half the fucking grade and you’re a numbskull when it comes to this subject.”

“Like I want to deal with you anymore than I have to, sweetheart. You’re pretentious enough in class as it is.” 

Fate really loved playing the cliche card with you- of course you got paired up with Wooyoung for one of your semester projects. 

No, it definitely wasn’t the teacher that saw you two glaring more at each other more than the whiteboard and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Of fucking course the teacher refused to allow switching of partners or individual grading- it had to be a team effort or you’d both fail the subject. As a team. Yippee-ki fucking yay.

So you two ended up in the library at 11 p.m, two nights before your first check point review, having procrastinated the fuck out of working together until the last possible minute.

Amidst cursing at each other and cups of ramen and iced americano, the two of you found yourself stuck with each other and attempting to build the basis of an acceptable report to present. 

Surprisingly enough, Wooyoung wasn’t entirely a lost cause when it came to the subject. He actually made sizable contributions to the report. He even got you some coffee on his break, despite the jibes and taunts you threw at him about going soft- you were the type to hold a grudge.

You were both wandering down the shelves in the library, looking for more references when Wooyoung decided to open his big mouth again.

“You do realize that shitty rumor you put out didn’t really mess with my prospects, right?” Wooyoung was so full of shit. “If anything, I’d be worried about you, sweetheart.”

There it was again. Sweetheart. Another of those taunting things that just riled you up in all the wrong(right) ways. It was like he knew everything you would go weak for and then shamelessly exploited them all.

“Unlike you, Wooyoung, I don’t need people to stroke my ego…or anything else. I can get myself going just fine.”

“If you did know how to stroke anybody’s anything, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have trouble getting some.”

Ohhh, so he wants to play some games!!! Okay then-

You reached out to flick at his ponytail, ever-so slightly enamoured by how well he pulled off the double-toned look.

“Like you know anything about how to please in bed, babe.” 

It was unfair how much that nickname falling from your lips affected Wooyoung. Some…not very appropriate thoughts had already taken root in his brain and you running your mouth was not helping at all. 

“Good enough for them to beg, sweetheart.” 

A soft crow of laughter escaped you as you turned to fully face him, the both of you standing between the Greek Architecture and Geography sections.

“You sure you weren’t the one doing the begging?” 

“Oh, really now?”

You really should’ve thought through what was leaving your mouth 

Because now you were wedged between the shelves and Wooyoung’s (unfairly) toned body, his arms caging you in with that signature shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned closer to you- 

The tension was almost atrocious now, suffocating you when it had only previously nudged at you. You could feel it settle under your skin, in your veins, fingers itching to reach out and pull him closer 

But you kept your hands braced against the shelves- you would not give him the satisfaction of making the first move yourself…right? 

Fuck, you really wanted to though- 

It had be the late hour leaving you with lesser inhibitions than normal or possibly the pent up horny in your system or maybe the questionable direction your conversation was headed in

There was no other plausible reason for your arch nemesis’ lips to look that inviting

It must’ve been the way your attention flitted from his eyes to his lips that gave you away, a momentary lapse of self-control before you looked away, off to some point behind his shoulders-

And he smirk only widens

“You know, nobody really visits this corner of the library.”

“Your point?”

Both your voices were whispers now, your bodies close enough to touch but not quite, Wooyoung’s face a few inches away from yours and holding your gaze 

(He had honey flecks in those dark eyes, 7 on one side and 4 on the other, like gold leaf in coffee)

“We could easily find out who begs for who…”

He still hadn’t touched you yet, his hands placed on the shelf on either side of you- you could move out from the space if you so wished-

Despite the tension between the both of you, it seemed like… like he was waiting for you to make the first move, voice your consent, act on it 

How considerate, you thought to yourself as you let your sight wander to either side, checking for people 

Surprising you found Jung Wooyoung’s one possible redeeming quality like this, mind hazy and barely restraining yourself from kissing the living daylights out of him- 

Oh well, fuck it

A soft sound left Wooyoung as you curled your hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face to yours, lips meeting in a soft, hesitant kiss

How dare he be a good kisser too?

One hand reached up to cup your cheek and you instinctively tilted your head into the warmth of his palm as the kiss deepened

Unfair that he could take your breath away so effortlessly

There was nothing hesitant about the way Jung wooyoung kissed you back

Lips pressing more persistently against yours, teeth grazing your lower lip and pulling slightly before diving in again, hand now curled around the back of your neck

His other hand caressed your side and gripped your hips as he pressed you gently against the shelves, your arm slipping down to clutch at the front of his shirt as his body molded all too perfectly against yours

You could feel him everywhere

Everywhere 

From the way his lips had begun to land messy kisses against your jaw and neck, the hand on your hip tightening and slipping under your shirt to clutch at soft skin, hips flush against yours 

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from Wooyoung, your head spinning at the intoxicating feeling he brought with him 

The sensation of his mouth against your neck was almost euphoric, your head lolling back against the books and leaving you to pull your lower lip between your teeth, an almost futile feeling bid to keep silent, you’re still in public

Somehow your hands wound up in his hair, pulling the double-toned strands as his head dipped lower, a quiet groan from Wooyoung your only pointer that he liked it

So this is why he was so sure of himself, your mind temporarily blanking when Wooyoung’s teeth pulled against the sensitive skin, biting and sucking gently

A choked, uneven sound escaped your mouth when he pushed you harder against the shelves, hand reaching lower to squeeze your butt-

A smirk lit up his eyes as he straightened up to look at the line of red- blue blooming across your neck, then at you, cheeks warm and still biting your lip, looking resolutely away from his gaze

“Weren’t we supposed to be working on the project?” 

This little buzzkill.

//

You didn’t work on the project that night

You spent it in Wooyoung’s bedroom, getting railed within an inch of your life.

Not without the lack of the both of you being absolutely unable to keep your hands off each other on the way there 

Between the library and his dorm, you pulled or got pulled into shady alleys and corners for ‘another taste’ 

“Never again.” You warned him when he dropped you off at your dorm, you looking windswept from the wind of course and his hoodie up because of the cold not because his neck was more purple than tan-

Lies.

Your daytime dynamic remained the same 

But now with added benefits- 

He got to corner you after class, feel you up until you were gasping his name and then leave you hanging 

You got to make brazen moves under the table in the library whenever he got too snarky for his own good

He could ask nicely, you learnt. Broken groans and choked-up sounds would escape him when you ran your nails over his skin, soft and sharp and wanting and unyielding as you kissed your way down his body

Down his neck, over his chest, the hard planes of his stomach 

He would plead for more when you sucked him off, bucking his hips closer to you everytime you slowed down or stopped

Find him at the right time, though and he could just as easily return the favour

He would tease you relentlessly, hands ghosting everywhere dangerous and then pulling away just to watch you squirm and make grabby hands at him, a frown marring your kiss- swollen lips 

Leave conspicuous marks too high up on your neck for you to cover, dark enough for a day or two that even makeup left shadows

Spending a long, long time between your legs only to get up and start dressing, claiming to be late for class

Quickies were your religion at this point 

Janitors closets locked and hand covering your mouth to muffle your moans before a dance competition, empty bedrooms in frat parties with one of you getting pushed onto the bed

It was an infernal coupon from hell : Find one archrival, get a fuck buddy free of cost!

Of course, there were side effects

“Did you just walk out of that empty classroom with Jung Wooyoung? After class hours?” “We were studying for the midterms!!”

“Uh.. Wooyoung, who was that leaving the dorm building? at 1 in the morning?” “uh yEAH WE WERE DOING THE PROJECT YEAH.”

Yeah, a boyfriend sounds nice but an archenemy you can make out with in secret sounds ravishingly pleasing-

When the boy in question is a certain young man with double toned hair with a penchant for leather jackets and out-of-line snark, you couldn’t agree more.

Yes, this is a revamp and repost from my main account xD. Like I said, this was self indulgence to the peak 😩 I'm a tad whipped for snarky boy Jung Wooyoung 😀

Do lemme know what you think ^_^. xoxo, A💕

Possibly interested parties: @aliceu​ @whiteprincessofnohr​

(drop me an ask to be added or removed! )

[space-lynn]

Helluva Boss Episode 6: Truth Seekers was amazing. I'd recommend watching the episode first before any of you start reading this snippet. SPOILER ALERT!!! since someone inspired me to write this based off of a scene.

(TW: Blood)

The world around her was barren, distorted and drained of color. The sky above her head, the ground below her feet, the SJMS uniform she was wearing and the chair she sat on were nothing more than different shades of white, black and grey. Sasha looked around, wondering where the hell she is. She stood up bewildered and stepped away watching, as the chair she sat on started to sink into the ground. Screeching noises could be heard above, and her head tilted up, watching streaks of color fly around. One colored in olive green smacked her head, dripping it's color all over her.

What the fuck? she thought.

She examined the goo staining her hands, before shaking it and getting it off. The green thing hit her again with enough force for her to land on her behind in mud. She groaned, hauling herself up. In the corner of her eye, she watched it land on the ground and take the shape of... Grime.

Only it wasn't him. It was a weird crudely drawn version of him.

"You're dangerous," he spoke, turning into the real Grime for a second. "Quick to please and charm others with lies."

"Grime, wh--"

"With a silver tongue, too. Never learned how to get what you want on your own, human? Do you always rely on others? Pathetic," he continued, interrupting her and still changing between the drawing version of himself and the real one.

"What are you talking about?"

Grime opened his mouth to talk again, but the words were unintelligible, a high-pitched ringing sound stopping her from understanding.

A shriek sounded above and her head snapped back up to see three other streaks whirling over her, one colored blue, another a mix of light green and light purple, and the last an emerald green.

She looked back at Grime, opening her mouth to speak, to tell him she'd changed but the blue streak wrapped around her right arm and tossed her away from Grime. She coughed, looking up to see it take the shape of Anne.

"You're a liar! A manipulator! Did you honestly think I would forgive you? You don't deserve it, Sasha. You never deserved it."

The green-pink mix barrelled into her next, coming up from the ground underneath her. It lifted her up into the air, taking the shape of the narwhal worm she had taken Barrel's warhammer from.

"You promised. Promised!" the narwhal shrieked in Percy and Braddock's voices. She watched it's face morphed into a horrible mix of her close toad friends' faces. Four eyes peered down at her as she floated for a moment.

"You promised we'd leave when things got dangerous! But we didn't, because you're selfish. You'll lie to get what you want, without caring for the safety of OTHERS!"

The narwhal-Percy-Braddock thing swung its tail onto her, smashing her into the ground on her stomach. Spitting out mud, she tensed up when the third streak, the emerald one, made a squelching noise behind her. It took the shape of Marcy, glaring down at her with orange irises shaped like a cross in the middle of bright red eyes.

"Running again, Sasha? Are you that much of a coward to face your damn problems? Because you're afraid that other's will think you're weak?"

"I-I..."

Sasha noticed stairs made out of mud behind her and she moved back from Marcy. She flipped herself over, pushing herself to stand up and run towards it, no longer caring for the words spoken to her. She dashed up the stairs, subconsciously noting the mud giving way to reveal blue. Her foot caught on one of the steps in her haste, making her fall forward. She placed her arms forward, trying to brace herself, but the once solid blue stairs liquified into a dark red and Sasha slammed into it head first. She pushed herself up, looking down at herself to notice the fluid slide off, revealing her in her old toad armor.

A deep voice chuckled at the top of the stairs, compelling Sasha to look up. Two guards stood in front of a throne made out of corals. Their halberds crossed in front of the figure atop the throne, concealing their face.

"Losing control, Sasha? You deserve it. After everything you've done."

When the guards moved themselves and their halberds to the side to reveal the figure on the throne, Sasha froze and the stairs below her glitched, switching between royal blue and crimson red. Upon the throne sat her father, dressed in the garbs and royal armor of a tyrant newt king that she'd killed before. He smirked down at her.

He lifted his hand. Red strings shot from his fingertips and stabbed her. One on each ankle, one on each wrist and one on her neck. The man closed his fist, pulling her forward. She tumbled down, struggling, but it was futile.

"Haven't you learned, dear," her father spoke, grinning at her. She watched as he glitched, his face flickering to look like her.

"Waybrights always--"

The ashen world distorted and glitched to feature a war-torn battlefield full of weapons and corpses, both metallic and flesh. Then it switched back.

"--always--"

Flames flared up around her, bringing with it the stench of death, rotten and pungent and sickly-sweet.

"--fuck up."

Now within his reach, he grabbed her neck, slowly choking her.

"We can't love and we'll never be loved. One way or the other."

His face melted, replaced by hers, replaced by 13 year old Sasha.

"Especially you, not by those friends of yours," her voice said.

Sasha had tears in her eyes. She whimpered, "No..."

"We no longer need you," Grime spoke from behind her.

She tilted her head slightly, just enough to look at those she was trying to escape from. They look at her in disgust, in anger, in hate. And in one voice, mixed with every other human or Amphibian she'd ever met in her life, including her own, they said,

"You're going to die alone."

"STOP!" she screamed. "Please! All of you, stop talking!"

She watched Grime and the others narrow their eyes, fading in a royal blue color. She then watched her 13 year old self and the throne fade in that royal blue and join the mismatched vortex swirling behind her. She watched it come down and spin around her in crimson. Drops of it rushed towards her, sticking to her skin. More came, this time with shards of metal that went through her armor and clothes and pierced her skin. Blood dripped from her wounds, joining the still-swirling crimson whirlpool. Globs of her blood wrapped around her wrists, pinning them together. Metallic shards drenched in red stabbed at her throat, making her choke and cough up blood. More of the red liquid hit her head and dripped over her eyes, before solidifying and effectively blinding her. The blood spilling from her lips crawled up her face and wrapped around her nose and mouth. She struggled against her binds, lifting her hands to her face and clawing at it. She grasped it, pulled it off and with a choked gasp, opened her mouth to scream, only for more to--

Her eyes snapped open, inhaling sharply as her body tensed up and her heart pounded in her ears. She lay there frozen, stopping herself from gasping or breathing loudly for fear of waking up the other two occupants of the bed. Once she calmed down, she slowly turned her head to see Marcy and Anne still sleeping beside her, clutching one another. Sasha sighed, then carefully extracted herself from the bed. She tiptoed out of the bedroom, years of experience allowing her to avoid the creaky floorboards.

She escaped into their living room, sitting down on the couch. She placed her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

She whispered, "It's okay. It was a just dream. Just a nightmare. You'll be fine. It was just a... nightmare."

Sasha sighed. Looking up to see the clock on the wall read 2:47, she wished that it was already 7:00. She doesn't think she can go back to sleep after something like that and she'd rather be productive to take her mind off of it.

She stared at their bedroom door, frowning. She'd talk to her girlfriends about ner nightmare soon. Not when they wake up, not that day, not later in the morning, afternoon or evening, but soon.

Another sigh escapes from her. She stood up and walked into her study, turning on the lights, sitting at her desk and starting on leftover paperwork from the day before. If she can't sleep, she might as well get some work done.

----------

My ending did not come off strong, but I couldn't think of anything else that did not give Sasha some sort of comfort from Anne and Marcy.

Well, I hoped you enjoy reading! Have a nice day!

[bigsnzstanacct]

King’s New Allergy Part 4

This is wildly overwritten but at least I’m writing...? Here is the link to the other chapters of this story lmao. Of course it is also on le blue forum. After this chapter there is one more to conclude the story (which is already partially written!) and then there’s a chance I’ll eventually write an aggressively porn-y epilogue. okay byeeeeeeee!

------

My nose. My damned nose. By all the gods old and new, my insatiable, insufferable, intolerable, insistent, itchy, tickly, twitching, torurous nose!

“So the… th-thehhhh… the harvest in the W-weehhhhh… Western… -sniff-”

I was fighting.  I was fighting as hard as I’d ever fought anything. Harder. But to do battle against a swordsman, a sorceror, a monster, a ghost… that was child’s play. For that I had tools and training. Years of training in weapons and fighting. For this meeting too: years of training in diplomacy, in leadership. But none of that training involved a struggle to the death against your own damned nose!

“In the W-wehhhh… weeeeeeehhHHHH…”

Through narrowing eyes, I saw their faces: full of disapproval, fear, hands itching to clap to their ears, legs twitching to hide under the table, as though I really were a storm unto myself, and in taking cover, they might be spared the worst. Perhaps if I simply allowed the sneeze to come, it might not be so monstrous but… I could not. I could not bring myself to succumb so easily, to give in, to be weak. I chanced putting a finger beneath my nose. It was a desperate failsafe that had served at least a few times, but in truth I could never resist for long. I could no more resist these violent eruptions than the sky, overcharged with energy, could resist the lightning arcing across the sky, or the terrible roar of the thunder in response.

“Oh gods… I’m sahhhh.. s-ssaahhhhhh… s-sorreeehhhhhHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRSSSSCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AnothhheeEERRRYYYYYYYYAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! hehhhh… hh-hehhhhhh… HUUUH! HHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

They came, thick, fast and violent. Each one felt like it took all my strength, as though I couldn’t help but through the full weight of my body—no, the full weight of the castle herself into each sneeze. And then, for a moment…

Bliss.

No itch, no tickle, no torture. As terrible as they were, as much as they terrorized my meeting, my castle, my citizens, my countryside… there was a guilty, fiendish part of me that felt such magnificent release and relief with each great roar that was loosed from my mouth and nose. Drained, too, of course. Exhausted as though I’d climbed a mountain after practically each sneeze, let alone a whole terrible fit of them like I’d done. But also, utterly and simply delighted.

And then I opened my eyes and the embarrassment flooded in, and then, barely a split-second later, the tiny, teasing, barely-perceptible blossom of the itch that presaged another sneeze. The urge to sneeze again was following closer and closer on the glorious feeling of release and relief. When this all started I could go half the day without a sneezing fit. Then hours. Now barely minutes. But perhaps if I didn’t think about it, if I just barrelled through and ignored the tickle… maybe it would leave me alone.

“My apologies again, gentlemen.” I said, and quickly, before anyone could comment upon my nose: “Now, the Western harvest is among the best we’ve had in some years, which means our levy at the current rate should be -sniff!-” the itch already was worming its way up. But I could hold out still. I could ignore it.

“At the current rate should be more than sufficient to provide for capitol needs, y-yes Minister?”

The Minister of the Exchequer tried to discreetly rub at his ears, but it was obvious what he was doing, trying to clear his head from my sneezing long enough to focus on what I was saying. I couldn’t bear it.

“Yes! It will be sufficient, I don’t need you to check my arithmetic. You may repohhh… re-re…” I gave a hard sniff, and allowed myself  a quick rub at the underside of my nose with the heel of my palm. It was an embarrassing, almost childish gesture but I was far beyond caring about small embarrassments. I had much, much larger mortifications to be concerned with.

“Youmayreportbackifneedsbe!” I barrelled out, knowing the tickle was already roused, and at any moment could turn the act of speech into feat as tricky as any in my storied questing career.

“What is the next item on the ahhh… hahhh…” my eyes swam, unfocused for a moment. Hands crept up towards ears, dread lining in every face of the council. I could feel my knights tensing behind me, as though bracing for an explosion, hoping not to be knocked off their feet. The sneeze wasn’t even ready, it would play with me for several more moment yet. It reminded me of nothing more than sparring with the quartermaster as a boy: putting up a valiant fight, certain I was on the edge of victory… only to find he was only playing a game with me. He would always win.

“The next agenda item!” I said, slamming a fist down on the table. I wasn’t angry with the council, and I hope they knew that, but. It was all so damned frustrating… I couldn’t speak without terrifying my council, not with my words but with the threat of my nose. Of all the mortifying.

“Well my lord, we have not admitted petitioners in over three weeks, owing to your condition. I was informed the Royal Physician as well as the, ah, King’s Right Hand will be pursuing some possibilities for treatment, but the peo---”

“Damn the conditiiIiiiHHHHHH… HHIIIHHHHHH!!” May noses and sneezes be damned by all the gods old and new! The urge was already prickling in my nose, fanning its way towards inevitability, as though to mock me for cursing it. By all the gods, I should be able to see my people, to hear their complaints and all because of my god’s damned lack of control, I couldn’t even do that… I felt furious as a boy, looking up at the quartermaster teary-eyed with rage at losing, at humiliation. And here I was again, losing. And to a thrice damned tickle in my thrice damned nose…!

My nose, on which the whole room hyperfocused, as intent upon it as I’d ever been on any foe on the battlefield. Every twitch garnered a flinch, every skipped breath a skipped heartbeat. My damned sneezes could be heard throughout the entire castle, throughout the entire town. I was just waiting for someone to announce they’d heard me sneeze at the furthest edges of the regions, echoing off the Black Mountains or the White Cliffs, resounding across oceans…

With all that, being so close to my sneeze must have been a form of auditory torture. And I couldn’t put my advisors through that. Not any longer. And not with the vague but unmistakable sense I felt that what was beginning to well up in me would be a fit to rival any I’d suffered since I came down with this accursed, irreparable allergy, this implacable need that seemed to be unmoved by any force physical or magical, on earth or in the realms above. I was going to sneeze, and the fit would leave me exhausted and the whole castle ringing, I knew. But the urge itself was small now, my winds gathering strength for the one man hurricane they would turn me into. What a curse, to make of a king a slave to his own body. I was disgusted with myself. And yet, I could no more stop the force building within me than I could will the rising sun to set or still the flowing tide.

This council meeting was accomplishing nothing. And dammit, I needed to sneeze.

Abruptly, I pushed back from the chair. Everyone rose with me. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must excuse me, I’m a-afraid… oh I…” I was doing my best to keep up a kingly facade but already I was faltering before the effort of damming back the torrent of sneezes that seemed to be pressing up against each other, jockeying for position, each demanding to be the first to erupt out of me. “oh gods, I have to sneeze. It’s going to be a terrible fit and I… Iahhhhhh… I m-muuhhhhh… I must r-repair to my… my chahhhhHHHHH… hAHHHHHHHHHHHH… w-with m-mehhhh…!”

I ordered my retinue to follow me, but I’m sure a number of them did so quite reluctantly, and frankly I couldn’t blame them. What I felt coming seemed like a sneeze to beat all sneezes, an itch to beat all itches, nothing which could soothed, calmed, or controlled by a little finger under the nose, a few rough rubs. I’d asked my former manservant more than once about his… powers. How he felt all the hidden powers of the earth welling up through him, the connection to the secret side of everything, how he could make it shimmer and dance. I felt the same sense  of something beyond myself intruding upon me, but it was not under my control. I was beneath its thumb, dancing like a marionette on a string in miserable abasement to, of all things, a tickle in my nose.

“Someone… someone please… huhhhh… p-put your f-finger… under…”

It was pathetic. At least I’d managed to get well out of the way of the council chambers before I succumbed. I’d only embarrassed myself like this once or twice before, but if this went on much longer, I’d have to appoint a knight to do this for me full time, to press and pinch and wrangle my nose in a way my own hands could no longer suffice. Perhaps that way I could at least forestall the sneezes long enough to do any of the duties of a king.

But for now, my only goal was fighting off the absolutely monstrous fit I felt brewing for a few more moments, until I could at least reach my chamber. At least then I could succumb in private, although such succumbing was never private. Before the curse even, I blushed to think a vigorous sneeze might echo through the castle, and I never could dam them back. But under the curse now… all of the castle, all of the city heard my every falter. The sound of my failure resounding back at me from every brick in the kingdom.

The Captain of the Guard slid a thick finger under my nose, and ever so imperceptibly the urge diminished. He pushed upward, hard. And all I could do was blink at him in acknowledgement. At this point a single word would send it all crashing down.

“Knights dismissed! I will escort the King further.” I heard his voice ringing out, and I was as grateful as I’d ever been for him. At least the knights would be spared the very worst. The captain alone would be with me to the eruptive end.

“Not much further now, sire. Please, hold out!” And there was an uncertainty or even... a fear in his voice. It wasn't as if I'd never heard such fear from the Captain of the Guard before. We had quested together, season after season. But this tone of voice ought to be reserved for a onrushing army or a sleeping dragon. Surely there was no reason to steel himself so before my nose?

“T-t-traahhHHHH… tr-trying…” I choked out, scrunching my nose as aggressively as I could, as though if my nostrils recoiled from the irritation, I might dodge the sneeze—no, sneezes—altogether.

And suddenly, unimaginably, the urge… exploded.

It was as if I had never needed to sneeze before in my life. Tears sprang to my eyes, and the simmering flame of the urge became a wild forest fire. Helplessly, I jerked away from the Captain, scrubbing desperately at my nose even as the heavy breaths ripped themselves from me…

“HHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH… HUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

“My King, not yet!” the Captain insisted. Not to be deterred, he came up behind me and tried to guide me, but I was surrendered to the sneeze, overpowered by the urge, defeated by the invisible twinging need. He was practically pushing me as the sneeze swelled and swelled.

“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

It swelled more and MORE, feeling more ferocious than any of my previous sneezes. I felt like a volcano on the precipice of eruption, as though my winds were swirling and turning and twisting and braiding their way towards tornadic devastation, as though I were not only a a lightning strike but indeed a whole storm set loose to wreak havoc across the land.

“Nearly there, nearly there, please sire you musn't give in…”

But it was too late.

“AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I exploded, and it was as though… some sort of… power erupted from me, from my mouth and nose from… from everywhere. The sneezes had always been incredibly loud but now tapestries on the wall flapped, armor rattled, it sounded as though something fell but I couldn’t tell because before I could so much as think, the next sneeze was already erupting: “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUHHHH!!!! AARRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HehHHHHHHH… HEEEEEYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTSSSCCCHHHHHHHHHEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

On and on and on the sneezes came, more and more violent, “volume” not even describing what I felt bursting from me. Somewhere, dimly, I heard the sounds of something falling over, and yet still the steady pressure of the Captain at my back, finally…

“Sir, your chamber… We must not let them see you!”

Whether I was able to exert some minimal effort even subdued by my sneeze attack, or whether the Captain just shoved me, somehow I stumbled into the chamber, still sneezing relentlessly, barely heard the door slam behind me, helpless to the urge. My whole world narrowed to my nose, and it was as though some block within me surrendered and the sneezes roared out of me, louder and more violent than ever before again and again and again…

I could not tell how long it had been when the fit finally ended. I felt… amazing. Warm and sated. Entirely itch-free, as though I’d never need to sneeze again in my life. Practically glowing. Maybe that was it? Maybe that monster of a fit had at last blown the insufferable urge away for good? But the moment of euphoria lasted barely an instant. I heard a… squeak? and I opened my eyes to find… him. The sorcerer. His robes and hair disheveled, and then, the room… The bed was without sheets. The mattress ripped, feathers piled against the stone wall, piled up with the rugs, half my clothes, my pillows, my chairs…

“Wh-what… what did I… what did I do?” I asked, panting and mortified.

He stood, mortified, as red as I’d seen him in years. His mouth agape. “I—I… I—I have to go!” He exclaimed, and rushed from the room.

Had I hurt him? Scared him? Surely he of all the denizens of the castle had no reason to fear… anyone. But as I cast my eyes across the disheveled, half-wrecked room, I began to see what he saw. Nothing to fear. But something to pity. An out-of-control freak. Certainly no King.

And even then, with a trickle of fear running down my spine… I began to feel the urge to sneeze again, sputtering back to life. I sat on my bed, feeling the weakened timbers sputter and creak with my weight, head in hands.

“By all the gods…”

[justthehiddleswrites]

Teach You a Lesson | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  Tom has quite enough of your petty behavior during interviews. He is going to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.

Warnings: Smut, Rough Sex, Consensual Non-Consensual, Vaginal Fingering, Rough Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Hate Sex, Face Slapping, Spanking, Face-Fucking, Vaginal Sex, Restraints, BDSM, Dom/sub, Aftercare, Name-Calling, Degradation, Orgasm Delay/Denial

-

“You fucking bitch!” Tom shoved you into the bathroom in the empty hotel suite. His grip on your arm is bruising. Even through your blouse and jacket.

“What the fuck did you say to me, Hiddleston?” You twisted in his grip, which caused him to dig his nails into the soft flesh of your arm. “Ow!”

“You fucking heard me. Or you are deaf as well as stupid?” he sneered as he kicked the door shut with his foot. Only then did he release your arm.

You shuffled to move past him, but he boxed you into a corner. His nostrils flare and his hand balled into fists.

“That is that last fucking time you pull that petty shit in an interview.” He stepped towards you. Your back pressed against the wall.

“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about you lunatic!” You ducked underneath his arm and reached for the door. It’s locked.

“Unlock the door.” You demanded.

“I don’t have a key.” Tom spat out. Your eyes widened and Tom chuckled. “It would seem you are my prisoner. It’s time to make you pay.”

He lunged for you, grabbing you by the waist and pushing you against the counter. He leaned forward.

“You think I don’t hear the snide remarks, or the little jabs in the interviews?” He pressed his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your leg. Against your will, your pussy fluttered. “Or how you eye fuck every male reporter?”

His breath is hot against your cheek. Tom licked a stripe along your cheek. You winced and turned your head in disgust. Tom grabbed your chin, squeezing your cheeks with his fingers. His blue eyes flashed with anger.

“Perhaps I should fuck a lesson into your cunt?” he growled against you.

You reared back and slapped Tom hard on the cheek. Your ring caught his cheekbones causing a slight cut. He touched the wound with his finger and for the first time you feared for your own safety.

“You’ll pay for that.” he growled, his tone calm. You shivered against him. His body radiated heat and his cock painful against your leg.

Tom reached up to grab the sides of your neck with one hand. His long fingers squeezed the sides. You moaned as your head lolled to the side.

Tom’s eyebrow quirked up and his lips curled into a smirk. “Oh do you like that you little slut?” His hand wormed its way down to the hem of your skirt, rucking it up to slide your panties aside. His fingers pushed roughly inside you. “You’re already dripping and I haven’t even pulled my cock out yet.” Tom pumped his fingers inside you. Tom pressed his lips against your ear. “Whore.”

You slipped your legs further apart. Tom bucked his hips against you. His fingers curled and pumped inside you. Tom nipped at your ear before assaulting your neck. His teeth nipped at the skin while his lips sucked hard. He left a trail of bruises. He added a third finger and pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing the lace against it. His other hand released your throat to grope your breast. His grasp is rough, manhandling your tender flesh. He pinched your nipples through your blouse. You moaned, bucking your hips against his fingers, fucking yourself on his fingers, desperate for release.

“Do you want to cum, little slut?” Tom snapped back. He pressed painfully hard against your clit.

“Yes.” you breathed.

“Too fucking bad.” Tom pulled his fingers from you. “This isn’t about your pleasure.” He released you, tossing you against the counter. Everything goes flying. He popped his fingers into his mouth. Tom made a show of laving his tongue over his fingertips, slurping. You licked your lips.

“Did you want a taste?”

You leaned forward, the tip of your tongue slipping past your lips. Tom cupped your chin, tilting your head upwards.

“Yes.” you nodded.

Tom stepped back to allow you to stand. “Then on your knees.”

You stood rooted, blinking.

“I said… KNEEL!” his voice bounced and reverberated off the tile walls. You lowered yourself to the floor.

Tom loosened his belt and trousers. He pushed them just low enough for his cock to pop free. Your eyes grew wide at the sight. Precum dripped from the tip.

“What are you staring at?” Tom stepped forward. “It’s not going to suck itself, darling.”

Your mouth fell open. Tom teased his tip along your lips, pushing into your mouth. You lapped at it with feeble effort.

Tom grabbed the back of your head and shoved himself down your throat. you gagged as his hair tickled your nose. “Come on, darling, you can do better,” He tugged on your hair as he pulled back. “Suck on it like you mean it. Dear.”

You hollowed your cheeks and swirled your tongue along his shaft. Your hand cupped his balls and Tom groaned as he loosened the hold of your head.

“That’s right my cockslut, show me how well you can suck my cock.”

Tom thrusted in and out of your mouth at a bruising pace, fucking your face. Drool dribbled from the sides of your mouth and your eyes teared. As your jaw ached, Tom’s balls tightened, his orgasm close. He removed himself from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock.

“Such a sight, but I shall have all of you. As a lesson to not disrespect me.”

He jerked you to your feet and pressed your hips against the counter. Your chest pressed flat against the top. Tom pulled his belt from his trousers and wrapped it tight around your wrists. He yanked you up to press against his torso.

“You fucking disgust me. Your flirtations, your words. Even now, you stand here a dribbling mess, desperate for release. Desperate for me to fill you. Such a whore.” The words dripped from his lips with disdain.

He lined up with your pussy and pushed into you, snapping his hips. You fucked back onto him. He smacked your ass in response.

“Can’t fucking help yourself, can you? So needy for my cock.” He purred to you. His hips snapped against you again, pushing you hard into the unforgiving counter. Much more and it would bruise you for days.

“Fuck me.” you hissed, gripping the counter to steady yourself.

“If you insist.”

His pace was harsh and brutal. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room. Tom grunted from exertion, sweat broke out of his brow and he gripped his belt tight with one hand and your hip with the other. Your walls fluttered as your orgasm approached.

“Can’t even control yourself long enough for me to paint the inside of you white? You are pathetic! Nothing more than a set of holes for my pleasure.”

You groaned as you came. Your pussy clenched around his cock. Tom’s strokes faltered as his own release washed over him.

“That’s it, darling. Milk my cock, you needy slut.” Tom snapped one more time before spilling inside you.

The two of you collapsed against the bathroom counter, exhausted. Tom’s chest heaved against your back. He loosened the belt, letting it fall to the floor. Tom spun you around and pulled you tight against his chest.

“Sorry about my ring.” you apologized, face buried against his shirt.

“That’s my fault. I should have proposed with something smaller. You chuckled against his chest.“Was that convincing, love?” His lips ghosted against your hairline.

“Very much so.” Your voice a whisper. “Thank you.”

“I was afraid I might hurt you.” He kissed your wrists, first the right, then the left.

“That’s what the safe word’s for.” you responded, melting into his arms.

Tom nodded and smiled down at you. “Right. Well, are you ready for dinner?”

You glanced in the mirror, your lipstick smeared, mascara on your cheeks, your hair and clothes mussed and wrinkled. “I need to get cleaned up.” You glanced down at Tom’s pants. “and so do you.”

Tom quickly tucked himself back into his trousers and zipped up. “Quite right.” He glanced around the room. “I’ll leave you to it, darling.”

“Unless you would care to join me?” You shed your jacket and undid your blouse.

Tom’s face broke out into a wide grin, and he tugged at his tie. “I thought you would never ask.” He followed you into the spacious shower.

[kaminobiwan]

hush

pairing: captain rex  x  reader

summary: you witness a side of Rex he never wanted you to see.

warnings: nightmares in this one loves, and mentions of death in flashbacks. also the f bomb plus other bad words not found in canon

a/n: more?? angst? I’m sorry??? this was requested by the harbinger of feelings™ herself, @morganas-pendragons (who is partially to blame for all my sad ideas lately, thank you I am LOVING this chaos), as well as an anon who wanted to see Rex being calmed down. the anon request was actually from wayyy back from my first milestone celebration, and the prompt word was ‘hush’, for which this fic is named. I am so sorry that took so long lmao and I’m still not done with all of them. but at least this time, it’s hurt AND comfort?

takes place a little while before Lost in Translation. hope you enjoy the return of Rex :-) bloop here’s my taglist

Of course, the first time you witness one of Rex’s nightmares, it’s one of the worst ones of his entire life.

He’d curse the Maker if he thought there really was one. At least, one that listened to clones.

But not even a Jedi could have consoled him after seeing the expression on your face when you found him thrashing around in his bed. The way your eyes shone with pitiful understanding as you’d realized why he would always keep his hair short, no matter what, from the way he’d been tearing at his skull.

Before this, he’d been having a surprisingly good day. Torrent Company’s recon mission had been a success, and back at base, they’d seen Fives and Echo — fresh from ARC training and beaming with new armor yet again. Fives had protested indignantly at being called an ‘ARC Shiny’ while Echo had promised to buy Rex a drink the next time they were both on Coruscant, and then he’d dragged you to his room at the end of the night in a rare moment of laughter and flirtatiousness.

He should have known better than to think he’d get away with one full rotation of peace.

The nightmare comes unexpectedly, his muscles seizing as gunfire flashes behind his eyelids. He’s back on Kamino, the attack on his homeworld replaying in his memories.

So many clones had died. Cadets had died.

The image in his mind fast-forwards to the aftermath of the massacre. He’s overturning the body of a brother clad in familiar colors — it’s Colt, unharmed save for a single lightsaber singe through the chest and a faint lip print left on his cheek.

And then, he’s screaming.

It was her, the assassin from Teth, the one that had wormed her way into his psyche and moved his limbs for him like a puppet on string, toying with his sanity as his own appendages betrayed him. She did this.

Colt’s hands suddenly reach up and grab hold of his face, dragging him downwards, and Rex screeches in terror. “Let go! Colt!”

“We fight together,” Colt’s eyes are unseeing, reflecting death, but his voice is directed to Rex nonetheless. “That’s what we said. But where were you, Rex?”

Another body rises next to him, but Rex is too wild with terror to turn. He can’t look at another dead brother. “You’re not real! Stop! Colt, I’m sorry.”

“Rex.” The voice calls his name again, but this time, it changes from Colt’s into someone else’s. Not a clone’s. “Rex! Wake up!”

His eyes fly open, his fallen brother’s hands morphing into your own as he takes in your face, frantic and lamenting. It’s still dark, but not tinged with the red of alarm lights on Tipoca. You grip his face tighter.

“This is real. I’m real.” Your voice breaks as you press your palms to his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I need you to come back to me.”

He can’t speak — can’t even force his lungs to inhale an ounce of oxygen. His chest and throat burn with exertion, but he’s still gasping for air.

“Breathe with me, yeah? Come on, Rex. Breathe.” Where was Colt? Where were the bodies?

He can tell he’s hyperventilating, but it begins to subside as you hum comfortingly and bring his hands to his torso, instructing him to hold his breath and exhale slowly. Your words barely make it to his brain, but he complies numbly, feeling his stomach rise and fall.

“That’s it — there you go.”

Your voice brings him back to earth, and shadows that rim the edges of his vision slowly fade out. You continue to coax him down from the adrenaline of the phantom threat, and his breathing soon evens out.

It was just a dream.

You help him through the comedown for a while longer, making sure he’s still there. As the fragments of reality fall back into place, Rex thanks whoever is listening for your presence.

But as soon as he’s cognizant enough to notice the tears drying on his cheeks, and realize the fetal position he’d assumed in the midst of his thrashing, the panic is replaced with embarrassment, along with something worse.

Anger.

Immediately, he wrenches out of your grip, flinging your hand away in the middle of you stroking his bare back. He registers the hurt that flashes in your eyes, but he’s too irrational to feel anything but disgust — with himself.

You don’t know that, though.

“Rex?” Your gaze is questioning, positively dripping with concern, and it makes him even angrier. He feels like a child.

“Stop that.” He all but growls, and you wince as if he’s struck you. Rather than apologizing, Rex twists his body from you in a half-hearted attempt to hide his storm of horrible emotions. Guilt streaks the red-hot fury that eats at his chest, but he ignores it all. Pushes everything that isn’t cold-blooded indifference away. Get a grip.

Your voice is tentative and small when you speak again — stars, he hopes you’re not crying. He can’t handle that right now. “Stop what, Rex?”

“That look! Stop fucking looking at me like that.” He waves a hand around sharply as he responds, but still doesn’t turn to face you. “I don’t want your pity.”

A sniffle comes from your direction, and Rex shuts his eyes. Fuck. You are crying, and he can tell you’re holding it in as best you can so he can’t hear you.

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you, but he can’t help it. Letting you see what’s going on inside his head means dragging you into his mess of a brain, his mess of a life, and you don’t need that. Nobody needs that. You’re already more involved in it than he wanted you to be.

What he needs right now is to be alone. For you to leave, so that he can compartmentalize. He needs the isolation to numb the panic he feels still shaking his bones beneath his skin.

He needs to hide.

But just as he’s about to open his mouth to ask you to get out of his room, you’re shuffling out from under the sheets and standing between his legs, arms on your hips.

“I’m not pitying you, Rex. I’m just worried.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m tellin’ you not to.”

“Tough shit, Rex. You don’t get to decide.” You cross your arms assertively, and he finally looks up at you with similar ire. You’re glaring now, tears gone, but that patronizing compassion is still there. Rex shoves the thought down.

You’re not patronizing him. And yet, he just feels that way.

See, this is why he has to deal with these things on his own.

You call his name again, demanding him to pay attention to you. “You don’t have to wear your heart on your sleeve, Rex, but don’t hide everything all away just because you’re afraid someone might actually care about you.”

His brows furrow defensively. “I’m not —”

“You are. You always do. Because you think you don’t deserve it.” Although you’re speaking softly as to not wake the others in the barracks, your voice is still colored with insistence. Rex would laugh at the contradiction if he wasn’t so shaken. “It’s not up to you to decide what you’re deserving of. You don’t get to tell me how much I should care. You’re the one that needs to stop being so hard on yourself.”

His head lowers as he tries to escape the weight of your words. “I can handle it. I was bred for this.”

“Stop believing that! It’s not fair.”

“Fair to who? You?”

“To you!” You retort, throwing your hands up to accentuate your frustration. “You’re human, not just a clone. If you don’t quit the one-man-army act and open up, you’re gonna explode.” You seemingly deflate, but come down to sit next to him once more. Your hand comes to rest on his, and he doesn’t move it. “How well will you be able to lead your brothers then?”

You’re met with silence, and he can’t think of anything to say to fill it.

Deep down, Rex knows you’re probably right. You sound like Kix, telling him to take care of himself so he can take better care of others, but Rex has never been good at listening to that kind of talk, never been good at cutting himself any slack. He’s not even sure he wants to.

He doesn’t know who he’d become without the responsibility of command.

You squeeze his hand inquisitively, voice probing. “Rex, it doesn’t have to be me, but it has to be someone.” He looks up at you again, feeling drained. He’s tired. “We all want to be there for you. You just…” Trailing off, you search his eyes for any sign of acceptance, and his pupils follow yours as you pause. “You have to let us.”

He knows you don’t have anything left to say, and now it’s his turn to speak. You expect that from him, at the very least. This connection between you, whatever it was, consisted of a give and take. That much, he understood.

Still, it takes him a while to respond.

“I want it to be you.”

Your head tips in question, but you say nothing as you allow him the time to work through what he’s feeling.

“If I open up…I want it to be to you.” He nods as if he’s confirming the thought to himself, and his eyes find yours once more. “Please.”

You stare at him, and for a second Rex thinks he’s said the wrong thing, but then you let out a wry laugh. “If? Rex, you better believe that I’m not gonna quit until you do. In fact, you’re not leaving this bed until you promise you will.”

The mood shifts to a lighter one as you end your threat in teasing, but Rex still feels the seriousness in your statement. Somewhere inside him, gratefulness blooms, but he’s not yet conversationally equipped to tell you that without it sounding wrong to him. So, he places his other hand on top of yours instead.

“Okay.” He breathes. “I promise.”

That earns him a small smile from you, and in his exhaustion, he leans forward, resting his head on yours and clumsily plants a kiss to your eye. Your arms encircle him right away, and he buries his face into your shoulder. Silently, he catches the familiar scent from the fabric you’re wearing, and a smile of his own spreads when he recognizes his blacks on your frame.

“I don’t know how.” Still nestled in your embrace, he croaks out a warning. “But…I’ll try. For you.”

“For you,” you correct him, and he closes his eyes with at the way your affection overwhelms him. “Like I said before. I’ll help you with the rest.”

When he falls asleep again, cradled by you, it’s not a dreamless sleep.

But the dream is a good one.