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kissingghouls · 8 months

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If You Remember This Tomorrow

Phantom Ghoul x GN! Reader - Fluff, Tipsy Kissing, 1700 words

Heard a song, had an idea, wrote some fluff. I don't even know. Thank you to @ramblingoak because you're always so dang supportive. 💜

fic list // ao3 // Little Ghost (pt2) // A Late Night Call (pt3)

The room is loud, almost unbearably so. There are bodies everywhere, some paired off and some not, but all of them are illuminated by lights that flash in a wonderful rainbow of pretty colors. The dancefloor is full, and you feel as though you’re floating after that last drink that tasted more like red than anything else.

A smile spreads over your face as Swiss sways a little too excitedly and stumbles over his dance partner. None of this is new, not even the multi-ghoul falling over his own feet. He barks out a hearty laugh from his new spot on the floor, his whole body shaking. Somehow, he manages to get back to his feet without spilling a drop of his drink. It’s an impressive feat that earns him a kiss on the cheek as a prize before the pair spins off together to get better acquainted.

The success of the Ghost project meant that a good portion of the Ministry was on tour more often than not anymore. While the Ministry parties had always been wild, the more recent homecoming celebrations left most of the congregation with little to no memory of the night before.

A thick fog rolls over the floor, that sickly sweet smell of chemical syrup pumped out from the machines filling the air. Phantom materializes in it, a vapor turned solid shape that now blocks your path. You bounce off him, unsteady and unable to correct your course in your current state. He grabs your elbow, keeping you upright and off the ground with a soft smile. His teeth have a red tint to them, much like your own, but it’s too bright and too loud to make out what he’s saying.

He leans in to repeat himself, his grip a little tighter on your arm. He smells like strawberries and some kind of alcohol. But under the top notes of what you guessed was the last drink he had was the soft smell of a cologne so nice you wanted to bury your face in it.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time with the newly summoned ghoul—time was a luxury neither one of you had. But the pull had been there from the beginning, ever since he clawed his way out of the Pit and locked eyes with you. It’s a dance, one with several complicated steps and neither one of you had felt compelled to lead.

He says something else, words that taste like fruit punch and candy. You grin lazily and pat his shoulder, allowing yourself the first intended contact from you to him. His breath hitches, grip tightening once more. He’s so close now you can feel the heat of his skin through his clothes. A uniform you dare to imagine, for a split-second, rumpled in a pile on your floor.

It’s clumsy at first and your teeth clash together more than your lips, but the two of you are in such a stupor that you don’t stop. His hand moves to your back, pressing you close as he adjusts and kisses you properly. Behind you someone whistles—most likely Dew or Cumulus—but it doesn’t distract the ghoul from the task. He brings a hand to the side of your face, fingers splayed over your cheek and neck as he pulls the breath from your lungs.

You grab handfuls of his collar and break away, keeping your forehead pressured to his as you struggle for air. Kissing him is like drowning and you want nothing more than to be underwater again.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles against your lips. He draws a line over your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and moves in again.

The next kiss is dizzying, knees buckling under the pressure and the flick of his tongue. He keeps you upright with a firm hand on your back and the one on your face slides into your hair. He tugs lightly, a smile hidden between you as you let out the tiniest moan.

Someone clears their throat nearby and the pair of you split apart like you’ve been caught behind the bleachers at a school dance. Papa offers Phantom an almost fatherly smile and pats him on the shoulder. He suggests the two of you get some air to avoid the cluster of ghouls watching nearby. Phantom is flustered, a pink tinge highlighting his cheeks as he stares back at his captive audience. Mountain and Rain each give him a thumbs up paired with toothy grins.

Your own cheeks heat up as you realize at some point you had been the topic of discussion between the ghouls. Some lonely night had passed between them on the road, maybe on the bus or in some dingy greenroom, and you were the reason he asked for advice from the others. The revelation makes you feel too warm in your clothes, a blush now spreading over your entire body.

You press your face against his shoulder, hiding a shy smile. He slides his hand down your arm, fingers brushing as the lace with yours. He asks if you would like to go with him and yes is the only word you know for a moment.

You don’t miss the smile on his face when the two of you start moving toward the exit, hand in hand.

“Wait!”

Sunshine, ever the perpetual dealer of chaos, approaches carrying two large cups filled with that same red drink that now tastes like Phantom’s kiss. She drops a wink in your direction that is the opposite of subtle and tells you both to have fun before sending you away.

Outside the night is unseasonably cool, a rare break from the heat of summer and the abbey’s sweltering ballroom. You both close your eyes, enjoying the gentle breeze that blows over the grounds. It’s quiet as the wind stills. No one else has made their way out from the party yet. In a few hours the lawn will be filled with your friends and his, but for now it’s just you and Phantom and maybe a curious spirit or two.

You sip carefully from your cups as you walk, the red dye staining your lips and teeth. It doesn’t matter to either of you anymore.

Phantom trips over a gnarled tree root, his drink spilling sticky red liquid over his fingers as he drops to the ground. You can’t help but laugh, the alcohol in your system doing you no favors. He pouts beneath you and wipes his wet hand across your thigh, smearing juice and dirt into your clothes. As you move to help him up, you catch the same root with your own feet and land in the grass next to him in a fit of giggles.

“You ok?” he asks through his own laughter, smiling wide when you nod. He settles on the lawn propped up on an elbow as he watches you.

The minutes pass, the pair of you splitting the remainder of your drink as you sit together in the grass. It’s a clear, beautiful night—a lot like the night he was summoned and pulled from the ground by Papa himself. You smile at the thought, the memory now a tiny movie in your head.

“I think I’m stuck,” he tells you and sinks into the ground a little more.

You shuffle closer, the space between you reduced to maybe half an inch. He drapes an arm over your waist, closing the gap even more with a soft sigh.

“You’re nice to look at,” he admits happily, a small hiccup breaking the sentence.

“Am I?”

“Mmhmm. There’s a word for it up here—I can’t remember it now, but in the Pit we’d say,” he pauses for a moment and brings his mouth to your ear before making a noise that sounds like a dryer full of gravel. “There’s not a word for word translation, but it’s close.”

You do your best to imitate the noise, giggling at his surprised face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he teases, clutching a hand to his chest in fake shock.

You laugh harder at his stupid joke than you mean to, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“No,” you finally manage as you dare to reach for his waist. “Kissed you with it, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says thoughtfully. “We should do that again.”

“We could. Or you can tell me more about how I’m nice to look at.”

He buries his face in the space between your neck and shoulder with a tiny whine. “Words are hard, ok?”

“So you’re not going to kiss—mmph!”

He catches your lips in another slow, passionate kiss that leaves you lightheaded. Your legs tangle as he pins you against the soft ground and you can’t think of anywhere you’d rather be. He tastes like heaven or maybe hell, syrupy sweet from whatever the ghouls had put in those cups.

He sounds smug as he mumbles something about being right to want to kiss you again, not quite pulling away enough to be fully understood. It doesn’t matter because you’re both smiling, completely drunk on fruit punch and each other.

Minutes become hours, but Phantom keeps you warm through the night. You talk about everything as you slowly sober up. He tells you about his time on the road, stories about mischief and misbehaved ghouls and the thousands of happy faces that he’s seen. You explain what he missed while he was away, like the time the hell hound puppies escaped their crates and dug up part of Primo’s garden and the day Cowbell fell into the fountain.

The two of you rest against a tree—the same one with the root that had taken you both down. In the comfortable quiet you fall asleep on his shoulder, his arm draped around you to keep you close. When his eyes begin to feel too heavy, he presses a kiss into your hair and rests his head on yours.

It won’t be long before your friends find you and tease you while you all nurse hangovers and swear never to drink that much again. There will be stories about what you missed and who came searching for you, who fell in the pool and who taught Papa the latest dance. You’ll listen to all of it while Phantom holds your hand and you will know you were right where you were supposed to be.

#my fics #my writing #phantom ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul x gn reader #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #ghost band fanfic #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls fanfic

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hywenhywen · 9 months

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0.02 seasons - kim chaewon

warnings / notes - loosely based off of seasons by wave to earth, very sensitive topics / reader discretion advised, non-idol!chaewon, time skips, reader sucks at communicating, reader is very insecure / has low self-esteem

wc - 2.7k

“we can't go out anymore.” you said.

“what?” chaewon asked, stunned by your words.

“i need a break.” you replied, looking down at your feet.

“why?” she asked. “i thought we were doing fine, just yesterd-”

“i don't feel well.” you stated.

“did you get sick? have you taken medicine yet?”

“not like that chaewon.”

“so what,” she sighed. “we're going to go down the drain?”

“i don't find another solution to this.”

“i can help you. we'll get through this together."

“we can't. i cant.” you mumbled. “it's something i've carried with me since i was a child.”

tense silence filled the area. crickets could be heard chirping. your hands balled into tight fists, your knuckles turning white from the pressure. the feeling of guilt grew deeper inside you. maybe this all could've been avoided if you were a better person. this was all your fault in the end.

“don't ball your fists up like that, you'll hurt yourself.” chaewon said, reaching to place her hands over yours. “i know i can't change your mind, so please take care of yourself.”

you turned to look at her, regret already starting to settle in your heart. a tear flowed down your cheek, stoping at your chin. using your sleeve to wipe your cheek dry, you stood up suddenly. chaewon’s eyes followed your actions. she stood up as well.

“thank you for this year.” chaewon said, a sorrowful smile plastered on her face. “take care of yourself.”

chaewon turned the other way and began walking away. tears started to leak from your eyes, your actions having finally been processed by your mind. regret settled rapidly in your conscious and heart. your knees felt weak, your chest tightened, and things appeared to be spinning. your life was falling apart.

you did what you had to do. you always knew you weren't enough for chaewon. she was perfect and you were you. you would never amount to anything. that's what they all said, all the time.

friday, february 24, 12:03 am, 9 days after your break up. that was when you had finally gotten up from your bed. the streets were quiet, the light the street lamps emitted hurt your unaccustomed eyes. your body ached badly. you felt frail, as if a wrong step would make you crumble.

you stepped into your bathroom, opting to leave the light off, and stared at yourself in the mirror. you stood there, shell shocked. who was the person in the mirror? that surely couldn't be you. it had gotten bad, awfully bad.

you opened the faucet and let the water run for a bit. you rested your hands on the sink and let your head hang. you stayed like that for a while, the small amounts of water vapor brought you back to your senses. opening the cold water, you placed your hand under the still mildly hot water. the water stung for a while before it began to cool down.

your hands remained under the running water for a few moments before you splashed some water onto your face. the cool water soothed your burning skin. you continued to rub your face with the water in hopes that it would make you dissolve at some point. you did that for about five minutes, before your body began to ache even worse. you felt like you were bound to crumble from a single movement.

you weakly stumbled out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. your body moving on its own, paying to mind to all the alarms going off inside your mind. your arms reached for every piece of furniture, attempting to hold yourself up as you walked around your home. you only had a few more steps until you could reached the cupboard. then your legs finally gave up.

you fell onto the floor, the lack of nutrients finally taking its toll. with little energy left to spare, you remained on the floor and tried standing up, yet to no avail. you only managed to sit up again the fridge. tears began streaming down your cheeks, falling onto your hands. you remained still for a while, tears continuously pouring from your eyes.

after a while your crying had ceased. you continued to lean again the fridge, sniffles and running ac echoed across the room. you had managed to calm down and gathered all your strength. placing your hand on the counter, you tried to stand up once again. finally being able to stand, you dragged your feet towards the cupboard and reached for a cup.

having the cup in hand, you stumbled towards the water dispenser. you reached out and got some water. bringing the cup up to your lips slowly, you tipped your head back and began to drink the water. the water was cold and sent a shock through your body, it soothed your dry throat. you hastily finished the cup and moved to fill it again. finally feeling some relief you sighed loudly, as if you could breathe again.

you had decided to keep your word to chaewon. you were going to take care of yourself. you were going to get better for her, even if it meant going through hell and back. you wanted to be your best for chaewon. it was certainly going to be tough, but with the amount of love your heart had for her, nothing was impossible.

it had been nine months since that day. they say time heals. not for you, nothing ever went your way. time refused to help you. surprisingly, you had managed to keep yourself in decent shape.

keeping chaewon’s words close to your heart, you pushed your limits and tried your hardest. you did your best to be better, for her. you never managed to fix your mindset though, you only learned to tune it out, to avoid it. everyday was a struggle. all you wanted to do was stay in bed, not moving a single muscle.

even breathing had become a nightmare. mundane tasks became struggles. the first week you were bed bound, you didn't leave your room for a while. your phone laid dormant on your nightstand. it went off every few hours.

friends texted, wondering where you were, if you were ok. your parents called after not hearing from you for a few days. only the furniture in your apartment bore witness to the calamitous events. you had memorized the pattern of your ceiling. the feeling of your sheets, the motion of the wind, the way your chest aches when breathing.

you struggled with yourself all the time. you wanted to fall back into the same habit, just doing enough. you felt miserable every time. the same routine everyday. wake up, wash your face and brush your teeth, eat breakfast, go to work. the afternoon wasn't very different, aside from doing something productive and new every wednesday.

your alarm began to ring, you pulled an all-nighter again. you rolled over to face your alarm, quickly turning it off. you groaned and slowly sat up. you stretched a bit before swinging your legs off the side of the bed. you yawned and stood up from the bed.

you made your way to the bathroom and turned on the water. lukewarm water worked best for mornings like this. you splashed some water onto your face before drying your face off and grabbing your toothbrush. applying the recommended portion on the bristles you began brushing your teeth. you finished after about five minutes and walked to the kitchen opting to drink coffee for today's breakfast.

starting the coffee machine, you had about 15 minutes for the coffee to be done. walking back to your room you grabbed your regular attire and got dressed. you grabbed your bag and placed it near the door, a few seconds later you heard the coffee machine end. moving towards the kitchen your grabbed a thermos and poured the coffee into it. you added sugar to taste and left the lid open so it could cool a bit.

you grabbed your phone and saw you had a message from sakura.

y/n

are we still on for breakfast?

a look of shock adorned your face, sakura rarely asked to go out, typically opting for home cooked meals. your shocked washed away when you realized what day it was. you had made plans with her the night you went to the river.

ofc kkura

i'll see you in a bit

you quickly rushed out the door and haphazardly grabbed your things. you made your way downstairs and towards the bus stop. you tossed things into your bag, tightly holding your steaming coffee to avoid spilling. you reached the bus stop and sat down on one of the benches. you set your coffee down and organized your bag quickly.

the bus arrived a few minutes after you had finished organizing your bag. when the bus doors opened you stood up, grabbed your things and got on. you opted to sit all the way in the back, right next to a window. you brought your thermos up to your lips, the coffee emitted a comfortable amount of heat to contrast the cold november morning. carefully tipping the cup, you took a reasonable sip.

the coffee warmed you up rapidly. you continued to drink very cautiously, not wanting to ruin your clothes this early. turning your head towards the window, you observed the scenery. young and older schoolchildren walked towards the nearby school building. most were dressed in thick and heavy coats, others wore simple jackets.

you continued to look out the window, taking in your surroundings and sipping on your warm coffee. you relaxed momentarily and took a deep breath.

“i could get used to this.”

you picked up your phone and scrolled through your social media, liking photos and videos occasionally. you turned your phone off and continued looking out the window, counting all the trees you saw. the silence on the bus soon got boring so you put on your headphones and played your favorite songs. humming and tapping your foot along to the beat, a smile grew on your face. this was one of the most relaxing mornings so far.

you arrived at your stop soon enough, you collected your things, payed the fare, and walked towards a medium sized café. you opened the door and you saw sakura at a table in the far left corner. you walked towards her, taking your headphones off and putting them away. you walked up to the table and pulled the chair out a bit.

“sorry i'm late.” you said, hanging your bag on the chair. “it completely slipped my mind.”

“it's fine, i just got here a few minutes ago.” she said.

“do you know what you want?” you asked. “it's my treat.”

“oh don't worry about paying, i can pay for it,” sakura said, waving you off. “but yeah, i know what i want.”

“want to go order?” you said, standing up offering her your hand.

she nodded and took your hand. you made small talk while waiting in line. you cracked a few jokes and laughed a bit. after a bit, you finally got to order. you somehow managed to convince sakura to let you pay.

the cashier let you know that it would be out in a bit and that they'd call you when it was done. sakura led you back to the table you had been sitting at. this time you sat down facing the door, rather than facing the wall. you two continued talking for a while before the door of the café opened. you turned your head a little to see who came in.

it was chaewon.

your heart immediately started to race, your vision became blurry, and your breathing was erratic. sakura took notice and turned to look towards the door, once she noticed who it was she turned back to you. she waved her hand in front of your face for a bit. you never noticed her, so she began shaking your shoulders and calling your name. that had managed to catch your attention.

“y/n!” she exclaimed. “are you ok?”

you nodded your head, looking back towards the door. you looked around for a bit before finding chaewon at a booth, presumably waiting for someone. at that moment, the cashier called your name and placed your drinks on the counter. you stood up to grab them. you used that moment as a chance to get a better look.

to your surprise, chaewon seemed fine, almost as if nothing had ever happened. you set the cups down and sat down, clearing your throat in the process.

“sorry about that.” you apologized.

“you don't need to apologize.” sakura started. “i know how it feels, it's not a pleasant feeling.”

you started a conversation, hoping that it would momentarily distract you. it managed to work and you got carried away. the café’s door opened once again. your head snapped to look at who it was. it was a young woman.

from the corner of your eye you saw chaewon stand up and wave the woman over. your eyes followed the woman. once she reached chaewon you saw her place a kiss on her cheek. your jaw dropped and your heart began to ache. you blinked slowly then stood up from your chair.

your hand rested on your chest as you walked out of the café, experiencing many different emotions at once. sakura grabbed your things and quickly followed behind you. once she had reached you, her hand moved towards yours.

“y/n.” she said. “what happened?”

“she,” you said in a breathless voice. “she kissed someone.”

“chaewon did?” she asked, a look of shock adorned her face. “she never mentioned someone.”

you held your head in your hands, attempting to steady your breathing. all the breathing exercises you had learnt were futile, your breathing was inconsistent. at some point you began to wheeze, you felt your throat slowly close. you gasped for air and reached for sakura. she seemed to be panicking, worried for you, yet seemingly not knowing what to do.

you shut your eyes tightly and continued gasping for air. you reached for anything nearby, trying to find something to hold onto. you fumbled with the top button on your shirt, hoping it would help you breathe. sakura in a moment of pure desperation, tapped your back lightly, almost as if she was trying to make you cough. you began to cough, finally being able to breathe.

you took a deep gasp and turned to look at sakura. you smiled weakly at her and continued coughing lightly. sakura attempted to comfort you by rubbing your back.

“you scared me.” she said.

“sorry about that kkura.” you muttered. “i didn't know i'd get like this.”

“you don't need to apologize. it could've happened to anyone after what you saw.” she said.

“how'd she move on that quickly?” you asked, looking straight at sakura.

“no clue.” she replied. “people cope differently, maybe even heal quicker than others.”

you shrugged and sighed.

“i was just thinking that maybe in the future we could've gotten back together.” you chuckled weakly.

“don't give up, the chance might come someday.” sakura said, nudging you with her elbow.

“i'll try not to, i really do love her.” you said. “i think i should head home, don't feel too well.”

“if you need anything don't hesitate to call me.” sakura said. “i'll be here for you.”

“thanks kkura.” you said, pulling her into your arms and hugging her tightly. “we should eat together soon.”

“of course, somewhere farther though.” she laughed.

“i'll look forward to it.” you said, walking off in the direction of your house.

you decided to walk home rather than taking the bus. you opened your bag and got your headphones. the music put your mind at ease and let you relax for a moment. you placed your hand over your heart and faintly felt your heartbeat. your favorite part of the song was coming up.

once the part arrived you muttered the phrase.

“i’ll give you all my life,”

“my seasons.”

you were always going to wait for chaewon, even if it took you many lifetimes.

in the end, she would always be your love.

back to shore | 0.03

#📰 fics #★ — w2e #wave to earth #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim #le sserafim chaewon #kim chaewon #chaewon #chaewon x reader

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blackberrysummerblog · 3 months

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Somewhat More than Six Sentence Sunday!

Thanks so much for the tags this morning, @nightimedreamersworld and @larkral! I really appreciate everyone who’s been tagging me the past couple of weeks—I love seeing what everyone’s been writing and creating!

This is an unasked-for sequel to Monsters Under the Bed, the one and only fic I managed for COC this year 😬. If you read it, you know it ended on a surprisingly high note after Simon blew Baz’s side of the room up, and in this snippet he’s hard at work scrubbing it down. Baz is hard at work ogling him:

Snow’s working on the walls right now—I pointed out that scrubbing the floors only to pour dirty water down onto them again was a fool’s errand, and for once he seems to be listening. He’s been in shockingly high spirits in spite of the mess and destruction. We put in a request with Housing for a new bed, but with the influx of new students, we’re last on the list. (I also suspect that after putting up with our shenanigans for the past seven years, the beleaguered Mrs. Smickley would have Snow and I last on her list regardless.)(This is unfortunately not the first piece of furniture she’s had to replace in our room.) At any rate, I’ve spent the last two nights blissfully curled up in Snow’s bed, surrounded by the scent of him if not his physical presence. Snow has slept on the floor and, to his credit, has made no complaint, although I did notice he seemed a little creaky on the way to the en suite this morning.

He’s going to be the death of me. I always knew he would be, but somehow I’d imagined a more bloody, dramatic end in battle, not the ignominious case of vapors I’m afflicted with every time he stretches up to reach a corner of the ceiling and lets his shirt rise up above his waistband.

I hope everyone’s week is off to a great start! No-pressure tagging: @artsyunderstudy @cutestkilla @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @valeffelees @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @orange-peony @hushed-chorus @theotherhufflepuff @ionlydrinkhotwater @ivelovedhimthroughworse @iamamythologicalcreature @ic3-que3n @nausikaaa @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @bazzybelle @fatalfangirl @ileadacharmedlife @facewithoutheart @that-disabled-princess @thewholelemon @j-nipper-95 @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @imagineacoolusername @martsonmars @letraspal @palimpsessed @raenestee @stitchyqueer @rimeswithpurple @stardustasincocaine @captain-aralias @alexalexinii @wellbelesbian @supercutedinosaurs @aceumbrellaheroes @whogaveyoupermission @onepintobean @c0nsumemy5oul

#six sentences sunday #the simon snow series #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #watford era #watford eighth year #sweaty Simon #vapors-afflicted Baz #the mess is impervious to cleaning spells #of course it is 😭#there is only one bed #what could happen

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

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Congratulations on the 500 followers, you absolutely deserve it! 🎉 And there’s no pressure but could I request Jake x reader and first time, like maybe it’s in the bad habit universe and its the readers first time giving Jake a BJ ❤️

♡ pairing ; boyfriend ! hangman x female!reader

♡ wc ; 4.6k

♡ warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral (m receiving), mentions of oral f receiving, tiny bit of a dom/sub dynamic if you squint, spit, finger sucking, dirty talk, idk it's half past 4am i can't think) like one mention of vomit ?

♡ note ; bad habit universe, but can be read separately. this was the hardest thing i've ever written goodbye. thank you sol for saving my life time and again, this truly wouldn't have happened without you.

It’s his birthday, and Penny volunteered the Hard Deck as a party venue. Drinks are flowing freely, oldies are playing from the Juke Box, and Jake is drifting through it all with his usual cocky grin and an almost uncharacteristic tint of melancholy about the eyes.

You’ve been hanging back mostly, nursing a single Mojito, successfully riding the razor edge of intoxication—just a little bit of liquid courage instead of full-blown inebriation. Things go fuzzy around the edges, your chest feels warm, and everything’s a little lighter.

But the buzz of the nerves in your stomach doesn’t subside. Like a hummingbird got trapped in there.

At some point after midnight, you can’t take it anymore. You push your way through the crowd until you can slot yourself beneath his arm, press your front into his side like you’re trying to climb between his ribs.

Jake smiles at you, your own private smile, the one that belongs only to you, and your heart goes soaring in answer.

“There you are,” he says. The night has made him softer, makes him ignore the raised eyebrows from Coyote and Payback as he traces a kiss to your temple, makes him focus on nothing but you. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You can’t help it - you smile back, giddy and weightless.

“Do you want your present?”

He raises an eyebrow and reminds you, “You already gave me one, honey.”

You did hand him a wrapped present with birthday pancakes earlier this morning. A new pair of aviators because he broke his last ones and a framed picture of the two of you that Phoenix took at a bonfire just a week or so after you’d started dating. But that’s not what you’re talking about right now. That’s not what’s making your insides feel like a butterfly sanctuary.

So you shake your head.

“Another one. Different one.”

Something about the tone of your voice must make him take the hint. He blinks at you.

“Should we get out of here, then?” he asks, leaving the ball in your court.

You nod. “Take me home, Seresin.”

By the time you reach Jake’s bedroom, the liquid courage has turned to vapor. It’s quiet in the room, the kind of silence that echoes after the noise of the Hard Deck, of your friends’ voices, of the roaring of the car engine. You leave all the lights off except for the gentle orange glow of the lamp on the bedside table, hoping it’ll somehow help calm you down.

It doesn’t.

You bumble through a series of awkward motions, strip off your jacket, slip out of your shoes, take off your necklace and let it clink down on the top of the dresser. Jake, who’s only toed off his shoes, watches you through all of it, arms folded in front of his chest, an unreadable grin on his face.

Finally, you turn to face him, put both hands on his chest - and he’s so warm and his muscles so hard, and it hits you every time, like you’re a teenager, like you’re indulging in high-school fantasies, and it’s so dumb, but, god, if you don’t love it - and push him down onto the edge of the bed.

Jake goes willingly, and then he blinks up at you, not saying anything. Part of you had hoped for him to take the lead, but he’s making you work for it tonight. You hate it when he does that. It’s so much easier to follow his cues, feels natural to say yes, Jake, to let him bend you and shift you and move you wherever he wants you. Submitting to Jake is as easy as breathing because you know he’ll always catch you.

But with the way he’s grinning at you, you know he won’t help you out. Not right now.

You swallow around the lump clogging up your throat.

“Take off your pants,” you say, trying for a command that trails upward at its tail-end until it sounds like a question instead.

Jake chuckles but obliges you, opens the buckle of his belt, pops the button on the jeans and slides them down his legs, kicks them to his side.

You stare at his legs for a moment, at the soft flume of blond hairs dusting the shins, the golden skin, the scar on his knee from when he cracked it open trying to learn how to skateboard the summer he turned sixteen. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, yearning pulling at the muscles of your belly, you take a step closer.

“Your shirt too,” you say, and then, because you can’t help yourself, because it’s stronger than you, you add, “please.”

Jake’s lips purse like he’s trying to hold back words. Again, he listens. Slides the pale blue button-down over his head instead of unbuttoning it. It upsets some of his hair, a few strands sticking up, but he smooths them back into place easily.

It’s always like this - looking at Jake, the planes of his chest, the abs, the collarbones like marble arches protruding from his shoulders, there comes a moment when all you feel is the need to touch him. And then you always realize, belatedly, distantly, that you can. Because he’s yours.

The thought sends a thrill through you, a shudder that starts at your scalp and ends at the tips of your toes. Taking another step forward, right into the cradle of his thighs, you rest your palms on his shoulders.

Jake sighs, something like content to the sound.

You lick your lips, looking at him, feeling suddenly almost inadequate.

Jake, like always, picks up on it almost immediately.

“What you planning, sweetheart?” he asks. It sounds like you got yourself in this mess, now get yourself out of it too.

And you’d thought about this. Laid out the words like planning outfits for the first day of school, shoes and pants and shirt. Racked your brains on how to make it sexy and good and something he’d want instead of bumbling and awkward and embarrassing.

But now your head is wholly and decidedly empty, here in the face of him and all this want like shifting heat in your bones.

“I’m…” You pause, exhale, bite down on air as you wrestle with yourself, as you search within you for another burst of courage like you had in the bar. “I’m going to suck your cock.”

Where they’re resting on his thighs, Jake’s hands clench into fists. He tenses all over for a moment, every muscle taut, shoulders lifting, elbows jutting out, and then he moans. Actually moans.

You blink.

He’s pulling you against him before you know what’s happening, mouth finding yours with perfect precision. Then his tongue slides between your teeth and his hand is in your hair, and if you’d had a single thought left before, it’d be melting away now under the firm pressure of his lips on yours.

When Jake pulls away, your knees are weak, and his eyes are glazed over.

“You gonna suck my cock?” he asks, and his voice is dark.

You whimper, nod, look away, press your legs together.

Jake hooks a finger beneath your chin, turns your head so your eyes meet his. So you can’t look anywhere but at him. “You’re gonna get on your knees like a good girl and take my cock in that pretty mouth?”

You’re going to black out. You’re pretty sure of it.

“It’s your birthday,” you whisper, like that’s any kind of answer, like you aren’t so wet at the thought of his cock down your throat you’re soaking through your panties.

Jake watches you for another moment, eyes searching, and then he abruptly lets go of you. Leans back on his palms planted firmly on the mattress and spreads his legs a little further.

“Get on your knees then.”

You obey without thinking about it. In your chest, the nerves flutter their feathery wings, but you resolve to ignore them. The hardwood floors press awkwardly against your knees in a way you know will hurt later, but you keep your eyes level with the planes of Jake’s abdomen.

And then you don’t know how to proceed. Stay there, hands twisted into a knot in your lap, biting your lip.

Above you, you hear Jake exhale a shuddering breath.

“Have you done this before, honey?”

His voice is gentler than before, less demanding.

You shrug, think back to your high school boyfriend, to the abysmal experience of it all.

“Once,” you admit, and then don’t offer up any more information. You don’t really want to think about it.

Jake hums. His fingers card a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb coming out to stroke over your lower lip. Immediately, instinctively, you open your mouth, and Jake groans as he sinks the digit between your lips.

“You didn’t like it?” he asks, voice breathy. His finger presses down on your tongue, saliva gathering around it, and you’re pretty sure your eyes roll back in your head.

Then he withdraws it suddenly, and you feel the loss like an ache, sudden, stabbing, as he ghosts his finger across the column of your throat, smears a trail of your own spit onto your skin. It should be disgusting, but somehow, the thought of it, the draft from the open window caressing against the wet path of it, has you shuddering instead.

Jake repeats his question, nudges you gently.

“Oh.” You think about it for a second. “Not really. But he… I don’t think he liked it either.”

Jake cocks an eyebrow.

You shrug, look away from him.

“I don’t think… I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

And Jake laughs. The sound is loud and sudden, and it punches you in the chest. You all but recoil, drawing back into yourself, the shock of it sudden and horrible, and you can’t believe he’s laughing at you when you’re being open and vulnerable and…

Jake catches you by the shoulders, pulls you towards him - your knees go skating over the wood, and that’ll leave burn marks tomorrow, but right now, you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he bends in half to kiss you again, to take your hand and drag it to his crotch where he’s harder than he’s ever been, precum wetting the fabric of his boxers.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips, drawing back to nudge your nose with his in a gesture that seems almost too tender for the heat of the moment, “no way. There’s no way.”

It’s easier to ignore in his arms, with him so close, but the fear is still there. While you were just thinking about it, just imagining it, it was so easy to pretend you were confident, to feel some kind of misplaced bravado about it all. But now? You feel smaller than ever.

“I just…” You draw back a little, can’t explain why your voice is watery, why you feel so close to tears. “I just want it to be good, Jake. I just want to be good for you.”

Jake makes a noise like you’ve slapped him across the face.

“Always,” he mumbles, kissing you again, gentler this time, trails another one across your cheekbone, your nose, “you’re always good for me, honey.”

And then, without warning, he draws away, almost has you falling face-first against his stomach. With you kneeling, he’s a looming, hulking shadow above you.

“Need me to teach you, sweetheart?”

It’s just like Jake - wrapping the kindness of it all up in something that sounds lewd and almost condescending. But you know him well enough by now to recognize it for what it is: an offer to let you choose how you want to do this. Do you want him to guide you, or do you want to continue what you had planned, try to take the reins over for a while?

“It’s fine. It’s your birthday.” You push your hair back without looking at him. “Just… tell me if I do something wrong?”

He clicks his tongue, sighs, then leans back on his elbows, back almost flat against the mattress. Gestures towards his crotch with a sweeping wave.

“Have at it, then, sweetheart.”

“Alright,” you whisper and think that maybe you were wrong. Maybe it’s not fear coursing through you. You’re not really scared with Jake, not of anything. Just nervous, a little anxious, but most of all eager - to do good, to make him feel good.

So you slide your hands beneath the elastic of his boxers, grateful when he lifts his hips to help you slide them off. Slowly, you reach for his cock, telling yourself you’ve done this part before, have had him spilling into your palm just a day ago, and really how different can all of this be? It’s just spit and friction and a bit of pressure. Men are so much easier.

A muscle in Jake’s abdomen jumps. You take a deep, steadying breath and lean close enough that you can smell him - sweat and aftershave and his shower gel, too - and then, heart beating a hundred miles a minute, you lick a single, long stripe along the underside. It elicits a shudder from Jake, and you think, okay, great, that’s not bad, he’s not running screaming yet...

Tentatively, you take the tip into your mouth, suck softly, and Jake lets out a low groan.

“Shit… you’re doing great, sweetheart,” he says somewhere above you. “Just… go at your own pa-”

You slide your mouth further down his cock, far enough that you can feel the weight of him towards the back of your tongue (HUH????), that you can really taste him, and then, just to check, just to see that he hasn’t checked out yet, bored, occupied with something else, ready to move onto something where he’s in control and doesn’t have to content himself with your awkward explorations, you look up at him. Your eyes meet. Jake’s pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushed, mouth open wide. By his hips, his fingers clench into the fabric of the sheets.

The reaction surprises you, and you can feel the frown starting to form between your eyebrows, but it’s good, too, a reassurance that makes you feel somewhat more grounded. Carefully, you start bobbing your head up and down, just an inch or two at a time.

All the articles you’ve read trying to prepare for this night flash through your mind at lightning speed, a supercut of everything that had made your cheeks warm and your thighs clench. You remember baby pink font on cream background saying, The wetter, the better! and try to draw as much spit onto your tongue as possible, even with how dry your mouth feels.

Almost like an afterthought, you wrap your hand around the parts of him you can’t reach with your mouth, stomach swooping when you feel how slick he is with pre-cum and what you suppose to be your own drool. Half embarrassment, half desire. You pump your fist up and down, applying pressure the way Jake showed you the first time you got him off like that. Fingers always wrapped a little tighter than you would have thought.

“Jesus,” he whispers, voice quieter now, breaths uneven.

It fuels something in you. All of this is somehow much more difficult than you thought it would be because there’s so much to do at the same time, it’s hard to keep up: Tongue sweeping slow and steady circles around the tip of his cock, fisting at him in a rhythm you hope is at least similar, and all the while you have to remind yourself to keep breathing through your nose. It’s sort of like trying to rub your belly and pat your head at the same time.

But it’s good, too. Nice. You like the taste of him - a little salty - and the feeling of him inside you. You like how hard he is and how he makes these little noises when you move your tongue just so, something breathy and shallow and involuntary. It makes your heart beat faster, something giddy and soft and light floating through your chest.

I did this, you think, and it’s enough to have your head spinning. I am doing this.

And then you just need to know, need to hear him say it, need him to ground you the way only Jake can before something happens, and you end up in your own head again, overthinking, looping, spiraling…

So you pull off, cock releasing from your lips with a soft pop, taking a deep breath.

“Is it…” You trail off, look up at him, feel your cheeks and chest and ears warm. “Am I doing good?”

For a moment, Jake doesn’t answer. He just looks at you with that same far-off expression from earlier on his face, and then suddenly he groans, throws his head back, focuses on the ceiling, and says, “... Fuck.”

You don’t know what exactly that means, but it doesn’t sound bad or like he’ll ask you to stop anytime soon. At least, you’re really hoping he won’t. Because you’re actually, to your own surprise, starting to enjoy this, and you’d like to finish it. Him. Whatever.

Jake sits up then, looks down at you, smooths a hand across the top of your head.

“You, sweetheart,” he says, “are doing phenomenal.”

“Yeah?” you ask, can’t keep the smile at bay. The relief tingles in your bones.

“Yeah.” Jake’s thumb traces along the line of your jaw. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen with my cock in your mouth.”

You moan a little at that, insides clenching, and then you’re leaning in, eager now, suddenly impatient to get him back into you.

This time, you take him a little deeper, still scared to go far enough he’d reach your throat (some part of you is almost scared you’ll end up throwing up all over his dick and ruining the moment) but becoming a little more adventurous with it. Thinking less, feeling more. Like the way his cock twitches almost imperceptibly when you kitten-lick at the tip on an upward stroke or the way there’s a stutter in his breath every time you squeeze your fist.

For better leverage, you place your free hand on his thigh, lean closer, and suddenly your hair is in your face, getting tangled in your eyelashes, and you can’t see, and…

Jake’s fingers are on your scalp, pulling the strands away and holding them at the back of your scalp in a makeshift ponytail.

“That better?” he asks, and you just hum in response, closing your eyes, sinking another half-inch deeper…

Jake moans, a loud, raw sound, the hand at your head tightening, the one in the sheets flexing, and then suddenly he’s saying, “Shit, sweetheart, you sure you haven’t done this before?”

You’re almost completely convinced he’s saying it only for your benefit, and if you didn’t have your mouth full of dick, you might have told him not to patronize you, but as it stands, you just glower up at him.

He laughs, but this time it’s gentle and a little breathless and followed by something you’d describe as a whine, but only in the privacy of your own mind because he’d get pouty if you were to say it out loud. “I mean it. You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart. It’s like your mouth was fucking made for my cock, Jesus.”

That draws a sound from you, and you rock forward on your knees, insides squeezing like a fist, panties probably ruined. For a second, you wonder what the vibrations feel like for him, if it’s the same way it is for you when he’s got his face buried in your pussy like he wants to drown there.

And then Jake answers the unspoken question, dick jumping a little in your mouth, as he says, “Fuck, god, feels so fucking good. I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy and return the favor. You’re so fucking….”

You sink a little lower, hollow your cheeks, and suck at him, with more force than before, trying to get past the anxiety that you could somehow hurt him, or accidentally bite his dick off, or…

“Fuck,” Jake moans now with abandon. “God, you’re gonna kill me one of these days, Jesus, sweetheart….”

You whimper, lather your tongue all over him, pull off to plant a few wet, messy kisses along the length of him. Trails of spit follow in your wake, and it should be gross, but it’s not, makes you dizzy, makes you clench around nothing, and then you take him as deep as you can again, your blood rushing in your ears, Jake’s moan echoing after.

“You like that, huh?” he’s asking above you, and when you look up at him from beneath heavy lashes, Jake is flushed all the way down to his chest, skin a rosy pink, shoulders rising and falling rapidly with his gasping breaths, lips swollen where he’s sunk his teeth in. You hum in response because you do, you do like it, like the way he’s falling apart, like the way he smells and tastes and how close you are and how finally, for once, you’re the one making his legs shake and not the other way around, and he makes a noise like he’s dying, like maybe you’re killing him. “Fuck, yeah, you do, don’t you? You like my cock in your mouth, honey? I’ll keep you on your knees forever, yeah, just let you suck my cock anytime I want it….”

Your jaw is going slack, and your wrist hurts, and the limited oxygen is starting to become a problem, but you know it won’t be long now, and you want him to come, need him to come, think you’re gonna lose it if he doesn’t.

Above you, he’s started what more or less constitutes a chant, saying, “You're such a good girl, you're such a good girl, you're such a good fucking - oh god…."

He lets out a long, shuddering groan, and you can feel the way his hips stutter with tiny tremors, how his jaw clenches, how he’s on the verge of losing it, on the verge of letting go, holding on with every piece of strength he’s got left - it washes any trepidation away.

You pull off him, suck in a few gasping breaths and say slowly, haltingly, “If you want to… you can try to fuck my mouth.”

For a second, you think he might not even need to be in your mouth again to come. Like he’s just going to do it right here, right now. On the spot.

Then he catches himself, says, “Are you sure?”

And you almost laugh, wonder if he’d still be asking this question if he knew just how fucking wet you are, how your lower body pulses and clenches, how much the thought of having him crammed down your throat actually sets you off, know he would be asking anyway. Because he’s never done a single thing you didn’t want him to. Because you trust him, blindly, completely.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just… go slow. Maybe.”

Jake’s hand falls from the back of your head to cradle your jaw instead, to open your mouth with his thumb once the way he’d done earlier. When he slides home again, slides deeper than before, a long, torturous, wet, wet, wet drag over your tongue, he grasps the hand still on his thigh, laces your fingers together. Your heart jackhammers.

You choke a little when he hits the back of your throat, but nothing comes up. It feels sort of nice in a strange way, even when it drives tears into your eyes, to have him this deep inside of you. It feels even nicer when Jake curses under his breath, hand going from your jaw to the back of your neck. You shudder when his fingers spread over the skin there, where your hair is plastered down with sweat, when he holds you in place and starts moving.

It’s nice like this because you don’t have to think, can let yourself drift on that cloud of mindless want as Jake pumps his hips for and back, slowly like you requested, fucking your face almost… tenderly.

The thought makes you smile, even with your mouth full of him, and then Jake’s fingers tighten around your neck, squeeze your hand once, a silent warning before he picks up the pace. Just a notch. Still gentle.

There are tears on your cheeks now, dripping down your chin, and the sounds are obscene, but you can barely hear them over the beat of your own heart, through the fog of your desire. Your jaw hurts, and your knees ache, and you’ll feel this tomorrow, probably won’t be able to talk in anything but a whisper, but it’s worth it, worth it all when Jake moans, when his hips twitch as if of their own accord.

“I’m about to… I’ll pull out, sweetheart,” he’s saying, the words drifting to you from very far away. “Where do you want me? Tits, ass, face?”

But you whine, clutching at his hand in yours, suddenly remembering you have a second one and wrapping the fingers of that around the closest thing to you - his ankle. You hold tight. The thought of him pulling out, the thought of not getting to taste him… you don’t like it.

“Fuck,” Jake curses, and then his hips are stuttering forward and up, and he’s saying, “Oh fuck, Jesus, sweetheart, you want it? I’ll give it to you, gonna cum down that tight little throat, gonna make you swallow it all….”

And then he cums with a shudder, with a shout, hips pumping forward in quick succession, deeper than before now that he’s lost all control, and you choke, splutter, but recover quickly, swallow around him, and the salty, warm spurts sliding down your throat.

After a moment that feels like an eternity, Jake pulls out with a groan, falls back on the mattress like he’s boneless. You stay where you are, blinking at the sudden loss of contact, mind reeling, hand still wrapped around his ankle.

And then Jake’s saying, “Come here, Jesus, what the fuck,” and he’s pulling you up onto the bed with him, onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you and pushing his face into your hair, inhaling deeply.

For a moment, you just stay like that, clinging to each other, both of you trying to catch your breath. Beneath your ear, his heart is racing, and you can’t stop the dopey smile from spreading on your face. It’s a little weird, what with you still completely dressed and him naked, spent, sticky with slowly drying sweat.

You’re aching and wet between the legs, have half a mind to start humping him where you’re spread across his thigh, but you resist. There’ll be time for that later, and Jake has never passed up an opportunity to make you cum and he won’t be starting today. You’re sure of it.

Finally, without looking at him, you whisper into his chest, “You liked it?”

Jake laughs, presses a kiss to the back of your head, the only part he can really reach while you’re lying on him like a deflated air mattress.

“I think that might be understating it,” he says. “And you’ve really only done that once?”

You nod, then lift your head to look at him. “But can we like… do it again sometime?”

Jake blinks at you blankly. “You wanna suck my cock again?”

This time, you can feel the blood rushing to your head. “Yeah.”

Jake groans, head lolling back, spent dick twitching valiantly against your thigh.

He says, “Well, happy fucking birthday to me, I guess.”

#hangman fic #hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #hangman #mine #drabble #hangman drabble #f:bhdrabbles #hangman smut #top gun smut

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wilburfishposting · 1 year

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AHOY!1 AND WELCOME TO THE FIRST SHRIMPO FACTS SUNDAY!1! WHERE I (wirlbue) WILL TALK TO U ABOUT SHRIMPSSS!!! :DDD

Alright! for this shrimpo sunday we have my favorite shrimp! the Pistol Shrimp!1!!

the alphaeidae or pistol shrimp or snapping shrimp (or as i like 2 call em cowboy shrimp :] ) are a family of shrimps characterized for their asymmetrical claws, the biggest one which is capable of causing a LOUD snapping sound, *thanks to the phenomenon of cavitation!!! (mantis shrimp can also cause this phenomenon!!) that happens when the motionless pressure of a liquid (water in this case!) its below the liquid's vapor pressure that form tiny vapor filled bubbles on the liquid, when these bubble experience the higher pressure of the liquid they collapse1!! and generate shock waves (that are literally boiling water thanks to the amounts of pressure) this way being able to knock over their prey! all thanks to the mechanism on their claws!!!*

these funky guys can move its claws at an amazing speed of 97km/hr!, this species haves about 38 or moree genera, the 2 most common would be alpheus and synalpheus, with species of the number of well over 250 and 100,

Most snapping shrimp dig burrows and are common inhabitants of coral reefs, submerged seagrass flats, and oyster reefs. While most genera and species are found in tropical and temperate coastal and marine waters, Betaeus inhabits cold seas and Potamalpheops is found only in freshwater caves!

When in colonies, the snapping shrimp can interfere with sonar and under the sea communication. The shrimp are considered a major source of noise in the ocean! wich is pretty epic i think

Sum facts i find pretty cool about the pistol shrimps :D

🦐.Some pistol shrimp species share burrows with goby fish in a mutualistic symbiotic relationship. The burrow is built and tended by the pistol shrimp, and the goby provides protection by watching out for danger. When both are out of the burrow, the shrimp maintains contact with the goby using its antennae. The goby, having better vision, alerts the shrimp of danger using a characteristic tail movement, and then both retreat into the safety of the shared burrow. This association has been observed in species that inhabit coral reef habitats.

🦐.Eusocial (its the type of kinda society that ants n bees have) behavior has been discovered in the genus Synalpheus. The species Synalpheus regalis lives inside sponges in colonies that can number over 300. All of them are the offspring of a single large queen shrimp. The offspring are divided into workers who care for the young and predominantly male soldiers who protect the colony with their huge claws. (I find it very peculiar how i can't really find any information of other pistol shrimp genus that haves this cuality so this is pretty cool i think)

🦐.Pistol shrimp have the ability to reverse claws. When the snapping claw is lost, the missing limb will regenerate into a smaller claw and the original smaller appendage will grow into a new snapping claw. Laboratory research has shown that severing the nerve of the snapping claw induces the conversion of the smaller limb into a second snapping claw. The reversal of claw asymmetry in snapping shrimp is thought to be unique in nature.

hope u guys enjoyed the shrimpo facts sunday!! :D [edit*] [tyms to @cruel-singer for the notes on the phenomenon of cavitation that is how the snapping shrimp's claws actually work!! really ty gamer :DD]

bonus drawing stuff

#shrimps #shrimpblr #shrimp #shrimpo facts sunday #sea creatures #sea #seablr #ocean #oceanblr #aquablr #fishblr #shrimp facts

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sarandipitywrites · 7 days

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writing patterns tag game

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

thanks for the tag, @adhdavinci! let's pretend this wasn't sitting in my drafts for a month 😅 go check out their lines here

passing the tag along (with no pressure) to @i-can-even-burn-salad, @macabremoons, @fanged-writer, @innocentlymacabre, @winterandwords, and an open tag for anyone who wants to share

sooo I'm gonna have to break some rules here bc I don't think I've even worked on 10 fics recently, much less posted them (not more than, like, a snippet at a time, anyway). so i'll start with what i've actually posted, then just... fuck it, we ball?

yeah that sounds good.

'Just stuff my dad into a bag,' she'd said. 'He'll fit, of course he will. Have you seen how small he is? He's bluffing, he won't really turn you into a fern,' she'd said. (Dead Roots, Dark Water, Ch 1)

For all his research, Daxter had never figured out who'd designed the Krimzon Guard Fortress. And it was a good thing, too, because if he ever did, he would shoot the architectural anarchist in the foot, run them over with a hellcat, and throw them in the port. Then he'd fish them out again just so he could shoot them in the face. (DRDW, Ch 2)

Magic and blood sit heavy on V’s tongue. (Untitled Cyberwitch WIP, Ch 1)

The silence amplified everything: the squeak of rusty nails in the boards beneath Luka's feet; the rat-a-tat rattle of the loose panes in the windows; Jules's unsteady breathing as they tapped on their phone; Luka's own stammering heartbeat. "I don't think we should be here." (I Am Alive)

I have always been here. (A Haunted Home)

'The monster is not your enemy.' A half-crushed note, faded and bled, written in his own hand: the only familiar thing in the room where Lienzo had awakened. (The Art of Empty Space (V2), Ch 1)

It was the pain that woke him. (TAES (V1), Ch i-don't-know,-i-didn't-section-this-thing-into-chapters)

The air coated his lungs in a thick layer of smog and exhaust, vapor and sweat and noise, cacophonous clanging competing for his attention. Engines, alarms, voices. Jak let them all in, let them bury him in a landslide of stimulation. It wasn't stale, silent, recirculated air. It was alive, and so was he. (DRDW, Ch 3)

Metal shrieked against metal. Violet paint streaked across the green of his speeder. Screaming. Crackling eco slugs reached out with staticky tendrils as they whizzed by. (DRDW, Ch 10)

The ocean breeze brought with it decay: rotting seaweed infested with sandflies; drowned fish with oil and eco caked in their gills; algae and mildew and rotting wood. Its icy fingers trailed goosebumps down his skin, cooled the blood beneath. (DRDW, Ch 13)

so, if we're looking for patterns, i think it looks like... i really like character voices; starting en media res; and starting with some really vivid descriptions. anything you guys see that i missed?

#writeblr tag games #writing patterns tag #my writing #the art of empty space #dead roots dark water #cyberwitch wip

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drivinmeinsane · 7 months

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Draw Me In

※ Driver (Drive) x Ken (Barbie) ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: Ken's insatiable curiosity leads to a messy outcome when he fails to give Driver any semblance of personal space.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Semi-public sex, Frottage, Cumplay, Bruising, Ken has glittery cum (glizz), Gratuitous use of a semi-public space, Driver being Driver.

※ Word count: 3,366

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: I really have nothing to say in defense of myself for this one other than this isn't the last you'll see of Driver and Ken from me. The edit I put together was… a choice. Special thanks to @danime25 for proofreading this for me!

It's that liminal time between night and morning, where the distinction between the two blends together into a sleepy haze. There are no last dregs of dusk and not yet the warming glow of a predawn sun. There's only the sterile hum of the parking garage lights. The darkness further beyond is hazy with the pollution of mankind's attempt to banish the night and what hides in its embrace

Sheltered below the metric tons of concrete and steel of the parking garage, Ken watches Driver work under the hood of his car. He's methodically removing tubing and cleaning the connection points before putting in fresh hoses. The function and purpose is beyond the blond man, but he still hovers nearby. He's insatiably curious about everything to do with the "real world".

He shuffles closer, peering over the working man's shoulder. He looks for something to comment on. He's yearning for his attention. "What's that part do?" He asks, mouth nearly against Driver's neck. He's rewarded by the man looking in the direction of his pointing finger.

"Expansion valve. It turns the coolant into a vapor." His voice causes Ken's stomach to flip. He shivers a little at the feeling and instead focuses on trying to parse out what the words mean. He comes up with nothing and just stares blankly at the.... expanding value? He's already forgotten what the other man had called it.

"So cool." He finally says. His tone is more confident than he feels.

Inexplicably, Driver's shoulders hitch and shake for a moment as though he let out a silent laugh. He frowns. He didn't think he said anything funny. He takes the step forward that bridges the miniscule gap between them. Ken hooks his chin over the other man's shoulder to get a better look at his hands. They're the same height which causes Ken to rise onto his tiptoes and fully press his body against him, leaning into him for support. He feels Driver tense, his hands go still on the material he is about to cut. He can feel the rise and fall of his back against his chest. He's so warm. Ken settles comfortably against him. He hears the click of the other man's throat and the wet parting of his lips, but no words come.

He rapturously watches Driver's hands while his fingers deftly work the freshly cut hose into the connection points. He gasps a little when he sees his thumb brush over the tip, his hand giving the material a firm tug to get it into place. His stomach swoops and heat floods his body. Pressure starts to build, and he rubs his crotch against the man in front of him. He whines a little at the sensation and repeats the motion over and over. Driver doesn't protest, doesn't say a word, only widens his stance to give him more access. Ken finds himself getting lost in the feeling building up inside him and he presses his face against the mechanic's back. He's making quiet noises. He can't stop them from breaking loose, he just feels so good. Driver feels so good.

The minute shifts of Driver's body, the way he leans and twists away from Ken is too much. The indifference he's showing him sparks something furiously demanding in him. He needs to be closer, needs more more more more. He blindly fumbles for the other man's hip to pull him flush and hold him still. He wants to chase down the heated sensation, to use the man against him to get to the finish.

Driver abruptly straightens and takes a step back from the '73 Malibu. Ken stumbles. The moment is shattered, and he's completely taken by surprise. His hand slides off of the man's hip. Embarrassment lances through him. "I'm sorry."

"Didn't do anything worth apologizing for." His voice is relaxed despite there being a rough, cracking edge to it that makes Ken inspect his face closely for any emotions when he turns around. Nothing, he's vague as always.

Ken stands there, hands clenching and struggling to stay at his sides while he watches Driver take a seat on the edge of the open car. He's slightly damp with sweat, strong arms smeared with grease and grime. He looks so imperfectly human. Ken wants to touch all of his flaws. Memorize them. Marvel in everything that separates the man from being a doll. It's a sickening feeling to watch Driver's attention shift from him to their surroundings. Something akin to jealousy boils under his skin and he crowds in too close, nearly pressed against the seated man's knees. The heat of Driver's body attracts him like a moth to the destructive flame.

Driver starts to lean down towards him and for a deliciously, delirious second, Ken thinks that the other man is going to take him by the belt loops and pull him in close to lick a stripe up his exposed stomach. He doesn't, much to Ken's disappointment. He simply picks up a rag from the toolbox near their feet and proceeds to wipe his broad hands. It does little to clear away the grime stubbornly clinging to his skin. His hands are still smudged. Ken knows that if Driver were to touch him, his own perfect skin would be marred with ghostly impressions of his exploration. Black and gray handprints against tan skin. A police department's worth of fingerprint impressions.

Driver takes the toothpick out of his mouth and tucks it securely behind one ear. He stands up and calmly latches the car's hood. It clicks closed and the sound echoes in the silence populated only by the irregular hitches of Ken's breathing as he tries to keep himself in check. The mechanic regards him with one of his bland expressions before Ken spots a flash of hunger in his eyes that the impassive man can't quite hide. He perks up slightly at the direct attention and gives him a sheepish smile.

Driver returns it with one of his slow, crooked grins. The one that makes the skin around his eyes crinkle. With all the nonchalance in the world, he reaches out with calloused hands and grabs Ken by his denim vest. He pulls him heartbreakingly close before twisting and slamming him down onto his back on top of the Malibu's hood almost hard enough to put a dent in the decades old metal.

The resulting noise is like thunder in the enclosed space. Ken stares up at the man above him, mouth slightly agape. He's spread out over the hood of Driver's car. He chokes back a moan and arches his back, tilts his head to expose the thick column of his neck, spreads his legs... the whole nine yards. He gives the other man all the signals in the world to know that he's presenting himself for him. He's treated with the sight of Driver clenching his jaw and swallowing hard enough that Ken can see his Adam's apple bob. His pupils are blown wide. They're deep pools ringed with bright blue.

Suddenly, deliciously, Driver steps up between his spread legs and covers Ken's mouth with his own. He clenches his thighs around the mechanic's narrow hips. He reaches up to twist his fingers in the man's shirt, but his wandering hands are quickly captured by one of Driver's. They're pinned to the glossy metal above his head. He whimpers and gasps against the other man's mouth. The sounds seem to affect the man kissing him because he clenches his fingers and digs them hard into the delicate bones of his wrists. He, for his part, is silent even as he breaks the kiss and trails his nose along the curve of Ken's jaw and down into the crook of his neck. He pauses there, breath causing goosebumps to erupt on the prone man's skin.

"Please, please, please." Ken is not even sure what exactly he's begging for. Even to his own ears, he sounds raw and desperate for whatever the other blond man is willing to give him. He feels like he's so worked up with want that he could be sick from it all.

Driver cuts his pleading off by abruptly pressing his hand over his mouth. He holds Ken in place likes a specimen on a board, something worth keeping and studying. Ken's hips thrash and buck up against the man between his legs. He's writhing in desperate arousal. His jeans feel too tight, too constricting against his crotch. His tongue passes over his lips, inadvertently licking Driver's palm. The fingers tighten their grip and dig into the soft skin of his cheeks. He arches his back at the sensation and feels Driver's erection throb against him. Chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, he wants Driver to grind against him until they are one being. Until they are merged together like some brand new creature.

His world is narrowed down to the smooth surface of the car and their two bodies moving under the harsh lighting. "Give me something." He begs, words smothered, barely audible.

Driver obeys and bites down on the juncture of Ken's neck and shoulder. A burst of pain, of pleasure, radiates through his body and he squeezes his eyes closed, savoring the sting. His shout of surprise is muffled underneath Driver's hand. He feels him soothe the flesh with a wet swipe of his tongue. Ken's whining and whimpering in earnest now. His moans leak out from around the bruising grip Driver has on his jaw.

"Shhhh. Going to let go of you now. I need you to quiet down. Do you understand?" The other man's voice is rough and winded. It's thick with arousal.

Ken nods frantically underneath his hand. He feels the grip loosen slowly. Driver removes his hand but keeps his thumb resting on Ken's bottom Iip. He's thoughtfully pressing into the pliant flesh and coaxing his mouth open. He parts his lips willingly for Driver, thoroughly enjoying the way he's looking at him. He licks the pad of his thumb, relishes the way the other blond inhales sharply. Ken grows a little bolder, taking his finger into the slick pinkness of his mouth. He sucks on it, tasting the saltiness of sweat and something dusty, a little chemical tang.

Ken is throbbing and leaking uncomfortably. He can feel the other man's erection rubbing against his own through the layers of clothing they're both wearing. He can't take the pressure any more and impatiently rolls his hips. He's desperately seeking friction. Driver's hand clenches warningly on his wrists. He doesn't heed it and his feet scramble for purchase against the front bumper. He presses his heels into it and grinds up hard.

It seems like he's snapped something inside of the other man because he pulls back from him with the same abruptness he had displayed when he threw him down onto the hood of the Chevelle. Ken lets out a frustrated whine at the loss of chest to chest contact. The other man pulling away had felt akin to a rejection, but he's not given too long to feel unwanted because Driver trails both hands down his prone, trembling body. The wheelman pauses, lingering on his chest. He kneads the yielding skin there, almost experimentally grazing his thumbs over his nipples. The skin of his hands is rough against his sensitive skin. Ken thrashes against him like he's touched a live wire, he feels as though his body has turned into one pounding heart with each thrum of his pulse. The car creaks under him. He pushes his body into Driver's, seeking the contact that was withdrawn. The words that escape him are almost completely unintelligible.

"Please, need- need it." he keens.

Driver gives him a final squeeze before firmly sliding his hands down the rest of his body. Ken's muscles tense and tremble underneath the caressing touches. Ken feels how hard Driver is against the junction of his legs. He's not entirely sure all the moisture soaking through the denim is his. He has a strong suspicion that at least some of it is the other man's precum, not his.

Ken struggles to keep himself still and cooperative when the other man reaches his waistband and unceremoniously works his pants open. The release of the constrictive material causes him to gasp. Driver's hand pins his hip down firmly, keeping him still enough to pull down his thong to expose his cock. Ken moans as his twitching erection springs free and the head of it collides with Driver's abdomen. He barely has time to get used to the sensation before Drive is curled over his body and rutting against him. Humping him like both of their lives depend on it. and, given the way Ken feels on fire, they might. He sets a frantic pace, the denim is deliciously rough against Ken's flushed skin and it's all he can do to meet him thrust for thrust. The car is rocking and creaking from the force of their actions. Ken doesn't know much about cars, but he has a fleeting notion that this might not be the best thing for the automobile.

Driver's open mouthed panting over him. Drops of his sweat are falling on Ken's tan skin, but Ken is struck dumb by how intent and ravenous Driver's face is. Haloed by the florescent lights, he looks like he's going to devour him whole. Like the wolf Ken had seen on the TV relentlessly pursuing something called a bison. He remembers the wolf's mouth and its panting, toothy grin. It's echoed in the way Driver is looking at him. It thrills him to be the object of so much attention. His whole body is flushed with pleasure and he purposely presents himself a little more just to pull a reaction from the other man. It works. The parking garage is echoing with Ken's moans and the sound of the car struggling to hold its ground and not roll back.

He's so close to imploding like a dying star, but the soaked fabric of the jeans that the other man is still wearing is starting to chafe in a way that's painful. He makes a grab for Driver's belt. No motion is made to halt his efforts.. He sits up just enough to see what he's doing. Driver follows his gaze, and the blond man hears him give a harsh exhale.

"Oh," Ken breathes out, his movements stuttering as he takes in the scene. His hands are fighting with the belt, the silver buckle shining as brightly as the mess Ken's made on the front of the other man. His glittery precum is slicked all over the thin, white shirt and the dark wash jeans. Even the belt is slippery with the sparkling mess, causing Ken's fingers to slide off with each roll of Driver's hips. Ken's own clothing is not any better. His cock is still drooling the clear, glitter infused fluid.

He manages to get the belt undone and winces as the buckle catches him in the thigh, he isn't dissuaded though and yanks Driver's pants open. He falls flat on his back again, overwhelmed at the sight of the mechanic's obvious arousal. He had done that to Driver. He is so very desperately wanted, needed even. They're skin to skin now. Driver is dripping and leaking, they're both slick with it. Ken reaches down and slides his hands into the man's back pockets, clamping down on his ass and pulling him in. His feet are still braced on the bumper and with Driver held in place right where he needs, he grinds against him.

Driver kisses him again. He loses himself in the sensation of lips against his own, slippery, throbbing lengths gliding together with each of his motions. The stunt driver is anchored firmly over him and Ken is taking exactly what he wants. He starts to feel tears run down his cheeks from the ruinous sensations. It’s all so much. How could he have never existed somewhere that this pleasure doesn't exist?

"Don't stop, please, don't stop." Ken begs against his mouth, his voice is starting to sound raw. His vocal chords are overused.

"I won't." Driver responds. He sounds a little strangled.

He bites Ken's bottom lip, swollen from all the attention it's been getting, and pries a sweet moan from him in response. It's the final straw, Ken cums with a shout. He squeezes his eyes shut and about rips one of Driver's back pockets right off. Wetness coats them both in pulses. He feels the splatter against his stomach, against his chest. The wet sounds of their bodies moving together is grossly obscene.

Ken's eyes snap open as Driver drags a hand through the wetness between them. He whines as he feels the other man seek out the evidence of his release with those thick fingers. The hand is removed and Ken stares wide eyed as the wheelman looks consideringly at his fingers. They're liberally coated in Ken's glittery semen. It shines like a jewelry store's worth of diamonds under the fluorescents overhead. They make eye contact, and there's a small, crooked smile on Driver's face. It's the only warning he gets before those wet fingers are brushing over his lips, glossing them with his own release. Ken's throat works. The look on the other man's face has him breathless. He feels Driver's body shudder and his cock jerk as he looks down at him.

"What are you thinking about?" He whispers. There's several heartbeats of silence before the man speaks, and when he does, it's more of an inner monologue than anything that would normally come out of his mouth if he were in his right mind.

"I'm thinking 'bout how I want to see you in some kinda lip gloss. Might feel sticky and gritty if I kissed you. Bet you would look pretty, just like now. All pink. Sparkly."

Ken has just a moment to tell himself he's going to wear the product every single moment as long as it makes the other blond man look at him in this way before Driver finds the marks he had left behind earlier. His sturdy hand grips Ken's jaw hard enough to bruise all over again. He fucks himself up against Ken's softening cock and kisses him. He feels the mechanic's tongue swipe over his lips, tasting the salty release on them. Ken kisses back like it's his only tether to Earth. Driver finally cums.

The other man tenses and shakes. He lets go of Ken's jaw and instead places the hand next to his head. He goes boneless on top of him and Ken gives his ass a reassuring squeeze before sliding his hands up under his rucked up shirt to rest on his lower back, warm skin under his hands.

"That felt so good." Ken feels the other man's penis give a twitch and a weak spurt after his words. He hears him give a quiet groan.

They lay there for a moment, stomach to stomach, slick wetness between them before Driver pushes himself onto his palms and peels himself from Ken. He sits up to watch the other man search for something to wipe them clean with. He finally locates a clean enough rag and Ken gets a front row seat to watch Driver wipe away the mess they had made together. The flexing of his arms as he cleans up captivates Ken and he has to grab his thighs to keep from reaching out and pulling the other man down on top of him again. He loses himself in the sight until he's startled a little by Driver handing the rag to him. He takes it and looks down at himself. His skin is covered in grease and grime marks in the shape of Driver's hands. Ripening bruises and a love bite mark his flawless skin, but most captivating of all; he's painted in a mixture of his own glittery cum shot through with the milky swirls of Driver's. It reminds him of photos he had seen of space. He decides right then that it's beautiful.

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choccyhearts · 1 year

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Make You Feel Better // Argyle x Reader (18+)

Note: Please don't question how this popped into my head cause I don't even know....

CW: 18+!! Penetrative sex, fem/afab!reader, reader has a cold, slight overstimulation on Argyle's end, oral (m receiving), mouthfucking, soft dom!argy, sub!reader (please lemme know if i missed anything!)

Summary: Argyle makes you feel better while you're in bed sick

♡

If there is anything Argyle is amazing at, it's being your little caretaker. You have been in bed the past couple of days with a nasty cold and Argyle has been waiting on you hand and foot.

He's been making you food, giving you gallons of tea and water, and giving you your medicine. Because of this, you've felt extremely grateful but also a little guilty. Argyle insists he doesn't mind taking care of you but you just feel like a burden. You've also been worried that you're going to get him sick too.

"Don't worry, dude, I'm not worried about a cold."

"But stillll, I don't want you to get siiick", you grumble. Argyle moves some hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. You mumble in response.

"Stop fussing, just get comfortable so you can go back to sleep."

"I've been sleeping nonstop, I want to do things. I'm tired of being tired."

"Okay, what do you wanna do?"

"Mmm...I don't know." Arglye sits next to you on the bed and runs his hand along your body. You grunt and brush his hand away. "Stop, you're gonna get me all worked up."

"And what's wrong with that?" He puts his hand back where it was, adding pressure.

"Because...I'm too weak and you'll definitely get sick if we do that."

Argyle leans down and kisses your neck. He moves his hand down to your butt and caresses it.

"I don't mind getting sick, baby. And don't worry, I'll do all the work. I told you I'm going to take care of you", he whispers.

He stands up and moves your blankets out of the way. You're wearing your comfiest pajamas. Your hair is akin to a bird's nest and you smell like sweat and vapor rub.

"No, I need to shower first, I'm all gross", you push him away.

"I don't mind," he rolls you on to your side to face him as he stands over you. He rubs your shoulder as his other hand begins to undo his pants. You watch eagerly and reach forward, tugging down his pants.

"Mm-mm, I told you I'm doing the work." He pins your hands to the bed and pushes his underwear down. He strokes himself a couple of times, his cock hardening before your eyes.

You watch him quietly, face heating due to how close you are to his cock. You can see all of the detail and your mouth begins to water. You whine and try to lift up one of your hands.

"No. Stay down."

He brings his hand away from his cock and softly grabs your hair, his other hand still holding yours down.

"Now, open your pretty mouth for me."

You do as he says and he brings you closer, his cock slowly entering your mouth. You hum at the feeling. You missed getting to please him while you were sick. You swirl your tongue around the tip before he pushes more of himself in.

"Mmm, good girl."

He slowly moves his hips back before pushing forward again, this time putting his whole length inside. You moan as your mouth stretches wide. You do your best to hollow your cheeks and move your tongue.

He begins to thrust in your mouth gently, gripping your hair. He lets go of your hands and rests his arm on your pillow, his torso hovering inches above you.

"Don't move those hands, keep 'em down. Just lie there and look cute."

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and shimmies his pants and underwear down his legs more before resting his knee on the bed. He puts his cock back in your mouth and pushes it down your throat.

You gag and moan, the sounds making him shiver. He pulls out again and gives you a second to catch your breath. He moves his hand from your hair and brings it to your face, caressing your cheek.

"You're just so eager to please me, huh?" You nod. "Need my cock to make you feel better?" You nod again, lifting your head up. Your mouth opens and you stick your tongue out for extra effect.

He chuckles before shoving himself down your throat again. Your nose is pressed against his pubic hair and your chin against his balls. He gives fast but small thrusts, hitting the back of your throat again and again and again.

You love feeling so close to him. He's so warm and inviting, even if it's down there. Since he's not the one that's sick he's kept up with showering so he even smells nice.

He drags his cock out of your mouth and taps the tip against your nose. You giggle and look up at him.

"Roll over on your other side, baby." You do as he says, excited for what's to come (pun intended).

He pulls his pants completely off and climbs on to the bed. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your pajama pants and pulls them down.

"You aren't wearing underwear?"

"No...", your face heats up again. "I've been sick so there isn't a need to..."

He chuckles and grabs your ass, jiggling it. "Such a little vixen, dude."

He moves your legs closer to your stomach so it's easier for him to slip into your pussy. He rubs the tip against your clit and you whimper at him. He drags it back and forth as your pussy begins to drip with arousal.

"Good girl...thought I might have to spit."

"Please", you whine out.

He tsks and crouches over, spreading your pussy lips and spitting a big glob saliva inside of you. He sits back up and slides the tip into your pussy. He slowly pushes in until his balls are flush to your ass. He pulls back put before re-entering just as slow as before.

He grabs a hold of your hand and laces his fingers with yours. You're already blissed out, feeling so good despite still being sick. He begins to thrust inside of you at a steady pace. Not too fast but not too slow.

He keeps one of his hands firmly on your ass, squeezing it. He hums and groans, loving how tight your pussy is at ths angle. Your legs are squeezed tight together as you whine and moan.

You call out each other's names periodically along with 'I love you's'. Every so often he slows down and leans back. He rolls his hips sensually and gazes at your body.

He knows you don't feel your prettiest but he still loves you. He still thinks your beautiful and he needs to show you that.

He begins to pick the pace up again and you're just happily accepting what he gives. Your body is sweating and you're panting.

"You alright, amor?"

You nod and breathe out a, "Yes."

You bring your arms close to yourself, basically hugging yourself, and brace yourself for the orgasm you feel coming. Argyle senses his coming too and wraps himself around you.

As you get closer your nose begins to tickle. You sniff, trying to make it go away but it persists and you sneeze. And again. And again. And again.

With every sneeze you tighten your body, unintentionally squeezing the orgasm out of Argyle. He can barely keep moving and his body shakes.

"Ohhhh, fuck fuck fuck fuck. Holy shit!" He sets his head against you and tries to catch his breath. This all happens so quickly you don't even comprehend what's going on.

"Are you okay?"

Argyle holds up his finger, indicating he needs a moment, as his body continues to shake and his chest heaves.

He finally looks at you, his eyes droopy.

"I just...holy shit...I just had the strongest orgasm. Ever." He slowly pulls himself out and sits back.

"When I sneezed?"

"Yes," he nods. "That pussy was like a vice, just getting tighter and tighter."

He wipes some sweat from his forehead. "Whoo, that was so fucking good." He pats your butt a couple of times before getting up.

You giggle and sit up, wrapping your arms around him. He returns the embrace, smiling dumbly.

"I'm gonna go get some water for both of us, and then I'll start a bath, that sound good?"

You nod and let go of him.

#argyle #argyle stranger things #argyle x reader #argyle smut

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orgyupdates · 29 days

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CrypticRock.Com reviews Candyass and Vapor Transmission's release on vinyl.

At the height of Nu-metal’s popularity when bands like Korn, Limp Bizkit and Slipknot were leading as a massive charge, something rather unique also arose in the form of Orgy. A band vastly different from their contemporaries, Orgy’s sound certainly fit more comfortably in the Industrial Metal realm, but still, was in a league of its own. Self-described as Death Pop, if you were a fan of ’80s Synthwave, mixed with modern Alternative Metal, no matter the title you want to use, you were bound to love Orgy.

Initially forming in 1997, Orgy would go on to become the first band signed to Jonathan Davis’ Elementree Records; which at the time had distribution with Reprise Records. A partnership where few knew what would happen… there were a few fun facts about the members of Orgy that should not be noted. First, you had Lead Vocalist Jay Gordon; who in fact co-produced Coal Chamber’s 1997 self-titled debut. Second, you had Guitarist Amir Derakh; who had earned some notoriety as a member of ’80s Metal act Rough Cutt. And last, by not least, you had Guitarist Ryan Shuck; who was a part of the band Sexart… where he would play alongside future Korn vocalist, Jonathan Davis.

With plenty of more intriguing aspects surrounding Orgy’s cast individually, when joined together, by August of 1998 they were set to take on the world with the release of their debut album Candyass. Released on August 18th of that year, the album picked up momentum and found an audience within just a few months; thanks in part to an appearance on the Family Values Tour in the fall, alongside Korn, Limp Bizkit, Incubus, and Rammstein. Somewhat of a key moment in history of Orgy, what would follow would be the release of their impeccable cover of New Order’s “Blue Monday” that December, thus leading to even more broader popularity. In fact, you could argue that “Blue Monday” served as a gateway for audiences to see how special Orgy was; soon leading to even more attention drawn to the single “Stitches.” So, where did this unpredictable rise lead? It led to Candyass attaining platinum status, hitting Number 1 on Heatseekers charts, on its way to becoming one of the late ’90s most beloved Metal leaning records.

Truly an inspiring story of success, matching Orgy’s musical attack was a stylistic appearance that unified ’80s New Wave fashion, Glam Rock, all with a sweet little Gothic twist. Something that enticed many, the promotional images out at the time (on press posters, etc.), immediately made you feel like you were transported into a subculture of something far out of this world. A fascination that stirred around well into the new millennium, it was in October of 2000 when Orgy plotted another impact with their highly anticipated follow up, Vapor Transmission. An album that had massive buzz surrounding it – and more than likely one that placed a ton of pressure on the band themselves – Vapor Transmission delivered in many facets of the word. Very much a continuation of the trajectory Orgy began with Candyass, the new album featured a delightful collection of tunes that solidified that they were not a novelty act, but one with significant abilities, both as songwriters and atmosphere creators. Evident with tracks such as “Fiction (Dreams in Digital),” “Eva,” and “Opticon,” Vapor Transmission would peak at 16 on the Billboard 200 and eventually attain gold status.

A more than respectful way to follow up Candyass (an album which has attained platinum status), to Orgy’s dedicated following, Candyass and Vapor Transmissions are essential listens… even over two decades later. More than likely two albums which survived the physical format purge many music fans partook in at the onset of digital downloading, leading into the streaming age, both CD formats remain fixtures in many collections. This in mind, it comes with great excitement in 2024 to learn that both Candyass and Vapor Transmission have been re-released in a vinyl format. Arriving on February 2nd, the two new releases through Real Gone Music are fit with some interesting details that make them even more compelling to look into.

First and foremost, the obvious selling point here is that Candyass is now available in the vinyl format for the first time ever. Beyond this, each album is remastered and pressed in a pretty eye-gazing way. For Candyass, the remastering (done by Mike Milchner of Sonic Vision) is fresh, bright, and crisp. Something that makes for a lovely listening experience, making it pop even more is a high quality 180 gram clear with red and yellow swirl pressing; or fire orange color if you go to Best Buy. Really nicely done, it is also presented in a grand gatefold packaging with all the original art.

Then, for Vapor Transmission, you also get a remastered copy (done by Milchner as well), but this time including “The Spectrum.” A bonus, originally “The Spectrum” was exclusive to the first 1,000 copies of the CD edition put out all the way back in 2004; that was until the digital release of it in December of 2020. A really cool bonus for collectors, Vapor Transmission is also given a color treatment pressing; this time in red and yellow “plasma,” or purple swirl if you go to Best Buy. Matched with pristine sound, as well as the original art in a gatefold package, it is the perfect sidekick to the Candyass re-release.

Overall, when looking at the journey of Orgy – past, present, and future – Candyass and Vapor Transmission are pinnacle points in time. Aware of this history and recognizing it, Orgy (currently led by Jay Gordon, along with a lineup of Bassist Nic Speck, plus Guitarists Carlton Bost and Ilia Yordanov) are set to tour April into May celebrating 25 years of Candyass. A run that kicks off on April 11th, before ending May 25th, they will co-headline with Cold on each of the dates. With that, the next question many might ask is – when can we expect a new, proper Orgy album? While that remains to be seen, they have put out several stand alone singles over the last decade since 2015’s Talk Sick EP. So, only time will tell what is next for Orgy in the way of a new album. Thankfully there is a tour, plus these two new must have vinyl edition releases of both Candyass and Vapor Transmission.

2024 Orgy Tour Dates: 4/11/2024 – Chicago, IL – The Bottom Lounge 4/12/2024 – Flint, MI – The Machine Shop 4/13/2024 – Des Moines, IA – Lefty’s Live Music 4/14/2024 – Sioux City, IA – The Marquee 4/16/2024 – Colorado Springs, CO – The Black Sheep 4/17/2024 – Denver, CO – Marquis Theater 4/19/2024 – Seattle, WA – Madame Lou’s 4/20/2024 – Portland, OR – Bossanova Ballroom 4/22/2024 – Sacramento, CA – Harlow’s 4/23/2024 – West Hollywood, CA – Whisky a Go Go 4/24/2024 – Fresno, CA – Fulton 55 4/25/2024 – Santa Ana, CA – The Observatory 4/26/2024 – San Diego, CA – Brick By Brick 4/27/2024 – Scottsdale, AZ – Pub Rock Live 4/28/2024- Albuquerque, NM – Launchpad 4/30/2024 – Austin, TX – Come And Take It Live 5/1/2024 – San Antonio, TX – Paper Tiger 5/2/2024 – Dallas, TX – Trees 5/3/2024 – Houston, TX – Scout Bar 5/4/2024 – Shreveport, LA – Strange Brew 5/6/2024 – New Orleans, LA – House of Blues 5/7/2024 – Tallahassee, FL – Legacy At The Riverfront 5/8/2024 – Fort Lauderdale, FL – Revolution Live 5/9/2024 – Daytona Beach, FL – Welcome to Rockville @ Daytona Speedway 5/10/2024 – Greenville, SC – Radio Room 5/11/2024 – Knoxville, TN – The Concourse 5/12/2024 – Greensboro, NC – Hangar 1819 5/14/2024 – Mechanicsburg, PA – Lovedraft’s 5/15/2024 – Clifton, NJ – Dingbatz 5/16/2024 – New York, NY – The Gramercy Theatre 5/17/2024 – Allentown, PA – Maingate Nightclub 5/18/2024 – Boston, MA – Brighton Music Hall 5/19/2024 – Baltimore, MD – Baltimore Soundstage 5/21/2024 – Syracuse, NY – The Song & Dance 5/22/2024 – Warrendale, PA – Jergel’s 5/23/2024 – Covington, KY – Madison Theater 5/24/2024 – Columbus, OH – The King of Clubs 5/25/2024 – St. Paul, MN – Turf Club

#OrgyMusic #OrgyOfficial #Jay Gordon #Candyass #Vapor Transmission #Merch #Other Websites #Concerts #Tour #Vinyls

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tabsters · 8 months

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IT'S FINALLY HERE Y'ALL. THE SUPER DUPER LONG LORE POST I MADE ABOUT THE MAGIC IN THE ZODIACVERSE THAT I PROMISED A MONTH AGO. OH GOD IT'S DONE FUCKING FINALLY.

wow. finally done with this post. anyways as mentioned it's super long so strap in, grab some popcorn or something, and let's get into it.

tagging @mythicalmagical-monkeyman, @hyperfixation-tangentopia, and @maiawhimsicalt. if you want to get tagged for when i make zodiac posts, please let me know!

previous posts are here

before this starts:

Biggest: Broad categories

Bigger: Sub-categories

Regular: Sub-sub categories

Note: Users of magic cannot decide what types of magic they are able to do. What magic they are able to do depends on their character.

Elemental magic: The branch of magic pertaining to the natural elements.

Pyrokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control fire. Users are able to spontaneously create fire with their hands, control their body temperature, and control the temperature around them.

Known users: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, Draco, Phoenix

Magmakinesis: The ability allowing a person to control liquid lava or magma. Users are able to also melt rock with their bare hands and control the resultant lava or magma.

Known users: Leo, Sagittarius

Geokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control earth. Users use their feet to feel vibrations in the earth and shift it around. Can control solid earth, as well as dirt and mud.

Known users: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn

Chlorokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control plants, trees, and other vegetation. Users are able to make plants grow to any size and also make plants die.

Known users: Taurus, Pavo

Ferrokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control metal. Users are able to liquefy metal and resolidify it.

Known users: Virgo

Aerokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control wind, air, and water vapor. Users can create clouds, rain, and are also less susceptible to high altitudes.

Known users: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

Electrokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control lightning and electricity. Users are able to conduct electricity through their hands and direct it out of their fingers.

Known users: Aquarius, Columba

Hydrokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control water. Users are able to only manipulate liquid water, and not solid water or gaseous water.

Known users: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

Cryokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control ice. Users are able to freeze and unfreeze water and control ice.

Known users: Pisces, Auriga

Photokinesis: The ability allowing a person to control light. Users are able to manipulate light to turn invisible or turn others invisible.

Known users: Aquarius, Cygnus

Umbrakinesis: The ability allowing a person to control shadow. Users are able to manipulate shadows into something tangible and form giant golems out of shadows.

Known users: Corvus, Ophiuchus

Necromancy: The ability allowing a person to pull souls from the shadows of the In-Between. Users can only pull human souls from the In-Between, and are unable to pull any other souls.

Known users: Capricorn, Corona Australis, Corona Borealis, Eclipse

Essence magic: The branch of magic pertaining to the use of essence, or the brightly colored life force every Zodiac has. Essence is a backup energy source, and to use it drains a Zodiac greatly, and as such it is usually saved as a last resort.

Energy projection: The user is able to project concentrated bursts of energy for offensive purposes. The bursts of energy are able to cut most things cleanly through.

Known users: Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn, Eclipse, Corona Australis, Corona Borealis

Forcefield generation: The user is able to generate temporary force fields for defensive purposes. The force fields will break if enough pressure or force is applied to them.

Known users: Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius, Eclipse, Corona Australis, Corona Borealis

Portal creation: The user is able to create portals to other places for evasive purposes. The portals are only able to be made if the user knows where they would like to travel.

Known users: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces, Eclipse, Corona Australis, Corona Borealis

Animal magic: The branch of magic pertaining to animals.

Animal shifting: The ability allowing a person to shapeshift into an animal.

Known users: Lepus, Lupus, Lynx, Vulapeca, Canes Venatici, Pegasus

Half-animal shifting: The ability allowing a person to shapeshift into a half-animal, half human fusion.

Known users: Centaurus, Delphinus

Animal physiology: The ability allowing a person to have characteristics of certain animals.

Known users: Every animal constellation but i'm not going to list all of them here because more than half of the constellations are animals.

Animal communication: The ability allowing a person to communicate with animals, commonly canines or felines.

Known users: Lupus, Canes Venatici, Lynx, Vulapeca

Flight: The ability to fly by virtue of having animal wings.

Known users: Virgo, Libra, Aquila, Columba, Corvus, Cygnus, Lyra, Draco, Phoenix, Corona Australis, Corona Borealis, Eclipse

Illusion Magic: The branch of magic pertaining to illusions and disguises.

Shape shifting: The ability allowing a person to change parts of their appearance. Changes can be total or partial (fully changing appearance vs changing part of appearance)

Known users: Leo

Camouflage: The ability allowing a person to change hair and skin colors to blend in with the background.

Known users: Chamaeleon

Mirages: The ability allowing a person to disguise objects and people by placing an illusion over them.

Known users: Perseus, Orion, Hercules, Corona Australis, Corona Borealis, Eclipse

Fine arts magic: The branch of magic pertaining to the use of fine arts.

Dance: The ability allowing a person to perform magic by doing a specific set of movements, or dancing. Dancers' magic will work best if there is music to accompany the dances.

Known users: Ara, Gemini, Sagitta

Fusion dance: The ability allowing a person to fuse with another person via a synchronized dance.

Known users: Gem, Ini, Gemini

Music: The use of music in magic. Instruments are used to manipulate soundwaves.

Known users: Crux

Voice: The ability allowing a person to perform magic by using their voice.

Known users: Delphinus, Piscis Austrinus, Leo, Cassiopeia

Siren song: The ability allowing a person to briefly control people's minds via singing.

Known users: Delphinus, Piscis Austrinus

Charmspeak: The ability allowing a person to briefly hypnotize a person into doing whatever they command.

Known users: Cassiopeia

Voice mimicry: Users can perfectly mimic the voice of anyone they've ever heard, including accents and foreign languages. This does not necessarily mean they understand what they are saying.

Known users: Delphinus, Leo

Writing: The use of writing or letters in magic.

Known users: Chamaeleon

Runes: Simplistic letters, normally made with a couple of straight lines. Commonly carved onto wood or stones and thrown at enemies.

Known users: Chamaeleon

Calligraphy: More complicated than runes, calligraphy magic involves the user spending hours or even days on a single word in order to properly ingrain the magic into the paper. Once properly written, calligraphy magic can be used multiple times before the paper finally disintegrates.

Known users: Chamaeleon

Art: The use of physical art in magic.

Known users: Lyra, Cetus, Ophiuchus

Glyphs: Drawn symbols on small pieces of paper. Each symbol corresponds to a basic element of nature and will produce a corresponding burst of each element.

Known users: Lyra

Jewelry: Sacred gems will be carved into specific shapes, with specific numbers of facets corresponding to a type of elemental magic. Once carved and worn, the user will be able to use elemental magic (ex: if the user wears a 'fire' amulet, they are able to use only fire magic, etc, etc). If multiple amulets are worn, the user will explode due to energy overload.

Known users: Cetus, Ophiuchus

Mental magic: The branch of magic that pertains to using mental energy to produce magic.

Telepathy: Users can communicate silently by projecting their thoughts into another person's mind.

Known users: Corona Australis, Corona Borealis, Eclipse

Telekinesis: Users can manipulate and move objects around with their mind. Larger objects will cause headaches for the users.

Known users: Scorpio, Ara

Mind control: With the use of a psychic link, users will be able to control the thoughts and actions of another person. Very taxing on the user.

Known users: Corona Australis, Corona Borealis, Eclipse

Emotion manipulation: Emotions can be felt more acutely by the user, and can be controlled and changed to some extent.

Known users: Scorpio

Prophecy: Being able to predict significant events in the future, commonly through nightmares the prophet has. Said nightmares are not guaranteed to come true, but they offer insight into possible paths for the future.

Known users: Centaurus, Capricorn

Bodily magic: The branch of magic that pertains to using parts of the user’s body for magic.

Enhancement magic: Specific physical attributes of the user will be enhanced.

Known users: Aries, Sagittarius, Piscis Austrinus, Serpens

Enhanced strength: User is able to lift extremely heavy loads.

Known users: Aries

Enhanced speed: User is able to to move faster than would normally be possible for a human being. User also has increased stamina and endurance.

Known users: Sagittarius

Enhanced agility: User is supernaturally agile and quick, and able to move with reduced noise.

Known users: Piscis Austrinus, Serpens

Healing tears: User’s tears, when applied to wounds or grazes, will heal the injured. Most effective if turned into healing balms. Does not work for mental trauma.

Known users: Cancer

Prehensile hair: User’s hair is able to grow at will, and is capable of acting as additional artificial limbs.

Known users: Aquarius

Regeneration: Limbs, when cut off, will slowly grow back and still function as they did previously.

Known users: Lacerta

Paralysis: Users are able to temporarily paralyze others via prolonged eye contact.

Known users: Hydra

Misc: Magic that does not fit into any of the previous categories.

Potions: Users are able to combine specific herbs and spices and steep them into potions. Such potions can range from teas to broths to medicines.

Known users: Aquila, Aquarius

Tarot cards: Users can use a shuffled card deck and draw three cards at random to predict three possible outcomes for the future.

Known users: Centaurus

Technopathy: Users have an enhanced ability to understand and manipulate machines and technology. They are capable of building very complex machines and inventions with only a few parts of scrap metal.

Known users: Pegasus, Cetus

Enchanted objects: Objects, normally weapons, that have had runes carved, written, or burned onto them to imbue them with additional power.

Known users: Andromeda, Cepheus, Perseus, Orion, Hercules, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor

Eclipse’s scythe: A scythe forged in a different dimension, able to be used by Taiju. One of the only artifacts that is able to cut the threads of different dimensions and allow for dimensional travel. It is forged out of adamantine and adorned with sarconite gemstones. Immensely powerful.

Known users: Eclipse, Ophiuchus, Cetus

AND YEAH! THAT'S IT! MY LORD THIS TOOK A LONG ASS TIME

QUESTIONS ABOUT MY LORE ARE Ģ̶̛̳̣͕̗͈̲̬̠̞͓͖͎͒̈̀͘͜R̸̙̹̃͑̀͋͒̽͒̋̃̾̃̏̅͗̅̇͗E̴͓̤̜̤͔̜̬̤͙̼̙͊̀̂̋̐̂̏̐͗͊͝Ǎ̴͓̗̗͓͖̹̀̉͑͛͊̏̈́́͐̋̒̕͝͠T̴͉͚̲̞̳̗̼͉̣͉̲̯͔̰͐͐̾̅́̒̈́̏̿̊̒̂͊̀̊̈̒͜͜͜L̵̨̪̙̗͓̳̀̆̋͒̉̕͘͠͠͝͝Y̵̛̙̓̔̈́͗̒͘̕͝ ̶̡̢̡̫͓̭̮̟̺̟̖̜͕́͒̃̓͂̂̑̄̈́̐͊̽͘͠A̶̡̧̛̞̙͌͑́͑̐̇́̀͠P̶̡̬͓̘̩̥͇͔͔̖͈̖̖̓̉͊̋̇̿̉̇̀̆̓̋͂́͘͝͝P̶̞̥̊͑̇̊͒̆̍͒̊͗̚̚͠͠ͅR̴̛̲͇͍̘̬̝͍͚̪͚͌͌̂̍͐̚͝E̴̛̠̰͚͓̳̒͊̃̔̊̕C̴̘̯̤͖͈͎̯͖͇̳͇̅̆͋̌̈̎͑̂͗̚͠Í̵̹͐̀͝Á̵̡̺̩̙̟̪͙̻̯͖̫̘͂̆͑͂̾̔̆̀̿͑͋̀͂̍̕̚ͅT̶̘͕̹̼͎̩͇̔̓Ę̴̢̛͓̝̻͇͇̠͎͇̻͓̝̇́͂͋́͋͗͐̂̉͋̓̍̓͊̏ͅD̶͓͓̞͎͍̞͖̐

.̵̦̯͙͍͓͖̽̀͐̃̈́͑̆̃̀̕͝͝.̷̭̌̌̔̏͂̆͆͆͝͝.̸̢̧̡̯͉͕̳̈́͋̅̀

y̷̧̳͍̘̻̗̬̋͊̈̆̍͒̕ǒ̵̧̢̘̟̜̦͙͇̜̈́͜͜ư̷̛͇̬̤̠̫̜̯̞̠͇͇̮͈̣̌̔́̇̎͋̈́̃͊̑̅̎́͠ ̸̜͑̃̄̄̀̏̀̌́́͌̔̌̚͝a̸̼̖̳̻͍͙͊̾̀̆͊̑͒̚c̷̨̨̛̹̥̰̙͇̘̺̤̥̐̄̿̀̐͛̉̌̊́̋͠t̴̟̩̑̿̈́̍͆̈́͂̇̅̒̋̃̾̀̓ű̵̡̢͖͓̜̙͋̆̒̈̾̆͛͛̀̕͜͝ą̶̢̛̺̘̻̩͔̮̭̮̩̹͇̼̐̍͐̇̿͑̍̈́͠͝ͅl̷̟̗͈̜̜͒͒̋̈́̈́̎́̀̽̃͆̕̚l̶̛͓̯̳̜̀̋͌́̃̀̈́͌̾͜͠y̸̢̨̨̮̻̖̭͖̓̅͛͒͂ ̵̺̥̱̼̦̼͓̻̻͚̺́̄̀̈́̃̏̔͊͛͊̈͝c̶̛̬̫̖̩͕͚̝̰̆̐͐̓̓̏͛̊̏̿͠a̸̛̖̩̖̱̔̈́̃͗́̀̇̽́̿̋̈͊̀̋̈́ṃ̶̤̲͍̯̤̦̯̾̿̔̉͗̇͒͜͜ĕ̷̪̼̇̓̇̌͋̄̽͛̊̆̄̽̐͘.̸̢̧̛̞̼͕̲̲̼͔͔̦͖̓̓́̿̈͗͋̋̀̏̿͠͠ͅͅ.̴̭̺̰̪̯͈̪̩̭̙̗̺̒̏̃̓́̉͘.̴̫̯̰̭̼̤̇̎"

"..."

"What is your name, brave one?"

"..."

"my name is Ciara..."

"how can we ever repay you?"

"...come with me...we will get you to safety."

...

"fascinating...the girl has more power than I thought..."

"..."

"we'll see how far she can go..."

{END OF ARC 1}

#oc #oc lore #zodiac #zodiacs #zodiac sign #zodiac signs #zodiac lore #gacha club #gacha #cringe culture is dead #time to use gacha

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trewtitlesandtribulations-blog · 2 years

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Zurte knelt in the jungle foliage, examining a broken plant stalk. Oxidation of the nectar was just beginning, and no sign of the aphilids which fed on it. Ten minutes old, no more. He rose again as Quiy and Kabbe, a pair of H'thulak hired guns, approached in his wake, rifles raised, scanning the surrounding barky vines and earth-toned canopy.

"We're close," Zurte whispered. Quiy and Kabbe nodded in unison. Zurte hefted his own rifle, and continued through the brush.

He noted a stiffness in his ears as they swiveled to and fro, and fought a surge of frustration. Fear always made them hard to control, what with an increase in blood pressure straining the delicate membranes. But he knew there was no turning back.

A Human escape pod had landed in the Great Tropic just one week ago. Zurte and his team had been dispatched six days ago. He'd picked up the trail a day after that. Now, they were right behind it. They had to find it, and kill it, before it infested the entire rainforest.

Zurte shivered slightly, recalling the satellite imagery included in the briefing. Liloni, the last planet to suffer an invasive Human population, had gone dark in a matter of weeks, the few Galactic Federation colonies overtaken and absorbed by the cunning Terrans. An amendment to the rules of engagement had been forced through soon after, levying severe punishments on those who failed to prevent Human ships from contacting GF planets. Even a destroyed cruiser spelled doom for inhabitants if it touched down without being vaporized. A living Human was a dangerous Human.

He pushed his misgivings aside as they entered a small clearing. He motioned for Quiy and Kabbe to pause, before kneeling to check the tracks. It was vital they get the drop on their prey. A cornered Human is a dangerous Human.

Snapped stems and disturbed brush continued toward the afternoon sun. Except...not quite. They stopped cold in the dead center of the clearing.

Zurte snapped his gaze eastward as a twig snapped. Quiy and Kabbe dropped to one knee, prepared to fire. At least a dozen hammering heartbeats passed before Zurte dared move forward to investigate closer. He leaned around a tree, eyes wide and inflamed, every one of his excellent senses pushed to the limit.

Nothing. No movement, no sound. Zurte took a second to let his heart rate decrease and allow blood to flow back out of his eyes, nose, and ears. He signaled to Quiy and Kabbe without turning around, telling them to continue scanning the surrounding area.

The moment he turned around, a shadow passed overhead. A second later, a wet thunk noise broke the forest ambiance.

Zurte whirled, blood rushing back to his eyes. Quiy, still on one knee, grasped painfully at the makeshift spear sticking out of his chest, before toppling over into the leaves. Kabbe backed up to cover him, whiskers bristling and hackles raised, glancing all around.

Zurte directed his rifle toward the canopy, trying to follow the weapon's trajectory. There! Movement above, a slim figure with skin that was dappled white and brown, leaping and swinging away. In moments, it was gone, lost to the shadowy leaves.

Zurte swore loudly. Nothing to be quiet for now. The Human knew they were here. He turned back toward Kabbe, who likewise had sat down in defeat.

"Quiy?" Zurte asked. Kabbe only shook his head. Zurte swore again.

"Got Quiy's dog-tags?" Zurte asked. Kabbe nodded. "Then let's get the hell out of here. The Human has adapted itself to camouflage in the canopy."

"Already?" Kabbe said, disbelief evident.

"I know what I saw. It's skin was two-tone, the darker main color broken up by pale, low-pigment patches. This whole damn forest is perfect for an ambush. We knew they were excellent climbers, but I was sure we'd be able to see it before it saw us. Our advantage is gone."

"It's Plan B, then? Glass the landing zone?"

"And the surrounding twenty square diracs, if Command gives the go-ahead. We have no choice. Anything less would be tantamount to delivering food. Or did you forget how omnivorous these things are?"

Kabbe glanced at Quiy's body, jaw tight. Zurte grimaced. Not the right thing to say. He detached an incendiary from his bandolier and tossed it to Kabbe.

"Send him off, then. We won't give the Human the fruit of its labor."

Minutes later, Zurte and Kabbe beat a hasty retreat, a growing fire behind them.

---

In the canopy, Tyer watched the two aliens flee, and nodded in satisfaction. Then, he set to thinking. The snippets of Galactic Common he had been able to understand had included one that he was pretty sure referred to the orbital laser that burned topsoil into ash. It appeared a move was in order. He set off through the trees, and as the dappled sunlight moved over him, he sincerely thanked his luck. A human with vitiligo in a brown-toned, sunny forest. He couldn't have asked for a better environment.

#humans are space orcs #space travel #writing #OH NO IT'S BEHIND ME!

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negative-azure · 9 months

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𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⋆ 𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘

navigation

❝seven pounds of pressure❞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

[18+] [third person; omniscient]

The scent of weed, hookah coals and the pungent smell of spilled alcohol hung heavy in the air, smoke wafting in thick, gray vapors in front of Jamari’s face as he exited the back of the club. Trotting down the short, wooden steps, he joined his entourage and a group of other men that were hanging out in the back parking lot. The air outside was humid - almost sticky, and fresh with the smell of rain that left the fabric of the monogrammed, navy blue and white Louis Vuitton polo he wore clinging to his body. The night sky above was vacant - light from the stars obscured by street lights, bathing the cracked, wet asphalt below in an odd shade of orange. Steam wafted up from the concrete, surrounding the men huddled in a circle in front of him too consumed in their dice game - their voices loud and obnoxious, echoing in the vacant parking lot, along with bass-boosted music that played from a red Dodge Charger.

Jamari hung to the outside of the crowd, his body supported by the brick wall behind him, his eyes following the motion of the set of white and black dice as it collided against the ground. Hands swiped at money as more fluttered through the air - green, tatted bills falling haphazardly on top of fresh bank notes below.

His ears were filled with the sounds of incoherent conversations, background noise to the thoughts that raced in his head. Subconsciously, he played with the lighter and blunt in his hands, flicking the lighter on and off again, the strong smell of butane dancing across his senses along with the subtle smell of the berry flavored tobacco leaf.

Rolling the blunt back and forth between his fingers, he finally decided to light one end - the flowery, diesel smell of the weed intensifying as he brought it to his lips, inhaling harshly as the smoke filled his lungs, smoke spilling out from the other end.

Jamari’s nerves were on the fritz - an almost electric, pin needle sensation washing over his body.

Even the numb lull from the amount of Hennessey that coursed through his veins couldn’t completely tune out the way he felt.

Something was bothering him.

And the feeling washed over Jamari like a nasty disease, permeating his mind.

It bothered him from the moment he woke up this morning, through his much awaited interview with V103, and lingered even in his studio session. It made him feel antsy. Unfocused. It made him feel on edge, almost like he was watching a horror movie - worked to the edge of his seat, anticipation building to a crescendo. That kind of feeling was foreign, so unnerving and unlike himself.

It was like he could feel that something was wrong, so wrong, and the thought of it made the hairs of the back of his neck stand up. It sent a chill down his spine.

Something lingered in the fuckin’ air, and Jamari swore he could damn near taste it.

Feel it.

Hold it in his hands.

And he didn’t like it.

“Murda, you straight?”

Looking up, he met the eyes of his bodyguard, Joshua. He didn’t even notice that he was standing in front of him, the raspiness of his voice in Jamari's head sounding so close, yet so far away. Joshua’s eyes scanned his face, his body language stiff as he stood with hands clasped together in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamari cleared his throat, nodding his head. He puffed smoke again, the sensation of the smoke burning the inside of his nose as he inhaled. The rest of the smoke escaped from between his lips as he spoke, Jamari inhaling deeply again before extending the blunt to Joshua. He hoped that the weed would calm his nerves, and really hoped that his friend wouldn’t be able to tell how “off” he felt.

But, seeing right through the thinly veiled gesture, Joshua raised his eyebrows, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he lied again, “I’m just in my head ‘bout this music shit.”

Joshua nodded his head - slowly - his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the look on Jamari’s face. Even if the tongue lied, body language couldn’t - and Jamari looked like he was a deer in damn headlights, fear and worry lurking behind his expressive, dark brown eyes.

But even if he wanted to, Jamari knew he wouldn’t be able to explain clearly how he felt to Joshua. His “spidey senses” were tingling, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing mental gymnastics as he tried to narrow down exactly what it was. That was Jamari’s biggest issue - he didn’t know what had him so wound up. What was pressing his buttons, pushing his pressure points.

Like damn, what the fuck was it?

“You a fraudulent, wack ass nigga!”

Murda could point out that grating, pitchy voice from anywhere, his eyes immediately finding the owner of the voice in the crowd - dressed in a red and white Gucci shirt, and black jeans, and a big, obnoxiously sized chain in the shape of a money bag hanging from around his neck.

That voice belonged to no one other than Rich Baby - Murda’s labelmate and one of the sharpest thorns in his side.

From the moment the two of them met, Rich Baby seemed to have it out for Murda. Whether it was on social media, in songs, interviews - whatever it was, he made it his business to antagonize Jamari every chance he got. And unfortunately, since they were on the same label, it meant that they ran in the same circles. And because it sold records, made the fans want more from the two of them, made the blogs talk - Jamari had to be in his presence more often than he would like. And for someone as attention seeking as Rich, it meant that he would go all out to keep the persona, the image attached to his name.

But for once, Rich’s attention wasn’t on Jamari, and instead of the dice game that had come to a screeching halt in front of them.

Rich was staring down another man, dice in one hand and money in the other, the two of them exchanging nasty glares at each other.

“Here them niggas go,” Joshua added, shaking his head as he watched the group over his shoulder.

Tension hung in the air as words were exchanged, playful banter and yelling suddenly turning serious. The air surrounding them seemed to turn stale, and Murda could feel the shift in the situation - his chest tightening as his heart thumped away loudly in his ears. The blunt in Joshua’s hand had long gone out - a thin wisp of smoke filtering from the charred and blackened end of the blunt. The crowd seemed to egg on the “discussion” between Rich and the other man on, both sides taunting each other.

“You tryna say I’m cheating? Cause I know that ain’t what yo’ ugly ass is tryna tell me, nigga!”

“That’s exactly what the fuck I’m saying. You fuckin’ dumb?”

“Watch yo’ fuckin’ mouth when you talking to me, nigga-”

“The fuck is you finna do if I don’t?”

That’s when the pushing and shoving started.

The sound of shouting filled Jamari’s ears, Rich’s figure drowned out in the sea of men that seemed to swarm the situation - some of them trying to diffuse it, while others were too consumed with their argument to be bothered with backing down. Designer shoes and Jordans stepped all over the money on the ground, while hands reached to pull the men apart, some men opting to attempt to pick up the money beneath their feet like vultures.

“What - you wanna hit for this shit or what?”

Wait..

“I got something for you, don’t even fuckin’ worry.”

Was this..

“Hold on, the fuck you finna-”

A loud, ear splitting pop rang out into the air - echoing as the crowd instantly scattered, spreading out in all different directions, like a bunch of roaches. Loud footsteps and screaming echoed in the night air, and the sounds of engines revving and tires screeching across asphalt made for a disastrous symphony.

Jamari’s ears rang, and he could smell the smoke from the gunfire in the air, temporarily stunning his senses and burning his eyes.

But when the smoke cleared, his eyes caught sight of Rich on the ground.

“What the fuck!”

Joshua yelled, kneeled down at Rich’s side. His hands were covered in thick, red blood as he tried to apply pressure to Rich’s chest. Rich grabbed weakly at Joshua’s hands, smearing the liquid across his shirt and Joshua’s tattooed hands. Without even thinking about it, Jamari joined him at Rich’s side along with a few other people - a woman lifting Rich’s head while another was on the phone, her words barely comprehensible as they slurred together.

Jamari was completely paralyzed as he stared down at the pool of blood covering the front of Rich’s shirt, Rich’s eyes blinking slowly as he tried to speak but the woman cradling his head told him not to. His body was frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing in front of him.

Then he realized - what he had been feeling all day. What had been bothering him.

Death.

It hung high in the air, yet Jamari was powerless to do anything about it.

The sound of sirens filled the air, swarming Jamari’s senses as he was fixed to his kneeling position on the ground. His hands trembled, and he struggled to breathe, watching Joshua as he continued to apply pressure to Rich’s chest, blood covering his hands and his shirt. Rich struggled to breathe, his chest rising shallowly as blood spilled from the corners of his lips with each passing breath. Joshua shouted at Rich to hold on, that he would be okay - but as the intensity and volume of the sirens grew closer, they all knew that there wasn’t much they could continue to do.

Jamari’s ears hadn’t stopped ringing - in a trance as he watched Rich take his last breath.

“Murda - we gotta go!”

The sound of Joshua’s voice fell on Jamari’s deaf ears, his body still frozen in place as he looked upon Rich’s cold, lifeless eyes.

“Jamari, are you listening to me?”

Joshua shook him, trying to snap Jamari out of his trance.

“Jamari!”

Yanking him up from the ground, Joshua shook him again, his bloody fingers digging into the soft fabric of Jamari’s shirt. Their eyes shared the same fearful, panicked expression in them, the two of them realizing the magnitude of what had unfolded in front of them. Sirens wailed through the streets, and behind them people filed out of the club, more people screaming and wailing in disbelief, the two men getting swallowed up in the crowd that had started to form.

“What the fuck do we do?” Jamari stumbled over his words, the syllables spilling out from his mouth.

“Ain’t shit we can do now but get the fuck out of here.”

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘?. . . the key signature, ❝dreamchaser❞

#*...testify #*…bubbling under #ue!newreleases.#negative-azure #theazurefiles

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jerzwriter · 1 year

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All That Matters

Fandom: The Last of Us Characters: Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, other cameos Word count: 2.4k Rating: Mature(ish) Warnings: Cursing, injury, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, general post-apocalyptic vibe Summary: Mortally wounded, Joel forces Ellie to leave him behind. As soon as she is gone, Joel finds himself on a journey he had no expectations of taking... where would it lead?

A/N: Well, I'm trying a TLOU fic. I said I'd only do it if I felt there was something I wished I could add, and after episode 7, I wanted to add this. It's out of my wheelhouse, so I hope it's enjoyable to someone out there. NOTE: This is based on the HBO Serious TLOU, not the game. I have some, but limited knowledge, of the game. There are some spoilers for episode 7, you've been warned. Looking at you, @icecoffee90, 2.4k is short for me lol :) I'm only tagging those on my list who I know are watching TLOU. If you want to be tagged in any more TLOU works (if I do any lol) let me know.

The basement was frigid. If it were another time, Ellie would have found it too cold to do anything at all, but that wasn’t a luxury often afforded in her world, and it certainly wasn’t possible now. Her fingers were all but frozen, and every breath she took surrounded her in a cold cloud of vapor, but these things were unimportant. Joel. Joel was what mattered. There was no way she could bear losing him, too.

Her mind and heart raced as an internal war waged inside her. Frantic. As the color seeped away from his face, and each labored breath he took became more shallow, she became more frantic. She wanted to scream, break something, cry… to run away from the utter helplessness she felt, but she couldn’t give in. Saving him would require getting her shit together to a level she never had before, and she had to save him. It wasn’t an option. She had to.

Joel trembled on the basement floor. The freezing cold, blood loss, and pain left him floating in a state of suspension; he could no longer decipher what was real. But reality came crashing back in the form of an agonizing bolt of pain in his side. His eyes shot open to find Ellie, flushed and panicked, placing pressure on his wound, desperately trying to save him.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She cursed as his hands gripped her arm, attempting to pull her away.

“You gotta help me,” she begged, then her voice became more commanding. “Come on!”

“Leave….” Joel whispered through a strained breath. “Leave.”

“Shut up, Joel.”

“You go…”

“Joel, shut the FUCK UP!” she screamed, fighting against him to keep her hands in place.

He conjured up a strength he didn’t have to grasp her by the collar. Her eyes, filled with desperation, fury, and rage, met his as a pain she refused to experience again helped her fight to stay in control.

“Go… you go… you go North,” he breathed. “You go to Tom,” he nodded. Ignoring the searing pain, he pushed her away with all his might.

Dazed, Ellie sat up, and their eyes met again. She saw the tear resting in the corner of his eye, and utter anguish washed over her face. She knew better than to argue with him, but she sure as hell wasn’t giving in. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed his coat and gently tucked it around him. His eyes never left her face as fear, hope, and pride welled inside him. Ellie turned and walked away, stopping to look back one last time. They stared at each other for a moment that felt like an eternity, their expressions speaking more than words ever could, then she was gone.

Joel let out a breath he’d been holding in when he heard her footsteps disappear up the stairs. He knew this could be the end for him, but that was unimportant. Ellie. Ellie was what mattered. There was no way he could bear failing her, too.

A sharp pain jolted throughout his body, turning his vision turned white. Nausea and chills gripped him as the room turned hazy around him. He could no longer see and refused to fight it when his eyes began to close. The feeling of warmth and serenity was seductive… welcoming as he started to drift away. It had been decades since he felt anything close to this.

Then suddenly, he was pulled in, finding himself in the core of an unending cyclone where there were only shades of white and grey. Tommy’s face appeared before him as he descended further down, a line of worry creased between his brother’s brow.

“Come on, Joel.” He ordered. “Get up!”

But Joel continued falling, catching only a glimpse of his Tommy when he looked up. Now Maria stood beside him, an expression of disappointment he had become too familiar with in her eyes. It was better this way, Joel thought; better to just keep falling.

The world was gone now and the misty haze surrounding him was a welcoming reprieve. He wondered why he hadn’t succumbed to it long ago. Weightless and free, he would be fine floating in this neverending purgatory for the rest of time. But the sounds of a young girl weeping ripped away his peace. Troubled, he looked desperately around when the spinning stopped, hurling him to the ground below.

His eyes were open, but there was nothing to see… just white light and an ethereal haze. He struggled to get to his feet, and just when he thought he was getting his bearings…

“Look at you,” a smokey voice chided from behind. “I always said you wouldn’t survive more than a few months without me, but I was joking… and I certainly didn’t want you to prove me right.”

Joel’s body went rigid. He spun around aimlessly, searching for the source of the voice but found nothing but fog. He knew that voice. It just couldn’t… it couldn’t be?

“Tess?” He cried out.

An area to his right turned brighter, and then she appeared. Casually leaning back on a kitchen chair, looking more serene than he had ever seen her. She reached over the table with a nod and poured herself a bourbon.

“Impressive! You haven’t forgotten my voice,” she teased as she raised her glass in his direction. “I’m proud of you, Joel.”

Speechless and mouth agape, he stared in her direction. Tess shook her head with a sarcastic snicker.

“I’ve never seen you so dumbfounded,” she chided. “I’d offer you a drink to settle your nerves… but I can’t. You’re not quite dead yet, and this stuff is reserved for those of us who have taken that final leap. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

“Tess…you’re… you’re here?”

“Never could get one past you!” She laughed. “Yes, I’m here… and so are you… but you shouldn’t be. Not yet.”

“You’re… you’re OK,” he gasped, an unfamiliar feeling of relief enveloped him.

“Define OK,” she chuckled. “I’m good. It’s not so bad here, and shockingly enough, I’ve learned that we were already in hell. So I was let off on time served.”

“You’re not in the other place?” He smirked, eliciting a smile from his dear friend.

“It’s not exactly like we were told it would be. St. Peter won’t greet you, and there won’t be any assignments. It’s just a place where we… exist. It’s not too awful.” She took a long sip of her drink and grinned. “And the booze ain’t all that bad either.”

“So heaven has its perks.”

“What did I just tell you?” she exasperated. “There is no heaven, Joel. It’s just… here.”

Joel turned away, a feeling of overwhelming shame overtaking him. “Tess,” he grumbled. “I’m so sorry… I failed you.”

“Stop,” she held up a hand. “You didn’t fail me. My number was up. It’s gonna happen to everyone in time. It’ll happen to you… but it shouldn’t be today.”

“Why? If it’s so great here, why don’t you want me to stay?”

“Because you still have work to do,” she shrugged. “I told you to get Ellie where she needed to go. Did you do it yet?”

“We ran into some issues along the way. We were in Salt Lake City, and I….”

Tess was growing impatient. “It’s a yes or no answer, Joel. Did you do it?”

“No.”

“Then, your work isn’t done. Besides, is this how you want to go out? Come on, you need something more dramatic than this. After all we went through? I mean, I went out in a blaze of glory! Yeah, got stuck sucking face with some clicker bastard before I left, but I took care of him good on this side,” a satisfied grin spread on her lips. “That won’t be happening again!”

“Wait… what?” Joel squinted.

“It’s a long story, and I’ll happily share it with you one day, but not today. Go back, Joel. You can’t save everyone. It’s not your job, but … save who you can.”

“But, Tess…I….”

“Joel! Go back!” She demanded as a shadowy figure approached her from behind. It placed a plate of appetizing food in front of her before turning its attention to Joel.

“I always told you he was dense. You were the goddamn brains of the operation.” Bill looked at Joel sternly, his patience already worn thin. “What are you waiting for? Get the hell out of here. I’m in no rush to see you.”

“Bill?” Joel started. “Is this….”

But he didn’t get to complete his sentence as the vortex sucked him back in. Faster this time, it spun at speeds unimaginable to man. Joel wasn’t sure where it was delivering him, but he was confident it was pushing him back to that basement floor, and he wouldn’t have it. Fighting it with all his strength, the spiral became more dizzying until a loud crash hurled him toward the ground once more, then there was silence. Emptiness. A grey void where there was nothing to hear, nothing to see. His body lay motionless as his hands gripped at the ground beneath him, and he could feel grass growing from the cold pavement below him. How could that even be?

“Dad?” A delicate voice trembled.

A bright ray of sunshine appeared as she approached, so blinding it was all he could see. Then, she emerged, her dark, soulful eyes, the delicate smile, the same beautiful face that left him over two decades ago. He knew the smile, he remembered her scent, and as her presence surrounded him, for a moment, it felt like it had never been lost at all. His little girl…

“Sarah?” He gasped, voice broken with emotion.

He tried to jump up, desperate to take her in his arms, but his body was immobile, frozen to the ground underneath him. Fate couldn’t be this cruel.

“It’s me, Dad,” she smiled, sensing his distress. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.”

She sat down beside him, the grey emptiness turning into golden light around her. With a delicate touch of her hand, Joel was able to move, instantly taking her in his arms for an embrace he never wanted to end.

“Sarah,” his voice creaked, tears unabashedly running down his ashen face. “Baby girl… it’s you… I can’t… I can’t believe it’s you!”

“Well, it is,” she chirped. “Dad, you have no idea how good it feels to hold you again.”

Joel barked out a little laugh. “Oh, trust me, baby, I have an idea. I have an….” He pulled back and ran his hands over her face, not trusting his eyes to know the truth. “You’re here…” he cried. “You’re here.”

“I am,” she smiled, a placid look of pure contentment on her face. “But I wasn’t expecting you yet. What are you doing here?”

“I… I don’t know,” he sputtered. “But I’m so glad I am. Sarah…,” he breathed… “my angel….” Overwhelmed with emotion, he couldn’t will himself to speak. Sensing this, Sarah held him close, tenderly placing kisses on atop his head.

“I know you’re happy,” she teased, “but you need to get it together, Dad. I’m not used to seeing you like this.”

“It’s just… I never thought….” He pulled back and looked at her again; this time, she could see the pain in his eyes. “Sarah, I’m so sorry,” he wailed, pleading with her for forgiveness. “I wish it would have been me, baby. I would have done anything for it to have been me and not you… I’m so sorry….”

“Dad, stop,” she implored. “It wasn’t your fault. I know you would do anything to protect me, but you can’t control everything. It wasn’t up to you.”

“But I’m your father, Sarah! It was my duty… my obligation… to keep you safe, and I failed you.”

“Oh, Dad,” she smiled, taking his face in her hands. “You never let me down, not once. You never could. I can always feel your love, even here, but I can also feel your pain, and Dad, I want you to let that go. For both of us.”

“How can I? How can I when you should have still been here… there… I don’t know… with me.”

“That wasn’t your choice. You have to accept that you can’t control everything, but you should control what you can, and you can control this… you have to go back, Dad.”

“No!”

“Yes! I’m fine, I miss you, but I don’t need you right now. I can wait for you, but Ellie… she can’t.”

“Ellie? You know about Ellie?”

“Oh, we know lots of things here. You have no idea how smart I am now… so much smarter than you’ve ever been, I assure you of that.”

A snort shot from his nose and a genuine smile Sarah rarely saw took over her father’s face.

“I think that was true, even back in Texas.”

“Oh, I know it was true,” she smiled. “But, Dad, if you believe that… trust me. Go back… and don’t push her away. You don’t have to do it all alone… let her help you. She needs you as much as you need her right now.”

“But you’re my daughter, Sarah, she’s… she’s not….”

Sarah raised a brow and smirked knowingly at Joel. “Really, Dad? It’s all right. You can love her, too. I want you to. Hell, I always wanted a sibling. Do you think it was fun dealing with you and Uncle Tommy on my own all the time? Cause it wasn’t. One day you’ll all be here again, and I could use an assist.”

“But you need me!”

“Not here. I’m safe, Dad. I’m safe, but Ellie’s not. You need to go.”

She gently nudged her father back, pushing his shoulders until he was flush against the ground again. She took his hands, gently lacing her fingers with his, and the grass beneath him receded, leaving Joel on the basement floor once more.

“I love you, Dad. I love you.”

As Sarah’s voice receded, Joel's body shivered once again. Everything felt different, except there were still delicate fingers laced within his own. He forced his eyes open and found Ellie looking lovingly down at him. She hadn’t left. She hadn’t given up, and with the bit of strength he had left in him, he squeezed her fingers in appreciation. He didn’t have the capacity for words, but words were unnecessary. Ellie clasped his hand tighter, content confidence in her eyes. She knew what had to be done, and she wouldn’t fail him.

They needed each other. They would get through this. They were all that mattered.

@a-crepusculo @bex-la-get @danijimenezv @annoyingmillenialnewbie @annfg8 @icecoffee90 @missameliep

#tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #tlou hbo #sarah miller #tess servopoulos #bill

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emotionalcadaver · 6 months

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Part 10: They Scream & They Cry

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Fear comes to Gotham.

Word Count: 2,138

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has read this fic! I hope that you enjoyed it! Warnings for depictions of violence and kidnapping.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

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Chapter 5: A Little Anarchy

By the time they got to the hole that Ra’s al Ghul’s men had blown in the side of the asylum, there was already chaos. Inmates, clothed in their bright red jumpsuits, hooting and hollering and racing through the streets. Screaming in the distance. It was wonderful.

Vanessa clutched tight to Jonathan’s hand, not particularly out of fear, but more so they wouldn’t get separated from each other in the crowd. Besides, she was little. There wasn’t a nonexistent possibility that she could get squished.

She had pulled her mask and goggles up in preparedness for whatever was coming. Someone tried to grab her and yank her away from Jonathan, and he rounded on them with a snarl, dousing them in a spray of toxin that sent them crashing to the ground and clutching their head as they screamed.

Pulling her tighter against him, Jonathan began to tug her along to the outskirts of the crowd.

BOOM!

One of the manhole covers near them exploded. Pipes burst as the pressure within them spiked, and white gas began to rise, encasing the entire neighborhood of the Narrows in a thick fog. Vanessa pressed her mask more firmly to her face, tightening the straps, just in case. All around them, people were beginning to cough as they sucked the fear toxin into their lungs.

Goddamn, al Ghul’s plan to vaporize the toxin they’d been pouring into the water supply actually worked.

It was very, very silent.

And then, steadily, as if rising from some deep, dark place, the screaming started.

Jonathan’s grip on her hand tightened, as he started pulling her in the direction of one of the horses that the riot police used. Its rider was dead, body hanging only by one stirrup and dragging along the ground behind it. Jonathan caught it by the reins.

“Are you insane?” she shouted up at him when he pulled himself up into the saddle.

“I’m not dignifying that with a response,” he said dryly, getting situated before holding out a hand to her. “Come on.”

“I don’t know how to ride.”

“I do. I rode horses every once in a while in Georgia. Come on,” the screams around them were beginning to grow in volume. “I won’t let you fall.”

She grabbed onto his hand, letting him pull her up to sit behind him in the saddle. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she squeezed. He patted her hands where they were interlaced against his stomach soothingly, then drove the horse into the beginnings of a light gallop.

It was admittedly better, up there on the horse. She could actually see what was going on, and there was less chance of them being victim to some of the things happening down there on the streets. The horse began to gallop faster, and she squeezed Jonathan tighter.

Through the fog and screams, she heard a familiar voice.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

What!? How the hell was she still alive?

Beneath her arms, she felt Jonathan tense, clearly having zoned in on the voice as well, steering the horse towards where Dawes was half bent over, clutching a terrified child in her arms.

“Of course they are!” he shouted.

“Crane?” Dawes asked.

“No,” he held up a wagging finger. “Scarecrow.”

Still clutching the child, Dawes turned tail and ran, Jonathan pushing the horse into a furious gallop after her, nearly trampling a few people still wandering the streets. It was hard to keep track of her in the fog. The horse’s hooves beat against the pavement like thunder.

“There you are!” Jonathan bellowed as he caught sight of Dawes again, pushing the horse towards her and the child. “There is nothing to fear but fear itself!” the horse suddenly lifted into a violent rear, and Vanessa yelped, clutching even tighter to Jonathan to keep from falling off. Dawes was reaching into her pocket, aiming something towards them. “I am here to help you!”

Before Vanessa could utter a warning, there was a zap, and then Jonathan’s back was arching, and he was screaming, the horse jerking as the sound spooked it. Vanessa made an alarmed sound as they began to pick up speed, one hand trying to keep Jonathan steady while she snatched the reins from him, yanking them back. The horse whinnied and reared again. It was really a miracle that she managed to keep both her and Jonathan from falling off of it.

“Jonathan…Jonathan, what–stop screaming–what happened?” she couldn’t see and the horse was still trotting, though it had slowed considerably.

“She tased me in the fucking face!”

“Oh,” that would explain the zap, then. “She didn’t hit your eyes, did she?”

“No,” his voice was still strained with pain.

“Okay…” she frowned, glancing around, trying to squint through the gas to figure out where they’d ended up. “Okay, here, just lean against me,” clutching the reins, she very cautiously pushed her heels into the horse’s sides until it began to pick up speed. Straining to see the street signs, she turned them down a street, galloping back up the hill. Jonathan rested against her with a whine. “I know, I know, not long, now…”

“Where are we going?” he mumbled.

“Back to Arkham. They have medical supplies.”

“Mm.”

It took some considerable wrangling of the horse, dodging deranged, screaming lunatics still racing through the streets, before she managed to get them back to Arkham. Dismounting with a grunt, she reached up, letting Jonathan grip her arms to help guide him off the horse. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning against her heavily as she half dragged him inside.

Poor thing. First Batman gassed him and slammed him against a wall, now this? He was having a really shit evening.

“Good God, what happened to Chelsea?” he asked as they limped past the secretary.

“Uhhh…” Vanessa started. He glanced at her and snorted.

“Oh.”

“I never liked her.”

“Clearly.”

Guiding him to the medical bay, she sat him down on a cot, taking off his mask to assess the damage. The burlap was lightly singed, his face reddened, with two puncture wounds from where the metal barbs had struck him on each cheek, almost like dimples. Grabbing some disinfectant and a cloth, she began to clean the wounds.

“How do you feel?”

“As if my head just got shaken like peanuts in a jar.”

She fumbled through the drawers until she found a bottle of painkillers, shaking a few out in her palm and giving them to him to swallow while she made him an ice pack.

“Lay back,” she ordered, nudging his shoulder until he laid down.

“Mm. Yes, doctor.”

She poked him in the shoulder affectionately before draping the ice pack over his face and sitting down next to him.

“Well, I don’t think that there'll be any permanent damage. You’re lucky she didn’t get your eyes.”

“Ah, yes. That’s how I feel right now. Lucky.”

Letting out a tiny huff of air that might have been a laugh, Vanessa stroked her fingers delicately through his soft hair. “Try to rest.”

“Mhm. What if someone comes in?”

“I’ll take care of them.”

He hummed like the thought pleased him greatly, settling back down heavily in the cot. Getting more comfortable in her seat, Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest, contenting herself to just remain watchfully at his side.

∗ ∗ ∗

He barely cracked an eye open before he was groaning, wincing at how sore his ribs were. His mind still felt a little fuzzy and paranoid from the toxin, and his face burned.

“Jonathan? You awake?”

“No.”

She laughed somewhere to his left. “I’ve got more water and painkillers if you need them,” I’d parked our car in the alley across the street. I went out and got our stuff. There’s granola bars and chips if you’re hungry. Oh!” he heard her moving around. “And I have your spare pair of glasses.”

“Oh, good,” pulling himself painfully into a sitting position, he took the frames from her delicately, replacing them on his nose. She held out another dose of painkillers and water for him, munching on a granola bar as she watched over him.

“I ducked out for a moment while you were sleeping to see the state of things. Managed to nab a newspaper,” she held it out to him. “Ra’s is dead.”

He grunted as he scanned over the front page. Figures. With the Batman running around, none of them were safe anymore.

“You went out?” he asked, shooting her an alarm look. Vanessa shrugged.

“It wasn’t so bad once the toxin cleared. And I had my ax,” she nodded at the newspaper. “Check out page four.”

He flipped the newspaper open and was greeted with his and Vanessa’s faces plastered on most wanted posters, with a reward for information. Sighing, he set the newspaper to the side, shooting Vanessa a look of deep regret, reaching out to cover her hands with his.

“I’m sorry.”

She raised one dark eyebrow. “It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“Mm,” she tilted her head, leaning closer to him. “We’ll be fine,” she kissed his temple. “We’ve survived worse.”

He supposed that was true. “We can rebuild. Make a new lab,” he mumbled, as she settled more comfortably against his side.

“Yeah,” she agreed. He sucked in a deep breath, wincing at the way it strained his ribs. She stroked his hair. “We can worry about all that later. Right now you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Jonathan,” she gave him a look, and he sighed, again flinching at the way it hurt his ribs. “Since the toxin dissipated, the Narrows are crawling with cops. I would imagine that Arkham is probably rather low on their list of places to search, so we have some time, but…”

“Then it's a good thing we know this place better than anyone. There are places here where we could hide that they would never look.”

Nodding, she rested her head cautiously on his shoulder, arms going loosely around him. Turning his head to kiss her forehead, he buried his nose in her hair, eyelids already beginning to grow heavy. She was warm. And comfortable.

“Go back to sleep, hon,” Vanessa said, stroking his back. “Once you’re better, we’ll get back to work.”

∗ ∗ ∗

The wind was howling outside, rain pelting the windows in big, fat droplets that thundered against the roof and sides of the building. Jamie shivered, a sharp crack of thunder making her jump. She hated thunderstorms; couldn’t really believe that she’d let Jordan convince her to move to this horrible city.

She shuffled down the hallway towards the kitchen where her husband was probably heating up some dinner. A bit of warm food would make her feel better, or at least quell the anxious lump in her chest. The sound of the rain was louder and she frowned, turning to peek into the bedroom.

The window was open, curtains blowing out into the room and rainwater getting all over the floor.

“Jordan, seriously? You left the window in the bedroom open again,” he was always doing things like that, his absentmindedness seeming to have gotten worse in the last couple of weeks. She shuffled forward quickly, hissing at the cold gust of air, batting the curtains away as she closed the window. Lightning flashed outside.

There was a pricking pain in her neck, sudden as a spider bite. And then a gloved hand was clapped tight around her mouth, and she was falling, falling, falling…

∗ ∗ ∗

“Hello, there.”

This had to be a nightmare. Just some horrible nightmare. Her arms and legs were bound to a chair, her head pounding. She didn’t know where Jordan was. It was so dark and cold…

And there were things looking out at her from the darkness, speaking to her. One of them stepped forward, and at the sight of the burlap mask she began to sob. Oh, God. It was one of them. One of the escaped monsters from the asylum. Oh, no. Oh, please, no…

“Please, please, please…” Jamie started to beg.

“Shh,” he cooed, coming closer to her. There was a canister of something in his hand. “None of that, now,” behind him, something in the dark moved, leaning closer, so that all she could see were two round, black goggles peering at her. Like two giant, monstrous eyes. “I just have one question for you,” the Scarecrow said. That was what they had called him in the papers, at least. The Scarecrow and his Shadow that followed him everywhere. He touched her face, ever so softly. “What are you afraid of?”

There was a burst of white gas, followed hastily by the sounds of screaming.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

#jonathan crane #the dark knight trilogy #jonathan crane x oc #vanessa sullivan #vanessa sullivan x jonathan crane #my ocs #my fanfiction #they scream & they cry

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