#my muse is a forsaken creature

[bylightofdawn]

I've been staring at a blank doc trying to will myself to write for the past three or four days and literally nothing is coming.

My brain just blanks completely and now I'm starting to get frustrated with myself. :( I've got a couple more days before my brother is coming into town and then I'm going to be super busy with him and my nephew.

I really wanted to finish up Seeds before that happened but bleeeeeech. Instead, I guess I'm going to finish rewatching the Expanse instead. I've already binged both seasons of Bridgerton.

Writers block is the fucking pits, especially since I have the sense if I could just write that first paragraph than everything else would flow out but lawl my brain is nope.exe

[manneatcr]

tag dump

[dross-the-fish]

They found the elusive Phantom of the Opera curled up on pages of strewn sheet music, weeping with such pitiful heartbreak that none in the party dared to approach. “Je Meurs…” the deformed man sobbed to himself, unaware or uncaring that he had an audience. Dr. Watson shifted uncomfortably, “Either of you lads speak French?” he whispered to Quincy and Lawrence. Both shook their heads in dismay and Watson gave a resigned sigh, “I guess we’ll have to hope he speaks English.”

Before the doctor could approach the crying figure Adam Frankenstein stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I know French. Let me speak to him,” he said in a quiet rumble. Watson wrinkled his mustache. He was fond of The Creature and thought that after several months in his company he’d learned everything he needed to about him. Not the case, it seemed, for it had not even occurred to him that Adam could be a polyglot. Truthfully, Watson barely understood how a creation who had spent so much of his time in isolation knew English, much less French. Holmes would have had him figured out top to bottom by now, he thought to himself with a pang.   “Fine, but please don’t scare him he seems…vulnerable,” he made a resigned gesture. The volume of the sobbing behind him intensified.   “I’ll try but no promises, I daresay I am an even more frightful aberration than he,” the corner of Adam’s mouth quirked upward in a rueful smile, “Perhaps, from one living corpse to another, we may strike a kinship founded on our mutual ugliness” he mused. Watson’s frown deepened but before he could chide Adam he was cut off by a piteous cry: “Christine!” Quincey perked up, “I know that! That’s a girl’s name! You don’t think this is over a girl, do you, Larry?” Lawrence grimaced at him, “God, I hope not. After everything we went through to get down here our sentient zombie better not be dying of a broken heart.” Adam threw them both a look as if to say. Quiet! You’re distracting me. Once everyone had settled, he approached the Phantom and knelt beside him, addressing him in French. “Hello, are you hurt?” The Phantom started, as though he had been shaken from a dream. A bloodshot eye, as yellow as Adam’s own, peeked tearfully through the lattice of bony fingers covering a pallid, badly deformed, face. “What are you?” he asked, pausing his weeping long enough to be cognizant of the monstrous giant kneeling beside him. He turned away and groped behind him for a black mask that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, putting it back on while The Creature waited patiently. Adam did not answer him at first, after a thoughtful pause he offered: “Someone like you.” That seemed to be explanation enough for the wretched man for he resumed his crying “I am dying,” he said between sobs, “I am dying of love.” Adam nodded sympathetically, “Love, and the want of it, are indeed, powerful enough to die from. What happened?” “I kissed her! I kissed her alive! She let me-she let me! I have never…” he trailed off in a fresh wave of tears. Adam patted his back. “Where is she now? Has she forsaken you?” he asked. “Forsaken? No. Never! She would not…she is a good girl…she would have been my bride! My living bride! I could not keep her, not after she allowed me to kiss her. I have freed her!” the Phantom seemed to compose himself a little and he sat up, wiping his eyes on his sleeves. He seemed to notice, for the first time, Watson, Quincey and Lawrence hanging back watching him. “Who are you and why have you come here? I am in no condition to entertain guests. No guests have ever graced my lair save for the Daroga who shall, no doubt, be very cross with poor Erik, and there was Christine who has taken her little chap and fled forever…” The three Englishmen exchanged confused glances and Quincey offered an apologetic shrug. “He wants to know who you are,” Adam clarified, switching to English. Quincey nearly tripped over himself crossing the floor with his hand extended to introduce himself, “Quincey Harker, very nice to meet you! Sorry about your traps, we had to dismantle them to get down here. They were very impressive, by the way! Adam, will you tell him I’m impressed? I’ve never seen such feats of engineering before,” he babbled grasping and pumping Erik’s hand enthusiastically. Erik froze and replied, in slightly accented English, “Thank you…do not touch me,” as his mind finally began to clear he tensed, realization sinking in that there were four men, one of whom was larger than any man he’d ever seen, who had him effectively cornered and at a disadvantage.   Quincey dropped Erik’s hand with a muttered apology and Watson nudged him aside, “I am Dr. John Watson. We’re supernatural investigators. You’ve noticed, surely, that the undead are rising at an alarming rate and we were hoping that, with you being the only other revenant we’ve discovered to be in full possession of his mental faculties,” he gestured at Adam, who grinned in response, “that you might be willing to come with us and lend us some aid. It is my belief that through researching cases like yourself and Mr. Frankenstein here we can derive a cure or at least a way to restore those inflicted to a sustainable quality of life.” The Phantom looked from man, to man, to creature and shook his head, “You are mistaken. Despite the rumors, for which I myself and largely responsible, I am no corpse. Although that shall undoubtedly change very soon. No, I am only Erik.” Adam’s face fell, “Are you saying that you are…alive?” he tried and failed to keep the disappointment from his voice. Erik gave a biting laugh, “I should not be! Nothing that looks like me should have been able to draw breath yet here I am, living as of yet,” he withdrew a little from Adam, who all at once seemed to him, to be much larger and more menacing than before, “Are you not?” he crept back, his long spindly legs bent at the knees in a half crouch as his hand subtly reached inside of his coat, “Are you in fact, one of the undead?” Black lips drew tight and white teeth bared as the creature’s face darkened, “I am! Whatever you’re about to try, don’t. I promise it will not work and the destruction will be your own.” Watson threw out an arm to keep Adam from advancing, “Steady there! No call for that! No one is here to harm or threaten anyone,” he threw Erik a pleading glance, “Please, we’re no danger to you! We’ve no interest in harming you or forcing you to come with us. I see we’ve made a mistake and we’ll leave you in peace. Right, Adam?” Adam looked from Watson to Erik and forced himself to relax, “Right,” he affirmed, though he did not take his eyes off of the thin, crouched man. Like a caged animal The Phantom regarded them before he followed their example and straightened, “I apologize, I am…unaccustomed to civil company, much less when it presents itself with… such a… creature,” he was blatantly staring in a way that made Adam’s hackles raise. “I hardly think that’s fair coming from you. Living or not, you’re not really much different from him, are you?” Lawrence interjected brusquely, “Let’s face facts here, you’re a monster in your own right even if you are only human.” “I suppose there is no denying that,” Erik sighed, “I suppose we should part ways. I cannot linger here and neither should you. No doubt, after they clean up the chandelier, there will be a mob gathering to come and tear this place apart and thanks to you I no longer have the protection of my traps.” “You could come with us,” Quincey offered, “Even if you are alive, we could definitely use someone with your knack for engineering back at our headquarters in London. We have rooms and we’ll give you free food and board.”

“I was going to wait for death to come and take me but perhaps it is not yet time to bring my story to a close,” Erik considered, taping his chin beneath his mask, “Could I bring a friend? If I am to leave Paris I should not like to go without a companion, though he may finally be through with me after how poorly I have treated him.”

“I don’t see why not,” replied Watson, “We have room and we need as much help as we can get.”

“It is agreed then. I know not what awaits me in London but perhaps it will be better than waiting to die here in this tomb. Allow me half an hour to collect my things and I will join you.”

[countrymusiclover]

42 - Never Truly Gone

Part 43

Gemini Runaway

Tag list ask to be added @dragonixfrye @secretdreamlandmentality

It was the middle of the night where Nik and I ventured into the space that the witches attempted to kill our children a few months ago. I was wearing a red leather thrown over a tan tea shirt jacket, dark blue with some black combat boots. My hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail. He paused in his steps searching around for the werewolves that were apparently supposed to be here. “Where is she? Where is this witch who dares craft moonlight rings without my permission?”

He looks around to find Cassie, and is startled when he finally hears a voice call out to him. “Niklaus. I've been expecting you.”

The three of us followed her inside and sat down at a table with three chairs. She poured tea looking at Nik and I. “I must offer my condolences on the tragic loss of your child.”

“Wasn't it your coven who threatened her life?” He asked her when she slides over two cups of tea to us. “Is that tea your idea of a peace offering?”

The witch asked him back. “Chamomile has lots of healing properties. Did you know that it is also a flowering plant?”

Klaus points out to her while I took a few sips of the tea sensing off about the woman across from me. “I did. The plants grew wild near my boyhood home. But, neither the tea, nor your botanical musings explain the reason why you've taken it upon yourself to forge new moonlight rings.”

Cassie smiled looking my way. “I assumed that was obvious. An alliance between the wolves and the witches would restore balance to our home.”

Nik was still suspicious. “Well, that's a lofty goal for a teenage girl.”

“Long ago, the witches and the wolves were at peace. Then came the vampires. A plague made flesh, a curse on this earth. You have no humanity, and so you punish those who do. Witches have a coven, werewolves have a pack, and so we are a constant reminder of everything that you have forsaken. Creatures such as you will always hate the living, and so we will always have to defend ourselves. The rings level the playing field. If we are united, nothing can stand against us.” Cassie explained tapping the sides of her tea cup.

Klaus tries to keep his cool. “It's an ambitious strategy. But allow me to offer a few words of advice, if I may be so bold? New Orleans is a vicious place, and your enemies are everywhere. Behind your back, before your eyes. You will need to remain vigilant against those who would seek to destroy you, some of whom you may never see coming.”

“I see you seem to be attracted to the bad boys, Raelyn.” The Cassie witch with the short black hair raising a brow at me.

“How exactly do you know my name?” Giving her a confused look I didn’t understand considering I didn’t introduce myself or anything.

She smiled while taking a sip of her tea. “I’ve heard the rumors of an ex witch who was born a siphon and was turned into an abomination herself. Half witch and half vampire. Something like that should exist.”

“Chamomile. It's the same tea my mother made. How I loathed it.” Nik interrupts our silence.

Cassie seems amused. “Would you have preferred mint?”

He leaned back in his chair beginning to rant off about how much he didn’t like his mother. “You know, she was insane, my mother. No, it's true. She believed we were abominations. "A curse on this earth, stretched out over generations," is how she put it. But, she was the true monster. She changed her children, stole our innocence, made us vampires, condemned us to an eternity of bloodlust, and then acted as if we were to blame.”

“Cassie, was it? His mother had attempted to kill me in a ritual to wipe out her children she claimed to be monstrous from the face of the planet. So I must agree with him that his mother was not someone who considered others' wishes.” I glared at her sitting my tea cup down clutching my hands into fists.

Cassie grumbled at him. “She sounds awful. Are you building to a question, Niklaus?”

He pauses glancing in my direction where we both shared the same confusion on our faces. That was the second time she had called him by his full name which was strange. “You use my full name, as though we are familiars. I find it insulting. Before she deed, a witch revealed that your coven was under my mother's influence. Does she speak to you now?”

Cassie smiles back. “She doesn't have to - I know exactly what she would say. She would tell you to go to your room for being so rude.”

Nik loses his temper and slams his hand over Cassie's, and stares Cassie in the eye before some wolves were already waiting outside the open doors. “It's okay. Niklaus and Raelyn were just leaving.”

Nik growled still angry. “I will happily kill them all!”

Cassie warned him. “Then, you will have murder members of the very pack you still hope to someday lead. Besides, there's no need for bloodshed. We can always resume this discussion another day. Goodnight, Niklaus. We will speak again soon.”

Spinning on my feet I followed my boyfriend until Cassie grabbed my arm holding me back for a brief moment. “Raelyn, you must know that children are a gift. But some aren’t meant to have as much power as yours would have if they had survived.” She released my arm disappearing back into her space.

We vamped back to the compound seeing Elijah was waiting for us. Slumping down in a chair at one of the tables I eyed my husband. “Why would she say something like that? I mean…it can’t possibly be…”

“It is worse than we thought.” Nik breaks the neck off of a bottle of wine. “I met the witch, Cassie. I studied her, her presence, the way she carried herself. The fervor with which she voice her hatred of our kind. I looked into that girl's eyes, and, I swear to you, Elijah, she's just just guided by our mother. She is our mother.”

Elijah stood stunned. “What is happening?”

Klaus snarled through his bared teeth. “I'm going to kill her. I will boil her bones and feed them to the dogs, if that's what it takes.”

Elijah tries to interrupt him. “Niklaus -“

“What? What could possibly be more important than the return of our mother?” Nik raised his tone towards his brother throwing his hands up after sitting down his bottle of beer on the table beside me.

Elijah immediately declared towards him. “...Our father. I saw him standing there in the flesh, as you do now. He was enslaved with some spell cast by Davina. He holds the stake. If she chooses to release him…”

“Wait what…” Flipping my hair around my shoulders when I completely spin around in my chair scared that he was telling the truth. That if Esther and Mikael were back that meant our lives were in more danger than we had ever faced in our lives at the moment. “You’re joking right. Please tell me that you are kidding me..cause their is no way that he’s alive. Nik, shoved the white oak into his heart. Esther, was stabbed by Alaric.”

“But in this life. Dead doesn’t ever truly mean dead, Raelyn.” He trailed off eyeing the hybrid.

Nik huffed slumping his shoulders in determination. “Well, then there's only one question we need to ask, isn't there? Which of our parents do we kill first?”

“I’d say Esther since she is coming after our children. She’s draining us with every moonlight ring she creates after the next.” Immediately responding to his response I didn’t hesitate to wait for his brother's reply.

Nik rested his hands on the back of my chair where our eyes meet and remained fixed on each side deeply. "As much as I would like to agree with you that my mother is first. We have to remember that Mikael has the stake that can kill everyone in my sire line." He dropped down on his knees beside my chair resting a hand to my cheek. "Including you now, Rae."

"Nik, I don’t want to be afraid anymore. That’s what I adore about being a heretic.” Placing my hand on his shoulder I vamped upstairs away from the pair. Slamming the door shut with magic I flopped down on the bed throwing my hair around in a mess.

Someone knocked on the door slowly entering the room where I lifted myself up seeing Nik coming over and sitting down beside me. “You have nothing to fear, my siphon queen.”

“If we don’t kill him or manage to get the stake then our daughters will grow up without their parents forever.” Sitting upright I hugged my knees to my chest fearing the worst if we didn't stop him.

Nik turned my chin so I’d look him in the eye with his thumb and index finger. “Hey, you will have nothing to fear. We will defeat him together. As always we promised, together forever.”

Nodding my head I laid my head against his chest gasping sharply suddenly when someone entered my mind. “Nik ah!”

Frantically looking around I was inside a small hut where I headed for the door not seeing Nik anyway. Kicking it opened I was left in the middle of the woods not recognizing anywhere I was at. There was the sound of roost coming my direction where I shoved my fangs seeing there was a woman with dark brown hair and dark eyes. “I have been wondering when I would get to meet you, Raelyn Lane.”

“Who the heck are you and how do you know my name? Where are we?” I spat questions off the tip of my tongue becoming completely paranoid on what exactly was going on.

The strange woman came towards me and raised her hands from her sides. “My name is Dahlia. My sister was named Esther. I assume you already know about her. As for how I know you, my magic allows me to sense the powerful witch magic of another.”

“You wouldn’t be the first witch to sense other witches' magic. But that doesn’t answer all my questions. So I suggest you start talking before I rip you.” I growled clutching my hands into fists.

Dahlias smirked at me. “Ah you’ve got quite a temper to go with your power. I must say your daughter will be troubled when she inherits that from you. Alongside that hybrid you claim to love. She will be more dangerous than you ever imagined.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My daughter is dead.” I lied through my teeth knowing that no one could know she was alive along with her sisters.

Dahlia stomped forward getting in my face before I got knocked out. “I’ll be coming for her soon enough.”

Grabbing my head I sat upright on the bed seeing that Nik was hovering above me with pure panic scattered across his face. “Rae…thank god. What happened..you were fine and then you passed out in my arms.”

“I…I have no idea. I woke up in the middle of the woods with a strange woman who said her name was Dahlia. And she…she knows about one of our daughters. She can sense her magic, Nik.” Running my fingers through my hair, my chest was heaving up and down.

His blue eyes scanned over me not seeing anything hurting me now. He pulls me into his chest wrapping his arms around me. “Then I’ll call Rebekah and have her find another witch. We will go visit your father and check on the twins. We won’t let anyone come after any of them.” Pressing my head against his heart I didn’t want anyone to harm my children.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[noxcomnia-a]

IT'S WULPURGIS NIGHT FOR MAHOYAKU CHARACTERS!! What does that mean? Walpurgis night in the context of Mahoyaku is a very special night for all mages. It is the one night of the year were they host a festival that is only for mages or magical creatures! No humans allowed unless you are accompanying a mage.

Why do I bring this up? Because I want my witches and wizards to bring your muses on a fun festival night! So reply with one of my muses to come to the wulpurgis festivities with one of my mahoyaku muses! Doesn't matter if your muse is human, they'll bring them along! If you don't specify you are forsaken with Owen as always.

[dreamsofalifeold]

💘

Send 💘 and the mun will say something nice about your muse

((I can't pick a muse in particular but!!! I love that you care so much about characters that are easily overlooked or treated badly by their respective fandoms. You've breathed life and love into creatures forsaken even by their own creators, and shown them love and empathy.

I'm especially fond of your Sally Swing. She and Betty are my otp.))

[hopeassassin]

Condemned

This almost devolved into something it shouldn’t have. As always, like clockwork. But this is basically a song fic, so I said to myself NO. You are NOT doing this again.

So here we go.

Inspired by Florence and the Machine’s “Heavy in Your Arms”.

A re-write of the pre-Rakuzan/Touou InterHigh match AoMomo argument, reimagined and with a different twist.

Title: “Condemned” on AO3 Word Count: 6069 Summary: She lifts her head to look into his eyes with the most intense glare he has ever been the recipient of. Satsuki's magenta eyes are sparking with anger, accusation and disdain.

Although looks cannot in fact kill, a part of Daiki certainly dies when their gazes lock.

"I hate you so much that if I could only live without you, I would kill you myself, with my own hands."

Daiki learns quickly about the fact he’s taken out of the Rakuzan/Touou match line up because of Satsuki and what she’s said to coach.

Because, of course she has. 

Who else would notice what he tries to hide if not her? Who else would stick their neck out for him if not Satsuki?

He doesn’t seem to see it the same way though. He doesn’t say anything during practice when he’s told but she can see in his face that he’s livid. 

He takes his duffel bag and storms out without a word to anybody but she can feel in her bones that he has a lot to say. 

She knows better and doesn’t want to get in the middle of that before he works through it. So she stays at practice dutifully that day, despite the fact that all the other team members keep throwing her these furtive, worried looks.

Still, there’s only so long she can procrastinate the inevitable. She has to rip it off like a bandaid and she will need to confront Daiki about this. She has to at least try to make him see things the way they are—see them her way.

She finds him in his room. 

Sulking, seething. 

She almost doesn’t want to open her mouth and speak because she’s sure this will get very unsightly very fast.

Then again, she knew it from the moment he hid from the coach and acted as if he’s fine after his match with Kise when he hurt his arm. She knew he’s becoming dangerously self-destructive and that if she stands up for him, he will not appreciate it and it will blow up in her face.

But the alternative—pretending she doesn’t see, pretending, like he does, that it’s all fine—is just so much worse. 

If he ends up crippling himself because she indulges his negligence and he ends up carrying this grudge that he remained undefeated his entire life—she doesn’t think she can live it down. It’s a regret in her life she refuses to have.

Anything else he has to say and do to her - she can survive that. Some way or another. 

But not that.

Anything but that.

So she tries to explain this to him. That he is in no condition to be playing a full-out brawl against a champion candidate like Rakuzan. It will put unnecessary strain on his already damaged elbow. He needs to rest for now so he can play against them next time.

When his brows knit and his eyes narrow, she braces for the ugly argument she has seen coming from a mile away.

What she isn’t ready for is that as he lashes out, some of the things he says are that she is doing this to him to get in his way, pull his legs out from under him. That she doesn’t want to see him win, she wants him to fail so much that she will even go as far as sabotage him. All so she can have things her way.

It’s so rude of him to even think that, not to mention say it to her, because she will never do underhanded, blatantly disrespectful things like that. 

She doesn’t feel that way and she always does things properly, gives every match her all, takes every opponent seriously—although he certainly doesn’t, so how dare he try to pin his vices on her?! If he wants to project his failures onto her, he has another thing coming.

She tells him so directly, gloves off and no sugarcoating. She tells him that even though he may do that, she never will. She treats every opponent with the respect they deserve for being able to stand on the court, and she believes she can learn from every match. 

Satsuki sees the shadow that crosses his face at her accusation and she understands. She wishes she doesn’t but she is herself and he is Dai-chan, so she understands. That it hurts him to be failed again and again by spineless cowards who aren’t ready to deal with a prodigy like himself. People who don’t have his fiery tenacity, who don’t try as hard as he does, don’t put as much effort forward as he does. It’s only natural that they would get results vastly different than his, because what he invests is much different from what they do.

And she understands, but it’s pissing her off so damn much. That he’s willing to squander it all—willing to fight her over it, too—just over a single match with an opponent they will have three whole years to play against. 

Because she knows the only one Daiki actually sees as a worthy opponent in Rakuzan is Akashi-kun and Akashi-kun only. 

When he cuts her off, the argument veers off into an even more infuriating direction than it already was, because he has the gall to tell her that what she’s doing is for her own benefit and she’s being selfish. That she must have some hidden agenda to get in the way of his game and this must be bringing her some sick kind of pleasure. 

He blames her for having some kind of God complex, that she thinks she always knows better than him, than coach, than everybody, and she has a need to constantly prove it.

He tells her with utter disdain that she probably feels so almighty for having the authority to use him as her little marionette whenever she sees fit just to prove to everyone and himself just how much better than everyone she knows, just to prove herself right.

It smarts, it stings, it hurts, because every little thing she does, every single one, she does for him and to look out for him. 

She also gets that he’s pissed that everyone, every single person around them in every team he’s been in, wants to use him and abuse him for as long and as well as they can, but to blame her for doing the same?!

It’s a new low, even for him (and that’s already saying a lot). His childish anger at her stopping him from playing against Rakuzan is turning him into something she hates even more. 

She lashes out violently, hurt beyond words that he would insinuate something like that. She has given up so many things already, all for his sake, only to have him act like a damn ingrate about it.

"Well, if it's such a pain, why don't you just leave then?! Go to Tetsu, transfer to Seirin! I know you wish you did that to begin with! So just go ahead and do it now! If you need a cue or you need me to say something so you feel free, THIS IS IT! Go, Satsuki! You're free!"

"Shut the fuck up, you moron!" she yells right back at him, tears now streaming down her sides from the raw emotion clawing at her being. "I DID want to go to Seirin with Tetsu-kun, I did want to break free from this chain of unhappiness but it's too late already!"

"How is it too late? You're still alive and have free will, don't you?! So act on it and go do what you fucking want! No one is making you stay. Get lost! I don't want to see your ugly face around here anymore!"

"Well it's just too bad for you then, because I am not planning on going anywhere! I'm here to stay, whether you like it or not! Deal with it!!"

Daiki squashes violently the tiny swelling of pure joy in his chest at her words. The choice she makes even when he is provoking her in the most unbecoming way possible.

Even when he outright pushes her away, she still chooses him. 

Not Tetsu. Not anyone else. Him.

The feeling is resilient so he needs more time to stomp it out mentally than he thinks he would need.

And he has to stomp it out, otherwise his next words will never make it out of his mouth. And he isn’t letting her have the last word in this fight.

"Why?! You don't want to be here, do you? You're miserable, aren't you? Are you stupid or something? What could possibly keep you coming to keep getting hurt?! Get the fuck out of here!"

"Yes, I'm stupid! You're a moron but I'm even dumber than you are, for continuing to do this to myself! What an absolute idiot, right?!"

"Why?!" he roars back, confused and angrier than he's ever been in his life. "Why do it then? Give me one good reason why!"

"Because I love you, you fucking dumbass!"

Suddenly, he feels like he’s been speeding at a hundred miles per hour only to jump hard on the brakes and be abruptly brought to an instant halt. 

The dumbfounded “What?” dies on his lips before he can verbalize it.

The feeling from hearing her say it, from the way she says it, is like she's slapped him across the face.

It's a confession, heartfelt and earnest, despite the heatedness of their argument. 

Yet why does it feel like no blessing?

"I'm in love with you and I can't help needing to keep coming back. No matter that you keep hurting me again and again every time! It's too late already because I'm already so far gone that my own self-preservation doesn't matter. All I can think of is: how is he taking this? How can I help him? Will this make it any easier for him? Will this ease any of the burden he keeps piling up on himself? How is he feeling today? Will this make his day any better?"

"You don't need to do that!" Daiki protests vehemently, making her stomp her foot hard in response.

"I know I don't! I know it in my head, but here I am, doing it anyway! God knows you don't need to get a bigger head than you already have, and that your spoilt ass doesn't need any further spoiling, but here I am!! Doing it anyway! Caring still! No matter that you never care back at all!"

Daiki opens his mouth to rebut her but she gives him no room to say his piece, ploughing on without pause.

"I love you like it's some kind of curse, a shackle on my legs, binding me and keeping me here with you, rotting together with you in your self-made little hell! You will never say anything to keep me here but these damn feelings make fucking sure I continue hanging around your dumb self! It's a damn Stockholm syndrome I can't seem to get away from, no matter how I try!"

All of his words that he wants to fling at her die on his lips upon this last part of her tirade. 

The worst part is that she is still not done, and her words are a mad shout while the tears keep running down her face unchecked. It doesn’t even occur to Daiki that this has been the most he’s ever heard her curse in all their lives. Or that it’s clearly indicative of just how this matter has been eating at her.

"I love you more than I ever should, but I hate you so much more than that! I hate you, I hate you, I hate your fucking guts, Daiki!" 

She stomps her foot repeatedly on the floor in a desperate attempt to vent some of the stifling frustration. The tears splash down onto her hoodie and the ground, and become wet blotches.

"I hate you so fucking much that it kills me inside! I hate you more than you can imagine because the Dai-chan I fell in love with is nowhere to be found! You killed him, and gave me this twisted, fake, ugly version of him that I didn't want! He's nothing like the Dai-chan I fell in love with but I can still see him kind of there, lingering in a familiar touch, or hiding behind a familiar phrase and how fucking dare you?! How dare you kill the person I care for most and give me this fucking useless hand-me-down, washed out version of him with none of the spark he had?!" 

She is glaring hard at the floor now. Her hands are balled into fists, her knuckles white. Her arms are strained as cords and shaking violently by her sides.

"You took away my Dai-chan and replaced him with someone I hate. Now all I have left is this crushing love that is only hurting me, and this overwhelming hate for you and all you've become. I hate it, and hate you for doing it to yourself and to me."

She has stopped crying at this point, but it feels more like the calm before the storm.

She lifts her head to look into his eyes with the most intense glare he has ever been the recipient of. Satsuki's magenta eyes are sparking with anger, accusation and disdain.

Although looks cannot in fact kill, a part of Daiki certainly dies when their gazes lock.

"I hate you so much that if I could only live without you, I would kill you myself, with my own hands." 

Her angrily hissed confession makes his stomach turn. Daiki swallows heavily, spellbound as he continues holding her gaze with more courage than he actually has.

"But I can't live without you, so here I am. Touou's basketball club manager, still right next to you even though it hurts and even though I hate your guts. Because no matter how much I hate what you've become, I still believe like some fucking retard that the Dai-chan I fell in love with is still in there. Under the rotten, sarcastic, arrogant bastard you are showing to the world, he's still there and crying out for help and for someone to save him from you."

She swallows down heavily then, fixing him with a stern look that still has the previous vehemence but the murderous glint is gone. 

"I don't know that for a fact but I believe it in my heart. I believe it with all my soul. And as long as I do, there is no chance of me deserting Dai-chan alone in the prison you put him behind. I will be right here, so he knows that even if no one else cares, I still do. If no one else will understand, I will. I will be right here for who you have become, too, because although I hate you and given the chance, I might very well kill you, I don't want you to self-destruct. I think you're amazing and brilliant and truly the best and I wish this would bring you happiness instead of all the bitterness you exude with every fucking breath you take."

She's crying again, yet her gaze has softened.

"I think you're amazing and it hurts that no one understands you but they all want to use you until they no longer need you. So, contrary to them, I will be here the entire time. Without needing anything from you but your presence. I will be next to you, so no matter how lonely you feel at the top, you will never actually be alone. No one deserves that, least of all you."

There is an alluring pull in her heartbroken expression, tears falling silently down her sides as she peers into his face. His hand raises to touch her wet cheek gingerly but when she feels the caress, she slaps his hand away indignantly.

Surprise, confusion and hurt flit through his face in rapid succession at her reaction.

"Don't touch me!" she spits out venomously, her glare heated as she aims it at him. "Don't start pretending like you care just because of the things I said! Because I know you, I know you better than anyone, and I know you don't fucking give a shit about any of this so—"

Her tirade gets cut off when he pulls her into his embrace while she struggles against it with all her might. They wrestle with each other for half a minute during which he tries to take her in his hold and she fights him stubbornly, refusing to stay still so he can properly hug her against him.

He growls in aggravation when she continues resisting. Her strength is something easily overcome for someone of Daiki's build and power. But the fact he's trying to hug her and she's trying to thwart him in it makes even her meagre strength a force to be reckoned with.

To try to make her settle down, he grabs her with both hands by the sides of her face and presses his mouth upon hers. 

As far as kisses go, this is definitely not the best one because they're both too angrily huffing and pissed with each other for it to be anything other than a mashing of lips on lips.

It seems to backfire on Daiki because although he's overtaken by the mind-numbing realization of how soft and wonderful her lips feel against his, she doesn't share the sentiment. She yanks her head out of his hold in the next second and slaps him as hard as she can across the face.

She must’ve plucked up all of her strength and loaded the hit with all of her emotion as well because his head turns from the force of it.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?!" She screeches so loudly that he whimpers from her volume, and the sting in his assaulted cheek. "I told you not to touch me! What makes you think you can just kiss me like that!? You cannot, you may not!"

He rubs his cheek, miffed, before he turns to throw her accusatory look.

"You were the one saying "I love you, I love you" just a minute ago!" he barks back.

"I also said that I hate you and your stupid mug. Did you already conveniently forget that or your head is so big you never even heard that part?!"

Daiki snarls then and forgoes the care with which he always, even unconsciously, handles Satsuki with. He forgoes it and makes a sudden grab for her. He holds her by her lower hip and the side of her face with two strong arms, unimpressed with her attempts to free herself from his hold.

She opens her mouth to scream at him again when she fails to shrug him off despite her best attempts. He’s having none of that though, so he covers her mouth firmly with his own to keep her quiet.

Her vocal protests are muffled by his lips and he pushes her bodily back until her back hits the wall. Her flailing hands are caught before they can make contact with his face or torso. Her resistance is futile because this time he doesn't plan to let her go or do as she sees fit. 

(She’s said her piece—more than just her two cents in, really—and now it’s his turn.)

His left hand holds both of hers over her head against the wall, while his right holds her chin tight through his bruising kiss. Once she stops violently struggling against him and settles down into smouldering but quiet fury, he relents and pulls away from her.

He doesn't move too far back though, his intense cobalt eyes fixing hers from an intimately close distance. The proximity makes him aware of the teasing way her ample bosom is rising and falling rapidly with her ragged breathing. Her cheeks are flushed—with anger or something else, he ponders—and she is glaring evilly at him from her captive position in his hold.

Daiki throws her an equally unrelenting look full of challenge.

"I heard you well, every single word." He traces the line of her jaw with his fingertips. "I also heard you very clearly say that you love me."

His eyes dare her to refute his statement. She glares back at him but keeps her mouth shut. She's still panting.

Daiki swallows hard while looking into her eyes. 

"If you're in love with me, don't you want to hold me and kiss me?"

"No."

Her answer is instant. 

Her tone has an air of finality to it that doesn't allow for any argument. She looks so steadfast when she says so that coupled with the unexpectedness of her answer, Daiki feels flabbergasted.

"No?" he echoes incredulously.

"No," Satsuki repeats with the same iron conviction. "I don't want you touching me, or holding me, or kissing me, or anything of the sort."

"Why not?" He demands then, unyielding from holding her wrists up by his much stronger hand.

"I just don't!"

His eyes narrow at her reasoning. 

"Give me a good reason and I'll drop it," he challenges her again, his tone even. 

She considers his request for a minute before her face twists in a stubborn and angry grimace. Although she looks a bit ridiculous with her face flushed from all the emotions she's gone through in rapid succession in the past minutes and her profuse crying, he can't help himself when he thinks she’s adorable in that very moment.

"I don't have one. Just let go! You're hurting me! God knows you've already done way too much of that to be hurting me physically too!"

The way she lashes out—with words of painful truth aimed at him like daggers—makes him flinch and he almost pulls back. He almost complies with her command to unhand her but reconsiders in the last moment. 

He resolves to let her go if she answers his questions first.

"You don't have what? A good reason or any reason?"

"Stop arguing and just let me go, you brute!" she yells at him but it's not as loud as earlier. 

He's pressing her harder against the wall, sandwiching her between himself and the hard surface behind. It makes her unable to fill her lungs with enough air to scream at him as effectively as she previously has.

"Answer my question," he whispers against her mouth while pinching her chin securely between his thumb and index finger. Her eyes flash with an emotion he doesn't recognize but it's gone before he can deliberate it. "And I will let you go immediately."

He hopes she can see the promise in his eyes that he will do as he says. His only condition is simple enough, he believes. 

After all, she has already spilled her guts and her biggest secret to him, right? What could she possibly have to fear confessing any further?

Her mouth stays clamped shut. She says nothing and just stares at him from up close until her breathing calms. He waits for her and demonstrates patience she thinks him incapable of through it all. 

"Well?" He prompts at the end of the third minute of tense silence between them.

"I have nothing further to say to you," she informs him coolly. 

There’s a mask of indifference already plastered on her features.

Daiki growls in annoyance, refusing to be brushed off.

Refusing to be treated like this doesn't matter after the heavy shit she's unloaded on him earlier.

He ain't buying it and if she refuses to be civil about it, he will be as crudely provoking as needed to get the result he wants. To get the answer he wants.

Because it’s fucking important, damn it!

So instead of trying to pry it out of her with his words (which he's rather inept with to begin with), he prefers to do it with his actions. He's always been better at acting upon things than talking it out, and an emotionally charged situation like this makes it even more painfully evident.

He kisses her again, pushing into her personal space with no preamble. This time he has the chance to recognize how sweet she smells as well, not just how nice her mouth feels against his. 

She starts struggling against him, trying to break out of his kiss but with her hands captive and her chin in his unbudging hold, she has no prayer of being able to break free.

She realizes this quickly and starts trying to protest vocally but he swallows the sound with his mouth opening against hers. 

When he pulls away to look into her eyes, she's glaring heatedly at him, her lips wet and swollen from his forceful kisses.

He runs his tongue over his top lip to moisten it too while his gaze fixates on her.

"So you hate this?"

"I hate it! Knock it off!! It's not funny!"

He isn't laughing. This isn't some game to him either, although she doesn't seem to understand that.

"So you hate it…" he echoes, voice subdued.

"Yes!" she wails back at him, thrashing in his hold.

"The same way you hate me?"

"Yes!!"

She gasps after her admission even before she registers the meaningful look Daiki throws her way. She has belatedly realized just what she has affirmed and the implications behind it.

“So in other words, you both hate it and you love it, yeah?”

“No!” She is quick to refuse his statement.

Too quick.

Panicked?

Daiki smirks sadistically down at her. He’s grabbed the pulse of the heart of this matter, he believes.

“Satsuki, you really need to speak up so I can understand, okay?” He looms in her line of vision despite her adamant attempts to turn her head away from him. She can’t go through with it because his fingers are still holding her chin. “You have to give me a good reason why you hate me kissing you, especially if it’s true that you’re in love with me.”

The way he questions the truthfulness of her earlier confession is his attempt to get a rise out of her. He succeeds partially, judging from the way she throws a venomous glare his way, but her lips are still sealed shut.

He scoffs and leans in closer. 

His breath fans against her cheek and he derives a sick pleasure from seeing her squirm.

“Answer the question, or I’ll keep kissing you until you do,” he half-threatens, half-states because he’s fully planning on doing exactly that if she continues being stubborn.

Because if she thinks she can be more pig-headed than he is, she’s wrong. He’s ready and willing to show her just how wrong she is if she keeps pushing it.

And it works, because this time she whimpers and struggles even harder to turn her face away from him. He doesn’t let her but she shifts her gaze away to the furthest wall. 

“Don’t kiss me anymore. Don’t make this more complicated and painful for me than it already is.” She misses his confused look at her quiet admission because she’s still avoiding him to the best of her ability. “I already wake up every morning and go to bed every night thinking about you and the stupid shit you say and do. Don’t make my life more of a living hell by complicating my feelings further…”

She sounds so forlorn and broken that he can’t keep pressuring her anymore. His hand lets go of her wrists and they slowly fall at her sides. His other hand’s fingers release her jaw and he rests his weight against the palm he leans on the wall next to her head. She is now looking away from him in earnest, refusing to meet his eyes as she continues.

“I don’t want to know what it feels like to kiss you. I don’t want to be wondering if you mean it or if you don’t. I don’t want to be haunted with doubts whether I’m right or I’m not. I don’t want any of it, so please… just stop and leave me alone…”

Her sorrowful tone makes his heart clench in his chest but he shoves the feeling roughly away. It’s important that he communicates this somehow, or he will regret it for the rest of his life.

Especially since he’s already torn so many painful confessions from her today.

There’s a twinge of regret in the corner of his consciousness—amplified by the way she seems to try to fold in on herself before his very eyes. He soothes it by caressing the crown of her head like he’s petting something fragile and infinitely precious. He caresses her tenderly, willing some of the discomfort and pain away from her being, if he can, by the simple action alone.

“Satsuki,” he starts quietly, his tone calm and kind. “It’s true that you do know me very well—there are many days when I’m sure you probably know me better than I know myself. And in many ways, that could be true. But there are still some things about me that you don’t know and because you don’t, you misunderstand.”

The way she skittishly starts to lift her magenta gaze to lock with his is heart wrenching to watch but he leaves her to do as she pleases while still petting her head adoringly.

“I don’t blame you. If I were you, I’d probably misunderstand, too, because my timing was terrible and I act before I think as always. But I really don’t want you thinking that I’m kissing you just to shut you up or something dumb like that. Because that’s just my excuse and not my reason why.”

Her eyes are widening and her breathing has hitched in her throat already. Her lips are parting—in surprise or horror, it’s hard to tell—and he cannot continue to study her reaction any further. His heart is racing in his chest. 

He’s nervous and his body is reacting to the feeling more violently because of their earlier verbal standoff. It feels like his blood vessels will burst from the sheer volume and strength with which his heart is pumping.

“This isn’t a joke nor a game to me either. It’s insulting that—knowing me as well as you do—you would think so.” He takes a deep breath because suddenly the air has vacated his lungs and he feels like he’s drowning in white noise. “These important things about me you don’t know—I’ll tell you the most important of them right now: I would never kiss you to prank you or just to win a stupid argument.” 

He admires her courage in being able to say it to his face but he doesn’t have it himself. 

So Daiki leans forward until his lips are aligned with her ear, and his face is twisted out of her sight.

“Because I like you, too. I’ve been in love with you for a long, long time.”

He whispers it like it’s a secret and condemns Satsuki with a heavy heart.

It is his most well-kept secret because she’s been convinced that he doesn’t care, that she’s wrong, he’s just an arrogant, unfeeling asshole and her Dai-chan is gone forever. Her unrequited pining is pointless, but will eventually—maybe, with time—fall into the background of her inner world and she will be able to finally, finally, move on to something, someone, else. 

Less painful, less complicated, less dramatic.

Satsuki knows breaking free from the shackles that are her feelings for him is but a pipe dream now, with his last little confession to her.

There’s no way in any world she will be able to move on to anything—or anybody—else, knowing her feelings are not one-sided.

Knowing that he does things with intention. Knowing that he does care and is just… terrible at showing it. 

Daiki’s intermittent warm breath at her earlobe draws her attention to the present time and moment from her reverie. She swallows heavily, her gaze rising to the ceiling of his room. She kicks herself mentally, over and over, for relishing the feeling of having him so close and the knowledge that he’s in love with her, too.

Oh, God, no… she thinks to herself and the tears well in her eyes anew. Love is supposed to be something that makes you happy, brings you joy, but she’s never had any joy in her love. 

It’s always been her silly secret, a temporary crush. Then it became a complicated matter, not to breathe a word of to anybody. Then it evolved into something painful, until it turned just outright excruciating. It has been a downward spiral and her heart is so heavy, realizing that it’s only going to continue further from there on.

And it will likely only get worse, a downhill steep slope. 

Because she can’t be the one to save him. She can’t be the one to heal him. He’s the one damaging himself but he needs someone from outside to help him out. It kills her that this person cannot be her, even though she’s right there, always there for him, always. 

Her tears start running down her sides. When his thumb brushes them away from her cheeks with the most gentle touch she’s ever received from him, a violent sob tears from her throat.

“I really, really hate you, Daiki,” she tells him through her clenched teeth. 

He pulls away from her to give her a slanted smile that gives his gaze a kind glint.

She doesn’t use the childhood nickname she has for him anymore—at first by trying to distance herself from him in school by calling him “Aomine-kun” anywhere their classmates can hear her, but calling him Dai-chan in private. 

Ever since he starts changing for the worse, she stops calling him that even if it’s just the two of them. 

She uses no address to turn to him—other than derogatives like “idiot”, “dumbass” or “moron” but those don’t count. If she has something to say to him, she just establishes visual contact with him first then says what she wants, if they’re in private. Maybe she thinks he doesn’t notice and he’s dense—and he is, generally speaking. But when it comes to her and the way she treats him, Daiki notices things. 

And it just hurts, to lose something that has been a given for him, so suddenly and so completely, with no ado and no warning.

He’s no longer Dai-chan, he’s not Daiki, he’s no longer anything to her and it hurts. 

So at least when they are among others, he takes the “Aomine-kun” in stride because at least, at least then, she acknowledges his existence and turns to him by name.

For the past two years, he has almost never, ever been “Daiki” to her. She called him that earlier in the height of their fight and he didn’t have the chance to appreciate it but he does notice it. Like he notices every single little thing about her.

Hearing his name from her—despite the venomous claim it’s accompanied by—sends a shiver down his spine that he rather relishes.

The next kiss he initiates is a loud echo of his secret he’s shared with her, because it’s so much sweeter than any of the previous ones they exchanged throughout their mulishly stubborn argument. 

It’s a repeat of the “I love you, Satsuki” that he’s too himself to vocalize more than once in his life. She hears it, loud and clear, in the gentle press of his lips against hers, in the tender touch of his tongue on hers.

It rends her heart asunder because she’s already in the palm of his hand, even without him saying or doing anything. Now she will never be able to escape him, but worse still - she will never even try anymore.

Whether that’s a good or bad thing, Satsuki still doesn’t know. 

What she does know is that she is a heavy heart to carry and her beloved will be weighed down by it—although, admittedly, he has only himself to thank for that. 

He’s condemned them both to suffering and licking at each other’s wounds for the time being, but it’s a sweet kind of torture that she is willing to submit herself to despite her sanity being in jeopardy over it.

That’s perfectly fine for him, though.

She will learn in due time that even outside of the court, Daiki is strong enough to stand, with both his heart and hers in hand. 

He will patiently, diligently, teach her that when he holds her in his arms, he will never let her down and her heavy feet will never touch the ground.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A/N: Did you find all the lyrics references I sprinkled throughout the story for all the parts of the song that inspired this piece?( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I struggled for quite a while with setting up the whole thing in the beginning BEFORE the start of their argument, and also finishing the damn thing. I struggled and struggled and then turned to the actual song on the next day again and, what would you know, I’m actually kinda proud of this now.

Gonna cross-post this everywhere so you can FEEL ME BEING BACK.

This has been yours truly, showing you how she believes song fics should best be done. Hope you enjoyed.

100 Situations, Table One; 032: Torn.

9th October, 2020.

[rationalseries]

incorrect rational creatures quotes, our flag means death edition

[image ID: a series of screencaps from rational creatures with white text on them: 1. Ana and Elliot working. Ana looks miserable and Elliot looks annoying. caption reads: “Polite menace. That’ll be my brand!” 2. Louis smiling, propped up on his elbows on a couch. caption “I think I’m just so-so but I’ve decided to carry myself like I’m cute.” 3. Henrietta with her hand on Ben’s shoulder as they watch Fred and Louis flirt. caption “Oh my god, this is happening.” 4. Ana in the blanket fort. caption “I’m in here. I’m in the blanket fort. The door is the blue cushion.” 5. Teen Ana and Fred. Caption “Look at that! A teeny tiny version of this ship.” 6. Ana looking miserable working. caption “What the hell’s a vacation?” 7. Fred flopped on a bed. Caption “Muse, why have you forsaken me?” 8. Marisol perched over Ana’s shoulder. caption “Now look. We’re gonna have fun today, and that’s an order.” /.End ID]

[sweetsubharry]

hi! can you give me your hottest, dirtiest, filthiest bottom harry fics?

Hiya!! Yes I can! ^-^

Now there are 41 different fics under this list, so it’s quite long! Obviously what people find dirty/filthy can be a large range, so if you ever want to narrow it down just send another message like ‘no plot’ for example :) and then I can make it more suited to your taste if this one isn’t! I hope you enjoy this though love ❤

In case no one gets to the bottom of the page I’ll say it again here too! Please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!! ❤ ❤

you're my favorite ride by louislovesharry

no summary 

At Least As Deep As the Pacific Ocean (I wanna be yours) by babylouis

Louis can’t help but stop and watch him for a moment, how beautiful he looks, sprawled out on the bed, his cock red and hard against his tummy, collar snug against his neck and the bow still placed neatly in his curls to keep them back from Harry’s face.

His boy may be the most beautiful creature on the planet.

Especially tied up like this, body begging to be fucked. Begging to be destoryed.

or

Louis likes to push boundaries, and Harry takes what he gets. Lots of subspace Harry and fonding Louis ensues.

redder than the devil by mercutionotromeo

It's half past 9, and all Harry wants is for Louis to touch him. Preferably after a good spanking.

If you combine a lazy Saturday afternoon with a distracting, pouty Harry, you'll end up with Louis spanking his baby over his knee in the middle of a paused FIFA match.

Pretty please, take care of me ? by kurtcobain

Louis is stressed. Harry wants to help.

Step into the Light by Smolbeanandhisqween

Harry is on the set of his new music video "Lights Up". His husband, Louis, is watching him film the video. He gets jealous of all of the people touching Harry and teaches him a lesson.

Destroy Me, King by stylinsexualxo

After SNL, jealous Louis has a little surprise for Harry when he arrives home.

Can We Pretend (honestly reality bores me) by SadaVeniren

He felt Louis chuckle. “Dreaming of being my supportive, no-name boyfriend again?”

“Always,” Harry whispered. It was true. After all this time together there was no point in hiding any of his fantasies from Louis, no matter how innocent they were. So Louis was well aware of Harry’s desire to be anonymous sometimes - the “no-name” as Louis called him - loyal, a constant presence at Louis’ side.

aka Harry comes and supports Louis at his Scala concert

Let Me Be Good For You by onlyhuman for haroldtbh

His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world.

Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.

You Like Playing Games by orphan_account

Louis knows Harry likes to flirt and tease. Louis knows that he doesn’t particularly like when Harry flirts and teases. Louis knows that Harry knows that Louis doesn’t particularly like it.

But what Louis doesn’t quite know is why, despite that, Harry’s decided to grind against 5 Seconds of Summer’s Luke Hemmings during “Teenage Dirtbag” in the last show in Melbourne.

Basically pure smut.

Do Not Disturb (kiss me beneath the milky twilight) by SadaVeniren

“I was talking with Nick a couple months back and he was saying how our sex life seemed boring and we’d need to keep doing new and interesting things to keep it exciting or else we’d become boring and heterosexual and I defended us of course but then work picked up and we started living off of studio handjobs and missionary position sex in the dark and so I panicked. I googled BDSM and after looking into it I really want to try some of it because I think we’d enjoy it but we just don’t have the time.”

aka Harry doesn't want to become a boring old married couple a year into their relationship and tries to spice up their sex life.

Forgetting Frisco by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry probably knew when he decided to wear that goddamn sheer shirt onstage in Toronto that it was going to drive Louis absolutely insane with want. He probably didn't know that Louis was going to proceed to fuck him so good he had flashbacks for years to come just like Frisco, but then again, you won't hear him complaining.

(Basically 6k of Louis worshipping Harry's body and doing it all in front of a mirror so Harry can worship, too.)

Mon Petit by coffinofachimera

Harry wears the 'Mon Petit' sweater while Louis records them on their private 

falling for you, i can't keep away by hegotthedagger plane

Harry wants Louis really bad and Louis might want him just as much.

Always In My Heart by sweaterpawstyles

The tweet itself was not startling at all. Harry saw people retweet it nearly every day for years now. It always made him smile to see how many people had retweeting Louis showing his love for Harry on that day.

What was startling was underneath where the fan had retweeted it, Harry saw the small number 1M written on it.

Harry froze, completely unable to move anything in his body. He knew Louis had the second most retweeted tweet of all time, but it reached a million retweets. One million people believed in Louis' love for Harry. Or AIMH hits 1 million & facetime sex ensues

You and Me by louisgrindsonharry

Harry and Louis have dabbled in the idea of BDSM but Harry finally wants to take it farther and Louis has to figure out how to take care of his boy.

they shake, you conquer (and I'm left to their devices) by butidontreallycare

smut. a little love for Harry's thighs, but mostly just smut. I am not ashamed

Daddy Came Home by RuinedBy5Guys

“You got yourself off.” He says quietly, his eyes locked on Harry’s. Harry’s face flushes and he tries to cover it, shoving himself towards Louis. He drops to his knees, leaning close between his husbands spread thighs. He puts his hands on his dress pants, carefully feeling the material at his knees.

“How did you know?” He asks quietly. Louis drops his face, grabbing over Harry’s hands with his own. Harry lowers his gaze, staring at the carpet underneath him.

“You were asleep. You always get tired after an orgasm. Not to mention how flushed you are.” He says quietly, raking his eyes over Harry’s body. Harry glances up at him, his actions becoming more clear to him now that Louis was home.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, dropping his eyes again.

“What was that?” Louis snaps, reaching to bring Harry’s face up again. Harry gulps, shuffling closer on his knees, the joints aching already.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Harry says, his green eyes locked on Louis’ blue ones. Louis smiles slightly, stroking his fingers over his husbands cheeks softly.

“Just gonna have to spank you now, aren’t I?”

OR... Harry teases and Daddy punishes him in the best ways possible

take me into your loving arms by blankiehxrry

twas the night of the brit awards

I Wanna Do What Bunnies Do With You by MoreThanTonight

“Lou.. Not here?” Harry pulled off with a gasp. “There are people in the next room. What if they hear us?“

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet, won’t you, love?” Louis winked.

It's Harry's birthday and Louis wants to make it a birthday he won't forget. Louis is an art student, Harry is his boyfriend and muse.

if they find out, will it all go wrong? by blankiehxrry

madison square garden shenanigans

Happy Birthday by sleepingalone

“You wanna use that right now?” he asked incredulously, wondering how horny Louis must be. They had just fucked a few hours ago, before falling asleep. Surely he didn’t want to use it already.

“You said we had to wait till my birthday, and it’s my birthday,” Louis said cheekily, throwing Harry a small grin. Harry groaned into the pillow, burying his head in it.

“But I’m tired, Lou. I need my beauty rest.”

“I already undid the packaging,” Louis whined. “Please, can we just do it real quick? It would really make my day. My birthday,” he added. “You can go to sleep afterwards, Sleeping Beauty.”

or

Louis just really wants to use his new vibrating butt plug on Harry and turn him into a broken mess.

I Knew Right From the Beginning That You Would End Up Winning by aalexandravictoriaa

"I remember the first day I met you," Louis says, using his thumbs to make Harry open up to him even more. "I remember wanting to take you right there on the fucking street. I wanted to bend you over and bury myself in you over and over again. I couldn't then, but I'm going to now, baby. First with my tongue, then with my cock."

OR

Harry is Louis' favorite camboy and Louis becomes his Daddy.

In Motion by FictitiousFanatisch (orphan_account)

They'd only talked about it once a few weeks ago. Harry always liked it when Louis was in control and he said there was something about being denied constantly that made him even more turned on.

or

It's a lazy day and Harry wants Louis to edge him. (That's literally it.)

I'm Gonna Love You (Until You Hate me) by sweaterpawstyles

As if reading his mind, Louis glanced over his glasses at Harry, presumably because Harry didn't reply to his statement earlier.

"I decided to get my glasses out again," he chuckled, winking at Harry. "Do you like them?"

Harry felt his face heat up. No, he didn't just like them. He fucking loved them and wanted to ride Louis and call him daddy while he wore them. But he didn't want to just tell Louis this.

Or

Louis wears glasses and Harry doesn't like to be teased

I have often prayed for an angel by orphan_account

“Daddy,” he whines, voice already growing high in pitch. “Can I? Please?” “Of course angel,” Louis whispers fondly, hand tangling in Harry’s hair as he brushes it back. He loves Harry’s long strands, maybe even more than Harry does himself. “You look so beautiful on your knees like that, so eager to suck my cock.” “Mhm,” Harry hums, already licking at Louis’ slit. He begins to suckle softly at the head, peering up at Louis with wide eyes. The angel wings stretch on either side of him, and it’s so obscene, how filthy the act they’re doing is in contrast to the white feathers adorning Harry’s back. “Love your cock Daddy.” Or, the one in which Louis fucks Harry in the VS wings after he wears them onstage.

down and dirty, you're loving me so loud by orphan_account

Harry's finally twenty and there's a few things he wants.

feels so good getting what i want. by stylescantstop

Harry is a slutty yoga teacher with his sights set on Louis and Louis wants to pull that long hair of his while he fucks him really hard from behind.

Empyrean, You Fool by becauseitrhymes

Louis only realized it was actually happening once the reality of getting to carry boxes to his new flat settled in. He’d moved out of his parent’s just two days prior, with a stomach full of butterflies and no knowledge of how to do anything remotely adult, like, at all.

He’s only twenty-three years old, too, and he thinks he’s done pretty well for such a young age, considering he’s bought a flat with his money and had driven his car to get there and hadn’t cried (much) when leaving his parents. All in all, Louis thinks it’s pretty cool.

And then he’s sitting on his couch watching football in his lounge in his flat and hell yeah, it’s pretty cool.

AU where Louis moves next door to Harry, Louis falls in love with Harry, sex ensues.

Love Me Like You Do by sweaterpawstyles

Of all of the things Louis had imagined, never did he expect to become a chief editor for a magazine and to date the world-famous model Harry Styles. But he certainly never imagined one day that he would be anxiously awaiting a phone call from the top floor of an office building to tell the Harry Styles to get himself dolled up and ready to wait for his Daddy to come home before he got fucked into the mattress.

Or

Harry is a famous model and Louis is a quiet writer who may or may not be his Dom

A Hard Day's Work by louisruinedlife (orphan_account)

A bad day at work for Harry usually means turning in early. A bad day at work for Louis leads to something else entirely.

*Can be read as a stand alone.

the big idea by orphan_account

University students Harry and Zayn are filming a prank for YouTube that requires Harry to walk around campus asking random men if he could suck their dick. One of the guys, Louis, who agrees to such offer is too attractive for Harry to pass down.

He doesn't think its much of a prank anymore after that.

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown by orphan_account

“That's why you were late, eh?” he teases as Harry frantically tries to hide the dildos and the collar in the drawer. “Having too much fun to think about good ole Louis?”

“You were having fun too,” Harry replies weakly. Louis honestly has never seen a person be in such a shade of red.

“Yeah, but my fun didn't involve colourful dildos and nipple clamps.”

or the one where louis really needs to pass his a-levels and harry is his tutor who doesn’t really own a dog.

Give It To Me (I'm Worth It) by sweaterpawstyles

"Who the hell puts lube packets in their sock?"

"A boy who wanted to get fucked in the locker room by his daddy," Harry said innocently. "I have my good intentions, Lou."

or

Louis can't resist Harry in the red shorts that he wore during the James Corden skit. Featuring locker room sex.

don't let nobody touch it (unless that somebody's me) by stylescantstop

written for this prompt:

"louis knows Harry gets handsy when he's drunk, but that doesn't stop him from showing harry who he belongs to."

or the one where harry dances with other men and a jealous louis reminds him he's the only one who can make him come completely apart.

causing trouble up in hotel rooms (baby, I'm perfect) by felixandtae

A fan threw a Green Bay Packers crop top on stage and Harry kept it. We all know what happened after that.

sweet like cinnamon by brainwaves for SuburbanWarrior

It all started with bumping into Louis at Gemma’s mate’s wedding. Well, maybe it really started with Harry making heart eyes at the boy in jersey number 17 all those years ago. Now all he can think about is getting into Louis’ pants and maybe staying there for a really, really long time.

Or the one where Harry calls Louis daddy and it all spirals out of control from there.

Fulfilling Your Needs by unmeshed

“You want to be messy, baby? Filled with Daddy’s come? So much that you can barely hold it all in?"

Harry nods softly and Louis leans in to kiss him on the lips with a smile. “Want Daddy to plug you up after? Keep it inside of you all day?"

“Lou,” Harry whines, softly rubbing himself against his boyfriend, biting down on Louis’ bottom lip before he deepens the kiss, sneaking his tongue inside.

Louis’ll be damned if he can’t make Harry’s dreams come true.

or

Louis buys Harry an ejaculating dildo because Harry wants to feel full.

Like a Kitten by peaceloveandlarry

"Erm, I, uh, well, I think... I think you're really pretty, and I, um, I want to fuck you- I mean! Oh god. I- I want to go out? Yea! I want to go out."

Or Harry likes to wear kitten ears, and Louis happens to think Harry looks nice with them.

into another serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry's the yearbook photographer who's been assigned to take pictures of Louis, the new captain of the football team. Harry's got a massive, obvious crush on Louis and somehow, Louis feels the same way.

Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

Cheeky Princess by Noelle1224

Harry and panties. What more is there to explain?

I'm Tired Of Using Technology, I Need You Right In Front Of Me by Phillipa19

Louis goes away on yet another business trip, but when he stops calling Harry to check in, Harry decides to take matters into his own hands.

OR- Louis is Harry's sugardaddy who has gone away on business and Harry feels neglected. Louis is possessive and gets a camera installed in their bedroom so he can check up on Harry, so Harry decides to use the camera to his advantage.

Got A Lot You Wanna Show Off Baby by Phillipa19

Louis had been in meetings all day, he should have known that Harry wouldn't be ignored for much longer.

-OR-

Louis is Harry's sugardaddy and his younger boyfriend is definitely not happy being ignored whilst Louis holds meetings in his home office. There may also be Harry in lacy knickers involved.

As always please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!! ❤ ❤

[menshusband]

Good morning my love! My heart stops when I look your way, your smiles are that of an unearthly creature, for we are gods, my dearest. You have me spellbound and to my poor old heart I have to surrender. Leroy, you are mine, my dearest, my love. The symphonies of your laugh fill the corridors of my empty mansion. As I walk through them on lonely nights, with storms brewing outside of the walls, all I see is your silhouette. Your very presence had left a mark on this place, as your love had left a mark on my heart. I spent my whole life missing someone and yet when I met you was when I found out what it feels to utterly crave someone's presence. If it comes to it, even if the world ended tomorrow (as it always balances on the brink of tragedy in this place) I’ll be glad to spend the rest of my existence with you. No matter how long or rather short our own little eternity is. You are a melody composed for me by Apollo himself. No! By all gods and goddesses! Oh, my enchantress. Oh, my little, beautiful thing. I collect all days I had gotten to spend with you in this God-forsaken town and I bury them deep within my brain. They flood it like music, fill it and seep into my projects. For you are my muse. My songs are fragments of you. You are my Dorian Gray, uncorrupted and perfect, the very being of my art. And I too felt that when our eyes met I came across someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that it could absorb my art, my soul and my very nature. Where have you been all this time, I truly wonder! My darling Leroy, my little pure vixen, my- ah, I apologize. It seems that I might have gone too far. I’d much rather continue this topic in person, in the evening. I’ll be waiting my dear

Yours

H. Hidgens

oh dear, my heart-

good morning love!

you’ve truly managed once again to leave me speechless. the more I read, the more my heart fluttered with love. your words had my eyes all watery! I even had to stop two or three times for air. in every way, you are breathtaking and also remarkably smooth, damn you .

I can’t wait to hold your hand and hear you ramble, and watch your eyes sparkle, and play with your hair, and hold you close. I promise I’ll be quick with all my duties just so to have as much time as possible with you.

oh if I could TRULY express my love for you, Henry. you have no idea. not even I am able to measure it.

see you later, my dear.

– Leroy

P. S. Henry, handsome man, love of my life- don’t call me vixen in public, I am begging , my knees might not make it—

[bluboothalassophile]

Down With Gotham

The city was in ruination, the places were burning, the bodies were falling, the streets were painted red with blood, and he looked at the monster who was responsible for the carnage. A Lazarus Pit enhanced human, revived from a point of death, returned to life, uncontrollable, rabid, monster who had been tagged and set free upon the public. He hated that creature! It wasn’t even human.

Levelling his weapon on the man before him he prepared to kill the creature.

“NO!” his father-in-law and commander shouted shoving his wrists up which had the shot going up and wild. The monster looked stunned as Gordon shoved him aside. “Get Out Of Here Jason!”

The monster took a step towards them and Dick struggled to re-aim his weapon. Gordon though shoved him back shouting again for Jason to go, which had the monster nodded as he took off into the ruins of what remained.

“What the hell Jim!” he shouted as he shoved his father-in-law aside. “I had him!”

“You Are Not Killing Him!” Jim shouted shoving him back.

“He’s a monster!” Dick shouted as he was pinned against the remnants of a wall.

“He’s Your Brother!” Jim shouted back. “And That Man Has Done More For These People Than We Ever Could!” Jim snapped.

“H-H-He’s what? Not possible,” he whispered.

“The Outlaws are the only truly neutral party in this forsaken city, they take jobs that no one can or will, from babysitting to hits, people can’t come to the police they go to the Outlaws! Doesn’t matter your work, your profession, or the job, you got a problem you take it to them! Pimp beating the shit out of hookers, doping them up so they can’t consent, Outlaws handle it,” Jim snapped.

“Garfield…?” Dick sputtered.

“They’re cases to us, but those boys take the jobs, bring safety to the folks asking for safety!”

Dick looked past Jim at the carnage that the monster had unleashed.

“He’s… I’m not… no way!” Dick sputtered. “I’m not related to that!”

“You think you the only bastard Bruce Wayne sired? Difference is, he was sold, or bought, or whatever the fuck is done to the Lazarus enhanced, took a long while for me to figure it out though,” Jim smirked. “I’m not letting you kill your brother.”

~~~*~*~*~~~

Raven looked up when Jason appeared, bloodied and burned, holding his shoulder with a deep scowl on his face as he limped into the small office building. She felt her jaw drop at the sight of the damage, she knew she should ring Leisley or Lian, but she reacted by hurrying towards him, keeping herself in his line of sight as she cursed Roy’s earlier disappearance. Jason growled a bit in pain when she slipped under his arm to take some of the weight, but the larger man staggered on her, which was stunning as she stumbled slightly,

They both found equilibrium though as she guided him to the bathroom.

“Oh Azarath,” she whispered to herself as she inspected the visible damage, knowing that he was likely sporting more injuries beneath Roy’s shirt, and more than her untrained eye could see.

Her hands were shaky as she attempted to sign with him, but he closed his eyes as a ragged breath escaped his lips. Biting her lip, she darted off to grab the meager first aid kit with its safety scissors before she rushed back to the bathroom. Snagging a towel on her way. When she entered the bathroom again Jason was struggling to get out of the dress shirt.

He didn’t see her, and she knew he couldn’t hear her, which had her making him feel her as she purposely made heavy footsteps, he looked tiredly up at her. Setting aside the kit she went to work undressing him, that was easy for her, and once he was down to skin, she started cleaning up the blood. His head fell back as he sighed and let her work.

Cleaned up she knew he had been a bad fight. Satisfied he wasn’t going to bleed out on her though she ran to the phone and rang for Leislie’s clinic.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Roy looked up when Jim was coming towards him.

“He was alive,” Jim stated, which was enough to have Roy sagging on the ruins.

“Thank the gods,” he muttered. “I managed to get a few people out, Diana and Kori took care of most the women and children.”

“That’s a relief,” Jim muttered.

“I’m going to go find him,” Roy stated as he stood up. His side throbbed, and his back felt like he’d been dragged across glass, but he would make it home to see if Jay was there.

“My son-in-law will be after blood,” Jim warned. “I had to keep him from shooting his own brother.”

Those words stopped Roy in his tracks as his head swiveled around to Jim. No one, and Roy meant NO ONE, knew who Jason was. Roy had taken great pains to erase them both, and he knew that Bruce Wayne wouldn’t give a fuck one way or another about his monster child living and breathing. However, other factions of the city would care to know that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, I know, I’ve known almost as long as I’ve known you two,” Jim huffed.

“Does…?”

“No one knows except me, and now Dick,” Jim stated.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Roy asked icily.

“Not as much of one as Lian could be,” Jim answered. Now it felt like Roy was doused in ice as he glared at the older man.

“If you so much as…”

“Relax, I’m not hurting my only grandkid, I’m warning you,” Jim stated.

“Grandkid?”

“Yeah, been looking after you two knuckleheads so long I have a claim to your kid,” Jim said smugly. “Go check on Jay, I’ll swing by later when things aren’t so hot.”

“Jim,” Roy called out as the older man turned to leave. “It was Doom Patrol,” he said before he took off running for Outlaw headquarters.

“Jay!” he shouted.

“In here!” came Raven’s soft voice, Roy navigated his way to the bathroom and peered in to see his whole world there safe and sound. Lian was tending to Jay’s wounds, Raven was handing his eight-year-old supplies as she asked for them, and Jason was sound asleep. These three people were the only three people who mattered to him, and the relief which swamped him seeing them had him gripping the sink.

“You’re hurt!?” Lian exclaimed.

“I’m fine, kid,” he assured her. “Tend to Jay,” he ordered. He had never had a close relationship with his and Jade’s daughter, leaving Lian in the care of Doctor Leislie Thompkins before keeping distance with her. He sent funds to keep her clothed, fed, sheltered, off the street, he sent Jay to her to keep her safe too. Jason had taken to Lian like a duck to water, he was her protector, big brother, uncle all wrapped up in one, and she was unaware of who he was in relation to her.

“What happened?” Raven asked. She kept hands on Jason’s bare thigh as she sat between his legs in an uncomfortable position.

“Doom Patrol,” he answered as he walked over and clasped his partner’s shoulder. Jason groggily turned his head, a tired eye slitted as he looked at him. Roy was stunned at how green his partner’s eyes were.

“You good?” he asked.

Jason held a thumbs up before closing his eye and letting his hand fall to tangle in Raven’s long hair.

“I gave him downers,” Lian whispered loudly, Roy snorted.

“He’s not going to like that when he wakes,” Raven said as she rested her cheek on his thigh.

“No, he’s not,” Roy mused. “Is that my shirt?”

“It was,” Raven answered.

“Damn it Jason!” Roy seethed. He was simply happy his three people were safe here, and not out in the hell that was enveloping the world.

[fanatiquee]

❓ + Is there some measure of relief that Paul was taken from you, that the burden of his life was lifted from you?

SEND ❓+ A QUESTION AND MY MUSE HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO ANSWER TRUTHFULLY status: accepting

A thoughtful hum, a furrow of the brows. The sting of a distant pain that clarifies his gaze. “You are asking this question of a vampire who, now, having endured two hundred years, can only conjure Paul as if he were born to the world a shade. My memories are clarified only by the pain of his loss, and it is only that this loss has never entirely released me that I remember him at all. I have seen such visions of him that I can imagine his shape, but I strain to recall such things as his voice, a voice that to me was once the most precious of sounds. There is a phrase that every Frenchmen of a certain age knows, it does not come from my generation, but it nevertheless applies here, to my loss of Paul. It is that, the loss of him all but depeopled the world. I cannot remember who coined this phrase, one of the morbid French Romantics who was once beloved by me. In any case, in a way this is no longer true, so one might be forced to conclude that his loss is less meaningful to me, now. Or that it has taken on some other shape, some other dimension, which is unknown to me. But I don’t believe this is the case. I know for a fact that if Paul had not been taken from me, I could never have forsaken the daylight to become a vampire. As long as Paul was a creature of daylight, I would have been content to exist in mortal blindness, simply to stand at his side, and to know him, and to see him grow to eclipse me in every way, and to die an old man, knowing he would outlive me and that I would never know the pain of his loss. Like a father, who never conceives of the loss of his child, I had never imagined a world in which Paul did not exist. There is no word for this, a father who loses a child, a brother who loses a brother. I was both, brother and father. And so my loss was inconceivable. Can I now look back with some of what I might call my detachment, and understand that Paul’s death liberated me of a responsibility I bore without my own awareness of it? Yes, I can see it. I can see that in Paul I was chained, not only to him, and to my sister, and my mother, and the stone of my father’s tomb, but to all the mundanity that was mortal life. All of its cruelty and necessity. And, yet, as I have said, if not for Paul’s dying I would never have become a vampire, and it was in becoming a vampire that I was freed of these things. But I was also bound to them all the more powerfully. It was as a vampire that I felt the true pain of my loss of Paul, and in my pursuit of vengeance, vengeance against myself, that I became a vampire. In some ways, the burden of him became greater only when his life was stolen from me.” 

[evilkitten3]

Write a fic where Vegeta opens up to Bulma.

tiny little oneshot, here we go!

----

“We never talk,” Bulma says one night. Vegeta stares at her. She waits for a response, but he seems to be hoping that she’ll stop being there if he just squints enough. Alas, many men had tried such tactics before and failed (typically at board meetings, bleh). “We never talk.”

“I heard you the first time.” Vegeta informs her. “We talk all the time.”

“We argue all the time,” Bulma corrects.

“Yes. That is talking. The best kind.”

She has to fight to keep from rolling her eyes. Goku had never been overly fond of arguments, as far as she knew, but Vegeta enjoyed every form of fighting, including verbal. She couldn’t help but think that that was why he’d taken interest in her at all - she found it very unlikely that Saiyan beauty standards were anything like humans.

“I mean an actual conversation. About– I don’t know, little things.” She can’t actually think of anything they should talk about. Basic small talk 101, why hast thou forsaken me?

“Little things?” Vegeta repeats, frowning. It’s probably an Earth idiom of sorts, but he’s still not familiar enough with the language to be certain, so he decides to take it literally (partly because her reactions are amusing, and partly because perhaps then they can just argue and call it a night). “Your father’s shoulder creature is rather minuscule.”

“So are you, jackass,” Bulma snaps, gleefully lording her half a centimeter over him. Unfortunately, she’s aware of what he’s trying to do, so she takes a deep breath and calms herself. “No, like, we should get to know each other. In a less physical sense. Seriously, I know more about your dick than who you are as a person.”

A good response, Bulma thinks, would have been “isn’t that the part you like best”, but Vegeta never responded well to sex jokes. He just turned red and spluttered a lot– and he’s true to that now.

“Woman– I– you– gah!” His face is brighter than an emergency siren, and Bulma bursts out laughing before a thought occurs to her.

“Hey, how come jokes like that bother you so much?” she asks suddenly. “Most guys I know only get embarrassed a little, or they like that kind of humor too. Or they don’t really get it at all.” Vegeta frowns.

“It’s– I don’t understand why it’s even funny,” he admits after a moment. “Why are humans so obsessed with such vulgar things?” Bulma shrugs.

“There’s probably reasons, but that’s not my field of expertise.” She considers offering to stop making those jokes altogether, but Vegeta would probably be offended by that. It’s not really easy to be nice to him. “Are you saying you’ve never met another species that jokes like that?”

“I avoided as many people in Frieza’s army as I possibly could,” Vegeta says flatly. “And any planets I went to.... well, it’s not like I was there to chat with the residents.” Right. The genocide thing. Bulma generally tried not to think about that, but given how big a part of Vegeta’s life it was, it’s almost impossible to avoid. “Do– do you regret any of it?” She asks before she can stop herself.

“No.” Vegeta’s answer comes instantly, and Bulma can’t find a shadow of guilt anywhere in his features. If anything, he seems surprised by the question. “Why would I? Are you asking because you feel guilty for sleeping with me? on their behalf? They would have died anyway.” Bulma blinks. She hadn’t been aware of it, but perhaps she did feel guilty for sleeping with a man who’d taken so many lives. She doesn’t really know what to do about it, though, so she just flops down on his bed.

“This is why I wish you’d talk to me,” she says at the ceiling. “There’s so much about you I don’t understand. Maybe it’s just the scientist in me, but–”

“You are an engineer,” Vegeta says, blinking. “Are you comparing me to a machine?” Bulma snorts.

“Everything’s personal with you, huh?” She muses. “I wish you were a machine; then I’d be able to figure you out in no time.” He doesn’t respond, so she lies there and waits for him to tell her to leave. He’s never let her stay after sex, which is fine. That’s all it is, after all. But he remains silent, so eventually she stands to leave on her own.

As she nears the door, she hears him finally speak.

“...Nappa and Raditz made jokes like that, sometimes,” he says, so quietly that she’s not even sure he meant to say it aloud at all. “It’s not a Saiyan thing, I don’t think. I just– I never–” He cuts himself off and rolls over, facing away from her. “Never mind.”

“Were you close?” Bulma asks, hand hovering above the doorknob. She can’t see his face, but she can imagine him staring out the window at the night sky, comparing Earth’s constellations to the ones he seen on other planets. It might just be her imagination, though.

“...I don’t know,” Vegeta admits. “If we were, it was a long time ago.” She doesn’t ask if he regrets anything about his old partners. She’s not sure she wants to know the answer.

“Goodnight, then,” she says, as cheerfully as she can. Just before the door closes, she thinks she hears him say it back.

[agamemnides]

SING  TO  ME  MUSE  OF  A  GIRL  BUILT  FOR  GRIEF,  of  blood  flown  straight  from  acheron,  river  of  pain,  of  bones  forged  in  the  discord  of  eris.  what  hope  has  there  ever  been  for  you,  much  enduring  elektra,  you who  the  fates  abandoned  long  before  your  birth,  a  creature  made  of  curses  and  killings.  the  gods  are  cruel,  the  fates  are  fickle,  and  she  is  just  as  a  lamb,  lost  from  her  mother,  wandering  alone  through  the  woods  at  night;  she  hears  the  howl  of  the  wolf,  feels  dread  work  its  way  into  her  heart,  and  yet  she  continues,  helpless  as  she  is,  for  what  else  is  there?  the  lamb  will  never  know  when  the  wolf  will  strike.  just  so  is  the  life  of  noble  elektra,  cursed  blood  spiralling  through  her  veins,  tragedy  after  tragedy  seizing  her    :    the  death  of  a  sister,  murder  of  a  father,  loss  of  a  home  and  title  through  forced  marriage.  what  tragedy  will  befall  you  next,  daughter  of  agamemnon,  will  you  ever  be  ready?

and  yet  hope  has  not  entirely  forsaken  the  daughter  of  agamemnon,  she exists  lost  in  the  crevices,  in  long  abandoned  memories,  desperate  longings     ------     the  shape  of  a  girl,  another  lost  to  tragedy  too.  at  the  others  words  the  warm  embrace  of  fair-cheeked  hope  does  not  feel  so  unreachable,  just  as  rosy-fingered  dawn  slays  nox  each  morning,  bursting  through  the  darkness  each  day  at  the  very  time  helios  seemed  forgotten,  so  too  did  hope  rise,  casting  a  bittersweet  smile  across  lion-hearted  elektra’s  face.  as  the  other  speaks  she  cannot  help  brush  a  strand  of  hair  from  the  other’s  cheek,  hands  are  lost  to  the  control  of  beloved  eros,  thumb  dances  briefly  across  the  daughter  of  oedipus’  lip.  yet  as  swift  as  a  deer   sweeps  across  a  field,  wolf  at  her  heels,  spurred  on  by  desperate  longing  to  live,  just  so  hope  is  gone.  hand  falls  from  the  other’s  cheek,  mind  stolen  by  memories  of  a  mother,  ringing  with  harsh  words  and  desire  for  burning  vengeance.  

“  it  is  always  too  bad,  antigone   -----  ”  my  antigone   “  that  is  what  it  is  to  have  a  mother  whose  a  monster,  possessed  by  eris,  abandoned  by  the  gods.  she  is  to  have  me  marry  you  know,  to  a  farmer,  all  in  a  desperate  plan  to  steal  my  name  and  lineage.  no  longer  elektra,  daughter  of  agamemnon  son  of  atreus,  princess  of  mycenae.  but  elektra.  farmer’s  wife.  ”  so  she  spoke,  words  casting  a  bitter  taste  upon  the  tongue  of  noble  elektra.  just  as  a  warrior  stolen  away  be  wretched  war  who  has  spent  night  after  night  far  from  home,  alone  except  for  his  spear  and  the  desperate  cries  of  dying  men,  longs  for  the  sweet  embrace  of  his  fair-haired  wife,  so  too  did  elektra  wish  to  clasp  the  other’s  hand  in  her  own,  fall  into  the  embrace  of  noble  antigone.  but  it  is  fear  who  holds  the  hands  of  enduring  elektra,  he  holds  her  tight  in  his  wretched  grasp.  instead  of  eros  he  allows  a  tear  to  well,  rolling  down  her  cheek  just  as  a  stream  searching  for  the  river  ocean.  “  i  can’t  give  a  signal  sweet  antigone,  for  a  fear  if  i  do  my  mother  will  come  for  you  far  worse  than  she  has  ever  ruined  me.  ”

@songecreux  :   ❛   if it gets too bad , give me a signal  ❜   from  antigone.

[ee-furoido]

TwstOBer Day 1

For TwstOBer Day 1 prompt: WORLD, from @raven-at-the-writing-desk‘s prompts found here. Fufufu, I hope you all enjoy a snippet into my past...

All Prompts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

“Ne, Jade- How much longer?”

“He’s only just started, Floyd, we need to be patient.”

“Aaah, I’m bored, I’m going to go play with those minnows. Call me when he’s done, kaaay?”

“Of course.”

Jade peered into the little cavern the three of them had claimed as their clubhouse from a young age. The other students in their school would tease, calling it a ‘lair’, where nefarious spells were being concocted by the weird, magic-obsessed tentacled merteen.

‘Well, perhaps they weren’t entirely wrong.’ Jade chuckled to himself, swimming inside the maw of the cave, following the small flickering light of what most certainly was the potion bubbling away.

Frantically poring over tomes the size of his torso and pouring various ingredients into the large pot in the center of the cavern was Azul, all ten of his limbs with something in hand. He measures with one tentacle, pours with another. Flips a page with one hand, write a note with another. There is a soft sheen of a sweat building on the brow of his lilac skin, an intense, determined look in his eye as he slowly builds his creation to completion.

Jade floats up next to his friend, his long tail bunching up under him as he rests alongside the cauldron. “It’s coming along nicely.”

Azul only grunted, barely acknowledging him. Azul’s one-track mind was more focused on finishing this, to fix the one thing that kept them stranded here in the sea, to let them be a part of the world on the surface.

Jade could read through Azul’s unspoken words and his resolve. Even into their young teen years, with how well Azul had made a name for himself as an up and coming mage, they still had their fair share of bullies; kids that didn’t like those who were different, kids that didn’t like those who had what they did not. It may not have been overt insults or physical interactions anymore, especially not with Jade or Floyd by his side, but the hushed whispers and side glances were still there. Perhaps on the surface it would be different. Or perhaps it would only further cause to isolate them from their peers as those who had forsaken their home. Jade chuckled. Not that that really was something that would hold them back.

“Imagine, Azul, a whole new world for us to spread our fins and explore. I’ve longed to see what is beyond the steep cliffs at the edge of the ocean, to see what manner of creatures await us there.” Jade mused to himself, filling the silence while Azul worked diligently, not caring that the octomer was too focused on his own work to respond back. “And it shall be wonderful to see Floyd bounce around on land, I am sure he will also get quite a kick out of everything it has to offer. It’s such a large world of opportunity ahead of us.”

“Jade.” Azul finally looked up, pausing from his notes. “You’re quite talkative today, is there something you wanted? I’m sure it can wait until after I’ve finished.”

Jade cocked his head and smiled delicately, his hand on his chest, polite as always. “Oh no, I am just entranced by the possibilities we have in store for us, Azul.” Azul regarded him for one more tic before turning back to his cauldron. Jade’s teeth flashed as his grin widened beside him, his true intentions held deep within his own heart.

It was quite a beautiful thing to watch Azul work. All of his limbs moved independently of another, and each tentacle was just as deft as his hands. Jade kept company as Azul continued, the two of them sitting in comfortable silence, only the sounds of the bubbles from the cauldron interrupting. The cauldron color shifted from clear to white.

Azul lets himself a small smile. Almost there.

“Jaaaaade~” Floyd’s voice floated in from the entrance to the cavern. “Azuuuuuul~” He haphazardly crashed into the cushions laid out against the far wall of the cavern and rolled around, eyeing his brother and Azul as they loomed over the large cauldron in the center of the cave. “Aren’t you guys done yet?”

Jade glanced up at him, the faint glow of the magic inside Azul’s cauldron reflecting ominously on his face as he gave a sharp-toothed grin. “On the final stages now, Floyd. A little more time-”

Floyd sighed. He curled his tail around himself, weaving it through the cushions and building himself a nest.  A few of the minnows that he had been chasing had followed him into the cave, their curiosity getting the better of them. Floyd lazily swatted at them; they weren’t any fun anymore. He resorted to blowing bubbles, watching the other two as he waited for his boredom to subside until finally-

“It’s done!” Azul exclaimed, as the color of the potion turned bright gold. The color glinted incandescently on the cavern walls, the gold flecks in the stone walls coming to life and dancing as the potion continued to bubble in the cauldron.

Floyd untangled himself from his cushions and approached the pot, opposite Jade. The gold from the potion enhanced the color of their yellow eye, an otherwise sinister look were anyone else not in present company to have witnessed it. Jade and Floyd locked eyes with each other, the same mischievous thoughts running through their heads, identical grins spreading across their face.

“Finally, we can leave this world behind!”

Jade chuckled at Azul’s bright and ecstatic expression, a refreshing change of pace from his usual miserable, tear-and-ink stained face. If going to the world on land meant seeing a whole new side of Azul, with much more potential for entertainment, the brothers would gladly follow him.

At least for a little while longer.

[sylvari-bouquet]

Shadows remain: Chapter 2 - Reflections

Previous chapter: [click here] Next chapter: [to be updated]

Nettle’s visit to Papaver’s does not go as planned, as ze witnesses a tense meeting with Papaver and another sylvari, Dinadan. However, Nettle is discovered, and abducted by Dinadan and his allies. Papaver reaches out to the allies they know they can trust, while Nettle wakes up in an unknown location...

"So, to recap the situation, you were forced to work for this sylvari, Nettle found out about it and followed you, and got kidnapped by them?"

Marjory paced across the workshop in a true detective fashion. The room felt smaller and smaller each round she walked, but she kept going. Kasmeer stood still, she had placed herself next to Papaver.

"Yes, that's the gist of it", Papaver replied, leaning to their workdesk and looking more miserable than either of the duo had seen them before, "I'm...not in control of myself or my actions around him. It's not like possession or freezing. I get taken off from the wheel of the ship and it's outside of my control, but I can still witness that I'm heading straight into the storm."

"Let me see", Kasmeer said and placed her hand gently upon Papaver, and looked into their eyes, like she was peering deep into them. "Breathe with me", she instructed, and Papaver followed her lead. After an exhale, inhale and an exhale, she took her hand away, and said: " I do sense a mesmer curse, an old, but still active one. That would explain the mind control."

"Can you get rid of it?" Papaver asked her.

Kasmeer shook her head and answered: "Sorry boss, I can't. Since it has been in you so long, the removal could have terrible after-effects. Plus, you'd need a mesmer as powerful as the queen..."

"Why didn't you come  to us earlier?" Marjory jumped in. Although she was few steps away from being furious, not all of that ire were towards the boss.

"I don't know, I thought it was something I could deal on my own. We've won against dragons and terrible creatures plenty of times now, one ex shouldn't have been this much", Papaver answered with a sigh.

"It changes things when the ex is also part of nightmare court", Marjory remarked, scoring a "not helping" look from Kasmeer, who continued to ask: "Did he tell you what he was planning?"

"I don't have the details, I only know what he asked me to do", Papaver told, motioning towards their worktable.

"And that was?" Kasmeer continued.

Papaver hesitated for a moment, and then told: "He wanted me to make a sword that could pierce the Dream."

** ** ** Nettle

The poison must have made me lose consciousness, since as I came to, I found myself alone in an unfamiliar room. I could feel the dull ache of the wound, and I had my hands tied in front of me with magical bindings, but otherwise I seemed unharmed. I surveyed my surroundings. For a prison cell, the room was nicer than whatever Tree-forsaken pits I imagined Nightmare cells were usually like, as the few furniture did fill up the small space. Quickly enough I also realized how the room controlled its prisoners - I couldn't access my magical abilities. No teleport, illusions, or even healing, evident by the throbbing of the stab wound. However, I did not have time to muse on about my surroundings, as the door parted its vines and the pink sylvari stepped in.

"Greetings, commander. I hope you find your room suitable for your needs. You are not here as a prisoner, but we cannot let you leave."

His voice was pleasant, but that was like how a snake's hiss was pleasant before a strike.

"You say that, yet I am kidnapped, bound and held against my will", I replied, "isn't that the definition of a prisoner?"

"Oh, believe me, your fate would be lot worse if you were one. But let's not dwell on the unpleasant manners, yes?"

With a flick of Dinadan's hand, the magical bindings around my wrists shimmered and vanished. It did ease my discomfort , but such a simply gesture didn't sway me. I decided to push for some answers, as I had little else I could do in my state.

"Who are you and what do you want with Papaver?" I began to investigate him.

"They never talked about me? And here I thought I'd left a lasting impression." Dinadan replied, and I tried to gauge his personality and intentions as he spoke. There was an undercurrent of danger about him, that he masked with shallow pleasantries and niceties, that much was clear to me. But he did not seem like the members of the court I had seen and fought before, either, many of them were devoted to causing pain and grief for the sake of it, yet he seemed to have a goal above that.

"We were lovers, dearhearts even. However, when they realized that the various ties I had to the court and the errands I run, they accused me of lying to them. This saddened me, as I had not been technically lying, just leaving unpleasant things out, and so, I sought comfort deeper in the nightmare. Invited them too, but they did not stay. But I must say, that worked well enough for me, at least until the court became...fragmented due to Mordemoth and the unsightly defeat of our dear Grand Duchess", Dinadan told, "but that's water under the Pale Tree's roots, as you dreamers tend to say, hmm?"

"So, is this all about revenge?" I asked, "since I was the one who finished her in her corrupted form."

Dinadan shook his head, and replied: "Far more than something simple as that. In fact, it was indeed a catalyst that you removed the Queen from the chessboard. You see, my plan is a revolution, and monarchs, they don't tend to take those well."

Seeing my apparent confusion, he continued: "I plan to show every fool in the Grove that there is no hierarchy between us, the Dreamers and Nightmares. We are the one and the same, and our Mother won't be able to cover this truth any longer."

"And what exactly you plan to do with me?" A note of frustation slipped in my question, as I was getting tired of his games.

"Ooh, you're intriqued! I like that!" Dinadan clapped his hands together as if he was excited, but continued: "I can't reveal it all just yet, my apologies. Rest assured, I do mean no harm. As long as I have your cooperation, that is, when it's time."

I was about to ask again what he meant with his cryptid speech, but before I could begin, he stepped outside of room, and the vines closed in front of him. Last thing I could see was the smile on his face, a smile that hold no

With that, I was left alone in my cell-room with even more questions than I had had before, and very few answers.

** ** **

"Pierce the Dream? Is that even possible?" Marjory asked.

Papaver gave a small shrug, saying: "I honestly don't know. To him, it will be."

"I don't know how familiar you two are with the Dream, but.. to us sylvari, it's the place where we begin and end.  Most of us have a connection to it that lasts our lifetime. The experiences and memories we have, they are recorded in to the Dream as well. It's like a huge library of experiences. Both the ones that are joyous, and the ones that are terrible. They all exist in the Dream in some form, and that's how sylvari who have not yet woken learn about our world, drawing information from the experiences who awoke before them.  It also gives us our ability to use magic, and grants us what you humans might call a sixth sense, but only towards others connected to the Dream. It's like, reading others emotions? I don't know a lot about it myself, truth to be told."

"Do you have that connection too?" Kasmeer asked.

Papaver shook their head, saying: "No, I...I awoke without that connection, and I couldn't recall my Dream, even though I did know things. The menders said it must have been some sort of accident, a strange and rare mutation or something. As you know, I don't use magic - simply because I cannot use it, at all."

"If this Dinadan gets his hands on this sword and does succeed piercing the Dream, what would happen?" Marjory continued asking.

"The dream will collapse." A new voice joined in by the door, and the three were greeted by a strange pair: Caithe, who had just spoken, and next to her, a sylvari warden the humans we unfamiliar with, but whom Papaver had seen before.

"Found her trying to get a peek inside. She says she has information about this Dinadan", Caithe replied.

"That doesn't answer the question of what you are doing here, Caithe", Marjory had her hand on the grip of her sword, eyes fixed on Caithe. She had not yet forgiven or forgotten the events of the jungle.

"I'm here to protect the Dream. And to help Nettle, I owe hir that", while Caithe kept her arms crossed, Marjory knew that she could pull out those daggers faster than she could blink.

"Stop it, both of you. We have enough to deal with without turning in to each other", Papaver halted the bubbling tension. They turn to address the warden: "I remember you. You're the one that was working for Dinadan, right?"

"Yes, but no more. I thought that if I did what he told me to, he'd eventually leave me alone. But at what happened last night, I simply cannot ignore him anymore. I want to make things right", the emerald-green warden with pale skin spoke up, "I'm Sylvia, and I want to do anything I can to help."