#otp: i could sleep inside the cold of you

[himbos-hotline]

𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈

AO3 || Tumblr writing tag

Note:

It is totally fine to draw fanart of my fics [tag me if you post it. I will love you forever] and that stuff, it is not okay to reupload them or to post them on another website without my permission.

Reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of artists, reblog and comment on artwork [not just handdrawn ones] to keep an artist creating, its legit your only job...

1). Very nice, very tired, very evil || Hookhausen || AU: What Baking can do || Prompt: ""you should sleep" "I am not human. I don't need sleep." || 2k words

2). How much time ya got? || Kingmox || Prompt: Eddie Kingston and Jon Moxley sitting in an all night diner talking about the new "adoptees" of the BCC. || 6k words

3). Blood is as rare and as sweet as cherry wine || Hangkenny || Prompt: "have i not suffered enough? has my sacrifice been insufficient to entertain you?" || 4k words

4). BTE buddies || No ship || Prompt: “ that hurt more than a brazilian wax . ” ||OC: Jay Orton || 2k words

5). I love the way he looks at me || Bluejays and blowjobs || Prompt: "Waiting outside in the car after dropping the other off to ensure they at least get inside their homes safely before driving away." || OC: Jay Orton || AU: the highschool AU || 3k words

6). Hand in [un]Lovable hand || Southern Lovin' had me a blast || Prompt: “Do you trust me?” ||OC: Jay Orton || 6k words

7). Getting you off is my favourite hobby || Southern lovin' had me a blast || Prompt: I’m gonna stop if you don’t cum.” || OC: Jay Orton || 3k words

8). We'll bury these old ghosts here || Bluejays and Blowjobs || Prompt: “You literally don’t have to do anything to catch my attention because my eyes have never really been on anyone else other than you.” || OC: Jay Orton || 2k words

9). I need to purge my urges [I need someone to blame] || Prompt: CM Punk trained Jay turning on him to join BCC or The Elite || Welcome Home || OC: Jay Orton || 3k words

10). If I said you could never touch me || Hangkenny || Prompt: I wish you would write the conversation between Kenny and Hangman and Kenny on Kenny's return || 2k words

11). Would you love me more [If I killed someone for you?] || The Elite polycule || Prompt: "You're bleeding… You're bleeding bad…” || 2k words

12). Show me the method of your selfless tongue [give me a sermon] || Hangmatt || Prompt: “are you..are you blushing?” “NO physical activity just makes me red okay” || 3k words

13). Just Cole || Bluejays and blowjobs || Prompt: When the otp+ are not on a first name basis and it becomes more intimate than more technically familiar address || OC: Jay Orton || 1k words

14). Can we just lay here and forget the world || The Polycule || Prompt: "I just want to lay here, with you, for a little while longer." || OC: Jay Orton || 2k words

15). We made our peace with weariness and let it be. || Hangkenny || Prompt: "You were a good person once. I looked up to you" || 2k words

16). I find myself alone at night [Unless I'm having sex] || Hangkenny || Prompt: Person A gets cold during the night, and joins Person B in bed || 2k words

17). There's always some reason [to not feel good enough] || Hangkenny || Prompt: things learned in a nearly empty diner || 1k words

18). An open hand [for your other man] || Hangkenny/Golden lovers || Prompt: “How much did it hurt?” || 3k words

19). But lately, I've been worried youre losing yourself || Hangkenny || Part two of: IFMAAN [UIHS] || 2k words

20). It's fine, fine, fine [Who am I?] || Hangkenny || Prompt: "just tell me what you need. let me give it to you?" || 1k words

21). Angel to me [Watashi ni totte tenshi] || Hangkenny/ Golden Lovers || Prompt:'how long have you known?' || Part 1/2 || 2k words

22). You know the distance never made a difference to me || Golden lovers/ Hangkenny || Prompt: “i can't hide from you like i hide from myself” || part 2/2 || 2k words

23). I'll tell you my sins and [you can sharpen your knife] || Bluejays and blowjobs || Prompt: "I'm starting to feel jealous when I see you with other people." || OC: Jay Orton || 4k words

24). The dead man in the dream is you || No explicit ship || Prompt: "I've got a lot of bad shit that I'm taking to my grave." || Trans girl adam cole || 4k words

25). I picture it soft and I ache || Hangkenny || Prompt: Singing them a lullaby || 1k words

26). no lover leaves the rose garden without blood on their hands || Hangkenny || Prompt: “if I asked, would you stay?” || 1k words

27). Everything stays [but it still changes] || Hangkenny || Prompt: “Kisses that have them hiding their face in your shoulder” || 4k words

28). Look at you [how could I not be in love with you] || Hangkenny/The elite polycule || Prompt: "Leaning in without realizing and then stopping just before their lips are attached to look in the other’s eyes to see if they want this too" || 2k words

29). I could be a better [boy]friend than him || Adam squared || Prompt: "This is a bit weird, isn't it? Sharing a bed with a stranger." || 2k words

30). Did you kiss me so my lips would bleed? || Hangkenny || Prompt: Those soft gazes you can feel burning into the side of your head, and when you look back at them, they’d either hold their gaze or they’d quickly look away so you don’t catch them staring at you. || 1k words

31). I hate what youre doing, I hate that it feels so- || Hangkenny || Prompt: “How far is too far?” “I honestly don’t know at this point.” || 1k words

32). Your voice drives me insane || kenny Omega || Prompt: N/A || 400 words

33). Bite the hand that needs me || Hangkenny || Prompt: “You ever wonder if other people think we’re like… A thing?" || 2k words

34). The only one who’s hurt someone is me || Golden Lovers || Prompt: “I want you. I need you.” || 3k words

35). Being such a good boy for me now || Hangmatt || Prompt: sender spanks receiver hard enough to leave a mark || 4k words

36). Talk to me (talk to me, talk to me) || Hangkenny || Prompt: Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise || 4k words

[dreamsinthewitchouse]

The I in the FBI is for Idiots

Stucky X-Files AU, 0.6k, Teen This little ficlet is a present for my beloved T @otp-holic, 'cause we can't stop talking about these Special Idiots in Love™ 👽💓👽✨🛸

Happy birthday, sweetheart! 💖💖💖 I've said it before and I will keep saying it over and over again; you're amazing, your kindness and talent know no bounds, this fandom is so lucky to have you, and meeting you through our shared love for our boys has made my life so much better. 🥰💕

Special agent James Barnes watches his partner nudge aside a stack of manila folders, nearly knocking over the cold dregs of his coffee. 

(Rogers drinks it black, with three or four sugars. It’s completely disgusting, yet somehow endearing.) 

James closes the file he’s holding, having read the same sentence approximately twenty times in the past five minutes. Across the room Rogers leans over his desk, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and letting out a soft and quiet fuck.

James takes off his glasses and runs a hand over his face. ”Look, I don’t think we’re getting anywhere here, and you need to sleep. We can go over it tomorrow.” 

Rogers mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he pushes up from his chair and turns to rummage through the disorderly filing cabinet. 

”Anyway, I need to get going, I’ve got…” James trails off, glancing at the I Want to Believe poster on the wall. 

Rogers swivels around to toss a couple of folders onto his already overflowing desk, but doesn’t look at him. 

”…a date,” James finishes, immediately wishing he could swallow the words back down. 

”Yeah? That’s nice. Have fun.” 

James thinks it comes out a bit clipped, that he sees the tiniest change in Roger’s posture, in the set of his shoulders, but he tells himself he’s imagining things. 

Get a grip, and get out of here. He doesn’t care.

James clears his throat. “I’ll see you Monday, then.” 

Rogers doesn’t say anything more, and James walks out of their tiny basement office, his stupid heart in his throat. 

The date isn’t by far the worst James has ever been on, but it’s also the last thing he wants to be doing right now, and he’s growing more restless by the minute, fidgeting with his napkin. 

He’s sipping his second glass of wine when an ice truck rolls past, and something in the back of his mind clicks into place. 

The cold.

The man sitting across the table keeps talking about his sister’s kids, which really is quite of adorable, but James is barely paying attention to what he’s actually saying, already lost in the images flashing in front of his eyes; a crime scene photo showing a white van parked near one of the victim’s houses, the empty ice trays in the kitchens of the crime scenes. 

Whoever is doing this likes the cold, maybe even needs it. 

It can wait, it’s a long shot, he tells himself. You’re just looking for a reason to talk to him. 

James tries, he really does, but by the time they’ve finished the bottle his resolve simply breaks. He excuses himself to the bathroom, only to sneak outside and punch out a text before he can reason himself out of it.  

I think I figured out something about the case. Call me when you can. 

He draws in a deep lungful of the crisp November air and leans his head back against the wall. He’s barely slid the phone into his pocket before it vibrates, sending a jolt through his system. James answers it, his hands suddenly so sweaty he’s in serious danger of dropping the whole thing. 

“Talk to me,” Rogers says, his voice soft and intense in a way James feels down to his bones. 

(That, however, is nothing compared to how he feels later on, leaning over the same desk, their heads bent close together, Roger’s eyes wide and bright with excitement. 

This is it, Barnes. You’re amazing, he says, and James bites into the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood.)

[skwistokgetalongshirt]

For the OTP asks - dealer's choice, babe. Gimme one you really want to answer about your faves, together!

[Soft OTP or Self-Ship Asks] 24. Write about your ship cuddling.

Tonight was much too cold in Mordhaus…. Like, abnormally cold. It turned out some klokateers had been involved in an accident which caused most of the power to go out and it took out the heating system too. While normally the backup generators should get things back up and running again, some klokateers that were in charge of that ended up getting themselves hurt as well. It was going to be a very cold night tonight in Mordhaus… 

Skwisgaar was the one suffering the most from the coldness. He was bundled up under his fur blanket and had socks on but it didn’t seem enough. Then again, Skwisgaar normally didn’t bother wearing pajamas… Even in the cold he was laying there shirtless with just some pajama pants on. He was shivering so much underneath the blanket with his eyes closed but because he was shivering so much it was making it hard to relax and go to sleep.

“For fuck’s sake… When ams they going to fix this shit?” he pulled the blanket over his head hoping to get some more heat trapped inside of the blanket to make him feel more comfortable.

“I agrees.” A familiar voice in the darkness said.

“Huh?!” Skwisgaar was startled, he hadn’t heard anyone come into his room. He quickly went from being startled to annoyed - he knew that voice. “Ugh, great. Tokis…”

“Was walking by… Heard your teeths chatterings from outside.” Toki teased. “What kinds of Scandinavian are you? Shouldn’t be toos bad. Gets much colder back home.” 

“...Oh, shuts up. Gots used to the heaters. Don’t likes it beings too colds. Makes it harder to sleeps.” Skwisgaar turned over hoping Toki would just go away and leave him alone.

“Maybes it ams because you ams like a twigs Skwisgaar… That aint’s goings to keeps you warms at all.” Toki continued on. 

“Uuugh… Can yous just get outs if you ammnst goings to help me gets warm?” Skwisgaar was clearly peeved by this situation.

Instead of leaving the room however, Toki actually got closer. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and when Skwisgaar felt the weight shift on the bed he turned over to look only to see Toki sitting there.

“The door ams that way!” he pointed towards the exit of his room. 

“Just thinks it ams so funny you ams so cold…What kinds of Swede are yous?” Toki couldn’t help but continue to be tickled by Skwisgaar having such a hard time with the temperature change.

“Oh yeahs… Haha Tokis. Glads you cames in here to get a goods laugh… Cans you just leaves me alone now?” Skwisgaar rolled his eyes at Toki’s words. He wasn’t in the mood to bicker with Toki right now, especially not when he was so cold like this. There was no reason to waste his energy. 

“Just think its sillies…That’s all.” Toki seemed to shrug although he still didn’t budge. He remained sitting at the edge of Skwisgaar’s bed. 

Once again Skwisgaar turned over, hoping this time Toki would take the hint and leave, but instead he felt the weight of his bed shift once more. This time Toki decided to get into bed with Skwisgaar, getting under the covers, and wrapping his arms around him. 

“Whats the fuck?!” Skwisgaar was quick to react when Toki put his arms around him. 

“Body heats! Body heats helps keep you warms.” Toki said, now nuzzling against the back of Skwisgaar’s neck. “Ams helping you warm up, you dildos!” 

“Euugh…” as much as Skwisgaar wanted to pull away and kick Toki out of his room he had to admit that the body heat from Toki felt so nice. He felt so much warmer already… Maybe he will finally be able to get some sleep. 

“Hmm… You smells nice, Skwisgaar. Likes… Hmm, not sures but it ams nice!” Toki was still nuzzling against the back of Skwisgaar’s neck.

Skwisgaar sighed, but he figured he should keep the mean quips to himself right now if he wanted to continue to experience Toki’s warmth. “...Thanks.”

“Welcomes! This ams nice! If you wants we coulds cuddles more oftens… to keeps warm!” Toki exclaimed. 

“Uh, yeahs. To keep warms.” Skwisgaar had to emphasize it was solely to keep warm, there was no way he wanted to imply anything else even though the body contact wasn’t just warming his body, but maybe even his heart too. The thought alone was enough to make Skwisgaar want to throw up - there’s no way he’d ever admit it. Not to himself, and especially not to Toki. 

Skwisgaar’s body finally relaxed now, he wasn’t used to ‘hugging’ or ‘cuddling’ or any of those softer kinds of touches. He leaned back more against Toki seeking more of his warmth. Now his legs were tucked in more trying to get Toki to wrap his legs around him too. Toki seemed to get the hint and wrapped his legs around Skwisgaar to add even more warmth to him. 

Toki seemed to be humming happily to himself, he had been wanting to be close to Skwisgaar like this for a long time but he was worried if he talked too much Skwisgaar would kick him out so instead he just remained silent as they continued to embrace. 

Now that Skwisgaar was feeling warmer, he started to finally doze off until yet another voice was heard - how many people were going to just walk in without knocking?

“What in the homosexchual is going on here?!” of course it was Murderface. 

“Ams keepings Skwisgaar warms!” Toki was still clinging to Skwisgaar.

Now Skwisgaar was trying to push Toki away. “Onlys because I was freezings! You knows… The heaters was outs. So… Tokis came and… but it’s just to keeps warms! Like winters survival!” Skwisgaar was frantically trying to explain this situation. He couldn’t have Murderface tell Nathan and Pickles something different.

“....Whatever. Powers back on so I’m gonna ask Jean-Pierre to make us some food. Was gonna ask if you two wanted to join, but I schee you’re busy.” Murderface said with a smirk. 

Skwisgaar knew that look, he was definitely going to go and tell Nathan and Pickles about this. 

Toki decided a snack sounded good so he got up to go and join Murderface. 

“Eughh….” Skwisgaar groaned as he stared up at the ceiling. Why did the power have to go out? Why did Toki have to come check in on him? This would be added to the things that kept him up at night.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Ship Songs Tag

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies to list 5-10 songs that describe or relate to my fav otp/personal ship(s) for FC5

Tagging: @clicheantagonist @direwombat @fourlittleseedlings @hopelesscounty @aceghosts @adelaidedrubman @purplehairsecretlair @josephslittledeputy @henbased @derelictheretic @strafethesesinners and anyone else who’d like to give this a go :)

Ship: The Wolf and the Wildcat

The full playlist is on spotify and never stops growing...

under the cut this boy gets lengthy

1) Rabid - Nicole Dollanganger

Something ugly in you, you also saw in me Guess we're infected with the same disease Well I could be your girl and you could be my baby Have a habit of ruining everything

We're the same, we're both rabid animals Got sick heads and minds, we were both born feral

2) American Darkness - Chelsea Wolfe

Your eye was trained on me As I stood before you, unbuttoning Kiss me as the bell tolls Swiftly, as the horses ride 

All my old ways have started kickin' in And my bad days are comin' round again Left here in American darkness River on fire, and sun eclipsed

3) Desire - Meg Myers

Honey, I wanna break you I wanna throw you to the hounds Yeah I gotta hurt you I gotta hear from your mouth Boy, I wanna taste you I wanna skin you with my tongue I'm gonna kill you I'm gonna lay you in the ground

4) Middle of the Night - Loveless

I summoned you, please come to me Don't bury thoughts that you really want I fill you up, drink from my cup Within me lies what you really want 

In the middle of the night In the middle of the night Just call my name, I'm yours to tame

5) Dog Teeth - Nicole Dollanger

You're cold on the inside There's a dog in your heart and it tells you to tear everything apart My body's covered in teeth marks, your bite's worse than your bark 

You ruin everything you touch and destroy anyone you love, you're all over me

6) NFWMB - Hozier

When I first saw you The end was soon To Bethlehem it slouched And then it must've caught a good look at you 

Give your heart and soul to charity 'Cause the rest of you The best of you Honey, belongs to me

7) Wolf & I - Oh Land

But he's a lonely man, so this was done

The only place we had to meet is night While the sun he sleeps in shadows we can hide On the mountainside, we'd spent our time together But it is gone when morning comes

8) The Wolf in Your Darkest Room - Matthew Mayfield

I am the reason The reason for you You can only breathe because I let you 

Come to your senses Wake from your dream I am the wolf in your darkest room

And I just want to taste you on my teeth And clawing at your neck to feed my needs

[gaelic-symphony]

A Year in the Life: January

Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss, written for the Year of the OTP writing challenge.

Prompt: Snow

Words: 891

Warnings: None. It is pure fluff.

Read on AO3 or below the cut

            Tara had always loved snow.  She loved watching the graceful, delicate flakes gather into a fluffy white blanket on the ground that gleamed when the sun hit it.  She loved the soft sound of snowflakes landing, and the satisfying crunch beneath her feet when she walked through it.  She loved going outside to feel the sting of the cold air and then coming back inside to warm up with a mug of hot cocoa.  When she was at Dartmouth, everyone was always complaining about New Hampshire winters, but Tara loved living in a place that was regularly covered in snow.  When she lived in San Francisco, it never snowed, and winters just felt so incomplete.  Coming back to the D.C. area meant coming back to a place that had real winters with snow, even if it didn’t snow very often or very heavily.  Then she met Emily, and her favorite thing about snow became the way the white snowflakes looked against Emily’s jet-black hair.  Of course, Emily’s hair was gray now, but she still looked every bit as angelic with snow falling around her.

            It was nearly halfway through January, and Virginia still hadn’t gotten any snow.  A balmy Christmas had been disappointing enough, but now the days were starting to get a little longer, and still not a single flake had fallen.  It had rained plenty, but that just made Tara pout.  It was almost comical to see the forty-nine-year-old, six-foot tall, Dartmouth-educated forensic psychologist turn into a little girl again over the prospect of a winter without any snow, but she just wanted one good snowfall before spring came around.  There was a chance of snow overnight, but Tara didn’t want to get her hopes up.  She’d already been disappointed too many times this winter.  And so she went to sleep with low expectations and woke up to Emily snaking an arm around her torso and nuzzling against her neck.

            “Tara, babe, guess what?” Emily murmured in her ear, “It snowed last night.”

            Tara leapt out of bed to go look out the window, and sure enough, the neighborhood had been blanketed in two and a half inches of fresh snow.  It was still early enough in the morning that the snow hadn’t been disturbed yet—just a few trails of paw prints and boot prints from dogs and their owners going out for their morning walks.

            There was a noticeable spring in Tara’s step as she went downstairs to make breakfast, and she hummed as she poached the eggs and cut up the cantaloupe.  Snow days always put her in a good mood.  Even the prospect of shoveling the driveway couldn’t dim her enthusiasm; at least it would mean she’d be outside in the snow.  Emily could see Tara looking out the window in anticipation as they sat down at the table to eat their breakfast.  After three years of marriage, she knew better than to think she could hold Tara’s full attention the morning of the first snow of the season, but she still appreciated her wife’s efforts to sit patiently and make conversation as they ate.

            “You want to go play in the snow, don’t you?” Emily finally said.

            Tara nodded.  “I know it’s childish—”

            “So what?” Emily shrugged, “Sometimes it’s good to act like a big kid.  I’ve got the dishes; you go outside and enjoy the snow.”

            Tara bundled up in her coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, and she slipped her feet into her boots.  She felt the cold wind hit her face as soon as she stepped outside, and she shivered from both excitement and the chill.  The sound of snow crunching under her boots was music to her ears as she stepped off the front porch and into the yard, and she took in the sight of the neighborhood covered in snow—the gleaming white crystals covering the ground and the roofs, bushes and tree branches bending under the weight of their new blanket, icicles hanging from eaves like pendants on jewelry.  She could hear the excited screams of neighborhood children sledding down the big hill behind the house, and it brought back memories of her own childhood snow days spent sledding with Gabriel.  For a moment, she was transported back to West Point, and she was eleven years old again, hurtling down the biggest hill on the base as fast as her plastic sled would take her.

            Her trip down memory lane was interrupted by a snowball suddenly hitting her in the back, and she turned around to see Emily grinning mischievously.

            “Oh, you’re in trouble now, Prentiss!” she teased.

            She picked up a handful of snow and started packing it into a snowball, and Emily shrieked and dashed off across the yard.  Tara dropped her snowball and playfully chased after her wife, snow crunching beneath her boots as she ran.  She caught up to Emily and wrapped her in a big bear hug.

            “I’m glad you got your snow day, baby,” Emily said.

            “I’m glad I get to spend it with you,” Tara replied.

            She pulled Emily close and kissed her, letting the cold of the winter air mingle with the warmth of Emily’s touch.  Every day they spent together was a gift, but a snow day spent with the woman she loved?  Tara couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

[direwombat]

tagged by @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @roofgeese, and @baldurrs to list 5-10 songs that relate to my otp <3 &lt;3 <3

tagging: @adelaidedrubman, @strangefable, @strafethesesinners, @fourlittleseedlings, @kittiofdoom, @sukoshimikan, @confidentandgood, @detectivelokis, @sstewyhosseini, @aceghosts, @poetikat, and anyone else wanting to share their playlists for their otp (but no pressure <;3)

— r: define your meaning of war [main playlist here]

songs under the cut because baby's LONG -- first three are vaguely from syb's pov, the next three from jacob's, and the last three are mutual feelings &lt;3

heaven or hell - digital daggers

I've got the same deep wounds as you, My love can double as a weapon too Say that you trust it and I'll set it free Turn it back on me Turn it back on me

We trade our secrets when it's safe Our ammunition when the fever breaks Show me the side no one else sees Turn it back on me Turn it back on me

I am exposed, I am undone You tear the walls down one by one We tried to run, we tried to hide in fear of losing ourselves We tried to keep it all inside so we don't hurt someone else When all the demons come alive I'll still be under your spell, This could be heaven or hell This could be heaven or hell

blindfold - sleeping wolf

In the dark I need to taste the blood Go on Draw another line we can cross this time Battle scars Your touch is not enough I need you to pierce my Veins and become my pain

So use your blindfold Cover your hands on my eyes, closed Do it again Tie me up and show me what's real Hate your love, but love how you feel Useless, trying to fight And the truth is, I'd rather be blind I'd rather be blind

not strong enough - apocalyptica + brent smith

I'm not strong enough to stay away I can't run from you I just run back to you Like a moth, I'm drawn into your flame You say my name But it's not the same

You look in my eyes I'm stripped of my pride And my soul surrenders And you bring my heart to its knees

And it's killing me when you're away And I wanna leave, and I wanna stay And I'm so confused, so hard to choose Between the pleasure and the pain And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right Even if I try to win the fight My heart would overrule my mind And I'm not strong enough to stay away

i know i'm a wolf - young heretics

Dear rabbit, my legs are getting weak chasing you The snow fields wouldn't seem so big if you knew That this blood on my teeth it is far beyond dry And I've captured you once but I wasn't quite right So I'm telling you that you'll be safe with me.

on your knees - matthew mayfield

Such a disgrace Thе way the vengeance tastes Best served cold But it's the heat I crave

Took the fall but Learned to crawl up the highest prison wall Yeah, doing my best to keep you pressed In a sunken chest

This is the way to life This is the way to die Darling, I hope you, see what I go through But I ain’t gonna leave you on your knees This is where the love counts Covered in the breakdown I ain’t gonna leave you on your knees No, I ain’t gonna leave you on your knees

afterlife - nothing but thieves

You can tell your God he can keep his salvation And if you like, the angels can fly into the sun We don't, we don't have to do this again Please don't, please don't make me start this again

It was only ever you It was only ever you My baby, it feels like a lifetime Oh God, I don't think I could do two

My soul is tortured with love and lust and hate My cracked lips are unkissed for a million days My infected heart, it's bleeding in this cage I'm losing my dignity, not got long left to wait

iris - diamante + breaking benjamin

And I'd give up forever to touch you 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life And sooner or later, it's over I just don't wanna miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am

marked for death - emma ruth rundle

it was right that we did meet each other in each other’s eyes it was right that we did see each other in our shadow sides it was wrong then too that crazy love, loves crazy as it does and each of us and both of us so crazy; as it was

who else is going to love someone like you that’s marked for death who else is going to be with you when you breathe your last who else is going to take my place and hold and keep you safe/sane who else is going to stay

somebody to die for - hurts

I've got nothing left to live for Got no reason yet to die But when I'm standing in the gallows I'll be staring at the sky

Because no matter where they take me In death I will survive And I will never be forgotten With you by my side

Cause I don't need this life I just need...

Somebody to die for

[masterwords]

✨ 2022 Writing Year In Review ✨

Many thanks to @spencer-reids-adventures and @domestikhighway58 for tagging me here. <3 Pretend I'm doing this on time...I spent ALL DAY yesterday at a children's wrestling tournament (seriously, 10 hours in a high school gym with hundreds of people...I can feel all the germs invading my body as we speak) so I didn't have the lifeforce remaining to use my brain. (This got long so I put most of it under a cut.)

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 85! Holy moly.

2. Word count posted for the year: 470,122

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Criminal Minds, The Punisher (sort of...I shipped Frank Castle with Hotch so...) & Fargo

4. Pairings: AHAHAAA! Oh. Okay. Hotch/Morgan. .... ......... I did write a small amount of Hotch/Blackwolf, Hotch/Will and Hotch/Reid. But let's be real here. I am an OTP girl and Hotch & Morgan are married in my mind.

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: Catching Sparks

Bookmarks: missing pieces of sleep, but a close second and non-collab was Catching Sparks.

Comments: missing pieces of sleep, but a close second and non-collab was Running Toward Nothing.

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

Probably Running Toward Nothing, because it was hard for me to finish. It took so many twists and turns, and I didn't plan it out well enough (story of my life)...it was written for a challenge, and it was not at all what I imagined it would be when I started. But I also wound up really loving it by the end.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

Cold Hands. Hotch/Reid isn't my ship already and I just felt very...like I could have done better. I don't dislike the story but I don't feel very proud of it either.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

By far, my favorite was @olivinesea putting me in jail repeatedly for The Silence Drowns (a different take on the Foyet arc).

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

May/June/July. Something about that 3 month span, my kids in baseball, I don't know. I couldn't write shit and it was stressing me out. Thankfully it came back to me eventually.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: 

Writing Foyet the way I did in The Silence Drowns was really an experience, focusing so hard on his POV, devoting entire chapters to how he did what he did and what he did when we didn't see him...that was really fun. And flipping the switch on Reid and turning him into the antagonist while also royally fucking up his life in Running Toward Nothing was interesting too.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

He moved slow, still half-asleep. One rrrrrrip and he tore into the tissue to reveal a soft blanket. Too soft. Velvety, thick, plush. He couldn't make out the strange array of colors and buried his fist inside of it in order to pull it out. The bag and tissue paper were quickly discarded, and Derek reached out to grab the bottom two corners, helping move this along faster. He really had to go. Quickly, he splayed the blanket out over the bed. It was huge and almost impossible in the dark and from Hotch's angle to make out the pattern at first.

Derek grinned proudly the moment he caught the realization on Hotch's stiff features. “Is that...your face?”

“Sure is,” Derek announced, pushing the tissue paper back into the bag and tossing it aside. “So you won't forget me while I'm gone.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that's likely to happen?” He had abdominal surgery, not brain surgery. He'd been trying to be gentle with Derek since it happened, the man was pulling double duty as Unit Chief and primary caregiver, burning the candle at both ends. In some ways, Hotch was glad they had a case that would take him out of town, maybe he'd get a break. He could focus entirely on the job and not worry about how Hotch was going to get from the bed to the toilet and back at 3am. Having the catheter had removed the need for that step but it was fleeting. He was on his own now. He was also doing just fine, he thought. No falls, a couple of near misses but he'd caught himself each time.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Hotch replied quietly, smoothing it beneath slow hands. He was losing the battle with his tired body. “It's beautiful.” It was. In that way that heartfelt things often were, their beauty didn't lie in aesthetics. He wouldn't put this blanket on display in the front room, perhaps, but he adored it nonetheless. "It'll keep me warm as I convalesce." He'd been using that word a lot in the last few days, Derek noted. It was his boredom talking, finding ways to make light of his situation in order to soften the blow that he could barely manage a walk from his bed to the kitchen without being significantly winded and ready for a nap. He'd been refining new jokes, mostly biting sarcasm that came out a little slow but didn't sting any less. Jess was the recipient more often than Derek, being around more. He'd dare her to steal the blanket, just to see, but he was pretty sure she wasn't going to try it. Not with Derek's enormous face right there. Derek managed to create the one thing she'd stay far away from. She was probably going to call it creepy.

“As you convalesce, huh?"

Hotch nodded and smiled, smoothing his hands over the soft fabric. He was so out of it. Derek didn't mind. He was struggling with this slower lifestyle, something he'd be at for the next few weeks. A few more days and the staples could come out, after that he thought things would get better. Maybe speed up a bit. Slowing down wasn't in the Hotch playbook of life, but he was dealing.

From Convalesce

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: 

I'm not sure I did until the end when I realized I didn't need to over-think editing quite so much, and I should really just have fun. I spent most of the year stressing out over it and not enjoying it as much as usual. No more of that. I also decided that I don't mind so much being a one trick pony. I want to write about Hotch/Morgan more than anything else and I gave myself permission to just indulge it as often as I felt like it.

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope to detach my worth as a writer from the interaction I receive. I do my best to maintain that mindset, and I hope to settle in better with it.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): 

I mean, I probably should just simplify this and say it was Hotch & Morgan, really. Nearly everything I wrote this year centered around those two so I think I would be remiss not to acknowledge them as the muses they are. All of my friends, all of you incredible amazing writers I am fortunate enough to consider my friends...you have all influenced me positively. I can never thank you enough.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Uh..hahaha! Yeah. I included lots of sports dad/coach moments, a lot of Jack because of my kids, you know...that kind of thing. Nothing huge...but this? Yeah. My life.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

You can focus less on editing. Don't edit at the expense of posting your stories, yo. Don't overthink it.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I'm looking forward to actually finishing a bunch of these multi-chapter stories that I've been dragging out forever. Writing more with @domestikhighway58 on our Hotch/Reid story, diving in to the SWAT and retired in Chicago series more...so much.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@eldrai @olivinesea and anyone else who really wants to fill this out!

[consumedkings-archive]

OC AESTHETICS » isolde khan x joseph seed

“i say your name and a river of fire courses through my veins. i call it heavenly because i think the divine was meant to hurt. perhaps this is the burning away of my sins. maybe this is absolution. if it is, i would bathe in the flames. i say your name and it feels like aching, feels like paradise.”

[collecting-stories]

Hammocks - JJ Maybank

Request: Okay so ignore the last one I sent. I know request are closed I know but I had to send this one in before I forgot. This post w/ either JJ or John B would be adorable. (The post was about OTP being asleep in a hammock). 

A/N: I really do love writing JJ. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

With autumn rolling in to the OBX it felt almost impossible to find time to just do nothing these days. You and JJ both existed inside a social class that dictated a need for afterschool jobs and weekend jobs and little free time for friends or anyone else. You were lucky if JJ managed to sneak in at night while your dad was doing shift work down at the docks or if you got to see him at lunch and then study hall directly after (but only when he actually showed up). Usually, any time that wasn’t spent doing things you had to was spent with friends because otherwise your friends complained that you were being ‘too couple-y'.  

It was a rare Saturday that you actually got to spend with JJ just doing nothing but it was exactly how you’d found yourselves. And maybe you would’ve actually been doing something except you’d fallen asleep, laying with JJ on the hammock in your backyard, your head on his chest and his right foot on the ground, keeping the hammock steady as he slowly rocked it.  

JJ had snuck in last night while your dad was at work and stayed over in your room until your alarm rung in the morning for him to sneak back out, the same routine as always. Except, unlike always, you’d asked if he was doing anything that morning and asked him to stay.  

“Your dad is gonna have my head on the wall if he comes home and finds me in your room...or anywhere in this house while you’re home alone.” JJ replied.  

“What if we weren’t technically in the house?” You suggested, eyes fluttering closed for a second as you kissed the corner of his mouth.  

“Where exactly would we be?”  

With all the willpower you could manage, you and JJ had gotten out of bed, wrapping yourselves in sweatshirts and taking blankets, pillows, and your phones out to the hammock in the backyard under the oak trees. JJ made a nest with all the bedding and then flopped in, holding his arms out to you so that you could get in with him.  

JJ moved a mile a minute. He was always restless, antsy, looking for something to occupy his time and his mind. He couldn’t sit still for anything. Not a movie or a meal. On rare occasions when you accompanied him fishing on the marsh you were sure you were watching an entirely different person with the way he sat still. This morning you chalked it up to being still mostly asleep.  

He wrapped his arms around you once your head was on his chest and the rest of you tucked into the hammock along with him, the blanket covering you both from the cold morning. You were asleep almost immediately, too tired to keep yourself up.  

“We should get a hammock,” you whispered, your voice partially muffled by JJ’s sweatshirt. You felt like your head was in a deep fog, wading through as sleep pulled you under.  

“We have one...” JJ whispered matter-of-fact. He smiled when you kissed the underside of his jaw.  

“No, I mean when we get a house...someday.” You replied, every word slow as you pieced together your thoughts, “we should have a hammock.”  

“Sounds good to me.” He agreed.  

When you didn’t say anything else JJ pressed his chin to his chest so he could look down at you, smiling when he realized that you had fallen asleep. He leaned his head back against the pillows, tightening his hold on you and closing his eyes, figuring he could get at least a few more hours of sleep before the two of you had weekend jobs and friends and other responsibilities to worry about.  

[himbos-hotline]

I wish you would write the conversation between Kenny and Hangman on Kenny's return.

If I said you could never touch me

Word count: 2287 words Ship: OTP: He could make me golden ["Hangman" Adam Page/Kenny Omega] Characters: Kenny Omega, "Hangman" Adam Page Triggers: Alcohol, Anxiety, Broken Glass, Unrequited love, Implied/Refrenced smut Authors note: Based on [I wish you would write a fic where…] Ask game. The idea wouldnt leave my head so here it is.

READ ON AO3

Failure. Adam knows the word well enough that he’s started to respond to it. In his own mind of course, late at night when it refuses to let him sleep. He tosses and turns in his empty hotel bed, letting the blankets wrap around his ankles like a spider web. He stares at the ceiling and lets the voice yell at him. “You’re nothing but a failure Adam.” The voice in his head whispers, the devil on his shoulder whispering so sweetly into his ear it feels like a lullaby. The devil kisses at the lobe of his ear, the nape of his neck and somewhere in the euphoria, Adam lets his eyes close. 

“I know.” He whispers back, letting darkness swirl behind his eyelids and like a drowning man. He takes a last death rattle of a breath as sleep wraps its hand around his throat. He awakens in a daze and for the first few moments, where he doesn't have to think, Adam almost remembers his name. He remembers how it sounded on Kenny’s early morning whispers and late night moans. And then the sun kisses his bare thighs and he’s shocked back into his own body. It's morning and Kenny isn't there to be the Devil on his shoulder, the angel in his memories. He’s somewhere off in Japan connected to a brightly coloured IV bag or connected to a brightly coloured man who held his heart like it was a precious gemstone. 

Adam rolls over in the blankets, buries his nose deep into the itchy hotel pillow cases and wonders just how long he can lay in bed until the Dark Order starts to worry. He loves them all, it's clear that he does. They’re softer. Kinder. They sit Adam down and Uno presses his hand gently into the curve of his shoulder and tells him about his problems. John pulls at his jacket, wrapping it tighter around Adam's frame, keeping him warm. And Adam appreciates it. But sometimes. Sometimes he wants to pretend that failure isn’t a part of him, not the part that his friends see. Not the part that people see when they look at him for just a fragment too long. 

He wishes he could bury his failure so deep inside his own soul that he almost forgets it exists. It festers and poisons his bloodstream until Adam’s entire being is a badly hidden collection of failed relationships that people look at and coo over like there's something glorious in his figure. 

He wishes that he didn’t reply to the word failure like it was his name. He’s sitting alone in the Dark Orders locker room, alone with a half-empty bottle of whiskey as company. There’s a singular glow of the ceiling above him and Adam follows the pattern of the shadows as he raises the glass to his lips and tips the burning liquor down his throat. It’s an ache that Adam has grown familiar with too, like a hug from a loved one. It scalds his tongue like a scorned lover's kiss and there’s something so familiar about him licking sin off his bottom lip. The door is half open and Adam listens to the distant sounds of the ring crew packing away. 

They’re stripping the mat off the ring canvas and with that, they strip away Adam’s failure. A misplaced Buckshot Lariat and he had cost the dark order everything. Everything that the dark order had worked up too, lost in three seconds and the cold spray smoke. The neck of the bottle knocks against the glass and Adam sighs, exhales invisible smoke and soon there's someone's hand resting on his shoulder. Heavy and calloused and fearfully familiar. 

The fallen angel on his shoulder, pressing down on the nerve that makes hair pull up on his neck and a blush build against the skin of his chest. He settles his eyes on the floor, watching the way his shadow looks on the floor. His darkened frame feels almost easier to look at. Because Kenny's shadow doesn’t have his blue eyes that are digging their way into the back of Adam’s neck or the desperate half smile that Adam can practically feel. It’s just dark shapes that the doggy euphoria of drunkenness can mutate into whatever Adam’s mind wants. He raises the glass to his lips. 

“What?” He asks the shadow on the floor, letting the word tumble into the amber liquid. 

There’s a sigh behind him, heavy and worn down. “I missed you.” 

Adam presses his lips together into a thin line, knocking the glass against his cupid's bow. Kenny’s hands marriage against his shoulders, thumbs working the pain deep from the marrow of Adam’s bones. Strong hands try to fix this broken man back together, it feels like water is falling from Adam’s shoulders, tracing the links of his spine and fogging up his brain. Kenny is molding him, manipulating him until Adam is something small and placid in his hands. Something burns deep in Adam’s stomach and his eyes flutter open. His spine straightens, clicking as each vertebrae slots together. The glass feels heavy in his hand all of a sudden, his white knuckled grip on it making his fingers feel numb. 

Adam downs the rest of the bitter amber liquid, lets it scald its way down his throat and places the glass onto the arm of the couch. There’s a crash distant and foggy just outside the perimeter of Adam’s brain. The ring crew are finishing up; tossing weapons and empty water bottles into large bins for collection or sorting. They have an hour. 

An hour to collect and find all the words that the two of them want to say. An hour that could end with Adam following Kenny back to his room, half-drunk and submissive under his strong hands. An hour that could end with Adam alone, watching his tears mix with the last of the whiskey that stays at the bottom of his glass. 

An hour. Sixty painfully long minutes for Adam to finally tap into the pain. To finally allow failure to stop being his name, to have failure be his anger. The familiar taste of pennies is on his tongue, copper and state blood and rusted gold. Kenny always comes down to gold; gold-tipped fingers, golden rings around his pupils, a perfect golden band around his heart, branding him to another lover. Adam always comes down to silver; the second best option for a last place man. He licks at his bottom lip and pushes himself off the couch, Kenny’s hands limp as they fall to grip at the back of the couch. 

“Don’t touch me.” Adam’s voice doesn't wobble like his stomach does. There's a flame of anger biting at the corner of his mind, making his skin feel tight and his stomach feel knotted. Kenny’s eyebrow quirks upwards and his lips flash into a small smile. He’s still wearing his shoulder sling under his shirt, the hem sagging slightly around the base of his throat. He looks tired, but happy. He smiles when Adam finally settles his eyes back on him and Kenny reaches out, taking Adam’s face in his hand. 

“Yeah?” He hums, voice barely above a mocking whisper and Adam balls a hand at his side into a fist. Some small part of his mind, lost and mournful, tells him to lean into Kneny’s calloused palm but he doesn’t, Adam squares his jaw, presses his teeth together so hard that he’s sure tomorrow his jaw will hurt. “Haven’t you missed me cowboy?” 

“No.” Adam lies through his teeth, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth but the fury of the last three years is rearing its ugly head like a sleepy dragon made of brown spilt blood and former love. “No.” He repeats. “I told you to stop touching me.” His voice is colder now, growing with the increasing pressure. 

There’s not enough air in the room and Adam gasps when Kenny finally pulls his hand away, tucking them into the pockets of his shorts. “Jealous we beat you and your little spooky cult friends hmm”? Kenny’s voice is bordering on patronizing and Adam wants to hit him. His fists tighten, ring-worn nails pressing deeper into the fleshy parts of his palms. “Get it together Hanger, I’m not here for the sad, lonely cowboy act.” 

“Why are you here then?” Adam stupidly asks. 

Kenny scoops the glass up in his hand, rolling it between his fingers. “For you.” 

The words hit Adam like a swift kick to the gut. His heart stutters and for a few seconds he blinks at Kenny as he sways on his feet, wandering around Adam;’s eyeline like a bee buzzing around a wilting flower. The fire dampers quickly and when Kenny lifts the bottle up towards the light, Adam spots that it’s half empty. The brown liquid coming up to kiss at Kenny’s fingertips like sea foam kissing a suicidal mans ankles as he walks into the sea. Kenny clicks his tongue against his teeth and lets the bottle scrape across the wooden coffee table. “That took the wind outta your sails huh?” and he giggles, soft and high-pitched as if he’s told a joke. 

Maybe Kenny had just made a joke. “I am here for you though Hanger.” He’s looking at him from under his eyelashes, the blue of Kenny's eyes burning brighter in the dimness of the locker room. “I thought we could celebrate me winning.” Kenny’s fingers tap against the belt, the sound bouncing off the walls. It’s the first time Adam’s registers that Keny’s wearing the trio's title and now, like someone pointing out a pimple, it’s all Adam can keep staring at. His face reflects back off the golden plates and he watches his face grow larger, bigger as Kenny steps closer and wraps a hand into his hair. “Remember just like when we won the tag titles.” Kenny’s fingers yank at his hair, pulling Adam forward into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. It's not pretty and Adam definitely doesn’t want to taste the secondhand victory off Kenny’s mouth. 

“Ya mean like when I won the tag titles” Adam bites back, pressing his fists into the middle of Kenny’s chest. He pushes with the strength of a man possessed and Kenny tumbles backwards, his feet tumble out from under him and he lands a pile on the floor, curls escaping around his face. “You did nothing that match!” Adam snaps, his lips raw and heart exposed. There’s pressure building behind his nose, pressing at the space under his eyes and Adam presses the curve of his knuckle against his skin, feeling it tacky and warm with alcohol and sweat. His scalp is tingling like a burn. 

Kenny always burns him. Never bad enough to leave visible scars, but enough that Adam has to develop a thicker skin. “I did everything to carry our tag team!” Kenny retorts. He’s not yelling but the words speak so loud that they make Adam’s ears hurt. He nods down to the half-empty bottle of whiskey and places the glass back into Adam’s hand. His fingers close around the crystalised texture, the pad of his thumb pressing into the sharp little points and Adam feels lost in his anger. 

“You always loved that more than us.” Kenny tells him. He twists open the lid and presses the mouth of the bottle against the glass. Adam watches him pour a glass, watches Kenny empty the bottle until whiskey is spilling over Adam’s fingers. Yet, Adam doesn’t let go. A part of his mind tells him to cling to the glass, listen to the dripping of whiskey onto his shoes. “Does it make you happy?” 

“I- '' Adam starts, alcohol is starting to poison his bloodstream, making it harder for him to think. The pressure just behind his eyes is burning now, overflowing. He feels a shaking building in his stomach and when his brain focuses back on the world around him, Adam can hear his heart pounding in his chest, ricocheting off his ribs like a stray bullet. “Sometimes.” He admits. Kenny nods, hand gesturing for Adam to drink up. But he doesn’t. His fingers release the sticky glass. 

It shatters between the two men. Broken glass splays everywhere and whiskey soaks into the Dark Order’s carpet. Kenny looks down at the floor and then back up at Adam. “my turn.” Adam quips, as if the two of them were playing twenty questions. 

“What Page?” Kenny snaps, fingers tapping against the golden plates of the title. It’s clear that he’s growing agitated, frustrated that Adam isn’t giving him what he wants. Kenny barely represses the urge to roll his eyes when Adam fixes his hair into a ponytail and takes a step back. He’s just out of arm's reach and by the line of water building in his green eyes, Adam wants to keep it that way. “Well. spit it out.” 

Adam represses the urge to laugh. Kenny has never once asked him to spit it out. He would always rub the hollow of Adam’s cheeks, coo-ing at him ever so sweetly to swallow every last drop of him. “Did you ever love me?” Adam asks, holding onto the arm of the couch. Kenny blinks at him. Once. Twice before he looks at the clock on the wall. 

Five minutes. Kenny takes another step back, hand resting on the door handle. He lets it click open. He stands on the threshold, looks at Adam in all his sullen, alcoholic Cowboy energy and for once, he tells him the truth. 

“Once.” 

The door clicks closed. 

Adam is alone again.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

@smallestsnarkestgirl @skyqueen3 @josiewrites @itsnoosetome @jacedoe

@golden-disaster @sincyrlee @glitchaxolol @daddywrasslin @bikenny

@katries @thegizardofmars @motorcitygem @miru-has-thoughts @powderflower

@miserablecreachur @afterdarkprincess @mobiblackout @pinksuperkliq @harvey-dent

@thekadster

[mimisempai]

When you are weak I will be your strength

Summary:

Loki, awakened by a nightmare, draws his strength from the presence of Mobius, but when Mobius wakes up it is Loki's turn to comfort him? What if they were simply the strength of each other.

30 days OTP challenge Day 10: Cuddling somewhere

Notes:

Another tooth rotting story about forgiveness and comfort. And a lot of cuddle.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35314915

1084 words - Rating G

Loki woke up with a start, his forehead drenched in sweat, his heart beating rapidly, and his breath short. His whole body was still vibrating with the effects that the horror of his nightmare had made him feel.

Feelings he couldn't control.

Control.

A desperate play for control.

Thanos' hand feeling around his neck, as if he had really experienced it and even though he had only seen it in pictures, all the sensations were real to the point that he could almost feel the pressure on his neck and raised his hand to check that the skin was intact.

He felt what he had read in the eyes of his image on the screen. Helplessness.

He had never been in control.

The cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.

He was the weak one, he had never controlled anything, even when he had the choice, his decisions had been controlled, by the desire for power, for revenge, by jealousy, by fear, by what he believed to be his destiny.

His destiny that he thought he held in his hands, but which escaped him again and again. He thought he was the master of his destiny, but his destiny had played with him. Still under the effect of his nightmare, Loki felt the shadows of the past wrap themselves around him like insidious tentacles.

Do you believe you deserve to be alone?

Mobius' voice echoed in his head. Mobius who sometimes seemed to know him better than he did.

You could be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good.

Mobius, relentless, courageous, strong.

That's not how I see it.

Mobius who had seen far beyond the sum of Loki's mistakes, who had made Loki see that he was worth more than the glorious purpose he thought he was destined for.

There was no turning back for Loki, not after tasting Mobius' care and love.

Mobius was sleeping peacefully next to him, unaware of his lover's torment.

Then, just by seeing him, the tentacles loosen their hold and move away. The shadows return to their place while Loki clings to the light that seems to flow from Mobius.

Mobius, who was right there, at his fingertips.

Loki's breathing steadied and he moved closer, until he felt the warmth emanating from Mobius' body and he couldn't resist touching him. He ran his fingers gently through the disheveled gray hair and gently brushed Mobius' cheek. His lover just lets out a small sigh of contentment before turning to him and slowly opening his eyes.

He groaned softly, "Loki... is it time to get up yet?"

"No, love, you can go back to sleep."

Loki was already annoyed with himself for waking Mobius and hoped that he would go back to sleep soon, but that was without counting on his lover's perspicacity when it came to Loki.

Mobius opened his eyes fully, wide awake and asked with a look of concern, "Did you have a nightmare?"

Loki tried to play it down, "It's okay it passed, I'm fine."

Mobius didn't wait for Loki to finish his sentence and pulled him towards him to encase him in his arms. Loki wrapped himself around him automatically, Mobius's warmth making the insidious cold his nightmare had caused to linger inside him fade away.

"You want to talk about it?" asked Mobius against his hair after he had kissed the top of his head.

Loki closed his eyes as Mobius ran his thumb along his cheekbone, and taking a deep breath, he launched into the story of his nightmare.

When he finished his recounting, Mobius sighed, "I'm so sorry Loki, I often think I was cruel to let you see that.  Especially when you have these kinds of nightmares. I should have found another way to make you see the truth. I could pretend that I never intended for you to see the movie of your life to the end, but that would be a lie. In my blindness I was willing to do anything to make you see the truth."

Loki whispered against Mobius' chest, "I don't know, Mobius. Cruel it was, but no more so than some of my actions. Knowing that you regret it helps me a lot and especially knowing that something good came out of it. By that I mean you and me, us. So in the end, it was a bad for a good."

Mobius kissed Loki's head again and Loki in response snuggled even more against his lover's warm body.

Mobius whispered, "I find you are so forgiving of me. Even if I didn't know, I have no excuse for the cruelty of my past actions, as Sylvie said, annihilating entire realities, orphaning little girls, these are horrible acts.  Whatever cause I did those things for, it was wrong. Contrary to what I told Sylvie, I no longer believe that the ends justify the means. I beg your forgiveness for the hurt I caused you."

Loki raised his head and gently embraced Mobius.

His eyes shining with emotion, he raised his hand and put it against Mobius' cheek. Then looking into his eyes, he said with a voice that did not tremble, "The fact that I am here in your arms should already give you the answer, that I have already forgiven you everything as I am as certain as you have forgiven me for what I have done. Mobius, you and I are trying to atone for our past mistakes, and we'll have to learn to forgive ourselves."

He kissed him again before cuddling up to him once more.

They had both thought they were in control, but it was only an illusion created by those who had actually controlled them.

Then Loki felt a new strength within him that he drew directly from the knowledge that he too could bring comfort to Mobius. He too could be a force for Mobius.

Balance. Harmony.

What could be more glorious than to be loved unconditionally by the person who has seen everything about you?

Loki thought to himself that none of his past dreams of greatness could have given him the sense of accomplishment he felt at that very moment.

Each had become the other's strength.

Each knew they could let go, because the other was there to catch them.

"Thank you." Mobius murmured against his hair.

They fall asleep like this, held tightly to each other, and tonight there will be no more nightmares to drag them into the darkness.

________

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

Next day: Bad Habits

Challenge List here

[st0rmyskies]

Psssttt, Stormy. I don’t know if you were taking requests on the Winter OTP prompts, but if you *are* could I perhaps request Sky/Twi/Wars with the prompt 22: “Here, take my scarf.”??

Oooo sure, why not! You know I love me some OT3.

Before they even bothered to pry themselves out from beneath blankets and furs, they could hear the whisper of snow against the outside of their tent. It was pleasantly warm inside their little canvas bubble. When Warriors unfastened the tent flap, though, it let in a burst of Snowpeak chill that made Sky whine as he hide his face beneath the blankets.

"Come on, up we get," Warriors said, his eyes shining bright as they reflected the white of the sky. "We need to head out."

"Five more minutes," Sky grumbled into Twilight's pelt.

Twilight yawned as he sat up, dutifully rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "The longer we wait, the more snow there'll be to obscure the trail," he mumbled. Even he suppressed a shiver, though, in the face of Termina's bitter northern wind.

"A little chilly, are you?" Warriors teased as he crouched down in one corner of the tent to start pulling on his outer layers. "Here," he offered as he blindly held out a familiar strip of blue fabric, "why don't you take my scarf?"

He felt a tug in one direction and then a second before the material was pulled taut in his hand. He looked up to find that Twilight had grabbed one end of the scarf, Sky the other, both of them assuming in their half-sleep that they were the one to whom the privilege had been offered. Twilight was too tired to censor his frown. Sky answered with a tepid glare from beneath his nest of blankets, pulling his end of the scarf into the darkness like an ornery pyrup.

Warriors snorted as he put up his hands. "You two get to sort that one out."

He was the first to exit their tent while Twilight and Sky spent a good long while shuffling about in the tiny space and mumbling to one another. So Wars went around camp, waking the other heroes and alerting them to the changing weather. By the time he made it back to their little tent, his partners were awkwardly crawling out into the cold all bundled up in their warmest layers. Twilight must have won the argument, and he looked just dashing in that rich shade of sapphire.

But when Warriors saw that Sky had a slip of blue wrapped up to his nose, he had a brief moment of panic -- Did the brutes tear his scarf in half!? -- until he realized that the pair had tethered themselves to one another with the long scarf.

"What?" Twilight's grin was full of mischief. "It's long enough."

"I'm not giving it back," Sky threatened, sleep still heavy in his eyes as he stubbornly trudged off through the snow behind Twilight.

[cryptidvoidwritings]

So, @falasta, remember how you wanted Tuggoffelees OTP answers and I was like "oh yeah, totally" and then I forgot and never did them?

I'm a failure. orz

🎉🎉🎉happy birthday(!)(?) 🥳🥳🥳

1. Who fell for the other one first?

Mistoffelees, actually.

2. Was it love at first sight?

Not exactly but not, not at first sight. Mistofelees's humans are wealthy and doting and determined to keep him inside. The first time he got out was by accident; he'd caught a kitty cold and one particularly loud sneeze shocked his magic into bamfing him through the window. Unfortunately, he bamfed directly onto a passing dog, who did not take kindly to it. The dog slipped its leash and chased him into an alley. Sick as he was, Mistoffelees couldn't figure out how to get his magic to bamf him to safety. In comes a Tomcat twice his size, growling like the avenging fury of the Everlasting, and fights the dog off. And then, and then this great hulking golden beast turns to him and holds an arm asking if he’s okay and Mistoffelees’s eyes go a little hazy because wow that’s a pretty cat and his heart skips a beat or two. And he passes out. (The next day he wakes up and that great hulking beast has the nerve to remind him of this indignity and of Mistoffelees sneezed a bit too hard and the beast lost a bit of fur around the tail and had to be shaved down like a show cat, well…)

3. Was it lust at first sight?

It’s possible. Mistoffelees was half-delirious and snotty; Tugger was bleeding in multiple places and the next day he just happened to lose fur in a magical sneezing accident. Neither was in a position to notice if they listed after the other at first sight.

4. What do physical trait do they love the most about each other?

Mistoffelees adores Tugger's sheer size; he loves having Tugger curled up around him and blanketing him with his fur like a giant furry shield.

Tugger thinks that Mistoffelees's extra fluffy chest fur is the cutest thing in existence, especially how it sticks out from under his little bow-tie collar. He sometimes pushes his face into it and falls asleep.

5. What personality trait do they love the most about each other?

Mistoffelees is very book smart. Tugger will prompt conversations about his latest obsessions just to watch him get excited and animated over them.

Mistoffelees, meanwhile, finds Tugger's almost absentminded expressions of thoughtfulness and constant physical contact very endearing. 6. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other?

Mistoffelees is forever leaving pens and pencils everywhere because they're easy to use for magic tricks, either for practice or shows. Tugger is always half on the lookout for particularly cute ones so he can buy them.

Tugger is obsessed with penguins and Mistoffelees is slowly filling the house with penguin-themed things for him. 7. What is something they’d want to change about the other if they could?

Mistoffelees is a stubborn little thing. His competitive streak can sometimes overtake his usual good nature, which can be very exhausting for Tugger when he's just trying to get Mistoffelees to sleep before he hurts himself trying to perfect his latest trick.

Tugger is loud and showy and he will only dial it to 11 when he thinks he's been slighted unfairly. When he's in that sort of a mood he will instinctively take everything as an attack and he will snap back, aiming to hurt, without thinking.

8. Do they get along with each other’s friends and family?

Both in their own ways, Mistoffelees and Tugger were brought up very well (Mistoffelees comes from Old Money and all their manners, and Tugger has a performer's charisma). Due to this, they can generally get along pretty well with anybody.

9. Do their friends and family like their significant other(s)?

Victoria loves Tugger. LOVES. HIM. Bustopher Jones was initially a little skeptical, as he knew Tugger by reputation only, but trusted Mistoffelees's judgment. He found himself pleasantly surprised when they met and has since grown quite fond of Tugger. Alonzo wonders what he did to deserve a family with such bad taste.

Munkustrap and Old Deuteronomy both think the world of Mistoffelees, who brought out a sincerity in Tugger that they hadn't seen in years before him. 10. Have they had romantic partners before?

Yes. 11. Are they a healthy couple? If no, why not?

Yes. 12. Do they have potential to be healthy if they’re usually toxic?

n/a 13. Do they have potential to be toxic if they’re usually healthy?

If they were not quite as well adjusted as they are, yes. 14. What song fits them perfectly?

(I am terrible at questions like these.) 15. Do they like the same music?

Basically. Mistoffelees is a classical ballet dancer so his ear is used to classical music. When he's not dancing he prefers music that he can vibe to without making him feel like he should be stretching. Tugger favors 70s rock n' roll and epic movie soundtracks, but he also enjoys music for music's sake, so he'll listen to just about anything (often while trying to pick apart its structure and determine how it works).

16. Do they like the same food?

Yes, for the most part. Mistoffelees is not a fan of spicy food, however, whereas if Tugger's eyes aren't watering, it's not good enough. 17. What do they have in common?

Both enjoy music, dancing, swimming, and movies. 18. What is their sex life like?

It's steady but unconventional. Mistoffelees isn't as sex-driven as Tugger is. He can be gotten into the mood, but part of their arrangement is that Tugger may have casual external partners (always vetted by or friendly with Mistoffelees, and sometimes while Mistoffelees watches). 19. Would they ever lie to each other? Why or why not?

They might lie in the sense of keeping things a surprise at special occasions, but never about anything that's actually important. 20. Are they interested in marriage? Why or why not?

To each other, yes, eventually. 21. Are they interested in having children? Why or why not?

Yes, eventually. 22. Do you have other ships that resemble your OTP?

Proooobably? (Still not sure what this question means.) 23. Is there top/dom and bottom/sub energy?

Not particularly. Mistoffelees prefers bottoming because he likes the feeling of being taken care of, but they do switch occasionally and their energy is about equal.

24. Are there any kinks or fetishes they share or don’t?

Mistoffelees likes to occasionally drop in and watch Tugger with his external partners, and Tugger likes being watched. 25. Are they sentimental about gifts they’ve received from each other?

Tugger has kept everything that Mistoffelees has ever given him. Tugger's gifts to Mistoffelees tend to be things like food and fancy chocolates since the physical items he buys are typically specifically for Mistoffelees to use when practicing magic. Tugger will occasionally buy Mistoffelees an item of clothing that he knows will look amazing, and Mistoffelees hoards these and guards them jealously. 26. What holidays do they like?

The four solstices are the big holidays in their house. 27. How do they feel about Valentine’s day?

They're both kind of 'meh' about it on the whole, but both buy each other flowers anyway. 28. Are they jealous/possessive of each other?

Both are possessive of each other. 29. Do they like public display of affection?

Yes, quite a lot. Tugger is constantly kissing the top of Mistoffelees's head, or the back of his hand, and Mistoffelees loves that Tugger is so open to physical affection (which his very Upper-Class family was not) so he indulges all the time. 30. Do they enjoy dancing?

Yes, especially with each other. 31. What’s a perfect date for them?

Often they will try to outdo the other for whom can come up with the most outrageous date, but sometimes all they want is a quiet night in with a movie. 32. How do they comfort each other?

Tugger hides Mistoffelees from the world in his fur. Mistoffelees nuzzles into Tugger and tells him stories of all the shenanigans he and Victoria and Alonzo got up to when they were kittens. 33. Who is the big spoon and why?

Tugger. Mistoffelees wants it, revels in the feeling of being held, and Tugger is happy to provide.

34. What’s their favorite nonsexual activity together?

Tugger plays the piano for Mistoffelees to dance to, and inevitably they wind up dancing together in the living room. 35. How do they deal with being away from each other for a long time?

If Tugger is the one going away, Mistoffelees goes back to the childhood home and mopes, hoping Victoria and Uncle Bustopher will distract him. If Mistoffelees is the one heading out on the road, Tugger records songs and stories for him to listen to.

In winter Tugger steals Mistoffelees's favorite scarf; if it's summer he'll just take Mistoffelees's pillow so he has something that smells like Mistoffelees at night.

Both of them call each other constantly.

36. What is their favorite place to kiss the other? (Cheek, hand, closed eyelid, neck, nose, etc.)

Tugger loves to kiss Mistoffelees's hands. He's amazed by them, and it's well worth it to watch Mistoffelees blush, without fail.

Mistoffelees's favorite place to kiss is Tugger's neck, especially the sensitive spot just behind his ear.

37. Have they ever hurt each other on accident?

Yes. 38. Have they ever hurt each other deliberately?

Yes. 39. Who gets hit on the most?

Tugger, largely because he puts himself out to be noticed so Mistoffelees can have his space from too many strangers.

40. Who tries to distract the other when they’re trying to do something else?

Tugger tries to distract Mistoffelees in the middle of doing magic all the time.

41. Who is, overall, the smarter one?

Overall it's Mistoffelees. Once he got the hang of the streets, he figured out how to handle himself. Tugger is not stupid by any means, but he doesn't care enough to apply himself to book learning and he can get by on a lot due to his size and charisma.

42. Who is the sensible mature one?

They trade off maturity depending on the situation. 43. Do they fight a lot?

No. 44. How do they make up after a fight?

Cuddling, sweet nothings, tea, and affirmations that the hurt was valid and the other will be careful. 45. If one of them forgot to log out of their SoMe, what would their partner do?

(I still don't know what a SoMe is.) 46. How do they make each other laugh?

Part of the reason that Mistoffelees is vague and aloof is that his instinct when it comes to conversations is to make bad pun jokes. Tugger thinks these are hilarious.

Tugger will sing songs in the vein of Tom Lehrer, Noel Coward, and Monty Python, which Mistoffelees loves; but he will just as often scoop him into his arms and carry him around, sometimes with a gentle tickle.

47. Are they extroverts/introverts?

Tugger is an extrovert, Mistoffelees is an introvert. 48. Who would bring home a homeless animal?

Both. 49. Do they match outfits for special occasions?

They definitely have matching ugly Christmas sweaters, and suits for black-tie dinners. 50. Who would protect who in a dangerous situation?

Depends on the situation. Once Mistoffelees's magic comes into its own and he grows comfortable with using it, it's no contest that he is as good a protector as anyone else, if not better. His magic reacts with a thought and it's very strong. But his magic is better for scaring an attacker off or going toe to toe with another magical cat, and he's gotten so good at using it that he forgets other options exist sometimes. When it comes to a situation that needs quick decisions and fast reflexes, that's Tugger's purview.

[nightklok]

Kloktober Day 1 Prompt

Prompt: Favorite Character and OTP Pairing: Picklegail (Pickles the Drummer/Abigail Remeltindtdrinc) Title: The war is over and we are beginning Characters: Pickles the Drummer, Abigail Remeltindtdrinc, Eclair (cat), band members and charles are only mentioned Trigger Warnings: Very slight angst, very slight mention/discussion of trauma/PTSD. Tags: Some dark humor, mentioned trauma, discussion of trauma, fall, post galagtikon 2, hopeful/happy ending Summary: It's the first fall Pickles has realized he's lived through in years.

Author's Note: Yes this is...6 days late-But i still wanted to publish this anyway so enjoy :')

Read this fic on AO3 or read below!

The first day of fall fell on a Saturday.

And Pickles would realize it was the first time he had actually been aware of fall in years.

He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the leaves change or pumpkin picking or any of the fall activities he sparingly went to as a kid. He simply had no time, family, or desire to do any of those things as he grew older. He had the sudden moment of sadness that he had missed another fall but told himself fall was gonna come back next year and he’d just look at the leaves harder next fall. But he never did.

But now, he had the time. A lot of it. And a fresh perspective on life and just how wonderful living a quiet life was.

Getting to sleep in on a Saturday morning with the person he loved the most and having nothing else to do for the day was one of them. Normally, Abigail was the one who woke up earlier but for the weekend, it got to be the opposite. He could get up in an hour, make some breakfast and they could see about doing something together. Whether it’s going outside or staying in and watching something. But at the moment, he was content enough just sleeping.

But it wouldn’t last long sadly. Despite nothing important needing to be done for the day, he was woken up by the sound of meowing and a cat smacking his face.

Éclair, their beautiful cat they found outside a K-Mart, happened to like going on walks in the morning. And she was very persistent about her walks being exactly at 7:13 AM. It was 7:13 AM.

“C’mon, it’s Saturday,” He murmured as he pulled the blanket closer to his face, hoping that he could sleep for just a few more minutes.

But Éclair had no concept of time and would continue pawing at the sheets and when she began whining, he knew that his time sleeping in was already over. He didn’t want to wake her up and figured she deserved the extra hour of sleeping.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take you on a walk,” Pickles finally answered as he used a hand to gently push her away just so he could sit up. He was careful to not disturb Abigail but he saw her move and murmur something he couldn’t quite hear. He had to assume by the tone that she meant she was gonna do it. She always tried to even when he told her to sleep in on weekends.

“Just go back to sleep, babe, I’ll take care of it.” He answered quickly as he got out of bed but she was already sitting up.

“I’ll come with you.” She answered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes., “Just give me a few minutes.”

There was no convincing otherwise and he was too tired himself to argue. He quickly snuck in a kiss before he got out of bed, “Alright, take your time.”

By the time he had thrown on some clothes and made himself look presentable enough, Abigail was already by the front door, kneeling down to leash Éclair. Despite them taking the same time to get ready, she looked like she had spent much more time doing it. Then again, she always looked beautiful to him regardless of how much time she spent.

He really did save the world to get to see today huh.

She stood up once she leashed the cat and turned to look at him with that small smile he always loved, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” He answered as he made sure he put the house keys in his pocket before opening the door to let her out first before himself. Éclair already began wandering around the front lawn, as far as her leash would go.

They were hit by a cool breeze that gently swayed the trees surrounding them, causing some of the red and orange leaves to fall gracefully onto the ground. The trees weren’t entirely turning their leaves yet but the appearance was showing much more by the day. And each day only meant another normal day. The worst was behind them.

“You sure you don’t wanna get a jacket?” She asked.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Got my own body heat.” He answered before he pulled her slightly closer enough to feel her skin heat up by the touch, “Besides I know how you can warm me up if I get cold.”

She wanted to mention about the neighbors or anybody seeing them but there was no one around at the moment. It was just them enjoying the early morning fall, the cool breeze and quiet excitement for a new season that just begun.

“Well, are you cold now?” She asked as she pulled him a bit closer.

He didn’t say anything else but reached up to kiss her, feeling her warm lips as they pressed against his. It felt as compassionate as the other thousands of kisses they must’ve shared in their lifetime. Honestly, he could probably find the same feelings he felt kissing her when he got a first kiss; the excitement, anticipation and pure love that he got to kiss someone he loved.

Their kiss was interrupted when she felt her leash getting tugged by Éclair who had grown impatient of them. She sat as far as the leash would let her, looking up at them expectantly. Amused, they walked past their front lawn to the sidewalk but felt the leash being pulled once again. They turned around to find her sitting still, meowing impatiently.

“C’mon, wanna walk a bit more? No? Okay.” Pickles answered with a laugh as Abigail went to pick her up. Almost immediately, she climbed up on her shoulders as she always preferred.

Her idea of walking outside was to walk a few steps and one of them had to pick her up for the rest of the walk. Walking around a block required too much energy. Did they expect her to actually walk alongside them every morning? Yes. Did she never fulfill that dream? No. But they also fed into her routine and nature, it wasn’t just their house anymore after all.

There was no use in arguing with a stubborn cat. She had made her territory in Abigail’s shoulder and they simply had to go along with it. She adjusted the leash so the other end of it would hook onto the inner jacket pocket that had a small sewn in hole meant for earphones. Once she made sure that the leash was secure inside, she reached over to hold his hand who quickly took it.

They took the usual route around the block. Shoes crunched against freshly fallen leaves, the wind picked up slightly again causing the leaves around them to move gently against the wind to a new area. If Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Apple Cider weren’t a symbol that fall was approaching, it was the leaves.

Pickles did try to remember when he last fall. Was it when he was a kid? A teen, maybe? He always fled before fall approached somehow. Always ended up in an area where he could not see the seasons change and everything remained a stagnant season the whole time.

But there was nothing to run from anymore. He could stay and watch the seasons change and turn forever if he wanted to now. Is this what freedom really feels like?

“Do you wanna go grab some coffee at the coffee shop?” She asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He quickly snapped his attention back to her and nodded, “Yeah, actually, the one two blocks from here, right?”

“Yep.”

He knew she knew that something was on his mind but she thankfully didn’t say anything. She already knew enough that he would speak when he was ready and he was always thankful for being able to fill in the gaps when he couldn’t speak. And she would always be thankful when he knew what she meant to say when she could barely get a word. It was a secret language between the two that no one but them knew and it was one they were both incredibly fluent in.

The coffee shop was a mom-and-pop one located on the end of the corner. LGBT friendly (Did he ever find those kind of coffee shops growing up?) and even had a small corner of the area for younger kids to play with. It was one of the places that they always loved frequently going to-if they weren’t well known to the world, they would’ve been known pretty well to the baristas.

“I can take Éclair, you can go order for us.” Pickles said. There were seats outside and given the weather, it wouldn’t be so bad to just sit outside and drink coffee while enjoying nature.

“Alright. The usual?”

“Surprise me.”

Pickles managed to take Éclair off her shoulder and set her down when he found a seat with decent shade. He tied the leash to the pole of the table but she seemed uninterested in exploring and instead jumped on his lap, presumably to take a quick nap.

He checked his phone while he waited, trying to catch up on whatever missed emails and posts from friends he had missed. Admittedly, going from seeing his friends everyday to now once a week at most was one of the toughest things to shift to. From knowing everything that went on in their lives, his knowledge of their whereabouts now came from whatever they posted in the group chat or social media.

Toki’s selfie with Magnus over the Eiffel Tower during their backpacking in Europe route. Nathan’s blurry image of a kid playing with a gator from the alligator rescue/children’s daycare he had started with Rachel. Skwisgaar’s video of one of the songs he was working with Nathan. A prototype rollercoaster blueprint from Murderface for the Dethklok amusement parks he and Knubbler were in charge of. And Charles not sending a photo but reminding him through text about a meeting regarding his solo album.

It was a crazy feeling to have looking at the boys he had lived with for more than a decade suddenly doing their own things. Did he feel left out? Maybe things were moving too fast? Miss the old times? He didn’t really know.

He found himself staring at his screen for far too long until Abigail came back taking a seat in front of him, “They’ll be coming over in a few minutes.”

He set the phone down, “Alright, what’d you get me?”

“You did mention you wanted me to surprise, didn’t you?” She answered with a playful smile that was clear she wouldn’t go easy on him.

“C’mon, I gotta know if I’m allergic to it or not. Could very well be allergic to milk today and might not even know it.”

“Guess it’s up to you to find out then; I’m sure there’s an EpiPen somewhere.”

Of course, she wanted to ask what was wrong but she didn’t want to press him. She knew he would budge eventually, he always did, but it was just a matter of patience and hoping to catch him at the right time.

Eventually, the barista came with the tray of coffees and food she had ordered, including a puppuccino for Éclair who woke up and hopped down to get her treat when Abigail set it down to get everyone’s orders.

She set the pumpkin spiced coffee, cinnamon rolls and a breakfast sandwich in front of him. She had ordered the same pumpkin spice coffee and breakfast sandwich; she always tried to avoid desserts for breakfast but he quickly shoved in a cinnamon roll in her plate anyway, “Here it can be your cheat day.”

“But you made me macrons yesterday.” She pointed out.

“It was sugar-free. And you can’t just pass off on a warm cinnamon roll. It’s bad for the environment I saved.”

She contemplated not even long enough before agreeing. They were pretty good cinnamon rolls…, “Guess I’ll need to pay for your contributions. Alright, I’ll take it.”

Pickles grinned as he took a sip of the coffee. It was still hot but he refused to even express he burnt his tongue for the sake of looking cool, “Great, glad my hard work paid off.”

For as much as he joked around, he didn’t mention anything about what was bothering him for the rest of their breakfast.

He would mention it on the walk back home when it was Pickles’ turn to let Éclair lay on his shoulder and Abigail holding a bag of free treats that the baristas insisted they take home. A few desserts as payment for saving the world. It was well worth it.

“I forgot what fall was like.” Pickles finally said as he looked at her. He didn’t downplay his feelings by joking

“You did?” She asked.

“Yeah. It had been too long since I last saw leaves and everything else and whatever. I guess it’s making me realize how long I missed out on some things, y’know?”

She had to wonder how he even forgot about fall. Or the fact that his hair color always reminded her of it. It was the color of vibrant red autumn leaves, not quite ready to fall yet but when the sun hit it, it showed the intricate details and would even shine as bright as it sometimes. And how could she ever put that into the right words? Maybe it just wasn’t the right moment, “Nostalgia?”

“I-I guess it’s that. Yeah. Nostalgic for the old things I guess. I was too used to that life. And I’m very happy with you, I really am! I’m doing more of the things now than I did before, but it’s hard to just completely let go of the past.”

Of course, he thought she would get offended which is why he didn’t look at her. Here he was clinging to his past again like some spoiled brat. If only he didn’t open his mouth. He probably seemed so ungrateful-

But he was met instead with warm hands taking his and he looked up to a very understanding Abigail, “I understand. There’s some things I miss and feel nostalgic for too. I don’t expect you to not miss those things. These things just end up happening, it’s part of natural life.”

“I guess…it’s just a lot harder to adjust than I thought. I’m sorry if I’m just dumping this on you, though. I know that this hasn’t been easy for you either.”

It wasn’t easy when Abigail could barely sleep without getting horrific nightmares that he had stayed up most nights worrying about. It wasn’t easy when Pickles ended up getting horrific nightmares too when he came back home, and he had yet to tell her all that he dreamt about. Their future kids, grandkids even, and even the current neighborhood kids would ask for stories of their heroism. Do they even dare talk about the price that was paid for it?

It couldn’t even be said that they had overcome it. The nightmares were less frequent, yes, but they were there. All it took was one bad night to ruin a week or month even. The horrors of their past would most likely be there for the rest of their lives, looming over and ready to strike when things seemed to be better.

But they made it so far together too. What’s another mile anyway?

“It hasn’t been easy but we’re both getting there.” She paused her walking to look at him, “We made it so far together, after all. I don’t expect you to be okay the same way you don’t expect me to be okay either, right? I’m not gonna ask you to do anymore than you already are doing and what you’re doing is enough.”

“And if it’s not enough? God, what if I’m just fucking up right now? There’s no way I can just…I don’t even know what. It’s just terrifying to be falling down that dark path again.”

She watched as Éclair looked up to the leaves around them, eyes completely dilated to look at the world around her. A leaf would just brush past her, failed to be caught and it fell to the ground.

Of course the leaves would eventually be raked. Whatever wasn’t thrown out or burned would eventually become mulch for the soil. Would help provide for the soil when spring rolls around. Then everything will grow again. Everything will be okay.

“If we fall again, we start over and flourish.”

—

“What was your last memory with fall if you don’t mind my asking?” Abigail asked that evening. They sat in the living room couch, sharing a blanket as they watched Knives Out. It would quickly become a tradition for them to watch whatever fall-related movies there were just to get in the spirit.

He paused for a moment, before finally coming up with an answer, “I met you, didn’t I? We were at that fall event Cornickelson used to host. It was probably a few years before you became Dethklok’s music producer? But anyway, we were paired at the same table and I was probably awkward as fuck right then and there but you still wanted to talk to me. We went to the garden and we just ended up talking about everything. God, I felt like a teenager with their first crush when I was with you. I never got to say that your hair color reminded me of the leaves.”

[raith-way]

Ryan and Bruce

Cute 20 & Spooky 18

Thank you for the ask/prompt! I love these two, which is why I wrote for them first, and I actually managed to write something non-angsty for them!

Ryan & Bruce [otp: mutually assured destruction]

Warm Welcome [cute #20: first frost of the year]

Ryan woke up to two very unexpected surprises, and she added in the unexpected despite the obvious definition of the word surprise because of how caught off guard she was. The sweater she had fallen asleep in did nothing to ward off the chill as she emerged from unconsciousness, and she hissed as cold air hit her bare legs after swinging her blanket off of her. It’d been cold the night before, but not so cold that she’d felt the need to find a pair of pants to sleep in or even pull on a pair of socks. Now she hopped from foot to foot as she crossed the wooden floors of her bedroom, and her breath showed in a pale cloud in front of her face as she moved to the single window in her bedroom. Ice had crept across the glass while she slept, and she pressed her fingers against the edge of forming frost. She was shivering, acutely aware of the temperature since all she was wearing was the sweater and a pair of panties, but she couldn’t stop looking outside long enough to go find some more clothes.

In Banshee City, there was never any real snow. Occasional ice, yes, but not until much closer to Christmastime. She hadn’t been expecting it to get this cold, this fast. Down below, people were fully bundled up and moving quickly to get to their destinations. (The people here always moved quickly, as a safety precaution, but it seemed like the cold gave them some extra motivation to get to where they were going.) Outside, ice had formed along everything. The rough bricks of the buildings, the cracked sidewalks, and around the perimeter of her small window. Her breath puffed out against the glass, fogging it up, and she tugged her sweater sleeve down over her hand to wipe the glass. Small little circles until she could see the outside world again.

“You know.” She tensed at the sound of the voice and then instantly relaxed as she recognized it, and she turned to greet her second surprise of the morning as he continued talking. “My house keeps the internal temperature regulated. If you were there, you wouldn’t be shivering right now.”

“Bruce!” She saw his cheek twitch, under the thick scruff of a beard that he was apparently growing, just before she threw herself at him. She hadn’t been expecting him back for at least another week, possibly longer, but he was here. Arms caught her easily, swept her up into the air and pulled her in, and she locked her legs around the soft material of a padded jacket that still had cold ice starting to drip from the back of it.

“You miss me?” he asked as her arms wound around his neck. Bruce was freezing, especially against the bare parts of her skin, but she didn’t care. He’d been gone for almost a month, and she had missed him. Missed him enough to admit to it, just not to his face. So she ducked down to nuzzle under his jaw, felt the scrape of his beard against her cheek, and reached up to bury her cold fingers in his thick hair.

“I might have missed you, a little,” she whispered. He must have been wearing gloves at some point, because his hands were warm as they swept up her thighs to rest easily on her hips under her sweater. Technically, under his sweater that she had taken for herself.

“You could have missed me from the lakehouse.” His hands were warm against her back, pulling her tighter against him, and she shifted to run her cold nose against his cheek.

“And miss seeing you actually show up here? Not a chance,” she laughed. Bruce hated her apartment, hated that she had chosen to live in Gotham’s crime-filled East End, but she felt more at home here. At least, she did when Bruce was gone. The lakehouse didn’t feel like home without Bruce there.

“Will you come back with me now?” Ryan pulled back to look at him properly, and there was still a hint of a smile over his expression. Softening the line of his mouth and putting a little extra warmth in his eyes. Her hands moved to the front of his face, fingers scratching through the beard that was new and different against her skin, and she leaned forward to feel that newness against her lips.

“Only if you promise to keep this for a little bit longer,” she bargained. She tightened her thighs around him, just enough for him to feel the pressure, and felt one hand pressing solidly against the center of her back.

“Only if you promise to keep this on,” he added and used his other hand to pull on the bottom hem of the sweater she’d taken from his closet. She thought that over, the feeling of warm cotton and soft scruff against her skin, and pulled back with a smile.

“Deal.”

Here Lies [spooky #18: an ancient mausoleum, stone door crumbling]

The grass was so soft under her feet, a cushion for every step forward, but where were her shoes? Ryan never walked around outside barefoot, just in case something happened and she needed to take off running. She continued forward, and she looked up. The sky was dark, moon hanging full and swollen in the otherwise dark night, but she couldn’t see any stars. It should have been cold, but the breeze that lifted her hair from her neck was soothing. A balm against her aggravated skin, and her eyes closed as she kept moving forward. She didn’t need to have her eyes open to know where she was going. She let herself enjoy the moment. The tickle of grass against the bare bottoms of her feet, warm dew brushing against her ankles, and that rolling breeze under the starless night.

“This isn’t right,” she thought as the grass changed. The softness twisted, thickened and pushed, and her eyes stayed closed as she winced. Dead hardened grass cut against her skin, ripped at the bottoms of her feet and pulled above her ankles, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t go back. Had to keep pushing forward. The breeze was hot now, licking against the back of her neck like some great beast following at her heels.

Ryan opened her eyes as everything went perfectly still, perfectly quiet, and there was a door in front of her. Tall and imposing, thick stone, a darker gray even in the moonlight. One hand reached out, fingertips brushed against the center of the door, and she watched as it started to break. First, a single crack down the middle. Loud as thunder. She reached out with both hands, dug her fingers into the stone, and started to pull. Stone crumbled under her hands and landed at her feet, a fine dust to soothe the places where she was still bleeding, and she couldn’t stop. Kept pulling and tearing at the door, and when did she start screaming? Her throat burned as she screamed up at the sky, at the moon that loomed above her and slowly started to bleed red, and the stone door was crumbled into nothingness. Not even dust was left on her fingertips, and she locked her teeth together as she continued forward.

The inside of the mausoleum was cold, freezing. Her bare feet burned against the cold floor as she walked inside, and the air burrowed under her clothes to slip under her skin. This was an ancient place, colder than the deepest depths of hell, and she wanted to run. Wanted to be back in Bruce’s warm bed, with his solid arms around her and grounding her, but she couldn’t stop. She kept walking forward, always forward, and her bottom lip quivered as she looked to her right. The walls were stone, just as solid as the door had been, with names carved deep into them.

Emil Dietrich.

Her step-father always had grease on his hands, from the mechanic’s shop, and he had laughed with his entire body.

Maria Dietrich.

Her mother had a soft voice, perfect for singing lullabies and telling bedtime stories, and she had smelled like lemon and vanilla.

Harrison Dietrich.

The oldest of her younger brothers, sweet baby Harry, wanted to be an engineer. Wanted to build and create and make the world beautiful.

Bernard Dietrich.

Her littlest brother that was destined to tower over them all, fierce darling Bear, had wanted to know everything about everything. Had wanted to learn as much as he could.

Chelsea Dietrich.

Her baby sister, bubbly tenacious Chels, had been the brightest part of her life. Had come to her whenever she wanted to feel safe or needed a hand to hold.

Ryan’s fingers pulled at her hair, because she could hear them. Hear them all behind the stone, crying out. Screaming from the bullets and the fire, from the things that ripped them apart and turned them to ash. Asking where she was, why she wasn’t there with them. Hadn’t she been there with them? Torn apart, set ablaze, and locked in the darkness? Even Ryan’s screams couldn’t drown them out. Not even her apologies, for daring to keep breathing and for existing out in the light, could get them to quiet. She thought she could even hear the stone starting to shift, to break apart, as they tried to claw their way out of the darkness. She belonged with them and had left, so now they were going to join her. As the first stone cracked, allowing a small hand to slip free, Ryan stumbled away and turned to press her face against the opposite wall.

The mausoleum was filled with screams, begging questions and yelled accusations, and Ryan pushed harder against the stone wall as hands started to pull at her. Grease stained fingers around her ankles and a small hand curling around her left wrist. Her eyes opened as she was pulled back, as hands that smelled like rot and lemon circled softly around her throat, and she saw the name carved in the stone ahead of her. The name that she had pressed her face against. Thickly carved lines, stark and shining wetly in the darkness as more hands pulled her backwards. As words were whispered, asking her to stay. Telling her to stay where she belonged. Reminding her that she was never meant to leave in the first place. All she could see was that name, the only one carved on this side of the mausoleum.

Ryan Lopez.

“Ryan!”

The sound of her own name, being shouted right into her face, caused her entire body to lock up. She went completely still, senses straining and overwhelmed, and it took her a moment to realize what had happened. She’d been dreaming. The grass, the moon, the mausoleum. It had all been a dream. She was lying in Bruce’s bed, on her back with his soft sheets tangled around her ankles, and she was breathing too fast. Her entire body was pushing up against Bruce’s with every terror-filled breath, because Bruce was braced over her. Elbows sinking into the plush mattress on either side of her head, and she locked her gaze with his. The warm color of his eyes helped chase away the cold of the phantom mausoleum, and her fingers scratched against his back before flattening to push him down. She needed to feel him pressed against her, to hold her down and ground her in this moment, and she slowed her breathing to match his. To get them moving in sync. Hooked a leg around his waist and pulled every part of him against her, until she was fully compressed.

“Tell me you’ll keep me here.” Her voice was rough, she must have screamed in her sleep, and Bruce’s eyes were searching hers. Determined to find the reasoning behind her words without any context, and her legs wrapped around his as he flattened himself against her.

“Anyone that wants you, will have to go through me,” he promised her. It shouldn’t be comforting. She shouldn’t want him to stand between her and death, but she shook in relief and clawed her hands against his shoulders. Gripped the back of his hair and pulled him down.

“Don’t carve my name into stone,” she whispered against his chin. He pulled back enough to see her, for his warm breath to drift across her skin, and she’d been crying. The shifting air drifted across the wet tracks, leaving behind a lingering coldness. His eyes were analyzing, mind working through everything he knew about her, and he dropped to press his brow against hers. Pressed tight. His solid heat against her shaking softness.

“Ashes to ashes,” slipped across her lips. Ryan would never be buried. Her name wouldn’t be immortalized in stone. When she was done, she’d be ash. As she was meant to be.

“Bruce.” The hands had reached for her, pulled at her, begged her to come home to them. “Bruce.” She had wanted the darkness, still did sometimes, but she wanted this more. Wanted him more. “Bruce.”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Bruce said against her temple. He was blanketing her now, keeping her safe and protected from the world, and she slowly started to relax. Started to come back to herself. “You’re here, with me.”

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou@uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

[marastriker]

for the OTP ask: all of them. I'm not even kidding. Gimme gimme hrnnggg 🖤🖤🖤

ALRIGHT HERE WE GO

💚 First off, who is your OTP?

Electraboose <3

💐 Who tends to worry the most?

Electra, they're such an overthinker and a worry wart.

💋 Who is the most physically affectionate?

CB can not keep his grubby little gremlin hands to himself.

⛈ Do they enjoy dancing?

More than you would think, but I think Electra enjoys it far more than CB.

🌹⛈Who has the most nightmares and how do they deal with them?

CB definitely does. He has constant nightmares regarding his past and usually can't sleep afterwards. He's tried splashing cold water on his face and all that, but Electra being beside him and caressing his back helps far more than anything else ever could.

🌺 Do they go to sleep at the same time as each other?

No. Electra is responsible and gets a full 8+ hours of sleep every night but CB is a bit of an insomniac. He stays up and tinkers or asks weird questions until he can actually fall asleep.

⚡ What are their nicknames for each other?

CB calls Electra: Lex, Lexi, Thunderdome, Sparky, Livewire,

Electra calls CB: Ceeb, Ceeby, Boosey, Gremlin, Cherry Pie, Cherry Bomb

🍃 What do they do when the other is stressed?

When Electra is stressed, CB tries to distract them with humor. It always works, CB is genuinely very funny and it helps Electra destress to just take a breather and laugh.

When CB is stressed, Electra gives him a massage and gets him to talk about anything other than what's stressing him out. Even something as simple as, "tell me about this piece of equipment, it looks complicated."

🌻 How do they spend time if the other is gone?

CB usually spends his time working on radio equipment or art, he's gotten into painting/sculpting as a type of therapy.

Electra spends time with their components, but enjoys giving themself a nice spa day to relax without the little gremlin around to interrupt. (They love CB in spite of how obnoxious he can be, but they definitely do need a break from time to time.)

🎮 Do they have a favourite video game they enjoy playing together?

CB loves first person shooters like Borderlands, but also plays some occasional Fortnite because he is 12 at heart.

Electra likes simple platformers and finds Undertale to be extremely fun, but has recently gotten into more fantasy esque games that still match their preferred gaming style. Ori and the Blind Forest is perfect for them. They love the little puzzles but the art is just so incredibly beautiful too.

💍 Would they ever get married?

They absolutely would eventually and Electra would be the one to mention it first. CB joke proposed with a ring pop, but Electra knew he was serious about wanting to be together forever, so they buy him a ruby ring and officially proposes. (They also have three kids, a girl who's a caboose and twin electric boys).

✨ Who proposes?

Oops already answered this lol

👑 Who is the meme lover?

Oh god that ain't even a question, CB. He is a memelord.

📚 Who likes to read?

Also CB, he may be silly, but he's still very smart and enjoys reading what most people find boring. Electra is spoiled and kind of thinks it's a waste of time if they can just look it up in their database.

🎩 Who bothers the other person while the other person reads?

Electra bothers CB all the time when he's trying to read. Electra is just like, hun I can just look that up for you, you know. You don't have to waste your time reading that big book.

Have you considered that I want to read the big book

........no?

🌼 How do their personalities complement each other?

CB's wild energy and Electra's calm, cool, collectedness balance each other out. Sometimes they do switch, when Electra is throwing a tantrum and CB thinks whatever the issue is is silly and not something to worry about. They just know how to approach things how the other wouldn't think to and it helps them solve their issues together a lot better

🔥 Who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner?

Electra won't just punch, but zap whoever dared to shit talk their little gremlin

💀 What would they dress up as, for Halloween?

While GB and Dinah would do more classic couples costumes, CB and Electra would do the dumbest couples costumes. Like a plug and an outlet lol.

🌈 What are their favourite colours?

Electra loves blue and CB loves red obviously, but Electra has a soft spot for pink colors and CB really likes yellow.

🌹 Who is the hopeless romantic?

CB, but not in a traditional sense. He wants to share all of these things that he THINKS is romantic, but Electra is just like??? Babe why are we at a playground

I WANNA PUSH YOU ON THE SWINGS

🎭 Who is the dramatic one?

Electra, it's just in their nature to be a diva.

🎈 Who makes jokes during inappropriate times?

100% CB. He doesn't know how else to handle tough situations other than completely breaking down.

💝 What do they love about each other the most?

CB loves Electra's class and poise. He wishes he could be that composed and intimidating.

Electra loves CB's childlike wonder and insane genius. They're actually kinda jealous to admit that CB is smarter than them.

👓 Who googles everything?

Electra. It's how they come up with quick answers to everything.

🌙 How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation?

Electra reminds CB by all means that he is NOT alone. Not anymore. If he's ever having trouble or feels helpless, Electra is always there for him no matter what.

CB makes sure that Electra is able to rationally approach the issue instead of resorting to short circuiting.

🍂 What is an inside joke they have?

They call "having sex" some of the weirdest things. CB suggested it, since he's already so used to speaking in code.

💟 What do you think makes them perfect for one another?

They balance each other's shortcomings out really nicely. CB teaches Electra to have fun and be a kid again. Let loose. Not worry so much about looking perfect all the time. And Electra helps CB be more grounded and adult when he needs to be. They fit each other like missing puzzle pieces <3

🌷 Are you nervous to talk about your OTP? Why?

no i could talk about these idiots all day

🧵 Is your OTP Oc x Canon?

...I choose to believe it is canon........

🎵 What's a song (or songs) that remind you of your OTP?

Accidently In Love by the Counting Crows

Anything for You by Ludo

THANK YOU so MUCH for the ASK i love THESE IDIOTS