#his name is dram

[nycteres]

Everyone please meet my new wet idiot son, cleric for bondage jesus. Everybody cheer and clap for him or ill fucking blow this whole building up

Also since the in game models are very beautiful (too beautiful) i bullied my partner @prowlsimulator into drawing a more accurately unsettling reendition of what this poor bitch would look like

He's baby and 23 and a follower of ilmater who is specced almost entirely towards healing and when he over extends himself the stigmata activates and he starts crying blood.

Im like this 👌 goddamn close to writing an entire fanfic about him bc i already have a third of the outline

[paintedpawz]

TFW when you literally forget to post art on your own art blog 🥲

But here’s my WIP for my future Lambsona in the making for COTL!  Their name is shep and he’s a goober. <3

Why doesn’t he have the crown yet however?  Hm... not sure. :) Maybe because this is in the past?~

Still, what a handsome boy.  Sure hope nothing BAAAAH-d happens to him..

[theodorecanaryhood]

A love story: the Jock and the Geek

Jason Todd x Male! Reader

Warning: some bullying, homophobia, sexual harassment and sexual references

The hallways of the school were built like a wall of pain, you got sick and tired of hearing people say high school were the best years.

You clutched your books to your chest as you roamed the hallway, going to your next class.

A group of boys cheered as they tossed the football to each other, wolf whistling as the cheerleaders walked by.

Skin tight tops with short skirts, faces masked by beauty products. You envied that you were average looking. You envied that they all had someone to call their own.

‘Stacey, you and Jason coming to my party tonight?’ Hilary asked, her Afro hair falling down to her shoulders.

Stacey, the pretty blonde cheerleader nodded, shutting her locker.

‘Obvy, I’m hoping me and Jason will finally make out tonight’ Stacey tells her bestie.

Truth is Jason Todd is this big jock, rich daddy and drives a Porsche, however he is not shy of taking his time.

You pushed your glasses up your face as Mike, another jock, pushes you into your locker, knocking your books out your hands. Your printed knowledge scattered the floor.

‘Watch where you’re going queer’ Mike laughed as he saw you rushing to grab your books from the floor.

Mike and his buddies high fived as they watched you in amusement, Hilary gave a look of sympathy as she watched you.

‘Let’s go’ Stacey grabbed Hilary’s arm and the two left you.

‘Is this yours?’ Jason asked as he handed you a sketch book.

You nodded as you took it from him, Jason looked at the opened page as he admired your work.

‘This is some good work y/n’ Jason praised, you seemed surprised as you never realised Jason even knew your name.

‘Thanks’ you replied shyly, Jason handed you the sketch book.

‘You have Chem next right? Mr Ward is an asshole sometimes. Coming to Hilary’s party tonight?’ Jason asked.

You nudged your glasses up your face, shaking your head.

‘I’m not invited, I’m not cool enough’ you sighed, Jason looked a little sad.

‘I invite you, you should come, you’ll have fun’ he said as he placed your bag on your shoulder.

You couldn’t get Jason out of your head for the rest of that day, you smiled thinking about him.

‘The fuck?’ Mike snatched your sketchpad from your desk and held it up.

‘Hey, give it back’ you shot onto your feet trying to grab the book back.

Mike held it up in the air so you couldn’t reach it, laughing as chaos continued in the classroom.

‘Guys look, faggot y/n has a crush on Jason’ Mike said as he held up the sketch of Jason for everyone to see. Including Jason.

You ran out of the classroom as Mr Ward scalded Mike for his outburst.

Hilary felt the urge to go find you, but her body didn’t catch up.

The debate you had over going to Hilary’s party made you think hard, you’d been humiliated in front of all these people and now you have to face them.

You stood outside Hilary’s house, finding yourself there all of a sudden.

‘What are you doing here?’ Stacey asked as she saw you walking inside.

‘Hey y/n you came’ Jason cheered as he rushed over to you, his girlfriend giving Jason a weird look.

‘You invited him?’ Stacey asked, Jason nodded with a smile.

Hilary walked over and gave you a small hug as she welcomed you in. Jason walking with you to get you a drink.

The incident in the classroom was never mentioned, and Mike didn’t see you the whole night.

You felt attracted to Jason and Hilary picked up on it, but you were painfully shy you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

Stacey wandered off with a jock, Brian, and was gone for a while. Jason couldn’t find her when it was time to go home.

‘Has anyone seen Stacey?’ Jason asked, the remaining guests shook their heads.

You stood in the hallway of the house as Jason could be heard yelling, Stacey got fed up of waiting for Jason to make a move. So she made a move, with another guy.

Some time went by and you managed to get away from the drama, but every now and then Mike would still torment you.

‘Hey’ Hilary smiled as she sat opposite you, the littered floor of your books.

You smiled a little as she sat on the couch opposite and began reading.

The library was quiet, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, you closed your books as you took your glasses off and cleaned the lenses.

Hilary waved as you went to go back to class, Hilary left the cheer squad after the big fight at her house.

Jason seemed angry most of the time and didn’t want to talk to anyone, the two of you were partnered for Chemistry. Then History.

Jason was only interested in talking about the work and didn’t want to engage in small talk. Though you weren’t offended, you figured he was embarrassed and going through stuff.

‘So, we need to study outside of school, is it ok if you drop by mine tomorrow after school to study?’ Jason asked, seemingly in a better mood.

You agreed, wanting to spend as much time with your school crush. Nothing would ever come from it, but you could enjoy it while it lasted.

Your glasses were tucked away as you walked to the front gate, an older gentleman was in the garden.

‘Hello sir, can I help you?’ The older British man asked, with a smile.

‘Hi, I’m y/n I’m looking for Jason?’ You asked, the older man rose to his feet.

His gardening gloves covered in mud and leaves, he pointed to the window to the left of the house.

‘Master Todd is just in there, go ahead in’ The older man said, you thanked him as you walked into Wayne Manor.

The Manor was built to the same level you would expect as a palace, but it wasn’t overdone. Considering where Jason lives, he isn’t a spoilt rich kid.

‘Hey y/n’ Jason greeted you as he spotted something different about you.

‘Hey, you have a nice house’ you smiled, visibly impressed as Jason studied your face.

‘Where are your glasses?’ He asked you, you pointed to your bag.

‘I have contacts in’ you revealed, Jason smiled a little.

‘You look better with glasses’ he said, pulling your book out your bag.

The two of you spent more time together as friends as well as study buddies, and you found yourself falling in love.

The walls came crashing down as you spotted Stacey rubbing Jason’s arm, the school hallways began feeling like they did before.

‘Stop touching me’ Jason barked, pulling his arm away from her touch.

You heard the interaction as you watched frozen, Jason visibly annoyed.

‘Baby please’ Stacey pleaded as she grabbed Jason’s arm, him shoving her arm away from him.

‘Fuck off, slut’ Jason said as he walked away, Stacey stood sad as her ex boyfriend walked away.

You did feel a little sad for Stacey, she knew she’d done something wrong but she also felt she couldn’t right her wrong. She had an amazing guy, she couldn’t be patient like Jason and lost him.

Study dates together seemed a little different as Jason had fire in his eyes, he seemed annoyed but never with you.

Jason became sweet with you but never pushed you, you felt like there was a little spark there.

‘You wanna hang out somewhere other than my house some time?’ Jason asked out of the blue, you seemed a little nervous to answer.

‘Yes’ you answered, a few seconds of silence as Jason smiled ear to ear from your answer.

The two of you began hanging out at other places, the diner, coffee shop and even just walking through the park together.

You kept feeling an urge to just kiss Jason, hold his hand. But you were scared of his reaction. Jason never had an issue with the fact that you’re gay, he never had any idea that you’re falling for him.

The TV screen lit the dark room as the two of you sat on Jason’s bed, the PS5 controllers in your hands as you played against each other.

Jason kept beating you in the game and the two of you laughed as you played, Jason howled with laughter as he commented on your playing skills.

‘You’re shit, like so bad dude’ Jason laughed as you nudged your glasses up your face.

‘I’m more into books bruh, video games are new to me’ you laughed along with Jason.

You both got closer, Jason looked into your eyes as he smirked a little. Your heart thumped in the ears as Jason seemed to lean in a little.

‘Fuck it’ Jason whispered under his breath as he connected his lips with yours.

It made your heart scream in joy and happiness as Jason pulled you into his lap. Taking your glasses off of your face, placing them onto his bedside table.

Jason’s hand on your face, fingers crossed over the side of your neck as your legs were opened, welcoming Jason.

Jason’s hot breath mixed with yours as he thrusted deep, making you pant a little.

The feel of Jason’s skin in yours, the feel of his body. The feeling of his manhood inside you made you feel incredible.

The sun hit your face as you woke up, the most amazing dream the night before, as you realise it wasn’t a dream. Jason’s naked body lay next to you.

You ran your hand down his chest and abdomen, feeling his tight abs. His strong muscle, the arms that held you in place all night.

‘Morning love bug’ Jason smiled as he saw you awake, you rubbed your sleepy eyes with a smile as Jason leant up and greeted your lips with a morning peck.

You stretched a little as you rose to your feet, a little lightheaded and your anus feeling a little rough.

‘Shit, it’s 10am? My dad’s gonna be home soon’ Jason saw his phone screen as he rose to his feet.

Towering at 6’3 as you stood at a shorter height, you were supposed to be home hours ago. Your parents were probably not going to be happy with you for staying out.

Jason kissed you goodbye as he promised you’d hang out again soon, your walk home was a little different as you still felt a little tired and sore. But it felt nice.

Jason was the first guy you’d had sex with, he was sweet and gentle when you told him you’d never had sex before.

The two of you began going on dates, officially, and Jason began to open up about his repressed homosexuality.

He dated Stacey because he thought he had to, not because he liked her. Jason took her adultery as a blessing in a way, it gave Jason the escapism he needed to be him.

Jason held your hand through the school hallway, everyone stopping to look as they saw you and Jason together.

Stacey spotted it and felt ashamed of herself, seeing Jason got the right person in the end.

Hilary smiled at you two and ran over to hug you both, congratulations being received as she walked with you two.

Graduation, Prom, College, Red Hood being born, you were with Jason through all of it.

10 years together and paying a mortgage as the two of you stuck together, you worked on your arms and legs a bit more.

Growing and building more muscle, Jason cooked naked in the kitchen after a heated night.

You admiring the view of his back and chest, not being able to stay away from him too long. Jason greeted your lips like a reward.

Celebrating festivities at Wayne manor as Jason held you on his lap, smiling brightly as he fluttered kisses on your shoulder every now and then.

Hilary was married and expecting her first by now, you were still best friends and of course, soon to be god father to her baby girl.

Life had a way of working out for those who waited, Jason waited for love and you waited for Jason. It worked out amazingly for the two of you, the two of you lay in bed together as Jason slept laying on your chest.

You stroked his hair, Jason sleeping soundly on you as he dreamt sweetly. Jason felt like he was the luckiest man alive to have a boyfriend like you, and you had won the lottery.

[kaelohver]

@KAELOHVER☆

DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS

Summary: In a drunken state, you confess your romantic feelings to them (possibly ooc for Nikolai)

•CHUUYA NAKAHARA

Chuuya chuckled, passing you some more wine as of your request whilst you recalled something from earlier in the day to him.

You’re both in the Mafia so one day you decided to ask Chuuya if he’d like to drink together at a local bar.

Of course, he’d only really seen you at work, (which somehow still solidified his feelings for you) so he was quite discreetly happy at the invitation.

Eventually, you found yourselves in a routine of drinking at each other’s houses atleast every 2 weeks (it’s usually one but work can be rather long and tiring) and frequently texting or chatting in other ways.

Which is how you found yourself getting rather drunk at Chuuya’s apartment.

Despite Chuuya’s love for wine, he’d declined drinking for a moment so he could finish off a report to Mori due tomorrow.

He hadn’t meant to be so late with finishing it but by the time he had, you’d been drunk already.

"Oi, Chuuyaa…" You whine, hiccuping briefly as you stare at the finger in front of you.

His eyes widened at your whining before a small smile appeared on his face, “What’s up?”

“You—You’re up~” You giggled, smiling at him with a flushed and drunken look.

He didn’t breath for a second, your giggle replaying through his mind over and over again.

"Hey, I haven’t even started drinking yet and you’re already drunk.. Wait next time, would ya?” He huffed out, crossing his arms jokingly.

You giggled even more at that, “Ehh, Sorry, Chuu!”

He paused for a moment before he blushed and turned his head away, muttering about how you had no idea what you do to him.

"Hey, Chuuya.. Wanna know who I have a crush on?” You suddenly questioned, seemingly unaware of your drunken blubbering.

His eyes widened once again, he knew he really shouldn’t but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt if you probably wouldn’t remember the outcome…

So, he nodded and watched you excitedly begin talking.

“M’kay! He’s ginger, he has r—really great fashion sense and is a Mafia executive!” You exclaimed, unaware of how obvious it was in your current state.

For a third time that evening, his eyes widened, much more than the previous times. He’d never really seen any other male Mafia executives with ginger hair with a good fashion sense (which, in his opinon, he had).

He wasn’t aware of any Mafia’s around here and it’s not like Mori thinks they ought to involve ourselves with any…

“Oh? And what name does this man have?” He asks, tilting his head in false confusion.

"Chuuya..” you mutter, hiccuping twice.

His mouth opens for a moment then shuts again before opening again, “..Ha?”

You nod excitedly, immediately chugging the rest of the glass of wine you’d been given earlier.

He doesn’t say anything, too flustered to reply and too worried that you’ll forget in the morning.

Very surprisingly, he decides not to touch his wine and instead offers to have you sleep over at his house in a guest room.

You agreed happily despite your hesitation to get up and go to the room a while later.

He did end up drinking a lot whilst you slept…

You did eventually go to sleep in the guest room, waking up with a horrible hangover the next day and ending up not going to work.

You did, in fact, not remember in the morning.

So Chuuya took the chance to plan a romantic confession for another time!

•OSAMU DAZAI

Dazai groaned as the doorbell went, getting off his couch and opening the door reluctantly.

He’d expected Kunikida or some package that was meant for his neighbours but instead got delivered to him.

Instead, he found you in a drunken state.

“Oh? What pleasure do I owe for you to come to see me at this hour?” He asked, smiling teasingly.

“B—bastard, you’re… a bastard” you immediately start, hiccuping between sentences.

He sighed at that, it truly reminded him of Chuuya when he drinks.

Except you seem less generally angry and more emotional.

"Now, now, that’s very rude!” He dramatically replied, putting his hands on his hips.

You groaned at that, accidentally stumbling into the brunette’s arms.

He tilted his head at you when you didn’t move, seemingly too drunk and unable to move.

“Woah, it seems like I’ll have to carry you inside!” He exclaimed, not giving you much time to process before picking you up bridal-style.

You squeaked at that, burying your face in his chest.

He smiled for a brief moment before he muttered something you couldn’t understand in your state, “cute..”

You said nothing, suddenly feeling incredibly sleepy once he put you down on his couch.

He noticed that and decided it would be better for you to be around another person when you were drunk, even if it meant being around him.

You could hear Dazai complaining in a dramatic way along with him muttering a goodnight before you said something unknowingly.

“Love.. you, ‘Samu..”

He paused for a couple minutes, watching you fall to sleep with a blush on his face.

First of all, you said his actual name and second of all, you told him you loved him.

He is so gonna tease you about loving him jokingly before asking you out.

•NIKOLAI GOGOL

You and Nikolai had decided to have a night where you drink together every month out of pure boredom, which usually landed on a Friday.

So, today was one of those days and it was going pretty normal up until Nikolai suggested whoever gets drunk first would have to share a big secret with the other.

You, wanting a secret off of Nikolai, felt pretty fine with the arrangement.

What you didn’t think of is that he’d trick you into losing.

Of course, Nikolai tricks everyone, but you weren’t really thinking properly at the time.

So, here you are now, extremely wasted and clinging to him.

“Woah, it seems I’ve won, dove!” He excitedly revealed, relishing in the frustrated facial expression you wore.

"Ehh.. Nikolaiiii, it’s not fair!” You complained, stumbling a bit as you attempted to get off the bar stool.

He simply snickered, helping you get off the stool and walking with you to the taxi he had arranged not long ago (he was definitely going to blackmail the driver if you didn’t pay).

The walk was weirdly fast, with you falling in and out of conscious due to the alcohol.

When you did finally get into the taxi, you and him sat at the back.

“Hey, dear, what do you say to doing this next Friday?” He asked, smirking in victory.

“Hmm… No c—competition” you muttered tiredly, leaning onto his shoulder.

He whined at that before hesitantly nodding, “Fine!”

You didn’t properly reply to that, instead watching the cars go by outside the window.

“Alright! Enough silence, tell me your crush!” He suddenly shouted, making the driver awkwardly turn up the radio.

You huffed before accidentally muttering “Nikolai.. I think”in a drunken haze.

He is silent for like 2 seconds before he’s harassing you for not saying it earlier whilst you were sober…

Eventually, you fall asleep on him, much to his delight.

He doesn’t care whether you remember or not, he’s going to tease you endlessly.

If you really don’t then he might confess to you before telling you about your revelation, he also might not though.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Never Gone

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 3.8k

TW: S4 Stranger Things triggers, drams, blood, injuries, migraines, Swearing

A/N: Based off of this request. I had a lot of fun writing this request! Thank you so much for asking me to write it. I haven't written Steve in a hot minute, so that was really nice to revisit him <3

When Steve heard that you had headaches, he almost didn't think anything of it---keyword is almost. 

You had always been one to get migraines, and this was exactly that time of month anyways. First of the month, migraine. It was like clock work. 

Which was ironic to you considering it felt like ticking was nonstop in your head the past week. 

Luckily for you, it was a Saturday, and you could stay in bed. You hadn't been scheduled at the library, and your dad was running around, chauffeuring your sister, so the house was empty and you could die slowly in your bed from your headache. 

Steve didn't even knock, he just slid the window up, and crawled through to your bed. 

"Hey gorgeous." 

You hummed a response as he took his shoes off and slid into your bed. He was dressed in his yellow sweater and sweatpants. He knew he was coming over to lay in bed with you all day, and nothing else. 

When he wrapped his arms around you, you moved in closer to him, your face against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was calming---sometimes it felt like it was melting the headache away. 

"How's your head baby?" His voice was soft and low, as he ran his hand up and down your back. 

"Feels like it's pulsing my brains out of my ears, so nothing new." 

He placed his lips on your forehead. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while, listening to one another's heartbeats, just enjoying each other's company. 

“Steve?” 

“Hmm?” 

“How’s Max doing?” You whispered to him. 

He tensed up a little bit. It’s not that he wasn’t thinking about the red headed girl down in the Wheeler’s basement, it’s just that you didn’t exactly know what was going on with the kids he ‘babysat’, and he didn’t want you to find out either. 

“She’s–uh, She’s been better. She’s still, uh, sick. Really bad head…..” His voice trailed off as he stared down at you. 

You gently called his name as he trailed off into thought. 

His eyes widened as his heart started to beat a little faster. This was just your usual monthly migraine right? You always got these—there was nothing out of the ordinary….right? Were you hearing ticking? Were you having nightmares? What if you—-

“Steve?” 

His eyes were wide, and you could feel how shallow his breathing was. “Hey–hey, I’m sorry I brought her up.”

He shook his head and looked down at you. “How’s your headache?” 

You shrugged and slid your hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb ran gently across his face, looking into his eyes to see if you could find anything wrong. 

“I wish you’d stop ignoring me and answer.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and paused. “Steve I did…”

“No.” He huffed and pulled away. “All you did was shrug. That’s not a real answer.” 

“Steve.” 

He sat up and moved away from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come here today. I have so much shit do today other than to sit in bed with you while you bitch and moan about your head.” 

Steve had shocked you into silence as your eyes began to well with tears. 

“Oh great. And now you’re crying. Did you ever realize how fucking annoying it is to constantly have to cheer you up all the time. Don’t you think I have other things going on in my life that need me more than you do when you’re sobbing about fucking anything.” 

“What the actual fuck steve.” 

Steve was sliding on his shoes. “You know what, y/n? I don’t need this bullshit. I don’t need your bullshit.” 

“Wait—” 

“No Y/n. Wake up.” 

You froze and frowned. “What?” 

“Y/N!”

Your eyes shot open and you were suddenly back to your position where you had been previously, laying down, tucked securely in Steve Harrington’s loving embrace. 

“I–” You went to speak but you noticed Steve’s eyes were suddenly filled with that worry from before, but there was something else starting to cloud over—fear. 

“What did you see?” 

“What?” 

“What. Did. You. See.”

“Fucking pushy harrington.” You grumbled as you pulled away slightly. 

“Y/n…” 

Your eyes rolled as you looked up at him. “It was just a daydream Steve. A bad one. W—We were, uh, arguing.” 

“About?” 

You shook your head. “Nothing Steve, really. Just something stupid my brain made up.” 

“I–.” Steve bit his lip and sat up. “I need to make a call real quick.” He was out of your bed before you realized what was happening, and was suddenly across the room at your desk where your phone was. He picked it up and quickly dialed a number. All the while, you were sitting up on your elbows, watching him. Your headache was not going away which wasn’t uncommon, but rarely did they stay this bad for this long. 

Steve was muttering into the phone, clutching it really tightly. Every now and again, he’d look over at you. You’d furrow your brow and he would seem to get even more worried than before. You had caught some of the words, like Max and No Absolutely Not, no I’m serious Dustin it’s not happening.

You were beyond confused as to why Steve was talking to the kid he babysat, or why he even called him in the first place, but all you knew was that your head hurt, and Steve, who was usually your rock, was getting all jumpy and acting really fucking weird.

Once he hung up the phone he gave you a sheepish smile. “So, uh…” 

“What’s going on Steve?” 

“We’re taking a field trip.” 

You snorted laid back down, not entertaining this anymore. 

“I’m serious Y/n.” 

“I think you’re delusional but okay.” 

“Please.” 

You sat up once more and looked at him. Something about the concern he felt about your little maladaptive daydream, made you slightly worried about your headache. But he loved you, and if it would make him feel better about it, you’d humor his worry. 

“Fine. But we’re stopping by the diner and we’re getting food and shakes before we go where we’re going because I want something to eat.” 

“Okay but, we really don’t—”

“No Steve. That’s my final offer. Either I get my milkshake, or I’m staying in this bed.” 

He huffed from across the room, but walked over and sat down next to you on the bed, taking your hand. “Fine. If it will get you out of bed.” He was feigning annoyance, but you could see the mild relief in his eyes at you agreeing to indulge his anxieties, with little to know explanation from him.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“Seriously Steve?” 

“Please, just…” 

“Just what? You bring me to the Wheeler’s basement, filled with a bunch of children, including your ex-girlfriend and my former best friend, all the while knowing I have a raging migraine happening, and then you expect me to not ask any questions.” 

“Well–”

“No Steve. Seriously. Then you go and try to tell me that you’re going out with a really weird group of people, no offense guys.” You didn’t even glance at the group staring at you both. “To go what…traversing into the woods to look for someone who has serial killer allegations, and you want me to come with you, with not a single explanation as to why.” 

“He’s not a serial killer–” Dustin tried to cut in but you shot him a glare. 

“If you heard me Henderson, I said allegations. Might want to turn on those listening ears.” You turned back to Steve. “Tell me what’s going on, or I’m just going home Steve. I’m seriously not in the mood to deal with this.” 

Steve was just looking at you, alongside the rest of the group. This felt so out of character for you to be so openly bitchy in front of people, and you had never had an issue with Nancy before. You’ve actually always really liked Nancy so why now? 

“Y/N. Please…” 

You scoffed and shook your head. “Drive me home or I’m walking.” 

“You can’t be serious right now.” 

You didn’t even dignify that with a response, you just turned around and walked right up the stairs. Steve, who was just as exasperated as you, looked between his friends and they all were unsure what to do. It’s not like they wanted to drag someone else into their messy world, but they didn’t want you to die just like the rest of those poor high schoolers. 

When they all heard the front door slam shut, Steve jumped at the sound and then quickly ran up the stairs and followed. 

Y/n

You could hear as Steve called your name, but you kept on walking. You were so in your own world, you completely missed where you were walking. You fell and hit the ground hard. When you looked at your hands, they were covered in dirt and grime, which was unexpected for Mr. Wheeler’s lawn, but you didn’t think anything of it until you looked back up and the sky was red. You heard your name again but it wasn’t Steve’s voice, it was grovelley and at least four octaves deeper. Yet you still called out for Steve anyway, hoping he might be there. 

Why would he chase after you? He doesn't care about you. 

You looked up at the..thing…in front of you and shook your head, trying to escape whatever hellscape your mind conjured up. 

But the voice wouldn’t leave you alone. It said your name again, and you got up off the ground, taking off. You didn’t dare to look behind you as you ran through this wasteland. Your heart was beating irregularly fast and you went and hid behind a building, trying not to breathe heavily as tears slid down your cheeks. When you looked around you realized you were close to Steve’s neighborhood. It was some sort of fucked up version of Hawkins. 

You really think I can’t find you Y/n?

You whipped around, coming face to face with one of the grossest things you could possibly imagine. It was like all of his flesh had been burned off and the skin that grew back, grew back like vines, twisting flesh and muscle. His eyes were the scariest part, since they looked right at you, as if you were a piece of meat. 

You slowly backed away from whatever this thing was, but your heel caught the curb, and down you went—landing hard on back, your head hitting the ground. There was definitely going to be bruising afterwards. You landed on your wrist, causing you to scream out in pain. 

Whenever you were little and had sleepovers with your friends, your favorite game was “Never Have I Ever”. It’s not that you were boring, you actually enjoyed showing off how much you had done as you got older. But your starter was always “Never have I ever broken a bone”. Not anymore. 

The crack was audible. 

“Y/n!” 

Your eyes opened and you were on the ground in front of the Wheeler’s—your wrist bruised, and head pounding. Steve was crouched in front of you, one of his hands on your cheeks and nothing but pure fear in his eyes. 

“Holy shit.” He whispered, yanking you into his chest and holding you tightly. He felt you start to shake as you silently cried into his shirt, overwhelmed by the pain you felt and by what you had seen. 

“Shit shit shit.” Steve’s hand was fisted in your shirt and his hand in your hair. 

Your head was on his shoulder, and as you opened your eyes, you made eye contact with Max. Her walkman was in her hands, as if she was ready to shove it at someone. Max didn’t look like everyone else in the group, she seemed sadder, more resigned. Something you felt you could resonate with. 

You couldn;t see them, but you knew the group of kids on the other side of Steve were whispering to one another. Dustin cleared his throat. 

“Why don’t we go back inside, yeah? We need to look at her wrist.” 

Steve muttered something in agreement, and pulled back slightly, both hands still holding onto you. “Are you okay?” 

“My wrist.” you whispered, flinching just thinking about it. You decided you’d tell Steve about what you saw later. Right now, you really wanted to wrap your wrist up, and lay down. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Steve, you've got to be joking.” 

Usually when Steve would huff out of frustration, you’d find it cute and endearing, but right now you found it annoying. 

“Why would I lie to you about this?” 

“I-I don’t know but I think you’re hanging out with kids too much—no offense.” 

The kids muttered various forms of protest and agreements, but it was Robin who spoke up next. 

“You have no idea how much I wish he was lying—like when I first found out it was in a secret russian base and  I honestly didn’t even know what was happening and then we got tortured and—all that to say–it’s real.” 

“Is this the shit Eddie was telling me about? The new strain or whatever, that ‘hits different’. Are you giving kids drugs Steve?” 

Steve let out a groan and dragged a hand down his face. “I can’t.” 

You crossed your arms, which was a bit more difficult considering your arm was wrapped up tightly with gauze, and fitted in one of Mike’s old wrist braces. “You have to hear yourselves right? Think about it from my point of view. You’re telling me you're friends with this…girl, who has telekinetic powers, and that's the reason that Byers kid went missing, and then you’ve fought different otherworldly monsters each year since? And now, you’re fighting this Veneca, Vatican, whatever bullshit guy, who is actually murdering people and the town drug dealer is taking the fall for it?” 

Everyone in the basement was silent. 

“She’s got a point, we sound fucking crazy.” Max was the first to speak up. 

“Language.” Steve muttered. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time you’ve been down here. He was watching you as if you’d disappear. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You all sound crazy.” 

Steve looked over at Robin, and they had one of those really annoying silent conversations. You looked between the two, trying to figure out whatever they were thinking. 

Just then, Robin got up from her seat. “Alright kids, let’s head upstairs for a moment. Give these two some time to figure this shit out. “

The collective of children groaned, but Nancy helped to corral them, giving you a sympathetic smile as she went up the stairs behind the gaggle, closing the door softly. 

Steve had moved to sit down next to you, pulling you down so your head was in his lap. And before you could make a snarky comment about it, his hand was in your hair, playing with it, but also massaging your head. His other arm rests across your stomach with his hand on your hip, rubbing his thumb up and down soothingly. 

The two of you stayed like this for a couple of minutes: you were destressing, and him reassuring himself that you were alive and in front of him. He was humming your favorite song under his breath, causing you to smile a bit. 

“I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it’s true.”

“I want to believe you Steve but…”

He sighed and nodded. “Remember last summer?” 

You closed your eyes and nodded slightly, images of Steve’s face and body flashed across your mind. His entire face was bruised, and his torso…you didn’t like to think about it. You draped your arm across his and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “How could I forget Steve. You looked like you were beaten to death.” 

“It was from the Russians Dustin was talking about.” 

You frowned and looked up at him. “Steve….” 

“Look, you don’t have to think it’s real, you can call me fucking crazy for all I care, but I really just need you to trust me—humor me if you have to. But I can’t….I can’t lose you y/n. So please just…indulge me and….”

“Does it really mean this much to you?” 

Steve nodded. “Please.” 

“Alright baby. What do you need me to do? “

_____________________________________________________

You didn’t see Steve for the next forty-eight hours, and it worried the shit out of you. 

You were not one to believe in all that bullshit story Dustin and the others were trying to tell you about, but you knew something was wrong since Steve had literally disappeared. 

You were still having headaches, but you listened to your favorite song over and over and over again, as much as you could. Luckily for you, you had a few blank cassette tapes, and a new stereo that held up to four cassettes. So you loaded your favorite song on a loop onto three of them, and then your favorite album  onto the fourth, to add some variety. And you had been playing those on repeat for the past two days, just like Steve had told you to. When he didn’t show up the next day like he promised, you grabbed your walkman and your stereo, and drove over to Steve’s house, just to find it empty. 

So you stayed there for the next twenty four hours, and that’s when the earthquake hit. It was terrifying, waking up and watching as everything went crashing to the ground. All you could do was think about your parents, think about Steve. 

It wasn’t until eleven pm when you heard the front door open. You had been sitting on the couch, wrapped up in one of Steve’s sweaters, near the fireplace since the power had gone out because of the earthquake. He looked up at you, and you swore you could commit murder at the sight of him. 

“Oh my god Steve. What the fuck happened to you.” You were by his side before he could even respond. Your fingers gently flit around his face, taking in all of the scraps, and then moving to his neck, where you could see the angry red skin flowering with bruises underneath. 

Steve loved you for so many reasons, but right now, he loved you the most for not asking questions. You didn’t ask him about the weird combat outfit. You didn’t ask him why he was covered in dirt. You didn’t ask him why his neck looked like barbed wire had been around it, and you didn’t ask about the fact that he was limping. 

You just slowly cupped his face in your hands, and kissed him softly. There wasn't any sort of push to make this kiss more than it was. It was just simply to tell him you love him. A reminder he’s with you. 

“Can you make it up the stairs?” 

He nodded and you took his hand, taking into account how bruised and scraped up his hands were. 

“I was so worried about you. They kept finding bodies and then….the…”

He nodded, still not speaking. If he opened his mouth he would start sobbing, and never stop, and he didn’t want to burden you with that just yet. 

You opened the bathroom door in his parents room, and walked him inside. You both were smart enough to make him take his shoes off before making your way upstairs, one less thing to clean up. But you made him sit on the toilet, as you slowly took a look at his injuries in a better light. You slowly helped him out of his jacket, noticing that it took a lot more effort than usual, since he was wincing, and even hissed out in pain during one particularly sharp movement. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” 

“Harrington, I’m seriously not in the mood for how you downplay everything.” 

He bit his lip and shook his head. “I’ll be in bed in a few minutes. Why don’t you go get ready.” 

You raked your eyes over him, not enjoying the sheer amount of blood splatter on his clothes and shook your head. “No I’m—”

“Please.” 

When his voice cracked, you caved. You leaned over and kissed his forehead. “If you need me for anything Steve, and I mean anything ... .Please call for me.” 

He nodded and took your hand in his. “I’ll be five minutes max I swear.” 

You whispered an okay to him before you left him alone in the bathroom, heading back downstairs. You grabbed the bottle of vodka from the cabinet along with some of the cranberry juice Steve had bought you at the beginning of the week, and then a bag of his favorite chips, and headed back upstairs. You had a gut feeling he hadn’t eaten in a while, and that he was in a lot of pain. 

Ten minutes later, he appeared in the doorway. You were in his bed, under the covers, head resting against his pillows, softly in sleep. 

He tried to quietly get into bed without waking you up—he failed. Not because he was loud, but because you always knew when he got into bed next to you. 

“Sorry sweetheart.” he whispered, his voice hoarse. 

You shook your head and went to curl up in his chest, but he shifted slightly and adjusted your hands so they weren’t touching his stomach. You decided to continue to hold in your questions once he had gotten some sleep. 

“How’s your headache?” 

“It’s gone.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder. “You need some sleep Stevie.” 

“I–..” He closed his eyes and licked his lips. “I was so worried I was going to lose you today.” 

“Steve…” 

He shook his head, and you let him finish. “And then…I thought…I was going to die without ever telling you just how much I fucking love you.” 

Tears filled your eyes immediately. “Steve. I–”

He kissed your lips softly, not letting you get your words out. You could taste your tears in the kiss, but then you realized you werent the one crying. You felt a sob wrack his body, and you immediately kissed him back with more force, more love. 

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead on his. Whatever he had just endured, whatever he was going to tell you about when you both woke up, was an issue for later. Right now, all you had to do was hold him in your arms, and be so grateful that you could. 

But while Steve fell asleep, you just played with his hair, staying up for the second night in a row. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was that creature, looming over you and laughing. The clock still ticking in the back of your mind. You could hear his laughter as he told you to give up. 

[thequeeninyellowlace]

Jaskier was being forced to return to Lettenhove—he got word that his cousin died, and he needed to be present for the service. Geralt could tell he’s miserable and afraid at the thought, so he agrees to go with Jaskier.

Jaskier’s mother and father are rude to Geralt. No shock there. Geralt can tell Jask is offended for him, but uncharacteristically, he doesn’t say anything. After an uncomfortable and cold dinner with Jaskier’s parents in a formal dining room that smells like dark wood and old misery, Jaskier and Geralt are ushered into a smaller study with his father.

Jaskier carefully, precisely, pours them each a measure of whiskey. He’s stiff and he smells all wrong. He serves his father first, and the man takes the tumblr as if it were filthy, glaring down at the fine liquor and at his son. “Still can’t measure a dram, I see,” he snipes. Jaskier keeps his eyes on the floor as he passes Geralt a tumblr, and Geralt does not like it. This scared young man is hardly recognizable as his bard.

Jaskier’s father looks him up and down. He looks vaguely disgusted. “Still dressing like a whore.” Jaskier clenches his teeth. Geralt squeezes his glass. Jaskier is wearing his favorite doublet, the blue one that makes his eyes glow.

“Father,” Jaskier starts.

“Shut up, boy,” his father snaps, and Geralt stiffens. “I can’t believe you had the gall to return here. You ruined our names. Shamed us all.” The man begins a diatribe, listing every imagined sin Jaskier has committed against his family.

Jaskier shrinks in on himself. He hunches his shoulders under his father’s tirade. Geralt growls. He drops the tumbler on a small table.

“And you!” Jaskier’s father snaps his eyes to Geralt. “I should have known my slut of a son would take up with a mutant monster!” Jaskier jerks upward, suddenly enraged. He jumps forward, into his father’s face.

“How dare you! Do not speak to him like that!”

Jaskier’s father’s hand snaps up, and his fist strikes Jaskier across the cheek. Geralt sees red. Jaskier falls to the floor as Geralt unsheathes his sword and swings.

Jaskier’s father’s head thumps to the floor. His body follows it.

Jaskier screams.

Geralt drops his sword. He did not means to do that. But the mark on Jaskier’s cheek is blinding him. He scoops Jaskier up off the floor.

“Oh god, Geralt, what did you do? Oh my god!” Jaskier begins wailing, and he clings to Geralt as he sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier! I didn’t even mean to—he hit you! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jaskier is gasping, and Geralt sees his eyes are fixed not on his father’s head or the pool of blood, but on his father’s hand. The count’s ring of office is still on his finger, its shape matching the mark on Jaskier’s face.

“Oh no. Oh god no.” Jaskier moans.

“I’ll tell them what I did, Jaskier. You won’t be in trouble. Don’t worry. We’ll leave and never come back, not if you don’t want to. And I’m so sorry for killing him. I know you…loved him.” Jaskier’s eyes meet his, and Geralt is shocked at the desolation he sees there.

“I hated him. And he hated me. I’m glad he’s dead.” He glances down at the ring on his father’s hand again and shudders. He squeezes Geralt tightly, and he smells of an agonizing, confusing grief.

“Geralt, now I’m the count of Lettenhove.”

[riswippiesx]

Fallen God! Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader part: two

| Part one

Your way back to your apartment was quite silent. You were irritated, you really were. How could a stranger ever dare to kiss you? But why did his touch felt so familiar? Why did you feel like you waited so long to feel that touch? What was this feeling? Longing? No way. That was a stranger.

You brushed away all your thoughts and changed back into your comfortable cloths. You didn't have work. It was a day off. You relaxed and sat on the couch and took your phone. What was his name? You could have asked for his name, maybe? No. Stop. You need to stop thinking about some mere stranger!

You tried hard to brush off his thoughts the entire day, untill you fell asleep, you really did, but...the dram which woke you up around 4 am was not something you were expecting in a normal day.

You were in happily roaming around, with a man. His silhouette was all you could remember. He was tall. And that was it. You couldn't remember any other detail about him. A faint voice addressed you as "Y/n".. The scenery— that didn't seem very modern, rather it felt like some forbidden, forgotten forest? You weren't sure.

What was it? If it was really a dream why did it feel so real? You had no answer to that.

You would be alright if it was a one time thing. Every day you had the same dream, same scenary, same man, except, each night it reveled his features, one by one. One day you saw his white hair which was quite an indication to that very stranger you met, but you forcibly brushed your thoughts away.

Another day, you saw his gorgeous blue eyes, adoring you, loving you. Again a similarity with that pervert? No way! You were pissed about everything, including your mind for letting you be captivated by a literal pervert!!

But that specific thoughts about him was brushing away every day. You wanted to see the full face of that man. And maybe you felt like that man was that one stranger, you knew so but you didn't know how.

Then the dreams stopped, just to reveal all of it at a certain night. You saw everything clearly. You knew everything clearly. You could recall everything, very clearly. A faint hug, then a pair of lips, falling on your own, giving your the warmth of eternity.

You woke up, with tears flooding your face. You were crying. It was him. Not a pervert, it was him. It was Gojo. It was your Gojo-sama.

You felt like running straight to him. You needed to see him right then. But you didn't even ask for his address. But you would find him anyhow!

You reached to that certain shop once it was morning. You couldn't want any longer. You asked the locals about his whereabouts and found a trace. You ran to that place as your mind danced in joy, joy of seeing him again when you won't fail to recognise him.

Buy your happiness was quick to vanish once you found the apartment empty. The crappy apartment where you were supposed to find him was just empty without any further trace.

You again asked the locals about any place where he could possibly move to. But you didn't find any clue. You came back to his one room apartment. Where was he? Where would you search for him now?

You sat on the floor, feeling the bitter of a losing game. The wind blew, played with your hair in rhythm, which spoke of longing, years of wait and forgotten love. A piece of paper stated to fly with the wind and rested infront of you.

You eyed the paper and took it in your hands. It gave you warmth only to snatch it away right after. Your eyes were teary as you read:

"I know, maybe you would recall everything one day and come to find me, but my love, let's not meet this time. I can recall how my curse fell upon you in your past life. I can't let it happen to you again. So I am distancing myself from you. I can't live there where I know I could see you further. It would force me to meet you again. I won't let that happen. I love you, I still do. You are the only one for me. I lived so many years with your memories, thinking you won't ever come back but you did. And I met you. I can continue living with that piece of happiness. So don't look behind to find me, don't cry for me either. I won't be there to wipe your tears and knowing that my soul hurts. So for me, look ahead, where a bright future awaits you."

You sat there, didn't know what to do. You felt like a very dear part of your heart was taken away from you, forever. Your sin for pushing your god away was so sinful that your god was punishing you such way? You couldn't think anymore. The very known faint scent of him tantalised you, comforting you to look ahead of you where you could see bright lights, except the source of the light wasn't him.

Here's the second and LAST part of fallen god! Gojo x reader 😷☝️ thanks a lot for such amazing response in the first part. Also thanks for requesting! Take love<3333333333

Thanks for reading♡

Also i'm planning a series for suguru geto x fem reader. So, maybe first part soon? 👀☝️but before that, I'll post the requested fic(most probably it'll be an oneshot) 💗👀

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED <333

[lawsofchaos1]

Malec Promptlet: Alec learns magical theory

Or the one where you can't actually live with the High Warlock of Brooklyn and not learn at least a little bit of magic.

Alec adores sitting in his spot in Magnus’s apothecary and watching him make potions or transcribe texts while Magnus absently commentates on everything he does. Magnus has never before allowed anyone such unfettered access to this space before and is constantly surprised at how much interest Alec takes in his work and the intelligent questions he asks once he’s sure he’s not bothering Magnus by asking.

Catarina comes by one day and is shocked that Alec automatically follows her and Magnus into his apothecary and even more shocked when Alec not only clearly has his space there, but Magnus isn’t  fluttering about uncomfortably with someone intrudingin the magical heart of his lair - he’s moving around as though Alec belongs there.

Magnus begins teaching Alec basic potions when he realizes how much Alec loves helping him in the apothecary, usually fetching and carrying ingredients. (The first time Alec pops up his side with a vial of angel’s fern in hand, Magnus blinks at him in confusion wondering how in Lilith’s name Alec had known he needed it. Alec grins. The potion is a healing one and Magnus had just put in three drams of fire lizard blood, a toxicant he knows from last week’s batch of burn serum can only be neutralized with angel’s fern. Magnus is both a little bemused and vaguely proud.)

Jace and Izzy come over one day and need a basic healing potion. They say they’ll wait for Magnus, but Alec just walks into the apothecary (asking his siblings to wait at the door since Magnus isn’t there) and begins gathering ingredients and preparing the workspace. They’re very confused. Magnus comes home in the middle and wraps his arms around Alec from behind, burying his face in the back of Alec’s neck and muttering something sotto voce that makes the Shadowhunter blush. Jace and Izzy cackle in delight.

In the middle of the Institute cafeteria one day when Magnus is visiting, Catarina and Magnus get into a spirited debate on the use of mundane ingredients in healing potions. When Alec comes to joining them at their table, dropping a kiss on Magnus’s cheek as he sits, the listening Shadowhunters are nonplussed when their Head has very definite opinions on this topic.

[weebsinstash]

Ok but like

Imagine if there is 1 spider who can tell the difference, a bestie you had that was perhaps the one who was sent to recruit you in the first place, and/or the one who was the first to go on a mission with you, and the first(outside of Miguel because ofc he had to watch and decide to let you join) to go yandere.

And imagine when YT shows they dont care, actively trying to distance themselves from her in any way they can. And they're the only one who can tell the difference, with just even seeing how they walk being enough to know it's not you.

But when they point out that's not you all the other spiders deny it, saying they'd be able to tell the difference without even trying(they cant lmao).

Then YT decides to make they're life hell because how fucking dare this rando try to out her?! So all the spiders bounce back and forth from treating them like shit to treating them how they normally would depending on which you they talk to.

Then when they nearly or they think they kill you they freaking the fuck out, having to be restrained to stop from helping you. Possibly even being degraded for trying to help 'YT', with some even saying they should kick them out of the society after.

Holy shit- imagine if they're the reason you live taking off their's and throwing it to you because they'll just go back to they're universe unlike you.

Or imagine they leave the society after you 'died', possibly even getting kicked out for attempting to attack 'you' in a fit of rage. Only to once back in they're own universe do their best to try and find a way to bring the real you back.

Queue you at your new home or job and what a looks like a hobo bursts in sobbing they're eyes out and calling your name. Tackling you into a hug, insisting their never letting you go and never letting those monsters near you again.

God love all this drama and heartbreak ♥️💕♥️💅

An idea I had thought of was "what if a Spiderperson Reader had been close to had to go do stuff in their own universe and that made them too busy to come and visit and during all the YouTwo drams they're instrumental in saving your ass"

Like for example Peter Porker and Spider Noir are absent from the second movie so say we've got Miguel and the other relevant Spiders are having their weekly "We Love Reader" power hour when Noir descends from above and shares the findings of his investigation, pure detective style, with pictures and everything, or lil Porker can tap into some toonforce shit and just glance at YouTwo and say "haha OK really funny, but where's the real one?"

Say you're good friends with Hobie and he has to "go underground for a lil while" cause he has to focus on fighting the fascists back home, and then he pops up like two months later, you're glitching out because YouTwo just smashed your bracelet and Miguel and tons and tons of other Spiders watching and facilitating and Hobie takes one look at YT, "who's this slag?"

Or, before he takes his trip, he comes to visit you at your apartment, definitely knowing it's you he's speaking to, and YouTwo is in Nueva York and you're starting to get paranoid and you open up to him about all your worries and the weird shit starting to happen, how you're worries about being replaced and how people are coming up to you about things you didn't say or do, and you even suggest a secret password so that the next time he speaks to you, he can know it's really you, and Hobie can tell you're just, absolutely stressed the fuck out about all of this, probably even passes the word on to Gwen and Pav since they're mutual friends to help keep an eye on you while he's gone, and to watch out for YouTwo

Cue Hobie "I hate fascists and tyrants" Brown coming back and you're just glitching all over the place with your bracelet broken on the ground while Miguel and tons of other Spiders are just WATCHING and you see him and immediately start screaming the password and "hobie, don't let them kill me, this is gonna kill me hobie, please help me, i dont wanna die, please i dont want to die" and, obviously best case scenario is "Hobie convinces them that YT is the fake" or "he opens a portal back home, gives you his bracelet, and both of you immediately fuck off to go flee into his home universe" but of course the more chaotic "you vanish and all hell breaks loose, a full on civil war between 'the Reader Loyalists' vs 'the YouTwo beta cucks' and everyone is scrambling to find you while you're off like, hanging out with Miles as he helps heal your trust by being a good little brother or getting creampied by Miguel 2

But like. Lmao. Imagine some shit happens like Reader was good pals with Sun Spider, told her you thought it was really inspiring to see a disabled Spider (and I mean depending on your preference Reader has problems themself) and like. It's a week after you've been "poofed away" and everyone is hanging out at like a celebration party or something just because, so many of then are convinced YT is you which means they're also still being nice as fuck to YT because you had been starting to become depressed and also the whole elevator incident and, everyone's having drinks and snacks and suddenly YT makes this sort of. Comment. It's either something like "who's the Spider in the wheelchair" or something like. Vaguely or super offensive "it's just kind of, awkward, you know, being around one of THOSE people"

And Pav is there and just kind of chuckles because he's confused and YouTwo continues "I just mean, you know. We're kind of better than them, you know? How did a cripple become a Spider?"

Cue everyone in earshot just, like, all but dropping everything in their hands as the realization sweeps over the room, "oh shit that's a fake, the real you is gone"

I imagine until they got caught that YouTwo is an absolute menace. Could suck up to one of the scientist Spidermen to help make bugs and wiretaps to spy on you in your apartment so YT can better impersonate you, intercepting any social plans and showing up in your place, learning personal info, private mannerisms. YT, to be blunt, using sex to control any Spiders who like you thst way to have them make fake alibis or spread rumors or help YT make other helpful connections (who are all also furious when YT is exposed, because, like, for ones who slept with them, dude that's rape, they all thought they were sleeping with someone else. Could you imagine Miguel fucking YT and that's like the first person he's been with since his wife has died and he had meant it to be with you and it actually be some big impactful like extremely emotional thing for him, and it's this massively personal invasion of his privacy and trust that it turned out to be an imposter. He feels dirty and disgusted and, oh my god he GOT RID OF YOU for this, this evil, selfish, manipulative whore

Reader off trying to mind their own goddamn business in their new home, either on their own or New Miguel, and you bump into someone who you USED to consider a friend and, with good intentions they tell the Spider Society you're alive and, it begins this massive manhunt with the intention of bring you "back home". THEY are all super extremely happy, making preparations to throw one big "We're So Sorry We Kind Of Replaced You And Almost Killed You" party, meanwhile YOU are terrified at the sight of any of them because you can't trust them and the Society as a whole anymore and, what if they tried to kill you again?

Miguel: I can't even express how glad I am that you're still alive. We've been looking everywhere for you because we're sorry and--

Reader, shoving bagels into their purse: sorry I have to go

[fraserstanclub]

Sutures

Chapter 9: Rumors, Part 2

Beta: @islayandlochs ❤️

-----

Jamie invited the woman to sit down and join them for a dram. God knows she needs it more than we do, he thought. While she refused the drink, she did settle herself in a chair directly across from Claire and to Jamie’s left. 

“I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs...” Claire began, and then sighed in exacerbation, “forgive me, I never asked your name. My apologies.”

“Dinna fash yerself, Mistress,” the woman managed a small smile, “meself were the last thing on my mind, all things considered. It’s Alice. Alice MacGregor. And it’s just “miss” as I’m no’ wed. Yer servant, mistress. Sir.” Alice bowed her head towards himself and Claire. Jamie returned the gesture. 

“Again, I am so sorry for your loss.” Claire took a deep breath and continued, “I’d like to ask you some questions about Obediah before his, well…untimely passing. It’ll give me a better understanding of how he died and maybe help prevent other such deaths from happening.”

-----

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New here? Read from the beginning!

[waywardcrow]

Timeless.

Chapter VI.

Summary: 1943. 1975. 2024. Three different decades, three different lives, three different times your life and Bucky's interwined; he lost you twice, will he do it again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

TW: It can change each chapter but themes of Bucky as soldier in WWII and as the Winter Soldier in general, talk about war, a hint of Sam’s love life, some cursing, kissing, lots of feelings, reader having strong "headaches", bad coworkers, some painful flashbacks and 40s mom of reader being not great, a protective Bucky, 40’s!reader is mentioned to be named Beth but that changes for 2024 version of her so I nicknamed her little bird for Bucky, Ace for everybody else, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: Please remember english is not my first language so if I make a mistake or forget something let me know.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Previous chapter <<<

1944.

You should have never been sent to Europe.

The only reason you were a nurse was because being a doctor was forbidden to you and then the war called at your country’s door. Alex enlisted, to your mother’s pain and you followed him, not allowed to do any less than he did. You couldn’t fight but you could serve as well.

Everything was going fine until a letter came and your mother started to be crueler with you. Alex was her perfect son, the only one she loved, why God took him and left you there with her?

After a life of being pushed aside, of feeling unloved by her and with your dear dad long gone, it wasn’t hard to write to Colonel Philips and ask him to help you but you didn’t expect to land right in Bucky’s unit right after Steve Rogers became Captain America and rescued his unit and your brother’s among several others.

Alex wasn’t happy you were there, he knew how vicious your mother could be and you were his little sister, he insisted on making you go back home with him.

“I can’t Alex, I made my choice” you had honor too, run and hide just because you didn’t need to be there anymore was a coward’s act.

“I can’t protect you, little sister, not like this” he was sent home after his left leg was heavily injured, his country found him not useful to them like that and he saw enough death in his time there to don’t want to leave you behind.

The only reason you were there was him and Colonel Philips’ help, your father fought with him before passing away, Alex could use that to convince him to send you to New York.

Before he could speak, Steve approached you both.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hear but I think I have a solution”

That’s how you stayed in Europe and your brother got to live his life.

Present day.

His little bird was avoiding him.

He couldn’t blame you, if he was honest, Bucky needed to be away from you too before he did something reckless like kissing you just as he wanted that night.

Then Sam came with the perfect way to ensure he would stay far from you.

“I’m telling you terminator, something is happening in Madripoor and I think the power broker it’s going to try to fuck with us”

Bucky trusted him; Sam’s instincts were as good as his, still he wanted to tease him.

“Are you sure it’s that? Maybe you’re really eager to leave the country after you messed your date with Harper” he shouldn’t laugh, really but Sam would get back at him eventually, it was only fair.

His friend let out a frustrated groan, reclining the seat of his chair to stare at the ceiling of his office.

“I don’t know why I tell you things, Barnes”

“Because you like me, not enough to have an allergy reaction just to make me smile but-“

“I didn’t know the freaking dessert had almonds, ok?” Captain America, the right, the just, the brave, yelled like a child in a tantrum and Bucky chuckled.

“You should sent her flowers and reschedule your date after we come back”

“Why should I listen to you, Buck? You have the love life of a two hundred years old man, wait” Sam made a dramatic pause “you are a two hundred years old man”

“Hundred and seven” Bucky correct him “and fine, don’t do it, I’m going to pack for Madripoor” with that he started walking to the door and when this closed, Sam yelled at him one last time.

“This time you are the one wearing heels!”

His smile lasted until the elevator, he had a reputation after all and people couldn’t see him smile. Then the doors opened and he saw you in the corner, focused on your planner, not paying attention to anyone around until someone said his name.

Bucky barely acknowledged the agent with a nod and went into the elevator, staying as far from you as he could but it wasn’t enough, he could hear your heart beating like a drum, he could smell you, if he closed his eyes, he could feel your skin.

He needed to control himself but how could he do it? Bucky was addicted to you since the first time he saw you and the only thing between you and him were two agents that when they got out, both sent a poisonous glance on your direction and that made him act without thinking.

The massive body of Sargent Barnes stood in front of you, shielding you from them until the doors closed. That didn’t went unnoticed by you when you reacted like if someone else directed your actions and touched his back to calm him down, making the muscles relax under your fingertips.

“I’m sorry” he was the first one to speak, turning around to face you, holding your hand between his. Three days without you and he was going insane, after decades being apart, having you back for a few days just to be separated from you was more of what his old heart could handle.

Maybe Sam should take someone else to Madripoor.

“What for?” was the only question that left your lips before he punched a button behind him to make the metal box stop and he took you in his arms to kiss you.

Bucky was weak but only when it came to you, he was powerless for you in 1943, in 1975, right now in the fucking elevator of the Avengers tower and he couldn’t give a damn about it.

The first touch of your lips on his got him hooked on you again, the way you hold on his shoulders to stay on your feet while you kissed him back with the same desperation, letting him in when Bucky’s tongue searched for yours, melting in his arms when you intertwined your fingers in his hair.

You missed his long hair.

A wave of pain dragged you away from him; one second Bucky was kissing you like the world would end and the next he was on his knees holding you close, afraid you were going to disappear right in front of him.

“Did I hurt you, little bird? Tell me, tell me how to fix it, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” the soldier mumbled against your hair while you tried to make sense of his words, gripping the material of his shirt with your fingers, fighting the pain that made you close your eyes.

“It’s my head, I’m fine Jamie, you did nothing wrong” his heart hurt in his chest hearing you call him Jamie again. Only you did that, in the 40s.

“I’m going take you to the medbay, little bird” he stood on his feet taking you in his arms like it was nothing and put the elevator in movement again but you shook your head, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I’m fine, I swear, put me down please”

He refused, something was happening and he would not stand there pretending everything was fine, besides the doors opened again and Yelena and Kate saw you being carried by Bucky. Your face felt so hot you could fry an egg on it for sure.

“Should we ask?” Kate looked very confused but Yelena just shook her head.

“Let them get out Bishop, is better if we don’t know”

Bucky didn’t spare them a look but you, oh, this day was getting more interesting every minute.

First Stephen Strange stopped canceling his meeting with Pepper and when you introduced yourself, he stared at you for a whole minute like you were in a zoo exhibit, then that two dumb agents followed you an entire floor whispering things about you, about your simple clothes and how you probably slept with someone to be there after what you did on the last gala, then Bucky Barnes kissed you.

He kissed you and it was enough to stop the world.

His lips were so gentle with you, coaxing you to let him in, to let him taste you. Bucky kissed you like you were something to be worshipped and only your stupid headache was strong enough to separate you from him.

“What happened?” was the first thing Dr. Banner said when he saw you both coming through the glass doors. He finished his work on Peter’s cut and Bucky placed you with gentleness on one of the beds.

“I’m fine” you started but were interrupted by blood coming out of your nose “oh no, I’m sorry, let me…” before you could move, Bucky was there holding a Kleenex box for you, making you curse in your head.

What was happening?

Dr. Banner narrowed his eyes, taking in your appearance.

“She had a strong headache that made her almost faint minutes ago”

“And it’s not the first time that happens as far as I know” Dr. Banner gave you a polite smile when you looked at him confused “I got your medical file when you started working here and we remember what happened at the gala”

That incident would haunt you forever.

Cleaning your nose again, you made your choice.

“It’s fine, the doctor in ER told me it was probably due to stress and lack of sleep, maybe my body is still catching up” trying to don’t make this bigger than it was, you made an effort to get up but your legs gave away and if not for Bucky and Peter you would have end up on the floor.

“You should stay miss” Peter’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern. He was so sweet.

“Please little bird, you can’t go around feeling bad” Bucky took your hand on his and started to rub circles on your skin, oblivious of the other two avengers’ presence.

It was true but you just started working with Pepper, people talked shit about you already, this would not help.

“Sorry, Ace but you need to stay for a few tests; if everything is in order you can go back to work” Dr. Banner promised. After you gave him a hesitant nod, he fixed his glasses on his nose “FRIDAY, please scan Ace’s vitals”

“On it, Dr. Banner” a red light covered you and then the whole room drowned on darkness “I detect something amiss, we should call Dr. Stephen Strange” were the last words FRIDAY spoke before she went completely silent.

Tag list: @cjand10 @bunnyforhim @cookingdancingchick @moon-light1928

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list feel free to let me know.

Hello! I'm so sorry for leaving this long but a lot happened and the inspiration abandoned me, I didn't know what to do with this story so I just went to the point and made these two kiss haha and know we are back! Tell me what you think!

Love, Lily.

[justahumblememefarmer]

Ultimate Doctor Who Poll Round 1 - Matchup 19

Episode Summaries under the cut

105: Last Christmas - Season 8 Christmas Special: The Doctor and Clara are asked for help by Santa Clause, and head to a base at the North Pole. At the base they meet several scientists who are dealing with dram crabs that sense thoughts and attach themselves to people's faces, putting them into a dream state while it eats their brain. Clara is attacked by one and is trapped in a dream with her deceased boyfriend, Danny. The Doctor attaches one to himself to join her dream and get her to reject it as fake, waking them both up and destroying the crab. Symptoms of being victims of the dream crab still affect everybody, and the Doctor determines that they are all in a shared dream state, he and Clara were just in a lower layer.

They all wake up again, and the Clara figures out that they are still dreaming. They fight off dream versions of themselves, and wish for Santa to save them. He rescues them in his sleigh and they begin to remember their real lives, slowly disappearing as they wake up in the real world. The Doctor goes to visit Clara, discovering that 62 years have passed for her since he last saw her. Santa appears and reveals that this is one further dream, and they wake up. The Doctor invites Clara to travel with him again, and they take off in the TARDIS.

137: The Shakespeare Code - Season 3, Episode 2: The Doctor takes Martha back in time to see one of Shakespeare's plays. He announces a sequel to his play Love Labour's Lost to be Love Labour's Won which is known as one of Shakespeare's lost plays. The Doctor and Martha go to visit Shakespeare and he is very taken with Martha. They also find that Shakespeare is immune to the Doctor's psychic paper. The owner of the Globe Theater shows up, angry that Shakespeare announced the sequel would be performed the next night, and cancels the performance. One of the maids, an alien witch in disguise overhears this, and with her mothers, create a voodoo doll of him and drown it, killing him.

The Doctor and Martha investigate the strange death, and retreat back to their room at the inn. Shakespeare stays up to write, and the witch Lilith enchants him to write a strange paragraph into his play. The inn keep walks in on them and the witch shows her true form, scaring her to death. The Doctor and Martha come running after hearing the scream. Lillith is seen flying away on a broomstick by Martha. Figuring that Shakespeare and the Globe Theatre are part of the witches plans, they track down the architect, who has been locked up in a madhouse.

The Doctor helps the catatonic architect regain his lose memories, and he reveals that the witches influenced his construction of the Globe and drove him mad once their use for him was done. One of the witches, Mother Doomfinger, appears and kills the architect. The Doctor works out what species they are, and names Doomfinger as a Carrionite, injuring her. He explains that Carrionites are a lost race of aliens that use an ancient science based on the power of words. They also work out that they plan to use Shakespeare's words and the construction of the globe to restore their species.

They confront Lillith who makes Martha faint by naming her, and makes a voodoo doll of the Doctor, knocking out one of his hearts, then leaves. Martha restarts his second heart, nd they make it to the theatre as the play ends, with the Carrionites portal being opened and beginning to swarm. They tell Shakespeare to improvise a verse to get rid of them, and he closes the portal, retrapping all the Carrionites and destroying the pages of his play.

[atlantis-archive]

Meet Team Atlantis

Written by: Deborah Barnes Published in: Disney Adventures Collector’s Issue! Atlantis: The Lost Empire Volume 11, Number 6 (pg.32-35). Publisher: Buena Vista Magazines Inc. Publication date: circa July 2001.

(continued from In Search of Atlantis: The Lost Empire, continued in Dive!)

Text:

Meet Team Atlantis

Find out cool facts about the brave explorers who go in search of the lost city of Atlantis!

In 1914, a young adventurer named Milo Thatch dreamed of completing his grandfather's quest to find the legendary lost city of Atlantis. Though some people thought Milo was crazy, a wealthy businessman agreed to sponsor Milo's expedition. Milo joined a group of daredevil explorers on a dangerous mission that took them under the sea and to the center of the Earth.

MILO JAMES THATCH Team position: Linguist, major brainiac. Age: 32. Birthplace: Fishkill, New York. Education: Earned doctorate degrees in linguistic theory and dead languages from Oxford University in England. Major accomplishments: Graduated from high school at age 11; ranked as one of the world's best linguists; translated ancient documents that reveal the location of Atlantis. Best trait: Milo never gives up. Worst trait: Love of work doesn't leave much time for a social life; best friend is his Persian cat, Fluffy. Secret dream: Milo's one and only dream is not so secret: Find Atlantis. Biggest fear: That he might be wrong—that Atlantis doesn't really exist.

LYLE TIBERIUS ROURKE Team position: Expedition commander, serious dude. Age: 54. Birthplace: Beaumont, Texas. Education: Graduated second in his class from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point (in New York). Major accomplishments: Led the charge in tons of famous battles as an Army captain; won awards for leadership and heroism; saved the life of his commanding officer. Best trait: Total focus on his mission. Worst trait: A cruel streak—and quick temper! Both make him a little scary. Secret dream: To make lots of money. Biggest fear: That he might actually fail on a mission.

HELGA KATRINA SINCLAIR Team position: Second in command. Age: 30. Birthplace: Frankfurt, Germany. Education: Studied with famous martial arts and weapons experts around the world; trained in military tactics and firearms under Commander Rourke. Major accomplishments: One of only three living people to beat Commander Rourke in both unarmed combat and chess. Best trait: Intelligent and cool under pressure. Worst trait: Can seem icy and unfriendly. Secret dram: To fight someone (or something) that's a real challenge. Biggest fear: What is fear?

[page break]

Meet Team Atlantis

GAETAN MOLIÉRE Team position: Geologist, mineralogist, tunneling expert. Age: 39. Birthplace: Paris, France. Education: Became interested in tunneling by exploring the sewers beneath Paris as a kid; went to college at the Sorbonne; left school to become a miner. Major accomplishments: One of the world's best geologists; can tell where dirt is from by tasting it. Best trait: A master problem-solver and inventor. Worst trait: He likes dirt so much, he hardly bathes. Secret dream: To burrow to the center of the Earth. Biggest fear: Being forced to take a bath.

WILHELMINA BERTHA PACKARD Team position: Communications expert, chatterbox. Age: 61. Birthplace: Whippany, New Jersey. Education: Worked as a research assistant to several famous inventors—and married most of them (including Chichester Bell, cousin of telephone inventor Alexander Graham Bell). Major accomplishments: Helped develop several major communications devices, including the radio, batteries and a "talking machine" (the ancestor to the CD player). Best trait: Unflappable sense of humor. Worst trait: Can be too chatty, even in the face of disaster. Secret dream: To finally find the love of her life. Biggest fear: Static.

AUDREY ROCIO RAMIREZ Team position: Mechanic, hothead. Age: 18. Birthplace: Dearborn, Michigan. Education: Began rebuilding engines in her father's car-repair shop at the age of 5; took a job at the Henry Ford Automotive Plant at the age of 9. Major accomplishments: Helped invent new gearing, steering and cooling systems for cars at Ford. Best trait: Spunky and smart. Worst trait: A short temper that gets even shorter when all the equipment keeps breaking down. Secret dream: To build a flying car. Biggest fear: That she'll get caught without her toolbox.

VINCENZO "VINNY" SANTORINI Team position: Demolitions, expert. Age: 38. Birthplace: Palermo, Italy. Education: Learned all about explosives on his own—and has a childhood full of blown up buildings to prove it. Major accomplishments: Can create the right kind of explosion for every occasion. Best trait: Stays relaxed, despite his dangerous job. Worst trait: A passion for practical jokes; seems to like blowing things up just a bit too much. Secret dream: To one day create the perfect explosion. Biggest fear: Working in the family business—a florist's shop!

DR. JOSHUA STRONGBEAR SWEET Team position: Medical officer. Age: 42. Birthplace: Bigelow, Kansas. Education: Earned degrees in medicine, botany (the study of plants) and herbology; learned Native American medicine from his uncle Iron Cloud, an Arapaho medicine man. Major accomplishments: Served as a battlefield surgeon with Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders; treated soldiers on both sides. Best trait: Strong as a grizzly, gentle as a teddy bear. Worst trait: No one's found it yet. Secret dream: To find a cure for all diseases. Biggest fear: Small spaces.

"COOKIE" FARNSWORTH Team position: Cook. Age: 72. Birthplace: Tulsa, Oklahoma. Education: Served as a sharpshooter in the Civil War; became a U.S. Army cook, feeding hundreds with almost no supplies. Major accomplishments: Was General George Custer's personal chef; became a chef at New York's Waldorf-Astoria Hotel; owned his own restaurant. Best trait: Can make shoe leather taste good—and he probably has. Worst trait: The military has made him tough—so complain about the food at your own risk! Secret dream: To invent something called "fast-food." Biggest fear: Running out of flour.

[bcacstuff]

Celebrating Scotch Whisky In Style

October 5, 2023 –––––– Julia Higgins

Bagpipes, haggis, and drams, oh my! Some of the biggest names in scotch whisky gathered at a private members club in New York City on October 4 to toast Scotland’s national spirit. This was the second banquet of the U.S. chapter of the Keepers of the Quaich, the Edinburgh-based group that recognizes those who work, write, and otherwise spread the good word about scotch.

The Keepers of the Quaich (pronounced kwaik) was founded in 1988 as a celebration of Scottish culture, tradition, and whisky, and those who have contributed to its success. Marvin R. Shanken, editor and publisher of Whisky Advocate, was inducted into the Keepers in at the group’s ceremony in that first year at Blair Castle in Scotland, and today serves as vice chair of the USA chapter.

At last night’s gala, Scotch whisky luminaries were aplenty, starting with the cocktail hour. There were rarefied pours from Laphroaig (Single Cask—The Jack Rose and Ian Hunter 33 year old) and Bowmore (30 year old and Aston Martin Masters’ Selection 22 year old); Johnnie Walker (Blue Label and Umami, a new Blue Label expression), Mortlach (2023 Special Release “The Katana’s Edge”), and Lagavulin (12 year old “The Ink of Legends” 2023 Special Release). There were also drams of The Macallan (Rare Cask) and Glenrothes (18 year old), and many, many more.

After cocktails, a formal dinner was kicked off by a procession of bagpipes, followed by remarks from Keepers of the Quaich USA co-chair Frank Coleman and co-chair Ed Pilkington of Diageo. A ceremony of bagpipes and a haggis followed soon thereafter, with Scotsman Andrew Weir giving a spirited recitation of “Address to a Haggis,” the famed poem written in 1787 by Scotland’s national poet Robert Burns. Addressing the haggis is a centuries-old tradition for Scots that started in 1801 to celebrate Burns’ life, following his untimely death at age 37. (Haggis is a thoroughly Scottish dish that consists of sheep offal thickened with oatmeal and flavored with onion, fat, and peppery spices; it’s often served with “neeps and tatties,” otherwise known as rutabaga and potatoes, as well as whisky, of course.) Midway through Weir’s address, Scottish actor Sam Heughan of “Outlander” fame joined the fray—Heughan was the evening’s guest of honor and keynote speaker, and also has a whisky brand of his own, The Sassenach blended scotch.

Addressing the haggis was one of numerous interludes throughout the evening, as a series of speakers took the floor for toasts. The first toast featured the presentation of a Scottish quaich. While we drink out of glasses today, centuries ago the quaich—a shallow, two-handled drinking vessel—was used by the Scots. The quaich’s two-handled design is often seen as a symbol of fellowship and trust, and has earned it the name “Cup of Friendship.”

Pilkington and vice chair Wayne Chaplin (also president and CEO of distribution giant Southern Glazer's Wine & Spirits) then gave a toast to the scotch industry, citing its growth and staggering volume numbers. “Scottish culture is a cornerstone of scotch whisky, and we are delighted to keep the storied traditions alive with the annual Keepers of the Quaich USA events,” said Pilkington.

The remarks were followed by a toast to Scotland from Chris Thomson, head of Scottish Government in the USA, and later, a charitable presentation from Paul Ross, CEO of Edrington America, and Rory Hedderly, head of business development at the Entrepreneurial Scotland Foundation, who outlined the evening’s beneficiary—the Entrepreneurial Scotland Foundation. Heughan, introduced by chapter secretary and senior director of premium seed brands marketing at Beam Suntory Kathleen DiBenedetto, then gave a spirited keynote address. As the night wound down, Coleman took to the podium once more to recognize leaders of the industry, and finally, Dewar’s scotch whisky vice president Brian Cox made the closing remarks.

The Keepers induct new members at ceremonies held in spring and fall, and only at Blair Castle in Scotland. To qualify, potential new Keepers must have worked in scotch whisky for a minimum of seven years, and must be recommended to the society by at least two existing members.

[atombonniebaby]

Hey...I'm still here...FO4 just has my undivided attention right now...🙌🏻🙌🏻

Mac goes and does this today...

Macready: What was this place for… storytime or something?

MacCready: Hi, I'm MacCready... Been drinking since I was six. Never looked back

I'm playing through chapter 3 of Sim Settlements 2, and Mac keeps finding the idle animation markers!

Here...have some "Mac does randoms stuff and I love him for it." snaps that I've wrangled up some words for!(I've also been trying to find a use for that one pic where Mac is getting scolded by his dads...)

Nate: Right ye sticky fingered wee bam...I'm down 3 bottles eh Whiskey, and Jacob here's been tellin' me a third eh the budget seems to have mistakenly been spent on cigarettes...now I know geein' ye a talkin' tae won't do didly squat... MacCready: Get to the point, boss...I got stuff to do! Nate:Okay...nae need to get crabbit...especially when there's a bunch eh caps at stake here... MacCready: Bunch of caps, huh? Okay, hotshot. Spill it... Nate: Aye...I thought that might tickle your fancy...so, how's about a wee wager? One week without a dram or a smoke passin through that smart mouth eh yours and there'll be a tidy sum at the end for ye? MacCready: A'right old man... name your price? Nate: 500 caps... and Jake's gonna lay aff the coffee...he'll pocket another 50 for every day he cannae hack it... Jake: Woah...woah...Now... hold on a dang minute, Slick! I never... Nate: Ye no remember? I said I'd move Aiden to another floor? As far away from ye as possible? Jake: Oh...oh, yeah! Now I remember...One week...whaddya say, son? MacCready: Oh man, I love the sound a pile of caps makes.

MacCready finds a few ways to keep busy...

The time flies ...

MacCready: The only thing better than getting a bunch of caps is spending a bunch of caps.

Nate gets another week before it's back to the 'phantom cigarette pose' and daily repetitions of...

"Man, I could really use a cigarette."

[littlekatleaf]

Fly down into the endless mysteries

So, what happens when one goes on vacation and instead of checking out Greece ends up checking out the ceiling of the hotel because one is stuck down with The 'vid for the first time ever? One finally finishes the Sandman fic they've been working on for *ahem* ever. Dreamling, with a visit from Desire. @prismaluv - Better late than never? Maybe?

Suddenly the flower Has fire-colored eyes And one of the shadows vanishes. Clearly, now, the flower is a bird. It lifts its head, It lifts the hinges Of its snowy wings, Tossing a moment of light In every direction ~ Mary Oliver, “What is it?”

It’s near enough to last orders when the bell above the pub door rings that Hob almost calls out that they’re finished serving before he looks up and it’s only luck (of some sort, he can’t say good or bad) that stops him. Someone pauses just inside the door, a burning vision of scarlet and gold. Raindrops glitter in their hair and dapple the velvet of their jacket a deeper red and Hob swallows, struck silent. 

An almost-memory teases the edge of his thoughts like a word on the tip of his tongue. Familiarity, though he can’t place why. The sensation is hazy, indistinct, maybe dream rather than memory? A fever dream? For an instant his skin flushes hot. Restlessness burns along his muscles. Longing floods him - for the savor of his father’s venison stew, the curve of Eleanor’s breast under her nightdress, the sparkling notes of Robyn’s laugh, the warm weight of his mother’s arms around him when he was very, very young. Over it all like a watercolor wash a wordless aching to be needed. It clenches his stomach, tightens his chest, snagging the softest parts of him with barbed hooks. Has anyone, ever, honestly needed him, in his particularity? Not for position or role - husband, son, soldier - but his deepest, truest self? If you have to ask… the song on the jukebox echoes his thoughts.

They slide into an open spot at the bar, which seems to have freed up just for them, and give a smile that somehow feels sharp as a knife blade. It cuts; he’s not sure where, but pain slices through him. He resists the urge to retreat, reverts to script. “What’ll you be having?” 

They look at him and their eyes spark amber, feline. “What would you suggest, Robert Gadlen?” Their tone is rich, smooth caramel. He has the unsettling sense they know this isn’t his name. 

“I’d wager you’re one who appreciates the finer things.” His fingers itch to toss back a shot. Or to reach out and touch their cheek, see if their skin is as rosepetal soft as he imagines. Ghost fingers squeeze his heart; yearning shivers through him like the echo of a struck bell. He turns away, ostensibly to pluck a bottle from the line behind him. The Glenmorangie Signet isn’t a whiskey he offers to just anyone, but the liquid is the color of their eyes and tastes as spicy sweet as he imagines their lips would. He pours out a couple drams, striving to ground himself, to focus on the clicking of billiard balls, the murmur of conversation, the movement of breath in his lungs. 

Hob slides the drink across the bar; they reach for it; fingers brush. Feverflush blooms through him again. 

A smirk hovers at the edge of their lips. “Why don’t you join me?” They raise the glass and take a long, slow draught. Hob watches their throat move as they swallow and finds himself wanting to press his lips to the hollow. 

Instead he pours himself a healthy measure of a significantly less expensive whiskey and tosses it back before he can taste it. Even so, he coughs once on the burn. 

“Better?” 

The word implies question, but Hob hears the demand in it and his body responds, muscles going loose. A pleasant blur settles over his senses. He nods and refills the glass. He’s going to need all the help he can get. 

“You don’t want to sit?” Hob could have sworn someone had been beside them just a second ago, but the chair they indicate is empty. 

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. Warning prickles the hair at his nape.  Heedless, he slides into the seat. Sounds muffle and recede, a bubble of privacy encases them. The air is heavy with the sweet scent of summer peaches.

They tilt their head, take in the room at a glance. “You have built an inviting space, Robert. A place for the lonely to find companionship; a home for those who lack one.”

Their unexpected understanding startles a laugh from him. “It’s my aim,” he says, shrugging. 

“You strike me as someone who has seen and experienced much in your years. Doubtless you understand the importance of family.” Layers of meaning in the words and Hob is off kilter, certain he’s missing nuance. After six centuries of practice he usually has a better grasp of a person. 

“I recognized the need in my first year teaching uni. So many students couldn’t go home for hols…” Kids who couldn’t be themselves; kids who had been rejected for who they were, for who they loved. “I couldn’t be what they lost, but I could create a haven, of a sort.”

“Blood kin plunge their dagger in the most secret corner of our hearts.” Their eyes go distant, shadowed with sadness, but only for a moment and they smile again, bright as sun reflecting from glass shards. “Chosen family can be suture and balm,” they add.

Their fingers brush Hob’s, then trail over his inner wrist. A shiver runs through him and he could swear they also shudder, cheekbones and nose suddenly stained with a light flush. Even as Hob notices, they raise a finger and rub their nose once, twice, then sniff delicately.

“It’s what I hope to provide,” Hob says. Don’t stare, he admonishes himself, but can’t seem to look away. 

“Excuse me.” Their voice pitches up, breath catching. They turn, pulling a linen handkerchief from an inner pocket of their jacket, fold it over their nose and mouth and wait. Hob waits too. 

They breathe in, slow, deep, their shoulders hunch and “Ht’chff! T’chh! Hih-t’shhew!” 

“Bless you.” He hopes the words sound more normal than he feels. He’s fairly certain his face has gone redder than theirs. 

They flash a look of gratitude over their still raised handkerchief and hold up a finger, their eyes losing focus again and drifting closed. Hob forces himself to look away; take another drink.  

Then they hitch a sharp breath and his attention snaps back. Their brows crumple and they stifle two sneezes. A third and fourth follow near on top, escaping their hold with small sounds, and the fifth breaches their defenses completely. “Ht’chesshiew!” They shake their head slightly on the exhale. “Pardon me.” Despite the contrite words, their expression is sly, eyes alight with teasing. 

Hob waves away the apology. “No need; are you quite alright?” They don’t know… do they? How could they? He’s told no one in lifetimes. He’s had too much to drink on an empty stomach. Firelight and shadow are playing tricks on his eyes. He’s imagining things.

“I’m afraid I seem to have come down with a chill.” As if to prove their point, their voice rasps over their words and they muffle a cough in their shoulder. In the aftermath, they suddenly look delicate, vulnerable, in need of protection and Hob wishes, somewhat desperately, for a chill of his own to douse the fire that licks along his skin. 

Then, almost as a prayer answered, a hand comes down on his shoulder, cool and steadying. “I believe this establishment is closed.” Dream’s words are frost-rimed, crackling.

“Good evening to you as well, my brother.” The knifeblade smile is back; their eyes flame. “I could be offended you have not yet introduced me to your … companion.”  They tsk tongue against teeth. “After all of these years. Could you be ashamed of something?”

“No.” Dream offers nothing more, arms crossed over his chest, face still as a carving. Even so, Hob can feel the tension in him.

“Why don’t you join us?” The invitation spills from Hob before he considers the wisdom. He really needs to stop doing that with Endless siblings in pubs. He tries to recover with another drink and he can feel Dream’s coming refusal in the set of his jaw.

Before he speaks, though, his sibling cocks a brow and their teeth glint, putting him in mind of a shark. “Yes, why don’t you?” The challenge couldn’t be clearer if they’d dropped a gauntlet on the bar.

Dream slides a chair between them and sits, stiffly. “Why are you here?”

“Come now, can’t a sibling want to meet their dear brother’s paramour? To have a drink and a friendly chat?”

“Delirium? Maybe. Death? Regularly. Even Despair, occasionally. But not you, Desire.”

Hob holds his expression carefully neutral. Desire - well, that explained things then, if their realm followed the pattern of Dream and Death.

They lean back and away, take a sip of their whiskey, and as they cast their gaze down, dampness shines along their lashes. Sadness flickers in the corner of their quirked lips. “Perhaps not me,” they admit with a sniff. “Perhaps I just needed shelter from the storm.”  Lightning flashes through the windows behind them. Thunder cracks and rolls. They shiver and Hob only stops himself from offering his coat at the last moment. They won’t actually need it, will they? 

“You bring the storm with you,” Dream says, giving no quarter.

They cough a mirthless laugh, and it’s followed instantly by a heavy sneeze, belatedly caught in their handkerchief. “I do,” they agree, blowing their nose. “You are not the only one in the family who appreciates melodrama. And I know an appreciative audience when I see them.” They dip their head to Hob, toss back the last of their whiskey and stand. “Relax, brother mine. I merely wished to see who you find more compelling than one I created. And he is, indeed, delicious. When you exhaust his patience with your eternal melancholy, I do hope you’ll send him my way. In the meantime, maybe loosen the stranglehold you have on your reins.” They lean forward, abrupt as a striking snake and press a kiss to Dream’s cheek and they are gone, only the jangle of the bell as the door closes to mark their movement.

In their absence, the pub seems darker, somehow. Colder. The rain on the windows hisses and branches tap the panes. Hob  blinks. “I… didn’t know you have other siblings,” he says, rather bemusedly. It’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Dream, seemingly equally nonplussed by their unexpected departure, doesn’t reply. 

Hob takes up the empty glasses, Desire’s stained with candyapple lipstick. He resists the urge to run his finger through the gloss as he slides it into the dishwasher. He wants to ask about Desire, ask what they meant ‘the one I created.’ But before he can figure out how to phrase it, there’s an odd squelching sound. 

He looks up to find Dream hunched forward, shoulders practically to his ears as he pinches another sneeze firmly to near silence. “Bless you?” 

“Th-thank you… ht’Gnxxt!” Neither this one or the several that follow seem to offer any relief. Even in the brief pause between contained explosions, he stays hunched into himself, as though he could hide in the middle of the room. 

Hob’s torn between wanting to offer assistance somehow, and just wanting… He compromises, presses a tissue into the hand hovering lightly curled under Dream’s nose, which has gone an endearing pink, and lets his other hand linger on Dream’s back in comfort. Not to feel the muscles tense and relax as another set seizes him. “Httnxxt! N’xxt!  Hih-N’xxtch!”

“Bless…”

“Hih…ht’Issh! Issh! Hih-Isssh!” He gasps a breath, two, and dissolves again. “It’chh!  Ishh!  Issshuhh!” At first he’s careful to keep each fit relatively contained, but as the sneezes keep coming he is gradually overcome, eyes tearing, nose running, and the last couple burst free. “Huhusssh!  Ussshuh!” 

For a long moment, in the silence following the outburst, Hob can only stare at Dream as he blinks fuzzily in the aftermath, undone. “Are you…” He’s not sure how to end the sentence. Finished? Okay? 

“It seems my dear sibling has left me a parting gift,” Dream says, consonants blurred with congestion. 

“Gift?” Hob echoes and his voice cracks like a bloke hitting puberty, before realizing Dream is being sarcastic, of course he is. Why would anyone think that was a gift.

Dream wipes the moisture from his eyes, blows his nose, and studies Hob so closely he feels uncomfortably like an insect under glass. Slowly any lingering hint of embarrassment is replaced with a different flush. His eyes go black and starry and his voice, when he speaks is deep in the way that makes Hob’s knees weak. “Only you know the answer to that, Hob.”

Hob rubs the back of his neck and grins, a little rueful. “Well, if you’re ill, you’d better come to bed.”