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shakespeareanwannabe · 4 months

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As You Wish, Chapter 12

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, drinking, swearing, reference to an accident

32nd Street Naval Station, 12 years ago

The situation was almost eerily familiar. He stood in his crisp khaki uniform, in line with Bob, Natasha and Javy, just like he had that day almost a year ago. The differences were marked, however. Not only was Rooster in line with them, waiting to be tapped out, but his ring now lay on her finger and his babies were growing in her belly.

Three months. They had been gone for three damn months, and that had been three months too long in Jake’s book. Would he be able to feel the babies kicking now? How close were they to coming? Would they remember the sound of his voice? And how had his Buttercup done in his absence? She had been so worried that she wouldn’t be able to handle his deployment so soon, only two weeks married and five months pregnant with twins in a city she didn’t fully feel comfortable with yet.

Communication between the two had been spotty at best; reduced to a handful of phone calls and one lowly Facetime call. He had received three care packages from her though, filled with his favourite snacks, ultrasound photos, and a couple of raunchy photos that had kept him up half the night with the desire to touch her and hear her voice. He thanked god every day that their mission had wrapped up relatively quickly and the aircraft carrier had been able to dock sooner rather than later.

Bob was the first one pulled out of line, tapped out by his mother, who had come to stay with Buttercup for the last two weeks. Then Javy, his sister smiling over at Jake, who waved her off. He would be tapped out by his wife and only by his wife. Nat gave him a mocking salute as she strode off with Yale, and Rooster flashed him a playful middle finger as Mav tapped him on the shoulder.

Finally, finally, he spotted her, waddling slowly through the thinning crowd. She had grown since the last time he saw her, the skin of her belly stretched tight as their babies grew, but still she looked thinner than he thought she would, especially in her face. And she was moving so slowly, both hands resting under her bump as she navigated her way toward him. Jake’s heart raced as he took her in. She was beautiful, of course, but she looked so…tired. Sad.

A spark of joy raced across her face when she locked eyes with him, and he felt a weight lift off his shoulders as she smiled brightly at him and sped up as best she could.

“Hey hotshot,” she whispered, standing toe to toe with him. “Kiss me.”

All it took was her hand tapping his shoulder lightly before he wrapped her in his arms and kissed a sweet kiss to her lips, his hands journeying downward to help share the weight of her belly.

“As you wish, darlin’,” he whispered against her lips. “As you wish.”

Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

The drive back to the ranch had been…awkward, to say the least. Savannah, thankfully, had gone home with her parents, her mother claiming that she would be in touch in a few days, but Jake had never pictured being in his truck with his two daughters and his ex-wife, a rental car packed with their nearest and dearest trailing behind them.

Buttercup had been strangely quiet on the drive to the ranch, her sharp eyes taking in the scenery while her ears no doubt were honed in on the rapid conversation her daughters were having in the back seat. Not that Jake blamed her for her silence. They’d both been taken aback when faced with the blackmail their daughters had laid at their feet. The girls would tell them which girl legally belonged to which parent at the end of their seven-day trip to the ranch, during which they would go on the annual trail ride, swim in the pool, go to one of Javy’s football games, and probably have a backyard bash to celebrate all the birthdays and Christmases they had missed out on.

Jake couldn’t help but swallow down his nerves as he turned down the long driveway that led to the ranch house. The last time he and Buttercup had spent any extended amount of time together, it had ended with tears and a courtroom. He still woke up sometimes in the middle of the night, the sound of the judge’s gavel ringing in his ears and the sight of Buttercup’s gaunt and teary face flickering behind his eyelids. But the girls needed this, and, frankly, Jake thought he and Buttercup needed it too. Time to act like a family, co-parent without an ocean in the way, and, Jake reminded himself, time for both the girls to get to know their future stepmother and for Buttercup to feel secure in allowing another woman near her children.

“I missed it here,” he heard Charlie sigh, his eyes jumping to the rearview mirror to see if he could spot which twin had spoken, but both of their mouths were clamped shut, as though they knew he would try to suss out which one was legally his responsibility.

“It’s pretty…” Buttercup murmured beside him, taking in the fields and the trees that lined the driveway. “I thought you said your grandfather’s ranch was kind of run down?”

Jake felt a smile tug on his lips. She remembered. He’d only mentioned it once or twice, in conversations about how they could manage the holidays when they got married, but she remembered.

“Coyote, Rooster and I fixed it up,” he replied in a smooth voice, pulling his truck up to the side of the farmhouse. “Took a bit, but we got it done, and now it’s a pretty successful working ranch.”

“Tourists can come here too, mom,” one of the girls piped up. “There’s cabins for city people who want a dude ranch experience.”

“Or for people who just want to get away,” the other girl smiled as the truck was shut off.

Jake sighed and stepped out of the truck, watching the SUV full of their friends and family coast up the driveway behind him.

“Alright, Abby, you, Buttercup, your aunt and uncle are all staying in one of the empty dude cabins—”

“No, we’re not,” one of the twins (Charlie, maybe?) glared at him. “I already texted Claudia. She had Luke move the futon into the bedroom. We are staying together.” She linked arms with her twin and they nodded decisively at him.

“And mom isn’t staying in a dude cabin with Uncle Bob and Auntie Nat,” her sister added. “She’s staying in the guest bedroom. In the house. With us.”

“Girls, I don’t think—”

“Please?” they batted their eyes at them. “We just want to know what it feels like for all of us to wake up under the same roof. Like a family.” They pouted, their eyes shining.

Jake groaned as he crouched to meet their eyes, waving a warning finger between them. “This is emotional blackmail, and you both know it.”

They both shrugged. “And we’re okay with that.”

Jake couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or hit something. They were definitely his daughters. Only someone with his DNA could come up with a scheme like this. Only someone who grew up with Rooster and Coyote would even think of something like this. And he had no doubt that the two men had something to do with it as well.

“Are you okay with this?” he turned to Buttercup, a gentle look in his eye. She’d been quiet, too quiet, since they’d left the hotel. “If you’re not, we could always ground ‘em for manipulating their parents.”

She smiled weakly at him. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. It’s only for one week anyway. If we can’t handle one week living under the same roof…” she trailed off with a sigh, and he could read her mind just as well as he always had been able to. They’d planned on living under the same roof for the rest of their lives. They’d planned on growing old together. If they couldn’t handle one week together, then it was just further proof of how badly they had failed their girls.

Before he could doubt himself, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured. “I promise. No asshole-ish, condescending behaviour from me.”

She snorted, the tension between them breaking. “So, you’re saying that you won’t be yourself?”

He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, gasping and groaning. “You wound me, Buttercup.”

The girls giggled, sharing a look between them before Natasha stomped between them, heading for the house like she owned the place. Jake turned and looked at the SUV in time to watch Javy striding towards his cabin, muttering under his breath and kicking at a weed that was in his way.

“Jesus, what happened there?” he muttered to Buttercup, who shook her head.

Rooster strolled toward them, his hands pressed deeply into his pockets as he shook his head, his usually tan skin pale.

“Rooster?”

He shook his head at them. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill each other, man.”

Buttercup bit her lip, concern spreading across her features as she turned to watch her friend walk into her ex-husband’s house. “What happened? Why are they at each other’s throats? I thought they—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rooster griped at her, looking at Jake. “I’m goin’ to make dinner.”

Jake nodded before turning to grab the luggage out of the bed of his truck. “Girls, you know where your bedroom is. Buttercup…” he bowed with a flourish. “Right this way and I’ll show you to your room.” She raised a hand to take her luggage from him, but he turned before she could even think. “You know me better than that, Buttercup. C’mon now.” He turned to lead them inside. “Since Phoenix seems to think she can stroll into my home whenever she pleases, you can come with us and I’ll show you to your cabin later, Bob.”

“You do put out quite the spread, Rooster,” Buttercup complimented as she dug into her mushroom risotto. “Everything is delicious.”

Rooster’s grunt had Jake aiming a kick at him under the table. Rooster shot him a sharp look in response, but Phoenix cut off any retort he might have been able to muster.

“What the hell, man? Why couldn’t you cook like this before? You nearly burned down the old apartment trying to make toast one time.”

“Needed something to keep me busy during retirement. And these two idiots would’ve let Charlie and I starve to death if I didn’t step up.”

“Are you self-taught?” Bob questioned, cutting up his baked chicken breast.

He shook his head. “Culinary school. Luckily for me, Uncle Sam was willing to pay my tuition since I was sinking all my money into this place.”

“I thought it was the Seresin Ranch?” Buttercup looked at Jake, who shrugged.

“Been a family ranch for decades. But Rooster and Coyote are equal partners with me. Mostly silent partners, but it was Coyote’s idea to turn the south field into a tourist trap. Ever since, we’ve been doing comfortably for ourselves.”

Buttercup looked around the cozy but elegant dining area. “Looks like more than comfortable to me.”

“Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you, Buttercup?” Jake smiled at her over his wine glass. “New York Times bestseller list? And I heard that you’re not one of those hacks who buys a bunch of copies of your own book just to make that list.”

Buttercup blushed into her rosé. “I’ve done okay for myself.”

“Better than okay,” Phoenix piped up with a reproachful look at her friend. “They’re trying to get her to host a TED Talk about creative writing and literary themes.”

Javy whistled under his breath. “Damn, kid. That’s awesome. What’s holding you back from sayin’ yes?”

Buttercup shifted uncomfortably. “There’s a reason I write under a penname, I suppose. I don’t really want to bring attention to myself. Or to my family.”

Rooster huffed under his breath. “And here I was thinking that it was because you didn’t want Jake to find you when you disappeared.”

Everyone froze, Jake’s laser glare slicing through the frosty air towards his friend.

“I…I…” Buttercup felt her eyes well with tears and she gripped her wine glass so tightly she was afraid that the stem would snap in her hands.

Rooster stood with a screech of his chair against the hardwood. “I’m done,” he muttered. “Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

Buttercup half rose out of her seat as though to follow him, but Jake’s gentle hand on her arm gave her pause. “Ignore him. He’s got his own crap to work out. It’s not your fault, darlin’.”

She sniffed but nodded. “I…I didn’t mean to disappear. I called you. A bunch of times. But you never answered.”

Jake nodded, the tension remaining thick, the girls watching them warily. “I tried to call you too. Finally got an answer once too. But it was some British guy yelling at me to stop calling him at 3 o’clock in the morning. Figured it was a new man in your life.”

Buttercup shook her head. “It wasn’t. I mean…I’ve been too busy to try to date. But I can see why you thought that. And why you’d stop calling. I guess maybe the court transcribed my number wrong?”

Jake shrugged. “Must be. Tried calling Bob and Phoenix too. But it would only ring once then send me to voicemail.”

Buttercup sighed and glared at her family. “You blocked him?”

Bob shrugged but Phoenix met her eyes. “Yeah, I did. I barely wanted to talk to him when I had to work with him. Why would I want to talk to him when I didn’t have to?”

Jake, Charlie and Abby flinched at the venom in her voice.

“Nat…” Bob murmured under his breath in warning, but it was Javy’s voice that caught her attention.

“Sure, Phoenix, keep blaming us for your problems,” he bit out, eyes on his food. “I guess being angry at the world is easier than being angry at yourself.”

Phoenix slammed her fork down on the table. “Are you saying that getting grounded was my own fault?”

Javy stood, looming over the table. “I would never say that. But we all tried to be there for you when you were forced into retirement. It ain’t our fault that you couldn’t handle it and pushed us all away. Now you’re all alone and you can’t blame anyone but yourself for that.”

Phoenix stood to retort, the hairs on her arms standing at attention, but another screech of a chair stole their attention.

“That is enough,” Buttercup hissed. “My children are present, and they have enough going on without you two having a petty argument. If you need to whine at each other, do it outside. Because they do not need to hear this. Be adults or get out.”

Phoenix blinked at her for a moment before throwing her napkin down and stalking out of the room. A second later the front door slammed shut and everyone flinched.

Javy’s head hung low as he leaned against the table. “I’m gonna go too. Night girlies.” He bent to press kisses to Charlie and Abby’s hair as he passed them and left the room after clapping Jake on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Buttercup whispered to Jake, resettling into her seat. “But that’s not the kind of argument they should be having in front of our kids.”

The girls were indeed picking at their food, skin ashen.

“Don’t worry about it,” he promised, reaching out to squeeze her hand before picking up his fork again. “It’s not the first time Rooster or Javy have been tossed out of here for having a temper. I doubt it’ll be the last.”

Buttercup nodded, clearing her throat. “Girls, why don’t you tell me about this trail ride we’re going on tomorrow? You’re so insistent on going on it, but you haven’t really given me details.”

Charlie smiled brightly. “We leave way before the sun comes up and we get back the next night in time for Uncle Roo’s famous chili. We go all over the ranch, through the forest, up into the hills. Sometimes we see the cattle! And we camp out in tents and eat smores and hot dogs and Dad lets me stay up way late and tells me stories!”

Jake bit his lip to hide his smile. That was definitely his Charlie girl, but he wasn’t going to call her on it. Not when he wanted his girls to stay with him for as long as they could.

“I started the tradition when Charlie was just a baby,” he smiled. “We didn’t have a whole lot of ranch hands back then, so my granddad and I went out to round up the cattle with Rooster and Coyote. Charlie rode with me, strapped to my chest. She came with us every year until we had enough hands to do it on their own. That’s when we decided to move the trail ride to the last week of summer. As a kind of celebration before school starts again.”

Buttercup was smiling softly into her glass. “That sounds wonderful. I’m sure you’ll all have a wonderful time.”

Both girls made a sound of protest, and Jake chuckled. “Oh, c’mon now, Buttercup. You’re not gettin’ away from me that easily. You’re coming too.”

Buttercup bit her lip and looked pleadingly at him. “Jake, you know I can’t ride. And I’m an indoor human, not an outdoor one. I don’t do camping. I hate the outdoors, except for the beach. And I’m way too old to be sleeping on the ground.”

“You rode well when you took me out riding on the beach for my birthday,” he smiled. “And you came to the Daggers camp night, when we all slept out in Mav and Penny’s backyard. And you’re not old. You’re just as young and beautiful as you were the day I met you.”

Buttercup felt her cheeks blaze with heat. “Jake, please?”

The twins leaned forward and jutted their lower lips out. “Please mom?”

“For us?”

Buttercup shuttered her eyes. “No! Please, no more puppy dog eyes!”

Jake leaned in and gave her a similar, pleading look. “C’mon, Buttercup. You can’t say no to all three of us, can you?”

Buttercup groaned when she saw the look on his face. “You’re incorrigible, and their puppy dog face is clearly all your fault.”

The three of them cheered.

“You won’t regret this, I promise,” Jake murmured in her ear before sitting back in his chair and finishing his dinner.

Buttercup arose to the sound of a car door slamming, and thought, for a moment, that she was back in her flat in London. But the bed was unfamiliar and pale blue walls were not the lilac of her own bedroom. The distant sound of a horse whinnying brought back the flood of memories from the day before.

Jake. She was at Jake’s ranch, with her daughters. Both of them. Rooster was there too, and angry as all hell at her. Javy and Natasha were at each others’ throats. Bob was silently stewing out in a cabin somewhere on the property. It all felt like something she would write in one of her books, not live out in her real life.

With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and stretched. The girls had told her that they left for the trail ride before the sun even came up. Well, Charlie had told her, but she didn’t want to call her out and ruin the deal they had made. Jake had been right when he said that they all needed this. They needed to learn how to co-parent, and the girls deserved to spend more time with both them and each other. And part of that would be going on the trail ride as a family.

Slowly, Buttercup dressed in her oldest jeans and a cotton t-shirt, draping the flannel Jake had leant to her over her arm before hoisting the backpack Jake had helped her pack with camping essentials onto her shoulder.

Despite the arguments from the night before, Buttercup had enjoyed her first night on Seresin Ranch. Both her girls were clearly enamored with their father, and their father with them. Though she loved her family dynamic in London, she had to admit that their family meals were few and far between. Bob was flying more and more flights with overnight layovers, and Natasha would be out with friends more often than not. So, it would just be her and Abby around the dinner table. And she loved that, she really did, but she couldn’t help but feel that her daughter felt a little lonely in their small bubble.

Her girl wasn’t the biggest social butterfly (a trait she had undoubtedly inherited from her mother), though Buttercup knew that she had a few solid friends at school. Her girl got good grades, enjoyed her riding at the local arena, and loved spending time with her aunt and uncle when they were available. Still, Buttercup had always wanted to give her daughter a huge network of people she could rely on. Charlie clearly had that on the ranch, and Buttercup wanted to stick around long enough for at least some of those people to adopt Abby as their own as well.

Buttercup treaded softly over the hardwood floor and down the stairs, only stilling when she heard a sweet, feminine voice echoing off the walls.

“I told you, sugar. All is forgiven. I don’t blame you for not talkin’ about your other little girl. It must’ve been so painful for you to even think about her,” the voice simpered.

“I know it’s not ideal, Savannah,” Jake’s voice replied as Buttercup crept closer to the kitchen. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to reconsider everything. You planned on becoming a stepmother to one child. Not two.”

Buttercup leaned against the wall next to the kitchen doorway. From her angle, she could see Jake standing in the kitchen, his strong hands resting on Savannah’s hips.

“Oh tush, sugar! It’ll be twice the fun with two little girls runnin’ around here. I’m sorry I fainted. I was just overwhelmed. But it’s not going to happen again. I promise.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take some time to think about it?”

Buttercup watched as Savannah leaned in and planted a deep kiss on Jake’s lips. Her stomach roiled and Buttercup took a few steps away. She had no reason to feel nauseated at the sight of Jake kissing another girl. He was going to marry this woman. She would be the stepmother to her children. Sure, nobody but Jake seemed particularly keen on Savannah, but the same could be said about Buttercup herself, given Rooster’s reaction to her the night before. Whatever she was feeling, she would have to just get over it. That social network she wanted to build for her daughters would include Savannah, and it was Buttercup’s job as a mother to help build that bridge between them.

“Oh!” Buttercup looked up and found Savannah in the doorway, staring at her. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t realize you were there.”

Buttercup forced a smile onto her face as she tamped down her nausea. “No, no. It’s my fault. Jetlag, you know? I was feeling a little dizzy and had to take a minute to breathe.”

Savannah smiled brightly at her. “Oh, that’s a darn shame. Jakey was tellin’ me that you’re an author?”

Buttercup blinked at the sudden change in topic but nodded. “That’s right.”

Savannah squealed. “That gives me the best idea ever! You should write my vows for me.”

Buttercup fought hard to keep the damper on her nausea as her stomach threatened to roll over. “I’m sorry?”

Savannah’s smile twitched, the sugary sweet smile changing to something predatory and feline for all of a second. “It’ll just sound so much better coming from a professional writer,” she simpered. “All those words of love and commitment, from me to Jakey,” she sighed. “It would be ten times better than whatever I could come up with.”

Buttercup bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to bleed as she smiled faintly at her. “I…will think about it.”

Savannah squealed again. “Ah, just think about how much it would mean to your girls. Havin’ their mother help welcome their new stepmama into their lives. It would be so sweet.”

Buttercup rolled her shoulders and nodded kindly. “Of course. I’ll think about it.” A sliver of an idea formed in Buttercup’s mind as she considered the saccharine woman in front of her. “You know what? While I think about it, why don’t you try to get to know your future stepdaughters more?”

Savannah blinked at her, the too-white smile on her face dimming as she stared at her. “How would you want me to do that?”

Jake stood in front of the four horses he had tacked up that morning. His own horse, Firewall, stood with the majority of the camping equipment stored behind his saddle. Lovebug had saddlebags full of food and water. The other two horses, a sweet chestnut gelding named Starburst and a black mare named Angel, would carry their other bags as well as Abby and Buttercup.

“C’mon you two punks!” he called as Charlie and Abby raced out of the house. “Let’s get a move on! We’re burning daylight!”

“Sorry dad,” Abby panted, moving towards Starburst. “Our bathroom is way too small for two people.”

“Where’s mom?” Charlie patted Lovebug as she stared toward the house.

Almost like she had been cued, Buttercup emerged from the house, dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top.

“That what you’re ridin’ in, darlin’?” Jake called. “I don’t know if that’s the best getup for a trail ride.”

Buttercup shook her head, cradling a cup of coffee between her hands. “I talked to my editor this morning. I have a deadline coming up and owe her a hundred and fifty more pages.”

Jake felt his heart sink as the girls bemoaned the news.

“But mom—”

“—you promised!”

Buttercup smiled softly at them over her mug. “I know, my darlings, and I’m so sorry. But I figured you could use this time well anyway.”

“We already know dad, Mom,” Charlie griped.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, baby,” Buttercup grinned, an almost wicked look on her face. “I thought you could get to know your new stepmother on this trail ride. After all, she’ll be part of the family too.”

Jake’s heart sunk even lower as Savannah strode out of the house, looking like a model for a horse magazine, all dolled up in the latest riding gear.

Abby and Charlie stared at their mother with an unreadable look on their faces as Buttercup winked at them. “Enjoy!”

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#jake seresin x reader #glen powell #top gun maverick #as you wish fic #jake seresin #parent trap au #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic

131 notes · View notes

heykaya · 16 days

Text

Degrees of Lewdity Screenshots

See also: Degrees of Lewdity - Text Based Masterpost

💛: Appears more than once on the list.

❗️: Contains World Lore

——————————— ~* Love Interests *~ ———————————

🌻 Alex the Farmhand 🤠

Drunk Alex Dialogue

Alex Somnophilia scene

Alex reacts to a Remy related tattoo

Breaking down to Alex

💵 Avery the Businessperson 🥂

💛 Avery vs Robin

💛 Whitney vs Avery

Meeting Avery (Park, Street Harassment)

Rejecting High Rage Avery

Avery's Date - Game Night: Intro

❗️Avery's Date - Game Night: Avery Wins/Remy's Masked Party

Avery's Date - Game Night: Bailey Wins

Avery's Date - Game Night: Leighton Wins

❗️ Avery's Date - Game Night: Quinn Wins

Avery's Date - Fine Dining

Avery's Date - Ballroom Show Off

Avery's Date - Hotel Room

Dismissing Avery

🌲 Eden the Hunter 🪵

Meeting Eden through Bailey

Recaptured by Eden - Low Love, No Permission (Forest)

Recaptured by Eden - Town Stalking Event

Recaptured by Eden - Town (Low Love)

Recaptured by Eden - Town (High Love)

Eden locks you in a cage

Making Breakfast for Eden

Bathtime with Eden

Eden Re-Collars You

Eden hunts you in the forest (virgin PC)

Eden comforts high trauma PC

Eden saves you from the Underground Farm

Eden saves you from the Asylum - Bomb Method

Eden saves you from the Asylum - Towel Method

Eden saves you from a non-con encounter in the forest

Going on a date in town

Scamming Eden

👁 Kylar the Loner 🦠

💛 Sydney and Kylar kiss

Meeting Kylar (Bullied at school, Bumping into him)

Kylar sniffs your bedsheets

Kylar sees you streaking in the park

🧸 Robin the Orphan 👶

💛 Avery vs Robin

Meeting Robin (Shopping Centre, Lemonade Stand, School Canteen, Orphanage)

Rescuing Robin from the Docks

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Intro

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Punishment 1: Dinner Party

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Punishment 2: Eden & The Landfill ⟡ Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 ⟡

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Punishment 3: Remy's Farm & The Pillory ⟡ Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 ⟡ Part 3 ⟡ Part 4 ⟡

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Punishment 4: The Underground Brothel

Robin's Trauma

Robin finds the player at the Brothel

⛪️ Sydney the Faithful/the Fallen 👅

💛 Sydney and Kylar kiss

Meeting Sydney (School Library, Passing Out, Attending Mass)

Leighton's Spanking

Swimsuit Shopping

Defends you from a Perverted Monk

❗️Temple Advancement - PC becomes an initiate ⟡ Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 ⟡ Part 3 ⟡

Sydney comforts high trauma PC

Passing out in the school library

Pure Path: Rite of Promise

Pure Path: Rite of Promise - Broken Promise/Cheating on Sydney

Sydney and Doctor Harper

Sydney gets bullied in school

🖕 Whitney the Bully 👄

💛 Whitney vs Avery

Dismissing Whitney + seeing him in the Underground Brothel

Sending Whitney to the Pillory

——————————— ~* NPCs *~ ———————————

Bailey the Caretaker

Annoying Bailey

Bailey's Payments when you live at the temple

Bailey at the Park

Doren the English Teacher

Doren's Concern (unlocking Doren's flat)

Jordan the Monk/Priest

Watching Jordan Shower

Jordan gives you oral (Fallen Angel Transformation)

Mason the Swimming Teacher

Unlocking Mason's Pond

Hanging out with Mason

Everybody swims nude in school

Locker Raid + Mason's Shame (stealing underwear & getting dirty with Mason)

Mason Removes Winter's Chastity Belt

Leighton the Headteacher

Blackmailing Leighton

Being Blackmailed by Leighton

Sending Leighton to the Pillory

Mickey the Hacker

Meeting Mickey (Police Infiltration Quest, Negative Fame)

Remy the Farmer

Returning to the Underground Farm after escaping

River the Maths Teacher

Unlocking the soup kitchen

Maths Competition

Masturbating in class to make River faint

River's Soup Kitchen scenes

Meeting River (School, Soup Kitchen)

Winter the History Teacher

Meeting Winter (School, Museum)

Masturbating in Class - Winter's Chastity Belt

Wooden Horse Demonstration

Ducking Stool Demonstration

Wren the Smuggler

Meeting Wren (Docks, Remy's Estate, Prison)

Wren cums first

screenshots are free to repost on other websites/to use in your own content. no permission or credit needed :)

(If any links are broken please let me know.)

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acc--deactivated · 10 months

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𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

„Sweet cunt and a sharp tongue, you're a dangerous combo, love.“

featuring: edward kenway

cw: praise, vaginal sex, semi-public i guess

synopsis: owning a tavern in havana means being used to pirates in your every day life, their crude words and behaviour. but you've never met a pirate going this far in attempt to apologize for a crewmate's bad actions.

note: „fy nghariad“ is a welsh phrase meaning „my love“ or „my sweetheart“ which i thought would be nice to include, but please tell me if i used it incorrectly, that would be kinda embarassing lol

18+ content - MDNI

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Havana is always warm, always welcoming and soft, with sunlight flooding through streets of beige and gold, full of laughter and peaceful existence.

Even at night, it feels like the warmth wraps around people like a soft coat, summer air resting between the buildings and mingling with the scent of the sea, darkness enlightened by warm lanterns and candles. The sound of joyful music, shanties and drunken laughter has become the soundtrack of your nights as bartender in the tavern and restaurant which are owned by your father, and you like to say that Havana is a place of joy, no matter the time of day.

You've done this job since your teenage years, are used to bar fights and lusting gazes resting on you, know how to handle men who try to let their hands wander, think they can whistle at you or spit out crude and naughty things.

Most of them know that it will only get them a ban from the house, or in worst case, a beating from your main visitors or an arrest by the guards, but sometimes, there still are idiots who try it, out of pure stupidity and falsely placed ego.

Citizens of Havana adore your tavern as a centre of the city, they know how to behave and have their fun in peace, but the pirates docking on the shore are a different story.

You can see it in their gazes, in the way they talk, the way they stride through the streets like they own them and the houses forming them, that they're looking for provocation, hungry for a fight.

Thankfully, most of them are more of an inconvience and not an actual threat, and you know how to handle them, know that a tavern is a pirate's favourite place, which gives you a slight advantage against them, even if it's just out of their sympathy for the rum you pour them.

It doesn't diminish your dislike for them, despite them being your costumers.

Pirates are a disease, you've always been told. And yet, you can't help but feel a thrill in your veins, feel your heart leap and your legs trembling when a strong hand grabs your chin from behind, gently, sensually lifts your head.

The soft light filling the dim walls of the empty, closed tavern flickers in your vision, soft tears of passion melting it to a blur along with the dark of the late night and a breathed, blissful sigh leaves your lips, forced out of you by the way the body of the man behind you rocks once more against you.

Pirates are the worst of the worst, you learned early in your life. And Edward Kenway is so good at being a pirate, at getting what he wants, that he might be something even worse, armed with those mischievous eyes, his charming smirk and skilled fingers.

You did not question the leathern bracers wrapped around his lower arms, the hidden blades you saw shimmering in the dim light when you served him and his men, and you didn't question the hooded robe hanging over the back of his chair, could only focus on the white lace-up shirt on his body, the cleavage that slightly revealed the tattoos spreading over his chest.

It was no surprise and nothing new when one of his men hit on you, spitting rude words from a drunk tongue in an attempt to seduce you. What did surprise you was how fast Adéwalé grabbed him by the scruff like a puppy to kick him out of the tavern, and the way Edward apologized to you, genuinely and gentle.

Most men did not act like this when they came to drink in your tavern, only laughed when their comrades harrassed a girl. It did not fit your world view, disturbed the evil picture you carried of pirates all these years of your life.

You couldn't help but smile at the way Edward looked at you, a mixture of apologetic and enthrilled, felt your breath hitch when he asked you what he could offer to beg your forgiveness.

The way his hands are now roaming your body, his husked breaths against your ear and his body pressed against yours is not what you had in mind at first, but you'll gladly take it as a form of apology.

He lets out a groan as he fills you, slides into you like you are made for him, slicked walls hugging his cock, clenching around his girth.

He fills you just right, hits spots you have never felt, makes you see stars despite the roof above both of your heads.

„What do you say, sweetheart? Think this'll make up for the inconvience?“ he husks against your ear, sends a new shiver down your spine that ends up right inside the heat pooling in your lower stomach, and you lightly lean your head back, feel the stubble of his beard brushing your ear.

Just when you're about to answer, he hits you with another thrust from behind, knocks the air out of you with the sheer depth of his movements.

You need a second to catch your breath, collect yourself, before a little smirk spreads on your lips.

„Thought a world-class-pirate would have more to offer“, you respond, with a low, seducing voice, a tone that lures him in, makes his breath hitch lightly, bearly hearable if he wasn't so close to your ear.

He's so close even that you think you can feel the way an amused smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and you shudder again when his breath fans your cheek.

„Sly little thing, aren't ya?“

Before you can answer in an even brattier tone than before, you feel how he slightly pushes you down, makes you lean further forward until you're forced to hold onto the bar, driven further and further into the wood by his harsh thrusts.

He quickens his pace, makes you whine and moan with the way he fills you, tip kissing your womb, his slight curve brushing your sweet spots just right.

„Sweet cunt and a sharp tongue, you're a dangerous combo, love.“

His words and the deep tone of his voice only make you arch more in his grasp, make you hold onto the bar with one hand, while the other carries your balance on its wooden surface.

You feel your own arousal run down your thighs, feel yourself getting higher and higher on the wet sounds echoing through the room whenever he enters your aching cunt, your brain spinning around mixed feelings of confusion and arousal.

He's a pirate, a well wanted one as well, and yet you can not help but love the way he grabs you, the way he fucks you, the way he makes you feel.

When he leans over your back, one hand placed next to your body, the other one on your hip to hold you steady, you somehow forget how much his head is worth, how dangerous his hands should feel on your body.

It feels strange, but a spark of sympathy arises within you when he leans in further, buries you in his shadow as he pushes a soft kiss against the back of your neck, drowns you in the illusion of intimacy when he gently closes his teeth around the shell of your ear.

Edward doesn't seem like other pirates, doesn't initiate fights he can not win, doesn't harrass others, doesn't cause unnecessary ruckus to prove his ego. He smells better than most of them, covered in the scent of the sea, of salt and a hint of rum, but with an underlying note of herbs, probably because of salves that are used to treat wounds lingering his body.

And above all, he looks so handsome, a dark angel within a bunch of dirty, fattened and drunk pigs, his cheeky smirk more intoxicating than alcohol or money.

A smirk that is directed at you, resting on you as he observes you, watches you writher and shake beneath his movements. When you catch it from the corner of your eye, it fuels new fire inside of you, and your lips curl sweet and mischievously when you slightly raise your head to respond.

„Maybe you shouldn't provoke my sharp tongue too much then, captain.“

The word does something to him, you can feel it, notice the way he gasps for a second, slows his thrusts for the shortest bit. Then he suddenly slips out of you, both hands grabbing your hips and pulling you up, your back straightening for the shortest second before he turns you around, pulls you in by the waist and leans forward to push his lips against yours, catching you in a heated kiss that steals your breath, makes your knees weak.

You bury your right hand in his blonde hair, hold him close, while your other hand rests on the textile of his shirt, trying to hold onto soft linen while you sigh and feel your legs tremble.

As if he's feeling it, he lightly bends his knees, slides his hands from your hips to the back of your thighs to pick you up, makes you wrap your legs around his waist while your hands cradle his face and you sink further into his kiss, melt against his lips. You hear the rustling of clothes, feel how he picks up your discarded dress from the edge of the bar and spreads it on the counter, adjusting the textile before he sets you down on the wood, just to break from your mouth a few seconds later.

He smirks at your little gasp, licks his lower lip before raising his voice.

„Captain, huh? That a hidden request to join my crew?“

You gasp when you feel his fingers dig into the softness of your thighs, need a second to collect yourself before you scoff at his words, look at him through a glimmer of competition before you breathe out an „In your dreams, pirate.“

He only grins at that, eyes slightly narrowing as they slide down to his hands on your thighs, watches them when he spreads your legs to get new access to your leaking centre, his eyes staring shamelessly at it.

And just when you think to finally have the air to add another snarky comment, he suddenly thrusts back into you, one switft motion with which he fills you to the brim, makes you throw your head back as he falls back into a relentless rhythm, his cock slicking in and out of your warm wetness.

He leans over you again, holding you by the waist as he pounds into you, forcing high pitched moans and whimpers out of your throat that you simply can not hold back.

His thrusts feel so deep, hit you so perfectly and when he grabs one of your legs to raise it to his shoulder, you almost choke on the air in your throat, bliss filling you at the pleasure washing through you by his deepening movements.

You curse out an „Oh god-“ as you throw your head back, hear a breathed laugh from Edward when he grabs you by the hips again, adjusts your body on the textile of your dress, pulls you in to take his hard thrusts.

Another whimper leaves you as he partially folds you in half, sass and mockery leaving your body with each new thrust, slowly melting in the heat of a building orgasm within your body.

It doesn't help how he reaches out with his hand to search for your clit, forcing a loud moan from your throat when his finger presses against it.

„That it, darling? That the spot?“

Through your panting and heavy breathing, the dizziness in your vision, you see how he smirks at you, pure confidence written in his attractive features and you can only nod, breathe out a „Please-“, a word that only makes his smile widen.

Your lower body tenses, a coil clenching deep within your core, tight enough that it almost hurts.

„Don't hold back. Let me feel you come, fy nghariad.“

His voice slightly falters, breathless because of his own arousal, the tension with which he holds himself back, and his words only add fuel to the fire in your body, make the flames lap higher, reaching your chest, making your heart race.

Whimpers and gasps leave your throat, you tense, feel your thighs shiver, your entire body short-circuiting until eventually, you feel yourself breaking apart, tension and arousal reaching their peak, knocking you into an abyss of white noise, making you cry out in pleasure, your head falling back as arousal floods your veins.

His thrusts never waver, seem to get even harder, fucking you through your orgasm, almost making you pass out with the sheer overstimulation. Your brain turns to mush, simply melts away and when you look up at him, with tear-filled, flickering eyes and your tongue slightly peaking over your lower lip, he takes in a sharp, hissing breath, slipping dangerously close to an orgasm just by your gaze and your walls spasming, clenching and relaxing around him.

His hand trembles a little as he trails it further up your body, fondling your chest for a second and making you whine out at the soft feeling, before his fingers graze your neck, eventually rest on your cheek.

He spreads his thumb, runs it over the corner of your mouth, doesn't expect the way you push out your tongue to taste salt, gunpowder and rum on his skin. Not a second later, you allow his finger to slip into your mouth, relish in the way he draws a sharp breath when you lazily swirl your tongue around it.

The facade in front of his face cracks the slightest bit, and you see how he bites his lower lip, how his brows furrow a little in what seems to be despair, before he breathes out a „Shit, you're gonna make me cum, sweetheart.“

It's the cue you need and while you whine, shudder beneath each of his thrusts, you at some point slightly bite down into his finger, hard enough to make him jolt, hard enough to break his facade.

He gasps for air, lets out short „Fuck-“, before he holds onto your hip, digging the fingers of his free hand into the skin when he forces himself to pull out, holding you in place as warm, white seed spurts over the skin of your abdomen.

For a few moments, you only look at each other, breathe into the space between both of you, wallowing in the heat of each other's body. Your head is still spinning when Edward slightly leans forward, gently rests his forehead against yours before he lets out a heavy breath.

His eyes are dark and dominant when they dig into yours, captivate you with the slight glimmer within them.

„Aren't you just something else... Maybe I'll pick you up and simply take you with me. Wanna know what else that sweet mouth of yours can do.“

It doesn't matter what you learned your entire life, his words make you giddy and thoughtless, make your heart leap in joy and your lips curl to a smile.

„Careful, Kenway. My lips may seem sweet, but they come with a pair of teeth.“

He lets out a little groan, a sound of playful despair and frustration, before he leans further against your forehead, gently nudges his nose against yours.

„Fucking heavens, you're perfect.“

You smile when he kisses you, wrap your arms around him and become a mess of sweet nothingness beneath his hands when they start roaming your body again, not taking long until you throw your head back once more, sending sighed versions of his name into the warm night.

#assassin's creed #edward kenway #edward kenway x reader #assassin's creed x reader #smut #oh to be one of the girls he's with in the trailers agfhfjsgxhs #assassin's creed black flag

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 6 months

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The Taming of Man: chapter Six - Dragon Shifting!Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Holy crap this one is long for me (Heh heh, that's what she said), Usually each chapter is about half of this length! I hope you enjoy the extra reading material, and I hope you enjoy the large amounts of plot growth to come!

Words: 4,715

This is incredibly based on the song The Willow Maid by Erutan, I highly recommend giving it a listen for the best experience.

Warnings: Cursing, reader is She/Her and will be AFAB in later chapters, Katsuki is practically naked for a sec, [reader is attacked, reader is tied up, reader is manhandled, reader experiences loss of vision]-> none of these are inflicted by Katsuki

The walk all the way to the market was slow, but not too long. You both walked along the dirt roads, people in carriages passing you on both sides. You couldn't take any carriage, or even a dragon, because it was too risky. That was basically a one way ticket to getting caught.

Before long, you could smell spices and meats in the air, you could hear the bustling of the people, you could see the crowds moving through stalls placed by street vendors. "Stay close to me, You don't wanna get lost here," Katsuki ordered, holding his hand out for you.

You instead took his arm, using both hands to grasp onto his left triceps, and in turn making him feel quite strong. Something about you holding onto his arm with your delicate hands made him feel prideful. He needed to stop getting so worked up around you, it pissed him off.

The two of you breeched the "entrance" of the market, Truly the entrance to town as the vendors put up their stalls next to the street every weekend, nearly blocking the businesses that had actual buildings. The yelling from each and every salesperson was rather overwhelming to you, being someone who had never experienced this kind of market.

"Capricornus meat, fresh from the docks!"

"Bread! get yer bread! only 3 drac!"

"fabrics and textiles! new sale! starting at 10 drac!"

Everywhere you looked there was someone trying to sell you, or rather the general populous, something. That's when you realized...

"Uh, Katsuki?"

He was busy walking through, looking around at the stalls but seeing nothing that impressed him. "What," he asked, not looking down at you and clearly distracted.

"I don't have any money."

You forgot that you were in a whole new universe, that had different currencies and certainly no exchange for your money. Even if your money did work here, it had completely slipped your mind when you were getting ready to leave, so you had none of your own.

Katsuki just scoffed, continuing to walk and drag you with him. Stopping wasn't an option in places like these, not when the groups of people were ever moving. "So? 's not like I expected you to." You might not have anticipated this, but the second he thought of going to the markets he also came to terms with the fact that he'd be paying for whatever you got. It wasn't a big deal, he was the prince, he definitely wasn't short on money.

"Really? Thank you," you said gratefully, smiling up at him. He pulled you out of the way of an oncoming woman, scowling at her for nearly plowing you over. "yeah yeah, just watch where you're going," he huffed, scolding you.

As the two of you moved, many merchants seemed to find you an easy target. A man wearing gold in every possible way shoved necklaces in your face, calling out, "A pretty girl like you must have pretty jewelry," in a sing-song tone. You just politely declined, Katsuki yanking you away before he could continue trying to sell. Similar things happened with a woman selling tapestries, a man doing tattoos, and a couple selling food.

Each and every time you declined, they'd scowl at you as if you just cursed their firstborn. Everything was...well, it was too much. Katsuki could see this on your face, the anxiety from the big crowd and loud noises, and firmly said, "Let's go in there." Before you could even look to where he gestured, he already pulled you into the shop, one of the few buildings that was still open at this time.

You were both greeted by an older couple, a brunette woman wearing plenty of rings and necklaces and a blonde woman wearing an extravagant purple hat. "Come in," The brunnette woman welcomed, her voice quiet and gentle, before the Blonde woman remarks, "Oh, Addy, look at them! what a cute couple," excitedly. You laughed, instantly much calmer than before, while Katsuki grimaced. "We're not a couple," he barked, to which the older women laughed. "Please, have a look around," the woman called Addy said warmly, Gesturing to their little shop.

Apparently, Katsuki had led you to a dress store. There were plenty of different handmade clothes to choose from, as well as accessories like hats, jewelry, and bags. "Wow," you cooed, pulling your hood down and releasing Katsuki to look around.

"My, aren't you pretty," The blonde woman complimented, walking right over to you. She instantly took your face in her hands, examining it and smiling. "You know, I bet you'd look fantastic in red...or blue...or maybe green," she laughed, turning to Katsuki. "You 'ought to count yourself lucky to be in the company of such a beautiful young lady!"

"Connie dear, you pry too much," Addy gently scolded, shaking her head. Connie just waved her off, sighing. "Well, If you need anything at all, please let us know! I'm Constance, but you can call me Mrs. Connie, and the party pooper over there is Adelaide, but you can call her Mrs. Addy." You nodded with a laugh, thanking her and beckoning Katsuki to come and look with you.

He did so begrudgingly, Following you around the store as you browsed. "If I find something here, I won't have to wear the cloak you gave me," you said sweetly, looking up at Katsuki as you flipped through dresses on racks. "I guess," he grumbled, something in him wishing he could keep you in his cloak a little longer. Something about the way the fabric swallowed up your body was...cute to him.

Every dress you could see had similar features, usually modest to hide from the beating sun but with a thin fabric to allow ventilation. You picked out two dresses, a green one and a red one, comparing them side by side. "Which do you think," you asked, turning your head to Katsuki. He sighed and thumbed at the fabrics, eyes flicking between you and the clothes. Why was he giving this any real thought? It's not like he cared...

"Red." he didn't sound too enthusiastic, but in truth he wanted to see how you looked in one of his favorite colors...plus, he agreed with the fabric wench. Red would suit you. You examined the dresses again, before nodding and smiling. "I think you're right." You turned to look for one of the two women you saw earlier, and thankfully Adelaide was right next to you two, adjusting hats on mannequin heads.

"Mrs. Addy, Could I get this one, please?" She turned her attention to you and nodded, taking your hand and leading you away. "Let's get it tailored," she said softly, looking towards her wife and nodding to the back of the store for her to help.

Connie followed, giving a mischievous smile to Katsuki for God Knows what. Now he was all alone in the main area, with nothing to do but look around. He couldn't just walk out either, even thought you'd probably take a while, because if something happened he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

"Damn idiot...now what'm I supposed to do..." he muttered, examining the different accessories that were available. He noticed a necklace with a delicate gold chain and a gold dragon pendant to match, the charm holding two little rubies set in for eyes. You'd look beautiful with it around your neck, especially with that dress...Katsuki groaned and shook his head, what was he thinking?!

"So, tell me, how do you feel about that boy," Constance asks, gently pinning the dress together to fit your body.

"Connie," Adelaide laughs, reprimanding her but also curious about your response. "He's just a friend," You quickly responded, your cheeks warming as you stood stock still for the couple dressing you. "Ahhh, that's what I said when I met Addy," Constance giggled, making Adelaide sigh while shaking her head, a blush on her own face.

"of course, times were different then, Didn't have so many opporitunities, and-" She was interrupted by Adelaide- "She get's it, darling." You giggled, watching the women work in the mirror with focus you wished you could have in your own job. "It's not like he'd like me back...Y'know, i-if I did like him."

Addy shook her head, standing straight up and giving a look that said really? "He'd be lucky to have an ounce of your affection," Connie scoffed, taking out her sewing needle and beginning to alter the dress.

Katsuki was sitting on a Bench in the main area, able to do nothing but wait, before Adelaide popped out with a soft smile. Constance followed soon after, saying, "She's all set!"

Katsuki Stood up, hands in his pockets as he looked towards the curtained fitting room. You confidently walked out, a smile on your face and your old clothes in your hand. "What do you think?"

He froze, taking in the sight of you. The dress was a bright, fiery red, with an empire waistline defined by a gold belt, a V-neck, and angel sleeves. There was a slit right down the center of the skirt, your legs fully able to breath, and fully able to be seen by him. What did he think? How could you ask that, knowing how good you look? "G-good," he grumbled, looking askance and clearing his throat.

You giggle a little and walk over, handing him his cloak to put in his bag. He takes your dress too, knowing you probably won't want to hold it. "Just good," Adelaide asked teasingly as the two of you walked to the counter to pay, making Katsuki turn beet red. "Just lemme pay," he mumbles, setting down a drawstring bag of Drac. Adelaide sifted through, counting out the necessary amount.

While she did that, Constance slid up to the counter with a deck of beautifully detailed cards in her palm, a cheeky grin on her face. "You know, there's a free card reading with every purchase~"

Adelaide rolled her eyes with a smitten grin, both in love with and tired of her wife's shenanigans. Katsuki scoffed, ready to go, but you smiled excitedly. "Let's do it!"

He scowled at you, saying, "Why should we?"

"Why not?"

"...fine."

Constance giggled and began shuffling the cards, humming to herself. Fanning out the deck, she asked you to both to pick a card, and you both picked one on opposites end of the deck. Flipping them over, she smiled widely and held the cards up. "Ah, star crossed lovers, yet your souls are intertwined!"

You and Katsuki were both completely flustered, you doing a better job at playing it off. "O-oh," you laughed airily, Katsuki getting his bag of money back while, for once, keeping his mouth completely shut.

"Connie, please, these kids have had enough," Adelaide sighed with a smirk, waving you both away and bidding you adieu. You both walked back into the intensity of the market, your hands returning to Katsuki's arm.

...

"It's not like I believe in that stuff anyways." "I've always taken those things with a grain of salt."

You laugh, both of you floundering to find some excuse not to believe her. Surveying the area once more as you walk, the scent of food becomes more and more enticing to you. Your stomach growls, especially at the sight of a food stand having what looked to be the juiciest goat leg you've ever seen, seasoned and fried to perfection.

"Let's go there," you suggest, pointing at the stand and looking up at Katsuki. "There? The food'll be too spicy for you," he scoffed, a smile barely showing on his face. "I happen to like spicy food," you huff, clearly some level of offended.

Katsuki grins and laughs a little, the discomfort he felt just moments ago now gone. "Fine then," he chuckled, taking you up to the vendor and ordering. "Two legs of lamb...and two waters," he told the man, handing him a total of 30 drac. He handed him the food almost immediately, and Katsuki handed you your meal while the two of you leaned against a wall to eat. He took a bite of his leg ferociously, he was hungrier than he thought, and his eyes stayed completely locked on you to see your reaction.

Watching him eat it so easily brought some comfort to you, surely it couldn't be that bad...you gingerly brought the meat to your mouth, biting down and chewing thoughtfully.

"It's not so bad," you remarked, shrugging and going in for another bite. Then, suddenly, the spice hit you full force, causing you to cough. "Holy shit," you spluttered, patting your chest. Your lips, tongue, and throat were all on fire, your face was hot, and your eyes were watering.

Katsuki burst out laughing, one of those genuine cackles that were hard to pull from him. "Here, idiot," he laughed, handing you a water skin and watching you chug it as fast as possible. "It won't stop," you groaned, fanning your face with your hand and sniffling.

Katsuki just kept laughing and laughing, doubled over with his hand on the wall for support. "I fuckin' told you," he howled, taking the lamb from you and holding it with his own in one hand. He gave you the other water skin, and you drank it all without question, the pain finally subsiding.

"I'm gonna be sick," you griped, wiping sweat off of your face. "You'll be fine," he chuckled, his laughing at your expense finally calming.

"I'm still hungry," you mumbled, wiping your mouth and once again looking around for food, this time something tame. Katsuki kept eating his lamb, knowing he'd have to eat yours too. He wasn't about to let perfectly good food go to waste.

"Well find somethin' fast, we don't have all day...and listen to me next time."

He was right, you didn't have all day, you'd definitely have to leave in at most an hour in order to be back by sunset. The both of you continued walking nearer and nearer to the center of town, your hand on his arm as you searched. A stand selling goat kebabs caught your eye, a mother and her child at the front of the short line. The kid was no older than five, his hand gripping his mother's dress as he sniffed and coughed a little. Poor thing probably had a cold.

He sneezed loudly, and to the surprise of you and only you, a burst of flame released from his mouth. You didn't know Dragonborne could breath fire, at least not in human form. Nothing caught on fire, everything here seemed to be nonflammable, and Katsuki only looked over because he noticed you stopped. "Wanna go there," he asked gruffly, to which you just nodded and smiled. there was still so much you had to learn.

The two of you waited in line, only a few people ahead of you, and 10 minutes later you had a full belly. Continuing to walk, you saw a glassblowing shop, the man inside easily manipulating the liquid glass with his bare hands and flaming breath, shaping beautiful vases and sculptures.

Katsuki noticed your eyes linger, and almost asks if you want to go check it out, before his attention is caught by the sound of a beating drum. You are immediately interested, eyes tearing away from the glassblower to find the source of the sound. A crowd is forming in a circle, so you decide that following the crowd is the best course of action. "Let's go see what they're looking at," you say giddily, your excitement making Katsuki blush a little.

"Whatever," he sighs. He already knows what it is, but supposes it wouldn't be bad for you to see. Taking you to the mass of people, pushing through to get nearer to the front, you finally see it.

A lump of purple fabric lie on the ground, surrounded by people beating drums and humming a low tone in unison. The mass of fabric begins to move, and you realize it is indeed not just fabric, but rather a woman wearing a lengthy and massive cloak, the edges adorned in gold bells. She slowly rises, hands gripping the very top corners of her cloak while her shoes are quickly and rhythmically tapping against the ground, hips swaying simultaneously, the bells jingling to the music.

Underneath her cloak was a short top and long skirt of the same color, all to accentuate the movement of her hips and belly. She shakes her hands, all the while rising slowly up and above her head as she leaves her crouched position, the cloak now looking as if it were the wings of a flying dragon, rippling in the wind.

Suddenly, she shoots her hands to one side, the half of the ensemble that she pointed to chanting "Hah" loudly. She repeats on the other side, all while continuously tapping her wooden sandals against the ground on the balls of her feet. Her gesturing becomes faster, moving back and forth between each side so the chanting becomes more and more frequent.

You had never seen someone dance in this way...all of her movements were concentrated in the very center of the circle, not once did her feet leave the spot she tapped against, her arms and hips doing most of the talking. The dancing was different at home, when your people danced they danced with lots of flourish, spinning and swaying and taking up as much space as possible. "It's so different..." you mused. "It's..."

Katsuki didn't want to hear it. He knew what you would say, the same thing everyone else said. That it was too crude, too sinful, too provocative. He opened his mouth to combat you, to come to his culture's aid and tell you to just shut up, but then... but then he saw your face.

Your eyes were wide, glistening with wonderment, your lips slightly parted in awe and your hand on your chest as if your heartstrings were being tugged out of your body.

"Beautiful," you murmured, watching intently. "Isn't it beautiful," you whispered to Katsuki, not looking away for a second.

"Yeah...beautiful," he muttered, eyes drinking in your appearance, memorizing each and every detail of that face, that expression. Why the hell did this keep happening? It's like every time he was with you, something incapacitated him. He couldn't think right, he couldn't see anything but you. It made his stomach to backflips, it made his heart beat in his throat, it made his hands heat up.

"Can we go put money in her bowl," you ask him, bringing him back to reality. Her dance was almost done, and next to her there was a bowl people were dropping money into. Katsuki took two drac from his bag, pressing them into your head. "Go yourself," he grumbled. He figured it'd look weird, the two of you walking up there, like a couple. He was sick of people assuming you were, he didn't want anymore of that.

You shrugged and took the money, pushing through some of the crowd to get to the little wooden bowl.

Katsuki watched you from afar, keeping his eyes locked onto your form, the flowing fabric of your dress trailing behind you, before someone bumped into him. "Watch where your goin," Katsuki huffed, before turning and seeing...Kiri?!

"Woah, sorry about- oh, hey bro!" Kirishima smiled at Katsuki, a bucket of veal in his hand. "What the hell are you doing here," Katsuki asked gruffly, arms crossed. "I'm getting Versengen a treat, it's almost his birthday...what are you doing here?"

Katsuki scowled, cheeks involuntarily going pink. "Why the hell do you care, I can go wherever I damn please!" Kirishima immediately picked up on the way Katsuki went on the defensive...and the intense scent of roses and honey lingering nearby. "Ok, ok," Kiri said nonchalantly, nodding and looking towards the dancing woman. "And you're totally not on a date with that girl, right?"

"We're not on a date," Katsuki instinctively shouted, promptly giving himself away. "So there is a girl," Ejiro shouted excitedly, punching Katsuki in the arm.

Walking through the crowd was a deceptively difficult task, pushing past people and squeezing through gaps. You finally reached the bowl, dropping the gold coins into it and smiling at the lady as she made her final steps in the dance. Proudly walking away, you once again pushed through people, being spat out in front of an alleyway...

So, this definitely wasn't where you were before. It was ok, you just had to look around for Katsuki's hair, and after a moment of scanning you could see it peaking out above the sea of people. Smiling, you took a step forward to get back into it, before getting yanked back by a pair of hands.

You tried to scream, but another hand immediately covered your mouth. "Heh, Look at her...She's gotta be a noble," a raspy voice chuckles, before another, slightly squeakier voice says, "probably sell for a pretty penny, huh?"

Oh. Hell. No. This isn't how you were going out. Kidnapped by some rando and sold? You weren't going down without a fight. Stomping on the foot of whoever had you and biting down on the hand that covered your mouth, you were released just long enough for you to yell out.

"There's no girl, there never was a girl, and there will never be a girl, so shut up about it," Katsuki barked, pissed as hell that Kiri wouldn't believe him.

"KATSUKI!"

"...No girl," kiri asked, cocking his head to the side...but Katsuki had no time to argue anymore. You were in danger. He muttered, "holy shit," before booking it in the direction he heard your voice. Kirishima followed, just in case he'd need backup.

"Stupid bitch," one of the guys shouted, grabbing you once more and holding you still despite your kicking and squirming. "Get the ropes," he ordered, and the other guy did just that. Your wrists were tied behind your back, your ankles tied to your wrists, and your arms tied to your torso. A black mask was tied over your eyes, a piece of fabric tied around your head to cover your mouth. You were tossed to the ground, your arms hitting a wall of the alleyway.

You couldn't see, all you could do was hear and feel. It was unnerving, you didn't know what was going to happen to you...Until you heard Katsuki's voice.

"Hey! Get the fuck away from her!"

Footsteps...two pairs of them.

"what do we do?" one of the kidnappers.

"Grab the girl and run," the other responds.

footsteps running towards you, stopping directly in front of you...but it wasn't a kidnapper...you knew because amidst the smell of garbage from the alley was the smell of musk, smoke, and caramel. It was Katsuki.

"Touch her and you die!"

then, something strange. The sounds you heard, you can't describe them, but you could feel Katsuki's presence grow larger. Then you could hear the sound of much, much bigger footsteps, planting down in front of you, accompanied by vibrations and wind generated with what seemed to be large wings fanning out. you leaned forward, wanting to touch what was before you to confirm your suspicions. Your cheek hit the mass before you. Just as you thought. Scales.

"oh fuck-" a guy shouted, cut off by the great, screeching roar of Katsuki Bakugou in his dragon form, so loud your ears began to ring. You wished you were able to cover them, but all you could do was shrink back into the wall.

Now everything was muffled, like the Footsteps running towards the entrance of the alley, only to be stopped suddenly.

an unfamiliar voice was speaking, the loud protesting of the criminals insinuating that the two men were grabbed and picked up.

You could feel Katsuki's once great form shrink, and you could barely hear him panting afterward. Then, a little clearer now as the effects wore off, you could hear the rustling of fabric, accompanied by his grumblings about his clothes being torn.

"Hey, can you hear me," he asked, his tone sharp, yet carrying some amount of gentleness. You suddenly felt his hands on your face, before he pulled the mask off of your eyes and the fabric out of your mouth.

"Uh-huh," you mumbled, blinking as the light finally found your pupils. Katsuki was crouched before you, a look of concern thinly veiled by anger on his face. He was rather naked, that cloak he let you borrow wrapped around his waist, his chiseled muscles on nearly every part of his body completely displayed to you. "You ok? Did they touch you," He asked, that second question with a tone of worry and slight wrath.

"O-only to tie me up," you answered, squirming in your bindings. Katsuki brought his hands around you, reaching behind to take off the hogtie they put you in. When he couldn't immediately undo the knots, he just impatiently ripped the rope in two anywhere that was keeping you bound.

sitting up and rubbing at your wrists and ankles, you looked up at Katsuki with gratitude. He looked back down at you, his brow furrowed. Were you judging him or something?

"what," he asked gruffly, pulling back from you and sitting on his knees.

You came in fast, giving him a big hug around his neck and pressing your face into his bare shoulder. "Thank you for saving me," you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

You weren't a big crier, you don't spend your entire life with an emotionally manipulative mother without learning how to not cry, but this was a lot for you. You were almost kidnapped, and Katsuki, this man who was so adamant about not getting too close to you, saved your life and took care of you after without question.

Katsuki sat there for a moment, about to let you hold him for a few seconds and pull away without him touching you back just like every time, before slowly bringing his arms around you. He wasn't very good at hugging, he had no experience at it, but he knew you needed it right now, and you needed it specifically from him. You wanted him to hug you.

He put his left arm around your waist, and his right arm under your arm and over to your shoulder, holding you firmly despite how nervous he was. His cheek was pressed to your head through no fault of his own, but as he slowly breathed in the scent of your perfume, his entire body seemed to relax. When was the last time he felt this at peace? He can't recall...but he knows that any time he asks that question in the future, he'll definitely remember this.

You slowly pull away, surprised to get even the tiniest bit of resistance from Katsuki, before wiping your eyes and smile. "Gah, look at me," you laugh, flicking the tears off of your hand. "We should probably head back...and get you some clothes on the way."

Katsuki looks down at himself, realizing he was practically naked. "Last time I save your ass at the expense of my dignity," he scoffs sarcastically, meriting a giggle from you.

"C'mon, we can go back to that dress shop, they have masculine clothes," you offer, standing up and smiling down at him. He stands too, grabbing his bag and grimacing at the thought of walking all that way like this. "Why even bother, might as well fly," he scoffs, not even registering the fact that the idea would be so appealing to you.

"Really," you ask excitedly, having never flown on the back of a dragon before.

"Well don't lose your shit over it..." he grumbles, blushing at your happiness. Even with his apparent annoyance, He'd be giving you a ride back in his dragon form. Like hell he'd disappoint you, not after you smile at him like that.

Maybe it was time to do a little thinking about all this, about how he really felt.

Maybe he was realizing pining after you wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be.

Maybe your smile was worth it.

ahhhhhh feelings <3 Thank you so much for keeping up with this story, your support is everything to me, and as always, let me know what you thought about this chapter!

Taglist: @sky-angel101 @the-galaxy-fiend @chixkadee @ssplague @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @andysdrafts @daria-rona

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y-rhywbeth2 · 8 months

Text

Lore: Baldur's Gate #1

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

The City | Demographics | Law & Legal System | Administration & Government | ??? - WIP

Might as well start compiling lore on the namesake of the game...

Featuring the city aesthetic (the depiction of it in-game wasn't nearly grey, damp or claustrophobic enough) and a mostly complete overview of the city and its major areas: the Lower City, Upper City, Outer City, Undercellar and Undercity.

Cultural titbits: like why you can't have animals bigger than peacocks; that you shouldn't live here if you have claustrophobia; how the Patriars clearly have it out for people with hay fever; the constant mould problem; where to go to get a glowing tattoo, a fake tan and the magical equivalent of a plastic surgeon; and why, in fairness to the Banites, the city requires very little effort to turn into a nightmarish police state under the control of an evil deity.

And if your Dark Urge is a sewer gremlin then that's a life choice they're making, not a Bhaalist thing: the Undercity isn't in the sewers.

The city state of Baldur's Gate is one of Faerûn's more important ports, situated geographically between the massive trade centres of Athkatla and Waterdeep. It began its life as a fusion of the early fishing hamlet of Loklee (formed around 0 DR) and the pirate and smuggler hub that formed nearby. It was a popular port with a shipyard and visitor's wharves by 204 DR. The natural harbour the man-made harbour is built on is one of the only places in hundreds of miles that's safe for ships to dock at.

Due to the lack of nearby settlements to form competition, the trade hub attained city status and import early in its existence. It briefly fell under the early kingdom of Shavinar, though this was mostly a technicality and the settlement continued to govern itself and continued to do so when the kingdom fell in 277 DR.

The area was first officially recognised in the history books as the city of of Baldur's Gate in 446 DR.

The primary spoken language of the Gate is Chondathan, however during the Spellplague the city attracted enough refugees to become one of Faerûn's most populated cities, and it's a diverse enough location that many people are at least bilingual (not counting Common): many speak Chondathan, their native/ancestral language and a third.

As a major port the city has always been something of a melting pot and encouraged a policy of tolerance - you don't want to drive away merchants and trade, after all. Likewise, in the interests of encouraging trade, the city has enforced a stance of political neutrality and refuses to be drawn into international problems.

Officially, the city prides itself on being welcoming to all ways of life, to the point where anyone and anything goes as long as they obey the laws and don't rock the boat; even the open worship of the majority evil gods is completely unremarkable - what if you want to trade with a place where those gods are a major religion, after all? While Umberlee is worshipped everywhere near the sea (under threat of tidal waves and drowning in retribution for not worshipping her), Baldur's Gate is one of the few places she has an actual temple.

A shrine to any god - regardless of what their faith does or preaches - can be established in any of the temple districts for public worship, and the law will pay it no mind.

This reputation for tolerance and neutrality means it tends to be one of the first choices for refugees and immigrants looking for a new start. The city is extremely crowded, with many people packed into tight spaces and narrow streets, and its population numbers surpassed the metropolis of Waterdeep decades ago; standing at 42,103 people in the 14th century, it has likely more than doubled since. Visitors often find it incredibly - possibly intolerably - loud and busy, while locals consider them to be backwater farmers who don't know what civilisation looks like.

While the city doesn't discriminate legally against any groups, its reputation for tolerance is somewhat overexaggerated. Peoples who are viewed as monstrous by the Realms at large, such as orcs and other goblinoids, or drow, can expect to feel unwelcome as with everywhere else. The recent wave of unwanted human refugees from Calimshan have a strained relationship with the established Baldurians, who view them as foreign and wish they'd just assimilate and start speaking Chondathan already. The city is a human settlement by culture and demographics, retaining its historical human majority, and while the demihuman minorities are part of mundane everyday life, there have been incidents such as in the early 14th century, which saw the rise of The Sure Helm: a human supremacy group who had an issue with the non-humans in their society and were known to carry out hate crimes on the likes of half-elves and half-orcs if they thought they could get away with it.

On a slightly saner note: you have the freedom of religion to worship a god who demands slaves and blood sacrifice, but it's a bad idea to advertise that... Or get caught slaving and murdering, unless you're a very high ranking priest.

Local bards tend to refer to the city as the Cresent moon in their lyrics and poems, after the shape of the city layout. The musical traditions of the Gate focus on "brassy-voiced tenors" and "delightfully smoky altos".

Baldurians frown on drunk, debauched and disorderly behaviour in public: there's no space for this nonsense and you're keeping everybody on the street awake.

The gate has an array of cosmetic services available in the markets of the Wide, where - as well as mundane tattooists and piercers - one can hire wizards in the market to perform cosmetic alterations with transmutation magic: glowing tattoos and other strange illusions, tans, magically affixing gems and jewellery like pieces to your body, changing hair colour, texture and style, changing your eye colour, altering your height or your weight or your sexual dimorphism, etc etc.

It's considered bad luck to harm a cat. Many of the animals moved into the area by hitching a ride on sea traffic, and as they're extremely useful for keeping vermin down both on land and at sea, Baldurians are fond of them.

If you need help carrying your shopping or finding somewhere in the city, most street corners have youths known as "lamp boys" and "lamp lasses" you can hire - so called because of the lanterns they carry at night. With the founding of the newspaper you can also find them hawking the daily papers.

The trade the city brings is the lifeline of the Sword Coast (South), and the only place one can buy foreign and luxury goods in the entire region. That said, these goods come at a significant mark up compared to the prices you'd find in Waterdeep or anywhere in Amn.

The majority of silver trade bars (bars of metal used in place of coins, for ease of transport) are made in the Gate, and the city sets the standards for this form of currency.

The city has always been heavily policed, and is known for being quiet and one of the safest cities in Western Faerûn; Baldurians don't expect much if any major disruption to the city's day-to-day life.

The city has its own City Watch - member of the watch being readily identified by their black helms, bearing a red stripe down one side - however the Flaming Fist Mercenary Company is the first thing that comes to mind when you mention law enforcement; you can barely go more than an hour without seeing at least one uniformed officer.

The City Watch used to be the city's police force, however by the end of the 15th century the Fist has taken on much of their role, and the Watch now functions purely as the private law keepers of the Upper City. They are permitted to live within the Upper City, and positions in the watch are now mostly hereditary.

Even when the Watch was the official city police the Fist boasted an army a thousand strong. By the start of the 15th century the Fist had taken over city patrols in a semi-official capacity. The two groups also overlap, and many of the Watch are also secretly members of the Fist. One in ten people in the gate - Watch or otherwise - are spies and informants for the mercenary company.

They may not be fully reliable as a police force however, as they are known to chose not to deal with some problems, declaring it a problem for the watch to deal with. Notably they do not police the Outer City and refuse to touch anything involving the Undercellar.

The Flaming Fist also has outposts in other realms, where it guards the foreign trade interests of the city, such as Fort Beluarian (a hamlet of 313 people) in the jungles of Chult on the Southern end of Faerûn. Being mercenaries, they are available for hire for any purpose that isn't considered flat out evil.

Of course the heavy policing and massive police presence, to anybody who cares to look closer at the city's outward appearance of security, is a giant tip-off that the city has a thriving underworld. The Thieves Guild is an ever-present force, and the religious tolerance means that there are a lot of other organised crime syndicates (ie the priests), murderers and extortion rackets running around. Such organisations keep close diplomatic ties to the Grand Dukes and the commander of the Flaming Fist.

The weather conditions are typically rain, sleet or fog depending on season and time of day, and the streets and buildings are almost constantly wet either from the weather or the sea. The architecture is almost entirely stone, as it's less likely to rot. The streets are often slippery, and straw or gravel from the river is sometimes thrown over the cobbles for grip. The citizens take advantage of the moisture and damp to use their cellars to cultivate edible fungi. Damp, mould and mildew are a common menace, but it did lead a wizard named Halbazzer Drin to make his fortune by inventing spells that banishes mildew (12gp per casting) and dry out an area without damaging anything (10gp), so services exist if you need to hire them. The spell is not known outside of the city; Drin refused to sell knowledge of the spell to anyone for any price or offer. Due to the damp, the streets have no banners or other hanging fabrics around.

Buildings tend to be tall and narrow, with shuttered slit windows placed high up, which will be firmly shut at night and all day in winter, to keep out the gales and invading gulls looking for places to nest. The extremely narrow streets of the Lower City are full of window planters and hanging baskets of flowers, providing the sole spot of colour amongst the grey. As the city streets are so steep and narrow, the city has a ban on allowing animals larger than a dog into the city (it's too difficult for them to navigate and likely to cause traffic issues).

Boxed in by its thick, heavily fortified city walls and with no space to expand the city has largely built upwards, and the streets are filled with stone buttresses and arches supporting the upper floors.

Due to its stony architecture and frequent overcast, the entire city is often referred to as the Grey Harbour by residents. (This is also the name of the actual city harbour)

The city is built into the chalk white cliffs around the harbour, growing in elevation until the settlement stops at the outermost walls.

By the 15th century, the city was firmly divided into the Lower and Upper Cities, the latter of which is built into the highest elevation, cut off by a wall. In the population boom that followed the mass immigration of Spellplague refugees, many people were forced to make space for themselves outside of the walls, building the Outer City. Beneath the city lies the Undercellar

Descending from the Undercellar is a labyrinth of tunnels leading down into caverns buried beneath Baldur's Gate; housing the ruins of a forgotten era, where the Temple of Bhaal stands over the ruins, surrounded by the restless spirits and walking corpses of undead residents ancient and brand new.

The Lower City houses most of the city, crafts and trade.

With the narrow spaces, cliffs, tall buildings and arches, the city can get rather dark at night. What public lighting is available is maintained by the citizens themselves. The wealthier parts of the Lower City, like Bloomridge, use oil and wick copper bowls, while poorer areas make do with candles in tin lanterns, usually such things are mounted on the walls and ceilings of the darkest corners; but when you want to navigate at night you'll usually be hiring lamp lads.

The Grey Harbour is one of Toril's most famous and best ports, frequented by legitimate merchant captains and pirates alike; many of the families living on the docks are the families of sailors. The area is very industrialised, sporting the shipyard, multiple cranes and railway tracks used to facilitate the moving of goods. The most notable structures are the Harbourmaster's Office, a tiny building with barred windows that deals with all trades and taxes - and the Water Queen's House at the end of the pier, which everybody with a brain makes offerings to and nobody looks too closely at whatever the Umberlant priests get up to in there, because the vast majority of people like breathing.

The Gate has little in the way of large fanciful festivals, but specific streets in the Lower City are prone to a centuries old tradition of "cobble parties", where the people living on a street pull up some chairs, benches and barrels and gather outside to share a mild drink, tell stories and chat. An ongoing cobble party can be recognised by the bright rose-red torches that are hung up along the street walls - these torches are made at Felogyr's Fireworks and can be bought almost anywhere in the city.

Bloomridge is as close the Upper City as you can get without actually gaining access, and houses the Gate's middle class. It was initially built in elevated platforms cimbing up the Upper City's walls using magic and Gondian engineering. It's various attractions - including fanciful architecture, florists, artisanal boutiques, fancy open-air kaeth houses (cafes) and dining houses (restaurants; also known as "skaethars" or "feasthalls"), and elaborate hanging gardens and floral arcades - made it attractive to those with wealth but no pedigree.

The district expanded as those who could afford to do so began purchasing and razing the original, less fancy buildings in the vicinity and building estates on the ground where they used to stand. Those who can't quite afford that instead opt to live in high class apartment buildings and flats over the local businesses. Buildings here often have rooftop gardens and balconies with pleasant vistas.

The Upper City is located in the oldest quarter of the city, the Lower City being built outside of the walls and stretching down to the harbour and then having the lower city walls constructed around it. The only gate connecting the two halves is the eponymous Baldur's Gate, the first of the many city gates constructed. It's also heavily guarded and the only gate by which outsiders may access the Upper City; there are numerous smaller gates, but they are exclusively used by patriars and those bearing family livery or bearing a letter of employment signed by a patriar. This district houses the Gate's oldest and most powerful families: anyone who isn't a patriar is either a servant or a watchman, who will most likely be a member of a family that has served a patriar family/the Upper City for generations. The exceptions tend to be a handful of the most successful and affluent business owners whose businesses have become popular enough with the nobility to be welcomed in. Every business and city service in this district exists to serve the upper class exclusively.

It's the most open and colourful part of the city; the shutters and doors are painted in fresh, vibrant paints. The streets are broad and well lit with ornate enchanted lamps; the terrain is mostly flat, unlike the streets of the Lower City, which can often resemble giant staircases.

Businesses that would cause unpleasant smells are banned from the area, and the Upper City maintains many gardens, windowsill planters and trellises where flowers bloom and fill the air with pleasant scents (unless you have hay fever, anyway). Wandering minstrels provide ambient music as they wander the streets - usually a singer playing a lute or harp accompanied by a flutist and perhaps a drummer who may provide a chorus.

They've also got drains, so the streets are less inclined to flood or turn to mud the way the rest of the city is.

There are no inns or alehouses here: a noble who wishes to drink will either host a party, attend a private club, or go slumming in the Lower City.

The Upper City houses the High Hall, also known as the ducal palace; the administrative building that provides a place for feasts, court hearings and government meetings. The meeting rooms are and have always been open for public use, however there is a rule that states you cannot rent a meeting room there twice within 48 hours (to stop people from monopolising the rooms). The High Hall used to be a more grim, military building but has since been renovated to appear more bright and friendly as a PR stunt following a giant riot over taxes.

The other two of the city's temples are located in the Upper City, the Lady's Hall - a Temple of Tymora - and the High House of Wonders, the temple of Gond (who is near enough the city's patron god). The building serves various purposes: a temple, workshops, factories and laboratories. When something deemed ready for the eye is released it can usually be viewed in the Hall of Wonders: a science museum across the street to the temple.

It's also where the Gate's largest marker - the Wide - is situated. It's the only large open space in the city, and the only open air market. Outside of festivals, performances and music is banned in the area. The Wide is usually packed with people forced to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, and those who are hired to perform deliveries in the Wide are always tall and large, capable of seeing over the heads of the throngs and pushing their way through. Goods are carried atop tall poles that are strapped to the deliverymen's chests or backs. Prices are lowest in the Wide compared to anywhere else, and any transactions that cannot be performed within a licensed store must take place here by law.

Permits to rent space in the Wide for the day are limited, and they usually go to whoever has the money to bribe the bailiff, watchmen and other officials who have sway in over the market's administration - which is usually the merchants of the Upper City.

As well as the usual fare of goods, the Wide offers a large range of cosmetic services including the mundane body modifications and stylists that one would find on Earth, and more esoteric concepts that can only be accomplished with magic; such services and the artisans who provide them are seasonal and ever changing. The Wide is the most colourful spot in the city, and the only place that's the exception to the lack of banners and other hanging fabrics. Historically the Wide was open all day and night, but in recent times the watch has been closing the area at dusk - nobody except for the patriars may have use of the Upper City after dark.

The Wide is only closed if the area must be used for something else, such as public Highharvestide festivals... or because a patriar decided to close it off for private use, such as a ball or wedding.

Just outside of the market area is the rest of the Upper City's commercial area; stores, insurance offices, trade guildhalls, Ramazith's tower and the public entrance to the Undercellar - a flight of stone stairs leading down to a pair of heavy oak doors at the southern edge of the market. The doors are shut, but the Undercellar never closes and if you knock somebody will open them and usher you inside.

The Undercellar is a maze of underground passages lying beneath the city - mostly vaulted stone chambers created from the interconnected and abandoned cellars of the old Upper City, with hidden exits all over the city. Those who know where these exits are tend to guard them jealously, but may be willing to allow the Thieves' Guild access for coin or service. The Guild itself controls a fair few of these exits, and has been working on expanding the network.

It's also the playground for the criminal underworld of the Gate. The Undercellar's public image is that of a rather unprincipled festhall (a specific form of adult entertainment venue in the Realms that serves as a fusion of casino, bar, lounge, spa, brothel, playground, BDSM scene, LARPing club and so forth), which in a way, it is. Due to its dangerous reputation, it's incredibly popular, especially with those who are trying to look edgy and dangerous (particularly teenagers).

If one is openly carrying weapons, you can expect the armed guards stationed in the room to start following you closely; otherwise they'll leave you be. The guards are unlikely to care much about any disturbances, so long as they don't start disrupting everybody's business. Customers are not to venture further into the Undercellar without permission and an escort.

And behind that edgy, but mostly harmless veneer visitors play at and never see past is the real Undercellar, which is every bit as dark as its rumoured to be.

The Guild has its offices down here, and other rooms are used for varying purposes by other criminals. Want to put a hit on somebody, watch somebody get murdered in a Bhaalist red room, smuggle people or whatever crimes against humanity you feel like seeking out, this'd be the place to do it.

The Undercellar is policed by nobody except the criminals who do their work down there; whatever might take place down there, neither the Watch nor the Fists have any desire to know about them if you try and bring them to light. Want to avoid bad things? Don't get involved with the Undercellar.

The sprawling, pitch-black maze - if one knows how to navigate it - is a good way to get around the Upper City without detection. Somewhere down there is a passage that goes deeper, leading further into the earth and into the Undercity.

The Undercity is, clue in the name, the dead remains of a city buried beneath the living Baldur's Gate (specifically the original city that became the Upper City). At its heart is the Temple of Bhaal, and the city is inhabited by Bhaalists, alive and dead; the original, now undead, inhabitants of the undercity and any victims of the temple that have joined them.

The Outer City, Cliffgate and Blackgate are not technically parts of the city, being constructed outside of them.

The soil surrounding the city is little use for agriculture, but it is sufficient for grazing, so most farmers are the likes of shepherds and cattle farmers. As livestock and large animals are not permitted inside the city, cattle markets, stables and such businesses will be found there. Many of the less pleasant businesses, such as butchers and tanners, have relocated here to spare the rest of the city the smell and mess.

Much of the structures are semi-permanent in nature, and the areas are not subject to official oversight or in possession of any particular infrastructure. They aren't policed by the Fist or the watch, the area is near enough lawless, and crime is frequent. "Security" tends to be overseen by the Guild, and while the government doesn't tax outside the walls, residents still have to pay their dues to the local thieves and thugs.

The Outer City is as crowded as the Lower City, but less sanitary or orderly: these places are dirty, loud, smell a lot and tend to be quite dangerous. Many of the residents are farmers, criminals and foreigners and immigrants of varying generation who can't afford or find a place in the city proper.

The Blackgate is the historical slum area, and grew around the inland-facing Black Gate to the North West, growing around the Trade Way connecting The Gate to Waterdeep.

The Tumbledown district, located in Cliffgate outside the city gate of the same name, is the middle child of the expansions, leading down the cliffs. The land was owned by the Szarr family generations ago, before they were all (supposedly) slaughtered by a rival family in the night. Tumbledown is an extremely foggy area, full of graveyards and tombs, and rumours abound that the ghosts of the dead Szarrs haunt the streets there and steal people away. People do disappear there, but most people are sceptical that it's due to ghosts.

The Outer City is a newer, larger slum that grew around the Basilisk Gate and spread along the Coast Way - the road between the Gate and Athkatla - as the city population exploded at the end of the 14th century.

Immigrant communities have taken the opportunity to build their own settlements in the Outer City, styled in their own architectural styles, such as Little Calimshan; a tenement on Wyrm's Crossing is exclusively occupied by halflings; Whitkeep houses a gnomish community who does most of the city's tinsmithing; half-orcs lodge in Stoneyes; a shield dwarven community is located in Shieldgate.

These communities are considered outsiders by most Baldurians, and generally there's no love lost between those inside the walls and outside.

#...the Durge player in me is looking at all the various ways one could go undercover as an assassin I must admit #Karlach is actually a good example of how surnames work in the Realms: she was born/raised in Cliffgate so it's her “surname”#long post

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alkhale · 1 year

Note

OHH MY GODDD THE ENDING WHERE LAW SHAMBLES A CRATE OF APPLES....

MADE ME THINK OF HOKU!!!!!

Kid: *wanting to give a crate full of apples to Hoku to have browny points*

Luffy: *sees meat steals meat*

Luffy and Kid fighting

Law: *shambles crate of apples to give it to Hoku instead*

Hoku: *draws while daydreaming of apples........apple hair Shanks*

MILD SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE WANO ARC BELOW

Kid paused for a moment as something rolled across the ground, knocking lightly into the side of his foot. He glanced with half a scowl nearly tattooed across his lips, narrowing his eyes at the disruption while Killer hauled the next crate of supplies over his shoulder.

The people of Wano were ensuring with everything they had that the pirates currently preparing to leave their hidden shores would be stocked and ready for whatever lay beyond them. Kid didn’t care for their generosity and blubbering—they’d take what they deserved and have their fill. There was nothing else to it.

He didn’t care much either, for the way the other two crews encroaching on his space handled things. Namely one crew in particular, and specifically one ridiculous, mouthy, cowardly, irritating—

(“We can’t take all of this!” Hoku laughed, her voice grating against the side of his ears as he watched her over the lip of a sake jar, scowling beneath the fluttering shadow of light from the lanterns strewn across the street in victory above them. “You all have to eat enough to make up for all these years!”

“But supplies! You need more!”

“We’ve seen how your captain eats!”

“We saw you back in the banquet hall!”

She tossed her head back and laughed. It rang and echoed, the faint flush of joy against the tan of her skin.

“Then let’s eat it together! Lu!”

“Hoku don’t you dare! The two of you will end up clearing all our supplies before we even leave!”

“Hoku Honey! If you’re hungry, I’ll make something for you right now!”

One of the brats leapt from the ground, arms wrapping around that damned woman’s neck as she continued to laugh, eyes swallowing the sight of joy before her with a bright sort of greed—drinking her fill before they skipped across the street and met—)

Kid angrily hefted the stuffed crate of supplies. The bright, shiny red apples rolled against each other. Wrapped hunks of meat were placed haphazardly on top. He looked forward beyond Killer’s shoulder to where that damned woman sat now, looking useless as always as she leaned back against a stack of crates, idly drawing into her book.

He’d already mocked her for being lazy and lounging around, but she’d simply bit back with an arrogant sniff that their tangerine haired devil woman of a navigator had ordered her to stay put.

“You’ll end up falling into the dock or worse,” Nami said. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Kid had scoffed at how she’d pouted, ambling through the stacked crates of supplies trying to poke her nose and help here and there until she’d tripped into a grain barrel and Roronoa Zoro had fished her out by her scruff.

He’d unnecessarily slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, her visage completely unbothered—as though this ridiculousness was normal—while Zoro walked around with her slung like that and kept lifting crates and helping stack goods.

What an idiot.

Kid’s boots stomped against the ground as he grew closer to that stupid woman now. His scowl deepened into a sort of sneer, grip tightening on the crate over his shoulder. He was in a good mood. He’d fool around with that idiot. She was easy to rile up if you knew what buttons to press. Kid had started to learn from their encounters so far.

He’d even pretend it was a peace offering—watch her face comfort into dumbfounded confusion—maybe he’d trip her into the same crate he was carrying—hah! What a load that’d be.

(She could easily fit into it, he thought carelessly, not even really thinking much of it. Right into that crate. They’d toss her into the ocean. On board. Into his cabin. )

A familiar twang sounded off like a snap by Kid’s ear and he abruptly stopped, whirling around the same moment grubby fingers pulled free an entire hunk of smoked meat from his crate. Straw Hat Luffy shamelessly shoved the entire thing into his mouth.

“Hey! You looking for a fight Straw Hat?” Kid dropped the crate to the ground with a thump! Luffy immediately stood at his raised tone, grinning impishly. “Keep your grimy hands off!l

“What’d you say Jaggy?”

“Come down here and I’ll beat it into ya!” Kid snarled. Killer continued peacefully without him towards the ship. “Less you’re scared.”

Luffy landed nimbly before him in an instant. Kid’s hackles raised and the two of them began to shout, hollering childish remarks back and forth while one calm, unbothered gaze finally set his finished newspapers down. He raised his fingers instead, curling them slightly.

“Shambles.”

Law stood up with the crate in his arm with ease. He made his way down the same way Kid originally intended, making it quite a fair distance before either of the two idiots realized what had happened and they were now shouting and spitting at him across the docks.

“Hoku-ya.”

Hoku looked up with a bit of a jump from her drawings. Law raised a curious, fine arched brow when he noticed her not-so-discreetly attempt to shuffle one of her papers back. “Torao! What can I do for ya?”

On any other occasion, Law would’ve ignored it. Meddling further with this woman usually ended up with more than he intended, and even teasing her to some degree either sailed over her head or ended with him having a headache.

But he was in a good mood today. Law felt…tactful.

(“Our captain’s still a bit of a sadist at heart,” Penguin said. “Don’t forget that!”)

A blue film enveloped the two of them and Hoku jumped, looking surprised and confused until she glanced down to her hands where a handful of bright red apples now sat.

“Hey!” Hoku’s lips started to turn into a grin. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re feeling sentimental! C’mon, is this your way of being sweet? Or wait, are you doing a whole one apple a day—“

Hoku abruptly broke off, watching Law flip casually to the page she’d been hiding. Her sketchbook now sat loosely in his grip.

Hoku paled. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed as she shot up, cradling the apples still. “Wait—“

Law promptly stilled. He blinked once, slowly, and then finally looked back to Hoku with judgement clear in his gaze. His expression attempted disinterested disdain, a usual look, but his fingers twitched against the sketchbook, a quiet whisper of something else.

Law made the tactical decision to ignore that.

“Really?”

“S-So what?” Hoku snapped. Her cheeks flushed a red as deep as the apples in her hands. Law briefly traced it down her collarbone—her blush always carried down her neck, against her back—but his scowl deepened instead. “It’s just a drawing! I can draw whatever I want! I like drawing pretty things! That’s perfectly normal! He’s a handsome man!”

Law gave her a look somewhat reminiscent of disgust and disappointment.

“Did I ask?”

“No! But I can tell you’re judging me and I don’t wanna—“

“Are you fucking kidding me? This some kinda sick joke doll?”

“Shishishi! That’s a good one Hoku! He’d love it!”

“Beat it Straw Hat! I’m about to throttle this—“

“Throttle? You’re talkin’ hot shit for a loser.”

“Loser? Did you go blind? I won—“

“I’m still 2-0 with ya, Kiddo.”

“Kiddo?”

“Eustass-ya pipe down.”

“Shut it—“

A breeze ripped the page from Law’s fingertips—he absently let it go, better off to the winds—but the four gathered continued a mix of shouting, condescending speaking—

Nami watched Robin pluck the paper from the air as it drifted by them. The two women leaning over the side of the ship.

Robin carefully smoothed the paper out, humming in amusement.

“Our dear artist has dangerous taste.”

“I just don’t get it,” Nami sighed with a pitiful shake of her head. “She’s hopeless, that one. The seas are endless and she picks one of the scariest men in the ocean to have a crush on?”

“Hopeless,” Robin echoed playfully, glancing thoughtfully toward where they could barely see Hoku’s bright white hair peeking out from the three bodies surrounding her. “Hopeless indeed.”

Nami sighed in pity when she followed Robin’s gaze. “Something tells me this is going to come back and bite us. Should I send Zoro? No, Sanji would be better…”

“No harm in letting them play a bit longer,” Robin said smoothly. The breeze fluttered the paper in her grip and she glanced back to it.

“Well,” Robin turned the picture perfect portrait of a grinning, fearless Red-Haired Shanks. Even the glint of his eyes seemed particularly fond to Robin. “She does draw him very handsomely.”

“Hmm… I’m going to make Hoku draw a portrait of me now once we set sail.”

“Mm, did that make you jealous? Though, that does sound rather fun. I think I’ll have to make Hoku do one for me too…”

#memos #hoku #trafalgar law #eustass kid #monkey d luffy #nami #Robin #shanks #hola #kidku #some strawhat girly loving if u squint #I typed this from my phone I’m sorry for mistakes #I love the new ending so much #it has consumed me #makes me want to cry #memos snippets

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lambsouvlaki · 1 year

Text

The Crime Lord (AU)

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, suggestive banter.

Word Count: 1,520

Summary: In an AU where Jason never stopped his crime lord ways, his partner is threatened and they have to decide if they're ready to take the next step.

Masterlist

--------

She looked carefully through her blinds. The man in the street was still there, hanging around the sealed up entrance of an old video rental store.

She noticed him about five minutes ago when doing a cursory check just before she started getting ready for bed. The gun in the pocket of his padded jacket was not well hidden, neither was the gang tattoo on his neck. She couldn’t make out the affiliation from this range. It could be nothing. There were a lot of nasty looking characters in Crime Alley.

He looked up at her window again.

Too big a risk.

She texted Jason. He replied immediately.

Muttering angrily she wrapped a coat over her pyjamas and shoved her boots onto her feet. She threw her laptop and a few vital personal effects into a bag. She switched the tv on, knowing the moving lights would shine on the thin curtains. Wait, her phone charger, needed that.

A heavy knock on the door rang out while she was still reaching down behind her bedside table.

She took a steadying breath, in and out. She peered through the spyhole. Two men in black armoured gear with no identifying symbols stood in the corridor. She didn’t recognise either of them. Jason’s message said to expect a Larry and a Gavin.

She opened the door.

“Ma’am,” the older of the two said, a heavyset man with a bald patch and black gloves. The other was a young and wiry sort with a patchy beard. Both looked like the sort of person who knew how to dispose of a body in five minutes or less. Neither really looked at her, which was promising.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“Gavin and Larry, ma’am,” the same man said without any detectable expression. Those definitely weren’t their real names but it served its purpose. “Come with us, please.”

She nodded, slung her bag over her shoulder, and followed them out. She locked the door behind her.

The younger man held his hand out for the keys. Damnit, she’d liked this place.

“There’s a very nice lasagna in the fridge. If you’re going to empty out the place anyway.”

Gavin or possibly Larry’s lip quirked very briefly.

They led her out the back of the apartment building to the alley with its dumpsters and a bike missing both its wheels. The older guy walked in front of her and the other behind, all the way up to the tall chain link fence, which they helped her climb. A suitably forgettable old car waited for them on the other side.

She really really hoped these were Jason’s guys. She was 99% sure they were, but there was always a moment of doubt before getting into a strange car to go to who knew where. They hadn’t checked her bag or taken her phone off her, which Black Mask’s goons always started with, followed by a blow to the back of the head. They could be from Little Italy of course, Falcone’s guys still held to notions of respect, when it suited them. Or they were paid off by the Bats. Probably not though. She wasn’t a pro but this wasn’t her first rodeo.

They brought her to the docks, to one warehouse among hundreds.

It was seemingly empty, with only its security lights on. She couldn’t see anyone around. Her escort walked her up to an office space on the second floor, while the other disappeared with the car. They stopped at a room with an electronic lock. She entered her own code, and the little light blinked green.

Alone, she entered a plain white room with no windows and some basic furniture. She would bet her entire meagre lift savings that Larry and/or Gavin was standing guard outside.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was how Jason showed his love, she knew that. All the things he couldn’t say were hidden in the effort he put into her safety.

Then she shook herself out of her grousing, got her laptop out and sat down at the desk. There was a cot in the corner but she wasn’t getting any sleep now.

Hours later, when her eyes were starting to sting and she was eyeing up the cot with more interest, the door beeped.

The Red Hood walked in.

She leaned back. He wore his helmet and his brown jacket hung open. There was a fine blood splatter over the plain grey armour beneath it, fresh enough to still be red.

He sat opposite her at the desk, and slouched back with a sigh. His head rolled back on his neck.

“How’s your night?” she asked.

He grunted.

“Hm,” she replied and typed another line of her email.

“I want you to move in with me,” he said, voice rumbling through the modulator. She stopped typing. She closed the laptop.

“Doesn’t that just make detection more dangerous? If they find me now it doesn’t compromise you.”

“It may as well,” he said, lifting his head to look at her. “I’m always going to come get you, and security is better at my place.”

She looked back at him thoughtfully. “We agreed it would cut into your work too much, and disrupt my life.”

“You know you have to move again either way. For the second time this year.” He sighed heavily. “I’m already disrupting your life.”

She didn’t like the defeated tone sneaking in through the modulation. She had gotten very good at detecting the nuances that snuck through the voice changer over the last year.

She got up and walked around the desk. She inclined her head in a way that asked if he had any injuries she needed to be aware of. He shook his head. She straddled his lap. His hands found her waist, snaking under her shirt and idly caressed the skin there. He didn’t even snort at the canary yellow pyjamas hiding under her coat, a sure sign he was worried.

“And the disruption it would mean to your life?” she asked.

“I can make it work. But you would have to be more careful. Much more careful.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” She smiled sadly. “Even if I don’t move in, I can’t keep pretending I’m living a normal life anymore.

“Don’t ask me to keep endangering you. If not this then…”

“Take the helmet off.”

He lifted it off and the terror who commanded half of Gotham’s undercity and petrified the other half disappeared like smoke. Only the man she loved more than she could articulate remained. He wasn’t in a domino mask tonight, and stormy green eyes looked up at her beseechingly.

“This is the only way I can keep you safe while still being with you. Anything else is reckless.” He ducked his head. “Staying together is reckless enough already.”

She blinked through the hurt that lanced through her at that statement. He wasn’t even wrong, which made it worse. She knew they were playing with fire, and sooner or later someone would get burned. Today it wasn’t them. Tomorrow? The day after tomorrow?

“I need an answer sweetheart.” He sounded preemptively heartbroken, but his face was hard. Braced for the final blow.

“Can you tell me… do you want me to move in with you purely for safety reasons?”

He cocked his head.

“If nobody was trying to kill us,” she said, halting. “If you weren’t the most wanted man in Gotham, and we had the luxury of doing what we wanted purely because we wanted to… would you still ask me to move in with you?”

He studied her for a long moment.

She swallowed and braced for the blow. She knew she wasn’t his first love. Gotham would forever have the larger claim on his heart. But she had to know if her claim on him was as serious as his claim on her.

“Yes. I would,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t you know I love you?”

She made a soft noise in her throat. She cupped his jaw and pressed her lips to his. He titled his mouth against hers, drinking deeply of her.

Finally she pulled back to breathe, panting against his lips. He squeezed her thighs, bracketing his legs. His arousal pressed against her.

“Is that your final answer?” he asked in a husky drawl.

“Yeah.” She leaned her forehead against his. “I’ll move in with you. I’m in love with you, you know.”

He flashed an extremely self-satisfied grin.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, rubbing his hands up and down her thighs. “If I didn’t have Black Mask’s man who tracked you down waiting for me in a pool of his own blood, I would bend you over this table right now to celebrate.”

She snorted. “Come home with all your limbs attached and your blood mostly still inside of you, and we can celebrate all day.”

He nipped her lips. “I’ll come get you when I’m done. Gonna take you home.”

She kissed him again.

——-

Next chapter >>

#AU where Red Hood never gave up his criminal empire #Bruce is sulking just off screen #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x oc #my fanfic #dc #Red Hood's goons #established relationship #angst with a happy ending

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judyprincess · 1 month

Text

Too Pink For me - Logan Howlett

01: The eyes of paradyse

Mutant.

It was the only word I remembered when I woke up on a hospital gurney. I was a girl of barely seven years old. The memory is as distant and blurry as a blind man without his glasses.

I couldn't even recall anything about my family or what had happened. How did I end up there? Who had said that word to me? All I saw was a man, his hand warm, his body wrapped in an expensive, elegant suit. The man who had chosen to save me from the wreckage-where the sea that drowned me was inside my own head, a storm of thoughts that made no sense, waves without memories.

"Ross"

That's what the man called me, addressing me by that name. But... was that really my name?

"Her mutation is strange. It deeply affects her body."

"It alters the melanin in her hair and eyes."

"Her eyes... they're the greenest I've ever seen."

"She's changing... her..."

Voices... the voices faded away. The white coats became nothing more than blotches dissolving into darkness as I closed my eyes once again.

_______________________________________

In a corner of Venice, the beautiful Italian city, the sun shone radiantly in the sky, signaling yet another warm day in ancient Europe.

In a small, colorful building facing the shoreline that encircled Venice, murals could be seen painted across its walls. Every house was vibrant, but this one in particular was painted white, adorned with intricate artwork that formed a cohesive mural, much like a tattoo on a person.

If you were a visitor, you might think the house belonged to an artist, or at the very least that an artist lived there-and you would be right. In this small Venetian town, there was an artist beloved by the local people. A girl who occasionally strolled through the village, and whenever she did, she was showered with compliments and kindness. Many spoke of her to visitors, as her house had become a sort of tourist attraction-a house filled with paintings reminiscent of the old art that once flourished during the reigns of kings and queens across Europe.

People came to see the house, took photos, and if they were lucky, they might even catch a glimpse of the artist herself, painting on her property. And in the whispers of the crowd, you could hear them say that this girl was as surreal and otherworldly as the very paintings she created-a vision plucked straight from fantasy.

And those were the words that Ororo and Jean-both women from the X-Men team-heard as they wandered through the lively town in search of the girl whom the locals seemed to know so well, yet not at all.

"Eh ciao..." Ororo attempted to speak a bit of Italian to get the attention of the flower stall vendor. "La casa della fantasia?"

Ororo cursed her foreign accent, hoping the man understood her, while Jean let out a small laugh at her attempt with the local language.

"Oh... Vuoi vedere la casa della Rosellina." The man smiled, realizing they were tourists eager to see the town's main attraction-the house of the artist. "Ah, la bella Rosellina. You need to follow this path and at the end, turn right."

The man gestured to Jean and Storm, his Italian accent thick but still understandable. Ororo thanked the man for his kindness in pointing them toward the artist's house.

"Grazie mille."

Jean expressed her gratitude as she and Ororo headed down the street.

Rosellina.

That's what the locals called the artist who lived in the house that resembled a living canvas. The name meant "Little Rose," a name that both mutants found intriguing-just as intriguing as the way the townspeople spoke of the girl with such affection, despite the rumors that she wasn't someone who roamed the town often.

When they reached the end of the street, they were greeted by the sight of the sea-though that wasn't difficult to find in Venice. The shore was adorned with beautiful flowers, a well-kept dock, and small canoes. Ororo thought to herself that she would love to live in a town like this, a place untouched by danger, where no one seemed to care about appearances-a place straight out of a fairy tale, where people came to escape from it all. Jean, on the other hand, couldn't imagine living anywhere other than the mansion with the rest of the team.

"The professor seems to have been right; this is a place far removed from everything. No one here seems to mind having her around. In fact, they adore her," Ororo remarked, taking a moment to appreciate the sea.

"Yes, I also found it curious how much affection they have when they speak of her. Mutants don't usually get that kind of reaction, whether you're in China or America," Jean responded, voicing her own curiosity.

What was it about this girl that made the townspeople cherish her as Rome was cherished for its magnificent ruins?

Following the vendor's directions, Ororo and Jean turned right and soon spotted, at the end of the short street, a white house decorated with beautiful hand-painted artwork. As if the house itself were a canvas, the paintings came together in perfect harmony, despite each one telling a different story. Somehow, they made sense together.

"I can see why tourists are amazed by this house," Ororo murmured, her eyes following each painting, captivated by what she saw. Was this the Casa della Fantasia?

It was a stunning sight, and for both women, it made perfect sense why so many people came to this little Venetian town just to see this enchanting house-an art piece not housed in a museum.

Rosellina must possess extraordinary talent. Could her mutation be connected to it? Ororo wondered. The fact that the house drew so many people and brought money to the town could be one of the reasons why the mutant was so beloved, but something told the silver-haired mutant that it went beyond that. The people adored her for something else.

But what was it?

"She's incredibly talented..." Jean commented with admiration, her eyes tracing the paintings that grew clearer as they approached the house.

As if the heavens wanted to answer Ororo's unspoken questions, a voice called out from the balcony.

"Do you like it?..."

A soft voice, like a melody. Ororo and Jean looked up, both surprised to see the girl standing on the balcony.

Now, Ororo could understand why the people adored this mutant, why she was the source of such admiration and the whispers of tourists who had caught a glimpse of her. Standing on the balcony was a young woman, certainly no older than 25, watching them. She had pastel pink hair, soft and delicate like silk, cascading down to her lower back. Her skin was pale as milk, her face beautifully doll-like, but what stood out the most-what fascinated both Ororo and Jean-were her eyes. They were large and the most stunning shade of green, brighter than any emerald Ororo had ever seen, glowing like the gem itself.

It was as if she were an illusion, not quite real. She looked as though she was part of the paintings themselves.

Was this the beloved Rosellina?

It took Ororo a moment, as it did for Jean, to break free from the spell of her gaze.

"My name is Ororo, and this is my colleague Jean," she introduced herself with a warm smile, looking at the girl. "Are you Rosellina?"

The girl smiled softly, kindly.

"That's right, signorina," she replied, nodding her head.

"We came to talk to you, if that's alright?" Jean stepped forward, getting to the point of their visit.

The girl observed them and laughed, as if she knew that Ororo and Jean weren't ordinary.

"Of course. Come in, the door is open," she gestured toward the door below.

The door was painted in such a way that it looked like the entrance to a forest, creating the illusion of stepping into a magical realm. What kind of mutant was this girl? Both women could only confirm more and more the words Charles had told them before their journey to Italy.

She is special.

Once inside the house, Ororo and Jean admired their surroundings. The interior had a farmhouse decor, adorned with plenty of plants and flowers. It was just as cozy and beautiful inside as it was outside. As they entered the living room where the girl was already waiting for them with cups of tea on the table, they noticed the stunning paintings in various well-known artistic styles. There was also an unfinished canvas on the open balcony, waiting to be completed. The scent of fresh oil paint mixed with a strawberry fragrance from one of the nearby tables, meant to keep the smell of the paint from overwhelming the space.

"I apologize for the smell of paint," Rosellina said with a small, embarrassed smile as she sat down on one of the sofas in her living room. "I hope you enjoy the tea-it's apple, a specialty of our little town."

Ororo and Jean thanked her for her hospitality. She was as gentle as her appearance suggested.

"Don't worry about it, and please excuse us for the intrusion," Jean said as she took a small sniff of the tea. The aroma was wonderful, and the taste did not disappoint its presentation.

"To what do I owe the honor? Are you looking for a painting?" Rosellina asked, taking a sip of her tea as she crossed her legs. Both women could see paint stains on her arms, evidence of the unfinished piece waiting for her on the balcony.

"No, well-let me say, you have extraordinary talent, hard to miss-but our visit actually concerns your mutation," Ororo quickly clarified their purpose.

Rosellina paused, lifting her gaze to look at them both.

"Mi scusi?" She raised an eyebrow in their direction, wondering if she had heard correctly.

"Your father, Mr. Wilson, is a friend of our mentor, Charles Xavier. Does that name sound familiar?" Jean joined in, gently guiding the conversation into sensitive territory.

"No, I didn't know... I'm not very aware of my father's friendships," she responded softly, with a smile.

Ororo didn't need Charles' or Jean's powers to know that behind that smile was a sea of melancholy, like the sea that embraced Venice itself.

"I believe you've noticed that neither of us are normal-we're mutants, like you," Ororo said, to which the girl nodded and smiled, as if pleased to have guessed it.

"Your father reached out to Charles. He told him about you," Ororo continued.

Rosellina looked more interested now, clearly surprised. Her father, Jackson Wilson, was a politician who worked for the Pentagon-the constant hotbed of mutant hunters.

"He mentioned that you were here alone in Venice and that he would like you to attend the school Charles runs, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," Jean added, noticing the girl's silence.

"A school?" Rosellina's emerald eyes gleamed at the mention of her father's message to his friend. "With other mutants?"

They both sensed the excitement in her voice, and Ororo, for what she thought was just her imagination, saw her eyes grow even more vibrant in color.

"Yes, that's right. There are other mutants-Jean and I are teachers at the school," Ororo responded. "Though, of course, you wouldn't be a typical student."

Rosellina tilted her head in confusion, like a lost kitten. Ororo couldn't help but chuckle at this girl who seemed plucked right out of a fantasy book. She had never met anyone like her.

"You're quite a bit older-you probably know most of the things we teach the younger students at our school. Our oldest students are around 18 at most, before they can join the X-Men team," Ororo explained further as she took a sip of her tea.

"Charles envisions you staying at the mansion, learning a few things and honing your abilities," Ororo concluded.

Rosellina felt a flutter in her heart. Could she really train her abilities and be surrounded by more people? Was she ready for that after so many years alone in her small home, isolated from everything?

"Recruit me as an X-Men?" was her response after processing all the information.

"Essentially. But we'd also like to see what your abilities are. Would you mind giving us a small demonstration?" Jean asked.

Rosellina smiled and gazed intently into both their eyes. They were both mesmerized by the brilliance of her green eyes.

"Do you enjoy the view?" she said.

Ororo and Jean were momentarily puzzled until suddenly, as if reality itself had warped, they found themselves surrounded by a beautiful forest. Ororo recognized the scene-it was the forest she had seen painted on the door before entering. They were inside the forest. But how? Jean looked around, hearing the clear sounds of the woods; everything seemed and felt so real.

"What...?" Ororo moved and her foot collided with something, causing her to wince slightly in pain. She knew what it was-the table that had been in front of her. Was this all an illusion? When had she created it, and how? The illusion was so realistic, she could even feel the sun's rays warming her dark skin.

"An illusion," Jean said.

The view around them shifted back to the living room of the house, as Rosellina watched them with a small smile, her eyes glowing faintly.

"Your eyes... it's your eyes that hold your power," Ororo realized. It had been when they had looked into Rosellina's eyes that they were transported to that forest.

Neither woman had ever seen anything like it-not on this level. But something told them this wasn't all the girl could do.

"That's right. My eyes are where the mutation is most present," she confirmed Ororo's observation.

"But you don't just create illusions, do you?" Jean asked cautiously.

That level of control over the mind required an incredible amount of power, which, if misused, could cause extreme mental damage to the person experiencing the hallucinations that Rosellina could create.

"No." She clarified, "My powers continue to evolve over time-or at least that's how I think it works."

She laughed softly, slightly embarrassed at not being able to give a clear explanation.

"My eyes give me excellent vision-sometimes I feel like I can see through walls, and other times I can't, probably because I'm not fully aware of my range. In general, I can see from quite a distance. Also, they're very quick-sometimes I can anticipate small actions before they happen. They allow me to read books quickly, and I have a photographic memory. I could say that if I see something I've never done but observe how it's done, I could replicate it."

Rosellina explained her powers in part, and Jean understood that this was because the mutant wasn't even fully aware of the extent of her abilities or what they could do. This made it more difficult to classify her, and what worried Jean even more was the potential danger she could pose.

Mutants with mental control abilities were always dangerous to some degree. And the fact that Rosellina herself said her powers were still developing only gave Jean more reason to believe she urgently needed to attend the school so that Charles could help her, as he had helped her.

Ororo, on the other hand, took on a more protective stance toward the girl. After hearing a bit of what she was capable of, she better understood certain things-like how her paintings seemed to be created by some renowned artist from another era. They were perfect. Furthermore, she was a girl living alone in this house for who knows how long, rarely leaving to visit the town, living isolated in her own home. In a world of her own fantasies.

Compassion. That's what Ororo felt.

Even her father, a man with resources and influence, didn't seem to visit her. Rosellina wasn't even aware of what her father did or didn't do, aside from what little she might catch in the news. Ororo thought that meeting new people, living among other mutants, and making friends would do her a world of good. Rosellina was so kind that she was sure people would adore her at the mansion just as much as the villagers did.

"Come with us to the school. You'll be able to learn more about your abilities and put them to good use. The Professor can help you," Ororo offered warmly.

Rosellina looked at Ororo-the dark-skinned woman was offering her the chance to learn more about herself and her abilities. Her heart pounded with such intensity, like a drum at a carnival.

Leaving her small town embraced by the sea, leaving Venice, leaving her home... Going with these two women who offered the cure to her loneliness and the mystery of her powers.

All those thoughts flooded Rosellina's mind.

"Really?"

There was nothing but excitement in her voice as she uttered those words, as if her very appearance became even more vibrant.

"Of course," Ororo said with a smile towards her, seeing the excitement in her eyes.

Rosellina rose from her seat, her face lighting up with a vibrant smile as she looked at them.

"I'll go get my things."

She announced before leaving them, almost running. She didn't ask questions or anything; she simply went to gather her things, thrilled at the thought of leaving with the two mutants.

Jean and Ororo glanced at each other before bursting into laughter at the young woman's enthusiasm.

"She's so adorable," Ororo let slip with a grin.

As they waited, Jean and Ororo strolled around the place, eager to explore before departing for America. Naturally, the girl needed some time to pack. Jean wandered to the balcony, where Rosellina's unfinished painting awaited her.

I guess Rosellina won't be able to finish you, Jean thought as she gazed at the painting, still half-done. Only a path could be seen-a trail through a forest, a path without a visible end.

Where did Rosellina intend for that path to lead?

It seemed they would never know, as Rosellina would leave with them, and that path would remain unfinished.

Ororo wandered past the walls, smiling with each painting she saw. The canvases were so beautiful-dancing muses, lively meals, places that seemed too incredible to exist. She was sure Charles would love it if Rosellina could contribute some of her works to the mansion. He was a man who appreciated art and history.

As Ororo turned, she noticed a slightly ajar door up a small staircase. Through the crack, she could see more paintings. An attic? Ororo thought. It felt improper to indulge her curiosity, but curiosity won over common sense.

Ororo climbed the stairs cautiously and pushed the door open a bit more, just enough for a small peek. A little look wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

Her eyes widened at what she saw. She had expected old or unfinished paintings similar to those that adorned the house. But no. These paintings were... eerie. The magical, fairy-tale-like forests that seemed to be the hallmark of her work had turned into a living nightmare.

Creatures born of nightmares, people fleeing from visible horrors. Red, fire, terror, blackness.

In an instant, pink had shifted to black.

Ororo scanned the paintings quickly. Why were these paintings hidden away in the attic? The darkness hidden within the pink that decorated the rest of the house, an unseen shadow that seemed absent from Rosellina's bright eyes.

She felt slightly uncomfortable but impressed. The style reminded her of that romanticism movement, of how Charles had once shown her the paintings of the Spanish painter Goya, who lost his mind over the years. After the war, and with his hearing gone, his art had changed as he became exiled to France in the 19th century. That memory led Ororo to think that artists often had their hearts tied to their hands, painting what dwelled in their minds, letting those thoughts spill out.

Could this be a representation of Rosellina's loneliness?

She wasn't sure, unable to draw solid conclusions. Perhaps a visit to Goya's works had inspired her to create her own collection of dark art, copying them with her gifted eyes. Perhaps she had hidden these paintings for herself, knowing they were not the type of art most people would enjoy. But these paintings must have meant something. Still, Ororo decided not to ask Rosellina about them. It was private, after all, and she shouldn't be here. She wouldn't give the girl the bitter taste of knowing she had snooped into something she kept hidden.

But it was something small that she would definitely mention to Charles upon their return.

Once Rosellina had everything packed, the three women stood outside the house. Rosellina turned to look at her home one last time, her gaze lingering on the balcony where her unfinished canvas still rested. She closed her eyes as if saying goodbye to her sanctuary. She looked around at the sea that had always surrounded her, the same sea that sang lullabies to her during the night.

I'm ready.

She thought, smiling one last time at her beloved town. At least she knew that the house would remain, bringing happiness to tourists who visited. Her contribution would remain as a treasure to the town that cherished it. She would miss her golden Venice, though she knew she would return one day.

"Shall we?" Rosellina heard Jean's voice behind her.

She turned her back to her house and looked at both women, nodding confidently. Ready to take that path into the unknown.

"Yes."

______________________________________

Paradise was granted to the innocent soul, free from greed, sinless, endowed with wonders.

But when does the blessing turn into a curse?

When does the paradise shown become the depths of hell?

#fanifiction #fanfic #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #james logan howlett #wolwerine #x men #oc × canon #hugh jackman #booklr #xmen fanfiction

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vodika-vibes · 9 months

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A Selkie's Love

Summary: One day, while you're on your way to work, you return a leather coat to a man who dropped it. Only to find out later that the man who's coat you returned was a Selkie.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x Reader

Word Count: 1845

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I pulled a muscle in my shoulder, so typing is very painful for me right now. That's what I get for taking apart a cat tree that's taller than me.

The first time you meet Tup, it’s a bright day. Sunny, without a cloud in the sky. And hot enough that you regret that you don’t have a job that allows you to work from home.

In fact, it’s a nice enough day that you consider calling out from work to just lounge in the sun on the beach. In fact, you spend a whole 30 minutes fantasizing about pulling your new bikini out of the closet and just laying in the sun while you got ready that morning.

Of course, you’ve always been too responsible for your own good. So instead of pulling on your bathing suit and calling out, you pulled on your thinnest and most comfortable set of business attire, and pulled your hair into a professional knot at the base of your head, and headed out of your apartment to the ferry.

You have several important meetings that you need to be present for today, after all. Not to mention the negotiations for the werewolves are finally entering their final stage and you’re so close to getting them the land that they need to be safe-

You release a heavy sigh as your phone chimes that you’re getting a new message, and you glance at the many messages as you walk down the street. Several of the notifications are unimportant (a reminder for your nephew’s birthday party at the end of the week, a notice that your rent has been pulled from your bank account, a text from your mom reminding you that she and her husband are going on a cruise next week and that you promised to dog sit-) though some of the emails you got that morning are important (the Vampire coven you’ve been in negotiations with have elected to move rather than continue negotiations with the other coven, and the company that was dumping toxins on native dryad land decided to pay a settlement rather than risk court).

But, all in all, it was normal stuff that could be dealt with when you got to the office. Nothing that you needed to deal with immediately. And nothing that was going to ruin your day before you even stepped into the office.

You flip your phone case closed and decide to take a moment to look around to see if there is anyone taking the ferry that you know. The ride is always a little less miserable when you have someone to talk to.

Your gaze lands on a massive family, where a group of identical triplets are practicing their howling under the prodding of an older sibling…or perhaps a cousin. Their parents seem to be doing their best to get them to stop, but don’t seem to be having any luck.

Not far from the family is a group of college students, huddled together around books and whispering frantically to each other, all of them clutching massive cans of some kind of energy drink, and you do not miss those days.

The only other person waiting for the ferry is a young man, strikingly handsome, with long hair pulled into a knot and a teardrop tattoo on his face. He’s talking on his phone, and has a nice leather jacket thrown over his arm.

Weird, it’s far too hot for any sort of jacket, let alone a leather one, but that’s not your problem. After all, it’s not your job to police other people.

Your phone chimes again and you flip the case open so you’re able to read the message just as the ferry pulls into the dock.

It’s a simple reminder from your boss about the food preferences for the clients for the day, and by the time you respond and have the message cleared, you’re alone on the dock.

You release a quiet curse and hurry towards the ship, only to pause when you see the very nice leather jacket that the handsome young man was holding only a moment earlier laying on the ground.

For a moment, you hesitate, and then you sigh and walk over to the jacket. Now that you’ve seen it, you can’t just ignore it. So you stoop down and pick it up, laying it over your arm, and then you hurry onto the ship.

The jacket is much nicer than you thought. Soft and warm, and you absently run your fingers over the soft material as you search the ship for the young man.

You peek into several of the large rooms, and heave a sigh of relief when you find him near the back of the ship.

“Excuse me,” You half jog over to him, “Sorry for bothering you, but you dropped your jacket outside.” You smile at him and hold the fine material out to him.

Now that you’re standing closer to him, he really is incredibly attractive.

He very gently takes the jacket from your hands, his gaze locked on your face, a look of surprise on his face, “...thank you.” He says slowly. His voice is low and pleasant to listen to.

“You’re welcome.” You reply with a bright smile, mentally giving yourself a slap. You know better than to be distracted by a pretty face or a pleasant voice, some of your best clients were Sirens after all.

You open your mouth to say something, only for your phone to chime, “Oh. Um…I’m glad I was able to help.” You say quickly, before you turn away and press your phone to your ear, leaving the room to head to a different part of the ship.

You put the handsome man out of your mind. After all, it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again.

Several long days later, you’re very grateful that the weekend has finally arrived. Tragically, the nice weather from earlier in the week went away as a cold front came through, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You desperately need to get out of your home and go for a walk. Or a run.

So instead of pulling on your bathing suit and hanging out on the beach until you're cooked to a crisp, you pull on some leggings and a tank top, and decide to go for a walk in the rain.

You wander in the rain, enjoying the feel of the cool water against your skin and enjoying the peace and quiet that comes with the rain.

You meander through the streets until you come to the small beach that no one comes to regularly because of how close it is to the tree line and because of how little space there actually is to spread out here.

In fact, unless you’re misremembering, at high tide the water comes right up to the trees, which makes this beach a poor place for families to come and relax. But it is a nice place for you to clear your head.

So you settle on a raised root, and stretch out to watch the waves.

In all, you were probably sitting for about half an hour before you heard a startled noise from behind you. You turn your head and find yourself looking at the same young man from the ferry several days earlier.

He looks just as surprised to see you as you are to see him. Though, in retrospect, if he was on the ferry at the same time as you, you really shouldn’t be surprised.

The young man shifts his weight and nervously rubs the back of his neck. And you stare at him, bewildered. You can’t think of any reason why he’d be so nervous to see you.

He glances at you, and then his gaze darts away quickly, “Um…Hi.” He finally says, sounding incredibly nervous.

“Hi?” You turn on the tree root so you’re able to look at him properly. He’s soaked, but then, so are you. And you can’t help but notice that his ears are burning red, and he’s fumbling with something, though you can’t really tell what it is.

He really is incredibly handsome, you note, almost absently. He’s also incredibly fit, which you can only tell because his shirt is soaked and sticking to his body like a second skin.

“Um…so…I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you,” He says quickly, though he’s still not quite looking at you, “I…uh…have something for you.”

“...for me?”

“Yeah.” He glances at you, and then walks over to you, pressing the item he was fumbling with into your hands. “Here.”

It’s a small box, and when you open it, your breath catches and your face burns. Because inside the simple box is a delicate looking ring with a beautiful blue stone set in the middle. “Is…this is an engagement ring-” You squeak out.

“Well, yeah. I figured…we should probably get married in the human way too-”

“What?!”

He looks at you, and though his face is darkened with a blush, there’s something soft and adoring in his gaze, “My name is Tup. I’m a selkie, and you returned my coat to me-”

You stare at him, “I…I thought that was a myth-”

“Uh, well, unlike a lot of the myths surrounding selkies, the whole coat and marriage thing actually is true.” Tup admits, “As a side effect, it also makes me completely enamored with you.”

“What?”

“Well, most people wouldn’t return a selkie’s coat. They keep them so we can’t run away, but you returned it without so much as a second thought.” Tup says with a small grin.

“Yeah, because it’s not mine.” You say faintly.

“You’d be surprised at how many people don’t care about that,” Tup replies with a shrug. “Do you like the ring? It took me ages to find one that I thought suited you.”

You look back down at the ring in your hands. It’s delicate looking, with the metal twisted and curled almost like waves around the stone. “It’s beautiful.” You consider the ring for a moment, and you consider what you know about Selkies, and then slide it on your ring finger, and you’re vaguely aware of Tup’s blinding grin.

“You don’t have a problem with marrying me?” He asks.

You shrug, “We’re married whether I have a problem with it or not. However, I would like to treat this like we’re dating?”

“I can do that!” Tup blurts quickly, “Dating! I can do dating!”

He’s standing right in front of you now, and his touch is feather light as he trails his fingers over your hands, ghosting over the ring for a moment, before returning to your hands.

“You’re so soft,” He says with a sigh, an almost blissed out look on his face. “Would you like to meet my family? They’re all looking forward to meeting you.”

“All? What all?” You ask.

He grins at you, “I have a very large family. What do you say?”

“I’m hardly dressed for a family meeting,” You reply immediately.

“You look amazing!” Tup says immediately, “Please?”

You sigh softly, “Alright.” You allow him to help you to your feet, “Let’s go meet your family.”

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #clone trooper tup x reader #tup x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

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valentinedaughtler · 11 months

Text

GRISHAVERSE MASTERLIST:

•smut🫀

•angst🥀

•fluff☁️

•headcannons✨

•series 🌘

•drabbles 🌱

•Song fic🪩

______________________

Characters:

•Kaz Brekker

•Haven’t I Given Enough?🩶💜🌱

Synopsis: You’ve known Kaz for years, inventing gadgets to assist in heists and being his right hand ‘man’. One night you ask him if you can join a heist, but it doesn’t go as planned….

•Tainted Opal (Part 1) - A ‘Tell’ in Poker🌘🩵💜

Synopsis: You are a seductress who owns a large stolen jewelry business in Ketterdam. You approach Kaz for assistance after your business partner steals all of your money and your poison ring.

•Tainted Opal (Part 2) - Hand-Stitched Crimson Roses🌘🩵💜

Synopsis: You meet up with Kaz for a meeting on the down-low at the Crow Club, but your vulnerability slips.

•Tainted Opal (Part 3) - Pirates🌘🩵💜

Synopsis: You prepare for the heist, boarding the ship with Kaz and his Crew. (Domestic fluff with the crows)

•Tainted Opal (Part 4) - Tattoos on Her Chest🌘🩵💜

Synopsis: When Pirates attempt to rob the crows, you use your tailor abilities to trick them. You attempt to open up to Kaz.

•Tainted Opal (Part 5) - To Kill a Mother🌘🩵💜

Synopsis: When Kaz questions your life before Ketterdam and your trust, you discuss your upbringing with him. (You also cook dinner with Kaz and it’s cute.)

•Tainted Opal (Part 6) - Kaz Brekker Always Had a Reason🌘🩵💜

Synopsis Your boat has been docked in Fjerda and you forgot your coat…. (But Kaz has a coat…👀)

•Tainted Opal (Part 7) - Had You Met Him Before?🌘🩵💜

Synopsis: you dive into your history regarding Kaz when you had first met him- bested him, and then a guy tries to kill you in the woods.

•Tainted Opal (Part 8) - No Strip Poker!🌘🩵💜

Synopsis: You test your skills in an intense game of poker with the Crows. Kaz gets fed up off and you have to cool him off.

•Tainted Opal (Part 9) - His Eyes of Hatred🌘🩵💜

Synopsis: You truely recall the time you and Kaz crossed paths as young teenagers. How you fled from your pirate ship into the dark streets of Ketterdam, only to find a scoundrel to scar.

______________________

Character relationships:

•character x character🤍

•character x fem!reader🩵

•character x masc!reader🩷

•character x gn!reader🩶

•Characters x reader💜

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

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reallyromealone · 1 year

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Constance Lefour x male reader

Soulmate au

This fandom doesn't exist yet

Think of it as marketing lmao

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

(name) looked wide eyed as he glanced out the air ships window, the Amethyst city: Oraculum. The massive city peaking from the clouds, built from the mountains.

Grand gothic stone buildings surrounding the large castle like building carved from the side of Mount Ilfred and a large violet crystal floating on a large spire, connected from two points shaped like a moon, the deepslate castle having old detailed carvings and stained glass windows of the capitals inception and newer editions from the war.

It was loud and bustling as people of all kinds stepped off the airships from places far and wide, (name) held onto his suitcase as the sound of bells and whistles for people to board could be heard, ships refilling on anything needed and loud chatter. His feet stepped against the old cobblestone as he followed the crowd to customs, standing in line as security checked luggage.

They were imposing, navy garrison uniforms with golden embellishments.

"Next" (name) broke from his thoughts as he stumbled to the guard and set his briefcase on the old oak table "name and country of Origin" he said simply and (name) some nervously "(name) (lastname) and I'm from Froja" he said and the guard glared slightly and mumbled something under his breath along the lines of 'end time bastards' and (name) kept quiet about it.

It had been two hundred years yet the world was still recovering from the war, the country of Froja wanting to harness the planets core to power everything and anything though it's methods were less than great, slowly killing the planet till it was ended by the country of skyla; a nation that was torn from the planet by his countries wrong doings.

When the officer was finished (name) scurried out, uncomfortable at the situation

Glancing around be looked for signs of his friend, grinning when he spotted him smoking off to the side "you know that'll kill ya one day right?" He teased as toddy glanced at him groggily, ash Grey eyes peaking from his dark lashes as his messy curly strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a bun, his eye bags present "I'm here to have a good time, not worry about those things" (name) always admired toddy, the man never worried.

The two walked through the bustling dock onto the streets as (name) took in the city before him, townhouses and shop houses filling the streets, colorful and vibrant as vendors and shoppers alike entered and exited, being the magic hub of the world many stores were magic relatedToddy walked to a Grimoire shop and pulled out keys, unlocking the side door leading to the upstairs apartments and (name) looked curious "my my, throwing a party are we?" A voice chimed out and (name) glanced to see a pretty man with ivory white hair that fell to mid back, straight and soft looking, His Almond skin a stark contrast to it all. He was tall and lean, a black turtle neck and fitted slacks with nice looking loafers. "Hardly, (name) this is my neighbor Constance Lefour, Constance this is my close friend (name) (last name)"

"Opposites really do become good friends... friends with this sleepy bum" Constance teased at Toddys messy clothes, the teachers dress shirt always dishevelled and sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos "Maybe I should get a roommate.." Constance said with false thought and Toddy snorted at the concept "please, you would probably tell them of their deaths with unsolicited fortunes"

"Never hurts to know when it will all end, makes one value life a bit more, you all have such little time" he spoke as if he and everyone else was different.

He was a weird pretty man.

Constance walked off without another word and Toddy rolled his eyes "accept a fortune at your own risk, he tends to get strange with them" Toddy remarked and (name) nodded "he seems like quite the character" he joked and Toddy huffed playfully"that barely covers him as a person"

"I have another neighbor, she runs the shop downstairs, she joins me for dinner or Constance as she's legally not allowed to cook" he explained and (name) raised an eyebrow "why?"

"She can't cook for shit, she almost burned the building down a few times so she's been banned as it's seen as a safety hazard"

"Fascinating"

"Also if you see a Siamese cat, don't give him food that's Winston and he already tricks like four people"

These folks seemed strange but the fondness in Toddys voice proved they were dear friends to him.

(Name)s belongings arrived a week prior, the man spending his time unpacking his room while Toddy took a nap, the man never getting enough sleep as long as he knew him.

"Thanks again... I really should get a new one" Moira said sheepishly as milsha helped a familiar get dressed for his adoption, Harold dressed in his best for a farmer just outside the capital.

"It's no problem! So what do you guys even do here?" (Name) asked as a group of angry hamsters stomped around squeaking angrily, he had never seen hamsters with mullets before but it was a first for everything he supposed.

"Ah! We help the spirits of forgotten pets start a new life as familiars for witches/warlocks and wizards! Petcrpmancy if you will!" She said cheerfully and (name) looked wide eyed "that's an incredibly noble of you two to do, I'm sure they will all find good homes" he said as a dodo bird in armor challenged a broom to a duel.

"Well I best be going, good luck Harold" (name) said and the cat looked happy as the necromancers bid their farewells.

(Name) explored the city a bit more, it was way different that back home as the sun shone high almost blindingly "oh? We meet again" a familiar voice rang clear and (name) looked to see none other than Constance flipping a shop sign to open and (name) looked at the old shop sign "Constance' magic Bazaar" "that's correct, anything and everything is sold here~"

"Fascinating, got any plant keeping grimoires?"

"Ah trying to save those poor plants from toddy Dearest?" Constance teased as they walked into the chaotic store, truly he had everything as items stacked everywhere and tagged messily.

Constance seemed to know where everything was as (name) looked at all the magical items "would you also like a fortune reading on the house?" He offered as he set the book down on the counter and types numbers into the register "50,000 Gūya" he said simply as he rested his chin in his hand, resting on the old mahogany counter as (name) paid with his Holo-com, a device that truly showed the mix of magic and Machina.

"Sure, why not" he said and Constanc practically beamed at this his honey eyes dancing with joy as he cracked his fingers, pulling a note pad and a pen, drawing sigils on it "projection magic?"

"Don't you want to see it?"

Constance spoke some encantations as he took (name)s hands and placed it on the paper "fortetīo" he said simply and removed the others hand from the paper as it set itself on fire, light projecting from it.

"What kind of fortune is it?"

"A love one"

(Name) Raised an eye brow and Constance shrugged playfully "I'm a sucker for romance~"

The two watched the fortune of (name) waiting at a table in black and white dressed in a suit and looked happy when he noticed.... Constance walk into frame?

"Well then"

"My my, never thought this is how I would meet my beloved, been so long I thought I didn't have one ~"

"Why's that?"

"Don't worry about it"

Toddy sipped his tea tiredly as he took it in "good luck" he said exhausted and (name) smiled sheepishly as Constance fixed his hair up, always trying to get Toddy to look less like he rolled out of bed "I promise to return him by eleven~" he teased and Toddy rolled his eyes "you better, he starts work tomorrow"

#x male reader #x reader #xreader #xmale reader #Constance lefour x reader #Constance lefour x male reader #familiar friends x reader #familiar friends x male reader

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allwormdiet · 28 days

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Gestation 1.3

I'm gonna be so annoyed if Automattic kills Tumblr before I finish reading this series, but anyway

Again, Taylor, I adore you and I've barely even gotten to know you, but this costume is so fucking scary and if that wasn't on purpose I'm not sure how you missed that.

Incidentally, was thinking about this haste during my shift yesterday. The events of 1.1 are massively critical to the entire rest of the story's events in a way I hadn't initially registered, even when they were laid out in 1.2: the incident with the juice wasn't just another awful moment in Taylor's life, and it wasn't even meant as a simple establishment of the bullies' characters. The destruction of Taylor's notebook is what puts her out here on the streets tonight, and of course her first night out is a momentous one.

WOW just going right into it huh. Crack whores and gangsters. Taylor you live next to these people and, if I understand correctly, you live in a single-income household and your father works for the Dock Worker's Union, in a city where there's no dock work. You wanna show a little more sympathy for the have-nots next door.

...Is there still a crack problem in Earth Bet? Like crack cocaine pretty decidedly fell off in its presence and profitability in our own world, for a lot of reasons. It could be a matter of timeline differences, but this one irks for some reason.

Whatever, moving on.

There is a certain kind of delicious symbolism in the Protectorate being so removed from the city it's charged to protect that it is literally an artificial island on the water, bristling with force fields and missiles that have never even been used. Taylor finds the defenses comforting, but will they protect Brockton Bay?

And again I'm a little surprised at the lack of sympathy for the people who lost work with the Docks losing their lifeblood; the rich get richer and the poor are there to be goons for the costumed lunatics trying to make money off those rich dickheads. No care for whether the goons are doing it because they want to or because they're trying to make the best of a bad situation.

For now I'm gonna just chalk this up to Taylor thinking like a cop, but I suspect with the different POVs in the Interludes it's gonna turn out no, Wildbow's thinking like a cop.

Kinda more of the same as above. Interesting that the Docks are short on power, but in a really bleak kinda way; the first two chapters weren't shy about describing the lingering cold in the Bay, that can't be comfortable in there.

I know everyone who's already read Worm is well past this point, and I know enough to not be surprised, but this first introduction to the ABB is not heartening. Like I know a bunch of them are here as a diaspora, like Japan just straight up doesn't exist anymore, and I can't imagine that Brockton Bay treats its immigrant population super well, given the fucking Nazis running around so sticking together is somewhat reasonable, but like. Pan-Asian ethnic gang (which is a fucking oxymoron in itself) that hangs out in a mostly-abandoned neighborhood with no profit opportunities? What, are they bullying the drunks for spare change?

Also it's such a petty gripe but what the fuck with the red/green gang colors, it makes me think of Christmas and it ruins the seriousness of the moment.

Yeah hey I know this guy

Wild to know Lung just goes around shirtless, doesn't even put on a jacket or anything.

Again that lumping Asian cultures together by calling the dragon tattoos from "Eastern" mythology, I know Taylor probably doesn't know which ones they're from but she doesn't have to specify. Just, ugh. I need to move past all the gang based narration before it spoils things.

Current Thoughts

Yeah so that thing up at the top where I mused that the destruction of Taylor's notebook being a fundamental stepping stone in the novel's timeline was partly informed by osmosis, because I know this first night is important for a lot of reasons. Obviously got a bit longer to go before we see the rest of the night play out, and of course the repercussions form literally the entire rest of the novel, but that's for later.

Meantime, God, people have told me Wildbow was a frustrating writer when it came to like, the treatment of nonwhite people and poverty and the root causes of crime and all, but it really is a different beast to experience with my own eyes. What a fucker. I'm probably gonna get real sick of that down the line, but I've navigated around worse writer habits than this.

Probably gonna keep reading through the evening. Let's go save the Undersiders.

#worm liveblogging #liveblog #parahumans #worm gestation #wormblr

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rotworld · 1 year

Text

9: Meat Market

(previous)

you end up somewhere you'd rather not be. a familiar priest wants to make you feel welcome.

->contains gore, mind control, non-consensual touching, religious content.

You need a shower.

You’d like to wash your clothes, bandage your knees and palms and lay down to ease the pressure on your sore hips and core, but all of that pales in comparison to your visceral need to rinse the grit and disgusting sticky sensation from your skin. You tilt the rearview mirror, examining the throbbing, tender bites and scratches adorning your skin. There’s a mark right where your neck meets your shoulder, not flushed and irritated like the rest. It’s faded like an old tattoo, just barely visible; symmetrical symbols, twin forking arches.

Antlers, you realize. Just high enough to peek out of the collar of your shirt.

It’s a long way to the University. You wouldn’t make it there tonight, even without this awful ache in your lower body. You scan the roadside for signs promising lodging or even a rest area, desperate for somewhere to stop. There’s nothing for a long time, even when you escape the lingering grasp of Verlinda and the treeline falls away. You see foggy plains and farmland, rows of ripe corn behind a wooden fence. For the first time in a while, you encounter other cars on the road. You see the finger-like silhouettes of factory smokestacks, a blocky city skyline in the distance.

You notice the smell as you drift into the exit lane. Sharp and savory—spices and dried meats. Your mouth waters. A shower, you think, and then maybe a hot meal. It’s a small town, you notice, more like Henley Creek than Prismville with its sleepy main street and quaint coffee shops. You drive slowly, looking for courier signs, but you see something else first; something that makes your heart skip a beat.

A metal sign straddles the road. A bridge gently arcs over a stylized river, colorful text following the curve. It says, “WELCOME TO NELTON.” You consider for a moment how desperate you really are.

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: I ADORE YOU BY QUEEN ADREENA]

A river squirms through Nelton from north to south, sandy paths and old, soggy docks lining the bank. The city is a spacious, small town sprawl, meandering avenues dotted by benches, kitschy local shops and garland-wrapped streetlights. There’s some sort of special event or holiday coming up, implied by the colorful banners and 50% off sale signs, but not one you’re familiar with.

Downtown is bustling. You’ve arrived just in time for the lunch rush, watching hurried foot traffic stream through cafe and diner doors. Churches pop up like weeds every few blocks but they’re smaller and in poor condition than you expect, white, wooden buildings that look like they might topple in a strong breeze. You park on a busy avenue, walking slowly by the windows of a florist, an antique shop, an apartment building, looking for courier signs. You’re starting to lose hope when you round the corner and nearly run into someone.

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking—oh, hello again.”

You stare at the man in front of you. Have you met before? He’s smiling like you have but nothing about him is particularly memorable. You feel like you’re flipping quickly through a product catalogue and all the models are blurring together, pleasing to the eye but unobtrusive so as not to distract from the rest of the image. He wears a white shirt and black slacks, suspenders curving over his shoulders. And gloves, you realize, black leather gloves. You ran into him in Prismville.

“Courier! What a pleasant surprise!” There’s another man with him who you recognize immediately. Malachi is dressed in the same cassock as the last time you saw him, hands clasped together in front of his chest. “I’m so glad you’re here. Was it a long drive? Why don’t you join Mr. Bachman and I for lunch?”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay, but I’m sure the two of you will have a lovely time.” Bachman smiles and slips past you gracefully. He claps a hand on your shoulder as he goes, leaning in just slightly. “Don’t eat anything they offer you,” he whispers. He walks unhurriedly to a small, silver car parked by the florist. When you turn back around, Malachi is slightly closer, his smile just a bit wider.

“I had no idea the two of you were acquainted. What a small world!” he says.

Anticipating his charisma, the way he draws you in, doesn’t help. You feel yourself relaxing, the tension leaking out of your shoulders. The glow of his eyes is even fainter outside in the Drift’s weak daylight, but you notice the slightest golden hue rippling around his face. “We’re not, exactly. I saw him a while ago. Didn’t have time to introduce ourselves,” you admit.

“Ah, that sounds about right. He’s an anchorware repairman. Always rushing off to the next place, a bit like yourself. We just had to recalibrate our whole stabilizing array and I wasn’t sure it was done properly. It was kind of him to rush out and take a look—” Malachi cuts himself off suddenly, eyes widening in surprise. He hooks two fingers beneath the collar of your shirt and tugs it slightly to the side, staring, no doubt, at the mark of the Stag. “What happened here?” he says softly.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, leaning out of his reach. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I could really use a shower—”

“Goodness, of course,” he says, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. You’re walking before you’re fully aware of it, letting him guide you down the street. You’re leaving downtown, ambling down a long, green path to what looks like an industrial park. A massive complex of metallic buildings, steel walkways, and gaping delivery bays greets you at the end of the path. That spicy, savory smell you first noticed on the way into town is stronger here, almost cloying.

“Employee showers are in this building here. And no, nobody will mind,” he says, steering you towards a smaller, rectangular building with its own parking lot, separate from the rest of the factory. “You’d be more than welcome to use my bathroom if we were closer, but I live quite a ways from here. I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up sooner rather than later.”

Before long, you’re walking down a long, echoing hallway, passing people in stark white uniforms. Everyone smiles and nods or waves to Malachi, a few exchanging cheerful greetings. They’re polite to you but not overly friendly, seeming to sense your unease. The shower room is clean and spacious, and thankfully unoccupied when you arrive. There’s a plastic bench against the wall with clean towels stacked in a pile. The stalls are around the corner. You can’t help but notice Malachi lingers, leaning against the wall beside the bench. “You can leave your clothes with me. I’ll make sure nothing happens to them,” he says, smiling innocently.

You’re too tired to argue. You go around the corner to undress, wrapping a towel around your body and hand off your clothes, extremely aware of Malachi’s fingers brushing against your hands. The lights are dimmer. The glow of his eyes is more noticeable and eerie.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” he asks, winking. “Are you delivering something, or just passing through? I suppose you’re always passing through, regardless.”

You slip around the corner and into a shower stall, turning on the hot water. It’s heavenly, soothing on all your scrapes and scratches. “Just passing through,” you call over the hiss of running water.

“Ah, the exciting life of a courier. Doesn’t it get lonely?”

You don’t answer, lathering some soap in your hands. The presence of amenities, several different scents and varieties of shampoo, makes you curious. “What is this place?”

“Nelton’s biggest employer,” Malachi says wryly. “Food processing, meat packing, and animal feed manufacture, all under one roof. Or, well, a series of connected roofs. It’s a big complex. If you noticed a particular odor around town, this is where it comes from.”

“And it’s got showers,” you marvel. “Nice ones.”

“Food is the heart of the community. Those who work with it are afforded the highest respect.”

You’re waiting for the invitation to lunch but it never comes. Are you being paranoid? There’s something odd about Malachi, and Bachman’s whispered warning is lingering in the back of your mind, but you towel off and get your clothes back without incident.

“You’ve got plenty of daylight left,” Malachi says. “So I suppose I can’t convince you to stay a while longer.” His eyes flick down to your neck when you come out of the showers, an irritated twitch at the corner of his smile. “That’s a stubborn spot of dirt, isn’t it?” he says.

You saw it in the mirror. The mark of the Stag didn’t come off, but you didn’t expect it to. “I’m sure it’ll come off eventually.”

He insists on walking you back to your car and you let him because it seems harmless, and you’re not sure you could navigate out of the factory complex alone anyway. You’re still a bit sore but you smell clean, at least, and your mood has lifted. Nelton’s peaceful scenery puts you at ease. The belltower spire of a courthouse periscopes from the center of downtown. A fried, buttery scent wafts from a seafood restaurant along the river. Wind skims across the surface of the water, stirring gentle waves.

“It’s a nice place, isn’t it?” Malachi asks, ambling along the sandy riverbank beside you.

“It is,” you say. A pair of fishermen seated at the edge of a dock wave at the two of you.

“Have you seen much of town? I meant to show you around. You might’ve noticed there aren’t any courier signs, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome. Just the opposite. Everyone in Nelton is more than happy to help a courier. Food, lodgings, supplies, whatever you need, you don’t need to worry about finding it here.”

“That’s generous,” you say. The suspicion must be evident in your voice or on your face. Malachi laughs softly.

“The law of Nelton is hospitality. It’s simply what we do here. We’re especially appreciative of couriers, of course, but anyone who comes all this way would receive the same treatment.” He pauses, gazing across the water. You stop beside him, watching the waves lap at the rocks and meandering tree roots on the far shore. “Our most important holiday is in less than a week, the Feeding of the Multitude. Are you familiar with that particular story from the Bible? It was one of the miracles of Jesus. He took a couple fish and a few loaves of bread, gave thanks for them, and distributed them among the faithful and needy. This blessed food fed thousands.”

He’s watching you, you realize, studying your face. “Ah,” you say, unsure of what sort of reaction he’s expecting.

“That spirit of generosity is the essence of Nelton. Whether you follow the faith or not, it’s good to give, right? To feed the hungry and shelter the lost.”

He reaches for your hand and the thought that you should pull away passes through your mind, fizzling out just as quickly. It’s fine, isn’t it? You know he means well. He just wants to take care of you. His gaze is steady and warm, full of affection, as he tugs you closer. It occurs to you that this is strange, improper somehow, that a stranger and a priest of all things shouldn’t be holding you like this, but that thought, too, melts away.

“The truth is, a miracle happened here. Just like the fish and loaves,” he says quietly, so quietly you have to lean in closer. You get the sense that this is a secret he’s telling you, something not often given to outsiders. His hand is on your face, his thumb stroking your lips. His eyes are beautiful, gold like honey. “Are you hungry, courier?”

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. You think that this isn’t right, that you were leaving, weren’t you? You were going to get back in your car and keep going south but that seems too difficult now, not worth the risk. Where is your car? Where’s the florist and the antique shop? Isn’t that where he was supposed to take you? Hunger rakes through your belly. You’re ravenous. You could eat everything you have, all the eggs and junk food the Singer gave you and still not be satisfied.

Malachi is still watching you. You don’t know what he sees but it’s something good, something right, happiness blooming in your chest as soft and sweet as spun sugar when he strokes your cheek. “Then I should feed you, shouldn’t I?” He holds your hand, lacing your fingers together, as he begins to walk again. You’re leaving the river behind, ascending a steep, grassy hill. Town is far away, small in the distance. How far did you walk without realizing it?

There’s a church here that’s not like the others. It’s much bigger. It’s the same old style, the same white paint flaking from the exterior and the same dead leaves and spiderwebs gathered in its gutters, but its walls are wider, its steeple taller. Soft, golden light flickers beyond the windows but all you can make out are vague shapes and silhouettes. You stumble, your feet suddenly refusing to work.

You can’t go in there. The thought is a lightning bolt, a sobering shock to your system. You absolutely cannot go in there. The Stag has a presence like a forest made of eyes, the paralyzing, primal gaze of ancestral predators and the weight of a hundred thousand trees. This is worse. You aren’t glimpsing the beast through a leafy canopy but wandering right up to its maw, engulfed in its hot, butcher shop breath.

“It’s alright,” Malachi says gently. “Don’t be afraid, it’s alright. I know how it feels the first time.”

“I can’t…” You shake your head and pull back, away from him, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip on your hand tightens. “I can’t, I can’t—”

“Holiness isn’t as pretty as they make it look in Renaissance paintings. It’s messy. Visceral. It breathes and it bleeds, just like us.” You sink to your knees and he follows you, kneeling in dry, prickly grass—red, you realize, the grass is red and the dirt is red and everything is slick and glistening and red. You are kneeling in the vivisected insides of a thing stretched and splayed across miles. The trees are stiff stalks of sinew and leaves of thin, veiny membranes that pulse and ooze. You smell meat, cooked and seasoned to perfection. Malachi cups your chin and urges you to look at him.

“Let me go,” you beg him. “I don’t want this.” Fear, too, is a shriveling impulse, weak against the warmth of his hands stroking your hair.

“You do,” he coos. “You poor thing, I know you do. We’re all hungry and we all deserve to eat.” He cups your face in his hands and leans in so the gold of his eyes is all you see. Sharp, searing pain erupts in your neck and shoulder and you shove him off of you, scrambling back in the grass. You touch the spot, feeling for a wound.

There’s nothing. Just the tingling heat of the Stag’s mark. Malachi looks shocked and then really, truly sad, gaze gentle with sympathy. He reaches out to you and you scramble to your feet, running without ever looking back.

Nelton flickers around you. Sometimes you see the town, sometimes the flesh. Squirming ropes of intestines dangle like power lines. The road is cobblestone, and then it’s a row of teeth. You can’t tell which is real. People watch you, pausing their routines to peer out of windows and lean out of their cars. All of them frowning, all of them with furrowed brows and eyes emanating the same golden light. They don’t stop you. You’re afraid they know something you don’t.

Your car is where you left it. You screech out of your parking spot and make a beeline for the edge of town. The red fades. The road, stone and sterile, welcomes you back. That savory smell lingers for a while, and then it turns sour. You feel nauseous. The sky darkens and you check your clock, discovering your brief trip through Nelton cost you several hours. The sun will set soon and you feel worse than before, sick and exhausted and dirty all over again. Turning back isn’t an option. You’ll have to settle for the next place you see. Whatever you find, you assure yourself, it can’t be any worse than where you just came from.

(next)

#rotpeach writes #goretober #the drift

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