#also I just got my retainers and they are ITCHY help

[crybaby-bkg]

every once in a while I get soooo obsessed with gojo all over again and it makes me literally wanna pluck my eyeballs out I love him so much I’m gonna be sick

[bengeskosmokes]

Vanilla Taffiez

Definitely not the first strain I've tried, but it is the most recent, and what I've recently used, so first review it is!

(Disclaimer: Vanilla Taffiez is a rather new strain, so not much is known. I will update with relevant info/links as I get them)

Vanilla Taffiez is grown by SOL, and processed by Entourage Cannabis. (I reached out to them to inquire about the strain's genetics.)

Indica Dominant Hybrid, genetics (currently) unknown.

THC: 69.90% (nice)

CBD: 0.13%

Terps: 12.78%

beta Myrcene: 3.369%

beta Caryophyllene: 2.555%

Limonene: 1.923%

Total Cannabinoids:

THC: 69.90%

CBG: 1.56%

THCV: 0.32%

Smell: I use a smoke buddy, so the smell is minimal, I only exhaled a little to get the smell without irritating the neighbors.

The smell is less skunky/piney, and actually smells like hay when it's almost dry and has that grassy, sweet musky smell. It's actually quite pleasant.

Taste: On the inhale, it tastes like it smells, and on the exhale there is hints of something sweet like frosting, and little bits of citrus. It's not bad but it is odd because the aftertaste is a mix of both inhale/exhale so there's a juxtaposition of WET HAY and limonene frosting.

The High:

The high starts in the head and radiates out and down, and leaves a pleasant buzz in its wake. Limbs feel floaty, head feels blissfully empty, and after an hour, if a task is picked up, focus is very intense, and there are no errant or random thoughts.

Multitasked by drawing and watching a show- and did not bounce around to other things, like switching to a new tab, or scrolling media. Just drew, and half watched the show, and retained it/was able to follow the plot, because I could actively focus on two things at once. Only get that with Vyvanse, so I definitely enjoy this high.

Was also very calm, content, and VERY easily amused to the point of wheezing from laughter. Good mood booster.

Also made Gino like 30000000000000% times cuter, idk how that's possible, or maybe the weed lets me glimpse the true reality of how cute he really is.

9/10 for the high- knocked one off because it did chair lock me, and I forgot to pee for like 5 hours.

The physical:

Was very surprised by this one. Almost every strain I've tried end up giving me a stuffy nose, which results in dry mouth. This one did that around the time I took the hit, but quickly faded after 20 minutes or so.

Eyes were a bit itchy, a bit dry, but I'm experienced enough (especially with hEDS) to put in a drop of artificial tears in each eye before taking the hit, so the itchy/dryness was minimal.

(Also, will sound weird, but rubbing a very thin layer of cocoa butter on your eyelids beforehand helps, too.)

Did not give me the munchies, but it DID make my cheap ass mac and cheese taste like heaven.

7/10 for the physical.

Pain:

Brings my pain to a level where I can easily ignore it in favor of the focus it gives me on whatever task I'm doing.

Migraine remains to be seen, but it DID chase off the lingering tension headache that followed a five day migraine I recently got over, so I already am loading it into my arsenal of migraine remedies.

Despite being an Indica dominant, it didn't make me drowsy, just chair locked, which I didn't mind, except for the fact that I didn't notice I needed to pee for five hours.

6/10 for pain.

Overall rating: 7/10!

[onlinenaturaloil]

Get Luscious Locks with Jojoba Oil: Discover the Benefits for Your Hair!

Healthy and luscious hair is something we all desire, and Jojoba oil might just be the solution to all your hair problems. Jojoba oil is a natural oil that has been used for centuries for its incredible benefits for the hair. In this article, we'll explore why jojoba oil should be a part of your hair care routine and how it can transform your locks.

Benefits of Using Jojoba Oil for Hair:

Deep Conditioning:

Jojoba oil is rich in vitamins and minerals that help to nourish and condition the hair. It has a similar structure to the natural oils produced by the scalp, which makes it an ideal ingredient for deep conditioning. It penetrates the hair shaft, hydrating and moisturizing the hair from within, leaving it soft and shiny.

Promotes Hair Growth:

Jojoba oil is known to unclog hair follicles and nourish the scalp, promoting healthy hair growth. It also contains vitamins E and B, which help to strengthen hair strands and reduce hair breakage and hair loss.

Controls Dandruff:

Jojoba oil has antifungal and anti-inflammatory properties that can help to soothe and calm an itchy, flaky scalp. Regular use of jojoba oil can help to control dandruff and prevent further scalp irritation.

Protects Hair:

Jojoba oil is a natural sunscreen and can help protect the hair from the harmful UV rays of the sun. It also creates a protective barrier around the hair shaft, preventing damage from environmental stressors like pollution, chemicals, and heat styling.

Best Cold Pressed Oil in the Market Right Now:

Limmunoil: The Best Cold-Pressed Jojoba Oil in the Market that Fits Your Budget!

Jojoba oil has been a popular choice for hair and skincare enthusiasts for years, and for good reason. It's known for its ability to moisturize and nourish the skin and hair without leaving a greasy residue.

If you're in the market for high-quality cold-pressed jojoba oil that won't break the bank, Limmunoil is the perfect brand for you. Here we'll explore why Limmunoil is the best choice for those who want premium quality jojoba oil at an affordable price.

Why Choose Limmunoil?

Cold-Pressed for Maximum Benefits: Limmunoil's jojoba oil is cold-pressed to ensure that it retains all of its natural benefits. Cold-pressed oils are known to be of higher quality than other extraction methods, as they preserve the natural nutrients and antioxidants of the oil.

Pocket-Friendly: Unlike other premium brands that charge exorbitant prices for their cold-pressed oils, Limmunoil's jojoba oil is available at a very reasonable price, making it accessible to everyone.

All-Natural and Chemical-Free: Limmunoil's jojoba oil is free from any harmful chemicals, additives, or preservatives, making it a pure and natural option for skincare and hair care.

Versatility: Jojoba oil is known for its versatility, and Limmunoil's jojoba oil is no exception. It can be used for hair care, skincare, and even as a makeup remover. Its lightweight texture makes it ideal for all skin types, and it's especially beneficial for those with oily or acne-prone skin.

FAQs:

Q: Is Jojoba oil suitable for all hair types?

A: Yes, Jojoba oil is suitable for all hair types. It is especially beneficial for those with dry, damaged, or frizzy hair.

Q: How should I use Jojoba oil on my hair?

A: Jojoba oil can be used as a pre-shampoo treatment, hair oil, or added to your conditioner. Simply warm up a small amount in your hands and apply it to the hair and scalp in gentle, circular motions.

Q: Can Jojoba oil help with hair loss?

A: Yes, Jojoba oil can help with hair loss. Its ability to unclog hair follicles and nourish the scalp can promote healthy hair growth and prevent hair loss.

Conclusion:

Jojoba oil is a natural and affordable ingredient that can work wonders for your hair. Whether you're looking to nourish and condition your locks, promote hair growth, or control dandruff, Jojoba oil has got you covered.

So, what are you waiting for? Add Jojoba oil to your hair care routine today and get ready to flaunt your luscious locks.

If you're looking for a high-quality cold-pressed jojoba oil that won't break the bank, Limmunoil is the perfect choice for you. With its all-natural ingredients, versatility, and affordable price, Limmunoil's jojoba oil is the best choice for anyone who wants to experience the benefits of jojoba oil without spending a fortune.

Try it today and see the difference for yourself. 

[gomineraloil]

Get Luscious Locks with Jojoba Oil: Discover the Benefits for Your Hair!

Healthy and luscious hair is something we all desire, and Jojoba oil might just be the solution to all your hair problems. Jojoba oil is a natural oil that has been used for centuries for its incredible benefits for the hair. In this article, we'll explore why jojoba oil should be a part of your hair care routine and how it can transform your locks.

Benefits of Using Jojoba Oil for Hair:

Deep Conditioning:

Jojoba oil is rich in vitamins and minerals that help to nourish and condition the hair. It has a similar structure to the natural oils produced by the scalp, which makes it an ideal ingredient for deep conditioning. It penetrates the hair shaft, hydrating and moisturizing the hair from within, leaving it soft and shiny.

Promotes Hair Growth:

Jojoba oil is known to unclog hair follicles and nourish the scalp, promoting healthy hair growth. It also contains vitamins E and B, which help to strengthen hair strands and reduce hair breakage and hair loss.

Controls Dandruff:

Jojoba oil has antifungal and anti-inflammatory properties that can help to soothe and calm an itchy, flaky scalp. Regular use of jojoba oil can help to control dandruff and prevent further scalp irritation.

Protects Hair:

Jojoba oil is a natural sunscreen and can help protect the hair from the harmful UV rays of the sun. It also creates a protective barrier around the hair shaft, preventing damage from environmental stressors like pollution, chemicals, and heat styling.

Best Cold Pressed Oil in the Market Right Now:

Limmunoil: The Best Cold-Pressed Jojoba Oil in the Market that Fits Your Budget!

Jojoba oil has been a popular choice for hair and skincare enthusiasts for years, and for good reason. It's known for its ability to moisturize and nourish the skin and hair without leaving a greasy residue.

If you're in the market for high-quality cold-pressed jojoba oil that won't break the bank, Limmunoil is the perfect brand for you. Here we'll explore why Limmunoil is the best choice for those who want premium quality jojoba oil at an affordable price.

Why Choose Limmunoil?

Cold-Pressed for Maximum Benefits: Limmunoil's jojoba oil is cold-pressed to ensure that it retains all of its natural benefits. Cold-pressed oils are known to be of higher quality than other extraction methods, as they preserve the natural nutrients and antioxidants of the oil.

Pocket-Friendly: Unlike other premium brands that charge exorbitant prices for their cold-pressed oils, Limmunoil's jojoba oil is available at a very reasonable price, making it accessible to everyone.

All-Natural and Chemical-Free: Limmunoil's jojoba oil is free from any harmful chemicals, additives, or preservatives, making it a pure and natural option for skincare and hair care.

Versatility: Jojoba oil is known for its versatility, and Limmunoil's jojoba oil is no exception. It can be used for hair care, skincare, and even as a makeup remover. Its lightweight texture makes it ideal for all skin types, and it's especially beneficial for those with oily or acne-prone skin.

FAQs:

Q: Is Jojoba oil suitable for all hair types?

A: Yes, Jojoba oil is suitable for all hair types. It is especially beneficial for those with dry, damaged, or frizzy hair.

Q: How should I use Jojoba oil on my hair?

A: Jojoba oil can be used as a pre-shampoo treatment, hair oil, or added to your conditioner. Simply warm up a small amount in your hands and apply it to the hair and scalp in gentle, circular motions.

Q: Can Jojoba oil help with hair loss?

A: Yes, Jojoba oil can help with hair loss. Its ability to unclog hair follicles and nourish the scalp can promote healthy hair growth and prevent hair loss.

Conclusion:

Jojoba oil is a natural and affordable ingredient that can work wonders for your hair. Whether you're looking to nourish and condition your locks, promote hair growth, or control dandruff, Jojoba oil has got you covered.

So, what are you waiting for? Add Jojoba oil to your hair care routine today and get ready to flaunt your luscious locks.

If you're looking for a high-quality cold-pressed jojoba oil that won't break the bank, Limmunoil is the perfect choice for you. With its all-natural ingredients, versatility, and affordable price, Limmunoil's jojoba oil is the best choice for anyone who wants to experience the benefits of jojoba oil without spending a fortune.

Try it today and see the difference for yourself. 

[switchoil]

Get Luscious Locks with Jojoba Oil: Discover the Benefits for Your Hair!

Healthy and luscious hair is something we all desire, and Jojoba oil might just be the solution to all your hair problems. Jojoba oil is a natural oil that has been used for centuries for its incredible benefits for the hair. In this article, we'll explore why jojoba oil should be a part of your hair care routine and how it can transform your locks.

Benefits of Using Jojoba Oil for Hair:

Deep Conditioning:

Jojoba oil is rich in vitamins and minerals that help to nourish and condition the hair. It has a similar structure to the natural oils produced by the scalp, which makes it an ideal ingredient for deep conditioning. It penetrates the hair shaft, hydrating and moisturizing the hair from within, leaving it soft and shiny.

Promotes Hair Growth:

Jojoba oil is known to unclog hair follicles and nourish the scalp, promoting healthy hair growth. It also contains vitamins E and B, which help to strengthen hair strands and reduce hair breakage and hair loss.

Controls Dandruff:

Jojoba oil has antifungal and anti-inflammatory properties that can help to soothe and calm an itchy, flaky scalp. Regular use of jojoba oil can help to control dandruff and prevent further scalp irritation.

Protects Hair:

Jojoba oil is a natural sunscreen and can help protect the hair from the harmful UV rays of the sun. It also creates a protective barrier around the hair shaft, preventing damage from environmental stressors like pollution, chemicals, and heat styling.

Best Cold Pressed Oil in the Market Right Now:

Limmunoil: The Best Cold-Pressed Jojoba Oil in the Market that Fits Your Budget!

Jojoba oil has been a popular choice for hair and skincare enthusiasts for years, and for good reason. It's known for its ability to moisturize and nourish the skin and hair without leaving a greasy residue.

If you're in the market for high-quality cold-pressed jojoba oil that won't break the bank, Limmunoil is the perfect brand for you. Here we'll explore why Limmunoil is the best choice for those who want premium quality jojoba oil at an affordable price.

Why Choose Limmunoil?

Cold-Pressed for Maximum Benefits: Limmunoil's jojoba oil is cold-pressed to ensure that it retains all of its natural benefits. Cold-pressed oils are known to be of higher quality than other extraction methods, as they preserve the natural nutrients and antioxidants of the oil.

Pocket-Friendly: Unlike other premium brands that charge exorbitant prices for their cold-pressed oils, Limmunoil's jojoba oil is available at a very reasonable price, making it accessible to everyone.

All-Natural and Chemical-Free: Limmunoil's jojoba oil is free from any harmful chemicals, additives, or preservatives, making it a pure and natural option for skincare and hair care.

Versatility: Jojoba oil is known for its versatility, and Limmunoil's jojoba oil is no exception. It can be used for hair care, skincare, and even as a makeup remover. Its lightweight texture makes it ideal for all skin types, and it's especially beneficial for those with oily or acne-prone skin.

FAQs:

Q: Is Jojoba oil suitable for all hair types?

A: Yes, Jojoba oil is suitable for all hair types. It is especially beneficial for those with dry, damaged, or frizzy hair.

Q: How should I use Jojoba oil on my hair?

A: Jojoba oil can be used as a pre-shampoo treatment, hair oil, or added to your conditioner. Simply warm up a small amount in your hands and apply it to the hair and scalp in gentle, circular motions.

Q: Can Jojoba oil help with hair loss?

A: Yes, Jojoba oil can help with hair loss. Its ability to unclog hair follicles and nourish the scalp can promote healthy hair growth and prevent hair loss.

Conclusion:

Jojoba oil is a natural and affordable ingredient that can work wonders for your hair. Whether you're looking to nourish and condition your locks, promote hair growth, or control dandruff, Jojoba oil has got you covered.

So, what are you waiting for? Add Jojoba oil to your hair care routine today and get ready to flaunt your luscious locks.

If you're looking for a high-quality cold-pressed jojoba oil that won't break the bank, Limmunoil is the perfect choice for you. With its all-natural ingredients, versatility, and affordable price, Limmunoil's jojoba oil is the best choice for anyone who wants to experience the benefits of jojoba oil without spending a fortune.

Try it today and see the difference for yourself. 

[stanknotstark]

Violet Sunkiss (Loki x Reader)

Well it started as crack and then it got out of hand and DUDE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CRACK 😭 you can blame @natashas-favourite-knives​ (what do you think of the title ehhhhh?) for inspiring this piece and @justfangirlthingies and @mellifluousart and @creeping156tin-reblogs​ for encouraging it too 😂

Summary: What started out as a thought of “What if you had a sun burn and begged Loki to change you into a vampire so it didn’t hurt anymore” turned into something completely different...I’m not complaining but apparently I can’t write crack 😂

Loki rolls his eyes at your theatrics. 

“Loki, it hurts, I feel like you could cook an egg on my shoulders!” 

“Lokiiiiii, put your cold hands on-OW, ok, maybe don’t do that again, thanks.”

“Loki, how do you not have aloe vera, you’re a vampire, aren’t sunburns normal for you?” 

“Loki! Could you use your magic to put un-melting ice on my back?”

“Loki-”

“Darling, if you give another inane request I will not hesitate to put you to sleep until the sunburn is healed.” Loki tells you with a glare. 

You smile up at him, from the couch. Then you tilt your head, ever so slightly, baring your neck to him. When you see his eyes fly to your neck you smirk. 

“Loki, it burns really bad, would you change me so I can heal faster?” You ask of Loki, coyly. He doesn’t miss the pout on your lips.

Loki’s eyes flash to yours and he growls. “Do not jest about that, you know how I feel about that.” 

Your smirk widens into a smile. “Please! It really burns and it’s getting itchy! You know I have a hard time not scratching.” 

Loki rolls his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. 

“Sweetheart, if i turned you it would heal your sunburn but if you ever got another sunburn it would be ten times as bad. It is illogical to turn you for something this small, anyways.” 

“Small? Loki, my entire back is going to be peeling in a few days, you call that small?” 

“You completely missed my point.” Loki shakes his head then makes his way to the couch and sits next to you. He takes your hand into his, his long, sharp nails trailing over your pulse in your wrist as he envelops your hand in his. 

“Is that what you truly want? For me to change you?” Loki asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

You want to play with him, he will gladly play right back. 

Loki smirks when he sees your face slacken and you swallow nervously. 

You both have had the conversation. Loki wants you to change so he may have you eternally, you were hesitant and requested time to think on it.

Loki trails his free hand up your side until it rests on your neck, his thumb nail scratching slightly at the pulse in your neck. Loki watches with pride as your mouth falls open and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

Loki takes this moment to pull you to him, his mouth now rests above the pulse in your neck. He lets his tongue flick over your skin and chuckles when you gasp and your hands ball in his shirt.

“I thought you said you weren’t sure yet, darling. Have you made up your mind?” Loki whispers over your now goosed skin. 

“I-uh...” 

Loki pulls from your neck with a smirk. “That’s hardly an answer, sweetheart.” He tells you, inches from your face, in a smug tone. 

Loki watches as you come back to yourself, he doesn’t miss the stubborn flash in your eyes. 

“Unless you have a way to take away the pain and peeling...yes.” 

Loki looks into your eyes with a squint. He lets out a frustrated sigh when all he finds is you being a stubborn brat. 

However, he listens to you and settles a hand on your shoulder. 

“Ow! I told you-Oh....”

Loki smirks as you melt into his hand. He used his magic to cool your heated skin and relieve some of the pain. He could make the burn disappear but he thinks you deserve a little retribution for your actions and demands. 

When Loki is holding you after you melted into his touch, curling into his body on the couch, you let out a small thanks to which Loki smiles at but doesn’t respond. 

A week later you make the request again. 

“God, fuck, ah!” You shout, hopping on one foot.

Loki rounds the corner quickly and raises an amused eyebrow as you hop around, clutching at your other foot. He assumes you’ve stubbed your toe on the wall. 

“Stop laughing at me, asshole!” You shout at Loki who can’t help a laugh at your yelling. 

“Loki, it hurts really bad, can you change me so it doesn’t?” 

That makes Loki huff and leave the area, you smirking at his retreating form. 

It happens again a few days later. 

“Darling, the food just came out of the oven don-”

You take a bite against better judgement and hasfafsafa the food in your mouth till it’s cool enough to swallow. You fan air to your mouth with your hand then pout at Loki. 

“If you change me it won’t burn anymore!” 

Loki purses his lips and stabs his fork into the food he had prepared for you both. “I did try to warn you, if you would listen.” He tuts, ignoring your plead. 

“Loki! If you change me I won’t have to drive to the store anymore, I can just teleport!”

“If you change me I won’t ever get cold again!”

“Loki, change me so my nails get longer!” 

Loki doesn’t ever listen to your demands but he lets you keep making them because he has hopes that thinking about it so much will help you come to a conclusion on his question. Perhaps with your mind constantly thinking about it you’ll become familiar with it and even want to be changed, seriously. 

It happens one day when you’re both cuddling in bed, close to falling asleep after a long day. 

“Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki hums behind you. You lay as the small spoon, your back to Loki’s chest under the covers. He lets his hands wrapped around your waist caress at the skin under your shirt. 

“If vampires couldn’t die there would be more of them, that means while you’re immortal there is something that can kill you, right?” 

Loki blinks as he regards your random but, definitely thought out, question. 

“Yes.”

“What can kill you?” 

“Every vampire has a...an achilles heel, if you will. You don’t know where it is till you’ve changed. If someone were to stab you there with pure silver, we cease to exist.” Loki refuses to let his lips form the word die. 

You’re quiet after his explanation but then you ask, “What’s yours?” In a small voice. 

Loki tenses, his hands that had been caressing you now frozen over your skin. Then he lets out a breath and relaxes. You weren’t going to kill him, merely curious. He trusts you wholly, and that might scare him a bit if he hadn’t come to terms with it years ago.

“The nape of my neck.” 

At Loki’s response you let out a thoughtful hum and turn in his arms to face him. You bring your hands from under the covers and wrap around his neck to rest on his nape. When your nails dig into the flesh and baby hairs there to slightly scratch, Loki shudders, his eyes closing, and pulls you to him, even closer. 

When Loki blinks his eyes back open you look at him with a soft look. 

“Change me.” You demand softly. 

Loki frowns. “Why?” Not sure if your heart was in the right place yet, the whole conversation said otherwise though. 

Loki watches as your eyes flicker over his face. 

“So that way if I ever need to protect you, I can. If a vampire were to come and attack you, try to kill you, I would be a liability. If you change me, that gives you a better chance of surviving.” 

Loki lets his lips twitch, as if wanting to smile. “Are you suggesting I can’t hold my own?” 

Loki feels warmth bloom in his chest when you laugh lightly. “No. Just that I want to help protect you if I can. The cherry on top is that I get to spend eternity with you, I suppose.” You say, your hands involuntarily pulling at the strands of hair on Loki’s neck, nervously at your confession.

Loki lets out a small breathy moan but really looks at you to see if you’re serious. Looking in your eyes he finds nothing but confidence and love. 

“Eternity is a long time, are you sure about this?” Loki asks, giving you one more chance to back out and retain a normal life. 

When you smile at him and nod he feels his face soften into a stupidly in love look. 

“Then your wish is my command, darling.” 

Loki shifts till he hovers over you, sleep forgotten long ago by you both. As he looks down at you he expects there to be a nervous look on your face, a small tick to hint at fear, but instead you look up at Loki as if this is exactly where you’re meant to be. This pulls Loki towards you so he may take your lips in a sweet kiss. 

Loki pulls from your lips and looks at you. “It will hurt when the transformation hits you. You will die,” Loki looks you in the eyes, to make sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into, “And then you will be remade.” 

At your confident nod Loki straddles your hips and rests on his knees. He brings his wrist to his mouth and makes a small cut. As the blood begins to flow from him he holds his wrist over your mouth and watches as the first drop touches your lips before you realize you need to open your mouth and drink his blood. Smart girl. 

Loki lets his blood flow and then you’re surging your arms up to grab Loki’s wrist and pull it to your lips. You suck at his blood with fever and Loki gasps. He hasn’t felt someone drink from him since he himself was changed. It’s a slight sting that’s overshadowed by a euphoric feeling. 

Loki lets you drink from him with small gasps and winces when the pain exceeds the euphoria. Finally you let go of Loki’s wrist and he lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Looking down at you he wants to smile. You’re messy when you drink, your lips are smeared in red, your white teeth also covered in red when they flash from under your lips. 

That’s when you let out a grunt and try to curl up. Loki pins both of your hands above your head and his body pins your body down so you won’t thrash around and hurt yourself. 

Loki does the only thing he can as you thrash from the pain. He whispers in your ear, giving you sweet nothings. 

“You’re so strong, darling.”

“Soon you will be with me for eternity.”

“Even in death you have found a way to be beautiful and invigorating.” 

Loki winces as you let out a hoarse shout, your face scrunched up in pain, tears falling down the side of your face into the pillow below you. 

“Shhh. It’s almost over, you’re doing so well sweetheart. Just hold on for a few more seconds.” Loki says, kissing the side of your face as your body slowly stops thrashing and shaking with a wild fury. 

When you fall completely still Loki pulls up to look down at you. The life is slipping from your eyes. 

“I will be right here when you wake, darling, then we shall start anew.” Loki whispers, kissing your forehead as your eyes lose all life. Loki brings a hand to come over your face and close your eyes for you, then peels his shirt off to clean at the blood on your lips. He unceremoniously throws the shirt somewhere in the room and returns his attention to you.

Loki brings your arms down to hug yourself, he shifts over to lay next to you then pulls you back into the spooning position you both started with earlier. 

He’s nuzzling his face in your nape when you take in a deep breath and return to the land of the living, more like conscious seeing as you were now dead though. His hand comes to settle on your chest. Loki admits, he will miss the feeling of your heart beating under your breast but he wouldn’t trade anything for having you for eternity. 

You both just lay there, Loki letting you get used to your new senses, and you taking in all the new information you’re receiving. 

Finally, when you’ve taken in everything new you turn in Loki’s arms, again, so you may look at him. 

Loki first sees your eyes are bright gold, then he sees your lips quirked up in a smirk. 

“Welcome to the land of the dead, darling.” 

Loki watches as your face goes from smirking to disbelief. 

“That is the most cliché-” You’re cut off when Loki pulls you into a kiss.

You smile in between Loki’s kisses. When he pulls back he looks at you with admonishing eyes. “Give me a break, you drank half my blood.” 

You giggle and bring your hands around his neck. Loki lets a hand grab behind your knee and drag it up his waist. At your gasp and shudder Loki looks at you with raised eyebrows. “I suppose we know where your spot is.” 

You nod, biting your cheek when Loki digs his fingers into the soft skin behind your knee. He loses interest though and rests his hand on the side of your thigh, caressing. 

“As exciting as tonight has been we do need sleep. You will need lots of sleep and blood for the next few weeks.” Loki rests his forehead on yours. He steals a peck from your lips. “Sleep. Come morning I shall teach you everything.” 

You nod and let your eyes fall closed. Sleep isn’t hard to find considering you now feel exhausted. 

“Love you.” You get out before falling completely asleep. 

“And I you.” Loki says, closing his own eyes and chasing after sleep. 

[mimisempai]

The evidences of our love are everywhere

Summary:

Thor is worried about his little brother's happiness and spies on Loki and Mobius in a more or less subtle way.

Tumblr request : Thor spying on Loki and Mobius.

As usual I got carried away and added most of my favorite tropes :p

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33254275

1643 words - Rating G

"I know it, that you are watching us Thor."

Thor wanted to protest at first, but even though he hadn't known Mobius long, he knew the man was perceptive and there was no point in trying to lie to him.

He sighed, "I admit it."

"I suspect you have no malicious intent," Mobius said kindly, "but I would like to know why."

Thor thought about what he would say in response.

He could see that his little brother was happy. That he had changed, or rather that he had become the best version of himself.

And this was partly thanks to Mobius, but he needed to see it with his own eyes. In their daily lives. So he had been watching for every moment he could spy on them during their stay in Asgard.

**********

One evening, he had overheard a scene he never thought he would see.

Mobius with a brush in his hand was sitting behind Loki and asked him softly, "Should I start brushing your hair?"

Loki nodded and closed his eyes, as if he already knew he was going to like it. Like it had become something familiar.

Mobius started at the bottom, taking care not to pull, then slowly worked his way up. After a while, Mobius' fingers replaced the brush and it was clear that Loki was enjoying it. He did not startle or protest. He turned his back to someone and let them touch him. This showed how much he trusted Mobius.

Not so long ago, such contact would have been unimaginable. If it was anyone else but Mobius, Thor thought, Loki would never have allowed it.

Thor could hardly tear himself away from the scene since he was so fascinated.

Mobius stopped and his hands slid over Loki's shoulders and Loki held his head back with a gentle smile on his face. Mobius leaned over and kissed him gently.

Thor thought it was time for him to retire.

**********

" Tell me candidly, is there anything in me, except my ugliness, which displeases you? Do you object to my birth, my temper, my manners?”

“No, truly,” replied the princess; “I like everything in you, except”—and she hesitated courteously—”except your appearance.”

Thor had just entered the living room of Loki and Mobius' suite and stopped in front of the incredible scene he had before his eyes.

Loki was lying on the couch, his head on Mobius' lap, Mobius had one hand in his hair and in the other hand a book that he was reading aloud.

Thor held his breath, because the two men had neither seen nor heard him.

Mobius continued reading.

“Then, madam, I need not lose my happiness; for if I have the gift of making clever whosoever I love best, you also are able to make the person you prefer as handsome as ever you please. Could you love me enough to do that?”

“I think I could,” said the princess, and her heart being greatly softened towards him, she wished that he might become the handsomest prince in all the world. No sooner had she done so than Riquet with the Tuft appeared in her eyes the most elegant young man she had ever seen.

Loki sneered, "Of course, to be happy, they both have to be beautiful and smart. I know it's a fairy tale and doesn't fit reality, but frankly, I'd never read that to my kids."

"Sweetheart," Mobius said softly while stroking Loki's hair soothingly before continuing, "Listen to the end, I think you'll enjoy it more."

Loki harrumphed, but remained silent as Mobius continued, " Some people have said that this was no fairy-gift, but that love created the change. They declare that the princess, when she thought over her lover’s perseverance, patience, good-humour, and discretion, and counted his numerous fine qualities of mind and disposition, saw no longer the deformity of his body or the plainness of his features. However this may be, it is certain that the princess married him; that either she retained her good sense, or he never felt the want of it; and he never again became ugly—or, at least, not in his wife’s eyes, so they both lived very happy until they died. Morality, all is beautiful in those whom we love, and those whom we love are witty and intelligent"

Loki turned on his back and looked at Mobius.

Thor stepped back into the doorway, he was no longer able to see but he heard Loki, "Mobius, it's kind of like the two of us in the end," he chuckled before continuing, "except that we're both princes. But what I mean is that you have seen beyond what I have shown the world."

Thor heard Mobius nod before answering, "And you, Loki, have opened my mind.  So there is nothing to stop us from living very happy until we die."

The only thing Thor heard again before walking away was his little brother's undoubtedly happy laughter.

**********

Thor had not often had the opportunity to see Loki in his Jotun form. He knew that even after all this time it was still an extremely sensitive subject for his brother, so he was surprised to see him like this, sitting on the balcony railing of their suite, looking at the sky.

He was about to join him, when Mobius appeared next to him bringing what appeared to be some refreshments.

When Loki was aware of Mobius' presence, he began to revert to his Aesir form. But Mobius protested, "Loki, you know you don't have to hide from me, Sweetheart. If you want to take on that appearance, I have no problem with it."

And as Loki returned to his Jotun appearance, Mobius put down the tray and approached him, gently touching his face, as if he was used to doing it, knowing that if he lingered too long, the cold sensation would be too much.

Loki said in a voice Thor didn't know, "Do you really not mind touching me while I'm like this?"

Mobius shook his head and replied, "No, the only downside is that I can't touch you or kiss you like I want to, but otherwise I have no problem with this shape. I told you before, I love you, I love everything about you and it's part of you so I love this form too."

Then Mobius sat Loki down on a small bench that was on the balcony, put a pillow on Loki's lap, and lay down next to him resting his head on the pillow then said softly, "And you see, even when you are in this form, it is possible for us to be close."

As he walked away, Thor thought to himself that he would not soon forget his brother's amazed expression.

**********

The next time, Thor had first heard just laughter, as he went to knock on the door of Mobius and Loki's suite.

"No, Mobius! Stop it! You're scratching! I don't want you to kiss me if it scratches like that!"Then Thor heard Mobius reply in a sulky voice, which was quite rare, "Loki..."

"No, no, no your itchy skin will not come in contact with my delicate skin!"

He heard Mobius cough before he replied, "Then would you please shave me?"

Then the two men seemed to be gone, and Thor couldn't help but be curious and slowly opened the door. The living room was empty, but Thor heard voices that seemed to come from a small adjoining room. He knew he shouldn't, but he peeked through the half-open door anyway.

Mobius was sitting with a towel over his shoulders, shaving cream on his cheeks and chin. Loki had rolled up his sleeves, and was holding a razor. He leaned over to Mobius, and with a serious look on his face asked, "Do you trust me?"

Mobius answered firmly, looking him straight in the eye, "Intimately." before stretching his chin forward and closing his eyes.

Thor once again baffled, discreetly turned back and left their suite.

**********

"I'm sorry Mobius. Of course I had no malicious intent. I guess I just wanted to make sure that Loki was happy. It was something I didn't expect to see. I think I wanted to see it for myself, I'm sorry I was kind of a stalker, I-"

Mobius stopped him by putting a hand on his forearm, "It's okay Thor, you don't have to justify yourself. I know Loki's life, his whole life, so I understand perfectly well the need to reassure you, but I can promise you one thing, that I will always do everything to make him happy. That will always be my priority. Loki is the only family I have so I will always take care of him."

Thor nodded visibly moved as a voice echoed behind him, "You see, brother you don't have to worry. My happiness is truly real."

As if to prove what he had just said was true, Loki approached Mobius and put his arm around his waist before kissing him on the cheek.

"This man Thor, is the person who allowed me to change what I thought was my destiny, he saw the good in me, and in doing so I finally believed that I was capable of doing good."

Thor answered softly, "I always knew you were capable of doing good, little brother, but I'm glad you believe it now too."

Then he stepped forward and took the two men in a strong embrace before stepping back and adding, "Mobius, there was only one thing that was wrong with everything you told me before."

Mobius and Loki looked at him in surprise.

Thor added with a gentle smile, "You said Loki was your only family, but that's not true, it's not true anymore. Welcome to the family. We are your family and you are ours now."

_________

Series of Oneshot : Together, for all time, always

Fairy Tale used : Riquet and the tuft, oft underrated or shallowly interpreted. Shaving scene, inspired by Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle shaving scene in CSI

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

[lemonsandstrawberries]

Let’s Play a Game

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), MCU

summary: Tony wakes up from his nap and the first thing he sees is Steve looking back at him and holding a feather in his hands. And then he makes a mistake to ask about it...

length: 1 931

a/n:  I kinda realized that I didn’t write a tickle fic in like forever, and I mean a tickle fic that stands alone and is not a part of a series or a one that doesn’t have any intricate plot behind, just cute, pure, fluff! so, yeah, I wrote it ;D. as always, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

——————–

Let’s Play a Game

"Uh... Steve?"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up."

That should be sweet. Somehow comforting. Tony could imagine Steve, silently waiting in the bed, lying next to him, all peaceful and calm and observing Tony during an afternoon nap. Wakening up next to your loved ones was one of the most soothing things in the world.

It wasn't soothing when the earlier mentioned loved one, had been sitting on your hips, pinning you down and looking down at you with that smile. Tony already felt alerted. What really made him want to jump out of the bed in panic, was when he noticed that Steve was holding a feather in his hands, casually stroking it.

"Uhhh..." Tony couldn't help it, his eyes drawn to the feather. Grey, stiff and long, with an angled tip. Tony was almost sure that it was a wild goose feather and just by looking at it, he already felt his skin crawl. "Okay... I am awake now."

When Tony looked back at Steve, Steve's smile became brighter, almost as if he was waiting for those words. Tony just looked back, feeling unable to move, almost frozen from the unknown.

"Great! Then, let's play a game," Steve said happily, looking all excited.

"Um, what game?" Tony asked, watching Steve while he used his free hand to put one of Tony's arms up and over his head, laying it down on the pillow. Then his other arm. Tony's heart beat a little faster when he felt with full force that he was wearing a tank top and it left him all open in the already dangerously vulnerable position.

"The game is called," Steve said in a pleasant voice, scooching down Tony's body, sitting on his thighs, "don't move."

Tony laughed, half nervously, half amused. "That's a terrible name," he pointed out, some excitement making his voice tremble.

"So, you want to play?" Steve asked, smiling at his lover. Sweet and in love, not the mischief driven smile from when Tony had woke up.

"Sure," Tony agreed breathlessly, feeling that his spine melted into the bed. How he could refuse Steve anything when he was looking at him as if Tony was his whole world?

"There is only one rule, Tony," Steve said, leaning in, and Tony warily watched the feather getting closer and closer. "Don't move," he reminded.

Tony nodded as the last movement he allowed himself to do and saw the feather going above his head, and felt it touch his fingertips. It was a soft touch, that traveled down his fingers, traced his opened palm and stopped at the wrist. Tony's nose already scrunched up when the ticklish feeling teased his skin and the first giggles started, but it felt nice. The feather continued its journey, down the wrist, down his forearm, and Tony's laughter became more evident. The ticklish feeling fully set in, when the feather stopped at the inner elbow and brushed the thin skin, back and forth a couple of times, following the natural line the skin creased.

"Ack!" Tony yelped, biting down on his tongue, to better control himself, "hahahaha!" he laughed, feeling itchy and tingly, his fingers and toes curling. Except that, he didn't move, and felt pretty proud, when the last stroke was delivered. His breath was a bit quicker and it became somehow hotter, but he went through it.

"Doing a good job so far, Tony," Steve praised and Tony grinned back. Yes, he was doing a good job.

Just he didn't think that it would go downhill.

"AAHAHA!" Tony laughed his back arching when the tip of the feather, traced his inner bicep, slowly and teasingly, closer and closer to the underarm. "Ah ahaha!"

"Don't move, babe," Steve reminded happily, aware of Tony's nervously jumping elbow, hinting on how much he wanted to lift his arms off the covers and lock around himself for protection. "This can't be so bad, huh?"

"PHHHH!" Tony clinked his teeth together, the feather tip doing some slow, teasing circles around the hollow of his armpit, "oh my gah-hahaha!"

"I bet you reaaallly want to curl into a protective ball right now," Steve grinned, watching with satisfaction his boyfriend's reaction. His whole body trembling, arms jumping up nervously. Nose and eyes scrunching up from held in laughter. Belly shaking with every giggle. All was so mesmerizing.

"AH HAHAA!" Tony laughed, when the stiff tip of the feather brushed through the trimmed armpit hair, getting to the sensitive skin and teasing it with long swipes. "HA HAA!"

Steve's mind was melting. He could just do it all day, watching Tony trying to control himself and listen to his lover's laughter. But there were still so many ticklish spots to cover... When he noticed that Tony's face started to become red from effort, he moved the feather lower, wanting to give his boyfriend a break.

"SHIT!" Tony yelped, eyes bulging out, before he squeezed them shut, "go ahwahahay!"

Steve didn't understand at first, before he looked and noticed where the feather stopped. Under the armpit, on this small patch of skin. Experimentally, he moved the feather in delicate swirls, and Tony kicked his legs and laughed. Steve smiled delightedly, not noticing earlier how sensitive that area was, but maybe it was thanks to the feather, because he didn't remember his fingers being that effective on that spot. Making a mental note for later, Steve guided the feather tip along the line of the tank top strap, giving Tony a second to breathe when the feather traced the material until it got back on the skin.

"Hahahaha!" Tony wriggled and laughed, when the feather glided across his collarbones and the top of his chest, but it wasn't the kind of panic-driven laughter from earlier, this one sounding less strained. "Hahaha... Ahaha..." It was almost like a break, and Tony became calmer and less fidgeting as the feather swooped from one collarbone to the other.

Steve cooed, enjoying how peaceful Tony looked, while his eyes retained all the sparkle from the previous, more intense tickling. Steve wanted to see more of that sparkle. He tripped the feather up, gliding it up to Tony's throat.

"AAhh! No!" Tony yelled in panic, when stiff tip traced the clean shaved skin under his jawline a couple of times, "thahahahat's annoyihihihing!"

"You think that is annoying?" Steve laughed, watching his boyfriend move his head around, trying to lose the feather. "How about here then?"

"PFFF! HAHAHA!" Tony twisted his neck, feeling the feather touch his cheek and draw some swirly patterns. He shook his head around and when that didn't make the feather go away, he started to blow on it.

Steve laughed, retracting the feather. "It doesn't work like that, babe."

"Mehehaaan..." Tony giggled out, his cheek feeling all tingly. He tried to rub off the ticklish feeling with his shoulder and Steve watched him with a smile, clearly pleased.

"Ready for the other arm?" Steve asked.

Tony didn't want to, but somehow a small squeak escaped his lips. He was conflicted. There were spots on his arm where the feather tickling his skin felt so nice and calming, but there were also spots where it was rather unbearable. He couldn't make that decision, so he just remained still, trapped under Steve, his lips twitching into a smile.

"Hm. Maybe I will give your arm a break," Steve decided and Tony felt triumphant for a split of a second before panic kicked in. If Steve didn't plan on tickling his arm anymore, then...

"Noooo..." Tony protested, watching Steve roll his tank top up.

"Oh, come on," Steve looked back at him, that smile back on his face, "you couldn't possibly think I will pass the opportunity?"

Tony zipped his lips, eyes becoming startled. He would last, he would last, he would last...

"Hmmm, where I should begin?" Steve thought out loud in a honeyed voice, eyes focused on Tony's bare belly. "Maybe on your sides. Maybe on the lower belly. Or maybe here, in the middle, just around your belly button."

Tony couldn't listen to it, his mind whirring with a mix of panic and excitement. It was no fair that his skin already felt all tingly, and Steve didn't even do anything yet.

"Oh, I know, let's make it a bit more interesting, hm?"

Tony didn't even want to know what that meant. He looked away, eyes squeezed shut.

"Soo I will start here and we will see how it goes."

It wasn't the expected soft, swipe of the feather. Instead, Tony felt a light prickle when the quill was pressed into the soft skin on his lower belly, above the hip, and swiped in a long move to the other hip. At least, that's the destination Steve had planned, in reality, he only made it halfway, because Tony jolted up and laughed loudly, the pattern disrupted.

"Tsk. Now I have to start again," Steve reprimanded his boyfriend, pressing the quill again to the same spot.

"No, no, no, Steve, I can't!" Tony giggled, his belly fluttering nervously. He clenched his fists and really, really wanted to curl up and fought against all his instincts to not do it. "HAAHA!"

"I think you can," Steve tried to negotiate, changing his plan and lightly dotting the quill all over Tony's belly, "see, you are doing a great job!"

Tony kept giggling, his belly sinking it after every poke. "Stahahaahap!" He laughed out, legs kicking nervously. His whole face felt hot and he could just imagine how red he became.

"Okay, I will stop," Steve laughed too, somehow impressed how well Tony managed to stay in place when one of his most ticklish spots was under an attack. He moved the feather away and watched Tony sunk into the bed, trying to get his breath back. "After I do this."

"Hu- WAA- HIHIHIHIHI!"

That wasn't fair. When Steve pressed one hand to Tony's stomach to keep him down and used the other hand to point the tip of the feather at his outie belly button, Tony lost all composure. He was kicking and screaming and laughing, and uselessly trying to push Steve of off him, as the feather tip twirled over his defenseless outie. The issue was, that he was already winded from the previous treatment and his attempts at fending Steve off were rather pathetic. It didn't take a long, until Steve managed to grab both of Tony's hands and kept them together with one hand, and to trap Tony further, draped himself over his boyfriend's body, keeping him in place, finally free to tickle and tickle. And Steve didn't hold back, again using the quill to lightly scratch over the soft nub or gently pressing the quill on the outie to watch the whole belly tremble from the overwhelming feeling.

"HIHIHIHI! STAHAHAP! AHAHAA!"

"Tsk. You are really bad at this game. Next time, I will just tie you down and save us both trouble."

"NO NO AHHIHIHI!"

It became even worse when Steve ditched the feather and used both hands to claw at Tony's belly, unbothered by Tony's panicked screaming and attempts to escape.

Ultimately, when the game ended with a crushing victory for Steve and a consolation prize for Tony, in a form of a tight hug and a lot of calming kisses pressed into his smiling lips and heated cheeks, Tony decided that he hated that game. What he didn't say out loud, was that he wouldn't mind terribly playing it again.

After all, what was life without games?

[wrathofthewind]

viii. Ash

A thin blade came to rest near the young woman’s throat, so that should she dare move an inch her main artery would be instantly sliced. But when the girl took another step it was as if the skin cracked like paper, and nothing came out. Tyssen didn’t notice this detail and, just as she was about to leap forward and take hold of Arnalt, the blade swiftly tore through her like a bolt of lightning.

Arnalt barely screamed “NO!”, before that entire body crumpled and cracked and suddenly burst into shreds floating all over the room while a flurry of powder sprung from her throat like a fountain, where the blood should’ve been. Arnalt had barely woken up, with no time to rush to Pallax or Tyssen’s side and cover their mouths, himself taking a gulp of the powder and coughing incessantly.

“What—cough—sire!” Pallax shouted.

It was like a hurricane had been unleashed within the tiny room and metal and wood clang and danced, the table with scissors and needles lifting and forcing Arnalt to jump from the bed towards the far stone wall, holding his shoulder with one hand.

All three instinctively closed their eyes. The illusion soon broke, the powder stopped slamming against their throats, and the body standing like a mass of crinkled parchment simply collapsed on the ground.

“This is—!” Arnalt wanted to explain but the quality of the air quickly changed and suddenly they were enveloped in a blue mist.

Tyssen and Pallax looked at each other, with Pallax being the first one to slam a palm to his face in annoyance. He gruffly mumbled. “Gala.”

Tyssen looked pale. Arnalt quickly comforted him. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault, that…” he looked at where the “girl” had been. “That was her best puppet yet.”

“I—“ Tyssen was shaking, feeling both responsible and the most afraid. Arnalt understood. The one most susceptible to Gala’s formidable spell would always be Tyssen, it was the nature of those with the most regrets, the most secrets in their heart, and the most painful pasts to bear. Tyssen had all three in spades. Arnalt never dared ask too much about Tyssen’s upbringing or how he’d lived before he came to train at his palace. But he knew enough by the shadow cast on his face to not pry. And the last time Gala had done this cruelty, Tyssen had been found curled up and shuddering, his arms scratched bloody by his own nails as he wailed in a corner.

“It’s just one of us that has to get through the maze, it’s alright if you stay here Tyssen.” Arnalt controlled his coughs.

“Sire, I should be the one to go this time, you’re injured.” Pallax squeezed Tyssen’s shoulder, which Arnalt found a bit rare, and started heading towards the door which now glowed in a faint purple light, or a deeper blue than the mist in the room. It was hard to tell, Arnalt’s eyes felt itchy and blurry, but he still shook his head resolutely and walked to block Pallax.

“This is just because of me, you two have nothing to do with it. Gala’s angry, you know how she gets.”

Tyssen was still shaking slightly, looking down with his fists clenched.

Pallax continued, “why would she be mad this time? You lost! Ithana won!”

Arnalt chuckled slightly and winced with the pain in his shoulder. “I still hurt her didn’t I?”

It had been subtle, barely there, but when that one hit had connected and Ithana widened her eyes slightly and praised him, her fingers vibrating at the impact before she applied full force and sent him flying to the other side of the arena, Arnalt knew that she’d only acted like it was nothing. To the outside world, it was as if he’d barely gotten one solid, but still useless, hit. In fact, he’d soundly cracked one of her spiritual veins, and the force she’d used to shove him was precisely because she’d freaked out so bad. The whole time, she’d been slightly afraid that he’d managed to do that. With the King present, with her own name on the line, she’d then been so brutal to his arm but at least let him keep it. The injury hurt but it would heal eventually.

And sure, it wasn’t the time to feel cocky, but it’s not like he hadn’t improved and was glad he could finally show it to her, even if it meant that now Gala was enraged.

He opened the door and a hallway, endlessly white beckoned him. “It doesn’t seem to be a nightmare this time, just a mirage or something. I’ll go ahead and as soon as I solve the maze, we’ll return.” He glanced at Tyssen. “Pallax, take care.” … of him, he wanted to finish, but didn’t have to. Pallax nodded and put a single arm around Tyssen, even more concerned than what Arnalt had anticipated. He wanted to ask some questions when he returned.

Arnalt passed through the threshold of that door and was immediately spirited into a familiar mirage. His palace, near the kitchens, next to the training grounds. A long figure stood in the center practicing his form. His lips curled up a bit, and he leaned against the wall to watch.

“Alright Gala, I know you’re angry but think about my arm? Ithana paid me back tenfold, she should be fine after ten days, but what about me?” He spoke absent-mindedly to the air, chuckling slightly at the sight of Marius, again, tripping over a complicated combination and falling on his face. Another thin chuckle erupted to the side and he found a younger version of himself was also leaning against the opposite wall, his face equally rapt with the sight.

He hadn’t seen what his face looked like when he was appraising Marius, but now that he could stare, he found that it was a little bit cold, a little bit wicked, and a tiny bit soft. It was jarring to see himself this way. He knew which memory Gala was plucking this dream from, though he didn’t know why.

Suddenly his face turned sour, and in a minute, he would see that sour expression reflected on his younger self.

Footsteps approached and a few people clad in the most exquisite of attires surrounded Marius. The boy was still trying to get his bearings when a the practice sword he was using got swiped abruptly from his hand and broken clean in two.

“Arnalt, what is the meaning of this?” A deep, velvety voice calmly drifted to his younger self. “Sword arts? Since when do our servants practice sword arts?”

“I gave him permission.” A young Arnalt replied.

“Your permission has no authority when I’m here.” This person, whose voice became deeper and richer the more he lowered it, forcing everyone into an uncomfortable silence just to hear him, was a member of the High Council; the one known as Phoenix Rain, the words on his hilt spelling out clearly “Rebirth”—his Highness the crown prince, Ronan.

“Whatever punishment you might have for him should still fall on me.” That younger self of his walked firmly to stand in front of the even younger Marius, who at that point was wide-eyed and shaking. No wonder. Ronan was a large man, the shadow of a beard always clinging to his wide square chin, a scar on his eye and long refined nose did the bare minimum to give him a human appearance, because the rest were harsh lines like a carved gargoyle. He looked endlessly bored and naturally malicious. His armor was a second skin and though he didn’t wear it now, even the casual robes he wore to take a stroll somehow glinted like metal and chain. Upon closer look, it wasn’t too far off. Ronan wore a chainmail frock, casual, aware, that any moment someone might strike from the inner family and claim the title… just as he had.

“Boy, I could crush your skull.”

“I’m no threat to you brother, I’m not even a top ten contender, so just how satisfying would that be?” Arnalt realized his younger self did indeed look overly presumptuous and cocky.

“You dare call me that.” Ronan wouldn’t humor him by repeating it. In a flash, this dear older “brother” of his struck him so hard with the back of his palm Arnalt coughed blood on the floor and had to choke back his sobs. Marius had immediately rushed forward, like a tiny beast and Ronan simply lifted him by the neck and threw him soundly towards the well. With a bump he bounced off the edge and into the orifice. Arnalt heard the scratches and bangs before he splashed below.

“He looked a little thirsty. Consider that generous.” Ronan wiped his hands. “Arnalt, I know the Opal favors you, and Father looks away because you have that precious face of yours… but I won’t tolerate your breaking the Azurian mandates. Your mercy keeps the Kurian alive, but that doesn’t mean he’ll want to live when I’m through.”

Arnalt, the present one, hadn’t noticed when his fists clenched so ruthlessly his nails broke skin. He felt the blood on his hands. He abhorred this memory.

He’d been powerless to stand and do anything and was only praying that Marius knew how to swim.

It was then that his attention was drawn to the young maid who came over and bowed deeply to the prince. “Magnanimous Lord, Light of the Eastern Aurora, your guest has arrived.”

Ronan shifted his tunic slightly and gave her a sweeping glance, then turned with his retinue and was on his way. All Arnalt remembered after that were some fuzzy noises, some “quickly, quickly!” And the sound of rope, pulling and heaving. But watching the scene unfold and gradually turn grey as his consciousness faded, he realized his mind retained more information than he’d thought. Like the fact that this maid looked awfully familiar…

He saw her call over others but no one dared to come. Saw her lift his young body and carry him to a wooden bench, laying him there carefully, softly placing a wet compress on his head. Saw the “splash” he remembered, as she took a rope and dived into the well. Moments later she brought out a crying Marius. She was soaked to the bone and heaving. He’d thought others had come, but it turns out no one had helped her. And the last thing he remembers, the last thing he heard… “You, come here.” His brother’s voice before he’d passed out.

Her face. It was the same face of that puppet in the medical room that burst like paper and turned to ash.

His soul turned cold. This was definitely a mirage maze. 

But this was not done by Gala.

[i-llbedammned]

Memories of the Fall

Title:Memories of the Fall

Word Count:1,963

Summary: Despite being a demon for thousands of years, Crowley is still haunted by the memories of the Fall from grace. He normally does such a good job of hiding it, but Aziraphale happens to walk in at the wrong moment and senses something is wrong.

Link to Ao3 is here (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146882) or read the fic below the cut.

Screaming. The first thing Crowley was aware of was that there was an awful lot of screaming around him. Wait. Not around him. Coming from him. The sound of screaming that seemed to blot out all of existence was coming from his own throat. He barely recognized it with how ragged it sounded.

The next thing he was aware of was the tremendous cold feeling of falling. One moment he was up in the clouds and the next he was screaming, falling through more time and space than he had ever imagined existed before. His stomach jumped up into his throat as he tried to bat his wings desperately but fruitlessly against the inexorable pull of the ground. The last thing he was aware of was the pain. Every artist liked to portray the turning of an angel’s wings to demons as pretty, but most of what he was aware of in the moment was pain. With each feather that turned black it felt like someone pulling out slowly each tuft and then forcibly inserting another one into his skin. It was like needles being plunged into the most delicate parts of his body and that was before the impact hit him.

As the ground rushed up towards him, he fell not into it but instead through it. He just kept falling til an icy plane came up to greet him, smashing against his wings and face. Silvery blood poured from his lips and skin as it scraped along the ice, his wings were so twisted that it took months to get them properly straightened out and healed. This was long before he realized that he still retained the ability to do miracles even in a demonic state. Hell, the term demon didn’t even exist yet. He was just a lost, fallen angel trying to make sense of the world.

After laying there on the ice for a few moments he ascertained that he was indeed not dead and instead something else. He stood up and saw that all around him were friends in a similar state of disarray. Hastur was still screaming, clawing at his once beautiful skin as it oozed with pus and grime. Beezlebub stared in a stunned state, clearly barely registering that all of this was even happening as flies crawled over her flesh and into her ears- too stunned to even bat them away. And there at the center of them all was Lucifer himself, lovely faced with large swooping bat wings and the fury of a man who knows the system he had served previously was unjust. His rage coalesced around him and he threw chunks of ice at the nearest hapless victims, trying to make anybody pay for what had just happened. Fear lanced through Crowley as he tried to figure out what had changed about his form. There was no smell of rot about him nor extra limbs that grew. He combed over every inch of skin, finding patches of black scales which in retrospect didn’t seem that bad. He could have been the demon with maggots crawling from their skin eternally.

Wait, what was that?

A glint of gold caught his eye in the ice below him. Looking through the warped image, he stared at the face he thought was his own. But his eyes were all wrong. Instead of swirling with the energies of the galaxies they had gone matte gold and slitted. Hissing he turned away and covered his eyes with his hands, finding that the hissing sound went on far longer than he intended it to. It was then he figured out how far his punishment would go. One hand touched the ice as he struggled to get away from his own reflection and it became stuck there, frozen fast in the mire. In panic he tried to pull it away and instead it detached from his shoulder. With his remaining hand he tried to pry it loose, but then his left foot touched the ice and became fixed there. One by one his limbs started falling off, becoming frozen in the ice as he tried to move. More and more scales grew over his skin as his pleas for help became gargled hissing. No, no. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! He was supposed to be a goddamned angel!

Gasping Crowley sat straight up in bed, covered in a thin layer of sweat. In fear he checked his limbs, ascertaining that they were all still there. Also he was no longer in an icy hellscape, but instead a rather cozy bed with black sheets in a flat in London. His heart raced in his chest and the world felt like it was going to cave in on him at any second. Logically he knew he was safe, but memories were not tied to logic.

The dreams of the fall never got any easier. You would think they would at least get less frequent as the years went on, but no. One of the many hidden punishments of falling was never being able to forget the fact that you had betrayed everyone you had formerly sworn to serve. It was enough to make him never want to sleep, save for the odd hours where he got bored enough to wonder if anything about them had changed. They didn’t, for the record. They never did.

“Hello?” He heard a familiar call at his doorstep and his blood ran cold. No, damnit, not his angel. What was he even doing here at-What time was it anyway? Crowley looked around the room and saw the clock read 11.

Okay so maybe he had overslept, that still didn’t mean he wanted Aziraphale to see him so panicked. Then he would want an explanation and that wasn’t something Crowley thought he had words for. But what could he do?

“Hello, Crowley. I know you said not to bother you for a few days after the Apocalypse, but there is a lovely play going on-“ Started Aziraphale, shuffling around something in the living room.

“Hey, angel,” the demon growled from his bedroom, “Now is not the best time. I think this mortal shell is sick.”

“Sick? Crowley you haven’t gotten sick in two hundred years.” The sound of the angel’s light footsteps were coming down the hall.

“Yeah, I know. It’s unlikely, but I am pretty sure it is tuberculosis and still contagious.” He fired off quickly, only remembering that tuberculosis wasn’t a plague in London in this century after he said it.

“Tuberculosis? I can fix that!” Aziraphale said brightly from right outside his door and Crowley raced to his feet, throwing his weight against the wood. The feeling of a divine miracle washed over Crowley with a familiar itchy burning sensation.

Of course the angel had tried to miracle away the disease. The door began to move and was only stopped by one large demon slumped against it.

“Crowley, your door is stuck.” Aziraphale sounded pleasantly confused but patient, “I’m going to have to push it really hard to get through. Hold on.”

“No really, it’s quite al-“ began Crowley trying to control the panic in his voice, but soon found himself punched in the face with his own door as Aziraphale shoved it backwards and sent him sprawling. Sometimes he forgot that the chubby angel who loved books and cake was a trained soldier capable of great feats of strength which in this case included shoving one stubborn snake demon away from his own door.

“There we go!” Aziraphale proudly beamed, looking at Crowley’s bed at first and then confusedly at the floor where Crowley lay, pitifully holding on to his own head and bringing his body up into a curled ball. “My dear, what are you doing down there?”

Steadying his breath, Crowley said into his own knees, “Oh you know, just enjoying the view.”

“I-“ The angel’s voice stopped as he reflected, no doubt feeling the traces of panic at the edges of Crowley’s emotions. Damn him and his god-given gifts. “Crowley, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter. I’m just hungover, that’s all.” He barked, now climbing to his feet and never letting his gaze settle on something for more than a few seconds. CD player, Dresser, Bed – where was a safe spot to look.

“We both know neither of us get hungover. We just sweat out the alcohol.” A soft hand reached towards Crowley and that would be too much right now, so he moved towards the bed and pretended not to see it.

“I know. Normally I do, but I wanted to know what it felt like. It feels awful, by the way.” The demon took a spot on the bed, flopping down roughly on his stomach and burying his face in his pillows.

“If you don’t want to talk then you don’t have to, but at least look at me. My dear, it is like you are another person right now.” The sound of his bed shifting as the angel sat next to him and touched his shoulder. Oh no. Here it came. The revulsion and hatred for his betrayal. “I- Oh!” Aziraphale’s voice changed, softening and becoming delicate. Crowley could swear he heard a tinge of shame in there as well. It was easy enough to look past the fact that he was a demon most days, but he just knew this would be the line for his ineffable partner. It was one thing to hear someone was demon, it was another to feel the emotions from the fall from grace.

Without saying more he grabbed ahold of Crowley’s hand, petting it softly. That was all. It was such a simple gesture, but the wave of love that the demon felt in response was enough to overwhelm his senses. Stupid Aziraphale and his delicate hands, treating him with a wonderful care that someone like him didn’t deserve. The angel just held his hand and waited, his care showing in the touch of his fingertips as he gently stroked up and down the muscles. He just held his hand and waited, his care showing in the touch of his fingertips. The tenderness was enough to finally break the demon, causing tears to start sprouting which were blessedly hidden by the dark cloth on the pillow in front of him. It was the pain of the fall and the torment of forgiveness that tore at his heart and made it ache like a hole had been torn in it. However this pain was not filled with panic, just a wave of emotions. Whatever he had done, or hadn't done, to deserve this companion made all of this pain worth it.

“Angel, you don’t need to dirty your hands with mine. Not this time. I’ll be fine, really.” Crowley halfway mumbled, hoping it sounded stronger than he felt and knowing that he failed badly at keeping that hidden.

“They could never be dirtied by touching you. There is such a profound pain that you carry gracefully.” To emphasize his point, the hand was raised to his lips and a tender kiss was placed upon the knuckles. “My poor dear, I don’t know how you walk with such a hole in your chest.”

“I don’t,” Crowley laughed, bitterly, “I slither for a reason, angel.”

That was all that needed to be said, at least for the moment. Love was not always trying to fix the problems, but simply being there while the emotions were sorted through. Silence was needed and Aziraphale gladly gave it to his friend. However he never let go of his hand and Crowley never forgot that. The angel sat there, holding on and sending the most profound emotions of care through their connection til the pain subsided.

[cyberqueen-13]

KNITTING GAMEPLAY QUESTIONS FOR THE COMMUNITY!@SimGuruConor

Q1: Crosspack is a must! I would like to see more TRADITIONS added so we get more use out of the Holiday Calendar system. Every pack comes with a new action, therefore a new tradition. Also, maybe knitting can calm a sim down when they are mad or stressed.  Also, sims who have the creative trait may do knitting to combat boredom. We should be able to give the items as gifts and see the sim have a mood about the item received based on the relationship they have with the sim giving the gift as well as with the quality of the gift. With every positive in the game there should be a negative, therefore if a sim has the snob trait and receives this type of gift they will have a negative reaction versus a  family oriented sim would have a positive reaction. (Yes please add the animations so we see the reactions not just a moodlet please.) Edit: Could you also add Knitting to the Trending list for the vlogs sims make using the Drone and The More Views Video Station using the.

Q2: Sorry, I'm distracted by the comment "We can't guarantee unique animations for crocheting."  **insert side eye expression** More is always better, I suppose is my response.

Q3: This one was hard to answer because I don't want to limit the game (it's so limited already compared to its predecessor). I feel more animations are needed to make this game more immersive. That being said, I think it would be nice to be able to craft many different things in many different ways. Like, I don't think a sim should have to have a rocking chair to craft a scarf. They should be able to sit in any chair and craft a scarf, maybe even be able to craft while sitting on the couch while watching tv. We lack in animations and adding that capability to the bed would be nice too. Would love an animation like you show in your post's gif, where a sim could sit in bed and knit while watching tv. Relaxation increases, knitting skill increases, and whatever the sim is watching on tv might be causing an increase like cooking channel does. I also wanna mention that the sims can multitask in TS4. It's what the game promised so it would be nice if a sim can chat while knitting. Maybe even add this to the lounge chair so a sim can lounge, knit and chat at the same time out by the pool on the weekend.  OMG this makes me think that adding a new tea set or tea animation would be great for this pack too! Sitting around gossiping and sipping tea while knitting!  A girl can dream ;)

Q4: I totally agree with this. Maybe also this brings up skill level. Some items should be too difficult for a beginner to do. Therefore some items will be unlocked as you skill up. I think the trait system being updated at this time would be great. Based on a sims traits might give a boost or make it harder for a sim to excel at this skill. Maybe a new trait like patient and impatient would be nice to add to the game. If you are patient you skill up faster allowing you to unlock harder projects and make better quality items that others appreciate more, while an impatient sim will grow bored and or angry the longer they are working on a project and would need to take many breaks causing them to take longer to excel at the skill and also craft at a lesser quality because they rushed it. LOL  

Q5: I'm looking at you funny for a reason. LOL  I don't knit, but it's my understanding that it's a way to relax...I think you should pull up a seat son.

Q6: OMG This one gets me excited! So much potential here for some great and some funny animations. I would refer you back to my Q4 response regarding adding a patient trait. I would love to see a sim throw the half knit scarf on the floor because they got so frustrated from messing up. ROFLOL  This is a real life response for some. But it would be great to see some major relationship gain going on here for the grandparent who's mentoring their family member. So cute to become best friends due to this common hobby/interest. **cough TS2 cough**  (Please dear lord go and play that game and incorporate more into TS4 ie: Hobby/Interest system).

Q7:  

Q8: Lots of humor opportunity here! I would love animations added with the sim reaching over his shoulder trying to scratch his back. Maybe breaking out in a rash from wearing it. A rash the game actually shows on the face and neck not just a moodlet. I think it was a scene in the show "The Big Bang Theory," where Leonard breaks out after wearing an itchy sweater that Sheldon forces him to wear to prove a point. It was hilarious!  More ideas: I would laugh if a sim gave you the "Talk to the hand" if you didn't like their gift. ROFLOL. But if a sim is sensitive it would be cool if they cried because you didn't like it. I think when you give a gift of a cas item the sim should auto wear the item when they receive the gift box, like they auto put on a shirt when they purchase swag at the festivals. After putting the item on they show their reaction to it. They can walk around for an hour like the teens when they are having a mood, head thrown back sulking. LOL And they can strike a pose modelling it if they actually like the item. These responses would effect the sims relationships too. If they like the gift the relationship goes up, if they don't like it the relationship goes down. A different animation for the reactions based on a sims traits. If you are a mean sim, you might fight the sim for responding negatively to the gift. ROFLOL  Autonomously of course. HILARIOUS. Maybe they even get wishes to be mean because the gift was not appreciated. HAhahaha  I can't stop laughing.

Q9:

Q10: OMG I'm so happy you asked this! And can you please remove the autonomy of the fishing skill please, I'm begging. Okay. Trying to pick my words so that you truly understand what I'm gonna say...PLEASE GO PLAY TS2. LOL  TS2 handled autonomy so well, but I think it was because the game was just built deeper than TS4. You see, TS2 uses a "INTEREST" system. If this was incorporated into the TS4 then sims with similar interest would trigger certain autonomous things to occur. This is why the game needs to have systems working underneath it's pretty exterior for it to feel more immersive. The short answer is NOT EVERY SIM IS INTERESTED IN FISHING and therefore should not suddenly learn the skill from a sim who is. The same goes for the knitting skill. This is why the interest system is so needed and also why more traits are needed for the game. It would be sensible for a sim who "Loves the outdoors" to be interested in fishing and therefore pick up a skill point when discussing the topic with a like-minded sim. What I'm saying is, if a sim shares an interest it is more likely that they would share tips on the topic of interest and therefore increase the skill a little bit from conversing about it. It is not sensible that a sim who has no interest in the topic, or who has traits that would counter doing said action, this sim would not autonomously discuss the topic with another sim. Example: My sim has the squeamish trait and therefore it's hard to understand why the game keeps autonomously adding information about fishing to this sims notebook. She can't even fish without getting upset and quitting even when I try to force her to do the action! So the idea that this sim would retain any information about fishing is questionable. AGAIN I beg you EA please stop this. And it's funny that that's the only skill my sims have thrust onto them. I LOVE AUTONOMY. I think it makes the sims feel more ALIVE. But the game needs to be updated so that it's not only going to happen but that it's logical where it does.  I think that a grandparent autonomously offering to teach a family member is great and should be added to the game, BUT how the sim reacts and if they retain the skill should be based on the sims traits/interest. One grandchild may love the interaction and gain the skill, while another grandchild may be turned off by it and reject the bonding experience, this causing the child with like interest to interact with the grandparent more, increasing their relationship and their skill. Don't forget to add that animation of boredom or frustration from one (child/teen/adult) and the opposite animation from a sim who shares the interest and would appreciate the interaction!  

I hope I helped. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my ideas I've wanted implemented into the game for so long. Good luck and thank you.

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (35 of 42?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Present (Friday, continued)...

Emma was mostly silent during the ride to the edges of the Master’s territory, and Jones knew she was listening. As if she could somehow keep her husband alive by monitoring his breathing. Jones saw no reason to disrupt her concentration, illogical as it was. Regardless of what she heard, and what state Killian was in when they reached him--whether it was a rescue or a recovery--Jones had resolved to go in no matter what. This monster had to be stopped.

The paved road gave way to gravel, then dirt. About a quarter of a mile farther along, they would reach the invisible border, that line where any attempts to go deeper into the forest had always been met with scores of guard slaves. Jones pulled the car over. They could drive in and see how far they got before being stopped, or if he were callous enough, faced the necessity of mowing down anyone standing in their way. But they had decided that such a move would attract too much attention and give away their intentions before they had a chance to sneak into the Master’s presence. Shutting off the engine, Jones took a deep breath.

“Ready?”

Emma’s response was to reach for the door handle. Jones snagged her elbow, saying,

“Wait.”

She turned back to him, a question in her faraway gaze. The detective leaned forward, opened the glovebox, and hauled out the length of rope he’d stashed there immediately after exiting the sheriff office.

“In case we’re being watched,” he explained, then began binding Emma’s hands together. Seconds later, intimidating knots hung from her wrists, looking very complicated and difficult to untie. But Jones lifted a trailing end of rope. “Just give this bit a sharp tug, and you’re free.”

After Emma had indicated her understanding, Jones got out of the car and went around to open her door. For the sake of any observers, he grabbed her upper arm and hauled her to her feet. She played along with a few exaggerated struggles, but eventually pretended to give in, hanging her head in mock dejection. Jones adjusted his grip on her, then pulled her forward, propelling her in the direction of the Master’s mysterious compound.

*****

Killian could not die. Not for lack of trying; he was doing everything in his power to let go. Having been through the process multiple times before, he knew that he was close. Individual points of anguish had faded to a generalized dull ache. The short, desperate gasps of breath took more strength than he had, yet kept coming despite all odds. His pulse, weak and erratic as it was, continue to throb in each gruesome wound. And every time Killian succumbed to the dark, thinking that he would at last be set free from his misery, he came back, weaker than before and cursing his continued existence.

Because there was no good reason for the prolonged suffering. Emma could not save him this time, nor would he want her to make the attempt. It would only result in her own capture, torture, and death. With no way to defeat the Master, she may not have much time herself, but perhaps someone would come up with a last-minute solution to save them all. He wanted that chance for her. And the longer he remained alive, the greater the temptation for her to cast aside reason and come after him.

He suddenly remembered the transmitter tucked beneath the bandage around his stump. Maybe that was it. Was his subconscious clinging to life in order to allow him time to hide the device within the Master’s lair? One final purpose for his time amongst the living?

Killian shifted his weight just fractionally. Even that small effort brought each of his pains roaring back to life and the church grew hazy once again. But he remained conscious. With a silent growl, he inched his forearm up his side. Pectoral muscles impaled by the dagger bulged with the work of shifting his left shoulder. He could feel a dull grinding within his chest as the blade scraped against bone. His neck, hand, and shoulder all blazed in excruciating spasms as he slowly turned his head toward his target.

The bandage was still impossibly out of reach. Tears blurred his dimming vision. He drew one more gulp of searing magma, and then, with an agonized shout, heaved his wrist up to shoulder height.

Shuddering, panting with the terrible cost of effort, Killian dug his teeth into the loose knot securing the bandage. He knew exactly where to pull, yet could hardly summon the strength to retain his hold on the linen. Once, twice it slipped free while he whined in exhausted frustration. Bloody thing, keeping him alive only to exacerbate his pain. His fingers twitched a futile attempt to help; a thousand amps of lightning leapt in crooked arcs from impaled palm to fingertips and back, down his immobile arm and out through his misshapen shoulder. A sob echoed in his ears as he tore savagely into the bandage once again, half in continued removal attempts and half as a way to contain the worsening pain.

Finally, the knot gave way. The loose end circled his arm once, unwinding of its own accord before settling gently near his elbow. Killian ignored it; his prize was nearly within reach. He could feel the small bit of metal pressing against his inner forearm, its pointed ends slightly itchy under the linen. He tugged harder with his teeth. More of the bandage came loose. His chest ached unbearably.

Despite the whistling hum in his ears, Killian heard the tiny but welcome sound of the transmitter pinging onto the cold stone at his side. Mission accomplished.

He briefly considered attempting to wrestle the dagger free of his chest. That would certainly speed up the rate at which he was losing blood and, if nothing else, might help him to slip into pain-free oblivion and not wake up this time. But even with the ring on his wrist, he would probably only end up jostling the blade, not removing it entirely. Not worth the prospect of amplified pain. Killian gritted his teeth and allowed his arm to flop back down to the ground.

Even with most head movement restricted by the screws in his neck, Killian could just make out the tiny glint of metal, the transmitter lying a few inches from where his arm had come to rest. Better hide it. Struggling to focus the double image, Killian aligned the apex of the ring with the transmitter. He managed to brush the speck of metal under the lip of the altar, wincing at the resulting flash of pain in his chest. But the technology was now less likely to be found, and Storybrooke could continue to listen in on their new nemesis in secret.

Killian thought of who was on the other end, and his throat immediately tightened in immense regret. He had the easy part, leaving. But his Swan would have to once again face life without him.

“Emma,” he breathed. He couldn't be certain if she could even hear him. “I love you.”

He tensed as an overwhelming wave of pain washed over him. After it had subsided a bit, he growled a moan, then continued.

“Should you... happen to be... victorious…”

He was finding it difficult to get more than three or four words out between breaths. The fire in his chest seemed to be shrinking his lungs, charring them into brittle, inelastic cinders.

“...and feel safe... bringing Hope home…”

He pulled several agonized, wheezing breaths and forced himself to continue.

“...make sure... she always knows... how much I love her.”

Now blinded by tears and suffocating as much by emotion as by his wounds, Killian closed his eyes and rested his head back against the gilded altar. He would never have time to express everything in his heart, anyway.

The heavy front door creaked open, its echoes ominous in the unfeeling sanctuary. Avian wings fluttered noisily in the rafters. And Killian could not contain a sob of dread.

“Swan,” he whispered, almost a whine. “Please, love…” A shudder, half terror and half anguish, wracked his broken body as the scuttle of giant crab legs grew louder.

“Please… Don’t listen to this...”

*****

Whatever Emma was hearing had her in tears.

Jones couldn’t ask her about it, of course. In fact, he tried to pretend like he knew: he was, after all, bringing a new captive into his Master’s presence. She had every reason to be crying. And now, well within the monster’s territory, they had lost the option of turning back, even if they were too late to save Killian. So they pressed forward, Jones directing Emma as she stumbled along, not really paying attention to her surroundings.

Their plot was working so far. They had encountered at least a dozen armed slaves patrolling the forest; each time, the smock-garbed men had taken one glance at Jones and his prisoner and let them pass without challenge. But he couldn’t allow the relief. Instead, he thought of Alice.

Not the exuberant, larger-than-life woman of today, but the one from… then.

Years and years spent imprisoned and alone. The last person in the world to deserve it, paying an awful price for all of his mistakes and failures.

He imagined her pacing the confines of the tower, cursing his name, desperate for love and human contact. Losing hope, sinking further into hopelessness with each passing day, week, month. Year.

All of the lost opportunities. The moments he should have had with her. The discoveries, the joys of blossoming, even the challenges of developing independent thought and rationale. Those beautiful, formative years from adolescence to young adulthood, gone forever. He’d missed them all.

Killian Jones, king of despair, walked right into the Vocivore’s presence undetected. No mental shielding necessary.

[shipnuggets]

Hiraeth

Hiraeth: "(n) a homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was." 

My second fill for my h/c @voltronbingo card: crying. 

Pairing: Sheith

Read on AO3

Keith had been watching Shiro’s speech with his mom. She brought a tv to his hospital room and sat down on the chair next to him. All the way through Shiro’s speech, she held Keith’s hand. As if she was afraid he was going to vaporize. Keith couldn’t help a tear streaming down his cheek while listening to the beautiful speech. He wiped it away quickly, before his mother could see it. She’s the strongest woman Keith has ever met and he doesn’t want to disappoint her.

But when he looked at her, tears were streaming down her cheeks. It was weird somehow, seeing her always firm and determined face all crumpled and vulnerable. It was a side of her he hadn’t experienced yet. He’d seen a glimpse of her vulnerable side in his visions when they were trapped, but experiencing it was...touching. Keith thinks of himself as not too touchy-feely, but the sorrow clearly shimmering in her eyes moved him.

All of a sudden, he couldn’t keep it in anymore. He felt all kind of emotions welling up that he’d suppressed for a long time. When was even the last time he cried fully, sobbing and ugly face included? The wall he has built around his heart to restrain those emotions crumbles looking at his mother’s face and he feels relieved when he feels the ticklish warmth of hot tears streaming down his cheek.

When Krolia noticed Keith crying, she turned and wrapped her arm around his torso, keeping him close and rocking back and forth while whispering soothing words.

The door to the hospital room opens. Shiro halts in the doorway, as if he isn’t sure he should enter. 

Keith realises he’s still crying and hugging his mom like his life depends on it.

‘Mom’ he whispers softly.

Only then does Krolia notice Shiro. ‘Keith, I think it’s time for me to leave. Kolivan asked me to help train new Blade of Marmora members and believe me if I tell you they’ve still got a very long way to go. If I don’t keep an eye on Kolivan he might snap at their slow progress and scare all of them off.’ Krolia rises to her feet and Shiro steps aside so that Krolia can leave. When she walks past Shiro, she halts and whispers something in Shiro’s ear that Keith can’t hear. Shiro nods and Krolia pats him on the shoulder before leaving.

Keith tries to wipe his eyes in a effort to hide his vulnerability from Shiro. He knows it’s unnecessary to hide his feelings from the man who knows him through and through, but loving said man makes Keith itchy and on guard, scared to unwittingly act on his secret feelings and ruining their brotherly bond.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when something heavy slams into his chest, making him lay down on his back under the pressure of the unmoving mass. When Shiro moves, he stretches down over Keith’s legs, his head in his lap and his arms around Keith’s torso. When they were still in the Garrison and Keith was still a boy, he would sometimes rest on top of Shiro like this. Most of those times, he was angry or sad and had done something that he got scolded for. Shiro would then slide his hand through Keith’s hair and whisper soothing words. Keith decides to do the same, thinking Shiro might need it after giving that ineffable speech. Keith slides his hand through Shiro’s soft, white hair. His hair smells faintly of shampoo and up close, there’s a silver glow to it. He continuous caressing Shiro’s hair and whisper comforting words.

‘It’s okay Shiro. I’m so proud of you.’

Shiro’s hands tighten around Keith’s torso and Keith feels that Shiro’s shoulders start shaking. Keith’s hand caresses the side of Shiro’s face.

‘Shh it’s alright. You can cry. Let it out Shiro. Please take your time to grief.’

Keith keeps his promise. They stay like that for hours, neither speaks and Shiro cries silently, now and then muffling a sob in Keith’s hospital gown.

---

Now that neither Keith or Shiro has to be a strong and inspiring leader, there’s finally time for Shiro to express all his sorrow: losing Adam, being tortured, being experimented on, fighting in the arena, being cloned. But he can also take a moment to grief and be nostalgic about the loss of his old life, his body and his arm. He’s lost so much. Will he ever be able to be himself again when he’s not even physically himself anymore? Not having to worry about saving earth and the universe. Not having to be afraid of being possessed by Haggar. Not having to be afraid to hurt the ones he’s closest to. In that moment, he craves for the world to be the world it used to be, when everyone he cherishes was alive and out of danger.

Shiro looks up at Keith, his eyes and throat dry from crying non-stop, something he hadn’t done since he was a little kid. Suddenly he’s hit with the realisation that this might be uncomfortable for Keith, considering he tried to kill him not too long ago. But when he looks at Keith’s face, his eyes are closed. Shiro notices his chest heaving slow and steady, his sleeping face looking thoroughly relaxed.

Talking to the air, Shiro says ‘Thanks for being here for me Keith. You’re everything I’ve got and you mean the world to me. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.’

A few moments later Shiro’s breath falls into the same relaxed rhythm as Keith’s and he drifts of to a world of his own. A world in which he was never kidnapped and was still working peacefully at the Garrison. A world in which Keith wakes him up with a good morning kiss. A world in which Shiro returns home to the smell of coffee Keith’s prepared for him. A world in which he confessed his feelings towards Keith before departing on the Kerberos mission.

When he wakes up again, he feels completely at peace. For once, he didn’t have to endure a nightmare and it’s the first time he’s slept peacefully since he left for Kerberos. Just Keith’s presence was enough for Shiro to feel safe. With a soft sigh, Keith opens his eyes. The "Morning" he mumbles is barely hearable and the domecity with which Keith nuzzles the crown of Shiro’s head makes Shiro realise that he doesn’t have to long for a time and home he’ll never be able to return to. Shiro’s accepted and retained his feelings for Keith a while before he left for Kerberos, but in this moment he realises that Keith has always been a safe place for him to return to, a home to long for when absent.

Slowly, he lifts his head and leans in, giving Keith enough time to pull back. When Keith’s only response is to rest his hand on Shiro’s neck, Shiro closes the remaining distance and lets their lips touch lightly and short. After Shiro pulls back, Keith kisses him again and as it slowly shifts into a more passionate kiss, Shiro thinks to himself that he’ll never have to long for the past anymore. Keith’s his home, like he’s always been.

[fournierbak0-blog]

5 Points You're Possibly Doing Wrong In The Shower.

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[ncfan-1]

ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives: S2 EP041, ‘Too Deep’

- The title has at least two meanings that I can determine. The first, most obvious one, is that Jonathan Sims delved rather too deep into the tunnels that run under the Magnus Institute for his own good, and only got out because of good fortune. The second is that Jonathan Sims is going rather too deep into the dark spots inside his own head.

I knew paranoia was going to be a big theme this season. Part of that is me being spoiled, and part of it is just being able to extrapolate future directions from what happened in the Season 1 finale. Sasha was replaced by Not-Sasha, and the Not-Them are associated with paranoia. Two, Gertrude Robinson was found shot to death in the tunnels. Finding out your predecessor was murdered and your boss didn’t deign to tell you so would, I think, put anyone on edge.

But Jon’s already on a bad trajectory here. He suspects everyone around him without stopping to think critically about things like means, motive, and opportunity. Gun control in the U.K. is strict enough that it would be hard to get a gun, and Jon doesn’t think about who has the resources to obtain a gun legally (And who has the resources to obtain a gun illegally). He doesn’t speculate on each “suspect’s” possible motives for shooting Gertrude dead. He doesn’t think about who would and would not have had the access to her required to kill her. He doesn’t consider that Gertrude’s killer might have been someone outside of the Institute. He’s just locked in a mindset of “I’ve got to figure out which one of these people killed Gertrude before they kill me, too.” He’s trapped in a paranoid panic, and it’s already clouding his judgment—the fact that he didn’t take anyone down into the tunnels with him or let anyone know where he was going to be being a prime example.

Anyways, let’s get on with the show.

No spoilers, please!

- Jonathan’s voice sounds hoarse compared to his S1 self. I can’t decide if he’s been talking into a tape recorder more than what’s good for him, if he’s dehydrated, or whatever.

- The fact that he can’t keep on track at first is another sign of his being in a bad place mentally right now.

- Martin continues to be a sweetie who does not deserve this shit.

- “Is he hiding something?” No, Jon, Martin just doesn’t want you to drop dead.

- He still feels like he’s being watched, even after Jane Prentiss and the worms are dead. “I’d think it was some aspect of the recorder itself.” Interesting.

- Seriously, going into the tunnels without taking someone with you, or even letting anyone know where you are, that would be incredibly dangerous even if there was no supernatural stuff going on. The tunnels are a maze, and as far as you know, the only way in and out is through that trapdoor, Jon. It’s not safe to go down there without anyone’s knowledge.

- “Every time I walked between the shelves, I swear I would see movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned, there was nothing.” I wonder if Not-Sasha goes home to Sasha’s place after work. I wonder if it’s something else.

- Not-Sasha marked the trapdoor? That’s interesting.

- Nice to know Elias (or possibly the ECDC) sprang to have the tunnels cleared of worm carcasses. But they didn’t clear out all of the carcasses.

- Jon getting lost very quickly is one of the mundane dangers of the tunnels—and I know I keep harping on this, but it’s one of the reasons he should not have gone down there by himself.

- The tunnels vary wildly in construction, though they’re all made from the same sort of gray stone. It feels like it was intended to be used, but was somehow twisted into a maze. There are rooms without doors, and doors without rooms (I’m reminded of the Winchester mansion, and I can’t help but wonder if these tunnels were constructed for a similar purpose).

- It is worth wondering just who stuffed all those cassette tapes in the room where Gertrude was found.

- The fact that the cleaning crew stopped clearing up worm carcasses in a clearly visible line. You’d think that the worms, even dead, would be considered a biohazard, and that they’d want to make sure they were gotten rid of in case some of them survived the “queen’s” death. It brings to mind a boundary line (boundary line of what, exactly?), and it certainly feels like Jon’s stepping into greater danger when he crosses it.

- And once Jon crosses that boundary line, the air is colder, and the light from his torch doesn’t carry as far. Which reminds me painfully of ‘A Father’s Love’ and ‘Growing Dark’—and makes me wish he’d just leave, so it made me a little happy when Jon chose sense over curiosity and turned around.

- There’s a burned door, and a warped corridor.

- The circle of worms Tim described is still clearly visible. What’s concerning is what’s in the circle. The circle was ten feet in diameter, and the stone within has… changed. It’s grown wavy, and porous, and soft. I can only assume the worms were trying to rip open a hole in the veil, or something, so something on the other side could come through.

- We’re seeing evidence for the presence of a lot of previously mentioned entities down in these tunnels, aren’t we?

- That other path through the worms was probably Tim, spraying them all down with carbon dioxide.

- Jon, not taking any chances would have meant coordinating with a team—having a radio and a GPS, maybe having yourself hooked up to a cable on a belt so you would certainly know your way back, or so someone would be able to follow the path down to you if you fell unconscious or something like that.

- I will admit that marking intersections with chalk arrows wasn’t a bad idea.

- The info about Millbank and Robert Smirke’s construction of it are interesting. The Panopticon (first proposed by Bentham for this place) by itself hearkens back to Jon’s persistent feelings of being watched, the open eye symbolism associated with Gerard Keay, “better beholding.” The fact that the original project had difficulty retaining architects until Smirke was brought on is, I suspect, something to watch out for. Between Smirke’s bizarre, maze-like construction of the prison, and what I suspect to be true of the tunnels beneath (which were likely not officially connected to the prison) makes me think that he was running some weird, sadistic supernatural experiment on prisoners. Which, seriously man? Not cool.

- The tunnels are also giving me serious House of Leaves vibes, especially with the spiral staircases leading down.

- I do wonder who drew the chalk arrow leading down a down-stairwell. There’s evidence that there has been recent human occupation in the tunnels, excluding Gertrude Robinson’s corpse—those wine bottles (one dating to 2003, so they’re not relics of the construction), and the packet of Mint Imperials Martin saw. It’s possible Gertrude drew it herself. It’s possible that one of the other humans who’s been down here drew it. It doesn’t have to have been drawn by any supernatural entity. Not necessarily.

- Jon only goes down the staircase (at least, I get the impression that was the reason) because he thought he heard someone walking through the tunnels behind him. And then he stepped off the staircase into a lower floor when he saw movement in the darkness. The differences in construction is more pronounced the further down he’s going, which makes me a bit itchy

- “I looked up to see the turning in front of me was no longer there. Instead, there was simply a dead end.” ‘Lost John’s Cave’ has come back to us, I see.

- “Leave.” Human in origin or supernatural? Warning or command or entreaty? Benevolent in meaning or malevolent? Who knows? Not me, at this point.

- These supplemental messages that I assume I’m going to be hearing more from do not give me a good feeling. Not least because Jon admitting that he’s playing up his interest in the tunnels introduces the element of unreliable narrator to the mix, and I’m left to wonder how much of that statement I can even trust.

- “Trust can get you killed.” And refusing to trust can get you killed just as surely.

[angrynewspaperchildren]

The Way In || davey jacobs

another adventure from ezra and jitter’s sleepover extravaganza! i finished this the second time I got BLASTED and watched newsies and now its coming up for ya!

IN WHICH: Davey becomes infatuated with one of Bowery Beauties and finds his way into her dressing room.

Davey was buzzing with excitement.

It was a week after the rally in Medda’s theatre, the price of papes had gone back down, and now Davey had collected his thoughts enough to tell the girl he liked that he did.

Long before the rally - the very first night that Jack, Les, and Davey had hidden in the theatre from Snyder. Davey and Les had watched the show from the wings while Jack was investigating the pretty reporter in the press box. Davey had his eyes fixed on the Beauty dancing onstage. After she’d come offstage, Davey was breathing so heavily from being in the pretty girl’s proximity that he couldn’t even speak. All he could do was smile at her and hope she didn’t think it was a grimace. She’d changed out of her costume right there on the side of the stage - unstrapping her corset and quickly sliding into a button-up sweater.

Davey was lucky she seemed to this his floundering for words was cute.

“You... hi... show... you’re Davey, I’m beautiful...” Davey sputtered, trying to keep his cool as she slipped out of her leotard and into a long, dark skirt. She smiled at him and once she was dressed, reached up and kissed Davey on the cheek.

“Nice to meet you, ‘Beautiful’. I’m glad you liked the show.” Davey continued to flounder as the beautiful performer skirted around him. “My name’s Annabelle. It’s nice to meet you, Davey.” Davey’s eyes clung to her as she walked out of the stage door, snagging her purse and a long coat from a hook near the door.

Davey felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down at his little brother, and by the time he turned back around to catch a last glance at the Beauty, she was already gone.

***

After that interaction, he’d always get to the theatre a little early to watch Annabelle perform before the newsies met. Sometimes he thought she might have seen him and smiled, but he convinced himself that he was imagining it. Davey didn’t have the courage to go talk to her, so he’d always just left the theatre without trying to meet her.

This time though, he was absolutely going to talk to her and just say “Hello.”

Davey made his way backstage, accepting greeting kisses from Medda before asking her where Annabelle was. She pointed him in the right direction with a wink and a knowing smile. Davey followed Medda’s directions to a pink door labeled “Beauties”.

Davey swallowed his fear and knocked on the door. To his surprise, the door swung open - no one was inside. He wandered into the pink decorated room and looked at the two mirrors. One was labeled “Anna”. He peered at her makeup brushes and some of the pictures surrounding her mirror. He didn’t get to look for very long before the dressing room door swung open again - in walked Annabelle. She faltered in her surprise.

“Hi...” Davey began. The Beauty relaxed when she recognized him, but still waited for him to speak. “I’m Davey. I’m of friend of Medda’s and a fan of you.”

“Hi, I’m Annabelle. I heard about the newsie strike. I suppose I’m also a fan of you.” Davey swallowed and forced his question out, nervous as ever, but reassured by her flirting.

“Would you want to get dinner sometime, Annabelle? With me?” She smiled but retained her surprise.

“I’d really like that.”

“Okay! That’s great.”

“Okay!”

“Okay!”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Davey?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you kindly get out of my dressing room? This costume is itchy.”

“Oh!” Davey exclaimed, immediately blushing profusely. “Yeah, of course, I’m so sorry.”

“Actually,” The Beauty stopped him at the door. “could you help me unhook this contraption.”

Davey blushed, but smiled, and helped Annabelle out of her corset. She pecked his cheek and sent him out the door once the last hook was undone.

Davey found his way out the stage door, where he was too busy smiling at his feet to notice the crowed of apparently every newsie in Manhattan. Jack stood at the front of the pack and looked up at his friend expectantly.

“I take it by the dopey smile, it went well?”

Davey couldn’t say anything. He blushed and looked down to hide his earsplitting grin and nodded. The newsies erupted into cheers, everyone surging forward to congratulate their brother.

Over the tops of newsies heads, he could faintly see a familiar, Beauty-ful smiling face. Davey nodded at Annabelle as she turned and made her way home. Davey watched her disappear between the concrete curtains of New York.