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spideyanakin · 1 year

Text

Jokes on you

Peter Parker x Reader B99 Au

Au where MCU lives in the same universe as the 99

Synopsis - Jake is the only cop who’s ever managed to capture Spider-man.

Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Peter Parker Masterlist 🌻

Peter landed on your fire escape with an inaudible thud, hand gripping the worn-out metal bar to reach for your window. Before his fist could collide with the glass, he noticed the rainbow maker sticker he had bought for you at the MOMA's gift shop on your last school field trip.

He noticed only after spotting the trinket, that you were nowhere to be seen. He could see the mess on your desk, mountains of papers and colored pencils littered the space. The small blue desk light was on, shining across the squiggles on your paper. Peter couldn't see what it was about but he was ready to bet on his superpowers that you were trying to work a case. Either one Peter had told you about or one that had recently caught your attention on the news.

Or maybe even better--a case you had found this afternoon on your internship.

There you were. Peter's sense caught up with your light footsteps towards your bedroom door. Your hand catching the silver handle of your wooden before swinging it open.

Your face lit up when you saw Peter waiting at your window. You jumped on your feet, socked feet bouncing on the blue carpet as you made the few steps toward him.

Your fingers hooked with the handled of your window before pushing it open.

"How long have you been waiting here?" You greeted, soft smile dancing on your lips at his sight.

"A few minutes, barely," Peter swiftly slid into your room, removing his mask and throwing it on your bed before turning back to you.

You took him in, biting your lip. His hair was messy from his spider-man mask, his eyes bright as he stared back at you. He looked happy and you couldn't help but copy his contagious smile.

"That's good," you blurted out, lost in trying to figure out what made him so happy--but he was always happy, it was Peter.

“How was your internship?” He jumped a bit on his heels, pointing to the brand-new NYPD jacket you forgot you were still wearing.

“Fun, actually.” You chuckled. “I got to help fight crime today, a bit like you, I guess," you joked. "I'm assisting a detective, we're working on a case, it's pretty cool."

"Explains this?" He walked towards your desk to get a better look at what had previously caught his attention. You had drawn over a map of New York with different colors and shapes--scribbles only you knew the answers to.

"No, that's a whole different thing," you chuckled, meeting Peter by your desk and leaning closer to him.

“How was your "internship"?” You tilted your head to get a closer look at him. The air quotes getting a small laugh out of him. "Anything on that case you were telling me about?"

“Nope, nothing," he shrugged his shoulders. "Not much but the usual. Stolen bike, helping an old woman cross the road, always that same guy trying to steal a redbull from Delmar's. "

"Every day!"

"Every day! You'd thought he get the hint by now. Delmar threatened to call the police today though."

"As he should."

"Talking about the police, did you know that every cop in the state of New York is trying to catch you? They have this giant bet on which precinct will catch you first. It’s pretty funny actually," you laughed to yourself, thinking back on today's briefing when they taught you all about it. Jake had even shown you his folder with a collection of every single little detail he had collected, including old police reports from other precincts about failed attempts to catch him, to witness interviews.

“Oh well, I'm impossible to catch, darling,” Peter gave you his best grin.

"Confident much?"

"Always," he kissed your cheek.

“Well, be careful. They all think you’re the bad guy," you fixed a few strands of hair on his forehead.

“I always am, princess.”

"So tell me, what's up with that guy you were telling me about. Because I think they have a similar case going on at the precinct.”

“Well, the guy I'm currently searching for is called Todd Willis. Known for selling drugs around Queens and Brooklyn, but now we think he’s selling Alien substances. Alien drug if you want. Tony asked me to keep an eye on him until they know more. What did you hear today?"

"I don't think that's the same guy, but one of the detectives was going on about how this guy was found with an ungodly amount of drugs and wouldn't tell them who he bought it from."

"Well, please tell me if you have anything on Todd Willis. I think it's bothering Tony more than he's letting on. Be nice to have some more clues."

"Promise."

The next morning you got dressed in the NYPD uniform the nine-nine gave you, stuffing your name badge in your bag before scurrying off to grab breakfast at your closest Starbucks. You never went to Starbucks but you were in a rush and you forgot where you had placed your go-cup. Only when you were waiting for your coffee did you realize Peter had borrowed it two weeks ago and never gave it back.

You basically flew down the steps of the subway, thanking whatever gods were with you that morning because the train was just arriving as you swiped your card.

You finally allowed yourself to breathe correctly once you were sat on the uncomfortable blue bench and the silver doors closed, the train harshly starting again, and leaving behind the platform, heading in a straight line towards your destination.

You checked your watch before taking a new comforting sip of your drink, warm and sweet and everything you felt like you needed to survive today. Your shoulders slacked when you realized you had managed to catch up with the lost minutes, you were going to arrive right on time.

You decided to take your one-month mandatory work experience/ internship Midtown High required, with the NYPD. Unfortunately, you made your decision a little late, so the nine-nine was the only district available. It was a little far from your home, but at least it was still on the same side of the river. A few subway stops weren't going to scare you away.

You didn't mind as much as you thought you would. You loved Brooklyn, and the nine-nine had been much more welcoming than you'd imagine. In the little hours you had already spent with them, they had broken every stereotype that you built about working at a precinct. The images you had made yourself about the calm, serious, and strict detectives were quickly replaced by the chaotic staff that had greeted you days before.

“Morning intern!” Jake bounced on his chair as he saw you walk in.

“She’s not your personal intern, you know,” Amy raised an eyebrow, looking up from her computer as she took a new sip of her coffee.

“She’s technically Captain Holt’s intern,” Rosa entered the conversation, her sharp eyes keeping their focus on her screen.

“Yeah, but he assigned her to work with me,” he pointed his finger at you and back to him.

“Two days ago! She worked with me yesterday,” Amy raised her hands, almost offended by Jake’s comment.

“No, she didn’t! She worked with the two of us!”

“That’s because you wouldn’t leave us and forced Captain Holt to put you on the case,” she looked at him with the whites of her eyes.

“Alright, alright. But I’m sure we’re going to work together again.” Jake pointed the pink eraser of his pencil at you and winked.

You bit your lip, trying to not laugh.

“Morning Precinct," Captain Holt walked out of his office, head down on a pile of papers in his hands. "I have a new case for you Peralta,” he lifted his gaze to meet Jake's bright eyes. He walked the few steps to his desk, blue sneakers squeaking on the clean white floor before dropping everything that was in his hands on the messy desk, in between the scattered cups of coffee and the old-looking banana peel Jake promised had only been there two days. “So you can let Amy and her intern work on their case,” he nodded, "and clean your desk Peralta" he added, raising a disgusted eyebrow as he scanned the wooden surface. He looked back at Jake before turning on his heels, making large steps back towards his office.

“HA! My intern-” Captain Holt, turned around, and raised an eyebrow for the second time that morning, Amy gave him a small, apologetic smile before awkwardly turning back to you.

You took this as your cue to grab a chair and sit at Amy's desk.

Jake smirked at Amy's awkward interaction before looking down at the files Holt had dropped on his desk. He eyed the white paper who was staring back at him as if this was the greatest puzzle in history.

“Todd Willis?" He blinked, trying to reread the words as if there had been some kind of mistake, hoping he wasn't losing his mind. "Didn’t we close his case a while ago?" Jake turned to Holt who was still standing at the border between the room and the safe heven that was his office.

"Yes, but it was just reopened. He’s been apparently selling some... new, stronger drug.”

Your face fell when you heard the name. Peter was going after that guy too. Was he that dangerous that he had also caught the eye of the police?

You'd figure Jake was going to ramble about him as he worked the case, maybe you could remember some information and tell everything to Peter. Help him beat the nine-nine and crack the case before they did.

But wait. What if you cracked the case before Peter?

You loved Peter with everything in you but he was always smug about his Spider-man powers making him more useful than any detective around town.

What if you helped Jake and the nine-nine break the case before your boyfriend? Now that would be fun.

“Captain?” You politely raised your voice, making Holt's attention drift to you. He nodded, expectantly looking at you--you took it as your cue, “may I work with Jake on the case? I was fascinated by this case when it was ongoing,” you gave him your best smile, hoping he would let you in on.

The challenge of helping the nine-nine beat Peter was way too thrilling. A race you were ready to win. A way to grab on to feeling like a super hero in your own way.

Holt raised his eyebrows, taking a second to process your request. Jake was talented but he was the personification of ADHD and could be a pain to work with. Holt truly thought that you had experienced that firsthand the other day. Nevertheless, he saw your attitude towards the Todd Willis case and knew that if you had indeed been fascinated with it, then you might indeed be some great help to his craziest recruit.

“I don’t see why not. Y/n you can work with Peralta on the case. Sorry Santiago, you can partner up with Boyle," he nodded before finally disappearing back into his office.

Amy’s mouth fell open, and Jake abruptly stood up, making a happy dance around his table.

"I'm sorry?" You offered Amy who looked at you with betrayal written all over her features. You stood up and moved your chair to sit next to Peralta.

“She’s my intern now! In ya face! Suckers!”

“So, what you got so far?” You grounded Jake back to reality. He smiled before sitting in his chair, dramatically straightening his back and licking his finger to better flip the first page, ready to reveal all the information laid out on the files before him.

“Let’s see…”

Four hours had passed since you and Jake started working, your help being way more precious than he ever thought it would be. You had relocated to one of the workrooms. A large pinboard on the wall with the potential clues and locations. A table was in the middle of the room, with just even more papers splayed across it; an Agatha Christie book you thought held a potential clue, a random yellow kitchen glove neatly placed in a ziplock that had been found on a goose chase to catch Todd. You hadn't been allowed to pull it out of the bag, but you thought having it around might still be important.

The last blueberry muffin of a box Terry had kindly given you after your first hour of research stood proudly in between the mess you had created, and empty glasses previously holding peach syrup sat on the edges.

You looked at the map pinned to the wall.

“We're missing a step. It’s impossible he carried the drugs from LA to here without anyone noticing," Jake's fingers danced across the map, stopping on the picture of the drug cargo that you had pinned to the Hudson River hours prior. "He must have a base somewhere in New York,” he continued.

You sighed. You knew you needed some information that you could only get in the field, and it bothered you that you couldn't be as free and sneaky as Spider-man. You understood why Peter and the avengers cracked cases so fast and easily. They were able to get information fast and spying came easy. For the police, going on the field meant a whole lot of equipment and prep. They had to be sure, use the clues they already had before they could act on their suspicions.

Your familiar ringtone broke you out of your thoughts.

Of course, it was Peter. As if he knew you were thinking about him. “It’s my boyfriend. Can I take that?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he shook his hand as if to show you it was more than ok, "we should take a break anyways."

You nodded before exiting the room and making a beeline to the terrace where the staff would take their private calls or the occasional cigarette.

“Hey babe,” you smiled over the phone.

“Hi”

“What's up?”

“Nothing much,” he chuckled over the phone. “Just wanted to hear your voice, see how work was going. I got some more info on Todd, Im about to leave the compound."

"Oh neat," you bit your lip. That easy to get information out of Peter?

"I discovered he has a base in Brooklyn,” Peter replied making the last part of his sentence a little mysterious.

“Brooklyn?” Your eyes lit up. “Where in Brooklyn?”

“Clinton Hill, Myrtle av. Plus it’s not far from you." You could hear some shuffling and a door closing behind him. The familiar sound of webs and suddenly, a lot of wind over the phone. "Why?” his voice came out as muffled.

"Peter, are you calling and swinging again?"

"Maybe?" You could barely hear him, making you huff.

"Peter-- we talked about this, please be careful. Call me back after your mission, kay?"

“Yep. That works, bye, love you.”

“Love you too," you hung up, and pocketed your phone. "Unbelievable," you shook your head in disbelief. After the number of times, Peter almost crashed into a building by being on the phone with you or Ned or even Tony--and he had to do it again.

You sighed before walking back into the building, at least he gave you a lead. A very good lead.

“Jake, I think I got something,” you approached the table, eyes dancing across the accumulation of papers before you found your pick. It was a small yellow Post-it note with Jake's sloppy handwriting; ‘Moaning M Ry 2' written in blue ink. You and Jake had spent the whole afternoon wondering what it meant, and your conversation with Peter had struck the answer right out of you.

“Are there any streets around Myrtle av that starts with Ry?”

“I don’t know so let me check,” Jake turned from the pinboard to his laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he searched the map of Brooklyn.

“Yeah, Ryerson St. Why?”

“Well is there an N2 to this street?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you check the building?”

Jake fidgeted with the keys of his computer before getting the picture of an old grey building.

“Hey! We searched the building ages ago!” Jake pointed to it. “It’s totally possible their base is here!” He approached the board. “Hey this actually makes a lot of makes. But how did you-” he pointed, shock evident in his eyes.

“Well, these guys aren’t the only Harry Potter fans out there,” a small smirk rose on your lips as you handed the paper to Jake. He looked at you with quizzical eyes and then down to the note in his hand.

“Oh my god!" His eyes grew wide as he read his lopsided letters "Moaning M is Moaning Myrtle I'm so dumb! Harry Potter is just the best right?” He gave you a bright smile.

“Yeah!” You chuckled. “I think you should get a team there as quickly as possible, you don’t know what their next move will be.” You added, wanting more than ever to win this one-way race with your boyfriend.

“Yes. And thank you for your help… Detective.”

You sighed, watching the bottom of your coffee cup, fingers mindlessly tapping on the wooden surface of Jake's desk--while Gina talked about some random life facts about her, instead of giving you the lists of tasks that Captain Holt had asked her to hand you about an hour ago.

"Any news of Jake and Amy?" you turned to Terry who jumped at your voice, quickly closing the flappy golf page--fear of getting caught playing a video game by an intern during work hours quickly rising in his chest.

In all truths, he was bored. While Amy, Jake, and Boyle had run off to the location you had found, he had to work on what was probably the most boring case Holt had assigned him to this year.

He checked his phone, sighing when there was no message, simply his daughters' faces and big bright white numbers staring back.

"No," you melted a little more in your chair at his words.

You wished that you could have gone with them, but security was what mattered most, and of course, interns were not allowed on fieldwork.

You had no news of Peter either, making you think this had actually been a really good lead, and they were all busy trying to figure out what the heck was in this abandoned building.

In the meantime, Jake parked the disguise van and started his lookout. The big grey building sat quiet, as of yet no signs of life revealed to them. Everything was quiet until a light thump rang through the van.

“What was that,” Amy grabbed the nearest car handle, whispering in panic.

“Oh my god, I bet it’s Spider-man!” Jake whispered back like a fan girl whose celebrity crush had just breathed the same air.

“You really think Spider-man is on top of our van?“ Amy tilted her head thinking his idea was absurd.

"That would be amazing,” Boyle said over the intercom. Until now he stayed quiet in the back area of the van accompanied by all the spying equipment.

“You think we should try and catch him?” Jake whispered even lower.

“How do you want us to catc-” Amy raised her voice, attempting to speak normally but Jake slapped his hand on her mouth.

“Shhh. He has special hearing,” Jake whispered as low as he possibly could.

“How do you even know that?” Amy asked, trying her best to match Jake's whispers.

“I have a plan,” Jake carefully looked at Amy. “Alright, Boyle, can you look at the van’s door camera.”

“On it,” Boyle excitedly pressed on the camera buttons.

“Alright, if he gets down, hit him with a tranquilizer, and quickly grab him. Put him in the van and come in the front with us. Make sure you double-lock the door. Make sure you do it quickly.”

“Why so quick if he’s tranquilized?” Amy didn't see the logic.

“Don’t you know anything about him!? He heals super fast which means we have like two minutes until he wakes up and gets back on his feet,” Jake huffed as if this was common knowledge, almost offended that Amy knew nothing.

“How do you know so much?” Amy whispered scream.

“He’s like my favorite hero!”

“Yeah, Amy. He’s like Jake’s favorite hero," Boyle added through the intercom.

“And every cop knows that the sixty-seven tried to but he woke up before they could get him,” Jake added like it was obvious.

And as if on cue, Spider-Man jumped down the van he thought was empty and slowly walked towards the building, careful not to make any startling noise for the potential bad guys who took cover inside.

"JAKE JAKE!" Boyle whispered and screamed as he saw the red silhouette appear on his computer. "He's there!"

Jake let out an excited squeak, and Boyle grabbed the tranquilizer gun that was stored on the side of the computer desk. Boyle took a breath before opening the door in a flash, perfectly shooting a tranquilizer right into Spider-man.

"Jake! Amy!" Boyle screamed and Amy and Jake rushed out of the van--making Jake scream when he saw his hero laying face flat on the floor.

"Oh my god, this is the best day of my life!" He jumped like a kid high on sugar. "Amy we caught Spider-man! We caught Spider-man!"

Amy stared at him in shock, trying to register what was even happening. She blinked when Jake and Boyle high-fived.

"Well, what are you waiting for get him in the van!"

You were washing your hands in the bathroom when Jake and Boyle came back in the precinct in a hurry. Jake's hair looked at mess and his eyes were as big as they could possibly get over the excitement,

“Guys, guys! we caught Spider-Man!”

“You caught The Spider-Man? You sure this isn’t just some guy in a costume?” Holt fixed his glasses, giving skeptical eyes to Jake.

“Hundred percent sure, Sir. No look five!” Jack blindly threw his right hand behind him, just to collide with Boyle's hand who took the cue faster than his mind could comprehend.

“Is it that guy dressed as Spider-man that lives in your building again?” Rosa interrupted.

“Rosa, if the real Spider-man lived in my building I would have a tattoo on my forehead that says ‘Spider-man lives in my building’” Jake pointed to his forehead and chuckled.

A small silence fell in the room, Captain Holt crossed his arms, eyes boring into Jake's as he tried to pull answers.

“We should still check, I really want to know if I should add the 15th bar to my ‘Jake caught a random guy dressed as Spider-man’ board.” Rosa stood up from her chair.

The whole of the team didn't bother with the thought of Jake's latest potential find, making only Captain Holt, Terry, and Rosa who came only for mere entertainment purposes, followed the team of three to the parking lot where the van had been parked.

"Brace yourselves!" Jake fed into the suspense, slowly placing his hands around the handles before ripping the door open "Ta Da-"

Before the five cops that stood around the van could register, the one and only hero flew out of the confined place, throwing as many webs as he possibly could in an attempt to escape the clutches of the police. Captain Holt was thrown to the floor as a web hit his leg and glued him to the floor.

Without a word, and almost a sigh of total annoyance, Rosa grabbed the taser on her belt and hit Spider-man that was standing right in front of her with it. The poor hero fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Well, you were right. This is The Spider-Man. Now I would really appreciate it if you would get me out of these… Webs.”

“Soz, Sir don’t think I can. You have to wait two hours. Got caught in them once, good luck going to the bathroom Sir.” Jake sheepishly replied, his tone cheery. He bounced on his heels in excitement as he spotted Terry and Rosa already starting to pick up Spider-man.

“Thought he would be heavier,” Terry said as he slowly draped the unconscious hero on the chair of the interrogation room.

“Y/n!” Jake called out, out of breath from sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey, how was the mission?”

“It is what we thought it was but that’s not important! Come!” Jake waved his hands for you to come, you raised an eyebrow watching him grab his guitar before making you follow him down to the interrogation rooms.

“Bab–aaspider Man?” Your eyes went wide. You saw Peter, still fully dressed in his Spider-man suit, face down on the table-- cuffed hands twitching as he was slowly starting to wake up.

“Babpider man? I like that” Peralta added not realizing your almost mistake to call the hero in front of you, babe.

“I hate when you make up words Peralta,” Captain Holt deadpanned.

“We’re about to reveal who he truly is.” Jake bounced excitedly next to you. “Couldn’t let you miss it!” He turned to you, and your mind went through every possible way that you could stop this from happening--but no idea came to mind. “You guys ready?" Jake sat on the table. “I want to wake him up first.” Jake looked at you before unzipping the guitar bag, just to reveal and light brown guitar. You watched as he carefully placed it on his legs, clearing his throat.

“Oh boy,” Amy exclaimed before covering her ears, signing you to do the same.

“SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-MAN!” Jakes screamed while doing notes on his guitar you were sure not to be the right notes to this song. "DOES WHATEVER A SPIDER CAN!"

Spider-Man shot up, the eyes of his mask opening wide. He looked around at the unfamiliar faces, right until he saw yours. You gave him the most apologetic smile you possibly could, and you could see from the way the eyes of his suit twitched that he was silently asking for your help.

Jake got closer, hand reaching to peel his mask off.

“What but- You can’t just do that!” You tried.

“What do you mean? Its Spider-Man we’re talking about!” Jake almost whined, not understanding your reasoning.

“But what if his identity remains a secret for a reason? Maybe he wants to stay quiet?”

“Hey hey hey, please don’t remove my mask sir.” Spider-Man shifted in his spot, attempting to move his hands but he was trapped.

“Oh C’mon! This is like my life’s dream. Relax a little, guys! Be cool,” Jake tried to ease the tension.

“But-”

“You guys can be so stupid sometimes,” Gina lost her focus on her freshly manicured hands, ready to take the matter into her own hands. She planted herself right behind Spider-man before ripping his mask off in one swift motion--a moment straight out of a Scooby-Doo episode, you thought.

“Oh damn your pretty,” she exclaimed before examining his face. “Oh hey, Y/n it’s your boyfriend! Damn girl,” she looked at you and then back to Peter.

Your face burned in embarrassment as the whole of the precinct now stared at you.

“You know him?" Terry pointed to Peter.

"Kind of?”

"Kind of?" Gina interrupted you. "Queen, you're literally together, kissing on your lock screen."

“Y/n’s boyfriend is Spider-Man,” Jake shrieked.

“Yeah?” You offered him.

“Y/n’s. Boyfriend. Is. The. Real. Spider. Man,” he looked at everyone in the group.

“You ok, Jake?”

“Im cool. Everything is Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.”

Jake walked out of the room. Silence fell before a loud scream coming from the main room was heard.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

“He’s gonna be alright”

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lamaery · 2 years

Photo

The second theme of cosmere fashion week is Masquerade. I decided to go for costumes that are reminiscent of what the spren/human companions usually are wearing with a bit of a high fashion tweak... and lots of masks... fancy masks. Also I think these three are the pairs where I actually have designs for both of humans and spren in shadesmar form (maybe apart from Design and her talkative radiant). Again another lesson in if you’re not entirely convinced by your painting just slap a lot of effects on :D Image description (by @cosmereplay and myself) below the cut:

[ID: Three Images showing Kaladin, Syl, Shallan, Pattern, Adolin and Maya in costumes inspired by each other. Image one is Kaladin and Syl, sitting on two overlarge steps. Kal is sitting on the bottom step, leaning back against the top step with his hand in the air, making a pinching motion with his index finger and thumb, palm up. His head his hunched forward slightly, his face pointed slightly downwards but his eyes looking up at the viewer. He wears a blue masquerade mask which covers the area around his eyes, though his forehead brands are still visible. His hair is black, wavy, and medium length, tickling the back of his neck and brushing his cheekbones. He wears an incredible suit. It's a sky blue, slightly reflective pantsuit. The trousers are notched slightly at the ankle. The suit jacket has only two buttons at the waist, and otherwise hangs open, revealing a shaved chest. The sleeves go to the elbow, and cascading out from inside are tulle-like, flowing sleeves in various shades of blue. More tulle emerges from under the bottom of the suit jacket, too, flowing like vapour, but still clearly fabric. It's magical. Syl wears a uniform. She has a white blouse with a small tight collar around the neck, and the sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. Over that she wears a blue vest with a strong black and grey collar that criss crosses over her chest and presumably ties at the waist. She wears grey trousers and tight black knee high boots. She's thrown her uniform jacket over her shoulder with a confident smile. Her hair is up in a bun with her bangs loose and curly, bouncing on her temples. She wears a masquerade mask that covers the area around her eyes plus her forehead. The mask is the colour and texture of Kaladin's skin, and it has Kaladin's brands on the forehead. She is sitting on the top step, leaning casually with her hand behind Kaladin. Image two is Shallan and Pattern sitting in front of a magenta background. Shallan is sitting on the ground, leaning to one side with a cocked and confident shoulder. She wears a black dress and her hair is pulled back tightly. Centred where her hair is parted is essentially a Cryptic, which covers an area above her head and down to her nose in a black pattern that evokes both language and lace. Her blue eyes shine out from between convenient spaces in the pattern. Her dress is evocative of a cryptic. The skirt of the dress is long and flowing and almost velvety in the way it absorbs light, and she wears gloves that reach her upper arms. Incidentally her deltoids and her lips and jaw are the only parts of her that are uncovered and I'm all about that delt life, you know me Lamaery. The bust of the dress is a phenomenon - black, reflective plastic shapes fit together to make an almost gem-like pattern around her waist. Because the top part of the dress is hard, it is able to extend upwards past her shoulders, kind of like someone punched two holes in a plastic cup and she stuck her arms through, but only in the shape sense. Every bit of this is striking and elegant Shallan holds a closed fan on her lap and she purses her lips because she knows exactly how amazing she looks. Pattern is standing behind Shallan. He wears a light blue havah with a thick gold edging that criss crosses his chest, and frames his shoulders and the end of his safehand sleeve, which is extremely long and exaggerated, hanging down almost to the ground as he reaches out behind Shallan, using his light coloured clothing to contrast Shallan's pure black costume. His face is a pattern, exactly like the one Shallan is wearing in front of her face. He is holding a clear glass mask on a long glass stem. The mask is a theatre style, with a straight line across the forehead and down all the way to the chin. It has a neutral expression.

Image three is showing Adolin and Maya. Adolin wears a loose grey green sweater with a green and golden striped vest and a ripped dark green jeans. He is barefoot. His faces is masked by a golden, crumpled cloth strip with holes for his eyes. Maya wears a blue uniform coat with the chest part with a double row of buttons being very cropped the sides and back of the coat glaring down to knee length. It has a dark blue high collar and silver ornamentation with silver cords falling from the shoulder. Underneath the front is a slim light violet vest with an asymmetrical cut on the bottom. She wears light blue pants and dark knee high Boots. Theee quarters of her face are covered by a golden smiling mask rimmed with golden and black feathers on top. The right upper side of her face, showing some forehead and the scratches where her right eye was are revealed. Adolin‘s left hand is propped on top the hilt of the sabre, it’s top standing on the floor. Maya’s right hand lies on top of Adolin‘s.]

#roshar fashion #cosmere #cosmere fashion month #masquarade #fashion #kaladin #sylphrena #shallan #pattern #cryptic #mayalaran #adolin #swapsies #stormlight archive #cfsbf

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athenadione · 8 months

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heat waves

Read HERE on a03

Rated: E for sexual content

Words: 3,379

The wave of heat hits Damian first as soon as he opens the door leading to one of their outdoor pools of Titan’s tower. Then the humidity in the air wraps around him tight, nearly taking his breath away. It clings to his skin, bringing with it a sticky sensation that he despises. It’s a great contrast from the harsh winters of Nanda Parbat, although right now he’s not sure which is worse.

When he steps out onto the granite deck surrounding the water, he can hear the loud chirp of crickets from down below. The sun’s already set and the reflection of the water shines bright. He looks up to see the sky in clear view. The stars wink down at him like they know something he doesn’t. Then he sees something else that causes one of his brows to raise.

A full moon.

He frowns in thought. Some view it as a sign of something dangerous. A sense of foreboding even. The hairs rising on his arms should be a sign of what’s to come.

But now that he’s looking at it fully in quiet wonder, he’s seeing it more as a sign of completion. A sense of rightness maybe, or even a symbol of light shining on darkness. Good prevailing over evil.

It’s a nice reminder to him that he’s on the right path. That he’s making his own choice to stay on that path every day as a Titan. As Robin.

Self-reflection, although something he makes an effort to do often, isn’t the reason that he’s here at the pool at three am in the morning.

No, his reason for coming up here is currently swimming what seems like her fiftieth lap around the pool.

He takes a moment to look around.

The patio table to the left reveals her clothes for the evening folded neatly. The ones she’d worn at dinner after her day off. There’s been several times Damian decided to wear his civvies too, if only for a small sense of normalcy for the day. Not that he’ll ever really achieve it. No, his grandfather made that clear to him from the beginning of his youth.

Raven doesn’t slow when he draws closer, so he takes the time to observe the rest of the area while she starts on yet another lap.

The full moon causes flashes of light to reflect off the pool and into the deck. Shapes of that light dance off the panels of the tower. Raven apparently decided to turn the deck lights off in favor of turning on the string lights above the bar. Beside it two palm trees wave gently with a light breeze, giving him a small reprieve of the strangling heat. Although that still doesn’t stop the beads of sweat beginning to line his forehead.

“I figured you’d find me here eventually,” A voice calls out to him, low and sultry. There’s something predatorial in her tone that matches the growing smirk on her face. Even the heat can’t stop the shiver down his back, and Damian is suddenly thinking this isn’t his best idea.

“I wanted to come check on you since you said you didn’t feel good at dinner.” He tells her, unsure if he should step closer. It’d taken a little longer than he wanted to admit to find her. The first place he thought to look was the library. The next was the training room. He honestly didn’t think he’d find her here.

Raven pulls herself up out of the water enough to rest her top half on the deck. One arm rests there while the other cups her chin, and she tilts her head with a curious look. Water from her strappy black bikini top drips onto the deck, along with the ends of her ebony locks. The rest of her hair is slicked back with some of the strands shining a dark blue against the light of the moon. He watches for a moment, eyes traveling down to the cheap strings holding the top of her bikini together. Damian swallows.

“That was so that no one else would try to look for me, but I knew that you would eventually.” Raven tells him.

Damian frowns at her with the smallest downturn of his mouth. “You didn’t have to hide. If you wanted some time to yourself you could have said something,” he crosses his arms, “although now I’m wondering why you felt the need to hide at all.”

Raven’s amusement is clear in her eyes, although her smirk is gone, “I’m not exactly hiding.”

“Maybe, but you’re not exactly telling the truth either.”

“Maybe not.”

Damian watches her dip back underwater after her cryptic answer. Something’s been off about her for the entire week—especially now more than ever. He knows Raven better than anyone in this tower, and yet he hasn’t been able to figure out what it is. It bothers him, even more so because now it’s become more of a challenge to find out why. Too bad she’s not giving me any hints.

His curiosity draws him closer to her, up towards the ledge so that he can smell the faint chlorine of the pool when Raven breaks back through the surface.

“Why are you swimming?” he asks her while giving into the humidity by rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. After, he crouches in a squat to look into her eyes.

Up close he notices that they’re darker—looking closer to plum than lilac. His own eyes widen just a bit when he sees that her pupils are very, very, dilated.

“Because I like the way it feels on my skin,” she says, her hands gliding up through the water. “It…takes the edge off.”

Damian’s brows burrow further together as he takes in her words, his thoughts taking him through every scenario explaining what could be wrong. He wonders briefly if someone drugged her, but that can’t be possible.They all spent the entire day in the tower. He also knows that Raven spent a lot of that day secluded in her room.

“What do you mean?” he asks her.

Raven seems to think about something for a moment, before throwing him another alluring look that sends his heart pounding, “It’s really better if you don’t know. You being here is already tempting enough so you should probably leave.”

His attention is brought to her lips when she bites her lower one. There’s something in the back of his mind ringing the alarm bell—because something is obviously wrong. Raven’s not in her right mind, but there’s also something compelling about the way she looks at him through her lashes with hooded eyes. It lights a flame, starting a wave of heat inside of himself that can’t be staunched.

It’s not the first time that he’s hit with the strong urge to pull her against him tight and kiss her until she forgets her own name. However tonight there’s a much stronger urgency that pushes that thought aside in favor of making sure that she’s okay.

“You can talk to me, Raven. Whatever’s going on we can figure it out, you don’t have to be alone.”

She stares at him then, taking him in for what seems to be the first time. Her eyes brighten in a hunger that Damian hadn’t noticed before as she puts her arms back out on the deck to hoist herself up. When her face is mere inches from his he can no longer ignore her aura that lures him in. Like a siren singing a sailor to his fate, Raven smiles sweetly when she reaches up to trail his face. The feel of her fingers on his skin burns hotter than the sweltering heat outside.

“Are you sure? I could tell you…” she pulls his face closer to whisper in his ear, “...or I could show you.”

The ghost of her lips trails the shell of his ear, her breath warm against his skin. Her fingers make a path down his neck, to his chest. Damian’s breath catches in his throat at her touch. There’s an unspoken opportunity in the air that’s not lost on him.

But it’s also something he never thought he’d have. And as much as he wants to take it and not look back, he knows this isn’t his Raven.

Her eyes are too clouded—too vulnerable, and he needs to understand what’s going on before he even thinks about exploring this any further.

So he opts for sternness in response, “You need to tell me what’s going on before I drag you out of this pool and straight to the med-bay.”

Raven actually pouts, and that alone nearly undoes his composure. Her bottom lip glistens with water, practically begging to be ravished.

“You’re no fun,” she heaves a deep sigh, “If you’re not going to help me then just go.”

Damian furrows his brows, “it’s not that I don’t want to help you Raven. I just need you to tell me what’s going on. Did someone drug you?”

Raven sighs again in what he can tell is frustration, but from what he’s not sure.

“No, no one’s drugged me. It’s…well it’s my heat,” she says bluntly.

The only show of Damian’s surprise is the blink of his eyes.

“I—okay,” he swallows thickly, “can you…?” He trails off, the unspoken question asking her to explain further hanging in the air between them.

“It only happens once a year. On a full moon around the summer solstice. My demon half becomes…ravenous. Only Kori knows about it, and she’s helped me with getting everyone out of the tower before but…”

“Oh.” Oh.

Kori’s in bludhaven right now helping Grayson with a case.

“Yeah, and to be honest you being here is making this really…difficult,” her eyes flick back over to him, shooting him a dangerous look, “so if there’s anything else that you’d like to know, don’t ask me tonight. Ask me tomorrow.”

There’s so many questions swimming in his mind right now, but the red beginning to seep into Raven’s irises bat them all aside.

“So you…want my help?” He’s nearly breathless at his own question.

“That depends,” her voice dips lower as her mouth grows into a smirk, “are you sure you want to help?”

It’s a fair question, one that he should answer carefully, but the need growing in her eyes dwindles all of his thoughts. He wants to drown in them—do whatever he can to satiate her.

“I need you to answer.” her whisper is raspier—filled with so many emotions that he can’t even begin to interpret right now. All he knows is that she’s giving him a last chance to walk away—a warning that he should listen to. He can still salvage this moment, turn around, and act like he never found her at the pool. He can pretend that he never noticed that Raven hasn’t been herself lately, and wait for the dust to settle. It would be easy enough, and probably the simpler choice. Probably the right choice.

The only problem is he doesn’t want to make the right choice tonight.

And maybe it’s the full moon, or something else entirely, but Damian can’t help but feel drawn to Raven’s hazy eyes that speak of a promise. A promise that he wants to fulfill for her.

So when her hands bunch in his shirt, he takes hold of her wrists, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Yes,” he murmurs, completely entranced by her. “I want to help you.”

A moment of silence passes between them, and Damian thinks that maybe she’s changed her mind about the entire thing. It’s long enough to make him hesitate—to wonder if he’s in over his head.

Then Raven suddenly pulls him into the pool with her by the collar of his shirt.

The plunge is shockingly cold—a stark contrast to the feverish heat around the deck. Damian doesn’t even have time to recover when he feels hands on his body—fast and shaking and making quick work of his shirt. It’s off before he even opens his eyes underwater, and Raven lets it sink to the bottom. Then she pushes her body against his before taking the back of his neck in her hands. Pulling them together just as quick, her lips crash against his in a way that makes him feel lightheaded. Her legs lock around his waist and she grinds against him that causes a groan in the back of his throat. He can’t help but be swept under the wave of her passion.

All of it makes his head spin.

Damian can hold his breath for longer than most, but he doesn’t want to stay underwater. After regaining his footing he pushes off the bottom of the pool with his legs. Water splashes between them as he breaks the surface. He shakes his hair to get the excess out. Meanwhile Raven doesn’t waste time latching her lips onto his neck, finding his pulsepoint and sucking hard. Damian gasps, pushing her back with both hands on her shoulders, but she’s unperturbed.

“R-Raven, slow down—” his breath hitches in his throat as her teeth drag across the juncture of his throat while she grinds against him again. She swallows the rest of his protests with another open-mouthed kiss, her tongue immediately darting out to taste him.

He can’t help but groan into their kiss. One of his hands finds their way to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her wet strands while the other takes hold of her ass in a firm grip. Raven sucks on his lower lip before nipping it. She grinds against him again and he throws his head back with a groan, breaking their kiss.

Raven takes advantage by trailing more wet kisses down his neck, sucking just enough to redden the flesh there before moving on. She grinds against him again, and again, until his erection is straining against his pants almost to the point of pain.

Then she wriggles in his grasp with a whimper, unsatisfied with the fabric still between them.

“Damian,” she pants into his mouth, “I need you to move now.”

He curses, gathering her up against him as he walks towards the steps. Raven’s legs circle around his waist, legs crossing at his lower back while he steps out onto the deck. Her confusion is notable in the way she slackens, looking around to see where he’s headed.

“Hold on, just need to get a towel,” he tells her.

“I don’t need one,” she says, frustration growing in her voice.

“Wait Raven, just one second—ah” his voice cuts off as she nips his earlobe, nibbling the flesh there as she tries to flex her hips against him again—looking for any kind of friction to help ease her need.

He lays the towel out on a pool chair, then follows it to lay them down on it. Then he helps her onto her back as much as he can while she continues to cling to him—refusing to let go.

Damian puts his hands on her, up to hold her face before kissing her there. She leans up, drinking him in, and he allows her to hold him there flush against her for a few minutes. Then his hands start roaming her body, up and down her arms and her chest, tracing the outline of her bikini tops. He leans up to look at her.

She’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before. With pink, flushed skin with wet hair all askew. The endless curves of her body and that look in her eyes as she watches him, drunk on the pleasure of their emotions. It’s so fucking sexy, and she’s all his because he’s definitely not letting her go ever again.

Raven looks as if she’s about to protest, and he realizes he’s taken too long to look at her. He uses the pad of his thumb to draw circles around one of her nipples, delighting in her sharp inhale of breath. The other digs into one side of her hip to help hold her still. Every hitched breath, every moan and whimper, he promises to commit to memory. He lowers his face to bite her other nipple through her top.

She groans, her hands burying in his hair, as she arches up into his mouth—body pleading for more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into her chest as his lips trail across to her other nipple in honor of giving it the same attention.

Raven whines as his mouth lowers, “Enough teasing Damian, I need more,” she says, nearly growling. He looks up, watching as another pair of eyes threaten to form on her face at her demand.

He acquiesces, releasing her nipple and placing an apologetic kiss at the corner of her jaw. Then he draws further away from her, “Okay,” he agrees, “no more teasing.”

Raven sits up on her elbows to watch him. “Where are you going—”

Another whine that does not sound human is pulled from her as Damian settles between her legs and places a kiss on her core through her bikini bottoms. His fingers trail up her thigh. Then he pulls the strings from both sides of her bottoms, allowing them to fall. He doesn’t waste anymore time.

The second he pulls the fabric down he slips a finger in between her folds and he groans with her, “Fuck, Raven, you’re so wet.”

She takes him eagerly as one finger starts to ease its way inside of her. He grazes over a spot that has her crying out and arching against the heel of his palm. She’s so warm and her heat entices him further inside.

He can’t help it. He watches her drown in her pleasure, sprawled out before him, beneath him, all around him. With strands of wet hair spread out wildly around her, and the whisper of his name on her lips—begging him to do anything except stop.

Raven’s a delectable feast and he’s starving.

For years he’s wondered how she’d taste. When his mouth lowers onto her for the first time, he knows he’ll never be able to get enough of her. Reveling in her broken pleas, she tastes so devastatingly good. He drinks her in, lips moving expertly to draw out more of her pleasure. Then he works another finger inside of her, setting a brutal rhythm together with his mouth. Continuing until he feels a hand on his head that tugs on his hair, just as his tongue darts out to circle her clit.

“Yesss that feels so good, mate, do not stop now,” her voice is a deeper and otherworldly growl, and it sends another shiver down his spine. His member throbs against his pants at his new pet-name.

Then Damian feels her hand against his scalp sharpen with claws. She holds him there against her as her sex clenches around his fingers. He doubles down on his efforts, suckling as he pumps his fingers in and out of her, over and over.

He murmurs praises against her skin, “That’s it, you’re almost there. I can feel you clenching my demoness. Will you come for me?”

One more push, and she falls hard. When she releases her scream, it isn’t human, and her claws dig into his scalp. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Her pleasure numbs the pain, and he does everything in his power to draw it out for as long as he can.

A feverish heat settles over his skin as he helps her come down from her high. It sets every nerve he has on fire. He comes to a realization that her heat must be affecting him somehow, because he feels like he can tend to her forever. To her every whim and need.

He starts to trail kisses up her legs again.

The power Raven seems to ignite in him is indescribable. It’s taking over every single one of his senses.

And it makes him ravenous.

Damian pins her back down with minimal protest as he sends her a heated stare, effectively sealing their fates.

“Again.”

#damirae #it's spicy #farewell summer fic

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beansprean · 2 years

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Not me drawing semirealism for spn for the first time in years just to dunk on missed opportunity #73 in an episode from 2017

You coulda been everything, tombstone!!!! ID in alt and under cut w/ my apologies to the length.

[ID: Subtle canon diversion of the beginning of season 13 episode 6 Tombstone, just after Cas has made his return from the Empty and reunited with Sam and Dean.

1. Shot from behind of the Impala idling in an alley, Sam and Dean standing each side as they walk slowly around toward the hood, where Cas stands by a brightly lit phone box facing them, a chain link fence stretching across the background. Everyone is in dark shadow and lit from one side by a neon blue light. Sam says his canon line "I don't even know what to say..."

2. Close up of Dean looking deeply tender, staring forward at Cas with glittering eyes and the tiniest, most hopeful of smiles. He says his canon line, "I do." A neon cross is viable in the blurry half orange, half gray background, softening his edges with light.

3. Reverse shot of Cas standing by the phone booth looking cautious and confused as Dean starts toward him. Whatever expression Dean is making is not visible to the viewer. The phone box throws a blue light across them both, background a chain link fence with deep green shapes behind.

4. Dean, closer now, reaches up to cup Cas's cheeks. Cas tilts his head in confusion, or maybe in preparation, eyes lighting up as he realizes what Dean may have decided to say.

5. Dean kisses Cas gently, finally, with little fanfare but the certainty, at last, that he is allowed to ask for what he wants. One of Cas's hands reaches up hesitantly to touch his elbow, the visible corner of his mouth pressing softly back on instinct.

6. Reverse shot of Sam on a mottled orange streetlight-lit background, reacting with surprise but fighting a smile as he mutters "holy shit". The neon blue light has reached him as well, shining brightly on his face and right side.

7. Sam lets himself grin widely with an air of 'finally', looking up and away to give his brother and Cas some illusion of privacy, one hand reaching up to rub at the side of his neck. Text next to him says "not looking" in parentheses.

8. Dean and Cas have separated but not gone far, Dean still holding his face and now pressing their foreheads together. Dean's expression is visible in profile now, looking relieved and near tears. Cas, hand still caressing Dean's elbow, is smiling at him gently with a decade of love shining in his eyes. /End ID]

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #mlm #tombstone #third wheel sam #my favorite trope #my art #fanart #image described

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jhoneybees · 5 months

Text

Contentment

I was listening to 'Crying in the Chapel' and thought about this specific scenario and decided to write it, a little deeper than my other fics but uhm like many others we get confused about things(in a religious way) it's not sad or depressing just a little pleasant blurb :) Also if there's anything that might be crossing some lines in this one, please let me know! The last thing I want is to disrespect any religion.

Enjoy it!

youtube

Warnings/triggers: Christianity, mentions of religion, religion

_____________________________________________

The creaking sounds of the chapel doors opening, you peek your head inside at a sight that one would find in a painting. A statue of Christ tied to a wooden cross that sits centred with tall stained glass windows behind allowing the beams of sunlight to cascade through, illuminating the light in various colours, reflecting on little trinkets that are placed beside the crucial statue and a human-like shape being Elvis on the floor in front of the remembrance, only getting to see the back of him.

Taking small quiet steps inside, you make sure to close the doors. Silently kneeling beside him, your eyes trailing to the wooden cross, taking slow breaths as you admire the details. The crown that grips onto the man's head with it's thorns and the white cloth wrapping around below his torso.

Clutching the fabric of your dress in your hands, you hum just above a whisper. Turning your head to see Elvis' eyes closed and both his hands clasped together. Muttering words of pray, another breath escapes through your slightly parted lips as you inspect his details. Brunette gelled hair glistening in the light and specks of dust floating in the air, the shining from the window behind outlining his face from the start of his forehead to the end of his chin. His plump, soft-looking pink lips joining and separating as he whispers and his eyelashes that rest dreamily upon the apples of his cheeks.

Finishing his words, Elvis' blue eyes that hold the entire ocean in just two orbs flutter open. Sighing, he turns his head and jumps slightly in surprise “Oh! Ya scared me sweetheart” he laughs, the laughter that holds the memory of whistling wind, the crashing of waves, the tweets of birds and the ominous hollow bellow of white noise coming from the highest of mountains. You smile softly, lowering your head as you let out a giggle. Doing the same, Elvis' mouth curls at one side. “You know…I remember when me and mama would come here every Sunday when I was little” his soft, smooth, southern accent rolling off his tongue. Grinning as he picks at the lint on his slacks. “Singin’ and cheerin’...” remembering his nostalgia. Your eyes trailing up to his beautifully sculpted face. He blinks “M-my mama always talked about him ever since I was born but… I feel like I searched and searched as a lost man for years and one day finally found peace of mind…here” he states and emphasises the word ‘here’ by tapping the floor with a finger.

Nodding as you listen, you watch his face. Lifting his eyes up to look up at you. He gives you a soft smile, shifting his posture slightly, he gestures for you to come closer. His arm warmly wrapping your back and his large hand pressuring your waist. You lean your head on his shoulder, he contently sighs and leans his head on top of yours.

“Lucky ya didn't see me crying in the chapel” the both of you erupt in quiet laughter.

#elvis #i swear he's making me questioning things😭#elvis presley #elvis fans #70s elvis #50s elvis #60s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #i love him #Youtube

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osleeplessflowero · 23 days

Note

Hi! I saw your post asking for requests, this is my first time asking so sorry if I break a rule just delete if it makes you uncomfortable. Can I get a platonic reader x bad sanses or star sanses? (Or whoever your want I'm not picky) maybe how the reader sees them as a brother or father figure? Thank you in advance!

you're totally fine anon! this is a great request!! :] let's see..i've done quite a few bad sanses oneshots previously, how about we show the star sanses some love? 🌸

CW: Light Emetophobia, Ink is known to throw up when he gets too excited! It only happens once and for a brief second.

It's a peaceful day in the corner of the Doodlesphere that Ink had placed the Star Sanses base in. You sit in your assigned room on your bed, playing one of your favorite games on your laptop. The lights from outside shine in through your window, imitating sunlight. It gives the room a nice, comforting feeling. It's peaceful for a little while, until Ink BURSTS into the room, leaning against the door and holding it shut. You raise a brow in confusion, lowering your headphones.

"Hello Ink." You greet him with a blank look, waiting for him to explain himself. He chuckles sheepishly, jolting when something begins hitting the door.

"Heeey, you! So, funny story.." Another thud. "I kiiinda made Berry mad at me and I need to take shelter here, is that cool?" He holds up his hands as if to pray, pleading with you. You raise your index finger to your chin, contemplating.

"What did you do to Berry to get him this mad? And where's Blue?"

"Blue's in his universe, he left Berry here because they were gonna talk about stuff. And uh..I may or may not have hit him with paint balloons. Bright, neon colored paint balloons."

"Ink, you dumbass-" You sigh, saving your game and closing your laptop. "You know not to provoke the kid."

"Okay, but in my defense, it was insanely funny." He snickers, moving a box of random things you own in front of the door and plopping down on your bed.

"You do realize that won't hold him for long, right?"

"Yeah, but I'll savor my freedom while I still have it. Soooo, what have you been up to? Haven't seen you a lot today." He lies upside down, looking up at you with the goofy grin he always has.

"Well, I was just playing my favorite game and chillin'. At least, up until you broke in." You poke his forehead, earning a chuckle from the skeleton.

"Hmmm..sounds like it would get kinda boring after a while." He rolls over, resting his chin between his hands. "You should come hang out with me, Dream's busy and Blue's gone."

"I mean, I could. But what would we do?"

"We..Huh." He blinks a few times, the small symbols in his eyesockets changing each time as he thinks. "How abouttt.. we go paint the outside of HQ? We could make a masterpiece!" He grins, sitting up with his legs crossed. "C'mon, what do you say?"

"Sounds pretty fun, Ink. But if you throw paint balloons as me as well I might have to kill you."

He laughs, giving you a playful nudge.

"Wait, so does that mean you'll actually join me?"

"Yeah, just let me change first-"

He grins wide, shaking you back and forth excitedly before pausing, running over to the nearest window. You wince as you hear him throw up a bunch of ink, letting it fall into the depths of the sphere before closing the window and leaning back in.

"This is gonna be great! C'mon!" He gently tugs your hand, before the door bursts open. You both freeze like deer in the headlights, looking down at the skeleton approaching.

Berry was a small fellow, much smaller than blue and having an overall cyan color scheme in comparison to Blue's calmer tones. A bandana with a large ribbon behind it is tied around his neck, his eyelights constantly being shaped like stars, where in comparison Blue's only occasionally do the same thing. At the moment, those eyelights have shrunk to mere pinpricks, as he holds up a comically large knife, pointing it in Ink's direction. He hides behind you, as if you were able to defend him. Gee, thanks Ink.

"INK- You Have Dared To Cross Me, And Now You Will PAY!" You can't help but snicker a little at how adorable the little guy looks, covering your mouth with your hand.

"Look, Berry, I said I'm sorry!" Ink struggles to hold in a laugh.

"You'll Be Sorry Alright, WHEN I GET YOU-" He charges forwards, but you interfere, grabbing his head. He struggles against you, swinging his arms to try to get to Ink.

"Now now, Berry, let's just cool it. Ink apologized, let's move on. You wanna come paint with us to make up for it?" You smile as the little skeleton perks up at that, making his blade disappear into his inventory.

"Really?! You Mean It?" He grins wide, his eyelights expanding to a much bigger size.

"Yeah! Right, Ink?" You turn to him, watching him nod before looking back. "Well, it's settled then."

You pause, hearing the sounds of shortcuts, before grinning and running into the living room. Blue and Dream seem to be having a casual conversation before realizing you're there, smiling towards you. Blue promptly runs over, picking you up and spinning you around.

"Ha Ha! I've Returned! Did You Miss Me?" Blue grins before putting you down, putting his hands on his hips.

"You know I did, Blue! How's Paps doing?" You tilt your head, genuinely curious. He chuckles at your reply.

"He's Doing Well! He Wanted Me To Give You A Small Bag Of Suckers That He'd Been Holding Onto, So Here You Go! Try Not To Go Through All Of It At Once, Okay? Sugar Rushes Are.. Scary." He briefly glances over at Berry, narrowing his eyes. You let out a laugh at that, putting the little bag he hands you into one of your pockets.

"Noted." You turn to Dream, who holds his arms out for you. You grin as you leap into his arms, embracing his warmth and the pleasant scents that surround him.

"Oh, I've missed you! How've you been doing while I've been away? Good, I hope? If not I'll have to give Ink a stern talking to." Dream glances at him from the side, earning a laugh from the more colorful skeleton.

"Don't worry, I've been alright. I've just been hanging out in my room, and I just split these two up from a fight." You point towards Berry and Ink, the former putting his knife away the moment he's spotted and smiling innocently.

"Goodness, Berry! What Did I Tell You About Having Knives In HQ?" Blue frowns, walking over and carefully taking the blade away from his shorter "cousin". "You Know Better."

"Sorry, Blue.." Berry pouts, crossing his arms. The taller skeleton pats his skull, smiling a bit.

"Just Be More Careful Next Time! You Don't Want To Hurt Anyone, Do You?"

Berry looks at Ink. "..Maybe."

"Berry! Bad!" Blue frowns again, poking the smaller skeleton's forehead as you finally let go of Ink.

"Me and Ink were just about to go outside and paint, if you'd like to join us. You guys don't have anything else to do today, right?" You offer, silently hoping they'll agree.

"I'd Love To Join In! It Could Be Good Exercise." Blue puts his hands on his hips in a hero-like manner, his cape swaying out behind him.

"I'd like to join, even if I just end up watching. Ooh! I could make some tea for everyone, how does that sound?" Dream smiles as everyone agrees with that idea, stepping into the kitchen to make some magic-based teas for everyone. He made sure to remember your favorite kind in advance.

Everyone moves outside, Ink stopping you a moment so he can use Broomy to paint a grassy area for you all to stand on, grabbing some paint cans he'd left beside the house and walking over to the first blank wall.

"Okay everybody, let's get started!" Ink grins, handing a smaller brush to you. You pause a second, realizing that due to getting caught up in your excitement you forgot to change into something you're okay with getting paint on.

"Wait a sec, I'll be right back." You run back inside to your room, changing hurriedly before rushing back outside. Ink paints a few step stools using Broomy so those who can't reach taller areas can use them, balancing on the large brush to paint patterns with smaller ones.

Berry jumps up onto Blue's shoulders, standing up on them so he can reach the upper areas thanks to the bigger skeleton's height. Blue doesn't seem to mind it all that much, instead focusing on what to paint outside of his room. Dream walks out and places down a yellow gingham blanket, then goes back inside to sit the teacups down where everyone can easily access them.

You stand outside your room, beginning to paint whatever comes into your head that relates to you somehow. You want to ensure that the space feels truly yours, so you put a lot of thought and care into each stroke. Of course, you could always just repaint later, but it's the thought that counts. Berry eventually runs out of ideas and goes to talk to Dream, so Blue takes the opportunity to paint a little bit beside you.

"So, how's adventuring been, Blue? Is it..everything you'd hoped?" You paint a little star pattern. He hums thoughtfully, completing a heart you'd forgotten to finish.

"I Suppose You Could Say That! It's Given Me A Lot Of Opportunities To Meet New People And Experience Other Worlds. But That Can Also Be Kinda Stressful..Especially When You Start Running Into Variations Of You That Are..Well.."

You both look over at Berry, who's currently zooming around a very confused and startled Dream in circles.

"Yeah..I don't know how I'd feel about seeing so many of Me. I mean, the three of you guys alone is a stretch. Imagine if all of the variants were in one place?"

"That Would Be Very Much So Impossible- Which Really Makes You Think..Just How Big Is The Multiverse? What Parts Of It Are So Closed Off, Even Ink Hasn't Seen Them? It's All So..So.."

"Mysterious?"

"Yeah! Exactly." He smiles at a little cutesy painting you made of him right below his window, looking as if he's holding it up. "But I Suppose That's How It's Always Been."

"I feel that. It makes me wonder if we've ever met before, in some other timeline. You think things would be much different?"

There's a short pause.

"Nah, I Don't Think It Would." He smiles, you share it. You continue painting side by side in peaceful silence, until you hear the sound of something splattering. Sharing a worried look, you turn back to see Dream looking down at the ground, a green paint balloon having hit his head. Ink is frozen like a deer in the headlights, and Berry is laughing hysterically.

"I- I am so sorry, Dream, I meant to hit him, not you--"

Dream looks up, an eyesocket twitching as he picks up one of the balloons Ink had left lying on the ground, throwing it and hitting him square in the face. Berry collapses, laughing even louder.

"Oh Dear, It Seems Ink's Declared War." Blue chuckles, laughing a little as he speaks, watching them begin to form more paint balloons to throw at each other. A devious grin crosses your face as you look back at him. His expression slowly shifts to a worried one. "Oh No. Don't- Do Not Even Think About It-"

"I'm joining in!" You pick up a balloon.

"Pick your side!" Ink grins, getting hit in the side of the head with a red balloon.

You shake your head. "Nah..I'm taking my own side!" You throw balloons at the both of them, before getting pelleted with them yourself. Blue huffs as he watches you, before going still when he feels a presence behind him.

"Nothing Personnel, Double." Berry grins, throwing a cyan balloon at Blue's back.

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN PHRASE IT RIGHT-" Blue sighs, joining in the battle. Paint balloons fly across the yard, splatting the walls as well as everyone laughs, having a great time. The commotion grows so great, even Error finds himself popping his head in from the Anti-Void, before closing up the portal to avoid a balloon to the face.

After a while, you each grow tired, huffing and raising up little white flags before drinking the tea that Dream brought out (that thankfully is somehow still warm, and paintless). You then turn to the walls, seeing a beautiful mess of color accompanying your art from earlier, smiling a bit at your collective handiwork.

"Y'know, I think it looks good like this." You hold up your hands like a camera, smiling.

"I think so too! Hey, you know what would fit?" Ink turns to Dream, seeing if he'll catch on.

"Oh! A picture!" Dream rushes to his room, grabbing his camera and running back out. Everyone stands in front of the wall together, grinning and posing. "Say cheeeese!"

"Cheeeese!"

Getting to spend so much time with the skeletons you both look up to and admire is an experience you wouldn't trade for anything in the multiverse. Anything at all.

"IIIII say..on this momentous occasion, we should all watch a movie. First one to fall asleep gets their face drawn on!" Ink holds up a washable marker menacingly.

"I've got coffee, you won't be getting me anytime soon." Dream grins, going inside to clean off the paint and change his clothes to wash them later. Blue follows after him to do the same.

"It'll probably be you first, Ink." You snicker, using a towel to get some fresh paint off of your face. He calls out after you as you start to head to the bathroom attached to your room. "NUH UH!"

"YUH HUH!" You shout back, going to take a warm shower to get all of the paint off of you.

An hour or two passes, and you find yourself building a strong pillow fort with Blue and Berry. Dream sits to your left, Blue to your right with Berry leaning on him, already looking pretty tuckered out. Ink observes everyone from his spot in front, eagerly waiting for the moment someone falls asleep.

Dream whispers to you as Blue looks through a selection of movies for you to watch together. "Did you have fun?"

You whisper back. "Yeah, I've had a lot of fun with you guys today. I love having peaceful moments like this..it's really nice. I really have to thank you guys for taking such good care of me lately..it means the world to me." You lean on him a bit, and he smiles as he places an arm around you.

"Of course. You're a very dear friend to us, never forget that we care for you. We'll always be here for you, no matter the circumstances."

You yawn a little, the comforting aura emitting from him making you feel safe enough to rest. "Thank you, Dream.."

"Careful." Ink grins like a cheshire cat, watching as your eyes begin to close. "There's still an active threat in the room." He says in a sing-song tone, waiting to attack.

"I'm gonna fucking Get You later."

"I'd like to see you tr-" Ink pauses mid-sentence when he sees that Berry's fallen asleep, grinning madly. "Well. Looks like you'll be spared after all."

"Oh boy." You snicker, the rest of your little group grinning amongst themselves as the movie begins. Ink claps his hands so the lights dim, sitting closer to you and relaxing on some pillows, giving commentary from time to time. Soon your eyes begin to close..those around you growing tired as well from a long day of adventuring.

It's peaceful for a while.. the perfect environment to relax.

..Until a portal opens.

"IIIIINK!"

"Ah fuck."

"Language!" Blue frowns as Ink stands up to go outside. Blue considers carrying your sleeping form to your room like he always does, but decides not to since Dream's already asleep with you. He'd rather not disturb you both, at least not until he needs Dream's aid..

Oh boy.

#sleeplessflower's oneshots #divider by dwaintydoll #star sanses x reader #platonic oneshot #dream sans x reader #swap sans x reader #ink sans and reader

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alenseress · 1 year

Text

"Well, fancy meeting you here."

The main hall is quiet at night. Not for long, of course, just a moment between the midnight fall and just before the sunrise when the room gets so eerily quiet Dushan thinks he could count the mice around the corners just by the sound of them. The fireplace is the only light inside, he squints at its fire with slightly blurry eyes before slumping down a and finding Dorian's worried gaze.

"Fancy indeed," Dushan echoes, eyes following the slope of the mage's shoulders, buried beneath the fur — it's one of those robes he managed to salvage from home, he knows it just by the shape.

From the Trevelyan house, that is. Something about the way the fibers cling to Dorian's slightly sweat-damp skin, how he shivers barely noticeably, something about that makes Dushan's guts ache, dull and weary. He gets up from the throne with some unexpected effort and crosses the distance to the chamber's door, pulling Dorian into a hug.

"Why are you up?" his lips find the left temple, his fingers find the back of his neck, pulling the heavy head into a cautious embrace.

Dorian, unusually cold palms hidden beneath the fabric, wraps his arms around his middle in return. Stands like that for a few seconds, chest to chest, beat to beat, breathing shallow and just a bit too fast.

"Couldn't sleep without you."

There's an unspoken implication that something woke him, one of those heavy night terrors that leave him panicked and gasping for air. Dushan kisses his temple again and hears a quiet chuckle muted by the layers of fabric. "You look terrible like that, you know?"

Dushan pulls away slightly, arching a brow. "Like what?"

Dorian breaks the embrace, taking a few steps aside and slumping down on the throne — legs thrown over the armrest, arms folded over the chest. He bounces a foot in the air, eyes finding the fire Dushan was staring daggers into minutes ago. "Like this. Like a ghost of an emperor looming over his lost kingdom. Was afraid that if I look at you for too long you'll start turning green."

Dushan snorts and makes a scary face, letting the anchor shine and light his frame. Dorian rolls his eyes to that, idly bumping his heel into the golden binding. "Oh shut up."

He doesn't see the painful vince, Dushan makes sure of that, grabbing him and turning him in his seat like the mage weighs nothing. Dorian yelps, almost offended, as Dushan kneels down in front of him. A brief eye contact — the Inquisitor marvels at the sight of him against the starry skies, and then lets his own head fall, burying his face into the robe, into the tense thighs. I'm tired, he wants to confess. I'm so tired and I can't keep my eyes shut for more than mere seconds no matter how close I hold you.

Dorian doesn't really need him to spell it out, does he. Dorian runs his fingers through his thinning out hair and whispers gentle words Dushan can't yet understand.

"Amatus, come back to bed."

"Marry me."

The silence rings. Dushan doesn't lift his head, not until Dorian lifts it up for him, hands squeezing his cheeks in a deadly grip.

"Have you gone mad on me?"

They stare and stare at each other, Dorian's sheer panic against Dushan's stone calm. He palms at his forehead, grips his cheeks again, something hysterical in his posture. "No, really, you impossible bastard, have you lost your mind?"

Dushan's stoic expression turns to amusement, as he finds a wrist to kiss. "I'm on my knees already, I can beg."

Dorian huffs. Dorian puffs, one hand flying up to cover his mouth, the other pushing Dushan away with a force he doesn't really mean. The Inquisitor sits back willingly, looking up open and offering, eyes squinted in loving humour.

Dorian shakes his head. "Absolutely I will not."

And a weak, awed "vishante kaffas" as he stares down at the man at his feet.

Dushan leans forward again and pulls one bare, frozen foot into his own lap. Kisses the knee, does the same with the other. There are hands in his hair, feverishly pushing him away without any real strength to them, lips whispering curses and "get up, get up before anyone sees you, matula" as they grow trembling and unsure. Dushan hugs his legs, like he's afraid Dorian will set off running, and looks up, face suddenly stern.

"I've done many things wrong and I will do much more. But I want to do this, this, right, while time remains."

The anchor burns, his eyes burn, as the hall grows green in color. His own panic rises as he speaks urgently.

"Whatever you want, however you will have me. But when the Herald dies I want him to bring your name to the grave, Dorian Pavus. I'm no Trevelyan. I'm no Inquisitor. I'm but a man devoted to you and I want to go as one."

There are tears, Dushan can't see them gleaming in the dark but Dorian chokes on his breaths like he can't find his voice or any air around them. He hits his shoulder last time, then slides down to the ground until there's nothing but his limbs and chest and the oh so familiar smell of his oils as he grips Dushan so hard that neither of them can breathe now.

Merely a whisper, "You cannot say such things. It's cruel."

Dushan nods and kisses his lips pressed together in a salty line.

"I know. I am."

"You're not," comes out as a louder cry.

"Now you're talking nonsense."

"The whole castle just heard you pledge allegiance to my father's name. Don't nonsense me."

"I did no such thing. I asked you to marry me."

"And I told you I won't."

"No trouble," Dushan says contently, leaning against the base of the throne. "I will ask you again."

#dai dushan #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #dai #inquisitor trevelyan #pavelyan #dorian pavus #they're insane #so am i

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cheeriecherry · 2 years

Note

hi!! I was wondering if I might be able to request a 5 sentence ficlet based on the prompt: Viktor braiding/brushing back someone’s (reader’s) long hair?? Tysm for all of your other work you’ve posted!! <3

Movement and shuffling on the bed beside you has you stirring awake, stretching with a small squeak and cracking your eyes open. The room is dim, with the rising dawn barely shining through the open window, but you’re still able to see the shape of your boyfriend tiptoeing around the room. “Vik?” you ask, raspy with sleep. The man in question freezes, and you can see the way his shoulders droop slightly.

“Promiň, zlatíčko,” he mumbles softly, “I did not mean to wake you.” He comes to your side and sits on the edge of the bed, and you drowsily sit up to greet him good morning. A tender kiss on the cheek, which leads to several more playful smooches littered across your face; the pair of you share some light laughter, and you lean forward to rest your head on his shoulder. You find yourself nearly dozing off again, pressed against his warm body in the darkness.

He does eventually rouse you, though, with another kiss to your crown and a soft apology. “I have to head to the lab,” he explains, and you whine, mumbling about how you never get to spend mornings with him anymore. You know it’s not fair to him, to say such things; you know he’s as sad as you are that you never get to lazily awaken together, or share drowsy morning cuddles, or make breakfast together. Even on his rare days off, he usually rises early to get a little bit of work done before the day starts; and you end up waking to the sounds of a pen scrawling rapidly on paper, instead of in the arms of your partner.

You know he feels terrible when your face droops, and he knows there’s nothing he can say to mitigate your feelings. But still, he tries. “I’m sorry, my sweet,” he says. “I promise it will only be a couple more weeks of this,” and then softer, “would you like me to do your hair for you today?” And despite everything, you manage to muster a tired smile. Viktor had always been good with his hands, and many years ago you’d found out on a whim that he was rather proficient at braiding; throughout your relationship, you’d asked him time and time again to fold your hair into pretty little plaits - another thing you missed out on because of his schedule.

“You know I’m just going to fall back asleep after this,” you muse, but neither of you really care. You turn away from him and he starts combing his fingers through your hair, knowing exactly where to part and cross each little section, even in the darkness. It improves your mood slightly, to feel him stroking and gently pulling at your hair - and once he’s finished with the braid, you find yourself growing sleepy again. Viktor notices this, and lays a kiss on your temple - and another on your forehead after you’re tucked up under the blankets again. He departs shortly afterwards, leaving you in the quiet of your apartment, and it doesn’t take long for sleep to claim you.

#five somethings prompts #oh boy i fell asleep halfway through writing this one last night whoops #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #a little bit sad but oh well

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kotton-kandy-kane · 2 years

Text

A Little Life

Haven’t done this in forever but this book absolutely merits its own post.

“What he knew, he knew from books, and books lied, they made things prettier.”

“He has a vision of his life as a sliver of soap, worn and used and smoothed into a slender, blunt-ended arrowhead ,a little more of it disintegrating with every day.”

“He’d board at Canal and watch the train fill and empty at each stop with an ever-shifting mix of different peoples and ethnicities, the car’s population reconstituting itself every ten blocks or so into provocative and improbable constellations of Poles, Chinese, Koreans, Senegalese; Senegalese, Dominicans, Indians, Pakistanis; Pakistanis, Irish, Salvadorans, Mexicans; Mexicans, Sri Lankans, Nigerians, and Tibetans - the only thing uniting them being their newness to America and their identical expression of exhaustion, that blend of determination and resignation that only the immigrant possesses.”

“The other aspect of those weekday-evening trips he loves was the light itself, how it filled the train like something living as the cars rattled across the bridge, how it washed the weariness from his seatmates’ faces and revealed them as they were when they first came to the country, when they were young and America seemed conquerable. He’d watch that kind light suffuse the car like syrup, watch it smudge furrows from foreheads, slick gray hairs into gold, gentle the aggressive shine from cheap fabrics into something lustrous and fine. And then the sun would drift, the car rattling uncaringly away from it, and the world would return to its normal sad shapes and colors, the people to their normal sad state, a shift as cruel and abrupt as if it had been made by a sorcerer’s wand.”

“[Richard] was a sculptor too, but worked with only ephemeral materials. He’d draw on drafting paper impossible shapes, and then render them in ice, in butter, in chocolate, in lard, and film them as they vanished. He was gleeful about witnessing the disintegration of his works, but JB, watching just last month as a massive, eight-foot-fall piece Richard had made (…) dripped and then crumbled to its demise, had found himself unexpectedly about to cry, though whether from the destruction of something so beautiful or the mere every day profundity of its disappearance, he was unable to say.”

“When did pursuing your ambitions cross the line from brave into fool-hardy? How did you know when to stop?”

“There were times when the pressure to achieve happiness felt almost oppressive, as if happiness were something that everyone should and could attain, and that any sort of compromise in its pursuit was somehow your fault.”

“New York was populated by the ambitious. It was often the only thing that everyone here had in common.

Ambition and atheism: “Ambition is my only religion”.”

“Only here did you feel compelled to somehow justify anything short of rabidity for your career; only here did you have to apologize for having faith in something other than yourself.”

“It was like any relationship, he felt - it took constant pruning, and dedication, and vigilance, and if neither party wanted to make the effort, why wouldn’t it wither?”

“The standard interpretation of the first lien was “I am lost to the world,” but he read it as “I have become lost to the world,” which, he believed, was less self-pitying, less melodramatic, and more resigned, more confused. I have become lost to the world / In which I otherwise wasted so much time. (…) But he understood, primally almost, the concept of losing, of loosing oneself from the world, of disappearing into a different place, one of retreat and safety, of the twinned yearnings of escape and discovery.”

“’You mustn’t indulge this tendency to self-mythologize’”

“Friendship was witnessing another’s slow drip of miseries, and long bouts of boredom, and occasional triumphs.”

“On one side is everything he knows, the patterns of his existence as regular and banal as the steady plink of a dripping faucet, where he is alone but safe, and shielded from everything that could hurt him. On the other side are waves, tumult, rainstorms, excitement: everything he cannot control, everything potentially awful and ecstatic, everything he has lived his adult life trying to avoid, everything whose absence bleeds his life of color.”

“’We have still not reached the end of our trials. One more labor lies in store - boundless, laden with danger ,great and long, and I must brave it out from start to finish.’”

“(…) he was worried because to be alive was to worry. Life was scary; it was unknowable. ( …) Life would happen to him, and he would have to try to answer it, just like the rest of them. They all (…) sought comfort, something that was theirs alone, something to hold off the terrifying largeness, the impossibility of the world, of the relentlessness of its minutes, its hours, its days.”

“He had looked at Jude, then, and had felt that same sensation he sometimes did when he thought, really thought of Jude and what his life had been: a sadness, he might have called it, but it wasn’t a pitying sadness; it was a larger sadness, one that seemed to encompass all the poor striving people, the billions he didn’t know, all living their lives, a sadness that mingled with a wonder and awe at how hard humans everywhere tried to live, even when their days were so very difficult, even when their circumstances were so wretched. Life is so sad, he would think in those moments. It’s so sad, and yet we all do it. We all cling to it; we all search for something to give us solace.”

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starsarefire824 · 1 year

Text

The gang get ready for a party.

Chapter 4: Sophocles and Silver Paint of Demons of Change

Dustin falls back into his bean bag chair with a groan. “Yeah, whatever man. I’m just saying—it’s a fucking miracle we’re going to this party at all. So I think we should make the most of it. Even Steve was shocked when I told him.”

“I agree,” El says and gambols over to sit on Dustin’s lap, drowning him in baby blue gingham and ruffles. She lifts her feet and studies her sparkly shoes shining in the sunlight as Will stands up from his bed. He removes his t-shirt and then throws on the gray sweater he, rather primitively, sewed a felt red heart onto the left side of the chest. As for the other parts of his costume, he’d chosen simple black pants, his nicer gray sneakers, and a small slightly pointed hat he and El had made. Also painted with shiny silver paint. He pulls the twine under his chin and sits down in front of the mirror he’s placed on his desk. It’s almost feminine in the way it resembles a vanity now, especially where it’s cluttered with jars of paint brushes, pencils, and other things, but Will doesn’t care. He gazes at himself in the mirror.

It’s a simple band of silver color brushed across his eyes, and his lashes are lined on the bottom with charcoal, sparkling glitter fanning out like rays from the outer corners of his eyes, across his temples, and into his hairline. El has pressed one larger teardrop shaped gem onto his cheekbone in what Will assumes is to insinuate how sad the tin man is. She’d been obsessed with the film since they watched it on a Party movie night ages ago, and now she could recite almost every line of it.

Will is surprised by how neat the paint is, and how he likes the way it brightens the green in his irises. He almost feels… pretty.

Will blushes. He knows that’s not really a word he’s supposed to use for himself. It’s not really a way he’s supposed to want to t feel. And yet… he likes it .

“Wow, El,” he breathes, turning towards his friends.

El lifts her head from Dustin’s chest and gazes at him expectantly.

“I really love it,” he murmurs happily and flushes. “It’s….pretty?”

El’s eyes light up when Will says the word.

“Yeah, you did a great job, baby,” Dustin agrees and kisses her temple.

“Thanks guys,” El says with a happy scrunch of her nose. “I saw it in a magazine.”

Lucas smiles at Will, warm and bright and Will knows his compliment is genuine. “You look great, man.” He gestures towards his hair faintly, as if swiping something from his forehead. “I like your hair—out of your face like that.”

Will blushes and crosses arms shyly. “Thanks Lucas,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.

#byler #will byers #el hopper #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #byler fanfic #demons of change #justmyname #henderhop

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mistrdctr · 5 months

Text

@ssolessurvivor asked: Logan often gets overly emotional after they share a night together, but nothing hits him worse than when he knows he has to leave, to let Stephen have his day ahead of him. "I don't know if I ever told you." Logan muses, speaking quietly against the sheets with his hair splayed against the pillow, gazing into those eyes. "Thank you, for saving my life those years ago." A hand has gone on Stephen's cheek and his thumb idly strokes the skin there. "I know you were a different man, but I wanted you to know. Thank you." He's almost sheepishly blushing now, leaning into the pillow though his multi-colored eye still holds his love's gaze.

The sun is barely out yet, leaving the bedroom in some sort of almost-but-not-quite darkness, the first rays of light shining in through the big windows to the right; Stephen is facing the one who he is sharing his bed with at the very moment, eyes still a little heavy-lidded from sleep but very much awake already.

They are sharing some soft kisses, some innocent touches - a cheek is covered by a soft palm, and scarred fingers trail along the shape of a shoulder in return - when Logan speaks, breaking the silence between them that has existed for a while now---

---And Strange blinks, stopping his movements as a hint of surprise crosses is barely-lit features.

He has to think about it, to realize what the younger speaks about - he does not get it, not at first, which causes his dark brows to knit for a second as confusion sets in, bright eyes flicking along the blonde's features in search for an answer, before, finally, a set of full lips part in realization.

Logan. The young man in front of him - Stephen knows him.

He knows him from back in the day when he has been working as a neurosurgeon still; Asked to attend a very complicated emergency surgery that needed to be done on a severely injured patient coming straight from space, a man who was the only survivor of a true desaster having happened back on that moon Mimas---

Now, suddenly, just like that, everything makes a lot of sense.

The scars make sense, scattered all along that handsome man's body. His reactions to seeing Stephen in varying states of roughness make sense. The feeling of already having met him before - that also makes sense now. A lot.

And the sorcerer blinks, brows lifted in surprise, feeling a sudden wave of guilt and shame flooding him like a tidal wave; How did he not think about... this? How did he not realize that this man, this soul, is the very same one he's operated on a long time ago, together with other well-known surgeons, fighting hard to keep him alive and not have him die on their table?

"...Logan, I...", he starts, momentarily unsure how to proceed. A pause follows, scarred fingers now making their way to a beautiful face, cupping a cheek in return while his thumb traces the shape of a cheekbone. "---I'm sorry I... didn't realize that you--- I... I just didn't think---"

He should have, but Strange did not. How long did Logan know about him having been one of the doctors...?

Blinking again, a set of bight eyes closing momentarily, the sorcerer shifts a bit closer - then lifts his chin, just so that he is able to press a soft kiss against the blonde's forehead, allowing it to linger for a few seconds.

"...I'm just a stupid dumbass sometimes. I knew you felt familiar, in a way, seeing your face - I just never connected the dots. It's been a while..."

That he is. Will always be, no matter how many titles he manages to gain in his life, no matter whether he will ever end up as a sorcerer supreme or some shit. He's still Stephen, still the man he always used to be, albeit changed. In some parts, at least.

"And please - don't thank me. I swore an oath to cause no harm. It was my job to try my very best to keep you alive - and to make sure your injuries were treated."

Lips separate themselves from the other's forehead, the tip of a nose brushing against Logan's own, eyes remaining closed.

"---I'm so glad you're here, and that you... recovered. That you made it." It's a whisper, but it is deeply heartfelt and sincere as it slips from between Strange's teeth, breathed out into the small space between them.

#ssolessurvivor #(ok this maybe makes little sense bc stephen has already seen him naked here i suppose)#(AND MAYBE HE WOULD'VE REALIZED OR HAD SUSPICIONS)#(but i wanted this to go this way anyways SO I HOPE THAT OK HAHA)#(bc i wanted feels...)

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ohorishan · 8 months

Text

in dreams the line unbroken

pre-canon, ~1100 words, it'll be zenoswol in about 20 years

Kiyoko has a dream, and maybe someone else does too.

In her dream the girl walks down a corridor that echoes like a cavern. Here and there torches burn with a strange, unmoving light, throwing harsh-edged shadows into the vaulted ceiling. Her feet are cold on the stone-and-metal floor– odd, to feel the cold in a dream.

At the end of the corridor she reaches a door, large and ornate, the handle just slightly too high. It looks like the sort of door that should be locked. She pushes on it anyway and finds it opens without a sound.

On the other side is a bedchamber. The light burns here as well, for some reason, despite it being the middle of the night. Is it night? It must be; if she’s in her own bed dreaming, it must be night here in her dream too. The bed here is large, hung with heavy fabric from its four-post frame, the mattresses stacked two high. It doesn’t look comfortable– it looks forbidding. And sitting upright, his knees to his chest, looking far too small amid the pillows, a boy is looking back at her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the boy tells her.

She tilts her head, considering. “Why not?” she says. “It’s my dream.”

The boy simply looks at her. His eyes are bright blue, more piercing even than that strange light. “You don’t know who I am.” It’s a statement, not a question. Not an answer, either.

“Should I?” the girl asks again. But he says nothing to that. Instead she crosses the room, bare feet on cold floor, and with some effort pulls herself up onto the too-large bed. She sits with her knees folded underneath her, facing the boy, who watches her silently with those bright unblinking eyes.

“How do you know it’s your dream?” he says at last, as if the intervening time had not passed.

She considers again. “I suppose I don’t. Maybe we're sharing it. Are you dreaming?"

"You're strange," the boy says.

"Yes," the girl agrees.

He folds himself into a new position, mirroring hers, no wasted movement. He might be a little older, or just a little younger; something in his eyes might be centuries old. On his forehead something shines like a pearl. She wonders if it's hard like a pearl too.

"I don't dream," he says at last, then adds, "Not like this."

"Then perhaps I really am here."

"No one's supposed to be here."

"No one," the girl repeats. "Except you?"

The boy frowns at that, but he says nothing. He holds up his hand toward her, and, when she doesn’t draw back, lays curious fingers on the tip of her horn.

She draws in a short involuntary breath. It isn’t painful, just… unfamiliar, and sensitive, and it makes her feel a bit as if the room is slowly tilting. She fixes her eyes on the boy's face instead, on the pearl on his forehead and on his eyes, unmoving points by which to orient the vessel.

The boy seems not to have seen the like before. He moves his hand from end to end, examining the shape and texture of the horn as one might a fascinating artifact, and then turns her head first to one side, then the other, studying her face just as she studies his.

“One of your eyes is different,” he says at last. “Why?”

“Mama says it’s because of my father.”

"Your father," the boy repeats, like a ritual, withdrawing his hand. Then his gaze sharpens. "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," the girl admits. "When I look at people, I see lights around them, all different colors. Sometimes it's too bright and it hurts to look at."

"Do I have a light around me?"

"Mm. Yes, but no. You have…" She frowns, thinking hard. "You have a space where a light should be. I can see where I can't see it."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I can't explain it better than that," the girl says. "I've never met anyone like you."

"There isn't anyone like me," says the boy, proud, sad, insulted.

"That sounds lonely," the girl says, and the boy looks away. The silence is too large, like the bed, like the room, and absolute.

"There's no one like me either," she volunteers, eventually. "Maybe… maybe we could be friends?"

He looks back to her, surprised, blue eyes piercing like the searchlights sailors look for to find the land. "Friends," he repeats. He turns the unfamiliar word over in his mouth. "Friends. I've never had a friend before."

"Neither have I. But now we both do, all right?"

"My first friend," the boy says, and the girl nods.

Suddenly impulsive, she lifts her own hand toward his face. “Can I–?”

He says nothing, but he doesn’t draw back. She lets one finger gently touch the thing, like a pearl but not a pearl, on his forehead.

It’s harder than skin, softer than horn or scale. Cooler than flesh but warmer than bone. The boy gives a barely audible hiss, and for a moment his expression looks much like she felt when he touched her horn. For a moment, the girl thinks she sees–

She draws her hand back. The dream is starting to fade.

“Will you come back?” asks the boy. He must feel it too; there’s urgency in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I don’t know if I can,” the girl admits. “I’m not even sure how I got here.”

“Then I’ll find you.” Not a threat, not a promise, just a statement. That strange unmoving light starts to waver, like the moon from underwater.

“You’re my friend now,” says the boy’s voice. “If you don’t come back, I’ll find you.”

“I met a boy,” Kiyoko says, lingering over the last of breakfast, “with a pearl on his forehead.”

Her mother puts her chopsticks down, every ilm collected. She knows her daughter is perceptive. “Where?” she asks.

The girl frowns. “I don’t know,” she says, as if suddenly realizing it. “Maybe… it was a dream?”

“Maybe it was,” says her mother. “But if you see him again, or anyone else like him, will you tell me?”

For a long moment Kiyoko stares at her, the way she does sometimes, as if seeing something only visible to herself; and Kagami wonders if her practiced calm covers near as much as she thinks. But at last the girl nods.

"Go wash up, if you're not going to finish," Kagami tells her daughter. "Masuyo's going to take you swimming outside the dome today."

She sits at the low table for a long while after Kiyoko departs, thinking of a years-forgotten dream of her own. But it doesn't quite come back to her, and eventually she stands up and goes about her work. That afternoon her daughter comes back, tired and still slightly damp and quietly pleased with herself; she doesn't mention the dream again, and in a fortnight Kagami has forgotten about it too.

#ffxiv oc #zenoswol #kiyozenos #kiyoko lore #fic

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