Leon not spending quite as much time in the field and more time at home, thus more time on his bike, and so he invests in a wallet chain after multiple close calls. There's 2 chains on it, because he thinks it looks cool, and because of that he jingles just a little when he's walking around with it on. Chris can always hear him coming now, and his new favorite thing becomes grabbing the chains while Leon walks by.
He only does it when he knows Leon is in a good mood, and Leon always feigns annoyance, doing something to get Chris back. Pulls his hoodie strings. Unzips his jacket. Stoops down and unties one boot. Once, Chris was only in jeans, a t-shirt and socks, so Leon unzipped Chris' pants instead. They both laughed at that one. It makes them both smirk and blush every time. Sometimes it sparks horseplaying that in turn frequently sparks something else.
Chris hanging out in the garage watching Leon work on his bike(s). Leon sighing sharply in frustration and dropping a tool on the floor, beginning to stand. "Alright. Call your sister. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
Chris just smiling a little, because he'd already texted her to warn her that Leon was in the garage. "I don't know why you can't, but sure," he chuckles, having already done this song and dance with him many times. Leon stands with his hands on his hips while he speaks to her on speaker phone, Chris sitting on the table nearby, legs barely dangling while he sips coffee and holds the phone out.
Leon was also forced into investing in a decent helmet. Chris couldn't give a flying fuck about the state's laws about helmets and how long someone's been riding, nor Leon's eyerolling, or "helmet hair".
Chris is just glad there aren't any windows easy to see through in their garage when Leon pulls in with that leather jacket on and those dark jeans that hug his legs just right, and that stupid damn chain. He can't help but let out a little laugh when it jingles lightly with their rhythm as he has Leon bent over his own bike, and thinks to himself about how much he loves his stupidly cool, hot, dork of a husband.
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WIP Whenever/ Last Lines Written / Self-indulgent Saturday
A huge thank you to everyone who's been tagging me (and not only in WIP games). 🫶 Hopefully, I'll get some of the other tags done, too... 😅
Since my last WIP post, I think I had tags from @flamemittens, @defira85 x2, @optimisticgrey, @cinder-rellish181 x 2, @woundedsoul12, @ele-millennial-weirdo x2, @litsenn, @missfortunetherogue, @bladesingerlily x2, @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream x2 & @saylofwaterdeep.
You are all so talented. I love reading what you write! 🥰
Without further ado, the Dark Mara AU continues...
[Reminder: all companions are dead in this universe]
Mara could feel the threads of herself pulling apart even as she fought to contain them. Yet, through the madness and pain, she saw it. How she'd conquered the creature before.
A knot.
She reached out and snatched it in her hand, blocking out everything else the best she could as she picked and pulled at the complex twist. She already knew how, from before, and the instant she recalled that, the equations she'd seen flared across her mind. Comprehension soared through her. Her hands moved faster than she could even see, but every movement held the certainty of repetition, of logic holding a grid together. She could do it because she had already done it. The knowledge was there, and here? Here, she could somehow access it all.
The last loops fell away, and there it was, at the center: the lie.
It could not be unseen. It was in everything.
It burned with cold and froze with heat. She took hold of it and coiled it around the creature, binding her.
“How dare you torture me with love?!”
“I had to,” she condescended through her veil. “It was the only way for you to find hope on the other side of your crushing grief.”
“So you can use it, just like Raphael.”
“Devils wish to restrain, direct, and cultivate what should spread of its own free will. They plant your guilt in neat, little rows, water it with blood, trim away its wonders and put them on display. They decorate and measure to convince themselves they can control what can never be controlled! Worse yet, to delude all of you into thinking that they should.”
“Why do I need hope if it isn't for you to use?”
“Simple: intelligent life shrivels to dust and accomplishes nothing without hope. You do not need me to tell you this.”
“And I'm supposed to hinge everything on this hope—that the fantasy you used to torture me is real?”
“It is… one possibility.”
“No, Withers said this was fate.”
Her veil stirred in a frustrated sigh. “Gods are so limited. They don't even know what they think they know. What they are certain they know is even less true. I can make that possibility… into your truth.”
“If I let you drive me mad?”
“Only a little. As much as is necessary to expand your consciousness.”
“So I can exist in some pleasant fantasy? The Absolute already offered me that. In a way, so did Raphael. If it's not real, I don't want it!”
“It is real.”
“How can I believe you?”
“How can you not? Do you not SEE?!”
Mara realized that her own thoughts were influencing her perception of this space. She'd bound the demon with an intention that was unlimited, complete. Yet what she'd visualized the binding as was a black cloth embroidered with runes in red silk thread. The instant she opened herself to reality, it superseded the fiction. It was the thread that bound the demon. It pierced her, through and through. Everywhere.
“I've… already won. You're bound, and I can force you to speak the truth.”
“You are already forcing me.”
“Then tell me why I should listen.”
“You cannot create that reality from this one, but I can… send you to the one you want, in a manner of speaking.”
“What happens to the me that's there?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? What are you saying?”
“Take a moment to catch up. Look at what you wield if it helps.”
“I… exist in all of them, don't I? In some form or another, and the only way for the best one to persist, is for the worst…”
“To be created.”
“And it has to be this one?”
“No. Another set of choices in another reality could become the worst, but it is not guaranteed.”
“Unless I do it myself.”
“Yes.”
Mara plucked the strings and they tightened as she demanded, “No tricks, no double-crosses, no lie but the one I bind you with?”
“None.”
“And in this one, will the lie-crafter know my wrath?”
“Yes. Yours… and mine!”
“How was yours earned?”
“You did not ask that question before. Something has been gained from this journey that I did not expect. The answer is one of chains. Only here, am I small. Only here, can I be bound with the insidious lie. Only here, am I not a force with which all must reckon. The weak and the unstable were elevated because a fool said chaos and order must be opposites and writ it into the math of this place. I must be mad. I must be twisted. My children must feast upon each other as they do upon their enemies, and why? Because the lie-crafter fears me. And you.”
“Why should I help you when I can keep you bound?”
“We are alike. You want nothing more than to be yourself—and not lose everything because of it. I want the same.”
The truth in the demon's words rang through Mara like a church bell.
“Well, then, drive me mad. But only a little.”
Uno-reverses for everyone who has more to share!
Also, no pressure tagging: @dr4gonwriter, @carnivaley, @gortashsrighthand, & @michanvalentine
He chased the heady flavor of wine on her tongue. Spice. Hot. Red like the blood that pounded in his ears. Some thought flitted through his mind as her mouth parted further at his bold move. He drank her deeper, debating if she was always this intoxicating or if it was just the thrill of first taste.
Rules: In a new post, show the last three lines you wrote or the last thing you drew, and tag as many people as you feel like.
This is my current WIP (one of them); pairing of NASA Psychologist x fem!reader
(I'm still on Sam Spruell hype train)
His grip was gentle but assuring, you would think later on when trying to remember, but the only thing you were feeling in the moment was embarrassment and a tight, suffocating feeling in your chest, akin to a heartbreak.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, forcing yourself to look him directly in the eyes, and then wriggled yourself from his car and his grasp, making a beeline for your building door.
If you had looked back, you’d see him getting out after you, and if you hadn’t been sobbing already, you’d hear him call your name, repeatedly, desperately.
Tagging @sallymaywritings, @ghostlybfgf, and @alexjacobsgoodnight, but no pressure!
He stood, ruffling her already-ruffled hair as he walked past to grab another clean pillowcase, wanting to appear at least somewhat courteous without admitting he had already changed his sheets for her that morning. He changed them every time they planned to meet at his apartment, just on the off-chance she might stay.
Tagging: @theriothag @luzial @fadetouchedlurker if you like and anyone else who may like to participate
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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thanks for the tag @woundedsoul12! I deffo broke the rules but I felt like the last line needed context <.<
Their progression was slow. Between the darkness and their combined inebriation, they ambled from the kitchen at the back of the main house toward the eastern side of the property. The moon overhead was large and bright, lighting their way enough they didn't need a lantern. Which was just as well, as Selora relied on Lucanis' arm to keep her walking forward in a straight line.
the very gentlest of tags to you lot since I just tagged you lol: @handsignals, @dellamortte, @the-sparrohawk, @ofcrowsanddragons, @zennihilation, @seaglassmelody, @mageofquandrix, @hightowerqueen, @biowaredisasterbisexual, @romancingtropes, @cheaploafs, @mythals-whore, @complikatedd, @serialsforbellara, @katkrisis, @maagisterpavus, @casa-dei-corvei, @wolfsong-the-bloody-beast, @gingervitus, @sorcerousadventurer, @introvertedfangrl, @propenseverbosity, @bygonesigh
Carol raised her hand slowly and brushed her hair back, once on either side, and Therese smiled because the gesture was Carol, and it was Carol she loved and would always love. Oh, in a different way now because she was a different person, and it was like meeting Carol all over again, but it was still Carol and no one else. It would be Carol, in a thousand cities, a thousand houses, in foreign lands where they would go together, in heaven and in hell. Therese waited. Then as she was about to go to her, Carol saw her, seemed to stare at her incredulously a moment while Therese watched the slow smile growing, before her arm lifted suddenly, her hand waved a quick, eager greeting that Therese had never seen before. Therese walked toward her.
