#kill that bird man pleas-

[buckypinetrees]

Warm

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: You and Bucky are forced to go on a team bonding getaway together. Tensions rise.

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, enemies-to-lovers, boob play, oral (Fem receiving)

A/N: First fanfic I've written in years and the first time I've ever written for Bucky. Feedback is very much appreciated in the comments.

Part 2

You had run out of places to run. You had run further into the woods than you intended. You had been trained for this, you reminded yourself. Taking a deep breath, you scanned the area around you. The knotted mess of trees and plants surrounding you struck no chords of familiarity in your bones. You were lost.

“You lost, doll?” you heard a voice sneer. The voice of the man you were stuck with out here in the middle of nowhere for a “training session” Bucky Barnes. 

“I’m fine,” you mustered as much anger and spite into your voice as you could manage. 

“I could show you the way back.” The stupid smirk that pervaded your dreams gleamed. 

            You pushed forward avoiding talking to him further. You heard him try to continue the banter, but your mind was elsewhere. Stuck on the fact that you had to spend an insufferable week here with him in the name of team bonding. You understood why Steve had made the decision. The last fight between you and Bucky had ended in the drywall of the training room being completely turned to bits. But there had to have been other ways. Surely, they could have sent you guys on different missions, planning out your schedule so your presences never had the chance to grace each other. But no, here you were with the man who had made your entire time at the compound a living hell.

Finally coming out of your thoughts you examined the area surrounding you. The woods thickened and the whisper of birds sang above you. Peaceful. That was what this was. Maybe the first semblance of peace you encountered since yesterday when you were jetted here against your will. Your pleas for anything different fall on deaf ears. Steve had said it would be good for you. 

You had sat in the clearing for what seemed like hours. The sun had started to set in the distance and the birds stopped chirping. The temperature had fallen what seemed like 20 degrees in an hour and you realized you didn’t have much time to get back to the cabin before you froze to death. Maybe death would be sweeter than the taunting and humiliation you would face if you had returned there. Before you left you told Bucky that you would rather die than spend a night in the cabin with him. Returning now would make it seem like you were weak, and you couldn’t stand the smug look that would be on his face when you returned. 

“Still lost, little dove?” his voice rang in your ears.

“Don’t call me that” you bit back the urge to scream at him. He had been using these pet names against you from the moment you arrived. Seeing you as nothing but an average civilian. 

“It’s getting cold out, and I’m not going to let your stubbornness get you killed,” Bucky admitted. You answered with a vulgar gesture. “Okay, have it your way, I’m returning to the cabin. You can follow me back or you can freeze.” 

You heard Bucky’s footsteps soften as he started walking away. You rose, knees aching as you stretched them for the first time in hours. Trying to be as quiet and discrete as possible you followed his trail back to the cabin. It took you a while, not to realize how deep you had truly ventured into the woods. Watching him through the window you readied yourself for his snide remarks. You could handle this. You rarely lost your temper in other situations but with Bucky, there was just something truly infuriating about him. 

Walking through the door, the smell of the stove pervaded your senses. He had made dinner, probably just for himself. The conditions of this little “getaway” were simple. The cabin was made available for you two to shelter in but everything other than that you would have to fend for yourself. So, no food, unless you hunted, no clean water unless you searched for it, and no heat unless you cut the wood yourself. You thought back to how stupid you had been. Instead of spending the first day here using your efforts to find any of these things, you threw a tantrum. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you smelled the aroma of food sizzling on the stove. 

“Hungry, doll?” He sneered as if reading your mind. “Too bad you were lost in the woods the entire day. I only had enough time to find a meal for myself.” His eyes found yours as he hit his mark with his ravenous words. 

“I said earlier, I am fine. I don’t need your help here. I’m on the team for a reason. I can survive the week just fine” not daring to give him the dignity of seeing you fail. You made your way towards the shower. You heard him chuckle behind you. You locked yourself inside the bathroom, trying to steady yourself. You hated the smug expression on his face. He would be truly handsome if he didn’t have such a bitter interior. Being this close to him made you want to rip his throat out. This was going to be a long week. 

            You emerged from the shower, dressed in your night clothes. The only luxury you and Bucky were afforded was packing your clothes for the week. Bucky was spread out on the couch, a grin spread across his lips. 

            “Oh, just so you know, I didn’t get any wood for the fire. I don’t need it seeing my enhancements and all, but you might get cold. Should’ve thought about it before you acted like a toddler earlier” his grin never ceased as he eyed you up and down. His gaze always felt dirty on your skin. He would never see you as part of the team. To him, you were just a stray they found and had the kindness to take in. 

            You didn’t deign to respond to his mockery. The less you had to talk to Barnes the better. You simply shuffled past him to reach the bedroom. An old shaggy duvet sat aloft a bed that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, but it would do. You wrapped yourself as tightly in the blanket as possible already feeling the chill seeping into your bones, both from the cold and your lack of nutrition. You ignored it, wishing you could also ignore the whistles and hums coming from the living room. He was loving this. Your misery was delicious to him. He was drinking it in. You tried to turn off the thoughts running through your head and slept.

            You had awoken in the middle of the night shivering. The cold is too impertinent now to ignore. On top of that, you were hungry. You hadn’t eaten since you guys had started the flight here, almost 24 hours ago. Tossing and turning, you had tried to stay in bed for as long as possible. Finally rising you made your way to the bathroom. It was a smaller room. Maybe it kept heat trapped in better. As you walked out of the bedroom, Bucky rose to sit up on the couch. 

            “What are you doing up?” His voice was husky with sleep. Any other man with this voice would make your toes curl and you would be completely pliant in his hands. 

            “I had to go to the bathroom.” You whispered out meekly.

            “Sure, little dove, it’s not because your cold right?” You shook your head, not daring to talk again in case your teeth chattered. “You see,” Bucky continued, “with my enhancements, I could hear your little body shivering in that bed. The sound of your chattering teeth started to sound like white noise. You know I could help you if you just admit that you acted like a brat this morning.” 

            You scoffed at him. Why would you not act the way you had when forced to go on this little retreat with him? And what did he mean by helping you? You had had enough of him. 

            “I don’t need your help, Barnes. You’re an ass!” Your tone rises as you spit the words at him.

            “You say one thing and yet your body betrays you every time. Look how hard you’re trying not to shiver. C’mon, just admit it. You acted like a spoiled little brat today and you need me to fix your mistakes.” His eyes never left your frame as he examined the way your body continued to shake from the cold. 

            “No.”

            “Okay then freeze, but then you’re going to be weaker tomorrow because you didn’t get any sleep and then I’ll have to spend all day caring for your ass because Steve made me promise that I wouldn’t let you die out here” he grunted out. “So, either let me take care of you now, or deal with it tomorrow. It’s your choice little dove.”

You wanted to scream at him, fight him, anything to wipe the smug grin that sat on his face like a permanent fixture when you were in his presence. You felt the heat radiating off him. He didn’t even need a blanket to keep warm. Your words betrayed your mind as you muttered out a “fine.” He rose from his spot on the couch moving closer to you. That ever-present smirk waltzing towards you.

“I’d offer you a spot on the couch, but it might be a little small for the two of us. Shall we move this to the bedroom?” His eyes raked over your figure as he stepped closer. Just being this close to him was already starting to warm you up. Not to mention the heat that flooded your cheeks at the word he spoke. 

He grinned as he gripped your hand. “Hmm, you are freezing.” A brief glimpse of concern showed on his face. “Don’t worry we’ll get you all warmed up doll.”

You followed him into the bedroom, assessing how you would get him back tomorrow for making you feel so weak. Climbing onto the bed you felt him wrap his body around you. A weird foreign feeling to be seeking out comfort from what you considered your sworn enemy. But he was so warm, and his hands felt so gentle as he traced lazy shapes onto your chill-bitten skin. Your head instantly went empty as you savored the way his body pressed against your backside. He truly was beautiful with his dark locks and his cerulean blue eyes. The cold must’ve affected you worse than you thought if you were thinking such sweet things about Bucky. 

            While you were lost in thought you had continued to shift ever so slightly against him. His hand stopped instantly steadying you.

            “Stop moving” he managed to growl out with a hint of something different in his voice. Unconcerned you continued to shift as you tried to get comfortable and that’s when you felt it.

            “B…Bucky” you managed to squeak out now aware of his current situation. His hands felt too hot suddenly. Your body temperature rises way too high as the flush spread from your cheeks to your chest. You thanked God as you realized it was too dark for him to notice the blush spreading throughout his body. You shifted so that your backside was no longer pressed against him. Your body fully turned to him now. 

            “I think I’m warm enough now Bucky,” your voice was barely a whisper.

            “You know what I think…” Bucky paused assessing the words he was about to say, “I think you’re a brat who makes it so damn hard for me to think about anything but this when you’re in the room.” He punctuated the sentence by gripping your ass in his hands hard, earning a moan out of you. 

            “Bucky,” you moaned out brokenly, too high off adrenaline to push him away or pull him closer. 

            “And do you know what I think you truly need? To be taught to mind your manners,” His voice dripped with lust as he moved his lips to your neck barely ghosting them over your pulse point. 

            You were a mess against him. You felt the dampness in your panties and your blood pound beneath your skin. Every sense was going haywire as you felt his hands roam your body. He took his time grabbing at every inch of your skin through your clothes. 

            “Please” you choked out. “Please touch me.”

            “Aww…She does have manners,” He responded mockingly. “But I am touching you, maybe I need to teach your patience as well.” His hands gripped harder into your sides as he positioned you beneath him. 

            Just as you opened your mouth to protest his teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck. Arching your back trying to feel more of him, you whined against him. His metal arm came to rest against your hips keeping them in place as he slithered from you. He opened the blinds, so moonlight flooded into the bedroom. 

            “I want to see my meal before I eat it,” he smirked from his position by the window. The moonlight streaming showed how blown his pupils were, and if you had a mirror, you would assume yours would be the same. He moved ever so slowly towards you, the grin of a predator on his lips. His hands came to rest on the edge of your shirt.

            “I’ve wondered how pliant you would be underneath me. How easily you would listen to every word I say” his hands began making quick work of your shirt exposing your bare breast to him. Your body shines blue underneath the moonlight.

            “Beautiful,” he murmured more to himself than to you, but your body still keened at the praise. His hands explored the newly visible skin. You felt his warm tongue start to explore your right breast, giving little sucks and bites as he avoided your nipple. His metal hand doing the same motions on your left side. 

            “Bucky, please…” Your whines and groans were pathetic as you urged him to touch your most sensitive spots. Something about your feeble attempts at persuading him must’ve stirred something in him because he began to attack your breast with a new fervor. Your moans became even louder as he sucked and nipped at your budding nipples. His metal hand left your breast and steadied himself. His human one makes quick work to slide into your underwear. 

            “Someone’s so needy,” he tsked against your skin. His fingers explored the wetness found there. It was too much. Your head felt heavy and light at the same time. All sense of morality floated out of your head as you reached for his shirt. “Please” became your mantra as he continued to rile up your already supple body. You were pleading for this man you had run from earlier to hurry up and fuck you. 

            He removed his shirt and your underwear, and you sighed thinking you had finally gotten to the part where he slides into you. Bucky had other ideas as he pulled your cunt closer to his face. He let out an exploratory lick that had your body pressing against him further. He found a motion that you liked as he let himself feast. Your moans bounced off the wall fueling him further. He began to devour you.

            “You taste so sweet” The vibration made your body bend further into him. Seeing this as a pleasant sign he sweeps his finger against your aching hole, watching as your eyes widen in anticipation. He slides it in, and you finally submit to him fully. Knowing that this man could do anything he wanted to you, and you would willingly take it. 

            He ate you like he needed you to orgasm. Like it was the sole purpose, he was placed onto this Earth. Your head began spinning. The heat begins building up deep in your core. You clenched around his skilled fingers and felt yourself tumble off the ledge letting out a string of words all broken and all ending in Bucky’s name. Your body shook as he continued through your orgasm until you were spent. 

            Doe eyes met Bucky’s gaze as you finally regained some sense. You reached for him, hands grazing his bare chest as you came down. Bucky simply separated himself from you, moving towards the doorway. 

            “Hope you’re warm now, little dove.” His smirk returned to his face as he left you and returned to the couch.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky fluff #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x reader smut #marvel x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfic

[smolvenger]

Could I Have The McOrgasm, Please? (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: You love Loki, but he loves another. You must join Loki on his trip to get Sylvie back by going to the McDonald's she's working at. No matter how much it hurts you on the inside...

Warnings: SMUT AT THE END! NSFW! (Oral, fem receiving, inappropriate uses of Loki's shadow powers, dirty talk, p in v sex). Angst and unrequited (or is it?) love with eventual fluff. Being Anti-Slyki and Anti-Sylvie so if you like the character or pairing you have been warned. This is my indulgent coping method for not getting with a fictional character. Also, as this is published, I don't know what the eff is going to happen in season 2. I just want this out so I can escape to delulu land when canon disappoints me.

Word Count: >8K (phew)

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (smut starts at the line "I want to have you, btw bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“Yes, she will be there,” Loki confirmed, looking at the restaurant.

You put your hands in your pockets. You were with Loki, Mobius, and a gentleman in a TVA jumpsuit at the McDonalds where Sylvie apparently worked. Just a hop, skip, and jump away. How much you took for granted-just traveling anywhere in space and time. Only, for this place and time was the one place you didn’t want to be. You wished you were anywhere else. A natural disaster, the poorest section of a medieval village, a gladiator tournament, a tuberculosis outbreak in London in the 1870’s-not this.

You didn’t want to watch as the man you loved went to pursue someone else. It was a peaceful place- just a McDonald's in the middle of a regular strip. The sun was gentle. Big clouds drifted in the sky. The birds were singing. You wanted to scream.

 You didn’t just like Loki as a friend. You loved Loki- him and only him. Loved him for a long time. Through the misadventures of life in the TVA, you helped him for long hours scouring over files. You ate lunch together. When the little capsules of pies arrived in the cafeteria for the lunch hour’s dessert options, you would pull out one for him and hand it with a smile. And when he cried over seeing what events were supposed to happen, you ran to embrace him.

Then one day he ran into the mysterious Loki variant- as it turned out her name was Sylvie. Just two days later he went missing with her. Then they reappeared. And then they vanished again. Then he reappeared and people were running in a panic. 

She left him. Kissed him, killed Kang, and then left him in the dust. But it didn’t occur to Loki that this was a betrayal he should be angry about. You remembered that day. He kept talking about her- until there was one phrase that hit you in the stomach.

“Please Y/N- I love her. Help me…help me find her and fix this!”

You would have preferred to be stabbed.

When he did say he loved her, you simply said “Oh, okay. I will.”

 You returned back to your room later that day. Forgetting the chaos and Mobius’s mysterious loss of memory. You sank onto the floor and cried. Cried so hard you couldn’t breathe. Cried so hard and curled up into a ball. Cried so hard you hardly slept for want of crying more.  

Even after what she did, he was still talking of her.  No. All he could talk of was Sylvie this and Slyvie that. Even with you. Why were you even doing this? 

“Uh…I don’t think I should be here…I think I should go back…” you murmured, taking a step back.

“You’re scared…of her? Y/N! You shouldn’t be! She’s incredible, you’ll love her! And you must- you’re the one who remembers what happened!” he insisted.

“What happened?” Mobius asked. The man in the jumpsuit only blinked.

“Y/N…please-I’m nervous…I need the support…” Loki begged at you. His mouth curled into a little frown and his eyes so big they shone like big stars.  You held in a breath. Those eyes. Damn, those eyes- like that of a kitten. You wanted to hug him and cuddle him- but you couldn’t. 

“Okay…” you voiced.

It was odd-not only being rejected, but being rejected for himself! How the hell would you explain that to a therapist?! The more you thought about it, the more it made you sick. The Spidermans in  New York apparently weren’t kissing each other, you heard. You shoved your arms to cross them and continued on. Perhaps if you walked quickly, you could get it over with. Holding your breath, you folded your arms and walked quickly in. Thinking of it like a vaccine- just a little pinch of pain for a brief bit, and then it would be over with. 

You stopped inside that bright, yellow building with its bright lights. There was a woman at the counter.

“Is that…” you asked.

Loki’s pale face turned a shade paler. “Yes.”

There you saw her. Not a glance- seeing her. Truly saw her up close. There were only glimpses when she ran around in the TVA. Here, her blonde hair was cut short beneath her cap and her eyes squinted in tired boredom. She smoothed her uniform. 

You noticed Loki see her. Frozen in his tracks, his mouth open.

“What are you waiting for?” you pressed. 

They kept looking at each other. With a shrug, she moved her eyes forward where a customer showed up to order a McFlurry. Loki blinked and turned to you.

“Does she recognize me?” he asked.

“Go ahead and find out. .” you replied.

“I…I feel like I can’t take another step…” Loki said, his chest falling in shallow breaths. 

Mobius waltzed up in front of you guys along with the variant man. 

“Well- I myself am starving hungry! Y/N-I bet you are too! Let’s order!” he churruped.

You followed them as Loki stayed a the door. Frozen in place. Mobius gestured to the counter. 

“Ladies first!” he chimed.

You stared at her as she finished the last order before you. Drinking in that now your invisible rival had a face. That “Sylvie” wasn’t a wisp of air, a pedestal you could never reach. But flesh and blood. That this was the woman Loki preferred. This was the woman who was Loki. Pale skin and short blonde hair. It seemed damp under her cap. Slender with a long, straight nose and pink lips. Sharp eyes like that of a falcon. Slight grace and ease with how she moved. And you knew from the hundreds of times how Loki boasted of how stupid Sylvie won some stupid fight with a stupid enemy in a stupidly easy manner. 

So many words were in there. You knew what she did. How miserable she really made him. After everything he did for her. And no matter if she felt the same or not, her actions did not account for it. What she did to him. The pure misery and despair on your beloved Loki’s face when she left him. The suffering she put him through even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

And envy. Yes, you were sick with envy. You hated yourself. You hated yourself because you weren’t her. And yet you hated her too. Only hate was swirling in her stomach. Your mouth stopped, for want of the thousands of things you could have said. The thousands of things you fantasized about saying, or doing. You took in a shaky breath, maybe to start one of them. To finally let it out. To scream at her. Yell in her face. They were there- words forming at you like grey clouds forming a thunderstorm. 

She beat you to it.

“Hello, welcome to McDonalds,” she said with a practiced smile. 

 She did not recognize you. She only gave you a nod and replied dutifully, like she repeated it 1,000 times every day.

“What would you like?” she asked, continuing on like she was an actor saying her lines.

To rip out all of your hair and scalp you until you’re screaming and bloody. You thought bitterly. But you did not say that.

“Could I have the-uh, Quarter pounder and small fries and a fountain drink, please?” you requested. 

She nodded with a small smile and tapped into the cash register. 

“My pleasure, coming up…” she said.

When you paid, she handed you the receipt. Then all you had to do was wait until the giant screen announced your order was ready. You felt dizzy as Mobius and the new guy ordered their food. 

Simple as that. Your motivation failed you. She didn’t know you. If you said or did anything, she would flee and get her manager. You would be known as “that” customer who made food service worker’s lives miserable. A story to be gasped or laughed about. And never showing you sympathetically. Or knowing the stories Loki would boast about her-whip out her own daggers and slice you into ribbons. 

You took a step back. Unable to peel her eyes off of her. Imagine her as he would describe- not in a uniform but in tight leather showing a perfect and beautiful slim body. A fighter who could defeat anyone in combat without blinking an eye and who could bring down the whole TVA. 

Could you do that? No- you weren’t some fierce, flawless, warrior goddess. No- you were afraid. Vulnerable. That was your curse-she was extraordinary. You were just ordinary.

You began to mentally list your personal insecurities. How could you even compare to her? No wonder Loki worshipped the ground she walked on after she used him as a punching bag. The screen announced your food and another worker handed you a tray with the burger, fries, and cup. That was a clear sign from the universe itself- might as well drown yourself in comfort food. 

You noticed Loki finally moved from his place. You couldn’t even watch- not even to get your drink. You grabbed your tray of food and fled to a far corner near the bathrooms. Where you couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them. You wanted to huddle and hide and make yourself invisible.

Then you heard footsteps- rapidly walking around. You looked up to see who it was. It wasn’t Mobius. It wasn’t even the variant in the tracksuit- You could recognize that peachy ass in those brown office khakis anywhere. 

He turned his black curls everywhere as he turned his head to search. Loki went up to you, and then his shoulders relaxed. He even bent a little to meet eyes where you were sitting. 

“Y/N, all the way here?” he asked.

You were such a sucker for that face, especially how soft, how sweet he could look. How could you say no to his presence now? 

“Uh…yeah,” was all you could say. 

As he took a step forward to where you sat, he leaned down, his hands still in his jacket pockets. 

“Where were you- I got worried. Maybe someone had attacked you, or took you,” he fretted.

“I’m fine,” you lied as you took a bite of the burger. “Just wanted to sit here-more private.”

He then pulled up to the chair and sat across from you. 

“How’s the wedding planning?” you wanted to ask bitterly. You did not. You looked down at your food, then up at him. He sat so casually, so easily. He folded one leg over another and set an arm down. You pulled out your bag of fries. It was so piping hot it hurt a little- but that was how you liked it.

“I’m nervous too, Y/N. I have to tell you…I cried this morning…I know I have to face her. I’ve taken over cities, I’ve battled monsters, but this…this is different…” Loki confessed.

You chewed on a fry instead of replying. Tasting the crispy hot potato flavor. He let out a deep exhale, putting a hand lightly over his mouth. 

“What’s wrong with me, Y/N?” he asked.

You wiped the salt onto your pants. The words flowed out of you easily. Too easily. 

“Nothing is wrong with you, Loki! You’re the nicest, sweetest, bravest, sexiest being in the whole-”

“What was that last one?” he asked, tilting his head, his blue eyes squinting. 

You immediately froze, the fry you were about to eat hung in mid-air. You felt hot with embarrassment. 

“You’re the nicest, smartest being in the whole universe!” you said.

Before he could say anything else, you began digging further into those hot fries. “Mmph, These are so good. And just right-right when they’re out of the fryer.” You chatted on, desperate to change the subject after your little Freudian slip.

“Can I…try one?” he asked.

He held out his hand and you pressed a few fries into it. He chewed on them and then smiled as he tasted them.

“Not bad! Midgard food isn’t as pitiful as I thought!” he replied.

Mobius returned with his tray along with his companion. They ate and Mobius commented on how the Sweet and Sour sauce was his favorite. Loki looked at him, his smile dropping. Then he turned to you, his voice low. Mobius kept on chatting about everything to the variant. 

“He still doesn’t remember…It seems all who care about me just…either die or leave or hurt me…” he mourned.

“I don’t…and think of Thor. Yes, you two fight. But he loves you. And remember your own mother! They care about you. They always will…and so will I…” you assured him.

Your hand moved up to touch his, then froze and retreated. Then he turned to you.

“Y/N?”

“Mhhm?” you asked, a mouth full of food. 

“...You have salt on your chin…” he commented.

He reached out his hand to cup it. Your breath stopped at his touch- so gentle, so soft. His large thumb grazed over your chin slowly. Your mouth opened a little, feeling his light brush as his thumb swiped the bits of salt away. How small it seemed under his large hands. But he wasn’t hurting you in the slightest- it felt like a caress. A light kiss. Once his thumb went back to his hand, his eyes went to yours. Seeing his blueness, his large, dark pupils. As if something unspoken was exchanged between you. You saw him swallow hard. 

Taking in a deep breath after that, you retreated, putting your hands on your lap and looking down. The heaviness of sudden arousal from his touch had shocked your system. You reached for your drink to cool off but realized it was empty. You had eaten all of your meal. There wasn’t food you could use to hide now. You forced yourself to take deep breaths- in, two three four, out two three four. 

“There that’s…that’s better,” Loki said. 

“Thank you- it won’t be easy, but….one day, you won’t be sad about what happened. You won’t feel nervous or scared…you’ll get over it Loki, bit by bit,” you encouraged softly. 

He leaned forward in his chair, his hands folding on the table.

“Ah, tell me, my dear Y/N- Have you ever had your heart broken?”

The burger in your throat dried up. You took your napkin and bunched it into a ball in your hand. 

“Yes,” you answered plainly. Fighting back the urge to laugh.

“I never did! Never! None of that drama! I’ve never been more relieved!” Mobius sang out as he chewed on a nugget. His companion only kept tearing at his burger.

“Is it terrible?” Loki asked. His brows knotted in curiosity.

“Very. Still is,” you replied.

“How did you cope with it? You little mortals-going about your own lives and your own heartbreaks?” he asked generally.

You shoved aside the tray and folded your arms. Then you began to speak.

“Realizing that love shouldn’t be a prison.”

“A prison?” Loki repeated. He leaned forward. Staring right at you. Truly listening to you. You continued, though you felt your body tense up. Knowing what you said was honest- too honest. 

“I was…not with him in any way. He wasn’t my boyfriend or lover or hookup or whatever. This guy- I thought… he should be with whoever makes him happy….”

Even with someone who betrayed him, manipulated his feelings, and left him crying. 

“Love means letting go. It’s the right thing to do- it’s still hard though,” you finished. 

Loki registered nothing beneath the surface of that. He merely shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He looked at you, giving you a small smile. 

“I’m glad you’re alright and happy now, Y/N. I remembered the time you were about to fall off the TVA balcony right over those statues last month…”

“And you caught me-you saved my life!”

“To think…me…a hero for once…” he commented.

“That’s a Loki for you! A pure miracle for your kind!” Mobius commented. 

He took a long sip of his Sprite. 

 “Wow! Now this is a drink!” he exclaimed, inside the cup for the bubbly carbonation. 

“Well, Mobius, this isn’t fiction. No one is all good or all bad. And Loki, no one entirely bad does that…everyone’s a mix of good and bad,” you added on. 

“What’s your bad parts, Y/N? Any weaknesses” Loki asked curiously.

“I…get jealous…” you confessed. 

The god’s jaw lowered to the ground. His voice dared to raise a little bit from his surprise. 

“Jealous!? But…you’re…you’re so kind! I’m the jealous one!” he said. 

You continued on. The words poured out of you more quickly than you could register or control them. 

“It doesn’t mean I never feel jealous. Or am tempted to do things like take her face and smash it over the McDonad’s register.”

“What?!?!”

You stopped. A hand flew over your mouth to cover it. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, what the fuck was I thinking?!?! you cursed silently. Another slip. And this time, he heard it clearly. No hiding around it.

“Whose face are you talking about?” Loki asked further.

“I…Forget that…I didn’t say anything! Good luck with your meet-cute and reunion and all that. Have fun- bye!” you dismissed quickly. 

You grabbed your tray. 

“Y/N…wait…” he said.

“Where is she going?” Mobius asked, tilting his head. He then remembered he had more sweet and sour sauce with his McNuggets and began dipping into them with a childish glee.

He reached out and grabbed your arm. You pulled against him and he held you back.

“What’s going on!?” the god asked. 

“Don’t touch me- save it for her!” you hissed out. Yanking away from him- not even looking at his face. 

You looked right at the door and walked hurriedly. Momentum, panic, pulling you out of there. You kept your eyes on the exit as you dumped your trash into the bin. You walked to the outside of the McDonalds. It was sunny with the sun’s orange glow and a little chilly. You got the tempad from your pocket to return. But then you heard  Loki jog behind you. You kept walking down the pavement. Glad that there weren’t moving cars right now. If not, you wished a moving one would hit him and send him flying. But it didn’t. 

“Y/N, stop!” he insisted.

You stopped walking. But you turned around. You didn’t look at him- only at the rows of cars and empty parking spots in the strip. But you heard him behind you. 

“I’ve stopped. Now what?” you asked. At least you could hide behind sass and snark. It made the pain better. 

“Whose face were you talking about?” he asked. 

“I’ve got to go, Loki,” you urged.

“Y/N, wait!” he cried. 

You felt him grab you. He turned you around, his arms gripping you into place. His eyes were intense and his jaw lowered. He still looked so handsome- like a dream. His intensity, the feel of his bare hands on you making it more intense, making him more attractive. You were forced to face him. Your eyes were brimming with more tears. He almost shook you as he held you- so strong. His skin, his scent. Like he wouldn’t let go of that for the world. If only you could experience that for yourself. 

“Y/N….are you…jealous of Sylvie?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I said something about hurting her. I know it was wrong to-but yes. I’m jealous of her. Have been for a while. Isn’t it obvious?” you asked.

“Why?!”

You burst into tears. Your jaw tightened.

“I need to go, Loki…just let go, please,” you begged. 

As you moved he held his grip on you.

“No! You’re not going anywhere until you tell me why!” he demanded. 

You thought confessions like this should be done in moonlit gardens or sexy hotel suites or something. Not the parking lot of a fucking Mcdonald's. But here you were.

“Why? Because I love you, Loki. More than as my friend-much more.”

“You…love me?” he asked. His eyes were wide. His jaw dropped and then it closed back, his pink lips barely parted. 

Your words sputtered out. His grip relaxed on your arms. You had no choice but to look him in the eye and talk. 

“ I’ve always loved you…I’ve loved you every afternoon, on weekdays, on coffee breaks. I’ve admired and taken note of every one of your feats. I stayed by when you were sitting at the TVA crying when she opened the multiverse and left you. But…the thing with love…is that it means letting go…”

How handsome he looked. His jacket-how warm would it feel? Would it smell like him? And the shirt that hugged his body. You glanced down and felt twinges of lust mixed with your sadness. With a man as delectable as he, you couldn’t help it. How broad yet lean and strong he was. How his bare skin would feel against your bare skin. How many times have you fantasized nightly about having him in your bed? But there was only one being in these universes and timelines who would know. And it wasn’t you.

“What…Y/N…really…all this time…” Loki murmured. 

. You felt anger in your throat and venom in your voice. 

“If you think the best relationship you need is with a woman who is literally you with a vagina who you knew for three days and then left you in the dust for her own gain, then take it! Because…beacuase…”

You began to step away. Ready for him to be angry at your words about her. His eyebrows lowered and there was no anger- only his parted lips of shock. You began Crying again. You thought you saw him tear up too. 

“Because that’s what you want, what you choose…and I have to let you go…”

You turned on your heels and promptly left. Wiping your tears on your sleeve. Using the tempad, you returned to your home. You ran inside, fell on your bed, and sobbed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Monday began, you were ready to work. You got in your nicer dress and cardigan for the day. The TVA office could get chilly. Right when you walked in, there was Loki. In his own work wear. You froze. What on earth were you going to say? What could you say?

“I was worried about you. How are you, Y/N? Feeling better?” he asked, putting his hands back in his pockets.

“You know…yes….yes I am…” you nodded.

He gave you a kind smile.  You waited for him to bring up what happened, what you said. He did not.

“How did…McDonalds go?” you asked.

“For your information, it went alright,” he informed you.

You felt a giant lump in your throat. You pulled your cardigan further over you-looking down on the floor as you spoke. 

“The reunion- did she-”

“She just wanted to focus on her job,” Loki answered before you could finish your statement.  He went up closer to you. “I hope your day at work goes well, my dear…if any supervisor gives you trouble, they’ll answer to me…wait- there’s a hair on your shirt,” he said.

He gently brushed it away on your shoulder.

“There you go- you look…you look nice today. The colors suit you,” he said.

“Oh, thank you.”

It was a normal, boring day. And the next day was a normal boring day- that was comforting. 

When you went into the cafeteria, you decided to buy lunch. After all, it was going to be the best meal they offered at the TVA- grilled ham and cheese with tomato soup-nice and warm. You counted your coins from your pocket to make up the total. It was cheap-but still eating at it every day could take a toll if you weren’t careful.

As you walked up with your change, the cafeteria lady shook her head in her hair net.

“Oh no- it’s on the house!” she said.

She gave you a smile as she brought a tray ready. Your own surprised face gleaming from the glass over the food.

“Really?!” you gasped incredulously. 

“Yes-your lunches are free from now on!” announced the cafeteria lady. 

“Oh…thank you!” you cried.

Smiling, she handed you a grilled ham and cheese and poured tomato soup into a bowl before handing it to you. They tasted especially warm and decadent. 

Loki appeared here and there. But he would ask after you. Talk to you. He never mentioned the warrior goddess version of himself to you. Not anymore, at least. But he didn’t bring up what he said. 

 As you got to your office desk on the fifth day, he was standing there- waiting for you. Your coworkers were watching with one eye from where they sat and worked. Some even stood up to see. 

“Hello, Y/N!” he greeted. 

 He walked forward and you gasped aloud when he turned. In his white hands was a glass vase full of fresh, beautiful flowers- your favorite kind. Bright and beautiful with a fragrance that sweetened the area that used to be full of the smell of crisp paper and old coffee. 

“I…I thought you might like this,” he offered, handing you the vase.

“I…I, uh…uh-thank you,” you said.

Why was he suddenly being nice? It then hit you- he still valued your friendship. Even if he didn’t feel the same, he didn’t want to let you go yet. Probably making peace. But you were in public, this wasn’t the time or place to discuss matters of the heart openly. But…that was better than a full friendship breakup. Of never seeing that mischievous, handsome god ever again.

You smelled the flowers and set them on your desk. He leaned against it, something glinting in his eyes. Something that made you feel fluttery and distracted you from the start of the day.  

“How’s the…Kang mission going?” you asked.

“Oh, it’s alright. If not well. A few bumps here and there- but things will probably be fine.  You have nothing to fear…but what about you? How is work?” he asked.

“It’s been downright slow the past few days. Then today it’s picked up, but…nothing I can’t handle.” you reported.

He leaned a little closer, the old trickster light beaming in his eyes. 

“Anyone being difficult? He asked. 

You couldn’t help but smile. 

“Some were in the past, but…but no.”

“Then…I hope you have a good day, Y/N. I will talk to you later. Don’t let them work you too hard, darling,” he said. 

He gave you a wink that sent butterflies into your stomach and then walked away.

How nice he was. Taking it so well. You always knew there was a little good in him. Even if all that was for someone who didn’t deserve him…

After work, you splurged on cheesecake and a bottle of wine.  You were going to need it.

After you got back home, you brought in your goods. You listened to sad music and cried to flush more of it out of your system.  Grieving Sylvie and Loki being a couple. Imagining them kissing and doing more than kissing by now a hundred times. You took a hot shower to cleanse every picture of it from yourself.  You changed into your pajama shirt and shorts. You sat on your chair in your room, ready to eat a generous helping of cheesecake and a generous glass of wine. 

You were going to go somewhere far from the TVA. You had to. Get a new job somewhere. Meet as many men as possible. Try other forms of dating. Or not just dating– just meet anyone. Forget him. Forget Loki. Forget his dark curls and blue eyes and sinful waist in those tight shirts and mischievous smile. Move on from him, move on from being rejected. Even if he was nice to you and wanted to still be friends. You were going to forget it all. Sacred timeline be damned. Your happiness and peace of mind was shattered.

Then it hit you…it was odd that out of nowhere you had free lunches at work. Why was that?

An answer hit you.

Could it…could it be…it was… No. It was bribery. Yes! All bribery because he needed help with some villain who lived in a mansion with purple robes and a flair for the dramatics. All being beside his perfect, flawless girlfriend. Having their love rubbed in your face. You wanted to spit. 

Right as you were about to take your first bite of cheesecake, There was a loud knock. 

“Y/N…please let me in…I have to talk with you,” a voice you knew too well asked from the door.

You gripped the seat of your chair.

“Loki?! Is that you?” you asked from where you sat. 

“Who else, darling?”

“Just use your magic and break into my place!” you replied.

“I’d rather enter with your permission…” he said. 

Not caring that you were in your sleepwear, you opened the door. Still in his jacket and TVA office wear, he stepped inside. Your hands curled into fists. He was beautiful as ever-jacket and cheekbones and all. You could have screamed at him. You could have punched him. You could have slammed the door in his face. 

But…you didn’t. You couldn’t.  You crossed your arms and took a step back, but you looked at him. 

“Loki…what are you doing here? What else can I say to you? Thanks for your gifts. I know you need help with Kang but…I can’t…I can’t do it…and you have someone waiting for you. Go to her. Go to who you love.” 

“But….I am with who I love…” he replied. 

A stone dropped into your stomach. Your whole body tightened. Your breath stopped and your throat ran dry.

He stepped inside. Then he cupped your face with both hands. 

“Y/N…I’ve been so blind…” he confessed.

Before another word was said, he kissed you on the lips. Deeply, sweetly. You smelled him- smelled popcorn and musk. Yet he tasted of cream on your lips, of froth. Like a dessert after dinner and twice as sweet. He held you so that your lips could stay together. Then he released, still holding your face. 

“Loki…what is this? What’s going on? Is this another…another of your tricks, then…” you asked, your voice only half of its strength. 

He kept you close. Looking right at you. His voice was so dulcet, so earnest. 

“It’s not. Y/N…I never realized how much you cared for me. How much you really did…and to think…I thought I was alone. But I wasn’t.  No one saw me…but you…and to think…all this time I was chasing after someone. A shadow. A dream. An illusion better than any I could conjure. An idea of her. Not realizing…that love, that sweetness I have wanted my whole life…was right in front of me…” he said softly.

“You finally came to your senses!” you cried.

Both of you let out a small laugh at that. 

“But…she’s with you to fight Kang- and you’re back together?” you asked.

“She doesn’t remember me. And she… wanted nothing to do with me. It struck me what she did…how she treated me. And then I thought of how you treated me…I kept thinking of you, thinking of you. I missed you. I looked for you. I…I didn’t want to cross paths with her…I realized…there was someone always there for me…yes-you…Oh, Y/N, I’ve been a fool,” he breathed. 

He held you and kissed you again and you almost gasped into it. Feeling him. You grabbed onto his jacket. Held him close-felt how close he was. His eyelashes. His tall cheekbones graze against your face. It made you shiver. He let go of the kiss, pressing his forehead onto yours.. Both of you closed your eyes and could hear his breathing fluttering.

“Y/N, my dear…can you forgive me?” he asked. 

“I can. Can you forgive me?” you asked. 

“I already have.”

He let go. He still kept his eyes on you as he reached his hand to the door and pushed it close. The momentum made it shut. His long finger made a swipe-out of it came a bit of green seidr. And you heard a click! The door locked in place.

“I wanted someone who loved me…who would take care of me…and it was you the whole time….it was you, Y/N…I…I don’t…” he muttered. 

He paused. Then he put his hands on his hips and looked down. He licked his lips and his eyes scattered, a blush on his cheeks. 

“I don’t…even know what to say now…how to put it…uh, Y/N…I…I, uh-”

“I love you too, Loki…and…I’m glad you’re okay now,” you breathed.

You were on him to kiss him again. He pulled you close. He moved a little tongue in. Your breath hitched from feeling him there. His hands on your back-keeping you pressed against him. Never wanting to let go. 

“Y/N…don’t let this end here. Let me stay…let me stay for tonight…” he whispered.

“You can stay,” you said with a nod. 

You felt his fingers dig into your skin. To leave his fingerprints on you. 

 He then moved on to kiss your neck. It tickled you a little. But he found a sensitive spot- a spot rarely kissed. He pressed his lips to it as he held you close. Then he used a bit of teeth. It elicited a groan from you. You felt him tense up as it escaped your lips. He sucked the area.

“Here…now you’ll never doubt that you are mine…and I am yours…”

 He made another bite, another mark. Arousal squirmed inside you, releasing out to your panties with his touch, his lips on your skin. He kissed you again and you melted into it. The friction between you was building up. He squared his hips to meet your own and you stifled a gasp. His hands wander down your body-exploring each curve and shape, hidden only by the thin cotton of your sleepwear. Feeling you like a discovery of forgotten land. Finding each nook and curve of your shape inside your clothes. But you did not move an inch away-but kept him there. You ran a hand up to feel his back-always so warm. Masculine even. 

“Loki…darling…” you moaned out as he kissed each bit of the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. His hands wrapped to be around your back.

He kissed you again. You reached your hand to rake through his dark curls- they had been washed and were so fresh and clean and soft-softer than the petals of the flowers on your desk. 

 You could feel something getting hard from his office pants. It brushed against the crotch of your own clothes and made you quench beneath.

“Y/N…my pet…I want…I want to have you…to have you now…will you let me?” he asked.

“Yes…yes, I do…I want you…” you agreed.

“Then… let's make up for lost time…” he growled.

He kept kissing you as he put his hands around your waist, grabbing you and taking you right to your bedroom. His hands moving back up to cup your face, to keep kissing you so close. He released and looked down at your clothes. He then touched your collar, seeing where it dipped, and showed a bit of your chest. He smiled as his hands went down, feeling the material. 

“If I knew this had any chance of happening, I would’ve worn something else…” you confessed.

“Does that really matter when the best part will always be beneath it?” he asked. 

With a flash of seidr from his fingers, the pajamas vanished and you were naked before him. You gasped at the cold. You fought the urge to cover yourself. It wasn’t that this was your first- but to show your body before Loki was a different matter. You have never wanted someone so bad, and you never felt more…vulnerable. Your arms flinched to cover your breasts then he caught you. 

“Ah-ah, Don’t hide your beauty from me, not anymore…” he said with a playful tone. 

He moved your arms aside to see you. He cupped one breast in his large, beautiful hand- thumb grazing the nipple, making you shiver. 

“Yes…that is the best part…” he said.

He kissed you again, his hand wandering down- feeling your bare back. Even grazing your bottom, then going up to your hips, your curves. He was feeling you- treasuring each inch of you. He kissed you again as you connected your hips to his. Electricity shooting through you. You let out a shuddering groan. He gave you another smile- it was so lustful, so devilisih, so him.  

“There’s something else I can do, my Y/N…would you like to try it?” he boasted quietly.

“Yes…show me what it is…”

“I can hold you back…tie you without any silk, any rope, any chains, any restraint…” he whispered. 

“How?” you pressed. 

There was a light flashing in his eyes-so light, so different. From the dim lights of your room out came shadows like his- with his horned helmets on them. The shadows lurched over and you almost gasped. Then they went down to the floor. 

“They can touch you- do you want to know what they feel like?” he asked.

“Yes…”

The shadows reached out their arms, traveling up. They felt like mist when they grazed your skin. But then one pulled up your first arm high- and it was strong. You couldn’t break out of it, no matter how you tugged. Then the other lifted your other arm up high. The light was still in Loki’s eyes, the shadows lifted you up before him. A prize free for his taking. He grinned as they wandered on how your position made your breasts dangle before him.

“Now…where were we…ah, yes…” he said.

The shadows were strong but gentle as they moved you over. You were floating-then they laid you on the bed. Your arms were lifted to remain high over your head as your back went over the duvet. Your arms were held over your head, laying over the pillow. 

“I…I like this power…”

He smirked, his hands still in his pockets.

“As do I…and I am bout to like them even more…”

More shadows appeared- they flicked across your legs.

“What pleasure is hidden between here- they can help show me, perhaps…”

They curled to your ankles and then gently opened your legs before him.-showing your dripping pussy before the god. He played cool. Only his quick breaths and the bulge in his pants hinted at his craving, his desire. Your breasts out and your legs opened- nothing hidden. Now the shadows had you out and open-something for him to devour, something out to be fucked.

He walked forward. He brought out a long finger. He touched your folds gently, sliding them down. You let out a gasp. 

“L-Loki…” you breathed out. It was so sinful, so filthy you couldn’t help but love it. 

“Why…this is quite the picture. If I could only paint it…but I only want this masterpiece for myself, and no one else.” he rasped. 

He walked over to the bed. Then he crawled so he was between your legs. The shadows keeping your legs open. His hand grazed over your inner thigh. 

“Here…you’ve been a good little angel Taking care of me. Shhhh-shhh- you don’t need to object, to think of my pleasure for now. You’ve worked so hard…now relax…let your god take care of you this time, darling.”

You were gasping and whimpering. He began to taste you- his tongue inside. He groaned as his tongue went further into your folds. His cold breath against your private wetness made public for him. Your arms flinched but the shadows held you tight. He flicked his tongue and you let out a small groan.

“L-L-Loki…yes…I-oh, oh god-yes…” you sputtered out.

His shadows lifted your hips so he could taste further. His tongue delved. It found your clit and you shuddered from it. He gave a few licks. He went up closer to where your clitoris was swollen and waiting for him. Then he stopped. 

“Now this…this tastes better than any of those Midgardian meal down there…This one is sweeter, with much more juices…and this one I can devour at no cost at all…”

You were whimpering-letting him lick your clit. Letting his tongue go through- each bit of you.  Explore you. Your own cries filled you up. But the shadows kept you wide open. 

“L-Loki…that…that feels so-so good…”

With a small gasp, you felt pleasure spiral in you. He licked a bit further-and soon it broke on you. Like the wings of a bird when it catches the wind and lifts up. The pleasure burst and you let out a gasp from your petit mort. 

Your heart was racing, and your blood coursing through you. Loki was smiling- his lips wet with your juices. And still fully clothed. 

“I hope they don’t replace me-I’ve yet to get my hands on you again, my pet.” 

He crawled on top of you. He kissed you so his tongue got into yours-another hole for him to claim. You could taste your own earthy scent and thick juices. Still restrained, he held you, grinding lightly onto you. Your hips lifted a little to meet his- no shadows needed. But you felt their cool touch curling around you. Touching all over you- he wanted to touch you, feel you, know you, devour you in every way. 

“Please…I want more…I want you…I want you inside of me, Loki…” you begged.

He smirked, a curl coming loose on his face. 

“Oh…my tongue was only to prepare you, my dear…I hope you are ready…”

“Yes…yes-please..I want you to fuck me, fuck me until I forget everything else…forget Kang, the TVA, timelines, all of it! I don’t care if it’s by your shadow’s cock or yours- I need you! All of you!” 

“You need only ask, my dove,” he purred.

The green seidr flashed with a tilt of his head, then down it went. It melted his clothes off.  He became naked. You underestimated how fit his body was. You forgot your words at this sight of his nakedness. How strong, muscled, and broad he was despite his leanness. His masculine hairs across his chest-his large, strong biceps. Abdominals and a very happy trail leading to his erect largeness. The shadows curled their grip around you. They pulled your legs to open wider. 

“I hope you’re ready for the love of a god,” he murmured. 

  He embraced you, kissing you as he began to sink in. Bit by slow bit. He got himself in, groaning. You let out a cry when all of him was inside. He was so big, you had to adjust. Your arms flinched again but they remained held back. His arms reached around you-keeping you close. He then held you- his own hands digging into your hips and thrusting into you. 

“Oh-oh, god!” you whimpered

“That’s- that’s what I like to- to hear-shall you try it again? Yes- yes-urgh- so-so tight, my love-yes-” he growled. 

He began to slowly thrust into you. He groaned into it- slow, but steady. Intruding your insides. He rolled with you, a gentle rolling of his body. Kissing you deeply. Then he kept at it. Your voice escaped you. His cock disappeared and reemerged. But he looked at your face, in your eyes as he fucked you into your bed. 

With a flick of his head, the shadows moved your legs so that your knees bent and you were angled deeper.

“Fuck! Oh-oh dear-Loki I-I-I can’t-shit-can’t believe this-this is-fuck- happening--happening right now-it’s-it’s-its-fuck!- too good to be true-” you breathed.

“Oh, it’s-it’s true darling…”

He thrust carefully, slowly. Then he picked up. His voice was like that of a hiss, right into your ear.

“And you’re-” Thrust. “-Mine.” Thrust.

He kept kissing you as he thrust, thrust, thrust. His shadows testing you, splaying you a little more open. Hearing each other's groans. Moaning your name, repeating it like a prayer of his own. A prayer only a god could give.  His own grunts were deep and guttural. He found the right pace. Painting with each thrust, thrust, thrust.

“Yes…yes, you’re-you’re mine and-yes-I will…I will be yours-we are at each other’s mercy…now…yes-”

His pace increased. His shadows holding you back bed hitting itself against the wall. Then the shadows moved so your legs flew right up by him. It was so wild, so fast. Then his long finger curled to your entrance. Finding the clit. Rubbing so hard- so much. Slam, slam, slam, slam. You gasped- it was the right, perfect place. You were going up, up in your pleasure. His finger tested your clit faster, harder with his thrusts. You felt his voice, his groans rising in pitch. And that bubbling, spinning feeling was going inside you, your toes clenching as your legs were up in the air. 

“Oh…oh gods…Loki…I’m going to cum again-I-I am…”

He held you close- this time his own flesh-his thrusts wilder, desperate. He was breathless, with every gasp, every taking in of pleasure, he urged you. His voice husky and to the point of breaking. 

“Yes-yes-go-there-I…I can’t—cum, darling, cum with me-your heat, your wetness-it’s going to-going to overwhelm me-I…I can’t I-yes-yes-cry out-cry out my name, darling…I-I-I-”

His thrusts were so wild, pounding you right into the bed. Nailing you there, completely taking you over. That sweet spot- thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust-when it hit like lightning that you let out what started as his name, and then you hit it, it became a shout. 

“L-Ah!”

It reverberated throughout your home. Whoever was next door or nearby would definitely hear it. With a strangled cry of his own, he arrived as well. 

His shadows retreated. He still wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into you. His arms wrapping around you. He felt so warm- you could smell his sweat, feel how he had to catch his breath. Your heart was still reeling after that bout of pleasure. He hugged you close.

“Holy shit…” you breathed out.

He let out a small smile and you both laughed.

“To think I could’ve been enjoying…that all this time, my dear…” he said, he kissed you on the forehead. “And now…I hope you don’t mind that again….”

“Can it be every day?” you asked.

“Of course!” he laughed.

He sighed as you settled into each other.

“What are we going to tell Mobius…the TVA?” you wondered.

“We’ll think of something…” he said.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around you. With a bit of magic, he conjured a large shirt over you-soft and comfortable. 

“I was going to get some wine and Cheesecake- would you like any?” you asked.

“Both Sounds lovely to me…but Y/N…I am genuinely sorry, I really am.” he said, his eyes wide and sweet. 

“And I genuinely forgive you…emotions make people do things-”

He grinned.

“Such as this,”

He pulled you to his lap. You hugged and kissed his cheek. Yes, you would figure out life as a couple in the TVA together. Life with some new villain back and on the rise. But for now…you had to just enjoy each other. This new, blossoming, new love. Yes- how good that word felt rumbling in your mind. It echoed as he joined you to get plates and glasses.

You both smiled as you had your first sips and ate your first bites. He thanked you with a kiss- tasting sweeter than any food, dessert or dinner- could ever taste to you.

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[per-se-phone-e]

Hound in an alleyway | Damon Salvatore x reader

Warnings: non-con, Damon can't take rejection, p in v sex, oral (male recieving), anal sex, degradation, minors dni!!!

Summary: If you won't give your affections willingly, Damon decided he will have to take it by force.

THIS IS AN EXTREMELY DARK PIECE, PLEASE INTERACT AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Damon Salvatore was a sex god.

He could crack the whip and every girl would chorus, how high? He knew that. You knew that. Everyone did. Never in his one hundred and seventy something years of life had he needed to make an effort to pursue someone as he had done with you.

Most would just come running.

The first time you met him was in a cafeteria with Bonnie and Caroline. You were trying to console the sad blonde. He was the mysterious stranger sitting opposite you. Your eyes had met, only for a moment, before you pulled away.

The second time was in your school ground. You were practicing for the cheer team with your friends when a chevy pulled up into the school's driveway. You remember your eyes nearly falling out of your socket as Caroline got out of the car, placing a kiss on the older man's lips. He sent a wink your way, which you ignored. 

His hand on Caroline's leg in the Gilbert living room had bile rise up in your throat. That was when you found out from Bonnie that he didn't have a good relationship with his brother. And by the fourth time you met, Damon Salvatore had turned from a creep to a pyschopath. 

He had hurt Caroline. Your childhood best friend. Elena's memory might not work as well, but how could you forget? How could you accept any interest he threw your way?

You didn't want him, and it hurt. It hurt him. It made his blood boil. It clouded his senses. What had he done to get your rejection? Damon wanted you, so why couldn't he have you? 

And if you wouldn't willingly accept his affections, then Damon Salvatore would take it by force. 

It felt nothing more than a child's play to lure you into his trap. To follow you into the dark alleyway. You should've know better than to roam around by yourself past midnight. What if some man took advantage of you? Guess you weren't as smart as he thought you were.

He adored the way your eyes welled up when he backed you into a corner. Your lips pouting, spilling out pleas fruitlessly as he tore the clothes from your body. You trembled as he cupped your pussy, plunging a finger into your wet heat — then two, stretching you out.

It belonged to him. You belonged to him.

Your knees dug into the cold concrete as he forced you onto the ground. One hand working his belt open, the other had you by your hair. His thick cock jumped out as his jeans hit the ground, angry red tip dripping precum.

Damon pushed your head down on his cock until your nose was resting snug against the curly hairs at the bottom. He gave a deep groan, feeling the warm embrace of your mouth around his cold cock. You kept your mouth open for him like an obedient whore, letting him fuck your mouth like his personal pocket pussy.

He ignored the way you gaged and choked, bruising a spot at the back of your throat. Spit pooled from the corner of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. "Now be a good girl and suck daddy's balls," he directed you towards the base of his member.

You shook your head no, refusing to meet his eyes. You had never felt so humiliated in your life. Why weren't you trying to get away? Why couldn't you run?

Damon rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to go and drag your pretty little blonde bestfriend here? Or Maybe Elena? I'd love to kill two birds with one stone."

You obeyed at the threat, sucking on his balls, one by one. You teased the little slit between the two, desperate to get it over with. They were heavy against your chin, so full of cum and throbbing. You thrashed against him when you feel him jerk his cock hard and fast above your face. Slapping at his thighs, trying to push him off you. But all your efforts are futile; Thick ropes of cum land on your face, mixing with the tears.

"Good girl. Now turn around," he demanded and you did, pushing down the bile rising in your throat.

In no time, he had you onto your fours. A foot pressed to the back your head, keeping you down on the dirty ground as he entered you. "Shit sweetheart, look at that cunt sqeezing my cock so well," he hummed in approval, pushing out, then pushing in with force.

You could only manage to gasp with each thrust, your knees scraping against the concrete. He started to fuck you relentlessly, pounding your pussy red.

"This is what you wanted, didn't you? To be fucked like a dirty slut? You wanted my cock didn't you?" His hand lands on your ass hard, making you whimper.

"Yes," You yell, feeling his cock deep inside you. You were leaking down your quivering thighs, letting him split you in half like a rag doll. His balls pressed against your clit with each thrust, the sound of slick skin slapping echoing through the silent alleyway.

"Fucking slut," he gritted his teeth, hips pounding into yours at a supernatural speed. Your legs were numb from his assualt, spreading out until you're laying completely against the ground. You felt him soread your cheeks apart, watching his cock disappear and reappear from your abused hole. With a shudder, he spilled his cum inside you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to contain himself.

When you felt him pull out, you thought it was over. But he wasn't done with you yet. He kept fucking you on the cold concrete — thanks to his vampiric stamina — shooting load after load of his seed into your womb. And when he was bored with your pussy, he'd play with your puckered hole. He would grab your face backwards by your hair and pound you like a bitch while you scream.

Now that he got you, it wouldn't be fair to let you leave so soon, wouldn't it?

#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #the vampire diaries #vampire #smut #dark fantasy #x reader #tvd #sexy content

[kiwanopie]

What happens if crime lord!Kiyoomi actually thinks you’re dead?

went off the deep end with this one, but hey! there’s a happy ending at least <3

cw: death, murder, actual bad guy kiyoomi, grief, graphic descriptors of death (not reader), happy ending but a lot of kiyoomi turning into the worst guy ever

wc: 3.5k

He’d kill you if it didn’t mean winding up in the same predicament again. For all the suffering you’ve caused he’d be due a severed finger. - Lucky you he doesn’t regularly keep anything sharp on him.

Atsumu’s never quite been the caring type. Faithful? Sure. But never compassionate. ~ Never quite felt bad for the wounded paw or attached himself to temporary things and temporary pleasures, never really formed a dependency on people in a way that ever mattered. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not heartless. There are people he loves. His brother, his mother, maybe a few of his cousins. But he’s never quite had the capacity to feel bad for someone. It’s never clicked. He supposes that’s why he’s so valued in his profession.

But over the past three years, watching a man who owns everything, who controls everything, grieve and become the worst version of himself - the worst version of anyone, sour and harden into a crust and get worse every day… Well, he might say he feels a little sore about it. Experiencing grief from a bird’s eye view, that’d be easy, if it weren't for his position as the guy’s right hand man.

When news of your death broke out the first thing Kiyoomi did was lock himself in his office. He wasn’t there when the guy who told him did, didn’t see the look on his face or the initial reaction that came at finding out the woman he loved had been murdered in cold blood. Well not quite cold. The car they rigged blew you to bits. But he was there for the aftermath. He saw the nauseated look on his face when walking into his office. Pallid and silent. Kiyoomi’s always been a quiet guy but the stillness that followed him was a vacuum. If he stood too close he’d all but stop breathing, even the acoustic in the hall seemed to have left with him.

He stayed in that office for three days. Didn’t leave for food or water, didn’t pick up the phone or address any of his constituents. Didn’t even move a muscle when one of the guys started a fire a few rooms over. Lucky him they put it out but those shadows under the door never moved. - By day three, Atsumu had almost figured he’d killed himself. But there wasn’t a smell, and by closing, his door had been left open. Torn papers and broken glass, toppled over furniture left as any indication he was ever there.

But that was just denial.

Atsumu isn't the kind of guy to go out of his way to do something cruel. Well… that’s a lie. He doesn’t do it often. Sure he’s laughed in the faces of groveling women, sneered at broken men and maybe even kept a bastard alive a little longer than he had to but that’s kind of his schtick? He’s supposed to be a loose cannon! What’s an aloof domineering big boss without one?

But this - Makato hits the ground with a curdled groan. More pushed out by inertia than the bullet lodged in his brain, but even so, the way his face goes slack feels particularly disturbing. What shit luck. They just hired this kid not even a month ago.

Kiyoomi shuffles his feet until he’s standing in front of the next one. Same soured scowl on his face, same outstretched arm, same barrel burning scorch marks on the underling's forehead.

“Plea-“

This one falls on his back.

Atsumu grimaces at the blood splatter that reaches him from his place a little further behind. He’s making a mess. Which probably makes matters worse because Kiyoomi notoriously hates messes. He hates the smell of too much blood and too much gun powder. Guns create loud noises that are more grating than gratifying, and he doesn’t like presenting his business as a group that murders and nothing else.

Nushiba pisses himself when the boss cocks his pistol, the smell makes him kiss his teeth.

“You think you all deserve to be scared?” Kiyoomi speaks into the room. “Is that why you failed us so badly? Fear? You were afraid of what?”

Kiyoomi aims for his mouth this time, the force of the blast blows his teeth into bloody fragments. “There is nothing on this earth that warrants this kind of disobedience. Nothing. I should never expect to be let down this gravely by my own men.”

Kenji gets a few rounds in his stomach before he nails the killing blow in his head. He was the one who was supposed to check in with him before you left the venue. You weren't even supposed to be beyond the front doors let alone the back seat of the car. He’s still blinking when he hits the ground, bleeding out of the chunk missing out of his head but his breathing doesn’t stop for a few odd seconds. He’s cognizant enough to cry.

“Let this be a reminder to everyone in this room,” Kiyoomi announces. And he spits on Kenji’s body for good measure. “You don’t fear death. You don’t fear pain. You don’t fear God,”

“You fear me.”

Atsumu forces down a swallow as Sakusa shoots his colleague in the throat.

In just the next year and a half his boss and companion had become the boogie man.

If he wasn’t the most feared man in Asia already, you’d say he’d broken the scales and became the most feared in all of the Pacific. He had taken the entire underground industry and painted it red. Jobs they’d otherwise refused for morality sake were on the table now. And he was killing people with families, the families themselves. Selling witnesses into slavery and destroying the infrastructure of even some of their allies. But they could do nothing to stop him. Retaliating wouldn’t work, the guy had nothing to lose at this point. And with a show of chops like this who would even want to be on his bad side. He was killing people on his own team if they didn’t didn’t jump high enough. - The only thing you can do against a man like he’d become is roll over on your back and show your belly.

And obviously the guys responsible for the assanation were no more.

Jesus, just the thought of what he made them do to Onslaught’s people makes him a little queasy. “Ya’ called me in here, boss?”

Kiyoomi quietly nods.

Atsumu redistributes some of the weight on his feet as he waits for his boss to start. - Watches him stare into empty space with his hands folded over his chest, too far from his desk to reach for his pistol, but who's to say he doesn’t already got it on him.

He’s always had a habit for yapping when he’s anxious. “Something on yer mind, boss man?”

Kiyoomi pulls a piece of skin off his bottom lip.

“Do you think…” He starts flatly. “…That I’ve been overreacting?”

Atsumu hesitates. Not too noticeably. He doesn’t have a death wish. But he hesitates. Any sane man would tell him yes, obviously. But Atsumu’s not exactly sane, and he toys the line of what could be considered a “man” quite often.

Is he overreacting? If he were him, “No,” Atsumu says honestly. “No, I don’t think so at all.”

Kiyoomi takes the reassurance with a twitch of his brow.

“I’m not stupid, you know. I know how people are starting to look at me, and this organization,” He says thinly. “I know that she-“

It looks like it physically hurts him to say. “…I know that… she was scared. And she didn’t like the way I did things. Because she was good. She was a good person. And now… I’m worse.”

There are tears welling up in his eyes.

“Do you think…” Kiyoomi swallows. “… Do you think if I was better… If I could be better… she would still-“

“That girl loved ya, Omi.”

And even if talking out of turn could get him killed, nothing would be worse than what’ll happen if he lets him continue. “She loved you. Even if she could be a little twitchy about this… whole thing that we’re doin’ here, I could see it in tha way she waited for ya. She’d would sleep here all night if it meant you were going home with ‘er in the morning. It wasn't you that… It wasn’t you.”

“Yer grievin’.” He sighs. And for a moment it feels like he’s talking to his brother. Talking him out of doing something stupid cause he’s scared. - He’s scared and hurt. Whether that be from nearly losing a twin in a gun fight or finding out that someone you cared so deeply for has passed, it’s the same ballpark. It’s the same love. “We all become different people when we grieve. It’s a shitty fuckin’ feelin’ and it feels like dyin’ everyday.”

“Yer not overreacting.” Atsumu says, and then he chuckles under his breath. “Hell, if she were here she’d act like it was just Tuesday. ‘Girl could talk down a hurricane if you put ‘er to it.”

Kiyoomi lets out a humored breath.

“Yeah…” He sniffles. “…Thanks uh… Thank you, Miya. I appreciate that.”

“No problem, boss. Ya’ want me to round the boys up downstairs?”

“Yes, thank you.”

As much as he tried to get things back to normal, he couldn’t.

It was too much to lose you and by extension his happiness all at once. Thank the powers that be that he didn’t get any meaner, but a “nice” Kiyoomi had never quite been an option. With you around he was subdued, he had something to look forward to after work. Better days were the days you showed up and sat all cozied up near his desk. Sometimes he’d find you curled up on his lap - less common, the few times he’s barged in and found you bouncing on it. Repremandings aside, you kept him docile. Softened and genial, as much as a love drunk fool as any guy as reserved as him could be.

But now you’re gone.

Kiyoomi gets a little callous when he’s depressed.

There’s a civil servant in front of him. Not the first one he’s seen up close, not the first one he’s captured, but it’s the first one that cries so easily when he gets the tools out. She’s got a neat little suit and tie on that glows somewhat in the darkness of the cellar but he supposes that's a part of the gag. Justice. The fight against evil and the hand of the law, let it warm you over like the sun! Though regrettably, there ain’t too much sunlight for her to access fifty feet underground.

Atsumu checks his watch. The boys should be making some noise at the old courthouse about now. This little lady was supposed to be there around noon for the showcase, but he’s sure the big dogs won’t notice that their runner up has gone missing too soon. Big cases like this usually run an understudy anyway, and with the kind of shit they’ll be going against it’ll be a party.

So they can be comforted by the fact that no one’ll come looking. And the clear fear that that brings to the woman strapped to the ladder back, well he could go so far as to say it feels invigorating.

“Don’t play around with her too much, Miya. We need her lucid enough to talk.” Kiyoomi crosses his arms over his chest behind him. “This isn’t supposed to be for fun.”

Says the guy sitting in the splash zone. Even shrouded by shadows he can see the latent satisfaction in his face at seeing the official suffer. It’s the only time he sees him have any fun in this half year.

Atsumu exhales as he bounces the hammer drill in his hand. “A’right, I hear ya.”

He holds it to the bridge of her collar bone as she struggles. “You heard the boss. The fuck are you people doin’ with our money?”

“I already said I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Bullshit.” Kiyoomi asserts. “You work directly under Takuto. You of all people should know what goes on behind the scenes.”

“Shin doesn’t tell me anything…!” She sobs. “…He doesn’t tell me anything! I just write him his scripts and bring him his coffee!”

“So why does he cite you as an advisor?”

“I don’t fucking know!”

Kiyoomi kisses his teeth. “Miya.”

Her collarbone breaks with a nasty crack.

Her scream is enough to make his ears ring as he frowns to himself in his seat. It’s a pathetic display of the people who should be protecting the general public, let alone headlining our political infrastructure but it isn’t surprising. Half of the big wigs in the law game often pay off major criminals like him to send off small fries to further their laws and agendas, the other half, his people pay off to stay out of their dealings and territories. The Takuto firm has been a middleman of theirs for around two years now. They pay them to stage big cases with a few of their showmen, and Sakusa enterprises hands them a fat check to look the other way when his people pass by. Occasionally even, they do some of their handling for them.

But they’ve been doing a less than satisfactory job recently. And Kiyoomi’s just lost one of his best guys to the shithead with an angel scribbled on his business card. Nice guy he is, he only wants a refund and the head of the guy who did it. But they haven’t been exactly reciptible of his wishes.

Because they don’t have the money anymore. And Takuto’s too chicken shit to give himself up, even under threat of young uninvolved employees losing their lives in the process.

“You know something.” Kiyoomi says. “Your name is on everything. Not just our contracts but on the publicity deals. You’re a signing witness for all the cases you sell, all the commercials, all the revenue we gave you. So what the fuck do you mean when you say you don’t have it? You people make at least a million yen a day and you have nothing to show for it?”

She shakes her head.

“Speak clearly.”

“W-We don’t… We don’t.” She whimpers.

“Why not?”

“Please… I…”

Kiyoomi’s voice is so venomous that it nearly makes Atsumu wince. “You’ve got three fucking seconds to tell me what I wanna hear before we start sawing your hands off.”

She starts to retch. Even Atsumu kinda wants her to speak up.

“Ichi,”

“God, please…”

“Ni,”

“It’s…” She pitters off.

Kiyoomi sighs and starts the motion of lifting off of his feet.

She chokes it out like she’s gagging. “It’s Gethsemane! He’s been funneling the money to Gethsemane!”

Kiyoomi stops in his tracks.

There’s a look that passes through his eyes. A look that’s misplaced from the situation at hand and directed at something reminiscent. Something forgotten but perpetual, an open sore, now more scab than raw vessel, that peels open and encourages a reaction more akin to flinching. Bracing. Something hits him so suddenly that it overwhelms him to the point of freezing in place. Halting his breaths before blowing them out quietly. Atsumu could go as far as to say his eyes have gone glossy.

He speaks… carefully. “What do you know about Gethsemane?”

“The-They’ve… They’ve been threatening us… I think,” She admits shakily. “Whatever they’ve been saying to Shin is what’s been making him pay them. He says it’s for our safety.”

Atsumu scoffs.

“Why?” Is what Kiyoomi responds with. Which makes Atsumu furrow. I mean, Gethsemane’s fairly new to Japan and they’re a powerful organization, sure. But they’ve never exactly been on their radar. “Why are they-“

Kiyoomi shakes his head. “What would they want with you? Gethsemane doesn’t affiliate with case work. They would have no reason to threaten you.”

She pinches out a pained sound that sounds more like a plea than anything else. “I-…It’s the new hire… I think it’s the new hire…”

She sniffles. “They didn’t start bothering us until she showed up.”

Kiyoomi’s chair squeaks as he rises out of his seat.

It’s not even a moment that fully passes before he’s standing among the two. Towering just under the dim light, broad shoulders making shadows over the young official tied to her seat. Atsumu can barely react when he snatches the hammer drill out of his hands, and he eyeballs him as he points it before her nose.

His grip is trembling. Atsumu’s harrowed to find that there are tears in his eyes. “What’s her name?”

“I-I don’t-“ She cowers. “I don’t remember-“

He starts the motor. “Guess.”

“I-It was something foreign! She’s…. S-She’s gaijin! S-Super quiet!? You could find her on the registry if you-“

Kiyoomi takes a few dizzy steps back.

Atsumu stares.

She’s not talking about who he thinks she is?

You’re asleep in his arms when he walks through the door.

Knocked out would be more accurate telling by how limply your body pours into his grasp but it’s you. Flesh and blood, breathing in quiet puffs. The little sundress you’re wearing compliments you like everything else you wear. Just as pretty if not prettier, just as soft if not cottony.

Atsumu gapes as Kiyoomi silently walks through his living room, he’s following him before he knows what to do with himself. “H-Holy shit! Is that her?!”

Kiyoomi sniffles and then nods.

“What the fuck…What?! How did she-“

“I don’t know.”

Kiyoomi opens the bedroom door with his foot. Belatedly, Atsumu realizes he’s never been to this part of his house before.

His bedroom is about as neat as he’d expect it to be. Pretty much spotless to the point he wonders if the guy even sleeps in here or just hovers over the bed every night. There’s a big bay window that if not for the curtains would give a good view of the garden, solid mahogany floors, a big entrance to what he can assume is an enormous bathroom but -

Your stuff is still here.

At least, he can assume it’s yours and that it’s been here the whole time. Kiyoomi’s not quite a pink slippers kind of guy. He doesn’t think his tall frame would fit the little robe thrown over the vanity chair. Old posters of American artists take up a far wall and the English lettering on them is stylized and a little hard to read. Artists that look like you and share varying skin tones, some hung up records mounted to compliment them on the wall. There’s a console there that he knows Kiyoomi doesn’t touch, video game memorabilia posted on a near table. Even as he gets closer he realizes the discarded guitar leaned against the loveseat has collected dust over time. Hell, some of your clothes are still sitting where you probably left them before what happened a solid three years ago.

Oh man. Atsumu sighs through his nose. This guy’s been more tortured than he thought.

Kiyoomi’s feather gentle as he lays you on the bed, careful to position your neck in a way that won’t leave a crook in it when you eventually wake up. He’s tender enough to make the faux blonde go shy. So ginger that he blushes seeing him tuck some of your hair behind your ear and shuffles a little when he stares at you a long moment before letting out a sigh. He gawks as Kiyoomi lowers himself beside you, careful of your legs as the bed dips.

No one knows what to say.

Which is surprising, because nine times out of ten Atsumu can’t shut the fuck up. “Wh…” He whisps.

Kiyoomi turns his head to wipe some of the tears out of his eyes. “I don’t…”

He clears his throat. “I don’t know what this is about. Why her director is fear mongering a law firm into taking her in…Why she’s affiliated with these people in the first place… or why she’s been hiding for so long-“

His voice breaks. He really doesn’t wanna start again, his eyes have gone raw. “I just… hope that she can explain it to me when she wakes up. So we can put all this behind us.”

“Do��” Atsumu pitters. “Do you want me to stick around until then? Maybe call in the-“

“No, no,” Kiyoomi runs a hand through his hair. “No. The drug won’t wear until sometime tomorrow morning. So, you’re free until then. Just… Just uh-“

He messily fishes in his jacket pocket till he’s pulling out a crumpled up piece of paper. “Go to this address and make it seem like she went out for groceries or something. It’ll give us some time before they start looking.”

Atsumu takes the slip and slides it in his pants. “Alright… You gonna be okay?”

Kiyoomi breathes in a watery sniffle before nodding surely. “I’m just gonna turn in for the night, I think.” It’s five. “I think I’ve… exhausted all of my resources for today. - A headache like this is only gonna get worse.”

Kiyoomi rests his head in his hand. “Yeah… uh- engage the security system before you lock the door on your way out.”

Atsumu backs into the doorway. “Sure thing.”

“Miya?”

“Yeah?”

Kiyoomi turns to tuck his legs behind yours. “Hit the lights, please.”

“Gotcha.”

The lights dim as Kiyoomi pulls you into his chest.

#crime lord!sakusa kiyoomi #hopefully this isn’t too graphic i wanted to accurately describe grief #at least for a guy like crime lord!kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu x reader #hq sakusa #haikyuu!! #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa fanfiction #sakusa comfort #sakusa angst #Sakusa fluff #/kiwi✍️

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Ah the Link's got Tumblr again, smh can't have anything nice

2 notes

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

NO WHY IS THE POLL A TIE. Why must I be doomed to share with these fools. This is nonsense.

⚒️ smol-smithy

Vi... Were you going to post behind our backs despite touting how "innane" it was and how it was "a waste of time"???

⚒️ smol-smithy

Hey why wasn't I included in the poll?

- Hero of Darkness

⚒️ smol-smithy

Shadow gtfo

⚒️ smol-smithy

how does Shadow know our password we changed it??

-Green

⚒️ smol-smithy

Passwords suck and so does Viofhhfksllkkkkkkkkkmmmnnnnnnfhkahf

🌟 excuuuse-me

Vio did you legit strangle your Shadow and hit send on his joke anyway? Because that's beautiful.

#this whole situatuon #art really #can I have a turn with your magic sword when you're done I think it'd be funny #everyone deserves More of Me

50 notes

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

How do I get a real life girl to kiss me pls

🌟 excuuuse-me

Please please please please please please please please please please please please plea-

🪶 redwingskies Follow

Apparently you just have to visit her shop like 3 times idk I still don't understand it

🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow

Give her some of your food, works every time.

🐴 goatman4life Follow

You sir are thinking about seagulls again, not women.

🌸 dont-look-at-me

You dont know me. What if I want seagull advice too?

94 notes

🐀 mouseman Follow

Best companion for adventures go!

⏳️ forestchild Follow

Fairy

🎶 ocarina-macarina Follow

Fairy!!

🌟 excuuuse-me

I legally can not say which is higher on the list because i will be strangled in my sleep but fairy & princess

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

Idk I keep accidentally having first dates via adventure so ig Girlfriend???

🪶 redwingskies Follow

Sword & Bird

🐴 goatman4life Follow

... Fairy

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

I'd say myself but I found out that it sucks.

🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow

The silly old man who slowly realizes he wants to adopt me over the course of the journey. Fairy is Very close second. Then seagulls.

⚒️ smol-smithy

Oh hey actually ^ same.

🚋 train-life Follow

Ghost bestie

🌳 wildflowerwastaken Follow

#wait same??? #ghost friends for life #or. Uh. Postlife? #sorry. Idk. #also how are all of you posting in the reblogs like... #id die #....I can make that joke I already died once so it's funny now #anyways the rest of you are so biased #the answer is always Ghost Bestie #not like they can die again! Haha #ha.

746 notes

🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow

...omg what if the Hero of Time was turned into stone. I've seen it happen like twice and in totally different contexts so who knows. I mean can't come back to save the world if you're stone.

🎶 ocarina-macarina Follow

O-O

🐴 goatman4life Follow

He did not Hope this helps

⏳️ forestchild Follow

I did! Hope this helps

57 notes

🐴 goatman4life Follow

My son just bit me and after crying about how he didn't mean to actually break skin and calming down enough to like, talk, he said "Why do you taste like dark fog and goat?"

And while I have an answer for the goat thing I'm ??? Concerned

⏳️ forestchild Follow

I think you'd taste a lot like Black Boes, based on how you smell

🐴 goatman4life Follow

Why are children assigning me Flavors? Why do you know what black boes taste like??? I'm the guy who bites things not you

138 notes

🪶 redwingskies Follow

Why can't I pet anything on the surface. There's so many tiny cute creatures and they all either run away or want to kill me.

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

When you're tiny and some giant comes at you with grabby hands what other options do you have?

🐴 goatman4life Follow

OP go find a cucco, they'll love you

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

Dont do it they both want to run away from you and also want to kill you at the same time

🪶 redwingskies Follow

They will love me like he promised I'm sure of it.

#linked spirit #loz au #legend of zelda #loz #linked spirit au #tumblr dash simulator #ls meme #long post #innuendo #death mention tw #unreality tw

[goodstimes]

“ A means to an end. ”

— a secret life ! scar writing; not proofread. WARNING : this writing contains heavy talk of blood, gore (?) death — and slight mention of suicidal ideation. Discretion is advised. ♥︎

Scar has seen many sunsets in the time he’s been stuck here, and as much as he once loved them, he hoped he didn't see them anymore. They were only a reminder of another day stuck here. Alone, and he couldn't handle that.

He was tired, in pain, and he was lonely. There was a dread that followed him everywhere now. He was constantly reminded that he was the only one here, in a land that once used to be so full of life. Lively it was no more, and it killed him.

He ached, day after day, he slams his fist against the buttons presented by the secret keeper, hoping that something shifts, that by some miracle, he was let out of here. He longed to see the faces of those he held close to him, he longed for the comforting touch of others, he longed for human interaction. He couldn't be without it.

But that wish would forever go unanswered, wouldn't it?

The vex wished for this to be over, for another death game to start so he could see familiar faces again, yet none of those ever came true. So instead, he wished for death. He was tempted to reach for his sword, and kill himself, there was no other way. There couldn't have been. He was stuck there. If he stayed alive, he'd never make it out, he knew that deep down.

It drove him insane — every little gust of wind that blew the leaves on trees in the distance, only reminded him more of how desolate it really was here. There was no life. He couldn't even recall the last time he heard a bird chirping in the distance — he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a wolf out in the wild, either. He hasn't seen a single sign of life here since the day he won. How long has it even been, anyways? Has it been mere days? Weeks? Months? Scar didn't even know. All he knew was that he was the only remaining living being here. It felt like the end of the world.

He remains sat on the ground, wounds still present, life still intact, as his red hued irises glance into the distance. He notices that the hollow cavities in the ground were still there; he remembers the cause clear as day … he recalls frantically sprinting and dodging The Wither’s projectiles, and looking back? The man genuinely thought he was going to die for good that day, and his whole being really wished he had.

But no, that isn't how things played out, that wasn't the card he had been given — and it hurt. Why couldn't he have died? Why was it him? Was he isolated for this very reason? He had so many questions; ones that would never earn an answer. He wondered where everyone was now. More importantly, he wondered ... if they were all happy without him.

The scarred man pulled his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his arms, all to avoid seeing the sun sluggishly descend beneath the horizon, but it was all in vain. He peeks his head up, and stares, wide-eyed and hopeful; maybe this is the last day I'll be here, he thought. Maybe I'll get to go home now.

But no, the universe was cruel, and the moon mocked the desperate pleas that fell out of his mouth, it taunted him, and so did the sun.

Scar sobbed for what felt like hours, until the moon had finished having its laugh, and here the sun was, hanging above with pride, again.

He cried until his head hurt,

He weeped until his whole being trembled with each sniffle.

He sobbed until he finally made up his mind.

With shaky legs, he stood from his place on the grass, and the wind caught his hair and his flower-lined cloak, almost as if it were to say,

No … stay with me.

But he didn't listen this time, he took heavy steps toward the damned statue that started this endless suffering; and he unsheathed his diamond blade …

What happened next was morbid. A lonely man, driven to his wits end, with a sword forcefully shoved through his abdomen, thick and heavy drops of blood fell onto the ground below him, he tried to keep his oncoming death quiet, to the best of his ability, but he couldn't. He was heaving, pained cries filled the atmosphere, His hands still very much gripping the hilt of the weapon, so much so that his scarred knuckles were pale.

Scar then collapsed to his knees, hands trembling profusely as he pulls the blade out of his stomach. What follows is blood pouring out of his new wound. This was it, wasn't it? He hoped this was the end to the torture he'd endured … he hoped, and hoped, and hoped.

Please be over.

The strength leaves his body rather swiftly, and all he can do is lay on the ground, helplessly, the blood collects in the cracks of the stone beneath him, and it forms a pool that engulfs his being, it stains his skin and attire.

He stays there until the sun sets yet again, for what felt like the hundredth time; The sun feels warm. It's understanding this time, it reminds him of sand and flowers in the desert, and that alone made Scar use what little strength he had left to smile.

And that's when he drifts off. He's now held oh, so gently in the hands of death, and he couldn't be happier.

He has no regrets, if it means not being lonely anymore.

#vexdrabbles #goodtimeswithscar #secret life #traffic smp #trafficblr #life series #the life series #traffic series #wowzers #sorry for being depressing #oops i guess #how does this even work #send help

[turanga4]

For @hinnymicrofic Prompt 18: Stop WARNING IT IS SAD

Read here (but it's long-ish) or on Ao3.

It’s quiet behind him, but loud in his head. Harry remembers a time when he could slip away unnoticed, when the Burrow’s kitchen table rang with arguments and laughter. The voices now are low and tired—their exchanges, dull routines.

He needs to deal with a different set of words. Again and again they come to him, disembodied echoes, high and cold as they were that night, but heard now just by him.

You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself.

He shakes his head. It doesn’t help. The leaves have been fading on the trees in the distance, spring moving towards summer. More heat in the air. A bird is singing somewhere; the voice drowns it out.

You have permitted you have permitted

Harry blinks a few times quickly and looks around again. The Burrow’s mostly been restored, its wobbly gate set back on its hinges. Some things, though, were too broken to fix. There are other, smaller things where no one has bothered.  One window hangs cracked above the couch in the living room, with thin spidery lines like ice on a lake.

He should go back in: Mrs. Weasley might worry. He aches each time he thinks of her, because the watch that she gave him becomes the clock in his nightmares, and Fred’s hand is spinning as it tears into the ground. He’d stay outside forever if that would help, but it wouldn’t. Rather than face me yourself.

Harry’s fist clenches, still wrapped against his wand. “For fuck’s sake. I did face you. I killed you. You’re done.” 

The voice echoing inside of him laughs at him and shifts.

your friends

your friends

your friends to die

Hermione, glassy-eyed, staring at the kitchen floor when he crept downstairs in the hours before dawn. “It’s lunch time in Australia,” she whispered, turning away. Ron’s been looking constantly from face to face to face. George, cutting his hair and breaking two mirrors.

Then Colin’s mother, thanking him. Her warm ungloved hands, and how she let go of him mid sentence to dab at her eyes.  The casket, obscenely, was the same size as Remus's. But Remus, at least, had been a full-grown man. 

You have permitted you have permitted

He answers again then, just one word. He’s almost crying.

STOP.  

Harry isn’t sure if he said it out loud.  If it was a command, or a plea, or if it can even happen. The tree in front of him has just dropped three branches; he sees that before noticing that he’s not alone.

Ginny approaches and he realizes that it must have been out loud after all. “You hear him still, don’t you?”

Harry jerks his head back. She continues to step forward. 

“Even though he’s not speaking? Even though he’s dead? You hear him still, don’t you? You shouldn’t, but you do.”

She’s looking at him carefully. Not afraid, but something else.

“How do you know?”

Ginny draws herself up to her full height. Her eyes make his breath catch as her gaze locks with his. She raises one hand and ghosts it over his forehead.

Then seems to fall into herself, shrinking down. Her voice not her own, her eyes fixed on the dirt. They stand, facing each other, and there’s a promise of a future in the echoes of the past. He wants to hug her, to kiss her, to marry her, to heal with her. (They will do all of those things, some day. But not yet.)

Ginny’s picking at her thumbnail as he leans in to listen. 

“Funny the damage a silly little book can do, especially in the hands of a silly little girl.”

#harry potter fan fiction #see ao3 for credit list but thanks thanks so much #missing moment #post battle of hogwarts #harry x ginny

[thepaintedlady00]

Could I please request someone being dumb enough to kidnap Dream's pregnant s/o. If you don't like writing pregnancy, they can just be an s/o.

Yeeesss!!! I love this prompt! 🥺 Pregnant s/o and Dream is always such a cute thing to write ❤ Enjoy!

"You know this isn't going to end well for you." The warning was all you could offer your captor as they paced in front of you. The chair they'd tied you to created and groaned beneath your weight each time you shifted. It would be uncomfortable no matter the circumstances, but your round belly and the persistent weight of your growing child pushing into your lungs made it far more unpleasant.

"Shut up!" The man yelled. "That rich husband of yours better come alone with my money or… Or you're gonna be sorry."

Maybe you should have been more afraid, concerned for your own safety and your unborn child's, but you weren't. You were simply annoyed by the inconvenience this clearly misinformed man was putting your already tired body through. "Look, you clearly have the wrong person."

The man groaned in annoyance and glared at you. "No I don't. They said you were the one."

"They?" You shook your head. "It doesn't matter who told you what, but if you don't let me go now there will be nothing I can do to help you."

"Stop talking!" He shouted with a step toward me, one that he didn't finish.

Darkness poured into the room, and Dream's tall figure appeared between you and your captor. 

His pale hand wrapped around the man's throat, lifting him off his feet with ease. The glowing star eyes of the dream king and your husband met yours, his face cold and stoic. "Are you alright?"

You nod. "Uncomfortable, but he didn't hurt me."

With a soft hum and a twitch of his fingers the rope binding you to the chair loosened and fell to the floor. "Wait outside with Matthew."

"He seems to be under the impression you were a man of wealth." You set a calm soothing hand on his shoulder. "I do not think he meant me harm."

"His intentions matter very little now," Dream insisted. "Go."

"Don't kill him," you whisper in one final plea.

Though you could tell Dream was not too happy with your request he nodded his head slightly. "If that is your wish, my love."

Outside the brisk night breeze caused you to curl your arms around yourself as you stood beside your husband's trusted raven and your dear friend, Matthew. He looked up at you and shook his tiny head. "You're not having a very fun week are you?"

"On the contrary, it's been too fun. I just want to lay in bed all day long." You smiled at him. "Has he been unbearable?"

"Absolutely." The raven admitted. "He was beyond livid when he found that ransom note at your place."

You sighed. "It seems my day trip to the waking world was a bad idea after all. God, he'll never let me live this down. I'm sorry for troubling you."

"Oh don't be, I'm used to his dramatics."

The soft fabric of Dreams' coat slid over your shoulders as he stood behind you, glaring at the bird. "Seeking out the man that kidnapped my wife and unborn child is hardly something I'd chalk up to dramatics."

"Whatever you say, boss," Matthew said swiftly, taking off into the air.

You turned to Dream with a soft smile as his eyes looked over every inch if you, his hands gently cradling your stomach with a relieved sigh at the feel of gentle kicks. He looked into your eyes at last, the familiar starry blue bringing you comfort. "I was worried you were…" He pressed his forehead to yours. "Never again will I allow such to happen. I promise you."

"It's alright, Dream," you assured him. "I'm alright, we are alright."

Your hands covered his as the two of you stood in the night for a moment longer. "Can we go home? My back is killing me."

He chuckled. "Of course, my love."

"Dream?"

"Yes?"

"Can we get food before we head back?" You asked, leaning into his side. "I'm starving."

The Dream Lord wrapped his arm around you. "Anything for you."

#dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x y/n #pregnant #dream of the endless #the sandman series #sandman netflix #the sandman fanfic #dream the endless #sandman morpheus #morpheus imagine #dream of the endless imagine #the sandman x you #dream the sandman #morpheus the sandman #the sandman morpheus #the sandman dream #the sandman #the sandman 2022 #morpheus dream #lord morpheus #morpheus #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus fluff #morpheus lord of dreams #morpheus headcanons #morpheus imagines #morpheus sandman #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you

[phantoms-lair]

Batman Exalted Triple Event - Part 2

"He did WHAT!" Nightwing snarled. He put on a smile so often that people around him, even his own family, forgot just how much rage his body held. And how dangerous it was when it got out. The anger inside him felt like an explosion. Like it was tearing out all around him through his skin, desperate to strike down the man who'd dared harm his family.

"Greyson calm down." Damian said in a tone that most would hear as commanding but he heard as a plea.

Normally that would be enough for Dick to at least hide his rage, but not today. Not when someone just tried to not only kill his brother, but to have erased him from ever existing. "I will not calm down! That bastard-"

"You're hurting us."

Tim's comment was enough to at least draw Dick's attention. A strong wind was ripping around the cave blowing their hair and capes. Tim was half standing between Dick and Damian, as if shielding him. There were several slashes in Red Robin's costume and thin cuts on his exposed skin.

The injuries were minor, but Dick knew how much it took to cut through the Robin gear and that Tim's skin was now much harder to cut than a human's. If that had hit Damian instead-

Dick felt himself start to panic and the wind respond to his emotions. No longer a cutting force but a gale pushing out everything around him. "I - oh fuck. Oracle keep us informed. I've got to deal with this."

He cut the comm without waiting for the response. He'd make it up to Babs later.

"Calm down." Damian said again.

"I can't. I hurt you" Dick felt hysterical. Tim was bleeding because of him. Damian would have been hurt worse. He'd almost done something horrible just because he was blinded by anger and-

"Exalting is a lot at once. I remember." Tim said in a slow steady voice.

Exalting. It clicked. That's what was happening to him, That's why he could control the winds the way Bruce could feel Gotham. It was his turn to recieve power from the man who'd tried to erase Jason and the first thing he'd done with it was attack his brothers!

"You seem to be Air Aspect so some deep breathing would probably actually help." Tim continued. "It's like anything else, control comes with time, you just need to work at it."

"Your Exaltation didn't come with razor winds that hurt your family." Dick said bitterly.

"No it came with armor rending talons and me in a position where I really wanted to use them. And did. You remember the state of Mr. Freeze's suit. If I'd been pushing a little harder..." He would have disembowled Freeze. "You had to chase me down because of how hard I'd panicked after it happened."

"In your defense you didn't exactly know why you'd suddenly had talons or turned into a bird." Dick reminded him, a fragile smile on his face.

Victory.

"Clearly it was your inexperience with bladed weapons that caused such a blunder. I would have no such difficulty." Damian sniffed.

"Wait till it's your turn." Tim warned. "The point is this was hard for Bruce to get a handle on, hard for me to get a handle on, and hard for you too. And it's going to be hard on Damian, Cass, Duke, and anyone else."

"But each exaltation is a step closer to Ketchup's ultimate defeat." Damian reminded them. "This power is the winds of revenge."

Dick wanted to say he didn't want this, he didn't want revenge. But it would be a lie. He really really wanted wanted to use every ounce of this power to put Ketchup in his place.

~~~~

There was power in the air on the other side of the portal. Bruce could feel it with every breath, strengthening him. But that wasn't important. All that mattered was Jason's quiet whimpering, which broke his heart but at least let him know his son was still hanging on.

A strange man appeared. He appeared to be made of porcelain, with ribbons of an iridescent metal running through him, and a large gem in his forehead. "Our time runs short. Hand him over."

It was the last thing Bruce wanted to do. But he couldn't doom Jason by clinging to him. The man laid his son out on a table and Bruce could feel the magic in the air as he performed his ritual. And then with one last gesture Jason went stiff and vanished.

"No." Bruce fell to his knees, all strength leaving him. "Jaylad....you said you could save him."

"And he is saved." the man said simply.

"Don't lie to me!" Bruce roared and he felt his power rise up, the emptiness inside him filling with rage.

"What Kejack had planned was not as gentle as mere death. He intended to erase him from fate. To prevent him from ever existing. If my interventions hadn't worked, you would not have been able to speak him name or mourn him. You would never have known he even existed. His vessel was tied to Fate, It could not be salvaged." The man twisted his hand, revealing a glimmering red gem. "So I have crafted him a new one."

He pulled aside a curtain Bruce hadn't noticed, behind which looked to be some kind of automaton made of a black metal and clay. He placed the gem in a socket on the automaton's head and it sparked to life, the blank clay face shifting into Jason's.

"What happened to me?" Jason looked between Bruce and the strange man, completely lost.

"For the second time you are welcomed back into life," The strange man bowed.

"Back to life? As what?" Jason took in his arms made of metal and porcelain. "You think you can just fuck around with my existence-?"

"You were not in a position to ask. Now you are. The metaphorical glue is not yet dry. Do you wish me to undo what I have done? To return you to literal non-existence? Gone from this and any world, along with any and all memory of you." Bruce made a strangled sound. "Or would you prefer to exist and make of that what you will?"

Jason growled. "Exist."

"Very well. Would either of you like some tea? I am sure both of you want explanations."

"Can I even drink tea?" Jason asked, gesturing to his artificial body.

"Autochthon made sure his champions could enjoy all pleasures of the flesh. Good food, drink, recreational drugs, intimate companionship. Actual reproduction is another matter, but there's sorcery for that." The man shrugged. "Your tastebuds and ability to consume should be largely, if not entirely unchanged. So yes, you can drink tea." The man sat down and poured tea into four small ceramic cups, including one for the spider, whom Bruce had all but forgotten about. "I am Armaneth, Starmetal Caste."

"Caste. You're exalted?" Bruce observed.

"Save my small friend here, we all are. Bruce Wayne, Exigent of Gotham and Jason Todd, Soulsteel Caste."

"I'm not.. Soulsteel?" Jason had a hard time processing so much in the last few seconds. He almost missed his familiar anger. It was there, but no where as intense as it had been and that concerned him further.

"Autochthon created Exaltation. And rarely does an inventor develop a single way to do things. The design finalized for expedience was exaltation as you know it. A shard of divine essence that joins with a human and empowers both their soul and body. One of the other methods he developed was the Alchemical Exalts. For us, new bodies were hand crafted for each individual and upon death our souls implanted in them." Armaneth gestured to the gem in his head and took a sip of his tea. "The Soulsteel caste are bringers of justice and protectors of their community. If someone threatens harm to their community they will stop at nothing to protect it and make an example of the threat. It seemed the most fitting."

"You've clearly put a lot of thought into this." Bruce said tightly. "Not to mention time and effort."

"A good deal of work, perhaps, but well worth it. A less than ideal body would have been a hinderance after all. I also made sure the charms installed would also be well suited. It was best in aid of the Storyteller's plan." their host said simply.

Bruce cocked his head. "You're an ally of Quill?"

Armaneth thought a moment. "I would say so. She would not."

"She disapproves of you?" Bruce pressed.

"She doesn't know I exist." Another sip of tea. "Kejack, the man you refer to as Ketchup." he wrinkled his nose. "Has made many, many enemies. Myself included. There are several plans in place to remove him from play, but he is powerful and wary. Any would be next to impossible to enact- unless he badly overextends himself."

"Should the Storyteller's plan to cease his Gotham expansion fail, that would put him is such a state. But the Storyteller is new, to this world, to her power, to political struggles. The odds she could make a misstep is high and should she go down it would not be hard for Kejack to discover any who openly aided her. Organizations operate in cells for a reason."

Bruce took a sip of his tea to swallow bitter words. Quill had lost everything and this man and his allies had stood back to profit on her plan, but never let her know she wasn't alone. "Why Jason? Ketchup wants me to be his puppet figurehead so he should be at least attempting to curry favor, not assassinate my son."

"You would never have known Kejack had removed your son, had he succeeded. He would never had existed to become your son in the first place. And as to why, Jason was dangerous to him."

"My impression of Ketchup is that finding a 'mortal' dangerous would be beneath him." Bruce pointed out.

"But Jason by that point was not merely a mortal. Kejack operates by fate, whether viewing it or altering it. Anything outside of fate is essentially a blind spot for him. And there are three types of beings outside side. Raksha, Demons, and the Dead."

Jason discovered he could still feel hair prickle on the back of his neck. "Then it's because I died-"

"When you met your fate, your fate ended. Thus even when you came back you were outside it. He could not foresee what you would do. He could not manipulate your destiny. Kejack does not abide what he cannot control. That you had the ear and affection of his chosen cat's paw made it worse. You were a variable that had to be removed. Yet if he merely killed you, the Exigent of Gotham would have known and his wrath would be unceasing. He could not kill you, nor could he alter your fate after it ended. But he could pull the thread from before it's end. There is, perhaps, a small chance of you becoming a Gentimian in the process, but it was the best chance of removing you while not enraging The Exigent of Gotham, as he would not even remember he had ever known or loved you. Except, of course, for me." Armaneth gave a small self-satisfied smile.

The spider chittered. "Their hearthmates approach the Soulsteel's nest."

"We would not want to worry your family unduly. Three is by far enough for one night. I have prepared as care package to take with you." He produced what looked like several Fabergé eggs. "The Storyteller will know how to open them. The pattern spider can lead you home"

"Thank you for your generosity." Bruce said stiffly. He put a hand on Jason's shoulder and lead him away. Bruce found himself once again in Jason's bedroom in Crime Alley. A quick check of his power revealed no one had followed them and there were no trackers on the eggs. Good. He grabbed at Jason, startling his son before he realized in was an embrace not an attack.

"You okay, old man?"

"No. You were attacked, you were hurt. I almost lost you and if it weren't for that bastard I would have. All this power I have now and it meant all of nothing."

Jason wasn't good with Bruce being emotional. And he did not want to think about the fact that he'd almost ceased to exist and consequently that his body was even less human than the other Exalts. So he focus on the one part of that which wasn't about any of those things. "You seem awfully negative about the guy you just admitted in the only reason I'm still alive."

Bruce took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm him down, the air hissing as it escaped his lungs. "Jaylad, he custom built that body for you. It must have taken months, if not years. And that means all that was time he knew what Ketchup was going to do to you. And he made no move to forewarn us or stop it. He let it happen because...because you were more useful to him as an Exalt than as a baseline human."

Jason felt his stomach drop out as clues suddenly clicked into place. "The Storyteller, the Exigent of Gotham, he never called people by names, even when he knew them all. He didn't see us outside of our roles."

"He manipulates situations and doesn't see people as more than boons or roadblocks to his objectives. That's why Quill would never have trusted him. He thinks and operates like Ketchup."

"Fuck." Jason swore. "Another second chance at life, another bond to a psycho."

"No, listen to me." Bruce held his face to force Jason to look him in the eye. "You are alive right now and you get to decide what that means. Not Ra's. Not Amarenth. Not me. If you want to skip town with the Outlaws until this is done, I will set you up with a place and new identity. If you want to fight, we'll stand alongside you. Your life is yours and no one else's."

"I'm not running." If there was one thing Jason was sure of, it was that. He wanted his piece of Ketchup too. "And at least Amarenth just resurrected me and kicked me out. None of the stuff Talia did."

"What did she-" Bruce froze, the blood draining from his face and his pupils shrinking. "I'll kill her." He half whispered.

"B?" That did not sound...hypothetical. Which was all sorts of concerning considering who it came from.

"What she did to you...unforgivable...you were a child."

Bruce had seen something with his power from the time he was with the League. Could he see things outside of Gotham now? Or was it because it was tied to Jason who was currently in Gotham? "I was like seventeen." Jason tried to protest. "Hardly a child."

"It's still statutory." The color was returning to Bruce's face, the ashy white turning to crimson in rage.

Statutory? Oh. That. Before he could say anything (and what could he say?) the door to his bedroom burst open with literal hurricane force as Dick launched himself at his oldest brother. "You're okay!" he yelled, wrapping both his arms and legs around Jason.

"The flying fuck?" Jason asked at the storm that was blowing around his room.

"Babs said Ketchup tried to run a wiper virus on you, then you and Bruce vanished and she couldn't find you, then she said you and Bruce would be back and your place so we came as fast as we could and-"

"Just hug him back so we can breath," Damian grumped. "And Dick exalted as an Air Aspect in case it wasn't obvious." Tim added.

Three is by far enough for one night. Him, Dick, and someone else.

"Barbra." Bruce whispered, his face approaching a more natural color.

"What about Bab?" Dick asked, confused.

"Armaneth said three was enough for one night. The Exaltations, You, Jason, and Barbra."

"How did...right, Gotham sense." Tim shook his head. "So where were you guys?" "Why don't you tell them all about it back at the cave?" Jason suggested, trying to wriggle out of Dick's hug. "Don't you mean 'we'?" Bruce asked with desperation in his voice.

"Not tonight. I need to process all this and I need to do it without everyone in my space."

"He's right. And it's not like you won't know if something happens again. Let's give him some space, and Jason don't feel bad for needing time to adjust."

"Wasn't planning on it, but okay." Jason managed to pry hurricane Dick off him and held him at arms length. "Go on, see if Babs needs help."

He wasn't naïve enough to hope Bruce would just forget what he'd just learned, but he was done with things for the night. Jason Out.

#Batman #Exalted #Ghost Writing #CW: Mentions of an Adult having relations with a minor #The thing from Red Hood: Lost Days if you know what that means #Talia would be wise to never enter Gotham again now that Bruce knows

[darklordofthesimp]

i’m writin u angst as a rebuttal

i can’t sleep

it’s too light out to be 9 AND THE RAIN IS FUCKING LOUD. here’s a longer version of th other one pookie

listened to cafe1930 while writing the angstiest part

—

Sunshine grasped at Birdys chest plate. Pulling her dying body across muddied ground, a groan erupting from the weakened dove every step she took.

“C’mon mate, just a little longer,” Sunshine looked down at Birdys face. The tears welled in her soft eyes as she stared up at sunshine, the guilt, the knowing, was all she could see. The acceptance.

“,Please, Just—“

Sunshine’s body slumped, falling to her knees and slowly letting the heavy chest plate go. Pushing the mess of hair that was Birdys out of her scarred face.

The withering girl stared up at her, she wasn’t content, wasn’t mad either. She was just there. Lying, waiting for the pain to stop. For the blood of her body to wash away with the first rain come morning.

“I’m not mad.” A simple statement, and yet it tore through the walls of Sunshine’s indestructible fortress in moments, mere seconds and she was a gaping heart.

“I know.”

“Good.”

And that was the end of it, they had both known. A dreary look in Sunshine’s eye concluded the importance of Birdys dying words, she hated the thought.

“Please.”

The pain was unbearable, it felt as if her lungs were shredding apart, as though a snake had crawled it’s way down the expanse of her throat, stuffing her windpipe, wrapping coyly around the remainders of her heart and sinking its ugly teeth into her golden life force.

The death was slow, painful, and nothing like her. Like what she deserved.

She should have died a peaceful, old death. Meeting the older woman above her in an embrace lost to the rival of their stupid youth, where they fought trivial battles, for trivial things.

Not taken by the bud of a bullet.

Cutting straight through her lungs in a clean swipe, and filling them with a sickly mucus. Thick and ridden with the poison of her veins.

The fatigue was turning her numb to the elements around her, only able to focus on the brights of Sunshines eyes and the searing pain knocking a tune at deaths door.

“Please.”

Another beg, Sunshine didn’t understand. Didn’t know what she was begging for. Didn’t want to know, not when a frail hand pushed a gun into hers. Not when it grabbed her wrist, pulling up, up, up, right at her temple—.

She didn’t want to know.

“It’s killing me, Sunny. I’m dying. And it hurts so,”

“Don’t make me do this.”

“,so bad. Please.”

Sunshines plea left unheard. Or unanswered in the gasp of a voice behind her. Large footsteps alerting them of the presence previously made unknown.

“Birdy?” The trembling voice made Sunshines eyes widen. Birdy dragging her head to look at the man before her, barely metres away but so far.

“Sunshine. What are you doing?”

He was scared, breath quickening as he assessed the situation before him.

Birdy seemed to come to her senses before Sunshines eyes, grasping harder than before at Sunny’s wrist and snapping her eyes back to her partner.

“Sol, Hurry.” A small whimper left the Crows mouth, a call of death, as they have always been known as.

“I can’t.”

“You can, you have to.”

“I can’t.”

Another step towards them, the timer was running out. Sunshine knew she wouldn’t make it to the evac sight, even with Königs help, it was a good four hour walk.

She would die a pathetic death, in attempts to save herself.

She couldn’t have that.

König, suddenly stopped creeping forward, the wound just below Birdys plate now as visible as the grime on her face.

He called out to her and rushed forward, ready to try and patch her up. A futile attempt it would’ve been.

Sunshine bounced up, tears of training kicking in, she crashed into him. Sending them both tumbling through the mess of mud and leaves. She sat on top of him, legs trapping him down and pinning him. He screamed for her, visceral and raw.

Begged for Sunshine to get off him as she not only wept for losses, but wept for his.

Birdy watched the display with sad eyes, making no eye contact with man crying out her name, anguish coated her mind as her breathing slowly grew softer, and painful. Wet gasps leaving her mouth as the blood coated her vocal cords, creeping up her throat and seeping out of her mouth.

“Sunshine,”

Sunny lifted her head to meet the small Doves.

“Do it.”

A cry of desperation erupted from König, clawing at Sunshine to get off him.

“König don’t,”

She pushed his head down. Into the connection between her shoulder and neck. His nose hitting against her collarbone.

A click of the safety, and a second of time breached a silence through a night so loud.

“,Don’t look.”

—

RATATATATAATATAAA HI SANOOOOOO

IM FUCKING VOMITING IM IN SO MUCH PAIN THIS IS SO FUCKING SAD BUT WELL WRITTEN OH J HATE YOU SO MUCH MY DEMONIC CHILD JESUS

[colourshot-draws]

i was listening to forever and a bit (mother mother) and it made me think about something that I often think about:

which is like...does Dutch ever think about Arthur in the period between leaving Arthur and John hunting him down in rdr1? Like I wonder if he ever thinks about his son's last words. Does "I gave you all I had" haunt him in those few moments where his insanity slips him all the way back around to sanity. Because while I don't think there's much of anything left to feel bad about what he did to Arthur in rdr1, I do think there must have been a point where he did think about it. 

I just wonder if before he fully loses himself to the slowly creeping madness that had started to consume his mind, he dreams about Arthur. Wondering if the deer that flee as he passes on horseback are a part of Arthur's soul. If the blue jays and birds watching him are what left of his son's spying eyes, judging him from beyond the grave. Constantly feeling hunted and haunted, running from the law and the very universe itself - able to feel the whole world breathing down his neck. Bearing it's weight on his shoulders, pushing against his collarbone, almost breaking with it's suffocating weight. Inescapable memories crushing his bones to dust, powder like the white snow covering the mountains he found himself hiding out in again with Micah.

Arthur's sickly face visiting him in dreams and in his waking moments, Dutch swears he can hear a harsh cough - hacking of a now long dead man. Whispers pull at him in dreamland until they're screams and shouts. Hoarse rasps, desperate pleas that Dutch listen to him, listen to his son. And then they leave, the crunch of his boots descending the mountain his son died on - waking from these dreams with a sudden start and tight chest. Unable to breathe for some reason - as if Arthur's memory was invading his lungs like a great smoke - a 'see how hard it is to breathe?' like sweet revenge.

Smoke like that only clears once Dutch's sanity does. Madness clouds his head like another veil, falling over his memories and mind until he doesn't think anymore. Not clearly at least. All that's left to think about is killing and running. Killing and running and killing and running and killing and running and forgetting why he was killing or running in the first place...

#ok here's ONE of my many infodumps #from discord (grinning) #rdr2 #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #my silly ramblings #still get nervous to post shit like despite all my fics on ao3 #shrugs #pretty specific to high honour arthur here #blehh

[liminal-storage]

#4: Cinders (Off the Hook)

Prompt: Off the Hook  Characters: Guiscard Maissat, Cillien "Ardere" Maissat Content Warning: Arson, mentions of murder, and abuse of a corpse.

------------

The foul stench of burning flesh mingled with the sweeter smoke of his cigarette, promptly ruining the flavor of it.

With a cut-off curse, Ardere spat the offending taste out to the side before flicking the still-smoldering stick into the snow. Immediately the cold buildup snuffed out its ember. Deft fingers soon plucked the butt back up to stow away in some interior coat pocket. He did not dare litter; disposing of the smoking pile before him was enough of a chore. He certainly didn't want to add time with an extra garbage pick up.

Frustrated and impatient, his boots left little scuffed imprints in the snow, soon to be covered over by the promise of a fresh storm. It would take a while for the body to burn. Though Ardere was well used to the cold and did not strictly need to pace to keep warm, he did so all the same. It was good to let the frustration out a little, both at his spoiled smoke break and the reason why he was here in the first place.

"Damn you, Guiscard. Of all the messes to clean up. Why did this one have to be yours?"

The wind caught his smoke-roughed words and carried them away. Not that there was anyone to hear them. The only souls around for a hundred malms were those of beasts and birds.

Thus, there was no one to witness the man's incoming tirade, save for perhaps the Fury herself.

"Sloppy, dense, shortsighted fool!"

A heavy, booted foot came down on the burning body, each word emphasized with a sickening crack and a shower of crackling embers. A sooty stain sullied his boots, something to be polished out later.

"Idiot! You blundering, asinine, spoiled brat!"

Stomp! Stomp!

His boots were the reinforced kind, metal caps at the heel and toe which served both to protect his feet and add a crushing impact to every kick.

"Some things never change, eh? Can do whatever you please so long as your big brother's there to take the fall for you, eh? Just. Like. Old. Times!"

The final stomp severed something. Bones cracked underfoot and charred flesh peeled away in brittle, flaky layers. Fingers fell from a now skeletal hand, little brittle snapping twigs. Those too were scooped up, shoved into a different pocket to be thrown into a deep river with the rest of the body.

The flames had already turned the poor sod's belongings to crumbling cinders, and anything they wouldn't burn was stashed away for safekeeping.

For all his fury, he hadn't done the killing. No, that'd been Guiscard's doing, a knife to the victim's poor exposed throat in the midst of a drunken brawl. It didn't take long for Guiscard to contact Ardere, a desperate plea upon his lips. The Maissat's golden child, at risk of trouble. Again.

He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised. He'd always taken the fall for his baby brother, from the very first lie Guiscard had ever told. If he kept getting stuck in situations like this, he imagined that'd be the case up until Guiscard's last lie, too.

It took some time, but at last the fire burned out and the corpse began to cool. So too did the flames of his anger, replaced with a deep and sickening shame.

There wasn't much of a chance of anyone identifying the body now. They'd have to find it in the first place, and the landscape surrounding the Twinpools were vast and dangerous.

But the Fury was always watching. Perhaps, if there was any sort of mercy in the world, She watched Guiscard, too. Ardere tipped his head back and exhaled, long and silent and deep.

The plumes of breath looked the same as smoke to him.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #ritz writing #Cillien Maissat #{Burned Away} #posted with minimal editing

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

The Prophet’s Affliction and Hope

For the Lord will not cast us off forever. Even if He causes grief, He will show compassion according to His abundant loving devotion. For He does not willingly afflict or grieve the sons of men.

To crush underfoot all the prisoners of the land, to deny a man justice before the Most High, to subvert a man in his lawsuit— of these the Lord does not approve.

Who has spoken and it came to pass, unless the Lord has ordained it? Do not both adversity and good come from the mouth of the Most High? Why should any mortal man complain, in view of his sins?

Let us examine and test our ways, and turn back to the LORD. Let us lift up our hearts and hands to God in heaven: “We have sinned and rebelled; You have not forgiven.”

You have covered Yourself in anger and pursued us; You have killed without pity. You have covered Yourself with a cloud that no prayer can pass through. You have made us scum and refuse among the nations.

All our enemies open their mouths against us. Panic and pitfall have come upon us— devastation and destruction. Streams of tears flow from my eyes over the destruction of the daughter of my people.

My eyes overflow unceasingly, without relief, until the LORD looks down from heaven and sees. My eyes bring grief to my soul because of all the daughters of my city.

Without cause my enemies hunted me like a bird. They dropped me alive into a pit and cast stones upon me. The waters flowed over my head, and I thought I was going to die.

I called on Your name, O LORD, out of the depths of the Pit. You heard my plea: “Do not ignore my cry for relief.” You drew near when I called on You; You said, “Do not be afraid.”

You defend my cause, O Lord; You redeem my life. You have seen, O LORD, the wrong done to me; vindicate my cause! You have seen all their malice, all their plots against me.

O LORD, You have heard their insults, all their plots against me— the slander and murmuring of my assailants against me all day long. When they sit and when they rise, see how they mock me in song.

You will pay them back what they deserve, O LORD, according to the work of their hands. Put a veil of anguish over their hearts; may Your curse be upon them! You will pursue them in anger and exterminate them from under Your heavens, O LORD. — Lamentations 3 (Part 2 of 2) | The Reader’s Bible (BRB) The Reader’s Bible © 2020 by Bible Hub and Berean.Bible. All rights Reserved. Cross References: Genesis 30:6; Exodus 14:8; 1 Samuel 26:20; 2 Kings 24:4; Job 2:10; Job 22:11; Job 30:9-10; Job 34:28; Psalm 8:3; Psalm 25:1; Psalm 28:4; Psalm 33:9; Psalm 34:22; Psalm 59:7; Psalm 74:18; Psalm 77:2; Psalm 77:7 Psalm 78:38; Psalm 80:14; Psalm 83:15; Psalm 88:6; Psalm 97:2; Psalm 119:136; Psalm 139:2; Psalm 140:12; Isaiah 24:17-18; Jeremiah 11:19; Jeremiah 22:3; Jeremiah 37:16; Lamentations 2:11; 1 Corinthians 4:13; 2 Corinthians 13:5; Hebrews 7:19; Hebrews 12:5; Hebrews 12:10

#Jeremiah #hope #God's justice #a prayer for deliverance #Lamentations 3 #Book of Lamentations #Old Testament #BRB #Berean Bible #Bible Hub #The Reader's Bible

[lakemojave]

Land of Falling Sun: Draft 2, Chapter 5

Somewhere on the plateau, somewhere high in the sky above the desert below, far above the bandits and hunters and beasts and caves, where the only thing in reach was the false promise of a landscape teeming with adventure and opportunity, there was a vulture. This vulture was not unusual, not at the moment. At the moment, it had one head, two eyes, one beak, and one pair of wings, feathers and bones and all. It flew and crowed exactly as a vulture is expected--no more unnervingly than a vulture is expected. Its instincts, at the moment, were exactly in line with a vulture’s priorities in the waking world: to feast on the dead for food. In the waking world, it would be a completely harmless animal. On Moapa, on the great plateau, it was a foolish and dangerous quantity.

It did not take long after crossing into Moapa through a thick sandstorm until it found food: a naked man lying flat in the desert, who was dead. The bird circled him once, twice, then a third time before descending slowly onto the body. It was dead. This was true. The vulture saw no signs of decay or defilement, so its meal was certainly fresh. It began to peck and carve into the dead man’s flesh, exposing the delicious viscera within.

The dead man screamed.

The man was dead. This was true. The vulture, a creature notorious for its wisdom, knew this. It knew this. It knew the man was not suffering. However, the bird wanted to eat in peace, so it grabbed the corpse’s hair by its talons which, perhaps by some form of rigor mortis, caused him to writhe, as though in pain. As though in fear of its life, the corpse continued screaming as the bird pried the man’s head back to expose its throat. The bird pecked and jabbed at the fresh, still pulsating neck of the dead man, whom it knew was dead. With one last, false plea for its long extinguished life, the vulture tore the man’s throat out. It let out a few false gags as blood poured from the wound in his neck and up out of his mouth, and it lay still.

The vulture ate in peace.

-----

A hunter rested in her tent. She lay on her back with her hood flipped over her eyes, shading her from the light of two suns. She slept with her rifle.

She needed a lucky hunt if she wanted to survive her journey, and a lucky hunt she did have. In a forest of ribs and burned trees, she found a bear. She killed that bear--one shot in its skull from two miles away without giving herself away. The meat it provided would nourish her for days, and the meat she could not carry would feed some other creature in the boneyard forest, who might take its place.

She loved the hunt. She loved the planning, the tracking, the preparation. She loved stalking her targets and hitting those impossible shots she was gifted with. She loved when the hunt turned on her, and fighting for her life against a much stronger beast, and winning every time. She loved reaping the rewards and eating well.

It was another failure, though. Big game and thrill-seeking was not her goal. The moment her hunt ended, she remembered her true target. She would stew in these thoughts, these regrets, as she slept with her rifle, never feeling safe with her own mind as company.

Something stirred behind her. She pulled the trigger.

The shot rang like thunder next to her ear. The bullet pierced the canvas and connected with the organism outside. If she had company, the effortless shot might have seemed impressive. She got up to inspect the kill.

She did have company. The organism was not alone.

Had her ear not been ringing, she might have heard the mournful wails from the women kneeling at the hunter’s kill. When she saw them, turning to face the women of many scales and tendriled limbs, she yelped.

They descended on her instantly.

The last anyone saw the hunter, she was still running.

-----

The landscape of the plateau was not entirely hostile. Scattered throughout its more desolate biomes were several small oases, a welcome sight to beast and traveler alike. It was not uncommon for homesteads and settlements to crop up around them, to take the water source and turn it towards a permanent safe haven for whoever claimed them first.

These were often the most dangerous places one could find. The closest the plateau had to a society was a scattered assortment of solitary, rugged individuals occasionally forced to interface with other solitary, rugged individuals. People were afraid of people, and those who did form groups or permanent settlements were especially protective, especially paranoid, especially dangerous.

The beasts were a problem, of course, particularly coyotes, particularly on such settlements. One such settlement was a goat farm. Goat farms were some of the oldest and most consistently secure settlements on the whole plateau. Being true omnivores, goats could graze on the plateau’s many inedible or poisonous plant species, and reduce any carcass in their wake to bones. They provided substantial milk, and their meat was delicious.

Hence, the coyote problem. They were stealthy, tactical predators, taking their prey back to their dens without a trace, then luring scavengers with the corpses. A rather ambitious pack had reduced one settlement’s goats down to half their original herd. In a week, the settlement’s survival was at an unprecedented risk.

This farm was home to four families. Two of them were hunters and scavengers, and were frequently absent. Of the two families that held down the oasis, the Vales were the oldest. The hands of their great-great-grandparents built the town, and their great-grandparents were its most fervent defenders. As long as the Vales remained, so would the farm. They made sure the others knew this well.

The youngest boy of the Vale family was a blind lad named James. The bright young thing lost his favorite goat, Rufus, to the coyotes in the most recent raid. He yearned for revenge, but his family urged him not to seek it. “Thelma will be back soon,” they’d say, “Then we can talk about it.” His sister was a great shot, indeed, and the farm would be much better off when she returned from her hunt. Until she did, however, the coyotes would continue hurting the farm.

One sundown, James Vale sat with the goats. The young boy had no weapons, no traps, no strategy. He simply sat and waited for the coyotes to come. He clenched his fists as he heard them approach.

The next morning, young James’ family found him lying bleeding on the ground with his arm broken--next to three dead, bloody coyotes.

-----

It was sundown. The young man smiled as he watched the sun sink below the northern horizon.

A change in the air. Light turns to fire. Stars struggle to shine. Moapa in flux.

The young man smiled. At sundown, he Worked. He did magic.

He carried with him a stack of old books from several collections of old strangers who parted with their prizes willingly or not. He would flip through their notes and sigils and recipes, try and trace the underlying current of their Works. Repeating them was one thing, but he only achieved a diminished effect than intended. The wind would change if he beckoned it, but it would not blow strong. His illusions were weak, his wards fragile, his fireballs unimpressive. It was satisfying to experiment like this, but even he knew there was something missing--something these mages had that he lacked.

There was a philosophy under each of these grimoires, something unifying the construction and desired effects of each Working. He couldn’t tell what they were, though--they were grimoires, not manifestos, so their beliefs were not spelled out literally. As he sat by his campfire reading that night, though, he had a realization at the heart of his study. He didn’t understand the books now, but he would through his own practice, his own journey. What he sought would come to him.

“What I seek,” he whispered aloud, “will come to me.”

With this, he thought about food. He took a few steps out into the sand, then closing his eyes, pictured a sigil. He drew it in the sand: a broken and jagged circle, like a rocky crevasse waiting to gore an unsuspecting climber. He retreated behind a rock and, facing the sigil, whistled.

Sure enough, the sigil pulsed and came alight. In the distance, a hog squealed. He heard the beast trot to the symbol and raise its head in curiosity. The young man smiled. What he sought had come to him.

He killed that boar and ate well. He afforded himself a drink or two in celebration. It was his most successful Work yet, and he did it all by his own. No books, no teacher, just his own intuition, imagination, and determination. He was changing, transforming into a vessel for greater magic still.

He slept with an ache in his wrist.

The next morning, he smelled flowers. He sniffed the air curiously, but as he turned about to track the source, he felt an immense pain. His arms and chest cramped as he rose from his tent and met the morning light. As he looked at his wrist, he shuddered. A large bulge formed along his tendons, pulsing and stretching under his skin. He watched in horror as from both his arms, something burst from his skin and sprouted. They were the tips of two vines, branching and creeping towards his hands and up his arms. Along the vines were flower bulbs.

He fell to his knees. The smell was so sweet, so overpowering, but not enough to dull the pain in his body, the twisting and swirling agony of transformation as his flesh and bone gave way to plant matter. He was turning into a vessel for even greater magic. What he sought came to him.

-----

In a fairer, grassier biome on Moapa, there was a bar. Goat farmers, explorers, scavengers and caravans alike would unwind here to rest after travel and work. No one was a stranger here; the town that hosted this bar was on a frequent route for all kinds, all of whom fraternized with the town’s many-legged inhabitants. It was often quiet. There was little to say.

The last few days, however, were unpleasant, for there was a stranger among them. He frequented the bar and the poker tables regularly, upsetting the townsfolk and their comfort by nature of his being for two reasons. First, he was classically humanoid--two arms, two legs, one head--unlike the insectoid inhabitants of the town and the various creatures that passed through the biome. Second of all, he was a skeleton.

Now, the townspeople all knew that classical humanoids had internal, not external skeletons. Perhaps he was unlike his kind, and some imperceptible organ tissue lay within him. Perhaps he was a human who had lost his organ tissue completely, and by some force of will or magic continued on, animate as before. Perhaps he was an animated skeleton that managed to adopt a voice, name, personality, and memory by some skillful act of puppetry. Otherwise, he would have to be a human person raised fully from the dead in a skeletal form, which was wholly impossible.

Nothing was actually unpleasant about his behavior, not really. He was a little loud, a little annoying at times, but he was always polite, always greeting people with a friendly, country twang. He didn’t eat or drink, but he was always playing cards and never seemed to mind losing. He was horrifying.

One day, after he lost a few too many hands in a row, he readjusted his tattered shirt, reached for his wide-brimmed straw hat, and stood up to leave. He was about to tip his hat to the gentlemen across from him when the saloon doors stood open. There stood a hooded figure, about a head taller than the townsfolk. He leaned on an elaborate looking cane with a single arm. In his hand, shoved into the handle of the cane, appeared to be loose leaves and herbs. He looked to the skeleton.

“Hi there sir,” the skeleton said in his usual cheerful and friendly tone, “What can I do ya for?”

The figure clenched his cane, which started to glow a light blue, as the leaves began to dissolve. “I’ve been looking for you.” He slowly lifted the cane--glowing more powerfully now--and raised it to point at the skeleton.

The skeleton threw a bottle at the hooded man, hitting him square in the forehead. He then leapt over the bar, grabbed the stashed shotgun, and shot the man right in the chest. The man flew out the door and into the street, dead on the spot. His spell misfired into the air in a loud crack of lightning, which hit nothing.

“Well,” the skeleton said, “That’s a damn shame. Pardon me fellas, y’all have a good day.” He walked to the saloon doors and claimed his gun belt from the doorman. The townsfolk never saw him again.

-----

The last anyone had seen the hunter, she was still running.

Read the rest of my second draft on my patreon! The unedited first draft can be found here

#land of falling sun #lofs

[shrewdmagpie]

Just a series of heart wrenching songs about a cat named Virtute.

Why don't you ever wanna play?

I'm tired of this piece of string

You sleep as much as I do now

And you don't eat much of anything

I don't know who you're talking to

I made a search through every room

But all I found was dust that moved

In shadows of the afternoon

And listen

About those bitter songs you sing

They're not helping anything

They won't make you strong

So we should open up the house

Invite the tabby two doors down

You could ask your sister if

She doesn't bring her basset hound

Ask the things you shouldn't miss

Tape hiss and the modern man

Cold war and card catalogs

To come join us if they can

For girly drinks and parlor games

We'll pass around the easy lie

Of absolutely no regrets

And later maybe you could try

To let your losses dangle off

The sharp edge of a century

We'll talk about the weather

Or how the weather use to be

And I'll cater

With all the birds that I can kill

Let their tiny feathers fill

Disappointment

I'll lie down

And lick the sorrow from your skin

Scratch the terror and begin

To believe you're strong

All you ever want to do is drink and watch TV

Frankly that thing doesn't really interest me

I swear I'm going to bite you hard and taste your tinny blood

If you don't stop the self-defeating lies you've been repeating since the day you brought me home

I know you're strong

It had something to do with the rain

Leaching loamy dirt

And the way the back lane came alive

Half moon whispered, "Go"

For a while I heard you

Missing steps in the street

And your anger pleading

In an uncertain key

Singing the sound that you found for me

When the winter took the tips of my ears

Found this noisy home

Full of pigeons and places to hide

And when the voices die

I emerged to watch abandoned machines

Waiting for their men to return

I remember the way

I would wait for you

To arrive with kibble

And a box full of beer

How I'd scratch the empties

Desperate to hear

You make the sound that you found for me

After scrapping with the ferals and the tabby

Let you brush my matted fur

How I'd knead into your chest while you were sleeping

Shallow breathing made me purr

But I can't remember the sound that you found for me

I can't remember the sound that you found for me

I can't remember the sound

Now that the treatment and antidepressants

And seven months sober have built me a bed

In the back of your brain where the memories flicker

And I paw at the synapses, bright bits of string

You should know I am with you, know I forgive you

Know I am proud of the steps that you've made

Know it will never be easy or simple

Know I will dig in my claws when you stray

So let us rest here like we used to

In a line of late afternoon sun

Let it rest, all you can't change

Let it rest and be done

#Virtute #the weakerthans #john k. samson #Spotify

[shivunin]

16. Something written to your OC by an older member of the family and 3. Writing found in your OC’s trash can (Elowen Lavellan) from this prompt list:

A letter delivered along with three near-identical versions, each dated one day apart and signed with the same signature. Appended to this letter is a plea from an Inquisition agent stationed in Wycome requesting a swift response.

Ara da’ean,

I am certain you must know exactly why I am writing to you, but I will make my reasons quite clear before I continue:

When I heard you had taken up with a human, I accepted it. You have done what you can for the clan from the other side of the sea, and I understand your role is unusual. You must make whichever choices will help you survive amongst the shems. I understood that. We all understood. 

But ‘ma’asha'lan, a Templar? How could you?

We have heard so little from you directly. After the fighting was over and your army arrived to fortify Wycome, I had assumed you were simply too busy to send your mother a letter. News reaches us here as well as it reaches the rest of the shem lands, so I know they have dragged you from one end of the continent to the other. I was not upset. 

Only now do I see that it was cowardice, not official business that stayed your hand. 

Respond at once and explain yourself. I intend to speak with this fool scout every day until I receive your reply. 

—Fen’ghi’lan, Halla’amelan of Clan Lavellan

Mother to the Inquisitor, not that she seems to recall

A series of notes emptied from the Inquisitor’s desk-side rubbish bin:

Mother,

Mamae,

Fen’ghi’lan, 

As I am sure you are aware, I am fully grown and perfectly capable of choosing

Fenedhis, she’ll kill me. 

Mamae, 

I am well, thank you for asking. As you can imagine, my time remains quite short. 

You are right. I should have written earlier. I can only say that there is too much to say and I have no idea where to begin. This life is so different from the one we lived together with the clan that I scarce know what I can tell you without leaving out too much information entirely. I had hoped against hope that I might find a way to visit should the Inquisition have need of me in the Marches, but such things have not come to pass. So: there. I am sorry, and I mean it. 

Now, with regards to Commander Cullen: 

Yes. The rumors are true. This, like most things that have happened to me over the past year, is something that I believe will require more explanation than can fit in a letter. He is a kind and good man, Mamae. Trust that I know when something is wrong and when something is right, and this is right. He has nothing to do with what happened to Papae all those years ago and I wish you would just—

Fenedhis fenedhis fenedhis this is impossible

This line is followed by a series of scribbles that loosely depict a woman being trampled by halla. There is an Inquisition symbol on her breastplate and she is holding a staff.

Elvhen:

Ara da’ean: my little bird

‘ma’asha'lan: my daughter

Halla’amelan: Halla-keeper

#my writing #dragon age inquisition #cullavellan #elowen lavellan #clan lavellan #haha!! i have finally finished this!! #tbh this one was the most fun to write #the idea of the inquisitor getting in trouble with her mama cracks me up #this is a 'you never call' letter if ever i saw one #anyways she does eventually answer her mom it just takes a bit #and a conversation with leliana after fen'ghi'lan takes her frustrations to the communications hub in wycome directly #in case anyone is wondering elowen's dad got between a group of templars and an elven mage in an alienage #they sent him back to the clan in a jar (which they thought was awfully benevolent) #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x lavellan #shivunin scrivening