#otp: the night unfurls

[sprout-fics]

Ooh I love the OTP questions you reblogged! If you’re doing them, could I request 22, 42, 51 for Ghost x Fix? Those two have my whole heart 😭 ❤️

(Or whichever OTP you’d like)

Thank you 😊

Thank you so much anon!! ❤️❤️❤️

22. What reminds each of their partner?

For Fix: The color of coffee reminds her of Simon's eyes. Bourbon, the smell of wood burning, ink blotted on paper, fog misting under streetlights. Things that are dark, edged with a touch of mystery. They feel like an embrace. Home. For Simon: Cornflowers, rare despite their hardy nature. He catches bare glimpses of them in the spring, unfurling in the sun. Worn paperbacks, the smell of her shampoo (rose petal and bergamont) Evidence of being alive, of being here and enduring despite everything.

42. What’s their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Snowed in together- the long dark twilights of winter where the snowglow paints the world dusky shades of pink and purple. The fireplace crackles as she reads a mystery novel with her head on his lap. Simon cleans one of his knives. Neither of them say it, but it reminds them of that first night. The one in Nepal at the beginning of their story.

51. What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

In the rare instances where one of them is deployed and the other is not, they make sure to prepare for each other's return. Ghost rinses Fix's hair as she slumps forward, exhausted down to the bone. Fix in turn gets Simon's heating pad ready for the old injuries she knows played up while he was in the field. Their language each other is profound in the acts of service, quiet and unspoken but together all the same.

[kendsleyauthor]

Daniel and Esmae for prompt 21- secretive

((OTP Prompts))

May I just say how absolutely STOKED @marydublinauthor and I are to see Daniel and Esmae getting a request?? These sweethearts bring us so much joy, and we haven't paid them a visit in ages 😭

I decided to write a story about mermaid!Esmae in honor of MerMay coming to a close soon!

You can read more about this AU here!

The Night Cove

Daniel considered it their cove. His and Esmae’s, even if she loved it more than him. In their months together, they had explored up and down the shore near the castle. This inlet, with its massive rocky overhang and calm waters, was Esmae’s favorite.

Daniel might have loved it more if not for the black rocks that jutted above and below the surface. He’d gotten better at not scraping himself, but nighttime visits always ended in a few mishaps. He could already feel the sting of a few cuts.

Esmae, of course, had no trouble navigating the environment. Other than a few torches Daniel had lit up on the shore, she was the only source of light. Her magenta glow darted about in the water like living starlight. 

Having found a relatively comfortable rock to lean against, Daniel observed with with stunning clarity as she made a beeline for him. Surfacing, she hefted something proudly over her head.

“What’ve you got now?” he asked softly.

A tiny orange starfish—well, tiny to him. It was nearly the size of her torso.

Bringing himself lower in the water, Daniel inched his palm closer for Esame to place the tiny creature in his hand. She appeared greatly entertained whenever he interacted with little things from her world.

He brushed the starfish with his fingertip, raising his eyebrows at the curious sensation of its arms unfurling calmly against his palm. 

Esmae watched raptly, an endeared smile on her face. It’s very sweet, how gentle you are. I didn’t think humans were capable of that. Although she couldn’t speak to him above water, he memorized every word she graced him with when he joined her below the surface.

As she reached for the starfish to return it home, the sash around her upper body slipped a bit, revealing enough to make Daniel blush. She caught his expression and broke into a silent giggle. She adjusted the cloth and gave him a pointed look. Will you be alright after seeing all that skin, you poor thing?

Apparently, merpeople had a different idea of what body parts could be casually exposed. He never ordered Esmae to cover herself, but his flushed face and avoidant gaze were distractingly funny, according to her. He swore that sometimes she created a loose knot on purpose.

“Must you laugh at me every time?” he scoffed.

The grin on her face said it all. Her smooth skin brushed his palm as she took the starfish, prompting him to hold his breath. She was so soft—something he’d never been able to appreciate when he’d stupidly held her captive. Now, he felt unworthy of each bit of contact she gifted him with.

As she escorted the starfish away, she took the nearest source of light with her. As he began to turn in the direction of the shore, the water rippled in the firelight. He froze as something stirred beneath the surface—something that certainly wasn’t Esmae. 

A gray fin broke through with near silence.

Daniel froze, his mind rejecting what he saw. A shark shouldn’t have been tempted to enter such shallow waters—yet there it was, heading straight for him. He snapped out of his stupor and jolted back with a noisy splash. 

“Esmae,” he breathed, then raised his voice. “Esmae!”

His back hit one of the large rocks. He tried to shuffle to the side, looking around madly for Esmae’s glow while keeping track of the shark’s path. The scrapes on his arms and legs stung sharper than ever—had he drawn the beast right to their cove with his blood?

He shouted her name louder. The shark circled the rock, its fin dipping below and above the rippling water like a taunt. If he dared to pull away to escape, he had no chance of outmaneuvering the predator. Was this how Esmae felt when he’d found her trapped in the tidepool all those months ago?

Except this shark wasn’t overwhelmingly massive. Not to him. It could take a chunk of him, and he might survive. But Esmae… She’d be less than a mouthful to the creature.

As if the thought of that summoned her, a magenta glow bobbed into view beneath the clear water. A shout caught in Daniel’s throat.

Idiot! What was he thinking, shouting for her? He was drawing her right to her death.

“No!” he shouted. “Go back!” 

But she drew closer. Daniel tensed, then lunged out to get her to safety. The shark darted around the rock and tossed its head toward his arm. He snatched himself back, breathing heavily. 

Esmae paused. Her little, glowing form waved off Daniel flippantly. Then she approached the shark without an ounce of hesitation.

Daniel gaped as she swam alongside the beast. When the pair circled near, he swore he saw her little lips moving. He’d seen her play with fish before, but this was insane. 

Before he could think to duck under the water to hear what she was saying, the shark swam off, exiting the cove calmly.

Relief came gradually. He couldn’t believe either of them were safe. Even when Esmae swam up to him, he didn’t take his eyes off the shark’s direction until Esmae nudged his abdomen insistently. He flinched at her touch and looked down to find her peering up at him with an amused expression. She was so close, his slowing heartbeat picked up speed again.

“W-what on earth was that?” he stammered. “You were speaking to it? What did it want? How did you make it leave?” 

Her smile widened. At least she was entertained. She found his hand and gave his finger a downward tug. After another wary look at the open water, Daniel lowered himself under the surface, intent on getting an explanation from her. 

She took one look at his wide-eyed expression and giggled. He hadn’t heard her musical little voice for hours. “Are you alright?” she asked rather sweetly. She got comfortable near his hand, weaving her lithe form through his fingers.

All he could do was shrug in response.

She giggled again. “That shark helps guard my people. It ensures other predators stay away. My father has a way of convincing certain beasts to be on our side.” She leaned her cheek on his knuckle. “It must have followed me. It came to make sure I was alright.”

Short on breath, Daniel surfaced briefly. “You were able to speak with it?” he asked, struck with more wonder than fear now.

“No,” she said when he ducked down again. “It’d be a bit like talking to… to a dog or a horse.” She enunciated the animals’ names strangely, as they were wholly foreign creatures to her until recently. “I was able to send it off. Though, it’s a good thing they can’t speak. Otherwise, it’d tell my father where I’ve been spending my days.” 

She smirked conspiratorily at him. Daniel surfaced. It was rare she spoke of her people, least of all her father. Daniel knew for certain that her people wouldn’t be pleased if they discovered she had made contact with a human. Considering the awful two weeks he’d put her through when they met, Daniel could say little to defend humanity.

“I suppose it’s for the best we stay secretive,” he sighed. He gave another cursory glance at the water, relieved that he saw no more fins breaching the surface. He couldn’t shake how fantastically brave she was for putting herself between him and the beast. He peered down at her. “So—how can you tell the good sharks from the bad ones?”

There was a bit of a wild look in her eyes when he met her under the water again. She moved from his hand and tapped his nose teasingly. “I can’t. I suppose we just got lucky.”

[kit-middleton]

Teen Wolf 1st Watch - 1.12 to 2.04 (?)

I’m still worried about the adult men of Teen Wolf, to be honest. Except you, Sheriff, you’re fine sweetie. And Coach. Coach might be my favourite character in the entire show. His reaction to the chains unfurling from Stiles’ locker? Perfection!

I love the hot dads (and uncles) of Teen Wolf, they are ridiculously hot, but if this was real life, their behaviour would be really questionnable.

I need all of you to stay at least one arm’s length away from any and all teenagers who are not your children, all right?

Breakdown of things that delighted and/or worried me in this block of episodes.

Peter

To my surprise — but absolutely no one else’s — I loved Peter. I fully expected to adore him later (spoiler alert!), but his first appearance wasn’t promising. Ugh, who does that vain, selfish guy think he is? 

I had the same reaction to Andrew Scott’s Moriarty, and within five minutes I was in love.

So: yeah, terrifying and creepy. But he’s so amusing and weird (and Ian Bohen is just leaning into it so gleefully) that I love him. Can’t wait for him to come back.

On the “inappropriate with teenagers” list:

Complimenting Allison’s skin like he wants to wear it is both hilarious and much too creepy. Good job trying to be charming Peter!

Biting Lydia then lying on top of her with your face less than a foot away from Stiles? Uncomfortable.

Offering to bite Stiles while holding up his wrist like a Victorian vampire? Yeah, Stiles/Peter is in my top-3 OTP.

Chris

I will never stop loving JR Bourne. The voice, the eyes, the smile… Yeah, big crush. (And he is doing a marvellous Moriarty-level crazy job on Mayans, MC if that’s your kind of thing. Weirdly obsessed with wolves again over there too.)

I’m a bit confused by one sequence in 2.01, though: the grey-scaled scene where he breaks a car window (it better not have been Melissa’s car, Chris), drags Scott (a werewolf, so super strength?) out through the broken window, and threatens to kill him. Was that a flashback or a dream? I find it hard to believe it really happened. And then idiots Scott and Allison kept seeing each other in secret. (I believe it from Scott, but I thought Allison was smarter than that.)

On the “inappropriate with teenagers” list:

Shoving Stiles against a wall and getting much too close to his face in 1.12.

Shoving Scott against the fridge to threaten him the second time he has dinner at his house, risking being overheard by Colonel Tigh in season 2. (Does that make Chris a Cylon?) 

And this one is not being inappropriate with teenagers, but still really irresponsible: 

Using the Hale house as a training site and base of operations for the hunters. He knows Derek is still in town, right?

Leaving Allison (his darling daughter) tied up in the abandoned Hale house with a single young hunter. At night. So much could have gone wrong. How much do you trust that young man? How much do you trust Derek not to come back and get revenge? We know Derek better than that, but does Chris?

I’m not even mentioning the many times he’s been face-to-face with Jackson: at the end of season one, looking down at Jackson on his knees in the woods with that smirk; and putting his arm around Jackson’s shoulder to escort him out of the Hale house (did I mention THE HALE HOUSE?) in season 2. 

And God bless the directors or camera operators who linger on his ass at every opportunity. Thank you for your service.

Derek

Oh my God, Derek. Where do I start?

Maybe with the super weird way Peter’s death was filmed? Derek straddles him to finish him off, fine. But then he stands, one foot on either side of the corpse while he looks over his shoulder at the others and flashes his red eyes? Why was that blocking so weird? 

Derek gets a brand new personality in season 2. Does the Alpha power come with the personality of the person who had it before you? Because Derek with about 10-15% of Peter’s swagger is fun, but then it goes up to maybe 30% and that’s too much. The only times he felt like season 1 Derek was in his scenes with Stiles.

On the “inappropriate with teenagers” list:

Isaac. I wouldn’t say “inappropriate” so much as needlessly callous. Derek knows Isaac’s father abused him, but he roars in his face and completely terrifies him, then in a later episode, “trains” him by hitting him over and over again. Not cool, dude.

Erica. I suppose she is about 16, like Stiles and Scott, right? So what the fuck is adult Derek doing when talking to her in the morgue, stroking her calves and ankles, then grabbing her ankles and pulling her towards him, her legs either side of his hips? With the statutory rape in his past, shouldn’t he be trying not to use the seductive method to get teenagers on his side? Ugh. And because both actors are so clearly adults, the scene read as really hot, which made it extra disturbing. Thanks, I hate it.

Erica again. She jumps him and kisses him, hoping to distract. Fine, not his fault. But he kisses back for a really long time before he pushes her off. And when he does push her off, it is much too violent. I like Derek, and I get why he’s doing this, but I really, really don’t like it.

Erica, again (again). Derek looks like the douchebag twenty-something “dating” the 16-year-old when he picks Erica up at school. It’s on purpose to rile up Scott, but still. Ewww, Derek.

(Were the Stiles/Derek shippers already very active after season 1? Because this seems almost like overcompensating from the writers. I’m old enough to remember Smallville and the way Michael Rosenbaum was way too flirty with the 16-year-old boy in season 1 and in season 2 they had Lex pretty much marry 2 women. This feels like that.) 

Other random stuff:

Lydia is still my favourite of the kids, equal or a little bit ahead of Stiles.

Scott really needs to prioritize survival over Allison. Really. Stop thinking with your dick, man.

Jackson. Oh my god, Jackson. Calm down. Go to therapy. I don’t know, come out of the closet? You need help buddy, you are insufferable. 

Yay, ghost Peter! Now if he could speak a bit that would be great.

Victoria is terrifying. It’s kind of fun to discover that her husband is a big marshmallow while she is ice-cold flint. (Silver and Flint, ha!)

Who is creepy photographer guy? And why does he look about 35 when he’s meant to be a high school student?

[vakarians-babe]

tagged by @cairamelcoffee to do the 5 song OTP playlist and OC song association and i'm gonna be insufferable 💗

tagging @zevrn @palipunk @cullenvhenan @ava-du-mortain 💗💗💗

5 Song OTP Playlist: Culla'ara I have a full Inquisition playlist here, but these are the romance songs💗

Ophelia - The Lumineers (mostly in the enemies stage of enemies to friends to lovers, while dealing with their preconceived notions and their own pasts)

Ah, ah, when I was younger I, I should've known better And I can't feel no remorse And you don't feel nothing back

I, I got a new girlfriend here Feels like he's on top And I don't feel no remorse And you can't see past my blindness

Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind, girl, since the flood Oh, Ophelia, Heaven help the fool who falls in love

Gethsemane - Dry the River (the eventual thaw, falling in love like falling into an agonizingly deep hole with no way out, believing the other can't possibly feel the same way, as La'ara becomes the Inquisitor)

In the parliamentary houses There'll be talk of what this is With inexpert witnesses and evidence against us But I'll take my pound of substance From those insubstantial men Whatever their arguments I'll prove your innocence

Drag your holy horse cart in the sky When I wake up, oh yeah. Testify allegiance with more Puncture wounds than Jesus, oh yeah Every statue's weeping honey And it makes my sight go funny 'Cause I'm over sympathetic And I can't control myself

Leave that painful memory In the garden of Gethsemane

Ar Éireann Ní Neosainn Cé hí - The High Kings (pining, dreaming, hoping)

Last night in strange fields as I roved Such a vision I passed on my way A young woman so fair to behold That in seconds my heart was astray Oh she reached out a welcoming hand But I knew that it never could be And before I could kiss her sweet lips She had vanished forever from me

Better in the Morning - Birdtalker (newness, opening up, giving in, and learning to be with each other)

Be gentle with yourself as you uncover Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered In stillness, boys, clear water to the bottom You will do better in the morning I will do better in the morning

Fair - The Amazing Devil (knowing that this is It, this is what they want to fight for, what they both need no matter how the Inquisition ends)

"I've seen enough," he says, "I know exactly what I want And it's this life that we've created Inundated with the fated thought of you And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all Like petals in a storm

'Cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades At night when light is fading

Just to let you know I'm old, waylaid and feels like I am wading Into carpet burns and carousels Christ, you'll be the death of me"

OC Song Association: La'ara Ma'Suledin O'Cathasaigh

The Lost Words Blessing - Spell Songs (an anthem, a prayer, a blessing, a reminder of home and clan)

Enter the wild with care my love And speak the things you see Let new names take and root and thrive and grow And even as you travel far from heather, crag and river May you like the little fisher Set the stream alight with glitter May you enter now as otter Without falter into water

Look to the sky with care my love And speak the things you see Let new names take and root and thrive and grow And even as journey on, past dying stars exploding Like the gilded one in flight Leave your little gifts of light And in the dead of night my darling Find the gleaming eye of starling Like the little aviator Sing your heart to all dark matter

Walk through the world with care my love And sing the things you see Let new names take and root and thrive and grow And even as you stumble, through machair sands eroding Let the fern unfurl your grieving Let the heron still your breathing Let the selkies swim you deeper Oh, my little silver seeker Even as the hour grows bleaker Be the singer and the speaker And in city and in forest Let the larks become your chorus

And when every hope is gone Let the raven call you home

[valentinesparda]

[The small soft sounds of the messengers fill the room you currently occupy. In one of their hands are as follows: a small letter ordained in the smell of lavender, peppermint, and the smallest hint of ozone; the other is a bushel of flowers. You notice they are a combination of camellias, daffodils, and peonies seemingly handpicked for you.]

My dearest Anubis

I hope this gift finds you in good health since I won't be able to kiss you as the clock strikes midnight. I handpicked all the flowers myself and they should not have to be watered for they are put under a spell. So don't worry about taking care of them. I do truly miss you my starlight, I hope we get to have many adventures with this new year, explore vast world's that only a few have gotten to lay their eyes on.

See you soon my dear,

Jericho

oh my g--

i was going to respond with my own letter but I'm still waking up so all you need to know is that I love you and I am kissing jericho in spirit

[dzvagabond]

ITS MY BEST FRONDS @cryptidchaos BIRTHDAY! 

I love them to death and even though this picture was supposed to be for Valentine’s day, I wanted to gift this lovely picture of our beautiful characters to them :3 

[saiyuri-dahlia]

For the otp ask: shadlink #8, 17, 25

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

Link’s first impression of Shad is immediately that he’s super attractive. And Link starts feeling the first flickers of a crush because he’s the first attractive guy Link has met on his journey. And not only is he cute, he’s smart too—how lucky could Link be?! Shad is all smiles and practically trembling with excitement as he talks. He’s even cuter and the crush intensifies. Link is even quieter than usual because he’s nervous and doesn’t want to make a fool of himself, so he mostly repeats what Shad says, as in “Yes, I would like to hear more” and nods along as Shad continues while he’s swimming in his dark blue eyes and drifting along in the sweet waves of his voice. And his voice is everything.

If there weren’t three other people here, one of them being like family to Link, Link would definitely be a bit more relaxed and willing to try flirting (well, his best attempts at flirting). Also, based on the height of that collar hiding his neck, Link is willing to bet all his rupees that his neck is a sensitive area.

Shad thinks Link is handsome, more so than Shad had expected. His steps are solid. The air around him projects confidence. He approaches the table with an attitude that reads that he would like to know what is happening and what needs to be done. His eyes are pretty intense. Telma’s description of a “blue-eyed beast” is an apt comparison. Normally, Shad would be intimidated by that kind of look, but he’s drawn in by his gaze. But then after seeing a familiar face, Link reveals his softer side, his eyes kind, warm, and more befitting of a young man. He gets distracted by Link’s clothes—his history nerd side is over-analyzing the fabric and stitch for authenticity while the rest of him would like to see Link in fewer layers. There is much contemplation about thighs.

He also expected from the rumors of a hero helping people that the guy would be a lot taller… (But everyone expects Link to be taller.)

Both of them know that even if a long, loving relationship doesn’t happen between them, they are going to ride each other to the break of dawn at least once.

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

For Shad, it’s the untamed woods, the twilight hours, honey, leather, and the smell of leather oil. It’s pumpkins cooked and prepared in all its possible ways, savory or sweet. Or just displayed. It’s the green beans and red potatoes meal that Link was embarrassed to cook for Shad because it’s very down-home Ordon comfort food but Shad absolutely enjoyed it. (And no one can cook a mess of half-runners like Link.) It’s Link’s homemade, lemongrass-scented goat’s milk soap. The way cats and dogs follow Shad around now too. Or the feel of the sun’s rays warming his back early in the morning.

For Link, it’s the scent of Shad’s aftershave and later the lavender-infused goat’s milk soap Link made/gifted him. Tea shops, bakeries, little sweet shops. Sometimes he’ll see a nice waistcoat on display that’ll make him want to hurry home (or buy it if it’ll look good on Shad and most of them do). A tea kettle’s whistle. The feel of the cover of an old book, regardless if it’s bound in leather or cloth, and the yellowing/browning of its pages. The smell of a new book. The smell of ink as it dries and the sound of a new parchment roll being unfurled and cut—two things Link never imagined would spark a twitch of arousal in him. Sometimes when he’s traveling without Shad, Link will camp near one of the Owl Statues, just to reminisce and think about Shad.

25. What moves do they know work on the other?

Well, it’s not difficult for anything they do to work because they’re so enamored with each other. They both know that certain looks and smiles they give will be very successful. Heck, when it’s just the two of them, even their lightest touches can turn into something more. Shad especially knows what body language to use and what tone of voice to take on to get his intentions across. In general, Shad’s moves are subtle while Link’s are pretty obvious.

For instance, Link loves to remind Shad of how strong he is. If Shad feels like rearranging his apartment, Link will be glad to do all the heavy lifting. Anytime he has an opportunity to show off his strength to Shad, he’ll take it. And Link will often pick Shad up off his feet when they hug, not only because Shad weighs nothing to him, but to remind Shad of the last time he had him off his feet (and against a wall).

And Link sometimes forgets to put on a shirt when he’s out of the shower. Originally, it really was because Link forgot and didn’t think anything of it. But it’s difficult for Link to now claim that he’s not doing it on purpose when he’s standing beside Shad as he writes so that there’s a wall of muscle constantly visible in the corner of his eye.

Shad likes to let lighthearted, fun moments between them build upon one another and evolve naturally into something more. For instance, there’s always music playing in the central square, which they can hear from Shad’s apartment. So whenever the whim strikes or if Link is in need of some cheer, Shad will strike up a dance—the kind where you take your partner’s hand, lay your other hand on their waist, and sway, shuffle, and bop around just to have fun and smile together. And no matter if Link was resisting and grumpy, he’ll be laughing and smiling soon enough.

It’s a quick and simple move, but Shad enjoys it when Link grabs a hold of his bowtie and leads him to the bed. He likes to compliment Link and he’ll combine that with lowering his voice in the way he knows Link likes. He also hugs Link from behind and rests his chin on the crook of his neck and shoulders a lot. At least, that’s what he does at first. Then he’ll start kissing his shoulders and neck and slowly make his way up to his ears.

He also has this thing where he’ll show more skin by removing his layers as the night progresses. First, the jacket, then the waistcoat. If he’s wearing long sleeves, he’ll roll up the sleeves, and then the top buttons will be unfastened. Like, he’ll even volunteer to get things off top shelves for a chance to let his shirt draw up and reveal a bit more skin. This was more of an early show of attraction and early dating thing but he still does it from time to time.

[starryhedgehog]

do you feel it, too?

prompt : Imagine your OTP not having enough blankets for both of them and sharing.  It takes some doing, but they but they settle comfortably into each other’s arms and fall asleep listening to each other’s heartbeat, smelling their hair, feeling the rise and fall of their breath. The next morning, they’re still in the same position.

- - 

Lucas wakes up in the dark, alone.  There’s something about the eerie isolation, the poeticness, as Eliott might say, and Lucas blinks, staring up at the cracks on his ceiling.  Early morning chill immediately races across his skin, and he shivers.  His fingers desperately clutch his blankets as he brings his knees up to rest against his chest.  It takes time for his eyes to wearily adjust to the low lighting, and he blinks, disoriented.

What is there to think about in the early morning?

Lots of things, Lucas thinks, as he rolls over on his bed, burrowing his head deeper into his pillow which smells a lot like lavender detergent.  He thinks of his mom.  His dad.  It’s at times like this where he thinks of his family, or at least, what they used to be.

Lucas shuts his eyes again, nose scrunching up against his pillow.  He wills sleep to come, wants it to envelop him for just a little bit, but it evades him, tantalizingly, like smoke sifting through outstretched fingertips.

Forehead kisses.  Hot cocoa in the morning.  His school lunch packed and ready on the kitchen table.

Lucas rolls himself off the bed with added force, thudding to the carpet.  Dull pain flares up against his joints and his ribs, and he blinks, exhausted.  He absent-mindedly pulls the blankets from his bed and wraps them around his form.  He’s shivering, but he’s not sure if it’s really from the cold.  Lucas feels the warmth from the blanket, wraps his arms around his chest, and thinks dimly, that he can’t remember the last time someone gave him a hug.

He trudges to his shared living quarters, bumping into Eliott’s art easel and then stubbing his foot against the edge of the refrigerator.  

“Shit,” he grumbles, not bothering to be quiet.

He can’t help the yawn that escapes his mouth, and with sleepy, half-lid eyes, he reaches for a coffee pod to fit into the new Keurig machine he and Eliott bought a few weeks ago.  He reaches up to grab a mug from the cabinets, the glass clinking against the other mugs as he struggles to also keep the blankets wrapped around his shoulders.

There’s another set of footsteps.  A door opens, and Eliott walks out the hallway, layered and barefoot.  Despite the exhaustion Lucas sees when Eliott’s eyes focus on him, he’s all softness in the early hours, with ruffled, messy hair, and hands folded inside the sleeves of the black hoodie he’s worn to sleep.  

Lucas sucks in a breath.  He still hasn’t quite gotten used to the tightening in his chest every time he sees Eliott, nor the ache that builds at his heart as he tries to push everything away.  “Sorry I woke you.”  

Eliott steps closer, pausing at the counter.  He’s standing next to Lucas now, and Lucas is too tired, too broken up to do anything about it.  Lucas realizes his hand is clenched against the mug, knuckles white.  

“What are you doing?”  Eliott peers to look at the coffee pod Lucas has in his other hand, and he moves aside Lucas’ fingertips so he can read the label.  Lucas watches fondly as Eliott struggles to see in the darkness, his eyes furrowing as he tries to distinguish the faint letters.

“I’m just making coffee,” Lucas says, and he can’t stop the gentleness that enters his voice.  “I can’t sleep.”

Eliott lets out a breathy sound, and he steps forward, even closer, to wrestle the coffee and mug out of Lucas’ hands.  “Lucas Lallemant,” Eliott says, with as much amusement as he can muster while he’s half-asleep, “you are not drinking caffeine at two in the morning.  And I think the whole point of coffee is to drink it when you can’t stay awake.”

Lucas looks up to stare at Eliott, and he can’t keep the expression that enters his eyes.  Eliott’s voice is raspy and surprisingly soft, a result of being woken up by his roommate who’d been trying to drink coffee.  And oh, his eyes.  Especially like this, as Lucas stares at him in the early hours.  With the blue light from the digital stove-top clock illuminating Eliott’s cheekbones and pale gray of his eyes, making something warm and very familiar bloom and unfurl in Lucas’ chest.

Lucas stares a little too long.   He loses himself for a second longer than he should have, and something passes between them.  Maybe it’s something that they’ve known all along, as they continue dancing along this thin line of normalcy and friends, and maybe, just maybe, something more.

Except Lucas smiles half-heartedly, as if realizing what’s happening.  He looks down, about to say something, until a shiver wracks through his shoulders.  “It’s so cold.”

Eliott reaches past the yellow curtains to touch the glass of the kitchen windows.  He nods, tucking his hands back in his hoodie sleeves.  “Freezing.”

Lucas looks once more at the coffee cup placed belatedly on the counter, and then looks back at Eliott, almost mischievously.  The coffee is becoming increasingly more desirable as the minutes pass by, but then Lucas thinks better of it and sighs, reaching to put it back in the cabinet.  “It’s supposed to be the coldest night of winter, you know.  It was on the news.”

Eliott nods, looking at Lucas with what he thinks might be borderline tenderness, and something jumps and starts trembling in Lucas’ chest.

“Well, I should go back to bed,” is what Lucas says instead.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eliott blinks.  And if Lucas had held Eliott’s gaze for just one more second, he would’ve seen the obvious disappointment flash across his eyes.  “Oh.  Okay.”

Lucas keeps his eyes trained on his feet, dragging himself back to his room.  He leans against the back of his door as soon as he closes it, letting out a long breath of air.

It’s too dangerous.  Too unpredictable.  Lucas doesn’t know what it is, or why it’s so hard for himself to pretend around Eliott right now.  It must be because it’s two in the morning, Lucas thinks, but as he’s standing with his heart beating in his chest, he’s not quite sure anymore.

He can’t stop thinking about the way the blue light illuminated Eliott’s eyes and the way he looked actually ethereal, and he clasps his head in his hands, the blankets around him falling to the floor.

But is it such a bad thing if he stops acting?  If he just lets things happen?

Lucas feels his resolve start to settle, and it’s a bad thing.  Very bad.  He gathers his blankets, wrapping them around his shoulders for comfort and reaches for the doorknob, his hands trembling.

What’s the worst that could happen?

He pulls his door open with far too much force than necessary, marching out into the hallway with his face set determinedly.  Except he walks straight into Eliott, who jumps backwards as if stung.

Lucas yelps, his eyes widening.  “What the fuck?”

Dumb, dumb, dumb.

“Sorry,” Eliott says, and is he blushing?  “I, I just wanted to --”

“I can’t sleep,” Lucas says at the same time, and he means it as an apology.  His eyes shyly meet Eliott’s, and as he tilts his head up it’s almost as if there’s an unspoken question hanging between the two of them.

“Me neither.”  Eliott shifts in his stance, biting his lip.  “I don’t have any extra blankets.  But I was wondering --”

Lucas blinks, understanding passing over his features as he looks down at the blankets wrapped around his shoulders.  “I have blankets,” he says slowly.  He pulls them away from his shoulders, goosebumps already forming on his arms.  “You can have them.”

Eliott’s face turns into clear exasperation.

Lucas doesn’t really notice, too preoccupied with suppressing his shivers, his hands clenching at the hem of his t-shirt in order to stop rubbing at his arms.  

“That’s not what I -- you’re freezing, Lucas.”

“Oh,” Lucas says dumbly, and it blurts from his mouth before he can stop it.  “Maybe we could?”  He clamps his mouth shut, biting his tongue.

There’s silence for a while, and Lucas gets lost in a whirlwind of anxious thoughts about how he’s dumb and stupid and now Eliott’s going to hate him forever, shit.

“Maybe we could?” Eliott prompts, eyes hopeful.

Lucas doesn’t think he’s ever blushed more.  He’s suddenly grateful for the darkness, praying to something that Eliott doesn’t notice.  “Maybe we could nothing!” Lucas says quickly, with far too much enthusiasm for two in the morning.  “I forgot,” he finishes lamely.

Eliott laughs softly, and when Lucas looks up to meet his gaze, Eliott’s eyes are very warm.  “Maybe we could share?”  Eliott finishes for Lucas.  “My room’s closer to the kitchen, so it’s not as cold.”

Lucas feels himself start to tremble, and he nods, fighting to keep his gaze even and his eyes carefully blank.

Eliott smiles, nearly hesitant, then turns and wanders toward his room, pushing the door open.  Lucas steps in, and it’s a little warmer than his own room, but not by much.  He numbly unfolds the blankets from around his shoulders but it’s so hard to find the edges with his trembling fingers from both the proximity and the cold, and Eliott stops him gently, albeit pained.

“You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“No,” Lucas says quickly.  “I’m just, really cold.  See?”  He reaches to press his fingers against Eliott’s cheek without thinking, and Eliott lets out a breathy laugh.

“Your hands are freezing.”

He reaches to help Lucas with the blankets, and maybe if his hands brushed against Lucas’ a couple of times, it might not have been just coincidence.  Or at least, Lucas can think for a moment that Eliott meant it as something more.

Lucas climbs into the bed and curls up on the left side, his gaze flickering towards Eliott when the right side of the mattress dips with his weight.  Eliott’s so close, and Lucas shuts his eyes and turns away, his hands clenched against the blankets.

It feels so intimate.  Lucas tries to put into memory what this feels like, with Eliott’s sheets wrapped around him, and the way he can smell the lavender detergent against Eliott’s pillows, although they smell different, a little more Eliott than Lucas.

And when he shivers, this time, it’s not because of the cold.  Not really.

He opens his eyes again, staring at Eliott’s walls and gazing across the room as his vision darts to different portraits of raccoons and skeletons and literary sketches.  He blinks, his eyes softening as he sees one taped above Eliott’s desk, an inked raccoon and hedgehog walking through La Petite Ceinture.  He remembers watching Eliott draw it in his sketchbook as they explored the art painted onto weathered brick and old cement and listened to the Clash on Lucas’ phone.

But because it’s dark and it’s quiet, and Lucas’ thoughts like to spiral in the early morning, he thinks of other things.

He thinks of the old melody of La Vie en Rose trickling through the kitchen, and his parents twirling around in the parlor.  He thinks of roasted chicken and potatoes on the weekends, and thinks of the way his dad would sit Lucas down on the grass and the way they’d look up at the clouds.  Cirrus, Stratus, Cirrostratus.

He shakes his head and rolls the other direction, trying to rid himself of everything.  And maybe he’s so lost in thought, so utterly occupied with everything, that he’s forgotten he’s sharing a bed with Eliott.  He’s so disoriented that he rolls straight into Eliott’s chest and freezes.

“Hi,” Eliott says, and Lucas feels his whole body burn.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, not able to meet Eliott’s gaze just yet.  “I didn’t know you were so close.”

“It’s fine,” Eliott says, and his voice is so soft.  “It’s cold anyway, I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” Lucas breathes, his voice a little higher than usual.  “Okay.”

Lucas dares to look at Eliott now, and he can’t handle the vulnerability he sees reflected back at him.  He can’t risk falling in.

He turns a little so he’s lying on his back and instead stares up at the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the warmth that’s all Eliott against his side.

But he thinks about it, tries to get something through his muddled mind, and realizes that he doesn’t really care right now if Eliott doesn’t like him.  He can still enjoy this moment for himself, can’t he?

Lucas turns back again, hesitantly facing Eliott.  “Is it okay if I --”

“Yes,” Eliott says without really listening.  “Anything.”

Lucas swallows, then shifts a little closer, daring to rest his head against Eliott’s chest.  He lets his legs tuck closer into his body, relishing in the warmth and the way he feels startlingly … safe.

He looks up at Eliott, unsure for a moment.  In any case, Lucas is surprised to see Eliott gazing back at him with a dumb smile tugging at his lips.

“Is this okay?” Lucas whispers, raising his head and preparing for rejection.

Eliott responds with wrapping an arm around Lucas’ waist, pulling him closer.  When Lucas looks back at Eliott again, Eliott’s eyes are more vulnerable than he’s seen before.  “More than okay.”

Lucas nods, unsure of how to respond.  But he lets himself rest his head back against Eliott’s chest, breathing in.

Eliott is all warmth, his hoodie soft and comforting against Lucas’ cheek.  Lucas can feel the rise and fall of Eliott’s chest, and the faint beating of his heart if he listens, closely.  Lucas tries to match his breathing to Eliott’s, lets his thoughts disappear as he focuses purely on this moment, right here.

“Good night,” Lucas whispers, his hands reaching to clutch against Eliott’s hoodie.

Eliott presses his lips against Lucas’ hairline.  “Good night, Lu.”

[crowsent]

Persona 5 demon!AU

Ann as a Nekomata, shifting her appearance to fit whatever role she decided to play, but she’s almost always a beautiful girl. You won’t even know she’s not human until you look closer, until you realise that her pupils are slits or that her canines are a little sharper than usual

Ryuji as a Raiju who very rarely joins human civilisation. you’ll find him in the woods, in the plains, in the wide open areas where he sprints across the terrain howling with laughter as thunder clouds roll over head, lightning flashing every so often. you can’t get a clear look at him, but sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll find a boy where the Raiju runs; a boy with hair like lightning and a smile sharp enough to cut

Imagine Makoto as a lesser Oni, a demonness with horns and sharp teeth and brutal strength. Imagine Makoto never taking a human life, skirting instead the edge of humanity, punishing those who are unjust and showing mercy to those who try to live their lives honestly, looking far more intimidating than she actually is, trying to hold her temper back

Futaba as a zashiki-warashi taking on the appearance of a teenager. Wakaba Isshiki had treated her with kindness so Futaba, as a youkai of good fortune, decided to haunt Wakaba’s house to bring the woman luck. But after her unexpected death, Wakaba’s brother inherited the house and trapped Futaba there. Imagine Sojiro, a regular human, finding and freeing Futaba. Imagine Wakaba’s brother’s fortunes collapsing as the zashiki-warashi fled his house

Imagine Haru as a Kodama, a spirit that protects the forests. Imagine her appearing as just a normal girl with flowers in her hair and a kimono patterned with vines that look like they move

NOW YUSUKE AND AKIRA (my bias and OTP is showing my bad)

Yusuke as a Kitsune would seem fitting, right? He does have a fox mask and is literally called Fox in canon, right?

But what if. What if. Akira was the Kitsune. In myth, Kitsune were cunning tricksters, oftentimes playing pranks on humans. It fits Akira. What if Yusuke was a Yuki-onna instead. In his case he’d be a Yuki-otoko but that’s not important.

What’s important is that Kitsune!Akira would be strangely coloured for a fox. Imagine a large fox demon wandering the night, fox fire lighting up he darkness. Imagine sleek black fur with curious red marks that could not be found on natural non-demon foxes.

Imagine Akira shapeshifting into a more human form, hair as black as his fur, kimono blood red, nine tails unfurling behind him. Imagine him smirking at you, red eyes full of mischief, fangs poking his lips.

Imagine Yusuke as a snow demon, confined in the coldest mountains. Imagine him appearing before lost and weary travelers, guiding them down the right path. Imagine him showing up in a kimono that looked iridescent, like it was made of ice, shimmering in a thousand colours as the light hits it

Imagine the mountain Yusuke lived in being covered in art. The trees had intricate swirling frost marks that formed patterns and figures on the bark. Statues of men, women, children, and animals were strewn all over the mountain, to be melted by the sunlight and recreated in the darkness. Imagine Yusuke’s powers creating ice that does not melt, coveted by sculptors worldwide.

Imagine Akira, toying with the humans who want to kill him for his fur being injured and fleeing into the mountains. Imagine him meeting Yusuke. Imagine Yusuke sealing all of Akira’s injuries with ice and hiding the kitsune as humans look for him.

Imagine Akira giving Yusuke the iconic Fox mask as a thank you

Imagine seeing Yusuke, a snow demon, appear from a storm, wearing a kimono dancing with light and a fox mask that grinned.

I fucking love demon AUs

[calamityhua]

Am I the only one who imagines something similar to a movie inside their head based on their OTP to help themself fall asleep at night? It’s like I’m writing fanfic in my head and watching it unfurl. It’s knarly. Helps me sleep, though.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Send Help: Addicted to Roleplay and Chipotle

Greetings from Earth! First time poster to this blog and stoked to meet some new partners. My name is Chris and I'm a male nurse (Yo, you're going to get some medically accurate roleplay) in his late twenties. I have a lovely wife and two stupidly handsome animals (Pictures of the animals available on request) but manage to maintain a pretty active roleplay life due to the fact that I work nights. The Basics: I tell everyone that I'm a professional. I try to reply 1-3 times a week and the length of posts depends on amount of characters in play. If I'm going to take longer, I always try to let you know. I'm willing to write male and female characters and focus on M/F as the male and F/F. M/M just isn't my thing, sorry y'all. My limits include pedophilia, rape, and animal abuse. Anything else can be discussed. I prefer e-mail for writing (Chrisx104@gmail.com) but have Discord for plotting (NurseBatman#3674). If we get along really well, you can convince me into discord roleplay. The text limit just drives me nuts. I do use faceclaims pretty aggressively. Is there anything else? Central time zone?

Onto the roleplay stuff. I'll start with originals and then dive into fandoms. I put extra *s by the lines that I will literally lose my mind if you approach me about. Searching hard! -The Social Media Age****** A m/f line that I've given a little thought to, looking for someone to write a young woman that is pretty much making her living being an instagram model/fitness person, etc. I think the proper term is *Influencer*. Meets and starts dating a successful guy with no presence online, the two falling for each other but at odds over their differing attitudes towards the world. -This American Life Something set in the 1970s, focusing on a roadtrip. A group of teenagers leave their small town behind to head out west. I love this time period. Can be supernatural, supernatural lite (think Twin Peaks weirdness) or totally natural. -Stranger Things inspired A group of four to six friends enjoy their last summer together in a remote town as strangeness begins to unfurl. I'd be willing to set this in the present but think it would be way more fun in the 70s or 80s. I have an idea for one of the kids having lost a sibling in a strange way when they were young and possibly some sort of cult in town.

Fandoms!

-Star Wars**

I know Reylo is all the rage these days, as is Qi'Ra/Han. But, man ALIVE, I really want something focusing on the core four: Luke, Leia, Han, and, ya boy, Chewie. Something taking place in that three year gap between New Hope and Empire as they work among the rebellion. Strange new worlds, getting into scrapes, sharply running from the empire, avoiding Vader, bounty hunters, and all sorts of things. This time period is far from explored and we can really thrive in the galaxy. Primarily I want to focus on the budding relationship between Han and Leia and Luke's training, pre-Yoda. In a perfect world, I'd want to write Han and Chewie (If anyone thinks Chewie is just a NPC, get out my face) while my partner takes on Leia and Luke. I'd be willing to switch out Chewie for Luke if need be, I guess? We could also split up C3PO and R2. I also would enjoy writing a young Amilyn Holdo and a few other soldiers. Let's real build out the resistance and delve into the 'WARS' part of those big yellow letters that never get enough attention. On top of all of that, I also have an original love interest in mind for Luke if someone else plays him! She's a spitfire. Alternatively, I'd be down for writing something set in the clone wars. Perhaps two jedi that broke the order's relationship laws and then survived Order 66 together? -Preacher Seriously. Love this show, love this comic. Would happily write Jesse or Cassidy against Tulip. Just definitely looking for a Tulip -The Boys Would love to write Hughie against Starlight! Currently working my way through the season that just dropped. -Marvel -I will love you forever if you write an Elektra against my Daredevil. They are toxic and in love and I love it. Whether it be the comics or the Netflix series, I don't care. Someone please write me an Elektra. Netflix did a good job of portraying this one -Alternatively, I'd also be happy to write against a Black Widow, either with Daredevil. They were a mainstay OTP in the comics in the 90s and I'd love to write against Scarlet's Black Widow. -Has anyone seen the trailer for the neverendingly delayed New Mutants movie? I would love to write something based on that horror aspect of the mutant universe.* -I'd love to write an older MCU Peter Parker (like college) running across a MCU version of Black Cat. Or just a Spiderman roleplay in general. I've always wanted to write Peter but have never gotten the chance! I have a ton of ideas for this, plus faceclaims for a few of the villains. Would also be willing to play him against Zendaya's MJ, Spidergwen, or Silk (Deepcut)**************************** (I so badly want to write Peter) -One of the pairings that was done for a time in the comics was Star Lord against Kitty Pryde and it was actually a lot of fun. If anyone would want to do a MCU version of this, I would so *DOWN* to play Quill, Xmen hijinks a plenty in space -If you write Jessica Jones, I'd be willing to write almost anyone against her (NOT KILGRAVE). Just let me know. I'd be super down to write Luke Cage or maybe Matt Murdock. I do a mean John Constantine, which, let's face it, is a cross company illustration of the two most terrible people together -Hawkguys! I would love to either write Clint against Kate Bishop (This would be a slightly skewed MCU vibe) or Kate against America Chavez. I would really love to do either of these lines. Or a poly version if someone is willing! -I'd love to write Logan as an active member of the MCU Avengers, possibly as a partner in crime/wetworks/murder with Black Widow. Those two could cause some mayhem. -Honestly, any X-men relationship could be sold to me. Just try it. I would love to find a Kitty for Piotr, a Rogue for Remy, or almost anyone for Kurt.

-DC I'd love to write Batman against Catwoman, please. Or John Constantine against literally almost anyone -Hannibal I've been dying to do a sort of season 4 for a while now, focused on Clarice Starlings interaction with Will Graham and later Hannibal Lecter. Just need to find someone willing to create an original style Clarice. -Resident Evil I'd like to write Leon against Claire Redfield or Jill Valentine in an original outbreak or a new one. I know this is an old school fandom but I'm a diehard fan. -Star Trek Okay, so first up, I am not the most well versed Trekkie in the world. Never watched any of the TV shows but am a massive fan of the trio of rebooted films and would love to give Kirk or Bones a try against Uhura, Dr. Eve, or maybe a female Vulcan OC? Hit me with ideas! -The Matrix Another obscure fandom. Maybe just an original crew, set during the movies, after, or an AU where they're the only survivors of Zion? Im not sure but I could plot something out!

-Uncharted I'd love to write Chloe Frazier against Nadine Ross, continuing their adventures. I'm pretty wide open on what we can do with this one. RANDOM CRACK SHIPS! Caught in a Web: I would love to write an iteration (Daniel Craig or an original) of James Bond/007 against a non superhero version of Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow. Spy vs spy shenanigans as two people working for different governments. Totally impossibly but putting it just in case: Did anyone see all that Wonder Woman/Lara Croft art that was floating around the internet earlier this year? I would love to dive into that. I'd prefer to write Lara but I'm definitely not picky. If you made it this far, you're a hero and I owe you a beer. Hope to hear from some great writers! Let's create something *EPIC*

[kpoptextauwu-archive]

It’s All a Little Blurry

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Summary:  He froze trembling as his eyes landed upon the person he prayed never to see again. “Jeno?” The man asked recognition flitting across his eyes. His breathing froze as he stared at the man before him before turning back the way he came sprinting away, the voices calling out for him falling on deaf ears. 

Prompt: OTP: Shadows Behind Us, Angst, Fantasy

Note: 6th chapter in the OTP: Shadows Behind Us series

Warning(s): Mentions of self-harm, mentions of attempted suicide, mentions of eating disorders, just be careful

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Third POV;

    His wings carry him back to the apartment he shared with Mark and Chenle. The moment he'd heard Renjun was missing all rational had left his mind and his only the thought was to find the small deer hybrid and comfort him by any means necessary. He'd rushed back to the apartment to scrambling and find something he could use to help comfort his most precious little friend but sadly came up empty-handed. 

     Usually, he had flowers bought in advance that he could give him but due to recent events, he hadn’t had time to buy new ones. With saddened steps, he left the apartment to continue his search for Renjun. Comfort in a hug would have to do.     

     He decided to walk back to the forest, the use of his wings in front of too many mortals who were unaware of the existence of angels was dangerous. He looked before crossing the street keeping in mind all the precautions Mark had taught him when it came to blending in with humans. His thoughts were soon interrupted though as he heard someone call out for him. A flash of familiarity ran through him as he turned slowly. 

    He froze, trembling as his eyes landed upon the person he prayed never to see again. “Jeno?” The man asked, recognition flitting across his eyes. His breathing hitched as he stared at the man before him. 

It only took a second for him snap out of it before turning back the way he'd came, sprinting as if his life depended on getting away, the voices called out for him but fell on deaf ears. The world spun past his eyes as he ran away from the one person he could never see or speak too again. He ran through the streets, crashing into people without uttering apologies; angry shouts followed after him. 

    Behind him, he could hear shouts of the same familiar voice following after him, his name being called repeatedly as pounding footsteps chased after him. Tears pricked in his eyes as anxiety coursed through his body, as he ran through the people in front of him and ducking around corners desperately trying to getaway. The sound of his voice trailing away the farther Jeno ran from him becoming Jeno’s only relief as his took a shaky breath in the alley he had managed to trap himself in.

     His vision blurred as he stood in the alley, flashes of a face he promised never to look at again appearing in his mind. He looked so hopeful and happy when he saw Jeno and it hurt. It hurt so much Jeno felt his chest ache. He missed him, he missed who used to be his best friend more than anything in the world but he could never see him again. He knew there would be a when he saved him and that price was his fall. 

     A loud confused voice from the street called out for him again and he froze turning to meet the face he tried desperately to escape looking directly at him. “Jeno is that you?” He asked his voice still full of hope. “Is it really you? Jeno please answer me.” The man begged his hands outstretched as he walked towards the angel. His brown eyes sparkled and his long dark hair fell in his eyes. “Jeno, say something....Please.”

     “I’m sorry,” Jeno whispered out. The man tilted his head not hearing the hushed words. “Johnny....I’m so sorry.” He said louder watching with a shallow breath as the Johnny recognized his voice. Johnny opened his mouth to speak, happiness seeming to radiate from him but was quenched when a tear fell from Jeno’s eye. He watched in shock as the lone tear rolled down the angels cheek leaving his mouth agap. “I’m sorry.” He said one last time before taking off. 

     With a strong flap of the wings on he'd had hidden from mortal eyes, he was gone. It looked as if he had become invisible before Johnny’s eyes as he soared upwards. He heard his old friends broken shout of his name ring through the empty alley. He blinked back more tears banking with ease through the cloudy skies, flying to nowhere and anywhere.

     His mind was foggy as he swooped through the clouds of heaven, the gold shimmer of them left in flurries as his cream wings sliced through them. He always thought human emotions were pointless, pain and sorrow had made no sense to an immortal being of heaven like himself. Then he was in charge of guarding Johnny, and his entire world began to changed. His perspective had shifted the more he watched the human grow and learn until he couldn’t help but interact with him. 

     They had slowly become the closest of friends, the silly human never questioning why Jeno never seemed to aged, or how the human world made no sense to him. Jeno has found himself so invested in the new experience of human emotions and experiences that he hadn’t noticed when Johnny began to pull away from him and those around him. He hasn’t noticed when Johnny stopped eating, when he started speaking less, or when thin scars began to line his wrists. 

     It hadn’t been until the night on the cliff had he truly noticed. He had felt a strange tug in his gut that night and peered down from heaven to find his beloved human sobbing at the edge of a steep drop. The rain from the skies had already soaked through Johnny’s shirt and his hair dangled in his soaked red eyes. The wind whipped around him, rocking him back and forth as he stood on the edge staring at the water below it. For the first time, fear spiked through Jeno’s body as he raced through the sky to help his human. 

     He whispered with his guardian powers into Johnny’s ear trying to sway him away from the cliff, but Johnny didn’t move away. He seemed to move closer. Panic stabbed through him as he swooped down to the backside of the cliff knowing he couldn’t directly interfere with Johnny’s decisions. He was only allowed to persuade. 

     “Johnny!” He had screamed at the man who turned to look at him slowly. He watched with terror as Johnny shuffled back so his heels hung off the cliff. “Johnny, please! Move away from the cliff!” He screamed to his friend who’s eyes looked blank and lifeless. 

     A breath passed before Johnny opened his mouth to scream back "You don't understand Jeno I can't anymore!" A broken sobs fell from the human's mouth as he screamed at the angel. 

     "Johnny please listen to me. I need you to step away from the cliff, it's dangerous!" Desperation filled Jeno’s voice as he screamed, his voice ripping out of him. He couldn’t let Johnny die like this. Johnny, who showed him beauty and love didn’t deserve this. 

     Johnny just smiled a bittersweet smile at him, "thank you for being my friend Jeno. I appreciate it.” With those words, he stepped back letting the wind catch his body as he fell. A strangled scream ripped its way out of Jeno’s throat as he watched, only a moment of hesitation passing through him before he took off running towards the edge. Rules be dammed, his friend meant more to him than anything. Unfurling his wings he leaped off the cliff plummeting toward the dark water where Johnny was falling. He beat his wings heavily, catching up the human moments before his body hit the raging water below, curling himself around him. He wrapped his shimmering wings around him in protection as they landed in the grass near the shore beneath the ominous cliff, cries falling out from him. 

     Johnny had fainted on the way down but his chest was still moving and his heartbeat strongly against his chest. Jeno rushed him back to his home, the rain staining his vision as he flew, nothing mattered more than the boy in his arms at that moment.

    His actions, of course, had consequences. He knew this would happen the day he fell from heaven his wings ripped from him. It was forbidden for him to directly interfere with human lives but he had done it anyway. When he'd gotten t his wings back he had sworn never to visit Johnny again. The pain of everything to great. 

     When Jeno met Mark he felt the same sense of curiosity tug at him with the strange hybrid boy. He had always blamed Mark for bothering him but deep down he knew he wanted someone. Longing for someone to show him emotions again. Maybe that’s how he found himself living with his new human in a rundown apartment with a young fairy. Maybe his selfishness was the cause of his suffering that lead him to shiver to profusely as he flew through golden soft clouds, the comfort he once found by them long gone. 

    A shudder ran through his body as he'd lost himself as the memories of Johnny rushed through his head. He had tried so hard to suppress them and yet here they were at the for front of his mind, hurting him. Jeno desperately missed Johnny, but he knew deep down he could never be with him again. It was too dangerous for everyone around them. 

    Pressing his palms into his eyes, he inhaled sharply. His chest knotting tightly as his wings danced through the sky at altitudes unreachable to man without the assistance of mechanical engineering. Folding his wings into his back, he felt the air fall around him. The wind whistled in his ears and rushing through his hair. Unfurling his wings, the wind caught him and lifting him back up. His sensitive quills shivering against the cold frigid air. 

     Reaching down, his hand sunk through the soft foliage, 

Warm honey tanned skin and dark hair noticeable amongst the dense green forest. Jeno inhaled sharply before thrusting his wings behind him to pick up speed. His heart beginning to pick up the pace once again, fighting to keep in toe with the sprinting boy.

"Renjun!" He hollered above the tall trees. The boy looked up frantically, yelping in surprise as he stumbled for a moment but kept rushing to getaway. 

Dropping under the canopy of branches swiftly, the harsh beating of Jeno's wings echoing through his own ears. Just barely within arms reach, Jeno grasped the back of Renjun's sweater and yanked with all his might, Renjun lost his footing and tumbled backward into Jeno's awaiting arms. 

Jeno's arms hooked securely around Renjun's waist as his feet kicked off the forest floor, up into the silver-lined clouds with a few downward strokes. Renjun cried out, his palms pressed against Jeno's chest, prying himself away; Renjun slipped. 

“Johnny!” Desperation filling Jeno’s voice as it ripped out of him from his throat. Johnny's body tossed back and forth as the wind raged against the pelting rain and crashing waves. He watched him fall for only a second before tearing down the cliff and catching him within a moments notice. 

Jeno choked, his breath caught in his throat as Renjun's shriek tore through the air in a high pitched cry. Small hands outstretched for the Angel above, horror burning behind his large irises. Flowers ripped from his long mangled hair, petals floating gently to the ground below. 

It only took a moment before Jeno had Renjun within his grasps again. Renjun's small heartbeat throbbing against Jeno's chest as he held his trembling friend close. Jeno's feet just barely above the ground, his toes skimming the moss floor. Renjun's arms tied around Jeno's neck in steel grip even though he had felt weak to his knees. Jeno's shoulders were stiff, his eyes clamped shut to turn away from the mortifying memory that had reared its head again.

Jeno gulped, carefully ascending above the canopy trees and into the clouds. A curt breath tumbling out of his lips as his gaze flew towards the general direction Mark would be in. 

"We're going home now," Jeno told the shivering hybrid in his arms, who responded curtly with a small nod. 

[quiet-kunoichi]

💖 + Spiky >.>

[ Headcanons for Ships! | @spikyhairedsilhouette ]

*COUGH* OTP MATERIAL *COUGH* Favorite pastimes include: shit talkin’ idiots, talk of philosophy, Judging You, sharing in some peace and quiet on a rooftop, exploring obscure places in eachother’s company, lots of camping trips, gettin’ freaky deaky, bickering, sharing their demons, indulging in their vices.This ship - I just.. I freakin’ love it. There’s so much depth, so much to play with, so much angst and turmoil. They love eachother, I don’t care what you say. It’s twisted but it’s TRUE .She loves his hands - I can picture them being quiet and sharing in eachother’s company, maybe the mood is soft and melancholy, a record is playing. She traces the creases in his hand with a single finger, studying how long each line is before threading her fingers through his own. I think hand holding is a good way of her subtly showing him her commitment to him.When she feels him leave the bed in the middle of the night, she plays it off like she’s still sleeping, but her eye peels open. She’s a very light sleeper, and once she’s gotten used to the weight of his body in her bed, it wouldn’t take much to bring her attention to that imprint in the mattress. Her hand goes there in some measly attempt to keep his heat. She smells the smoke, and it burns her nose, but somehow, she’s content. It’s the first time she can return back to sleep once something has woken her. When he eventually returns to the spot beside her, the moonlight hits her face and she looks soft and vulnerable. It makes him smile, but only the tiniest bit. She holds her expression flawlessly, even when his knuckles brush her cheek gently. Their hugs aren’t common (at least not at first), but when they happen, she feels like he can hold together all her broken, misshapen pieces. He rests his lips to her head, as she conveniently fits her face in his shoulder. The thumping of his heart makes her stomach feel odd, and at first she unfurls her fingers from his clothing and thinks about pulling away, but when he gives her a squeeze, any former doubts melt away. While he may be shit at relationships and often fucks up good moments, she doesn’t hold it against him. Being in a new, weird position of feeling drastically beneath somebody else but trying to play it off otherwise, Kimiko has common lapses of confidence and often she asks why. Why her, if he could have any ‘broad’ he wanted? He’s not terribly good at answering - but it’s not because he doesn’t have an answer. When he puts an effort in, he’s sure to make an impression, no matter how big or small the gesture was. I see their relationship being one that teaches her important lessons on introspection, sacrifice, trust, commitment, and most importantly, love. 

[wolfdancer333]

Rain Trolls Human AU Prompt

[Prompt – Imagine your OTP getting stuck in the rain. Person A wants to kiss Person B like in the movies, Person B just wants to go home cause they’re cold and miserable, they let Person A kiss them quickly anyway.] - Okay so I deviated a wee bit from the prompt, but not much! ;) This is a joint sort of piece with @duskblue-art! We’re doing this writing prompt thing and so, hers and mine were born. ;) Anyone else wanna give it a shot? 

Like most people, Branch hated Mondays. Actually, he hated everyday equally but Mondays really drove him up the wall. Why? Well, it wasn’t just Mondays, it was this particular Monday in late June. He stared at the steel bars of the large gate, eyes blank, and determined he really shouldn’t have come. He hadn’t visited her in 2 years what was the point in visiting now? But something compelled the tall, black haired man to shoulder open the gate and step onto the familiar gravel path. The gate squeaked closed behind him and he lifted his head back to look at the cloudy, gray sky with a glare.

Even the fucking weather was against him! If there was anything Branch hated more than Monday, it was rain. Rain caused people to get sick! Well, actually, the stupidity of people caused people to get sick….But it was the rain that seeped into their skin and stole their warmth like a dwindling flame. It was rain that caused depression, forcing someone to stay inside until they lost their minds. Branch scowled as he jerked the hood of his hoodie up above his big ears and stuffed his hands into the middle pocket, slouching forward along the path he didn’t even need to see. He had walked it so many times, he couldn’t forget it.

No matter how hard he had tried.

He stared around the desolate, empty hills that held nothing but silence. Silence and the smell of the grass as it prepared for rain and did Branch mention he hates rain? He kicked a large pebble off the path and sadistically grinned when he heard a bird chirp in annoyance. He walked steadily, letting his eyes rove the place he had spent countless days – and nights, though the patrols never knew about those – in his childhood.

A light, foggy mist tickled the ground but Branch just kept walking. The trees were lush and green creating a serene scene that hid the dark, morbidity of the actual truth. This place was anything but serene. He clenched his hands into fists so hard he felt his nails break the fragile skin of his palm. This place was horrible with it’s green trees, rolling hills, fountain in the dead centre that the children usually played in, and the scattered benches where he remembered spending days licking ice cream cones with –

Nope, fuck, not going down that road, not today! But even though he assured himself, the flash of pink hair and magenta eyes haunted him down that gravel path until he veered off to the right, off the path and towards the largest, oldest oak tree in the entire park.

He felt the blood pooling in his fists and with blank, pain-etched eyes, Branch bent slowly to the ground. He lifted a bloodied hand out to touch the worn, cold gray stone, whispering, “Hi Grandma.”

A light, cool breeze wafted through the park-cemetery and ruffled Branch’s black locks. If he wasn’t a pessimistic dickhead he could let himself believe that the wind was his Grandma’s hand on his head, like she used to do when he was younger, when he was happier…..But he was a pessimistic dickhead so he didn’t dare believe his grandma was anything but dead, dead, dead. Dead as the day the 14 year old watched her be slowly lowered into this very plot. The day his soul faded to an empty gray and the rain never stopped falling inside his heart.

It rained the day she died. It rained the day he buried her. It was about to rain now the first time he came back to this fucking, stupid piece-of-crap town to visit her in over 12 years. Branch couldn’t escape the rain, he couldn’t escape it’s cold grip on him, and with a roar, he slammed his fist into the softened Earth. Then again. And again. Until he couldn’t stop, even when his knuckles throbbed and he was cursing with every hit. Not even when he felt the snake-like mist wrap around his body, white and cool, and even when the gray clouds darkened.

He collapsed, finally, onto his knees with tightly closed ice blue eyes and a firmly clasped jaw. He could hear his teeth rubbing together and his hands couldn’t unclench from the fists. For a moment, he sat there, breathing heavily through his nostrils, eyes closed tight and jaw grinding.

She’s gone Branch, get the fuck over it. She’s gone….And it’s all your fault.

There were so many emotions building up inside him and when he threw his head back, he let out a loud roar of pain before his eyes fell to that cold stone. Cold. His grandma had always been warm, happy, smiling. She didn’t deserve to be in that plot of Earth with that horrible gray reminder all that was left of her. It should have been Branch in that hole. It should have been….! But it wasn’t and Branch finally felt the hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Well, fuck. Not like I’m ever coming back here anyway….This is it Grandma. I’m never coming back, so what’s a few fucking tears from your worthless grandson, huh?”

And then they weren’t just tears. Branch felt his heart leap into his throat and the sobs that tore from his vocal folds were ones of a deep, soul-aching pain. But the park-cemetery – who even made a park and cemetery the same thing!? - was empty. No one was there to hear the shattering soul or the broken heart and to be honest, Branch was fucking grateful. As soon as his sobs tore free, he heard the thunder echoing his own sounds.

He stared with blurry eyes at the writing on the stone and let his clenched hands slowly unfurl.

“Grandma” Rosiepuff

June 24, 1926 – June 24, 2018

A Grandmother to all of Troll Village.

She will be dearly missed.

Rest beneath the boughs of the Troll Tree,

And always find your way back.

He let his now free fingers glide over the etched words of the date of her death. As if thrown back in time, Branch was lost to his own memories of that day.

It was her birthday. It was raining. And stupid fucking Branch had to go and forget his gift at school in his fucking locker. He couldn’t have waited until tomorrow. He wanted to show her the gift, show her he loved her like she loved him, show her he was grateful for her. He remembered begging her - “Please, Grams? If it’s not on your birthday, it doesn’t get count.” - and he remembered her voice, still so clear after so many years - “Okay Branch! Let’s go. And we can drop by the park and get some ice-cream too, how about that?” And his 14 year old response, “Do I look like I’m 5 to you?”

The laughter haunted him for moment, swirling around his mind on repeat.

He remembered his cobalt blue raincoat and teal blue boots. He remembered with a snarl the sound of the car starting – a beaten up piece of shit that barely drove and sounded like a train – and the way the tires squealed on the wet pavement as they pulled away. He remembered being in the back and fuck, why did he sit back there? He always sat up front, always. But no, he wanted to be an angsty little fuck and he was too old to sit with his Grandma in the front seat.

Then that stupid song – Eclipse of the Fucking Heart – had come on and the radio was too low for Branch to sing. He wanted her to turn it up, he wanted to sing. But he was a stupid shit and he didn’t stop to think that his 92 Grandma didn’t have the best sight or that she had accidentally run a red light trying to turn the volume up. But no matter what he did or didn’t forget, he knew the one thing he would die remembering: that scream of his name that made him go numb, that still rung in his ears.

The screeching of the truck, their car turning and tossing, and the rain. He remembered the smell of it, overpowering the smell of blood and metal and fire. Branch hadn’t realized he was fisting the grass until he ripped up chunks but his eyes were fast closed and he couldn’t open them, stuck in his memories. Of the sirens and the people. Of seeing his grandma in the front seat and wondering why she wasn’t moving, wondering why the radio was distorted, why there were people shouting and screaming.

He remembered Mayor Peppy’s voice and her voice calling for him. But all he could see was his grandma bent over that steering wheel, her arm out, and with a jolt, he realized her arm, her hand grasping his raincoat, was the only thing holding him in the back seat. He went to move her arm, uttering a quiet grandma, wondering why she wasn’t moving – dead, dead, dead.

He remembered touching her back and she lolled to the side, her side twisted and Branch didn’t notice the blood at first – after all these years, he could still feel it on his hands. All he noticed were those wide open, unseeing eyes as they looked right at him. He remembered shaking her, his voice rising more and more into a wail, before he was jerked from the car and into arms that held him tightly. He cried and sobbed and screamed into that shoulder where pink tresses tickled his nose and the smell of watermelon and cotton candy filled his nostrils.

They had pulled her from the car but Branch knew, holding tight to Poppy’s hand and watching his Grandma’s unmoving body that she was gone. The round Mayor Peppy looked back at him with soft, symphatehtic eyes so much like his daughter and Branch felt the cold gray swallow him whole. Everyone said he didn’t but he did. He killed his grandma. For what? A fucking gift. A song. The rain was dangerous and why the hell would –

“Branch?”

He wasn’t sure if it was the way he froze or the spot she recognized but a moment later, he felt her hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly. “It’s been a long time, huh bud? Well, for you. I mean, I come here all the time! To say hi! And Dad does too. Actually the whole town does and oh just last year we held a little –“

“I’m not in the mood for your shit today, Poppy!”

She was instantly quiet and Branch didn’t give a fuck. She could go huff off and maybe this time she would get the hint and leave him the hell alone.

“You never responded to my invitations.” Or not.

Branch’s eyes went wide and he turned to look up at her with an exasperated frown. “Those glittery atrocities were from you? Of course they were. Felt, glitter. Should have known; it had Poppy written all over it.”

“It did, really!? I didn’t write –“

He sighed and began to unsteadily rise to his feet. Poppy’s hand on his shoulder fell to his arm and the warmth from her gave him a bit more strength. “Sarcasm. I thought you were getting better when I left….What –“

“Ice-cream!”

He yelped when her grip turned deadly tight and the tiny slip of a girl pulled him, dragging, behind her. He had to lean down slightly so she could even actually reach him and he stared after the girl he had known since they were babies. Her pink locks were longer and thicker. He didn’t even want to know when she had made the felt flower headband that wrapped around her. She was wearing light blue jeans, her usual rainbow sneakers, and a bright pink hoodie.

She was taller now, leaner, but with a smirk he reached up a finger to poke her side. Her squeal made him chuckle and she smacked his finger away. “Yes I’m still ticklish, don’t even Branch! I know your weak spots!”

Branch raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She dragged them down the gravel path with no hesitation. When he saw the familiar parked white truck off to the side of the path, he pulled back and Poppy stopped. Looking back, she must have seen his face because she gripped his arm.

“Branch, buddy, hey it’s okay. It’s just ice-cream. I’ll buy you double chocolate?” Her grin was infuriating.

His blush said everything and she giggled, pulling him up to the ice cream truck and he frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. He saw the quickly moving, darkening clouds as the man in the truck prepared their orders – he didn’t need to listen to know what she had ordered: double chocolate for him with two strawberries on top and a rainbow ice cream with sprinkles, gummi bears, and three pumps of strawberry and caramel sauces – and Branch’s mouth tilted downwards. It was going to rain.

As soon as Poppy had their orders in hand, Branch ushered her along and barely giving her enough time to pay the guy before she was pattering behind him. Branch kept a close watch on the sky as he herded them towards the sheltered gazebo next to the fountain in the middle of the park.

“Uh, Branch…..”

At her wide eyes, he followed her gaze to a couple of feet behind them just in time to see the sheets of rain falling onto Troll Town. With a curse, he grabbed her arm gently and pulled her along, the both of them racing towards the gazebo. Poppy’s giggles made him shout incredulously, “We’re about to be pelted by a huge ass rain storm and you’re laughing!?”

“I love the rain!”

As soon as they were inside the gazebo, Branch leaned over his knees, panting, and he heard Poppy settling down onto the stone floor of the gazebo. It was circular and not very big but he desperately looked anywhere but at her as he straightened up. He would rather fucking stand than sit that close to her. But then she said the taboo words, “I guess I’ll have to eat this double chocolate ice-cream all by myself then….”

“You get your fingers off my ice-cream.”

With a flop, he was sitting next to her, nestling out the storm as he grabbed his ice-cream and a spoon she held out to him, shovelling in a few mouthfuls with a glare. Poppy only grinned and settled against him, their legs laid out in front of them and their arms touching. He had almost forgotten how she smelled but there was no way to get rid of the imprint of her now. Her sweet scent had occupied one too many of his dreams as a teen and with a flush, he remembered his grand declaration to Poppy in front of her Dad and his Grandma, “One day, Poppy and I are gonna get married!”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was scarfing down her concoction with a speed that had him feeling sick and he set his ice-cream down, no longer feeling the gooey, cold treat. He pulled one knee up to his chest and watched the falling rain. Everything was soaked. Water dripped and poured from every crevice, crack, and hole. The trees were glittering and Branch could see the heavy drops hitting the ground with a visible pop.

“Do you ever just wanna go back sometimes? To when we were kids?”

Branch jumped, surprised to hear the soft tone of her voice. Poppy wasn’t ever quiet. “No, why the fuck would I want that?”

She only continued to stare out at the rain, her head cocked to the side, but he was thankful – no, not thankful, not thankful!! - he didn’t see any sadness on her features. She was too beau – Okay no more ice-cream, the sweetness was making him delirious.

“We knew what we wanted back then, and….” She smiled softly. “And it was easier to get it. To know that we wanted it.”

Branch was confused. Poppy confused him, a lot – okay, all the time – but this was new. This was a contemplative Poppy. And contemplative Poppy he didn’t know how to deal with so he coughed awkwardly and tried to give her the best advice he could. “Nothing’s changed. It’s just what you want has changed. And it’s become harder to get what you wanted.”

Poppy blinked and then asked him, bluntly and causing his head to reel, “Why didn’t you accept my invitations?”

Branch opened and closed his mouth, trying to say something, anything, but what could he say? The truth: I never came to a single one of your parties or reunions or what the fuck nots because I’m an asshole? Yeah he could say that….Glancing at her, his breath caught. She was staring rather softly at the rain, almost forlorn but not quite, and her smile was not the beaming grin he was used to. This smile was gentle, lilting, and not at all the rainbows and cupcakes girl he remembered leaving behind.

“I kept them all.”

WHAT!? Branch paused, frozen, eyes wide. He did NOT just say that!? And not to Poppy! Oh fuck! So he just admitted to the girl he had loved since he opened his eyes that he kept all 12 year invitations – something close to like 800 of them, but he definitely wasn’t counting! - and she was silent. Was that good or bad?

“Hey Branch….Do you still hate the rain?”

His mind stopped working and his heart dropped to his feet. He looked out at the falling drops and remembered his Grandma, remembered the screaming between him and the girl next to him, soaked, and tears pouring from her eyes as he walked out of Troll Town for the last time. That had been so long ago. And now, she wanted answers. Was he ready to give them to her?

“Yeah.” He answered softly, afraid his voice would crack.

As he saw the rain beginning lighten up, Branch began to stand as he told the girl he loved for a second time, “Well, it was great. But I gotta go back to Bergan Town now. Have a great life, Poppy.”

Rain or not, he was getting the fuck out of there before he did something stupid! But he was  rooted to the spot when he had just reached the edge of the gazebo and Poppy threw herself out and into the rain, her arms spread wide to keep him from running. With a snarl, he yanked her dripping, shivering form back under the gazebo’s shelter and threw his hoodie over his head with lightning speed. His black tee stuck to his skin but he didn’t care. Using his hoodie, Branch hurriedly dabbed at Poppy’s wet form.

He couldn’t help the angry bite, “Why did you do that for!? You’re gonna get sick, Poppy, for fucks sake!”

She said nothing but only shivered and it wasn’t until he finally looked down and met her eyes that the world stopped spinning.

The first thing he registered was that the rain was still falling. He could hear it’s familiar, yet much softer, pitter-patter as it hit the ground. The second thing he registered were the cold, wet hands gripping his cheeks and the bottom of his jaw. The third most unbelievable and heart pounding thing were the soft, warm lips pressed against his own. It took a total deduction of 2 seconds before Branch groaned – he had lost the war a long time ago – and grabbed Poppy’s hips, bringing her flush against him.

And he titled his head, kissing her deeper and she responded by stroking her thumbs over his cheek bones. He never noticed when the sun started breaking through the clouds or the gentle rain slowly fading to nothing. He never noticed his hoodie drop from Poppy’s shoulders to the floor. All he could feel was her and when she finally pulled away, leaving a hairs breadth between them, he finally opened his eyes to the Sun, her smile all cupcakes and rainbows and happiness.

“What about now?”

Her breathless question stirred him to life and the gray rain clouds finally, years later, fled from that teen boy’s eyes. Branch smiled, pure and wide, and brought an arm around her waist to lift her slightly off the ground. Her eyes went wide and she squeaked, wrapping her arms around his neck as their lips grazed each other’s gently.

Branch didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. She already knew. With a desperation he hadn’t known until now, Branch leaned down that last gap and brought his lips to hers in a firm, unyielding kiss. His happiness had never been inside him. It had always been with the pink-haired girl who was now kissing him with everything she had. And yeah, okay, so maybe the rain wasn’t that bad and maybe he could learn to love it after all.

[tangodancer91]

Beholder (Klance Outsider POV Fanfic Snippet)

A lot of you have asked if I plan to continue my Outsider POV series A Flower in Adversity. The short answer is yes, I do, absolutely. The long answer is that I’ve been struggling like you wouldn’t believe with my next concept, which is that Earth slowly becomes aware of what’s going on out there, and accidentally manages to hack into Rover 2.0 and therefore get snippets of the Paladins’ life out in space. 

Since you’ve all been waiting so patiently, I thought I’d share a snippet of my latest attempt. Please keep in mind that it will most likely undergo heavy editing, but the basic concept is that the POV is Iverson’s again, that Lance’s family definitely will have a part in this, and that Klance are my main OTP (although Keitor comes a close second, but I digress). 

Enjoy!

Whatever had changed and made the broadcasts public —there had been no leak on their side, surprisingly enough, made them no less erratic than before. They would happen in the middle of the day, early in the morning, in the deadest of night… There was no way to predict them. But it so happened that Iverson was visiting the McClain family for their monthly information dump, as they’d taken to calling it, when the TV turned on all on its own, drawing everybody’s attention to the screen.

It didn’t take long for Iverson’s stomach to plummet, even as the family around him gasped in abject horror. It was McClain again, but this time and unlike most of the others, he was actually in action. His surroundings were bathed in flashing purple light, and he held a bulky rifle as he ran, blood running down his temple. He kept calling out on his coms, but no answer came, and there was nothing but a grim sort of understanding on his face when he reached a room filled with elaborate consoles with no exit in sight but the stars beyond transparent walls.

On screen, McClain exhaled.  “Mierda.”

The flashing lights enhanced the sharp planes of his face, the harsh pinch of his mouth as he visibly hardened himself and turned around, gun at the ready. One of the pursuing aliens barked something in that grating language of theirs, only for McClain to raise his rifle and fire in response. More gasps echoed around Iverson as the Galra went down with a thud, a smoking burn right smack between the eyes, but McClain didn’t stop, didn’t even glance at the body.

Iverson was glad he didn’t. This was war, and they had no time to dwell on the lives lost, especially not when those killed would have shot them without a second thought. McClain knew it, too. He was already firing, his features the picture of concentration as he shot while occasionally ducking.

But it couldn’t last, Iverson knew. It couldn’t, because there was nowhere to go. And the chances that McClain would manage to shoot down the entire group without getting hit himself and before backup arrived were painfully slim. Not to say inexistant. No doubt they had already called for reinforcements.

A loud curse tore him from his thoughts. McClain crashed backwards into a console, blood already running through the fingers he’d pressed against his bleeding abdomen. Edelira keened even as his head smacked into the hard edge of a panel, a harsh grunt escaping his lips. His rifle clattered to the floor. On Earth, McClain’s family drew closer together. Most of them were sobbing openly, begging whoever deigned to listen to save their child, their brother, their cousin, their nephew.

Already, the Galra were standing on top of him, rifles pointed at his fallen form and a smug grin on the leader’s purple lips. He kicked at McClain, relishing in the choked scream he let out as his wound was jostled. His eyes were going hazy, Iverson didn’t want to point out aloud. Concussion. With that and his wound, the chances he’d get out of this alive had dropped from slim to zero, but he resisted the urge to turn around and close his eyes.

For all the dressing-downs he’d given the boy, McClain had been one of his and would always be so. He’d been fighting an interplanetary war for years, had bled and suffered for them, and was about to give his life for a cause that mattered to the entire universe. He deserved respect, and Iverson wouldn’t insult his sacrifice by looking away.

And that’s when he saw it. A dark shape, crawling its way into the room on the ceiling. And he couldn’t be sure because the patterns had been dimmed for more stealth, but Iverson could have sworn that this was the uniform of the Blade of Marmora, and something unfurled in his chest.  

“Mom, mom, look!” One of the McClain brood shouted, her voice shrill with impossible hope.

The atmosphere filled with broken anticipation, the frailty of a hope that could be severed at any moment. What if this was unrelated? What if it was merely a strange Galra creature? What if it was a scavenger drawn by upcoming death? What if, what if?

But McClain had seen it, too. His eyes flickered ever so slightly to the shape on the ceiling, and then back to the gloating Galra. And then, without a word, his lips stretched into a red grin, feral and wild, and the form dropped. McClain launched himself across the room and towards his rifle, firing even as something flashed and the Galra leader’s head rolled onto the floor with a thud that went almost unheard in the sudden cacophony of screams and laserfire.

As suddenly as it had started, it was over, and there was only McClain, panting on the floor in a pool of his own blood, and the Marmorite standing tall in a sea of maimed bodies.

“Took you long enough,” McClain groaned.

I have this headcanon that Keith crawls along the ceiling in his BoM suit and loves to drop down onto his prey like some sort of very sexy spider. Sue me.

[valentinesparda]

[ the soft noises from the messengers catch your attention; in one of their hands reaching out to you is a letter written on sturdy parchment adorned with a soft lilac-colored flower; sealed with an insignia very familiar to you] 

Good Evening my starlight, 

I know it has been quite a while since I’ve written to you and I apologize for my absence but you already know, keeper duties and all that. I am writing because I do miss you while on these quests for my mentors and I wish for you to be by my side once more. Before I get side tracked, I saw a flower on my journey that reminded me of you and I wish to present it once I returned along with the rest of my pressed flowers I have collected over the years. The more I am away the more my heart yearns for you and it is a feeling I’ve never truly experienced until we met. I know this is going to be silly and I can tell you are definitely going to roll your eyes at this request but… I have been thinking lately and we’ve conversed about this before despite it being a bit selfish… Anubis will you do me the honors of being mine until the very end? It would mean the eons I have been alive to have you by my side for the rest of your life. 

‘Til I see you again darling,

J.M.R.

dearest jericho,

i'm pleased to hear you are well and haven't forgotten me, jericho, i was so close to summoning the messengers myself to call for you. if not out of worry, simply out of annoyance. but that aside, i will hold this letter close to my heart until i receive another or have you here with me.

regrettably, it warms my heart to know that you think of me fondly, even in the presence of flora in lands I'm unable to tread with you. every new flower you introduce to me is one more piece to a puzzle i know I will never be able to see to completion, but i treasure them and the love that comes with the sweet scent they carry. did you know that each one triggers memories i am actually glad to keep with me? a foreign, saccharine feeling that they bring....

come home to me, jericho, and i shall give you my answer. come home in one piece and i will greet you with a kiss.... you have brought me peace after pain and have given me new memories to treasure in the same way you keep your flowers; with fierce but tender care.

forgive me for sounding foolish, but i don't know if I would be able to go on without you after everything we have been through together, and nothing would bring me more joy and comfort than being with you for the rest of my days. the thought has me swooning, and if you let anyone know that, I'd have to figure out a way to make you pay - though I'm sure you'll enjoy it.

i do not express it often, but i only hope i manage to match your energy in love in whatever way i can, and i only wish to make you as happy as you make me. i am not exaggerating when I say you are by far the greatest thing to happen in my life, and i do try my hardest to let that show. please, never think that i hate you. you mean everything to me, my moon.

eagerly waiting,

anubis.