#and wide pants are a blessing on this earth

[rubiatinctorum]

it's unfortunate that i don't have a lot of clothes from the 2010s anymore, except for like a few dresses (some of which were my mom's which i love) and a few hoodies, because i was very a teenager during a lot of those years and the pants and jackets back in those days were very, very tight

#rubia speaks #i like the 2010s fashion a lot!!!! #but i have now seen the other side of puberty and some of those pants couldn't make it with me #maybe i should check in thrift shops for some very 2010s maxi dresses. i miss those a lot #we love a bold maxi dress #one of the stores i used to do my shopping in as a teen has very little i care for these days and i thought the selection was worse #and then i realised its not the individual store that i dislike. its the 2020s clothing #there are a few subgenres i think are really cute in the 2020s #the dark academia girlies dress SO well and i also like the classic style timeless fashion sort of stuff #and wide pants are a blessing on this earth #but i just really miss being able to go into a shop and the clothes are so very 2010s

[roanniom]

bestie you called, i’ve been thinking heavily abt virgin eddie who licks into you for the first time and makes you cum so hard u have to push him away bc he’s greedy and sloppy with it and you might pass away if he keeps devouring you like you’re his last meal on earth and you swear he’s lying that he’s a virgin, but the second you sink down on him, god, he’s practically a puddle and ur not even bouncing on him for more than 5 minutes before he’s shuddering and panting into your neck all “wanna spend forever tucked inside you, feels so fucking good. so warm. so wet, jesus, i’m gonna fuckin cum.”

k bye😭

Rachael. RACHAEL.

Everything

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Eddie Munson is 100%, unbeknownst to him, a Big Dicked Virgin™️

After he licks you like his life depended on it, you pull down his boxers only to reveal the most mouth watering cock you’ve ever seen. They aren’t supposed to be picturesque but Eddie’s? You want it inside you in any capacity immediately. But judging by the way he looks like he’s gonna combust from the sight of it in your hands alone (not to mention the feeling of you touching him) you don’t waste time in straddling him and sinking down onto his length.

Its an understatement to say he’s huge. It’s a stretch in the most delicious way and your eyes almost cross from the feeling of him hitting every single neglected part inside you. If he were a more experienced partner you would have begged for time to adjust. Would have needed the grace to compose yourself.

But the man beneath you is so absolutely far gone from the second you slide him inside you that you realize it’s all up to you. This sight of him absolutely fucked gets you wetter than you’d ever imagined, thankfully, so you rock yourself back and forth a bit till you work yourself up to bouncing up and down.

His fingers dig into your thighs, the meat of your hips, and his eyes are watery and wide.

“F-fuck it’s too good. You feel so fucking—oh god I can’t. I can’t take it. But don’t stop. Please-mhm.” A torrent of whimpers and groans bless your ears and you ride him in earnest, knowing you won’t have a lot of time to appreciate this quivering mess of a man before he blows.

You lean back and brace yourself with your hands on his knees and he watches your breasts bounce with each movement.

“So beautiful. Shit. I’m gonna…oh fuck. Can’t last—god what are you doing to me. Don’t stop,” he says again. Begging with his words and his eyes. His wounded puppy eyes that make you laugh because you would never dream of stopping.

“I won’t stop, Eds,” you promise. It’s a reassuring sweet sound, but you’re the devil incarnate to him with the way your hips roll and your tits entice. You smile. “Feels good?”

“F-feels like I want to buy you a ring and a house and a f-fucking dog,” he moans. It makes a zing rush through your heart but you suppress it and laugh.

“Yeah? My pussy’s that good, Munson?” you tease. He’s swearing under his breath as you ride him harder. “Gonna get me the white picket fence?”

“Fuck, yes. Yesyesyesyes,” he mutters like a prayer. “Gonna…oh god…”

“Gonna cum for me, too? That’s so generous of you, Eddie,” you continue to tease. His eyes roll into the back of his head as you lean forward to kiss his jaw. “Give it to me, Eddie. Give me everything.”

He cums inside you moments later. No longer a virgin, but newly a full devotee intent on worshipping at the altar of your body. You’d give him shit for the dramatics of it all, but he’s busy kissing his way back down your body so you really can’t complain.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #issa’s writing night

[dilftaroooo]

tw: degradation + dubcon

Robber!ghost who intrudes your home in the wee hours of the night — duffel bag in hand, he stalks his way through the back window of your parents' home. The owners decided to take a vacation to the Bahamas as their nice getaway, thanks to the heavy research Soap indulged himself into before letting Ghost go on the mission.

Robber!ghost who infiltrates the master bedroom in search of the luxurious jewelry and gems stashed away in the tiny, little safe they have poorly hidden in the depths of their shared closet. He's quick to warm the shiny goodies in the palm of his hand before gently placing them in his duffel bag.

Robber!ghost who then walks into a room filled with baby pink and lace bedding to continue fulfilling his own greed only to stumble across a body resting elegantly upon the white sheets of the queen size bed — "Bloody hell..." Soap specifically told him everyone would be out of the house so why was this broad sleeping soundly on her sheets as if though her home wasn't getting robbed?

It isn't until robber!ghost takes a focused glance at her vulnerable state to suddenly realize just how gorgeous she was laying there, mouth agape and releasing soft snores with almost every inhale. Her hand splayed across the width of her stomach as she grins at whatever dream her pretty head blesses her with.

Robber!ghost who can't help but steal a taste of her. It'll only be a little bit as he hovers over her to take a soft whiff at her neck — his nose overflowed with daisies and peonies and hints of vanilla. She must've been fresh out the shower because no one can naturally smell like that unless she is an exception to the rule due to how sweet she looks.

Robber!ghost who mildly regrets his decision as you wake up from your slumber, eyes shot wide open as you take a moment to drink in the dark figure with the skull balaclava in front of you. If you hadn't known better you would've thought your time on God's green earth was up and the grim reaper came to fulfill his duty by dragging you with him. His hand covers your quivering lip as he reminds you repeatedly that he wasn't going to hurt you. He would never think of such a thing.

Robber!ghost who grunts at your fruitless struggling because your leg rubs against his groin and you gasp at the feeling of the hard object, mistaking it for a gun since it was so dark for you to see anything. Why would a thief not come prepared with a device to help threaten his victims? Unfortunately for you, this was a different kind of gun.

Valuing your life, you tell robber!ghost that you''ll give him anything for him to keep you breathing and ghost can't help but perk up at the offer. It sounds cliche but who can resist a cute, helpless women offering something so priceless?

Robber!ghost who doesn't hesitate to take it for what it is and submerge his hand deep into your pajama pants and feel your wetness. You must've liked it because the moan you set free was riddled in lascivious need. He'd rub his thumb across your slit, "Is this turning you on? Dirty whore likes to be fondled by strange men intruding her home. You're seriously enjoying this? Sick."

Robber!ghost feels good when he stuffs his meaty fingers in your sopping hole. All the fight you had in you perished when he made you come around him, squirming underneath the intense gaze of the man with the skull mask — eyes vantablack as he watches you without blinking like he's watching his favorite football team hit a goal.

Robber!ghost who leaves through your bedroom window and you follow suit as he climbs off using the rope he had in store. He looks back at you before saying "I'll be back for more, luv." His accent was thick and hefty, you let out a shaky sigh at the pleasurable sound. There was nothing else you can do but just wait.

#simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #141 x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #mw2 smut #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost cod #mwii #tw: dubcon #tw: degradation

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

♡︎𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐄𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚♡︎

Day 9 of Kinktober 2022

Summary: Eijirou's never been this vulnerable with you before, but you find yourself loving it.

920 words.

'What the fuck?'

These are your first thoughts as you're smacked right in the cheek with Eijirou's dick.

You had been getting awefully heated during what was only supposed to be a quick makeout session between you and your boyfriend of one year. That was, until you started to focus your attention a little more south.

Kirishima always wears loose pants. That's one thing you know about him. He can't stand tight pants. You've also never seen him wear the infamous grey sweats either, regrettably. That would be some real eye-candy right there, you muse.

There was one other thing, too. He always got nervous when you mentioned taking off his pants. Any and all attempts at getting frisky with your boyfriend were shot down with a strained "maybe later" or "I don't think I'm ready...".

Really, you had never had any problems with it. Sure, it was a little frustrating when it would leave you pretty much high and dry, but you never, ever thought to take it out on him. He's ready when he's ready, and that's all there is to it. Until now.

If you knew this was what he was hiding under here, you probably would've said something a little sooner.

All this time, your boyfriend has been hiding an absolute monster away from you, not even letting you have a taste.

A flushed face as red as his hair hides behind large, nearly kept hands as Kirishima avoids any and all eye contact with you. You thought he may have gained confidence when he finally told you that you could get his pants off, but apparently not, since he now refuses to show his face.

"I-is it too much?... I knew you'd hate it- I just don't want to hurt you! God- w-what if you break!?"

What on God's green Earth is this man talking about?

"Huh? Hate it? Eijirou, after all this fuss I was starting to think maybe you had genital warts or something- or maybe a dick roughly the size of a cornflake- n-not this!"

Wide eyes only blink at you in surprise and confusion, but then melts into pleasure the second your warm, wet tongue licks a fat stripe down the underside of his length.

Fuck. He could literally cum right now from just seeing that lewd display, but he has to hold himself together. Though, with every passing second, and each kitten lick to his aching girth, he finds himself unraveling. Each little kiss and stroke chips away at his control and he soon finds himself struggling not to throw you onto the bed and fuck you so hard that the walls shake.

Meanwhile, you continue to press tentative licks and kisses to Eijirou's cock, heavy and throbbing in your hand. The slit weeps a slow por of precum, the head all red and neglected until you fit just the tip in your mouth, sending involuntary shivers up and down your boyfriend's spine. Tonight, you're going to show your boyfriend just how blessed he truly is.

As you stand back up again, leaving him needy and panting for you, his eyes follow your form, lingering on your breasts and hips, and he finds his fingers twitching with the sudden urge to hold you there.

Red eyes zone in on your figure like a hawk, thick, strong hands embracing you and dragging you down to rest atop his built, rock hard chest, and immediately Eijirou's last defences are down when he sees just how irresistible your tits look squished against his pecs.

Eijirou is usually such a gentle lover, layering your skin with butterfly kisses and affectionate nips that always look so delightful come morning, but neither of you have ever gone this far with eachother, and when he's got three fingers working their way into your tight cunt it almost seems that he's gone completely feral.

"Fuck-! Eiji! Give it to me-..."

Who is he to keep you waiting?

Barely an inkling of colour flashes in his eyes, overtaken by pupils blown out with lust, and the sight is met with another wave of liquid heat pooling beneath your legs, coating his fingers in your slick.

Once he finally deems you ready, his fingers are pulled from you without remorse, leaving you empty and needy until his lubed up head pressed up against you, slowly pushing inside of you and stretching out velvety walls.

The stretch is painful at first, causing your face to scrunch in a way that has his heart fluttering for you, little tears blossoming in your eyes and shining like gemstones.

A rough but comforting thumb wipes your tears away before they can properly fall, and your boyfriend graciously gives you a few seconds to get accustomed to the sting of his girth before he's bottoming out.

He pants and furrows his eyebrows, concentrating on not cumming the second he's fully engulfed by your hot cunt, and loose red strands fall past his shoulders as he bucks into you, chasing the same pleasure he got when you squeezed around him earlier.

With time, his cock is easier to take, and it's at this point where you begin to doubt that anything or anyone would ever be enough for you after this. Could you really go back to tiny vibrators after finally getting a taste of this?

"T-tell me if- Ah-! -if I'm hurting you-..."

It's a little late for that, you think, but he's just so adorable that you can't bear to hold it against him.

© 2022 not-your-fucking-kacchan

◃ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 ▹

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha headcanons #mha fluff #bnha kinktober #notyourfuckingkacchan kinktober! #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima headcanon #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #eijirou kirishima imagine #eijirou x reader

[skxllz]

“ 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧’ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. ”

lip gallagher x fem! reader

warnings; swearing. “creep” scene in the beginning. suggestive joking between minors. shameless humor and descriptive writing?

side note; I usually would write for 18+ characters, like... lip in the other seasons, but I find season 1-2 lip so cute (this is season 2, he's 17). plus I feel like the feel of the atmosphere from the earlier seasons match up with the tiny plot I had in mind?? idk. but like, enjoy my shitty writing 😗✌️🏻

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧⋆✧

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

It was chilly in the midst of october. the cool air was turning rather crisp and shiver-y to the feel. while you despised the feel of jeans snuggly fit against you, hot or cold weather, you figured today was a day as good as any to wear ‘em. it was going to rain soon, your other clothes were dirty in a growing pile on the swivel chair in your bedroom - and it was either jeans or pajama pants. although pj's weren't a bad choose, you rather not get soaked in that type of material. if just felt icky.

so friggin’ jeans were the go to in this bitter weather.

you wished summer would've stuck around a while longer, that way you could hang out in the sun in nothing but bikini bottoms, a ratty t and bare feet; but alas, the season only lasted like... three months. four tops, if you counted may. It was a bitch.

and so, due to your luck and the earth going down hill autumn came way too fast. it was actually your favorite season, you just preferred the warmth of the sun over the jittery winds that blew during this time of year. fuck temperature drops.

as of right now, with jeans riding up your ass from the fucking tightness - god it was annoying -, you were walking your behind to the high school that was about a mile away from your house. you lived between the southside and westside, which was both a blessing and curse - a blessing, since it was... a bit more relaxed than the southside, but a curse because you had to deal with the damn calvary of chicago. west and south did not get along, and the punches packed between could be brutally irritating.

so honestly, it was no surprise you got catcalled by some creepy fuck along the way past the bus stop. you ended up curling in your lips and flipping him off over your shoulder, but no queso dude. he still tried to bother you.

“ hey- that's not nice, little lady! ” the stranger cackled, only for his steps to fall in line behind yours. you could feel your teeth edging to grit together, but resisted; knowing you had to keep your cool in this situation.

“ bro, it's- ” you spared a glance at your flip’, squinting at the digital time that could barely be seen,“ — 7:24 in the am. go bother someone else. ”

the man cackled - only to place a rather chapped hand on your shoulder. you instantly made a face of disgust. “ but i- ”

“ didn't she tell you to fuck off, dickhead? ” a new voice entered the conversation. you recognized the owner as you turned your head; no other than phillip gallgher himself.

he had reeled the man back by his shoulder and got right in his face, shoulders squared and fists on edge by his sides. you could tell by the curling motion of his whitening fingers that lip was ready to throw down with this jackass.

the guy looked dumbfounded as he stared at lip - his eyes wide, jaw slack, exposing his chipped teeth. “ i- ” he stuttered - but, then his eyes instantly narrowed and he sized lip up with a squinted gaze. “ who the hell are you, man? get out of my face! ”

that wasn't the response lip was looking for, because before you could even blink, he threw his fist towards the guy in a swift motion; knuckles connecting right to the strangers jaw and knocking him on his ass. you inwardly winced from the gasping cough the guy let out, as he grabbed as his face immediately to cradle it.

“ fucking pig... ” lip muttered, before his frosty eyes turned onto you. he looked angered still, but the emotion began diminishing after you two locked gazes.

lip approached you, only to grab your arm and tug you along with him. “ come on, you're walking with me. ”

“ when the hell did I agree to ditch? ” your voice, filled with annoyance, bounced off the aluminum roof of the pavilion lip led the two of you under. it was one of those public ones that belonged to a church - but could actually care less for whoever used it. both of you ended up walking over to one of the few rickety picnic tables that sat benched out from one another, only to take seats on the table-top surface itself; you, criss-cross-apple-sauce, and lip sitting in a lazy man spread with one of his hands tucked into the pocket of his coat.

his eyes flickered up to glance at you, acknowledging your statement to him before they shifting back to the lighter he began flicking, “ th’minute you left with me. ” he mumbled over the roll of his cigarette.

“ huh? ” you raised a brow in question.

lip took his cigarette between his fingers once he sparked it up, blowing smoke out from between his lips as his gaze locked onto your figure again. “ I said, you agreed to ditch the minute you left with me. ”

those blue eyes of his seemed to be studying your expression, but you either didn't mind or just didn't seem to notice - given, of course, that you were looking out at the empty road; simply watching the cars pass by. “ technically, you forced me out here with you. ” you snarked back knowingly, finally turning your head to give the gallagher a smug smile.

he managed a half-assed smirk. “ is that necessarily a bad thing? I did save you from that fucking creep - he was ready to grab your ass. ”

your nose scrunched up and wrinkled in distaste. “ oh, yeah... thanks for that. ”

looking away, you coughed into your fist. “ but I could've handled myself, ya’ know. ”

the brunette-blonde rolled his eyes, taking another inhale of his camel light. “ sure. ”

you scoffed, looking at lip with pinched brows. “ right - and you only came to my rescue because you thought you'd get some pussy, right? ”

lip, who was now looking out at the road now himself, cracked a grin and said nothing. you shook your head in disgust, only to curl your lips in from angered disbelief and shove him.

“ hey! ” the gallgher boy laughed, putting his hands up in mock surrender once he stumbled from the bench, “ I didn't even say anything! watch it. ”

“ I saw that look, gallagher. ” your eyes rolled before pinning ahead once more. “ you're a real dick, ya’ know? ”

“ I know. ”

your half-lidded gaze moved onto him, mirroring annoyance. lip was wearing a cocky grin - the one he always seemed to have on whenever he pissed off someone. he truly was an ass.

“ fuck you. ” you spat, sticking out your tongue childishly. lip's brow raised in response while he tucked his bic away.

“ when? ”

“ never. ”

he shook his head, smile never fading. though, he didn't say anything else; choosing to sit beside you once more. you didn't say anything either, but you were eyeing him from your perennial vision to make sure he didn't try anything.

the both of you sat in silence for what seemed like eternity, but it was really only ten minutes or so. lip had decided to gaggle around, tapping a beat with his foot for no apparent reason other than to rid the silence away. he wasn't used to sitting in a quiet setting for too. although it could be nice, it just wasn't.

“ so, ” lip spoke while snuffing his butt out into the wooden table. “ what're you doing? ” his eyes moved onto you, only to see you looking out into the road again.

“ admirin’ the early morning. ” your voice came out soft - way softer than the tone you had spoken to him with before.

lip just... stared at you. It wasn't creepy, nor weird, he was just admiring you for a moment. taking note on how your baby hairs curled around the base of your ear, and how your lips parted just enough to let out a small puff of air once in a while.

It was cute.

you were cute.

“ why? ” he questioned finally, tearing his gaze off of you and pointing it to the ground.

a gentle smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “ because, ” you chuckled lightly, “ it's always nice out at this time. just- the hour of the day, the fog and rain around us. you never took any time to take this in? ”

why would he? “ no. ” lip spoke with a scoff, almost like what you were saying was a joke. he never had time to do that shit.

“ you should, ” you didn't sound bothered that he took your words with a grain of salt. he was lip gallagher after all. you didn't know him that well, so you couldn't fully judge him, but everyone knew how the gallgher's were like. “ it's therapeutic to appreciate the little things. ”

in lip's mind, he knew you weren't necessarily wrong - but at the same time, he didn't have time to just sit back and relax. a lot of people in the world didn't, because they had shit going on and things to do. right now, he shouldn't even be where he was; he should be in calc. in school. both of you should be, but he figured a day off wouldn't hurt.

but now that he thinks it over... it's probably hurting his grades right now, and he can only imagine how bad fiona is gonna’ chew his ear off for missing.

the thought made him internally swear, unintentionally balling up the fist that sat downright on his knee. his bottom lip had even curled in and he didn't take notice.

“ hey- ” that was until your voice called out to him.

he blinked- once, twice, in a manner that brought him back to earth.

lip looked at you - then down at your hand, that had moved over top of his from concern. why were you concerned?

“ you okay? ” your words made lip lift his head and inhale, “ you seemed mad, for a moment. ”

“ yeah, ” he nodded his head, wiping at his nose with his other hand out of habit. “ ‘m fine. just thinkin’ about some shit. ”

you stared at him for a moment - it's like you were contemplating his words, which you were - before nodding slowly. “ okay. ”

you paused. “ wanna’ go get something to drink? the stores should be open by now, it's past eight. ”

lip stared at you for a moment.

“ I don't have any money, ” he said finally, after a minute of hesitation. It was embarrassing to admit that - being a kid form that southside and all, just struggling to get by.

a sideways smile pulled at your mouth. “ don't worry about it. I got you. ”

lip swallowed at the words that rolled off your tongue as if it was nothing. he surely wasn't used to kindness. I mean - steve came into their lives, sure, but lip always seen him as sketchy. there's not really someone who exists that's so willingly nice unless they get something in return.

“ what's in it for you? ” he was was now defensive, and you noticed.

so, you did reverse psychology.

“ okay- ” you shrugged, and got up from your spot on the picnic table. “ since you wanna’ be like that, don't come. but the offer still stands. ”

It wasn't like you were a bitch, you just knew how boys like lip were. always thought a single sliver of kindness was dropped onto the table just to fuck them over ten fold. but, you didn't have those intentions. lip helped you out, so why not help him out?

maybe it wasn't with a blowie like that karen chick would offer him, but it was still something.

“ hey! ” you heard lip call after you, after you had walked off. you were half way down the road when you turned around, only to see him jogging after you.

“ uh- ” he breathed out awkwardly once he came to a stop in front of you. his hand raised to scratch at the back of his head. “ listen- I could actually use that drink... I'm pretty thirsty. ”

you smirked at him, “ I knew that. ” your head tilted in the direction of the gas station. “ so come on, I don't feel like standing around all day. ”

lip looked dumbfounded, but you didn't stay to watch how his mouth dropped open to catch flies. instead, you walked off once again; hands in pockets and a certain beverage in mind.

... okay. maybe appreciating the little things in life wasn't so bad. that was lip's last thought before he ran after you.

he was getting that cola he had in mind.

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x y/n #shameless x reader #shameless us #shameless #phillip gallagher

[fairyhaos]

❍ the 2k event: seungkwan + blossoms

alternative title: this is what healing is

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader

genre: canon universe, established relationship, comfort-ish

word count: 1285

warnings: none

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @weird-bookworm @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10 @shuabby1994 (and @wheeboo cz. it's seungkwan)

"Y/N! Come on, we can't slow down now, we're almost there!"

"And where," you pant, "is 'almost there', Seungkwan? Almost there to my death?"

Seungkwan smiles, and it's not his brilliant, heart-bursting smile but it's close enough. "You shouldn't have offered to take me out hiking, love," he says teasingly, from where he's standing on the path further up. "You gotta deal with the consequences."

You groan, pulling yourself up with your hiking poles along the dirt path. "Yeah, next time I'll just offer to pay for a full spa day for you. That'll be way easier than this torture I accidentally signed up for."

Seungkwan chuckles, continuing to hike up the mountainside while you groan and complain and sweat to death behind him. 

Your boyfriend loves nature. He loves being surrounded by it, feeling humbled by the vast everlastingness of the earth, feeling part of the unending beauty of the world and the countless lives of animals and plants that he has the privilege of living alongside. It relaxes him, brings him peace, allows his soul to settle more comfortably in his body once he's able to see that he's important, that he matters, that nature is there for him and surrounds him and he is at once a part of it and forever under its power the entire time. 

It's a complex combination of feeling humility at nature's capability and feeling comfort at being in her care, but you get it. You understand Seungkwan. 

That's why you offered him a healing day out trekking up some of South Korea's most idyllic mountains, after all. 

You're kind of regretting agreeing to come along, though. 

Well, almost. 

"Y/N, I swear, we're almost there this time," Seungkwan insists when you wail about your legs again. He's standing at a curve in the path you're following, which isn't really much of a path but more of a wobbly line of soil where the ground has been worn down just a little more than the rest of the undergrowth surrounding you. 

"What, almost to the top?" you manage to say. Wow, you need to exercise more. 

Seungkwan shakes his head. "No, we're almost at a rest point though! There's a fallen tree we can sit on."

"A fallen tree," you deadpan, crunching through leaves. "We're almost at a fallen tree."

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose playfully at your tone. "Yes. A fallen tree. But I'm really, really certain that we've almost reached the summit, if you wanna forgo a break and carry on…?"

"No, no, let's take a break," you say hurriedly, hobbling up the remaining stretch to find the fallen tree he was talking about and flopping down. "Ah, that's better."

There's a peaceful silence then, as you drink your water and Seungkwan tilts his head back, revelling in the quiet that comes with being so, so far away from other people. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and fight the urge to grin widely. 

This is the one, sole reason that you don't regret coming on this trip. 

He has his eyes closed, the sunlight peeking through the green leaves of the trees and casting an uneven glow across his face, one cheek, half of his forehead, the tip of his nose and small spatterings of his eyelids lit up in gold. He looks like he's been blessed all over by some sun deity, but nothing can top the utterly content look on his face. 

Seungkwan hasn't been feeling himself lately, and you get it, with all that's been going on for him. He's been doing so well, and you tell him so, but sometimes those words aren't enough. Sometimes he just needs time to distance himself, to heal without having the reminders of his pain and struggles hitting him in the face. 

Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirps, and Seungkwan opens his eyes. 

"Don't you think that the day sky is so beautiful?" he says, contemplatively, squinting through the forest canopy. 

You look up with him, squinting your eyes. "The day sky?" you echo. 

He shrugs. "Yeah. Everyone always talks about the night sky, and yet no one seems to mention how pretty the sky is during the day."

You tilt your head, watching as faint wisps of white clouds drift by, in between the green leaves and up there in the brilliant blueness of the sky. 

"The moon is really, really beautiful," you say, "but I guess we never do think about how pretty the sun is too."

"The moon will forever be beautiful," Seungkwan agrees, voice softening, "but there's beauty in the day as well. There's so much light. So much vibrancy. So much potential for living."

You smile, lowering your head to look over at Seungkwan. He still has his head tilted upwards, so far up that you can't see his eyes. But after a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut and looks at you with a smile. It's a sad smile, but there's relief there, a happiness that comes from having the time to be with such refreshing scenery and his thoughts and with you. 

His eyes crinkle as he leans forward to press a kiss to your nose. "You know I love you, right?"

You hum, placing your hand on his cheek to keep him in place and quickly kiss his forehead. His skin is clammy with sweat, your hand warm on his equally warm cheek, but the softness in his eyes makes everything else rendered irrelevant. 

"I should hope so," you say drily after pulling away. "I'm here, suffering with you right now. I'm currently loving you too damn much for you not to love me back."

Seungkwan laughs at that, a ringing bell sound that sounds so much like his usual self that it makes you laugh too. 

"Well, thank you for loving me that much," he says, and it's teasing, but there are rosy warm threads of sincerity to his words. "Thank you, oh noble Y/N, for putting up with me."

"Any time," you say, and you can recognise that warm sincerity in your own voice too. "I'll do anything for you."

Seungkwan smiles. 

A wind blows around you, blessedly cool, and you sigh in happiness. Sometimes small and cold sticks to your forehead, and you dislodge it to gawk at the small blossom petal that managed to stick to your sweaty skin. 

"Kwan, look at this petal that stuck to me," you say, turning to your boyfriend, only to laugh at the way he has two on his cheek, seemingly going unnoticed by him.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"You had a little something on your face, babe," you say, taking off the petals and showing them to him. Seungkwan blinks down at them before chuckling and shaking his head. 

"There must be cherry blossom trees further up ahead," he said, watching as more pale pink petals float around you.

You hum thoughtfully, staring at the little blossom petals. "Blossoms represent growth, you know," you say. "And new beginnings. They symbolise a better tomorrow."

Seungkwan tilts his head. "Really?" He's silent for a moment, before standing up. "Well, we better get going, I think. I want to see this blossom tree at the summit, now that we know it's there."

Instantly, you're groaning, and Seungkwan laughs as he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, teasing you the entire way. But he doesn't let go of your hand, and the two of you walk leisurely up the mountain, skin all sun-dappled and with blossoms in your hair as you make your way to the top and to that blossom tree. 

All the way to a better tomorrow. 

#fairyhaos.works #k-labels #the 2k event -- fairyhaos #svt #seventeen #seungkwan #seventeen fic #seungkwan fic #svt fic #svt seungkwan #svt x reader #seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan #mingyu x you #seventeen x you #seungkwan x y/n #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x reader #seventeen seungkwan #seventeen boo seungkwan #svt boo seungkwan #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic

[doctorgerth]

a/n: This one was so much fun to write!! Mihawk is always daunting to write for at first, but I always end up having fun and am usually pretty happy with the results when it comes to him. Want to know if Mihawk gets a smooch? Read on to find out! 🥰

pairing: Mihawk x GN!Reader

word count: 1.4k

candy heart prompt: True Love - Something on their/your lips

MIHAWK + TRUE LOVE

It was the first beautiful day Kuraigana had experienced in quite some time.

The thick fog that perpetually decorated the war-torn land was lifted, and the clouds above were broken enough to allow rays of warm, unfiltered sunshine illuminate the hidden beauty of the gloomy island.The lush greenery and produce the three of you had worked so hard to maintain practically sang in the light of the sun. Leaves glistened with dew, some reaching toward the rare blessing of light as if to grab it and hold onto it. It was a perfect day for farming.

“It’s such a beautiful day,” you sighed happily, stretching your arms out above you. Mihawk grinned from beside you, but you were too busy basking in the comforting warmth to notice.

“It is rather…bright,” Perona stated as she gripped her umbrella tighter.

Mihawk thought quietly to himself, determining that Perona’s discomfort might work to his advantage for once, “Perona, how about you go back to the castle and prepare some snacks. The weather is nice, maybe we can have a picnic.” He felt his heart squeeze in his chest when you smiled widely in his direction, your head nodding enthusiastically.

“Don’t order me around!” She huffed, though a reprieve from the too-bright sun sounded ideal. She turned the other direction and floated towards the castle.

“Oh, and don’t forget to pack something for the humandrills!” you called out to her.  

“What am I, everyone’s servant?” She stomped her foot in annoyance and puffed out her cheeks, “I’m too cute to be bossed around like this…”

When Perona was out of sight, you laughed to yourself, “She’s particularly moody today.”

Mihawk hummed beside you as he dropped some seeds into the earth, “And it’s only going to get worse.” He used a hand shovel to gently pat the dirt back over the seeds.

You peered over at him, “What do you mean?”

He laid the shovel down beside him and wiped his gloves along his dirt-stained pants. Retrieving a folded up newspaper page from his back pocket, he handed it over to you. Your eyes scanned the paper, the bold title Gecko Moria Alive! caught your eyes instantly. It was a strange sensation. You had no ties to Moria aside from his pink-haired subordinate, but still, for Perona’s sake, you felt warm tears well up in your eyes.

“Oh, Mihawk, she’s going to be so happy,” you said in a hushed whisper, though Perona was hardly in earshot, “And also really angry that you haven’t told her sooner. This newspaper is from three days ago.”

He chuckled, “I know.”

You felt a pang in your chest, “I suppose that’s another chick leaving the nest.” You were still recovering from Zoro’s departure and now Perona was soon to follow. You’d grown quite accustomed to your family you shared in the last two years. Though two years wasn’t a very long time comparatively, it felt like it’s always been the four of you.

“It’s for the best,” he replied, “Danger is coming.”

You stiffened, “You don’t mean…?”

“I believe the Reverie attendants are going to vote in favor of the abolishment of the Warlords. That means Marines will be surrounding this place very soon,” he sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t want Perona to get in harm's way for something that doesn’t involve her.”

You smiled in his direction, “You’re a kind man, Dracule Mihawk.” The tightness in your chest was easily replaced with gentle thumping. If anyone else were to refer to him as kind, he’d scoff in their direction. Hearing it from you, he felt a familiar heat creep up his neck.

Much like Zoro and Perona, Mihawk just ended up being stuck with you a few years ago. He warily offered his hospitality, but miraculously, it didn’t take long for Mihawk to warm up to you. When you proved yourself to him, you became the unofficial first mate to his unofficial crew. Though, with your time together on Kuraigana, you hardly acted as Captain and Crewmate. You tended the land together, sought peace with the humandrills together, and lived your day to day lives in the castle of Kuraigana together. Waking, working, and wasting the days away together. You weren’t sure what you were to Mihawk, but it definitely felt different than a mere subordinate.

“I suppose it’ll just be us again, then.” The thought of it going back to just the two of you simultaneously excited and saddened you. Mihawk looked over to you. He didn’t utter a single word, just stared. Though you’d assumed you’d be used to the intensity of his hawk-like eyes, they still had a way of making you feel embarrassingly shy. You absentmindedly wiped at the sweat forming on your upper lip. The sun was beginning to burn.

Just the two of you. Mihawk always loved the sound of that. Though he’d enjoyed his time training Zoro and cooking with Perona, he often thought fondly of when it was just the two of you. Why then did it make him so nervous to return to that? The dab of soil on your upper lip caught his attention and stole his thoughts.

You had mistaken his silent staring as a denial to your statement, “Unless you intend to send me away with Perona?” Your throat suddenly constricted. Surely he didn’t mean that. “Mihawk, I know things are about to get intense, but I promise I can protect myself and will help you with whatever you need. Just don’t…”

You stopped your sentence when Mihawk shifted beside you to turn and face you. His right hand reached up to your face and you waited with bated breath as you were unable to process what was happening. Mihawk’s never touched you like that before. You gasped when his finger swiped across your upper lip. Holy shit, he was going to kiss you. You instinctively closed your eyes and sighed against his finger, awaiting his lips to meet yours. A cool, empty breeze brushed against them instead.

“I’m sorry. You had dirt on your lip,” he said simply.

How embarrassing. You felt unbelievably hot under the small pockets of sunshine now, “Right, of course. Thank you.”

You wanted to leave his hold, leave the garden, leave the whole entire island, but Mihawk held you firmly; his left hand mirroring his right as they both caressed your face gently, “I’m not going to send you away, (Y/N). I want you by my side.” His face lowered to yours, noses brushing. The words he spoke stole your breath from your parted lips, “Stay with me as long as you wish.”

“Mihawk…” you managed to huff out. His name on your lips, so unfamiliar in this low tone — he could drink it right up. How long has he been holding himself back from falling completely into you?

“Say it, please,” he murmured. The movement of his lips caused them to bump against yours. A tease of a kiss, “Say you’ll stay with me.”

“Mihawk,” you whimpered once more. You weren’t sure you’d be able to say anything else. Not when his intoxicating warmth and tender embrace was robbing you of air. But, you wanted him to know how you felt. How you’ve always felt since joining his side, “I want to be with you forever.”

Your confession was the gravitational pull to at last close the distance between the two of you. His lips slotted against yours with promise, a silent oath to stay with you and protect you for however long you’d want him to. Your skin no longer burned, instead kissed by sunlight as his lips rained down on you, moving with yours as if he’s planned this moment out for years. In truth, he wished he’d done so much sooner.

You pulled away for air, but Mihawk wouldn’t, couldn’t stop. His lips tickled against your tender pulse line as he continued his kisses along your neck, pulling you tightly into him by your waist. He muttered confessions in-between kisses. How long he’s wanted you. How long he’s loved you. How long he’ll continue to want you. How long he’ll continue to love you. Forever, forever, forever. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him back up to your aching lips to let him know you reciprocated his devotion. Years of unchecked desire was evident in the urgency of your shared kisses, spilling forth like an endless fountain as you lost all sense of time against each other’s lips. Nothing would hold either of you back now.  

Perona rounded a corner and caught sight of the two of you embracing each other. She silently gagged, but decided to leave the both of you to your moment. The sun was a little too bright for her anyhow. As she turned and floated away, a smile stretched along her face. She always thought the two of you would be cute together.

a/n: Hate to see him go, but love to see him kissed 💋 We unfortunately say goodbye to Mihawk for this event, but I have a feeling we’ll see him around in the future. 🤭 Thanks for reading!! 

#doctorgerth #doctorgerth event #doc writes #try not to smooch your crewmate #tntsyc #2023 valentine’s day event #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #op x reader #op x you #op x y/n #one piece scenario #op scenario #one piece imagine #op imagine #one piece fluff #one piece romance #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x y/n #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 42

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

The rehearsal dinner. I was an enchanted guest watching the dry run of the wedding unfold. Will stood proudly beside the Justice of Peace and his handful of groomsmen, Dr. Miller included, stood by as a woman rattled off a set of simple instructions.

I sat in the back row of the chairs that were set up to the left and right of a makeshift aisle. The hum of talkative laughter was buzzing behind me from Carol and her girlfriends. Even in their late forties and fifties, the women were happily carrying about the way teen lace girls would. Friendships like that were a rare delicacy; a blessing.

And then the men began their walk around the chairs to the back to meet up with the women. My eyes stalked Dr. Miller, awaiting for his gaze to fall upon me; but I soon recognized his eyes had landed on someone else.

I glanced over my shoulder as an older woman with glasses and the cutest little bob of a haircut made her way toward him. She almost appeared to be half his size, though she was probably just a few inches shorter than me.

Dr. Miller smiled warmly and opened up his arms, nearly scooping the woman up as he placed a kiss firmly on her cheek. And then their hands remained locked as they broke the embrace before she tapped the side of his face gently.

After a short conversation, Dr. Miller extended his arm in my direction and pointed. I froze.

His mother. I swallowed hard and waved before he motioned for me to join them.

I let out a deep breath and made my way down the empty row. I crossed over to where the two of them stood and Dr. Miller welcomed me with a hand against my back.

“(Y/N), this is my mother,” he smiled wide, face beaming, as he looked back and forth between the two of us.

“Francesca Miller,” the woman introduced herself, “But friends and family call me Franky.”

I smiled and didn't know whether to go in for a hug or a handshake, though as I began to introduce myself back, she pulled me in for a hug.

“It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller,” I said.

“It's very nice to meet you,” she said back with a nod, toying with her pearls. “And, please, call me Franky.”

I smiled again and nodded. Dr. Miller’s mother had an elegant, confident exterior; though I could tell she was witty and down to earth just the same.

“Where's your father? He beat me down the elevator.”

Dr. Miller looked around. “He probably took a pit stop at the bar.”

“The jackass,” Franky muttered, making us both laugh. She glanced around for a moment and then summoned Carol, who also claimed she hadn't seen him downstairs yet.

“Your mom is..” I smiled wide, searching for one of the many adjectives that were swirling in my head.

“A bit crazy,” Dr. Miller teased.

“Hilarious,” I corrected, “Adorable.. feisty.”

He chuckled and nodded. “That she is. Dad’s in trouble if he helped himself to a drink.”

“Oh here he is,” Carol’s calm voice made me glance in their direction and I watched as Franky marched up to her husband.

“Chas! Where have you been?” She raised her arms high in the air.

“Nobody was here yet when I came down,” he claimed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

“And..”

“And what?” He put his hands out to the sides and I heard Dr. Miller chuckle beside me. Carol then turned toward us, shared a smile with her brother and rolled her eyes.

“Where'd ya go?” She was half his size, but it was apparent she wore the pants in that relationship.

“The bar.” He motioned toward the short hallway he had just rounded out from and Franky threw her hands in the air, speaking in another language in exasperation as she walked away. I was almost certain she was cursing but she winked at Carol and gave a smile when her back was to her husband.

“Dad!” Dr. Miller shouted and waved his father toward us.

The closer he got, the more I could see he was built like a linebacker. For a man I guessed who had to be pushing seventy, simply based on the ages of his children, he looked like he could give Hulk Hogan a run for his money.

“Dad, this is (Y/N).”

“Chas Miller.” He reached out and gave me a gentle handshake, placing his top hand over mine. His bushy mustache smiled as wide as he did.

“It's nice to meet you,” I said to him.

“Pleasure's all mine.” He nodded toward us. “Joel says you met at the university.”

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yes. A couple of months back.”

“Well, he speaks very highly of you.” Chas gave a nod. In my mind it felt like a nod of approval.

“Chas!” Franky shouted for him before I could respond and he sighed and placed a meaty hand on Joel’s shoulder. “That's my cue.” He looked to me, “Happy wife, happy life.”

“That's right.” I laughed.

“We’ll catch up some more,” Chas vowed. He winked and I could clearly see Dr. Miller’s features when he did that.

When I turned back to Dr. Miller, he was shaking his head with a smirk. “That's my parents.”

“They're adorable.”

He nodded in agreement. “They are. They're good people.”

“They must be happy for Carol.”

Dr. Miller nodded again and pulled me in for a quick kiss. “I'm going to be walking down the aisle with Annie.”

I chuckled. “Well Annie happens to think you're a hunk, so..” I tightened his tie and looked at him with a grin.

“A hunk?” Dr. Miller began to laugh.

“That's the word she used.” I flattened his tie with my hand and looked up at him. “They're good people, too. You all are.”

“Well, you fit right in then.” He kissed my forehead and then my nose.

“I love you so much,” I said to him.

“I love you, too.” He tipped up by chin with his first two fingers and we shared one more kiss. “I think we're going to get started with the walk through.

“Okay. Enjoy.” I took my seat back down as he went to join the wedding party. From afar I soaked it all in - the laughter, the smiles, the banter. It was the exact vibe that should go hand-in-hand with a wedding.

The woman in charge of the procession began the walk-through. I snickered to myself when Joel and Annie strolled arm-in-arm down the aisle together.

Joel. That was one of the only times I thought of him as Joel in my mind, and not Dr. Miller. I had to start referring to him in that way - outside of the bedroom, anyway.

“Can I keep him?” Annie asked in her bold, British accent as they parted ways by the altar.

I laughed to myself and Dr. Miller blew her a kiss that she pretended to catch. As crazy about him as I was, I didn't feel any jealousy about any of it. It was playful and fun. I was happy to be a part of it all.

The others walked down in the same fashion before Carol linked her arm through her father’s as they made their way last.

Despite his macho appearance, I could see tears in Chas’s eyes. They didn't fall, but I was sure the following day at the actual ceremony they would. He appeared to be one of those teddy bear types in the body of an NFL player. It almost made me tear up.

What a beautiful family, I thought. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe one day I would be a part of it. Maybe I would be the one walking down the aisle as Joel waited for me.

I indulged in the fantasy of it all for a moment and continued to soak it all in. At the conclusion of it all, he made his way through the crowd and linked his hand with mine.

“Now’s the fun part,” Dr. Miller said.

“What's that?” I asked him.

“We get to eat.”

“Mmm.” I smacked my lips and he leaned in to kiss my temple.

The night continued on with the same warmth. I didn't want it to end. Chas and Franky grew even more comical after a couple of drinks, sharing funny or embarrassing stories back and forth.

Digging into the Miller family’s memories alongside them was precious - and entertaining. More than once Dr. Miller glanced down with a sheepish grin or placed a hand over his eyes when one of his family members revisited an old memory.

“When he was a teenager he drank our leftover beers from a Fourth of July picnic and filled the bottles with water,” Franky claimed, motioning to her son.”So we wouldn't know he drank them.”

“And then one hot summer day I'm mowing the lawn and go to drink one,” Chas adds, “And I'm like what the hell is this?”

“I remember that,” Carol said, laughing.

“He put them back in the case,” Franky went on. “Filled with water.”

“Evil genius,” Dr. Miller said about himself.

“Yeah a genius alright,” Carol teased. “You got caught within a week.”

Franky shook her head, looking outward in a sort of daydream. “Those days were funny.”

“See what you two are getting into?” Chas asked, motioning to Will and then to me. Again, I was happy to be included.

“I'm very lucky,” Will said to his future father-in-law.

“Me, too,” I added.

“Oh, can we just toast, already.” Carol raised her glass of wine.

“What are we toasting to?” Dr. Miller asked, raising the Old Fashioned he was sipping on. I mirrored them, as did his parents and Will.

Carol looked at Will for an extra second and then back to the rest of us. “To family.”

“I like that one,” Chas said with a nod.

Dr. Miller clanked his glass around with everyone's, leaving mine for last. He gave a little smirk. “To family.”

I nodded back. “Family.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller gif #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #pedro pascal gif #joel miller professor #professor joel #protective joel #joel miller x f!oc #pedro pascal x f! reader #joel miller x female oc #pedro pascal x fem reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel x female reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanart #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x oc

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Febuwhump Day 9 - Alternate Prompt, "I love you"

More emotional pain fun with the predecessors of Hyrule Warriors! This one gets a little steamy and suggestive, but there's nothing explicit, FYI.

XX

The courtyard was more beautiful than he'd ever seen it. Lanterns held the evening shadows at bay, the flowers were in full bloom, the water in the fountains sparkled in the light of fairies that had come with the great fairy's blessing. Magic was sweet in the air, little pops of it sending showering rainbows cascading down on the guests.

Link gazed at it all, entranced, temporarily pulled out of the usual dark exhaustion that numbed him to his core. For just a second, he genuinely felt alive, and for a moment longer, he recognized the gravity of the situation.

A baby. A baby.

The young king consort wandered through the gardens, barely noticing people bowing or nodding in acknowledgement to him. He had lost sight of the queen, and he knew he was supposed to be close to her.

He had walked through these gardens so many times in the past. It had been a while since he'd been outside, apart from going to the training grounds. He couldn't recall them ever looking so enlivened.

He wondered if the rest of the kingdom looked this bright. The last time he'd been outside the castle, Hyrule Field had been scorched earth.

Queen Zelda appeared ahead of him, standing on a slightly elevated part of the courtyard, and Link went to her. She was talking to Impa, who noticed Link's approach first, and the pair watched him as he climbed the stairs. Link looked Zelda over, a little unnerved at the swelling of her belly, at how it was emphasized by the dress she wore.

So many emotions flooded him. Guilt, pain, fear, hope, excitement, dread. He didn't know how to process this, how to look at the physical proof of what he'd been hearing for months. He hadn't seen her in months.

A baby.

The queen extended a hand, the motion holding gentle confidence despite the clear hesitancy in her gaze, and he automatically took it, letting her guide him towards the center of the courtyard. Impa's eyes never left him.

Crowds began to gather, more faces than he could count or focus on, and Link grew dizzy. He remained steadfast by his queen's side as she spoke to the people of Hyrule.

"Thank you for coming to celebrate with us," he heard when he tuned in. "The road has been perilous, but together, we are rebuilding. Hyrule will thrive once more, stronger than ever. May this child be a symbol of the goddess' favor, of the prosperity of Hyrule that is to come."

The crowd cheered, shouts of joy and praise and long live the queen and other phrases that Link could no longer decipher in the noise. His eyes wandered over the people aimlessly, letting himself be simultaneously shown off and ignored, until his gaze settled on a familiar face.

Amber eyes, captivating in their intensity. Dark brown skin, smooth and silky and glowing in the light. Fiery red hair, as bright as the sun, held out of a face with a high ponytail, spilling over bare shoulders in numerous small braids that were decorated with beads. A crimson bodice decorated with jewels and embroidery, with wide brimming baggy, silky pants and a shimmering red train laying overtop it that slid to the floor and pooled around like water.

The chief of the Gerudo.

Hemisi.

Link felt the blood drain out of his face. He hadn't seen her since... since... everything.

Although the Gerudo entourage around her applauded with the crowd, Hemisi was still and silent, just watching him, only him. Link wanted nothing more than to melt into the earth.

Something changed in the atmosphere. Queen Zelda released his hand, and the crowds moved. People started to mingle, many vying for the monarchs' attention. Though most flocked to his wife, Link still found himself suddenly surrounded by strangers, congratulating him and trying to make small talk and curry favor. Link did his best to fumble through the conversation, keeping his responses to smiles, nods, or a couple words, before the bombardment was interrupted. The crowd parted as if by force, and Link saw Hemisi approaching him, his party guests watching her uneasily.

Hemisi stopped a mere two paces away from him, but it felt like a canyon was between them.

"Your Highness," she acknowledged with a tip of her head.

Link swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Her name came out of his lips as a whisper, inaudible above the din, and he nodded his head to cover his slip up.

"I must say," one of the nobles who had surrounded him piped up. "It is quite the surprise to see you here, Gerudo. You were not present for the royal wedding - I assumed you would not wish to set foot in Hyrule once more given what your people have done to this land."

Link felt the bottom drop out of his stomach while his skin crawled. His hands twitched, rage pushing him to throttle the man while anxiety of the repercussions held him in place. He couldn't help the glare that he threw in the noble's direction, though.

Hemisi's seething look far surpassed it. Despite the murderous intent in her gaze, though, and the way the noble cowered, she had an impressive amount of restraint. Her words dripped with venom as she replied, "Ganondorf led the assault and caused the war. I fought against him. I understand these things can get confusing to you, as I know for certain none of you partook in the war, instead hiding away in your riches while your people bled. But I bled with my people, the Gerudo suffered just as Hylians did. And I not only defeated Ganondorf, I helped your princess and hero split his soul into shards to ensure this never happened again."

The noble had no rebuttal, too busy shrinking away, and the others left with him.

They were alone.

Link wanted to scream, to apologize, to hunt the noble down and slit his throat, to slit his own throat.

"You really do suck at this whole political thing, don't you?" Hemisi asked, a lesser bite to her tone.

Link finally felt his chest stop tightening, allowing him to take a breath and let out a small, pathetic laugh. "Yeah. I... well, you know."

"Yeah. I know."

What should he say? What could he say?

"Let's walk," Hemisi suggested, not waiting for his consent before she started to guide him away from the center of the party.

They walked in silence for a while, Link's mind whirling, unable to formulate a sentence, wondering what was happening and what he was about to have to handle. His heart raced at her touch, his mind screamed at her proximity.

Farore above, why did this have to be so complicated?

Link started to grow dizzy, but finally, finally Hemisi found a hidden corner and tucked both of them into it. The music sounded so far away, reality sounded so far away.

Here, in the darkness, away from politics and pressure, Link found his voice. "I'm sorry for that. I--that was completely unacceptable."

"Will you kill him?" Hemisi questioned, crossing her arms.

"What? No, I can't--"

"I'm joking, stupid," Hemisi interrupted with a huff, before cocking her head to the side and asking, "Would you, if you could?"

The heat surged him in once more. "I'd certainly like to beat that entitlement out of him."

Hemisi remained silent, watching him longer until he started to squirm under her scrutiny. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going, or even where it should go - they hadn't spoken since--

"I'm sorry," he said before he realized it.

"You already said that."

"No, I--" he stumbled, caught between wanting to backtrack and wanting to follow through. How could he possibly apologize for everything? "I mean--I--"

"You did your duty," Hemisi replied in a monotone, as if to explain some unimportant detail, as if to hammer a point home, as if it didn't matter or mattered too much.

Link's head dropped, shame blushing his cheeks. But a bit of hope sparked in his heart too - if she could understand and accept it, then maybe he could too. Maybe they could salvage this.

"She looks fatter than I thought she would," Hemisi added dully, making Link's gaze snap back to her. The chief shrugged. "She does. Hope it hurts too."

"H-Hemisi," he chided halfheartedly, heart racing.

"You're going to defend her?" she snapped, ire returning in a heartbeat.

Why did this have to be so complicated? "You shouldn't--you shouldn't wish ill of her--"

"You don't?" Hemisi hissed back.

Link bit his tongue.

"You don't understand, do you?" she continued, taking a menacing step towards him. "How could you not understand--I thought you--after everything we've been through--"

"Hemisi, please--"

"Your people mock me and fear me despite everything, and that bitch is at the root of all these issues!"

"Don't call her that," Link snapped in return, the fire igniting inside him once more.

"I had to not only kill my own father, but tear his soul to pieces - he can't even rest in the afterlife, I helped condemn him to eternal hell, after already losing my mother and brother. And in the end, my reward was to lose the love of my life and let Hyrule punish my people for a war I didn't even start." Hemisi glowered. "I have every right to fight, every right to hate her, every reason to destroy this land, to take what is mine."

The air seemed to have frozen, alongside Link's blood. His ears were ringing, heart racing. This was spiraling out of control quickly, and his mind and heart were at war, sympathizing so much it hurt while also hearing Ganondorf's voice in her words.

Every right to fight, to destroy this land, to take what is mine.

Before he could retaliate, Hemisi backed down, just a hair, just enough to remove the danger from her words. "But I chose to stay my hand. People always say thank the goddesses when good things happen, but I assure you, the goddesses are thanking me."

The air was electric, and then the tension trickled away as Hemisi sighed, looking away. "Damn it. I wasn't--just forget it."

Link leaned against the stone wall, also averting his gaze. He was so tired. This wasn't exactly how he'd wanted a reunion between them to go, but he wasn't surprised that it was going this way.

"I'm sorry," he repeated quietly, sincerely.

A calloused hand touched his cheek, making him flinch. He wasn't used to physical contact anymore, having hid himself away for so long after everything. But the touch was familiar, skin smelling of oils that she used when they'd first met, the caressing akin to how she'd touched him before the war. He melted into it for a moment, looking at her as she watched him. Although Hemisi was an opinionated woman, she didn't seem to have any kind of reply to his apology, and the world grew quiet around them. Link let his hand rest overtop hers, and eventually he noted softly, "Your hand's cold."

The Gerudo chief snorted. "It's cold here in Castle Town."

Link reached and took her other hand, guiding both of them to his chest while his hands rested overtop them to warm them. Hemisi tilted forward, leaning her body weight against his as the wall supported them both, her softness making his entire body tingle. Their faces were inches apart, and Link lost his breath as she leaned in and kissed him.

Goddesses he'd missed this, he'd missed her. His skin felt electric, his blood like fire. Memories of time spent with her flooded his heart and mind, of nights stargazing and pointing out different constellations they'd learned with the stories behind them, of days sparring, of discussions on culture and ideas and duties, of adventures exploring and sneaking around, of comfort as tensions rose, of anguish as war broke out, of despair and relief and hope and--

Link let her pull him to the grass, lost in the moment, wanting this more than anything, when he heard the music off in the distance.

The party. The queen. The baby.

"Stop," he whispered, trying to regain his voice.

Hemisi paused, looking at him from overtop him, her hair spilling over her and creating a veil between them and the rest of the world.

"Why?" she asked just as softly, hands massaging his scalp. "We deserve it. You've done your duty, the queen has her victory kid, the kingdom's in love with it. Come back to the desert with me."

Link was losing himself in the relaxing motion, his body's desires overpowering his senses, and he held his breath, pushing against the earth with one foot to flip them over so he had her pinned gently to the ground, hands holding hers down at the wrists, keeping the temptation at bay.

I'm better than this. I can control myself. "You know it's not that simple, Hemisi."

"But it is that simple," she argued. "You married Zelda because she demanded it, because she needed the kingdom to think the royal family was strong. You did the gig for a year, there's a baby now, the family will live on. She doesn't need you anymore. You did your duty."

"She's still my wife," Link argued, moving away from her to sit by the stone wall.

"Did you mean it when you took the vows?" Hemisi demanded, sitting up. "Did you actually want to marry her?"

"I--I didn't want to marry her, but--"

"Then it doesn't count!"

"It does," Link snapped, rising. "Because I meant those vows, and I take my promises seriously."

"How can you be this--this idiotic?!" Hemisi yelled, also shooting to her feet. "When you first said you had to marry her--we were promised to each other, Link, and--I waited, I waited, I even let her take you because I didn't want the war to continue either, but the war is over and she has her token child, just leave her!"

"I already told you I can't!" Link argued. "Don't you understand what would happen? I meant those vows for a reason, Hemisi! This isn't just about Zelda's demands, it's about the entire kingdom! You're not the only one who had to sacrifice for peace! If Zelda and I hadn't married, it could've destroyed the Sheikah, the stability of the crown, and Hyrule along with it."

Link shook his head, feeling nauseous, and looked away. "If I were to leave her, especially for you, there will never be peace."

"You think Zelda will start a war again," Hemisi growled.

"Not her," Link replied. "But everyone else."

"You're defending her?"

"Hemisi, please," Link begged, getting the courage to look her in the eye again. "Please. I don't want anyone else to die. I especially don't want you to get hurt."

"You think I'd let them kill me?" she asked challengingly, though her tone was quiet and the way her eyebrow rose was as cheeky as it could be.

Link had to smile at it, complications forgotten temporarily, and he hugged her so tightly he could barely breathe. She held him just as fiercely. "I love you so much."

Hemisi's breath tickled his ear, shaky and vulnerable, and she buried her face in his shoulder to hide the tremble in her tone. "I love you too."

The pair stood there for what felt like hours, clinging to each other for comfort, desperate to express their care for each other, terrified to release each other, wanting nothing more than to make the rest of the world melt away.

Voices came ever closer, and eventually they let go. Hemisi dipped down to pick up the crown that had fallen off Link when they'd tumbled to the ground, and she silently placed it back on his head.

#writing #febuwhump #good ganondorf #hero of power #hemisi #idk why I'm giving them tags they're not even that prevalent on the blog #at least not yet lol #anyway I love them and torture them #this febuwhump is way more angst than whump whoops #it hurts either way though #pain is pain so there lol #they're all in a sucky situation #legend of zelda #skye time travels through the queue #imprisoning war

[kicktwine]

Alphinaud goes down first. 

It’s a case of divided focus, something he prides himself on being able to do, being why he volunteered for it, but… it is too much. 

He tries to cast teleport. Multiple times, he tries, he has Ch’ari and Alisaie’s tethers, if he manages to cast it he can get the three of them out of here (out of plain sight, the middle of a disgusting field of churned earth and smoke and bodies in all directions, warmachina and the smell of burnt aether almost choking in their intensity, they weren’t even meant to be here it’s just there’s nowhere to go anymore and the teleport is straight to Doma where he knows the fighting hasn’t catastrophized yet and maybe Hien or Yugiri is still alive) — and yet when he pulls together enough mana for the spell between casts of ruin and shields and directing his carbuncle to and fro, it’s not like it doesn’t work. It’s more like it reaches out and never reaches past… here, the aethernet slowed to a halt, the cast stuck in an eternal loading screen. It tries, like a dying man tries to breathe. Alphinaud grips the pages of his grimoire with the realization that they aren’t escaping the ruins of Vylbrand. There is not enough aether to pull together the connection from here to Doma. 

A magitek reaper crushes his carbuncle under one foot, the poor creature disappearing with a yelp, and Alphinaud feels his heart skip a beat and his footing falter for a second as the magic between them is snapped, and without a shield the opportunity is taken before it can be snatched away and a lance buries itself between his ribs and throws him to the dirt. 

It knocks everything out of him. His grimoire skids just out of reach of his fingers. His vision hits the floor after his body does and keeps going, smearing colors like wet ink, and he doesn’t feel pain as quickly as he feels the odd sliding sensation of things moving that should not be. The lancer — dragoon, how ironic and unfairly cruel to die to — yanks the lance back out (a strained cry is forced out of him as it does) and hastily starts forwards, weapon raised as if they were feeling lucky after the success, and is thrust violently to the side as Alisaie buries her rapier through their stomach with a snarl. She kicks the corpse off her sword and makes as if to rush to her brother, eyes wild and pulled wide like a cat’s, but her focus is yanked away from her as another unlucky figure takes a powerful verthunder and vaporizes with a scream. 

The shield is gone — that was Alphinaud‘a job. Carbuncle. Alisaie skids to her knees at his side, panting harshly with her hair tangled in her face and begins casting vercure, only to grip her focus tightly and fling a spell backwards that explodes in a wall of fire. 

“Can you heal yourself?” She barks. Oh, she’s yelling like she’s upset. That’s not a helpful thought, because it’s quite obvious, but it strikes Alphinaud that he doesn’t want that to be happening. The sticky tear through his chest is starting to feel like ice when he breathes. 

“Carbuncle,” he wheezes, instead. 

Alisaie grabs his hand with hers and slaps it down on the grimoire, the requisite magic from their combined casts rushing into the spell as if from an unclogged drain pipe, reluctantly and then all at once. Moonstone — bless his moonstone carbuncle, he crafted it to be intelligent and it far exceeded his expectations, it pops into existence and immediately creates a shield big enough to shelter the three of them and zips off to attack any stragglers. Alisaie, checking her surroundings again, fumbles with Alphinaud’s soaked through cloak and returns to healing magic. 

Tries to return. There’s so much spent mana in the air it’s almost like shining a flashlight into a summer day, the way vercure stutters and hums weakly. Alisaie growls and pushes more mana into the spell, and it pulses as it slowly pulls aetheric particulates into itself to work.

“You okay?!” shouts a hoarse voice from some fulms away, right on the edge of the shield. 

Right — Ch’ari, not looking at them, locked in battle. Past the giddiness that pervades his attitude in a fight, strained into desperate focus. The only reason they’re not already dead, and she has no trouble admitting it. Ch’ari stands in a perpetual crackling, crystalline magic circle, Hydealyn trying to preserve Her champion, firing off spell after spell that explode between combatants in fierce, blinding reams of energy. Between casts, he flips his staff around and launches through warmachina, the azure dragoon in full sorcerer’s gear, more effective in close combat. In the little circle that surrounds them and the shield, Ch’ari fends off the army trying to kill them, growing more and more exhausted the more he doesn’t have help. 

“We need more time!” Alisaie yells. 

“Anything but that, Ali, I can give you anything else!”

“Then we need to leave, Ari, I can’t cast! We can’t stay!”

“How’s the—“ he turns, to look at them finally, his ears flat as his eyes widen in shock. “Hells,” Ch’ari hisses, and turns and slams his stave into the ground, the magic circle glowing and then brightening substantially as the ground surrounding the carbuncle’s shield cracks and explodes upwards with light, rending and throwing metal and flesh and forcing Alisaie to squint. 

When she can see again, Ch’ari has backed up to be close and enclose them between him and the mutilated rock Alphinaud fell against, trying again to cast teleport. The circle is gone — and this time, the cast barely even starts. Buying them time, using the ley lines to channel magic into the earth, used up any significant amount of aether left in the atmosphere, and she can almost taste the absence of life on the dry air. It tastes like the Burn. Like blood — though it’s tasted like blood for hours. 

Ch’ari brings his hands to his face, in concentration if not prayer, weak magic spiraling about his feet, when his ears flick up and he drops the spell and manages to cast manaward as—

KKRAKKOOM!

Just to pin the final nail on the coffin. A mangled, half-finished and tendon-bare imitation of Ultima drops from the sky and buries itself four feet into the ground, and it screams, cracking the carbuncle’s shield and causing the creature to let out a defiant shriek. 

Ultima reels, confident as a puppet yanked into position by dogs, and a sharp note rings out through the air as it aims and fires a beam of pure ceruleum energy into the shields. 

Ch’ari skids backwards and stays standing, both hands braced against his staff, stumbling backwards and nearly over the twins. Manaward isn’t strong, the blessing of Light the only thing keeping it up, but the drain on the star itself leaves it shimmering and wavering, almost obscuring what approaches from the wrecked wasteland behind. 

It’s almost like tendrils of nothingness. Shadowy hisses and steam-trails of pure black, bereft of magic entirely. They creep from nowhere and slip into the cracks, pushing at the edges like a meal awaits inside the eggshell. Almost alive, but so spread and so lifeless as to be an inevitability. 

Ultima shatters the carbuncle’s shield, and Alphinaud cries out, flinching as the tether breaks again. Ch’ari grunts with the effort of just keeping the shield up, no sign of the attack actually stopping — and Alisaie, unable to leave the shield area or she dies or her brother dies or anything, doesn’t cast a spell and just tries to channel aether into the Warrior of Light. 

The black fog seeps through the cracks made by the weapon, tugging them wider, longer. Drier. More and more blank, nothing. 

Ch’ari drops his staff drops the cast and turns and skids to his knees, grabbing both twins and pulling them close to him as manaward shatters. Ultima howls in triumph, bracing itself to fire again, but it hardly needs to, not to ensure the end of this story. The smoke rushes in, and blurs the world into unrecognizable nothing. 

Everything slows, and… stops. 

and. 

reverses. 

Alisaie feels it first. Underneath the stinging sensation of unhealed wounds the gentle tug as time begins to pull backwards, the way the particles in the air almost like stars begin to blur and streak. Ultima never fires again, immobile like a glittering metal statue, and from where her head is pressed into Ch’ari’s shoulder, she looks up and sees faint, astral spell lines.

She almost laughs. She does, in confused disbelief. Ch’ari’s grip loosens ever so slightly, ears swiveling to pick up the quiet shimmer of something far beyond him reaching out and pulling. 

You… only you…

Alisaie can’t help it, her hoarse laugh turns into giggles, and Ch’ari picks his head up entirely, still holding his twins but hearing that voice and hearing something else within it. Alphinaud’s fingers curl into Ch’ari’s coat, even through the haze of near-fever. The air cools, softens, and glows with blue smears and swirls of time. The edge of Ch’ari’s lips twitch, unsure but surrounded by familiar senses as the swirls speed up, faster and faster until the world blurs out of view entirely, replaced by streaks and starlight. 

Let expanse contract, eon become instant!

History must be changed!

And Thancred collapses to the floor, unconscious. 

#violence ‼️‼️ with a happy ending. This is doomed timeline fic #This specific bug has been biting me for weeks #ffxiv #my writing #stormblood #shadowbringers spoilers #vaguely #Ch’ari #alphinaud leveilleur #alisaie leveilleur #thank you raha

[kindheart525]

Welcome to the Thirdverse! A next gen set after the events of MLP:FiM where the Mane 6, growing into new adult lives, begin to drift apart. In the process, one by one, under difficult circumstances, they find themselves going against their own Elements of Harmony~

Twilight Sparkle Wife of Sunburst. Mother of Celestial Blessing and Bismuth Sun. She rules Equestria from Canterlot, quite far from all her friends who she attempts to stay in touch with. But despite this attempt she has also actively betrayed the values of friendship, and although she truly thought it was for the best at first, she carries deep shame over what she did.

Applejack Wife of Sugar Belle. Mother of Blackberry Maple, Orchard Sunrise, and Fireside Jam. Currently the new matriarch of Sweet Apple Acres after Granny Smith’s passing, her life hasn’t changed that much materially as she has stuck pretty close to her home roots. However, she has been less-than-honest with her own kin, and as much as she tries to act like everything is fine and dandy, deep down she knows she can’t hide the truth forever.

Rarity Wife of Filthy Rich. Stepmother of Diamond Tiara and later the mother of Princess Cut. She got the life many fillies dream of: married to a wealthy pony and a very successful businessmare on her own. She still lives in Ponyville but never stays in one place between her boutique connections and her husband’s wide network. She wants to make a good impression on the elite ponies and do right by her stepdaughter, but this will put her generous spirit to the test. 

Rainbow Dash Eventual wife of Big Macintosh. Former partner of Svengallop, Double Diamond, Hoo’far, and Short Fuse. Mother of Evergreen Blaze, Moonray Chill, Lantern Glow, Strawberry Breeze, and later Earth Day. She has been more or less wandering all over Equestria as she grapples with multiple failed relationships and a damaged view of herself, especially as she lives with the crushing regret of a choice she made that went against her loyal nature.

Fluttershy Wife of Pharynx and Quibble Pants. Mother of Tiger Lily, Daisy Wasp, and Fairyfly. She lives in the Changeling Kingdom as their new Duchess and feels fulfilled to be surrounded by such a beautiful kingdom and so many friendly and welcoming creatures. The changelings have been nothing but kind to her and her family and she strives to show them the same kindness they showed her, while also struggling with being kind to herself. 

Pinkie Pie Wife of Luna and Tempest Shadow. Mother of Sunny Sweet Dreams, Laffy Taffy, and Galatea Candyheart. Lives in Silver Shoals where the princesses are retired, but won’t hesitate to hop on a train, boat, or hot air balloon to see any of her friends around the world! She’s literally the ray of sunshine of her family, with two wives who can be gloomy for reasons she can’t understand, and three kids who are going through their own struggles. It’s still her life’s mission to make everypony smile, but that’s proving to be harder than she thinks. Will she be able to maintain her faith in joy and laughter?

#KindsArt #thirdverse #mane six #mane 6 #twilight sparkle #applejack #rarity #rainbow dash #fluttershy #pinkie pie #next generation #my little pony #mlp fim #mlp g4

[thelampisaflashlight]

A Home Below Pt. 2: Welcome

[Mountain and Swiss meet the new neighbors, and get some unexpected insight from Dew. Primarily from Swiss' POV. Mentions of implied past nonconsensual body modification.] Below the cut.

"Who's that?" a tiny voice asks as Swiss rounds the corner into the main part of the basement with Mountain, making both ghouls pause.

Turning to follow the voice, Swiss furrows his brow as he catches sight of two figures standing in the adjacent hallway; A man about his height with dyed blue hair and mismatched eyes -he recognizes him, he's one of the custodians, but he can't recall his name- and a small child he's never seen before, with strawberry blond curls and bright blue eyes.

Mountain pokes his head out curiously to see what the hold up is before reeling backwards, startled.

It's only then that Swiss recalls that neither of them are glamoured.

Not that the custodians haven't seen them like this before, they do clean the den for them after all, but he highly doubts the kid has ever seen a ghoul before.

And, honestly, that's probably the most unsettling part of this sudden encounter.

The kid.

Why is there a kid??

Said child waves, which seems to set the adult with them further on edge to the extent that Swiss can smell the anxiety rolling off of him.

It's a subtle, sweet smell... and something about it triggers something in Swiss' memories about this custodian in particular.

Swiss calms himself with a deep breath and offers a small wave, elbowing Mountain to come out and do the same, giving the earth giant a look that he hopes reads as "It's chill".

Mountain pops back into view and gives a nod in the pair's direction.

The kid's eyes go wide.

"You're so tall!"

Mountain beams, giving a small grin, "I am."

"Bug, it's not polite to talk about strangers' appearances like that..." the man lightly scolds, then looks to them, and this time Mountain gets a whiff of his scent as well.

Not a threat.

Just nervous.

Maybe a little scared even.

Mountain puts a slouch in his back to avoid making himself too big, and Swiss snorts.

"You're... uh, you're one of the custodians, yeah?" Swiss asks a touch awkward, unable to remember the man's name, "Jay...?"

"Jeremy Durand." he replies, taking the child's hand into his own, "...and this is Whitney, my son."

"Ohhh..."

Looking at the kid again, it's... Swiss would like to say it should be obvious that the boy is his, but, really, the only thing about Whitney that seems to even remotely resemble his father is his nose.

"He looks like his grandma." Jeremy says, as if seeing Swiss' confusion, but before the ghoul can apologize for being rude, Whitney, bless him, saves his hide.

"It's true! I look like Granny!" he chirps happily, "She says it's 'cause Dad got all of Grandpa's pants and I got hers... but Granny's pants are too big for me to wear, so I dunno..."

"Not jeans like the pants, Bug, genes like..." Jeremy sighs, "I'll explain later."

"So-" Swiss chuckles, then asks, curious, "Is it bring your kid to work day?"

"Ah... well, I..." Jeremy runs his hand over his neck, "...I thought Elijah explained... It's complicated, but Whitney and I will be... will be staying here."

Swiss blinks.

"Really?"

Jeremy nods.

"Well, that means we're neighbors then!" Swiss smiles, "Welcome!"

"...T-Thank you." Jeremy mumbles, clearly uncomfortable with... something, and then Swiss remembers.

"Oh, sh-" he glances at Whitney, covering his mouth, "Sugar Snaps, right my teeth, sorry."

"'s okay..."

Whitney looks up at his father, squeezing his hand, and in the smallest voice says something barely audible to human ears, but that the ghouls can hear loud and clear...

"It's okay, Dad. It's okay..."

Swiss tries not to show it on his face, but there's something about such a small child trying to comfort their parent because they're scared -because they're scared of THEM, him and Mounty- that makes him feel a bit like a dick, even if he hasn't done anything wrong... yet.

In so far as he knows at least.

Jeremy's hand visibly shakes in the child's grip, but Swiss pretends not to see it, and instead turns to Mountain, bidding the pair goodbye and dragging his friend down the hallway, hopefully in the opposite direction of where the family needs to go.

Once they're out of sight, Swiss lets go of Mountain's arm and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Neighbors, huh?" Mountain drawls, "...Somehow I don't think Mr. Durand is particularly... pleased with the idea."

Swiss bites his lip and then releases it with a tsk.

"Guess we'll have to do something about that then."

"Swiss-"

"Nothing bad!" Swiss interjects quickly, "...Something to make them feel more at home? Although, I don't think our usual methods for welcoming new ghouls is gonna work here."

"Ghouls?" Mountain questions, looking back down the hallway.

"I could be wrong, but... that guy, you could smell him, right?" Swiss whispers, "...He doesn't smell like a human, and the kid... I dunno, they just smell like us, kind of, ya know? And I kind of vaguely remember hearing something about him... but I don't remember exactly what it was."

"I did smell... something." Mountain admits, "That would explain why they're letting them live down here... I mean, there is the upstairs dorms for the human clergy and the ghouls, but if he has a kit, he probably doesn't want him mixed in with the other adult ghouls right from the get-go, it's safer down here, less people."

Swiss nods.

"Gotta give the folks upstairs some credit, they at least thought this through to some extent... Still though, they're being pretty accommodating all things considered, more than you'd expect them to be." he hums, "Even if the guy has a kit, there are ghouls AND clergy members raising children upstairs. There's gotta be more to the reason why he's getting a room down here..."

"It could have something to do with who his kit's other parent is? Or perhaps he has some connections with the higherups? He did say 'Elijah' earlier, he could mean Brother Elijah, he is the supervisor..." Mountain muses, "Or it could be because the custodial office is down here, and none of the other staff members in that department live on the property."

"How do you know that?" Swiss asks.

"I often work with the other members of that department when it comes to the upkeep of the greenspaces around the abbey." Mountain says, "They keep things tidy and make sure the sheds are stocked."

"Huh, the more you know..." Swiss nods, "At any rate... We should probably hightail it to practice before Papa sends Dew down here to drag us upstairs by our napes."

Mountain raises his tail, "I hate when he does that, he always bites so hard..."

"Personally, I kinda like it-"

.

.

.

Swiss scratches at the bite mark on his neck, grumbling along with Mountain, who's sitting off to the side licking a matching one on his hand, "You don't have to draw blood, ya know, you could just give me a lil' nibble and I'll do whatever you want me to..."

"Only good boys who get to practice on time get 'lil nibbles'." Dew puffs a bit of steam out of his gills, "I dunno what you two were up to, but at least keep it in your pants until AFTER 5 o'clock, damn..."

"For you information, we were originally going to be on time, but we had to make a little detour to greet our new neighbors." Swiss sniffs.

"Tom-Tom and Aurora are already here, numb nuts, come up with a better excuse." Dew rolls his eyes.

"Not them, our new-new neighbors." Mountain chimes in, "A father and son."

"For real?"

Swiss nods.

"It's one of the newer custodians, Jeremy De... something..."

"Tell me it's not DeFroque..."

"Wait, not De, it was Du... I think it was Durand?" Swiss says, "Yeah, it was Durand. Nice enough guy, nervous as Hell though."

Dew raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms, "That name does sound weirdly familiar..."

"You've met him before?" Mountain asks.

"Not exactly, at least not recently..." Dew shakes his head, "I think I might've read the name off of a list at some point, but if it's the one I'm thinking of, then it makes sense why they'd send him downstairs."

"How so?"

Dew hesitates, his expression... conflicted.

"...Back when Ter-" he clears his throat, "When Papa's predecessor was still in charge, there was an incident involving a lesser branch of the church. They were... fanatical."

"I don't really know much about it myself, Omega only briefly mentioned the situation to me, because he had to go with... ya know... to handle things. When he got back, he wouldn't talk about what exactly happened, but there were these... I guess they were ghouls?"

"You guess?"

"It's hard to describe, they were... in a bad way." Dew settles on finally, "Like something had gone wrong in the ritual. I think there were eight...? Maybe nine? Of them in total... Anyway, this was sometime before you or even Mounty were summoned, so you might not know this, but all of the regular ghouls' dorms were downstairs at the time, and us band ghouls were upstairs."

"...That would explain why there were so many rooms to choose from when I was summoned." Swiss hums, "So these ghouls stayed in the den then?"

Dew nods.

"We, obviously, didn't interact with them much. Omega did, but he didn't talk about what was going on down there at the time." he explains, "One time, though, he was talking about this one ghoul in particular, and how they were sick, like really sick, but wouldn't let anyone near them in order to check on them, but one of the human clergymen was able to approach... Uhh, ya know, what's his face..."

"Brother Elijah?"

"That's the bitch!" Dew chirps, then clears his throat again, "But yeah, somehow he was able to get through to them. I guess it's because he used to be some kind of crisis worker or whatever they're called... Well, anyway, he managed to get a name out of them, and I'm pretty sure it was Durand, because they had, like, this list that Omega had to look through and try and find family members, or, like, co-workers, neighbors... people who knew them before, and that's where I saw it."

Swiss frowns, mulling over this new information, and then...

"How... How old was the kid do you think?" he asks, looking to Mountain, whose face contorts as he realizes what the other ghoul is asking.

"I... I'm not sure... Maybe six or seven..."

"There weren't any children among the ghouls at the time, but it's possible they could have been born after the fact... Fuck." Dew rubs his chin, "Could've even been born here."

"Going with the nicer option of after... why come back here now? If this is the same Durand?" Mountain wonders, "You said it made sense, I'm still not quite following as to why..."

"Well, wouldn't you want to go somewhere familiar? Safe? With someone who you trust close by in case you need them? I don't know why they'd come back here otherwise, but, ya know, a lot of people come here because they have nowhere else to go..." Dew clicks his teeth, "I could also be talking out my ass on all of this, man, it has been YEARS since I thought about any of that..."

"But the name stuck out to you, so that has to mean something, right?" Swiss counters, "...What happened to the others?"

"Not sure..." Dew shrugs, "There's only one other ghoul from that incident that's still in residence here, but they live in the dorms with the human clergy, and they're honestly kind of weird."

"How so?"

"Walks on all fours all the time, glows in the dark like a radioactive sleep paralysis demon, dislikes other ghouls ...except for fucking Aeth for some reason..." Dew mutters.

"Why do you sound so bitter about that, hm~?" Swiss teases.

"...Get you instruments out, practice is starting soon. Count yourselves lucky that we're starting later than usual, because Cumulus called and said she'd be late because she's running errands."

Swiss gasps.

"If you knew practice would be starting late, why did you bite us then?!"

"...Maybe I just wanted to bite you, ever thought about that?"

"You-"

.

.

.

So far, Whitney isn't sure if he likes their new house.

His dad seems sad, but also... hungry?

He's not sure how to explain a feeling like that, like hungry, but for happiness?

Like he's a little low on happy, yeah.

Chicken nuggets and Oreos make Whitney happy.

And Granny's bedtime stories, and Dad's hugs.

Looking around their new kitchen, Whitney can't find any Oreos or chicken nuggets, and Granny lives far, faaaar away now, so she can't tell him a story unless he uses Dad's phone so...

Whitney pads softly across the wood floor, Dad gave him his favorite slippers to wear, the ones that look like dinosaurs eating his feet, and nudges the door to the big bedroom -Dad's new room- open.

"...Dad?"

"Yeah, Bug?" his father looks up from sorting through some boxes, he's not shaking like he was earlier, but he still seems a bit sad.

Whitney holds his arms up.

"Hug?"

His dad smiles, "Sure."

Dad's hugs never fail to make him feel better, so Whitney hopes his hugs can help him feel better, too.

"It's gonna be okay..." Whitney mumbles, squishing his face into his father's shoulder.

Granny always says stuff like that when Dad is sad, when Whitney knows he's supposed to be in bed, but can't sleep.

They talk about a lot of things he doesn't understand, but he knows sometimes it's about him, even if they switch to the fancy language Granny tried to teach him.

French fry or something like that.

"You really do take after your grandma, you know that?" His dad pats his back, "The good parts anyway."

"I got the good pants."

A laugh.

"Sure, Bug, sure you did."

#Lamp writes #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #nameless ghoul oc #ghost band oc #sibling of sin #sibling of sin oc #I'm just saying now that Whitney could use more dads #or at least one more dad #he'll just collect them like pokemon

[razielswar]

Who is Raziel?

Raziel was a sinner, arriving in the Pride Ring after her time on Earth as a warmongering sovereign.

Unhappy with her status, Raziel took to Lilith, earning her grace and attention as a chaotic neutral force, slaughtering powerful demons in the Queen's name.

Blessed with power and status, Raziel earned the title of a horseman for the King and Queen, a bloodthirsty war maiden enacting their will – with special privileges to move between rings and cross into the living world as she pleases.

As influential as the seven sins, Raziel is known as the "Eye of Satan" throughout the rings, as she reports significant events back to Lucifer. (That short king mf loves tea time with Raziel; all the juicy gossip she gets between power dynamics in the rings and trash 666news bullshit.)

Lilith assigned Raziel as her protector when Princess Charlie was a young child.

Appearance

As a sinner, Raziel manifested into Hell as a humanoid. She loosely resembles a low-status imp with red skin, a pointed snout, and large curled horns. Despite that, Raziel is a taller-than-average female demon, around 7 feet tall. She has voluminous white hair, similar to a lion's mane.

With her updated powers from the King of Hell himself, Raziel's dragon-like characteristics are accentuated with a vast, scaly tail, massive claws, and wide-span wings – an embellishment to her time as a ruthless queen in her human life. Her eyes are also sharper, black with yellow sclera. Like all demons, she has sharp teeth and an offputting smile.

Raziel's casual, everyday wardrobe consists of a black button-up layered with a red formal vest and wide-leg black pants. Her wings, tail, and horns are exposed to convey her influence within the rings.

Friends

Asmodeus, Fizzarolli, Charlie, Hazbin Hotel, I.M.P Company, Beezlebub, Stolas

Enemies

Valentino, Velvette, Vox, Heaven/Angels

#helluva boss oc #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel #helluva boss

[onlycosmere]

Szeth Flashback from Stormlight 5

Brandon Sanderson: I’ve been saving Szeth[‘s flashbacks] for the end [of the first five Stormlight books]. I was either gonna do Dalinar or Szeth as the last one, and I ended up deciding as I got to Oathbringer that Dalinar’s flashback sequence really matched Oathbringer really well, which meant I moved Szeth to this book, the as-of-yet-unnamed Stormlight Five, which will almost assuredly have a certain set of letters at the start. (If you don’t know, I’m trying to make it symmetrical with Way of Kings. We’ll see if we can make that happen.)

I intend these flashbacks to… you’ll notice that this kind of a more serene and peaceful start, as a contrast to some of the things that will be happening in the book otherwise at this point (to give no spoilers).

This is just gonna be kind of a starting look at who Szeth was way back before this all started.

Brandon Sanderson: Szeth-son-Neturo found magic upon the wind. And so he danced with it. Strict, methodic movements at first, as per the moves he had memorized. He was as the limbs of the oak: rigid, but ready. When they shivered in the wind, Szeth thought he could hear their souls seeking to break free, to shed bark like shells and emerge with new skin, pained by the cool air, yet aflush with joy all the same. Painful and delightful, like all new things.

Szeth scraped bare feet across packed earth as he danced, getting it on his toes, loving the feel of Cultivation’s embrace. He moved in a wide circle, getting just close enough to the edge to feel feet on grass before dancing back, spinning to the accompaniment of his sister’s flute. It almost seemed alive itself, providing him with a partner for his dance. Wind made alive through sound; the flute was the voice of the air itself.

Time became thick as he danced, molasses minutes and syrup seconds. Yet the wind wove among them, vising each moment to linger before spinning away. He followed it, emulated it, became it. More and more fluid he became; no more rigidity, no more pre-planned steps, sweat flying from his brow to seek the sky. He was the air, churning, spinning, almost violent. Around and around, his motions worship for the rock at the center of the patch of ground. For when he was the wind, he felt he could touch that sacred stone, which had never known the hands of man, but felt the wind each and every day.

The stone of his family, the stone of his past. The stone to whom he gave his dance. He came out of the dance finally, panting, drenched in sweat. His sister’s music cut off, leaving his only applause the bleating of the sheep. Molly the ewe had wandered into the circular dance track again and, bless her, was trying to eat the sacred rock. She had never been the smartest of the flock.

Szeth stood, breathing deeply, feeling the sweat stream from his face and pool at his chin, wetting the packed earth below with speckles like stars.

“You practice too hard,” his sister, Elid-daughter-Neturo, said. “Seriously, Szeth, can’t you just relax once in a while?” He looked to her as she stood up from her seat in the grass and stretched. Elid, at fourteen, was three years older than he was. Like him, she was on the shorter side, though she was squat where he was spindly. Trunk and Branch, <Dolt>-son-<Dolt> called them. Which was kind of appropriate, even if both Dolts were idiots.

She wore orange as her splash, the vivid piece of colorful clothing that marked their station. A bright orange apron, in her case, across a gray dress and a vibrant white undergown that poked through to cover forearms and collar. She spun her flute in her fingers, uncaring, like she hadn’t broken her previous one doing just that.

Szeth bowed his head and walked over to get some water from the barrel. Rainwater had filled with pure, clean water, not a speck of dirt. He enjoyed looking through it, down all the way to the wooden bottom. He liked seeing things that couldn’t be seen, like air and water: things that were there, yet not, all at once.

“Why do you practice so hard?” Elid said. “There’s nobody here but the sheep.”

“Molly likes my dancing,” Szeth said softly.

“Molly is blind!” Elid said. “She’s licking the dirt right now!”

“Molly likes to try new things,” he said, smiling and looking toward the old ewe.

“Whatever,” Elid said, flopping back on the grass. “Wish there was more to do out here.”

“Dancing is something to do,” he said. “The flute is something to do. We must learn to add so that-”

She threw a dirt clod at him. He dodged easily, his feet light upon the ground. He might be only eleven, but some in the village whispered he was the best dancer among them. He didn’t care so much about that. He only cared that he was doing it right. If he did it wrong, then he still had to practice.

Elid didn’t think that way. It bothered him how blasé she was about her practicing. But she didn’t like talking to him about it. She seemed like a different person these days.

Szeth shook his head and tied back on his splash, a red handkerchief he wore around his neck. He then went to count the sheep. A few minutes later, when he walked past Elid on his way to count new ones on the other side of her, she was still laying and staring at the sky.

“Do you believe,” she said, “the stories they tell about the lands on the other side of the mountains?”

“The lands of the stonewalkers?” he said. “Why wouldn’t I?” Thrity-seven, Thirty-eight… where was Swallow?

 “They just sound so outlandish.”

“Elid, listen to the words you say. Of course stories about outlanders are outlandish.” There she is. Thirty-nine.

“But really, Szeth?” she said. “Lands where everyone walks on stones? Like, what do they do? Pick them out in the ground and only hop from one stone to one stone, avoiding the soil?”

Szeth glanced at the family’s stone. It peeked up from the earth like Cultivation’s own eyeball, staring up at the sky, unblinking. Six feet across, but maybe with more of it buried. It was a vibrant red-orange: a splash for Roshar, like the one he wore. He’d chosen his color deliberately. “I think,” he said to her, “there must be a lot more rock out there. I think it’s hard to walk without walking on stone; that’s why they get desensitized to it.”

“But where do the plants grow, then?” she said. “Everyone always talks about how the outside is full of dangerous plants that try to eat people. It’s all anyone whispers about. So there must be soil.”

“True, unless… all these plants were like moss.” He had trouble imagining fluffy curls of moss being dangerous, though. Maybe the terrible vines he heard about grew from patches of soil, stretched out long, like tentacles. Like the ones from the things that lived in the tidal pools a short distance down the coast.

“I heard,” she said, “they constantly try to kill each other out there, that nobody adds, they only subtract.”

“But who makes the food, then?” he said.

“They must eat each other,” she replied. “Or maybe they’re always just starving, you know, how the ones on the coast are.”

Those ones. He looked, nervously, into the distance, though you could only see the ocean on the clearest of days. His home of Clearmont was at the very edge of a broad plain, excellent for grazing, with an ocean beyond on the southeastern edge of Shinovar. An honored location, near one of the monasteries just along the mountain ridge, where one of the sacred Honorblades was kept. In Szeth’s estimation, it was the perfect place to live. You could both see the mountains and visit the ocean. You could walk for days across the vibrant, green prairie; and there was never a lack of grazing land for the sheep.

He bent down next to old Molly, scratching at her ears as she rubbed her head against him. She might lick rocks and eat dirt, but she was also good for a hug. He loved her warmth, the scratchy wool on his cheek, the way she always stayed nearby to keep him company when the others wandered. She bleated softly as he finished hugging her, then wiped the salty, dried sweat from his head. Maybe he shouldn’t practice so hard. But he knew he’d gotten a few steps wrong and had stumbled a few times.

Their father said they were blessed in their lives as people who could add beneath the farmer’s eyes. Just the right station in life, not required to toil in the field, not forced to kill and subtract. Allowed to tend the sheep and develop their talents. Free time was the greatest lesson in the world.

Maybe that was why the men of the ocean sought to kill them and steal their sheep. If you lived your life out in the lands where everyone walked on stones, where your morals withered, you must think only to take. It must make them angry to see such a perfect place, full of people with time. The terrible men from the oceans couldn’t have that time themselves, so like any petulant child, they simply destroyed it in those they saw.

“Do you think,” Elid whispered, “that the servant of the monastery will every come out and fight for us? Use that sword during one of the raids to drive off the terrible men?”

“Elid,” he said, standing. “The servant of the monastery would never subtract.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she replied. “Mother says they practice with the weapon in there. Why practice with it except to-”

“They will fight the Voidbringers when they arrive,” Szeth snapped. “That is the reason; no other.” He glanced toward the ocean, unreasonably worried that one of the strange raiders would hear. “Don’t speak of it. Nobody must know. If they realized the treasures of the monasteries…”

“Hah,” she said. “I’d like to see the awful ones raid that monastery and face down the servant. She-”

“Don’t speak of it,” he said. “Not in the open.”

Elid rolled her eyes at him, still laying on the grass. What had she done with her flute? If she lost another, and Father had to carve one out for her again…

She hated when he brought up that, as well, so he forced himself to remain quiet. He pulled back from Molly and looked down at the ground she’d been licking… to find another rock.

He stumbled back, part shocked, part terrified. This was a small rock, compared to the other one, only a handspan wide. It peeked up from the earth, perhaps revealed in last night’s regular rain. Szeth put his fingers to his lips, backing away. Had he stepped on it while dancing? It was in the packed earth of the dancing ring around the stone, right in the path…

What should he do? This is the first stone he’d ever seen emerge. Even others in the village and fields, carefully marked off and properly revered, had been there for years. A new stone… was it a sign?

“What’s up with you?” Elid said. “Molly step on your toe, or something?”

He couldn’t speak, so he simply gestured.

She, perhaps sensing his level of concern, rose and walked over. As soon as she saw it, she gasped. They shared a look.

“I’ll go get Mother and Father,” Szeth said, then started running.

* * *

Szeth’s father, Neturo, knelt beside the stone. His mother, Zenid, was in town overseeing some painting classes, so they’d sent a message to her via Tek, one of their courier parrots.

Szeth wasn’t so sure what frightened him so much about finding a new rock. Szeth danced around the other one daily; he loved their rock, and a new one was cause for celebration, surely. Except… he wished it hadn’t happened to him, finding it. Something new meant possible celebration, possible attention. Possible change. He wanted things to remain calm, quiet days full of languid breezes and gathering sheep, nights spent beside the fireplace or candles, listening to Mother tell stories. He didn’t want excitement or some grand new thing; too much of a chance it would upset what he already loved.

“What do we do, Father?” Elid asked. “Call the Stone Shamans?”

“It depends,” he said. “Depends…” Their father was a calm man with a long beard he liked to keep tied with a green ribbon at the bottom, head shaded by his customary tall reed hat with a wide brim. He had a good-natured paunch that spoke to his skill and talent as a cook. He had all the answers, always.

“Depends?” Szeth said, stepping up beside him, half-hiding behind his father’s bulky form as he peered down at the new stone. “Depends on what? We just do what is right, don’t we?”

Father glanced at their larger stone, then at this one. “A single rock is a blessed anomaly. Two might mean more, might mean the spren have chosen this region.”

“Wait,” Elid said, hands on hips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Father said, “there might be others, hiding beneath the surface here. Unlikely, but possible. Stone Shamans will want to take the entire region, set it off, preserve it and watch for a few years at least, see if anything else emerges.”

“And us?” Szeth asked.

“Well, we’ll have to move,” Father replied. “Tear down the house, just in case it’s accidentally on holy ground. Set up somewhere else, wherever the farmer finds land for us. Maybe in the town.”

“In the town?” Szeth looked, turning into the distance, though the nature of the rolling hills prevented him from seeing the town unless he climbed to the top of one. It was close enough to walk to in an hour or so. He liked it that far away; he found the place noisy, congested, smelly. In the town, it felt like the mountains weren’t right around the corner, because the buildings blocked them out. It felt like the meadows had gone brown, replaced by dull roadways. It felt like the ocean was far off, because you couldn’t smell the breezes coming off of the water any longer. He didn’t hate the town, but he got the sense that it hated the things that he loved.

“I don’t wanna move!” Elid said. “We did something great; we found a rock! We shouldn’t be punished!”

“If it’s right,” Szeth said, “then we just have to do it, though. Right, Father?”

Father was silent. He stood up, pulling at his trousers, and waited. Soon, Szeth picked out someone hurrying along the path between hills toward their home. A single woman, wearing a long green skirt as her splash, an audacious amount of color for their station. Wide apron over the front, curly light-brown hair that bunched up around her head like a cloud. She was carrying a shovel.

Szeth gasped, jaw dropping. They couldn’t mean…

She hurried up to them, shovel on her shoulder. Father nodded to the new rock, and Mother let out a relieved sigh. “So small? You had me worried with that message, Neturo.”

“Mother?” Szeth said. “What are you doing?”

“Just a quick relocation,” she said, slapping the wooden shovel. “We’ll dig up the rock, haul it off a few hundred yards, then place it in the soil there. Let it rain a little so it seems to have naturally poked up, then tell everyone about it.”

Szeth gasped. “We can’t touch it!”

Mother pulled a pair of gloves from her pocked. “Of course not. That’s why I brought these gloves, dear.”

“That’s the same thing!” Szeth said, horrified. He looked to his father. “We can’t do this, can we?”

Father scratched his beard. “Depends, I suppose. On what you think, son.”

“Me?”

“You found the rock,” Father said, looking to Mother, who nodded in agreement. “So you can decide.”

“I pick what’s right!” Szeth said immediately.

“Is it right for us to lose our home?” Father asked.

“I…” Szeth pulled back, glancing at the house.

“There might be dozens of rocks down under here,” Father said. “If that’s the case, we should absolutely move. But in the hundreds of years that rain has fallen on this plain, only one has emerged. So it’s unlikely. Moving this stone a few hundred yards will still make the Shamans watch this region, without the rocks being so close together. No worry that there will be more. But then again, we’d have to move it in secret. We’re supposed to have reverence for the stone, treat it as home of the spren. That’s why you dance to it.”

“We hate the stonewalkers on the outside,” Szeth said, “because of how they treat the stone.”

Father knelt down, one hand on Szeth’s shoulders. “We don’t hate them. They’re people who just don’t know the right way of things.”

“They raid us, Father,” Elid said, arms still folded. “That’s not just them being confused.”

“Yes, well. Maybe those ones are evil. But it’s not because they live in a place with too much stone. It’s because of the choices they make.” He smiled at Szeth and nodded his head, his beard juggling like it did when he laughed. “It’s okay, son. You can choose what you want. If you want us to go turn this in now, well, we’ll go do it.”

“Can’t you just… tell me what to do?” Szeth asked.

“No, I don’t think that I can,” Father said. “Unfair to put you on the spot, I suppose, but the spren did it, so now we just have to live with it. We can move the rock, or move our home. I’ll accept either one.”

“Maybe we should let him sleep on it,” Mother said.

“No,” Szeth said. “No. We can… we can move it.”

All three of them relaxed as he said it, and he felt a sudden shameful resentment. His father said he could choose, but they’d all three clearly wanted a specific decision. He’d made it, he felt, not because it was right, but because they wanted it.

But how could all three of them want it if it wasn’t right? Maybe Szeth was just broken in some way that he couldn’t see it the way they did. Maybe it was all right to just… be lax about all of this. He still hated this entire situation. If they just told him what they intended to do and then done it, that would have been fine. But why give him the choice? Didn’t they see that made it his fault, what they were doing?

“Let me dig about it,” Mother said, putting on her gloves. “Looks small, but that can be deceiving. Wouldn’t want to find out it’s secretly as big as a house under there.”

They all stepped back; Mother started digging around it. Szeth winced each time the shovel scraped the stone. That was not a natural sound. He hoped they would, indeed, discover that the rock was enormous, so the plan had to be abandoned. But, in the end, it really was just kind of small, a foot across at its widest. He could have held it in one hand, if he wanted to. No, no. Don’t think like that, he told himself, put his hand down to his side.

Molly the ewe, seeming to have sensed his tension, rubbed up against him. He felt at her wool, her warmth, hoping to draw strength from it.

Mother seemed a little unsure, now that she dug the rock out. She stepped back, leaving it in the hole. She hadn’t touched it at all.

“You scraped it,” Elid said. “That seems kind of… obvious that it has a scrape on it.”

“Once we’ve buried it again,” Mother said, “no one will see those scrapes.”

“How much trouble would we be in if someone finds out what we did?” Elid asked.

“I suspect the farmer wouldn’t be happy,” Father said. He laughed, then, and it seemed genuine. “Might require some cake to make up for it! Don’t give that look, Szeth; we’ll show devotion because we choose to. And so, that kind of devotion is ours to make.”

“I… don’t understand,” he said. “Don’t the Stone Shamans tell us what to do?”

“They tell us the teachings of the spren,” Mother said. She shouldered her shovel. “But we choose how to interpret the teachings. What we’re doing today is reverent, enough for me, at least.”

Szeth thought on that for a moment and wondered, as this was not the first clue in his life (but might be the most stark one) if this was the reason, perhaps, they chose to live on the outside of town. Even other shepherd families lived inside the buildings there, beneath the shadow of the monastery. He’d gone with his family each month for devotion since he could remember. He didn’t dare think that his family wasn’t faithful. Yet, the older he got, the more he had questions like these. It was only today, however, that he really confronted the fact. What did he feel about his parents doing something he knew the Shamans wouldn’t approve of?

They were all still standing there, staring at the rock, when the horn sounded. Father looked up, then whispered a soft prayer to the spren of their stone. The horns meant raiders on the coast coming in from the east, the lands of the stonewalkers.

Szeth felt an immediate panic. “What do we do?” he said.

“Gather the sheep,” Mother said. “Quickly. Drive them toward Dyson’s Valley near the town. The farmer has troops in that region. We’ll be safe if we move inland.”

“But… this!” Szeth said, gesturing to the rock. “This!”

Mother, suddenly seeming determined, just reached down and grabbed it in two gloved hands. Together, all four of them froze, then looked inward, toward the family’s stone. It sat there, unblinking, unmoving. None of them were struck down. And Szeth thought he could tell, from the way his parents relaxed after a moment, that they hadn’t been certain what would happen, either. At least it seemed his parents hadn’t secretly been moving rocks around all their life. This was a new experience for them.

Mother walked over to the nearby tree, then careful placed the stone into a gnarled nook near the roots. She then hid it with a handful of leaves. “That will do for now,” she said. “If raiders do come to the house, they’ll think nothing of a stone. They don’t feel or commune with them. They ignore the spren.”

Father and Elid went to start gathering the sheep. Szeth just held to Molly, who bleated softly, and wished this day had never begun.

#the stormlight archive #stormlight 5 #kowt #cosmere #brandon sanderson #cfsbf #root #wob #kind of #long post

[allylikethecat]

I would love if you could do gatty smut prompt with #8. Thank you so much for blessing us with all your writing

I want to start this off by saying thank you so much for sending this prompt in! I had a lot of fun attempting it and I’m very sorry that it is going to be a major let down. I was feeling very ambitious and was like hell yeah I got this and thought that I was for sure going to be able to write a fun smutty prompt fill. Then I was reminded how awful I am at writing smut 😂 So, I apologize for this being not hot and very cringe - I tried my best though! And if you’re gonna laugh, make sure it’s with me and not at me because I am a sensitive soul 😂 anyway without further ado here she is - Ally attempts smut 🤣

Thank you for having faith in me! 

❤️Ally

8. “My God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”

“My god,” George rasped, reaching down to thumb away the tears dripping from the corner of Matty’s left eye, his long, dark lashes clumping together as his eyes watered, fluttering against his cheeks like angel’s wings as he tried desperately to keep them open. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this.” And he was, his cheeks flushed, his curls sweaty and askew, looking up at George with empty eyes, his pupils blown wide. His bitten red lips were swollen, stretched around George’s girth like it was what he was made to do. Like he was made to be used, like he was made for George to fuck his throat. Like it was his divine purpose on this Earth.

Matty preened, humming at the praise, causing George to dig his fingers into his hair, tugging roughly on the curls, forcing himself deeper down Matty’s throat, with no regard for his gag reflex as he chased his pleasure. Matty swallowed around him, his breath coming out through his nose in a strained whistle whilst his throat clenched and his mind grew fuzzy.

“So good for me,” George murmured, pulling Matty’s head back, arching his neck, before slamming his hips forward again. Matty whined, his entire body rocking with the motion, drool dripping down his chin in thick rivers of saliva as he swirled his tongue. It was wet, messy and uncoordinated, his head empty and heavy, the weight of George’s cock on his tongue the only thing keeping him alive, George’s rough grip on his curls the only thing holding his head up.

George knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, not with the way Matty was moving his tongue, not with the way his eyes kept rolling back in his skull, not with the way he was gagging on George’s cock, desperate for him, trying in vain to take him deeper and deeper, as if he tried hard enough they could mold themselves together into one singular celestial being.

“Such a good boy,” George praised him, loosening his grip to pet Matty’s jaw, feeling himself staining against Matty’s cheek. “So pretty.” Matty whimpered, his hips bucking against the air, George words sending him spiraling further and further away from his body, desperate for his own release, but desperate to be good.

“Can you come like this?” George asked, knowing Matty had before. “Can you come from just the pleasure of choking on my cock?”

Matty whined, palming himself through his jeans, straining painfully against the zipper, so overcome by George, by his own need.

George growned, the sound low as he jerked Matty’s head back, causing him to cough, releasing George’s cock with a wet pop. “I didn’t say you could touch,” he chastised and Matty whimpered, his eyes closed, lips ajar, panting desperately, tears of despair leaking from his eyes and he dug his nails into Geroge’s thighs. He felt empty and untethered, like he was spiraling out of control without the weight of George to ground him. George jerked himself roughly, once, then twice, coming across Matty’s face, the thick ropes of his release splashing across his jaw, iridescent pearls clumping in his curls and gathering over his eye lashes. Matty moaned, his tongue darting out, slick and red, licking at the spray of splatter painting his skin.

George reached out, hauling him up by his hair, bringing their lips together, kissing Matty roughly, kissing him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting himself on his breath. He bit Matty’s lower lip, dragging his hips forward.

“Get yourself off,” George ordered, and Matty keened, grinding his hips roughly against George’s thigh, desperately. His cock aching as it pressed into the metal teeth of his zipper. But he knew now he wasn’t permitted to touch, he was only given what George allowed him.

“Gorgeous,” George praised, drunk off his own orgasm. “You’re fucking gorgeous, getting yourself off for me, so close just from sucking my cock.”

Matty let out a shaky breath, his jaw slack as he panted, his head falling forward, his chin dropping to his chest, his curls falling to cover his face.

“Open your eyes love,” George said, tilting Matty’s head back and  pressing his thumb to his eyelid, “I want to see those pretty eyes of yours when you come. So pretty just for me.”

Matty’s hips stuttered and he stilled, twitching as he clenched his jaw, before collapsing against George, no longer able to hold himself up as he lost all sense of self.

“Good boy,” said George soothingly, running his hand down Matty’s back. “Such a good boy.”

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #fanfiction #smut prompt #prompt fill #im so sorry for this #i am aware it is not good #please be nice though i really tried #keep it kind #smut prompt fill #smut prompt fills #prompt fills

[astarab1aze]

❝ mwen ta kite ou ruine mwen. ou p'ap janm konnen yon lòt moun tankou ou konnen mwen. ❞ he climbed over him , threw his leg up over Loux's waist and sat down with all the airs of a king on his throne. ( claim the monster your created )

"Èske ou ta pèmèt mwen...? Sal, sal mwen...? Ya'd let th' mos' worthless sack o' shit drop t'is knees an' repent fer all 'is sins?"

All that sweet mischief drained away the second Saint claimed his lap, a hand instinctively resting on the meat of his thigh, stormy eyes affixed to mirrored depths. Flipping defilement into worship, into ardent declarations dressed up in silver-tongued entendres, freshly licked lips drawing into a perfect bow belying true intent. Woe, to be a hapless member of the congregation traveling the pews to slide his arms around those hips, dips his hands past his waistband and stroke his cock from behind, adoringly nip at the space between his shoulders, cup and squeeze and fondle until curious fingers slipped and dragged along slick, puffy lips. How he'd love to start slow and sweet, so gentle, so befitting a bashful believer - only to baptize himself between his legs in a rush of sighs and delirious moans, in a river parted only by his reverential tongue. Woe, to suckle and hum on tender bundles of nerves, so eager to prove to Saint the sincerity of his devotion, the heat of his palms on thick thighs to etch it into his skin. "Èske ou ta kite yon dyab sou tè apa pou Bondye, kè mwen?"

Lost in a fantasy, but never more keenly aware of the richness of Saint's skin, the definition of his face, and the gaze boring into him as though every descending thought had been read, seen, heard. And oh, in any other moment, he might've hated that, but here and now - he could grin. A wolf in puppydog disguise, arms curling under Saint as he changed positions, guiding his other leg around his waist in turn and pushing up, up, up- Warm, achingly hard flesh bubbled and shifted to life, one becoming two and straining so awfully in his pants, thick, tingling with anticipation and excitement. Trotting around like a fox in the henhouse, all but ready bury his teeth into sleek fabric and tear it clean from Saint's body, bury his nose into muscle and soft skin, ghost his tongue along curves and planes awash with goosebumps. What hungry, starved breaths shook out of him then, something carnally predatory shining in his eyes - nothing so sinister, but wholly ravenouse nonetheless, all that desperation burning and burning. So easy a decision to make, to bend his his knee and pray at the altar of Saint's ever so desirous divinity. So delicate beneath him, wrapped around him in wait, what beautiful eyes do watch him as he moves.

What a blessing it would be to have him spread wide open and demanding his cocks, yanking on that leash.

"Mwen ta ruine ou, ma cheri... Avek plezi. Avek lanmou..." Kisses pressed to collarbones, teeth catching on smooth skin. So pleasant and inviting a scent drawing him ever further toward the brink, heart pounding in his chest. Oh, to be nervous when at last seizing his opportunity to show Saint how pathetic and foul in his affections he could be, was. How on earth could he stand to be anxious in being his truest self, as much a declaration of his being as it was his love? Between kisses, bites, between kisses and firm grinding, explorative hands and sloppy swipes of his tongue when at last he pushed Saint's legs aside, spread, away, traveling lower and lower where nose and mouth would find a home in damp fabric, so so eager to please--

"Mwen ta kite ou toutouni ak dezespere pou plis nan mwen. I would 'ave ya... I would have you."

#☿ || Asks. #✘ // Ever and Always On My Knees; Saint. #vaillain-he #nsft / #/ he is being deliberately slow about this #/ and also fantasizing so he has an excuse to wax poetic about it #/ it's all love and affection but it is most certainly Filthy