#lung fic

[thegreedygoblin-deactivated42069]

hat fic this milk fic that

HAVE YOU EVER READ THE LUNG FIC?

[unized-3]

Y'ALL I JUST READ THE LUNG FIC WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT

[golyadkin]

hey uh the invisible hand of fate keeps biting me, is that normal?

[bloodfreakpropaganda]

yall think that sam deep down knows that no one cares for him as much as they care for dean?

if he knows, was a slow realization, or did it hit him at once? maybe at one evening, as bobby smiled softly at dean, and sam was surprised to see that type of gesture in bobby, but dean wasn't. so maybe it was strange and unfamiliar to him and him alone.

did he accept it? or did he try to grow closer to those around him? never quite managing it. he is too strange, too earnest.

in those days when the world is a bit more red, and the weather feels colder than natural, he would reason to himself that it's in his blood. that he's not made to fit in with the world around him, with the people on it. he is not clean, in the biblical and literal sense of the world.

but the cruelest reason, comes from the fact that it just might be him. not the blood, or destiny, or his actions.

he is just not that loveable.

anyways, what do yall think?

[crow-with-a-pencil]

Hi @naffeclipse I'm very normal about your fic. Have some frantic midnight sketches as extra kudos along with some tag rambling :)

[myokk]

Her whole body was on fire.

Not the pleasant, tingling sort of fire that had been consuming her as she kissed Sebastian just moments before.

These were terrible, burning flames that made her nerves scream in agony as her body tried to purge itself of the curse. Once her coughing stopped she tried her hardest to straighten her spine and pretend that it wasn't what they both knew it was. But everything hurt so badly, and she knew she wasn't fooling Sebastian.

Eloise was terrified. She had seen how Anne's body had wasted away due to the curse, and Eloise wasn't hopeful she would survive. Even if Sebastian hadn't given up hope when his sister was cursed, he had already been researching relentlessly for a cure for over a year without any breakthroughs - and his research was in addition to Nurse Blainey and St. Mungo's fruitless attempts to heal her.

But...she could take a small measure of comfort from the fact that she had managed to save Anne.

Even if it was at the expense of her own well-being.

"What did you do?" Sebastian whispered, voice raspy, eyes wide and horrified as he looked at her.

Her eyes darted away from his accusing glare, down to the white sleeve that was now peppered with tiny spots of the blood she had just coughed up. They were slowly growing, the tiny spatters expanding and mingling with each other. "I..."

Throat constricting, tears welling up in her eyes, a sob that she was trying to swallow back down.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Eloise shook her head helplessly. "I have no idea."

She wasn't lying. When she had run to help Anne in Feldcroft all those weeks ago, she had been acting on pure instinct. Just as she had when Leander had hit Sebastian with diffindo. It was the most natural thing in the world to dip into whatever ancient magic reserves she was privy to and just use them. Even if she didn't fully understand these instincts.

"What did you do?" Sebastian repeated, voice rising with every word. He started pacing in front of the fireplace, running an agitated hand through hair that Eloise had already messed up. "I...oh, god. This can't be happening again."

"I would do it again. I saved Anne." Eloise's voice sounded very small to her ears and she shrunk away at the expression on his face when he turned to look at her. It was incredulous and devastated and furious and she couldn't look at him any more. She turned her head to watch the flames. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his agitated, jerky movements.

"At the expense of your own health! Merlin, this is all my fault. I -"

Eloise couldn't hear whatever Sebastian was about to say as his words were lost to another fit of coughing. His anger slipped away and was immediately replaced with concern as he moved to stand in front of her, gently reaching out a hand to her shoulder.

She was lost to the pain and flames screaming - was she screaming? - their way up her throat, the hacking coughs so gratingly painful that it was all she could focus on.

"Fuck," she heard Sebastian say. "Wait..."

He put an arm around her waist and helped her move the short distance to the bed. As soon as he let go of his hold on her, she fell to her side. Her arms were useless at the moment, and the side of her face met the mattress as she fell without being able to catch herself. Tears were streaming down her face as she coughed and coughed and coughed and -

"Here. Please..." A reassuringly solid presence at her side, leaning her body against his chest, her head lying limply across his shoulder. A gentle hand grabbed her jaw and then forced a potion down her throat.

Eloise immediately started gagging and tried to wrest herself from his grasp. The potion was thick and viscous and tasted like mud, slowly sliding its way down her throat. If the curse had manifested itself in all-encompassing flames, this potion was its antidote in the form of shards of ice that burned in an entirely different way. Her ears were ringing and her head swam in pain as she whimpered.

But...

The coughing had stopped.

Her eyes slowly opened.

Sebastian's face swam in and out of her vision as she blinked away the tears. There was a sharp stab of pain through her head when she tried to focus her vision, so she just closed her eyes again and moved her face into the crook of his neck.

Her breath came out in ragged gasps, but at least she wasn't coughing anymore.

She felt his arms tighten around her, one of his hands starting to massage the base of her neck as he cradled her body to his. Sebastian was warm, reassuring, solid. That, she could focus on. Eloise breathed in deeply, and the faint smell of cinnamon mixed with what she was now recognizing as Sebastian filled her senses. She tried to move an arm so she could caress him the way he was, but her arms were numb and tingling and she was just so tired.

She felt herself drifting off to sleep in his arms, the overwhelming feeling of safety and comfort being her last fleeting thoughts before sleep overcame her.

the scene after their first kiss, that I drew a while ago😇😇😇

[delulluart]

Cowboy Copia for @ramblingoak - go and read her fics!

[lickthehilt]

Yandere! Blade x Reader Drabble

T/W: violence and toxic relationships. Choking. Death (brief). Allusions to body horror. Not edited 💀

There’s a stillness to Blade as he watches you bleed out under him. Your blood is liquid sugar, nectar bled by fruit cultivated by years upon years of tenderness. He finds himself knelt above your body, cradling your head between one gloved and one bandaged hand—the bandages soaking up the blood pooling from your nose.

“Will you run for me?”

An irritated flicker gleams in your eyes, a wet sheen gathering to the corner where it cascades down your cheek. When it mixes with your blood, it turns to a pale pink that looks similar to the gradient of the tassel hanging by his coat.

“Not… today. No more,” you wheeze.

A finger twitches from where your hand is splayed, palm upwards, beside you. Leaning back he hums in a low grumble.

His gaze is sharp as it trails down your beaten body. You can’t see clearly through your wet gaze, but you can feel his finger tips dance across the flower-like bruises and cuts that had been made by the thrashing of his nails from your earlier tussle. You would rather be trapped in the prison cell of a panopticon than be subjected to his surveillance, his wonder and curiosity.

Underneath him, his touches, your body stitches itself back together. Your cells rejoin in waves, weaving together as if someone had sewn ladder stitches to every single open wound and had just pulled the sting taunt. Your streams of blood runs dry. Your chest heaves with air. Your eyes can focus on him once more.

He has your hands in his, roughened arms bringing them to his body. Your limbs are slack as he presses your palm against his chest; beneath your fingertips his heart races like the beat of show horses galloping against dry soil.

Your palm is now on his throat as he helps you to squeeze your fingers. His fingers press yours to dig into his flesh.

“Choke me.”

Finding your nerves, you clench. His skin is tough, but your grip is firm as you leverage your nails to anchor itself into him. Fighting against gravity, you roll to have the upper hand, to now pin him to the floor as he had done to you. A flush of anger pools at your ears, the blood dancing in your veins as you squeeze tighter and tighter.

“I wish to turn myself into liquid.” He gasps as he pulls his hand to cradle your wrist. “To enter your body.” There’s a sting of saliva dripping past his lips. His eyes shake in focus as he continues to look, to gaze. He looks at you as if you were death, eyes round. There’s a fantasy passing though his mind that you could bring him this salvation, be the one to bring him to- to- “if I were liquid— I would eat away at your lung to replace it, would train myself— augh— to become solid so you could no longer breathe without me.”

His free hand slaps gently at your waist, holding it in a tender grip. “Would you like me— hng— to be your rib instead? To be a bone that you could live without? But for me to be removed from your system— it would— ah— change you. The soreness— your body would be different.” There’s a pain at your waist as he squeezes. “When you press to where I once was— ugh— all you would feel— is the impression of me— where we were once— joined.”

The seconds seem to creep by as your grip shakes. A grin is at his lips as he watches your tender cheeks get coated in the salty liquid of your tears. It’s a chore to slam him to the ground, so you settle at bringing your body weight forward.

He gurgles and you imagine his veins popping under the lack of air flow, the rush of warm liquid pooling from his lips. They’d drip into your fingers and coat them in a glove of crimson. But you’d stare at him in envy, that the fact that death would be successful at cradling him. But that isn’t the case. It never is with the two of you.

He no longer looks at you as his eyes roll backwards and his body slackens. He speaks bullshit to you.

Your head swims in warmth as you slowly release him, eyes watering and the nerves of your fingertips buzzing. When your head meets his chest, you can hear his body stitching itself to work once more. It’s like clockwork hearing his heart start up as his popped lungs gather itself. When he takes his first breath, the sound of Kafka’s heels echo through your ears and entrances you to dream.

Tucked into each other like lovers is how Kafka finds the two of you.

[godsfavoritelitlesilly]

"I guess you're drowning down here too now?"

[knifeforkspooncup]

I have a fic rec that has me CACKLING it is so fucking funny. This fic by @hotcrosspigeon has to be one of the funnest narratives I've read.

It's equal parts disaster Crowley and flirty bastard Aziraphale, with a hefty spoonful of exasperated Anathema, and a dash of dorky Newt for good measure. The writing is like popcorn you can't stop reading, you'll feel like you're strapped to a shopping cart rolling down a hill every chapter I promise.

I'm gonna leave this one non-spoiler-y quote here as further temptation:

Aziraphale looked like he did that time he’d consumed twenty cups of caramel macchiato and Crowley had found him clinging on to a bookshelf and proclaiming that he could taste words. Turned out he’d accidentally wolfed down a few pages of an incredibly rare first edition of The Hobbit and had been inconsolable for months afterwards.

[fdblaize]

for the lovely @aimportantdragoncollector's Fear No Evil that has the most insane eraserhead all might afo dynamic(theyre so holt wunch omfg) i wish i had the words to explain how this fic altered my brain chemistry. anyways this definitely happened before the plane ride to otheon

[mercisnm]

'How like a winter hath my absence been from thee...'

A warm spring sunrise over English countryside landscape, featuring two lovely ladies out for an early morning stroll.

While @clydethistles Regency-period-Jane-Austen-inspired AU (Austen AU for short) Affections And Adorations did not feature any scene at sunrise, the moment I saw this photo of English countryside my mind was immediately overcome with the need to see Tissaia and Yennefer from Clyde's story over that backdrop. I can use buzzwords like mutual pining and it's about the yearning to describe the story but then it would be undermining for such a lovely work, and undoubtedly one of my favourite fics of all time. I am forever in awe at the research and thoughtfulness Clyde put into crafting it, be it either in form of the details about everyday life from the time period or of the language of the narration and conversation, be it either manifested as the graceful incorporation of Austen-esque storytelling elements and archetypes or as our author's very own endeavour to write a heart-wrenching queer love story realistic for and true to its historical period setting.

The point is: the fic was completed quite recently and you should read it, or catch up with it if you haven't, you definitely should, thank me later.

Bonus: the lines, before I throw colours all over it like an excitable raccoon on crack:

[gwensy]

[clawing at my catholic skin hard enough for it to tear off my body] haha yeah sure. matt murdock is a 'sad religious boi'. ok yeah. haha. we're friends

[psychadelic-psyuicide]

Gerard Keay's raging alcoholism ladies and gentlemen

[mirabel-on-a-bicycle]

hey maybe I'll just stop watching shows from now on :) maybe that's an idea. never love anything and all that

[honeyitsalright]

imagine being amanda’s cameraman in sarah christs culinary crimes …