#I’m ripping my hair out and foaming at the mouth

[jellysnail-draws]

Um butterfly bog, anyone?

I literally love this mosquito looking goblin man

[manicdream13]

if you want to kill him do it in a way that doesn’t look gay as hell jesus christ

[scenezfreak]

nah ik i already dropped a req so forgive me and banish me if you have to BUT ! metalhead jeff who does your eyeliner.. JUST HEAR ME OUTTT

he’s got you straddling his lap, chains jingling off his pants and heavy metal playing and bouncing off the walls as he makes you get real close so he can make it look perfect. a hand on your hip, subtly pushing you down onto the hardening cock in his pants every once in a while as his other works diligently at applying the eyeliner and when he finishes he cant help but put it to the test, fucking you so hard that tears fall down your face making the eyeliner streak down your cheeks and he definitely takes a photo after you’ve been fucked dumb to keep in his wallet later

*foams from the mouth* ABSOLUTELY ‼️🙏

Metalhead Jeff fucking f!reader stupid

Warnings: Mean Jeff, rough sex, cream pie, mentions of breeding, picture taking, hair pulling, choking, biting

NOT PROOF READ, MINORS DNI

Sitting on his lap trying to be careful as to not mess up the eyeliner he’s putting on you. His hand resting on your hip while his other one carefully does your eyeliner. The music blaring in the background as Jeff caresses your hip pulling you closer, accidentally grinding you over his clothed cock, the chains on his ripped jeans jingling in the process.

You shudder trying to be still and nice for Jeff while he makes you prettier. You feel yourself get wet when his hand on your hip pushes you down, making you grind against him once more. “Jeff-“”Shut up, you’re going to make me mess up.” He cut you off, you sit still, trying not to anger him.

You can feel him go slower, teasing you. You almost groan in annoyance. Soon he puts the eyeliner down and turn his head back to you, grabbing your face with one hand, his spiky bracelet almost scrapping you in the process. He gets closer, examining you. “My pretty doll.” He says before turning over and shoving you onto the bed. “I can’t wait to see it run down your pretty little face” he says as he climbs over you.

Turning you over onto your stomach and lifting your hips, quickly pulling down your skirt and underwear. “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re too stupid to remember your own name.” Pulling out his cock and stroking it while he rubs between your puffy folds. “Soaked already? Dumb whore.” He pulls his hands away and you whine when he gives your ass a harsh slap.

Grabbing your hair and pulling you back a bit he says, “make sure to be nice and loud for me, doll. If I can’t hear you over the music then you’re not cumming.” He lets go and you fall back down, ass raised for him. He lines up and pushes in and starts thrusting, not waiting for you to adjust. He grabs your hips, his black painted nails digging in to your skin. You jolt from his sudden movement and moan out his name along with a curse. “F-fuck Jeff-“

“That’s it doll, moan for me like the slut you are.” His thrusts getting faster, the head of his cock kissing your womb. You can’t stop moaning, your thoughts filled with him and his cock inside of you. He bends over to thrust in faster, his long black hair falling over his face. You can hear him subtly growling, the feeling of your tight cunt is just too good for him. Fucking you balls deep as he’s holding onto you for dear life, you’re definitely going to have bruises on your body.

You shiver when you feel Jeff bite into the crook of your neck, drool spilling from his cut smile and some of it smearing onto you. He has one hand on your hip and the other wrapped around your neck. Your mind was foggy and you couldn’t think clearly, tears streamed down your face, your makeup streaming down with it. Your eyes roll back as he thrusted in harder. “Gonna fuckin’ breed your tight pussy.” He rubbed his hand that was on your hip over your abdomen, pressing down.

That made the coil inside of you snap and you came all over his thick cock, forming a creamy ring around the base of his cock. He raised back up and continued to pound into you, overstimulating you causing you to cry from it, makeup getting ruined more. He finally stills, cumming deep inside of you, his hot cum spilling into your womb. He quickly grabs the Polaroid camera from the nightstand and grabs your hair to lift your and takes a picture of your fucked out face. He smirks to himself, pulling his pants up and shaking the Polaroid then looking at the final image before putting it in his wallet for later use.

If you like stories similar to this go check out @endious 🫶🏻

[northern-passage]

Help I’m desperate for Lea and I apologize for the link spam this morning AAAAAAA. I’m like foaming at the mouth I love Lea so much and the way they interact with the hunter (playing a stoic, altruistic, shy, conflict-avoidant, and secretly soft hunter) makes me scream

I um… would love to know Lea’s POV or thoughts about the Duncan conflict if the hunter let him rip off their hood and hesitates before bowing to Duncan to try and keep Lea safe behind them??

Sorry if that’s a lot to ask and obviously no pressure I just,,, thought I’d peek in and get it off my chest to send in an ask

for you, and the dozens of other people that have asked me for this scene from Lea's pov over the years~

A hush falls over the parlor, a loud ringing in Lea's ears at the sudden silence.

An older man stands, wearing posh, silver armor, emblazoned with the king's swooping hawk, layered over a dark red tunic and embellished with silver studs and gold feathers - there is only one person this man can be. He has a group of soldiers with him, wearing the same silver and red, and those ugly molded masks.

"Lord Duncan," Merry says, her hands on her hips as she takes a few steps forward, her voice the only sound to break the silence.

Lea quickly stands from the table, and the hunter does the same, glancing back at Lea for a moment before eyeing the creeping soldiers as they move through the tables and across the parlor.

"What a wonderful surprise to have you here, Duncan-" Merry starts, but she's cut off by a sharp look.

"Lord Duncan," he says, his voice hard.

Merry's face twitches.

Duncan turns to Lea and the hunter expectantly then.

Lea does their best to keep their face wholly neutral, their jaw set as they stare right back at Duncan. The hunter does much of the same, both standing rigid in front of the warden as he glances between them. His hand is on his sword, and Lea doesn't miss the way his fingers flex around the hilt, the slight curling of his lip as he stares on in distaste.

Lea knows he expects a bow, but that simply isn't how things are done here in the north. And Lea is happy to remind Duncan of that fact, especially after what they've heard about the man today.

Neither Lea nor the hunter move.

"Is there a reason you've brought your little dogs into my establishment, Warden?" Merry cuts in then.

"I heard we had visitors. Very rude of you to keep them from me," Lord Duncan says slowly, turning away from Lea to slowly appraise their partner. "And a hunter, no less."

Lord Duncan suddenly steps towards them, reaching for their hood, and Lea bites hard on the inside of their cheek, resisting the urge to grab his wrist and shove him back.

The hunter quickly steps away, wordlessly dodging his outstretched hand, and Lea can just see the flash of their eyes beneath their hood, glaring out of the shadows at Duncan.

He clicks his tongue, disappointed as he pulls his hand back.

"No need to be shy," he muses.

Lea feels their expression flicker, but thankfully Duncan is too focused on the hunter to notice. Lea runs a hand over their hair, clearing their throat and stepping between them, forcing Duncan's attention as well as forcing him back a few feet.

"Introductions?" Lea prompts, tilting their head towards the warden.

"My name is Lea Chen. This is Hunter Karstark. We only just arrived early this morning, and unfortunately had a few things to handle in the city. A shame we haven't crossed paths earlier. I've heard many good things," Lea continues, forcing a warm smile for Lord Duncan.

There's a bitter taste in their mouth.

"The market here is impressive - the town seems to have completely recovered under your leadership," Lea adds, nodding at him. "It's admirable." Lea's voice is tight, but their mask doesn't slip, even as Duncan's demeanor shifts slightly, a slight upward curve of his lips.

He glances between Lea and the hunter, and then looks to Merry.

"How about a room, Captain? To talk to our guests, in private," he says, sticking his nose up at the rest of the parlor.

Lea shakes their head, glancing over at Merry. They don't want to be in a room alone with this man.

But Merry doesn't notice, just waving everyone over to the stairs. The clank of armor punctuates each step, and Lea glances over at the hunter, a shared unease rising between them. Lea looks back at the parlor one last time before climbing up the stairs, their hand instinctively going to their hip, though they're unarmed right now.

Probably for the best.

Merry leads the group across the mezzanine at the top of the stairs and down the hallway, towards a back room tucked along the far wall of the tavern. She raises her hand and wraps her knuckles once, twice, three times, and when no response comes she digs a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocks the door, throwing it open and stepping inside.

Lea lets the hunter step in first, giving them a brief reprieve from the soldiers right on their heels.

Lea follows after them and Merry, joining them on one side of the room, while Duncan and his soldiers line up on the other. Lea glares over at the soldiers and their silver masks, eyeing the swords strapped to their belts.

Lea doesn't like this, a slight tremble in their hands as their adrenaline spikes, the last soldier stepping in and shutting the door with a soft click.

Duncan lets everyone stand in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, and Lea can't help but notice how he relishes it, picking at some nonexistent dust on his armor while the hunter squirms beside them. Lea glances over at them, but they're hiding in their hood, unable to see them in their peripheral.

"You can leave us," Duncan says then, stepping aside so Merry can reach the door. She gives him a long, hard look.

"No. I think I'd rather stay," she says.

"I wasn't asking," Duncan snaps back, curling his lip.

Lea tenses, and Merry remains unmoving, her hands on her hips. The hunter sinks farther back in their hood.

Duncan sighs, glancing to one of his soldiers and waving his hand. They respond immediately, striding across the room and grabbing Merry by her elbow, hauling her forward.

Merry rips her arm from the soldier's grip, but they're undeterred, grabbing her again and twisting her arm this time, forcing her to turn around and face Duncan.

"Don't fucking touch me," Merry snarls, once again jerking free, "I'm fucking going!"

Lea takes a step forward, though they're not sure what it is exactly they're planning on doing, here. The soldiers don't notice, too occupied with glaring at the hunter or leering at Merry, but Duncan shoots them a curious look, raising an eyebrow, and Lea glares back at him, which just makes him smile.

Merry steps away from the soldier then, holding her hands up, and if looks could kill, Duncan would drop dead in that moment. Instead, his smile just widens, watching as Merry steps out the door, slamming it closed behind her.

An awkward silence passes before Duncan speaks again, nothing but the sound of grinding metal as the soldiers shift on their feet.

"So. Tell me, Handler Chen, what brings you and your hunter to my city?" he says, crossing his arms and eyeing them both across the room.

"We are just passing through, my lord," Lea says simply, and the title almost makes Lea gag.

"And your destination?" he prompts.

"The mountains, near Skala. We received some reports of a weak spot in the Vel. A wraith lurking around," Lea says. They do their best not to look to the hunter, coming up with the lie on the spot, but Lea knows they're smart enough to play along.

"Is that right?" Duncan muses, turning to the hunter then. "Do you have anything to say about that?" he asks.

Lea tenses again, Duncan's eyes flashing as he glances at them before looking back to the hunter expectantly.

The hunter just shrugs. Lea quickly wipes at their mouth in an attempt to hide their smirk.

Duncan lets out a long sigh.

"I see," he says.

"It's unfortunate Captain Harlowe got to you first," he starts. "You should be more careful about the company you keep." He adjusts the collar of his tunic. "A pirate? A criminal - is that the kind of people the Order is doing business with these days?"

Lea shifts, crossing their arms, but they keep their mouth shut, refusing to fall for the bait. They'll give Merry a piece of their mind later. Right now, Lea and the captain are a united front, and they're not going to turn on her for Duncan.

The hunter glances at them, but they remain silent, even as Duncan's glare hardens. He clicks his tongue again at the lack of response, irritation flashing across his face.

"So, from what I understand, you've had quite the day, today," he says then, holding his hands behind his back. "I heard you are quite the gossip. Asking a lot of questions, none of which I believe had anything to do with wraiths, or the Vel," he says, his gaze sliding from between Lea and the hunter, smiling coolly.

He moves farther into the room then, clearing his throat before he stops right in front of them. "Make no mistake. I allowed you to do the things you did. Don't let Captain Harlowe fool you. I am the final authority here, not her." His cold eyes flick between the two. "My hospitality is not unconditional."

"Of course, my lord," Lea says then, uncrossing their arms and giving Duncan a mirthless smile.

Lea isn't playing this game anymore. It's clear he knows that they're lying - there's no point in playing pretend. If Lea is going to be honest about anything, it will be about their feelings towards the man.

Feelings of disgust and contempt.

"I'm glad we understand each other," Duncan says then, though he turns to the hunter as he says it, making Lea's hands twitch at their sides.

"Now. Unfortunately, I need you out of my city. The two of you, the way you're running around, you're scaring my people," he says, still looking at the hunter.

Lea can't help themself, and they scoff, shaking their head at Duncan.

Duncan quickly turns to them, wrinkling his nose. "What's funny, Handler Chen?"

The soldiers shift around the room, their hands on their swords, and Lea's eyes flash, stepping close to the hunter as they leer at Duncan.

"These aren't your people, Lord Duncan," Lea says, a bite in their voice. "Don't insult us by pretending otherwise."

Duncan considers Lea for a painfully long moment. Then he takes a few steps back, closing rank with his soldiers. "I want you gone by noon tomorrow. You two, and the captain. If you are still in this city tomorrow afternoon, you will receive no mercy from me," he growls, his voice deadly. He moves towards the door now, but doesn't reach for the doorknob – instead he bangs his fist against the door twice. It opens, and two more soldiers step in.

At the sight of their flashy armor, the hunter shifts instinctively in front of Lea, their hand reaching for their hunter's knife.

Lea takes a deep breath, their own hands hovering in front of them, reaching half-way for the hunter's cloak - but they stop short, pulling their hand back and letting it curl into a fist at their side. Lea knows what comes next in situations like this, with men like Duncan. It's better not to show him what will hurt. Grabbing the hunter would give Duncan too many ideas.

"I wouldn't," Duncan is saying, smiling at the hunter. They reluctantly drop their hand, leaving their knife in its sheath.

"Take off your hood," he says suddenly, as the door closes again behind him.

Lea feels their lip curl, but the hunter obeys, reaching up and pulling their hood off.

There's no reason for this - except for Duncan to make himself feel good. In another place, in another time, Lea would run a man like Duncan through with their sword. That would make them feel good.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Duncan smiles, taking a step towards the hunter. He reaches down and pulls a knife from his belt, twirling it for a moment in his hand, watching the light glint off the blade. The hunter tenses in front of Lea, but holds their ground as he comes around the bed. The soldiers follow him, three of them coming towards them, the other two going towards Lea.

"This isn't necessary," Lea snarls, and they know immediately they slipped up with how pleased Duncan is with that outburst, giving him exactly what he wanted, his eyes widening as he glances between Lea and the hunter. One of the soldiers draws their sword, pressing the blade against Lea's back, and they scowl, swallowing loudly as the other soldiers converge around the hunter.

"Now," Lord Duncan says as he casually flips the knife in his hand, "Bow."

Lea doesn't move, but the hunter hesitates, glancing back at them, their gold eyes flashing.

They turn back to Duncan, and Lea can just watch as they slowly, slowly begin to bow.

Lea says their name, takes a step towards them, but the sword in their back bites through their shirt, and Lea stops. But when the soldiers hovering around the hunter shove them down to their knees, Lea tries again, only to be restrained, grimacing at that blade pricking the small of their back, a hot trickle of blood making them recoil.

They say their name again, struggling in vain.

The hunter doesn't look back at them this time, keeping their gaze on Lord Duncan.

"All the way down," he says.

"Stop it!" Lea shouts, but it falls on deaf ears as the soldiers manhandle the hunter, grabbing their neck and slamming their face against the floor. They pin their arms behind them, and one of the soldiers presses their knee against their back, trapping them beneath their weight.

Lea thrashes violently, jerking in the soldiers' grasp as that sword cuts at them again.

The hunter blinks up at them, their eyes wide, and Lea bares their teeth at Duncan as he moves in front of them.

Duncan tilts his head, glancing back at the hunter on the floor. He smirks at the twisted expression on Lea's face, and Lea only stops themself from lunging at him for the sake of the hunter.

They never should have let Duncan get them alone in this room. Trying to play nice, and for what? For the hunter to get beaten to the floor. For Duncan to flex his power.

Lea snarls at Lord Duncan as the soldiers force them to their knees. The movement jars the cut in their back, and they gasp, their body contorting in pain. Lea looks to the hunter then, shaking their head - just let them do this. It will be over soon.

It will be over soon, and I'm sorry.

The soldiers push Lea all the way to the floor, and they try to keep the hunter looking at them, saying their name, but they can see that the panic has seized them, and Lea continues to struggle as the hunter thrashes on the floor.

Duncan laughs at them.

"Look at me," Lea says, but the hunter isn't listening - the hunter isn't in the room with them anymore.

They convulse against the floor, and manage to throw off one of the soldiers and wrench themselves free, scrambling across the floor as they try to get away.

It's hard for Lea to watch.

Duncan puts an end to it, though, stepping forward and kicking them in the face.

Lea has to close their eyes then. Focus on their breathing.

Duncan whispers something to the hunter, his foot on their chest, and after a moment he steps back with a nod, the soldiers abruptly releasing Lea. They quickly force themself back onto their feet, breathing heavy, glaring at Duncan and imagining all the ways they would hurt him for this.

Duncan pauses, glancing back to the hunter on the floor, his soldiers once again surrounding him. "Noon tomorrow," is all he says, and then he steps out the door.

As soon as the door is closed, Lea rushes over to the hunter, dropping to their knees in front of them. They put what they hope is a comforting hand on their shoulder, saying their name, trying to bring them back.

The hunter closes their eyes, and Lea lets out a shaky breath.

They should have just kept their mouth closed. They should have just done what he asked.

Lea wants to apologize, but it doesn't feel like it would be enough.

They just whisper their name again, and the hunter opens their eyes. Lea leans over them, reaching to take their face in their hands - but all they manage is the ghost of a touch, their palm barely brushing the hunter's cheek before the guilt forces them to pull away.

The hunter slumps back against the wall, bowing their head, and Lea wonders what would happen if they tried to hold them.

"Don't - don't try to get up yet," they stammer, pushing the thought from their mind.

"I'm fine," the hunter says, just like always.

"Yeah. I know," Lea sighs, and the hunter lifts their gaze then to look at them.

"You're bleeding," they say.

"Yeah, I know," Lea repeats. The hunter scoffs, glancing sideways, and they push Lea's hand away and try to stand.

"I just said-" Lea starts, jumping to their feet to steady them, clicking their tongue and grabbing at their arm.

Lea is holding them too tight, they know it, they can see it in the way their knuckles strain white, can feel it in the rush of heat beneath their palm, the hunter hot and shaking from being pinned to the floor.

Lea is reluctant to let them go, though - not because they think they'll fall, but because Lea is afraid that they themself will.

But when the doorknob starts to turn, Lea doesn't hesitate this time - there's no way to hide anymore, Lea's weakness clearly exposed in the hunter's shaking hands. They quickly pull the hunter back behind them, glaring over at the door, though they relax slightly at the familiar, friendly faces.

But they keep the hunter behind them, this time.

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🍓🧋┊boba time ┊hold me tight

You like to pretend to be strong. You keep your shoulders pulled back, eyes forward. You repeat those words over and over again in your mind.

Eyes forward, darling.

Waves of sadness crash over your body despite this. No amount of angry looks, putting on makeup, doing your hair, fixes it. Even on your best days, you are still pretending.

You like to pretend to fit in.

Wide smiles and giggles. Brightly saying hello to everyone and offering aide to those in any need. Agreeing with what people say, laughing at jokes you don’t understand, keeping the conversation on what they enjoy.

But regardless, you do not. You don’t go out with anyone because they don’t give you enough notice. You’re scared, too. Social situations are not your strong suit. Even on the days you laugh loudly with a drink in hand, you are pretending.

You pretend to love yourself.

Hyping yourself up in front of everyone, wearing cute clothing, giving people advice. You repeat confident phrases like a mantra. Look at what I did, you say. I’m so proud of myself, you tell yourself. But even on the days your chest doesn’t ache with hatred, you are pretending.

No one bats an eye, notices, nor cares. People are people after all, the bystander effect. Why would they? Even your closest friends are far away. Your real opinions are unpopular. No one minds and you suppose neither do you.

Katsuki knows this. He noticed. He batted his eyes. He cares.

For him it’s plain, in big bold neon lettering. Time either moves too fast or too slow for your pretty eyes and body to catch up. Your eyes move faster than your body and your body trips over itself.

And god, it moves something within him. To see someone in a similar position to his own. Watching you rip yourself apart time and time again.

That’s how he finds himself in your room, fingers running over the little dresser. He chews his lip and grits his teeth, huffing. Chest heavy and shoulders tight.

You’re sitting on your bed, gawking. Eyes wide, mouth open—frozen.

“You can stop pretending.” Katsuki’s deep voice rattles in his chest.

You scowl, lips pulled back and eyes narrow.

“Fuck outta here. I’m not pretending. What’s you come here for, to mock me or some shit ?” You spit. Venom laces your every word.

“Fine. What’s your favorite animal?” He grits.

“Cat.” You quip, fingers digging into the plushie in your hands.

“Liar.” He bites, amused.

Katsuki looks at you, brow cocked, like it’s funny. He opens his hand and gestures loosely to your bedroom.

“Sharks. I can count at least five shark related items in this room by looking at any given area. Hell- the fuckin plushy you’re holding is a whale shark.” He muses.

He’s right. You know he’s right. Frustration— no, embarrassment rises and makes your skin burn and eyes sting.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Yeah yeah, you shut up. Somethins’ under your skin and I know it. So spill, sharkie.” Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at you. Your eyes widen and narrow again before you turn away and fall into the bed completely.

“Get out, asshole.” You mumble, beginning to retreat into the safety of your blankets and pillows.

“God you’re so fuckin annoying.” He groans, smacking a palm to his face. You can’t see it but heard it clear as day.

You stay silent, maybe if you pretend he’s gone he will be.

Pretending always works.

Katsuki kicks his house slippers off and presses a button on your humble TV. He stretches his arms over his head and grabs the tiny remote. When taking in your surroundings, he noticed an aquarium night light. He flicks it on and turns off the light, heading over to your bed.

It creaks under his weight, as it isn’t memory foam like his. You still try to pretend he isn’t there until he speaks again.

“Alright, my little pony or totally spies?” The blonde inquires, softer than before, and with a sigh.

Your mumble is hardly audible.

“Got it.”

Katsuki moves back and waits for you to stop sulking. Eventually you give in and he’s against the wall side of your bed. You don’t speak and he tells you not to run your mouth to others about this. You nod.

His body is warm against your own. It takes him a while to get you to warm up, to relax. You start off rigid like you are in public. It only takes two episodes for you to sink into his chest a little.

Thick fingers work their way through your hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. He doesn’t mention that it needs to be washed again, though he will in the morning.

Eventually, he looks in the mini fridge and grabs what seems to be a sippy cup of chocolate milk. He hands it over and gets back into the bed.

A few more episodes pass and you’re blinking slowly. Eyes fixated on the show, trying not to get embarrassed that he’s in your bed holding you. His arm has moved to lay over your waist and secure you against his chest.

“Are you ready to talk now?” Katsuki breathes, chin resting on top of your head.

“M just depressed, I dunno though. Just- yeah.” You get out and a weight is lifted off of your chest. Tears threaten to sting your eyes and you grit your teeth and spit at the thought.

“Are you okay, though?” His arm tightens around you and he breathes deep into his chest. His shoulders drop.

Your chest rattles and your eyes water. The dam breaks, tears spilling over the bridge of your eyes.

“So no, got it.” Katsuki rumbles, and you spend time like that. He holds you tighter.

Laying silently as he coos and calms you. Your eyes are swollen by the end of the night and you fall asleep like that.

It’s out of character for him to be this affectionate, you think.

That starts a trend with the two of you. Weekly visits in your room or his, curled up sharing what’s bothering you both. This goes on for months on end, secretly. No one knows about your meetings or even that you’re closer than basic friends.

It morphs over time into more affectionate holds. More forehead kisses and hugs. More intimacy. His guard comes down over time, allowing you to understand him more. His hands linger a little more sometimes. He doesn’t want to leave in the morning, sometimes.

Katsuki doesn’t tell you that the reason he came over in the first place was out of worry. He’d noticed you fidgeting, scratching, zoning out. Sometimes you looked like you were moving more slowly. No one else noticed.

You pretend you don’t like him.

You smack his arm and call him an asshole. Tell him you hate him in public, complain to your friends about him. But even on days you swear you can’t stand him and stomp to your room to sulk, you are still pretending.

You pretend that you aren’t getting hot and bothered when he touches you.

You never mention it, staying relaxed and against his chest. Eyes fixated on the screen and not on the feeling of his hand on your hip. Even on days when you fall asleep against his chest without speaking a word, you are still pretending.

It comes as no surprise when he calls you annoying again, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. Yet it somehow still scares you a little when he asks what’s bothering you.

“I- I like you? Love you?” It comes out small, from your throat, raspy. He wouldn’t hear it if he wasn’t so close. Embarrassment is crawling up your neck and you push down the urge to cry.

Telling him makes your heart beat through the cage of your chest. He sighs, breathing into the crook of your neck. That’s when he places a kiss to the edge of your jaw.

“You don’t have to pretend, it’s okay. Me too.” He whispers.

Silence is loud, wrapping the two of you in something a little less than comfortable. You’re happy, confused, terrified. Pretending has always been easier. To everyone else, at least. But you think this time not pretending might just be better.

“Okay, hold me tight?”

His arm tightens around you and the familiar tune of your favorite cartoon rings through your ears.

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century, poly, shifters x human romance - Chapter Three (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Thank you so much for the interest and sweet comments you left about the last chapter! Things are picking up speed just a touch, and we get to see a bit of Locryn this time while our girl makes a daring rescue!

Content: near-drowning in the sea, slight head injury, protectiveness and some rudeness, Blackthorn (my beloved) Wordcount: 3223

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw)

Nel leapt off Blackthorns’ back, having no choice but to leave the mare untethered up on the windy cliff, and she raced down the tiny, winding path towards the rocky shore below.

Countless times she slipped and skidded on the loose grit, landing hard on her backside every time, but eventually she hit the smooth sand at a run and ploughed down the beach into the rough surf where the young man floated on his back amid the foaming white horses. Those waves thundered hungrily up the beach with all the lingering strength of the storm. The water was icy cold too as she waded in, and the shock of it drew a choked yelp from her as a wave smashed into her thighs and hips.

As she’d suspected, she could see now that the unconscious man was Edmund Nancarrow, but before she could reach for him, another pounding wave hit her in the midsection and this time it swept her off her feet. She floundered beneath the rushing surf, acrid saltwater filling her mouth and terror wiping her mind blank before she was somehow able to get her feet underneath her and stagger upright once again, coughing and gasping. She was soaked through, and the weight of the water-drenched fabric was enough to suck her under again, but when she got herself upright a second time, she set her feet a little wider and struggled back out to where he was floating on his back.

Just before another breaker rolled in, she saw that he had a wound on his forehead, though it had long since stopped bleeding; washed clean by the saltwater. His silver-brown hair was loose and streamed like kelp around him as she fought her way between the oncoming waves to hook her arms under his and tow him towards the shore.

She fell twice, sitting down in the surf and clamping her mouth and eyes shut as another wave sloshed over her head before she was able to get upright again.

She had no idea whether the tide was coming or going, but once she was out of the jealous, reaching sea, she dragged him as far as she could up the length of the sandy beach until her arms were shaking from the strain of it. She hauled him just a little further onwards, past the line of seaweed that lay scattered like dark lace between the hard wet sand and the dry, powdery sand of the last stretches of the beach, and carefully lowered him down. Her lungs burned and her throat was raw from inhaling mouthfuls of sea water. She coughed and retched reflexively, spitting and heaving onto the shore before she could even try to catch her breath or see to Edmund Nancarrow.

Her chest constricted and spasmed, and her limbs felt like lead, and she crashed to her knees on the wet sand beside him. The swathes of wet fabric swamped her, and she felt as if her dress carried enough fabric to rig a whole schooner. It was ruined now, if not from the salt then from the myriad rips and tears from the brambles and sharp stone on her frantic journey down the narrow cliff path.

Terrified that he would be dead, she reached out a trembling hand and pressed her fingertips to his pulse. She almost collapsed when she felt a steady, if slow, beat beneath his skin. “He lives yet…” she whispered, eyes closing. Salt and sand prickled along her lashes and her hair had come loose, falling in messy, wet curls around her face. “How do I help you now?” she hissed.

Breathing quickly as a new kind of panic set in, Nel looked around her and then back up at the path. Despite his slenderness, there was no way she would ever get him back up there on her own, but as a tiny drift of smoke wafted across the blue sky along the nearby cliff edge, she recalled that stone cottage which sat there like an autumn mushroom, all alone in a sea of grasses and gorse. If memory served her, that was Locryn Trevethan’s home.

“Any port in a storm,” she mused with a wry, dark grimace to herself, and she staggered to her feet. Immediately, she tripped and fell over the wet expanse of cloth, and with another grimace, she grabbed sodden fistfuls of the fabric and hauled them out of the way to show a shocking amount of calf, had anyone been there or conscious to see it.

She lost count of the number of times she still tripped over the heavy skirts on the narrow, twisting path back up the cliff. She had to stop twice just to catch her breath but it was fear for Edmund Nancarrow’s fading life that drove her on again before she’d fully recovered. By the time she had finally scrabbled to the top of the path again she was dirty, sweaty, shaking, and covered in grit and leaves.

At long last, she staggered over the rough ground at the top of the cliff and floundered to a halt on the flagstone threshold of the quiet cottage.

Hammering on the door felt like sacrilege in the peace of that place but she hardly had any choice, and there was every chance that Edmund had little time, so she bashed her fists on the door and yelled for help until it opened.

“Calm down, calm down,” a deep, gravelly voice rumbled as Locryn Trevethan pulled open the door to his house and glared at her. “What in the —?”

“I need your help,” she interrupted before he could slam the door in her face. “It’s Edmund. He’s hurt.”

At that, Locryn’s rough face blanched and all trace of hostility evaporated. “Where, lass? Where is he?” he demanded, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her, as if that would make the answer tumble out of her faster.

“Down on the beach,” she croaked and pointed. “He was floating face-up in the surf. I dragged him up the sand but I can’t get him up the cliff. He’s suffered a blow to the head, but he’s alive. Just.”

Ashen-faced, Locryn charged out through the doorway like a passing winter storm, almost knocking her off her feet as he went, and in only a fraction of the time it had taken her to reach the bottom, he was sprinting out over the sand on his thick, powerful legs to where she’d left Edmund’s corpse-still body. She’d never seen anyone run that fast, and might have been impressed if she wasn’t starting to show signs of shock herself.

For a while, Nel watched from the distant clifftop, exhausted and shivering from cold and lingering fear. It felt like watching a play from the upper circle of a theatre, only this one had every chance of turning into a genuine tragedy, and the men below weren’t acting. Locryn pumped Edmund’s chest in a rhythmic motion, and when Edmund eventually jerked and half-rolled sideways, Nel relaxed just a fraction.

A few minutes later, Locryn had scooped Edmund up from the sand and was marching back up the path again with him lying cradled in his arms like a bride after church. Only, Edmund looked pale to the point of death, and he was soaked through. He wore simple brown trousers and a linen shirt that stuck to every sharp angle of his skinny torso and revealed the delicate arches of his collarbones where it flopped open at the neck, and his head lolled alarmingly in Locryn’s massive arms, hair dangling and dripping.

“Move,” Locryn growled as he reached the top of the path and found her half-blocking his way as she just stared at them and tried to stop shivering. The wind bit through her wet clothes as they clung horribly to her body. She skittered sideways to let him pass. He didn’t stop as he elbowed his front door open again and trudged in, heedless of the sand he tracked in from his boots.

Nel hung back awkwardly in the doorway, watching as Locryn laid Edmund down on top of his covers and inspected the wound in his hairline with surprisingly delicate hands, given their roughness and size. “Can you hear me?” she heard him rumble and watched as Edmund’s eyelids flickered.

“My mare should still be a little way off,” she bleated. “I can ride for a doctor if —”

“No,” Locryn barked, straightening from his stoop over the bed to glare at her. “No need.”

“You’re sure?”

He actually lifted his lip at her and she held up her palms.

“I’m only trying to help,” she shot in a tremulous voice, fighting off tears of shock more than anything else in the face of his gruff temper. She hugged her arms around her middle to stop herself falling apart in front of the huge stranger, and she sucked her cheeks to keep from crying.

At the sight of her, Locryn’s whole demeanour changed. His massive shoulders sagged and he let his head hang. “I know,” he sighed, the sound gusting out of him in a rush. “I’m sorry. Come here then. Draw up a chair and hold his head while I try and get him to drink something. He’ll be alright.”

“You’re sure?” she said. “He looks like he’s been bludgeoned half to death.”

“Probably was,” he said. “Probably one of those damned revenue men with a fucking cudgel.”

Her eyebrows rose and her gaze slid unbidden to his right leg. “He was out in the storm too?”

“Most of them were out in it last night,” he said, fetching a simple, wooden cup from a shelf and returning to the bed while Nel crossed to meet him and slid her hand under Edmund’s head.

At the moment her fingers touched him, his eyes fluttered open and he took a deeper breath. “That’s it,” she smiled shakily. “Welcome back.”

He blinked groggily up at her and it took him a long while to focus properly on her face. When he did though, his lips parted and he inhaled so suddenly he started coughing.

“Here, love,” Locryn purred as he leaned in, heedless of Nel being close enough to hear the endearment. “Drink this.”

Nel supported his wet, salty, sandy head while Locryn let small amounts of liquid dribble into Edmund’s mouth. When he was satisfied, Locryn nodded at her, and she let him lie back on the pillow. While Edmund caught his breath, she tried to afford them both what privacy she could, and looked around her at the small, stone cottage.

A shimmering, silver sealskin was the first thing that snagged her gaze, draped over the back of a chair like a lady’s stole, and when Locryn saw her looking at it, he growled openly at her. He actually lifted one side of his lips fully this time and exposed a thick canine at her, and his green eyes seemed to flash silver in the quiet stillness of the room. The sound that accompanied the gesture wasn’t human at all, more like the rumbling of a guard mastiff. “Don’t you go touching anything in here,” he said.

Again, she just held up her hands mutely and realised why Aggie had been so keen to warn her away from him. He was more like a wild man from a fairytale than a fisherman.

From the bed, Edmund croaked, “Lock?”

“I’m here, love,” he said, again using the endearment freely in front of Nel. Perhaps a man who was happy enough to growl like an animal at young ladies was less than concerned over what society would think of him calling another man ‘love’.

“Took a bit of a crack on the head, I think,” Edmund said. “One of those revenue men in their damned cutter. She’s quick, Lock.”

“I should have been there,” he growled fiercely.

“Storm was too strong last night, even for you, sweetheart,” Ned smiled, his consonants were softened and worn down by exhaustion, like a wave-worn pebble in his mouth. He smiled though, and Nel relaxed a little when she saw it.

Locryn catalogued the movement of her shoulders out of the corner of his eye. “You got this young lady to thank for finding you,” he said and Nel flushed despite the cold that soaked into her muscles and started to make them stiff and her hands clumsy.

Edmund turned his dark brown eyes on her and smiled so sweetly and so openly that she felt her stomach flip over. “Th…Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering as a riptide of tiredness threatened to take him under.

“I’m glad I found you in time. And it was lucky you were on your back, or you might have drowned,” she said.

Something passed over Edmund’s sharp, thin features at that, and he turned even paler, if that was possible. “Yes,” he whispered faintly. His eyes darted across the room, seeing past her towards something on the other side that drew her attention with it, but she saw only the sealskin on the chair.

Nel took a deep breath and stood. She was shivering violently now and it was an effort to speak. “If you don’t need me, I’ll get out of your way,” she said to Locryn. “I need to get back to Heath Top,” she added, but he said nothing at all as she made her way to the door, and didn't break the rhythm of stroking his hand over Edmund’s head.

When she glanced back over her shoulder, she found him pressing a kiss of pure relief to Edmund’s forehead and she felt again that sharp ache in her chest. Knowing she’d overstayed her welcome, she stumbled away from the homely cottage and out towards the heath, and prayed that Blackthorn would be grazing where she’d left her.

To her immense relief, the mare spotted her at some distance across the meadow on the clifftop and jerked her head into the air, whickering around a huge mouthful of dandelions, and came trotting over with her nostrils flared wide in indignation at being so abruptly abandoned.

“There you are,” Nel laughed, rubbing circles on the pretty whorl between the horse’s eyes. “Look at you,” she added, pulling stray stalks and stems out of the bit and bridle where the mare had clearly been gorging herself on the meadow’s summer bounty. “Well, thank you for not wandering off, but how the Hell am I going to get back on?”

“I’ll give you a boost,” came a deep voice from behind her and she fairly leapt out of her skin.

Blackthorn immediately nipped her shoulder in sharp rebuke for also startling her in the process, and Nel jerked around.

There, standing on the shorter grass of the coastal path was Locryn. “Sorry,” he added. To be fair, he did actually look genuinely contrite despite his beastly size and dark glower.

Nel bowed her head and rested her forehead against the mare’s sun-warmed neck for a moment and let out a whickering laugh of her own. “I didn't hear you there,” she said. “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Will… Will he be alright?” she asked, letting her gaze slide away from the ruggedly handsome man towards his stone house a way off down the grassy incline.

“Yes. He’s a whole lot tougher than he looks, I promise you. But he owes you his life, for sure.”

“I’m just glad I happened to come this way today,” she said. Again, she shivered as the wind gusted and tore through the sea-soaked fabric of her skirts as if they weren’t there at all.

In the strong sunlight, she could see that the colour of Locryn’s eyes perfectly matched that of the blue-green of the sea behind, and, set in his weathered, sun-bronzed face, they looked like the long-lost gems from a pirate hoard. She nearly scoffed at the comparison and chalked it up to hysteria brought on by the day’s ordeal.

The wind tugged insistently at his long, thick ponytail, and at six foot five or six, he absolutely towered over her. Yet, for all his gruff appearance and earlier rudeness, he smiled kindly at her for the first time. Then, his full, slightly scarred lips parted and he spoke falteringly.

“I… believe we might have got off on the wrong foot, miss,” he said in his harsh, gravelly bass. “I can be a mite short with people I don’t know — folk who aren’t from round here — and I’m damned protective of… of those I care for, but I apologise for making you feel unwelcome.”

His rough, heartfelt apology made her beam up at him, and she laughed in light-headed relief, pushing her brown, wind-tangled hair out of her eyes. What a state she was in. If anyone saw her now, she dreaded to think what their opinion of her would be. “It’s a small community, and you look out for your own,” she said. “I can’t blame you for that.”

“You’re kind, miss,” was all he said to that.

“Nel, please.”

“Nel?”

“Well, ‘Eleanor’, but only my family calls me that, and usually when I’ve been up to mischief.”

He laughed and jutted his chin at the mare beside her. “Best get you back aboard, Miss. Nel,” he said. “Wind’s picking up, and you need to get out of those wet clothes afore you get sick.”

Locryn dropped stiffly to one knee beside the mare and laced his fingers to give her a leg up. Tentatively, she set her sandy, wet boot in his palm and let him boost her upwards into the saddle in a single, smooth motion. Something in her core tightened at the thought of how strong he must be to lift her without so much as a grunt of effort. She wasn’t anywhere near as slim as Winnie, but her skirts had to weigh almost as much as she did with all the seawater still saturating every stitch and hem.

Once she was settled astride Blackthorn though, and those wet skirts were accommodated as comfortably out of the way as she could get them, she adjusted the reins and looked down at him. Blackthorn stamped her hoof into the grass and snorted, eager to be off.

“Tell Edmund I’ll be thinking of him as he recovers,” she blurted. “He’s… He’s lucky to have you to look after him.”

“I will,” Locryn said, settling her left boot in the stirrup with a firm grip that lingered on the joint of her ankle a moment too long and a touch too firmly. “He’ll be back to his old self in no time, you’ll see.”

Smiling faintly, she reined the mare around and trotted her a few paces up the path before urging her into an easy canter.

She felt the ghost of his strong fingers around her left ankle all day.

That night, Nel dreamed of thundering surf and scarred, weathered hands wandering in places she’d certainly never felt the hands of another; of low-frequency growls right in her ear and teeth nipping at skin; and of gentle, gasping moans escaping pale, slender, exposed throats and of running her fingertips along a sharp jawline, and she woke sweaty and tingling all over in the pre-dawn light.

___

Next chapter ->

Oh ho ho there, Nel... Next time we get to see a bit more of Edmund, and the harvest festival dance at Heath Top House is just around the corner. I wonder if all the local residents will come...?

I hope you're enjoying it and I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care of yourselves, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

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[to-the-stars8]

Learning to Love Slowly

Parings; Jason Todd x Female Reader (1) Pride and Prejudice and Hair (2) Seven-Eleven Karens and Pinky Promises at 3 AM (3) Google and Hand Holding (4)Cookies and The Butler and The Girlfriend (5)Push-Ups and Hoodies (6) Slushies and Happiness and Pizza (7)Book Recommendations and Jane Austen (8) Gotham Mornings and Daydreaming

9- Text Messages and Older Brothers

Hey, Honeybee, won’t be home tonight, but stop by my apartment because I left you a surprise in the kitchen! 

Jason was sitting with Nightwing on the top of Wayne Enterprises when he got the text. A solid ‘ding’ in brooding silence was enough to make the black and blue vigilante glance over. Knowing his brother’s intrusiveness, Jason moved to the other side of the rooftop to read what you had sent him. 

He was lucky he had been wearing his helmet because the smile that crossed his face couldn’t be helped. Then, when you sent him a picture of you in a cute outfit that you were wearing for family night, he promptly saved it. 

“Who ya texting, Jaybird?” Jason didn’t even hear his brother creep up on him and answered by elbowing him in the stomach. Or attempting to. Dick ducked under his arm before reaching for his phone. 

The moment Nightwing was hopping away with the phone in his hand, the Red Hood was almost foaming at the mouth to get it back. No, those texts were for him. Not for Dick to see and poke fun at. 

“Give me my fucking phone, Dick,” Jason demanded, voice loud. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

“You have a girlfriend, Honeybee?” The question echoed on the rooftop. 

Frantic, Jason reached Dick as he was walking along the edge and pulled him down, slamming him on the ground. He didn’t know why he was so angry, and it wasn’t like he didn’t want his brother to know about you. Maybe it was because he wanted to tell Dick in his own time instead of having the news ripped out of him forcefully. If he could, Jason would have told his older brother about you sooner. He trusted Dick, second only to Alfred. 

Holding his hands up, Nightwing surrendered. “Hey, it’s great if you do, Jay.”

Letting go, Jason sighed. “Just…Just keep your mouth shut about it.”

“Will do, will do,” Dick climbed to his feet, staring at his younger brother before asking, “What’s her name?”

After a moment of thinking about whether or not to tell him, Jason relented. Then, he asked another question, but, instead of answering anymore, the Red Hood disappeared off the rooftop. Too much information had been divulged anyway.

It never took Jason long to get to your apartment, and he climbed through the window with great diligence to make sure Nightwing didn’t follow. Everything was dark in your home, a sign for most burglars that the home was empty and could be robbed, so he doubled checked that everything was locked correctly. You had been robbed once before, on the street, and Jason could still remember the angry tears on your face--He didn’t want to see that again. 

Jason felt comfortable enough in your apartment to take off his mask and use your bathroom, but, still, a bit awkward since he was all alone. You had reassured him through texts after you had left him alone there before, your home could always be considered a second home to him. 

After checking that everything was squared away--and taking back a hoodie you had stolen from him-- he went to the kitchen. Switching on the light, Jason grinned. On the counter next to the fridge you were the little red Robin Tupperware. Next to it, orange pop in the glass bottle--His favorite one. 

He was opening the Tupperware when he felt Dick walk up behind him. Rolling his eyes, Jason turned to him. “Get the fuck out.”

Dick held up his hands like earlier, indicating surrender. “Hey, I just wanted to see what the surprise was.”

Jason narrowed his eyes before slowly moving to hold out the Tupperware toward his brother. “Take a cookie and get out. Last time I’m telling you before I tell Damien it was you who wrecked that painting he did.”

Dick gasped, hand still going to take a cookie anyway. “You’re lying.”

“Fuck around and find out.”

Nightwing put the cookie in his mouth as Jason walked him to your apartment window, and paused to praise your work. “They taste just like Alfred’s!”

Jason pushed his brother out onto the fire escape, bribing him with another cookie to keep his mouth shut. Dick started to leave before pausing, turning to his baby brother. “Jason, I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I would like to meet her, though, or for you to tell me more about her.”

Red Hood stared at him, pondering on what to say, before just nodding. That seemed enough for Dick as he swung away from the apartment building, leaving his younger to continue eating his cookies and drinking his soda in peace. Fuck, Jason thought, he was going to have to introduce you to his family one day. Not something he was looking forward to. 

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver x sister reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing, mentions of vomit

Chapter: 4.09

The moment the cellar doors slam shut, you rip the damp bandana from your mouth, letting clean air into your lungs. Your pit stop to look for supplies took a turn when a toxic gas that turned into foam appeared out of nowhere, forcing everyone to take cover. Warren and Sarge split off while the rest of you headed towards a shop that appeared to be open, but when a couple of Z’s appeared, you and 10k managed to lure them away and mercy them before taking shelter elsewhere.

“I think we are below a bar,” 10k says, his eyes observing the barrels of booze. He turns and looks at you in surprise as you start to pull your clothes off. His jaw tightened as you shimmered out of your soaking wet jeans. “What are you doing?”

“Stripping.” You laugh at the blush on his face. “I have clean clothes in my bag.”

You open your backpack and pull out a plastic bag, throwing the clothes you’d just been wearing inside. The dampness from the fog didn’t bother you, but being covered in zombie guts did. When you turn back around, you find 10k standing with his face inches from yours and his body bare aside from his boxers. He has a mischievous look on his face as he tucks strands of hair behind your ear.

“Tommy…”

He smiles and says, “We could be down here for some time.”

“Or not…So we better be quick,” you giggle.

He crashes his lips against yours, hooking his hands behind your thighs and lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as you deepen the kiss. 10k pulls back; his eyes move around the darkened room until they land on a sleeping bag in the corner of the room. He walks over to it and places you back on your feet.

Clumsily, he pulls off his boxers before kneeling to the ground and kissing your stomach, his finger tracing the scar on your thigh. Both of your bodies were covered in scars, but the only one that you cared about was 10k’s bite mark. It was a constant reminder that he died.

“Hey!” Feeling a nip on your thigh you look down to see 10k grinning up at you, “Did you just—”

You stop talking when he places a kiss over your most sensitive area before hooking his fingers into the side of your pants. When your underwear hits your ankles, you kick it to one side before gently pushing 10k onto his back. You unclasp your bra while straddling him and say, “I’ve missed this.”

He locks eyes with you briefly before sucking at the skin along your collarbone and chest, leaving bruise-like marks. You didn’t necessarily just miss being able to have sex with your fiancé; you missed being able to spend any time alone with him more than anything. You regretted taking the days you lived in the treehouse in the forest for granted.

10k lets out a moan of pleasure as you sink onto him, his lips finding yours quick. Finding a rhythm was easy in that position; his hand comes forward and slips between your legs, causing you to let out your own moan of pleasure. It’s not long until you’re both chasing release, letting out a groan as you reach your high.

You collapse forward, your hands landing on either side of 10k’s head, both of you panting and sweating. He kisses you on the forehead and says, “I missed it too.”

—

You jolt up when you hear a banging noise close by. “Shit,” you hiss while scrambling for your clothes. “Z’s or other survivors?”

10k gives you a worried look while pulling his boxers back on. When the banging grows louder, he picks up his gun and aims it at the cellar door.

“Warren?”

Recognizing the voice, you quickly climb up the ladder. “Sarge, it’s Astra, don’t shoot!” You yell before unlocking it, and you hold it open for her to come in. It worries you that she’s alone, “what happened?”

“The foam became so thick it was hard to see, and I lost sight of Warren.”

“Warren’s tough; I’m sure she’ll be okay,” 10k says, lowering his gun.

Sarge looks between the two of you and scrunches up her nose when she takes in the sight of you both in nothing but underwear. “Seriously?”

You try your best to hold back a laugh. “How-oh-shit,” you point at the foam starting to leak through the door. “It looks like we need to move fast.”

—

You, 10k, and Sarge manage to make it to a barber shop, where Doc and Murphy are currently taking shelter with four other men, including Sketchy and Skeezy. It amazed you that they had survived so long. Unfortunately, the two other men were in the middle of robbing the barbers when you arrived, but the three of you didn’t notice until it was too late. The foam was becoming thicker and more toxic; 10k had inhaled some of it, which was causing him to vomit. You quickly pass him a bucket and look the other way; you only turn back around when you hear the cock of a gun.

“This is still a robbery!” A short, bald man says, pointing the gun in Doc’s direction, but Sarge charges him, causing a fight to break out. During the commotion, you stand with your back to the wall beside Murphy in the back room to try and avoid the bullets being fired. The fighting only stops when a naked, deformed-looking Z runs into the room and knocks Sketchy and Skeezy to the ground. A very tall, bulky man named Tiny stamped on Z's head, crushing its skull.

“Oh shit man!” Skeezy says he's panicked and pulls the back of his collar down. “She bit me! She bit me!”

—

Tiny and his bald companion, whose name kept changing between Sal and Tony, pulled their guns out, and you and 10k slowly started to back away before another fight broke out. Doc was trying his best to calm the situation while Sarge chimed occasionally, supporting the bald man’s plan of cutting off Skeezy and Sketchy’s arms and legs.

If it wasn’t for 10k protectively pushing you behind him, you would have suspected the whole thing was a hallucination.

“Stop! We're going to do this the old-fashioned way,” Murphy says, stepping into the middle of the room. “It sucks, but fate has chosen to screw you. We play by one rule. Survival of the fittest We toss him out in his ass, and let Darwin do the rest.”

Sketchy looks at him appalled, and let’s put in a loud gasp. “Murphy, how could you? We're talking about Skeezy here.”

Murphy turns to look at you and says, “Astra, out of the two of them, which one did we almost kill?”

You didn’t need any time to think before answering; you still got chills thinking about that day. “I headbutted Skeezy, then you hit him on the head with a brick.”

Sarge gives you a shocked look and asks, “Why?”

“He was being a creep.”

After some debating, it was decided that it would come to a vote on whether Skeezy could stay inside or be forced out into the toxic foam. Before the final vote could be cast, two men entered the bar, both of them projectile vomiting. They seemed odd; both of them were talking in fake English accents and were wearing sombreros.

When they stopped throwing up, the two men came in and immediately grabbed Skeezy and started to push him out of the door. It was obvious you’d missed a lot before arriving. “Wait! Wait!” Sketchy smiles at Skeezy and then gives him a very passionate kiss. “I just had to, before you go.”

Skeezy smiles at him and says, “I love you.”

“I know.”

You raise your brow at them for quoting Star Wars. You were starting to wonder if you’d be better off taking your chances with the Zs at this rate. The men toss Skeezy out, and he screams violently as he dies... of something.

When the screams stop, one of the new robbers pulls out his gun and demands everyone strip. Sarge eyes you suspiciously, noticing the fresh hickies on your body and lets out a snort, “Twice in one day? Lucky me.”

Murphy shakes his head and tuts, “You two are like feral rabbits.”

You roll your eyes at his tone of disgust and return your attention to the two men holding you hostage. Neither of them seemed to have planned this far ahead and were trying to figure out a plan.

Sketchy starts to beg them not to take him to the basement, making them take you down towards it. You notice the nervous look on Doc’s face as he asks, “What’s in the basement?”

He mouths ‘Z's.’ Oh shit. The doors to the basement open seconds later, and Zs pour from them. You retreat back up the staircase as the dead devour the new set of robbers. Tiny and Tony/Sal shoot the Z's, then return to holding you all hostage.

When the door to the shop begins to rattle, Sketchy motions for you to step back from it. Seconds later, a sharp pole lands in the chests of the men holding you hostage, killing them, and Skeezy walks back into the barbershop.

You look between Sketchy and Skeezy and say, “Was this whole thing planned?”

The two slightly unhinged men explained the whole thing was a set up so they could take over the barbershop. You stare at them dumbfounded and say, “We need to find Warren.”

—

When morning comes, you find Warren standing on a bridge, looking slightly confused. She doesn’t say much, but you follow in the direction of Route sixty six.

[sailor-toni]

I’m Humanity's Last Hope, But My Hot Arch Enemy Came to My Balcony Missing His Arm, and Confessing his Love for Me?!?

You can also read this on A03, FF.net, or Wattpad!

Dan Phantom had disappeared two years ago after he was a hair's breath away from destroying the last of humanity. The anti-Ghost shield was destroyed, and their weapons were useless against him. The last thing Valerie Gray saw was a younger Phantom with Sam and Tucker alive and fighting. Then she woke up in the hospital, with her father at her bedside, praying. Much like the citizens of Amity Park, who huddled up in their homes, praying for Dan’s wrath to be quick and painless. And many believe someone had answered their call, for in the disbelief and silence Amity Park rebuilt itself once again. A new shield was erected, and life moved on for those who survived, leaving those like Valerie Gray behind, wishing to be rid of the gory past. But how could she let go when she knew he was going to come back, and when it came to Phantom, she was never wrong. 

 “I didn’t know where else to go.” The sound of the rain smashing upon the metal roof was drowned out by his words.

Valerie’s grip loosened at the sight of him. Dan Phantom, humanity's greatest threat,  was standing at her balcony door, his left arm reduced to an oozing green hole, and his ghastly blue skin bleed through his ripped suit. He smelled of sulfur and fire, with half of his white cape, reduced to half of its size. The remaining half had been burnt to a black crisp. All while green ectoplasm ran down his body in thick rivers. With a sigh, she moved aside and let him in. 

    Phantom’s hulking form came into the light of the apartment, limping past the kitchen before throwing himself upon the velvet bench, his head resting against the wall of photographs. Star had been the one to come up with the idea. A gallery of photos, one for everyone she cared about, so that when they passed they wouldn’t be forgotten. Valerie tried to remember when this all started, was it freshman year when Phantom started showing up? Was it when he ruined her life (for the first time) and made her father lose his job. Valerie chucked in her head, at fourteen she was so angry and frustrated. Her home was gone, her friends had dropped her, and the two of them were forced to move into a run-down apartment building. The first week they lived there, the water heater broke. She remembered crying in the locker room the next day, ashamed at having to use the school’s showers to clean herself. Phantom was smaller back then, but it wouldn’t be the last time he ruined her life. 

    Her first aid kit was an army green metal box filled with borrowed medical supplies and surgical tools. Her fights with Phantom and other paranormals had made her medical expenses skyrocket, and Valerie found it easier to collapse on her couch and fix herself up.

“I’m going to have to clean the area up before I can fix it. It’s going to sting,” She said. 

“Do your worst,” He said. His smirk was smacked clean off his face when Valerie grabbed the remainder of his suit and pulled it off his shoulder. The fabric was soaked in ectoplasm and had begun to harden over the hole. Dan bit his lip, grunting in pain. “This must make you happy, to see me like this.” 

“Why would you say that?” The wet fabric was cut clean off his skin, landing on her hardwood floors with a splat. The skin around the wound was torn, with parts stretched and twisted into small skin strands. It looked more like torn leather than skin. Deep in her medical kit she pulled out a brown bottle of peroxide. 

“I don’t need that. Unlike you humans, ghosts don’t succumb to infe-” He cut his own words off with a loud grunt. Ectoplasm started dripping out of his clenched mouth, as the foam of the peroxide cleaned the dirt and debris away.

“Ghost or not, one should always make sure wounds are clean of any poison or dirt before treatment.”

“Since when has peroxide removed poison?” 

“Don’t be a baby, it’s just peroxide.” 

“You dumped half the bottle on me!” 

“It’s a big hole,” She pressed a wet cloth against it, gently rubbing away caked green blood and anything the peroxide couldn’t catch. 

“I now see why you fight on the front lines.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Well, usually women tend to work as nurses, not as soldiers. As women tend to be more motherly and nurturing; but you seem to be lacking those qualities.” Only Dan Phantom could say this to her with that smarmy smirk on his face. Like he expected to be praised for his observation. Valerie took the cloth, wrapped it around her two fingers before quickly jabbing it deep into his wound. “WOMAN!” He threw his head against the wall, throwing several pictures off their hooks. “You cruel bitch! AH! FUCK!” 

“Talk shit, get hit. You came to my house, you follow my rules,” Valerie said. 

“I came to you for help! Not to be assaulted!”  

“Is that not the reason you attack Amity Park every few weeks? You fly in proclaiming yourself to be god, only for my lonesome self to kick your ass back to the Ghost Zone. At this point one would think you have developed a fetish for it.”

“You think I am a masochist?”  

“Only a masochist would attack Amity Park over and over again, and lose every time.” 

“I have not lost!” 

“Your goal is to take down the ghost shield and destroy humanity. You monologue it everytime we fight. Yet the city is still thriving, I would call that a loss. Now strip.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You have more cuts and wounds on your chest, I need you to take your shirt off, so I can get to them.” 

“Of- course.” With his remaining arm Phantom grabbed his shirt, and phased it off his body. His chest was sculpted like a Greek statue; with the cuts and bruises mimicking the destruction of time upon a statue's body. A new warm damp cloth was retrieved from the kitchen to wipe away these wounds, while Phantom held a rap to his exposed hole. Her stash of band aids had been raided and taken over by Paulia’s and Star’s children who came over with their mothers for visits. So Peppa Pig and Firetruck band-aids were used for the scraps and bruises. “Do you have any __?” The end was left hanging, for the first time in a long time Phantom looked concerned? Worried?  

“No. My friends have children and I watch them when I’m not busy fighting you.” 

“Ah I see. You do have a motherly side,” Dan chuckled. Valriew wrenched her arm back for another strike. “NO! NO! No! I was making a joke!”

“You know the rules!” 

“Do you do this to the children?” 

“The children know how to keep their mouths shut. Plus, I like them more than you.” 

“That wounds me Valerie.” 

“Aw… well, get over it.” She said, With a fresh roll of gauze, she shoved as much as she could into the gaping wound. “Tomorrow morning I’ll replace this with fresh gauze and we will change it out every day and night until it closes up on its own. Since you’re a ghost, that shouldn’t be too long.” A second roll was wrapped around his chest and shoulder, securing the wad in place. 

“You always surprise me. I didn't think you would actually help me,” Dan looked up to her, his red eyes meeting hers. 

“Did you come here expecting a quick death?” 

“No, but I don’t have many allies. I’m afraid that is one of the many consequence s of world destruction. Not many are quick to lend a helping hand to the one who is destroying it.” 

“So you came to me?” 

“When I thought of hope I thought of you.” 

“Mmm… I can tell when you’re lying.” 

“Am I? Are you not humanity's last hope?” Valerie thought about dumping the vodka in her fridge on him, but he wasn’t completely wrong. 

“I was, but since you’ve been gone for so long, there is nothing to protect humanity from.” 

“How long have I been gone?’ 

“Two years.”

“Hun, it felt longer.” 

“Where did you go?” 

“Did you miss me?” 

“UGH- don’t ask me that bullshit. Just answer the damn question.” 

Phantom’s laugh was like red velvet cake, deep and smooth, “I missed toying with you,” 

“I didn’t miss your taunting, now tell me what happened to you. Before I lose my patience and kick you out.” 

“You won’t do that.” 

“You wanna test that?” 

“I like to see you try.” 

“I’m sorry who just bandaged your body? You know I think I have more peroxide in the bathroom.” 

“NO! I think the first half gallon was enough.” Valerie finally broke character and laughed at the ghost. Her hand gripped the wall to keep herself steady. 

“Are you scared of peroxide?” 

“Only when you use it my dear.” Dan said. He sighed, pulling himself up and began his story. “Clockwork did this to me.” 

“Who’s Clockwork?” 

“The ghost of time. When humans die they become ghosts, when animals die they become the beast that roams the ghost zone, when plants die they become the floating land that make up the Ghost Zone. And when every day that dies and becomes a new, it becomes one singular ghost. He has made himself guardian of time, watching over it to make sure everything goes according to his plans. He had my younger self travel to the future and trap me in the Fenton thermos. And then he kept me in his tower outside of time, in order to ensure I did not cause trouble,” The last word he said with one set of air quotes. “I only managed to escape when the seal became rusted, and I tried to return to the past.”

“Why the past? You can’t kill your past self, that's suicide.” 

“No, I wanted to change the past,” Dan turned his gaze downward. “To tell you the truth all I could think about inside that soup can was you. I know with everything I have done things could never work out between us. I realize far too late that this was a mess of my own doing. But maybe I could go back and get a second chance as Fenton. To be able to tell you, I love you, without the guilt of what I’ve done. But I was weak from captivity and I fought the ghost of time, and you can see the rest.” 

    TIK TOK TIK TOK. The clock in her kitchen dragged every second through her body like a rake.  She always knew who Phantom really was. It wasn’t hard to figure out, Danny disappeared whenever trouble appeared, and he always came back with his skin painted in shades of pain. She didn’t want to notice, she loved him. Danny was her first kiss, and she had broken up with him to protect him. What a fool she was. 

    The second time Phantom ruined her life was when she was 15 years-old. The Nasty Burger had exploded, destroying the entire Fenton family and Danny’s Friends. Danny disappeared with a rich relative and Phantom's presence in Amity Park was gone. She spent months looking for him in every shadow and rooftop. At that young age she would never admit it, but without him there she was lonely. At 27 she was still lonely without him. He was the only one that knew who she really was. Ghost Hunter, soldier, hero, teen girl. If she could go back, Valerie would want to find out more about him, to know him like she knew him. Or at least to know him before his return. 

    Phantom came back with pale blue corpse skin, burning hot hair, and those horrible eyes. At first glance she assumed it was a new ghost, for the skinny boy was wearing anothers eyes upon his face. They were too big for his face, and full of undeniable rage. 

    Then came the destruction. Blood flowed through the streets as men, women, children, it didn’t matter. If it moved, Phantom ripped it apart and scattered its corpse upon the ground. Her hair was drenched in blood, as he held her down strangling her, his gloves twisted upon her neck. Those red eyes bore down on hers. It was as if he was forcing his hatred into her soul. She couldn’t remember what she said to him, but he threw her. The glass windows tore through her back, ripping through her suit and cutting deep. Her spinning vision was no hindrance to her next movements. Gun raised, the whiplashed broke her shoulder, but the scream from Phantom sent shock waves through her body. One thought rang through her hazy mind; Phantom had only come back to ruin her life a second time.   

    The fact that Valerie Gray was 15 year-old was quickly disregarded, as she was brought from the hospital bed to the front lines to save humanity from Phantom. 

“I understand if you hate me,” Dan said. 

    Valerie looked upon her gallery wall of photos. At 13 she had dreams of attending MIT and becoming an engineer. At 12 she had plans to marry a man who saw her as his equal and formed a life with him. At 11 she had proudly told her father that she would give him no more than three kids. But right now she was 27 years old, and she never got a chance to graduate from Casper High. 

“You give me plenty of reasons to,” She replied.     TIK TOK, TIK TOK. 

“And yet I let you in,” she mumbled. Dan’s head snapped towards her, for the first time in a long time his eyes were truly his own. “I don’t know what that says about me, but whatever answer you're looking for I can’t give now.”

“I understand,” He sent his gaze back down. 

    The third time he ruined his life was two years ago. Without Phantom Valerie found herself bored. Yes, she took out the smaller ghost that tried to fill the power vacuum, and many still proclaimed her a hero, but she had spent the past two years in stasis. Watching the days go past like molasses on a cold winter’s day. 

 “But it’s late. Let’s talk more about this in the morning.” She sighed. 

Dan pulled himself up from the bench, hissing in pain as he did so. She wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped him to the living room. 

“You’re letting me stay here?” 

“You said you had no one else to go to.” 

“What if I try to do something?” 

“I’ll pull your other arm out, now-” Her words faded away as the two rounded the corner. 

    On her couch was an old man with blue corpse-like skin in a purple hood and his legs hand formed together into a specter-like tail. The man snapped his pocket watch close, before tucking it into his tunic, the silver chain hung loosely around his waist. . 

“You!” Dan hissed. 

“I assume that is Clockwork?” Valerie said. 

“Your assumption is correct,” Clockwork replied. 

“The creep has probably been here the whole time listening to our conversation.” 

“T’was an interesting one.” 

“I didn’t think there was a ghost more annoying than you,” Valerie said. Dan rolled his eyes.  

“You must be jesting Ms. Gray, for I am nothing but a gentleman.” Clockwork said. 

“Sureeee A gentleman who eavesdrops on private conversations,” Valerie reached behind her, feeling the handle of her ecto-blaster hidden under her end table. “Can we cut to the chase. Why are you here, and what do you want?” 

“Val, you can’t fight him,” Dan said. 

“Don’t worry, I am not here to finish you off, the world will do that for me. I am here to offer Ms. Gray a deal,” Clockwork floated up, his face began to morph and shrink, twisting away the wrinkles until all that remained was a blue skinned child.

“First explain that, what the hell was that,” Valerie said. 

“As Dan has explained before, I am a ghost of time, the ectoplasmic leftovers of every second,, every minute, and every hour. As the days go past my body gathers more and more energy, resulting in a bodily form that is less than stable. I ask you to not mind it, I am sure my form will change at least three more times before we strike our deal.”

“And what deal are you making Mr. Ghost of every second, minute and hour?” 

“And what do you mean by the world will take care of me?” Dan snapped back. 

“My powers over time allow me to see every possible future, and when the most plausible future for the young Fenton boy was to become that,” Clockwork jabbed towards Dan. “I decided to intervene with time. Call it a bad habit of mine, but I prefer to see a peaceful world, rather than wanton destruction. So, I brought this doomed timeline to life and thrusted the young man. I am sure you remember that day, I believe you called him cute? Either way it was success, not only was the young man able to trap Dan, but he changed his course on life. The future now shines much brighter. But I am now stuck with a paradox. This future will never come to pass, meaning everything that happened after the death of the Fenton family and the nasty burger explosion will cease to exist. I have been using my power to keep this world alive, to allow its inhabitants to know peace. But I am only a ghost of time, helpless to time itself, and time does not like paradoxes. Before the sunrises this world will cease to exist. Living only in the memories of those who managed to travel here two years ago.”

“What?! Well what can we do?” Valerie said. 

“Nothing, all are powerless to the march of time. But while looking back on the timeline, I realized that for a hero as great as you, this seemed like an ill-fitting end. Thus, I am here to offer you a deal. I give you the ability to live in a world where Dan Phantom never destroyed Amity park, and in exchange you sometimes do things for me.” 

“What kind of things?” 

“You can’t be considering this?” Dan asked. 

“Given what he did to you, and who he is, I don't doubt him,” She replied. 

“Nothing crazy. Getting rid of a person here, moving a ghost there, small things to maintain the future of humanity.” Clockwork said. 

“Why would a ghost want humanity to stay?” 

“Because it is very, very rare for a ghost to be born fully formed without the aid of another ghost or a human soul. If humanity disappeared, eventually all ghosts born on humans would pass on and cease to be. And that would leave me quite bored.” 

“How virtuous of you,” Valerie whipped out her gun. “But I prefer to live in my own time now tell me how to fix this world.” 

“If I knew how I would tell you, but I am no deceiver.” 

Valerie blinked. Her TV came down with a thundering crash upon Dan’s body. The missing body weight sent her stumbling forward. Then she was stumbling backwards, as if pushed. Regaining her balance she felt cold hard metal against the nape of her neck. 

“How?” She breathed. 

“I am the ghost of time, therefore I am able to manipulate it to my will.” Clockwork spoke behind her, her gun wrapped in his aging hand. “Here take this. I speak the truth when I say I mean no harm to you.” He gave the gun back to her. The barrel had been sliced open and its core removed. Rendering it useless. 

“What about Dan?” She asked. 

“Since he is the reason the world has become like this, he will stay here and face his untimely end. A fitting end for someone like him,” Clockwork said. 

    The floor shook and rumbled under them. The sky beyond her apartment was cracking and swirling into a deep void. The rising sun spun into the pitch black vortex, depriving the world of its last sunrise. Signaling the end of this world. 

“He comes with me,” Valerie said. 

“No,” Clockwork grimaced. 

“Yes, you told him that he hasn’t earned a second chance, but how is he supposed to earn one stuck in a soup can?” 

“Fine, but you will be responsible for anything he does.” 

“I accept that,” Valerie moved forward and grabbed the pocket watch from Clockwork. The black metal had a blue CW engraved upon its surface. She put it around her neck before grabbing the thermos from him, and for the fourth time, Dan Phantom had found a way to drastically change her life. 

[https-quinttaft]

Hey guys, valentines school dance tonight I’m screaming and crying and ripping out my hair and foaming at the mouth this is going to be great ‼️

[fourhunderedlux]

i’m drooling, foaming at the mouth, sweating, ripping my hair out, throwing up, crying, wailing, and ripping my shirt off

[steddiealltheway]

oh my fucking GOD i want to kiss your brain — the third part of the meet ugly? i’m RIPPING MY HAIR OUT BECAUSE HOW ARE THEY GONNA MEET UP AGAIN NOW ??? steve’s gonna think he didn’t call on PURPOSE you’re so fucking EVIL i’m in love i am literally foaming at the mouth waiting to see how you fix it for them (or does it get worse before it gets better???? god i hope not) pls, never stop i’ll read the crumbs of what you create you are SO very talented — maybe your biggest fan ever <3

It’s the way I have yet another evil plot planned 😈 IT WILL END HAPPILY DONT WORRY.

I love you so much literally this made my day eeeeeeeEEEEE❣️❣️❣️

[metagalacticx]

“How is it that you’re so small, but still managed to take up all of the bed?”

Fictober Day ?+2✨

————

Tw: violence

presenting the tragic besties josh and tracy❣️

————

Tracy wakes up with a hand in her face.

It takes three seconds for her to recognise the hand as Josh’s. It take ten seconds for her to pry his other hand free of her hair. It takes five minutes for her to fully recall how they ended up like this.

In the twenty minutes it takes for her to spin free of the tangled sheets and make a cup of hot tea, Josh doesn’t rustle once. 

From the kitchen she can hear him snoring. From the bathroom she peeks at his slumbering form. He’s still wearing the jeans he dragged on to go to Sinema the night before. He’s wearing one of her old oversized tshirts, his claw-shredded one on the floor atop the blanket she’d ripped. The one he wrapped all the broken glass in.

In the four minutes it takes for her to brush her teeth, Josh groans awake.

"What’s for breakfast?" He stretches obnoxiously across her bed. He kicks the sheets to the floor. 

She peeks out at him with foam at the sides of her mouth. "Shouldn’t you be asking your mom that?"

She rinses and walks into the room with a towel swiping over her face.

"You’re a terrible host."

Tracy picks up the sheets and throws them over the edge of the bed. "Technically, I’d have had to have invited you in to be your host."

"Words, so early in the morning, make it stop." Then he makes a sour face and presses fingers into his neck, massaging lightly, "And how’s it that you’re so small, but still managed to take up all of the bed?"

She scoffs in lieu of dignifying his comment with a response, partly because she woke up at the edge of one side of the bed with Josh’s limbs all over her. But mostly because she doesn’t want to talk about it, him having to stay while she tried to sleep. Him having to stay while she… stayed asleep. She didn’t ask him to, but he’s insisted on crawling through her window since the first time he crashed in her room and saw what she did. He saw what she did and slept on the floor anyway. He saw what she did and stayed.

She rolls her eyes and starts picking up the pieces from the night before, all the glaring evidence of her episode.

Josh stretches again, noisily this time. "I could go for some hash browns, whadya think?"

"I already had tea."

"Tea isn’t breakfast, dude." He rolls to edge closer to her and swings his feet to the floor.

Her breath catches when she spots a shard of glass, from the broken mirror in her bathroom. It’s near her window, at least ten feet from where she thinks she remembers she’d grabbed one of the pieces and aimed it at Josh’s eye.

Her back is to him so she lets her hands shake while she steadies her breathing. Then she starts again, cleaning up like she always does. 

When she’s done enough, bagged all the broken pieces she could find, and wiped the splatter of blood from the floor, Josh pins her with a look. It doesn’t belong on his face, in this room, in her house.

"How’d you sleep?"

Tracy stares as blankly as she can, careful to breathe evenly like she was taught; holds her heart hostage so it doesn’t skip; lets the lie fall from her lips easy, just like he would. "I don’t remember."

Josh keeps looking, but he doesn’t push. "Me neither." Then he chuckles, "I was high as fuck."

Josh doesn’t care enough to do any of what she did, doesn’t even try to look guilty when his heart skips. But she doesn’t push. She grabs her wallet and throws it to him.

"If you buy anything that’s not food with my card I’m going to rip your arms off."

"Jeesh, if you don’t trust me just say that…"

Tracy crosses her arms and cocks a hip. "I don’t trust you."

From the bed it takes him six seconds to slowly stalk to her. She steels her face in defiance. Josh lifts a hand and flicks her in the forehead. He rushes to the window and slides feet first onto the roof.

His laughter is raucous from the other side of her window. He waves obnoxiously and dodges with practised ease when she shoves a hand forward.

"Too slow," he mocks.

"You’re such a dick."

Josh steps backwards to the edge of the roof and winks before he steps off. Barefoot.

When he lands she hears him call from the yard, "Throw my shoes down, Trace!"

"Come get them yourself, Joshua!"

[sapientiia]

im SEEEEETHING im foaming at the mouth I’m ripping my hair out

[paradisecursed]

(from belos) i was trying to help you.

@aeinsof/ unplotted. / part 2. 

He’d let hope take root in his heart again. Fool that he was.

The doors to her chambers had been thrown open with more enthusiasm than they had in some time, &. Darcia had marched in with an equally foreign lightness to his step. Behind him followed the reason for his wayward vigor: his benefactor, the emperor. In his gilded hands was held a promise - a potion vial, filled with a thick, green-black ooze.

Faith, the man from the other place had called it, it is what will save us all. 

The lord Darcia was at her bedside at once, staring down at her body, frozen in time, for what he’d been so certain would be the very last time. He’d been so certain he would see her smile again.

Darcia turned, reached out a hand, &. requested the flask.

…I’m not so sure that’s wise, my friend, The emperor kept the potion close.

Darcia’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

Well, it’s just that… The other man tapped the chin of his mask, your curse. If that’s what infected her to begin with, I worry that it might affect the potion. 

“- But if it is a cure for paradise sickness,” he countered, “then that shouldn’t matter.” 

He turned back to her. Expression softening, his hand trailed the rim of her sick-bed - catching strands of her hair as he went. He watched, idly, as they roped around his fingers in loose, shimmering knots.

“We are connected, even now.”

The emperor paused, head tilted to angle the wolf king a sympathetic stare. I suppose you’re right, he said, tone presenting a sad smile, Here. 

He held out the bottle. Darcia practically ripped it from his hands.

Stumbling over himself, he fell to her side - unable to be there fast enough. Shaky hands damn near spilled the potion trying to claw the cork out, yet he tempered his eagerness with enough caution to prevent such tragedies. A hand slipped under her head, lifting with the sort of care reserved to the most delicate of valuables. A pause; placing one feather-light kiss on her brow. 

Her head cradled against his bosom, he forced her mouth open with the vial’s lip. Desperation loosened tenderness, &. he held the bottle more harshly against her lips than perhaps he should’ve. A rivulet of that foul color still dribbled down her chin. He rubbed it away with his sleeve, &. more still when a stain stubbornly remained.

Only when her sickly snow skin began to redden did he tear himself away. The bottle was thrown aside with a resounding crash, glass scattering across the floor like a million little stars in a pale sky. He stepped back.

&. waited.

&. waited.

&. waited.

&. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waited. &. waitedwaitedwaitedwaitedwaitedwaitedwaitedwaitedw

&. waiteSeconds passed. Minutes. Half an hour. The inky-green stain did not clear off her throat. 

She never smiled.

The sight of her body, tranquil &. still, had not made him quite this nauseous in years. He gagged on his bile in the form of a quiet, shallow inhale. 

Hand - gilded spider talons - Cold. Was on his shoulder.

Snarling, he tore himself out of the emperor’s grip. His back hit her sickbed. A sputtering hack - foam pooling at his lips. An ache blossomed in the small of his back, hands scrambling to find purchase in fistfuls of her hair. Ragged breaths, reverberating off the walls. Lips twitching, bared teeth.

The emperor raised both his hands, as if he was some dog bade to heel at his command. The scraping click of golden heels on tile, drawing close. Arms outstretched, talons reaching. An animal, cornered. 

So soft was it said; all at once a condolence &. accusation &. lecture for ignored advice. It made his ears ring.

I was trying to help you.

“— LEAVE ME!” He lunged, words slurred together as the beast forgot his civility in human speech. A wild eye rolled frantically in his skull, too distraught to look but desperate to tear the offending carcass open with but a stare. An unsteady hand flew up to his eye-patch.

&. stopped there.

A glacier crashed into the sea, as he did unto his knees. 

The emperor beheld a trembling, wretched thing. Leather-bound nails clawed into the granite as he dragged his vile body to the sanctity of her bedside by his knees. The squealing, keening sobs bubbling in his throat reverberated off the walls. He did not hear them. Hand over fist, he crawled forever up to the edge of her bedside, for there was no other mountain so lovely &. so horrible. 

His hand burst over its peak, finding her arm &. grabbing tight enough to bruise. On her anchor did he hoist himself up that final stretch, forcing himself to once again confront the nigh-imperceptible rise-&.-fall of her bare, pale chest. The soft downturn of her dirtied lips (how many stains had his filthy hands left on her, now?), frozen forever in an expression of morose peace that was simply wrong on her face. The rivers of hair spread out from her nape, pooling on the floor &. round his hands in the only embrace her ghost could give.

One last sob burst from his bleeding chest. He buried his head into the crook of her neck, pulling her head close against his as he tried, haplessly, to smear some of that sickly black stain onto his cheek. 

“Leave me.” He pled again in broken whispers.

“Leave me.”

[thegreatobsesso]

Find the word tag (time, sell, alive, number, guess)

I was tagged by @jamieanovels, thank you, friend!

time

Simon POV

And the sex, well, it was about as impersonal as sex could possibly be and that was just fine. The only time he even felt like he had anything to do with it was when she asked him to say it again.

“Huh?” he asked, having absolutely no idea what the last thing he said might’ve been.

“That it’s only me,” she said from above him, red hair stuck to her forehead in sweaty strands. “That I’m different from everyone else. That I’m special. Say it.”

Oh, that. “It’s only you,” he repeated. He’d have sung a sea shanty if it got her moving again. “You’re special.”

She threw her head back and laughed, breathless and deep; satisfied in a way he let slip right by, didn’t try to understand any better, because, well, he just didn’t really care.

He just moved to sit up, to relieve her of at least some of the work, but she shoved him right back down and carried on.

sell

baby!Riley POV

“Oh, honey,” her mother said, more softly than she’d spoken before, and raised a hanky to Riley’s tear-stained cheeks. “That was a bad one, wasn’t it?”

But Riley was itchy and hot in the black tulle dress her mother had bought for her and she’d rip it off and sell it back to the expensive store if it meant she could go to bed for the night, but she knew they had one more client coming, soon.

“You can be brave one more time tonight, can’t you?”

Thirteen was too old to be spoken to like this, to have her hair petted, her dress smoothed, her tears disregarded as a tantrum. But she knew how fast her mother’s doting could turn to shrill exasperation and it was just once more, and then she could go to bed and pray none of the ghosts followed her there.

“Yes, mum.”

alive

Callie POV

She poked Riley’s shoulder but she didn’t have the chance to follow it up with a are you alive? because Riley flinched so violently and suddenly, Callie almost jumped out of her own skin.

“Don’t,” Riley rasped, folding even further in on herself. “Don’t touch me.”

Oh, shit. Callie cast a quick glance around to make sure nobody was watching before sitting down next to Riley, shielding her as best she could from the rest of the museum.

“What is your damage?” she whispered, making damn sure to leave a few solid inches of space between them.

“There’s a consciousness stuck to one of them, the mummies,” she spat, squeezing her eyes shut. “They stick to their own bodies sometimes, and it’s just… it’s loud. And strong.”

She looked like she was in pain, fighting something off with all her might. It stirred something kinda nauseating in Callie’s stomach, a fuzzy ache. “Are you gonna start talking like King Tut or something?”

number

Riley POV

“Simon Bennett asks about you all the time, you know,” she says with a wink. Riley’s sure all the time is an exaggeration, and that he’s not asking for the reason her mother assumes. “I tell him that aside from a phone number, I hardly even know how to get in touch with you anymore, let alone what you’re doing or how you’re doing.”

Riley dutifully shoves the last bite of tiramisu into her mouth - eating all her mother’s food is a show of goodwill, one she knows will help her case. “I told you, I’m doing some work that I can’t freely talk about.”

“Oh, yes yes, I know. My brilliant, important daughter.” She beams with pride as if Riley’s just shown a foaming volcano at the science fair. “One of these days I’m gonna pick up a newspaper and I’ll see your name. Riley Silver’s work changes the world, it’ll say.”

Maybe, if things went far enough sideways. “We’ll see about that,” is all she says in reply. “Mom, there’s something I wanna ask you.”

guess

Callie POV

“You know who I am?” she asked from her bed, not bothering to look away from her magazine.

“You’re Callie Ray,” she gulped. Callie spared her a single glance – Christ, she couldn’t have been any more than twenty. She clutched her plastic bag of toiletries like a shield.

“And you are?”

“Veronica,” she said. “Ronnie, my, my friends call me Ronnie.”

She smirked. “Well, nobody here’s your friend, so I guess your name’s Veronica. And you have to call me Red Panther. That’s my prison name.”

Veronica blinked. “Really?”

“No, you idiot. God, you’re gonna get eaten alive.”

Tagging @diphthongsfordays, @afoolandathief, @pertinax--loculos, @winterandwords and @i-can-even-burn-salad with the new words start, go, continue, end, and complete :)