#I hope you enjoy this!

[venbetta]

My Way - Security Breach Animatic

GOD after being in my brain for 6 months and 3 weeks of composing this

I finally finished...

[osamusriceballs]

Kinktober Day 27 <3

Ushijima x dirtytalk

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 2,3 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"Here, Wakatoshi-kun! Look at this!"

A phone gets shoved into his face, the brightness level way too high for comfort, but he squints to take a look at the screen. A small grunt leaves his lips at the lack of greeting from his red-haired friend, but he chooses to focus on the screen instead.

It's an Instagram post with a picture of him, one taken during the Olympics. He looks at the picture, confused, but then Tendou starts scrolling through the comments

"I'd combust if he called me 'baby' with that deep voice."

"Do you think he's vocal in bed?" Reply: "He doesn't talk much in interviews, so I doubt it." Reply: "What a waste. His voice is so hot."

"LOOK AT HIS ABS *drools*"

"The world is going crazy ever since you said 'baby' in that one interview!" Tendou wildly gestures with his phone still in his hand, his grin almost smug when he elbows Ushijima. A frown appears on the spiker's face as he tries to recall the interview. It was one that he wasn't too fond of, due to the number of personal questions that had been asked. Way too personal questions for his liking.

"Ushijima-san, do you have any plans to start a family soon? When can we expect a baby, a little Ushijima junior?" "Baby?" he had echoed, clearly taken aback by this question, something that the interviewer probably failed to notice, but to the people close to him, it was fairly obvious. The silence after this question lead to speculation on the internet about his relationship status, something that he has kept private so far.

"It wasn't in a sexual way." Ushijima states after skimming through more comments, raising his eyebrows when the messages get more explicit and vulgar. "I was surprised when he asked the question."

"Doesn't matter! The world is going feral now, everybody wants to be Wakatoshi's baby! And even I have to admit that I got butterflies when I heard you say that. Y/n is really lucky~" Tendou hums, mischief clear in his eyes, but Ushijima fails to follow his train of thoughts with this.

"Why is she lucky?"

"Because she gets you to say sweet and dirty things to her all day long. You can't fool me, Wakatoshi-kun; I'm not only your best but also your oldest friend." Tendou winks and strolls ahead, oblivious to the way Wakatoshi is left standing there with a frown on his face, still.

xxxxx

"Y/n?"

You rub your arms dry with a fluffy towel when his voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Hmm?" you hum, smiling excitedly because he is finally back home. "I'll be out in a second."

"Yes, please. We need to talk." You hear him lean against the door frame, clearly waiting for you to come out.

You freeze at his words, eyes growing wide when realization settles in and you fully comprehend his words. "Talk? Talk about what?" you know that you sound shrill and loud, but you can't help yourself but to feel nervous at his serious tone- even more serious than normally.

"About us." Your jaw drops, and you quickly reach for your bathrobe, hastily unfolding the fabric to its full length.

"What do you mean about us? Is there a problem with us?" You finally manage to pull your arms through the fabric, quickly wrapping the fabric along your body before you open the door. You're met with Ushijima's broad chest as he quickly straightens to his full posture. His olive eyes roam over your body, lingering for a short moment on your exposed cleavage before they return back to your face. He looks nervous, there is no other way to put it. "I'm not sure. I think there could might be a problem."

"And what would that be?" You cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes boring into his face as if you could find answers for his unusual behavior there. You've never seen him like this before. His usual warm eyes are clouded with worry, his hands fidgeting with his phone in his hands. "Toshi? What is it? Please, talk to me." You're tempted to take the phone out of his hands, but you refrain from touching him, not when you don't know what's going on.

"Are you happy with our sex life?" His eyes don't leave your face, not for even the slightest second to see your reaction, and your jaw drops at the sudden question- you expected a lot, but definitely not this.

"I'm- I mean, yes I am? Shouldn't I be? Are you unhappy?" You take a slight step back, creating distance between the two of you, baffled by the sudden implication that he thinks that you're not satisfied. Or that he might not be. Sex with Wakatoshi is great- hard, rough, and passionate. He knows how to fuck you, that is for sure, but he also knows how to be gentle and sweet, how to take care of you and spoil you, especially during aftercare. You lack nothing in your sex life with him- and you hope that he feels the same.

"I am happy. Very. I enjoy sex with you very much much," he states firmly, but that only confuses you more.

"Why are you asking me then? What made you think that I could be unhappy?" You move closer to him, worry etched in your features when you finally take his phone and put it aside to grab his hands.

"Do you want me to talk more? To be more vocal? I saw a video and people kept on commenting how they want me to call them 'baby' and some more things. Would you like that too?" The way he asks nonchalantly like he was just talking about dinner made this even more embarrassing somehow.

"For you to call me 'baby' during sex?"

"Hmm." He nods and looks expectantly at you, his hands squeezing yours while his gaze seems somewhat calmer now that he is convinced that you're satisfied.

"You... you can call me whatever you want. I'm fine with it." You try to sound unbothered and calm, but the slightly shaking note shows how the thought of him calling you "baby" or "his pretty girl" while he thrusts into you does something to you. He nods, hesitating for a second, but then his hands suddenly drop yours to pull you in by the waist, his other hand coming to your chin while he leans down until his lips are close to your ear.

"My baby. Or would you rather be my babygirl?" His honey-like voice almost puts a spell on you, and you find yourself shivering in his arms, thighs involuntarily clenching together. "S-sounds good, Toshi." You bring your hands up to his chest, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt and his slow and steady heartbeat.

"And what would my babygirl like me to do? Does my babygirl want to be touched?" He lowly mumbles against the shell of your ear, your heart now beating faster when his hands start to roam over your body. "Yes," you breathlessly answer, hands slightly clenching into the fabric of his shirt. Definitely not what you had expected as the outcome of the conversation, but vocal Wakatoshi makes your pussy throb with every single word.

"My babygirl needs me to touch her, huh? I will take care of that pretty little princess cunt." He kisses your cheek, and your legs feel like jelly at this point. You cling to him, hanging on every single one of his words. You feel your arousal growing, feel how you start to get wet the more his hands keep touching you.

"More," you whisper, feeling hot and bothered while he keeps on touching you and pressing kisses to your neck. "More? Is my babygirl needy? That pretty princess cunny needs me to touch her?" He lifts the bathrobe just enough to place one hand on your thigh, and you feel like your body is on fire when he touches you there.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands now finding purchase on his shoulders while you cling onto him like your life depends on it. "What does that little princess cunny want? My fingers?" He grazes his fingertips along your thigh, moving dangerously close to your pussy under the bathrobe- bare, and basically creaming for him the longer he keeps playing with your body.

"Or my tongue?" he licks along the column of your neck, and you gasp at his words, the sensation hot and forbidden god. "I want to taste you, baby. You always taste so sweet. Do you want my tongue between your legs? Licking at your pretty pussy?" His fingers reach your throbbing pussy, slightly parting your folds and dipping in your wetness.

"Do it, do it, Toshi, please," you press your legs together around his hand, effectively caging him right where you need it. "Hmm, but you have to cum on my fingers first." He pecks your cheek and pulls his hand away from your legs, just to place it on your hips to guide you towards the bed. "Lay down for me, baby. Open that bathrobe for me."

His baritone echoes through the room, and you feel yourself doing everything like you're in a haze, full of need for him. "Hmm, that's my good girl." He hums apporvingly when you discard the bathrobe on the floor. Your body is trembling in the cool air of the room, but Ushijima is quick to join you on the bed and to hover above you, radiating so much heat that you instantly feel warm.

"Baby, spread your legs for me. Show me everything." You take a deep breath and slowly part your legs, revealing your glistening folds to him. A shiver runs down his body, and he clears his throat before he speaks again, his voice now lower when he is obviously bothered and turned on by the situation. "Look at how wet you are for me. All for me."

You frantically nod, anticipation rushing through your body while you wait for him to touch you. His fingers finally roam over your thighs, and your head falls back into the pillow at the way he touches you, the way he knows exactly where and how to touch you.

"So impatient. I can't wait to be inside of you, to feel you around me." Your gaze falls to the tent in his pants, the thought of him fucking you making your head spin and your pussy throb with need. His fingers move between your legs, moving along your folds and pressing against your clit. You moan at the sensation, your hands fisting the sheets when his thumb prods on your entrance.

"You look so pretty like this. Just waiting for me to touch you, to fuck you. And you feel so good around my fingers." He pushes his thumb inside of you, and you almost close your legs around him. "I will make you feel so good. I will make you cum on my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock." You clench around the digit at his words, your eyes focused on his handsome face while he keeps on rubbing your clit. "More, please more," you whine your body shaking underneath his. "Shhh, I'll give you more. I'll give you what you need, baby." His eyes roam down your body and you almost protest when he pulls his thumb out, just to quickly replace it with three of his fingers. "Oh, Toshi," you whine, your hips arching into him, and you start to fuck yourself on his fingers. He keeps the fast rhythm, pulling his fingers out, and pushing them back inside, curling them pulling them out again. "You feel so good. You're is creaming for me, look at that." His words only add fuel to your desire, and you grab his shoulders to push him down to you to connect your lips in a needy kiss. He groans into your mouth, his movements slowing down for a few moments before he sets his rhythm again, a fast and punishing pace now.

Your nails rake along his bare shoulders, leaving red marks, and he groans at the sensation. "Come on, baby girl. Let me feel you clench around me. Cream on my fingers, make a mess for me," his voice sends you over the edge, and you moan his name when you cum, your walls pulsing and clenching softly around his fingers. He groans your name, sweet praises of how you're his good girl, how pretty you look under him, how much he loves you, leave his lips and your body arches from the bed into his while your face contorts in pure bliss.

He prolongs your high, making sure to keep his pace and to curl his fingers just the right way, and your body goes limp when he finally slows down. His lips meet yours, pressing chaste and loving kisses to your face. "Was that okay?" The slight frown on his face is back, a clear sign of him being deep in thoughts when he pulls back after a few more kisses.

"More than okay. I think I could cum from your voice alone." You smile up at him and cup his cheek, the afterglow making you feel so good while you lay under him.

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity now sparkling in his eyes at your words, and you are quick to explain further. "I- I didn't mean that literally. Like- I just wanted to say that your voice is hot. And you are hot." Your cheeks heat up when he simply nods and hums, a mild smile on his lips.

"I want to test that out. Let's see if I can make you cum with my voice alone, baby."

[kairukitsuneo]

For @compaculaaa :3c

[literateowl]

For @sugdenlovesdingle who requested some Tarlos stray animal shenanigans for participating in election day show and tell.

TK slides the door closed and gently sets the box he's carrying on the floor. “Hey babe, come here. You'll never guess what happened at work today.”

Carlos crosses the room to greet his husband and notices the box has several holes cut into it. He’s almost afraid to ask.

“What's in there?”

TK carefully removes the top revealing a fluffy yellow gosling that starts squawking at them. “The poor duck was totally lost on a call we had today. I couldn't find any sign of her family. I named her Daisy. Like Daisy Duck.”

“First of all, I think this is a gosling.”

“Daisy Goose then.”

Carlos hums at TK’s interruption. “Second of all, you didn't try animal control before you decided to bring her home?”

“They took a look and said she's old enough to try to survive on her own. But she's so small and was on a busy street. I wanted to help, can we keep her?” TK has his sad puppy dog eyes dialed up to eleven.

“How do you suggest we keep a goose in our 3rd floor loft apartment?

“Just like any bird? My mom had a pet bird for years.”

Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “That was a domesticated Macaw, not a feral goose. Very different.”

“But–” TK suddenly dissolves into laughter. “Okay, I'm out of arguments. You should see your face.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“Of course we're not keeping the goose, baby. I already texted your mom. Your parents are going to come get her after dinner and take her to your family ranch.”

Carlos pinches his husband’s side in retaliation.

“Hey!” TK yelps and then smirks. “You believed me for a second there.”

“You don't exactly have a track record to prove otherwise.”

If you would also like to participate in my election day show and tell the information and rules are here in my pinned post

[sev-on-kamino]

How would the Bad batch (or 501st) react to having a sensitive/ticklish S/O? I love domestic scenes sm ✨🦋🦋

Thank you so much for sending this in 🥰 Y’all are making me make some hard choices though, and I’m sweating lol

Writing this on the assumption that their S/O doesn’t mind being tickled or actively enjoys it because our consent kings wouldn’t do anything their S/O didn’t like on purpose.

Warnings: mentions of kissing and touching, mad fluffy

The Bad Batch reacts to ✨a ticklish S/O✨:

Hunter

He really tries to be mindful of it, because he knows how it feels to have his senses overloaded against his will.

The issue is the sound you make when he tickles you.

Your giggles are fucking cute, and he LOVES them. The sound hits his ears just right. Instant mood boost.

So there are times when he’s weak, and he sees you cleaning, or tinkering with something.

It’s like a predator catching his prey unaware. You look so cute and vulnerable.

He can’t resist letting his fingers dance over your sides, gliding them along your inner thighs, ghosting over your hips.

When he’s rewarded with that laugh he loves so much, he’s going to kiss every bit of you he can reach.

Tech

First and foremost he’s going to explain the reaction to you because it’s Tech.

Then he’s going to figure out all the places that yield that joyful reaction and file them away for later.

He’s very particular about when and where he chooses to tickle you.

Like when you’re being bratty and won’t get out of the pilot’s seat.

Or when you’re not paying attention to something he’s saying. as soon as you look distracted, his fingers are working over your sides to regain your attention

Wrecker

Like Hunter, Wrecker loves your laugh. He lives for it.

Not only does he enjoy your laughter, he likes feeling your muscles tense beneath his fingers, and the way you press closer for more.

(side note HC: I think Wrecker is a very tactile person, and not only does he enjoy touching, but the way things (and people ofc 😏) feel is important to him)

Wrecker is not calculating about when he tickles you.

He might do it when the two of you are playing around or even when you’re making out.

He always tells you how beautiful you look and sound when you laugh

Crosshair

There are times when it seems like Crosshair has forgotten you’re ticklish.

He’s both graceful and deliberate in his motions, including how he touches you.

So when you’re sparring, and you start improve your technique, and are finally able to pin him, he remembers he has a secret weapon.

You’re straddling him, thinking you’ve won, and he rests his hands on your waist like he does all the time…right before he digs his fingers in, and starts tickling you with no mercy.

He’s going to flip the pair of you over, and continue to make you giggle and gasp and beg.

Hearing your laughter is going to earn you one of his rare smiles.

Echo

Echo, like Crosshair, is deliberate in his actions, so if he’s tickling you, you can be sure it’s on purpose.

He’ll do it when you’re being fussy after losing a game.

He’ll do it when you’re being too cocky after winning a game.

He finds it hilarious to ask you questions while you’re laughing uncontrollably.

“What’s that, sweet thing? You want a rematch?”

He can’t help but smile down at you while you try to catch your breath, and he’s definitely going to steal some kisses.

taglist: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @iamburdened

[steviesbicrisis]

It starts out as any other Sunday morning. Eddie takes his time to come out of his room and finds his uncle already in the kitchen, the usual cup of coffee in his hand.

“‘Morning son” Wayne greets him, looking up from the newspaper.

“‘Morning” mumbles Eddie, still half asleep.

Per usual, Wayne tells him about stuff that happened to him during the week, since he works night shifts and they don’t get much time to talk except on Sundays.

“Oh, you won’t believe what I witnessed on Thursday night” Wayne begins, catching Eddie’s interest “we were grabbing something for dinner when I caught this piece of shit launching himself on another man! A disgusting scene to witness, I was so mad. Just like that, out in the open, in that alley next to the diner, you know that one?”

Everything Wayne says after that, Eddie barely registers.

The sound of his voice is muffled, Eddie can feel his jaw clenching, his knees weak, his vision blur. He keeps himself busy making his breakfast, trying not to show his inner turmoil, but something betrays him. He doesn’t know if it’s him putting salt in his coffee or pouring water on his cereals instead of milk.

“Son, are you okay?” Wayne sounds concerned.

Eddie snaps out of his trance, he really tries to act normal but he can’t, he’s so tired of hiding in his own home.

He knows that diner alley too well, he has been there one too many times, risking getting caught doing exactly what Wayne got disgusted about.

“I’m fine” Eddie forces himself to say but, for better or for worse, his uncle knows him way too well.

“What’s going on? Is it something I said?” Wayne gets up from his chair and moves a step closer to him, Eddie flinches.

They've never experienced a situation like this, whenever one of them has a problem with the other, they just say it out loud, bicker for a while, and then go on with their life. Eddie has never had troubles telling his uncle anything, until now.

"What I've said about those men, upset you?" Wayne tries again, and Eddie cannot keep looking at his uncle and lie.

"You said it was a disgusting scene to witness. You're saying that people like me are a disgusting scene to witness."

They look at each other in silence for probably a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime from Eddie's perspective.

Then Wayne rushes to his side and envelopes him in a tight embrace.

"Son, that isn't what I meant- I don't care what you are, what I said about that man has nothing to do with you" Wayne has trouble expressing whatever is going inside his head.

Eddie has never told this to anyone before. He tries to interpret his words the best he can "but I am like that man, you can't just hate every queer that ever existed but me just because I'm your nephew."

Wayne grips his shoulders as if he was afraid Eddie would run away any second. Eddie realizes he is probably right: his gaze was scanning the room behind Wayne, searching for a way out, without fully realizing it.

He feels extremely stupid for coming out like this, without a backup plan, right after Wayne had shown him just how much he cannot stand gay people. He knows Wayne loves him like a son, but being fucked up like Eddie has to be too much even for him.

Wayne takes a deep breath, finally recollecting his thoughts. He moves his hands on Eddie's cheeks "Eddie, I want you to look at me. Look at me in the eyes, son."

Eddie focuses his gaze on his uncle's face. His hands are shaking, his posture stiff. He decides in that moment that whatever happens he will take the hit, fight back and run away.

"I love you Eddie, you are my son. I don't give a shit about who you wanna sleep with as long as you're cautious and you're safe. I don't have prejudice for anything, people can love whoever they wanna love, I don't fucking care. Are we understood?"

Eddie releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He really focuses on Wayne's expression, looking for any indication of him lying but he finds none. He seems concerned, determined and also sad at the same time.

"This changes nothing, I love you just the same."

It could have been because his uncle never told him he loved him so openly until now, because he was scared shitless and an adrenaline rush was running through his body, or because as soon as he figured out he was gay he had always feared the moment Wayne would find out.

It could have been all of those things at the same time that make his eyes watery. He looks away and rubs his arm on his eyes, Wayne lets him without a fuss. He knows Eddie won't run away now.

"But what about those men you were telling me about?" he asks, once he feels calm enough.

"The piece of shit was harassing the other man, it was clear from a mile away, I was pissed he thought he could do it out in the open and that no one would've stopped him" Wayne grumbles.

"Most people wouldn't have stopped him" Eddie says, still stunned.

"Well not your old man... wait, has that ever happened to you?" he questions, Eddie goes red in the face.

"Of course not! I can defend myself!" Eddie sputters, making his uncle chuckle.

Another silence spreads between them, but a much comfortable one.

"Listen, this ain't gonna be a piece of cake. I don't care, I told you, but there's people out there who do. So, when you're out, be careful but when you're here... this is your home Eddie, you have to feel free in here."

Eddie mentally curses him for turning what he thought was a dangerous situation into a sentimental one in a span of ten minutes, making him go to the verge of tears once again.

"Are we understood?" Wayne asks once again.

"We are" Eddie nods, and that's the end of it.

When the time comes and Eddie brings someone home, a boyfriend, to spend the night there and live comfortably around each other without any fear, Wayne knows he has done his job right.

----

So... I came out to my parents today. It wasn't planned, I was scared, but it went the best way I could've imagined. They're both an uncle Wayne, if that makes any sense ahahha But yeah, this inspired me to write Eddie's coming out. Wayne really doesn't care about queer people, he just wants Eddie to be okay, as any parent should.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

Hello, @katditca I see that you have been so gracious to want a small potion from me, though I do apologize for losing your note - I suppose I lost it while traveling; a grave oversight that I hope to remedy.

Now I see that you are wanting a little bit more time to spend doing the small pleasures of life, to relax for just a moment longer. And though it may be a more difficult potion, I am happy to provide for you.

Life was ever-changing and also at such a high speed that it made it nearly impossible for one to keep up with it. But you always had to try, for if not you would be swept up with the tied and dragged further away from shore.

But at times it was hard to fight the current that was life.

You never complained much, for truly there was nothing to grand to be complaining about in the first place, and nothing ever really seemed to bother you for you were always more than accepting of the flaws of man and willing to be patient for the sake of peace.

But such skill, such generosity, to be able to handle the burdens and trials of those around you with a smile in order to keep things calm - to sacrifice some of your time to ensure those around you had whatever they needed - weighed heavily on you.

It was not like you didn’t want to do it. You loved very deeply and helping those that needed it was part of that nature, you wouldn’t trade that for anything. But at times, it seemed more of a burden than a blessing, and you risked going off into the tide.

Bakugou, however, wouldn’t let that happen.

He may not speak much, words often failing him as he has never used them much, but he could listen, and he could see; and what he saw was how weighed down you were with the current you were swimming. He wanted to help you, truly, but how could he when the current he was swimming in was just as brutal?

There simply was not enough time within the day to spare; not without a little help at least, and though Bakugou was not only a fan of reaching out to someone else for help - he can and would easily swallow his pride to ensure you got what you needed.

He wasn’t a fan of the peddler and found her tone to be mocking as she inquired about his visit - about a request for a potion - stating how it wouldn’t be easy to brew but she could make an exception in his case; how lucky was he. And he sat there, for what seemed like hours, watching her create the potion he requested with ease, her humming to an imaginary tune causing his patience to wane and eyes to twitch, but nonetheless, he endured it for you; for a small vial of time - being told it must take two people to drink the potion for it to take effect.

He mixed it with your favorite hot beverage, and him doing the same when you got home that day; he could tell your day was long, perhaps even brutal, but you still cast him that sweet smile he fell in love with, claiming your day went on fine.

“I know you’re lying” he mumbled, allowing you to sit first before he followed suit, carefully handing you your mug “You can tell me when it gets too much, yeah?”

“I know…” You sighed out, blowing away the steam from your drink before taking a small sip “It’s just, today was manageable, nothing bad really happened. So, overall can’t complain.”

“But you could.” Bakugou countered, taking a sip himself and moving to sit more comfortably.

“I’d rather just enjoy my time with you, okay?” 

You leaned into his side, allowing yourself to fully relax as his arm wrapped around you; enjoying his warmth as you both slowly sipped away at your drinks; not noticing how time started to stand still, how the clocks stopped ticking, and the sun ceased falling over the horizon. It was only when you went to go place your mug in the sink did you begin to notice; how a small sparrow sat at your windowsill, unmoving. How the trees stood still, in the middle of a breeze. How a petal of a flower stayed in the air mid-fall.

“Katsuki..?” You called out, eyes unable to cease looking at the spectacle they saw “What’s going on…?”

“I managed to get us a bit more time,” He explained, arms wrapping around you once more as his lips pressed to your neck “cause I think we needed a moment to breathe, together. So why don’t you come back to the couch and we can cuddle for a little bit, okay?”

May the little bit of extra time you get together be filled with love, my darling sweet. And please, take it easy tonight, you may find yourself a little out of sorts - it tends to happen when you're within time that doesn't move.

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

💎💎💎 from georgie about emerie <3

<33

"Emerie! my favorite pink tiefling!! the best alchemist i know!" Georgie is grinning wildly, "Where to start!"

"Shes just so... bright! and joyful! i mean-" Georgie gestures as if to say just look at her -"Shes a wonderful and kind person-" his voice goes low and mournful "-despite everything."

"She has found and rebuilt a family for herself. That takes an immense strength."

"I- I'm not sure what more to say? She is bright an- and I'm just repeating myself again." He laughs at himself.

"Sometimes I wonder how she feels about changing her path, becoming an alchemist. Whether in the dead of night she wonders if it is a rejection of her first family and the love they gave her, to change from the road they mapped out for her." Georgie is staring into the distance, shame on his face for bringing up such personal questions.

"What i mean is- Well i suppose i want the answer myself. I'm just asking her because she seems to have less weight on her shoulders" he smiles with a tightness that denotes its falseness "But I of all people should know that the face someone presents to the world ain't what they feel inside."

"I've found there is a bond of shared suffering between teiflings, and i have to fight the urge to drown my fellow people in questions, questions I'm better off asking my self." he pauses to fiddle with some string, "what I'm getting at, or trying to, is that its hard to think about her without thinking about how i could have been, in another world. I try to capture the stories of my fellow teiflings, so i can weave them together into something i can point to and say is like me. i ask them questions i want to ask myself but know i cannot answer. Am i really a teifling? i have not suffered as much as many of my siblings, those in city's or country's that hate them for existing. Can i claim that relation, that suffering, when i have a loving home to go back to? When i chose to leave the place i had made safe, into a world that hates me."

"i think Em's story may be able to bring me closer to an answer, i think it may help me realize that i still suffer the hate, even if i have people who loved me, even if i have not had the 'normal' experience."

"But that is her story, and its not my place to ransack and demand entry to just because we share an enemy, just for me to know myself better."

"She is a good woman, and an amazing friend. You will not hear me speak against her. But yet i find my vision of her is obscured by the answers i want from her."

he shakes his head, "I apologize. This has said much more about me than her, and she deserves people to see her as more than a vessel to project their personal questions onto. You seem to have caught me in an introspective mood, for better or worse."

"She has mentioned loving animals, but not being able to keep them, maybe she would like to meet my flock. Maybe i can gain her help in making some scrolls of summon creature so she can have an animal companion, in addition, of course, to her lovely dragon companion, but i know the difference between the two."

Georgie is smiling again, a fond warmth.

"Maybe one day we can be the kind of friends who confide these questions in one another, but I enjoy her company and friendship all the same now."

[sugutoad]

Matchup Trade for @anni-is-here

↳ Thank you for doing Matchups at Sugutoad

↳ # PROFILE: ANNI | FIRST GRADE SORCERER; a third year sorcerer who has potential to rise to special grade at Tokyo High originating from an esteemed ancient clan, a clan originally part of the big three clans until the Kamo clan earned its current title, her life flipping when she crosses paths with the King of Curses, and as hard she tried to change her fate… she couldn’t.

⨳ SUKUNA RYOMEN; Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed // Don't know if you love me or you want me dead // Push me away, push me away // Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah // Call me in the morning to apologise // Every little lie gives me butterflies // Something in the way you're looking through my eyes // Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive ; Finding one another in each lifetime, a loves that never fades and only grows / a hate you so much / pretty lies / an engulfing inferno / sickly praises whispered / beauty and the beast / a deep, rumbling chuckle / people watching / a drawling voice / partners in crime / menaces to society / ‘hold my flower, I’m going to kill someone’ ‘ok babe’/ haunting memories / crimson red / candles and red lanterns / love me to death / red lipstick marks / black nail polish / He would burn the whole world for you, but won’t let a single flame hurt you

⨳ The King of Curses… how does does manage to even cross paths with him much less hold his heart in their own hands?  Let me tell you how… matching his personality and strength to a degree. And trust me, your powers that will be revealed in the coming section is something to not be messed with.  Although he may never admit it, there is something captivating about your violent tendencies combined with a tender heart that piques Sukuna's interest. It is not necessarily a single reason but rather a combination of your distinct personality traits that attracts Sukuna towards you. You can not convince me that Sukuna doesn’t have dry humour. It’s quite an interesting dynamic with Sukuna, who I wholly believe, enjoys the witty banter and teasing between the two of you, a rare occurrence for him as most people are unable to even look at him, let alone engage in conversation. Sukuna possesses a weird appreciation for your humour and your ability to find joy in various situations, which ultimately prevents overwhelming circumstances from affecting those around the passionate duo. With you, Sukuna is constantly kept on his toes, ensuring that he does not kill and harm too many (to which he calls you a hypocrite ) He might be the King of Curses, but if you asked him to do anything, he would do it within seconds. While you may have your differences, your shared sense of humour, loyalty, and ability to bring out the best in each other is what draws you together. I want you to have someone who understands you, someone who won’t judge you for how you act around them and have an unwavering commitment towards you (even if it is an obsession at times) and Sukuna fits all of those boxes off.

⨳ How does love blossom between the two? Well, I like to imagine that Sukuna was originally born human and later picked up characteristics of curses as he grew up such as the mouth on his hands and stomach. Anni was a girl from an esteemed clan during the Heian period, her clan claiming a spot in the big three. While he was shunned by all, she was loved by all those who resided in the village. Well, I wouldn’t quite say that she was loved by all but rather respect. The villages respected her family far too much to say anything out of line that could possibly result in their death but for her? She was a bother to them with her non-lady-like attitude and violent tendencies. Two sides of the same coin. What baffles the salmon haired boy was how the girl, who grew up exactly opposite of him, never seemed to deem him as a monster but rather a friend. 

⨳ He had first seen Anni when he had been training, I would say around the age of 12, and at the corner of his eyes he couldn’t help but see a glimpse of brown hair. So he went to check it out, in an attempt to confront her. But when he went to find her, he couldn’t seem to find the mysterious girl. The next time he saw her and had an actual conversation, which is something he hadn’t had for a while, it was an awkward accident. He had just been walking near the pond when he saw a figure swimming near the shore. At first, he had ignored her but he had made eye contact by accident. “You shouldn’t be staring at a naked woman, you know?” The brunette smirked at him from afar as he fought back a smile of his own. “I’m afraid I don’t go for ugly women” “So I assume you would go for me if that seems to be the case.” She said while wrapping a towel around herself, never once breaking eye contact. “I don’t go for stalkers” He said with a smug grin, a soft hue of pink rising to Anni’s cheek, standing out greatly from her pale complexion. “I just wanted to see how you trained..” she stuttered, finally breaking eye contact, her eyes currently glued to the floor. “Never seen anyone train before?” “Girls in the clan aren’t allowed in the training room, much less learn how to fight.” The first part of Anni’s sentence nearly stopped Sukuna’s heart. “You are from a clan?” He bit the inside of his cheek. The brunette nodded slowly, she seemed to be displeased with that title instead of boasting it like many Sukuna knew. He let out a breath and sat cross legged in the sand, motioning her to sit beside her to which she didn’t oblige to. “I’m Anni.” “I didn’t ask..” “Rude. You are?” “None of your business.” Anni let out a groan of frustration causing Sukuna to chuckle. “It’s Sukuna.” He waited for her to run away but she smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Kuna.” “Kuna? Ew, don’t call me that - that horrible nickname ever again. “Why? Aren’t we friends now?” “And what makes you say that?” “You told me your name and I told you mine and we are having a pretty neat conversation. “ Sukuna sighed, it was now Anni’s turn to laugh. And when he went up to leave after a while, he decided to never cross paths with her again. But the gods seemed to have a different plan for him, he knew they hated him but not this much. 

⨳ Wherever he went, she was always there and jogged up to him with a smile. Soon, Sukuna found himself enjoying her company. It was nice to have a friend, though he still wasn’t fond of the name she had given him. The name ‘Kuna’ still runs down the spine, he should be feared by others, not given some cute nickname by Anni. At one point during their blossoming friendship, she convinced him to teach her how to fight and was a natural. No one has ever gotten a hit on her, except… her. Sukuna wasn’t sure when it happened but at one point, he would get furious when he would see Anni happy under the company of a different male. That smile was only for him, not for others. His face would always turn red when she would jump on him from behind. It took him too long, far too long to recognize his feelings for her. A part of him was afraid it was unrequited feelings and didn’t speak up for a long time but simply stayed with her friend. 

⨳That was until one day, 6 years after they became friends (so now they are at the age of 18)  It had started like any day, Sukuna was crossing through the streets to get to where Anni should be waiting for him until he heard whispers around him that got his attention. He was eager to see her, they hadn’t crossed paths for a few days (almost a whole week to Sukuna’s disappointment) The daughter of one of the Big Three clans had been diagnosed with a deadly disease for the last few days, any moment today could be her last. Sukuna’s heart dropped, he almost fell out his chest. No.. it couldn’t be Anni. But the Zenin and Gojo clan leaders both only had sons, no daughter. Only the Spark clan had a daughter - his precious Anni.  He ran as fast as could, pushing everyone out of the way. He didn’t gave a fuck who glared or swore at him, he needed to get to her. Pushing the guards standing at the front of her house, who were bewildered at the sight of the cursed boy confronting them, and ran to her room, sliding the door open. He panted, tears stinging his eyes. She looked so calm, sprawled in bed and her eyes appeared closed. Was he too late?

⨳ He nearly dropped on his knees as he walked to her bed, clutching the white blanket covering her lower body to maintain balance. He wanted to say something, to make sure she was alive and heard her tell him that this was all a prank. But she didn’t move and his voice got to his chest. Brown eyes fluttered open and she muttered at him. “Stalker…” Sukuna's heart raced quickly. He was so happy that he didn’t even say anything back. “I thought you died…” “I will… soon. I just wanted to see you one last time. I’ve been laying all day in bed so I don’t waste energy and knock dead on the floor” she giggled. Sukuna closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall on Anni’s shoulder as he took in a breath. “I love you…” She stayed silent but Sukuna was glad, he was able to take this feeling off his heart and tell her how he felt before she took her final breath. Unexpectedly, salty tears fell down Anni’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why make me wait so long before I die?” She was practically yelling at him at this point, it broke his heart to hear her voice strained and raspy, filled with so much pain all because of him and his cowardice. “Idiot… I don’t want to die. I want to be with you.. I’m scared, Kuna. I want to live a normal life with you” She hiccuped between words and continued but he couldn’t pick up anything at her words all jumbled together, he gently (as if she was the most gentle thing ever and would shatter under his touch if he was too roughy) rubbed her tears away, never once looking away. Her head fell down on her pillow, sobbing quietly as Sukuna held her hand. He didn’t once let go or say anything, even after she took her final breath hours after. That’s when he broke down, tears slipped down his cheeks as he rubbed his forehead, swearing nonchalantly. “I’m not going to let you die… you can’t. I won’t let you..”

⨳ Little did Sukuna know that the last words of someone or to dead people could turn into a curse for the soul of the deceased. He had just cursed the girl he would erupt the world in flames for. (Sukuna later detaches himself from the world, Anni was his only connection to everything and as a result of this, he slowly build up even more negative emotions and became the curse he is today) It wouldn’t be for another thousand years until the brunette would be reborn once again, 18 years before she would meet Sukuna again. The sad truth is that she wouldn’t even recognize or remember him for quite some time, while Sukuna’s heart breaks upon seeing her. 

(This doesn’t fully depict your romance but rather just a few impactful moments in your life of knowing him so you can let your imagination run free with what happened with the 6 years of your friendship. This relationship means everything to me and breaks my heart. Another lyric that remind me of you and Sukuna is the ending of Enchanted by Taylor Swift, not needed the whole song but just those lyrics: This is me praying that // This was the very first page // Not where the story line ends // My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again // These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon // I was enchanted to meet you // Please don't be in love with someone else // Please don't have somebody waiting on you)

RUNNER UP: NANAMI KENTO AND TOGE INUMAKI

⨳ The Ink Web is a powerful technique possessed by few of those who are born into the Spark clan. When using it, one conjures a web made of ink that ensnares and restricts the movements of their foes. The strength of the technique lies in its ability to immobilise opponents, hindering their ability to fight back. To initiate the Ink Web, the user focuses their energy and channels it into creating the web-like structure. Once formed, it can be directed towards the intended target, entangling them within its inky embrace. It requires skill and precision to effectively utilise this curse technique in battle. In addition to immobilising foes, the Ink Web curse technique can also obscure their opponents vision, enveloping them in a shroud of darkness. This can disorient and confuse them, making it challenging for them to perceive their surroundings and plan their next moves. This technique can also create opportunities for strategic manoeuvres. By ensnaring and restricting the movements of their opponents, the user can seize the advantage and launch attacks or prevent incoming ones. The Ink Web curse technique has two more remarkable abilities. It possesses the power to sap the strength and energy of those caught within its grasp, draining their vitality and leaving them weakened. To add on to the factor of taking away one’s cursed energy and strength, the user who had initiated the attack is able to use that cursed energy as their own. Secondly, the ink used to create the web can be infused with various elemental properties, such as fire or poison like Sukuna’s fire! Another reason you would be amazing with him since your powers benefit one another. 

⨳ Domain Expansion: Also called ‘Arachne’,  the mist of ink that surrounds you and your opponent grants you heightened senses, allowing you to perceive the slightest movements and vibrations, similar to those of a spider. Even one step could be the end of  those captured in this reality. Imagine a swirling sea of dark ink, stretching and weaving like an intricate tapestry. During Domain Expansion, the  range and strength of the Ink Web are magnified, enabling it to cover a larger area and immobilise opponents with even greater force. Within the misty realm, the Ink Web gains the ability to create illusions, disorienting and confusing adversaries as they struggle to discern reality from deception. The Ink Web's tendrils, alongside the user, grow stronger within the domain, allowing them to exert a greater force when ensnaring opponents, making it even more challenging for them to break free. The jujutsu sorcerer who wields the Ink Web gains the power to manipulate the ink itself, shaping it into various forms such as spikes, blades, or shields, providing additional offensive and defensive capabilities. The domain expansion dampens the senses of those trapped within its grasp, making it difficult for them to perceive their surroundings or sense incoming attacks, further increasing the advantage of the Ink Web's wielder. Within the domain, the Ink Web has the ability to regenerate and repair itself, ensuring that it remains a formidable and unyielding force throughout the duration of the battle. Within its expanded realm, the Ink Web grants the jujutsu sorcerer the ability to summon ethereal creatures made of ink. These ink summons can take various forms, ranging from fierce and powerful beasts to agile and elusive spirits. They serve as loyal allies, fighting alongside the sorcerer with each ink summons possessing unique abilities. Users who are a bit more experienced possess a unique power called "Ink Veil." This ability allows the jujutsu sorcerer to create a protective barrier of swirling ink, capable of deflecting and nullifying various attacks. 

⨳ I’m not really sure how I came up with this power for you. I took a mix of your personality and a few of your likes and combined them into one until a power was formed. The more darker theme was certainly chosen due to your love for horror

⨳ The Tachi Blade is a traditional Japanese sword that dates back to ancient times. It supposedly dates back to the Heian Era and you had shown a weird interest in it. The Tachi was primarily used by samurai warriors during battles and important ceremonies. It was known for its long, curved blade and its ability to be wielded with both hands. The Tachi was worn suspended from the waist, with the cutting edge facing downward. The Tachi was also used as a symbol of status and honour, often adorned with intricate designs and symbols representing the samurai's lineage or achievements.

⨳ In battle, the Tachi was used for slashing and cutting motions, allowing the samurai to effectively strike their opponents. Its curved shape and sharp edge made it ideal for powerful and precise cuts. 

⨳ Now with your power, it definitely gives you an advantage in battle. The users of Ink Web could utilise the flexibility and range of the weapon to strike from a distance, wrapping their swords in black tendrils. Another thing any sorcerer, not necessarily from the Spark clan, can infuse Cursed Energy into the sword (similar to what Yuuta did in JJK 0) By focusing their cursed energy into the weapon, they can imbue it with additional power and capabilities. 

⨳ KIRARA AND HAKARI;your best friends. three of you had first met during your first year when you were put under the supervision of Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, and became quick friends. A thing that certainly puts you guys together is all your rebellious, goofy and bold behaviour. But you do have to scold them at times, such as when those two got expelled and therefore couldn’t participate in the exchange program with you. A lot of your time with them consists of you being a third wheel unfortunately. But they always have your back even during the toughest situations and the three of you shook the jujutsu society. 

⨳ FIRST YEAR STUDENTS; I’m sort of combing them all together because they have similar opinions on you. They respect you a lot, certainly the most in the third year section. Itadori loves watching movies with you and swimming. Nobara wants to be like you, someone even the higher up can’t say much to. Megumi knew you as a child due to both of you being from a high esteemed clan and when you were kings to him, he clinched himself on to you. It wouldn’t be a lie if I said he probably had a childish crush on you before.

⨳ GOJO SATORU; he is your sensei! He wholly believes that you, alongside Hakari and Yuuta, have the ability to surpass him one day. He is one of the reasons why the higher ups are slightly afraid of you (alongside your clan, of course). He sees himself too much in you, he sees bits of Geto too. He wants to protect you from all harm, so when he sees that the King of Curses is obsessed over you, he is willing to do anything it takes to keep you safe. Even if it meant he had to die

⨳ SECOND YEAR STUDENTS; though not a really strong friendship like you have with the third year of the sibling relationship you share with the first years, the second years see you as someone who can guide them. Since you had recently finished second year, they occasionally come to ask help for work and other things. Maki certainly trains with you, you can’t convince me otherwise. Whenever they are on a mission with you, they will look up at you, entrusting everything with you. Because they know the power of Anni Sparks.

[zizygy]

Digging Your Own Grave

Astarion/Tav ~4k words inspired by @tagerrkix's heartbreaking Astarion art Summary: Astarion's worst memory ends a little differently. Read it on AO3!

I deserve it.

That was the thought that wouldn’t leave Astarion’s head as he dug his own grave. Cazador had come out to watch, which elevated the punishment to something far beyond the  tortures that Astarion was used to. Cazador had no interest in the mundanity of the rack, when he showed up in person, it meant he had something special planned, something Astarion wouldn’t forget for a long time. Astarion’s back prickled from his master’s eyes, but he worked diligently and vampiric strength made quick work of the ground under his shovel. Soon, there was no choice but to get into the hole to continue digging. He hesitated. He understood the symbolism, that was obvious, but what was the punishment?

“You’re welcome to stand there until the sun comes out,” Cazador said behind him. “It’s a waste of my time but is sure to spare me quite a bit of trouble.”

Astarion stepped into the grave and worked at double pace. Sweat slid down his back with the exertion, doing nothing to alleviate the feeling of ever present eyes on him. Finally he finished and he climbed out of the hole. Cazador assessed it with narrowed eyes.

“It will do,” he said, as if even that much acknowledgement disgusted him. Then he walked to a dilapidated shed nearby and dragged out a coffin. Astarion barely got a look before he kicked it in the hole. It wasn’t much more than a few wooden boards slapped together, a peasant’s coffin, hardly a step up from just being thrown in a mass grave.

“Cazador,” Astarion said, starting to sink to his knees. Before he could even begin to grovel, Cazador’s hand shot out, too fast for Astarion to duck, and closed around his throat. He was familiar with this. He did not need to breathe anymore, but he was still of flesh and blood. He still flinched when his throat was threatened. (There was a lot that Cazador did that made him flinch). He fought, instinct taking over as he raked his fingernails across the older vampire’s skin, but they didn’t do anything more than scratch. It wasn’t nearly enough to save him as Cazador held him over the grave he’d just dug and then… let go.

Like he was nothing more than another victim.

He landed hard and was too stunned to protest when Cazador flicked his hand and dropped the lid of the coffin on top of him.

Astarion didn’t start fighting until it was too late, and wasn’t that just the story of his life? He felt each clump of dirt slam into the lid of his coffin but he couldn’t make himself fight, not really. He’d tried to outsmart his master, he had found another vampire lord willing to at least talk to him. But he wasn’t discrete enough, or else Cazador had ways to track him that he hadn’t anticipated. The worst part was that he had no idea what went wrong. No idea how to prevent it the next time.

He deserved to be caught for his lack of cleverness, if not defying his master. He was trying to leave, after all, he should have been smarter. It was the smart and the powerful who survived in this cutthroat world. In his quest for power, Astarion had somehow managed to become neither.

The dirt piled on top of him, suffocating, even though he didn’t need to breathe, pressing down even though the thin coffin protected him from its weight. In truth, it was one of the least painful punishments Astarion had ever earned. He just needed to be patient, wait out Cazador’s anger. If he was smart, he would use this time to come up with a way to make it up to the vampire, choreograph his whimpers and bows and pleas into a satisfying dance. Lay his pride on the ground and kneel on it while he bled.

The idea felt like a vice, tightening with each clump of dirt that thumped onto the coffin.

Then the sound muffled as the dirt fell not onto wood, but onto more dirt. As each shovelful landed closer to the surface. Farther away from him.

That’s when he began to fight in earnest. He clawed at the wood, kicked the edges of the coffin, threw his shoulder against the walls of his prison.

How long do you fight an unwinnable war until you give up?

Astarion fought longer than he should have. He shouldn’t have started it in the first place, he understood that now. But even as he understood, he refused to accept. He railed against his fate, his choices, his master.

Astarion was not sure how long it had been when he finally let his exhausted arms drop. His nails were cracked, the skin split and bloody where it had slammed against the wooden coffin. He was enraptured by the slow descent of a droplet of blood down his arm.

It was not silent down here, but the noises of the graveyard were barely there, whispers that seemed to fade away the moment that he tried to decipher them.

The loss of hope was not a straight line from point A to point B. It would have been easier if it was. Maybe Astarion could have accepted his place. Or Maybe Cazador was reading his thoughts, and every time he started to feel like giving up, like he was ready to stop fighting, his master sent something out of the ordinary.

How many times had Astarion heard a nearer than usual scratching? He’d a dog, or maybe a child, scrabbling at the dirt over his grave and he’d feel a hellish hope rise in his chest. He would claw and kick and scream at the top of his lungs in the hopes that someone would hear him. That someone would investigate.

And then the hunger came.

Astarion had thought that he knew hunger. Cazador kept him starved of mortal blood, allowing him rats and occasionally, if he was good, larger, less diseased animals. His stomach never stopped aching. Hunger was his constant companion, an urge that he had to actively turn away from every night as he prowled the streets for fresh victims.

But this. This felt like a black hole within his stomach, his chest and his head. It consumed every thought. He heard shuffling above his head and instead of thinking *help*, he thought *blood*. Had he been in his right mind, he might have reflected that Cazador had finally done it, he’d broken his errant spawn. Instead, he slammed his hand into the thin piece of wood separating him from the world. From blood.

He slammed his hand against the same spot, again and again and again until he punched through and was met by nothing but dirt.

He screamed, a desperate, animal sound that tore out of his parched throat and took the remainder of his energy with it. He fell back as grave dirt trickled past the broken wood, six feet between him and freedom.

Time passed in fits and starts. Every once in a while he was seized with the need to scream, to fight, to resist this hellish fate he’d been consigned to. Then his energy would fade and he’d fall back, exhausted, with no company but his hunger and the dirt.

Time passed.

Astarion didn’t move.

Until Astarion was roused from his hunger haze by something walking over his grave, but when the sound began, it wasn’t the scrabbling of a dog’s paws. It was… heavier. More deliberate.

A shovel.

The pressure of the earth began to lighten. Astarion wanted to push through the scraps of wood and dirt separating him from his prey, but the part of him that was still a hunter kept him still. It would be easier to take down the creature, whose blood pounded so deliciously above him, with the element of surprise.

Sunlight filtered in through the hole in the coffin, burning his cheek. He held in a hiss as he wriggled away from the light and waited for his opportunity. And then the shovel slammed through the cracked wood and there it was, a drow, sweaty and unsuspecting, backlit by the sun.

Astarion lunged, even as the sun began to burn his skin. He acted on instinct. The drow was blood and blood would heal him. He barreled into the man. He was weak, starved of blood, but Cazador had promised to make him something more than mortal and that was the one promise he’d kept. It was with a vampire’s strength and a spawn’s desperation that he dragged the drow into the shadows.

–

Rhyl didn’t see the difference in graverobbing and breaking into a chest of hidden goods. It was stealing either way, and unless he was very unlucky, the original owner wasn’t going to find out about it. Upworlders were so precious with bodies. Shadowheart and Gale hadn’t stopped him, but they’d refused to come into the cemetery at first.

Shadowheart called it bad luck. Gale at least cited a few hazards, ghosts, graveyard gas, skeletons, as if they hadn’t been killing skeletons for the past two weeks. Either way, he wasn’t concerned. He grabbed his shovel and started digging.

Rhyl had relied heavily on the advice of the local fauna since arriving in Baldur’s Gate. Stray cats and dogs had a significantly better understanding of the city than he did. A few cats had already warned him off the adventurer’s tavern at the edge of town where people tended to disappear. Then he came across a dog that excitedly told him about something that smelled weird in the cemetery. His owner always pulled him back before he could investigate, but after a few walks around (his owner’s sister hadn’t died recently, but times were hard and memories abundant) he’d identified the unmarked grave where the strange smell was coming from. Weird for animals usually meant magic and occasionally poison, and Rhyl was eager to find out which it was. The dog only asked that he leave any bones he finds.

And so, against the advice of his companions, Rhyl ventured into the graveyard and started digging. Perhaps he took some of their concern to heart though because, while it required a bit more stealth, he did plan the operation for the middle of the day.

Sweat rolled down his back and somehow the blasted dirt was so full of white rocks that it managed to reflect the bright sunlight directly into his eyes, but soon his effort was rewarded. His shovel hit something solid, but that gave far more easily than rock. He took a deep breath and slammed metal against wood. It gave with a crack and, too curious for his own good, Rhyl leaned in to get his first look at the treasure.

All he saw was pale skin and a flash of red before something slammed into him with enough force to throw him out of the quickly dug hole. The impact drove the breath from his body and maybe it was because he was tired and the city so loud, or maybe he’d felt too safe for too long and let himself go soft, but his fingers had barely found the hilt of his dagger when the creature, the *man*, from the grave dragged him into the shadows.

A heavy weight settled over him, pressing his legs, hips and chest to the ground. Rhyl fought, but the hands on his shoulders were strong enough to keep him pinned down. Rhyl’s empty hand flexed in the warmth of the sun, but the rest of him was pinned by shadow. The man’s eyes met his and Rhyl froze.

Blood red.

The same color as his own.

Rhyl might have been able to roll into the sun, to drag the vampire with him to burn, but his muscles had locked. And then the vampire dropped his head and grazed his fangs over Rhyl’s throat.

There are many romantic tales of vampires that slide their fangs into victims’ necks like a caress. A whisper of pain that’s quickly replaced by ecstasy, though whether that’s due to a certain kind of venom or a certain kind of victim depends on the teller. This vampire’s bite was not soft and romantic. It’s more like being bitten by a dog, a desperate latching of teeth into flesh as his vessels tore open.

Quickly, so quickly, the blood and energy drained from his body. But not quickly enough to kill him. The vampire sucked greedily at his lifeblood while his hand finished the well known path to the dagger at his hip. This wasn’t the first time he’d been knocked onto his back by someone trying to kill him, though it was the first time that someone seemed to relish the action quite so much.

Blackness was already gathering at the edge of his vision when he pressed his knife against the vampire’s stomach. “My friends will be here in a moment, they’ll be more merciful if you don’t drain me dry.”

The vampire hesitated, which gave Gale enough time to cast a paralyzing spell. Good timing, he hadn’t been sure anyone was there. He’d never gotten a chance to scream.

"Don't kill him," Rhyl gasped, "I want to talk to him." He rolled out from under the vampire and into the warm embrace of the sun. It strengthened his headache but gave him the room he needed to clap his hand over his bleeding neck, staunching the wound.

He started to get up, to move toward the vampire, as if to protect him with his body, if not words, but Gale put a hand on his shoulder and pushed. “Sit,” the wizard said, and Rhyl’s body obeyed, legs collapsing under him.

He’d hardly dropped to his knees when Shadowheart rounded a gravestone and glared at him.

“What the fuck happened here?” she demanded.

“Rhyl’s decided to go soft on the undead,” Gale said. Rhyl couldn’t see him roll his eyes, but he heard it in the wizard’s tone.

Shadowheart’s face paled when she saw Rhyl’s mangled neck. She reached out with a hand crackling with magic. Rhyl expected the cool wash of healing magic. Instead it burned as it slammed against the wound. “Nine hells, what the fuck?” he hissed.

“Cauterization,” Shadowheart said primly. “That’s what you get for getting mauled without me.”

Rhyl’s eyes narrowed. “The vampire is still there if you’d like to join in the fun.”

“No thank you, I value my life, unlike you seem to.”

Rhyl traced the burned skin on his neck. It wasn’t that he didn’t care to live, but he’d learned to trust his gut out here. It was that nagging feeling that something didn’t add up that saved Karlach. It had nearly got him assassinated once, but only once.

The vampire had looked at him with desperation and fear, not just hunger. More like a slave than an animal. He let out a long breath as Gale knelt down to tie the vampire’s wrists together. He didn’t let go of the spell until they were all back at camp though.

–

As soon as the wizard let go of his spell, Astarion started to fight. He was still hungry but the blinding nothingness had faded. He could hear and smell the pulsing blood of the human wizard, the drow that had freed him, and the half-elf that sparked with divine magic. An hour ago, they would have been nothing but pulses, now he could watch them, though his mind hadn’t caught up quickly enough to form any plans. Especially with the taste of the drow’s blood still in his mouth.

The wizard raised a hand to put him back in his place, but before Astarion could even snarl, the drow’s voice snapped through the air. “Gale! He’s already bound, leave him alone.”

Gale glared at Astarion. Astarion glared right back. After a tense moment, the wizard threw his hands up. “On your own head be it! I won’t come running when he tries to devour you a second time.”

The drow watched Gale go, then turned to Astarion. His dark purple skin had an ashy tint, no doubt from the pain and blood loss Astarion had caused, but his eyes shone like rubies. For drow, that meant he worshiped the spider goddess Lolth and the tattoos that cut across his cheeks and lips like the legs of a spider seemed to confirm it. He was short, shorter than the wizard and probably than Astarion himself, with a lean frame. In other words, he was attractive, in that rugged adventurer’s way. “I’m Rhyl,” he said, his eyes not leaving Astarion’s face as he didn’t sit as much as stumble to his knees. He sat in the sunlight, apparently not entirely a fool, while Astarion stayed under the awning where he’d been deposited.

A part of him realized that this was his moment. The drow - Rhyl, was clearly interested in him, for whatever reason. He could smile, turn on the charm, and probably have the man eating out of the palm of his hand. No well-adjusted person went grave robbing.

But he was tired.

“Astarion,” he finally said. He owed the man his sanity, the least he could give was a name.

Rhyl’s eyes didn’t leave his. It made him uncomfortable. He wanted to fidget, an odd sensation after moving so little for so long. “You should listen to your wizard. I won’t hesitate to tear you apart,” he snarled.

All that got him was a raised eyebrow.

“You look like you want to be in the sun even less than I do. Go crawl back to your people,” he tried.

To Astarion’s surprise, Rhyl did move, but he moved closer, until he was also under the awning. His heart beat in a steady rhythm. “Are you hungry?”

Astarion blinked, taken aback, then his eyes narrowed. Yes. “Why?”

“You’re pricklier than a spiny mole. Hunger is natural, I won’t punish you for it.” He moved closer again. His white hair fell in a wave over one of his eyes. It made him look almost shy.

It was the kind of trick that Astarion used, although he usually brushed his hair away from his face. He’d thought that being small didn’t suit him.

“Besides,” Rhyl said, heartbeat infuriatingly steady, “you can’t blame a spider for biting when you disturb its web.”

“Now I’m confused,” Astarion drawled, leaning forward despite himself. “Am I a spider or a mole?” He was close enough now to flick out his tongue against the wound he left on Rhyl’s neck. The drow didn’t seem bothered, even extended his arm until it was almost in Astarion’s lap. A dagger seemed to appear in his other hand.

“They’re both found underground,” Rhyl was saying, but Astarion wasn’t listening to the words. With the barest move of his fingers, the dagger dipped toward the unmarred skin of his arm. Blood welled up like it was summoned. Rhyl dragged the dagger across his flesh, widening the cut.

Astarion stared. Rhyl’s blood bubbled up from his skin, ruby red and no less alluring because he knew how it tasted. He hadn’t had the presence of mind to note the intricacies of the flavor when he attacked the man, but he could smell them now, a soft earthiness accompanied by a subtle spice he couldn’t name. It made his mouth water and it took active effort for him to tear his eyes away from the wound.

“You’re not concerned that I’ll bite?” he asked, layering as much disdain in his voice as he could manage. It made him feel like himself again.

Rhyl looked at him blankly. “If you did, I would slit your throat. Neither of us wants that, so it’s best that you don’t.”

Before Astarion could start disentangling that, Rhyl shoved his bloody arm forward. Astarion took it in a purposefully delicate grip. His fingernails were broken, jagged and stained with blood and dirt. His pale skin looked ghostly against the deep purple of the drow’s skin. He bent his head, as if in supplication, and drank.

His hunger, so volatile for so long, had quieted within him since he attacked Rhyl. He’d expected it to return full force and prepared to jump away before instinct could once more turn him into a feral animal, but that didn’t happen. Instead of hunger, Rhyl’s blood slaked his thirst. He took it in through his mouth and it found its way to his veins, rushing through his decrepit body and knocking off years of dust. His skin pinked, an organ coming back to life.

He had to shut his mouth against a whine as Rhyl, looking a little bit greyer, pulled his arm back.

“Now will you tell me what you were doing in the graveyard?”

Astarion wiped his mouth. “That was a bribe then?”

“You can think of it as payment, if you want.”

“If I don’t?”

Rhyl’s crimson eyes twinkled. “An offer of friendship. I’d take it, if I were you. You never know when you’ll need a friend.”

There was that boyish charm again. Rhyl was trying to lure him into complacency. Why? Did it matter? Two could play at that game. If the lolth-worshiper wanted to feel like a hero, Astarion would give him someone to save.

It took very little effort to let his hands start to shake. Casting his gaze down was harder, but he did that too. “I haven’t had a friend in a long time.”

Rhyl didn’t move, but his heart rate was picking up. Astarion pressed his advantage. “But I can’t stay. My master is expecting me.”

“He did this to you.” It wasn’t a question. Astarion risked a glance up and he saw… more than he expected in the drow’s eyes. Righteous anger, of course, adventurers were full of that, disgust that could just as easily been directed at spawn as vampire, and the barest hint of fear.

“I deserved it.”

For all Astarion’s performances, that was true. Ungrateful. Disobedient. Weak. What kind of vampire did that make him?

“I doubt that,” Rhyl said, his tone hard to read. “There’s discipline and there’s cruelty.” He said it like it was a fact of life and for a moment Astarion wondered how he would do as a vampire spawn. If he would balk the first time he was ordered to bring prey back to Cazador. If he would kneel readily, or if he’d make a retort just so it felt like his idea.

Astarion shrugged helplessly. “All the same, I have to go back.”

“Alone?”

Adventurers are all the same. They just want someone to tell them they’re a hero.

He looked up, letting his nerves show. “I wouldn’t mind some company,” he said softly.

Cazador wouldn’t forgive him for ending his punishment early but perhaps a gift would at least temper his anger.

The bloody knife reappeared in Rhyl’s hand, but this time instead of cutting into skin, it cut rope. “Then I will come with you,” he said simply.

And you won’t ever leave, Astarion thought.

[houseofcameliard]

What Happens Next: Saoirse + William

After school, Saoirse attended St Phillips University in Cameliard, studying Art History. Her first year was fairly uneventful. She went on a few dates, some men, some women, but nothing really stuck. Living out of home and being able to be a little bit more independent did wonders for Saoirse’s confidence, and she truly began to blossom. 

When Dom joined her at University the next year they were sharing an apartment, where Dom would bring over his friends a lot of the time, and irritate Saoirse by being very loud and boisterous. One friend always annoyed her because he always seemed to go out of the way to talk to her and annoy her by asking questions and teasing her. The Friend? None other than William Alnwick-Grimalldi. Dom and Will were on the St Phillips rugby team together, and Saoirse was convinced that William was just a dumb, rugby boy, who was only interested in sleeping with girls. Even if Dom was constantly insisting that Will really was a nice guy, and “He just teases you because he thinks you’re fun. He’s a triplet he’s got two sisters. He’s used to teasing” so very slowly Saoirse began to soften, and they actually became friends.  

In an attempt to get along with her brother’s best friend, Saoirse offered to study with Will in the library one day. It was there that Will discovered his favourite joke, teasing Saoirse that she had a crush on him. Was it because he wanted it to be true? Maybe, but he also he found it funny to see Saoirse get flustered and all pink in the cheeks. “Do you want to see me in uniform?” he says when she asks when he’s next playing rugby, “Saoirse, Dom is just in the bathroom! Behave!” he calls out when she asks if he wants a sweet from the packet she’s eating. Finally after months of back and forth, everything culminated at a house party. 

“I think I know why you like me.” Will smirks over the top of a beer bottle, two too many drinks deep, Saoirse rolls her eyes and decides to humour him. “Oh really? And what makes you so confident?” She replies, lifting her drink and taking another sip. “You’re a gold-digger” He grins, Saoirse nearly spits her drink out in disbelief.  “Excuse me? A gold digger?” she sputters. “A gold digger. A dirty little gold digger. You want my share of the Alnwick-Grimalldi fortune, you’re not interested in me at all. Not me as a person.” William couldn’t hide his chagrin at the success of his quip. “Right, because it’s not like I’ve got my own or anything. I’m not hanging out with you because of your money, Will” Saoirse laughs and rolls her eyes, not realising this was the first time she’d not denied her crush, or that she enjoyed spending time with him. “Gold diggers can still be rich in their own right.” He shrugs. “I’m not a gold digger!” She says, becoming exasperated, looking away from him. “You’re a friggin gold digger, Saoirse” He grins, taking a step so she was looking right at him again, standing closer than he had before. “Shut up! No I’m not!” her voice breaks slightly as she realises how close he is standing. “Then prove it.” The two lock eyes, Will smirking, challenging. Saoirse breathing heavily, feeling as though time had slowed down. Then leant up and kissed the boy she had been wanting to kiss all night. 

After that night their relationship followed the route that most do. A few dates, then they made it official. They dated for a few years until just before Graduation when Saoirse was having a bit of an identity crisis. Everything felt so good and easy with Will. But she was beginning to learn from Aisling and Michael how she would govern a country, her country, and she somehow got it caught in her mind that someone as carefree and easy as Will might not be the person she should have by her side. Will was heartbroken. They stayed broken up for about six months, where very quickly Saoirse knew her mistake. It was at a dinner party where they reconnected, awkward at first, but later were found in the study of the apartment sitting very close and talking. Saoirse apologised for breaking up with him, Will apologised for not showing her that he could be the support she would need. And they never looked back from there.

Will asked Michael for his permission to marry Saoirse almost immediately after they got back together, but didn't propose until a year later when he knew Saoirse was ready for it. They were engaged for a year and then were married.

Another two years and Maeve was born, and she wasn't the only child for long, because just two years later the twins Cillian and Aine were born. Frederick was able to meet his great-grandson and great-granddaughter before passing away a few months later at 85. 

The Duke and Duchess of Waterford and their children lived a perfectly happy, and practically fairy-tale life from then on. They had the struggles that any family does, especially one that rules a country. But they were happy. Aisling is Queen until she dies at the age of 89, Michael becomes king at 62, and Saoirse is 36. Michael rules for a few years but is forced to abdicate at 68 due to health issues, having had issues with his heart. Saoirse takes the throne at the age of 42, with William as her King Consort, ruling beside her as per her wishes. 

[avastyetwats]

Stede can you tell us what’s so different about you and Izzy((izzyeffinhands muns Izzy))versus you and Ed? I thought you were desperately in love with Ed but you seem closer to Izzy than you were to him? Why did you fall for Izzy? ((sorryifthatstoomanyquestions but I really like Stede and Izzy))

"Things... happened between us. I won't go into detail of what happened between Ed and I, but we wanted different things and he needed time on his own which I respect. So, he stayed behind while I left with the crew, continuing my life as a Pirate Captain. I wasn't ready to leave them, anyway, and knowing how hurt Izzy was, and because of me, I couldn't just... not be there for him. But it was during that time that we grew closer, Izzy and I. Much closer than either of us ever expected given our... rather hostile beginning." There's a smile now on Stede's face as he thinks about Israel - how far they've come and where they are now.

"Turns out, Izzy and I have a lot in common. We've bonded through our shared pain, our similar trauma, and our longing to just... belong. To belong somewhere and with someone and that's what I've found with Izzy. Belonging. We found comfort in each other, we found a home, we found love, we found acceptance, and just... so much more, so much that I never truly understood until Izzy." After all, his marriage to Mary had been one of convenience and not love, so there was so much Stede missed out on. That they both missed out on, but Stede had all of that now. And so much more.

"I've also shared so many firsts with him that I can't imagine having shared with anyone else. He's just... everything to me, to put it simply. Everything. I've found so much with him, and because of him, I've discovered so much about myself because of him and gods," He laughs, tears now spilling from his eyes. "This is what happens anytime I talk about him, or even just think about him. There just aren't enough words to explain what I feel for Israel Hands or why, but just know that I love him." He smiles, eyes shining with unbridled joy, no doubt or regret to be found. Never, "Not only is he the love of my life, but he's my light. The sun isn't the cause for my days being bright and warm, he is. Just as the ocean has no end, nor does my love for him."

Gods, he went on and on didn't he? It was easy to become lost in his thoughts about Izzy, to just talk about him with the happiest smile on his face. Every word was the truth. Every word honest and genuine. And they still had a lifetime ahead of them.

@izzyeffinhands

[chillingpenalty]

◈  starter  for  @diiluvies  [  ;  ]  [  collapse  ]

"  𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐔𝐑  𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄  —  !  "                                in  light  of  recent  events  of  containing  the  purging  flesh  -  defiling  seas  within  the  gaping  jowls  of  the  sluice  gate  ,  water  utterly  contaminated  by  a  highly  concentrated  heavy  supplement  of  purity  [  ;  ]  made  to  cleanse  the  sin  of  all  those  birthed  on  this  land  [  ;  ]  waters  that  shan’t  delay  entering  one’s  pores  &   dissolving  every  cell  within  the  body  ,  every  internal  organ  swelling  with  waters  decaying  vital  structures  .  such  a  horrific  construct  of  delaying  the  prophecy  ,  delaying  until  wriothesley  could  continue  his  project  &   complete  the  ship  meant  to  combat  it’s  torrential  downpour  .  

                                wriothesley  anchors  his  heels  firmly  against  the  rustic  plates  of  the  forbidden  zone  ,  steeling  his  weight  as  neuvillette’s  body  befell  ,  energy  extinguished  ,  into  his  arms  .  what  an  irksome  matter  .  metallic  panels  retract  along  his  fingers  ,  peeling  pads  against  the  iudex’s  eyelid  ,  briefly  scanning  for  any  mental  consciousness  .  if  pupils  dilated  [  ;  ]  neuvillette  still  had  a  semblance  of  comprehension  .  his  eyes  briefly  flit  up  to  watch  the  seal  remain  enclosed  ,  no  rupture  or  wear  ,  the  chief  justice  had  managed  to  thwart  seemingly  sentient  seas  .  at  least  continued  to  do  so  .

                                beholder  of  𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐒  finally  unclenches  his  teeth  ,  a  breath  .  another  .  be  it  ,  whatever  soul  harbors  within  the  joineries  of  iron  &   bronze  ,  possess  him  to  salvage  any  ounce  of  patience  .  wriothesley  surrounds  the  width  of  his  arms  beneath  neuvillette’s  upper  limbs  ,  fingers  flushed  against  scapula  &   latimus  dorsi  ,  gripping  their  fabric  &   positioning  the  man  more  appropriately  against  him  .  "  good  thing  i’m  quite  adept  at  discerning  when  critical  moments  like  these  are  bound  to  happen  .  we  have  to  get  you  to  the  infirmary  .  "

                                yes  ,  sigewinne  would  know  what  to  do  .  his  entourage  of  four  stand  annexed  tightly  to  another  ,  &   upon  his  signal  he’ll  get  the  iudex  immediate  attention  .  

[ajokeformur-ray]

~ Merry Christmas, Rose! ~ 🎁🎄❄️💝

For @rosesloveletters

Overall word count for this gift package: 4, 246.

First, as is one of our traditions, a little note from me🥺

Second, just in case we haven't been able to go on call to open physical gifts just yet, a glimpse of what you're in for...

Next, letters from some of my beloveds!💖 I had a hard time putting these together; none of my F/Os make things easy.😂

Now for some fics! I've written four; These are what I was spending all that time with your F/Os for!😭🙏💕I worked long and hard on these so I really really hope you enjoy them, darling! And if not, let me know and I’m more than happy to write you something else🫂💖I love you so so much and I had a lot of fun putting all of these together!👀

These four walls // Rose x Frank Slade // Scent of a Woman

Summary: the bedroom scene in which someone should really give Frank a cuddle. Lucky he has you, no?

(We had this conversation when we watched this film together and I took some mental notes of things you mentioned wanting to do in that moment🤗🌸)

Word count: 1, 468.

To finish the GIF:

"... Fuck."

Okay, sorry, this made me giggle! And the scene was playing as I was looking for GIFs so how could I not use it? Alsoooo, from the Thanksgiving dinner scene onwards, I just wanna give him a huuuuuug💔Okay, the fic!!!😂👀

Lt. Col. Frank Slade was... a lot to take sometimes. His mood was unpredictable, his bark always worse than his bite, he was stronger than he looked in so many ways. If you rolled your eyes in another room or suppressed a quiet sigh, he swore he could hear it and called you out on it if the mood struck him. Sometimes he did it anyway just to hear you laugh under your breath at his antics. It always made him smile, softened his already soft deep brown eyes.

He was beautiful.

And tragic. Twisted but not broken, blind but not unseeing, hard of resolve but soft of heart. Witty and mean, complex yet simple, kind to you and to Charlie but an asshole to most others. He had a soft spot for women of all kinds, men who had served or were intending to train, young people with promising futures, for the tomorrows and the somedays and the maybes. Frank had no spot, no time, for no's before one had even tried and what if's and people who didn't care to look underneath the underneath of his psyche. Underneath it all, he felt much but said little, and his actions spoke louder than he ever could, even when he was shouting so loud it made your ears feel like they would begin to bleed if he yelled any louder.

On days like this, if his soul had vocal chords, it would be bringing the walls down with the volume of its cries.

Frank lay on the bed, dark hair and eyes a stark contrast to the bright white sheets and pillows. Golden sunlight streamed in through the open curtains and left silver white rays across the white material of Frank's short sleeve t-shirt; with his hair mussed and about his face like a dark halo, he was the very picture of melancholy as he stared up at the ceiling, gazing at nothing in the room but everything in his mind. The monochrome of your bed and his attire was broken up by a dark brown blanket which was strewn across his abdomen and lap.

While you had gotten up to face the day at noon, Frank had stayed in bed. It wasn't entirely uncharacteristic of him, but it was an unusual enough event that it had given you pause and you had resolved to do your work in the bedroom, your typing and rustling of papers, the scratching of pen and your mutterings the accompaniment to the sounds of the city bustling outside the open window. You wanted to be close so that when Frank broke, as he always would at some point or another whether he wanted to or not, you would be there to offer him your undying support and unconditional love.

It was the very least you could give a man such a Frank, and yet it meant the very most to him. He wasn't used to people wanting him to be around for his own sake; his derision was often met with scorn, people took offense by his snark even when they knew him well enough to know that he didn't necessarily mean it. Anger was a secondary emotion which always hid pain or fear and, in Frank's case, being so terribly in the dark - but not alone, for never would you allow that now that he was quite firmly in your life - it hid both. He was in a lot of pain, emotionally, and his fear was such that almost everything he said had a sharp gruffness to the tone, even when his voice was soft and the words were kind.

Frank Slade had always been a bit of an enigma.

You paused in your work, currently working on invoices and book balancing - a tedious job which required typing repetitive figures and double, triple checking information, though you got it done quickly - to examine Frank and the very particular way he moved his head from and against the headboard, looking for some grounding.

Frank must have felt your stare. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." A pause and then a customary barked, "hah!" Another pause and then his eyes and voice softened, "Oh, Rose," His sigh was weighed down with all the sadness of the world, someething in his dark eyes pleading. For what, neither of you knew. Even so, it drew you to him like a moth to a flame and you got up, abandoning your work in favour of approaching your Colonel. "What do you want?"

"You're worrying me. Are you - are you okay?"

"What do you think?" Frank groaned and closed his eyes before he opened them again, fixing his gaze on you. "Come lay by me, sweetheart. Let me feel you." You were at the side of the bed in a heartbeat, so fast you were almost dizzy, and Frank sat up with awkward movements, as if his body was weighted down with lead, "Give me your hand."

Somehow, even though he wasn't looking directly at you but just at your nose, his fingers slid perfectly and without hesitation, like a knife through hot buitter, into the spaces between your own. He gripped you tight, as if he was afraid that you would disappear if he loosened his grip even a little. In truth, he was afraid that he would lose himself if he let go of you. "I am eternally grateful for every day you give me, but right now I want to be left to sleep here."

You noticed that Frank didn't let go of your hand and he didn't say "alone", which meant that in a very very roundabout way, in a method so casual that if you didn't know him as well as you did, you would have missed it, Frank was asking you to stay with him. To let the world outside of the bed he had been laying in all morning and all afternoon, if the day carried on this way, slip away until all that remained was the two of you. If you didn't take him up on it, then Frank would lessen the sting of rejection by telling himself that you hadn't picked up on his little hints. But he knew you better than that, and he knew that you would pick up on the things he didn't say; those were always the things you responded to as best as you could.

You answered his non-verbal question silently as you slid into the bed with him, immediately burrowing down so that your head rested on the portion of his arm where tanned hairs met pale upper arm, your dark hair spilling across his skin and creating more of a contrast between the light materials which made up the bed and the way you both had dark hair, with tender eyes to match. You laid beside him and watched his eyes move around the room, taking it all in without seeing anything, and wondered what he was looking at, while you snuggled in further and closed your eyes, intent on keeping him company just like this all day. You wondered what he was thinking of - fallen friends, lost opportunities, the grenade that got away.

A few inches away, Frank's mind was in a similar place to yours, but where you mourned the life he could have had as much as he did, tried to decide how best you could help him and where to put your other arm - his shoulders or his waist? - Frank had decided upon something else, too, something which gave him a little more appreciation for his bleak future: if his eyesight was the price for finding you, then Lt. Col. Frank Slade would happily pay it again and again.

"The thought that one day, I'd have a woman's arms wrapped around me, her legs wrapped around me, that I could wake up in the morning and she would still be there and I could smell her, all warm... I finally gave up on it, but you, sweetheart..." Frank smiled softly and it made your heart melt, "you're right here, aren't you? Hoo-ah!"

You squeezed your arms and legs around your Colenol, pressed your head against his and held it there, as if your mind could reach his and offer him comfort from the inside out while your body gave him comfort from the outside in and decided that there was nowhere you would rather be, no one you would rather be with, and that you would be with him for as long as he would have you. And as it turned out, that was to be forever. You deserved the love of a lifetime and Frank was already in the process of growing that with you. As they used to say in the service - teamwork makes the dream work.

I shouldn’t be doing this, it’s too easy // Rose and her Daddy ft. the rest of Ocean’s Eleven

Summary: you step foot into the Bellagio with the intent to try gambling. After only moments on one slot machine with 'free' money, you make a wise decision.

Based on real conversations we got to have in an actual casino😭and I tried to remember bits and pieces of things your dad taught us!

Word count: 1, 411.

You were as familar a face in the Bellagio as Terry Benedict himself, and indeed did people who didn't know you well give you a wide berth as they walked past. It was as if even the threat of accidentally brushing shoulders with you in a packed and crowded place such as one of Terry's casinos was enough to keep people away from you, in fear of incurring Terry's wrath.

They weren't wrong, exactly, but neither you nor Terry were going to tell them that.

It was way more fun watching people try to squash their shoulders in while in an already wide corridor just to avoid even potentially brushing your shoulders, clad in a high-end dress which suited you perfectly.

At first, it had slightly upset you, sensitive were you even though you sometimes tried not to be, but now it was just funny. Especially after Danny and Rusty took it upon themselves to deliberately and loudly bump your shoulders with theirs, knocking you off your sure path before catching you with a smooth arm around your waist and a "sorry" soaked in humour. Those two could turn anything into something humourous, and indeed did they make your hectic and chaotic life easier to manage, deal with.

You were always in the Bellagio; of all of Terry's casinos, this one was your favourite. It was your first love, as far as places went, and it served only to bring you closer to Terry, whom also obviously favoured the Bellagio. Though you worked in all three casinos, as trained up by your daddy, you spent the majority of your working life here, walking the same halls as Terry Benedict. Your postures were similar; you both held your heads high when you were comfortable in your surroundings, your shoulders were set yet relaxed, your hands were either down by your sides or holding a set of keys tightly in your fist or clutching a clipboard; they were never empty and you were always busy.

Just like your daddy.

That thought never failed to send a thrill down your spine. You were so proud to be Terry Benedict's only daughter, the very best investment in his life alongside his casinos; he almost owned the whole strip in Las Vegas and regularly asked for your input on which ones you thought he should buy up next. He valued your opinions, tauight you to speak up for yourself and to take what you wanted if no one else would give it to you. Nothing was impossible or improbably for his daughter if she wanted it enough.

As yet, you had never wanted to try gambling for yourself. You were content to walk through the aisles, casting a critical eye over slot machines and card game tables, looking for any signs that things weren't as they should be, checking winnings and withdrawals of cash, making sure that the people in the casino were being lawful in every possible way so that Terry's name and reputation remained as intact as he worked hard for it to be.

You didn't really see the appeal of gambling, but then, how would you know about something if you didn't try it for yourself? Life wouldn't come to you, you would have to go to it. Chase it down and make it your own, just as your daddy taught you from a young age.

So you did.

You had spoken to your daddy at length about this and he said that if you were going to try gambling, you were going to try. So, you approached the front desk to sign up for an account at the Bellagio, with your first real name but a fake last name which was obviously fake so Terry could wipe it from the system at just a glance if you wanted him to after your experience as a customer. You were given a voucher for $10, 'free' money with which to give you a taste of what it meant to gamble, and with Danny and Rusty flanking you - security as well as giving you hints and tips on how to successfully gamble, Linus with his hand in yours, you were on your way. Terry, for his part, was stood on top of the grand staircase, where he usually stood every morning during security and management handover, to keep an eye on you. It was how he usually handled life; he would step back and watch you, curious to see how you would do and proud no matter how you did, but he would intervene as and when he thought it to be necessary or when you asked for him to.

Linus, Danny and Rusty had taken it upon themselves to teach you about how to select the best slot machine, what to do with the $10 given to you; what machines to avoid, how to get the best payout, which staff members had better sleight of hand and which ones took bribes, which ones had helped in previous operations... the three men had your mind spinning with information and possibilities and fragmented sentences which you did your absolute best to hold onto.

The neon lights and high pitched noises alerting of winnings dizzied you as you walked around the casino, looking over titles and buttons.

"Nothing too complicated to start," Danny muttered, hands pointing over to a relatively simple slot machine which only had three buttons on the panel, "But something like this would be good for your first time."

"I don't like the graphics, though." Your nose wrinkled slightly as you looked the machine over, eyes wandering over to a machine with golden vegetables. "How about something like this?"

Danny eyed it, shared a look with Rusty, and the two men nodded. Agreement - this was a good pick. Not for them, necessarily, they preferred the more complex machines, but for your first time gambling, as well as for the fact that you chose it, this one was perfect.

Linus leaned in close, his lips almost brushing the shell of your ear, "Do you like it?"

You wouldn't know until you tried, and so Danny walked you through putting the $10 in the slot, setting up the money you were happy to put up to gamble, the pace of the game, and all the other details, and soon you were gambling for the first time, with Danny, Linus and Rusty all giving you advice and your daddy still watching you. You had chosen a good machine and he made a note to buy some more of those; he wanted parts of you in every part of his every casino. His daughter and his life's work, joined together, so that you were both everywhere he looked.

Within just a few bids, you were noticing a problem within yourself and it was raising alarm bels inside your head, red hot, loud bells. You were enjoying yourself just a little too much and you were beginning to understand how people could get addicted to gambling. "This... is gonna be a problem if I let it," there was laughter in your voice, but it sounded nervous. It caught the attention of all three men.

"Hold it," Linus muttered, a hand hovering over the button you were about to push, "What's the matter?"

You shrugged, the golden lights of the machine reflected in your eyes, "I can see how this would be a problem for some people... it's only been five minutes and I'm already - " You shook your head, finished the bid, and stood up, "I don't want to do anymore. It's too much fun and I can see how it can be addicting."

"Wanna withdraw the money you got left? Technically, that's your profit because this was on the house."

You looked at Linus for guidance and he shrugged, already taking out the money and handing it to you in a movement so deft you barely registered him moving. You decided there and then that it was the last time you would ever gamble.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and the screen lit up with a notification from your daddy; A wise decision. I'm proud of you.

The smile that lit up your face was brighter than any of the lights in or around the casino, and Terry realised as he watched you from across the room, still on the staircase, that his greatest treasure wasn't the $160 million in his vaults, but you. His daughter.

Rose Benedict.

I then wrote you two smaller pieces, because I had some ideas I wanted to share with you. They're shorter than the previous two but I hope you enjoy them!💖 And if not, then pleaseeee let me know, you know I'll write you something else.🥹💖

All I have is your name // Rose x Tony Montana // Scarface

Summary: you envy his easy way in the world. Tony tries to show you. Comfort for having too much to do and not enough time.

Word count: 790.

You could never have enough time with Tony.

Even if you spent your whole day with him, like you consistently did, it still wouldn't be enough time. Unfortunately for you, life frequently kept you away not only from Tony, but also from yourself. There was simply too much to do, and never enough time to do it in. In order to get things done, you felt the need to sacrifice your favourite comforts; your stomach twisting, your mind racing, your heart pounding, your energy levels depleted from late nights and days which started earlier than you would prefer, but still you tried. Your body was just another thing to take care of on your never-ending list.

Looking back with the gift of hindsight, you rarely understood how you had made it through something, but still you always did. You kept going, day after day, with more work than there was hours in the day.

It was something which Tony felt connected to you over, for he, too, had no idea how he would survive going from being a Cuban refugee to being someone who was living the American Dream, but somehow, some way, he had done it, despite all the people and all the thoughts telling him that he wouldn't, not now or ever, and he had always known that you would, too. You would make it in your own way and in your own time, this Tony knew.

You were strong, stronger than you or others gave you credit for, and for every time you had faced a challenge and thought that you wouldn't survive it, you had done just that. Tony was never surprised because he knew firsthand what you were capable of, but you always were. He had learned the hard way that when everyone tells you no, you have to believe in yourself and be your own advocate, and though he wanted for you to have some more confidence in yourself, he also didn't want you to because it meant that he could be your hype man, he could be the one to build you up when others ripped you to a size they could bite down on and chew up easier. He knew what the world was capable of doing to someone and he wanted to protect you from that as much as he possibly could, while also admiring your strength. It was a tight line to walk but Tony had always been good with enclosed spaces. He left you to your own devices for the most part, but he trusted you to go to him when you needed help or wanted some comfort. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed, it was yours. No hesitation, no questions, no fuss.

Tony had always been an all or nothing type of man, one who was hard working and aligned to his own firm principles. He had built himself a life from rock bottom, crawled up from hell until his knees were scraped raw, covered with the blood of those he had walked on to get to where he was. Despite this, even he marvelled at how much you got done each day. Tony had come from nothing, in every sense of the word. He only has his momma and his little sister, Gina, his word and his balls. Those first two, he protected with his life and indeed had done terrible things in the name of defending those he loved. The second two, he broke for no one.

But if he was going to break them for anyone at all, it would be you.

You, who worked so hard and tried as much as she could even if she didn't know why. You, who walked with your chin held high when you wore a shirt which Tony had bought for you, but a less healthy posture when you wore clothes you picked out for yourself. You, who often moved around Tony's desk to sit in his lap because you missed him but you didn't want to interrupt what he was doing. He had gotten so used to you doing it that when you walked towards him, he automatically took his feet off the top of his desk to welcome you into his space. Even when he was meeting with Manny.

Especially when he was meeting with Manny.

What Tony's Rose wanted, his Rose got, and if she wanted to sit on his lap while she did her own work because she missed him so much it drove her to the point of not being able to concentrate, then... who was Tony to tell her no?

After all, what good were unbroken balls if he had to break his word to keep them that way?

A lion protects his pride... To the max 😉 // Rose x Lion x Max // Scarecrow

Summary: Softness😭

Word count: 577

Things had not always been happy or easy for your boys... Or for you.

They had been through so much, both individually and as the duo they were; Lion especially. More often than not were you the third, quieter party, the one who listened as Max drank a beer or three and Lion did his best to help, clutching a white box which had definitely seen better days. You had asked him multiple times if he wanted you to replace the box, so that the contents inside were better protected, but Lion metaphorically and literally held fast. He always shook his head at you with a quiet, "no, thank you", paired with a genuinely grateful smile. Max didn't often listen to Lion, preferring to do his own things in his own way, but slowly and with the gift of time was he learning to take himself less seriously and to have a bit of fun in amongst the chaos. What was the point, otherwise?

Where Lion and Max clashed or couldn't quite see eye to eye despite how clearly either of them was explaining their point of view, you were there to level them out and help them to work through any frustrations. You didn't speak with as much confidence as they did, but when you did speak, both men shut up relatively quickly and gave you their undivided attention. You had a way of coming up with solutions to problems quickly, thinking on your feet and making the most, the best, of what you had. It was one of the things they both loved about you; no matter what, you had a way of making things happen for yourself which you previously had wanted but hadn't thought to be possible. Possible for others? Of course! But for you? Maybe not.

It practically drove Lion to distraction and it only made him and Max even more protective of you than they already were.

You supported them, advocated for them and accommodated their wants and needs as best as you could, all the while asking for nothing from them except for them to be themselves. And so when night time fell and you finally, finally, got to go to sleep, Max and Lion guarded you and your rest with everything they had in them. They were used to sleeping anywhere; in barracks, in truck beds, slumped against each other's weary bodies, up against tree trunks or simply on the cold hard ground. But you had a proper bed, with a real mattress and blankets, and both men always hesitated to join you each night, feeling out of place and undeserving of an actual, real bed.

With time, patience and persistence, especially with Max, you managed to get the both of them to join you in bed almost every night; sandwiched between them, with Lion clinging to you like an oversized cat (if the shoe fit... the thought always made you smile) and Max laying beside you but barely touching, unless either you or Lion were in great need of comfort or you explicitly asked him to. He just couldn't, wouldn't, say no to either you or Lion, if only because of all the things you had gone through on your own as well as since knowing each other and being together as a couple.

Things hadn't always been easy for any of you, but things were easier with Max and Lion in your life, and you in theirs.

So there we go!!! ~ 🥺🥺🥺I really hope that you enjoyed these, darling, and if not then please let me know so I can write you something else or even add more detgails to these pieces if that's what you'd prefer!! I love you so so so much hasdfghjkl merry christmas, angel!!!💖💖💖💖💖

[hansoeii]

the honda odyssey, huh?

[whiteshipnightjar]

Zoozve, my beloved