#god. not to bring myself comfort by crossing fandoms but do you know a man is not dead while his name is still spoken. gnu technoblade.

[pinkpuffballdude]

I'm glad he got to see his channel hit 10mil. I'm glad he got to see everyone pull together for that last push. I'm glad he got to realize his childhood dream. I wish he got to enjoy it longer.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

To Join the Whispers (12)

AO3 

There’s artwork now!!

Jason’s ghost form by @elle-mrly: Line sketch and Colored version

Scenes from chapter 11 from @impyssadobsessions: 1 and 2

Fandoms: Danny Phantom (DP) / DC universe

Summary:  THIS   IS A CROSSOVER. A contact for the Batfamily passed along a rumor that  the League of  Assassins were investigating a small city called Amity  Park.The old man and Tim managed to find evidence of unusual  paranormal  activity in the town. While they weren’t entirely certain it  wasn’t  just infested with metas, the locals believed the entities that   haunted, for lack of a  better word, the town were actual ghosts. If  there was one thing Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to get his grubby hands on,  it was ghosts.That’s probably why Jason was doing this. He had the  unfortunate luck to experience both death and resurrection in a way he’d  never recommend to anyone else.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, and questionable mental health

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr. Jason Todd-centric

Jason’s head was pounding as he came to, and his arms felt like someone tied lead weights to them. Groaning slightly, he sat up and glanced around. He was back in the hotel room and on one of the beds. He didn’t remember going to bed. Was he just that tired? Or had he passed out? Judging by the fact his red vest was on the same chair as his mask, it was probably the latter. Great.

But what happened before that? His last memory was making sure Danny was safe… Shit! Was the kid okay?

Bolting upright, he ended up hissing in pain as his arm throbbed. A quick glance told him someone must have given him first aid as the place where the Fentons grazed him was bandaged. That must have been worse than he thought it was if it was still bothering him like that.

“I don’t think Batman wants you to get up yet.” Glancing over, he found Danny in his human form sitting on the other bed. His smile seemed forced, and he wouldn’t look up. “The others filled me in. Thanks for, uh, helping me and not hurting my parents.”

He nodded. “Are you okay? Whatever Plasmius hit you with…”

“It’s fine,” Danny cut him off as he rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s done the same thing before. Guess he just put more power behind it this time. But see,” he transformed into Phantom, “I’m all good. I have a few bruises, sure, but that’s a lot better than I normally get from fights.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Jason swung his legs over the edge of the bed to more comfortably face the teen. Everything hurt.

Danny shrunk back a little as he returned to his human form. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine.” He pushed his bangs back before bringing both of his hands to rest on his legs. “That shock triggered a freeze response, a traumatic response, in you. You were completely unresponsive. What if the G.I.W., or God forbid, your parents managed to do something similar?”

“But it wasn’t them. It was Vlad, and as fruit loop-y as he is, he’s not going to kill me.”

“Danny,” Jason sighed before continuing, “look… you know I got murdered as a teen. I thought with all the training I had I’d be able to get out of any situation, and even if I couldn’t, Batman would swoop in at the last second. I was a hero, and heroes always win.” He gripped his hands as he continued. “When you fight the same people again and again with the same result, you can start to forget how dangerous they really are.”

“I’ll fully admit I let myself fall into a trap, that I didn’t realize I got manipulated until it was too late. And in those final moments, I knew no one was coming. I knew I was going to die alone.” He glanced at Danny as he let himself have a small pause to make sure he kept his emotions under control. The kid’s eyes had widened, and his complexion paled. “So many of us get wrapped up in the chance to play hero that we forget the dangers. Even if we have a mentor, sometimes we still end up as cannon fodder for a crusade that was never ours.”

That was one of the reasons he couldn’t get rid of some of the resentment he had towards Bruce. Even after losing a Robin, he still took on and trained more kids for the role. No matter how talented, kids shouldn’t be on the front line. They shouldn’t be fighting criminals and risking their lives. And for some fucking reason, he couldn’t get Bruce to either acknowledge or understand it. But those were thoughts for later.

As an uneasy silence began to fall between them, there was a knock before the door opened to reveal Bruce, still in costume. They momentarily stared at each other before the others, led by Dick, brushed passed him and into the room. Although Damian elected to stay near the door, the others came over to poke and prod at him. No one seemed to be wearing the Deflectors as he wasn’t getting shocked, but it still didn’t mean he liked it.

Cussing, he ended up standing in an attempt to better fed them off. What was their deal anyways? He was fine, or at least he was pretty sure he was fine. Did something in his appearance change from whatever Vlad did to him? He better not have more white hair.

All thoughts and everyone else’s actions screeched to a halt when his arm accidentally went through Cass’ chest. He stared in dawning horror that he could feel the sensation of her heart beating and the motions of the lungs and surrounding muscle as she breathed. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. What was he supposed to do? He needed to remove it, but what if he accidentally damaged her heart or lungs? What if he got stuck? What would that do?

“Panicking will make it worse.” Danny’s voice was soft and sullen as he came over and gently touched his arm. Just like when the kid made them both invisible at Vlad’s mansion, he could feel Danny’s energy wash over the intangible limb. Seconds later, he had them safely separated. Cass tentatively checked the area for a moment before giving a reassuring smile. It didn’t make him feel better.

Bruce cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention. He wanted to talk so that meant everyone needed to pick a spot and stop fussing. Danny frowned in confusion at the sudden change, so Jason gestured for him to have a seat.

Once that was settled, he decided to sit on the floor using the bed he woke up on as a back rest. Well, that was what he planned on doing. It was like it wasn’t even there as he fell backwards. He blinked a few times in confusion as he realized he was staring at the underside of the bed. He had fallen through it. What even was his life at this point? “I can’t wait ‘til this shit stops.”

“Are you okay?” Duke questioned as feminine laughter could be heard throughout the room. Sounded like Stephanie. Bruce must have set up communications.

“Oh yeah, I just love counting the ungodly number of dust bunnies under beds.” After pulling himself out from under the bed, he once again tried to lean against it. This time it worked. “Guess that’s how I got under there yesterday.” He glanced at Dick. “That means you’re off the hook, this time.”

“That’s happened to me more times than I can count,” Danny admitted while trying to suppress a smile. “It was really bad in the month following my accident, and me panicking every time didn’t help. I don’t have a clue how I managed hide all my slip ups from my parents or my classmates.”

“Anyways, what was that about?” Jason asked he eyed his siblings as he rubbed his chest. That weird, concentrated feeling of the Pit was still there. “Is something glowing again?”

“I knew you were dense, Todd, but this level of unawares is almost impressive.” Damian gave an arrogant smirk, impressed with his own insult.

Bruce frowned at the brat before focusing his attention on Jason. “What do you remember from last night?”

“Let’s see, Plasmius decided to play puppeteer in ballroom.” He glanced at Danny. “Did Glowstick tell you guys what he said?”

“Yeah,” Babs affirmed with an irritated huff. “We’re already working on how to upgrade our systems so that doesn’t happen again. We have one of the most, if not most, secure computers in the world, and a ghost can bypass everything just by possessing it. It’s frustrating.”

“It also paints the data Vlad had on various heroes and criminals in a new light,” Tim added as he typed on his wrist computer. “We thought he’d gathered that on his own. So, now we’re trying to see if there are any independent systems where he might have stored more information as well as prepping for any potential fallout.”

Jason nodded before giving a quick summary of the events after getting out of the ballroom and up to when he set Danny on the bed. When he mentioned the pod, he couldn’t repress a shiver. That thing was going to haunt his dreams for a while. “I don’t think there’s anything else. Am I missing something?”

“Did Plasmius tell you what he was trying to do to you?” Bruce pressed.

Jason could tell something the old man was hiding something, and it made him uneasy. “He was unhappy about my lack of ghostliness and thought I might have an incomplete or inactive core. He wanted to fix that.” He could still feel echoes of the burning pain across his skin from being submerged in Pit water again.

Danny seemed to wince on his behalf. “Well, on the bright side, Vlad didn’t try duplicating his own accident on you. That involved cola contamination, a blast to the face with a proto-portal, and ecto-acne.”

“What the fuck, Glowstick?” he asked after a moment of stunned silence.

The kid shrugged. “Ectoplasm can do a lot of weird things to normal people and objects. I already told you my parents managed to bring food to life with it on accident when they modified the microwave and oven. I think they finally learned not to use it on turkeys and chicken after the multiple times they’ve tried taking over the house, but my dad did somehow befriended the franken-wiennies. They’re now part of the home security.”

“You know, just when I think I can’t be surprised anymore…” Dick murmured while he ran his hands over his face. Tim nodded in agreement.

“I probably shouldn’t ask, but what did they do with the undead food? You didn’t eat them, did you?” It looked like Stephanie scooted closer to the screen as she waited for the answer.

“My parents did. Jazz and I ordered take out.”

Everyone, including Bruce, showed or vocalized some sort of disgust. But if Maddie and Jack really would eat stuff like that, then maybe they really did have some form of ectoplasmic contamination. Funny, he never would have thought food would be the potential cause.

“Back to the matter at hand,” Bruce eyes wept around the room before focusing on Jason, “you’re not aware of anything abnormal?”

“Did you forget I got stuck in a table? That’s pretty abnormal, if you ask me.”

Stephanie openly snickered. “Did he really? Oracle, you’ve got to show me the video of that!”

“Spoiler.”

“Alright, alright.” Some of Steph’s excitement vanished at Bruce’s admonishment. “I can watch it later.”

“B, I really don’t think he knows,” Tim stretched his arms as he spoke. “It’s probably best to show him the footage.”

Now on edge, Jason took the laptop Dick handed him while their siblings and Danny crowded around him. The screen was split between the four feeds from when they were fighting Plasmius. Babs must have hit play on her end as the recordings started. Everything seemed normal. So why…?

When Plasmius shocked Danny, that’s where things changed. The visual feed from his equipment went out while the other three momentarily glitched. When the three feeds corrected, he noticed he looked different. The red parts of his costume appeared blue, and his boots and knee pads looked off. At first, he thought it was part of the glitch, but no one else looked different.

He glanced down at his shirt. His symbol was definitely red, and he distinctly remembered when he looked at his vest earlier, it was also still red. A growing sense of dread filled the pit of his stomach as Babs changed it to just Cass’ feed when they were escaping.

In the dark, it almost appeared as if he was glowing faintly. It had to be from him carrying Danny, but as the feed was switched to Dick’s, he realized it was slightly different than the kid’s. He also noted the injury on his arm and how it wasn’t bleeding. Instead, it was oozing an unnatural green substance.

The feed once again changed to when Tim watched him put Danny on the bed. When he pulled down his hood, white hair with a black streak was now visible, and when the mask was removed, glowing green eyes could be briefly seen before the feed glitched again. When the distortion cleared, his unconscious form could be seen looking as normal as always.

No… No. No. NO! Fuck no! It couldn’t be. It was supposed to be temporary! Things were supposed to go back to normal.

This was Plasmius’ fault. He knew. He saw. That’s why he said he got something he wanted. That fucker did this to him.

The Pit churned uneasily in response to his inner turmoil. With a jolt, he realized why it felt more concentrated than before. That… that was his core. What did that mean? Did it replace his heart? No, he could still feel that pounding in his chest. That was one good thing, he guessed.

But what was this going to mean for him? Having unstable abilities made anyone a liability, but there was also Bruce to contend with. Things still weren’t great between them, and there was a very real possibility he could get blamed for crimes he had nothing to do with. While he knew he brought that lack of trust on himself, he was trying to stay on the lighter side of gray, but Bruce’s paranoia could get the better of him at times. Then there was the temptation it’d bring. He might have to leave Gotham for a long time, maybe even permanently.

Then there was the planning. They’d have to figure out what to do if someone else found out and gained control of him to hurt the others. Should he hide it from Roy and Kori? It’d probably be safer, but at the same time, if he didn’t and it was used against him to hurt them…

His world was falling apart. Wait, no, he was actually starting to fall through the floor. There was a flutter of confusion as someone grabbed the computer off him before at least two people hoisted him up by the arms. Breaking out of their grips, he found his siblings staring at him with concern or pity or amusement. He didn’t know at this point. He just needed to leave.

“I’m… I’m going to go smoke.” Not caring he was technically still in uniform, he brushed past Bruce, who didn’t try to stop him. He grabbed the jacket he knew had his cigarettes and headed towards the roof.

…

“Did the old man send you?” Jason questioned as he lit another cigarette. He’d already gone through five of them as he sat and tried to quiet his chaotic mind.

“No, I decided to come on my own.” Danny sounded like he was sitting on top of stairwell. “I think the others aren’t sure what to do.”

“That’d be a first.” Technically, that was a lie, but they were all pros at improvising until something worked in their favor.

Unlike their previous rooftop conversation, the silence wasn’t comforting. Maybe it was because, while he never openly voiced it, the kid was hoping for a similar outcome, even if it wasn’t what Jason wanted. It wasn’t like anyone else really understood his reality, save for Plasmius. Just thinking about that bastard made the Pit whisper, stirring thoughts of punishment and revenge. No, he wasn’t going down that road. Not right now anyways.

Eventually, he couldn’t deal with it anymore and put out his cigarette. “This isn’t going to go away, is it?”

“No, it won’t.” There was a hesitant pause before Danny quietly added. “And I know from experience trying to go back to normal turns out badly.”

“Of fucking course.” He stared up at the sky and sighed. “Just when things were finally getting better, karma or whatever decides to punch me in the gut. Wait…What?” Did Danny say what he thought he said? “You tried…?”

The teen didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slid off the roof of the stairwell and sat next to him. “Yeah. I was brought up being told that ghosts are malicious and evil. That they’d do anything to hurt the living.” His gaze was distant. “My parents used to joke that if something ever happened to me or Jazz and we came back as ghosts, that they’d make sure to destroy us before we had a chance to hurt anyone. I think they thought it was comforting.”

“That’s pretty messed up.”

“I guess. It was just part of life growing up, but then the accident happened.” Danny momentarily gripped his jeans, probably due to the memory. “I was terrified. Suddenly, I had all these powers and no way to control them. I didn’t even know if I was still alive or just pretending to be. And according to my parents, I was supposed to be evil. I think some part of me took responsibility for the others ghosts just to prove I wasn’t evil.”

The kid leaned back and stared upwards. “Sam and Tucker were there when it happened. If… if it wasn’t for them, I might have gone crazy. There were times I even debated letting my parents know so they could fix me. Even though I’m pretty sure now they would have accepted me, the ‘what ifs’ stopped me. Hearing your parents talk about dissecting you isn’t exactly comforting. Besides, it’s just been easier to keep them in the dark.”

“My friends tried to do their best to get me to think positively about the situation. I mean, who doesn’t dream about being a superhero when they’re little at least once? But they didn’t understand how hard it was. Between trying to hide my powers and the sleepless nights trying to stop the ghosts coming from the Portal, I was struggling. I just wanted everything to go back to normal, and only worry about normal teenage things and work my butt off in school so I could get into NASA and become an astronaut…” He sighed before continuing. “My parents once invented something that could separate ectoplasm from almost anything. I tried that, but it didn’t go well. It split me into two incomplete bodies.”

When he grimaced at the mental image, Danny backtracked. “Oh! No, no, no! According to Sam and Tucker, we looked okay, but it wasn’t exactly a perfect split between human and ghost, and our personalities were all screwed up. My memories from that are really fuzzy so I can’t really explain it better, but I’m pretty sure the mostly human me rode a vacuum cleaner at one point. I should ask Tucker about that. If anyone has video of it, it’s him.”

“You know… I think something like that once happened to Big Blue…” Jason was pretty sure he’d previously read through files referencing a red and blue Superman. “But Bats and the others have dealt with alternative universes, so I’m not completely sure if that happened to ours or a different one.”

“Big blue?”

“Oh, Superman. You wouldn’t think it, but him and Bats are friends.”

Danny’s mouth dropped open as his eyes widened in shock. After a moment, he seemed to realize he was staring. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Batman is a member of the Justice League, and you and the others have probably met a bunch of other heroes. I’ve always wanted to meet Martian Manhunter. I mean, he’s from Mars! How cool is that?”

Despite himself, Jason chuckled as Danny launched into an explanation of what fascinated him about space. It was nice to see some of the wariness he carried behind his eyes and smile momentarily melt away. He really had been forced into a situation he shouldn’t have been. Maybe he could hint to Bruce to introduce the kid to J’onn. Their abilities had some similarities after all.

Oh, that applied to him now too. Fuck. He was going to have to figure out how this whole thing worked. And knowing Bruce, he was going to do everything in his power to keep him in the manor until he wasn’t a danger to himself or the others due to an accidental slip up, especially with what happened earlier.

“Huh? Sorry, I got distracted.” He hadn’t realized he got lost in his thoughts until Danny waved a hand in front of his face.

“It’s cool. Things are probably really weird for you right now.” A troubled expression crossed his face. “I was talking about how things were at first and how I wanted to have things go back to normal… For a while, I tried to ignore everything. That backfired.”

“What do you mean?”

“For us, our human side gives extra energy to our cores, and if it’s not used, you might find yourself unintentionally sinking through furniture or having an invisible arm for hours. It sucks.” Danny raised his hand and formed a small crystal in it.

“That’s ice, right? Saw you use it against Plasmius.”

“Yep, but I can make more than ice.” He mischievously grinned as a snowball formed in his hand. “Catch!”

Jason barely had enough time to prevent it from hitting his face, but that didn’t stop some of the snow from getting in his hair or on his clothes. “At least I know who to bring with me the next time some decides I need to join a snowball fight.”

“Nice, right?” Danny’s smile faded again. “This is probably the power that gives me the most trouble. If I don’t use or practice with it a couple times a week, I risk freezing myself solid.”

“Are you telling me your powers could kill you?” This kid was going to turn more of his hair white. That was an extremely important bit of information to know.

“Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I don’t really know if I can properly die or not. It’s not really something I’ve wanted to test. But, from talking to Frostbite and some of the other ghosts who have been around a while, it’s really only an issue for stronger ghosts with elemental cores. You don’t currently have one, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Don’t currently have one…” Jason repeated as he ran his hands over his face. “Glowstick, I can barely wrap my mind around having a normal one or whatever. I don’t need to think about it changing or whatever down the line right now.”

“You know, if you’re going to continue calling me that, I need to give you a nickname too, at least one better than Skunkhead.” Danny tapped his foot for a moment. “Hmm… maybe Antares or Naos.”

“What are you calling me?” He wasn’t familiar with either word, but neither sounded like an insult. He was going to have to remember to look those up later.

“Don’t worry about.” Danny stood and stretched his back. A few pops could be heard. Once he was done, he turned and grinned. “How about we go flying? It’ll help take your mind off things, and there’s nothing quite like it. What do you say?”

====

Notes:

Fun Danny did ride a vacuum around his room in Splitting Images. No clue why I remember that.

So, Superman Red and Superman Blue are a thing - same person split into 2. First appeared in a 'what if' type story in 1963 (Superman #162). The most famous version is from 1998 where it's a one shot. The 90s were a weird time in comics. Also don't know if this is still canon either. DC did say that all stories are relevant again, but might only exist as alternative memories...? Trying to figure this out gives me a headache, and I know it's just going to change again in a year or two.

Antares and Naos are the names of stars. Antares is a red star in Scorpio, and the name means 'opponent to Ares(Mars)'. Naos is a blue star that's part of the constellation Puppis which is one of three constellations that represent the ship Argo that was used by Jason and the Argonauts.

[thefanficmonster]

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid. 

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it. 

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth.  All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

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[pipipinyyy]

Explaining why I have added every song in my entire and very long Niragi playlist because I can and because over analyzing him is my passion (I usually update it from time to time but I'll do it with the current songs)

Completely self indulgent post, but I decided to share to feed my fellow Niragi stans (*˙︶˙*)☆*°

This is entirely based on my view of the songs and how I interpret them while thinking about Niragi. I'm aware that most of them have entirely different meanings, this is just for fun :) (Also sorry if my explanations don't make much sense, English is not my first language and I might make mistakes when trying to put my feelings and thoughts into words)

This may contain manga/s2 spoilers

Hayloft-Mother Mother: Vibes

Criminal-Britney Spears: The whole song describes him ("he is a sucker with a gun") and the fandom's obsession ("mama I'm in love with a criminal")

Daddy Issues-The Neighborhood: I feel like he would act like this, using the most vulnerable spots to pick on someone ("cry little girl, nobody does it like you do")

Psycho-Jin Dogg, OVER KILL: Vibes

Riot-Hollywood Undead: He'd definitely start a riot like he did in the 10 of hearts, burning and destroying anything that crosses his path

Bitches-Mindless Self Indulgence: He most likely thinks he's a total fuckboy and popular with girls since he can get almost anything he wants out of scarying people

Baby's on Fire-Die Antwoord: Vibes

Insane in the Brain-Cypress Hill: This man is being consumed by his own way of protecting himself

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing-Set It Off: Based on how he feels towards the people who hurt him in the past ("Listen, mark my words, one day, you will pay" "You've always been a huge piece of shit, if I could kill you, I would" "Karma is gonna come collect your debt")

Death no more-IC3PEAK: Vibes

Gasoline-I Prevail: Sort of similar to Riot, ("So burn it all down, burn it all down, I don't give a fuck")

Toxic-Britney Spears: The whole fandom knows how much of a piece of shit this dude can be, but we still find ourselves liking/enjoying his character (to an extent), a toxic addiction

Nice Guy-GRLwood: As much as I love this man, he'd use the "I'm a nice guy c'mon" card just to fuck. If he wants to, he'll get it, if he doesn't, he'll most likely get mad

Dernière danse-Indila: Vibes

TRRST-IC3PEAK: Mostly vibes, I kinda see this song as how he felt the first time he killed someone on purpose inside the borderlands ("mama they say I'm a terrorist, I did nothing wrong but I got on the blacklist")

Saint Bernard-Lincoln: Vibes

Nowhere To Run-Stegosaurus Rex: Being with him at the Beach would either be ignoring each other completely or a game of tag, no inbetween. If this man wants to kill you, he'll get his fun time out of it as well ("You're gonna die, I'm gonna kill you")

The House of Wolves-Bring Me The Horizon: Based on how he sees life after being consumed by his current mental state ("Show me a sign, show me a reason to give a solitary fuck about your god damn beliefs" "What you call faith, I call a sorry excuse")

Smells Blood-Kensuke Ushio: Vibes

SIU-Maretu: Similar to Daddy Issues, don't expect this man to be a therapist. If he sees anyone crying or panicking in or outside a game, he'd most likely tell them to suck it up, just like this song.

Judgement-Kensuke Ushio: Vibes

MONSTER ENERGY GUN!-KevinKempt: Vibes + He for sure has an energy drink addiction, specially pre-borderlands

HURT-1 800 PAIN: Vibes

Fear Is The Mind Killer-Zheani: Vibes

I Bet on Losing Dogs: Based on how I know Niragi is toxic, and most likely unsaveable of his deteriorating mental state, but I still have him as my biggest comfort character ("I bet on losing dogs, I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place")

Emo Boy-Ayesha Erotica: He's been in an emo phase (and maybe still is), the lyrics are pretty self explanatory, they describe us Niragi simps perfecrly ("come on fuck me emo boy")

Crybaby-Destroy Boys: Vibes

The Fox's Wedding-MASA Works DESIGEN: Vibes

You're a useless child-Kikuo: We don't know much about his past, but judging by the unstoppable bullying he's suffered, his parents didn't care about him, or were straight up absent. He's been insulted by pretty much everyone in his past to the point of believing it and telling those things to himself ("You're a useless child, the most useless child in this world" "Drool in snot, dandruff, shit and piss" "I'm a useless child" "Nobody will save me" "I'm a lonely kid")

Take A Slice-Glass Animals: Vibes

Fighting With The Melody-Jimmy Urine: Vibes

Comics-Caravan Palace: Vibes

Rhinestone Eyes-Gorillaz: Vibes

Butch 4 Butch-Rio Romero: Mostly vibes, sort of how I think the most "peacefull" moments in a relationship with him would feel like, kind of bittersweet feeling

Suki Suki Daisuki-Jun Togawa: Yandere Niragi. If he's interested in someone, he'd go through an obsessive phase, most likely forcing the other person to "love" him. This man is so confused about the feeling of love that he's unable to tell when he loves someone or when he's obsessed with them due to his lack of attention ("Like you, like you, I love you. Say you love me or I'll kill you")

:(-The Garden: Vibes

Kitty City-Cyriak Harris: Vibes

Blood-My Chemical Romance: If Niragi went to a therapist, he'd act like this song, with his signature cocky and sarcastic personality (at least before he gets better) ("I can't control myself because I don't know how" "They can fix me proper with a bit of luck" "I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love")

A Mask of My Own Face-Lemon Demon: He feels like he needs to protect himself or else he will get hurt inside the borderlands by others again. He uses another personality, a completely ruthless one, even if he doesn't like it and hates himself for it, he doesn't see another way to deal with his fear, allowing his "new self" to consume himself. ("I'd wear that mask of my own face" "I look into my eyeholes and what do I see? A handsome motherfucker motherfucking looking back at me")

I'm a Murderer-Freddie Dredd: Mostly vibes ("I'm a motherfucking murderer")

'Cause I'm a Liar-Mcki Robyns-P: He would lie just for fun even in serious situations. If he needs to manipulate someone to survive, he'll do it his way, after all, he doesn't care anymore, he just seeks for excitement. ("Without emotion, without devotion. It's much easier to fake something happy")

I Disagree-Poppy: I don't know exactly how to describe it, but I feel like this is how he sees and feels the world and those around him, feeling misunderstood and going his own way ("If only all of you could see the world I see, then maybe everyone could live in harmony")

Personal Jesus-Mindless Self Indulgence: He has a superiority complex, that's for sure. I don't think he sees himself as a god, but I see him joking about it

Rainbow Factory-GLAZE, WoodenToaster: Vibes

Frontier Psychiatrist-The Avalanches: I kinda see this as Aguni taking the role of Niragi's "father figure" inside the borderlands, realizing he's turning insane and is unable to control him ("That boy needs therapy")

Hate it. Hate it. "JIGAHIDAI!"-WADATAKEAKI Kurage P: Jealousy. I can see it either in a pre-borderland situation where he hates the popular students in school, or inside the borderlands hating both Chishiya and Arisu. Jealousy takes over him constructing a big ego, causing himself to develop his superiority complex ("You see, I hate that popular girl!" "Does she think I don't notice? How she looks at me as if I'm trash" "I want to be praised" "I'm different from you all, I have my own ego! I'm not a side character" "I have zero common sense. I'm special")

Villain-Stella Jang: He knows damn well he's a villain, that's his goal after all, but what if someone took his point of view? wouldn't the villains be all of those who hurted him in the first place? ("We all pretend to be the heroes on the good side, but what if we are the villains on the other")

Violent-carolesdaughter: This is how I view an argument inside a relationship with Niragi. He's used to violence, to cause fear, and getting what he wants, so being in a healthy relationship would require a lot of patience and strenght. While he's getting better and suppressing those violent actions, there will be times where he accidentally uses violence or threatens the other person unintentionally, mostly hurting himself and his partner psychologically. The lyrics change between both points of view ("Don't make me get violent, I want my ring back baby that's a diamond" "She knows I'm a wreck" "I gave you all my trust and I told you just don't break it")

Hey Bunny-Baby Bugs: Based on how I think it would feel to partner up with him inside the borderlands and catching feelings for him while knowing the huge mess he is ("Hey bunny, what's with those evil eyes?" "Hey bunny, what the hell is wrong with us?" "Hey bunny, what if I loose you too? If I become the monster, together we can always be blue")

Kokoronashi-majiko: I'm pretty sure Niragi isn't able to see himself as someone able to love, even if he doesn't want to be alone (just like when he confesses this feeling while fighting with Chishiya and Arisu). If someone truly loved him and was willing to not letting him go, it would hurt. He can't see himself as someone who can love or be loved, so he can't accept the love he's seeking for in case that turns him "weaker" making his true self confront with the protective mean personality he's created. He could learn how to accept it, so he might want the other person to stay in the end, but it wouldn't be easy for him to accept it ("It's awful, I'd rather you destroy my body, tear it to sheds, do as you please" "No matter how much I'm loved by you, my heart is just one" "I don't know this, don't leave me alone")

Nightmare Parade-FAKE TYPE.: Vibes

Slipping Through My Fingers-Meryl Streep, Amanda Seyfried: Niragi seeing himself loosing his young, gentle and caring personality due to his fear, being unable to control what's happening inside, nostalgia and sadness kicking in ("The feeling that I'm loosing her forever" "That funny little girl" "Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time")

Kuroneko No Tango-Pink Martini, The Von Trapps: Vibes

YKWIM?-Yot Club: Him confroting his feelings of loneliness when he's left alone with his thoughts ("It feels like I care too much when I'm alone, oh no")

Romantic Lover-Eyedress: Just appreciating his physical appearance ("She's a killer, I love her features")

Wrecking Ball-Mother Mother: Based on how he sees himself as someone who needs to destroy everything in a way or another in order to be powerful + the fun he has with it ("Call me a reckless wrecking ball" "Let's break it just because we can")

Edge-Rezz: Vibes

Freaks-Surf Curse: Again, confronting feelings when loving someone, but not in such a painful as Kokoronashi ("I need a place to stay where I can cover up my face" "Don't cry, I'm just a freak")

Little Bit-Lykke Li: Vibes

6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro/Con)-Will Wood and the Tapeworms: Vibes

PHONKY TOWN-PlayaPhonk: Vibes

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE-Måneskin: Freaky time. He would absolutely love this song, definitely his type of thing ("You could be the beauty and I could be the monster" "I wanna touch your body so fucking electric" "I wanna make you hungry, then I wanna feed you")

#BrooklynBloodPop!-SyKo: Vibes

A Cold Freezin' Night-The Books: Vibes

A Pearl-Mitski: My most favorite song to associate with Niragi. Represents his evolution as a character. Creating an scenario where he is loved by someone,he rejects it at first, acting tough ("I don't want your touch") and then proceeds to explain why ("It's just that I fell in love with a war, nobody told me it ended" "it left a pearl in my hand and I roll it around every night just to watch it glow") the war being the borderlands and his new personality, he loved it, but nobody drew a line and it's getting out of hand. The pearl is the feeling of power, the one he has to remember when feeling weak just to feel something. At the end of the song it changes to ("Sorry I can't take your touch"), realizing that he wants love, but he's not able to take it or else he'll become the Niragi from the past

Problematic-Bo Burnham: Him acknowledging his problematic actions but not wanting to apologize because he doesn't feel the need to. He knows he's done bad things but he is going to laugh at it and be a sarcastic mf about it

First Love/Late Spring-Mitski: Similar to Kokoronashi, he wouldn't be able to accept love and how it makes him feel. He would think that he prefers for everyone to hate him and be lonely instead of sacrificing his tougher side. Also talks about how he's grown way too quickly for him to understand feelings properly ("So please hurry leave me, I can't breathe, please don't say you love me" "One word from you and I would jump out of this ledge I'm on baby" "I was so young when I behaved 25, yet now I find I've grown into a tough child"

The Other Side Of Paradise-Glass Animals: Vibes

Bodybag-Chloe Moriondo: How I feel about liking his character, confronting feelings basically ("Don't know if I hate you or if I wanna date you" "I don't wanna like you, I just wanna tie you up, then keep you in a cage and watch you sleep for ages"

Get Into It (Yuh)-Doja Cat: Vibes

Psycho Killer-2005 Remaster- Talking Heads: Vibes

HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U!!!-CORPSE, Night Lovell: Vibes

INFERNO-Sub Urban, Bella Poarch: Again, another song that describes him pretty well ("Baby I'm the reason why hell's so hot" "Terribly like terrible, she's a villain" "Think I'm getting butterflies but it's really something telling me to run away")

Bad Morning-Omori: Vibes

Trouble Brewing: Vibes

Dueles Tan Bien-Bruses: Another song about my confronting feelings with this man ("You know what? You taste better than alcohol to me. You know that and you've got control" "Because you hurt, and you hurt so good that I don't know what to do")

And that's it!! This took me the whole day to write but it makes me very happy to be able to share it :)

I've you've read the entire thing, hope you enjoyed the character analysis! ლ(◞‿◟ლ)

[saffron-nova21]

Whipped Cream: Iwaizumi's Bonus Scene

The Next Chapter Masterlist

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Warnings: Reader is a little flirty, Iwa-chan busts his lip, Kuroo is conniving, Strong language

Everyone had finished their meals about five minutes prior, now just working on finishing your drinks before the checks were brought out. And in this time, Kuroo had managed to get under your skin, as he was so well adept in. At this point, it was a game to him, to see how quickly he could get you to retaliate. He never went too far, mainly just making statements that he knew you would fight him on.

Laughter bubbles from Kuroo's lips as his eyes scan over you. "In what world? You might have played volleyball in high school, but you haven't lifted anything heavier than a couch cushion, since."

His words held some truth, though not as much as he thought. Though you weren't a health nut and you were out of practice, some of your closest friends were Bokuto, and by extension Hinata. You had been pretty adaptable with positions, in high school. Your brother was the Captain, your ex-boyfriend a middle blocker, and your former best friend a setter. Practicing with each of them, throughout your life had made you pretty talented.

In high school you'd had the opportunity to go to multiple of Japan's sponsored training camps. You'd never gone, but that was only because you had too much going on at home, at the time. You'd also been looked at by multiple universities for scholarships. At the end of the day, though, you chose the same path as your best friend.

You could still spike a volleyball with the best of them, if you did say so yourself. So, with narrowed, challenging eyes, you speak up. "You really think so? I hardly go outside and I'd still win a practice run against you, Tetsu."

Kenma shrugs, briefly looking up from his phone to eye you both, "I believe it. After all, Bokuto does drag them off to help he and Hinata practice a lot."

As his eyes travel back to his phone, you look from him back towards Kuroo. "Exactly, so suck my dick."

Kuroo, though, only seemed to grin. And his grin was one you were all too familiar with: he knew something you didn't.

"Great. So then you'll really be an asset to the volleyball team, being so skilled and all?"

Iwaizumi looks towards you with raised eyebrows, "You played in high school?"

"That's the only part of that conversation you decide to comment on?" Kuroo rolls his eyes, placing his head against his fist, his elbow resting on the table.

Holding up your right hand to Kuroo, you flash him the sweetest smile you can possibly muster, before raising your middle finger to flip him off. Though as you do, his hand shoots out to catch yours, a smirk stretching over his features as he catches your hand before you can withdraw it. "You asshole." You hiss as you try to pull your hand back, mistakenly pushing your body into Iwaizumi. Kuroo, however, just holds his grip on your wrist, until you end up attempting to put all of your weight into jerking your hand back. That's when he finally decided to let go, allowing your body to jerk into Iwaizumi's.

Iwaizumi, who'd been sipping on his hot chocolate, tried to prepare for things, though he wasn't as prepared as he might've wished as the mug hit his lower lip, not only busting it, but also smearing whipped cream along his top lip and nose. With a glare directed towards you, he attempted to reach across you for the napkins, but you beat him to it, "Thanks, Kuroo, my boss hates me now."

You then turn towards Iwaizumi with a hand full of napkins, grabbing his jaw to turn his head towards you so you could help him. But holy shit, how had you not noticed that jawline beforehand? Bringing your hand up, you begin to wipe the whipped cream from his face, while Kuroo flags someone down, between his cackles, to get some ice for them.

"You certainly cause a lot of trouble, don't you?" Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, trying to draw attention away from the fact that his cheeks had a slow-growing blush dusting them. "We split them up to prevent disaster, but you seem to be the source of most of it."

You turn up your nose, "And to think that I thought you were hot -"

"If anything, you find him hotter now. You've always had a thing for douchebags." Kenma flashes you a smirk, before returning his eyes to his phone.

You let out a quiet huff, face warming in embarrassment, "Kenma, I don't wanna hear it from you. You're just jealous because I'm paying more attention to Iwa, here." Sticking your tongue out at him, you pull the napkins away from his face, placing them on your empty plate. "There you go." Bringing your hand to his cheek, you pat it with amusement flitting across your features.

Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes at you, "You remind me a little too much of a friend of mine."

Everyone looks over as a waitress comes over with a few ice cubes in a cup, Iwaizumi thanking her as he takes the cup, before plucking an ice cube from it and wrapping it in a paper towel to place against his slightly-swollen lip.

"Speaking of your friends," the way your tone changes makes both Kenma and Kuroo collectively roll their eyes, knowing exactly what - or rather, who you're going to bring up. Though, you ignore them to continue your conversation with Iwaizumi, "You know Oikawa, right? Like personally?" A frown crosses his face as he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "I don't want anything. I'm not going to ask for his number, or some shit. I've got Bokuto and Hinata wrapped around my finger, if I'm looking for a volleyball player."

"Y/N, you can't just say things like that." Kuroo brings a hand up to massage his temple.

The Athletic Trainer blinks, "So, what are you asking for?"

Looking back up at him, you tilt your head, "Nothing, I just wanted to see if Kuroo was telling the truth. I can't even lie, though, I use to watch Seijoh's games, to see his service ace. It was fucking killer. Hell, he was the reason I taught myself how to do it. And I do pride myself on my jump-serves. I use to be able to do jump-floats, as well, but that's a little iffy, now, I'm not going to lie.

"Now that I think about it, Seijoh had some cute players. Especially when I was in... My second year of high-school, there was this number four. God, he was fucking amazing. I loved watching him play. Plus those biceps were to -... Kuroo, shut up, your laughter makes it so hard to concentrate." You stop to look at Kuroo, who is doubling over in laughter, while Kenma shakes his head at your misfortune.

"Y/N, do you know what team Iwaizumi used to play for?" Kenma looks at you with a ghost of a smile.

From there, you can piece things together, cringing a bit as you look back at Iwaizumi, "Would you believe me if I said that I meant... Number... Sixteen..?"

Iwaizumi lets an amused smirk grace his lips as he looks at you, "That's cute. Good to know that you actually have some taste. I nearly lost faith with your adoration for Loserkawa." He brings his mug back to his lips, fingers grasping your wrist so he can tug your hand away from where it was holding ice on his lip, proceeding to finish off what was left in his mug, obviously getting ready to leave.

You didn't respond, instead looking at his upper lip, where whipped cream rested. You were so used to the comfort you had between you and your close friends, like Kenma and Kuroo, that you didn't hesitate to just reach out and wipe the excess away, Reaching out, you place your fingers on his cheek to steady your hand, while your thumb swipes across his upper lip, movements fleeting, before you withdraw your hand. It isn't until you're wiping your thumb on the napkins that you realize what you did, face and neck warming in embarrassment. Though, you weren't the only one, as the porcupine-haired man brought a hand up to attempt to hid his flushed cheeks.

"I've got to... Uh- Get the boys some stretches for their day off. See you on Monday," he excuses himself to stand, retrieving his ticket so he'd be able to pay at the front of the restaurant.

"See you on Monday, Iwa," your cooed words make Iwaizumi flush a bit darker, mumbling something under his breath before bidding you all goodbye as he attempts to rush out, in embarrassment.

With a sheepish look directed towards Kuroo and Kenma, the two watch you in amusement. "Whoops," you rub the back of your neck with a sheepish grin crossing your lips.

Iwaizumi was friends with Oikawa for years, so while he did get use to some of the near flirty teasing from his best friend and learn how to counteract it, sometimes his is caught off guard.

You found out about Oikawa and Seijoh's team, after seeing him in a magazine. (And yes, you do see more about this, later.)

You also rooted for them to make it to Nationals so that you could plays against them.

I'm really sorry guys, the past few days have been chaos, but there will be two more parts coming your way to make up for it, tonight and tomorrow. I hope you're all doing well. You all most definitely better be taking care of yourselves. I'm rooting for you and I'm proud of you. Remember to eat and drink some water, and get some rest. You deserve it.

General Taglist:

@kookie-doughs @halesandy @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @its-the-aerieljeane @onlyonew @kac-chowsballs @saltylettuce @thathoneybee3 @daninaninani @akkeyomi @vintagexparker

The Next Chapter Taglist:

@bnha-meme-sanctuary @nachotrash @haijkk @maadaaaa @prettyinblack231 @sakusasimpbot @kellesvt @bebetiny @ash-levi @calumsfringe @z3ld4 @erinoikawa @bandaged-despair @chaseyui @atria-avior @just-that-bi-girl @magical-fandoms @one-simp-more

[youbloodymadgenius]

Farewell (Ivar x petite!reader)

A/N: This is my contribution to @a-mess-of-fandoms​‘s 1K Writing Challenge. Congrats again, love, this is well deserved 🌻

@inforapound​, you know you’re the best, don’t you? 💋

A box of tissues could be useful, it’s kind of sad (sorry about that).

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

The gif belongs to @honestsycrets 💖

Summary: Ivar has some important things to tell you.

Warnings: small fluff; Ivar’s insecurities; loss of a loved one.

Words: 1812

Ivar hobbles, taking two steps forward before coming to a stop, his crutch a much needed support, his knuckles white on its hand grip. A few steps behind, Hvitserk watches him closely, afraid his brother might fall. Getting a little closer, he puts a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "Do you want me to stay?"

 Hardly waving his free hand, Ivar shakes his head, curtly dismissing his brother. "Leave us alone."

Nodding, Hvitserk pats his brother's shoulder one last time and walks away wordlessly. 

 Once he's sure he's alone, Ivar looks up at the sky. Taking in a shuddering breath, he closes his eyes, pursing his lips before eventually looking down. His gaze falls to your face and he gives you a faint smile.

 "My love…" His shaky voice is barely a whisper, his breath hitches and he tilts his head to the side, chewing on his dry lips. Running his fingers through his greying hair, he scratches the back of his neck, exhaling wearily. 

 Blinking back tears, he clenches his teeth. "I know I promised I wouldn't cry but you can't even imagine how hard it is…" Tightening his grasp on his crutch, he brings his right hand to his scrunched face, rubbing his eyes and snorting loudly. 

 "I don't even know where to start, you know?" He shrugs, a sullen look on his face. "I love you so, so much… More than I ever thought possible…" The last words come out strangled as Ivar swallows the thick lump in his throat. Blinking several times, he breathes in deeply through his nose.

 "I think I'll start with how I was before. Before you, I mean. I was so young at that time, still almost a boy. There was nothing good inside of me. There was hatred, bitterness and jealousy. I was mean, cruel, to everyone. I was selfish, vain and self-centred, and I was so fucking angry all the time… And then you showed up… and everything changed…" A slight smile returns to his lips and he lets out a chukle. 

 "You remember, right? It was snowing and you had came to bring Mother a dress that she ordered from your’s. You didn't usually do that, but your mother was busy and asked you to do it. You didn't want to leave your father, whom you helped in the smithy, yet had no choice but to agree. It doesn't take much to make a difference, if you think about it. May the gods bless your mother!" Shaking his head,  Ivar closes his eyes. 

 "As for me, I was stuck in the Great Hall because of my legs. They were hurting, my mother was in her room and my brothers nowhere to be seen. They were probably in a random barn, busy fucking Margrethe. I was bored, and pissed off, and so fucking in pain. And you came in. You were so small and petite, I thought you were a young boy, not more than ten years old. Your cloak was way too long for you, your dark pants filthy. I wanted to make fun of you, just to make myself feel better. I know that was mean. But as you know I wasn't nice, ever. However, I didn't get the chance, because you spoke. 'Prince Ivar', you told me reverently before bowing before me. I wish that I could tell you your voice enthralled me but if I'm being honest, it was quite the opposite. It was a high-pitched, irritating voice and I don't know why, but finding out you were a girl pissed me off even more.You were an easy prey and I was ready to pick on you. And then magic happened. You pushed your hood off, a warm smile on your lips. You were so beautiful. Your delicate features, the way you barely tilted your head, and your eyes… Gods, your eyes, my love. At the exact moment when you locked them with mine, I was bewitched, thoroughly  and happily helpless. It's like in that moment the whole universe existed just to bring us together. Or to bring you to me, but whatever… You were here, and to my delight, you never left."

 Wrapped up in his memories with a smile lingering on his lips, Ivar lets his mind wander.

 ***

 "Aren't you going to kiss me, Ivar?"

 Lost for words, a flabbergasted Ivar just stares at you, swallowing. Slowly wrapping your hand aroud his calloused one, you tilt forward and whisper in his ear. "Because you know, I'd like that very much."

 "Aren't… Doesn't…" Finding his voice, Ivar, at first, splutters. Pulling himself together, he bites his lower lip before taking a ragged breath. "Doesn't that bother you?"

 Raising a single brow, you look at him confused, an unspoken question in your eyes. When he gestures towards his legs, anger all over his face, his nose scrunched in disgust, you blink a few times, asking genuinely, "You mean, your legs?" 

 "Isn't that obvious?" You're not used to such a harsh tone from him, but you remain composed, aware that this is a very sensitive topic, at least for him.

 "Doesn't it bother you that I'm so tiny?" You give him a wry smile, straightening up as much as you can, which is not much. Standing in front of Ivar, who's sitting on his bed, you're not taller than he is. 

 Sighing heavily, Ivar rubs his face with both hands before shooting you a sheepish look. "Y/N, it's not the same…" Lowering his head, he clenches his fists.

 He's right, it's not. He's self-conscious about his legs, ashamed even, while you're the first to laugh about your short stature. One of your hands grazes his thigh and you place a finger beneath his chin, lifting his face to look at you. "It should be, though."

 Furrowing his brows, Ivar stiffens once more. "And why is that? How can you compare those hideous, useless legs to–" 

 Shushing him, you give him a stern look, daring him to continue. When he keeps quiet, you take a step forward, straddling him carefully. 

 "Ivar, your legs…" Your voice is soft as you place a soothing hand on his chest, "… they are just the way you are. They are not what you are. Don't let them define you…"

 ***

 The next moment, you were kissing him. Eyes still shut, Ivar shivers. If he concentrates hard enough, he can still feel your sweet lips on his. 

 ***

 "My husband!" Breaking the kiss, you giggle, beaming, a little tipsy and flooded with happiness. 

 Ivar chuckles, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair. Hovering over you, he peppers light kisses all over your face, supporting his weight on one arm. "My wife. You're my wife. I can hardly believe it." There's something so earnest in his eyes and so many emotions across his face… Your heart flutters as you kiss him lovingly. 

 "That I am. And you know, I'd suggest you get used to it, because I'm not going anywhere." Reaching out, you gently run your fingers across his broad chest and his bare sweaty skin.

 "I won't let you go anywhere anyway. Not after what just happened. Was it magic?" He shivers, his big blue eyes scrutinizing you. 

 "Of course not." Giving him a quick peck on the tip of his nose, you cup his face with your hands, shaking your head. "We don't need magic, Ivar."

 Slightly flustered, Ivar stutters. "I… I don't understand… How… I thought…" His averted gaze gives away how embarrassed he feels and he clenches his teeth. "You know… I… I couldn't have sex with Margrethe…" 

 There's a dull ache in your chest as you listen to his words – you wish so badly you could have saved him from that humiliation – but you chase it quickly away. 

 "You and I, my husband, we didn't have sex. We made love, which makes all the difference." Your fingers trail down his spine and then you squeeze playfully his butt cheeks. He bursts out laughing, wiggling slightly, but gets serious as soon as you stop. 

 "Do you think we'll have children?" His eyelids fluttering closed for a moment, Ivar lets out a huff of frustration. "I mean… You know… Do you think I'll be able to… despite my… condition?"

 Drawing him against you, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "I have no doubt. No doubt at all."

 ***

 Opening his eyes, Ivar can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "You were right, of course you were right…" What a blessing.

  ***

 "She's just like you, you know?" Beaming with pride, Ivar shifts in the bed, scooting closer to you. You're still amazed at how comfortable he is around you now. 

 Making sure you don't disturb the sleeping, sated baby in your arms, you lean slightly forward, your free hand brushing Ivar's naked thighs. You will gladly work on their deepest knots later, but right now, looking at your marvelous daughter, wrapped in your husband's embrace, is your single aim. 

 "She has your eyes, though." Feeling like your heart is blossoming, you grab Ivar's hand, bringing it to your–

 ***

 "Ivar, it's time." Hvitserk's voice pulls Ivar out of his thoughts. Without looking up, he nods. "I know. Just give me a moment. I'll be quick."

 As soon as Hvitserk retreats, Ivar looks at your peaceful face, his stomach clenching and rolling inside him. "My love, you gave me everything. You made me whole. You made me feel wanted, loved. You made me feel normal. You made me a man. For all of that, I'll be forever grateful." His breathing starts to shake and panic floods his body. "I… I don't want you to go… I… I don't know how I'm supposed to do that… I'm not sure I can… live without you…" His words catch in his throat, he swallows, wincing. "I'll try. I promise, I'll try. And one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, I'll join you. I'll find you and we'll be together again. I love you, Y/N. With all my heart, with all my soul."

  A hand slips into his and Ivar looks around, a weary smile crossing his face as he recognizes his daughter. "Father." Intertwining their fingers, Ivar rubs her knuckles with his thumb. Her huge, blue, swollen eyes pricking with tears, she presses her head against his chest. Wrapping protectively his arm around her, he cradles his beautiful daughter, resting his head on hers. "Min skat." He wishes he could tell her it's going to be okay, but he can't. He can't.

 Nodding to the archers, Ivar squeezes his daughter's hand tight as a withering sigh escapes his lips. The tightness in his chest is almost unbearable, he can't think or breathe. And when the first arrow reaches the boat, setting it on fire, a single tear runs down his cheek.

 "Farewell, my love."

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​

[fangirlshrewt97]

Epiphanies and a Roof Over Their Heads

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Nile Freeman & Nicolo di Genova

Read on AO3

                                                           ///

Nicky hummed as he sipped his hot chocolate, the warmth seeping into his bones, making him melt further into the armchair. A crash of thunder startled him upright, eyes blinking at the subsequent flash of lightning. Sighing, Nicky shifted until he was once again comfortably reclining in the arm chair, one foot on the broad window sill. Closing his eyes again, Nicky allowed his other senses to take over. The taste of warm chocolate still stinging his tongue, the faint strums of music from the spare bedroom Nile had converted into a temporary studio, the plushness of the armchair molding to his body. The nearly overwhelming scent of petrichor and wet trees wafting in from the open window.

They had arrived at the safehouse in Indonesia a few days before, and were waiting for the rest of the team to join them. Andy and Quynh had said they would stop by Vietnam, so it would likely be a week before they showed up. Joe and Booker had said they were en route and would try to be there in a couple days. Given that it was monsoon season, and a cyclone had been spotted, Nicky thought they would probably arrive with Andy and Quynh.

Lifting his other leg to cross his ankles on the window sill, Nicky sipped away at the drink in his hand, just enjoying the rain pouring outside their house, enveloping them in this phantom bubble of isolation from the rest of the world. He had always found peace in the rain, felt like the water washed away all the troubles of the world, at least temporarily. If, of course, they were not forced to trek through treacherous jungles or muddy hills during the downpour.

After some time he heard the faint music cut off, a door opening softly. He took another sip of drink. He tilted his head in Nile’s direction when she finally peaked over the head of the large chair, smiling softly at her sheepish expression.

“Sorry,” she said, “I wasn’t sure if you had fallen asleep.”

“It’s ok sorellina. I was not sleeping.”

Nile came around the armchair, an eyebrow raised as she saw him sprawled comfortably in his perch. “So, what are you doing?”

“Watching the rain.” Nicky replied, one corner of his lips raising in a faint smirk, as Nile let out annoyed groan.

“I thought we said no more dad jokes Nicky!” Nile said petulantly.

Nicky chuckled. “Si, Si, sorry. Would you like some hot chocolate?”

At that Nile brightened. “Yes!”

“There is some in the kitchen, pour yourself some and come join me.” Nicky said, gesturing in the direction of the other armchair.

Nile nodded before disappearing from sight.

Nicky took another sip of the hot chocolate, letting it rest on his tongue for a moment, until the sweetness became too much, and swallowed. Nile was humming happily as she made her way over to him, one hand clutching a mug, the other maneuvering the armchair beside Nicky’s. Nicky placed his mug on the windowsill before helping Nile with the chair. Once she was comfortably settled, he retook his position. Nile opted to curl up in her chair, letting out a small groan of satisfaction as she first tasted the chocolate.

“Swear to god Nicky, I have no idea how you do it, but you make the best stuff.” Nile said, voice slightly fair away.

Nicky beamed at her, a different warmth blossoming in his chest as his dear friend enjoyed one of his creations. “Grazie Nile, we got lucky I still had some of the chocolate I had bought in Belgium. I was planning on making hot chocolate for all of us, but then the call came in.”

“And it’s difficult to make hot chocolate when you are sneaking around the warehouse district of Nice?” Nile asked wryly.

Nicky winked at her, making her snort. Nile leaned her head against the side of the armchair. “You know, I think out of all the different weathers, rain is the strangest to me?”

Nicky tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“We have all kinds of weather in Chicago, but we don’t get that much rain. And then Afghanistan, I mean. It’s Afghanistan, I got used to the heat. But rain like this?” Nile gestured at the window, where the rain was still falling in such strength they could barely see their compound’s wall. “I’ve never really seen it before.”

Nicky made a noise of agreement. “Genoa got a lot of rain. I always liked the rainy days best.”

“Yeah?” Nile asked, that curious wonder still in her voice. She still relished any opportunity to hear about their early years. None of the team had a problem indulging her.

“Si. I always found it very peaceful.”

As if to contradict him, a flash of lightning whited out the world before a rumble of thunder roared overhead.

“Yes, very peaceful.” Nile mumbled into her cup.

“Of course that rain was not quite like this. We had our bad storms, I remember the fishermen were always tense when they expected bad weather.  But for me rain offered me a kind of escape.”

“Escape how?”

Nicky shrugged, taking another sip as he sorted out the words in his head. “Escape like freedom. Like there was no one else except me when it was raining. Rain meant mud and extra chores, laundry that took twice as long to dry. But it also left the earth smelling of life, the flowers seemed to blossom brighter in the aftermath.”

“I can see that.” Nile said after a minute. “So. Did you ever have a epic romantic kiss in the rain?”

Nicky choked slightly on his drink as Nile giggled next to him. “Epic kiss?”

“Yeah, you know how in the movies, one of the romantic scenes is if the two people find each other after having had a fight or something, and then share this huge  kiss while like the music swells around them?”

Nicky chuckled as he shook his head. “I can’t recall anything quite like that.”

Nile pouted at him, making him snort.

“There was one instance though…” he trailed, enjoying how Nile scooted forward in her chair. Nicky closed his eyes, trying to bring the memory to the forefront.

“I must have been around 100, 110? Joe and I had only recently met up with Andy and Quynh, and had been travelling through Europe when Quynh said she wanted to introduce us to her homeland. So, we headed towards Vietnam. It was my first time so far East, and the sights felt like a different world. I had read and heard the stories from the three of them, but nothing quite compares to seeing the lands in person. We got stuck near Bangladesh? Or maybe Assam?

Anyways, we had to stop because the monsoon season hit, and both Andy and Quynh insisted the trip would be more enjoyable when we weren’t soaked to the bone. We found an abandoned house to camp out in for the season, and went about getting it ready. But still, nothing could have prepared me for the ways the skies opened, the way all the water in heaven seemed to fall out at once.”

“Must have been quite the sight.” Nile said softly.

Nicky nodded. “I don’t have the words to describe it. I used to stand by the door for a long time, just watching how the rain seemed to literally fall to the earth, crashing against the soft ground. Finally, maybe three or four days later? I decided I wanted to feel the rain.”

“Feel? Like walk in the rain?”

Nicky nodded once. “I had done it sometimes in Genoa, when I was a little boy. Stood alone in the rain, felt the water wash over me. It left me clean, like it didn’t just wash over my body, but my soul itself. I hadn’t done it in years, but the urge was so strong. When I saw the clouds darken, I stepped out of the house, walking just a few feet away.”

Nicky opened his eyes, training them on Nile, who was staring at him with an intense focus. She made a noise, encouraging him to continue.

“Standing under that monsoon rain. If the Genoan rain seemed to wash my soul, this one seemed to remake me. Each drop hurt as it fell on me, but it felt…like a benediction. I had caused so much death I could still see the blood on my hands. I had finally accepted I loved Joe, and was beginning to accept he mattered more to me than my faith’s claim that loving him was signing my soul for an eternity of damnation. But standing in that rain. None of that mattered. The world didn’t matter. I didn’t matter. And it was ok.

I’m not sure how long I was there, I had fallen to me knees at some point. I was brought back to myself when Joe touched me though. He was shouting something, I couldn’t hear what, but I remember the look in his eyes. I think he thought I had finally lost my mind. I just started laughing, harder than I ever had. It didn’t help ease his concern, but the rain, it had washed me of all the guilt I had been carrying. I pulled him down with me and kissed him. It felt like I was doing it in front of God. It felt like He was telling me it was ok. That I was allowed to live, allowed to love this perfect man I did not feel I deserved but would fight the world to keep by my side.”

The only noise in the room for some minutes after Nicky finished his story was the drumming of the rain.

“Wow.” Nile said finally.

Nicky huffed. “Does that qualify?”

Nile nodded, laughing brightly. “Definitely. Although, for most of the characters the epiphany comes before or after the kiss, not during.”

Nicky shrugged. “Maybe that’s because you can’t see the character’s thoughts as they are kissing.”

Nile nodded her head. “Fair enough.”

Nicky tilted his empty mug towards her. “Care for a refill?”

Nile nodded, getting up and taking his mug. “I’ll fill yours, you look far to cozy to disturb.”

Nicky grinned. “Thank you Nile.”

Nile returned with two full mugs. Nicky grabbed his own, only to pause when Nile held out her own. “To epiphanies in the rain.”

Nicky laughed. “And what epiphany have you had?”

“That I do not want to be a poor sap who has to walk in these conditions. Ever.” Nile said firmly, bobbing her head.

Nicky laughed harder, his mug shaking slightly. “To epiphanies and a roof over our head.”

Nile beamed. “To epiphanies and a roof over our head.”

After they toasted their mugs, they each took a long drink, letting out identical sighs of satisfaction. Giggling, Nile waved her mug. “Thanks for the story Nicky, between that, my art, and this wonderful hot chocolate, I am ready for a nap, and Mother Nature has a great soundtrack on. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sogno di oro, habibti.” Nicky told her as Nile walked away.

Once she was out of sight, Nicky lifted both his feet onto the windowsill, and leaned back on the armchair. Setting the empty mug on the floor, he carefully spread the blanket he had curled beneath his back over his legs. A nap sounded quite nice indeed. And if he could not fall asleep next to Joe, at least he would fall asleep to the sound of rain.

[dercolaris]

Purification

Fandom: Resident Evil Village

Characters: Mother Miranda, Salvatore Moreau

Relationship: Mother Miranda & Salvatore Moreau (None-romantic)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word length: 2052

Warnings: No warnings

Status: Complete

Short Summary: There are still doubts in the once pure heart of the Lord.

The heat was lurking heavily in the air as Salvatore dragged himself into the protective walls of the old church. It was so incredibly hot outside. He practically couldn't remember when Romania had such a warm summer. Temperatures usually climbed to twenty degrees or less by mid-year – not nearly forty. The doctor wiped his completely sweaty forehead and closed the large doors behind him. A pleasant coolness settled over his still busily mutating body. The Lord took a few deep, liberating breaths. The black-haired man quickly recovered himself and strolled up to the impressive altar, looking nervously around the spacious church again and again. The shadows of the hungry Lycans flitted past the cold stone, looking like unique patterns on the otherwise bare walls. The creatures growled loudly and dug their claws deep into the rock while moving around. They patrolled the whole village, especially around their high priestess. Otherwise, the Lycans regularly terrorized the surviving villagers or hunted animals in the adjacent forests. Salvatore had little to do with the cult's bloodthirsty aides. Of course, he had also experimented with the mould on some creatures, but without any significant success and the mindless nature of the mutants sometimes made him doubt the good intentions of Mother Miranda. The doctor brooded for a moment. She had once been so peaceful and shone with foresight and unattainable wisdom. For this reason, the villagers in particular could not believe for a long time that the priestess could actually be hostile to them. This blind trust had made it unexpectedly easy for the woman to build her own army and drastically reduce the human fraction of the small village. The Lord shrugged his shoulders slightly. He had sincere pity for the poor souls, but they would serve a greater purpose. At least that's what Mother Miranda kept saying. The man blinked a little and looked at the altar, then tilted his head slightly to one side. Everything seemed to be staged again today, even almost wrong. Salvatore half closed his eyes. The black-haired man was still not an idiot, even if the parasite slowly ate its way through his mind and gradually robbed him of the ability to think independently. This suffering of the poor people was not justified, no matter how hard the priestess tried to convince her subordinates otherwise. The black-haired man put a hand on one of the golden cups on the richly decorated tablecloth and carefully lifted the noble metal.

His grey eyes looked at the blood-red gemstones and for a moment regarded his own shape in the reflection of the material. Countess Dimitrescu and Lord Heisenberg seemed to have been completely robbed of their former humanity by the Cadou and were only little interested in the fate of the common people. Basically, the villagers were only expendable research objects or served as a slowly dwindling source of food for the family of the vampire. And the doll maker in her never ending solitude? Countess Beneviento was too caught up in her own world, which did not allow her to judge the current situation with a sense of logic. Salvatore carefully put the cup back. The priestess was probably just trying to convince him by now of her good intentions, but that wasn't really necessary. In principle, the doctor had no choice but to stay by her side and serve her. He could feel the parasites very clearly in his body. They moved through his organs, looking for new places to infiltrate and infect. They planted their poison deep in his cells. The man now closed his eyes completely. He feared the total loss of his former compassion. Wasn't that what made him and his family so special? Above all, his father, a noble doctor without great demands, had repeatedly explained to him during his childhood that their work was not for own enrichment and was only intended to help the general public. The Moreau family's job was to keep the village in excellent health. Salvatore looked down on the floor, concerned. He now successfully trampled this code under the force of the Cadou. The black-haired man looked up at the half-destroyed cross and finally fell to his sore knees. The Lord wiped the tears from his eyes and finally clasped his hands tightly. He lowered his head in humility and began to say a quiet prayer.

A solitary prayer for all the sacrifices the cult had already demanded and who would follow in the near future. The doctor knew that God had left this village years ago. Presumably he did not want to watch his own creation perish under the hand of evil. Salvatore spoke the 'Our Father' in a shaky voice. Perhaps the angry and restless souls would forgive him if he expressed his repentance to them. He ignored the constant growling of the Lycans, repeated his silent prayer three times. After a few seconds the man looked up at the symbol of his former faith. It would probably not be long before the cross succumbed to the extreme weather in Romania and fell down. The old chains were way too rusty. The doctor got up with great difficulty and snorted softly. He was the only one of the counts who actually came to church regularly to pray. Salvatore was about to make his way back to his reservoir when a melodic woman's voice stopped him: “Salvatore. Haven't we talked about this several times, my son?” Mother Miranda. The black-haired man shrank in an instant and turned to the priestess, startled. She came slowly towards him, a small smile lay on her lips. The man mumbled softly: “I can't bring myself to not pray at least once a week. My parents raised me to praise the Lord and I don't want to cover my families name in shame by simply forgetting old traditions.” The person addressed nodded slowly and took a step closer to her subordinate. As usual, there was no denial in her eyes, but a small trace of disappointment. This expression suddenly faded and gave way to a seldom observed warmth. After a while the woman spoke calmly: “I have always valued this loyalty in your soul, my child. A gentle and generous heart beats in your chest.” The Lord looked confused at the leader of the cult. Was she really serious? Her eyes left no room for doubt.

The doctor played with his fingers and replied shyly: "That is firmly connected with my original profession, Mother." The priestess laughed a little. She put her hand tenderly on the man's bulging cheek and caressed it tenderly. She spoke slowly while stroking the skin: “It is always touching to watch how seriously you take the suffering of the unbelievers and pray for their unsaved salvation. You are more than entitled to rule by my side, no matter what my other children say. I need a pure heart like yours for my plans, in order to maintain the balance between necessary hard-heartedness and good-naturedness." Salvatore swallowed a large lump down his sore throat. Her words sounded meek as usual, but the content was anything but peaceful. He knew all too well what hard-heartedness actually meant to the priestess. The leader of the cult showed no mercy in achieving her goals and regularly showed this nature in her dealings with the villagers. The black-haired replied hesitantly: “I really want to believe your words, Mother, but I have a hard time looking at the sheer destruction around you. Are all these sacrifices as necessary as you always say?” The woman raised her eyebrows slightly. She was apparently surprised by this question. Before the priestess could answer, the Lord added, almost begging: “Please tell me the truth at last. I can't stand the uncertainty or another lie in my life.” Mother Miranda ran her thumb over the man's cheekbones. She remained silent for a while, seeming to ponder an appropriate formulation for her answer. Finally the woman reassuringly stated: “It is necessary, Salvatore. The locals have followed a misconception and need to be purified in order to know their true destiny. Unfortunately, drastic means are often required for this.” The doctor looked the priestess in the eyes. He searched for the hidden lie, some sign that there was a valid reason to doubt the leader's intentions. After a while the black-haired man lowered his gaze again and asked cautiously: "I have to trust in your words, don't I?"

The woman smiled gently, only nodded slowly. She turned to the altar and lifted the cup that the Lord had held in his hands earlier. As if by itself, the vessel filled with a red liquid. Mother Miranda handed the goblet to Salvatore and said calmly: “Drink up, my son. It will quench your thirst for certainty and give you a clearer view of our task.” Small black dots floated in the strange drink. The Lord took the cup with trembling fingers and smelled the liquid slightly. At least it wasn't human blood, but the many pieces in the drink made him sceptical. He looked up uncertainly. The leader ran her fingers over the balding head of the man and quietly assured him: “Trust me, my child. It won't harm you. Drink.” The doctor looked back into the liquid. Finally he made up his mind and put the mug to his lips. Salvatore couldn't see the black dots moving in the direction of his mouth on their own. He drank the indefinable drink in big gulps. A sweet taste spread across his tongue, as well as a certain coolness in his whole body. The black-haired man wiped his lips with the back of his hand and handed the goblet to the priestess. Suddenly he was panting hard, practically gasping for air. Something was moving in his body. The Lord fell hard on his already aching knees and clutched his slippery temple with his fingers. Mother Miranda put the cup back on the altar, then carefully placed both of her hands on his head. She spoke almost gracefully in a soft voice: “I will cleanse you of all your doubts, my son, and take away the difficulty of having to make important decisions on your own any more. Express your loyalty to me and I will end your current suffering."

A strange feeling crept into his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw black dots moving through his superficial blue veins on his arm. Salvatore opened his mouth a little, but no words came out of his throat. The pain in his chest got worse and worse, but suddenly he no longer believed that it was a bad thing. A strong tingling sensation on his back signalled that something was happening to him. At that moment another parasite broke out of his skin and stared out into the world with icy eyes. The doctor finally replied in a whisper: "I will be loyal to you forever, Mother." As promised, the pain disappeared as if by magic. What remained was a feeling of closeness to the woman in front of him. They might not have the same blood, but their connection seemed beyond this ridiculous family trait. The cult leader gestured him to rise. She breathed a little kiss on the man's forehead and meekly whispered: “That's right, my child. Let go of this nonsensical prayer to a dead God and devote yourself entirely to your task. I have to be able to trust in you.” The Lord nodded eagerly, a broad smile crept onto his lips. He wasn't going to fail her. He couldn't fail her. Salvatore dragged himself to the gate of the church, flinching again and again from the working poison in his body. He finally wandered out into the stifling heat. The priestess watched him carefully and waited until she found herself back in her usual loneliness. Only then did she speak to herself, barely audible: “With all the others, only one Cadou was enough, but your ridiculous morality keeps you sane with three parasites now. I don't know whether to be impressed or upset about this development, Moreau.” Mother Miranda stood at the altar for a while, then withdrew to the basement of the church. There was too much to do right now to philosophize about such small failures.

[13eyond13]

I'll try to keep it short because you're very kind but I'm becoming annoying... I actually like Soichiro. It's his morals I cannot stand. In fact, in line with his, I like Matsuda's and even Light's variations more, even with all the darkness they entail, because they're more critical. I adore L and find him relatable, but I'm not so sure if I'd like him as a person in real life, and yet I again like his morals more than Soichiro's. I still think Soichiro is generally a better person than any of the others. I still dislike his morals the most. When I say at the opposite end of Soichiro in the moral spectrum is where Near stands I'm not talking just about my personal liking, but as I interpret their views on morality. Maybe there's some detail of the manga I'm forgetting (I truly have to reread it), but Soichiro didn't seem very critical about... anything, while Near states something like "even if god came and told me this is good and this is bad and this is The Truth I'd still consider and come to my own conclusion". I like that. I care less about someone getting a moral with what I may consider a degree of grey if they do that. I myself have very strong morals that nonetheless have degrees of grey; strong doesn't mean pure. My grey and someone else's grey might be very different. But I've developed them, not accepted them blindly. Near of course, Mello, L, and even Light and Matsuda do this, but Soichiro generally doesn't. And I dislike that greatly. In fact, I think I'd find him kind in real life, and likeable, but I'd not really like him because I can't really bring myself to like someone like that even when they're kind and compassionate and good. I'm already talking more than I intended but I'll try to point out what bothers me of his attitude.

Soichiro is very very anti Kira, but he's working for a government with the death penalty and he doesn't seem to consider that even for a moment. For him, that the government does it is justifiable but monstrous if a person does it. He doesn't really have a justification, it's just like that because it's as it is. He's very against L's methods, buy L uses people who were going to die anyway at the very moment he uses them either way because of the death penalty, because of the government. From a government pov, if the government were to do what L does, it'd be something terrible. From an individual pov? Not so much. It's ugly, but it's beyond himself whether that people die or not, and his decisions are easily justifiable from an individual pov: they're going to die irrevocably, that very day at that very time, and he is using what he can to solve a very complicated case that is taking many lives, and he even might use the moral support of "I'm giving the prisoners the chance of choosing, with the potential reward of lifelong imprisonment instead of death". And again, while a government doing that is terrible, it's not as terrible for a person. L is a private detective, an individual. People can be fallible. Governments shouldn't. What L does might be justifiable, if ugly, for a person, but it would be unforgivable for the government to do. But the government lies on L and it's L who takes the slander of the rest of the Task Force. And that's what Soichiro doesn't see, and that's what bugs me. Soichiro sides with the government and the laws no matter what, no matter if they're terrible and are actually the cause if indirectly of the terrible things L is able to do (I'd have to reread to be completely comfortable affirming this, but Soichiro's attitude towards the government reminds me a bit of Mikami and Misa to some extent).

Soichiro hates Kira, and hates and criticises L's methods and his ruthlessness, but doesn't even consider for one moment the problem is not L. The problem is not the 24 yo boy/man, the problem is his government, that has the dead penalty and actually let's a private detective carry on with the investigation and do as he pleases (and I'm not even taking into consideration how L's upbringing and the lowkey if fun exploitation he was subrmited to have most probably influenced if not determined the way he acts in these cases, because while it's intriguing it'd feel like justifying L out of pity, and either way Soichiro doesn't know that; but I mention this because L's entire past at Wammy's, like the other children's, is another very terrible move from governments and adults in responsibility positions). The problem is Interpol, the governments in general, blatantly saying L is ruthless but not even setting rules when working with him. And I think it would actually have been very easy to stop L doing those things. Just change the rules of the game, tell him beforehand there are a few things he can't do. It's a game after all. Of course L would still exploit the moral and legal vacuums of the rules as he pleased, as one does when playing anything, but the government wouldn't have given him totally free way.

I'm not sure if I'm explaining myself very well. Years ago in a class I talked about the difference between personal vengeance and the death penalty. I feel this is similar. A person is fallible. A government should be able to stand over licit murder. L manipulating people to prove a point is ugly. A government doing that or letting someone free way to do whatever is terrible. L does whatever, and as an individual is not so horrible as it is that the governments internationally actually let him do whatever even knowing beforehand without setting rules. Soichiro sees this and it doesn't even cross his mind for a moment to criticise the government he's working with. Also, he considers his morals the best, which makes sense in a first person pov (why support x morals if you don't think they're the best? I'm not critisising this), but he's very... imposing about them, while as I say not being precisely the most critical thinker. That Soichiro is like this, morally (I'm not even talking about the policeman aspect though that's so often talked about in the fandom), makes a lot of sense to how Light ends up being Kira, and with how Matsuda thinks and acts. And I find that very intriguing, but I can't stand Soichiro's simplistic morals and his better-than-you attitude even though he's a generally good person. That's why I dislike his morals the most (of course you don't have to agree!). I don't stand by Near's morals either, but I like his "god could come and tell me and still I'd doubt" attitude. It's what makes gods mad in basically every mythology, but I love that kind of thought process. I'm very much like that too.

I'm so sorry this is so long. I tried to cut, but I got the impression it'd make it even less clear or more difficult to understand. Or maybe the lack of clarity lies precisely on how repetitive and long this is. I'd like to think English not being my first language has to do with this, but honestly the problem is most probably just me. I hope I made the point understandable enough, though. And thanks for your patience. I really liked that post of Near someone sent as an opinion and how you replied! Very interesting takes on both ends.

Hi again! You have some very thought-provoking points about it all, and don't worry, your English is excellent.

I loved Near's stance about these things as well, and that's something that really bothered me when growing up about some authority figures and institutions being really totalitarian and silencing of doubts or stances they deemed too negative or incorrect to voice aloud. I value having freedom of choice and the ability to think critically about everything immensely. Maybe it's because I went to a very strict and sheltering and weird little school as a child that tried very hard to indoctrinate me with a specific worldview, and always shamed and silenced anyone who disagreed or questioned them or felt like an outsider or wanted to have a different point of view. I remember relating the most to Matsuda on the task force when I first watched the show as a teen, because he was always speaking up with his devil's advocate questions or confusions. The way Soichiro and the others usually yell and scold and shame him for this bothered me a lot, because I wanted them to discuss things openly so I could see all the different sides of the arguments more clearly. Actually, I think this is a pretty culturally similar thing between Japan and Canada (where I am from). There's a strong emphasis on doing what's best for the entire group instead of just yourself, and being too controversial or outspoken or individualistic about certain things is often taboo and frowned upon as a big social faux pas. It's possibly quite a bit stronger pressure toward obedience and conformity and politeness in Japan in certain ways as well, but I don't know for sure as I haven't lived there myself.

I think Soichiro had a bit of nuance and flexibility with his morals and his stances in various instances throughout the plot, and to me he seemingly tries hard to see things from other angles during complicated moments in what must be one of the most difficult situations he could possibly face as both a police chief and a parent. But it's true he never seemed to doubt that upholding the laws already in place and the way his government punishes the convicted were the "correct" ways society should function. I think this series would be a really interesting one to discuss in a class that talks about stuff like justice and the death penalty and law and ethics and such for how many of these things it touches on in an entertaining and thought-provoking way!

[eirian-houpe]

Hydrangea

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Maurice | Moe French Additional Tags: Memories, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, A Monthly Rumbelling August 2021 Series: Part 5 of The Language of Flowers

Summary: Belle is still in hospital after her accident out by the woods. Rumple catches her bookmark just as it is about to slip onto the bed, and together they reminisce about the first time he gave her flowers.

Read on AO3

Hydrangea

Gold sat in the hospital chair, beside the bed in which Belle was still confined. He didn’t want her there, didn’t trust the care she was getting to be what she needed. Now that they’d tended her wounds and given her the blood she needed to replace what was lost, he wanted her home, where he could care for her properly.

It bothered him, too, the way Jefferson had suddenly almost run from the room, on the gods knew what errand. One kindled by the coltsfoot flower that Belle had found on the library doorstep… was it only that morning? It felt like a thousand years ago.

He didn’t speak. He hadn’t for some time. Belle had been reading, and had fallen asleep with her book in her hands, and he didn’t want to disturb her. Only when it seemed the bookmark she held loosely in one hand, and the book that rested on the top of the covers, began to slip, did he reach out and take them gently from her, placing the book face down and open on the tray table beside the bed, while he stared at the bookmark, running his fingers over the pink, heart-shaped flowers that had been pressed and mounted onto the light blue card of the home made bookmark.

“Hydrangea.” Belle’s voice was soft, a little hoarse, and heavy with sleep.

“Sweetheart,” Gold answered, “you should be resting.”

She shook her head, just a little, and persisted, “They were the first flowers you ever gave me. Do you remember?”

Gold closed his eyes, letting his mind slip back into a past, a recent past but one which also felt as though it was hundreds of years ago.

“It wasn’t long after you arrived,” he said - knowing that wasn’t entirely the truth, but knowing also that Belle was still unaware of their previous life, or who they truly were to one another. “You were standing on the street outside of the library with the key in your hand.”

“The library key,” she agreed. “I remember. You wore a red tie. It stood out so much. I thought it was very bold.”

Gold chuckled. “Bold?” he questioned.

“Yes,” Belle said, and blushed. “Dark and broodingly handsome, and this huge statement that I just couldn’t ignore.” She looked down at her fingernails, and played with them until Gold reached out and gently took her hands in his. “I wanted to talk to you, but somehow I couldn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he reassured her. “In the end we got talking.”

“Thanks to the flowers, and the little game you always played.” She looked up, smiling fondly at him, her blush still not faded. “Do you remember what you said, when you brought them…?”

It was a warm enough day that he could fore go the heavy overcoat, in favor of the fine woolen suit when he made his rounds of the town. There were a few stragglers from whom he still needed to collect rent, and that was his first order of business. Then he’d spotted her from the corner of his eye.

He’d seen her before, though usually she looked distressed. Today, however, she seemed the embodiment of excitement. She stood in front of the library doors, clearly holding the key in her hand, bouncing on her toes as though she couldn’t contain herself. It made him smile.

Few things, and even fewer people brought a smile to his face, and he decided then and there that he would get to know this woman; petite, brown hair half pinned up, half falling around her face, and even across the distance he could see the brightness in the blue of her eyes. 

Beautiful he said to himself, then crossed the street, and walked on his way.

Game of Thorns was a reasonable walk but it gave him time to think, to come up with a strategy. He was  - self confessed - a bit of a coward when it came to women, thanks to Milah he supposed, but for him to think a woman as beautiful as the new librarian might even give him the time of day…?

It was then it hit him. Miss French was the florist’s daughter. Had her beauty so affected him that he could forget a simple fact like that?

“What do you want, Gold?” Mo French, as hospitable as ever, spat the words the moment he set foot inside the shop. No wonder his business was barely solvent if he treated all his potential customers that way. Of course, to be fair, the indebted proprietor most likely thought he was there to collect the rent money owed, rather than to purchase flowers, as was his intention, but it didn’t hurt to ruffle a few feathers every now and then. “I told you I’d bring you the rent by close of business today and—”

“Mister French,” he cut the man off, keeping his voice calm, almost convivial. He held up a hand to forestall any other comment by the boorish, irritating imbecile. “I’m sure you’re a man of your word. No, my purpose is not harassment - though I would be quite within my rights to do so - however, I’m here on business of another kind.”

“Oh?” French’s brows knitted in confusion.

“Flowers,” Gold said, and gestured around them. “And when one wishes for flowers, where else would one go except to a florists?”

“Well, in that case…” The man’s attitude changed as though someone had flipped a switch - not that Gold believed it any more than he believed that Mo French would give him the rent before five that evening, but - for now - he was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. “What can I do for you, Mister Gold.”

Gold looked around at the many options he had. Roses were a little too forward, in his opinion, and the lilies that caught his eye were somewhat too somber.

“I’m looking for something to bring a little brightness into what I’m sure is a space that needs it. Nothing too ostentatious, but something that would… break the ice between strangers,” he said.

French thought for a while, looking around at his stock, and asked, “Bouquet, or… perhaps something in a vase?”

“That would be lovely,” Gold answered. “Could you make an arrangement with those?” He pointed toward a bucket in which a number of blooms rested; tight balls of flowers, with heart shaped petals, in various colors. “The pink, if you please.”

And so it was, that several moments later, Gold left Game of Thorns with a classic shaped vase in which an arrangements of hydrangeas, green leaves, and the white of baby’s breath had been made.

Belle rubbed the itching tip of her nose with the back of her dirty hands, and blew the hair out of her face as she straightened up from dusting the circulation desk of the library. Already the room was a hundred times better than before just from having removed the paper from the windows, but now her hands were covered in news print, and the dust was making her want to sneeze and rub her eyes.  She had visions of herself ending up looking like some kind of koala.

She chuckled to herself just as the door opened, and a vase of flowers came in, followed by the determined tread of Mister Gold. Besides the flowers, the thing she most noticed was the bold red of his tie, which stood out against the immaculate darkness of his suit as though some kind of beacon.

She’d heard her father speak of the fearsome Mister Gold many times, and usually in some of the most derogatory tones that she’d ever heard him use, but seeing Gold, standing there in the doorway of the library, looking awkward behind the shield of flowers, she didn’t find him at all fearsome, much less objectionable.

“Mister Gold,” she greeted him with a smile. “I’m afraid I’m not quite ready to open the library just yet. It still needs a little attention.”

“Oh, no rush, Miss French,” he answered, taking an almost hesitant step further into the library, “I just thought…” She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, and then finished sheepishly, “Well, these are for you. I thought they might… help to brighten up the place.”

She came around the circulation desk as he offered the vase, and took it from him. “That’s very kind of you,” she said, and she felt herself lighten as she realized she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her flowers. “Very thoughtful.”

“My pleasure,” he told her, and returned her smile. “And please,” he added, “If there’s any way I can help you with anything you might need to reopen the library, my shop is just across the way.”  She glanced in the direction he indicated, though she already knew the location of his shop - everyone did - but somehow, the offer made her feel… warm inside; special.

…Belle smiled, remembering the moment as Rumple described it, and described how he felt. The warmth of it helped to make her feel lighter, happier than anyone lying in a hospital bed had any business feeling.

“For the first time in as long as I could remember, I just didn’t know what to do with myself,” he confessed, taking her hand in his once more.

“But you did know, Rumple,” she corrected him softly. All of the pressed flowers you hid inside the books you borrowed…” she trailed off a small frown crossing her face.

“Sweetheart?” he prompted. “Are you all right? Do you need me to get someo—”

“Did you ever read any of those books?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Or were they just an excuse to keep… coming into the library?”

“Some,” he said. “One or two.”  He crumpled under the weight of her teasing scrutiny. “All right, barely any. I always meant to… and I started one or two, but then…”

“Then…?”

“Well… I had to get you to notice me… to fall in love with me somehow,” he said, and she knew that behind his teasing, there was a large degree of truth.

“You thought I hadn’t noticed you?” she frowned again. “Every week for years you gave me a pressed flower, hidden in a book… you truly made love a mystery to uncover, with each and every one of those gifts. How could I not notice you, when I cherished and still cherish you so much?”

“Oh, Belle,” he answered, moving to perch on the side of the hospital bed so that he could lean down to kiss her softly.

“I love you, Rumple,” she said.

“And I love you too.”

[millennialfangirl]

Kind and Generous (mid & post 7x10 oneshot)

Fandom: Agents of Shield

Pairing: Daisy x Daniel

Rating: Mature & NSFW

Word Count: 3,027

Author’s Note: Hello, all! This is my first foray into Dousy mature content (aka smut). I’m really excited about it, but also nervous, because it’s been several years since I’ve written smut, or much of anything. 

This title and fic are inspired by the song “Kind and Generous” by Natalie Merchant (hello 90′s), and the sheer pure goodness of one Agent Daniel Sousa. I hope yall enjoy! Comments are treasured!

~Kind and Generous~

Daniel takes the large duffle that’s a lot heavier than she made it seem. He smiles to himself at convincing her to let him take it off her shoulders, and heads down the hallway in the direction of the bunks. Once he reaches them, he places his bag in one, and then goes out to look for a bunk for Daisy. Realizing he doesn’t know which one she might want, he turns back in the direction of the lab room he had left the two women in. 

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but just as he’s approaching the door, he hears his name. The next thing he hears takes his breath away, causing him to pause outside the door, and stay hidden.

“You kissed Agent Sousa?” Simmons exclaims in a loud whisper. 

“Hey, hey, keep your voice down. Nobody knows, not even him.”

Daniel ponders what could possibly be wrong with Daisy, because he damn sure would know if they had kissed. The desire and thought of doing it had been lingering in his mind since she saved his tail back on the train, assuring him that they were, in fact, the good guys. Why would she fabricate something like that and share it with Agent Simmons?

“How is that possible? What do you mean he doesn’t know?”

“Remember the whole time loop situation I was just in...yea.”

“What does this mean? Do you like him? Are you going to tell him?”

Even outside of the room, he can hear Daisy take a deep breath before sighing. He can’t believe that they had kissed, and he had the dumb luck of forgetting it. 

“Of course I like him. He’s a good man. Even if the SHIELD files didn’t prove that, he was by my side in every time loop, even sacrificed himself a couple of times just so I wouldn’t die and reset my memory. He’s solid...and it doesn’t hurt that he’s got that James Dean, Cary Grant Hollywood vibe going.”

“He is rather dreamy. That’s so exciting...why do I feel like there’s a but?”

“Because...you know my past. Look at how many people that get near me die. I barely know him, but somehow I don’t think I could lose him. And besides, we just ripped him from his home, everything he knew. For all I know, he’s in love with someone back in 1955.”

All he can hear is Simmons’ exasperated, “Daisy,” as he backs away from the door, back to the bunk he had put his things in. He takes the time to think over everything he heard while putting away the few things he has on his person. 

He’s lost in thought when he hears the thud of familiar combat boots approaching his door. Daisy knocks on the door frame softly, and he looks up to see her in the doorway looking calm and collected.

“So, where’d you put my stuff, then I’ll be out of your way so you can get some rest.” 

He gestures to the floor by the door where he had dazedly put her duffle. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know which bunk you wanted. I was going to come find you after I got settled.”

 “That’s alright,” she brushes off as she moves to grab the bag. 

He’s there in an instant, picking it up and hoisting it on his shoulder.

“Show me the way.”

She gives him a once over, clearly scrutinizing his actions before shrugging.

“I was thinking I’d just go right across the hall, actually.”

He follows her the few steps across the tile hall and into the room. Without being told, he deposits the large duffle on her bed. 

“That was easy enough,” he says, wiping his hands together as if he had just lifted fifty bales of hay. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem...actually, do you mind if we talk for a minute.”

“Sure. You doing alright? Are you ready to abandon ship and try to go start a new life?”

Daniel finds it incredibly sad that her first assumption is that he wants to leave. He finds it sad that she doesn’t seem bothered by it, more like she was expecting it. He can see the careful mask she’s placed to hide her fears. 

“I’m doing great actually, and I think I’m right where I need to be.” 

Daisy startles, and her mask of kind indifference drops. 

“Oh...okay. Um, in that case, what did you need?”

He takes a couple of steps closer while carefully deciding what he should say. He doesn’t want to spook her. He doesn’t want to push her. He just wants her to know that he’s there, available, waiting for the right time. 

“I just want you to know that there’s no one special back in ‘55. No one to write home to. I kind of married the job, resigned myself to bachelorhood,” he says while crossing his arms. He clears his throat before continuing, because he can see that she’s at a loss for words.

“Of course, I had close friends, family. My pop was still around. So when I say there are people I wish I could have said goodbye to, that’s who I’m talking about.” 

He can see the faintest blush rise on her cheeks, and he loves the way it makes her skin glow. 

“And um, why did you think I should know that?”

“So that when I tell you that I think you’re amazing, and that I want to get to know you better, and that I want to take you to dinner and see a film, if that’s something people still do in the 21st century...that you’ll believe me.” 

She brings her fingers up to her mouth, maybe remembering the kiss they had shared, or maybe covering up the grin that’s breaking through. Most importantly, she’s not backing away or rejecting his plans. If anything, she’s inched closer to him. 

“That’s a good reason.” 

“I thought so,” he agrees.

He takes her free hand, holding it in his. He lifts it to his mouth, brushing his lips softly against the top of her knuckles.

“I’m going to show you that you deserve good things. I promise,” he mumbles against her skin, turning and kissing the delicate underside of her wrist too, the promise of so much more implied.

She looks at him in awe, and he’s proud to have rendered her speechless. He lets her hand fall from his as he slowly backs up and turns to the door. Just as he’s about to walk out, he turns back around at the last minute.

She’s still standing there, staring at the place he once stood. 

“And Agent Johnson,” he starts, waiting for her to look up and meet his eyes. “I’d really like to kiss you on the lips and remember it, if that’s something you might be amenable to one day.”

He knows he’s playing dirty, but he loves the way her whole face goes red, realization that he’d heard their conversation dawning on her face. 

“I think I can be amenable to that.” 

“Good. I’ll go get some of that rest now.”

He turns on his heel, and can’t help the light whistle he blows as he moves to his room, closing the door behind him. For the first time since he woke up on the Zephyr, he feels like he’s got something to look forward to. 

***

Over the next few weeks, he does just that. He reminds her of what it is like to have a partner, to have someone to lean on. He picks her up after every fall, and he stands by her side in every fight.  And it isn’t like the almost simple, repeated tasks of the time loop. It’s the heavy, habitual pattern of everyday life, and the constant fear of the unknown. He is steady through it all.

They fall into like...into friendship...and then an instant anticipation of more. Secret glances and whispered conversations between missions. They can feel the hum of something big just underneath the surface. Daisy knew that as soon as the fighting stopped and the team could take a break, they would collide with each other like two trains on the same track. They were never supposed to cross paths, but someone, God, the universe...maybe time itself, switched their paths. Somehow, he’s everything she didn’t know she needed, and more. 

Their time of respite comes. They’re in a new future, one that’s unknown to them both, and their team, but the Lighthouse is still there. For better or worse, it’s their home for now. The team disperses, each of them seeking out long hot showers, comfort food, and the welcoming arms of someone they love. Daniel finds her combing through her wet hair, water droplets clinging to her skin. 

“We did it.”

“You did it,” he replies immediately.

But as kind and generous as that is to say, she knows she wouldn’t be here without him.

“No, we did it.” 

He silently acquiesces with a nod. 

She stands up, tugging the thin robe she had put on after her shower more tightly around her. She pivots to place her brush on the outdated, built-in 70’s dresser. 

She can feel the air shift, and she’s only a little surprised to find him right in front of her when she turns back around. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You feeling okay? You hurt much?” he asks, always concerned, his eyes raking over her body.

“No. Just a little tired," she assures him.

“Good,” he replies, like she placed the last puzzle piece or connected the last dot. 

She is surprised when he grasps her waist and pulls her flush against him. Without hesitation, their mouths meet, and it’s so much better than her memory of the time loop. He’s giving so much to the kiss, exposing himself down to the bones.

“I made you a promise.”

He lifts her wrist up and starts a slow ascent up her arm, sliding the sleeve of her robe up as his mouth picks up where he left off weeks ago.

“I’d like to follow through on that now, if it’s okay with you.” 

She can barely nod as he gently pulls the knot loose that’s holding her robe closed. He doesn’t pull it off, he doesn’t look, he just places a warm hand on her bare stomach, and then moves his lips to her cheek. 

Her eyes sting under his careful touch. She’s never been touched like this. 

Where there was once an impassioned frenzy, now there’s a languid tenderness. Exploration, experimentation. Admiration. Daisy can feel it all coming off of him in waves, all tactile devotion. 

She needs this. She needs to feel loved, not for her power, or her fighting, but for her soft edges and fragile heart. 

Suddenly his arms are wrapped around her tight, one hand protectively on her back, the other buried in her hair, cradling her head. She can’t help but sag against him, feeling the last vestiges of fight or flight leave her system, a heavy weight unburdening itself from her shoulders. Somehow, this hug is more intimate than anything she’s experienced. They stand there for a minute, soaking up the silence and peace.

And then she’s in the moment, and she can feel him pressed against her everywhere, strong and solid and safe. Static crackles over her skin as he dips his head to her neck. Everything but his touch disappears, and her robe drops to the floor.  

He picks her up like he did in the barn, and they settle on the bed with her in his lap. His lips are back on hers, and his fingers are brushing down the side of her face, then her neck. She whimpers when they finally graze her breast, a gentle swirl over her nipple. He becomes reacquainted with her neck then, sucking and nipping while his fingers trace the sides of breast. He cups her whole, his hand encompassing her entirely. That long forgotten warmth draws down to her abdomen, and her inner walls clinch in anticipation. 

“So beautiful,” she can hear him murmur into her neck while his hand continues to massage her rhythmically. 

Weeks of want and anticipation since that first forgotten kiss has her desperate. The sudden shock of his affection wears off, leaving room for her to pull his face back up so she can kiss him properly. His responding moan delights her when she slips her tongue in his mouth. His gentle control waivers, and she’s rewarded with a slightly painful pinch to her hardened nipple. Her hips buck and her legs spread, begging for attention. 

He’s still cradling her head as he leans back from the kiss to look into her face. It’s not her lack of clothing making her feel vulnerable, rather the intense stare he maintains as his hand finds its way to her parted legs. A strangled gasp leaves her at the first touch of his fingertips to her entrance. She can see his eyes dance around her face, watching every reaction to his exploration. 

A digit gathers moisture, and circles her entrance. She can’t help but let her eyes slip closed as that finger disappears within her. He goes shallow at first as he maps her out. 

“Daniel…” she hears herself whimper, and she’s not sure she’s ever heard herself sound like that before.

Her hand grips his forearm, nails digging in as she looks up at him in wonder and need. 

“Whatever you need,” he quietly promises.

And she feels that burning sensation behind her eyes again. Her hand slides down to his.

“Don’t stop,” she instructs while gently pushing him deeper. 

A tear escapes down her cheekbone as he starts to circle her deep inside. 

Her right arm wraps around his waist while her left hand continues to cling to his, feeling him push in and out of her in steady, sure strokes. She holds him tightly and can’t help but arch up against his ministrations, which makes it easier for his head to tip down and latch onto a nipple. A light wave travels through her, and she knows she’s already getting close. 

He must know it too, because his middle finger becomes more sure of itself as he curls it up. He pulls away from her breast, and kisses the tear away. He watches her as she starts to come undone, his thumb circling her clit, lighting her up in a whole new way. 

She bites her lip, and her legs tense up waiting, and waiting for that drop. Her stomach quivers, along with a few things around the room. His finger works her over faster and harder.

“C’mon, come for me. Let go.”

Her stomach shakes and she gasps out a broken cry. Her walls flutter and collapse around him.

“That’s it...that’s it. Just like that,’ he encourages her.

She rides out her release in blissful fulfillment. 

She should feel shy and embarrassed as she comes down from her high, but there’s no room for that when she meets his kind eyes and flushed cheeks. He’s smiling, wide and happy, and Daisy’s never been the girl to feel giddy and romantic, but she does. 

He slowly withdraws from her, and she can feel her dampness on his hand as it trails back up her body. He lays her down finally, and kisses her softly, almost timid. 

He props up on an elbow and looks down at her. 

“Was that…” he tries to get out, clearing his throat.

“Was that good? Did you enjoy it?”

She can’t help the toothy, silly grin that splits her face, or the tired, satisfied stretch she lets out as she nods in affirmation.

“It was perfect.”

“I’m glad.”

He leans down and nuzzles her nose, peppering soft kisses across her face. 

But then he’s getting up, pulling back the starchy sheets and blanket. Before she realizes it, he’s tucking her in, his hand brushing her hair out of her face. 

“Hey...where are you going? I want to take care of you,” she whines while pulling on his arm.

He sits on the edge of the mattress and tangles their fingers together. He kisses them lightly while gazing down at her. 

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later. In fact, I’d like to take you out on a date, remember?”

“But--” 

“You should be resting.”

She’s not pleased with the turn of events, but even she can admit how heavy her eyelids are getting. She doesn’t want him to leave though. She’s selfishly wanted him back by her side, sleeping next to her, just like he did with the healing pod.

“Okay, but will you stay?” she asks. And maybe she bites her lip and gives him her best puppy dog eyes.

She knows he’s caved, the minute he sighs and let’s his head drop down in a rueful grin. 

“I knew you were going to be trouble, with a capital ‘T’.”

She laughs and excitedly slides over, pulling back the sheets for him. She feels a rush of pride when she sees him falter, staring at her still naked form. He blinks out of his daze and immediately pulls the basic t-shirt he’s wearing over his head.

It’s her turn gulp when he hands it to her.

“I’ll stay, but you gotta put that on,” he demands as he turns around.

“You are such a square,” she teases, but does as he says. 

He turns back as she settles back into the bed.

“I’m going to go grab some water. Want some?”

So, so kind and generous. 

“Yes, please.”

“You got it. I’ll be right back.” 

She watches him go and relaxes. Fatigue settles into her bones. She must have drifted off, because she startles awake when she feels someone settle behind her on the mattress, the room dark and quiet.

“It’s just me,” he reassures her, and tugs her close against him. 

She smiles into the darkness when he kisses her cheek. 

“I’m going to thank you properly, Agent Sousa...for everything.” 

“I look forward to it, Agent Johnson.”

******************

Ta Da! 

Would anyone like a follow up with a first date?

(pssst...there’s probably going to be a smutty first date follow up)

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Eight

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: I may or may not have gone full tilt here, I apologize. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale @absurdthirst @cryptkeepersoul @fleetwoodmactshirt @88dragon06 @roxypeanut @walkerchick007 @peggers-n-beggers @robbinholland @chrisbostonevans @cinewhore

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains certain religious terminology used in a context that may be considered sacrilegious. Stay safe!]

Ezra might have prayed for temperance, but you prayed for strength. You prayed for courage, for the flourishing of the bonfire that wanted to roar like a lion in your abdomen. Admittedly, you did feel a bit silly approaching your eventual physical romance in such a militant fashion, but the vibrant hunger of his kisses (for all that he tried to gentle them) was intoxicating. 

You were left wanting, craving, longing for more and fearing it all at once. Somehow, Ezra had known. Soothing your trembling away, adjusting himself before cradling you against his side, "I will not be a threat to you, gentle soul." And he wasn't. You were safely returned to your room, wholly unmolested aside from a final, lingering kiss that left your skin tingling. 

You touched yourself that night for the first time in stands, hoping and wishing that he was doing the same in his own bedroom as you worked yourself feverishly to your orgasm. 

The next morning, you were terrified that things would be different. That something might have changed and that he would have finally thought better of getting involved with someone like you. You lolled around in bed for far too long and then took your time getting washed up in the bathroom, but when you opened the door you were instantly confronted by your customary mug of morning beverage. 

"I'm afraid I...missed you in the kitchen earlier." Ezra murmured, brown eyes meeting your own nervously. "The hydro, while a delightful invention, cannot hold a candle to your conversational wit." 

He was worried, off-balance. It made your tension ease; you could feel your shoulders slouching a little. The sight seemed to get him to relax slightly, the furrow between his eyebrows lessening when you accepted the mug with a quiet sound of thanks. "Wasn't sure if you regretted anything." You mumbled by way of explanation. 

"You are one of the few beautiful things in my life that regret has yet to gain a foothold on." Ezra assured you sincerely. "And it shall remain so for as long as I have a say in the matter." He paused. "Is that...acceptable?"

You smiled up at him, taking the first sip. "Entirely adequate."

…

Ezra was soft and lazy in the mornings, slow to really wake up, his sleep-tousled hair demanding to have your hands in it. You loved the way he would petulantly scrunch his nose when you kissed it.

Midday found him vibrant and mischievous, urging you to accompany him on his exploratory jaunts around the Pug's west dock and Ward Twenty Seven. His hand never left your own on these walks, that faint worry still there even in the safety and stability. 

Ezra usually tried to plan something to occupy the evenings. On the rare clear nights during the late autumnal season, he would drag you out of the apartment to the barely-maintained west park so the two of you could watch haphazard performances by local artists in the ramshackle community gazebo. More likely though, the bad weather kept you cozy on the couch in the living room.

"I keep wondering when I'll wake up." Ezra announced abruptly one bitterly-cold night. "I posit that perhaps I perished in the Green; Bakhroma's noxious foliage nourishing itself even now with my carcass. It would be a certain poetic justice, I think, for someone as morally bankrupt as myself. My dastardly body serving to further the spread of such voracious verdance." His eyes were distant and troubled as he continued doggedly, "None of this feels real. It is all too...soft. Too kind. As though any edge that could wake me has been sanded down, dulled to a dream."

"I'm not a dream." You replied firmly, snuggling closer to his side. 

"You are the most quixotic portion of this campaign, I have to say. That someone like you would even bother to glance my direction, to say nothing of the warmth you exude...gentle soul, you are a Stockholmian improbability of the highest caliber." Ezra's voice cracked, his expression haggard. "I long to be a man worthy of you. I don't believe in divine will, and even if I did I would be loathe to reduce you down to a simple compensation from some nebulous deity for patiently enduring their trials, but...but I can think of no other reason for you to still be here with me." He confessed wearily. "I offer nothing you can't secure yourself, I have-"

"Ezra?" You interrupted before he could spiral any further into melancholy. 

"Yes, gentle soul?"

"I'm here because I love you, not because you have something I want to secure." 

"That has never been in question, but-"

"No no." You climbed into his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders. "I. Love. You." You stated firmly, cradling his face in your palms after a moment. "Hey. I love you, Ezra. I love you. Even when you disappear into your own head. Even when you go where I can't follow." Your thumb accidentally grazed the scar on his left cheek and he flinched, the intuitively defensive motion making your heart clench. "I don't expect you to be perfect. Gods know I'm not! But don't think for a second that you don't deserve to at least be happy, okay?"

"I deserve none of this." He muttered dismally, still avoiding your gaze. 

"What was it you told me the day you came to see me in the hospital? 'We have endured so much worse than having a little good fortune, yet upon being confronted with it, we do not feel worthy'." 

His laugh was mirthless, raw. "I am remarkably eloquent, especially when I lie, gentle soul."

You huffed out a breath. "Oh that was a lie, huh? I guess you wanting to be a better man must also be a lie, right? A hackneyed platitude?" His chest shuddered, but you kept going, "All the times you've called me precious or beautiful or gentle, probably lies. A valkyrie? What a damn joke."

"Now, wait just-"

"You want to lie? Lie all you want. But you're not going to wallow." You scolded.

"Gentle soul, I do not lie about you." Ezra protested. "I yearn to be a better man, a man worth your avid ardour with every fiber of my reprehensible bein', yet I am unworthy of insomuch as the opportunity to enable me to do so."

"I wish you could see what I see." You ran a finger down the bridge of his pronounced nose, smiling when he wrinkled it. "I wish you believed me."

"As do I. More than you'll ever know." Ezra sighed, wrapping his arms around you. "If only to soothe my own damnable ego!"

"There's nothing I can do to convince you?" You quizzed him, wriggling a little in his grip to try and get more comfortable on top of him. He grunted, tightening his hold. "Maybe I should write you a poem."

"No, no." He replied breathlessly, his fingers digging into your hips. "You are already all the poetry I could ever desire, gentle soul."

"What about a sonnet? A haiku maybe?" Your brow furrowed as you noticed just how tightly he was holding you. "A...what, limerick?"

Ezra sputtered with laughter, his black mood finally seeming to lift. "A limerick, Kevva preserve me!" He chuckled.

"There once was a man named Ezra…" you began threateningly.

"I am not an innocent, and yet I implore your valkyrical heart for mercy. Spare me such torment, gentle soul!"

You pursed your lips, trying to think of a second line, but Ezra interrupted your thought process with a kiss. And really, it was incredibly unfair that his kisses always seemed to render your mind to soft static. He hummed into your mouth, obviously pleased with himself. 

You didn't miss the way he settled you more firmly into his lap, however, making you break the kiss with a gasp. "No predation, gentle soul. I just crave you a little closer." Ezra breathed. "Is it too much?"

"N-No, not at all. I like it." You admitted shyly, toying with the buttons on his henley. He groaned, his mustache brushing the sensitive skin of your neck when he kissed you beneath your ear.

"I must confess to my shortcomings, gentle soul." He murmured against your neck. "I bear the cross of strong predisposition towards adoration and a certain...proclivity regarding devouring. I hope not to offend." 

"I don't know what you said, but I trust you." You replied just as softly, shivering at the volume of the groan he let out. The way he sounded was enough to have you growing wet, your natural slick easing the drag of the seam of your pants over your clit when you shifted again.

"I said, I will worship you with every breath in my lungs, and I wish to put my mouth on you in a salaciously intimate fashion." Ezra translated, his lips curving into a languid smile against your skin as he spoke.

"Oh?" You asked, willing your heart to stop pounding excitedly in your chest and trying to adjust your stance on top of him surreptitiously.

"Kevva, I do not deserve you. I feel untried." He admitted shakily. "Pardon my lewd terminology, but the delectable undulations of your form against my own threaten to bring me to fruition. I am afraid I must insist that we-"

You rocked your groin down, eyes half-lidding when you realized what you had been absently rubbing against this whole time. You braced your hands on his chest, leaning close. "You must insist that we…?" You prompted him with a teasing smile.

"Gentle soul, such cruelty...you have me thoroughly turgid." He muttered through gritted teeth. His fingers cradled the back of your neck, as if he didn't trust himself to put them anywhere else. "Stay your hand, I beg you, before I make a mess of this."

"Of what, your pants?"

"...among other things, yes." Ezra growled. 

"Hmm," you paused, as if you were thinking about it. "No." 

"You-!" Ezra's words dissolved into a hoarse groan when you hitched your hips up to grind your cunt against the swollen curve of his member, barely contained by his jeans. "Martyr's malfeasance, I can feel the heat of you, please don't stop--may I touch you?" He gasped. 

"Where?" You asked, not so wholly aroused that you forgot your caution. 

He swallowed hard, the thick musculature of his neck rippling beneath your hands. "Wherever you'll permit me, please, please, gods, I have never craved someone as much as I crave you," he pleaded. "I want to grace you with as much benevolent joy as you grace me, more even, I...I will be nude for you, gentle soul, take me apart! Make me yours." He rambled on, his hands in your hair now as he urged your hips forward in their motion. "Permit me to taste and touch you, gentle soul. Allow me entry into the slick, sheltered hollows of your form, grant me succor where your divinity pulses to new life with every pass of my tongue." Ezra pressed his forehead to your own, his heated words stealing your breath. Half the allure was untangling them all. "I am but a sinner rendered wholly insensible by your presence, greedy and undeserving and yet I beg, I implore-" 

You coaxed his hands out of your hair, smiling mistily at him before you kissed his knuckles. "Go ahead. I trust you."

"Rise then, you gossamer fae creature." He ordered, clapping a hand to your hip. "Titania's beauty pales in comparison to your own and I have not even divested you of your garments." 

"Oh, here?" You bit your lip. "You don't want to...I mean, the bedroom?" 

"Is that what you wish?" Ezra queried, his hands stilling. You took in the sight of him underneath you, hair thoroughly mussed with his shirt rucked up over his belly. "Whatever you prefer, gentle soul. Is this too fast?"

"No, no no, I'm more worried about how small the couch i--hey!" You yelped when Ezra cradled your body against his own and stood. Your knees grappled at his sides for a moment and he burst out laughing, fumbling to urge your leg up over his hip. 

"I've got you! I've got you, don't fret." The former prospector soothed, still smiling. "You're safe."

"Oh Ezra?" You called over his shoulder. "Some man is here to take me away, he says he's worthy of me or something, I dunno', I'll see you tomorrow morning okay?"

In reply, Ezra buried his face in your neck and blew a raspberry on your skin, making you squeal and wriggle. "You are so smug, I love it!" He laughed. "You piquant little thing, a vivacious rebuttal to Kevva's divine will."

"Oh I'm sacrilegious now?" You questioned as he carried you down the hall, feeling a tremor of fresh excitement when he entirely ignored your bedroom door in favor of his own.

"I am confident that you shall rapidly come to terms with your newfound paganism, gentle soul." 

You slung your arms around his neck and held on to him a little tighter, enthusiasm and trepidation warring within you.

Once the former prospector placed you on the bed in his room, his eager demeanor shifted. "Lights on, or off?" He asked softly. "Would you rather undress yourself, or would you like me to undress you?"

"Oh, u-um. Can we have just...a small light on? Like your bedside lamp?" You requested, twisting the hem of your shirt. "I'll be okay as long as I can see you, but I'm...well, y'know." You shrugged anxiously up at him. 

"I don't know, I'm afraid. What are you?" 

Really, you should have known better than to assume that he would let you off that particular hook so easily. You sighed. "I'm not exactly in the greatest shape even after all this time, I've got stretch marks and that scar and I-"

"And you, are immaculate." Ezra whispered, leaning in from the side to kiss the rest of your self-deprecation away. "You are strength and wonder and all the good that has ever been, encapsulated in a stunning mantle of kintsugi. Every scar is drenched in gold, every mark forged anew in radiance. You are pure sunlight, gentle soul, rapturous air in this battered floater's lungs."

"Oh," was all you could say in reply, wide-eyed. 

"I wish you could see what I see." Ezra echoed your earlier words, smiling when you huffed and turned your head away from him. "It's true! Don't hide from me, gentle soul. I know it is embarrassing, but honesty is the best policy-"

"Says the one who claimed he was at his most eloquent when he was lying!" You protested, half-laughing.

"I regret to inform you that that was a lie as well."

"You're incorrigible."

"And infatuated." Ezra returned to the bed from dimming the lights, shedding his shirt as he went. "Impossible. Infuriating. Vexatious. Precocious." His voice dipped to a sultry purr, the next word buzzing against the skin of your neck. "Garrulous." 

"Ezra please, you're the best-looking thesaurus I've ever known but I want to die of embarrassment. Can we not have a vocabulary-expanding session in the bedroom?" You begged, covering your face.

"Best-looking--such flattery, gentle soul!" Ezra teased you mercilessly, "You could have lured me into your embrace stands ago with that silver tongue of yours." He bent close, playing with your fingers at the hem of your shirt. "Besides, you cannot deny your reaction to my expansive vocabulary. You love it when I hum incomprehensible nothings just beneath your ear, don't you?" He enquired, mouthing kisses down the curve of your jaw. You couldn't help your delighted shiver. "You tremble for me, which seems to indicate a level of enjoyment. Either that, or apprehension. Are you apprehensive?"

"Maybe a little." You admitted.

"Because of me? Am I too close? Should I stop?"

"No, gods no!" You protested wildly. Ezra settled back on his haunches, ever patient as you struggled to find the right words. "I'm not apprehensive about you, it's...I guess I'm apprehensive about me. About whether I'll be able to...um, whether I can make you feel good." You floundered.

"I would not trouble yourself with such concerns, gentle soul. If I can offer any assurance, it is in the knowledge that my love and, in kind, my making of said love, is decidedly generous." Ezra soothed, those brown eyes warm and guileless. "All I ask is your permission and consent, which can and should be revoked if you are discomfited by any advance I make."

"Promise?" You whispered.

"Martyr's malfeasance, I would rather lose my arm than cause you undue suffering. I swear it." Ezra replied simply, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "I will not be a threat to you. I will never weaponize myself against you."

"Will…" you hesitated, feeling like everything had gotten so incredibly serious so fast. "Will you let me win at Scrabble?"

He tried to keep a straight face. It worked. Briefly. "I will--I-dammit-" he snorted. "You drive a hard bargain, gentle soul. I may require legal counsel. I am loathe to relinquish my Scrabble dictatorship." Ezra sighed dramatically. "But if it is a question of pursuing carnal delights or intellectual, I must admit the former holds infinitely more allure. I will permit you to win one game."

"Only one?" You bit your lip, tracing circles on his bare chest over his collarbone. A few scars stood out starkly on the olive skin, and you cupped one that marred his right pectoral.

Ezra's breath hitched. "W-Well, perhaps I might be open to candid discourse in favor of justifying two wins. But you must understand, winning by underhanded tactics will give you no lasting joy." He cautioned you sternly. "A faux victory is naught but a festerin' wound that plagues your existence."

"I'll keep that in mind." Your fingers moved to the buttons on your shirt. "I know these small ones are hard for you to undo."

"Your charitable nature overwhelms me." Ezra breathed. "Leave the hooks, will you? I always delight in that particular chore."

"By all means. It's a pain in the neck otherwise." You smiled at how intent his stare was. "You see something you like?"

"Infinite somethings." He groaned, shifting his body down until he laid on his stomach. He pillowed his head on his arm as he looked up at you, his eyes alight. "I want to taste your skin so damn badly."

"I'm right here, y'know." 

"Yes, and I am utterly ruined by that fact. So close to me, so near." His hand moved upward, trembling fingers tracing your knee. "I am so greedy for you, gentle soul. To think that I would spend a lifetime courting danger and avaricious pursuits, only to be rendered timid and a-quiver by the simple knowledge that everything I could ever possibly want is here, here, I can reach out and fill my arms with it." 

You slipped your shirt off of your shoulders and Ezra swore under his breath. "I'm not dumb enough to believe that you've had an easy time of it yourself." You murmured. "You've got more scars than I do."

"By the hubristic tendency of my own hand, I assure you." Ezra urged you upright, his fingers battling with the fasteners of your bra. "Old wounds, made infinitely less caustic by the knowledge that you anticipated me as tenderly as I anticipated you, gentle soul." Your bra finally gave way and the noise he made in his throat was delicious, a helpless little croon of excitement that had you squeezing your thighs together for some meager relief. "Gods, I am woefully underprepared. I would beg for a lifetime to observe you even in this hapless state of undress, yet I am ushered onward by the siren call of this wonderful skin. I would...I would very much like to touch you." He said faintly. 

"Where?" You whispered. His hands slid beneath your arms from behind in reply, cradling your own hands before he raised them to hover over your newly-bared breasts. You bit your lip anxiously. "Be gentle, please?" 

A nearly overwhelming sense of relief washed over you when Ezra nodded his forehead down into the nape of your neck. Knowing that he wasn't actually looking at you yet, all he was doing was feeling you...it made it more bearable somehow. 

So far, so good. 

His index fingers slipped over the still-soft peaks of your breasts and you couldn't help the sigh you let out, feeling your nipples begin to wake under his touch. "Gentle soul, I...words fail me." Ezra admitted quietly. "To coax you to blossom by my hand is all that I could ever want in this lifetime. Lean back, please?"

You obliged, turning your face to kiss his neck so he couldn't see your expression. Ezra's motions were unhurried, tender; calloused palms chafing your breasts with care. His breath stuttered every time you lavished his throat and jaw with kisses. 

"It has been so long since I have been able to touch another, I only pray I do not disappoint. My technique may require some calibration." He apologized with a self-conscious chuckle. "I'm afraid my own imagination is a poor substitute for the flesh and blood fantasy you have presented me."

"I wish I could talk like you." You whimpered against his ear, feeling his chest expand with a sharp inhale. 

"Martyr's malfeasance, I am uncertain that I would be able to endure that hypothetical iteration of reality." He said shakily, delicately rolling your nipples between his thumb and index. You arched your back, gasping. This was impossible, it had never been like this, even before Damon! The only time it had ever felt this good was when you were masturbating, because you knew what you needed, you knew how everything worked, but now-

Maybe you weren't the only one who knew just what you needed. 

"I wonder," Ezra mused, "I wonder just how drenched you are from this alone. I know you are working yourself off on the seam of those wonderfully tight jeans, gentle soul. Would you indulge me for a moment?" He ducked his head down, nudging his nose affectionately into your burning cheek. "I'd appreciate it if you would unzip your jeans. You do not have to, naturally, and I do not expect it of you. But it would be...appreciated."

You fidgeted for a moment, then moved to undo your button.

"Stay, now." Ezra murmured. "Slowly. No demands, no rush. We are relaxed. We are peaceful. Climax need not be a grasping, headlong event. There can be such a build, a gloriously languid indulgence, where pleasure laps heady at the senses and completion bleeds into itself. You make me wish to take my time, gentle soul."

"Right, sorry. I just...I'm used to it. I'll try to remember." You panted, not missing the sorrow that flickered across his rough features. It made your heart ache and sing at the same time, his patience and understanding for your previous experiences.

"Do we need to stop?" Ezra queried. 

You shook your head, nearly hitting his nose. "No, no. I'm having a great time." You insisted, making him chuckle. "No way I'm stopping now, we're just getting to the good part!"

"I am of the belief that any moment I spend with you, clothed or otherwise, is the good part. Perhaps I am too sentimental." The man allowed, still smiling. You bit your lip, skimming your fingers down the surface of your stomach. "There you are, gentle soul. Serene. Taut with anticipation, grinding those beautiful hips up for an echo of touch. Slowly, slowly, make your body beg for it. Draw out the moment of arrival." Ezra instructed as he continued to tease his fingers over your breasts, his voice rasping slightly. "Open your placket as if you have never encountered one before, feel the ticking of the zipper teeth as they slip open."

You closed your eyes if only because you knew you were safe, sliding down your zipper and arching yourself a little to wriggle your hips free. Your panties were soaked, wet enough that they made a soft noise when you tried to tug them down.

Before you could think to feel self-conscious, Ezra groaned long and low in your ear, and you didn't have to open your eyes to know exactly where he was looking. "You are dewy, gentle soul."

"For you." You dared to say, relishing his gasp for breath when you slid your fingers down over your slit.

"Slick from such hard labor, and I confess I am aching as well. But slow now, temperance. Will you touch yourself for me, gentle soul? Bring yourself pleasure?" Ezra paused, like he was fighting for air. "Allow me a taste of the sheltered, trembling divinity that is your womanhood, gentle soul. I am a man adrift in a desert of sensation." He begged hoarsely.

"You want…?" You trailed off, flushing hot at his rapid nod towards your hand. "Are you sure? I mean, what if it's weird? What if-"

"Nothing about your sensuous form could lessen my desire for you, gentle soul." Ezra licked his lips, pupils blown black with want. "Give me your taste. Anoint my mouth with your arousal as we indulge in this carnal rapture."

You were certain that if he said anything else you would spontaneously combust, his words like gasoline on the roaring fire in your belly. Ezra took the opportunity to lick into your mouth, muttering fractured, helpless adoration under his breath as you whimpered and rocked beneath him. Your fingers dove back to your cunt, slipping through the slick folds to tease your entrance and then retreating up over your clit. With a hiccup of loss, you pulled your hand free and shyly extended it to him.

"Lay them on my tongue, you angelic creature. We engage in a communion older than the stars themselves; gods, that I were a worthier man!" Ezra urged your fingers into his mouth, the brown-haired man moaning and laving at your soaked digits with an enthusiasm that you didn't anticipate. "As I suspected," he groaned, "heavenly ambrosia, nectarean. You have sundered my very spirit with your taste, gentle soul." 

"You...it's okay, then?"

"It is an offering from your body. Longing given delicious, lascivious form. It will never be less than the most precious thing to me." Ezra assured you, devilish fingers tormenting the stiffened peaks of your breasts. "Stroke yourself for me, please? Bury those nimble little fingers back into that sweet cunt and bring yourself to fruition."

You squeezed your thighs together, arousal pooling heated and dark in your stomach. He loved you. He didn't feel entitled to you. He wanted you to feel good. "Ezra-"

"My name from your lips is at once agony and ecstasy, gentle soul. I could listen to your voice quivering for hours." Ezra crooned, a smile pressed to the skin of your shoulder. "Are you close? Are you rising turbulent, gentle soul? Threatening completion?" You could barely manage your nod before his large hands palmed your breasts, your nipples tenderly caged between his knuckles. "Then grant me that vision, gentle soul, let me witness you fucking resplendent." He grated out, the uncharacteristically blunt curse sending a searing jolt through your body. 

You were helpless to resist his plea, the blood roaring in your ears rendering you numb to the world for a few moments while your orgasm crashed over you. 

Ezra cradled you close to his chest; kisses landed on your neck, forehead, shoulders as he murmured praise and…

And you might have briefly lost consciousness. Briefly.

Part Nine

[flowercrown-bucky]

As it turns out, adventuring in the unconscious mind is super overrated.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

.Word Count: Lots

Chapter One

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter Two] 

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME TO BE ADDED

Authors’ Note: When I worked as a barmaid, one of my regulars used to refer to his wife as ‘the current Mrs Osbourne’. I always found it funny, and I snuck it in here. 

Also - I’m back. Yipee ki yay, motherfuckers.

You sighed as you slept, your breasts heaving.

Loki turned on his side, running the tips of his fingers over your sleeping form. The thin blanket was draped over you, not quite thick enough to warm your body properly. 

You snored, he had noticed, and it had bothered him to no end. As a god, he was required to sleep very rarely, which left him with nothing better to do than watch you sleep, most nights. 

He was intrigued by your mind. He had never entered a consciousness quite like it before, and the mystery of the contents of the shelves was really getting on his nerves. 

Over the last few weeks, you’d been sharing a room. After all, it was cheaper to have one room and it helped maintain the pretence that you were husband and wife. 

Your system had become fairly streamlined, and you’d become quite comfortable in each others’ presence. Comfortable enough that you’d allow yourself to sleep and trust him to protect you. After all, your body was a powerful asset, and you would rather it remained in one piece. 

Your unconscious mind, however, was a mystery to Loki, and one he fully intended to investigate.  

He lifted his hand, pressing his palm against your forehead. 

He looked around, briefly. It was just ask dark as it had been before, and just as empty. 

He wandered towards the boxes again. What was stored in your mind that you so badly needed to hide? You had revealed everything to him, but not your mind, and that was a concept he really, really struggled with. 

He grabbed at the handle, jiggling it with all his might, but it just wouldn’t budge. 

“I told you never to invade my mind again.” Your voice startled him. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” He spun on his heel. 

“And you are most certainly not supposed to be inside my head, so don’t try to take the highroad with me.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” He repeated, blinking incredulously. “Your body is asleep. How are you not asleep?” 

“Are you broken, or owt?” You raised your eyebrow. “As you can well see, I am not asleep. I find it suits me to be at least partially conscious at all times.” 

“Are you always like this when you’re sleeping?” He eyed you suspiciously, sat once again on your chair. 

During the short period of time he’d known you, he had discovered that you found it very difficult to sit normally on a chair, opting instead for a number of uncomfortable looking and seemingly anatomically impossible positions. It didn’t annoy him as much as had he thought it might. 

He’s asked you about it once. You’d mentioned that you had been briefly employed as a contortionist, but brushed it off whenever he tried to bring it up again. 

In all honesty, it wasn’t the most unusual thing he’d discovered about you. 

“Yup.” You popped the P. “And yes, that does mean that your midnight perving has not gone unnoticed.”  

“I do not perv.” He rested one hand on his hip. “I observe interesting things. You happen to be interesting.” 

“Well, I sure am glad you think so.” You drawled. “Anyhoo, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little midnight intrusion?” 

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s in all these boxes?” He asked. 

“Trust me when I say it is best for our combined safety that I don’t.” You looked straight into his eyes. 

He hated when you did that. The only other person who had ever looked at him was that same intensity was his mother, and she had always had quite the knack for staring straight into his soul. 

Come to think of it, so did you. 

--

Loki shifted his weight in his seat, lifting his eyes from the steadily melting ice cube in his glass to the pair of breasts that had shifted into his line of vision. They were, he noted, rather nice breasts. Large. 

“Another drink?” A smooth voice asked him. 

“I’m good, thanks.” He cleared his throat, waving a hand dismissively. With the assistance of his unique talents, the evening’s entertainment had left him rather better off than he had started. 

To any other man, being dealt a three and a seven as a holecard in your first game of the evening would surely be a bad sign of things to come. But Loki was no ordinary man, and with a little coercion his cards had switched themselves out for a slightly better hand. Never a pair of aces, he had learned, it was much too suspicious. No, two queens were his weapon of choice. 

But, as ever, if you made a man a fool, he would call you a thief. 

It did not bother him much. He had been called far worse.  

He’d had no need for your quick hands and easy deceptions in his games this evening - but you were, as ever, his charming accomplice, as pretty and poisonous as you had been the night you met him. 

His eyes were on you now, and it seemed he was not alone in that. You were slightly distracted as you crossed the room, one hand running through your hair to smooth it. Your carefully outlined eyes had smudged ever so slightly, the seam that ran down your left thigh slightly askew. 

“Really? Him?” He raised one eyebrow as you approached him. 

“What? He’s cute.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “Sort of.” 

“Finished?” He continued, holding out his hand. 

“He certainly is.” You raised your eyebrows. 

He pulled a face at you, and you couldn’t help but grin as you reached your hand into the side of your dress. This was, he had learned, your favourite place to keep things you would rather not lose - with the exception of your handgun, of course, which was always either tucked into the band around your thigh or under your pillow whilst you slept. 

He wondered briefly how the hell you explained why you were in immediate possession of a 10mm glock to the gentlemen you entertained. 

A tiny metal key dangled between two of your delicately manicured nails, and he grinned. 

“You beauty.” He held his hand out further to you, palm up, waiting for you to drop it. 

“Tut, tut, tut. Where are your manners?” You teased. “Ask nicely.” 

He stared at you incredulously. You tilted your head to one side, sticking your tongue out mockingly. 

“You are an infernal nuisance, you know that?” He rolled his eyes, leaning over to grab your arm and tug you into his body. You were supposed to be his wife, after all. 

“So I’ve heard. Now, if you want the candy..” You leaned into him, your voice dropping to a low whisper. “You’ve got to play ball.” 

Your lips brushed gently against his jawbone, nothing more than a chaste brush of skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake.

“You know I could just kill you, right?” He turned to you, trailing his fingers down your arm, his own wrapping round your waist. 

“But what would be the fun in that?” You blinked up at him innocently. 

If he wasn’t a god, if he didn’t have so much self restraint, he would be melting in your hands. 

He felt a gentle jingle and a slight weight in his back pocket, followed by the gentle brush of your fingers across his bum. 

“You know, a good fuck would really sort out your little attitude problem.” He mused, turning to face you.

“Nice try, Loki.” You rolled your eyes. “And, well..” You waved your hand at the gentleman who had been your evening’s companion. 

“I said good.” He chuckled. “And by the way, darling, you really shouldn’t touch a man’s bum like that. Leads the mind to all sorts of unsavoury places.”

“You fucking wish.” A very un-ladylike snort left your mouth. 

“Mr Evans, who exactly might this delightful young thing be?” A sharp voice drew his attention. 

He glanced up at the man standing before him. He was tall, taller than Loki, and thin, like one of of those gross spiders you find in the corner of your room. His face was drawn, likely from stress, he concluded . A smattering of whiskers littered his chin, a slightly unpleasant twinkle in his lined eyes. 

“My lovely lady wife.” He smiled, pulling you in to him a little tighter. “The current Mrs Evans.” 

You turned your head in such a way that only he could see you rolling your eyes.

“Charmed, I’m sure.” You turned back to face your company, a tight lipped smile curving on your face. “I do apologise, but I don’t believe we’ve met before.” 

“It does seem that way, so please, allow me to introduce myself.” He took your hand in his own, lifting it to his face and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Roger Slater. I was just chatting to your husband here, not twenty minutes ago.” 

Something about the way he was looking at you made Loki grab you a little tighter. 

“Would you like anything to drink?” He asked, trying to remain as polite as he was able. “I’m sure my fine lady can assist me in carrying a few extra drinks.”

“An old fashioned, if you would, my good man.” His tone was level, his voice smooth. It made Loki cringe. 

--

You weren’t paying that much attention to either of the men before you, so the cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and the sudden sharp tug came as something of a surprise to you. So much so, that you almost yelped in surprise. 

Almost. 

You gathered your composure as you steadied yourself, smoothing down your skirt with your free hand. You weren’t sure whether it was the heels that left you so unsteady on your feet, or the negroni you had necked not five minutes earlier. 

Loki’s hand was tight on your wrist as he led you towards the bar, his fingers icy cold on your delicate skin. Why was he always so cold? 

“Be careful with that one.” He whispered. You opened your mouth to question him, but he had turned towards the barmaid to request more drinks. 

The man to your left wasn’t particularly subtle in his eyeing of you, his gaze sweeping your form a few times before shooting you a smile that made your skin crawl. 

You shuddered, grabbing at the tumbler closest to you and taking a long sip, scowling to yourself. 

“Why the long face?” A look of bemusement settled on Loki’s face - something you found really, really infuriating. 

“These men.” You grumbled. “They talk to me, treat me like a pretty little piece of fucking meat.” 

“That’s because to them, you are.” He shrugged dismissively. “Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Rage bubbled in the pit of your stomach, like an angry, venomous torrent climbing up your throat. 

“Why, you little - hmmmph.” His hand slapping over your mouth cut you short. 

“Might I remind you, darling, that you have a role to play. You shall get your vengeance.” He shot you a sickeningly sweet grin. “But for now, you shall have to grin and bear it, little pork chop.” 

You seethed from behind his hand. 

“Hold your tongue, that’s all I ask of you.” His gaze was earnest. “Will you do that for me?” 

You cast your gaze downwards, nodding your head. 

“Good girl.” He lifted his hand from your mouth, smiling as you glowered at him. He kissed your hand delicately, a brush of his lips across the skin of your knuckles, before holding out his arm for you to take. 

The unusual gentleman, Mr Slater, was, as promised, still waiting for you across the room. He thanked you politely as you handed him his drink, his eyes alight as if something were terribly funny. 

“Are you sure we have never met before, Mrs Evans?” His left eye quirked as he spoke. “You seem awfully familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.” 

“I guess I just have one of those faces.” You shrugged. 

“Yes, quite.” He said. “Anyway, I have a rather unusual talent that I often whip out at parties, just as a little amusement. I feel it might interest you both, if you care to indulge my silliness.” 

You glanced across at Loki, trying to hide the bewilderment from your face. He shrugged, holding out his hands. 

“Be my guest.” He agreed. 

You weren’t really sure what exactly you were expecting. Perhaps table top magic - rabbits out of a hat, coins from behind ears, that type of thing. Hell, maybe he was truly psychotic and was going to stab the both of you. 

“It’s more of a childish parlour trick, really, but I have this unusual gift for reading people. Amateur psychology, really, but rather fun.” He grinned at your confused faces. “I pick up little things about people, tells me all sort of things. Secret affairs, family feuds, the yearnings of the heart. Even people’s greatest fears.” 

He paused for a moment, lifting his glass to his mouth. He gathered the drips from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, looking back up at you both. 

You thought it was a real shame he considered ‘people reading’ his greatest talent and not this overblown display of amateur dramatics. 

“The pair of you are a little more enigmatic than most, but I think I could give it a crack, if you would allow me.” 

You nodded breathlessly as he leaned towards you, your heart hammering in your chest. It was almost as if every nerve, every cell in your body was imploring you, screaming at you to not let this strange man come any closer to you. 

Your feet felt frozen in place as his hand landed on your shoulder, his calloused palms like sandpaper against the soft skin of your shoulder. A breath stilled in your throat as his head dipped so his lips were level with your ear. 

“You will kill again, and it terrifies you.” He whispered. “It keeps you up at night, doesn’t it? Not the knowledge of what you have done, but what you know you will do. It’s okay, darling, your secret is safe with me.” 

You exhaled sharply as he drew away from you, a nervous laugh bubbling out of your chest. 

Who the fuck was this guy? 

He winked at you as he took another sip of his drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Loki’s line of vision flitting back and forth between the two of you, looking for any hint of what he had said to you, what could’ve so clearly, so deeply, unsettled you. 

You sure as hell weren’t going to tell him. 

Your eyes followed him closely as he leaned in towards Loki. Unlike you, he maintained his cool composure, but you were fairly certain you saw something adjacent to fear flicker in the back of his eyes. 

Over time, you’d become an accomplished lip-reader, but this time, you felt for sure that your skill had failed you. You’d not picked up much, a single word, in fact, but you knew it couldn’t be correct. 

That word, that single word, that allegedly had Loki witless with fear? 

Himself. 

His hand shot out, grabbing at your wrist, his nails biting into your skin. 

“I’m really sorry, but my wife and I have to leave.” He spat out, turning on his heel, and striding away as quickly as his legs would carry him, almost dragging you behind him. 

You had never seen him this flustered before. His cheeks were ever so slightly pink, his eyes glittering with anger, his chest rapidly expanding with every shallow breath. His grip on your wrist was like a vice, and you felt for certain that there would be the imprints of his long fingers marring your skin in the morning. 

Just before you reached the door, you were fairly certain you heard the unusual man call ‘See you around!’ cheerfully over your shoulder. 

“Who the hell was that?” You asked as you hurried down the corridor towards the lift. 

“I don’t know.” He replied. “Like he said, we were talking when you were out. He owns a jewellery company. I didn’t think he’d try and get to us. Messing with you in that way, saying he thinks he knows you to try and catch you offguard.. It’s certainly unusual behaviour.” 

“See, there’s the thing. I don’t think he was fucking with me there. He looked familiar to me, too. I think I’ve met him before.” You pressed a finger to your lip thoughtfully. “And don’t even try taking the ‘weak mortal’ path here. You were bricking it too, I could see it in your face.” 

“You see what I want you to see, little mortal, and nothing more.” He shot you a glare. “Now, about that key.” 

“We all see only what we’re shown, Loki.” You mused. “Even you.” 

He glanced at you curiously as you stepped into the lift. 

The encounter with Mr Slater had left Loki deeply unsettled. From the very off, something about the strangle man had made him uncomfortable. 

He couldn’t even really work out why. He was, if anything, perfectly pleasant. Polite, courteous, well spoken. There was, at least on the surface level, nothing wrong with him. 

But yet, he was nothing short of creepy. His smile wouldn’t have been any more unsettling if black widow spiders had crawled out from in between his pale lips. 

When he revealed he had a little talent, Loki wouldn’t have been entirely shocked if he’d told him it involved punting kittens. 

He himself was not exactly known for his strict adherence to anything resembling a moral code, and if anything, it made it all the more unusual that he had affected Loki so badly. 

If there is anyone in this world - or any other - to be truly afraid of, it’s not the man who stalks your nightmares - it’s who stalks his. 

He was, however, desperate to know what Roger had said to you. You would, of course, never tell him. Under other circumstances, he would consider subduing you in some way, but from the few encounters with your subconscious mind he had already had, he got the feeling that even then you wouldn’t willingly surrender the information. 

It was this he was pondering as he rifled through the irritatingly mundane belongings of one Mr J Grey. When you’d selected him as your victim of the evening, you’d done so on the premise that he was wearing a very expensive suit, but as Loki was discovering, he hadn’t quite been the man you were looking for. Aside from half a gram of cocaine in a small ziploc bag - honestly, who kept their narcotics in their bedside table? - and a scuffed Barclaycard with yet more cocaine tightly pressed into the embossed numbers - expired, he had checked - he had found nothing of any real value. Knock-off watches, fake leather wallets, poorly made suits, but nothing particularly valuable. 

“Your judgement is poor, darling.” He said. “This man is both immensely dull and revoltingly messy.” 

“I am sorry to disappoint, but we Terrans are a rather messy species.” You remarked. “In fact, we are renowned for it.” 

He laughed, staring down at his gloved hands. You were quite right - humans truly were a messy, invasive little species. A cosmic nuisance, of sorts. He was just glad that, for the most part, they stuck to their own planet. The furthest they had actually gotten was their own bloody moon, so they weren’t exactly regarded as a threat to other species. 

“I think we should cut our losses and get out of here before he gets back.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. 

Loki muttered his agreement, rising from where he knelt on the floor. He was happy to dispose of the clammy plastic that clung to his hands, flinging them into his pocket dimension as he headed towards the door. 

He dropped a throw-away comment as he walked down the corridor, eliciting a true, from-the-chest belly laugh from you. Quick as ever, you responded within a heart beat, but Loki found himself missing your witticism, distracted by a sudden thought. 

Since when did humans start referring to themselves as Terrans?

-- 

TAGLIST:  @chxrryycola @the-middle-oldest-child​ @possessedjoker​ @amour-delicate @marvelouslyme96​

[pressedinthepages]

Eunoia

Greek. noun. beautiful thinking; “a well mind.”

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Word Count: 2168

Rating: T

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882895

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request: “ Hiiii you said you're in writing mood... what about an eskel x reader? Like, Eskel trying to court the reader? I've seen some fics where the reader tries to do the courting. I would like to see the other way around. I don't know if what I said made any sense 🙈 “

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox​

Warnings: nothing outside of the ordinary swearing, this is soFT AND FLUFFY!!!

Eskel wishes to try to court you, but he has no clue what he's doing.

    Eskel is well and truly fucked. He’s been searching for hours, trying to find the perfect gift for you in the little market. Lambert has been complaining the entire time, clearly not thrilled about having been dragged down the mountain into the little village of Yspaden. 

    You’ve been the healer here for as long as Eskel can remember, he even remembers you carefully patching him up a few times as he passed through the town into Kaer Morhen. And even though you may have done the same, actually quite a few more times, for Lambert, he holds no qualms about voicing his displeasure.

    “Oh my Gods, Eskel, why in the ever-loving fuck are you looking at perfumes? I thought you were trying to court her, not tell her she smells bad.”

Eskel sighs, running a hand over the scars on his face as the merchant glares at Lambert. Eskel pulls the other Witcher away before he can start a brawl and moves to a quiet alcove around the courtyard. 

“How about instead of making everything more difficult, you actually help?” he growls, shoving the younger man against the wall. “Sooner I find something, the sooner you get back to lazing about and complaining about literally everything.”

“Well, what the hell do you want me to do? You think I’m some sort of love expert?” Lambert quips back, gesturing rudely as he does. He clenches his jaw for a moment before sagging his shoulders, resigned to help his brother. “Maybe start with something she’d actually like???” 

Eskel shoots him a glare from the side of his eyes, grating “You think I haven’t been trying? I mean, what do you get someone who wants for nothing?”

“Did you ask Jaskier? He probably knows plenty about this courting nonsense.”

“Of course I asked Jaskier, you definitely weren’t my first choice.” Eskel earns a punch in the arm for that, grimacing as he continues, “He said that typically, people give each other jewelry or flowers, or will write a song or a poem for them. Lucky for me, since I’m not a poet and she has a garden with just about every flower known to man already in it.”

“Hmm...he give you any other advice?”

Eskel runs a hand through his hair, the dark locks flopping right back into his eyes. “He said that ‘Love is like a pear. A pear is sweet and has a distinct shape. Try to define the shape of a pear.’” 

“What is that even supposed to mean???” Lambert groans loudly. “Why are you even doing this?”

Eskel looks askance, his golden eyes lowering to his boots. “I’ve never met anyone like her, she’s taught me what love feels like,” he murmurs, somewhat ashamed of admitting this to his brother. 

Lambert grips Eskel’s shoulder, maybe a little bit harder than necessary. Eskel looks up at him, their eyes locking. Wordlessly, Lambert holds his gaze and searches, finding only honesty and vulnerability that he hasn’t seen in years.

“You’ve really got it bad for her, don’t you?” he whispers, Eskel nodding at his words. ‘You know, Aiden never really gave me trinkets...neither of us really needed more shit to carry around,” Lambert says quietly, eyes blurring a bit with the memories. “Every now and then, though, he’d stick a flower behind my ear, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so...so special.”

Lambert’s cheeks redden slightly as he speaks, but it is with a quiet reverence that he chooses his words. “That’s what you need to do, show her just how special she is to you.”

 Lambert steps away, promising to stay in the market as he looks to collect some spare supplies for them. Eskel slides his back down the wall, resting his elbows on his knees as he sits.

I think I understand what Jaskier meant… he muses, there aren’t words to describe how special she is to me. Now that I know what having her in my life is like, I can’t imagine a world without her.

He hangs his head dejectedly, thinking that it would be easier to just court Lambert. He’d get the man a new sword and call it a day...wait a second…

Eskel leaps to his feet, weaving through the stalls in the market towards the blacksmith. Not long after and with a promise to return tomorrow, he sets out to track down Lambert and buy him some supper as a peace offering. 

…

The next evening

You’ve just stepped back into your little cottage, wiping your hands on your skirt as you move to the hearth. You’ve just finished tending your garden, trimming and pruning the plants as you prepare for the upcoming winter. You have a few more days before you can pick the last of your vegetables, and then you’ll focus on turning the soil and protecting the ground from the frost.

The hearth has died down to only embers, which is just enough to keep your home warm. The autumn air has a chill, certainly, but you welcome the refreshing feeling of being warmed by the embrace of the cinders flowing around the room. 

You close your eyes, content for a moment as you take a deep breath in and allowing yourself to relax. However, it doesn’t last long, as a knock on your door startles you from your tranquility.

You cross the room, picking up the metal rake that lays by the entrance that you use as a makeshift weapon. The door creaks as you open it only enough to peek at the man standing at your steps, and you promptly drop the rake. 

“Oh! Eskel, it’s so good to see you!” You cry, flinging the door open and almost falling into his arms as you fly down the steps. He steadies you and you wrap your arms around his neck, melting into him as he winds his hands around your waist and holds you close. You feel him take a deep breath into your hair, knowing that he finds comfort in your scent.

You step back, slipping his hand into yours as you pull him into your home. “Would you mind terribly…,” gesturing over to the faintly glowing embers.

Eskel grins, striding further into your home and making a sign with his fingers. The fire comes back to life, strong and warm with his magic. You step behind him and fit his body to yours, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling into his back. He is only wearing a dark chemise and his trousers, his boots a bit dirty around the toes. 

Eskel’s fingers find yours once more, still tingling with the aftereffects of magic. You feel him shift, so you only increase your hold on him, trying to squeeze all of your care into him. He chuckles and pulls your hands away, and you hum against his back.

He turns and catches you once more in his gaze, his hands settling back at his sides. “I uhh...I have something for you…” he murmurs, reaching into his pack to grab the small brown parcel. You can tell that he is anxious, his gaze flittering and his heart beating a bit faster than normal.

“Oh Eskel, what’s this for?” You grin, reaching out to take the box. You move to the bed in the corner of the room, settling on the edge and patting next to you. Eskel’s lips turn up at the edges, the small smile cracking his nervousness as he moves to sit next to you. 

You begin to pull away the brown paper that wraps around the box before Eskel stops you, pulling your hand back to your lap before you can see what is inside. 

    He clears his throat before taking a deep breath, looking over at you with determination. His eyes are the color of molten honey, the fire licking along the sweetness and dripping down his cheeks.

    “I can’t pretend to be good at this…” he begins, holding up a hand to stop you from speaking since you had opened your mouth to reply in some sense. You relent with a smile, grabbing his hand and threading your fingers together as he continues.

    “I’ve been wanting to give you something that would really show you how special you are to me, especially because every time that I try to say it, I can’t find words that are sufficient enough.” His voice is low, wary even, but his eyes never leave yours as he tries to tear down the walls that have taken numerous decades to build around his heart.

    Eskel strokes his thumb along your knuckles, falling quiet for a moment as he does. You allow this, letting him collect his thoughts in the comfort of your home. 

    “Every time that I find myself thinking of you, it’s all I can do to not come racing back here and make sure that you’re okay,” he whispers, vulnerable and timid. “I know that you can take care of yourself, and I admire your strength and confidence, but I can’t help but be terrified that I may lose you someday.”

    You feel your eyes begin to well up and you grip his hand tighter in yours. He nods down at the package, so you move to tear away the paper and open the box. 

    Inside, you find a blade, maybe half the length of your forearm. You gently grip the hilt and remove it from the box, delicately letting it rest on your fingers. The hilt is simple, the dark brown wood polished to a shine. It fits your palm perfectly, the weight of the dagger balanced in your hand. The blade is dark, darker than black, like ink spilling across parchment. On one side, there are runes engraved into the metal, sharp edges infusing the blade with palpable magic. On the other side, engravings of ivy and small blossoms creep and twirl along the length of the metal. The ridges and valleys jump with the light of the fire, glinting and shadowing as you turn it in your hands. 

    “My gods…” you exhale, barely audible even to Eskel, “this is gorgeous…”

    You bring your eyes back to him, silently asking him to explain his meaning further. Thankfully, he takes the hint, shifting to better face you on the bed.

    “If something happened to you, I have no idea what I would do,” Eskel says quietly. “It would be like someone snuffing out the sun, leaving the world in cold, unfeeling darkness. Knowing that you’re here, safe, and able to protect yourself...I...I need to protect my sun…” His voice trails off, but his eyes are screaming with desperation and adoration.

    You offer a shaky smile, a few tears falling down your cheeks as you do. You’ve had people try to win your affections before, using flowers that would wilt like their love or words stolen from someone else’s mouth. But never before had someone laid out their heart for you, shown you that you owned it, and given you the power to do whatever you pleased with it. 

    You turn, gently setting the dagger on the little table beside your bed. As you settle back to facing Eskel, you move forwards and take his face in your hands. You can feel the raised skin of the scars on his cheek, the blood flushing just under his skin, the infinite weight of the indescribable feeling in his eyes. 

    You lean down to rest your forehead against his and feel his hands raise to come to rest on your hips. “Eskel, I can promise you this,” you whisper, “I’m not leaving you without a fight.”

    You move once more, bringing your lips to brush against his. It’s just the slightest contact, but you feel sparks behind your eyes and taste fire in your mouth. You both surge into each other, desperately clinging to the moment. Your fingers wind into his hair and you feel him bunch the fabric of your blouse in his hands. You lick along his mouth, sucking and laving his lips as you both fight for dominance. You nip his bottom lip as he pulls back, tugging a low groan from deep in his chest. 

    You stay like this for what could be moments, or it could be days, just breathing each other in. Eskel looks utterly wrecked, his hair disheveled and shirt hanging askew on his broad shoulders. You’re sure that you can’t be looking much different, but the light that shines in Eskel’s eyes is blinding in its glory. 

    “I love you, Eskel” you murmur, feeling the grip on your hips tighten. You’ve known ever since he stumbled into your home that this man was leaving with your heart, but you now know that he is leaving his own heart here with you. 

    “I love you too,” he says against your lips, and you know that he has never spoken truer words as he pulls you to him once more.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Reader has been blinded and seeks the help of a Witcher to regain her sight. Jask takes this opportunity to describe himself as amazingly heroic, and reader starts liking him based on how he acts/describes himself. Then she gets her sight back and finally gets to see him and is like "whyd you describe yourself as different? I liked you already." 😍

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 1,163 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual  a/n: Here you go! xo

You had spent months waiting for this moment.

Months of travel with the bard and the witcher, a strange third party for an already odd couple. You’d feared being a burden or that you would slow them down, unaccustomed to the sudden blindness you’d been cursed with, but both men had been reassuring, though the bard more vocally than the witcher. The bard, Jaskier, would sing you songs and described the sights around you in such vivid detail you felt you could see them yourself. In time the sight you wanted more than any other was of the bard himself. When you asked him to describe himself for you he paused and you’d begun to fear you’d overstepped, ready to apologize when he suddenly answered you.

“Tall,” he began, “And broad. Very strong.”

“What color is your hair?”

“Silver.”

“Silver? You don’t sound very old.”

“Oh I’m not! I greyed prematurely but in a sort of sexy way, you see.”

“I see… and your eyes?”

“You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“I’d believe anything you said. I’m at quite the disadvantage.”

“Untrue! I told you that you were the loveliest woman in all of creation and you brazenly denied it!”

“Your eyes, Jaskier, what color are they?”

“Amber.”

“Yellow?”

“More of a lovely golden hue.”

You’d sketched an image of the man in your mind and though it didn’t suit the voice you heard you had to admit that when he helped you over rough terrain you felt the swell of muscles in his arms, the shoulders broad, and the brush of hair on his chest that your hands skimmed over at night when you lay next to each other huddled for warmth seemed to align with the description.

Over time you asked him about his hobbies and he described his music and his adventures, his role as a hero and his skill with swords.

“Swords plural?”

“Ah yes, one steel and one silver.”

“Hmm.”

“What was that Geralt?”

“Geralt was just leaving, weren’t you Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

In the time you spent together as you grew closer to Jaskier you also began to fear that you would never regain your sight as you struggled to track down the mage who they said would help cure you. Then one night you’d been napping by the camp and the smell of lilacs and gooseberries woke you and a woman’s voice summoned you to join her. She did not take your arm and lead you, which you appreciated, but she described where to go and you did not have to go far before you were in a cold room.

And now here you were. She’d spoken some words and smeared something over your closed lids and then washed it away.

“Open them, you should be able to see now,” she said. You felt a strange trepidation, having grown used to the darkness though not overly fond of it. As if sensing your fear, the woman gently placed her hands in yours and raised them to your eyes.

“Open them slowly, you will see hands. Nothing scary about that, right?”

You felt silly but the idea of knowing what you would look at helped and you slowly and carefully peered out, wincing from the light but soon opening your eyes fully as you gratefully took in the sight of your hands, vowing to never take them for granted again. You lifted your gaze to the woman and startled, not only due to her loveliness but the strange violet shade of her eyes.

“Good gods am I the only one without an extraordinary eye color?” you exclaimed. The woman gave you a bemused look and then looked over your shoulder towards the door. You realized now that you could see him. You were just as nervous but more excited and you tore out of the room and nearly ran right into him.

He was tall and broad and had silver hair and amber eyes. He was clearly strong and you saw the two swords.

And yet.

“You’re not Jaskier,” you said decidedly.

“Hmm,” the voice came, the same one you’d heard before and confirmation of what you’d said. You looked around the room but all you saw was a man with brown hair and blue eyes who seemed to be shrinking in on himself as much as possible, nearly hiding in the shadows. He didn’t say a word but you crossed over to him, a curious and assessing expression on your face. You walked up close until you were nearly nose to nose, peering into his eyes, as he looked back breathlessly.

A slow smile crept across your face and you raised your hands, settling one gently on his shoulder and the other sliding through the parted doublet to feel the hair and skin and heartbeat that you’d turned to for comfort all this time.

“There you are,” you said softly.

“How… did you know?” he asked, in that voice you knew and loved and would never tire of hearing.

“I don’t know. I just did. I think I’d know you anywhere,” you answered. He gave a short laugh and then a brilliant smile lit up his face.

“But why did you lie?” you asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He looked a bit sheepish and his eyes looked askance as he answered you.

“Ah, well, to be honest? Woman tend to respond more favorably to Geralt’s appearance and I… I just found myself describing him and when you seemed interested I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint you with the truth. Which was unfair and a lie and I understand if you’re angry,” he said, the sapphire eyes raising to meet yours again.

“I’m not angry I’m just confused,” you replied, “I mean… why would I want him when I have you?”

“Thanks,” Geralt muttered from across the way. The mage muttered something that sounding vaguely placating to him but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the bard who was looking at you as you imagined someone might look at a sunset, with awe and a bit of reverence for the thing they witnessed.

“So you’re not disappointed?” he asked.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head and giving him a smile, amused by the thought that anyone could be disappointed by the sight of him. Though truth be told, you’d fallen for him long before this moment. His appearance was nearly overkill, frankly.

“I don’t really wield swords,” he said, still cautiously searching for the thing that would turn you away.

“Do you still sing and play the lute?” you asked.

“Yes!” he answered immediately, reaching for his lute as it to prove himself at once.

“And do you feel the same as you’ve said? The same as you’ve shown all these months?” you asked, now the one who was cautious. He raised a hand to cup your face, gazing into your eyes with a gentle intensity, closing only at the moment your lips met his.

[rainecreatesstuff]

Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: Minecraft (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Ranboo, No Romantic Relationship(s) Characters: Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: Goat Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Platonically Married Ranboo and Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo and Toby Smith | Tubbo Have a Child Named Michael, Ranboo Tubbo and Tommy run away from the SMP, Kind of like a fix-it fic but not really, sorry I’m not great with tags aha, Fluff, Family Fluff, just so so much fluff, Queerplatonic Ranboo and Tubbo, bee duo, Bench trio, Technoblade is a softie, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, TommyInnit Gets a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Gets a Hug, Traumatized TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Traumatized Toby Smith | Tubbo, lots of hugs and cuddles, Phil Watson is Called Philza (Video Blogging RPF), I don’t think I need any trigger warnings, but If I do please let me know and I’ll add them :), Snowchester on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Relationships, Platonic Cuddling, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Has Horns, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has Mental Health Issues, Ranboo Has a Tail (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Has Mental Health Issues, god i hate tagging things, no beta we die like tommy- wait- shit no, no beta we die like Wilbur- FUCK-, NO BETA WE DIE LIKE UHHHHH MEXICAN DREAM, Rated T for Tommyinnit Swearing, and tubbo swearing, and maybe phil i don’t remember, point is, Swearing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort Series: Part 1 of Runaways AU

Takes place between Tommy’s revival and Wilbur’s. ALL names in this story are referring to the CHARACTERS of the Dream SMP, NOT the CCs. If any ccs state that this fic makes them uncomfortable, or it crosses boundaries, it will immediately be taken down. Please be respectful in the comments. :)

Chapter 2 under the cut! :)

Tubbo was shaking with excitement.

Finally, after months and months of shoving the thought away, it was happening. They were leaving.

Tubbo rushed around his basement, grabbing as many resources as he could and shoving them into his inventory haphazardly. Not much thought went into it, if he saw something he thought he might need he’d toss it in. If he forgot anything he could just ask Ranboo for it anyways.

With his stuff packed, he headed upstairs to check on Michael quickly before leaving. The toddler was still sound asleep, clinging to his chicken plush fiercely. Tubbo gently kissed his forehead, tucking him in tightly, before making his way back to the ladder.

He locked the hatch behind him, just in case. You could never be too careful when you were married to a main character and best friends with a protagonist. He shrugged on his coat and slipped on his combat boots, exiting the house and locking the door behind him. He ran to the hyper-tunnel, tridenting through and flying out the other side.

He made his way to Tommy’s land, where he found the blond sitting on his bench and staring at the horizon.

“Tommy!” Tommy’s head shot in his direction as he yelled his name.

He ran onto the property, practically throwing himself at Tommy and head-butting his chest.

“Fuckin- Ow man, what the fuck’s gotten into you?”

Tubbo grinned up at him, springing up from the bench and flapping his hands back and forth.

“Okay, okay, okay. So. Um, basically, you know how everything’s pretty much gone to shit on this server? And how we’re like, constantly in danger of someone trying to kill us?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“I’d say I’m well aware of it, yeah. Didn’t expect you to be so excited about it though. Seriously big man, I haven’t seen you this excited since the bee farm you built way back before L’Manburg.”

Tubbo faltered for a moment. This was going to be difficult.

“No, I’m not excited about that.” He took a deep breath and calmed himself down, falling back onto the bench.

“So, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, a long time, actually, and I was talking to Ranboo and he kind of just asked me why not, and now we’re doing it, so.”

Tommy laughed nervously.

“You still haven’t told me what ‘it’ is, Tubs.”

“I’m getting there. You’re just. You’re probably not gonna be too happy about it at first, but I want you to take some time and actually think about it because I do genuinely think it’s the best option for us.”

Tommy looked at him warily.

“Alright. I’ll think about whatever you say, promise.”

Tubbo nodded.

“Okay, good, so…”

He looked over to Tommy, sucked in a deep breath, and blurted it out.

“What if we left?”

Tommy froze.

He stood from the bench and made his way back towards his house, and Tubbo ran after him.

“Tommy, I know it’s scary, and weird, but honestly-“

“No.”

Tubbo froze as well.

“You promised you’d think about it.”

“Yeah, I did think about it, and now I’m fucking shaking, so sorry, Tubbo, but it’s a fucking no from me.” Tommy finally turned to look at Tubbo, and tears were pooling in his eyes.

Tubbo swallowed.

“We can’t keep living like this, Tommy. I can’t keep going week by week not knowing if my best friend, or my kid, or my husband, or myself are gonna make it to the next one.” Tubbo reached for Tommy’s hand, but the taller boy yanked it away.

“Then leave. Fuck off with your perfect little family. See if I care.” Tommy growled.

Tears threatened to spring to Tubbo’s eyes, but he held them back. Tommy didn’t mean any of this. He was scared, and he felt threatened, and he was responding with anger. Tubbo had seen him do it time and time again. This was nothing new.

Didn’t exactly make it hurt much less though.

“I’m not leaving without you. You are my family.” Tubbo reminded him gently.

Tommy practically snarled at him.

“Remember- remember what Puffy was saying? About using anger as a coping mechanism for fear? You’re doing it again, Toms.” Tubbo did his best to keep his voice from shaking.

He hated it when Tommy got like this with him. It’d happened far too many times and ended far too horribly each time. He wondered if it was his fault.

Tommy’s eyes widened for a moment, and he seemed to shake himself off, taking a deep breath before stepping backwards.

“Just- just give me a minute.” He turned and ran into his house.

Tubbo watched his retreat, and began shaking. He’d known Tommy wouldn’t take well to the idea, but he didn’t think it’d upset him this much. Was it worth it to try to convince him? Even if it would spare them both a lot of grief and suffering in the long run, he couldn’t bear to make Tommy feel that anxious.

He took a deep breath, and thought it all over again. He had wanted to leave because he wanted to feel safe. He wanted his loved ones safe. That was okay, it was good.

It was… a good option, all things considered. He knew if Wilbur were here, he’d scold him for running away from his problems. But Wilbur wasn’t here, and Tubbo wasn’t running away. He was escaping.

Tommy finally emerged from the house, looking a bit more confident with himself than he had before. He looked up at Tubbo with his hands busying themselves with his sleeves. Tubbo opened his arms, and Tommy slid into a hug.

“I know you’re not keen on the idea. And I know it’s stressful, and new, and I know you don’t like new. But please just let me explain. Because I don’t know how much longer we can go like this before something happens.” Tubbo spoke in a hushed tone.

Tommy pulled away, nodding and leading Tubbo back to the bench.

They sat down, and Tubbo took a deep breath and began.

“Okay. So, I’ve had this plan, kind of sitting in the back of my mind for a while. Wasn’t even really a plan at first, just a daydream.”

Tommy caught his eye, and nodded for him to continue.

“It must’ve been a few days after you got out of the prison. I just remember seeing you trip and fall, and god, Tommy, you looked the same way you did the day of the festival, in that goddamn pit…”

Tubbo looked away from Tommy, who reached over and grabbed his hand, holding it in his own gently.

“You were shaking like a leaf, and your breathing was all funny, and all I could think about was how none of this would’ve happened if we’d ran off that day, when we were talking about it.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Tommy stared out at the twilight growing sky, eyes tracing the newly revealed stars.

“Thought we’d agreed that was dumb. We still had stuff we had to do.”

“We did,” Tubbo bit his lip, “We did agree. Back then. But, I don’t know, I started letting myself think about it, and like… I just want to live. Like actually live. I don’t wanna be so scared out of my mind that I have to build fucking nukes to keep my family safe. I don’t wanna wake up every morning and not be sure if my best friend is still around until I see you.”

A tear ran down Tommy’s face, and he pulled Tubo into another tight hug.

“I can’t leave. I have so much work to do.”

Tubbo huffed, squeezing Tommy back.

“Like what?”

Tommy let his head rest on Tubbo’s shoulder, and his arms went slack against Tubbo’s back.

“I have so many people I have to apologize and make it up to. And I’ve got a reputation to fix. And I have to kill Dream.”

Tubbo pulled away, staring Tommy down.

“Ignoring that other stuff for a moment, you don’t have to kill Dream.”

Tommy frowned.

“Yeah, I do. He’s too dangerous to be left alive. If he brings Wilbur back he’s gonna hurt so many people. I don’t- I don’t wanna kill him, I don’t wanna kill anyone, but I have to, because nobody else will.” Tommy spoke it like it was a mantra he’d been taught.

Tubbo felt like he’d been taught it as well.

“But it’s not your job. It’s not your responsibility.”

“Tubbo-“

“No.” Tubbo stood from the bench.

“No, it’s not, and you’re not getting me to agree with that. Dream is fucking insane, and he’s hurt a lot of people, and you don’t have to deal with him. It’s not your responsibility to save everyone, Tommy. I know we’ve had it drilled into our heads from the moment we joined that goddamned revolution that we should aspire to be martyrs, but we shouldn’t.”

Tommy stared at him with something sad, and something akin to awe.

“We have every right to live and be safe, Tommy. We’ve done our part. We’ve fought wars we shouldn’t’ve had to. We get to be free from it all.” Tubbo paused for a moment, sitting back down.

“Dream isn’t your responsibility. Maybe he’s Sam’s, or his own, who knows. But he’s not yours. You don’t have to be the one to prevent his actions.”

Tommy breathed in shakily, and nodded.

“I hear you,” He spoke quietly, “Not sure if I quite get it yet, but. I do hear you.”

“That’s all I ask for.”

Tommy took a deep breath.

“So, you’re suggesting we just disappear into the night?”

Tubbo smiled sheepishly.

“I mean… essentially, yeah.”

“And you’ve been planning this for how long?”

“What time is it?”

“How the fuck would I know? Probably around nine or something?”

“Alright, then like… forty five minutes.”

Tommy stared at him.

Tubbo stared back.

“I’m gonna kill your husband.”

“Wha- it’s not like it’s his fault, I’m the one that brought it up-“

Tommy groaned.

“No no no, this has Ranboob written all over it. He probably made you get all nostalgic and shit and then proposed this and now we’re leaving.”

Tubbo’s ears pricked up, and a small smile wormed its way onto his face.

“So you’re coming then?”

Tommy groaned again, leaning back against the bench.

“I don’t fucking know Tubbo. You’re sure this is what you want? Like 100% sure?”

Tubbo ran a hand through his hair.

“Pretty sure it’s all I’ve wanted for a while, boss man.”

Tommy pulled his knees up to his chest.

“So you’re really okay just leaving all this behind? L’manburg, and the bench, and Snowchester?”

“Honestly? As long as I have you, Michael, and Ranboo, I couldn’t give two fucks about any of this. But… I understand if it’s harder for you.” Tubbo spoke gently, as if Tommy might startle.

Tommy hummed, and let his eyes fall on the horizon again.

“It’s weird to think about. And it makes me feel scared. Like, there’s all these places here that have so many memories, and one day we might come back and they’ll look completely different.”

Tubbo watched his friend quietly for a moment. He probably should have come prepared for a deep conversation. Tommy was having those a lot more often with him. And he was proud of Tommy, god, he was so proud of him. But it served as a bit of a reminder that things would never go back to the way they were before. There’d always be something weighing them down.

… If Tubbo got his way tonight, he hoped it would take a bit of that weight off.

“Isn’t there kind of beauty in that, though? New people will show up, and walk the same ground as us, and make new memories in the places we made ours. Someone else will sit on this bench one day and it could be the best day of their life, and they’ll watch the sunset and celebrate, just like we did, and never even know it.”

Tommy caught his eye again, a look of contemplation in his gaze.

“And like, nothing’s ever permanent, Toms. You and I of all people know that. If you decide you want to come back, I’ll come with you. It’s me and you ‘til the end, right?” Tubbo held up his arm, hand fisted, and smiled as Tommy did the same and bumped their arms together.

“Always.”

Tommy sighed.

“Guess I better get packing then, huh?”

Tubbo grinned.

“I’ll meet you at my place in, let’s say, an hour?”

“Sure big man.”

The two hugged once more, then separated. Tubbo nearly had to stop himself from skipping down the prime path.

Tommy did have a point, it was weird to think he might never walk this path again. That sickly fear of being forgotten crawled it’s way into his chest, and he decided to get rid of it as soon as possible. He’d made his mark well enough, if he said so himself.

There was an entire crater that people would tell stories of for decades that he’d had a huge part in. Couples would settle down in Snowchester years from now and see his name etched into the stone, and know him as their founder. Teenagers would dare each other to walk through a button-filled ravine and the nerds among them would tell the story of Pogtopia, of the president that went mad, and the legendary warrior, and the determined hero, and maybe, hopefully, even the crafty spy. He’d made several farms and trading posts that would be used for generations should they be upkept. And he’d never upkept them, so he didn’t see them falling into disarray the moment he left.

Tubbo had left his mark on the land. On the history of the server. Still, the tightness wouldn’t leave his throat.

He grabbed a knife from his pocket and stared at the prime path for a moment before kneeling down. In sharp, clean letters, he etched “TUBBO_BELOVED WALKED HERE.” It was simple, so utterly stupid compared to the other things he had done to mark up the server. But it made him laugh, and it made the tendrils of fear loosen from his lungs, for whatever reason. And so he decided to be proud of it.

He made his way back home and practically flung open the door, making his way to his bedroom and closet. The moon was well underway on its journey through the sky, the silver light illuminating his room through the windows. He grabbed an assortment of clothes and piled them into a backpack. Several green shirts, some hoodies, a t-shirt that definitely had belonged to Ranboo at some point, jeans. He threw in everything he could. His hand brushed on a coat, and he pushed the rest of the clothes to the side.

His presidential jacket hung neatly in the corner of his closet. That’s right, he’d stored it away before Doomsday. Hadn’t been sure when he’d need it again. He slipped it off its hanger and shrugged it on. He looked at himself in the mirror.

It still looked too big.

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo glanced to the corner of the mirror, where Ranboo now stood in his line of sight.

“Hey boss man.”

Ranboo strode up to him, and hugged him gently from behind, his elbows resting on Tubbo’s shoulders.

“You ready to get going?”

“Just about. Gotta get Michael’s stuff together still.”

“Mm.”

They stood like that for a few moments, until Ranboo gently head butted Tubbo’s head, and moved away, gently slipping the coat off of Tubbo. He put it back on its hanger and slid it back into its place in the closet.

“I vote we leave this one behind.”

Tubbo hummed, a smile making its way onto his face.

“Can't say I disagree.”

Ranboo grabbed a few more things from Tubbo’s closet and threw them to Tubbo, who caught them and folded them, placing them carefully into his bag.

“Guess you don’t like me in a suit then. I’ll make note of that.”

Ranboo froze for a moment, then flustered, slapping Tubbo gently on the back of the head. Tubbo giggled, zipping up his bag and slinging it onto his shoulder.

They made their way out into the living room, where a duffel bag already sat on the floor beside the couch. Tubbo threw his bag down next to Ranboo’s, and jumped when the duffel moved.

“Hey, Boo?” Tubbo whisper-yelled.

“Yeah?”

“Care to explain why your bag is shaking and purring?”

They stared at each other, Ranboo freezing like a deer in headlights.

“… I couldn’t just leave Enderchest.”

Tubbo laughed fondly. He knelt down and scratched the cat’s ears, which earned him a louder purr.

“Guess I understand. Cats have got to stick together after all.” Tubbo grinned.

Ranboo groaned across the room.

“Catboy, little meow meow, my meow meow catboy, little baby man.” Tubbo strode across the room, smooshing Ranboo’s cheeks with his hands.

“You are a menace to society.”

Tubbo cackled evilly, and moved one of his hands up to scratch around Ranboo’s ears, laughing again when a soft rumble came from his husband’s chest.

“This is not funny.” Ranboo could barely stop himself from purring long enough to say it.

“Mhm.” Tubbo rubbed Ranboo’s ears and the purring grew louder.

“I hate this.”

“Tell me to stop then.”

Ranboo flushed, and Tubbo laughed triumphantly, bonking his forehead with Ranboo’s and leaving him be. He made his way up to Michael’s room, followed closely by Ranboo, who held another backpack in his hands and was yet to stop purring.

They moved in tandem, grabbing and folding their toddler’s clothes and placing them in the backpack. They also brought an assortment of books and little trinkets they’d collected for Michael over the past few months. Finally, they grabbed some blankets and folded them neatly, stuffing them into the backpack and zipping it up. Ranboo swung the backpack over his shoulder and shimmied back down the ladder.

Tubbo sighed, and sat on Michael’s bed, gently carding his fingers through his son’s short mane. Ranboo came back up, and sat beside him.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Tubbo mumbled, half to himself.

“Can’t believe in a bad way, or can’t believe in a good way?”

“The good way.”

Ranboo leaned against Tubbo, resting his cheek on Tubbo’s head, careful to avoid the horns.

“Should we wake him up now and get him out to a boat, or should we wait for Tommy?” Ranboo swung an arm around Tubbo’s waist lazily.

Tubbo leaned into the gesture. It was quite bizarre. Ever since his execution, physical affection had left him uneasy and anxious, but for some reason it was different with Ranboo. Maybe it was how unsure of it he’d seemed himself, or maybe that he hadn’t known Tubbo before the scars. It made Tommy jealous, Tubbo was well aware of that. But at the moment, Tommy was only just getting back to being able to handle hugs, so Tubbo wasn’t sure cuddling would do either of them any good at this point.

“Bo?”

Tubbo snapped back.

“Right, sorry, yeah, let’s uh, let’s wait for Tommy to get here. He’ll probably wake Michael up with his knocking anyway.”

Ranboo hummed amusedly, and Tubbo smiled. He glanced out the window, and watched the waves for a moment.

“You wanna go for a quick stroll before Tommy gets here?” Tubbo stood, offering Ranboo a hand up.

“Sure.”

Ranboo took it, and they made their way to the doors, Tubbo slipping on his coat as they left. They wandered around for a bit, chatting idly, reminiscing on stupid and funny moments that had happened in the little town of Snowchester. They eventually ended up on the docks, and Tubbo sat down, swinging his legs over the side. Ranboo sat beside him, his tail wrapping around towards Tubbo.

Tubbo shivered, and leaned into Ranboo, who held him.

“So this is it then. Anywhere you wanna visit before we leave? L’manhole, maybe?”

Tubbo smiled.

“Nah. I’ve said my goodbyes to that place. I’m all good to go.”

Ranboo laughed quietly.

“Not to question you, but for someone who spent several nights awake making layouts for his builds, you don’t seem all too sad about leaving them.”

“Well, I mean, yeah. It kinda sucks, but at their core, they’re just builds. I’ll think back on them one day and cringe at how I styled them. You and Michael and Tommy being safe is far more important than whatever project I’m focused on at the minute.” Tubbo said quietly.

Ranboo hummed.

“And you know you’re the same for me, right? You’re always gonna be one of my top priorities.”

It felt a little uncomfortable to hear, but Tubbo knew that was just his messed up brain doing its messed up little thing. And so, pushing down the feeling of twisting in his stomach, he leaned closer to Ranboo.

“Thanks, boss man. I’m glad.”

They sat for a moment in silence, listening to the waves lap at the sides of the docks. Tubbo checked his communicator for the time. Tommy should be getting here soon. Thank god, he was getting a bit anxious to actually get on the road. He was, of course, still grateful that the universe had decided to give them a moment of peace before the inescapable chaos that would be travelling a long distance with a toddler and Tommy- so, basically two toddlers- for several days. Hell, maybe even several weeks.

So, of course, Ranboo had to ruin the peace.

“You’re actually talking about your feelings. A big win for the Tubbo_Beloved community.”

Tubbo huffed out a laugh, gently slapping Ranboo’s chest.

“Oh, shut up.”

Ranboo giggled, his tail wagging happily and hitting the stone.

“OI TUBBO! BOOB BOY! I’M HERE!”

Tubbo let out a sigh and turned to see Tommy standing on his porch, waving his arms around like a madman. Ranboo laughed, bonking their foreheads together. Tubbo groaned, letting his head fall onto Ranboo’s chest for a minute.

“Ready to spend several days on end with the one and only Tommyinnit?” Ranboo’s voice was light, lighter than he’d heard it in a while.

Tubbo smiled.

“Gods help our souls.”

Ranboo laughed, loud and clear, and Tubbo grinned. He pulled back, and Ranboo stood, helping Tubbo up as well. They made their way back to the cabin, Tommy tapping his foot impatiently like a cartoon character. Tubbo walked up the steps and made eye contact with Tommy, asking a silent question.

Are you okay?

Yes.

Are you sure you wanna do this?

Yeah, I’m good.

Tommy swung an arm around Tubbo’s neck, pulling him in quickly for a side-hug, then relaxing and dragging him inside.

“Your gremlin’s awake by the way. Couldn’t handle the might and power of the great Tommyinnit.” Tommy grinned as he tossed his bag next to Tubbo’s beside the couch.

Tubbo rolled his eyes, and motioned for Ranboo to go get Michael with a nod. Ranboo laughed quietly, and went upstairs. Tommy released Tubbo from his hold, and plopped down beside the bags, petting Enderchest, who seemed somewhat apprehensive of the new person.

“So did you say goodbye to everything?” Tommy scratched behind Enderchest’s ears and the cat immediately warmed up to him.

“Nah. I’ve made my peace with this place. Just waiting to leave now.” Tubbo sat down beside him, taking a few locks of Tommy’s hair and beginning to twist them into a braid.

“Saw your message on the Prime Path.”

“Yeah?”

“Made one beside it. Now it says ‘TUBBO_BELOVED and BIG MAN TOMMYINNIT WALKED HERE.’”

“Pffft- I’m glad, now everyone will know the true owners of the Prime Path for generations to come.” Tubbo tied the braid together loosely, then sat back.

“Fuck yeah they will. Big Man Tommy’s legacy is going nowhere.”

Tubbo laughed, and Tommy smiled gently.

Tubbo’s ear flicked as the hatch to Michael’s room opened, and he looked over to see Ranboo carrying a very sleepy Michael down the ladder. The toddler was wrapped in his favourite blanket, one he’d been given by Foolish, and was clutching his chicken plush against his chest with one hand. His other hand gripped Ranboo’s shirt, rumpling the thin fabric, and not assisting in keeping the toddler in Ranboo’s arms in any way, shape, or form. Tubbo stood, making his way over and taking Michael from Ranboo’s arms. Michael gently headbutted his chest, and Tubbo did the same to Michael’s forehead.

“Did you tell him what’s happening yet?” Tubbo asked as Ranboo made his way down the ladder.

“Not yet, figured we should tell him together.”  

“Mm. Fairs. Mikey?”

Michael gazed up at his dads sleepily. Tubbo’s heart clenched at the sight.

“You awake there, buddy?” Ranboo asked, running a hand through the toddler’s mane.

Michael grunted and hid his face in Tubbo’s shoulder, causing a soft laugh from Ranboo. Tommy snorted from across the room.

“Can we talk for a minute Michael?” Tubbo placed a kiss on his son’s forehead, and Michael looked up at him, then Ranboo, and nodded.

“Alright.” Tubbo carried Michael over to where Tommy sat, and returned to his place on the floor with Michael in his lap.

Michael’s eyes shot open when he saw Tommy, his mouth gaping in surprise. He squirmed out of Tubbo’s grasp and walked right up to Tommy, placing his tiny, hoof-like hands on Tommy’s cheeks.

“Mimi.” Michael stated with a seriousness that bordered that of a commander’s.

Tubbo burst out laughing, and as Ranboo slid onto the floor beside him, he could feel his husband shaking trying to hold his own laughter back. Tommy sighed dramatically, but smiled.

“Yes, it is me, your saviour, Mimi. I’ve arrived to make sure those two don’t bore you to death.” Tommy nodded in Tubbo and Ranboo’s direction.

Well, he tried to. He did what he could with toddler hands holding his head in place. Michael followed his gaze, and looked between his dads like he was contemplating something very important. He looked back to Tommy and nodded. Tubbo gasped.

“Have we been betrayed?” Tubbo looked back at Ranboo, who grinned.

“I think so, I think so.”

“We’ve been betrayed by our only heir. Oh woe is me.” Tubbo fell back dramatically into Ranboo’s arms, and Michael giggled.

Tubbo reached his arms out in Michael’s direction, and Michael waddled back over to him, sitting squarely in his lap, and looking up at him expectedly.

“Alright. Serious talk time,” Tubbo squeezed his son, and Ranboo nodded in agreement, “I’m gonna tell you straight up, because I know you’re a big kid and you’re gonna be okay. But it’s okay if you feel upset at what I tell you, okay?”

“You’re allowed to feel however you do, I promise your Bee and I won’t ever get mad at you for that, alright?” Ranboo gently squeezed Tubbo’s shoulder as he spoke.

Michael looked between the two quizzically, and then looked back down at his lap. After a moment, he looked back up, and nodded seriously.

“Alright. So, we’re going to be moving houses, and it’s probably gonna be really far away.”

“And we probably won’t be back for a very long time.” Ranboo added.

Michael’s eyebrows furrowed, and Tubbo would have cooed if he wasn’t worried that Michael was upset. The toddler jutted his thumb out in the direction of the mansion, and Tubbo is quite proud of himself, because he at least had the decency to look sheepish at it. Tommy had to suppress a laugh, hiding it behind a cough. Tubbo glared at him. Ranboo snorted from behind him.

“No, Mikey, we’re gonna travel for a while and then build a new house, far away from here.”

Michael frowned, and took his chicken plush back in his hands, placing it in his lap. He squeezed it gently a couple times as Tubbo ran his hand through the toddler’s mane. Michael eventually looked back up at him, and signed something that Tubbo recognized as “Mimi come?”

“Yeah, bud, Mimi’s coming too.” Ranboo smiled patiently.

Michael squeezed his chicken plush again, then stood, pointing to the ladder.

“You need back up, Mikey? What’s up?” Tubbo asked.

“Need clothes and books and toys.”

“Oh, we’ve already got your stuff packed! Come look!” Ranboo reached around Tubbo and grabbed Michael’s backpack, a yellow one with a bee embroidered on the front.

Ranboo unzipped it, and Michael ran back over, gripping the backpack and looking inside. Ranboo helped him push the blankets aside, and Michael looked at all the clothes and toys they’d packed. He tapped his chin, and Tubbo had to hold back another laugh, because where had he even learned that from? After a couple moments, Michael zipped up the bag himself, and nodded firmly at Ranboo.

“You’re ready to go?” Tubbo asked.

Michael reached for his chicken plush, and Tubbo handed it to him. The toddler nodded.

“Alright. Are you feeling okay about it?” Ranboo placed the backpack beside the other bags as he spoke.

Michael frowned again.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s alright, bud. Do you feel sad?”

Michael shook his head almost immediately.

“Do you feel angry?”

“…No.”

Tubbo watched the interaction with a certain fondness. Ranboo was always so careful with explaining emotions to Michael, and trying to help Michael understand his own. It was sweet to watch.

Tommy obviously didn’t share the same sentiment. He didn’t say anything, but Tubbo noticed his fingers drumming anxiously against the floorboards. His other hand pet Enderchest with a fervour that the cat probably didn’t appreciate. Tubbo would have to thank him later for being so patient with Michael. Or, at least trying to.

“Do you feel nervous?”

Michael stopped for a minute, clutching his chicken close to his chest and mulling it over. Eventually he nodded, and Ranboo smiled gently, the way he always did when he spoke to Michael.

“That’s okay. Your Bee and I are gonna be right beside you the entire time, okay? And if you’re ever feeling nervous, you can tell one of us, and we’ll try to help. Is that okay?”

Michael nodded, and opened his arms for a hug, his chicken falling into Ranboo’s lap. Ranboo pulled him into a hug, not letting go until Michael did. The toddler then turned to Tubbo and did the same. Tubbo held him close to his chest, rocking them from side to side gently. Michael pulled away, and Tubbo did too, gently bonking their foreheads together before completely pulling away.

“You’re very brave, Michael. It’s not easy to do things you’re nervous about. We’re proud of you.” Tubbo ruffled the kid’s mane as Michael grinned.

“Alright. We’re gonna leave now, and you can sleep on the way, okay?”

Michael smiled and nodded, grabbing his blanket from Tubbo’s lap and wrapping it around himself haphazardly. Tubbo stood, followed by Ranboo, who picked up Michael and carried him over to the door. Tommy scratched Enderchest’s chin, then gently zipped up the duffel a bit more. He stood, grabbing his own bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

Tubbo grabbed his backpack and did the same as Ranboo buttoned Michael into his coat. Tubbo grabbed Michael’s hat and slid it on the toddler’s head before helping him with his boots. Tubbo slid on his own boots, tying them tightly. Ranboo grabbed Michael’s backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, then grabbed his duffel bag carefully. Tubbo picked Michael up, and they left the house.

They made it to the front yard, and Tubbo turned around one last time.

“You wanna say bye to the house, Michael?” He murmured.

“Bye bye house.” Michael’s words slurred together with tiredness, and Tubbo awed quietly.

He turned and began to walk away, but Michael grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled it gently, just enough to sting.

“Ow- what the-“ Tubbo took a deep breath, “What’s up, Michael?”

Michael pointed at the house.

“Picture.”

Ah. Of course. Ranboo had shown him their camera a few days ago, and the toddler had loved it. Of course he’d want a picture of the house. Tubbo turned to look at Ranboo, who shrugged, then slid Michael’s backpack off and grabbed a camera from inside. Tubbo sighed. One more quick detour wouldn’t hurt.

“Alright. Let’s go stand by the door.” He carried the toddler back up the front steps, and turned to face Ranboo and Tommy.

Ranboo readied the camera, before being slapped gently in the back of the head by Tommy. He looked back at Tommy with confusion, and Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Go stand with your family, dumbass.” Tommy held his hand open for the camera, looking everywhere but at Ranboo.

Tubbo laughed to himself as Ranboo visibly softened, handing Tommy the camera and making his way up the steps. He stood behind Tubbo, gently placing a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder.

They smiled, and the camera flashed a few times. Tommy pulled back, inspecting the photos for a minute, then gave them the thumbs up. They walked back over, and Michael poked Tommy, pointing at the camera.

“There you go. These pictures up to your standards Big M?” Tommy asked, showing them the camera.

Michael looked at the pictures, then nodded seriously.

“Good, wouldn’t want to disappoint.” Tommy ruffled Michael’s mane, then handed Ranboo the camera.

Ranboo carefully slid it back into Michael’s bag, and the four made their way to the docks.

Two boats were already tied to the docking points, and Ranboo must have set them up when Tubbo wasn’t looking, because Tubbo definitely hadn’t. Ranboo carefully made his way down the ladder and into the first boat, standing with his feet wide. Tubbo bit his lip.

This probably wouldn’t be a fun time for Ranboo, he wasn’t exactly great around water, for good reason. With any luck, they’d only need to travel by boat for a few hours, then they would find land and borrow (read: steal) some horses and travel horseback from there.

Ranboo gently placed his duffel bag in the bottom of the boat, sliding off Michael’s backpack and placing it beside the duffel. He then reached up towards Tubbo, and Tubbo carefully handed him Michael. The moment Tubbo let go, Ranboo sat down, clearly not trusting himself enough to hold their kid above water.

Tommy made his way into the second boat, tossing his bag on the floor as well. Tubbo climbed into Ranboo’s boat, but passed his backpack to Tommy, who put it beside his own. Tubbo sat down, then reached for Michael again. Ranboo handed the toddler over, then stood, untying the boat from the dock. Tommy did the same in the boat next to them.

Michael made himself comfortable in Tubbo’s lap, and, almost instantly, fell back asleep. Tubbo laughed gently and looked up to Ranboo, who was watching them with a look of fondness clear on his face.

“Alright, you guys can make doe eyes at each other once we get there, c’mon.” Tommy grinned as Ranboo spluttered, then began rowing.

Ranboo huffed, but followed suit. They began travelling Northeast.

“Our arms are gonna hurt so bad tomorrow.” Tommy stated tiredly.

“Worth it.” Ranboo smiled.

And they were off.

They’d done it. They’d escaped.