#col writing

[foreverindreamlandd]

OKAY

EPILOGUE IS DONE

EDITING NOW

HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTTS FAM

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ do you believe in love? | gojo satoru

wc: 808

summary: you’re both 23 when you first ask gojo about love.

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are mentioned, a bit of sad, there is a swear, kind of a will-they-won’t-they, alludes to some of gojo’s possible internal struggles, might feel a bit ooc? but i like to think gojo does have serious conversations once in a while 

a/n: the kind of gojo i envision in this is inspired by all the teen dad/dad gojo fics that i’ve ever read, most notably 'teen dad gojo' by @seravphs and 'keeping up with the fushiguros' by @/augustinewrites. this isn’t an addition to any of their works, but the way they write and characterise gojo has shaped the way i understand him (and ultimately how i write him) in these little blurbs of mine :’) please do check their works out if you have the time, it’s some of my favourites!! :’)

collection masterlist: conversations on love you are here -> 02. tell me about love (show me how)

“Do you believe in love?” 

You don’t think he hears you at first, but that’s impossible; the night is quiet, with only you and Gojo sitting by the steps of the dormitory entrance. His dangly long legs brush against yours, lingering barely. 

Since Suguru’s defection, Gojo’s gotten a lot more contemplative. He hides it a lot, especially with Megumi and Tsumiki around, but there are times that you catch him spacing out. There’s a far away look on his face and his demeanor completely shifts, rambunctiousness fading into something more restrained, if only in that moment. 

Other times, you’re let into that space with him, like now. 

“I do.” he replies, uncharacteristically succinct. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it. 

You weren’t expecting it, to be honest. With everything that’s happened to him so far, you were ready for a flat out cynical ‘no’. But—

“But,” he continues, “not for me.” 

There’s the ‘but’. 

He turns to look at you, eyes covered by the bandages he’s been opting for more recently. You’ve known Gojo since you were both 15, and somehow, you’ve gotten good at guessing what he’s always hiding. 

“You wanna tell me why?” you nudge. You figure this is good for him—or at least you hope it is. 

Getting Gojo to actually sit and have a real conversation with you has been increasingly difficult since Suguru disappeared. Taking in the Fushiguros, then the higher ups assigning him missions back-to-back-to-back—it’s been a lot. And you worry about him, if he’s even been able to sit down and process everything, if he’s even given himself the chance to feel for once. 

“Not really,” he shrugs, turning back to the garden in front of you. There isn’t much to discuss, it either fits in his life or doesn’t. When he’s meant for a purpose much larger than himself, small wants remain at just that: small, negligible. 

You huff, unable to hide your disappointment, “Okay.” 

But, you respect him and what he wants (or does not want) to say. 

As you stare out with him, Gojo eyes you from the side, the pout on your lips a teenage souvenir you still carry now at 23. He breaks into a small smile, the corners of his lips curving up slightly, fondly. 

“It’s just not meant for me, that’s all.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he says that, too. 

You slowly avert your gaze from the grass in front of you, focusing on him instead. His smile is still there, although it feels resigned, like he’s accepted this long ago. 

Gojo has never been meant to handle something so delicate and fragile—his divinity keeps him untouchable from such pure things. 

Still, you want to tell him that that’s not true. That you think love is meant for everyone, even in this fucked up, cursed world—especially in this fucked up, cursed world. 

You want to tell him that love is meant for him too. 

“Do you wish it were?”

He hums, arms stretching back as he leans on his wrists. His head dips back, looking at the sky. There’s a pause, then an exhale before he continues, “There’s no point thinking about it, I guess.” 

A non-answer. You take what you can get; it’s hard enough getting Gojo to be honest with you, much less talk about things like this. The night continues this way: you exchange anecdotes about your latest missions, then talk about Megumi’s most recent involvement in a school incident. Serious questions pop up here and there but you don’t push, and Gojo is willing to share what he can. 

.

.

.

You are 23 when you first ask Gojo if he believes in love, and he does, but what he doesn’t tell you is this: that he only believes it because he sees it in you—through the things you do, for Megumi and Tsumiki. For him too. 

There’s always been this unspoken thing between the two of you. He doesn’t know what to call it—never has, but it’s comfortable and safe, so he tries to keep it that way. 

Suguru has left an unpatchable hole inside of him that only you can seem to touch, softening the jaggedy edges so it doesn’t cut as deep. When he first showed up with Megumi and Tsumiki that one Friday night, you had all the questions in the world; he could see it, feel it in the furrow of your brows and the tapping of your foot. But instead, you asked this: “Have you guys eaten dinner yet?”

Gojo cannot afford love, not yet. Not when there’s still so much at risk, still so much to do. The cons significantly outweigh the pros on both ends, so this will have to do for now—this unspoken thing, that he hopes one day, he can finally call for what it really is.

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[al-luviec]

I got so insanely mad while drawing this

+ closeup and normalness

[bllemons]

San x Wee (Smut)

Word Count: idk I wrote this in tumblr lol

Inspired by this scene^^^. A much needed self indulgent smut of San giving in to temptation and fucking the daylights out of a sexy fox demon Wee.

Edit** I fixed some mistakes as I wrote this half asleep and definitely not horny...

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Master, you should stop reciting the sutras", a voice behind him whispered seductively.

San could feel the air stir around him. The sultry tone in the fox demon's voice sent shivers down his spine. Sharp claws traced along the edge of his shoulder, pressing into his collarbone. He would be lying if he said he didn't like the sensation. No. This isn't right. San continued reciting, not wanting to give in to the nine tailed fox.

"If you want to go to paradise, there's a shortcut."

Strong arms wrapped around him, hands coming to trace over his in his praying postition. San tensed at the feeling of the fox's small but strong body pressing closer to his. His back was on fire from the heat between them. A strong alluring scent teased his nose, overpowering the candles and incense that once filled the room. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting the owner of this scent. No. Stop thinking such perverted thoughts. San reminded himself. The only paradise you'll take me to is hell.

Relief flooded over San as the presence behind him vanished. He continued to chant, hoping his silent prayer for relief had been answered. That relief soon vanished as he felt the soft touch of the demon's lips lightly grace his praying hands. His breath almost halted, but he powered through. The constant nudging of a nose and hot breaths around his hands were hard to ignore.

"Let's see if you can endure this."

San's heart dropped at those words. Endure? I've been enduring this whlle time. He only prayed harder when he felt the fox move closer to his face. The hot breaths left goosebumps along his neck. His cheek tickled at the feeling of a pointed nose and soft lips rubbing against it.

San could feel his resolve slipping. His hands were sweating and pale at how tightly he was holding them together. His heartbeat almost oiunded out of his chest at the close proximity between him and his forbidden desire. His skin was set ablaze when the fox's hand came to rest back on his shoulder. The pants he was wearing were more than uncomfortable at this point. It wasn’t until a kiss landed on his lips that he opened his eyes for the first time. He had stopped reciting the sutras.

"It's over, you've lost"

There was a heavy silence in the room as San took in the sight in front of him. The beautiful brown eyes shined with mischief and desire. The makeup only added to its effect. The curling of the demon's plump lips into a seductive smirk had him wanting to wipe it off. His eyes trailed from the high ponytail all the way down the long strands. His hands ached to wrap themselves around the pullable hair.

The bright red robes the demon had on enticed him with their prudence. He wanted nothing more than to rip them off and touch the lithe body he knew was hiding underneath. The restraint he had until now vanished as he pulled the fox in for a hungry kiss. Their wet tongues danced a sensual tango, the sweet taste pulling a groan from San.

His hands rushed to rip off the heavy robes from the fox demon, leaving him bare. San let his hands trace over the smooth skin of his shoulders and down his chest. The fox's muscles twitched at the touch as he trailed lower towards his perked nipples. His fingers twirled light circles around the buds before pinching them harshly in a twisting roll.

A small gasp followed by a whine leaves the cute fox from the pain, causing San to twitch in his pants. He needed relief now. All the teasing from earlier left him impatient as he hurriedly pulls the minx onto his lap and over his buldge. He continues to trail kisses down the fox's neck, sucking and biting into the skin. The strong scent drove him insane, compelling his attack. The needy whines were music to his ears as he trailed his hands around to the fox's back towards his soft but firm ass.

San let's his fingers play in the fur at the base of the fox's nine tails before wrapping his hands hand around and giving it a soft tug. To his surprise, a needy gasp graced his ears, followed by small ruts onto his aching buldge. A small groan left him from the sudden movement. His hand couldn't move quickly enough to free himself from the constraint of his pants. The other found itself toying the fox demon's rim before slipping a finger inside the wet hole.

The wetness surprised him and spurred another twitch of his dick. He slips another finger in to slowly stretch the fox out, thrusting at a steady pace. The needy whines turned into small moans have him pulling back to take in the fox demon's beautiful features. His eyes were closed, and his head tilted back, lips parted. His neck was covered in bright red patches that wonderfully decorated his skin. His chest moved quickly with short breaths as he fucked himself back on San's fingers.

"Please, San, I need you inside me." The needy fox pleaded.

The demon opened his eyes, making eye contact with San to plead his case. San could only stare into the deep irises, seemingly compelled into a trance. A moment passes before the fox takes matters into his own hands, removing himself from the slick fingers and positioning himself over San's awaiting cock.

He coats his fingers in his juices before grasping San's hard on in his hand, giving him a few good strokes. San is pulled out of his daze with a groan leaving his lips. He could only watch as the fox demon lifted himself up and sank onto his aching shaft. The relief he had been waiting for knocked him back onto the mat.

The small fox took over, riding San with his hands pressedintohis chest for support. San loved the way the sharp claws dug into his skin. He loved even more the pleased expression that crossed the fox's face and the sounds that were leaving his plump lips. He let his hands trail up the fox's back and grip the long hair that was swaying behind him. His fingers couldn't resist the harsh rug they gave.

The demon's eyes opened once more and stared into San's at the action. His eyes seemed to almost glow as he held eye contact. San took this opportunity to use his other hand and guide his hips, meeting his bounces with deep thrusts of his own. He looks so good like this. The fucked out expression on the demon's face only spurred him to thrust faster. Sounds of moans and skin slapping filled the once quiet room

San makes a few more thrusts before moving to change their position. His hand never left its grip in the demon's long hair, opting to use it to maneuver him into an arched position. He takes his place behind the fox, teasing his rim slowly with the tip of his cock. The whines leaving the fox's lips bring a smirk to his face as he delights in the teasing. San's grip in his hair keeps the needy fox pinned to the mat despite the wiggling of his hips.

"Let's see if you can endure this." San echoes his words from earlier.

This pulled a deep groan from the fox as he realized his teasing had come back to bite him in the ass. He continues to whine for a bit, struggling beneath San's arm. San admired the tensing of the strong back muscles of the demon under his grip. His hips rolled into him again, pulling another plea from the needy fox.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. Please.. I need to feel you.. Please San-"

The begging is cut short by a long, drawn-out moan from the fox demon. San couldn't help but groan with him as he buried himself to the base inside his slick heat. He takes a moment to adjust before he starts to move his hips. His pace is slow at first until he finds a steady rhythm. The soft cheeks clapping back on him coaxed him to deliver a light slap to the soft skin.

San groaned at the feeling of the needy fox tightening around him, causing him to buck his hips faster. The moans grew louder as he pounded the fox into the mat. The teasing from earlier and the needy sounds of pleasure drove him to chase his own high. The wetness around him only aided in building his pleasure.

"Please, San," the fox pleaded again in an airy whine.

The hand in the fox's hair yanked harshly to pull him up until his ear was near San's lips. The fast bucking had slowed to a more sensual roll of San's hips. The lips at the demon's ear pulled it into a light suck, giving it a gentle tug with his teeth. The fox moaned at the feeling on his sensitive ear. San let's his ear go, staying near to whisper in it.

"Is this what you wanted, you sneaky little fox?"

"Yes.." the fox lets out in a blissful sigh.

"You just had to interrupt me while I was chanting, hm?"

San keeps grinding into the fox while making sure to give him long and deep strokes. He wraps his free hand around to grab the fox's neglected cock. The tip had become a leaky mess as precum dripped down onto the mat. He uses this to coat his hand before giving him a few strokes. San matched the strokes of his hips to the strokes of his hand. A deep groan leaves him when he could feel the fox's hole tighten around him as his cock twitched in his hand.

"Please.." The fox whines, grinding his hips to meet San's.

"Please, what?" San asked, keeping his torturous pace.

"Please let me cum.."

He looked back at San, trying to use his eyes to beg. His clawed hand reached back to pull San into a heated kiss. The kiss is interrupted by the yanking in his hair and the sudden snapping of San's hips. The moan catches itself in his throat as he watches San's concentrated gaze. The fast pace has both of them groaning with heavy breaths, the need to cum overtaking them.

San's fast pace and rampant stroking drove the fox demon mad with pleasure as pleas and airy moans left his lips haphazardly. The claws digging into the back of his neck and arm pushed him to thrust faster. The pleasure mixed with pain had him seeing stars. The fox's moans pulled moans out of him as he chased both of their highs. Sounds of slapping skin and wild moans bouncing off of the quiet walls.

One hard squeeze around the fox's swollen cock, combined with a few last powerful thrusts sends them both over the edge. San releases his potent up frustration inside the fox demon while cum shoots out from the fox's cock and onto San's fingers and the mat where he once was chanting. They both stayed there, chests heaving trying to catch their breaths.

"P'San?"

The sudden call of his name snaps San out of his daydream. His eyes open to find Wee staring in front of him with a smirk on his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He follows his eyes down to his prominent buldge. Fuck, not again... "It's over. You've lost." The words repeat in his head as he stares at the temping boy in front of him.

[my-beloved-lakes]

Trying to keep track of who calls who what in the Librarians is such a pain in the butt!

[offside-the-lines]

Only You Can Decide | Cale Makar

Summary: For her parents, Cassandra has always tried to be good— perfect, even. Just grin and bear it. That all comes crashing down because, at the end of the day, Cale is her fiancé— her partner— her future.

This was written for @wyattjohnston's Lowkey Lovefest 2k24. The prompt used: “Fine. Throw me to the wolves. See how that works for you.” Pairing: Cale Makar x Female!OC (Engaged) Word count: 3.4k ⚠️ Warnings: this is pretty angsty and features a lot of the OC's toxic parents and her struggle with them. It does have a happy ending though. The story is also slightly non-linear/features flashbacks. ⚠️ a/n: Thanks to Demi for also requesting such an interesting prompt. I would never have thought to pair the two and it was so fun to write. Thanks to @imperatorrrrr for always co-drifting the writing Jaeger with me (just a random Pacific Rim ref). Nobody show this to my therapist LOL she would be frantically taking notes. Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Cassandra sat in her childhood bedroom and stared at the blank white walls. Growing up, she never had any posters, or magazine cutouts, or pictures taped to the wall like the other kids. The walls remained always pristine. Plain. Perfectly presentable. She guessed it worked out now that her parents used the room as a guest bedroom.

There were obviously no tissues in here— she sure as hell wasn’t about to go find some— so she just wiped her tears on the sleeves of her sweater and tried not to wince at her makeup staining the beige cashmere. Fuck.

The thing is, she knew that this would happen. They had been fighting about it the entire drive over.

“Cale, we can’t just tell them. It’s my parents. You know what they’re like,” she huffed as he pulled into her parent’s driveway.

“I know Cass, and that in and of itself is already so fucked up. They shouldn’t get to talk to you like that. They definitely don’t get to talk to me like that,” he sighed.

“I don’t know what you want me to do.” Her cheeks were hot. She knew they needed to calm down before they went inside; otherwise, her parents would have a million questions about why they looked so flustered.

“Cassie, baby, we have to tell them. We can’t keep doing this,” he sighed.

“I know… I just have to make sure it’s the right moment, or it’ll be this whole thing. They’re just…” 

“And you have to set a boundary with them.” He reached across the center console and tried to take her hand.

She snatched her hand away, snapping, “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that. Look, Cale, why can’t you just fucking grin and bear it like the rest of us? Aren’t you hockey players supposed to have thick skin or something? Why are you being such a fucking pussy?”

Cale leaned back and just stared at her for a long minute; the oppressive silence in the car was becoming unbearable. She could see the tick in his jaw that indicated he was holding himself back from retaliating. The mounting tension was broken when they heard the front door open, and her mother call out to them.

Cale took a deep breath. “Fine. Throw me to the wolves. See how that works out for you,” he mumbled before he opened the door and stepped out.

Cassandra felt a wave of nausea roll over her. She barely recognized that version of herself, the Cassandra that was bitter enough to say hurtful things on purpose. God, she thought she was better than this— better than them.

She knew in her gut that it was going to be bad because they started off-kilter, the unresolved disagreement hanging over them as they tried to play nice. Anxiety had twisted her body like a coil, winding her too tightly. She had naively hoped they would just get away with it.

Things were fine until the second course. At the end of the day, her parents were sharks, smelling a single drop of weakness from miles away.

Her father was the one to pop the bubble, not even looking up as he casually cut his steak, when he asked, “So, Cale, you’re not still doing that hockey thing, are you?”

She felt him freeze next to her as her own knuckles went white from her grip on her cutlery. He took a deep breath.

“Yes, sir, I am.” Cale’s voice was so calm and even. Too calm and even.

Her father hummed as he chewed, looking between them appraisingly. “That’s a shame,” he finally said, “Do you have a plan for finding a real job when you’re done with that nonsense, then, son?”

Cassandra looked down at her plate and swallowed hard. She could feel Cale’s gaze on her, but the searing heat of shame traveling up the back of her neck paralyzed her.

“No, sir. I am still pretty young for a hockey player. I hope to play for at least another 10 years,” he said. She could see in her peripheral vision that he had put his cutlery down and was clutching the napkin in his lap. 

This time, her mother spoke up, “Oh honey, that seems a little silly, wasting all your good years on nonsense like that. A nice young man like you would do so well in a respectable profession. Have you ever considered investment banking? I’m sure Cassandra’s brother would be happy to tell you more about it.”

“Darling,” her father cut in, chuckling lightly, “Wall Street is cutthroat. Only the best of the best make it there. I admit, I don’t know much about Cale here, but I’m sure there are more realistic aspirations for an athlete. I guess he could always work for Cassandra once she owns her own veterinary clinic, isn’t that right, kid?”

Cassandra could feel the tightness take over her throat; her hands were shaking so much her cutlery was clattering on the porcelain. She put them down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“Cassandra, I expect you to respond when I speak to you,” her father’s voice boomed.

She forced herself to nod, her eyes darting around the table.

“Sweetheart, sit up,” her mother needled, “No one likes a girl who slouches.”

She felt her spine straighten stiffly without her meaning to. Cale shifted in his seat next to her, placing his napkin, which was clenched in his fist, on the table.

He clears his throat. “Actually, I have no interest in quitting hockey. I will never— With all due respect, Sir, Ma’am, you don’t seem particularly informed on the topic, so I ask that you please not make any comments about it. I am happy to talk about anything else.”

“Do not disrespect me in my house, son.” Her father slammed his own knife and fork onto the table; it made her jump, eyes remaining fixed on a breadcrumb on the tablecloth.

“I’m not going to apologize for making a reasonable request, sir. It seems my presence here isn’t wanted, so I’m going to have to excuse myself. Thank you for the meal, Mr and Mrs Wentworth,” Cale stated dispassionately. He stood up and tucked his chair in before pausing. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and quietly murmured, “Cassie, can I speak with you outside?”

Cassandra was standing up to follow Cale, who was already walking down the hallway when she heard her father command, “Sit down.”

Her body froze, halfway out of her seat. She watched as Cale kept walking; he didn’t turn to look back once. She tried to swallow down the mounting panic and willed herself not to cry, even as her vision blurred.

“I did not invest so much time and money into my daughter only for her to end up with some stupid, insolent, meathead athlete. Cassandra, I have had enough of this childish thing. Find someone more suitable,” he spat, “Now, you’re going to sit here and eat the food your mother made.”

She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the wet splash of tears on her hands clasped in her lap. She dug her nails into her palm and tried to focus on the sharp pain there instead.

“Cassandra,” her mother’s voice added softly, “I know you’re upset right now, but that’s temporary. Your father’s right; you should listen to him. We have lived long enough to know what’s best for you, and we’re just the only ones who love you enough to tell you the truth. You are wasting your time with that boy.”

She felt the words hit her like a slap in her face; it was enough to unfreeze her body and her voice. She sprung up, knocking over her chair. “Excuse me,” was all she said before running out of the room. She heard them yell after her, but she wasn’t listening.

When she threw the front door open, she saw Cale ducking into a car.

“Cale, wait!” she yelled, frantically running to him. 

He looked up, red-cheeked and teary; it had hurt that he looked surprised to see her.

“Cale, please— Please don’t go,” she cried, reaching out for his hand as soon as she was close enough.

He allowed her to pull him out of the car but only moved until he was standing in front of her. He reached up and cupped her cheek. She hated what she saw: Cale was teary and red. The rosy cheeks she loved so much meant something different at that moment.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip hard enough to taste the metallic bloom of blood.

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 

“Cassie, I love you, I really do. But I—” His voice wavered. “I have heard a lot of shit on the ice, but I have never felt—” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “Look, you are welcome to stay. It’s your parents, I understand, but I just can’t be here anymore. I’m just heading home, okay?”

“I—” she interrupted before he shook his head once, curt and resigned.

“I promise I’ll be there when you are ready to head back. We can talk about this later, maybe once we’ve both had some time to cool off and think.”

“Think?” she felt sick, the blood draining from her face.

“Cassie, if I stay, we’re— I’m going to say something I’ll regret.” He looked down at her with his eyebrows scrunched and jaw clenched tight. “I left the keys in the car, but please don’t drive if you’re upset, okay?”

“Cale…” she started again, but her voice voice trailed off; she didn’t even know what she meant to say.

He leaned in and gave her a kiss on her forehead before stepping back into the waiting car. “I love you, Cass. I’ll see you at home,” he said before closing the car door.

“Please…” she whispered as she watched the car pull away from the curb.

She unclenched her hands and watched the color return; the crescents her nails left behind were dark and deep in the skin. She flipped her hands over, inspecting them.

Cassandra knew it was childish hiding from her parents in her room. But then again— wasn’t she always hiding herself from them?

She took the ring out of her pocket and put it on her left ring finger. As she looked at the sparkle, she felt a fresh wave of tears crash into her. Her chest felt cracked open; Cassandra was sure at that moment that having an eagle rip at her liver for the rest of eternity would hurt less. 

She sobbed into her hands until the tears stopped falling from her eyes, wrung dry. The longer she sat there, the more her sadness morphed into anger. 

What the fuck was she doing?

Maybe she hadn’t realized before that she was making a choice, but at that moment, it felt crystal clear that she had made the wrong one.

Why was she even there?

When she couldn’t come up with a good reason, she finally stood up and made her way back downstairs. Everything had come into focus, and she had never felt more sure of herself.

“My god, Cassandra, you look an absolute mess,” her mother chided immediately, “Those stains are never going to come out of the cashmere.”

She stood in the doorway of the formal dining room, and she laughed a loud, hollow sound.

“Yeah, no, I’m not doing this anymore,” Cassandra retorted flatly. For once, her voice did not wobble. 

Both of her parents made affronted sounds, leaping out of their chairs, but she continued speaking right over them.

“No! I’m done. I do not deserve to be treated like this. I don’t care how much you’ve ‘invested’ in me. You can find your return on investment elsewhere. I’m leaving.”

“Cassandra—” her mother wailed, clutching her hands to her chest.

“Over my dead body,” her father snarled, stomping over towards her.

She shook her head and turned to leave. Her father’s hand tightened around her arm, pulling her back. She snatched her arm away; her heart was thundering in her chest.

“Do not try to stop me from leaving, or I’ll scream. You don’t want everyone to hear, do you? Because I will cause a scene. You’ll be the talk of the neighborhood. Wouldn’t really be good for the family image, would it?” she spat.

She had taken a few steps toward the door before she turned back, her glaring eyes flicking between her parents. “For your information, Cale is a better person than either of you could ever hope to be. I’ve always let you treat me however you like. I don’t even care; I’m used to it at this point. But not Cale— He is absolutely incredible. Not just an incredible hockey player, but he is an incredible teammate, an incredible fiancé, and an incredible person—”

Her mother squawked.

“Yes, mother, I said fiancé. I plan on spending the rest of my life with him. So don’t call me again until you’re ready to treat him with the respect he deserves.”

Cassandra didn’t hear another word they said as she stormed out of the house, slamming the door as she left.

The drive home was excruciating. She sat in silence, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel; the only sounds were her heavy breaths and thundering heartbeat. 

Cale was sitting on the couch, a duffel bag next to him, when she burst through the front door. She didn’t bother to take off her shoes as she sprinted to him.

“Cale, what is this?” she said, horrified as she pointed to his bag.

“Cass, I just figured— If you want some space to think, I can go. I called Nate, and I can go stay with him for a couple of days.” He sounded just as raw as she felt.

Her head spun, and she suddenly felt like the air she was breathing was too thick, like she wasn’t getting any oxygen. She fell to her knees in front of him.

“No! No, don’t— No—” she pleaded frantically.

“Woah— Woah. Don’t—” His eyes widened, his arms reaching out to lift her onto the couch.

“Please don’t leave, Cale. Please— Please don’t— I just want to talk, okay? Please— Can you— Just hear me out,” The words rushed out of her in a jumbled mess, catching in her throat. 

“Okay,” he said, “Okay, I’ll stay. Just breathe for a second.”

She tried to take a deep breath, but the panic gripping her chest made it difficult. He took her hands, applying gentle pressure as he rubbed circles with his thumbs on the back of her hands. 

After a long silence— it could have been a minute or an hour— Cale was the first to speak.

“Are you ashamed of me? And my quote-unquote unrespectable profession?” Cale’s voice was quiet, tired.

“What? No!” she gasped, shaking her head violently, “Of course not.”

“Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes!” she yelled. She caught herself and continued at a more normal volume, “Of course, I want to marry you. What are you— Cale—”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” Cale shot her a small strained smile, squeezing her hand three times: I. Love. You.— their silent message. 

“I’m sorry, Cale. Back at my— I should’ve— I’m sorry.” She paused and let out a shaking breath. “I love you. I choose you. And I will always choose you. I’m sorry that I haven’t been acting that way.”

“Cassie—”

“No. Please just let me get this out. I was planning this speech the entire drive home.”

He chuckled lightly, his smile more natural, “Okay. Go on.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “After you left, I was just sitting there, hiding in that god-forsaken room I grew up in, and it just hit me: what the fuck was I doing.” She looked down at their joined hands and fidgeted with his fingers.

“Growing up— That room—” She paused, shaking her head. “My parents have always made me feel like I needed to be perfect in order to be loved. I had to be the perfect daughter, following the perfect plan they had mapped out for me. And fuck— I tried. I tried so hard to be that girl. To make them happy. To make them proud. And every time I thought I was getting close, they would just move the bar. It was never good enough. I was never good enough. And I was never going to be— I will never be good enough to deserve their love and—”

She wanted to dig her nails into her hands, but his fingers were in the way.

“Fuck, Cale. Sitting in that room, I realized that I didn’t even want it anymore. I don’t want or need their approval anymore. Because you— You taught me what it meant to be loved without expectation, without conditions. I can totally fuck this up like I did today, and you are always there, loving me and ready to figure it out together. As a team.”

She forced herself to look up at him. It was hard not to get lost in his blue eyes, always so warm, always so constant. She felt herself send him a small smile. 

“I never thought that I would get to have this. To be loved like this. Or maybe even deserve to be loved like this. So I just— I’m sorry, Cale, for not having your back and for not being a team.”

“What about your parents?” Cale asked quietly.

“My parents— They are my past, and you, Cale, are my future. And I am never going to forget that again. I’m sorry for all the shit they said to you and for all the shit I said to you. I promise that I will never throw you to the wolves like that again.”

Cassandra was panting, her breaths coming out in wet hiccups. Cale pulled her in and enveloped her in a tight hug.

“Wow, Cass, I’ll give it to you; that was quite a speech,” he mumbled into her hair. 

It startled a laugh out of her— although it came out as more of a choked sob.

“Maybe we should’ve recorded it so you could just play that for your vows when we get married,” he chuckled in return.

He leaned back and held her face in his hands. He brushed his callused thumbs over her tear-streaked face.

“For what it’s worth, you deserved better than how they treated you. You deserve— You have always deserved to be loved without condition and without expectation,” Cale whispered, his expression so earnest she could feel herself welling up with tears again, “I hope I can remind you of that every day for the rest of our lives. I can’t wait to build a future with you. I love you, Cassandra. So much.”

“Maybe we should just elope,” she mumbled, a wide smile finally settling on her face.

“Okay, maybe let’s talk about that another day when we are a little less wrung out emotionally,” he said as he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Fine, I guess,” she groaned cheekily.

“Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to marry you. I just don’t want to make any rash decisions you’re going to regret,” he squeezed her cheeks together, smiling as her lips puckered.

“Shut up, Makar,” her words came out all mumbly, “Stop being so perfect. It’s so annoying.”

Cale’s laugh filled her body with warmth, seeping into every single corner, and loosening the iron grip anxiety and fear had on her chest. He kissed her cheek and stood up from the couch, holding his hand out to her.

“How about this? We run a hot bath, and then we can see if any reckless things come of that.”

“Are you propositioning me, Cale Makar?”

He shrugged, “Maybe? What if emotional intimacy turns me on?”

“Oh my god, you are such a weirdo,” she laughed, rolling her eyes while she let herself be pulled up from the couch.

“Your weirdo,” he smiled proudly, wrapping his arms around her from behind and gently nudging her to their bedroom.

She felt the corners of her mouth tick up automatically, “Yeah, you are.”

Requests (open) | Masterlist | Join My Taglist

[anxious-bisexual-0]

Can I PLEASE have someone, a wonderful writer, a perfect and lovely writer, write a modern Polin story based on the story “Coffee” by Chappell Roan?

“I’ll meet you for coffee cause if we have wine, you’ll say that you want me, I know that’s a lie. If I didn’t love you, it would be fine, I’ll meet you for coffee. Only for coffee. Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your place.”

It fits so well with Pen’s insecurity in his affection for her, especially right after they get kiss. Like “I want to see you and spend time with you but if we do anything other than coffee I will end up in your bed and telling you I love you. And you don’t love me, obviously, so let’s just keep this really chill.”

I would love love love love if someone wrote something like this. Modern and angsty and sexy and ya know ends in a cute confession and then ya know sexy stuff hehe

[neptuniadoesstuff]

what’s runic magic in CoL? :0

Runic Magic is sorta a weird mix of elemental, physical & spiritual magic. Able to either manefest/create objects OR enchant a item.

It existed way before Animus did (in my wof universe) & it has a few sub sets. One of them being the psyche based one, which may or may not evolved into the Animus we know today- (but at this point it literally became it own thing that we really can't call it Runic anymore can we?)

As forit consequences of using it. Here's the thing, there's only consequences IF YOU USE IT FOR EVIL! Which is why a lot of tribes (especially the Gaiawings) have strict rules about it.

Now it isn't truly powerful, but if used correctly, it can be. But it can be powerful in 2 ways, helpfully or... dangerously...

Also objects enchanted by/created by Runic-born dragons are referred to as "Runes" & there's a few types of them. Here's the ones currently: Elemental, Spiritual, psychological, & physical.

Psychological Runes are considered as "threats" & are SCRICTLY to be handled by trusted individuals. Anyone who DARES uses ANY Psychological Rune for evil will be considered a terrorist & thrown down into the pits of the dammed.

Thats... kinda it ig? Idk this concept has been with me for awhile since my screb days & recently I just stated to make lore for it.

[idunnowhattowriteheretbh]

COLONY from HIVE :D

Belongs to @braisedhoney

And I don't remember where I found the colours lol

[whumpzone]

Hi I don’t want this to seem pressuring or rude, especially bc the update was so recent, but I love your writing and I’m super into the vampire au and I’m wondering if we’ll see Viks reaction in the (potential) next update?

i hope you like this! it got long!

(masterpost)

CW vampire whumpee, thoughts of death, dissociation, dehumanisation

-

Vik pulled open a cupboard door, snatching a cereal bar for no good reason. He was kind of hungry, but he mostly enjoyed stealing something out of Linden’s house every time he popped by. The thing upstairs shouldn’t ruin their small rituals. Vik could just about ignore the way he was leeching the fun out of the place, replacing it with this awful, overbearing awkwardness.  He grunted and took a bite.

“You are so predictable,” Linden scoffed. “I knew you’d take one of those.”

Vik just opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, treating Linden to a sight of his half-chewed food. Linden burst out laughing and whipped the teatowel at him. It was a good shot, snapping against his arm and making him choke in surprise.

“Ow!”

“Thieves get the whip.”

Vik didn’t want his mood to sour, he wanted to ignore it, but fuck it was hard. “Give that thing the whip.”

Linden’s smile faded and the sight of it made Vik’s chest hurt. He was already dealing with so much, and yes it was his own bizarre and stupid choice, but Vik knew he shouldn’t add to it.

“Sorry, mate.”

“No,” Linden sighed. “No, it’s okay. I don’t expect you to be okay with it, I get it. It’s weird.”

“It is weird.”

“Can you trust that I’m doing the right thing?”

Vik thought about this. Linden always appreciated his honesty. “I can’t. But I can trust that you know what the right thing to do is. Does that make sense?”

Linden’s smile returned, but it wasn’t quite the same. “Yeah, you always make sense.”

Two more bites and the snack was gone. Vik held the wrapper in his palm and crushed it up slowly, pretending it was solid steel and only his strength could break it down. One of the stupid, boyish habits he should have left behind in his teenage years but never quite did.

“I dunno what to cook for tea tonight…” Linden murmured as Vik turned to throw the wrapper away.

His talking turned to static, however, as Vik had his attention grabbed by something else. A hastily written note, like something out of an old indie horror game, was lying at the top of the bin. It wasn’t Linden’s handwriting, it was far too messy, and that left only one suspect. Not a person. The thing didn’t make it into that label.

Vik’s eyes narrowed.

What did you need to say sorry for?

Glancing back, throwing in a nod and a hum, hoping he had timed them right enough to look convincing, Vik saw that Linden wasn’t looking at him. He had a new shopping list on the counter before him, but he was staring out of the window, watching the world go by. He was probably happy to have to curtains open for once. God, why would he do this to himself?

Vik seized Linden’s moment of inattentiveness to swipe the piece of paper, pocketing it in one swift movement. From the same pocket, he pulled out a fag.

Linden glanced over, the movement alerting his peripheral vision, and Vik held the cigarette up. “Mind if I?”

“Yeah, sure,” Linden waved him off complacently, of course he did, he trusted Vik.

He had to abuse that trust, but this was important. Linden would understand.

“Have jacket potatoes, I would. So easy. I’ll be back in a bit.”

. . .

Pet knew. He had known long before he caught the scent of Vik walking up to the house. He’d known all night, and he hadn’t slept a second because of it, instead choosing to spend his last night on earth with the stars.

He would try to take it well. He wanted to aim for dignity, but such fantasies weren’t allowed.

The door opened slowly, like it had before. Pet could only watch as Vik locked it behind him. Of course he had a spare key, he was family. As Vik turned to face him once more, a tiny whimper escaped his lips.

No, no, he thought. I don’t think I can do this.

Vik started moving towards him. Pet couldn’t tell if he had a weapon, but he had enough silver to reduce him to screaming flesh. He scrambled back, all thoughts of being still and good thoroughly chased away, replaced by terror and rising panic and the clumsy, ugly desire to live.

Vik took another step. Pet had expected a blind rage and sudden pain and death following not long after, but this slowness reflected a depth of self-restraint, of planning, of a desire to do this properly. There would be no enraged punch that knocked him unconscious. There would be no misaimed kick that cracked his head in just the right place to kill him fast.

Vik’s eyes were locked with his. Should Pet look down like a dog, with a face full of humility and submission? Or was it better to hold the eye contact and prove to him that he wouldn’t dare put him under hypnosis? In the end it felt as if the choice was made for him, as his back hit the wall and he realised he was frozen in fear. He kept staring with wide, frantic, orange eyes.

One of his hands was balled up, and as Vik lifted it, Pet realised it wasn’t destined to punch him, not yet. It was holding something. Vik smoothed the note out and read it over.

“What made you write this, then?”

. . .

The vampire gasped, and Vik knew he was on the right path. Oh yeah. Something had definitely happened and he had needed to double-down on the I’m so harmless and damaged act.

His body was pulsing with anger. He could feel it under his skin, guiding his hands to wring the neck of the creature that was only a metre from him. It would be so easy. He could make sure all his silver rings were lined up and then pound and pound and pound until he was a mess. Until Linden had no choice but to throw him out. Vik would do that too. Linden wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He’d be glad for Vik’s help.

A tiny spark of caution suddenly ran through him. He was dealing with a vampire, after all. No matter what, he was faster, stronger, and more deadly.

An even tinier spark of frustration followed. If Vik did beat the shit out of him, it would mean the vampire was letting him. And what did that mean?

Did it mean he really was domesticated? Tamed? Tortured into submission?

Was that a good thing?

Vik’s lip curled into a scowl. He was standing over a vampire, and the vampire was cowering. Vik was the one in control. What the fuck else mattered?

“You wrote my brother a little sorry note. And I suppose you thought that was all you needed to do. I’m sure you feel pretty smug right now.”

The vampire shook his head, all of his features twisting up like he was going to cry. His eyes were shining. Vik almost laughed. Oh shit, he really was gonna cry.

There was an almighty bang behind him. It would have made a lesser man jump, but not Vik, not when he had a business to see to.

“Vik! Vik you fucking maniac!” Linden shouted. His voice was loaded with pure anger, and on Linden it sounded all wrong.

Vik didn’t break eye contact. It would be too easy for the vampire to get the jump on him if he got distracted.

“Open the door!” Linden continued. “Vik! He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t do anything!”

His tone was already dropping from anger to bargaining. He sounded scared.

Vik knew he couldn’t stay for long, and he felt like taking a risk. He leant even closer to the vampire. His blood would smell so fresh to him, separated by only a thin layer of skin, flesh, whatever. All negligible in the eyes of a hungry vampire. The cereal bar wrapper that Vik had discarded earlier.

“I warned you, right? I’d say I was pretty fair.”

The vampire just nodded, finally looking down and screwing his eyes shut. Braced.

“Vik!”

Before Linden had even finished shouting his name, the first punch had cracked straight across the vampire’s jaw, and god it felt good. It felt like sugar and caffeine and sweet release.

The punch caught and dragged, and Vik realised it was because his silver rings were doing their job even better than he’d anticipated- he’d obviously never punched a vampire in the face before- and each one had started to melt the skin. It was like dragging his knuckles across a fresh wax model. When he retracted his hand, Vik was staring back at an even more monstrous face than before.

The vampire’s left cheek and jaw, where the punch had landed, were badly burnt with rivets exactly where the rings had hit him. Patches of his lips were missing, leaving him with a permanent snarl. The vampire breathed heavily, spitting out some pieces of burnt flesh.

He still wasn’t fighting back. He hadn’t even raised his hands to shield his face.

He just watched, tears running silently down his cheeks, as Vik raised his fist again.

Tame.

Vik faltered.

The vampire started to move.

But he was lowering his head, not lunging for him. Vik’s throat went wholly ignored as the creature bent forward, chest against thigh, and pressed a kiss to Vik’s boot.

Vik’s stomach turned.

The next punch landed easily, knocking the vampire clean down, his curled hands and skinny shoulder bruising against the wooden bedroom floor.

“Get the fuck off me,” he spat, real nausea fuelling the bile in his words. He staggered back, a little too unsteadily for his liking. The vampire hadn’t put him under his control, sure, but he’d still done something to him. He delivered a few swift kicks, going for his ribs until the last one, where he simply lifted the boot that the vampire had just put his lips on and brought it down hard on one of his hands. Vik smiled as the vampire moaned, pushing his face into the floor, like it would swallow him up and let him escape.

It had only been a minute at most since Vik had last heard Linden shouting. He wasn’t going to break the door down, was he? That would be extremely stupid.

“Vi-“

“I’m coming out, calm down,” he shouted, summoning every ounce of nonchalance he could. None of this mattered to him, the whimpering vampire below didn’t matter to him, the only thing that might be worth a damn was that Linden was upset with him. Vik could let himself attend to that.

He thought about taking one of his thickest rings and pressing it into the back of the vampire’s neck, seeing how far it would sink into the flesh, burning a path through the living creature. His stomach rolled again. Perhaps not. He wanted to beat him, rough him up a bit, not torture him.

He kicked the vampire one last time, right in the face where his burns were, and then held his breath as he turned and opened the door.

He found Linden right outside, and ugh, fuck, the fucking look that Vik was greeted with was enough to sow the seeds of guilt, and that made his anger puff its chest up even further.

Linden grabbed his shoulder to shove him out of the way, staring into the bedroom, then back to Vik.

“Go downstairs,” he said, low and flat and emotionless.

Vik grunted and stormed away. When Linden did appear a few minutes later, Vik knew to hold his tongue and let him speak first.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Linden barked as soon as he was downstairs, just far enough that if Vik decided to turn back and finish the job, Linden would at least have time to react.

“Can’t you?” he replied, not missing a second. “It was really out of the realm of your imagination? You dumb, Linden?”

“You’ll be thrilled to know that he’ll be fine in a day or two. I thought you’d killed him. I thought you’d actually just murdered someone. I mean, beating the shit out of them is hardly better, but-“

“Of course he’s- of course he’s fucking alive!” Vik yelled. “He’s a vampire! Fucking hell!”

“He hardly fought back, did he? He would have let you kill him.”

Vik ignored this. “I did that for good reason, you seriously have no idea how much danger you’re in having that thing in the house.”

“God, you really do think I’m dumb. I know, Vikram, and it’s okay, he’s-“

“No, because it’s not okay, something happened and I found the note- he did something! He did something to have to write all that shit!” Vik was surprising himself with how unstable his voice was. He was going to tear himself to ribbons with emotion if he wasn’t careful. But he- his brother- “He did something to you!”

“He didn’t, it- where are the injuries, then? I’m fine!”

“Stop fucking lying to me, Linden, I know we see this differently and I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I can’t support this, but you’re really gonna lie to me? To protect a worthless piece of shit vampire?”

“You lied! You lied to me,” Linden snapped, jabbing a finger into his own chest to emphasise his point. “You didn’t even ask me about the note, you just, what, fished it out of the actual rubbish and snuck away? You went right under my nose in my own house and-“

“Linden, Linden, do you hear yourself? You have a vampire upstairs!”

“Would you just take some deep breaths? Fuck!” Linden was shouting, now, they were both shouting and it was never going to accomplish anything.

How did the vampire see his brother? As master of the house? Vik could listen to the master of the house. He took some deep breaths. Linden did the same, and the two didn’t break eye contact. Vik wasn’t sure how his own face looked. Hurt? Furious? Beastly?

Linden looked like he was a hiker that had just come across a bear. His hands were slightly raised, ready to placate.

“Okay, okay, I’ve calmed down.”

“Okay.”

“Please just tell me what happened.” Vik felt wrung out. Why had any of this needed to happen? Why had Linden taken the stupid thing in, he thought hopelessly. Everything was going wrong. He absolutely hated arguing with Linden.

“I’m not going to let you hurt him anymore.”

“I won’t!” Vik heard himself raising his voice, and paused. Deep stupid useless breaths. “Sorry, I won’t, alright? God.”

“You’re acting like that was a ridiculous accusation to make, when you just-“

“Okay, I get it, I get it, I get it. Please tell me, please Linden, I need to know that you’re okay, I’m doing this for you.”

Linden stared at him from under his heavy brow. It would be so easy for Vik to lean into his own annoyance, but he didn’t want to. He tried to let himself feel the unbearable pain of humility.

Yes, Linden was right. He had just gone and beaten the little pet that Linden was looking after. He shouldn’t have done that- not because the vampire didn’t deserve it, but because Linden hadn’t asked him to.

“I moved my arm in front of his face, just to pick something up, but it scared him. He thought I was gonna hit him. He did this… kind of, like, a bite in the air, but it was like his mouth just closed as a reflex because he was surprised. So he didn’t actually bite me, or hurt me. And yeah, it scared the shit out of me, Vik. I panicked. And then he didn’t move, and I realised if he’d wanted to bite me, he would have. So I asked him if he could write on some paper, and he just used it to apologise, and then he ran upstairs.”

Linden broke eye contact. “Thanks for letting me talk.”

“Yeah, ‘course mate…” Vik said as he mulled everything over. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was only yesterday. I knew you’d lose your shit.”

“Yeah, but that’s not- I still can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

“But Vik, you found out and you did lose your shit. I’m trying to look after him here. I would have told you, okay, of course I would’ve, just in a way that was a bit calmer.”

“So you’re really not hurt?”

“I promise. I swear down.”

“Good.”

“Christ, Vik.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I kept interrupting you.”

Linden ran a hand down his face and exhaled. Vik stepped forward and tilted his shoulder, a tiny fraction of movement. Linden saw it, like he always did, and he understood, wrapping an arm around Vik in a tight hug.

Vik’s arms tightened across Linden’s back, using his strength to push the air out of him in a huff. It only lasted a second or two, but it was all they needed to get the point across.

“I’ll go home. I know you need to go back upstairs.”

“I really need to name him…” Linden muttered, with another almighty sigh.

. . .

Pet lay on the floor where Vik had left him. He was alive.

He took a few breaths. He didn’t want to think. He was numb- alive, and numb. Humans called his current state of breathing, eating, sleeping, a type of undeath. It didn’t seem quite accurate, but he knew he shouldn’t be questioning humans.

Still. Alive he was.

Why had Vik shown him mercy?

Even before his Master intervened, Pet’s finely tuned senses had picked up on all the infinite ways Vik had hesitated.

He hadn’t expected kissing his feet to stop the onslaught, and it didn’t- if anything, it made it worse-but Pet hoped it had proved his obedience. He was alive! He would happily be Vik’s punching bag. Vik could beat him senseless, keep him in his place, Pet would welcome it with Master’s permission.

His hand was twitching in pain where Vik had crushed it. He was strong, for a human, and Pet was an incredibly weak vampire. It made for a pretty good beating. The injuries would fade fast, but it didn’t make the hurt any less severe.

It had been deserved, so the pain didn’t feel like proper pain. The handlers used to remind him that being pinned down, bitten, drained of blood- that was legitimate. What Pet felt was justice, or something. It was hard to remember, not because he had forgotten, but because his mind shoved the memories behind a door and locked it.

He was thinking too much.

If he was truly destined to live a bit longer, Pet decided he had time to drift away. His mind was already tugging at the loose rope that moored him to his body, scratching at it with clumsy fingers, holding back until Pet closed his eyes and lent a hand. He knew how to untie the knot. He had done it so many times before, and as he finally went away, he let the rope slip from his palm without a second thought.

-

here's a little sketch of how Col looks at the end of this chapter:

taglist:

@whumpsday @whumpycries @hollowgast1 @pigeonwhumps @cupcakes-and-pain @extemporary-whump @unicornscotty @d-cs @secretwhumplair @octopus-reactivated @wolfeyedwitch

[foreverindreamlandd]

Should I be working on finishing Awake My Soul? Probs.

Did I have a super shitty day and now I want to write a fluffy Eddie fall drabble because I miss him and writing one-shots?

YEP SORRY NOT SORRY

[seiwas]

SNIPPET FROM COL 4—

“Lie down with me,” he pats the space beside him. You quirk your brow but follow anyway.

He requests, not asks, because the weather today is good, and it’s making him a little bit sentimental, remembering earlier days with you.

You lie down, positioning your head to align with his. And for a few moments, Gojo doesn’t speak, just looks at you once and smiles before turning to face the sky, hand placed behind his head as he sighs.

You do the same for a while, this shared silence warm and just right.

“So rude,” he jokingly tuts, “interrupting me while I was talking earlier…”

“You shouldn’t have been so distracted then,” you tease back, sneaking a glance only to lock eyes with two skies.

He wonders if you can tell—how he’s always looking at you in the stolen seconds before you notice him.

“Well, you shouldn't have been so distracting then,” he holds your gaze.

It’s incredibly cheesy but a part of you still feels like melting—he sounds so sincere; no lilt, no tease, no Gojo-typical flirting laced into it.

You scrunch your nose, shifting on your side to face him, the arm used to support your head now resting against your cheek. He follows, taking one last look around him before turning to you. His other hand rests on your hip, fingers splayed out and thumb rubbing.

You reach for him.

The gesture is small, just your finger running across his cheek, but it nudges something in him—a memory of you and how you’ve always touched him like this: softly, kindly.

[saym0-0]

Thinking about a timetravel au (perhaps via hatchy's portals?) where its just the bots as we know them today fucking around in the cavalcadium in the 1890s right before they were built. idk why but theres just so much comedic potential. like they hide from most people they live in the walls its a bunch of baffled scientists attempting to figure out why three (to six. depending on whos coming.) blue matter signatures are moving around their building. they discovered this element last week goddamn it!! why is it here!! then they finally find them and why are there fully sentient robots. why does that one look like dr moreau. why does that one look like peter walter. whats going on. cut to peter frantically looking between his barely sketched out plans of singing automatons and the very-real fully-complete band of robots before him. they sing ballad of delilah morreo. they sing brass goggles. there has never been a more confused group of scientists

[peyton-warren]

Comfort character poll

Received an anon ask with for the Comfort Character Game with just 🧣and no character.

[xenon-demon]

also. tell me more about your Kas!Eddie please 🙏

ohhhhh Lui gravity is the AU that has just. grabbed me in its jaws and will not let go. I think about it CONSTANTLY and I don't think that will stop anytime soon. I've got a few asks about this one though so I'll START with talking about What's Going On In Hawkins circa the start of the fic. If you would like to know more about The Boy, Kas!Steve, then may I direct your attention to this post :D

So Eddie and Steve swap places right before the final fight, because Steve is injured at that point and Eddie isn't (and they figure staying at Eddie's trailer will be less dangerous that going to the Creel House). Everything else from that point proceeds as in canon; the bats get in, Steve dies, Max dies temporarily and the four gates connect and drive a massive rift through Hawkins.

From there, Hawkins basically descends into a semi-apocalyptic nightmare. The rift from the end of season 4 has caused major structural damage all over town, many buildings have been destroyed and lots of people have either evacuated or had to move into a local motel that's been converted into emergency housing for the people of Hawkins (that's where the Munsons are now staying). On top of that, the rift has basically destroyed the structural integrity between the Upside Down and our world; while the rift itself is not really a functional gate, there are a bunch of smaller gates randomly opening up around town now. More and more of them show up as time goes on. Some are small (think like the tree Nancy goes through in S1), some are much bigger (think bigger than Eddie's trailer roof gate), and most of them tend to fluctuate a bit in size/fade in and out of existence. This means that some creatures from the Upside Down are starting to bleed through these gates and end up in Hawkins looking for food.

The government, realizing everything went to shit the moment the rift opened up, rolls into Hawkins about 3-4 days after the "earthquake" saying they're here to "help with the relief efforts". (For those keeping score at home, yes this is after Team Russia & Team Cali have arrived back in Hawkins.) The official government cover story is along the lines of "hey, remember when HNL got shut down a few years back after that tragic chemical leak incident? Well, we've just discovered that a Rogue Individual (Brenner) was secretly dumping toxic chemicals and experimental materials into the local wilderness/burying them underground instead of disposing of them properly. This is the cause of the geological weirdness and mutated wildlife that some people are reporting. Everyone should leave Hawkins immediately if they can, and comply with any and all government orders if they can't". Not everyone believes this, of course, but the truth is so much more insane that most of town is at least willing to go along with it - and that's not counting the people who just up and leave because Hawkins is so super duper cursed at this point.

The main things the government is doing are:

regular patrols around the border of town and known gate hotspots, to catch and kill any UD creatures before they're spotted by civilians

nighttime curfew; you shouldn't be out after sundown unless you are going Directly from wherever you were during the day (i.e. your job) back to your home. you're not gonna get ARRESTED but the military will absolutely Escort You back to your house lmao

urging citizens to stay the fuck away from any weird sightings and report them to the armed forces as soon as possible, so the military can handle it

and yeah, they kind of are helping with the relief efforts in that they're making sure food and other important supplies are still getting into hawkins and making sure the recently-homeless have somewhere to stay, but they're doing the bare minimum really asfjknjvkdan

Essentially, as of the start of the fic (approx. a month after the rift opens up/the end of S4) the situation is this: Eleven and the Party know that in order to fix this, they have to defeat Vecna first and THEN close up any existing gates/the rift. (They also have a strong hunch that the Upside Down is Like That due to Vecna's influence.) The government officials in charge of the Hawkins occupation Do Not Believe That Is The Solution, and instead spend a lot of time wasting Eleven's time and energy by forcing her to close up gates as they appear. Between that and the fact the Party can't just storm into the Upside Down to get Vecna without a solid plan and probably armed back up, they're all feeling kind of hopeless about how to actually fix this. Especially since tensions are rising in Hawkins by the day, and the gate/monster sightings are only getting more and more frequent...

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[offside-the-lines]

Gabe/EJ

Epilogue

Yeah, things have returned to normal because I am once again writing the saddest shit. I am going to warn you now, if you are a Gabe fan or an Avs fan, this is going to really hurt your feelings.

~

Gabe refuses to look at Erik, he knows what he’ll see there, and continues to pick at the label on the beer he isn’t really drinking.

EJ reaches across the table, his big hand engulfing his as he squeezes Gabe’s fingers still. “Gabe, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says. He knows he sounds petulant, and can’t bring himself to care. His eyes fixate of Erik’s thumb rubbing circles on the back on his hand.

“Gabe, come on,” he sighs, his voice impossibly tired, “Look at me. Please?”

Gabe’s breath catches in his throat, and he swallows around it. When he looks up, his vision is blurry. “I’m only 31.”

EJ makes a face that he can only describe as pitying, and it makes Gabe wish he didn’t look up. “The rest of your life isn’t just an epilogue to your hockey career, Gabe,” he says softly, and Gabe feels his face redden, the panic morphing into anger in an instant.

“Is that what you would’ve said when you were 31? Don’t patronize me.”

“It’s different,” his voice still soft, his remarkable calmness digging under Gabe’s ribs more.

“What’s so different?” he glares.

“That was before. Before the cup. Before us.” There is a pause; when their eyes meet, fiercely loving blue against fiercely loving blue, Gabe feels himself deflate.

“I don’t want it to be over. I’m not ready,” he whispers so quietly he’s not even sure if he said it out loud.

EJ reaches his other hand up to cup his face, gently brushing away the tears. “I know, baby, I know. God, trust me, I know.” He laughs humorlessly, gesturing to himself.

“I don’t know who I am without hockey,” Gabe leans into the hand on his cheek, letting his eyes shut to luxuriate in the feeling.

“I don’t either, Gabe, but I want to find out. Together. You and me.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “I want to hike that stupid mountain in Sweden you always talk about. I want to ride horses with you in the plains. Maybe we’ll have kids, and I want to watch you chase them in the backyard and teach them hockey.”

Gabe’s eyes fly open. “You want that?”

“Yeah, Gabriel Landeskog, you fucking idiot, of course I want that,” he chuckles softly before sobering up. “Look, I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just asking you to, I don’t know, listen? To think about it— the future. I don’t want to watch you burn yourself to the ground so completely you can’t enjoy the rest of our lives together. I don’t know if I would be able to handle it.”

“Okay—“ Gabe makes himself breathe. “Okay, I’ll— I promise I’ll tell you if the doctors recommend that I— I promise to talk about it with you.”

“Thank you,” Erik says, a small toothless smile on his face as he presses a kiss to their conjoined hand.

“Just you and me, eh?” Gabe smiles. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Well, let’s be real, Nate’ll probably just be there,” he laughs.

“Right,” he laughs back, feeling lighter than he has in months. “Yeah, of course. Nate’ll just be there.”

~

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