#I can see her joining the vigil maybe

[morgacht]

Day 3 - Old OC - Fiadh Soot step cloud

Fiadh ! My little lady, my first character (a Charr ranger)

Formerly of the Soot warband, Fiadh’s an ash legion ranger who really has spend her time out in the wilds to the detriment of her social skills. Her first warband was pretty disfunctional, and while that’s not. Great. She kind of really wishes they hadn’t gone and DIED-

She didn’t languish as a gladium for long however, taking back up with the Cloud warband and changing her name accordingly.

She like. Fairly languishing around level 35 right now, smh. And she has been since 2020! I just didn’t vibe with ranger so much and used a lv. 80 boost on morg and RUINED MYSELF

She’s fun, she has stuff I could work with and I’ll certainly get back to playing a ranger eventually. I just prefer Elementslist and Mesmer right at the moment.

[hiddenbeks]

im getting obsessed w isabeau again which is a good thing bc i miss my evil horse girl... one of my oldest video game o cees... but its also a bad thing bc im still very much in the middle of my heidrun pt and continuing it is starting to feel like a chore. the urge to just rush through the main questline and be done with it grows ever stronger

[livmightlive]

Legend’s real fiancé/fiancée

this is probably my dumbest one yet

The chain has picked up on Legend occasionally mentioning a fiancé. He gets flustered every time. It’s one of the only real ways to catch him off guard. Since it’s a Link trait to be nosey, everyone is WAY up in Legend’s business. Each time they mention it though, Legend just blushes and waves them off.

The chain meets Fable at some point and she’s cunning, sarcastic, and funny. She seems like a very good match for Legend and… She goes doe eyed around him. She can’t take her eyes off him and she seems to hold onto his every word. Sky can recognize her affection for her hero from a mile away. He’s so happy to see that he’s not the only one in love with a Zelda. Twilight hangs over his shoulder, also understanding the love between a princess and her hero. So they slide up to her and asks if she and Legend are engaged. Her reaction is a little shocking. Her eyes go dark, her posture rigged. Her good mood is ruined. No. She’s not his fiancée but she wanted to be and tried. There’s so much she could offer him. They could be so happy. But no. To both men’s horror she has angry tears in her eyes. “I hate his stupid partner. It’s just.. AUGH.” She stomps away to sulk.

When the chain meets Ravio it all clicks. The man practically hangs off of Legend, linking their arms, hip bumping him as he passes. For Hylia’s sake they’re ROOMMATES. Time and Wars share a knowing look. During the war Ravio was always mentioning a special someone after all. So Time and Wars slide up to Ravio, teasing grins and all. They ask him if Legend was his bunny. They ask if the two are engaged. Ravio gets a wistful look on his face. It’s a bit sad and a little confused. Ravio tells them all about how he had asked Legend if he wanted to be more than roommates, not necessarily engaged, but partners. Legend apparently turned him down with lots of grace explaining he was already taken. Ravio had thought that maybe Legend was put off by them being mirror counterparts of each other, that could get pretty weird to be honest… but… it couldn’t be more weird than what Legend had!! Who he was engaged to! Ravio goes to the cellar to find the hard cider they make TOGETHER from their apples from the orchard.

Wind and Four are hanging out an a beach when a seagull joins them. Between Wind’s affinity for ghosts and Four’s Minish magic, they can understand her squawking. She asks about Legend, she’s very worried about his wellbeing. She relieved when they tell her he’s doing well. They piece together that this is the lovely Marin Legend has spoken of on more melancholic nights. She must be… ah it all makes sense. Fable’s frustration, Ravio’s hurt. Legend must’ve been engaged to his dream girl. The girl who he had to leave behind. The girl that still keeps vigil over him even when he doesn’t know she’s there. He must be unable to let go… So they ask her if she’s Legend’s betrothed. Somehow, for a bird, she puts on a stank face. Her feathers ruffle, she smooths them down with her beak. Ahem… no she’s not. She looks annoyed for a bird. Even while Legend was sleeping and she was there as his literal dream girl, Legend didn’t even go so far to kiss her. He just had such a strong feeling that somebody else was waiting for him… When she started a new life, that of the sky and sea, flying as a bird, she went to see who this person who was so special to him was and… she huffs and flies off, leaving a plume of feathers behind.

The chain ends up in Labrynna and there they meet Ralph who is ecstatic to see Legend. He also wears just as many if not more rings than Legend himself does. Wild and Hyrule exchange a look. Could it be possible that one of those rings might be a wedding ring? So Hyrule and Wild ask, probably too directly but Ralph… He sighs, shakes his head. When Legend came this way it seemed everyone had wanted chance to go on a date with the hero. Ralph wasn’t excluded from that group… but by the time he asked Legend to do something sometime, maybe something a little romantic, Legend kindly shot him down and told him of his engagement. Ralph was like ??? we are 15. (At the time of oracle of ages) Ralph gets a strange look on his face. He tells the chain that Legend’s betrothed is HERE. In Labrynna.

so of course they beg to meet this person. Everyone has so many questions. Legend has so many people that want him, who are so into him. How does this person surpass all of them? Legend, blushing like a maiden, agrees to introduce them. He leads them through the forest.

and this is her.

when he introduces the chain to a tree they think he’s lying. Not just a normal tree, but a talking one. A talking tree that’s annoying. She’s so offended when they don’t believe Legend. She demands her fiancé, omg is this real??, make them apologize. The chain doesn’t know what to do. Legend hugs her bark and she giggles. Hyrule breaks away from the chain. He looks concerned. “Legend. You were 15 when she proposed. How old was she?”

pandemonium breaks out when he mentions she must have been somewhere over 400 years old. He tries to claim that she’s like their age in tree years but it doesn’t really work.

idk if they stay together after this but I couldn’t get this stupid idea out of my head 😭 I hope somebody enjoys this!

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Confessions

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: T || tags: post vecna, references to stancy, angst and fluff, robin buckley just being herself

~~~

Eddie and Robin were just finishing filling the snack bowls and mixing drinks when they heard a knock at the door. It’s a Friday night– and not what Eddie would consider a late hour–but they weren’t expecting anyone to join their weekly movie night at Steve’s. 

He glances at Robin who shrugs, shaking her head. As he rounds the kitchen counter towards the foyer, Steve’s voice carries down the hallway.

“Nance?” He sounds surprised too.

“Steve, I’m sorry I know it’s late, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I can’t wait anymore,” she says. Eddie can’t see her, but she sounds anxious. 

“This can’t be good,” Robin huffs. He agrees, if the sinking pit in his stomach is any indicator.

“Look, Nance, now’s not really–”

“Steve,” she barrels over him, sounding desperate. “I’ve been an idiot trying to convince myself that I haven’t missed you since we broke up– and before you say it, this isn’t because Jonathan left after we closed the last gate. When we were stuck there with Robin and Eddie, the way you looked at me was how I’ve always hoped someone would love me. You looked at me like I was everything to you, like you could look at me forever and never get tired of it. I feel wanted, and loved, and safe when I’m around you.” She takes a deep, steadying breath before pressing on.

“Last time, when we were together, I took all of my grief and anger out on you. I blamed you for  what happened to Barb because I couldn’t face it myself and I knew you loved me enough to hold the weight, and I resented you for it. You wouldn’t stand up to me, and I resented you because you loved me anyway.” Eddie can hear Nancy sniffling, small sobs carrying down the hallway. “You loved me at my worst, and you didn’t deserve that. You’re amazing, and strong, and kind and everything I could ever ask for.

“Steve, what you said in the Winnebago, I just, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us”

The silence that follows is stifling and Eddie feels bile climbing up his throat. Arms wrap around his shoulders as Robin tucks her head into his neck. Only a small comfort while months of gentle moments with Steve flash behind his eyes: soft hands brushing his curls, stolen glances, lingering touches, and warm smiles. Now Eddie’s forced to stand vigil as it’s all washed away by Nancy's whispered pleas.

“Nance, please–”

A spark of hope after a late night confession weeks ago– swiftly blown away.

“Steve Harrington, I lo–”

“Nancy,” Steve interrupts, his tone firm yet soft around the edges, “I’m in love with someone else.”

Robin gasps into his neck. Her arms around his shoulders squeeze tight, anchoring him to reality in the wake of Steve’s confession. His chest is so full he can’t breathe. 

“Oh,” Nancy whispers before another, deeper sob leaves her breathless. He never thought he’d hear Nancy Wheeler cry. Even though they’re apparently both in love with the same man, he’s grown close with her too and can’t help the urge to comfort her. Eddie’s grown to love everyone in his new found family. But Nancy is right. 

“Yeah Nance, I’m sorry. And they’re kind of here right now, so,” he says gently.

Steve Harrington is everything. 

And they’re kind of here right now…

Hope flames in his chest, blooming with warmth. Eddie doesn’t hear the conversation end over the buzzing in his own head and Robin’s frantic giggling until they hear the click of the front door and Steve’s footsteps coming towards them.

“Oh.”

Steve’s standing in front of them, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Eddie’s realizing he and Robin maybe should’ve hid before Steve rounded the corner to find them eavesdropping. 

“So,” Steve stammers, a fierce rouge burning his ears, “how much of that did you hear, exactly?”

Robin quickly stands, clearing her throat before Eddie can think of an answer. “Is that the microwave? Did anyone else hear the microwave ding? I think the popcorn is done, so I can go check that right now. Yeah, right now. I’ll just, umm, be in the kitchen checking the popcorn. For the movie.”

She practically sprints down the hall, and although she wasn’t subtle, Eddie’s still thankful for the privacy. Steve’s shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Everything,” Eddie answers. “We heard everything.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. He sounds anxious and unsure, something Eddie’s compelled to fix, because all he wants in this world is for Steve Harrington to be happy.

“It’s ok.” He takes Steve’s hands in his own, tracing his thumb lightly over his knuckles. “We won’t say anything to her about it, and we won’t tell anyone what she said. Nancy’s in safe hands with us. Mum’s the word!” And as Eddie mimes zippering up his mouth, he hopes that Steve won’t take the easy way out. That he won’t use the life-raft Eddie’s just thrown in his direction to keep him from drowning. 

“Right,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he gazes at the floor between them. The silence as Eddie waits for Steve’s next words grows long and tense. He can’t hear any movement in the kitchen, making him more anxious now that he knows Robin’s listening. Which, he’d be a hypocrite to be mad about.

Maybe he has this all wrong. Maybe Steve just needed a way to get her to leave, so he lied about having a date over. Maybe he didn’t know what to say, and just said the first thing to pop into his head. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with Eddie at all. 

Eddie realizes he’s still holding Steve’s hands, his grip tightening the longer he spirals. If it hurts, Steve hasn’t said anything. But when Eddie looks at his face, he seems dazed and lost in thought. As fast as if he’d been burned, Eddie drops Steve’s hands and takes a step backward.

“So,” Eddie stammers, voice shaking, “I’m going to go help Birdie with the popcorn. You want to get another movie started?”

Hands still frozen in the air, Steve finally lets his clenched fists fall to his sides. Eddie can see the whites of his knuckles. He hears Steve sigh, exhausted and frustrated, but Steve’s nodding with furrowed brows and taking a step backward towards the living room– away from Eddie. Too far to reach out to.

Turning away, Eddie’s in the middle of forming an escape attempt when he opens the kitchen door to immediately be swept up in Robin’s arms. Of course she’d been listening. He’s grateful for it, now that he doesn’t have to explain himself. As he buries his face into her neck, he finds a wet patch and wonders what kind of accident she got into while prepping snacks. It’s not until she starts gently shushing him that he realizes he’s crying, tears soaking into her shirt. 

“It’s gonna be ok, teddy bear,” she says, running her hand through his curls, “he’ll get there, I promise. He’s working on it, you know that.”

He nods. He does know that. Steve’s been out to Robin for a few months, but only to Eddie for a few weeks. He deserves the space to figure it out, and the grace of those around him to do so at his own pace. Still, Eddie can’t help his growing impatience alongside the increasing severity of his crush. At least Robin’s here to support the both of them.

The two of them finish gathering the snacks in silence. She was full of awkward jokes to try to lighten the mood, but when it was clear Eddie was stuck in his head, she’d stopped. He feels bad about it. He’ll make it up to her later, plus he knows she’s not upset with him. Eddie suspects they’ll be getting together sometime tomorrow to rehash everything that’s happened– after she’s finished consoling Steve, of course.

When they leave the kitchen, Eddie’s surprised to find Steve exactly where he’d left him. He’s standing frozen in the hallway, lip pulled between his teeth and hands still clenched. But when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s, there’s resolve behind his eyes.

“Eddie,” Steve says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Oh my god! Finally!”

Eddie jumps violently at Robin’s shouting, almost directly into his ear. She’s flushed red with embarrassment decorated with a manic grin so wide he wonders if it’ll just keep stretching like taffy. There’s popcorn poured out onto the floor from where she clearly threw her hands up in excited exasperation. He watches as her eyes grow wide, her smile morphing into shock, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’, as if to say ‘oh shit, I just interrupted the most important moment in my best friends’ lives because I’m so excited and impatient that these two dinguses finally figured their shit out’.

She kicks the scattered popcorn towards the wall, like that’ll somehow hide the mess, before awkwardly passing them both down the hall towards the living room.

Eddie loves her so much.

“Huh,” Eddie chuckles, “well that was–”

“I’ve known I’ve liked you since last summer when you let me help you into my pool onto Holly’s rubber duck floaty so you could finally go swimming after you finished physical therapy.” Steve sounds out of breath, words running into each other with misplaced breaths in between. Like if he stops, he knows he won’t start again. 

It’s the only time Eddie’s felt the urge to keep quiet– when he’s not fighting for his life.

“You were so nervous,” Steve plows on, “but you said you felt safe with me, that you wanted only me to be there. You said you trusted me to help without laughing or judging you. Fuck, Eddie, you were so goddamn cute once we got you settled in with a Coke with a crazy straw in it. We were listening to ABBA and you didn’t even complain and you were so sunburnt the next day. It was the happiest I’d ever seen you.”

The memory leaves Eddie shocked. He did trust Steve to help, didn’t even consider asking anyone else because Steve just felt like the most obvious answer. He’d been there through the worst of Eddie’s post-PT work to make sure he ‘kept form’ on his exercises. They’d lounged in the sun all day, and it was the first time Eddie watched Steve relax since his final Upside-Down battle. 

Eddie feels his lip quiver, eyes burning, knowing they’d felt the same that day. Judging by Steve’s watery eyes, he guesses they feel the same now, too. 

“But love,” Steve whispers. He swallows as he takes a step closer, reaching out to grasp his hands. “Eddie Munson, I knew I was in love with you yesterday.”

His shoulders tighten as he recalls yesterday, surprised because they hadn’t seen each other at all, one of the rare days where their schedules didn’t line up. It was the first time in months they’d gone longer than thirty-six hours without seeing each other. Sure, they’d talked on the phone while Steve worked, but it’s not the same.

“I know,” Steve laughs, clocking Eddie’s confusion. “I thought about you all day. Couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. Robin had to work with the customers because all I kept thinking about was tonight. If you’d get here before Robin, so we could sit out by the pool and smoke. Where we’d sit for the movie and if we’d get to share the popcorn bucket. If you’d pick a movie I hadn’t seen, so you’d lean in close and tell me a million random facts, even when you know I don’t really get it. But I just like when you’re close, next to me, and–” he hesitates– “I think that’s why you do it.”

Steve lifts their joined hands, wiping a tear from his eye using the back of Eddie’s knuckles. He returns the gesture, wiping what Eddie’s guessing is a mix of tears and snot off of his own face with Steve’s sleeve. 

“I think you lean in because you want to be close to me, too, and you don’t actually care about the movie either. Eddie, I think you ask for my help because you trust me in a way only Robin does. You give me cute nicknames like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘pretty boy’ because you’re teasing me, but I think it’s mostly because you really mean it.” Steve’s stepped closer now, and Eddie can feel the warmth of shared air between their gasping breaths. 

“I think you tease me and lean into me because you want my attention,” Steve whispers, brushing his nose alongside Eddie’s as their foreheads touch. “But Eddie, you’ve always had my attention.”

Eddie surges forward, capturing Steve’s tear-soaked lips between his own in what has to be the snotiest kiss either of them has ever had. But he doesn’t care. How could he? Eddie’s kissing the man he’s been in love with for almost eight months. 

Steve drops Eddie’s hands in favor of running one through his dark curls, while the other grips tightly at his waist. He can’t help but cup Steve’s cheeks, running a gentle thumb along his cheekbones. 

It’s soft and messy and everything he’s ever hoped for, because Steve Harrington is his everything, and he’ll do anything to keep him. Right now, he doesn’t have to worry about what they’ll tell their friends, or how they’ll explain this to Nancy, or even if Robin’s listening behind the door– he’s sure she is. No, right now, he lets himself bask in the glow of Steve’s love and soak in the comfort that Steve feels loved in return.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER SIX: MAKE OUT FAKE OUT

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SUMMARY ↳ An unlikely ally appears! “I know you’re Spinnerette.” . . . What. The. Fuck. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: (the non-existent) threat of blackmail wc: 4.4k

Victoria’s been acting weird. You suppose it’s normal given the events from last week. Since then, multiple articles have come forth speaking of Robin and Spinnerette saving the day. The people of Gotham seem to be taking to their new arachnid friend well.

But back to Victoria—she struggles to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds. It doesn’t stop her from being a stern teacher though, so you guess nothing other than that has changed. Whatever, you have better things to worry about.

Progress has been… progressing with the badassium. You’ve begun assembling the makeshift particle accelerator, but Karen estimates that you’ve only built three percent. And it took you that long. Have mercy.

You’re currently in the Den, looking over your creation.. The walls are lined with various tools and blueprints, and the centerpiece is the skeleton of the particle accelerator. You sigh, wiping sweat off your brow. This is going to take longer than you thought.

Karen’s voice chirps in your ear. “Perhaps taking a break would help clear your mind, [Name].”

You glance at the clock. It’s already past midnight. Maybe she’s right. “Yeah, I guess so.. Let’s call it a night.”

Robin meets you on the rooftop you’ve perched yourself on. He crouches next you, watching the streets below. Robin’s eyes follow the movement below with a practiced vigilance, his dark cape fluttering slightly in the breeze. The city's nightscape is a blend of lights and shadows, with the occasional sound of sirens breaking the relative silence. He glances at you, his expression giving nothing away.

“Long day?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“You ask, why?”

You groan, stretching out your stiff muscles. Robin tracks the movement. “Surely you wouldn’t come hang out with me just because you felt like it. I doubt one night of ass-kickin’ makes us friends.”

“This is not ‘hanging out’,” he grumbles, making you nod your hand in a ‘you’re proving my point’ fashion. “I am simply taking a short recess, you happen to be in my resting spot.”

“Yeah, uhuh.” You don’t believe him for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to really care.

“Batman wants you on the team.”

You damn near fall off the rooftop. “What.”

“Perhaps you are older than I thought, if your hearing isn’t on par,” he smirks.

“First of all, my hearing is way better than yours, fuck you,” you quip, quickly righting yourself. “Second of all…” you hesitate, “can we take a raincheck on that?”

Robin looks at you. “I… am busy right now. And do not have time for a team… yeah. Also, I just prefer to be alone.” The words come out choppy, as if you’re coming up with them on the fly (you are). That last part is a straight lie, you love your Avengers.

You know Robin obviously is skeptical, but he says nothing. “Why does Batman want me, anyway?”

Robin shifts slightly, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “You share the same goals we do. It only makes sense to join forces.”

Robin's words hang in the air, punctuated by the distant sounds of the city below. You shift uncomfortably, trying to process the unexpected offer. Joining Batman's team? The idea both excites and intimidates you. You've always admired the vigilantes of Gotham from afar, but becoming a part of that world was another matter entirely.

You don’t belong here. It was different when you were asked to officially join the Avengers, but fictional comic characters turned real? Your mind wants to melt. You don’t want to drag them into your mess.

“I really do appreciate the offer, but…” you sigh, and lean back. “...not right now.” And probably never. You clear your throat and stand up, Robin following. “Well, it’s been awkward. See you!” you rush out, quickly swinging away. Robin eyes you until you swing out of sight, thinking.

“They denied.”

Bruce sips his tea, humming. “Did they say why?”

Damian comes to sit next to his father. “Their reasoning was that they were ‘too busy for a team’ and preferred to be alone. It was very obvious they were hiding something, father.”

Bruce sighs, putting down his cup. “We’ll keep trying to convince them, slowly,” Bruce adds as he sees Damian moving to get up. “Stay cautious, but also stay amiable, Damian.”

Damian scoffs. “I am amiable.”

Bruce chuckles as Damian leaves.

Ms. Varley announces a project at the end of class the next morning.. The class groans loudly, of course. “It should be fun for you young folks,” she emphasizes, like it disgusts her. “It is a partner project,” the class lights up for a second, “with your tablemate.” You swear you see a glint of satisfaction in her eye as the class slumps. You and Damian look at eachother. “Together you will explore unconventional perspectives on any known superhero or vigilante of your choosing.”

The projector shows a powerpoint labeled “Hot Takes”. A few snorts are heard. “I want you to to challenge yourselves boldly,” Ms. Varley states, walking around to pass out the rubric. “You’ll select a figure that intrigues you and craft a thesis that challenges the traditional view. Support it with thorough research and present your findings in a persuasive manner."

“It’s not about being right or wrong, it’s about being able to defend your point.” Ms. Varley takes her place in front of the classroom. “This is your final project. From now until winter break, we will be spending our Fridays working on it. Only Fridays, so I suggest working on it with your partner outside of school.”

She sits down in her chair, signaling that she’s done talking for today. Buzz fills the classroom immediately, peers chattering and making plans. You scoot your chair closer to Damian. “I know what I want to do,” you declare.

“As do I,” says Damian, facing you.

“My take is better,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

Damian scoffs. “I sincerely doubt you are capable of coming up with something adequate to the challenge.”

“Don’t be a hater Damian, it makes you look jealous,” you tease.. The bell rings, filling the class with sounds of hustle and bustle as students pack up. “Oh! Before you go,” you say, grabbing Damian’s wrist. You hold out your phone. “Number?”

Damian looks at your phone in confusion. You huff. “Your phone number, Dames. So we can contact each other and plan our project?” you clarify in a ‘duh’ tone.

You watch as he stares for a moment, before taking your phone and putting in his contact info. “You will come home to the manor with me,” he declares.

You blink. “Huh?”

“We will start working on it today,” he elaborates, handing you back your phone. You fumble with it for a second before shoving it in your pocket. “The faster we get it done the better.”

“Um, ok. Yeah, makes sense,” you gulp.

This time you’re the one distracted in ballet. Victoria huffs and snaps at you multiple times, so you figure she must be back to normal. Art class proceeds as norma, Ms. M making you practice your color theory. You hold back on designing new iterations of your suit, something you did a lot of back home out of sheer boredom.

Damian guides you out of the school with a hand on your back, like he did at homecoming. You wonder what exactly he is doing, since you know he feels the eyes and points at the two of you from other students. You sigh, hopefully nobody bothers you about it.

Alfred greets you at the gates, this time you make sure to actually get his name officially. Damian gets in the car first, pulling you in by the hand. Your shoulder bumps into his as you land with an ‘oof’. The ride to the manor is silent, leaving you twiddling with your thumbs. Thankfully, the ride isn’t too long.

The manor looks imposing, standing here looking at it. It’s different from seeing it from WEBBERs point of view or from an inked page. Damian grabs your arm, snapping you out of your daydreaming. He leads you through the grand halls of the mansion, his steps confident and purposeful. The interior is as opulent as you imagined, with rich furnishings and tasteful decor that speak of wealth and history.

"Your family's home is... impressive," you remark, trying to break the silence as you’re dragged along.

Damian nods curtly, saying nothing. You sense there's more to his demeanor than just his usual aloofness.

He leads you to a spacious study lined with shelves of books and a large, fancy desk at its center. Papers are neatly organized, and a computer hums softly in one corner. Damian gestures for you to take a seat. You do, placing your bag down beside your chair. Damian sits next to you.

You take out your laptop and open a new powerpoint. “My idea was that we do it on Batman,” you state, turning to Damian. “I think Batman is part of a cycle of violence. I think that he does help and protect people, but he also enables a lot of the behavior from criminals.” You stand up and begin to pace the room.

“He inadvertently contributes to a culture that normalizes violence as a means to solve problems. I mean, all of his criminals eventually break out of arkham. Scarecrow literally attacked our school a while ago! Criminals respond to Batman’s intervention with heightened aggression and increasingly dangerous tactics, which results in a cycle where each side justifies escalating their actions in response to perceived threats.”

You pause, stopping your pacing. Damian is staring at you. You cough. “That’s all to say, violence begets violence, hurt people hurt people, yadda yadda,” you grin sheepishly.

Damian nods intently. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the armrest. After a moment of silence, he speaks, his voice calm yet decisive.

"Your perspective is not entirely without merit," Damian begins, his tone measured. "Batman's methods have indeed perpetuated a cycle of violence in Gotham. His reliance on fear tactics and physical force against criminals often leads to heightened retaliation and more extreme measures from his adversaries."

He shifts in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly. "However," Damian continues, "one must consider the broader context. Gotham City is a cesspool of corruption and crime, where conventional methods of law enforcement have repeatedly failed. Batman's presence, while controversial, fills a void where the justice system falls short."

Damian stands up abruptly, pacing the room with a controlled energy. "His actions, while extreme, have prevented countless tragedies and protected innocent lives. The criminals he faces are not ordinary. They are deranged, relentless, and would wreak havoc unchecked if not for his intervention."

He stops in front of the window, gazing out at the expansive grounds of Wayne Manor. "Batman's commitment to justice is unwavering. He sacrifices his own safety and personal life to ensure that Gotham's citizens have a fighting chance against the darkness that plagues our city."

Damian turns back to you, his demeanor earnest. "Our challenge will be to present a balanced argument," he concludes, returning to his seat. "Acknowledging the complexities of Batman's methods while critiquing their consequences. We must delve deep into both sides of the debate to craft a compelling thesis."

You nod, absorbing Damian's perspective. You’re impressed, but yeesh. He could’ve been more subtle, in your humble opinion.

“I’m impressed,” comes a voice from the doorway. You and Damian turn around to see–

Bruce Wayne. You sigh deeply inside your mind.

“Father,” says Damian, looking a bit lost. “How long…?”

“Since your friend started speaking. I apologize, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I only meant to introduce myself when I heard your compelling argument, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, looking awfully apologetic. Of course, Batman himself heard all that.

He turns to you and sticks out his hand. “Bruce Wayne, Damian’s father.” You shake his hand humming in affirmation.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you smile. Alfred comes in with some snacks and refreshments, placing them down on the table. You and Damian thank him, seemingly on autopilot. Bruce smiles at Damian.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he says, and then he’s out the door.

You rub your palms on your pants. “Welp,” you hum, sitting back down and pouring yourself a cup of tea. “I think he likes me.” You pour a cup for Damian and pass it to him. He sits back down as well, accepting the cup.

“I think he does, as well,” mutters Damian, sipping his tea.

The rest of the evening is spent refining your argument and laying out the skeleton on your powerpoint. Despite Damian's initial reservation about your abilities, you find that you complement each other well in terms of ideas and research methods. You check the time, it’s a little past nine.

“I should get going, I don’t wanna leave Nari alone for too long,” you say, beginning to gather your belongings. Damian raises a brow. “My cat,” you clarify.

Damian's eyes brighten very subtly. You know what he’s thinking, so you show him the picture you took of Jon holding Nari. “He’s cute, right?”

Damian analyzes your picture like it’s an art. He nods in approval. “You shall have to bring him over to meet Alfred.”

“The.. butler?” you question, as if you don’t know better.

“The cat.”

Damian walks you out of the manor where you find Bruce. His eyes spot you two approaching and nods in acknowledgement. “Alfred is already waiting outside for you,” he tells you. You nod and step outside, feeling the cool air hit you. You thank Alfred as he opens the door for you, stepping inside. Damian and Bruce are standing together on the porch. Bruce is telling Damian something, but he is only looking at you.

You send him a hesitant smile, and he nods at you.

Bruce watches the car drive off. “Still suspicious?” he asks.

“Nothing of note has happened,” Damian begrudgingly tells him. Bruce warmly chuckles.

“Well,” he starts, looking at Damian. “I like them.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “I do not like what you are insinuating.” Bruce shrugs innocently, stepping back inside the manor. Damian stands in the cool air for a moment, before following him inside. 

The dance instructor has a headache, so she says that you all can do whatever you’d like, as long as you don’t bother her. You sit against the far wall, laptop on your legs. You’ll use the time to finish the assignments you’ve been procrastinating on.

Victoria surprises you by sitting next to you. She surprises everyone else to, if their wide eyes are anything to go by. They quickly look away at her glare. “Hey, Vicky,” you mumble, unbothered.

She pretends to look interested in what you’re typing. Her eyes watch your fingers as they rapidly move across the keys. She clears her throat.

“I would like to practice some more after school. I expect you to be there,” she says primly.

You raise a brow, still looking at your screen. “There’s no practice today.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t be asking you if there was. I just think… it would be beneficial to us.”

You look at her. She’s crossed her arms and is looking down at her lap. You exhale and nod. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t have anything planned after school anyway. Victoria nods, sitting beside you for the rest of the period.

Damian suggests that you come over again to work more on the presentation, but you have to deny. “I have a ‘special’ practice session with Vicky,” you wink.

Damian ignores your innuendo in favor of furrowing his brows. “You don’t have practice today.”

“First of all, what do you know?” you huff, putting your pencils away. “Second of all, you’re right. However, Vicky has ordered extra practice. Just the two of us.”

Damian grips his bag a little bit tighter. You wave goodbye as you leave the classroom, heading to the dance studio. Victoria’s waiting for you, still in her uniform. You place your bag down, suddenly tense. Victoria crosses over to you, grabbing your hand. “Shut the door,” she demands.

You obey, curious. “Something wrong?”

She fidgets with your web-shooter-turned-bracelet, like she’s looking for something. You’re not worried, the form it’s in right now gives nothing away, but you are really confused right now.

“Vicky?” you implore, trying to catch her eye.

“I…” she hesitates, before straightening her shoulders. “I know who you are.”

You furrow your brow. “What exactly does that mean–”

“I know you’re Spinnerette.”

.

.

.

What. The. Fuck.

You blink, because that’s all you can do. “What?”

“Don’t try to deny it. There’s no use,” she crosses her arms.

“Vicky, this is crazy. I’m not Spinnerette! Was it the Scarecrow attack? Are you still scared? Maybe you should see someone–”

“Spinnerette called my Vicky!” she snarls, pointing a finger at your chest. “No one calls me that but you.”

Your tongue pokes your cheek, stepping back. You never would’ve thought Vicky would be the first to figure you out. Though you suppose you haven’t been as careful as you thought. Fuck, how could you be so careless? Do you still try to deny it? Surely it won’t be that hard, but clearly Vicky is smarter than you think.

“Perhaps she could be a formidable ally,” suggests Karen. “She may have access to resources we need.”

You straighten at Karen’s voice. She’s right, of course. Victoria’s loaded. She can throw money at people to get you the materials you need. Expensive, high quality material. There’s just convincing her…

And maybe… it’ll be nice to have someone else know in this universe.

You sigh and hold out your arms. “Fine, you got me. I’m Spinnerette.”

Victoria smirks victoriously. “Show me.”

“Show you…?” you mutter.

“Show me some proof.”

You blink at the audacity. She was just accusing you of being Spinner, and when you admit that you are, she tells you to ‘prove it’ to her!? You sigh, tired of it all.

You walk to the wall of the room, placing your foot on it and climbing up. It’s a comical sight, the way your body completely changes rotation effortlessly. You walk along the ceiling, moving back to Victoria. Jumping down, you purse your lips and spread your hands. “Happy?”

Victoria’s got a glint in her eye that makes you nervous. She nods, and you set your hands on your waist.

“Okay listen, you know now, there’s no going back from here. If you tell anybody–” you begin, voice taking on a threatening tone.

“–I want to help you!” she blurts.

You blink. “Pardon?”

“Let me help you do your… saving people thing!” she says, waving her hand around. She steps closer to you, eyes shining. Huh. Well, you were going to threaten her and her parents' credibility as members of society. Rich people always have some skeletons in their closets, and you sure as shit are capable of finding them. This is a surprising turn of events.

Still, you scoff. “This is insane–”

“I can be your sponsor! Like whoever makes all of Batman's stuff!”

“I would’ve never expected this from you—why do you want to help me?” you ask incredulously.

“Nothing I do satisfies my parents!” she growls. Oh dear, backstory time. “They literally left me the company to inherit, but doubt my ability to run it. I pay attention, I get good grades and I do everything they say, but they still doubt me. I even try to get with stupid Damian Wayne.” She throws her hands up. “I don’t even like him!”

“I know I can’t tell them you’re Spinnerette, but if I can successfully help you do what you do…” she curls her hands together. “Then at least I would know that I’m good at something.”

You’re left speechless. It’s like you’re listening to a brand new person. You place your hands on her shoulders. “You already are good at something, dance!” You gesture to the room. “You work harder than anyone else here!”

“Dance isn’t my future,” she scowls.

You purse your lips. You have no idea how she feels. The adults in your life have always let you be yourself. Even if they didn’t you’ve always had the backbone to tell people to step off and let you do your own thing. Rich people like Victoria’s parents can get pretty extreme. You wouldn’t be surprised if they disowned her for not wanting to inherit the company.

You sigh, running a hand down your face. “Okay,” you mutter. Victoria stiffens in anticipation. “You can help.” You’ve been evaluating her this whole interaction. She’s a sheltered rich kid looking for adventure and on a weird journey of self discovery. She isn’t looking to rat you out (she kind of needs you, anyway).

She squeals and claps her hands, before clearing her throat and composing herself. “I look forward to our partnership.”

Arms crossed, you grumble out, “uhuh.”

“How do they work, anyway?” she says, grabbing your wrists, pressing around your bracelet.

“Uh, it won’t work in the state that it’s in–” a web shoots out of it, sticking to Victoria’s blazer. You guffaw. “Karen!” you gasp, knowing in the web-shooters’ bracelet form it wouldn’t shoot unless she made it.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she asks cheekily. Traitor. God, she’s been waiting for someone else to talk to, hasn’t she?

 Victoria looks mystified by the web actively attached to her. “Who’s Karen? she asks as she tries to grab the web.

“Do not–!” you grab her hand. “–touch it.”

“Why? Oh, right. It’s sticky, huh?”

“Yes, Vicky. The spider webs are sticky–” the door to the dance room opens, and you stiffen. Shit, the web–

Victoria closes the distance between you two, jumping on you and wrapping her legs around your waist. You instinctively hold her thighs to support her, looking at her in alarmed confusion.

“What–” she silences you by pressing her lips against yours. All coherent thought goes out the window, because literally what is your life?

Her hands wind around your head, and her lips caress yours with a soft yet firm pressure. Your heart races, pounding in your chest as you instinctively tighten your grip around her legs, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body against yours and the taste of her lips make everything else fade away.

After what feels like an eternity, she slowly pulls back, leaving your lips tingling. She gazes at you with a mix of mischief and satisfaction, running a hand through her hair to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. You stare at her in awe, your breath coming in short gasps. She's got balls of steel, no doubt about it. You just gained a whole new level of respect for her.

She looks to the side. “Oh, hi Damian.”

Oh god. You look to the entrance of the room and sure enough, Damian’s there. He’s looking at the two of you with wide eyes, unable to school his expression. He’s stopped dead in his tracks with your phone in his hand.

Wait… your phone!

You shift so Victoria’s back is facing him. You balance her with one hand, reaching between you two to get rid of the web that’s squished between you. You do it quickly, balling it up in your hand and setting down Victoria on the floor and heading over to Damian.

“Thanks, I didn’t even notice I left it,” you smile casually, internally screaming.

Damian says nothing as you take your phone from him, stuffing it in your pocket. You place your hands on his chest and guide him out. “Okay. Bye now. Talk to you later!” He seems to finally realize what’s happening, brows furrowing and looking at you before you close the door in his face. You lean against it, listening. There’s no sound for a bit, before you hear Damian walk away. You sigh.

“Holy shit, Vicky. What the hell?” You can’t help but laugh. You throw the balled up web in the trash, making your way over to her. She’s got a cheeky smile on her face, hands behind her back.

“It’s like I don’t know you anymore,” you tease. She’s looking at you.

“I like you,” she says, making you freeze for probably the tenth time this afternoon. When will it end?

“I have feelings for you,” she elaborates, pacing. “I know that you don’t feel the same. I just…” she stops, turning to face you. Her eyes peer earnestly into yours. It crushes your heart. “...I know your secret. Now, you know mine.”

You whisper, painstakingly soft, “oh, Tori…”

She sniffs, swatting your shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not in love with you or anything.”

Still, you feel like the worst human being ever. It’s not your fault you don’t have feelings for her, you know that. And yet… you’re probably the first person she’s ever shown this side of her to. Dare you say, her first real friend.

You pull her into your arms. “I’m so sorry.”

She melts into your arms, gripping you tightly. Her light sniffles fill the room.”I’ll get over it,” she promises. You only hold her tighter. After what feels like an eternity, she withdraws from you, wiping her tears.

“Okay, some ground rules,” you say, hopefully providing a much needed topic change

“Number one, you can’t tell anyone.”

She nods. “Obviously.”

“Number two, I call the shots. If I say do something, do it. I know better, it’s for the best.”

“Number three, this changes nothing. We can act like friends if you want, but if your grades start dropping or people start noticing you acting strange, we’re done. Got it?”

“Got it,” she agrees. You heave out a sigh. “Go home, Tori.” You web over her bag and hand it to her. She goes sparkly-eyed again.

“Will you patrol?” she can’t help but ask.

“I think I deserve the night off. The Bats can handle it.” You grab your stuff and turn towards the door. “I’m gonna take a long nap when I get home.”

“Let me take you home then!” she blurts.

“Jesus, do all you rich kids have chauffeurs?” you ask. She shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I just wanna lay down and not wake up for three years.”

Victoria bids you goodbye as you make you enter your apartment. You drop your bag, groaning at your stiff shoulders. You sag your way over to your bed, flopping face first into it. You knock out almost immediately, letting the stress of the day leave you. Spideys never have it easy, do they?

notes: y'all i've had that tori scene in mind since i first made her LMAO

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 2 – Pool Party 🌊

This was supposed to be 500 words. It isn't. Also, it was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted drabble. I have no clue how it turned into angst/comfort. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing it and hope you will enjoy reading it! ❤️

Day 1 - Strawberries, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Pairing: the reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: Insecurities, mild angst/comfort, implied nudity

It was yet another boiling hot day and the group was suffering. Having to wear heavy leather armour and full supply packs whilst encountering a veritable cornucopia of monsters certainly did not help their mood.

When you saw the glittering blue thread of the river on the horizon, you felt like falling on your knees and weeping tears of joy. The rest seemed to be just as excited as you at the prospect of washing the grime and dirt off their sweat slicked bodies. Even Lae’zel for once did not complain when Gale tentatively suggested that they continue on in that direction.

Your steps quickened and after another hour you finally felt a cool breeze caress your cheeks. You looked over at your rogue walking a little behind you, the gentle wind teasing his silver curls. Astarion was the least affected by the weather but even he seemed to visibly relax when he realised that they would be stopping shortly.

“Phew, soldier. It is hotter than the hells today. Can’t wait to go for a dip. In fact,” Karlach grinned, “can our leader be persuaded to stay here till tomorrow?”

“Well, it would certainly be good for the morale,” Shadowheart agreed, letting her pack drop with a thud. “I, for one, am not moving anywhere until I wash the viscera out of my hair.”

“Tsk, vanity is a vice, dear,” Astarion teased, moving to set up his tent.

“Says the vainest person in Faerûn and beyond,” Shadowheart shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Most certainly! But you see, it would be a sin against all creatures to deny them the opportunity to gaze in admiration upon my beauty. You agree my sweet, don’t you?” he grinned, looking at you fondly.

“Perhaps, although when it comes to looks, I’m afraid this lot certainly could dethrone you, Astarion. You are an attractive bunch,” you smile at your friends as they prepared to finally, finally enjoy the weather rather than suffer in the heat.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest, but I am just happy that we aren’t getting attacked for once. I am half-expecting something to jump out the bushes at any moment. We need to stay vigilant,” Wyll reminded everyone.

“Argh, monster hunters,” Astarion scoffed, “so paranoid.”

You didn’t hear Wyll’s reply, choosing to step into your tent and begin to shed the layers upon layers that you had on.

As you undressed, you scowled as you uncovered yet another scar. Spells healed cuts and wounds well enough, but unfortunately your body was covered in reminders of battles fought.

You tried not to think about. You had bigger, more urgent matters to attend do. But, as you thought of Astarion’s beautiful, unmarked face, you felt an ugly feeling rise as you thought of how a creature as perfect as your elf would think of you when the adventure would come to its inevitable end.

You knew he was fond of you. Knew that he was grateful for what you did for him. And maybe that would be enough for a while still. But you also were under no illusion about what would happen once it was no longer necessary for your merry little band to stay together. The end of the Absolute would probably mean the end of this alliance. They would all carry on their personal quests, fighting their battles, living their lives. And you would let them go. Let Astarion go too. Because you loved him and realised that there would be nothing worse than deny him the freedom that he so desperately fought for.

You heard splashing and laughter from outside the tent, making you smile. You didn’t feel like joining in, but perhaps you could go for a little swim once everyone settled in for the night. Yes, a midnight dip sounded heavenly.

Hours trickled by and finally everyone bid each other goodnight and soon all was still. You gathered your supplies and put on a thin cotton slip. It was not something that you would usually dare to venture out in, but everyone was clearly resting, so what was the harm?

Quietly, you slipped out and walked barefoot along the shore, careful to avoid the sharper rocks, and made your way away from camp.

As you were about put your things down, you felt the fine hairs on the back of your neck rise. Someone or something was watching you.

“Astarion, if you want to catch me unawares, then you shouldn’t have doused yourself in your signature scent. I could smell you before I could hear you,” you turned, your eyes locking with ruby ones.

“Oh, please! I was hardly being subtle,” he took a step towards you, “in fact, I was all but stomping my feet not to startle you.”

“Sure you were,” your lips quirked into a smile and you shivered, suddenly feeling very exposed as he levelled you with an intense, hungry look.

“Any particular reason for you waiting until now to go down to the river, hm? I thought you just couldn’t wait to cool down.”

You gripped the towel tighter, not wanting to talk about your insecurities. As far as everyone was concerned, you were the confident, daring leader. The one who threw yourself headfirst into the epicentre of any battle. And you would rather walk on red-hot coals than admit that you were self-conscious about your body to Astarion, out of all people. Being in a situationship with an impossibly gorgeous vampire did not mean that you felt worthy of being in a relationship with the said mind-numbingly beautiful vampire.

This wasn’t the most exposed you were, you all but shared a tent and were intimate on several occasions. But sex was about being lost in the moment, there was hopefully little opportunity for him to see the full extent of the damage done to your body over the years.

“Darling?”

Your eyes snapped to his fingers as he reached out to cradle your wet face in his hands.

Shit.

Were you crying? You so were not standing near naked in the middle of nowhere with your intoxicatingly beautiful lover and pathetically crying because you felt that you could never, ever hold a candle to him even on your best day. Except apparently, you were.

“I- I’m sorry. I guess the heat got to me. You should go back to camp.”

“I’m staying.”

“No,” you wanted to sound firm, but it came out far less certain than intended.

“Why?”

You pulled on the hem of your slip down subconsciously and looked away. Astarion was quick to catch on. His eyes softened and his hands fell to your shoulders.

“Darling, how many times do I have to tell you how beautiful you are for you to believe it? I can hardly keep away from you.”

“I know. But that’s hardly attraction. I am just, kind of, there. And you are grateful and, I suppose, maybe you-”

He scoffed. “Don’t insult me by insinuating that I have been forcing myself to come to your tent every night for the past several months. You were the first to tell me that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. And now, I very much want to do this.”

You saw a flash of a blade in your peripheral and then felt the fabric slide down as it fell to the ground. You dropped the folded towel you were still holding in a futile attempt to keep what was left of your clothes on you.

“Perhaps a more hands on demonstration of how I feel about you is in order. Time to be a man of deeds, rather than of words, so to speak.”

His lips found your neck as he threw the dagger on the ground and gripped your waist tight, pulling you closer to his body.

“But my scars-”

“Love, I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth unless it is my name, are we clear?”

“But-”

“You told me that my scars don’t define me. That I am more than just my past. It is baffling that you would show endless kindness to anyone but yourself. So let us not waste another moment. No more words.”

You nodded and your eyes fluttered closed, submitting to his eager hands.

“This is what happens when we have no opportunity for taking some time to ourselves. Yet another drawback of staying within earshot of everyone. We are overdue for a little private pool party, hm?” he said, lifting you up and carrying you to the river.

And then Astarion descended onto you, mapping your body with his lips, committing your sighs and moans to memory.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[isa-ghost]

I had a dream that Phil joined another smp and we eneded up getting more q!Phil lore and now that I woke up I'm lamenting it's not real ;;;;

Bits I remember is him reaching the End with someone else through almost a glitch? Like they were leaving the nether just as a ghast tried exploding the portal and it took them theyre. But like Phil finds a message for him in there? With a green feather in it.

So he follows the message and finds a secret base in the Overworld where he runs into Chay and Lullah???? But as if theyd hatched and became proper players. And it seems fine cause it's Sunmin and Ama voicing them but Phil feels a bit wary (and theres a point where "Lullah" makes a joke in portuguese instead of spanish and Phil corrects her) so the vibes are that it's something mimicking them or straight up hallucinations.

And after he leaves we get revealed that he's still somewhat possesed by the Ender King???? As in the jerk figured out a way to do the more subtle possesion and just influencing Phil and making him forget chunks of time where he was more in control.

I was gonna get villain Phil in my dream and now i'll never know how it goes ;;;;;;

Holy shit that's sick??? Omg???

Allow me to take thos and run for a moment, imagine with me real quick:

My personal belief is that person he went to the Nether/End with was Fit or Etoiles. Or maybe Pierre. Those are largely the people he'd break shit with.

I fuck SO HARD with "Ender King never fully left Phil's body, he left a shred of himself in him Just In Case and it's undetectable (for now)."

I don't know why I'm so stuck on the green feather. Like... Who or what could that be? Idk why I'm so hooked on it, something about that is just so compelling but I've got nothing as to how to run with it. Though for him to find the feather with the message and then find the kids hatched,,, Idk, maybe Chayanne has feathery wings that are green (bc you KNOW Lullah's would be purple).

Also possibly fake Chayanne and Lullah ooouuuuhhhh... Consider: It IS them but that shred of Ender King is amplifying Phil's already usually easy-to-trigger paranoia. Not to mention we don't know how long after QSMP this is, the kids could have plenty of time to change and learn. It'd make sense that Lullah would want to carry on her memory of the Brazilians by learning Portuguese and even if not that, it's not unreasonable to say that During QSMP she could've picked up plenty of Portuguese things from the Brazilians themselves. It's just that Phil has never heard (or perhaps doesn't remember ;D) her making such references.

This is post-QSMP ending since you said it was a new SMP. This is post Death Family finale. As far as Phil knows, his kids are either dead, asleep forever, or hatched into crows back home in Hardcore. How could they have left there to hatch? It's too good to be true. He refuses to believe it's them (at first) because he doesn't want to get his hopes up. He doesn't want to reopen that wound, it's not even closed yet in the first place!

AND THE SPICE OF HIM STILL BEING PARTIALLY POSSESSED. THE KIDS NOT KNOWING YET AND HAVING TO REALIZE IN REAL TIME AND HAVE THE HORROR DAWN ON THEM. AUGH. Like when they see him for the first time, it's SO CLEAR he's doing TERRIBLE and not even just because of the partial possession.

He hasn't been readjusting well to being alone in Hardcore again. He's disheveled, he clearly hasn't been sleeping well, he's closed off, standoffish, a little cold. Not the warm, chill, smiley father still fresh in their minds. He's resistant to making new friendships on this new SMP because he hasn't overcome the pain of saying goodbye in QSMP and is he Hyperaware that eventually he'll have to say goodbye again here and he Does Not Want To. He is just Not doing well mentally and you can physically see it when you look at him.

The fucking spice of the kids not being around to be vigilant and catch that shred of EK sooner, the fact that Phil's been in such a bad state that EK has just been free to fester inside him. And you KNOW the kids would blame themselves for not being around to be vigilant.

Phil doesn't know EK is still hiding in his body yet, he doesn't Know what's festering inside of him, and it's actually hard to say if he'd do anything about it if he Did know because he's so depressed and hurt, he's still grieving. After all, in canon, Phil was very upfront with the kids post-possession that if anything ever happened to them again, he'd give up and just let EK take him.

But I bet you Chayanne and Lullah would remember him saying that as soon as they clock that there's a shred of EK lurking in their dad. And they'd be TERRIFIED that it's on the verge of becoming a reality.

Dude your dream is COOKING, even without me taking it and stretching it out like this. I'm going insane. /pos

[wilsons-journey]

July Tinapple

Engineer • Iron Legion • She / Her • 18 years old.

Future Commander in an alternative AU in which my other Charr don't exist. An AU that is closer to the original Story, yet with a small twist: She is the daughter of Tybalt Leftpaw.

She is also my go to replay the whole Story of GW2 again. Its ages since I last did it.

So you might see her grow in her role as Commander.

More about her under the cut: (Beware of long text / brabble)

July is a temperamental Charr with a short fuse. She lives in the shadow of her sire - getting reminded of his disgrace all her life. That's why she got the name Tinapple in her warband - just to mock her. But also as a reminder of where their roots lie. For July its a fuel to prove everyone she is better than her Sire. That she will never be a disgrace and serve the legion well. She works hard - extremely hard.

Even more when her Warband nearly got wiped during the Ascalonian Ghost attack. Only Maverick remained - her best friend, but also mate for a short time. Their relationship won't last long - it just didn't work out - a recurring theme in her life. But they stay best friends - even later on. Maverick is a person she loves to return to, when she want's to forget the weight of the world. He will never be a friend to talk to about heavy topics, but at least someone who knows how to distract her.

"Looks like failure runs in the family" - a sentence that makes July blood boil. She gets to hear that often after loosing a huge chunk of her warband. It slowly fades, after she proves herself over and over again. Granting her soon the title of Centurion. Her constant need to prove herself lets her slip into something, she actually never wanted to sign on. And she will be too proud, to admit that this title might be to much for her. She will become the Commander - a huge and important figure in the history of Tyria.

And it starts with joining one of the three big orders. But instead of joining Vigil, the order she actually wanted to join. She ends up in the Order of Whispers, where she gets reunited with her Sire. All because of an sarcastic joke and false pride, to admit she wanted to join another Order.

At first she is not happy to see her Sire. He despises him for all the trouble he caused her, for just being related to him. But she will warm up to him. Even starting to see him as a father.

Only to have him ripped from her later on. She will grow so unbelievable angry at this. Hatred against her Sire,... her father will once again boil up. Only to cover how hurt she is, loosing him. July always had problems to express her true feelings. She hides these behind a loud and rude mouth. She will rather yell at you, then admit she is hurt. Its easier. It always was.

She will channel all the hatred for the fight against the Elder-Dragons. She wants them dead - each of them. This might change when she finds an egg - forming a huge crack in all this hatred has accumulated all these years.

Some loose bits: (that might change with replaying the story)

Trahearne, he will play a huge part in her development. He can't ease her pain and the hatred she feels for the world. But he will become someone she looks up to. Someone she feels first sees her worth. Who is truly proud of her. Who believes in her. Despise all her flaws. (Imagine the heartbreak during HoT)

She has terrible anger issues. Something she has to work on for many years.

She is an emotional mess. And she does her best to hide this ugly side. Just as the anger that boils in her.

She is incredible talented in her craft as Engineer. She will take huge part in crafting weapons against Dragons and their minions. They will be effective and absolutely deadly.

Later she will definitely pick up on Jade-Tech

Yet during all the years as Commander, she constantly doubts her abilities. She fears she is not strong enough - especially when Rytlock comes back as Revenant. He is so much more powerful than her. All she can do is craft stuff. Maybe hit hard with her Hammer,... but thats it. Without her Gadgets she is nothing. This gnaws on her a lot.

At one point she might ask Rytlock to take over as Commander - maybe after HoT. Of course he will refuse.

She is friend with Kairo Windshear (Belongs to @brightwingedbat) We still have to figure out a lot. But so far it looks like their relationship is messy. They hooked up for a while, but like with Mav, - it didn't worked out.

She will pickup the love / fixation for apples from her dad.

July desperately seeks for a meaningful something / relationship. Something to hold onto - something that won't leave her and maybe see her. Not the angry mess - but also the person behind all this. Just,... a constant in her life. An anchor, to make her feel safe.

At this point of her journey I'm not sure if she will find it or how this will look like. Will she find a soulmate - as a everlasting friendship or love? Will she make peace with her role as Commander and start to thrive in this role? Will the sudden motherhood for Aurene bring her that? Or with own Cubs?

Who knows. At this point her pages are still blank. Its on her to fill these.

(While writing this,... Gw2 Story has so many moments where they give the Commander something and then its taken away. Even in a way Aurene. Man,... you can fit so much trauma in the Commander. July,... I'm sure you will do your best, but I already see a lot of suffering for you ahead. Good thing she is stubborn,...)

---

And bonus, some screens of her and Tybalt, shortly after their first meeting.

He tries hist best.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

could I have a dark chocolate number 7 with Nico Robin?. Thank you

I just had to get the Robin request I had done today since it's her birthday

Yandere Robin x GN!Reader

1k words

Prompt:

I’ll be right back, I have to go take care of something.

Robin adores these moments.

Being able to enjoy a quiet moment without fear is a gift in and of itself. Being able to do so in your company? Priceless. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The Thousand Sunny was currently docked at a new island, and you two decided to spend some precious downtime at a local cafe after checking out a bookstore. Both of you were silently enjoying each other’s company while reading your respective finds. Words weren’t necessary during times like these. 

Nothing could ruin this.

The door to the cafe chimed as a new customer walked in. Instinctively, Robin spared a glance to see who it was. Such vigilance was a force of habit at this point in her life, one she doubted would go away anytime soon, if ever. Her grip on the book tightened when she noticed who it was.

She hadn’t caught the pest’s name yet, and frankly she didn’t care to. She had encountered him at the aforementioned bookstore when he decided that you were simply the most attractive person he’d ever seen- the one thing they could agree on- and incessantly hit on you until you two were able to sneak out a side door when he wasn’t looking. 

Was it a coincidence that he came here too, or was he now adding stalking to his list of undesirable traits?

Robin’s stiff demeanor managed to catch your attention, “Is everything alright, you look- Oh.” Your eyes followed her own and spotted the problem. You abruptly lifted your book so that it was covering your face, “Maybe if we keep our heads down he won’t see us.”

“Oh hey, fancy seeing you here!”

Shit. So much for your idea.

The nuisance confidently strolled up to the table, zeroing in on you while ignoring Robin. You cringed away as he sidled right up to you; not quite invading your personal space yet, but not far off from doing so either. 

“Yeah, what a coincidence,” you said flatly, not looking away from your book.

Undeterred by your response, he keeps talking, “How about I join you? We can finish-”

“Don’t, just leave.” If you were going to be too polite to tell this prick off, then Robin would take the reins. She had no problem telling some creep that can’t take a hint to piss off. The man gawked at her, taken aback to be getting told off. Robin continued, “They couldn’t be more obviously disinterested in you, get over yourself.”

“I didn’t ask you, I don’t care what you think.” He was positively seething, a vein in his forehead throbbed out.

“She’s right.” His head whipped back to you as you spoke up. “I’m with her. I’m not interested in getting to know you.”

The pest looked so mad that Robin was readying herself to defend you in case he lashed out. After a tense pause, his arm shot out and knocked your books off the table and then he immediately turned to run away from the situation like a coward. But not before spitting out a few absolutely vile words in your direction.

Robin was not about to let that slide. She stood up so harshly that her chair almost toppled over from the force, “I’ll be right back, I have to go take care of something.” 

She started to pursue him, but was stopped by a hand pulling on her skirt. You were on the floor picking up your fallen books and gave her a pleading look, “Don’t. He isn’t worth the effort, just let it go. I’m fine, really.”

Nothing about what just happened was “fine”. Robin herself had a thick skin and didn’t let anything she deemed important get to her. This was important. No one was allowed to treat or speak to you that way. Unfortunately, it seemed you disagreed with that sentiment. Every time she put someone in their place in your honor you would try to stop her and insist that she was being too extreme.

She wanted to go after him… but she also didn’t want to upset you. With a heavy sigh to settle her nerves, she knelt down to help you pick up the rest of your books, “You’re right. He doesn’t matter.” The relief on your face was palpable, and Robin cherished the sweet smile that graced your face after.

Now that the annoying scene was done and over with, both of you settled back into your respective seats to resume as you were before. While you happily dug back into your book, Robin reopened her own. She wasn’t reading it, however.

Using her devil fruit, she spawned eyes around the building. It didn’t take long to find that piece of shit who had dared to impose upon you. He was still close to the building, kicking over some boxes in an alleyway. Robin couldn’t hear what was being said, but with how much his lips were flapping she doubted it was anything she wanted to be aware of.

It would seem his little temper tantrum wore him out. He leaned against the wall of the building, running a hand through his hair as his chest heaved from anger and exertion. A smirk tugged at Robin’s lips when the man began to panic as several arms came out of the wall and grabbed him. A hand clamped over his mouth to keep him from calling for help as two more hands gripped his head. 

A satisfying snap could be felt as she violently twisted his head to one side. He fell limp to the filthy ground of the alley like the despicable trash he was. Robin pulled a tarp over him so as to avoid you potentially spotting him on the way back to the Thousand Sunny. It would be a shame to upset you when you were having such a nice day together up to this point.

Content that the problem was taken care of, Robin dismissed her extra appendages and refocused on the present. You were casually sipping from your drink while turning the page of your book, not having an inkling as to what just transpired outside.

Robin smiled, then properly began reading her own. Today was just perfect.

[besiegedhunter]

So I've thought this since Il Siracusano came out but only today looked into it but know how mysterious Red's situation i.e. being a wolf hunter, has been? How in universe even Kal'tsit, the most knowledgeable person on Terra, didn't even know?

Yeah well odds are that all this time Texas has known that Red was the Fang of a Signori and it's been implied since the game's launch through her voiceline about Red:

It's vague and a case could be made that she's not referring to Red being a Fang however look at IS-ST-1, the first story node of Il Siracusano:

Signore dei Lupi was not mentioned verbally before this. The last time her and Zaaro met was seven years ago after the Texas family purge. The only Siracusan she's really had much interactions with since is Lappland whose implied to not know them.

Zaaro does mention Fangs first but he doesn't explain what a Fang is to Texas, likely implying she knows already and when we learn what Fangs are it's through Zaaro beaming the explanation into Vigil's mind:

So it'd be really easy for him to do so to Texas as well presumably.

So she's known about the Signori and probably their Fangs and their game, assumedly ever since she first met Zaaro seven years before Il Siracusano, so 1092. She would have all this information on hand when she joins Rhodes sometime after 1094 and learns of Red and probably puts two and two together that she is a Fang.

Also it's interesting to me that she knows about all of this and can tell that Red isn't evil but still steers clear of her. Reasons could range from "well she doesn't know her so why personally involve herself with her" to anything like knowing the Signori are immortal and can't be beaten or the Fangs are integrally tied to Siracusa so she doesn't want to be involved.

I think it's interesting and sad at the same time that Texas is one of the two characters Red is attracted to wants to interact with but avoids her while knowing her situation.

Maybe we'll see something with themin the future. They are both in the same storyline and I think it's only fair to see Red interacting more with Lupos once this storyline is wrapped up and while Provence is my main pick, Texas would be good too.

[bonefall]

maybe with the ending.. make it be like the link between Breezepelt's leaving to join Kin and his POV in AVOS? of course from Nightcloud's perspective but

like. she would be injured and recovering away from the clan. but they would be unaware that she is alive and like in canon assume she died and hold her a vigil. Breezepelt, who is already at low point, taking it very badly - yes he was pushing her away bc he was hurt and angry and started taking it out on her, but.. it's still his mom. his Mi. and she is dead? or is this stupid clan just going to believe this to make it easier? are they really giving up on looking for her, or her body??

i can see Nightcloud being the one of very few, if not THE Only one, things that kept Breezepelt in WindClan at this point. and without her, what's the point? it's not like anyone else likes him. the link is gone and they buried it in a bodyless vigil. so it's what pushes him to actuall take the step and leave.

not sure how well it would align with the timeline and events. and how soon Darktail was assembling cats from other clans like Breeze. but i think it would be interesting and heartbreaking if at the end of her SE, Nightcloud just arrived back to WindClan and asks where Breezepelt is and someone tells her.. he either was missing since this morning or just left the clan earlier the same day. like, just have them miss each other by a hair.

I'm thinking that the second-to-last chapter is her with Pickle, having a bit of a sabbatical to unpack everything that happens through the story. Mostly because I want to throw her into some kind of pretty garden as a nice setting for this lmaoo

A LOT of BB stuff is being added to Nightcloud's Pannage that wasn't in the main series; Hillrunner's abuse, her mentor Addersong, several expanded little background characters now complete with their own side conflicts. I think what I can bind all these things with is Nightcloud considering what a Clan means.

Because of her new reputation, I'm noticing I'm writing scenes where she's intentionally doing and saying things to try and sway them. While also grappling with her resentment towards them, and things she can't change.

There's a bit of a melancholy air so far, so I'm starting to feel like the best ending is just having a bit of space to herself to think. Ultimately, she decides that it's more than Breezepelt or Crowfeather that binds her to WindClan. It's the life and connections she COULD have.

WindClan cats are also quite religious next to other Clans, so I really do mean "sabbatical." I'm going to have Addersong die of old age shortly after they reconnect, so she's in Pickle's Garden talking to her new friend, choosing cats she's lost to pray to as patron spirits to give her the traits she feels she needs, and just recovering both physically from injury and spiritually from turmoil.

So all that to say; it works well that by the time she gets back, Breezepelt has joined The Kin. He was one of the first to join when he started calling for members anyway, so having Night be gone for about two or three weeks sounds appropriate.

[freakartack]

hmmmm any volt head canons

VOLTAGE TIME ok so obligatory Papa Volt retread just to get him out of the way. OK now that Papa Volt is done let's move on to the other guys.

18-Volt

-Doing him first because he's my favorite. Anyways 18-volt is an awesome kid because

-Like most other children in Warioware, he has kind of a lonely family situation. He's only ever talked about his mom, who is away a lot as he is able to play video games late into the night unsupervised (unlike the ever-vigilant 9-volt). So it seems like he is kind of a latchkey kid most of the time.

-As a result, he ends up sleeping over 9-volt's house a lot, and he's also kind of glommed onto 5-volt as a friend to boot ("Hi 9-Volt's Mom"). They both canonically have a passion for gardening, so I can imagine they bond over that and she gives him gardening advice and whatnot. Maybe if NINE VOLT wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty he could join in the fun but alas

-Because of his growth condition, he's gotten a lot of shit in school in the past. As such, he is extremely quick to come to the defense of kids in need; he stood up to 13-amp when she was picking on ralphie, and then extended an olive branch to 13-amp when he realized she was just a troubled kid. This also mirrors how 9-volt befriended 18-volt when no one else would, so it is kind of beautiful in this way. These are some stand-up kids!

-Is way less adventurous than 9-Volt; he went skateboarding with him exactly once and hated it

-Mains Captain Falcon in smash and says "FALCON PUNCH" out loud

5-Volt

-I love that her character card in g&w says "age unknown" and then immediately tells you that she grew up in the 80s

-I also think that the rest of her wardrobe was similarly radical. I've been meaning to draw Young 5-Volt for a while so you might see her soon

-Was the apex predator of her local arcade back in the day

-Contrary to her moveset in Get It Together!, I don't think she has any supernatural powers beyond being scary as fuck. Pay no attention to the woman behind the TV

-Mains ROB in smash and kills people with him in real life

9-Volt

-The entirety of his retro game collection was inherited from his mother; he doesn't know what eBay is

-Has grown his adult front teeth in since Mega Microgames

-Has said "FIRE" so many times that orbulon accidentally picked up on it in smooth moves

-Mains Pikachu in smash and spams down+B the whole match

Fronk

-Unlike Orbulon and the space hares, I can't even begin to speculate on what the fuck he is. I think he has an exoskeleton. I think he is ovoviviparous. I think his distant ancestors were from space and he comes from a long line of rapidly-reproducing alien animals that somehow gained sapience along the way. It is extremely hard to keep up with Fronk Lore because they are constantly dropping bombshells. Do you know he has a wife and kid

-Mains Marth

[unrealistic-ideas-for-writers]

Caladin: Voicelines

Thoughts I

"The world is an unfair place. It is of the utmost importance to remain vigilant and ready as a result. Your mind must stay sharp, but so should one's blade. I try to be done with my training right as the Dawn Mother's light streams through the windows. It is... comforting."

Hobbies

“I’m fond of music. My…- someone I once knew believed that music itself was the key to the Lament’s end. I’m not sure I can believe that. It sounds too good to be true- too hopeful. But it does leave me wanting.”

Troubles

“It would seem my speech patterns are quite… outdated. To the point I’ve caused several misunderstandings amongst my acquaintances. I did not mean to imply the Midnight Rangers were lesser because they are not a formal Knightage. Nor did I wish to *hit on* their General so disrespectfully. Perhaps there is a researcher who specializes in linguistics that can help me.”

Favorite Food

“I… I do not believe a food like this is commonly found in Huanglong, and I doubt it bears the same name. However, my mother called it Arayes. Seasoned ground meat and shredded onion packed into a pita, pan fried and dipped in a yogurt sauce. It’s been many years since I’ve had it.”

Disliked Food

“Please do not even attempt to feed me beets. Or I will hunt you down. It will not be pleasant for you, I promise.”

Ideals

“I’m quite fond of this modern saying- An Eye for an Eye? Truly it encompasses the way of the natural order and the righteousness of Vengeance. I may seem cruel to some, but it is my way. No deed goes unbalanced, be it good or bad. For my name means Fairness and Judgement.”

Chat I

"Rock or Bone? Bone sticks to the tongue because it's porous."

Chat II

"Bleh bone."

Birthday Wishes

"Happy Birthday. May it be a long Day before the Night comes to take you. In the meantime, we've prepared a few things for you. Would you like to join us for dinner?"

Self-Introduction

“Greetings to you and your tiny Spawn. Yes? I am aware of the little one in your hand- Regardless. My name is Caladin. I should thank you again for freeing me from the ruins. I… still can’t believe how long I’ve been in there.”

Greeting

"Good Morning. Or afternoon maybe? I've been up a while."

Join Team I

"Ready to go? Don't forget to grab extra rations. The sands may keep us out longer than intended. Finicky things they are."

Join Team II

"*Yawn* Apologies. I'm quite sleepy this morning. Don't worry, I still have your back."

Join Team III

"Watch your six!"

Intimacy I

Thoughts II

“Ah yes. I believe I was among some of the first resonators. I still remember that day- when my Tacet mark appeared and seared itself into my flesh. What a horrifically sweet day that was.”

About Chiefly (@crypticrainbowmoss)

“Hmm? Is that-! I was not aware cowboys still existed, let alone in the corner of the world??? How curious, he seems to have rabbit features. Rover, would it be impolite of me to walk up and ask about his genealogy? Ah. Probably so, hmm? The world seems to have changed a lot while I was asleep. Finding traits of Dragons and Rabbits and Birds in people… Truly remarkable.”

About Quay (@yupuffin)

"Quay is a... unique individual. He's incredibly intelligent with a passion for discovery. I have joined him on beach expeditions on the occasion. I was treated to a lovely lecture on chiton. The one Valerian and I had found resembled a bit like a rock. Naturally, you should not lick chiton. Did you know the girdle can be fuzzy???"

About Jiahui (@hobbysognodilibri)

“Ah. The dear researcher. I have much to thank her for, as her initial interest in me and the phenomena around me is what inevitably saved me. As Jiahui herself? She quite surprised me! She’s incredibly agile and quick, something which benefits her nature as a field researcher greatly. I’m curious to see what her next prosthetic model will look like- seeing as Mortefi reached out to me on behalf of her and the Principal Investigator. I hope the remnants of my home found in my gauntlets will aid them both. Though she does worry me a bit. It is a personal… observation of mine, however I have noticed Havoc resonators are more prone to the madness. I believe modern times calls this *overclocking?* Regardless, I hope her brief moment of daze are not what they seem.”

Intimacy II

Thoughts III

"I remember when I was younger how my sister used to take me and her boyfriend sand sledding. They met when I was very young and he eventually became her husband. I... I miss them. I really miss them- because whatever is walking around in their skins now? That is not my family."

About Sobeknesef (@crypticrainbowmoss)

“That man… I understand him to an extent. We have both lost much- and we both are desert born. He is a quiet one, though sometimes he allows me to sit in on his work- to tell stories of our homeland before his people existed there. It is quiet companionship, but companionship nonetheless. I will forever be grateful to him for showing you and the others the way to the ruins. Without his guidance, I may still be there.”

Intimacy III

Thoughts IV

"Jinzhou is beautiful. My whole life, I never thought I'd leave the sands- that the sands would let me. Yet here we are. I'm surprised I am welcomed, but no less grateful. The grass is wet under foot. It rains on the regular. Trees can be taller than some buildings... I should thank everyone more often for giving me a second chance. A real one. Not just survival."

About Valerian (@uncreative-cryptid)

“You wish to know about Valerian? Well, I’d trust him with my life. I have once already after all. He’s incredibly skilled with his pistols and he’s incredibly knowledgeable about minerals and ores. To the point he was able to identify the materials my gauntlets were made out of even though they haven’t been seen in centuries. And I will say, his resonance ability calms me somewhat, even in the heat of battle. And that is almost impossible, I find. Quite the unique individual. So do take care of him. I won’t have him betrayed.”

Intimacy IV

Thoughts V

"Humans are such incredible creatures. To think civilization has survived, even thrived this long after the Lament. It's hope, I think. But looking at humans from a purely biological perspective as well is also fascinating- From hyperactive scar tissue, pack and solo hunting based in pursuit predation such strong pack bonding instincts that we essentially friended our most likely adversary- it's incredible."

About Dahlia

"Dahl... is my big sister. She raised me from a very young age. Our father was absent and our mother dead. She was my everything. Even after she lost her sight, even after I joined the military. She supported me in every way. I loved her dearly. Now I mourn her. Because what is here? Is not my sister."

Intimacy V (Bonus Round :3)

About Jiyan: “The General is extremely good natured- to an almost worrying degree. Though I cannot say it isn’t a welcome change from the power hungry Generals of my days. I quite enjoy his company and have spent many a days drilling with his soldiers and offering insight on mutated TDs. Modern Tacet Discords are very different from what I am used to, but sometimes an ancient thing will appear.”

About Calcharo: “While I have not spoken to him personally, it seems we’ve both heard quite a bit of each other through the General and Rangers. Perhaps we’ll wind up on the same battlefield one day. I am curious, though. What is this *overclocking* that seems to plague him?”

About Sanhua: “This woman is very… odd? She was present when I was initially introduced and interrogated by the Magistrate of Jinzhou. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone with Tacet Marks in their eyes- but to only be able to see frequencies is something entirely new to me.”

About Jinhsi: “The Magistrate of Jinzhou. Such an innocuous looking woman. I could taste her Spectro energy from the moment she entered the room as it differs so strongly from my own. I am unfamiliar with *Sentinels*, but I can see her ties to it. This makes her the third Draconic resonator I’ve met. Truly incredible.”

Encountering a TD: “Hah! Die you wretched things-“

Alternative Encountering Combat: “Mother Dawn, fill me with your rage.”

[jkthiighs]

a pale morning * nsfw - chapter 26 || wolverine [au x oc]

❀ logan howlett x f!oc/reader [ongoing series]

➔this is a story about a woman who came to be known as kotiya; the tiger. once, she was just another face in the crowd. now, something else. during a mission trip to korea, ranielle's life changed forever. lost in the wilderness, a traumatic event awakened her mutant ability—transformation into a monstrous tiger. trapped in this form for months, she became infamous. after a violent encounter and near-capture, she finally reclaimed her human shape. fleeing to new york, she struggles to suppress the primal urges that haunt her. but in an era of heightened mutant surveillance, control is slipping through her fingers. events ensue that place her on the radar of the x-men. with every transformation, more of her humanity is lost. time is running out, but in a world that already sees mutants as threats, the bigger question looms: what happens when she can no longer tell the difference? ⤸

❀ cw ; mdni, 18+. contains explicit and graphic depictions/themes of violence and trauma. uses of alcohol, use of nicotine/cigars. strong language. injury. angst. hurt/comfort. age gap. slow burn. anxiety/panic attacks. sexual themes

❀ word count ; 5.1k

⇆ series masterlist Ꜣ previous chapter ← ✧ ➜ next chapter

                The descent began quietly, boots crunching against a thin crust of snow as the X-Men picked their way down the mountain’s eastern slope. The wreckage of the jet faded behind them, consumed by drifting snow and distance, until it became little more than a twisted shadow against the pale sky. The path was steep, but not impassable. Thick pine boughs bent low with snow above them, muffling every sound save for the creak of packed leather and the quiet exhale of breath. Here and there, a bird’s wings stirred the stillness, or distant ice cracked like bones beneath the weight of hidden rivers. It was a beautiful kind of silence—dangerous in its serenity.

        Ranielle walked near the front, her senses attuned to every shift of wind, every strange ripple in the air. She hadn’t spoken since they’d left the shelter, but her eyes flicked constantly from slope to tree line, vigilant. Logan kept just a few steps behind her, matching her pace with casual precision, his gaze scanning in sync with hers. Though no words passed between them, there was something different now—something unspoken, like a thread pulled taut between their steps.

        Kurt moved ahead, teleporting short distances to scout a safer route when the terrain became unstable. His form flickered between boulders and tree trunks in quick flashes of smoke, returning each time with whispered instructions or a nod. Scott took the center, ever the watchful tactician, keeping eyes on everyone. Storm moved more slowly, the strain from the crash still dragging at her limbs, but her steps remained graceful, sure. By midday, the terrain began to change—trees thinning into open ridge, the mountain dipping sharply toward a narrow valley choked with frost and rock. Ranielle paused at the edge, crouching low as the wind picked up again, carrying with it the distant scent of smoke.

        She turned her head slightly, golden-brown eyes narrowing. “There’s a village. Down there. Close.”

                Scott joined her, visor gleaming beneath the weak sunlight. “Can you tell how big?”

        She shook her head. “Not large. But someone’s burning wood. That means shelter. Maybe even information.”

                Storm arrived beside them, pulling her hood up against the rising wind. “Let’s not assume friendly faces. If they’re aligned with Trask or the Registration Act…”

                “We’ll know soon enough,” Logan muttered.

                Scott nodded. “We head in carefully. Ranielle—stay in the trees. I want eyes before we walk in.”

        Without waiting for approval, Ranielle moved, slipping back into the pines with practiced ease. The wind embraced her like an old memory—one she wasn’t entirely ready for but no longer feared. She reached the outskirts of the village in minutes, crouched beneath the thick, snow-heavy arms of a fir tree. The buildings were old, alpine, wooden and slanted with stone chimneys coughing faint trails of smoke into the sky. A dozen structures, maybe fifteen. Small. Remote. The kind of place that didn’t ask questions—or didn’t live long enough to. There were people, too. A woman hauling wood, her red scarf wrapped tight against her mouth. A hunched man walking a leashed dog through ankle-deep snow. Children’s laughter somewhere, muted and cautious, drifting from between narrow homes.

        Ranielle observed quietly. No soldiers. No banners. No weapons. Not yet.

        She returned to the team just as they reached the lower ridgeline. “Looks clear,” she said. “No uniforms. No patrols. Just...normal people.”

                Scott gave a brief nod. “Let’s keep it that way.”

        They descended the final slope together, the X-Men wrapped in layers of fatigue and silence. Every step forward felt like progress, but also a gamble. With Trask’s shadow looming, there was no way of knowing how far the reach of the Sentinel program extended—or how quickly it might find them again. As they passed the first house on the village edge, a man stepped out of his doorway. He wore a wool coat and a suspicious scowl, his eyes scanning the strangers from head to boot. He said nothing, just watched. Others followed—curious glances from behind curtains, quiet doors opening and closing. The village stirred like a wary animal.

                Logan muttered, “Feels like we just walked into a church with blood on our boots.”

                Scott raised a hand calmly. “Let’s not give them a reason to lock the doors.”

        Ranielle kept her eyes low, ears twitching slightly beneath her hood. She could still feel the tiger beneath her skin—calm now, but awake.

        And watching.

~

        The village accepted them, but only just.

        The old woman who ran the guesthouse spoke a brittle Polish, her eyes sharp and untrusting, but when Storm offered a gentle explanation—some half-truth about a crashed plane and severe weather—she relented with a thin sigh and two fingers pointed toward the upper rooms. The accommodations were modest: slanted ceilings, hand-woven quilts, the faint scent of woodsmoke and drying herbs. But it was warm, and after days spent beneath steel and snow, warmth felt like luxury.

         Scott was already downstairs with Kurt, trading polite conversation with the locals over a shared pot of weak black tea. Storm had retreated to rest, her headache still lingering beneath the edges of her vision. That left Logan and Ranielle standing together at the far end of the second floor hallway, beneath the eaves where frost traced the windows in thin, silver lines.

        She leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, tail twitching just barely beneath her long coat. Logan stood opposite her, one shoulder propped against the doorframe, chewing idly on a toothpick he must’ve scrounged up from somewhere.

                “You sleep at all?” he asked.

        Ranielle didn’t answer at first. Her gaze was distant, focused on the snow-laced roofs beyond the window. “A little,” she finally murmured. “Not well.”

                Logan grunted. “Figured.”

        Silence settled between them again—comfortable, but weighted. Not like it used to be. There was a pulse in it now, something warmer. Something that shifted when they stood too close.

        “I used to like being in towns like this,” Ranielle admitted after a while, voice low. “But now there's... too many eyes. Too many things I can’t explain if something goes wrong.”

                Logan turned toward her more fully. “Nothing’s goin’ wrong, not with us here.”

        “That’s not the point.” Her eyes flicked to his, amber glinting in the dim hallway light. “The tiger doesn’t care who’s watching. You’ve seen that.”

                Logan didn’t flinch. “Yeah. And I’ve seen you pull it back.”

        “Barely.”

                “Still counts.”

        A small smile tugged at the edge of her mouth—tired, but real.

        He stepped closer then, not enough to crowd her, but enough for his presence to settle into her space like the weight of a wool blanket. Warm, grounding. Familiar.

                “You did good last night,” he said, voice rough but sincere. “Real good.”

        Ranielle looked away, expression unreadable. “You think that was me?”

                Logan paused. His voice softened. “I think it was the part of you that don’t lie. That don’t know how to.”

        That made her laugh—quiet, almost surprised. “Is that a compliment?”

                “'S close as you’re gonna get.”

        They stood there for a moment, the snow ticking softly against the window. Ranielle’s shoulders loosened slightly, the tension bleeding out like steam in the cold.

                “You were warm,” Logan added casually.

        She raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

                “Last night. You were warm. Big ol’ blanket with teeth.”

        Ranielle huffed a soft laugh through her nose, shaking her head. “That’s not a compliment either.”

                “Didn’t say it was,” Logan muttered. Then, after a beat, “...But I liked it.”

        Her gaze flicked back to his again, sharper this time, something unreadable in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, just stared at him for a long, quiet moment. Then— “Come on,” she said, pushing off the wall and brushing past him. “Let’s see what Kurt and Scott dug up.”

        Logan followed without hesitation. But as they reached the stairs, he murmured low behind her, “We’ll finish that conversation later.”

        Ranielle didn’t look back, but her tail flicked once—sharply, like a grin.

        The guesthouse kitchen was narrow and dim, paneled in aged wood and hung with drying herbs and bundles of garlic. The hearth crackled gently, casting long shadows that danced across the stone floor. A pot of weak mushroom broth simmered slowly in the corner, scenting the room with earth and smoke. Kurt stood at the far end of a rough-hewn table, his fingers laced tightly together in front of him, blue skin catching the glow of firelight. Across from him sat a thin, bearded man with sunken eyes and a voice like splintered ice. The villager’s Polish accent was thick, his words slow and deliberate as he spoke—measured not in haste, but in fear.

        Scott stood nearby, arms crossed, his posture alert but controlled. He looked up as Logan and Ranielle entered.

                “He’s seen someone,” Scott said, voice low. “Or heard about someone. North of here, in the next valley. A man alone.”

                Kurt nodded, picking up the thread. “He doesn’t know his name, but the way he describes him… tall, old, heavy gait. Walks like the earth owes him something.”

                “Sounds like Erik,” Logan muttered.

                “He comes down from the hills every few weeks,” Kurt continued, glancing toward the old man. “Trades metalwork, strange tools, sometimes food he shouldn't be able to grow up there. Then disappears again.”

        Ranielle leaned against the table, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Did he say how far?”

        The man shook his head and spoke again—his voice hoarse but cautious, as if unsure if speaking the words would bring trouble to his doorstep. Kurt translated gently, respectful. “Two days’ walk, maybe one if you know the ridges. But it’s hard terrain. Worse in winter. Locals avoid it. Old stories, old ghosts.”

                Logan scoffed quietly. “Ghosts don’t bother me.”

                Kurt shot him a pointed look. “They should. Ghosts often have longer memories than the living.”

                Scott turned back to the old man. “Did he say anything else? This man—does he speak to anyone?”

        Another brief exchange in Polish passed. The villager shook his head, then made a gesture—two fingers, pointed outward, then sweeping away. “He warns people to stay away,” Kurt translated. “Says he is not to be followed. That if anyone climbs too close, they won’t come back down.”

        Ranielle met Logan’s eyes across the firelight.

        “He knows we’re coming.”

                Logan nodded once, grim. “Let’s not disappoint him.”

                Scott straightened. “We leave tomorrow at dawn. Gear up tonight, get some sleep while you can.”

        As the villager stood to leave, Kurt offered a soft blessing in Polish. The man gave a short nod, a look of quiet gratitude passing between them before he stepped back out into the snow. The room fell into silence.

                Storm entered quietly from the hall, wrapped in a thick wool cloak, her expression already serious. “You found him?”

                “We found enough,” Scott replied. “We’ll need to be ready. No telling what we’ll find once we reach him.”

        Ranielle felt her pulse quicken, a strange mix of dread and anticipation twisting low in her stomach. Magneto was closer than ever. But so was everything that came with him—the ideologies, the questions, the memories she hadn’t dared revisit. She stepped away from the fire, brushing past Logan as she headed toward the stairs. As she passed, he murmured low—just for her.

                “You sure you’re ready for this?”

        She stopped halfway up, glancing over her shoulder. Her voice came quiet, but firm. “No.” Then, a ghost of a smile.

        “But that’s never stopped me before.”

                Logan smirked. “Didn’t think it would.”

        And behind them, the fire crackled on—quiet, steady, and waiting for morning.

~

        The guesthouse was perfectly still.

        Outside, the mountain breathed beneath its heavy mantle of frost, each gust of wind whispering gently through the eaves, murmuring secrets to the sleeping forest. The fire downstairs had long since died, leaving behind only the faint scent of smoke and the creak of walls shifting beneath the cold.

        Ranielle lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her heartbeat too loud, her breath restless. She’d changed twice in the last day—once into the tiger, and again into something even more terrifying: someone willing to face the world without hiding, someone willing to be truly seen. And that second shift had left her feeling dangerously vulnerable.

        She rolled onto her side, pulling the covers up slightly, trying to still her mind. Sleep evaded her, every blink bringing flashes of memory—the worried look on Logan's face after the crash, the feel of his hand brushing through her fur. The way he called her 'doll'. There was a long time she wondered if she head him correctly but no—that's definitely what he said. Just the memory still sends butterflies through her stomach. 

        The woman closed her eyes, breathing slowly, hoping to quiet her restless thoughts. A soft knock tapped at her door—gentle, familiar, hesitant. Her breath caught briefly, tension coiling in her chest—then immediately unwinding as she recognized the careful pattern, the quiet invitation waiting behind the door. 

                "Yeah," she called softly, voice barely above a whisper but her tail betrayed her excitement, flicking soundlessly.

        The door opened, and Logan stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. His presence instantly filled the small space—warm, reassuring, yet charged with the careful tension they both knew was there but hadn't yet dared to voice. Logan hovered near the door for just a second, eyes meeting hers briefly, cautious and searching. It was as though he needed permission, or perhaps reassurance, before he moved any further into the room.

                "You couldn’t sleep either?" Ranielle asked softly, though she already knew the answer.

        He shook his head slowly, his voice low and rough. "Didn’t expect to. Mind won’t shut up."

        She sat up slowly, tugging at the sleeves of her thermal shirt, brushing back her wild curls from her face. Logan looked just as restless as she felt—his shirt rumpled and worn, sleeves pushed back to reveal muscular forearms that bore faded scars. Tension was evident in the quiet set of his shoulders, the guarded way he watched her, as though bracing himself for something he wasn't quite ready to name.

        The silence that followed held a quiet weight, unspoken things drifting between them. Logan finally broke it, his voice carrying the slightest hint of amusement as he held up a dusty green bottle with no label.

        "I stole something," he admitted softly, almost sheepish.

                Ranielle raised an eyebrow, a faint smile touching the corners of her lips. "You?"

        He shrugged lightly, eyes glinting with quiet humor. "Innkeeper had plenty. Won’t miss one."

                She laughed softly, warmth spreading through her chest at his faint smile. She motioned toward the floor beside her bed. "Pour us some, then."

        Logan moved without hesitation, sinking down onto the floor beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. He reached into his pocket, pulling out two mismatched tin mugs he’d clearly prepared earlier, a thoughtful gesture that left a quiet ache in Ranielle’s chest. He carefully poured the clear, sharp-scented liquor, handing her a mug. As their fingers brushed, a faint, familiar jolt of electricity passed between them, small but impossible to ignore.

                They raised their mugs, the metal softly clinking together. Ranielle smiled faintly, voice gentle. "To not dying."

        "To gettin’ answers before we freeze our asses off," Logan murmured back, warmth hidden beneath his rough tone.

        They drank. The liquor was smoother than it looked, warm and strong, immediately sending heat blooming through Logan’s chest, chasing away some—but not all—of the quiet ache he’d carried with him for months. He glanced at her subtly, quietly remembering things he’d tried so hard to forget—the softness of her breathing in the dark of his room back at the mansion, the gentle sigh of his name from her lips.

                Ranielle coughed softly, eyes wide as the liquor settled. "Wow. Aggressive," she breathed, laughter clear in her voice.

        "Told ya," Logan rasped softly, his own lips curving into a faint grin as he took the bottle and drank again, grateful for the heat and distraction it offered.

        A quiet silence settled between them, wrapped in the comforting warmth of the drink and the easy familiarity they’d carefully built. Logan leaned back against the bedframe, feeling her presence at his side like a gentle pull, irresistible yet dangerous. 

                After several minutes of silence, Ranielle’s voice broke softly through the quiet, reflective and gentle. "You know, it's strange. Didn’t think I’d ever get used to having people around. Especially not you." She moved from her spot on the bed down onto the floor beside him. 

        Logan glanced at her, raising a brow, feigning a careful offense he didn't truly feel. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

                Ranielle laughed quietly, shaking her head slightly, eyes warm. "I mean...you're not exactly warm and fuzzy."

        "And you’re sunshine incarnate?" he returned gently, a smirk pulling gently at his mouth.

                She laughed again, softer this time, eyes meeting his briefly, shining in the dim light. "Fair."

        Logan watched her quietly for a long moment, the liquor easing the tension from his muscles, emboldening him just enough to speak honestly. His voice was gentle, carefully revealing something he’d kept hidden for too long. "You scared me when you first showed up," he admitted quietly, eyes locked carefully on hers. "Not ‘cause of what you could do. 'Cause of what I saw in your eyes."

                Ranielle stilled, her breath hitching softly as she stared at him, suddenly vulnerable. Her voice was barely audible, filled with uncertainty. "Yeah?"

        Logan’s expression softened slightly, his voice carrying a quiet ache he'd tried to ignore. "You looked like you were already gone. Like you’d already lost hope."

                The air tightened slightly, tension curling gently between them. Ranielle met his gaze bravely, voice trembling faintly. "And now?"

        He leaned toward her slightly, heart hammering quietly in his chest, the warmth of the liquor making him brave, reckless. His voice dropped low, rough yet tender, eyes steady on hers.

        "Now…I see you trying to come back."

        Ranielle’s breath caught gently in her chest, lips parting softly, eyes wide and shining. Logan felt pulled suddenly closer—drawn in by something deeper than mere impulse, something long-hidden but undeniable. She moved just slightly closer, eyes still locked to his, their hands brushing gently again—a soft, electric current running quietly between them, igniting something carefully restrained deep inside.

        And slowly, irresistibly, everything finally broke open.

        They leaned in simultaneously, their mouths meeting in a rush of heat and quiet, desperate longing. It was clumsy at first—breathless, uncertain—but quickly melted into something deeper, something richer. Logan’s pulse raced, each heartbeat pounding roughly in his chest, matching the rhythm of Ranielle’s breathing as their mouths moved gently together.

        His hands found her waist instinctively, fingers spreading wide against the curve of her hips, pulling her closer with a quiet urgency he didn’t dare question. Her body pressed willingly into him, warm and alive, fitting perfectly against his own as if she’d been molded precisely for this moment. His breath hitched softly as her hands fisted gently into the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, deepening their kiss until the world beyond this room ceased to matter.

        Ranielle shifted forward slowly, moving to straddle his lap, her knees settling carefully against his thighs. The weight of her body on his sent a gentle, aching heat pooling low in his abdomen. Her hands drifted carefully upward, palms brushing over his chest, exploring softly through the thin fabric of his shirt. He could feel every slight pressure, every movement amplified by the quiet intimacy they shared. His breath caught sharply as her fingertips found the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric, grazing lightly against his bare skin.

        It was a gentle shock of sensation, his nerves suddenly on fire beneath her touch. The feeling was both new and dangerously familiar, stirring memories he'd been trying to suppress—memories of quiet nights, whispered breaths, her voice echoing softly in the dark. His mind flashed to the uncertain memory of her quietly calling his name, her careful longing that he'd convinced himself was only a fantasy. But now, feeling her hands exploring him, breathing in her gentle scent so close and undeniably real, Logan was no longer sure what had been fantasy or truth. All he knew was the careful fire burning between them, unmistakably real, achingly present.

        His own hands moved with quiet reverence, slipping beneath her shirt slowly, palms skimming the smooth warmth of her lower back, tracing the gentle curve of her spine. Ranielle shivered gently beneath his touch, her lips parting slightly in a quiet gasp, the softest sound that threatened to undo him entirely. His pulse hammered fiercely, breath now ragged, his senses overwhelmed by the heat radiating from her skin, the gentle scent of her desire thickening between them.

        Their kiss deepened further, slow and molten. Logan’s thumb traced gentle circles against her bare skin, each small movement eliciting subtle tremors from her body. Ranielle’s fingertips drifted higher, softly exploring the plane of his chest, brushing carefully against the faint edges of scars etched into his skin. Her gentle touch sent quiet sparks along his nerves, drawing a low, ragged sound from deep within his throat. His muscles tightened instinctively, breath catching sharply as he felt himself spiraling further into her, losing all sense of time and caution.

        Ranielle’s breath quickened softly, her body shifting carefully, pressing more fully against him. Logan’s hand moved slowly higher beneath her shirt, tracing the softness of her waist, hesitating gently at the edges of her ribs. Her skin burned beneath his palm, heat radiating through her, trembling faintly under his careful exploration. He felt her heartbeat beneath his touch, rapid and strong, perfectly matching his own.

For one quiet moment, Logan allowed himself to surrender fully—to lose himself in the warmth of her body, the softness of her mouth, the quiet way she whispered against his lips, breathless and gentle. His fingers drifted carefully along the edge of her ribcage, thumb brushing the sensitive skin just below her chest, drawing another soft, barely audible sigh from Ranielle’s lips.

                "Fuck, Logan..."

        She responded instinctively, arching gently into his touch, fingers tightening against his shoulders. It was everything she had imagined it to be. Everything she secretly fantasized about. Her hips shifted slightly against his, a subtle movement that sent white-hot sparks through Logan’s veins, igniting deeper, more dangerous desires he’d carefully kept buried for months.

        But something faltered, almost imperceptibly. It was a subtle hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty passing quietly between them, as if they’d both simultaneously remembered exactly where they were—and what this might mean.

        Logan’s hands paused slowly, fingertips gently resting against her ribs, his breath ragged and uneven. Ranielle’s lips hesitated softly against his, her breathing quiet and shallow, her eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze, filled with quiet confusion and gentle vulnerability. They both froze carefully, the air suddenly heavier, the moment suddenly too large, too fragile. The heat remained fiercely present, tension still crackling dangerously between them, yet now threaded carefully with uncertainty. Logan’s heart thudded unevenly, pulse still hammering fiercely, every nerve raw and heightened from her touch.

        Ranielle drew back just an inch, eyes wide, cheeks flushed deeply. Her voice came as a gentle whisper, carefully breaking the quiet tension between them.

                "We should stop," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly, filled with longing yet careful restraint.

        Logan exhaled slowly, his breath shaky. His heart still raced fiercely, body aching quietly for her touch, yet knowing, deep down, that this careful hesitation was necessary. His voice was low and tight, roughened by desire.

        "Yeah," he rasped softly, reluctant yet grateful she'd voiced it first.

        For a heartbeat, neither moved. They remained carefully frozen, breaths mingling quietly, foreheads pressed gently together, savoring these last few precious seconds of intimacy. Logan lingered just long enough to memorize the softness of her skin, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body pressed so carefully against his own—before slowly, gently withdrawing his hands from beneath her shirt, releasing her carefully, as though the simple act took more strength than he could fully summon.

        Ranielle shifted off of him slowly, settling carefully back onto the floor beside him, hands gently smoothing her clothing, gaze carefully lowered, cheeks still flushed deeply. Logan adjusted his shirt quietly, heartbeat still thundering, senses still overwhelmed. His voice, when it finally came, was gruff yet gentle, carefully masking deeper emotions.

        "That... was the liquor talking."

                She nodded softly, her voice quiet and trembling slightly, but carrying faint amusement to mask her uncertainty. "Definitely the liquor."

        He exhaled a quiet, shaky breath, lips curving faintly, gaze quietly thoughtful. "Shit's strong."

                She smiled softly, still avoiding his eyes, careful yet warm. "Dangerously strong."

        Logan remained still a moment longer, quietly watching her, the room now heavy with careful silence and gently restrained longing. Finally, he stood slowly, moving toward the door, pausing carefully at the threshold, hand lingering gently on the handle.

        "Night, Rani," he murmured softly, voice low and tender.

        She nodded quietly, eyes carefully fixed on the snowy window. "Goodnight, Logan," she whispered softly, voice gentle, filled with careful affection.

        He closed the door softly behind him, stepping into the hallway, pulse still hammering, thoughts tangled deeply. Logan leaned heavily against the corridor wall, breathing slowly, heartbeat gradually calming yet filled now with deeper, more powerful longing. He still didn't know how much of what they'd shared tonight—what he'd felt, what he'd wanted so fiercely—was echoed in Ranielle’s heart. But now, standing quietly in the hall, feeling her gentle warmth still lingering against his fingertips, Logan knew one thing with quiet certainty:

        He could never pretend again.

        Logan returned to his room, closing the door carefully behind him, the quiet click echoing too loud in his ears. The room felt colder, emptier now—a stark contrast to the warmth that still lingered against his fingertips, the faint heat Ranielle had left seared against his chest. He stood motionless for a moment, breath heavy, pulse still hammering from their encounter. Every nerve felt raw, heightened, impossibly sensitive. He sank down onto the bed, hands resting heavily on his knees, his head bowed as he struggled to make sense of the rush of emotions swirling within him.

        'What the hell am I doing?'

        He was used to controlling his emotions, bottling them tight and shoving them deep. But tonight, she’d cracked him open like nothing else had in centuries. He still felt her touch burning softly on his skin, her quiet breath trembling against his lips, her voice whispering his name. It was all he could hear, all he could feel, in the silence that now surrounded him. He groaned softly, rubbing a rough hand over his face, his jaw clenched tight. His entire body still ached for her. He was painfully, dangerously aware of how close they'd come to crossing a line they'd both carefully avoided for months. But that kiss—heated, tender, desperate—had ripped away all pretense, all denial. It had exposed exactly how deep his longing truly ran.

        Logan exhaled slowly, lying back against the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her—her soft mouth, her wide amber eyes, the way her breath quickened beneath his touch. He swallowed hard, frustration rising sharply, tangled with fierce, undeniable desire. He knew this feeling—this ache that had built quietly over months spent with Ranielle—was deeper, more dangerous than any simple, fleeting attraction. He’d felt lust before, understood how quickly it burned out once acted upon. But this…this was something different. Something he couldn’t simply dismiss.

        A low sigh escaped him as he reached down. His hand slipped lower, beneath the rough fabric of his clothes, gripping himself with a quiet, desperate intensity. He had meant to tuck himself into the waistband of his jeans, but that's not what happened. A part of him felt almost guilty—like admitting his longing for Ranielle in such a vulnerable way would somehow betray the trust they'd built. Yet his body ached too sharply, and his emotions ran too deep for him to hold them back anymore.

        His breath hitched sharply at the first gentle stroke, his body tensing, pulse quickening fiercely. He closed his eyes, memories flooding him—her careful smile, the warmth of her lips parting gently beneath his, the feel of her fingertips grazing his bare chest. Her scent, faintly wild, warm and intoxicating, lingered vividly in his mind, urging him further into the quiet ache that overwhelmed him. He exhaled roughly, his breathing ragged, muscles tightening as he let his thoughts drift deeper. Images of Ranielle filled him completely—her golden eyes darkening softly with desire, the way her voice broke gently when she whispered his name. He allowed himself to imagine fully, vividly, what might have happened if they hadn't stopped tonight—the softness of her body beneath his, the quiet, breathless cries she might’ve made, her fingers tangled fiercely in his hair as she whispered his name again and again—

        He bit back a low groan, heat spiraling fiercely through him, building toward a quiet, desperate release. He moved faster, harder, breaths quickening sharply, her name almost slipping from his lips as he finally shattered into quiet, aching relief.

        His heartbeat pounded fiercely in the aftermath, body trembling slightly, breath shallow, head spinning gently with a confusing blend of pleasure and profound, aching tenderness. He lay quietly for several moments, eyes closed, pulse slowly calming, reality drifting quietly back into focus. In the quiet clarity that followed, Logan realized something with startling intensity:

        He didn't feel any different. His feelings weren't diminished. The fierce, quiet ache he carried for Ranielle was still there, deeper and more undeniable than ever before.

        It wasn't simple lust. It wasn't a passing attraction.

        He groaned softly, pressing the heels of his palms gently against his eyes. He’d known the answer even before this moment, but this had proven it beyond doubt. He'd hoped desperately that indulging his desires, even briefly, might help him rationalize this feeling—might lessen its grip, might allow him some small shred of control. But instead, he found himself falling deeper—more fully and undeniably—into something he couldn’t pretend to ignore anymore.

        He lay in the quiet darkness, heart hammering softly, quietly admitting the truth he'd hidden carefully from himself for months: He cared about her. Too much. Far more deeply than he’d intended to let himself feel. She’d quietly burrowed her way into his heart, past defenses he’d spent lifetimes building. And now he knew with certainty there was no going back.

        He closed his eyes tightly, his jaw clenched gently with quiet resolve. He couldn't pretend anymore. It was too late. Whatever happened next—whatever risk it carried—he’d already chosen her.

format © starmapz. dividers © chachachannah & cafekitsune.

[ariadneamare]

Levihan beach fluff pls I beg u

i know i have been inactive for so long but here i am reviving this account !

notes: beach fluff, if u know me i am not good at writing fluff (maybe) i was born for angst (definitely)

Levi and Hanji strolled along the sunlit shoreline, the sand warm beneath their feet. Levi carried a large beach umbrella, determined to create a perfect shade spot despite Hanji's insistence that it wasn't necessary. Hanji, in her beachwear, seemed to radiate joy, contrasting sharply with Levi’s focused demeanor.

"Levi, you’re going to put that thing up all wrong if you keep adjusting it like that," Hanji teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just plop it down! It's a beach umbrella!"

Levi grumbled but didn't relent. "I just want to make sure everything is perfect. Last time you got sunburned, remember? I had to apply milk all over your face, you know how disgusting that is?"

Hanji waved him off, chuckling as she set up their beach towels. "You're such a clean freak," she teased, "Lucky I like you too much. You need to loosen up and enjoy yourself."

As they settled in, Levi kept a vigilant eye on Hanji, scanning for any signs of danger.

Hanji grabs the sunscreen from the bag and starts pouring too much on her palm. Just watching made Levi really anxious.

"Let me do that," he butts in.

"No, let me."

"Hand me the bottle, four eyes."

Hanji blows a raspberry towards his direction and lets out a loud laugh. Butterflies fly around his stomach as the echoes of her laughter fill his ears. He grabs the bottle and she lets him.

"Hold still," he ordered, rubbing sunscreen onto her back with meticulous care.

Hanji giggled, trying to stifle her laughter. "You’re making it sound like I’m about to go into battle, not into the water. It’s just sunscreen, Levi."

Levi’s expression softened slightly, though he continued to frown. "I know, but I’d rather be safe than sorry."

With everything in place, Hanji finally managed to drag Levi toward the water. She playfully splashed him, laughing as he tried to avoid the waves. Levi's stern demeanor cracked as he watched her enjoyment, a smile tugging at his lips despite his best efforts to remain stoic.

"Alright, alright, you win," he said, shaking his head with a reluctant grin. "But stay where I can see you. I don’t want you getting into any trouble."

Hanji rolled her eyes, but her smile was warm. "Deal. Now come on, let’s have some fun."

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and playful banter. Levi tried to keep his usual distance but couldn’t help joining in the fun, his earlier worry gradually melting away. Hanji’s happiness was infectious, and Levi found himself enjoying the rare, carefree moments.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the beach, Levi and Hanji sat side by side on their towels, watching the waves. Hanji leaned against Levi, her laughter still echoing in his ears.

"You know," Hanji said softly, "you’re pretty good at this beach thing after all."

Levi glanced at her, a rare tenderness in his eyes. "Just don’t make it a habit of dragging me to places like this too often."

Hanji laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. "I wouldn’t dream of it. But maybe once in a while wouldn’t hurt. Especially if it means I get to see you like this."

Levi’s gaze remained on the horizon, a content smile on his face as he let the peaceful moment envelop him. For once, he allowed himself to fully indulge in the joy of the day, knowing he’d cherish this light-hearted escape from his usual responsibilities.

[rom-e-o]

Thinking about the HoF now cuz I'm on a second DAI playthrough with my save state on Dragon Age Keep for DAO and DA2 (just finished up the Winter Palace and met Walrod and Morrigan's lovely son, Kieran!!)

Someone made concept dialogue for Veilguard where you can talk to Morrigan about her family, whether the HoF survived or not, both still talking about Kieran either way.

And I'm just imagining Renata going to Arlathan to check with the Veil Jumpers, see if there were any lingering side effects because of Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain's defeat, and she sees Morrigan still sticking around.

Renata: "Morrigan? And here I thought you moved on already."

Morrigan: "And here I thought you would have joined your pet necromancer back to Nevarra, but I suppose we both cannot seem to get what we want, can we?"

Renata: "You didn't have to be so harsh about it... Maker's breath..."

Regardless, Morrigan's there, though not for the Veil Jumpers' sake. Not anymore. Now it's all snark and sass as she roasts the ever-loving crap out of an exasperated Strife.

"Honestly, 'twould not be surprising if you chose to sit out this next expedition. I'm quite sure your poor, aching, creaky bones would thank you immensely for the respite."

"I hate you. So much."

"Thank you."

But in reality? She's waiting. Waiting for family she's yearned to see since this whole mess started.

"Leave the man alone, Mor. The last thing he needs is his streaks of grey to get even greyer."

And there he stands. Warden-Commander Waldor Aeducan, with a shite-eating grin as he greets his wife with a wave and more scars than Morrigan would like to see him with.

And their son, Kieran, now fully grown into an adult with a similar shite-eating grin and a hand across his father's shoulders, Vigilance now resting on his back.

Renata steps aside to let them pass, silent and respectful to the man known as the Hero of Ferelden. He gives her an acknowledging nod, before both father and son both go to embrace the Witch of the Wilds.

And screw any talk of sentimentality. Morrigan would have traded all the knowledge and magic she had known just to be with her family again.

And then they go home in their little pocket in the Fade and live happily ever after and they visit the Lighthouse where Kieran becomes friends with Assan and Manfred and Waldor, Emmrich, and Davrin become dad buddies-

Can you tell I am so incredibly emo over them?? XDDD I need to draw/commission Waldor so BADLY and I am so mad the Warden wasn't mentioned by Morrigan at least once in Veilguard-

(Ignore that I messed up realising that Dwarven markings signify casteless dwarfs and I did not realise that until after I finished the game- T-T time for mods to fix it)

First of all, Morrigan calling Emmrich "your pet necromancer" is so perfectly in-line with her character voice. I can practically hear Claudia reading the lines in the signature voice in my head, haha. Too perfect. And her tormenting Strife is perfect. He can stand up to her, but it doesn't mean he'll crack a smile about it, haha.

Gotta get in a jab, of course.

Kieran, yes! It was so surreal to be able to see him!

Oh my gosh, there's a REUNION! We got to see Hawke in DAI, but never the HoF (even if they survive) SO HIM REUNITING WITH MORRIGAN? And an adult Kieran? Oh, that is BEYOND precious.

Please, give this adorable family some rest after the decades of horrors they have braved together and miraculously survived!

I love Renata just stepping back and dipping her head. the perfect amount of ceremony. Those Necropolis-begotten manners haven't failed yet.

I don't blame you for being emo over them - it's a love story that spans generation, battlefields, entire countries, dimensions! All for them to end up eventually safe and reunited again through it all. <3

RIGHT? The Warden is so neglected in Veilguard and DAI! As mentioned above, we don't get to see them, and in Veilguard, there is ... maybe a mention or two? It's so sparse. I get it, we're in Tevinter, but come on! Just a little nod is more than enough!

I must tell you, that now every time I see Morrigan, I'm like, "there is is, Walrod's wifey." You've got me so invested in them. XD

AH, THERE HE IS! There's the man! I adore how you designed him - he's so handsome, and contrasts so well with the more goth/dark vibe of our favorite Witch. (Lmao, you are ALL GOOD. Ah, the beauty of mods.)