#when you think about how humans have traces of stardust

[enderpearltv]

I just learned about stars in my physics class

There’s something so poetic about how the biggest stars burn out quicker. About how the fusion that keeps them alive, eventually makes them unstable.

In a last attempt to survive the constant push of gravity they form iron inside of their cores; this makes them unstable. Despite the futility of it all, as gravity eventually always wins, they try nonetheless.

Not only that but when they go supernova, they form a nebula. Even in spite of the constant battle that was their life, they left something in their wake. A place that forms new stars.

A legacy, if you will

the cycle will forever continue

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

I have so many ideas for TQ and Poll that I have no idea how to present so:

Random fun facts about my eggs! (some drawn, some written)

Poll has memories from before their adoption (including the tests the Federation put them through), while Tequilla is missing every memory from before about a week before he met Poll.

Poll once had a meltdown because she realised that her tail wasn't long enough to wrap around their brother's leg, like he can.

Poll had stripes in their dragon form before they got their colors. Similarly, Tequilla's freckles were the first thing to appear on his dragon form.

(Tequilla doesn't know how the crack appeared, but it seems like it's nearly healed up. He doesn't mind that it's there, but the lack of a horn makes him uncomfortable.)

Poll's first set horns haven't fully come in just yet. They're visible on his head but haven't broken the skin yet. They ache sometimes.

Poll and Tequilla have the same eye color now.

Poll's wings are larger proportionally than their brother's, which makes them very unwieldy but also means that they'll probably be able to fly sooner.

Tequilla is the better swimmer.

Poll doesn't have any fighting ability whatsoever, but Tequilla does. He prefers to use blunt objects. He's thinking about teaching Poll the basics, but it's pretty hard to do when all you have is the muscle memory.

Both have frequent nightmares, which has led them to always share a bed.

Tequilla hasn't gotten to the point he feels comfortable calling Stardust his parent.

Both trace their markings to stim/calm down. Sometimes they'll trace each other's if they're in reach.

Poll's ears have soft tufts on the tips and fuzz on the insides. Tequilla's are also very soft on the inside.

Tequilla's ears are shaped like goat ears, and are much more floppy than Poll's.

Sometimes they'll carry each other around in their egg form when they're not feeling very good.

Tequilla keeps very random objects in his messenger bag. Some are new, but a few were in there when he woke up in the forest. He doesn't recognize them, but he keeps them around just in case.

Both enjoy stargazing.

Poll doesn't have a humanoid form, unlike some of the other eggs they've met, because they have never actually met a human before. Their only experience is their other friends.

Tequilla threat displays like an owl, which makes him look bigger. Poll, on the other hand, looks very silly when they threat display. They hold their wings straight up in the air and tuck their arms against their chest, to make them look taller.

I might come back to this list some other time to add more but I'm very satisfied now.

[jadescornerofinternetinsanity]

Its cold and its dark and im thinking about fathers and what it means to love. Because the first person who taught me the shape of love crushed me in his fist and now im scared that every one i fall for will die with claw marks in their chest. Im worried that i don’t know what it means to love without destruction.

I will cling and i will claw my chest open and ask if you think my lungs are beautiful. I will lie on a concrete floor and bleed and hope it’s pretty. Suffering is like art if you do it right. 

Tell me who left first, because in the haze i cant quite remember. If it was you, i forgive you. If it was me, i hope you hate me for it forever. 

I’ve spent more years trying to reach into the mirror and reshape my skin even if the broken glass cuts me than i ever did finding it beautiful. And sometimes i look at the blue in my eyes and the scars on my stomach and think “someone could love this” and sometimes i think i’ll only find peace beneath a gravestone. 

And if i did, would you write my epitaph? Would it be kind? Would you claw into the stone with your nails and tell the world i lived and someone loved me for it? 

Would you forgive me for leaving? It would be easier than forgiving me for what i did to stay. 

The strings tying me to life are tangled these days, they fray and twist and tighten around my wrists like restraints. 

Sometimes i scream at the sky like it’s my fathers ghost and i ask who was I supposed to be? I ask where are you? Why aren’t you here? 

I hate flying. I hate getting too close to the stars. 

There are a million poems about people being made out of stardust. Hell hath no fury like a poet with a science metaphor. We love to strip the world bare and claw through the dirt looking for something beautiful. How long have humans stared at the sky and found home? How long have we buried our friends in the dirt. How long have we looked up and down and found more? How long have we traced shapes into the stars and told their stories? When does it end? 

Should it? 

We climbed our way to the moon and never went back. A checkmark on a list to prove something to a god that doesn’t exist. A challenge. How dare he think anything is out of reach. 

The universe is expanding, did you know that? Did you know that every second the edge of life gets further away? There will always be something we can't see. There will always be places we can’t go. There will always be rocks we can’t claim, stick our flag into, and pretend to own. 

One day the sun is going to collapse in on itself. Did you know how fragile life is? Did you know we live every day on the precipice of destruction? This is not poetry. There is nothing beautiful about mortality. There is nothing pretty about death. One day the sun will cave in on itself and burn everything we’ve built, one day ozymandias crumbles to dust. Atlantis sinks. The stars burn out. Checkmate. 

We claw life out from the jaws of death and think we’ve won something. We haven’t. 

To live is to suffer, did you know that? 

I don’t know who im talking to. The sky doesn’t answer your questions. It doesn’t matter how many telescopes you send to ask the stars why we’re here. Sound doesn’t travel in space.

Do you know how much we made out of nothing? How much of our history is purely a riot against insignificance? How much blood spilled, temples built, statues carved, wars fought and lost and won and bones buried to prove we were here? How much of the past is just a teenaged nobody screaming that something happened here, something mattered here. How much time do we spend begging our descendants to listen to us? 

There is something violent about fading out of existence. There is peace in it too. Aristotle will never rest, and Shakespeare will be studied by people he never knew until the world ends. 

What is more cruel? To be forgotten or remembered? 

I don’t know who i’m talking to. 

One day the sun will cave in on itself. One day we will fall through a crease in the center of the galaxy. Nothing is immortal. Why do we beg for it to be? 

I don’t know who I’m talking to. None of us do. We talk anyway.

[perrydowning]

Our Nature

I can’t stop thinking about the tension between what we call ‘human nature’ and what we could be. Time and again we’ve defied our instincts and pressed forward. We glibly board a metal tube with some spindly bits and fly deeply ‘unnatural’ distances without much care. That is absolutely not in our nature.

Frequently, our ability to outthink our hindbrain bites us in the ass. For instance, there’s something demonstrably wrong with our food supply because the math isn’t there to blame personal failing for how heavy Americans have become. That would require most of us to have no self control—if that were true, society would descend into chaos.

Progress is in the tension. It’s that place where we can imagine better vs. our outdated operating system. We are nowhere near where we need to be to actually fix the code, but I think through our ability to gather and disseminate information, we’re writing a pretty solid macro. Discovery has hit unimagined speed because more and more of us have access to each other.

It really got going with the printing press: Gutenberg’s Bible to the pamphlet to the newspaper to film to television to the internet. We simply want to be heard, and the more others hear us, the closer we come to remembering that we are all simply human beings, made of the same stuff.

Consider the female and the male. It’s likely, based on the forms our bodies take, that we were meant (evolution/god—are they really so different?) for the male body to protect the female body while she protected the small bodies. There’s a beauty to it, in a way. Men were once the battlements and women were the close quarters fighting force. Both united in one goal: keep the children alive. It would be pretty silly to only have one line of defense. 

I’m fairly certain it was the moment when one sex decided they were more important than the other that it all went to hell. At present, we cannot know who shot first, I can see either scenario being quite likely. Regardless, it introduced the rot of one human being having more inherent worth than another. Every single cruelty that stalks our society can be traced back to that concept.

Our understanding of time is too brief, too quick. A lifetime is forever to an individual, and yet genuine change takes centuries. When you step back, we’re moving like lightning. And, hot damn, I’m so fucking proud of us. Because progress always wins. We slide back, but we keep standing up. Bring us to our knees and we’ll take a single breath, but then we stagger to our feet.

We are not selfish, cruel, brutal creatures by nature.

We are stardust that somehow made magic.

[allthatisleftinthedark]

"Mai?"

Creed finds herself looking at her old friend, and she doesn't know how long it's been since she's actually seen hide or hair of the gnome. Let alone received any letters about her. It's been so long and she has to stop herself from running over to hug the other. How long had it been since Aimon had seen or heard from her? Despite everything, the two did keep in contact, no matter how much her brother might've hated the fact she was friends with an Elrose.

"Where have you been? Why haven't you reached out to anyone? I thought about going to your place, because I figured that would be the place where I could find you, but...I don't think you ever told me where you live."

Now she's actually taking the other's appearance into account...

"What happened to your eye?! C'mon, we gotta catch up and talk, I got nothing to do, so..."

unprompted asks | always accepting | @offrozenmemoirs

When you, Il'Surrish's devoted, glance towards the horizon line, the skyline is star-dusted. Instead of the usual pinpricks of the night, distant celestial bodies glitter brighter and slightly more larger than before. Such purity of the sky might be captured by humans using telescopes and waterfronts, but you manage yourself in a space where the humanly feasible is the least expected.

As you regain consciousness, a knot forms in your throat while you struggle to maintain your footing. Instinct almost throws you to the side, sparing you a sure and abrupt death. With one hoof before the other, you kick back. Panic engulfs you when you realize every direction leads to peril. It was an absolute dark well below, and no sensible person could stare down without thinking of taking flight or starting a fight.

And yet, here you are, pushing yourself up from your back.

The knowledge that you are not a hapless victim of gravity and space dissipates some of the terror. Though not wholly relieved, a considerable amount mitigates the rising bile in your throat. You take a deep breath, inhaling the much-needed air. When suspended in the cosmos, air appears improbable, but you manage your hold well. 

Intuition compels you to stay vigilant, whether or not it's an optical illusion, with your breath caught in your throat.

Querying where the horizon meets the ground causes a headache; the two merge in the abyss, and its reflection is inky black and blue. To which one ends and begins is a question of an ouroboros, an unending cycle that turns without change.

As your eyes scan the horizon once more, you pick up on the implications of a ceiling; the curvature is undeniable as the light traces over the perceived dome. The flat of your palms press against the ground again, feeling another unmistakable texture of a room—a cold and smooth floor like glass. 

Nebulae and stardust surround you; the blue and purples of the cosmos paint the ceilings and walls, and the abyss is the foundation you stand on. 

Lowering your head, you push yourself upright and return to your feet. 

{perception =>12}

You reach full height and are taken aback. The light must've allowed you to see your surroundings completely. Or you might've completely shifted through unknown means. 

The walls and ceiling, previously an elusive dome, now materialize around you. Mimicking the night sky, the walls are now matte blue and purple. There are even purposeful little silver dots along the wall, and when you look at them, you notice texture—a peculiar velvety kind. 

Curved bookshelves line up against the furthest "walls" to your left and right in the same white as the molding. Thick tomes and books of various sizes and colors fill the shelves, their spines displaying titles in elegant fonts. Some books are so old that their pages have yellowed with time, while others appear brand new. 

A large table with a deep mahogany finish is also close, a meter from the room's center. On top of the table, you can see a collection of glass shards and portable mirrors, primarily green or white. Sheets of paper are heaped in the furthest corner while the tip of a quill drips ink back into its pot. There are scratches and etches on the top page, but none look slightly like the characters you know or have seen glimpses of. 

This is where you pay more attention to the ceiling. You find the glass dome at its widest in the center of the room. The ceiling surrounding it is dark black. Underneath the glass is the room's centerpiece: an elevated structure that you concur as a table. The structure is wood with a golden sheen over the worn material. The odd decision is that the table was built into the room rather than furniture brought in. 

Why does the scent of evergreen trees come to you with a soft inhale? Your eyes flit around. There was not a plant in sight. Even if a potted plant or two would deodorize the room, the quantity wouldn't explain the entire room smelling like a forest. A faint, trickling sound catches your attention as you ponder this mystery. Turning your gaze toward the built-in table, you notice small crevices and cracks in the wooden support. Could the table be constructed from reclaimed wood, infused with the essence of the forest it once belonged to? 

When you drink more of the chamber, you notice corked potion bottles dangling in midair, their stems knotted. Light specters ranging from sparkling and soft purples to melancholic and fading blues illuminate the path. Here and then, one can even find an uncommon, vivid pink.

Stepping forward, your brows scrunch. Your hooves click on a cracked and dully white surface. As you could expect, it's still cold, but the sound isn't as crisp or clear as one hitting glass. You look down. Instead, there's a fractured limestone floor, the color of which has faded to a drab brownish finish due to age, contrasting the more modern aspects of the furnishings and area.

More investigation showed limestone pillars and fractured stone scattered throughout the room. The pillars are uniform, with two lining the way, signifying a corridor leading to the large table. The broken stones are scattered around the area. It is difficult to determine the origin of the debris because neither the ceiling nor the surrounding structures are damaged.

With contemporary design and ancient fragments—even the scent of a forest—in the same area, another piece of the puzzle comes along, and you're far more bewildered by what the image could be.

Anachronistic, that's the word. An unusually familiar voice rings in your mind; your consciousness always plays with you, taking on the voices of people. Age changes the cast that talks, belittles, or encourages you. At your age, it seems that it consists of family—unfortunately, Ariortos included—your mentor, Ramona, and even your longtime friend, Juniper. 

Once upon a time, in the cloud-splitting city, the cast was merrier and larger. What a time that was! Has twenty years already passed since you've heard from old academy friends? Perhaps this was a voice of the past. Your ambitiously intentive tendencies did draw people in. especially your girlish former colleagues. Instructors were included, too, but that was undoubtedly due to the "trouble magnet" that you were. 

Ah...that phrasing. Your nose wrinkles. It's that same voice again, but no face comes to mind. Muddled and bleary, all that comes is a black cloud. What an irritatingly elusive thing! 

Trepidation aside, the unsettling feeling courses beneath the skin, chilling the fiery veins gifted by nephilim heritage. Unease has never been a feeling you could escape from. Not even from the fortress of a home in the red dunes, the trodden footsteps of caravans in the sand, the sun-blazed Mduara Kuona, or even in the unfamiliar terrains of Tahrea. Invisible needles prick at your shoulders and the vein between your chests. Your forearms and down your leg—that numbing tingle is the foremost feeling besides that frigid bite in your body. 

The weight of malaise on your shoulders already compromises your strong facade. Yet there was something heavier on the back of your head. The back of your neck crawls with a slow, humid feeling. Nothing audible accompanies it, but by the gods, it feels alive. Every step you take feels like you are sinking deeper into a treacherous abyss, as if the ground beneath your feet is conspiring against you. 

Instead of being prey to your anxieties, you bear your teeth and defy them. You turn around, going to disprove your imagination and its paranoia. 

As you turn, that pestering smell is there again. Enveloped again are you in the thick brush of a dark, ancient forest. The air is heavy with the scent of old wood, earthy and resinous, mixed with the clean, crisp notes of a late night after a heavy rainstorm. Tranquility and respite—it is a place not haunted and eccentric like the place before you. Implied in the scent is a hidden grove with rugged and tall trees encircling you, protecting you. 

In the riptides of dreams, where the shore of the psyche meets the sea of the unconscious, the currents bring us memories. That growing temerity dissipates; your shoulders are slacking. In this illusion of sleep, there is a reunion.

And it starts with gazing upon an eye as bright as the sun, more brilliant than any star. 

Remember, the sun is still a star. That voice again...

"Mai?" you ask, disbelief and hope mingling in your voice.

Behold the form you called! Her very lips are the ones caught in glimpses of awakened memories. Looking no older than before, a gnomish woman in her late twenties is in a simple black collared dress before you. Timeless in appearance, it is as if you were thirteen again and back in the labs of the academy. Back when she would tuck on your shirt and adjust your goggles, asking you to be mindful of your environment.

She appears almost cut out of a portrait and pasted into this dreamscape.

Almost is the best word for it. 

However, incredulity takes over. You speak, brows raised, holding out hands to a long-forgotten and now-remembered friend. "Where have you been?" Your voice falters, staring at the ground, collecting what little exists about your knowledge of her fate. "Why haven't you reached out to anyone? I thought about going to your place because that would be where I could find you, but...I don't think you ever told me where you live."

Yet, you take in her view. 

Again, it is almost like she was there.

Two fringes, part by a front cowlick, frame her face and brush against her cheeks. Although her front hair is delicately cropped, the remainder of her scalp is strikingly contrasted. Her hair has short, jagged locks that resemble pixie cuts and is trimmed short in the back—almost in a military fashion. It retains the same bright plum-purple color as the base, and its natural carnation pink highlights are scattered throughout. But that was the extent of the familiarity. There are narrower black and white streaks amid that bouquet of pink highlights, most of which bloomed from the front of her head.

The most concerning thing is—"What happened to your eye?!"—the scar marking her upper right face, and her eyelid was perpetually closed. Mottled flesh, the discoloration is much lighter than her deep complexion. It starts on her right forehead, across her right eye, down her cheek, and stops at her jawline. The flesh is warped, but the tissue and bone beneath aren't visible. 

Seeing a chance to connect, you propose, "C'mon, we gotta catch up and talk. I have nothing to do, so..."

Maisie's expression remains flat, with a hint of docility in her naturally disarming eyes. However, the sharp black of her iris seems dulled, as if it had faded. She regards your extended hand with detached curiosity, her lips parting ever so slightly into an impression of a smile. But there's a discord in her eyes and mouth. It does not match what you recall; it betrays the Maisie you remember. 

"It's you," she says, her voice imbued with an intrusive intimacy, lacking her accent. In its place is, instead, a whispery, throaty sound. "And where do I come from? Right here," she says, her wrist executing an airy twirl, gesturing to the peculiar pocket of reality she claims as home.

As she moves, though, there's an uncanny quality. Her raised hand doesn't gesture; the fingers relax forward, but her hand hovers and twitches as if on some mechanism. "People don't usually visit me; finding this place is hard," she hums. Each movement seems slightly delayed, with her limbs following a fraction of a second behind. "Stranger that they manage to find their way," she sighs, "but it's always welcomed. Loneliness is curable." 

"But it's even harder to leave."

Something heavy balls in your throat, breath shallowing at the playfulness, almost cajoling your senses. Deceptively welcoming, you brace yourself with only a question, leaving, "Maise, are you..."

"Oh no, no," she waves off and disrupts your question. "Forgotten queries never happen here. Let me answer you before your next one, or we'll be caught in a loop of questions. Never had I enjoyed things being unanswered; it's a dangerous thing." 

Tapping her marred flesh with her index finger, she bobs her head, her head slightly disjointed. "Well, it's right here!" Once the eyelids peel back, your stomach knots.

Nothing stares back at you. As Maisie's left eye warmly regards you, the other is a deep black. Nothing is there. An empty socket regards you as apathetically as the dark. 

"You seemed a bit taken aback. Were you always so outwardly cowardly and squeamish?" That person speaks, tapping Maisie's finger against her chin. Part of you seems ready to counter that, but they wave their hand around, answering for you, "Yes, you were! You don't even have a stomach for dead bodies! Funny that." 

How in the hells does she know about that? Ariortos' trade is no secret.. Uck, thinking about it still gets under my skin. But she doesn't know my feelings about it. 

"Being honest with yourself isn't helpful if you keep it to yourself." That finger that once tapped is now pointing at you. 'Maisie' smirks. "It reeks off of you quite well. What we try the hardest to hide is the easiest to uncover! And you are," her eye flits to the ground, slowly trailing up your form, "quite a textbook example." 

"Though most people are unaware of it, knowledge is tangible; it's currency. Your mind of a wallet has some gaps where things fall out. Careful, or you'll end up broke." That inquisitive smirk, revealing the white of her teeth, turns insidious as it widens. "Or broken! The mortal psyche can withstand so little. Once someone gets a little too greedy with what they take, that's it! You're a husk, but even worse, a useless one. But the farmer has to pick their harvest one day. " 

Meandering in the air is the purpose and question of this dream. You've worn a brave face before, but the bewilderment you feel is more complicated to contain. What has been this awful, repeating nightmare of things wearing the skins of your loved ones? Had the past chased you this time, manifesting as terrors of the unknown? Is this some form of midlife crisis that no one talks about!? 

Crisis undergoing, you do not realize Maisie's body slumping, head drooping forward. As lifeless as she appears in a second, like a marionette without strings, life surges through her. A low, groggy groan leaves her, the bottom of her palm resting on her forehead. Her head slowly lifts. Returning to her bright yellow iris is a black pupil.

"Nelly...?" She murmurs, standing up to her complete height. She watches you in disbelief and skepticism, drenched in her quick eye movements over your form. Another blink comes as her breath catches in her voice. With more recognition and joyous throe, she cries out, "Nelia!"

Labored and slow, the gnome slowly regains the fluidity in her body. The noticeable delay from before is one she tries fighting with as if fighting through a thick fog in her mind. Shaking off a strange slumber, she already frets. "What have I done?" She shakes her head. "You should've never been brought here; it's my fault that you are." She pinches the bridge of her nose, cursing in her native tongue. 

As much as you'd argue, "Why shouldn't I be here? I haven't seen you in twenty years," Maisie manages to be several steps ahead. In this case, it is her talking without a sense of breadth. Thankfully, this is still the one you recognize. Age has made you keen on her habits. She was a far too responsible woman for things she couldn't be. 

"Time of the essence!" The woman is already wringing her hands together; faint purple magic streams from her joined hands, those familiar twinkles as bright as ever. She looks down at her hands. "Blasted," she huffed, wiping her hands down the curves of her dress. 

However, she isn't short on making you feel welcomed and acknowledged. "You've grown so much, Nelly! I remember when you could barely reach the top of the doors in the academy. I never would, but your horns might now put a dent in them!" Her laughter is as airy as ever. 

"No, no," she stammers as she turns her heel, rushing towards the center table. Breathless, she frowns, watching you again. "I'm sorry," before looking at the reflective top. "You shouldn't be here, Nelia. How do you get here..." her voice trails, squinting at the glass. "It was my fault. My melancholy shouldn't be drawing things here, especially souls." 

With her index finger, Maisie daps the top of the table; its glass top ripples as the cosmic reflection fades into very familiar skies with a black and green accentuated maelstrom above. Her brows furrow, stroking her digit against the dissipating waves. "It must've been from that cosmic distortion in Tahrea," she murmurs. 

Her eyes lock with yours. She rolls her wrist, briefing you on matters you're more than intimately acquainted with. "Across the planes, there was a great bell's ring and a woman's cry. The magick on the continent is acting up; the elemental planes are bleeding over to your world; the Between is compromised." Pushing her fringes from her face, Maisie's eyes dart. "These are things that neither you nor I can understand; they happened suddenly. I'm only aware that it happened and that there may be danger to the continent."

Bum, bum, bum. Your heart is drumming from your chest, and your ears resonate with that deep brass sound of knowing. Restraining from reaction or lack of expression only draws the woman's attention back to you again. 

A blonde boy bereft of control, isolated from comfort, wields his dagger in a shaking hand, his eyes dried and stinging from shedding his last tears in the world. His crimson robes draped down to his elbows, the arms so thin you dared think he was emaciated. At the epicenter of the calamity, he plunged the dagger into its heart. In the expanse of nothing, he splits and scatters. No boy is there; only three remain to mourn a life too soon gone. 

Amid the madness, a gentle voice inquires, "Nelly?"

Regaining your senses, you focus back on the magus. 

But before you could respond, something overcomes Maisie. The right side of her face slackens, her features losing any emotion. On the left side, her brow raises, and dread widens her eye. Within the abyss of her right eye socket, something glows. A gray wisp slips through the entry before a black flame is outlined in white. Like before, that person's smile grows, but Maisie's frown deepens. 

What is this?!

{perception = 27 - natural twenty 20}

For as little time as possible before the gnome conducted her plan, your unwavering brilliance rests in your mind. You are not helpless, and you were never lost. Since you were a child, you have always thought outside the box, and it was finally time you stepped out of it. 

Who before you is answered simply. Anyone else could consider this an elaborate ruse to gain your trust. However, you cannot deny the woman before you. Conversing with you is Maisie, and yet not Maisie. 

This is her, but something else. Another resides there, not coexisting but clinging to her in a parasitic union. 

Grasping at the enormity of the situation only makes the room spin. As you focus more, you realize that the starry walls of the room ripple like water disturbed by stones. A second later, the place constricts around you before expanding. While your feet stand in place, your vision is drawing further away.

Maisie's form begins distorting, her features oscillating between the friend you remember and a formless shadow. Her singular voice now quiets to a chorus of whispers echoing across the room. "I'm sorry, Nelia. I should've never brought you here." 

As she speaks, you feel the room beginning to shrink and the walls closing in. The sensation is disorienting, like being pulled through a narrow tunnel at an incredible speed. 

Why do I have to go now?! Will I ever see you again?!

The same voice before you snakes into your mind as the woman to whom that voice belongs keeps her lips tightly sealed. Maybe in another dream, and always in your memories. But, in reality...

You lock eyes with Maisie once more in the last moments before you're pulled away. What echoes behind is a solemn note of laughter—one resigned and alone. One hand folds above the other, bidding you farewell with a soft nod. 

Never return, Nelia Zarin. No one was ever intended for the darkness.

Evergreen forest overwhelms the scents, now a strong wind of hurricane enveloping you—blowing you away from the room to safety.

You finally glimpse Maisie Doscedar—a shadowy silhouette against the flickering stars, a loner in a stone prison. Star-studded in one eye, blazed in the other, it was her, not her, you forcibly say goodbye to her. 

Ejected from subspace, the room fades into an inky abyss, and you are only surrounded by the starry heavens you see every night. The world finally dissolves into nothingness.

With a loud gasp, you awaken, throwing your body forward. Heavy precipitation makes the sheets cling to your burning body. You push your tangled red hair with black nails, almost scraping your scalp. Rattling your body is a haggard breath, a result of another bizarre nightmare. 

Alone again, are you? Another restless night leaves even more questions. This time, it isn't of the future with Estranha or even Cassius' recovery. It returns to the past—the very thing you fear. 

What happened twenty years ago? 

[stratiotis-nth]

The few times Cas spoke about his true form, Dean had always imagined some terrifying robed creature with a bazillion heads and rotating rings and fifty giant wings from different animals. He imagined mighty beings that embodied the idea of God’s warriors. Cas once said his true form was size of the Chrysler building, and Dean had had to hide just how impressive the angel was despite looking and acting like a total dork. Cas as Cas was intimidating enough, but Castiel—the Chrysler-sized warrior of divinity—sounded terrifying and majestic all at the same time.

But apparently, Cas had omitted a few details. He had neglected to tell Dean that little bits of his true form lingered with him while he was in human form, some additions that couldn’t be seen but existed with him in another plane of reality.

So imagine Dean’s shock when he’s on a case and accidentally uses the holy fire glasses in his insurance company disguise. He didn’t even realize the difference until Cas joined him and Sam to help.

They were dealing with a Shifter who had been killing old people in a wealthy neighborhood in upstate New York. Cas, a fully functioning angel again, had offered to help when Sam and Dean realized they were up against a Shifter duo instead of a loner.

Sam was out getting grub when Cas appeared in the motel room with a whoosh of wings. Dean knew how much Cas had missed flying, and even he had missed hearing him announce his presence with that characteristic whoosh.

“Hey Cas.” Dean greeted without looking up from the laptop.

“Hello, Dean.” Was the usual response. He flicked his gaze up to Cas briefly, peering over the rim of the glasses he hadn’t bothered taking off. Dean did a double take when he caught a flash of black within the glasses’ lens. Frowning, he pushed the frames up his nose until he could squint through them properly. A sharp intake of breath caught in his throat.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice floated through his mind but he couldn’t process it. He stared at the Castiel revealed through the lens, abso-fucking-lutely floored.

A pair of black wings, ones Dean had only ever seen the shadow or scorched remains of before, were folded neatly against Cas’ back. As the afternoon sunlight hit the feathers, Dean could see them shimmering and reflecting all the colors of the rainbow subtly. The feathers looked spun of night sky and stardust, light as clouds but dense and powerful was cooling lava. Dean had a really, really strong urge to run his fingers through them. They looked like they’d make his fingers tingle with lightning.

Alongside the wings, the other newly revealed part of Cas was his halo. He had never mentioned one before, so Dean had just assumed halos were just another one of those things crazy Christians made up. But apparently, angels did had halos, because there was a thin ring of glowing light surrounding Cas’ head like a circlet, hovering above his ears and just a few inches away from his hair and forehead. It gleamed an ethereal pale gold, almost white, light. As he looked at it closer, he noticed a few gaps in the ring, like jagged cracks where pieces had fallen away. Were they supposed to be like that?

Dean was so shocked that he wondered how the hell he was even seeing these parts of Cas now. It took him a moment for his sluggish brain to piece together that he must had accidentally taken the holy fire glasses instead of another fake pair.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

He blinked, still taking in the halo and wings, and cleared his throat. Cas was frowning at him in concern, his head tilted adorably to the side. The halo drifted and followed a half second behind his movement.

“Uh—“ a strangled noise escapes Dean’s throat. His fingers itched to dig themselves into those feathers, to trace that halo and try to feel the warmth of light. He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Are there supposed to be cracks in that thing?”

Cas blinked at him, thoroughly confused. A split second later, his face both flushed and paled at the same time. Dean worried the sudden blood flow would make him pass out, but then he remembered Cas was an angel.

“Those glasses have been burned in holy fire, haven’t they?” He asked, his wings tucking more firmly against his back like he was trying to hide them.

“Uh, uh yeah.” He stammered, wondering if he should say something to ease Cas’ obvious insecurity. “Grabbed ‘em by accident.”

Cas shuffled his feet awkwardly, the light of his halo dimming shyly. He obviously wasn’t going to offer any information unless Dean pressed a little more.

“So?” He managed to sound somewhat casual, even though his heart was beating loudly in his ears. “What’s with the missing pieces?”

“Ah.” Cas rumbled in his low voice. He avoided Dean’s eyes, his chipped halo floating after every movement of his head. “Well, to angels, the halo represents purity and devotion to God. It is the manifestation of each angel’s divinity. When Lucifer rebelled against Heaven, his halo was shattered as a sign of disgrace and he was banished to Hell. Other angels like Gabriel and Anna had a chip broken off because they rejected Heaven and their loyalties were to their own well-being. Angels cannot exist fully if their halos are damaged, but because Gabriel was an archangel and Anna became human, they were exceptions.”

Dean frowned. But Cas had way more than one piece missing and he was still alive and still an angel.

“So how come you’re still around?” He asked, waving a hand at Cas’ cracked halo.

“Because I was created already broken.” The words, delivered in a flat, emotionless tone, still cut through Dean’s heart. That wasn’t true. Cas wasn’t broken. He was just Cas. Perfectly fine the way he was. “As you have heard from many angels and Chuck himself, I came off the line with a crack in my chassis. I was created to be flawed.”

“Cas…” Dean began, trying to find the words to tell him that it wasn’t true, that everything Naomi and Chuck had told him was a lie.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Cas said gently, glancing at him for the first time since the conversation started. “When Jack restored me to my full power I asked to keep the cracks I bear. Not as an punishment.” he added, somehow interpreting the frown flashing across Dean’s face. “but as proof that angels can exist with their flaws and still do good things. That they can still protect humanity, as was their reason for existence.”

Well, when he put it that way, Dean really couldn’t protest. It was very Cas-like of him to not give a single fuck about being perfect and defying everything anyone has ever known by doing it his way.

“But I am sorry.”

That made Dean snap his head up sharply, looking at Cas in surprise.

“For what?” He asked incredulously.

“For forcing you to see me like this.” Cas’ wings spread out momentarily before being tucked tightly against his back again, hiding their magnificence from Dean. He hated that. He hated that Cas thought Dean wouldn’t want to see him like this, one step closer to his true form, to the real Castiel. “I understand it was undoubtedly shocking and unsettling, but if I could hide these parts of myself from those glasses, I would for your sake.”

“No.” Dean snapped vehemently, jumping to his feet and jabbing a finger at Cas. He hated that Cas believed the things he was saying. How could he not be awestruck by him, by his beautiful wings and perfectly flawed halo? “Shut the fuck up, Cas.”

Cas’ face fell even further than before, the corners of his mouth ticking down and his eyes falling downcast. He looked so…rejected. It cut right through Dean’s heart again, and he scrambled to fix it before they fell victim to miscommunication again.

“Cas.” Dean said firmly, ducking down to catch his gaze. Like a moth to light, that piercing blue gaze fixed on green and followed them up. “I ain’t unsettled. Shocked, but in a really good way.”

Cas looked frowned, confused. Dean plowed on.

“Dude, don’t be ashamed of who you are. Your wings and halo…they look awesome, man. Seriously. You look badass.”

Cas’ lips parted in shock. Dean nervously fidgeted with a pen he had forgotten was in his hands, tapping it against his palm as he struggled to find the right words.

“You ain’t broken or flawed—you’re just Cas. My—“

Best friend didn’t cut it anymore. They had gone through too much together to be best friends. Brothers didn’t sit right either. Dean didn’t feel the same things for Cas as he did Sam (it made him shudder in disgust just thinking about his little brother like that). Dean knew what it was like to lose Cas and Sam—Sam, he had lost his family, his blood. Cas, Dean had lost a part of his soul.

“—you’re my—“

Dean wanted—needed—to say the words. But nothing fit, nothing felt right. No word could describe just what Cas was to him.

“—you’re my angel, Cas. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Cas just stared at him with another one of those soul searching gazes. Even when he was human, Dean felt he could still see straight through him, searching for deception or lies and every time never finding one.

There was a small, awed smile on Cas’ face, and before Dean could register what was happening, Cas gently cupped the back of his neck and pulled Dean down. Soft, chapped lips pressed briefly against his forehead, warm and sweet and grateful. They were gone a moment later, and so was Cas’ hand.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly after a while. “I appreciate it.”

Dean blinked and nodded stiffly. His entire body was shaking, aching to feel that warmth again. “Don’t…yeah, don’t mention it, Cas. I just…you gotta know the truth.”

Cas’ wings were fluffed up a bit, and they twitched against his back like they were itching to spread out. His halo was glowing much brighter than before, matching his smile.

“I have always been honored to be by your side, Dean, but it is nice to hear that you consider me yours.”

There was a lump in his throat that muted his voice. He nodded, shivering when he felt the cool, electrified tingling brush of a feather run down his arm and the warmth of light as Cas’ halo grew brighter.

“Always have. Cas.” He murmured, staring down at the pen clutched between his trembling fingers. He could feel Cas’ smile grow, and the primary feather of his wings brushed against his arm with a little more intent.

“As have I.” His response was so quiet that Dean almost didn’t hear it. But a shiver ran down his spine nonetheless. There was something different in the air, now that there were these confessions in the open. It wasn’t quite like a straightforward declaration that Dean was Cas’ and Cas was Dean’s, but it was pretty damn close. It was just a soft, gentle confirmation of how they had felt about each other since Cas pulled Dean from Hell all those years ago.

The quiet, peaceful moment between them was effectively shattered when they both heard the motel door open and Sam come barging through. They both jumped apart. They might have confessed…something between them…but that didn’t mean they were at all comfortable letting Sam see them in such an intimate moment.

“Uhhh…” Sam came to an abrupt halt as he took in Dean and Cas all but throwing themselves in opposite directions. “did I…?”

“No.” both Dean and Cas said quickly. They faltered and fell silent. Sam glanced between them hesitantly, like they were a bomb about to go off. Dean peeked over at Cas, noticing how his wings were fluffed up almost twice their size, his cheeks burning when he noticed Dean had noticed.

“Riiiight.” Sam said. “Well…there’s uh…been another body. I was gonna grab you and go…?”

“Yeah.” Dean said immediately, straightening up. “Let’s go.”

Cas looked like he wanted to protest—or force Sam to leave so they could deal with twelve years of tension—but Dean pointedly sent a prayer his way.

Tonight. Promise.

Cas’ wings fluffed up even more, his halo’s light shone so brightly it poked Dean’s eyes, and his face was redder than a tomato.

Dean grinned before grabbing his keys.

“See ya at the crime scene, angel.” He said before ducking out of the motel room.

“Is Cas okay?” Sam asked when they were in Baby.

“Oh yeah.” Dean grinned smugly, already looking forward to tonight. “He’s definitely okay.”

He’s got a chipped halo and beautiful wings that had once been burned to bone.

He’s Dean’s angel. He’s perfect.

[sunflowersteves]

feel your touch || g.r.

summary || Geralt wasn’t used to your gentle and soft touches, but he never wanted them to stop either. 

author’s note || ok this is dedicated to @borkingbarnes​ because it’s v much inspired by this post and bee u are a wonderful amazing human being for thinking of touch starved geralt. hope you all enjoy!!

warnings || so much fluff, insecurity, touch starvation, soft!geralt, some angst, NC-17, not edited (oops)

masterlist

Geralt of Rivia was a plethora of things. He was a warrior, a tracker, a magic holder, a skilled fighter, and a monster hunter. But, he wasn’t a passionate lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. In the one-hundred years he has been alive, he’s never had a lover.

He’s had little nightly adventures with many women to cease any tensions he had. They were one singular night, the sheets pooled around him, and whoever was in bed with him. And every single time, there was always a mutual agreement that there would be no attachments except that of sweaty bodies. 

He had previously thought that emotions got in the way of things. Feelings and sentiments always get him in some type of trouble, so he vowed never to let them get to him. He always chooses to hold people at least five feet away from him at all times, even close friends like Yennefer and Jaskier. 

That is until you came along. 

You were like a breath of fresh air, light and flowing in the sunny breeze, but you were also a force that crashed up against rocks during a storm against the ocean shore. It had shocked the stone cold Witcher that you had held such an effect on him. 

It struck him so suddenly, like lightning; it was fast and hard. He thought of things he had never done so before. His mutated heart beat faster and faster when all you did was grin at him underneath the sunlight. 

He suddenly wanted to be a good lover for you, and Geralt had no clue how to deal with such feelings. He had never dealt with such desperation to be near you, such wanting that surrounded him constantly. He wanted to hold your hand when you walked along a market, laughing and talking casually. He wanted to press his face against your thighs as you fiddled with his long hair. He wanted to feel your warmth radiate onto his cool body while you read a book with your back pressed up against his chest. 

He wanted to feel your warm skin against his, basking in the sweet sensations of you. He wanted to give you everything; the desire to please you struck deep within his soul. 

Due to the lack of experience in such longing touches, he had struggled quite a bit. He struggled not to let his muscles tense when you lay a hand on his shoulder in comfort. His lungs restricting the air in them at the sensation of your lips peppering faint kisses on his chest. The strange phenomenon, however, was the fact that he loved your touches.

He loved the way the pads of your fingers ran down his spine. He loved the way your heat seeped into his skin. He loved the way your softness caressing his rough skin. Despite all of the times his body had betrayed him, he loved it.

You were reading some of your spells, trying to memorize every detail about them. For a short while, you didn’t even notice the Witcher make his way to bed. However, Geralt never got comfortable and only sat on the edge of the bed with his back turned towards you. 

Your sweet, honey-filled voice interrupted his intruding thoughts. “Why are you so tense, my love?”

He let out a long sigh, eyes flickering towards yours before fluttering down to his lap. You could tell that he wanted to say something, but his mind was betraying him leaving him with a blank stare as he twiddled his thumbs. 

“Lay down.” 

There were a few beats of silence, his back still shining before your eyes. You knew he must’ve had something troubling him even further if his ears ignored your presence. He rarely would ignore you of all people. It was as though he was incapable of it; his mind was constantly filled with thoughts of you. 

“Lay down, Geralt.”

Your tone was much sharper than before, the hints becoming more of a demand than a question. He blinked before doing as he was told and laid on his stomach. His eyes fluttered close when he felt you lay on top of him, your legs meeting the end of his back. 

His mutated heart starts to beat a little faster, your lips gently kissing the nape of his neck. He felt vulnerable as his cheeks scrunched up against the feathered bedding while your lips skated across his skin.

Your finger mindlessly started to trace a large scar, and his body immediately reacted by shivering from your delicate touches. He couldn’t help but let out a whimper as your hands caress his back, rubbing back and forth. 

Your body lifts itself at the sound. Your mouth hung open slightly in surprise. You weren’t expecting such a sound to erupt from him, more or less from the massive stoic Witcher. For a split second, you could have sworn there was a hint of blush that rested on his cheeks, most likely from the embarrassment of the sound he had made.

Nonetheless, you ignored it and continued to poke and prod at his tense muscles. Your hands worked their way from the top of his shoulders—grinding and digging to elevate the stress he was so clearly under. 

A moan escapes his lips, and you giggle, trying to dig even further into his muscles. You could tell that he felt good; his lips curled into a small smile. 

“Your hands are wonders, little dove.”

You laugh slightly, warmth spreading in your chest as a groan slips past his lips. Your hands kneading the sore battle-scarred muscles had felt like heaven. His skin burned with each touch you gave. 

You stop for a second before prompting him to roll over. He looks at you teasingly, watching as you try to lift him. He was like four men in one, so it was hard to get him to budge. Finally, he turns over and shares a couple of giggles with you. 

He lets out a small gasp as you immediately go to kiss down his chest, his hair slightly tickling your lips. On days like these, Geralt would normally wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses along your body. However, he just stared at the thatched ceiling while his breaths became shallow. 

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“I just… I feel as though you deserve more.” Your heart broke a little at the sullen look on his face; the furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes told you everything. All you could do was softly smile and take his large hands into yours. 

“You are stubborn, yes. You lack emotion more than anyone I’ve ever met, you’re thick-headed, and you have the worst of tempers.” You pull his head up to look at you. His eyes slightly widened at the burst of adoration that flowed between your glistening eyes. His stomach churned with pure glee while you squeezed his hands, “But those qualities that you always deem as negative are what I love about you. My love for you isn’t as simple as a want or desire. My love for you is by what you do and how you live. You are my life, my love. You are my stars and my sea.”

He just stared at your face. His eyes flickered between the crease of your brows, the hollows of your cheeks, and the plumpness of your lips. At first, you thought he was going to kiss you passionately, but he just held your face in his hands.

“I’m never letting you go, dove, ever. Anyone will feel my wrath if they disagree otherwise.”

“Hmm, that better be a promise, my love.”

~~

witcher: @lenalxvegood​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire 

geralt: @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @doozywoozy​

permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wiccanmetallicrose​ @keithseabrook27​ @hereforthesunrise​

[voltagesmutter]

Diphallia

Final three part smut series about Leviathan and his blessing.

Pairing: Leviathan x MC (F)

Fandom: Obey Me.

Warning: Diphallia (Double Penis), first time intercourse in relationship, double penetration.

Notes: A thank you to @theinariakuma​ for your help as always, I owe you so much.

Tagging: @darkfaerry, @otome-smut-queen, @0-miles-away, @rainbowscythe, @minteyedoll, @theshove, @thebestaqua32, @rensphilia, @beelsdessert, 

[Part1] [Part 2]

Part Three: Reunited [Final]

“Are you really sure about this?” His teeth taking her bottom lip, tugging gently as hands rested on the curve on her waist. Thumbs toying with the waistband of her skirt.

“God yes,” Running her tongue over his bottom lip as he had done the day he left. “Please, yes,”.

He tried to stifle the groan that left his throat as she took his hands in hers and slid them up her thighs beneath the flimsy material of her skirt. Wetness prodding against his fingers to feel the soaked folds bare as she wore no panties beneath it. 

Her hands let go of his as he pressed his thumb to her clit, circling in a motion he knew she loved whilst two fingers ran down her slit before pressing into her tight core. Her hips gyrated down as she rode his fingers, her hands hastily undoing his belt to free the mouth watering confinements. 

“Here?” He whispered, already knowing his answer from the way her hips dipped down against his hand. The wetness of her that soaked down beyond his knuckles and the soft moans that left her parted lips.

“I- I don’t think I can wait, I need you ,” Clenching over his fingers in time to her hand wrapping around his right cock. “But... but I can if you want too,”. He could sense the desperation and need in her voice. 

“I can’t either,” He groaned, head thrown back as her left hand took his left cock. Her hands pumping him in soft movements, savouring the groans that left him.

It was the dead of night, cramped in the back seat of his car with her straddling him. Her t-shirt pulled up so her naked breasts were exposed whilst Levi was still dressed in his uniform. The moonlight being the only source of light in the empty car-park. 

Leviathan had been the last to exit the boat due to his status, her waiting patiently by the side of his car after repeatedly telling Lucifer that she wanted to fetch him alone. Lips too busy locking in an exchange to share pleasantries, Levi pushing them both into the back of his car as she moved on top of him. 

“I-ah, I need you,” She whimpered, letting go of his left cock to grab his wrist, pulling his fingers out of her. He wrapped them around himself, letting the glistening stickiness of her arousal coax over his cock. Reaching to his side, she grabbed her purse, a bottle of lube being pulled out as she pumped thick squirts onto her hand. 

Levi watched and waited with bated breaths as she covered his left cock before rising above it and letting herself line against his tip. She was on birth-control to help her menstrual cycles, no need for a condom as she slowly lowered herself down. Her eyes opened wide as she clung to his uniform jacket, the toy she used had stretched her perfectly to take him but it could not prepare her for the feeling of the pulsing heat of him inside her. Moans filled the small space of the car as she worked into a slow rhythm, raising up before lowering down until her walls loosened the grip on him. His left hand fondled her breast as it bounced lightly in front of his face, watching the pleasure twist across her features. His right hand pumping his other cock in-time to her movement, occasionally grazing his fingers against the inner of her thigh. 

“W-what are you…” His face going red as she raised herself so only the tip was in her, her hand batting away his on his cock as she coaxed it in lube. She held his at the base as she positioned herself better, guiding him to her core as she once more lowered down. This time, taking both of him into her as she cried out. “I want- all… Oh god… all of you,”. Complete in awe at the situation as she took him, a feeling completely new and exhilarating to the both of them as she continued to rise up before lowering down. His eyes completely struck to watch both of his cocks disappear into her tight heat, inch by inch into the velvet folds of paradise. The feeling of being complete, of being so full she felt his cocks at the back of her throat as her stomach pooled with heat. The intensity of it grew as she moved down him more. It only took a few rolls of her hips before-

"F-fuck..." The whine left her lips as her hips stilled, back arching as she was pressed to his lap. Both of Levi's cocks buried deep inside her. Levi couldn't think as he watched her, felt her clench around both of him. His cheeks red at how quick she came. Fingers scratching into the material of his jacket, jaw-slack with her eyes tightly shut. Immense pleasure on a new level taking over her body, white tingling heat coursing through her body as she pulsed violently around him. 

The emotions of being back with each other, their first sexual intercourse together, the fullness of him inside her, all of it being too much and plunging her off the edge head first into a mind-blanking climax.

Head thrown back with one hand on her breast still whilst the other dug his nails into her hip, pushing himself up against her as his back curved slightly. Unable to hold back as a choked groan followed a few heavy gasps, heat flooding inside her. The intensity of her sudden orgasm being his undoing as he came without warning, shallowly thrusting as he rode out his and hers releases. Her forehead pressing against his as they both panted, unable to describe the feeling taking over them. Neither had been so undone so fast. Levi still adjusting to the feeling of all of him being buried inside her, head swimming with pleasure at the tight velvet of her heat gripping him. 

“A-are you okay?” Finally asking after catching his breath, pushing the strands of hair that had stuck to her face.

“Yeah- I.. I just need a minute,” She panted, eyes still shut as her head flopped against his shoulder. They rested in the silence of the fogged up car, exacerbated breaths being the only sound. Levi’s hands curling around her to keep warm, tracing shapes of all different manners up her back whilst the softness of his lips left fleeting butterfly kisses along her forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” A meek whisper paired with rounded doe eyes glancing up at him. 

“Whatever for?” Confusion took over as he cupped her cheek in his palm, his other hand pulling down her down her top to cover herself.

“I didn’t mean too… make it finish so quickly. I- I wanted it to be a surprise… special. And- and I ruined it-“ Her words trailing off at the end as he cut her off .

“Hey, hey no tears,” Cupping her other cheek and pulling her face close to his, “That was… amazing. Everything about you is amazing. Your perfect, that was perfect. I can’t believe you even did that, no one has ever done that before…”. Pressing a delicate kiss to her lips as his thumbs wiped away the fallen tears, “You could never ruin anything, your so perfect, so so perfect. I still can’t believe you, practically a living angel, wants to be with me,”. A light chuckle from him followed after his words. It was rare for him to speak in such depth, to wear his heart on his sleeve so boldly but when it came to her. He’d climb to highest peaks of heaven to declare how he felt her. She was his guiding light, his tiny piece of stardust, his normie.

“I love you,” She whispered between a sniffle, overwhelmed by his words. 

“I love you too,” Holding her closer in a tight embrace, neither wanting to the first to let go.

 -

“Promise me you won’t be too long,” Barely managed to be spoken as his tongue glided across hers. Her hands buried back in his hair as he pressed her into the side of the brick wall.

“If I had the choice I’d be right upstairs with you,” He groaned as he pulled away, a string of saliva splitting between their lips. Their clothes adjusted, the stain of mixed release from when he finally pulled out of her was covered by the long material of his jacket.

The minute they walked in, he was bombarded with greetings from his brothers. Despite the chaos, Levi loved his family and they loved him. However, his gaze was not on his brothers, but on the woman quietly sneaking up to the bedroom, seeing her lips mouth out, 'I'll be waiting' before she slipped up the stairs. 

Levi was growing impatient as he was getting asked questions from everyone. 

Lucifer asking if he made his reports. Mammon about any treasures. Asmo about his...scent? 

As his annoyance grew, he heard a small huff--he noticed it because that was where he wanted to go. Up to the young woman who'd stolen his hat before rushing up to his room. Impatience having gotten the best of her as well. 

"Sorry boys." She spoke as she moved between the small crowd. The shirt, his shirt, was a bit big on her, showing off the purple marking on the back of her neck as she latched onto his arms. "I'm going to have to steal the Admiral away now."

Bare legged and ready for more, the others became aware of the small human and her annoyance. A smug grin on Asmo’s face, missed by the others, as the scent that lingered heavily on Levi came flooding into the room each time she took a step.

Mammon's face went red as his jaw dropped open and Asmo waggled his brows at the woman with light giggles. Everyone else had the decency to be embarrassed and look away from her. 

Without another word, Levi took her hand and ushered out of the room, his body pressed to her back to shield her from the view of his brothers. Barely making up the stairs, stifles of giggles and lingering kisses kept them from moving. Until, reminding her of his strength, hoisting her up in the air with her legs around his waist as he carried her through the threshold of his room. One long, open mouthed kiss refusing to break apart as he kicked the door shut, placing her onto his bed as he climbed above her. 

Deft fingers popping the buttons on his shirt undone, leaving the almost transparent material upon her skin but with her torso exposed. His uniform shredded in a slow moving manner, both of them taking their time to admire the other in gentle caresses. Memorising every dimple, scale and bump upon the others skin, leaving a detailed map in their minds. 

“I love you,” Lips hovering above hers, honey eyes of amber baring into her soul. His weight gently pressing down onto her as his body covered hers from above, one arm pinning both her wrists above her head whilst the other softly rubbed down the curve of her side.

“I love you too,” Parting her legs a little more so he could fit snuggly between between them. Fitting together perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. The softness of her thighs pressing up against his as he settled properly between her. His forehead pressed against her as she let out a soft sigh to feel his hand move down the curve of her hip and between her thighs to take his lengths into his hand.

“No matter what happens, you are mine and I am yours,” Amethyst diamonds on his neck shining, just like the one of the back of her neck. Neither of them sure what the future held, but neither cared as they had each other. Both loved one and other too much to give up anything without a fight. Something he never felt he was worthy of, but the way she stared up at him with trust in her eyes, the binding pact upon her skin and the rapid beating of her heart was enough to push his doubt aside.

❁ Kinktober (18+)

❁ Masterlist (18+)

❁ Smut Drabble, Prompts and Giveaway (18+)

[allforyoumylovely]

hi emma <3 just thinking about sander shaking a cigarette out of the packet and lighting it up as he cups it against the salt-sprayed wind. he's standing on the corner of a warehouse at the harbour, where he spent the night painting until his knuckles ached, as if he'd hit a man, and looks out at the stormy grey ocean. he could scream at it, and his voice would be lost. it's cold and misty and damp, but then warmth spreads in his chest like hot chilli when a sound makes his head turn, and he finally spots that familiar, burnt-orange jacket, large over small shoulders, and a maroon beanie pulled over wild, soft curls. he hoped, and there he is, as if sander dreamt him up. robbe meets his gaze but quickly drops his eyes to his feet and bites his lip on a smile. sander doesn't stop staring, even though the muscle leaps in his jaw from how intensely he's taking in the sight. robbe is making his way towards him, carrying two coffees-to-go and a brown, crinkled paper bag from the bakery in his sweater paws. it's barely eight. he must've been their first customer. sander's stomach growls; he can't remember when he last ate. smoke and red bull isn't the same. "you've done your thing now?" robbe asks when he steps up to him, all pink-cheeked and soft from sleep still. sander chuckles and stubs out the cigarette on the concrete, then crushes it under his boot. he pushes off the wall. "yeah," he says. not sorry, not i missed you, not i'm so glad you're here. but he reaches for robbe's waist inside his jacket and curls sore fingers into the cotton of his hoodie, and robbe tilts his chin, and sander kisses him, and the rage he's felt at the world dissolves and there's nothing left except bone-deep exhaustion and calm.

Cami <33 I read this yesterday while taking a break from studying and couldn’t stop thinking about it. It's perfect. What a blessing you are for sending me beautiful things like this 🥺🧡✨

Robbe is such a treat for Sander’s sore eyes, isn’t he: all bronze-brown autumn hair and sparkly fawn-eyes and flushed cheekbones, the curves of them fitting so perfectly in Sander’s palms. He figures Robbe has munched on something on the way there because when he presses his thumbs into the hinges of Robbe’s jaw and licks into his mouth, it’s like dipping his tongue into a bowl of sugar. Such a sweet tooth. Sander sighs against him.

Late, late, late last night, when Sander’s kitchen was still slightly oven-warm, he felt that antsy sort of melancholy creep up on him, the one where his mind starts running in circles, one thought clawing its way over the next.

Robbe took one look at him and asked, “Space or hug?” and Sander leaned forward and pulled him in until they were chest to chest, Robbe’s arms looped around him, a hand smoothing over his back. And Sander’s heartbeat softened for a few good moments, before his veins started trembling as if he had knocked back ten shots of espresso. If he didn’t get to have a spray can in his hand and the night against his skin, he thought he might be swept away.

No matter how much he wishes he could, Robbe knows he can’t always stitch up his wounds; knows that Sander sometimes has to go do his own thing without him; it doesn’t hurt him anymore like it used to in the beginning, and he’ll gently whisper in his ear, “Go.”

Sander won’t try to tell him when he’ll be back home, his brain dictating when he has had enough, and Robbe will tell him it’s okay. “As long as you’re being careful.”

“Always,” Sander reassures him in the doorway with a kiss to his warm cheek.

To the soundtrack of Bowie and the sharp hissing sound of the spray paint, Sander tries to get lost in techniques and colours; tries not to think about the fact that he’s living on a dust-speck floating around a tiny flaming dot of a star in pitch-black, cynical, ice-cold vastness. But when it ends up taking up all his mental space anyway, he closes his eyes for a moment and reminds himself of what Robbe told him in the darkness of his room one night when he was filled with that hollow sense of insignificance: that beneath his skin, every muscle, every bone, every artery, every tiny little thing has a name; that his heart is beating now… and now… and now…; that he’s a human being with feelings, and yes, they sometimes get all tangled up, but at least he feels them. And how wonderful is that?

Sander looks at Robbe now in the pale morning light, the sweetness of him such a stark contrast to himself; here he sits in his black leather jacket and black boots and black jeans, hands chapped and paint-stained, a small scab of dried blood on the knuckle of his right ring finger. Inside him it’s a different story, though; a soft, swirly mess is how he’d describe it.

And when they sit snuggled together on the bench overlooking the river, suddenly the universe isn’t this big, endless vacuum anymore; suddenly it’s only this: curls in the chilly September air, a little dab of chocolate at the corner of a smile, the divine line of a stardust-freckled nose. Sander doesn’t believe in much, but he believes in angels – one very specific brown-eyed angel with dirty sneakers and a gentle voice; an angel that has been his for nearly two years.

With heavy lids over tired eyes and butterflies trapped in his belly, he traces his fingers over Robbe’s thigh, his lips finding his shoulder and pressing an I love you against the bony curve of it over his jacket. Good thing neither of them have classes today; there’s a bed calling for them at home, ready to welcome them under the warm, sleep-scented covers <3

[myshuagger]

words: ~800 genre: fantasy...? warnings: none i think?

a/n: I was in the mood to write and saw some shua gifs that inspired me so here is this thing that i will categorize as a snippet just because i dont want to name it lol anyway picture fallin’ flower mv shua for the first scene~

___

The fairies had a way to claim what was theirs. When Joshua, a sweet librarian from two towns over, knocked on your door that morning with a face full of flower petals and moon glitter you already knew what happened.

You didn’t make a habit of helping careless humans. After all, whenever a magical entity claimed one of them it was only because they agreed without thinking about the consequences first. Seeing Joshua’s helpless face, however, pulled at your heartstrings.

That was the reason why you were now sitting at your office’s desk surrounded by piles of books. In attempts to find a flaw, a loophole. Anything to at least delay his fate.

Being a mediator between the magical and the mundane came with certain perks. One was, and you’re sure Joshua knew about this, the ability to temporarily remove any curse or gift within the walls of your workshop. So he would not have to worry about choking on petals or sweating stardust for the time being.

You close the fifth useless book as you massage your temples and let your head rest against the back of your chair. This was proving to be more difficult than you expected. Joshua, who until now was sitting silently at the other end of your desk, shifts on his seat.

“No luck?” He crosses his legs, trying to find a comfortable position. Something that would mask his nervousness. Of course, he fails.

“Fairies have been doing this for a while,” you gesture towards the multiple books. “Every time someone finds something wrong with their contracts they modify them and get better.”

“How did you even manage to get in this situation?” You lean forward, chin resting against one of your hands while the other moves the book in front of you to the side. “I thought your town had a strict no contact policy.”

“They do,” Joshua’s face gets adorned with a gentle smile as he absentmindedly dusts the cover of one of the many books on your desk before picking it up. “Even you, despite being completely human, get the silent treatment from everyone.”

“Oh?” You sit back up slowly. Eyebrows raised at his statement. “Does this somehow have something to do with me?”

It was certainly no news to you that his whole town was not allowed to interact with you. Or at least, no interactions that surpassed the threshold of necessity. You knew and made a point of limiting your visits. To keep the town dwellers less anxious.

Joshua coughs and almost drops the book he was holding. He shifts in his seat once again as his mouth twists in the way it always does when he’s thinking. You wonder if he’s thinking of a believable lie.

“Every month,” He sets the book down and finally looks at you. “You send the apothecary a package. Medicine, ointments, magical herbs that only grow in your garden.”

The jarring sound of his chair sliding against the floor as he gets up doesn’t distract you from noticing the way his hands shake and form fists. He breaks eye contact and looks at the floor.

“You do it every month and yet…” Joshua attempts to take deep breaths. “Tell me when was the last time someone actually talked to you or thanked you for it...”

You open your mouth to make a rebuttal but he stops you.

“Other than me.”

“Joshua,” You get up and walk towards him. Holding his hands when you’re close enough and resting against your desk. He looks at you, sadness and irritation swimming in his eyes.

“I don’t do it for recognition or to have them be indebted to me. It’s just my duty as the mediator, it’s okay if they don’t want to get involved with me.”

You try to give him a reassuring smile, thumbs tracing small circles against his hands. In all honesty, you can see why he’s mad. You used to get irritated at the whole situation in the beginning too. Sure it was your job to provide the surrounding towns with your wisdom and products but having most of them blatantly ignore you despite all of it… It hurt.

Eventually, you got used to it. The joy of being able to help them is bigger than the pain of being ignored. Besides, not all of them act as if you don’t exist. A few people here and there still talk with you or give you small thank you gifts. One of them being Joshua himself. It might not happen often but it does.

“Besides,” You pull on his hands and Joshua takes a small step towards you. He’s more calm now, your touch allowing him to ground himself. Your smile turns into a smirk. “I fail to see how being tricked by a fairy would improve my situation.”

[arotechno]

voidpunk, or something like that

Now that it has officially been released, I am thrilled to share the piece that I wrote for the @aspecjournal! It was an honor to work on this project, and I want to thank the mods, my fellow contributors, and everyone else involved with the production of this zine for their hard work! Thanks to everyone who bought it, too, for your support of us and the Trevor Project!

--

It’s impossible to know how big the universe really is, or if there’s life on other planets, another world of people just like us orbiting some distant star. The best scientific estimates suggest there are about as many stars in the observable universe as there are individual grains of sand on the planet Earth, a number so unfathomably large it may as well be infinite. So it would only stand to reason, you think, that somewhere between here and the edge of time itself there must be someone out there for you, some living soul whose heart beats in time with yours.

But space is mostly empty, and anything or anyone out there exists on a scale of distance and time so impossibly vast that there may as well be nothing.

Sometimes, you think your heart must be something like that, like a bottomless cup that can never be filled. “Broken,” they call you. Empty, lonely, sad. Sometimes, you think they must be right, that if someone were to carve a hole in your chest, they’d only be swallowed by the empty expanse where a heart should be. It’s a funny sort of irony: despite all the infinite space, there is no one who can fit inside it.

But despite its hollowness, all things in the universe are connected, linked together in an endless tug of war that began billions upon billions of years ago. Somehow, in all the emptiness, you are here, made up, like all things, of the remnants of stars gone supernova in a time immemorial. The universe does not know you, and yet it cradles you in its palm, an intricate, fleeting amalgamation of stardust, here long enough to live a life but never long enough to know why.

Some nights, when the skies are clear and your thoughts considerably less so, you look out at the stars and try to fathom them into some discernible pattern amongst the haze of the city lights. The constellations are only imaginary pictures on an inky canvas, and the paths others have set out for you are only false constructions of social pressures. You try to trace their shape across the night sky, but you find no picket fence, no happy home with spouse and kids shining back down at you. You wonder whether when other people look up at the stars, they see something more meaningful reflected in their image. You only see tiny pinpricks of light. You do not know how to pretend.

Our own Sun is mostly ordinary, an average star whose demise will know no fanfare, should anyone be around to see it. Humans are much the same, a strikingly ordinary miracle of cosmic happenstance, each of us made out of the same nothing. But in a universe with no limits, you too are limitless, not bound to the confines that others try to place around you, an ever-expanding eternity with no definable edge. You hold your own universe inside you, an infinity within an infinity, something born out of nothing. And so you will save your own soul, trace your own destiny amongst the stars, in spite of the seemingly endless empty space that stretches between them.

Many stars are part of binary systems, orbiting one another in perpetuity. Other stars, like our Sun, formed on their own and will stay that way for eternity. Perhaps, somewhere out there in the immeasurable universe, there may even be a star without any planets to call it home, burning on its own for billions of years, even if no one is there to see it. But that star, like all things, is part of a cosmic tapestry held together by an invisible glue that we cannot see. So perhaps you, like that star, were not made to orbit in tandem. Perhaps you were made to forge your own path through the universe. But even the loneliest stars, like all things, are made of the same dust, never to be swallowed by the empty space that surrounds them. You are alive, and you are whole, because you are here, now, against all odds. So go forth, you exuberant star, and shine as you see fit, even if others do not know how to name your shape in the sky.

Can you feel it?

You are not truly alone. You never were.

[talkfastromance4]

Can you do #4&6 with calum please.

Okay I originally had this as vampire!calum but I’m gonna make it demon!calum. so. here we go. i’ve flipped the script a little, I hope you like how I went with it!

warnings: mentions of drinking and slight intoxication

4. “I think I’ve become addicted to you.”

6. “I want to bite you, too.” “A humans bite won’t hurt, it would probably tickle.”

• • • •

After your shared kiss with Calum on the balcony opened a whole new door of your relationship. A door that lead to more physical touches, more kisses, and more of his growls that you soon learned became pleasure when you kissed him in that spot on his neck. 

It is now officially Halloween and you’ve dragged him to another costume party. He was adamant on staying in with you watching horror films (he laughs at what you humans see as ‘horror’) but when you showed him your costume? He gave in all too easily.

You readjusted your black pointy horns on your head and fixed the leather straps that criss-crossed over your chest, the silver buckles winking at you in the mirror. You decided to go as a demon (the costume was actually labeled as devil but you wanted to match who he was). 

When you emerge from the bedroom, Calum’s leaning over the counter reading the paper then quickly stands so he can see you. His eyes flash red for a moment as he eyes you up and down. Three times. 

“Hell,” he grunts rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I look like hell?” you tease doing a little spin for him. The pleather of your skirt flounces up from your twirl, Calum’s eyes cast downward at the sneak peek of your ass. 

“I meant, ‘hell you look fuckin’ phenomenal,’” he clears his throat then pushes off the counter. He bites his lip at the silver fastenings sitting perfectly on your breasts. He traces his finger over the small red marks that are forming from the slight chafe. 

“Are you ready to go?” you ask lightly twisting your hand in his, dragging him to the door. 

“I’m ready to take you to bed,” he whispers in your ear. 

“Later.”

He growls lowly at your indifference and you giggle at his reaction. 

The party is in full swing being held in a large mansion. It’s decorated to the nines with gothic candelabras, cauldrons filled with alcohol and paintings that shift when you walk past them. 

You introduce Calum to some of your friends, they look at him with wary eyes but he couldn’t care less if they approved of him. He knows he’s bad for you, he’s wrong on all accounts.

The party lingers on, you consume more of the potion from the cauldron (it’s a very pretty midnight blue in color. Your friend is chattering on about some girl who’s wearing the same costume she is but your eyes travel the large party room in search of Calum. Your eyes lock and he’s standing next to a high top table that’s littered with cobwebs.

In your buzzed-on-the-way-to-drunk state, you leave your friend midsentence towards Calum. He watches you intently until you click your heels in front of him downing the rest of your potion. You set it down on the table until you hear it crash to the floor.

“Oh no!” you gasp and stumble into Calum’s chest. You feel the rumble of his laughter beneath your fingertips then you’re distracted by his being. 

You tilt your head up then press a wet kiss to his chin, the scruff tickles your lips and you kiss some more of his jaw. Calum’s hands keep you pressed against him, he sighs at your contact. 

Deviously, you tilt up on your toes so you can reach that sweet spot.

“Watch it,” he warns squeezing your waist. 

“Can we play pretend?” you whisper on his skin, poking your tongue on the sweet spot.

“Play pretend what?” he sighs heavily.

“Can we pretend that I’m the demon and you’re the human?” You slide your hands up his chest, over his shoulders and into his hair. 

“Yeah?” he laughs ducking his head to your bare shoulder. “You’re certainly dressed for the part.”

“How come you don’t dress like this?” you whisper on his ear lobe.

“I wouldn’t look as good as you do in this dress, sweetheart.”

You giggle then lean back so you can give him a proper kiss. He tastes so sweet that you crave more rolling your tongue over his. 

“I think I’ve become addicted to you,” you whisper pressing your hips against his. 

“Have you, you little devil?” he slides his hand down over your ass and squeezes. 

“Mhm,” you hum tilting your head back to his neck. You take a bite and suck on his skin to leave a mark. He curses under his breath as you continue to suckle. 

Calum pushes you away gently, grasps your jaw and presses his lips to your own neck.

“No, no, no!” you laugh leaning away. “I do the biting, I’m the demon, remember? You do as I say.”

“I want to bite you, too,” his eyes flash red then ebb away to his normal dark brown.

“A humans bite wouldn’t hurt me, sugar,” you smile, “it would probably tickle.”

“Oh, I know where you’re ticklish young lady.” He lifts you into his arms and you squeal, your devil demeanor gone as he takes control. You’re pushed against the wall, shivering as his lips kiss the swell of your breast.

• • • •

Taglist: @calpalirwin  @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh  @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @haveufoundwhaturlooking4 @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @zhangyixingxing1 @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @everyscarisahealingplace @stardust-galaxies @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @lovelybonesetc @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @superbloomed-c

[moody-bloosh]

just because (DIO Brando circa. Stardust Crusaders)

this is part of an art trade i did with @nyatanni​ ~ 

It is no secret that you’ve earned the favor of DIO Brando, the dangerous vampire terrorizing Egypt and hunting down the Joestar family. You are very much aware that this favor you’ve curried with him is definitely something enviable. From Vanilla Ice down to even the lowliest goon in his service, you can feel their palpable jealousy. After all, simply catching Dio’s attention was already something very difficult, retaining this attention, cultivating his interest in you – it was downright ludicrous. But you had somehow managed to get him to catch feelings – actual feelings, affections. Such a feat was definitely unprecedented.

That was why, it still frightened you sometimes whenever DIO would indulge in his more human flights of fancies. The vampire was quite fond of having you sit on his lap, while he went about his business, reading, painting, dramatically sipping blood from an expensive chalice. You wondered about his excessive skinship at times, especially since you were quite sure that he was raised during a time when such a thing was frowned upon.

Some other things he enjoyed was having you cuddle close to him as you slept. The combination of his body and the warm sheets turning out to be something that proved to be extremely cozy.

“You’re even more adorable when you sleep,” DIO would explain during one lazy afternoon spent in his quarters. “So defenseless, unguarded, I could do anything I want with you.”

You could only chuckle sheepishly, “you could do anything you wanted with me even while I was awake though.”

“Indeed,” DIO smirks as he tugs you closer to him, his rough hands on your waist, cold fingers carefully tracing your body. “And that frightens you.”

A statement of fact.

He knows.

“Yes,” you tell him truthfully.

Something you’d learned early on in your relationship. While DIO had no qualms with lying, he expected you to remain truthful to him. He will tell you that it is because he would never lie to you. But still, you find this hard to believe. There was a wall in your relationship. While you love DIO more than anything, there always remained a tiny wriggling notion of fear in your heart. One that spoke of an entire lifetime’s gap between you and the man – no, could you still call him a man or a person? – DIO.

But more than his supernatural state, there was just something about DIO that intimidated you. Whether it be his insanely sculpted body, his features, so gorgeous and regal as if sculpted by a master artist, or even just his mind. His mind, a labyrinth you would never even dare to try and comprehend.

Your fear and love of DIO were two sides of the same coin. He was just like the ocean. While on one hand, he was beautiful, majestic, with an undeniable pull tugging you to him, he was just as frightening, as cold, as dangerous as the ocean.

Like diving in to the great unknown only to have an endless, inky darkness stare back at you.

“Why me?” You ask him during a particular day, even when he had you sit in his lap for so long now, you could never get yourself to relax. Your back straight as you paid him the attention and the devotion he loved so much.

“Why you, indeed,” DIO chuckles as he continues to read.

There’s a long thick silence that overtakes the two of you at that. It is comfortable as it is unbearable but you can’t bring yourself to break that. So instead you breathe, and you sit there long enough you can steadily begin to hear your heart beat a little faster. And then, DIO relents.

“I don’t know,” DIO murmurs, another beat of silence, “does that disappoint you?”

You don’t answer, don’t really know how to answer.

“Because I’m afraid that is the truth,” he sighs as he sets his book down, his strong hands easily shifting you around and pushing you to look at him. “Even I don’t know why I love you this much.”

Love.

He loved you.

DIO loved you.

He smirks at that, “that makes you happy. I can feel your heartbeat you know?”

He leans closer, resting his head against your chest. And for once, you don’t feel afraid.

“Perhaps it is because for some reason, you appeal to me,” DIO continues to explain, his arms wrapping around your waist now, he rests his head against your chest. “Perhaps it is because I find your feelings and adoration something precious. But the truth is I don’t know, suffice it to say that you’ll have to live the rest of your life not knowing.”

He finally looks up at you, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he stares you down.

“So revel in this fact instead, I find you worthy of love.”

His arms on your waist travel up your back now, cold fingers moving up, up, until they cup your face.

Instead of a soft feeling, you find yourself thinking: he could kill me with his bare hands. His fingers are cold, you think as you feel his thumbs rub your face with a strange and tender fondness you didn’t know he could produce.

Your fear and love of DIO were two sides of the same coin.

And yet, you find yourself holding him back. Your hands pressed against his as he cups your face.

Love is terrifying. Love is not knowing.

For once, you lean back against his touch and you reciprocate. For one moment, you bite back your fear, your reservations, and your worries. And you simply let things be.

“I don’t know why I love you either,” you confess shyly. “I just do.”

For once, you no longer walk on eggshells with your beloved. You giggle a little as you enjoy your time with him.

“I love you DIO,” you tell him as you cup his face in your hands.

He manages a tired smile as he rests his forehead against yours.

“As you should,” he murmurs.

[sammystep]

No One Lives Forever- CH10

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

<Previous Chapter     Next Chapter>

Between the road noise and the insulation of the cooler it was easy to ignore the shouting from the gremlin. Kakyoin had taken shotgun this time, the rest of you piled in the back rows and passing around bandages and ointments as Polnareff drove. After cleaning away the blood you could see none of you had sustains injuries worse than some deep scratches. With the accelerated healing you all had they would be fine by morning, but you patched each other up with gauze and bandages just in case. It felt nice, satisfying even, to take care of the others and let them take care of you in return.

You lose track of time for a bit, content to sit quietly in the middle row and rest. You hear someone start snoring from behind you and turn around to see Joseph has nodded off, Avdol also has his eyes closed but looks more like he’s meditating than sleeping. Jotaro must have turned at the same time, you caught his eyes as he turns forward again as well, a small smile on his face. You smile at him and hold out your hand to him over the middle seat. His gaze flicks back again before he faces forward completely and covertly takes your hand.

You didn’t realize how tense you still were until he took your hand and you felt the muscles of your back and shoulders melt. A tingling feeling of relief, you were safe, your pack was safe, your mate…

You tense slightly again and grip Jotaro’s hand, where had that feeling come from? You are bewildered for a moment, you barely register Jotaro squeezing your hand back, his emotions hidden by his resting serious face. You relax into your seat again, coming to at least basic terms with what your instincts have been screaming at you for a while now. Yes, it was a terrifying situation happening when you first met him, and Jotaro could physically fit the definition of big bad wolf, but his actions so far have proven he’s anything but cruel or violent. When you had gotten a look at the cut on his leg earlier you had to suppress a sudden shift and urge to rip the monster that did that to pieces. Maybe he was experiencing the same feelings towards you?

It’s been a few hours after the events of the gas station and capturing Dio’s minion when Polnareff makes a turn off the road to a campsite. Although it looked well cared for there weren’t many campers ready to brave New York forests this late in the season, there were no other cars in the lot or in any of the designated spaces close to the entrance. Jotaro is surveying the space outside his window so he doesn’t see Kakyoin turn around and catch sight of your intertwined hands. You blush and look away when you catch his eye and he’s polite enough to clear his throat before announcing this was the nearest campsite he found to dispose of the gremlin in its prison.

Polnareff parks and you’re surprised Jotaro gives your hand a squeeze before letting go and climbing out. You suppress a giggle at Joseph’s sudden snort as he jostles himself awake. Exiting the truck, you enjoy a deep lung full of clean air, not even a trace of human scent present. The falling leaves and large lake to your right create a picturesque scene and you almost wish the pack had stopped for pleasure and not business. Speaking of… Jotaro and Polnareff are unloading your captive from the back, the creature either playing possum or it had finally run out of air. A couple of hard shakes to the container don’t produce the screeches you expected.  

Joseph has fully woken up from his nap and joins them in staring at the cooler. “Well, looks like we won’t be getting any more info out of that thing.” He puts one hand on his hip and scratches at his beard with the other. “Jotaro, what do you think? Risk it getting away to see if it’s really dead?”

“No. It didn’t seem all that clever, it probably had nothing more to tell us. It’s not worth the risk of it getting loose out here.” Jotaro motions with a jerk of his chin to the dense woods. “We’ll burry the whole thing and be done with it.” The rest of the pack nods in agreement and Jotaro and Polnareff haul the cooler towards the line of trees.

You all take advantage of the rest stop and walk around the campsite while Jotaro and Polnareff make quick work of disposing of their cargo. You douse a few paper towels with some of the bottled water as they make their way back and offer them to the guys to clean up with. “Ah, merci mon amie.” Polnareff looks around for a moment before leaning in slightly “Ah, say (Y/N), you didn’t see any restrooms around here, did you?”

Jotaro rolls his eyes as he finishes cleaning the dirt from under his nails. “Good grief Pol. It’s the woods. Go anywhere.”

“Fine! Fine!” Polnareff puts his hands up in surrender, “Just thought I’d check.” He backs away from you and Jotaro and towards the lake. You turn away to give him privacy and survey the rest of the pack. Avdol and joseph are going through some of the snacks; more like Avdol is trying to restrain Joseph from sampling each new type of jerky he finds. Kakyoin is making his way to you and Jotaro when you hear a sudden shout from behind you.

Polnareff had just finished his business and was headed back to the group when his leg gets caught on something. Yelling as he’s pulled to the ground, he re-evaluates, he hasn’t tripped on his own and whatever has caught him is dragging him back towards the lake. He catches a glimpse of what looks like seaweed wrapped from ankle to kneecap as he tires to scramble away. His claws dig into the dirt as he struggles to gain traction and from behind him he hears an ungodly noise of whatever has caught him.

You and Jotaro turn as soon as you hear Polnareff’s distressed yelp. The unbelievable scene of a creature rising from the lake makes you both hesitate for a moment to comprehend what you’re seeing. Its body ungulates, a writhing mass of pond weed and lake plants twining together to take the form of what looked like a horse. Jotaro recovers from the shock first, surging forward and transforming as he ran. You are right behind him, transforming as well. The creature rears back and screeches as you both approach it, desperately trying to drag Polnareff to the water as the plants rooted to its body climb further up his leg to gain better grip on the struggling werewolf.

From your left more beasts are emerging from the water and you and Jotaro dodge the kelp and vines shooting out at you. You hear the rest of the pack behind you also start making their way to the lake but are cut off by more creatures. The one holding onto Polnareff has managed to drag the massive white werewolf to the water by the time you and Jotaro rush the last few steps to his aid. Both of his legs have been tangled by vines now but they fall away limp as Jotaro is able to cut through the main vine. You quickly help Polnareff to his feet in the knee-high water.

“What the hell are these things?” Polnareff’s voice is deeper and slightly distorted with his change and constant growl rumbling from his chest. The three of you take a defensive formation covering each other’s backs and claws out. Your ears flatten and you snarl at one of the seaweed horses as it gallops by.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” you huff and swipe at a tendril of lake-weed snaking too close for comfort, “Some kind of horses? Or we pissed off a plant witch or something?”

“Kelpies. They’ve never been sighted this far north though.” Jotaro growls out as he snaps at the beast in front of him. By now the things were running amok along the shoreline and around the pack, six of them in total working as a team to try and capture and drag you all to a watery grave. One of them turns and stamps its hooves before charging directly at you, Jotaro and Polnareff. You are forced to dive away as it barrels by but a vine of weeds wraps around your waist as it passes. You are lifted briefly into the air before landing on all fours, the vines tangling your legs as well. You hear two loud thumps behind you and see Jotaro and Polnareff were also bound by that last charge, their arms stuck to their bodies and unable to claw their way out.

You cut your own bindings as fast as you can and quickly cut them free as well before you are all dragged along with the galloping kelpie. It bellows as it realizes its prey has broken free and tosses its head making its mane of kelp fly about.  The three of you quickly move to the offensive rushing the creatures standing between you and the rest of your packmates. Jotaro takes the lead and you defend his sides, swiping away any tendrils reaching too close. Polnareff assists and keeps another beast off your backs. Ahead of you, Avdol, Joseph and Kakyoin are also struggling to keep themselves guarded and untethered, but the horses are galloping too fast to try and get any substantial hits in, circling in a pattern to keep the pack separated and vulnerable.

Jotaro narrows his eyes and growls louder as he realizes there is something more going on here. Although they are fast there are only six of the kelpies, the pack should be able to take them on one-on-one but their movements are too coordinated to be wild kelpies. He stops and takes on a defensive stance again as a sudden gleam of light catches his attention, what looks like spider’s thread catching the sunlight. He follows the line with his eyes and sees it connects to one of the kelpie’s heads. In fact, now that he’s noticed one of them, they all seem to have this silver thread connecting them to a single point in the lake. About 20 feet from the shore a figure has risen from the water, humanoid but draped in gold and blue lakeweed. It makes no move to come ashore, instead moving its arms like an orchestra conductor would to control the team of water horses under its command.

Before he can make a move towards this figure another kelpie blocks his path. Polnareff barrels forward from his right and slashes at the beast’s face with his claws. He yelps in pain at the same time the kelpie rears back and retreats, a pile of silver rope falling to the ground. Polnareff cradles his silver burned hand for a moment before his eyes light up in understanding. “It’s silver! They have silver leashes!” the kelpie he accidently freed runs past the fighting happening between its herd and the pack, running on top of the water to the far side of the lake. “It’s gonna burn like hell but we can free them!”

With one of the kelpies no longer under its control, the man in the lake’s movements become more exaggerated as the remaining five horses push themselves to move faster, biting, stomping and charging the pack. Jotaro seizes the opportunity to break another of the silver ropes as he dodges the kelpie charging at him but instead of letting go, he grips the silver line tight where he severed it. It burns something fierce but he’s able to control the horse long enough to force it to charge at the lake man and bring Jotaro along for the ride. When he’s close enough Jotaro slips the silver harness from the kelpie and throws it, hoping to tangle the puppet master. Up close he can see the man’s flashing amber eyes and although as a wolf his sense of color is limited, he can tell the kelp and weeds cloaking the creature would actually be red instead of gold if he had full color vision right now. A rusalka then. A male rusalka and a herd of kelpies under its control?

The rusalka hisses at him but it’s a mocking laugh and not a fearful defense mechanism like Jotaro expected. Instead, it seems confident in its ability to take on the hulking werewolf in the water. “Hssss… You are a foolish one, aren’t you? Making it so easy to carry out my orders. You think you’ll beat me in my element? Show me what you’ve got then, pup.” Vines of lake kelp lash out as the rusalka flails his arms, no longer focused on controlling the kelpies now that his prey was in range of his own claws. Jotaro growls and snaps the first volley of vines with his claws as he swims closer. Grabbing at the next vines that hurl at him he holds tightly and begins reeling himself closer toward the rusalka.

He’s underestimated the rusalka’s speed and he has to suddenly deflect razor sharp claws away from his exposed torso. Although it has the advantage of speed in the water it is still weaker than Jotaro and on its next swipe Jotaro is able to grab on and immobilize it while swiping with his own claws. The rusalka hisses in pain and thrashes enough to break Jotaro’s grip before getting a hit in on the wolf’s side. More lake weed vines shoot out from its body to try and wrap him up and finally succeed in binding his leg. With a great tug the battle is moved completely underwater. Jotaro is just barely able to resist the instinct to gasp as the cold water rushes into his ears and nose uncomfortably. Snapping his eyes open as he feels a shift in the water, he’s able to evade the claws that had been aiming for his face.

Now that he can see his enemy in his entirety, Jotaro realizes the reason the rusalka had been controlling the kelpies from such a distance. From the waist down, instead of legs or even fins is a thick tangle of lake weed and kelp that anchors it to the lake bottom, more vines branching off and shooting towards him from this central pillar. The vines were easily cut away as they reached him, but they were only a distraction for the rusalka to pull himself closer and unleash a flurry of slashing strikes. Jotaro blocks them with his arms and again grabs on to immobilize and pull in closer to deliver his own blows. He moves to the offensive, digging his claws into slimy flesh as the rusalka struggles in his grasp. He almost looses his grip when it lands a hard blow to his shoulder but keeps hold long enough to accomplish his final attack. With a powerful strike, Jotaro severs the thick tether keeping the rusalka anchored to the lake.  

The screech it lets out is almost deafening under water and Jotaro nearly looses his grip a second time. But with his claws embedded deep into the rusalka’s torso and his other hand gripping it by the throat he is able to swim and haul it to shore. With every foot closer it struggles harder, finally showing fear in its panicking eyes. Its movements are becoming less and less coordinated and it makes motions Jotaro recognizes as trying to call upon the kelpies for help through the silver ropes it had been using. The water is shallow enough now that Jotaro can stand and looks around for the kelpie reinforcements coming to its master’s aid. Instead, his pack spots him and rushes to help him drag the rusalka all the way to shore. Kakyoin reaches him first and the red wolf helps pull the creature the last few feet to the shore.

The change begins as soon as the last tendril loses contact with the water, some leaves shriveling and turning brown while others seem to rapidly decay and turn to sludge. The rusalka screams and thrashes as its body dries out and starts to flake away, but its strength is failing and it can’t pull itself back to the water in time. It collapses as it shrivels up, arms outstretched to the lake and it succumbs to the dry air.

You are the first one to let your transformation drop as you run up to Jotaro and Kakyoin, careful not to step in any leafy remains on the ground in front of them. Your sable fur falling away to reveal smooth skin and clothes is the unofficial signal for the others to drop their transformations as well. You reach the alpha and beta just as Jotaro lets go of his wolf form and you can see the damage the rusalka inflicted in their unseen underwater battle. You and Kakyoin nod at each other before reaching for Jotaro’s right arm and lifting it over your shoulder to support him, Kakyoin doing the same on his left side. You blush as you hear him chuckle but you’d be dammed if you weren’t going to help him after he risked his life to defeat the enemy. It seems he does appreciate your effort though as his chuckle turns into a huff and you feel his weight shift to lean on you as the three of you make your way back to the truck.

The rest of the guys move ahead getting the first aid supplied you all ransacked from the gas station opened and organized. Avdol takes charge of distributing bandages as Joseph and Polnareff drop dramatically to sit on the logs surrounding the unused fire pit. Jotaro is obviously sporting the worst injuries, but the rest of the pack is also covered in various bruises, bitemarks and silver burns. You and Kakyoin focus on getting Jotaro patched up together, you carefully clean the slashes from the rusalka’s claws and Kakyoin follows your wake drying and bandaging what he can. You don’t realize you are purring until Jotaro starts purring back and relaxes as your hands make contact with the bared flesh of his arms. You blush as you glance at his bare chest, looking in a non-clinical way now that things were calming down. Your hands only hesitate a moment though before you return to your task.

Your blush returns tenfold when Jotaro practically drags you down to sit next to him once you and Kakyoin finish bandaging each other as well. By the time everyone is bandaged up it’s getting late enough that you knew the pack wasn’t going to finish the journey to the city tonight. Everyone is sitting around the still unlit firepit and relaxing for a moment, watching the herd of kelpies you freed running and jumping across the surface of the lake when Avdol makes his suggestion. “Well, it seems like we’re not going to make much more progress tonight. We don’t have any camping gear with us, but we are already at a campsite.”

Polnareff flops over onto the log he’d been sitting on. “You mean we’re roughing it out here tonight? Can’t we keep going until we find a motel with actual beds? And proper bathrooms?”

Joseph throws an empty bottle at him, “Hush you spoilt pup! I don’t want to hear your bellyaching when you’ve got no idea what camping out here will do to my old bones!” You’re starting to recognize Joseph’s tell when he’s teasing Polnareff is to cross his arms and try and look stern, but a small grin gives him away.

“No, its too risky right now to be near humans. That rusalka, before we really got to fighting it mentioned ‘carrying out its orders’.” Jotaro shakes his head as he addresses the pack, joseph and Polnareff immediately back into serious mode. “We’ll be safer if we are able to fully transform to fight if we need to. I think that’s worth being uncomfortable for the night.”

You all agree with the decision to rank safety over comfort but you slump a little as you continue to watch the kelpies dance around the lake. You’ve slept in your car and camped out enough in your own travels that it’s not a huge hardship to do it again, but you also appreciated having a real bed to relax in. Especially after a day like today.

“I agree. However, on second thought…” Avdol motions to the kelpies, one had caught a large fish in its mouth as you had been daydreaming and now two were fighting over it and ripping the catch to pieces in the process. “Kelpies are carnivores after all. Perhaps a different campsite would be more suitable.”

Jotaro sighs and you feel him slump slightly into your side before he rallies himself and stands up. “Good point. Kakyoin, you’re navigator. Find a campsite we can get to quickly. Everyone else pack up and let’s go.”

   <Previous Chapter      Next Chapter>

Author’s Note:

So. A week late, but I swear its not my fault. Guess who lives in Texas and couldn’t use a computer for the week? This gal. Everything is fine now and I’m one of the lucky few who doesn’t have a 10k electric bill or burst pipes.

Anyway, this chapter was a lot of fun to write- I always thought it was weird the crusaders just jumped right in with the rest of the crew after the Dark Blue Moon episode when CLEARLY you can’t trust anyone. So this chapter is the “Captain” and his crew as cryptids and myths. If you haven’t been reading the notes so far, I’ve planned out all of the enemies in this fashion, each battle a new myth to discover (and for me to research). Also every Wikipedia article I’ve looked at for the monsters has a reference line that is something like “Appears on episode 25 of Supernatural”. I have not seen more than 2 or 3 episodes of that show, I got to the one with the Wendigo and NOPED RIGHT OUT. Was wwaaaayyy too scary. Couldn’t handle it! So any similarities to the show are going to be pure coincidence.

Also I had to do a gag at Pol’s expense

[sidecarghost]

Spn 12x11 “Regarding Dean” Canon Divergent Destiel Fic

Suptober20 - Day 26 Walk of Shame

Notes: Dean and Castiel both get a chance to ride the mechanical bull in this canon div fic.

Dean feels a cool breeze and reaches for a blanket to wrap himself in. But his hand finds nothing but... grass? His head pounds and his eyes protest as he wills them open. So, at some point his latest escapades got him passed out in a field. He pushes himself up into a seated position. The feral bunny that had been nuzzled into his side gives him a look of reproach.

“Hey little buddy,” Dean tells the bunny. “Do you know how I got here?”

The bunny hops away. Dean realizes he is missing some things like his phone, car keys, and clothes. He just has his brown bear boxer-briefs on. So last night either went really well or really bad. Sam would know. Just gotta give him a call. Dean walks in a random direction hoping to find someone for help.

Dean doesn’t have to look long, as he almost trips over a dude sleeping along the trail. This guy is following Dean’s trend of wearing underwear as sleepwear for the great outdoors. “Hey,” Dean reaches a foot out to tap the sleeping dude.

“Hey yourself,” a deep voice groggily answers.

“Cas?” Dean questions.

The not quite awake Castiel rolls over and squints at Dean. “Hello Dean,” he says. “You aren’t wearing any pants.” Castiel informs his friend.

“Yeah Cas,” Dean responds. “I’m not the only one.”

“So it would seem. Let me know when you solve the mystery of our wayward clothes.” Castiel yawns and begins to nod off again.

***

“Cas, what are you doing? You don’t sleep remember?”

“That does sound like something I’ve said,” Castiel admits.

“Come on buddy. Let’s try to find someone that can help us.” Dean tells the nearly comatose angel.

Castiel moans in a way that Dean decides is unfairly pornographic. Dean then finds himself staring as Castiel performs a full body stretch by reaching his arms back behind his head and stretching his feet out in the opposite direction. This maneuver causes all the well toned muscles on Castiel’s body to flex. Damn, Dean thinks, walking with Castiel in his underwear just got way more awkward.

“I’m going up the trail. Catch up when you can,” Dean tells Castiel as he hastily retreats away from his friend.

After a few minutes, Castiel has caught up to Dean on the trail and they see a park up ahead. Dean would rather not get arrested for public indecency, so he tries to think of a plan to somehow get a phone without exposing himself.

“Cas we can’t just walk into a park in our skivvies,” Dean says. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Um... if Sam was an angel we could pray to him to bring us clothes.”

“Do we know any angels that aren’t dicks and could help us?” Dean asks.

“No,” Castiel admits. “Networking has always been a challenge for me.“

“No worries Cas, nobody’s perfect.” Dean responds. As Dean considers their next move, he notices a runner in the park. The runner is the size of a small giant, and he has his trademark long, flowing hair partially covered by a beanie. “Hey Cas, look we are saved!” Dean shouts, “SAMMY!”

Sam turns at the sound of his name and runs up to Dean and Castiel. “Uh, why are you guys wearing nothing but your underwear in the woods?”

“I don’t know Sammy. Cas and I just woke up here. I can’t remember anything from yesterday.” Dean tells his brother.

“I know what happened. Apparently the memory curse doesn’t affect angels.” Castiel tells the brothers. “Dean and I went to a bar last night, and the bar had a mechanical bull.”

“Oh, wow a mechanical bull! How awesome is that?” Dean says excitedly.

“Yeah, you said the same thing last night, Dean. Anyway, Dean dared me to ride the bull. I knew if my vessel had full range of motion I would have more success at riding through the bucks.

“So I removed my trench coat, suit jacket, tie, and shirt. I still had my wifebeater on to preserve my vessel’s decency. I also removed my shoes and socks and hiked up my pants to help with gripping the bull between my legs. Dean must have been impressed with my performance because I could feel his eyes fixed on me while I rolled my hips through every buck that bull took me on.

“After my turn, I asked Dean what he thought of my riding. He responded with some unintelligible swear words. I went to grab my shirt, but Dean grabbed me by the arm before I could put it back on. I turned to look at him, and Dean fixed his eyes on mine.

“Dean had lowered his voice to barely a whisper when he told me I made him jealous of the bull. I have heard trillions of romantic declarations during my existence, but Dean’s utterance was easily the most romantic thing ever said by your species. So I kissed Dean. I haven’t kissed a lot but I thought the kiss was good, and that I would like to keep kissing Dean for the next several eons until the Sun consumed the Earth and we both became stardust.

“I was relieved to find out Dean seemed to also have a good opinion on the kiss, because we kept on kissing. We let our tongues lazily discover the sensation of slowly tracing out each other’s mouths. The sensation was very enjoyable.”

“That’s nice, Cas. But I think we should focus on the part of your memories that deals with you guys getting cursed,” Sam tells Castiel.

Dean gives Sam a bitchface and then tells Castiel, “Just ignore Sammy, Cas. I want to hear more about the things we did last night,” Dean says with something that sounds like longing in his voice.

“So eventually,” Castiel continues, “Dean wanted a turn at the bull too. He decided to follow my method and also stripped down to his undershirt. Dean hopped onto the bull and then waved me over asking me to join him.”

“Um... is this really relevant to getting cursed?” Sam asks.

“Shhh, don’t interrupt Sammy,” Dean says. “How did things go with the two of us on the bull Cas?”

“It was a little different from riding the bull solo,” Castiel reflects. “I got in position in front of you. And we leaned into each other in rhythm with the mechanical bucks. Our legs tangled together as we thrust through the motion. Dean wrapped one arm around my waist, and I gripped his arm back with one of mine.”

“My vessel began getting aroused from the whole experience. And I could feel evidence of Dean’s arousal each time he rolled his hips behind me. Dean suggested we go to the Impala at this point.”

“Holy shit Cas! I do not want to hear about you and my brother having sex in the Impala,” Sam complains.

“Well, then you are in luck Sam because we did not get that far. We had stripped off everything left but our underwear. I hadn’t realized what a brilliant construction the human somatosensory system was before last night. Every nerve receptor was set on fire from the feel of Dean’s finger tips touching my skin. Dean asked if his touches felt good, and I tried to make the most eloquent response possible with a ragged moan. I had once thought soulmates spending eternity in Heaven with just each other for company probably got boring. But last night I felt like spending forever in the Impala with Dean would be the most wonderful thing imaginable. And that forever wouldn’t be nearly enough time.

“But then this drunk guy stumbled and bumped into the Impala. I recognized him as the witch we were hunting. Dean and I burst out of the backseat to run the witch down. We ended up chasing him into these woods, but we both ran a little slower than usual because we didn’t have any footwear protecting our feet.

“Our delay gave the witch ahead of us enough time to cast a spell. The effects of the spell caused us both to go unconscious, and apparently also caused Dean to lose his memories. But I know all the witch’s info, so we should go to his family’s home to break the curse. Then Dean will get his memories back, and we can pick up where we left off.”

“Fuck yeah, let’s go already,” Dean agrees.

“Okay, okay just meet me by the road up 1/4 mile where it stays close to the woods. You can jump in the back seat of my rental car without being seen by anyone.” Sam says.

“Awesome, Sammy we will see you in a few minutes then.” Dean tells his brother. Sam nods and turns away to walk over to the parking lot on the far end of the park.

Dean and Castiel begin to walk further into the woods in the direction Sam pointed to them. Dean looks over at his friend and smiles at Castiel, and Castiel can feel the heat rushing to his vessel’s face. Dean reaches a hand out, and Castiel smiles softly back to Dean as he tenderly entwines their fingers together.

Dean thought about how he had been wanting to kiss Castiel ever since he had met him, and now he was pissed that some asshole witch had taken that away from him. But holding Castiel’s hand helped simmer the rage building in his blood. Castiel always helped ground him when everything else seemed to spiral out of control. He wished he could remember the feel of Castiel’s lips on his own.

Dean pauses on the trail, and he looks at Castiel and says almost shyly, “Cas, I was thinking we could try another first kiss before I get my memories back.”

“I would like that, Dean,” Castiel says with a smile.

“Only thing is, I should have asked Sam for a mint because I’m sure I got some wicked morning breath,” Dean laments.

“I’m an angel of the lord, Dean. I can fix morning breath,” Castiel says. Castiel continues to hold Dean’s hand with one of his own, and reaches his other hand towards Dean’s face. He then traces a finger over Dean’s lips. Dean playfully catches Castiel’s finger with his mouth and sucks down on it. Dean is rewarded with a sexy moan from Castiel, and the feeling of clean, minty freshness on his teeth and tongue. Castiel’s finger is let free from Dean’s mouth, and Dean resolutely determines to give Castiel a kiss that an immortal being would remember for the rest of their existence.

~~

Sam has been waiting on the side of the road for the past 45 minutes. He figures he knows exactly what is happening in the woods, and although he is happy that his brother and best friend found love, having to wait while they are hooking up is not how he wants to spend his morning. He considers driving back to the motel and leaving Dean and Castiel to walk back on their own.

And Sam chuckles at the thought of a billion year old angel doing the walk of shame with his brother. Fighting the supernatural takes a lot more away from the brothers, than it ever gives. But sometimes the universe conspires to make everything fun and ridiculous again. Sam checks the trunk for a duffle bag with a couple sets of spare clothes. He drops the bag and a burner phone in a place where it seems obvious from the woods, but isn’t visible to passing motorists.

Sam gets back in the driver seat and starts the car. As he drives back to the motel, he enjoys laughing to himself every time he thinks of Dean’s face when he realizes he’ll be walking back to the motel.

[smallblip]

I see rivers 

Levihan | this one’s pretty PG

They say time is a flowing river, but past the flood and the white waters, Levi knows her as Hanji first. And she hears it in the way he says her name- the words that remain unspoken-

I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.

It’s on Ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724813

 Levi knows her as Hanji first. And he hears the things they say about her. She has talent and an intellect that will save mankind. But before she’s promoted to squad leader, she’s Hanji when she first introduces herself to him, eyes bright, grinning like a madman. 

 She’s in the bath when she notices his apprehension. Levi favours stability, but the survey corps runs like a flowing river. The only constant is movement. 

 “You don’t have to call me squad leader...” she says, fingers breaking the surface of the water and watching ripples form by her wriggling toes. “I’m still your Hanji.” She says, so quiet Levi mistakes it for running water. He combs his fingers through her wet hair, untangling the knots. He tries not to dwell on the semantics.

 “Rinse.” 

 And like clockwork, she closes her eyes and slides down the tub. The water laps around her face, tickling her cheeks, she giggles.

 There’s someone at the door for her. Something needs attending to. But she’s Hanji first, and the sound of water drowns out the knocking.

  ≋

  Hanji knows him as Levi first, he introduces himself with the mononym and she’s in awe when she watches him fight. It has taken her years of training to get where she is, but Levi is fueled by pure instinct. Even so, she gets to know him, sometimes she knows him better than she knows herself. 

 Hanji soothes over the sharp edges of his words and presents them how he intends. She wants the world to see him as she does. Wants them to know the depths of his heart. But when he’s alone with her, he smiles easier, laughs at the silly things she says. And Hanji's happy keeping those moments of sublimity to herself. She’s happy knowing his soul comes alive at her touch- a spectacle for her alone to witness.

 Hanji knows he’s tired. She sees how the others rely on him to make the kill. Fear does things to people, and many choose to take refuge where Levi casts a shadow. Levi's face gives nothing away when Erwin promotes him to Captain. 

 Hanji only uses the name once in jest, when he’s making a face at the fawning. But later in her room, he’s just Levi. He’s Levi as he leans his head against her shoulder and falls into a deep slumber for the first time in a long while. 

  ≋

  And the river rages on, coursing with a vengeance. It takes Nanaba with it, then Mike, then the entirety of Levi’s squad. 

 Those who survive sink to the bottom of the river bed like rocks, they wash against each other in an abrasive dance.

 But when Hanji finds him in the forest relief washes over her. Later she bandages his leg and tells him stories of Nanaba and Mike when they were recruits. And she tells him how much Petra adores him, how much Oluo looks up to him, how she overhears Gunther telling the younger recruits stories about him, how Eld had defended his name against the Military Police that one drunken night in the bar. With her fingers carding through his hair, she absolves him of his guilt. 

 “I’m happy you’re alive Levi...” she says, with enough force to silence a river. 

  ≋

  Humanity’s strongest bears a weight on his shoulders. And he’s been living up to expectations with mechanical precision. But even then, Captain Levi bleeds red.

 “I’m sorry...” 

 “I’m not.” Hanji says, resolute. There’s a smile on her face that tells him she knows, and that he doesn't need to say anything else. “You gave your best Levi.” 

 “I couldn’t...” 

 Couldn’t protect your squad. Couldn’t stop them from getting killed.

 He’s not made of metal and forged in fire. He’s Levi now, so vulnerable it makes her ache. Hanji tells him his name over and over and wills him into being. She tells him his body is made of dying stars, an intentional weave of chemicals and stardust. 

 And that she is happy he is alive.

 That a star gave its life so he can be here; so they can be here. Safe in each other’s arms. And if even the stars are acquainted with temporality, maybe it is that which makes life so beautiful. 

 She doesn’t tell him that she dreams of Nifa, of Keiji, of the others. Because he’s there rubbing circles into her back when she jolts awake at night. 

  She’s here with Levi now, and her fear fades into the shadows. Her fingers extend like vines, pulling him close, the sheets feel like the earth beneath her skin. And she feels, in her arms, the warmth of the sun, a star, the brightest of them all.

  ≋

  Levi finds her in the eye of the storm that has manifested around her. Upturned tables, broken chairs, and Hanji in the middle of it, fists clenched, breathing ragged. 

  "Goddam mess." He says as he sets the tables upright and piles up the broken chairs to be used as firewood. She helps when she realises he’s in the room. 

 He holds her hand and guides her away when they’re done and he draws a bath. She undresses with the compliance of a wounded animal cornered into submission. But she’s surprised when Levi joins her. It displaces some water and it splashes onto the floor. She sits, back against him, and pulls her knees to her chest. He works wordlessly on her hair, fingers massaging into her scalp, the bath water licking at the blood against their skin in an attempt at purification. It’s not their blood. Not a titan’s either. It makes Hanji feel filthy in a way she’s never felt before. 

 “Rinse.” 

 She closes her eyes and lowers herself against him. He makes way. Before she opens her eyes again, she feels the warm press of lips against her forehead. But when she opens her eyes, Levi is already reaching for the soap. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and she’s turning to face him, hands reaching to run soap in his hair. 

 “Your turn.” 

  ≋

  They learn to smile and laugh again. These are the little moments that remind them that they are breathing. The new recruits are grown now, hurried along by a world turned on its head. It seems ridiculous to deny them some alcohol. So they drink, to anything they can think of drinking to. 

 To the dead, to the living,  To vengeance, to love, and loving.

 Hanji is laughing at something Connie said from across the room, and Levi doesn’t ever want to see her otherwise. But they are soldiers on the frontline of a world gone to shits, so he commits her laughter to memory instead. For now, they’re tucked in the corner of the mess, holding hands under the table out of habit, where no one can see.

 She only lets go of his hand when she spots Jean and Eren fighting. 

 “It’s your turn with the kids, Levi!”

  ≋

  Between stolen touches when everyone is sleeping, the brush of fingertips when they are back to back in the battlefield , and the little glances when they pass in the hallways, between death upon death upon decay, Hanji becomes the new commander. 

 Later in the night Hanji lets him tend to her eye. She catches the look on his face.

 “It’s gross huh...” she knows, from how much it’s hurting. A reminder of what she has lost to get where she is. The people she’s lost to get where she is.

 “No more than you usually are.” He says and she’s chuckling. 

 “I guess you can’t call me four eyes anymore...”

 “Didn’t think it would be appropriate now that you’re Commander.” He says, and there’s hurt on her face. He remembers that this is his doing. He thinks about Erwin in his last moments and wonders if someone will make the same decision for them- to let the river take them. If that had been the right decision to make in the first place. 

 “Please...” she says like a whisper, “not you...” 

 Levi murmurs an apology. He pulls the sheets over them, her head on his chest, wet hair splayed on fevered skin. 

 “I’m still your Hanji.” She says, more for herself than anyone, and it breaks the silence like a storm. Terrible things have always happened in bad weather. But even when it’s thundering outside and the windows are far too worn to keep the wind out, Levi can’t deny that he has always loved the rain.

 He remembers hearing the explosion, and him asking for her. He remembers Erwin telling him to focus on the mission. But the thing about living on the margins of heaven and hell- how easily the mind conjures up images of death. He remembers then, the relief washing over him when he sees her on the roof. He says her name like an affliction.

 He kisses her forehead as she’s falling asleep to thunder rolling in the distance. 

“I’m happy you’re alive Hanji...”

 ≋

  Another year has passed. Hanji tells him the names of the flowers in Spring and they ride out to see the sea for the first time.

 Levi tells her to be careful. He grabs her cloak in case she falls, and later he laces their fingers together. In case she falls, he tells himself.

 They settle to the bottom of the riverbed- smooth and polished from the years that have gone, anticipating when the current will take them again. 

 By the candlelight, Levi looks younger, spared the fatigue of fighting. And Hanji is getting better at catching the moments when the guilt seeps back into his system. She holds him closer then.

 And in the moments when Hanji lets responsibility take on a form that’s almost metaphorical- the meaning itself to a life that’s cruel and brutish- Levi holds her closer. He traces over the keloids on her skin. He removes the patch on her eye and brushes his thumb over the scar, a white line of taut skin, like a silk cocoon. 

 Levi knows this is stolen time, that they’re ever at the mercy of the river. But nights like these he wants to search for calmer waters, to set foot on land again and watch the water from the banks. He thinks of Hanji with him, body moulded perfectly against his like they are now. They watch the glimmer of the river flowing out to sea.

 “When the time comes... Promise me you’ll let me go.” She says. Their foreheads are pressed together and Levi breathes her in, he takes in every word, how acrid they taste. He thinks about all the moments he nearly lost her. The world has taken everything from him. He begs an unnamed god every time they ride beyond the walls-

 Not Hanji, not Hanji please.

 It makes his stomach sink. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest because he knows, even though together they are whole, she’s Hanji first. 

 “You gotta dedicate your heart Levi...” she teases, placing a fist on his chest. She knows the whole Commander shtick doesn’t suit her. But she’s laughing and suddenly she’s young again, airy and playful. And Levi thinks there’s beauty even when they’re so far from the safety of shore. There’s beauty in the white rush of water and the capriciousness of the weather. 

 "Tch... Four Eyes..." Levi rolls his eyes and Hanji doesn’t point out that he’s smiling.  

 He presses a kiss on Hanji’s lips, no different from their other less urgent kisses- soft and gentle and the accompanying warmth blossoming in the sanctuary of ribs.

 But despite words unspoken, Levi knows he has already dedicated his heart. 

He is Levi first. A boy who only has a name to call his own. He is Levi who swears an oath and keeps it till his dying breath. 

 But there moments of being that are infinitely more beautiful. Moments that beckon to him with the defiance of home in a world with all the permanence of a flowing river. The moments that have his heart.

 He is Levi when she calls his name in the thick of battle, and in the forgiving lull of the night. And he is Levi when she presses her palms over his chest and smiles when she feels the steady pulse of blood through his veins. 

  It beats with a defiance against the rapids, a steady thrum that calls out to her. Hanji's eyes flutter open at the touch of his hand against her cheek, the beginnings of a smile on her face. And everything left unsaid settles like dust around them. But she hears it when his hands snake around her in the bath, the water warm and inviting. In the way he presses kisses along her spine. She hears it loudest when he says her name-

 I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.

 "Rinse."