#I'M SORRY I WANTED TO WRITE AND THIS ENDED UP HAPPENING

[frownyalfred]

Why is it so hard to find ppl that actually understand bruce? I am tired of either finding ppl that see him as an abuser or others that only love wfa version of him I am really tired of this like really I can't even join a Fandom without getting my favorite character not getting mischaracterized left and right 😔

I'm going to rant a little bit here, and I apologize in advance. This isn't really directed at you. But I'm kind of tired of this flavor of ask. I get it a lot -- half of these asks are praising me for having a "good" interpretation of canon, and the other half are blasting me for being too "fanon" and bending too much to fandom tropes in my posts and writing. And of course the nonstop WFA hatred in my inbox is tiring.

Be the change you want to see in the world. If you don't like what the fandom is doing to your blorbo, write him your way. But sitting at the edge of the playpen complaining about how someone else is playing with their toys isn't useful. And it's really getting annoying to me, as a content creator.

I'm also tired of the superiority some canon-adherents have over those who write/draw more fanon tropes. So many of you are SO bitter over the idea that fandom is "ruining" Bruce or your other Batfamily blorbo because how DARE they write your blorbo in that way that is so OOC. How DARE they! And yet, you sit on the sidelines and create bitchy tumblr posts about how those fandom participants are stupid, or ill-informed, or simply don't have the higher thinking ability to understand your blorbo like you do.

And yet. You don't write Bruce the way you "enjoy." You don't create content or share posts or promote those canon characteristics you so highly value. Instead, you write posts complaining about the others in this fandom and deride them for being stupid like adhering to canon strictly somehow makes you better than anyone else. You mock their acceptance of fanon tropes as canon as if there is required reading in this fandom, entirely dismissing the idea that the line between DC fanon/canon is confusing as hell on a good day, and ignoring that the natural progression of engaging in fandom is finding out -- sometimes on your own timeline -- what actually happened in canon. Especially when canon is so vast.

And guess what? At the end of the day, we are all on the fandom website(s). You're still reading fanfiction at the end of the day. Canon or fanon or some blend of the in-between, you are still a fan participating in fandom content in some way or another. And we are all equal in that respect.

We are all here to enjoy these characters. Fanfiction is a medium that allows us to further explore canon, yes, But it is also a way to explore the OOC, the what-if's, the out of character but fandom-fave ideas and tropes people want. The fact that OTHER people enjoy those things should never impact your enjoyment of fandom.

If you cannot handle someone else playing with the same toys as you, but playing with them in a way you don't like, you need to go back to preschool. And if someone won't give you your toy back, find another one. Write the story. Create the post. Build your own engagement from the ground up, finding likeminded people if you can. They are definitely on here.

But I get the impression that when people complain about fanon "ruining" fandom, what they're actually saying is "I'm upset that canon content isn't as popular as fanon content." And that, I can't help you with. We can't always change what other people love or want to engage with.

I'm sorry that this rant is blunt, but it's been simmering inside me for a while. I'm really tired of getting and deleting this ask 15 times a day. You will not find much sympathy on this blog for canon purism and the derision of fanon/fandom, and for that I apologize. But it's the truth.

I enjoy consuming content about both "fanon" and canon Bruce. I like the contrast and complexities. But I have seriously had to stop following a ton of blogs in the last year who don't create "canon" content anymore and instead spend their time complaining about other people in the fandom who are just enjoying themselves and creating their own content. It's incredibly disheartening and frustrating.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Successful Hunt in Heaven | React | Spoilers | Full Summary

Alright ya'll here I am.

And it's bad news from me.

I...did not particularly enjoy the story whatsoever.

TLDR if you don't wanna read my entire react: Don't waste your seals, just wait the three months

Now, some of ya'll may like it cause you're that big of a Satan stan, but he has a ship with my OC and a fankid and I'm STILL shaking my head at this. Like why ya'll do him like this, PB?

What I will do different for this react is, basically bullet summary as most of this card is what it is and then give ya'll some highlight screenshots that I found mildly amusing.

What goes down from the prologue(part 1):

MC is feeling cocky about being in Gabriel's body and almost fucks it up but saves themselves. Because of that cockiness though, they are literally just brain mush the entire story.

Things to note, that Satan was in restraints, those restraints were tight but not tight enough to where he could still speak and move enough. He was cussin' MC out ya'll like how he should cause he hates Gabriel.

I would want to say that this is a good revenge potential but it wasn't. Essentially MC didn't disclose that it was them who was disguised. The entire time Satan believed it was Gabriel who was touching him, jacking him off, and allowing lower angels to touch his dick. Even if it's just the tip.

MC even went as far as to punch him in the stomach? Punched him good until he was close to coming.

MC wanted to take off the chastity belt, which to me? Nah. You wouldn't even know how to use Gabriel's dick, let's not. Couldn't even properly cum or jack off.

Turns out though that Gabriel is not conscious this entire time. He has no idea what's happening.

Long story short, Satan is getting molested, punched, and traumatized in front of an audience thinking he had feelings for Gabriel and that's why he was aroused and reacting. I don't even feel like the specifics here because it was just that rushed and bland of writing for this. What happens in the end, mind you this is very last part of the story. Satan finally realizes it's MC. The spell breaks, they go home on his motorcycle, and he only went there because there was an angel with MC's hair color.

Ya'll. Satan is not that fucking dumb. Sorry not sorry, but like he can be a goof ball, but he'd never mistake an angel for MC in his entire life time. That wasn't Satan, that was his lost twin Sam or something.

What I expected:

I honestly thought this was going to be similar to Levi's story. Satan got captured due to being weakened by something, perhaps a new trap the angels set up, the restraints being so good he couldn't escape, and he and MC roleplaying in front of the angels and they get so lost in it that's what breaks the spell.

I wanted Satan to be like "MC looks like Gabriel, which pisses me the fuck off but I know it's them so I'm fucking horny as hell and I just want to feel good. This is how it would feel being teased and licked by an angel..."

But nope. Got MC being badly written, pretty much going in on Satan and playing into their own weird kink of pretending to be a high rank angel while punching, and jacking off Satan. There wasn't really any point to it half the time, if Satan hadn't of clocked them in the end, he would have never known it was them at all even though MC was being very sloppy on acting like how Gabriel would torture someone.

Good Parts:

Satan's expressions, and Satan cussing MC out thinking that they are Gabriel.

Satan questioning his attraction, he just can't place why "Gabriel's" touch is arousing him and he can't understand why this angel he hates so much looks so turned on by this moment.

Satan pretty much saying at the end that he's going to go in on MC's ass when they get home. Like I'm pretty sure all holes will be s o r e because MC insulted him, punched him, slapped him, choked him, made him cum forcefully like three times from both dick and horns.

Satan's dick looked pretty in the position he was in and I liked his little red underwear. Click here for the goodies~

The okay?? why?? parts:

MC allowing the angels to touch him. Gabriel for one if he was in character would never allow them to touch his "prey". Like? What and who was this for?

Satan not being able to tell who it was for the majority of the story. He's a King tbh, so he should have seen through the spell.

Satan being a dummy dum and getting himself kidnapped because he thought MC was captured by mistaking an ANGEL that looks nothing like them....

Being robbed of the Satan's potential in the roleplay scenario. Imagine if you will-

Satan knowing that it's MC, and he's trying so hard to make it believable that he doesn't like any of what's going on. At the same time, MC is doing an impersonation of Gabriel so well he can't help but get upset. Why is MC so good at this? Do they actually like Gabriel enough to mimic him? Fuck that. And fuck being kidnapped and in these restraints. He wants MC so badly. To pull off that charade and to get fucked so deep there's nothing but rage flowing from the both of them. And did he really find some attraction to the angel? FUCK THAT. What a stupid thought, so stupid it pisses him off too. Only MC can make him feel a series of rage and jealously swirled so deliciously he wants nothing but that in his veins.

MC's personality being even more unsavory than usual. If ya'll compared to how they act in Levi's torture card you'd swear they were just suddenly taking on some odd sadistic personality that has nothing to do with them nor Gabriel. Er'body was confused.

The audience, the angels, Satan, just...lol

Overall Rating:

4.5/10

Like...idk ya'll the fourth Satan card was just a let down. The other three he has were so much better. Even the adore mode was ass. I wanted to see him moving, cussin' and spitting. The VA put his entire foot in this and it doesn't match Satan's energy in secret club at all. Might as well just play it on SFW mode if you wanna hear his VA moan some fierce in your ear.

Nice homage to Hellraiser, could have used a cooler name imo but OH WELL. Pinhead would be shaking his head rn.

NOW don't get me wrong, some of ya'll may like this. And if you do, please don't @ me or come for me as it's not that serious. I was frankly bored ya'll. IMO It's not worth wasting your seals just wait for it to be available in the regular banner. My expectations for how Satan would react in this moment was downplayed. Even if I felt like shipping the angels with the kings, this just didn't hit.

Live photo of one of Ronove's cats disapproving.

OKAY Screenshot time~

He is legitimately so pissed off ya'll I was like OH

Yeah because you were just goin' off the rails....it's a good thing you at least had the angels hang in the back otherwise they would have clocked you MC.

I just like his face here. Mhm mhm.

Apparently ya'll that is the face of a sinner. Satan is a filthy filthy sweat covered sinner (laugh with me because lmao)

I'm crying. So it's just shrinking, growing, shrinking, growing, just being confused as fuck the poor wang noodle.

Oh Satan....he's so angry the poor bby. This would be hotter if he was irritated by something I truly did. Lol

At the same time, I feel these lines would be good for that roleplay...

I'm crying because Gabriel doesn't talk like this and yet Satan still hasn't caught on yet.

Now Satan, don't discredit virgins...some of them be knowin' a lot more than you think. (right now tho "MC/Gabe" is kissing him through the gag)

again. gimmie dis face. he does the eye roll orgasm so well.

here we go again with that fishy smell thing

Gabriel in his sub conscious rn

He can get away with calling us a bitch. I'm a bad bitch. A baddie. I'll insult you any day Satan just because. He'd call it foreplay.

LMAOOOOOOO

So that ends with the screenshots ya'll. You see how there wasn't really much to show because it's basically just what I said in the summary? But anyways, I did get a peek at a couple things that bumps the rating up for me to a 4.5....(note the changes)

Date Story/Chat Summary:

This time around Satan sustained more damage and the marks left behind are staying longer than usual. Sitri thinks this is a problem, Satan don't give a shit because MC gave them to him.

Satan getting jealous of MC requesting him to get healed because he thinks they learned it from another healing devil is cute.

He's very cuddly, we knew this but it's just nice to see this again.

MC and Satan have a talk about what happened up in Heaven and well it's also nice to see him be serious about his feelings and how MC should feel, etc. Mature Satan is mature.

He can smell when MC is horny btw. Idk this is so hot of him. But I also always had a HC that all devils could smell just about anything. When your cycle is coming, ovulation, other bodily things.

He likes the fact that MC was confident enough to insult him so boldly even though he pointed out they were in Gabriel's body.

He can't stand it that Paimon sews his decapitated teddy bear heads, the cotton is supposed to leak. At the same time he likes that Paimon adds sparkly beads for the eyes so it looks like they "glow"

His hand are so pretty with those sharp nails.

He has so many photos of his motorcycle he has two phones. He loves his bike that much to where he refers to it as his lover.

He doodles when he's bored at meetings.

That does it folks!!!! As per usual, if you've made it to the end thank you thank you to my dear moot/friends who help fuel my delusions and ramblings. Without ya'll my blog would just be...whelp a bunch of Astra in your face lmao (honestly tho she should be she's great)

Stay lovely, love up on your bois, -your lovely admin💖💕

[kanasbinwriting]

Hello! Could you possibly write a Sol x gn reader where the reader calls Sol and tells him to come inside and cuddle with them because they've been tired mentally and emotionally and just want to be held? And that they actually know that he's been sneaking in their apartment but they don't really care and actually they find it a little cute

Also I'm sorry if this sounds awkward, I don't know how to words things properly 😅

SOL X READER

Thank you so much for your request ^^ I really enjoyed writing this!! I hope I did an okay job

Fun fact, I'm actually working on making a Sol figure out of clay 💪

Anyway, enjoy!!

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It was dark outside; nothing could be heard but the wind rustling through the leaves and the occasional hum of cars driving by. You felt tired, but no matter how hard you tried to fall asleep, nothing worked—the stress consuming you whole.

You sat up on your bed, trying some breathing exercises you saw online to calm your racing mind, but to no success. Your mind was occupied with all sorts of things that caused you a great immense of stress and you couldn't help but feel emotionally drained as a result. Oh, to have someone hold you close right now. You let out a small whine as you rubbed your eyes. You glanced over at your phone charging on the bedside table, thinking to yourself. Sol, wouldn't mind if you called him, right? You picked up your phone and checked the time. Sol should be on his way right now. But waiting for him would be a bit awkward, you doubted that he'd even go near your window if he saw that you were still awake. You looked to your bedside table once more, where a glass of orange juice stood untouched, waiting for you to take a sip. You could just drink it and let the sleeping pills do their work, or at least that's what you think that he'd put in your drink to ensure you'd be sound asleep around the time he arrived for his nightly visits.

With a deep sigh, you decided to not drug yourself tonight. Maybe you could just give him a call. It wouldn't come off as weird, right? In all defence, he was the one breaking into your apartment every night. If anyone was weird then it was definitely him and not you for calling him at this ungodly hour. You tapped on his contact and raised your phone to your ear, calling him. No answer. Was he asleep? No way. He wouldn't be. You looked at your phone in disbelief and tried it again after a few seconds. You stood up from your bed and made your way toward the window when he finally picked up.

"H-Hello..?" He greeted you in a hushed tone.

You let out a chuckle.

"Are you serious?" You asked playfully.

"Huh?" Sol replied in complete confusion. "What do you mean...?" his tone shifted nervously, but before he could question further, you cut him off with a smug grin.

"Look up." Now looking down at him from your open window.

He froze and went completely silent, not daring to move a single muscle.

"W-what—"

You hung up and leaned further out the window.

"Why, hello there!" You called, winking unbeknownst to him.

He slowly raised his head to look at you and the look on his face was priceless. You gave him a knowing smile, waiting for him to say something. "I can explain...!" He stammered, raising his hands in defence.

"Can you now?" You settled your chin in your hand, your elbow propped up on your windowsill.

"I-I was... just going for a walk" You looked at him with a bored expression on your face

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." He nodded trying to look confident. He might've convinced you if it weren't for his all-black outfit and mask. With a sigh, you decided to end the senseless interrogation.

"Just come inside."

"What...?!" He exclaimed loudly in bewilderment.

"You... want me to come inside?"

"That's what I said, yes."

You walked away from your window and sat on your bed. It took Sol a few seconds to process what had just happened. He pinched his cheek to confirm he wasn't dreaming. Upon realising that it was, in fact, real, he quickly but carefully climbed to your apartment. As he slipped in through your window, making sure to close the window, he now stood before you, his face flushed crimson red. You let out a yawn and made yourself comfortable on your bed to which his breath slightly stutters."Can we cuddle?"

"What...?" he stammered, looking taken aback. "I said, can we cuddle?" You repeated, motioning for him to join you. He hesitated for a moment before muttering a quiet "Fuck it..." before walking toward you. He awkwardly tried to make himself comfortable next to you, keeping his arms close to himself, too nervous to touch you. His whole body tensed when you, without warning, wrapped your arms around him snuggling your head against his neck. Inhaling his scent, you let out a contented sigh. He lets you wrap your limbs around him, sensing that there's something wrong. He began to ease up in your embrace, wrapping his arms around you and began to gently stroke your head.

"Thank you..." You whispered quietly against his neck and he felt a shudder run down his spine. "No problem..." He whispered back, as a lovesick expression appeared on his face. Not paying him any mind you closed your eyes and slowly began to drift off to sleep in his his embrace.

[girlsneedff]

NSFW! Minors and Ageless blogs DNI!

Sukuna x f!Reader, fwbs, best friends, Sukuna's a dick, angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex

Word count: 1k

Author's yap: This is the start of the "NOT Over It" series! Should I have started with Over It first? Possibly. But this is my writing project, and I'm gonna do what I want <3

Fun Girl

And now you’re stuck here feeling shitty. And stupid. All because you decided to fall for your guy best friend. Who you know is a dick. You thought maybe, just maybe, that you would have the chance to get with him- to be in a real relationship with him besides the friends-with-benefits relationship that you have while he’s in between girlfriends, and you’re not distracting yourself with flings and short relationships. You thought that because he’s kept you around, you were different. News flash to you: you’re not. And now you’re wishing that you’d never even asked him about that possibility. 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The two of you were sitting in his car, coming back from the movies. He wanted to see some random action movie, and you would follow him to the ends of the Earth, so of course you went with him. You’re sitting in the parking lot of the movie theater in comfortable silence, both of you just scrolling through your phones, not really ready to return home yet. 

“You know the girl that I was talking to?”

Oh great. You rolled your eyes, shifting to rest your head on the closed window as you responded, while you continued to scroll through your phone. Trying hard to not show him how much hearing about his prospects bothered you.

“Which one?”

“I’m ghosting her. She’s hot, but talking to her is boring. I’d rather shit in my hands and clap.”

“Ryo you’re a dick.”

“A 10-inch one.”

“It’s smaller than that.”

He hits your leg in response. You shrug, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His body is facing you, his arm resting on the steering wheel. 

“What?”

“You think I'll end up alone?"

Your heart jumps a bit, taking this opportunity to subtly hint at something. Who knows, maybe it would work?

You scoff. “Well at this point, the only girl you’re gonna end up with is me.” You say, trying to sound absent-minded. Sukuna doesn’t even let that sentence, that possibility, hang in the air for a moment before he shoots it down.

“You know there’s no way in hell that’s happening, right?”

You could practically hear your heart cracking, feeling it crumpling in on itself. 

“Jesus, I was just saying.” You say quickly, trying to collect all of the shards of your heart before the hole is too big. Maybe you can glue it back together. He’s harsh- you know this. Don’t let it get to you.

“I’m not saying we’d be in a relationship or anything-”

“Oh yea fuck no. Sorry,” he says, in a way that you just throw the pieces you’ve collected up in the air, damning them all to hell, because you know that whatever he says is going to be devastating as he continues, “but I’d never date you. Ever. You’re not what I’m into.”

You were stunned. Looking back, you don’t know why you were stunned. You know this man. Certified womanizer, number 1 hoe. He’s noncommittal, selfish, rude, arrogant, abrasive. You knew this. So why were you so shocked?

“Oh, so I’m cool to sleep with, but not for a relationship?” You can feel your throat closing up, but you refuse to let him see you get emotional over this.

“We… have fun.”

“Fun?”

“You can’t tell me that you don’t have fun when we fuck.” He looks straight out the windshield, this conversation unconcerning to him.

You guys fuck?

It’s such a harsh way to put it. You hoped he would be softer about it- maybe salvage your feelings. You’re his best friend, for fuck’s sake. His kisses would be so tender as he slowly pushed into you, like he was taking care to not split you apart. The slow fucking and reassurance, the words of encouragement. Though it never lasted long before he’s thrusting into you like he hates you (which now, you’re wondering- does he?), you thought that those first moments were the most important. That they were his true feelings. Dumbass.

“I’m not your type, but you fuck me. How does that make sense?” You finally turn to look at him, your anger and tears combating each other to see which one holds out the longest. Your anger is winning, thankfully.

“Please don’t tell me you’re getting in your feelings about this.” He’s fucking smiling. Rolling his eyes, as if you’re getting worked up over something simple. Because to him it is simple. Sex is simple to him. He gets his rocks off fucking the shit out of anything that moves, and then he moves on.

“I don’t want to know about all of the guys that my girl’s been with. It’s emasculating.” 

“Oh, so you can slut around, but there’s an issue with me having a past?”

“No, there’s not. Because I’m not into you, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re such a fucking-”

Immediately you hop out of his car. You quickly start to walk to the sidewalk near the theater, keeping your eyes glued to your phone as you scroll to book yourself an Uber home quickly. Your vision is blurring, but you don’t stop looking at your phone, not giving a damn if cars are rolling through the lot. You may be an emotional wreck, but you won’t allow any man, no matter how in love with him you are, to tell you that he’s using you to your face. You can hear him call out to you- you can picture him leaning on the top of his car with that stupid grin, calling your name as if he doesn’t understand why you would be upset.

You’re that undesirable? But Ryomen Sukuna sees no issue with his past sexual escapades. His charm, and his ability to sweet talk any woman is attractive. 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

And that leads you to where you are now, sitting in the dark of your room, sniffling and deleting everything in your Photo’s hidden folder.

[ultramarinaa]

I got inspired to write my own short Champion fanfic, so here you go :) don't mind any typo/spelling/grammar errors, no beta we kayak like Tim

Martin wasn't sure how he ended up here, but he was at Jon's flat. He has been for the last few days, as a matter of fact. Elias had begun to cause a stink about a cat staying in the archives, so Jon simply decided to take Martin–Champion–home.

Not that Martin was complaining. Jon had a nice home, though it seems underprepared for a cat. Jon seemed to be quite the minimalist apart from things he'd like to collect, random little trinkets that took up space on his desk.

Also, not to mention living with his crush that had never dwindled, despite Jon's harshness. Jon treated him like a prince, at least by cat standards, but it's still more attention than he ever gets. He curls up on Jon's lap, on blankets, and Jon's bed had also become his. It was pure bliss (also, Jon's bed head was adorable).

It was also because of this that he'd get quite sad when Jon left for work. He'd meow, rub on his leg, sit in front of the door, but to no avail Jon would leave with a regretful look on his face. This wasn't the biggest of his problems, though.

Alone and nothing to do, Martin decides to take nap on top of the couch. He stretches, extending his claws as he does, and curls up. He dozes off into sleep, but when he opened his eyes, he noticed something was off.

He blinks as his vision clears, and realizes he is laying on the main part of the couch. He shifts, only to look down to see that he is human again–which would be fantastic if Jon wasn't going to be home at any moment. Martin had been missing, though nobody really tried to find him, and he was sure it would be a shock to find someone suddenly in your flat.

Martin gathers himself before sitting up, promptly adjusting to being back in his old and human body. How was he going to explain this? 'Yes, Jon, I was a cat and definitely didn't break into your house'?

Before he had too much time to think he heared a click and then the door knob begin to turn. Ready or not, he thought, and listened to door break as it opened to show Jonathan Sims.

Jon lookes baffled to put it lightly. He stood there, unmoving and unchanging, making long eye contact with Martin. He can feel his face get red as it makes him nervous, and he thinks this is the last thing that should be happening. "Uhm, hi. Jon, I'm so sorry–"

"How did you get here? I–" Jon tosses his bag to the side as he makes his way over to Martin, his voice sharp. Not angry though, which surprises Martin. He sees worry in Jon's eyes as he talks. "Where on earth have you been?"

Martin has to process what is happening, giving a small nod before he starts talking. "Right, I...might have been stuck as a cat?"

"You were Champion?" The tone initally came off as surprised to Martin, but he can see Jon frown slightly. "That's...I'm glad you're okay."

"I touched a Leitner, it was my own fault," Martin says simply. He feels guilty about the situation, but he can't help feeling a sting of hurt knowing nobody actively looked for him.

"If I would have known...I'm sorry." Jon rests his hand on Martin's shoulder, though he has to look up at him. "Elias told us you were taking some sort of break from work. Should have never trusted his word."

"He told you I was taking a break?" He didn't know what else to do other than gesture his hands to emphasize his point. "That bastard knew what happened!"

"Let's give him a taste of his own medicine," Jon said, having a beautiful determined look his his eyes. "Wouldn't hurt to have another cat around the archives."

Martin was certain he was in love with this man.

I fully believe John just wants to have a cat and getting one but also getting rid of Elias at the same time… is a wonderful deal

Also hehehehehee happy ending for cat!Martin, no angst just sillies

Just what I needed, thank you so much!! 💞💞💞💞

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hiiii I hope requests are still open !! No worries if not ofc, but if they are; f!hero and m!villain with the villain flirting a ton until hero finally gives in and touches him like she's been wanting to all along 🫶 smth with an "it's your fault I'm in love with you, villain" vibe maybe

Your writing is absolutely incredible <33 have an awesome day!!

"You can be so creative," the villain murmured.

It wasn't necessarily the fact that the hero had handcuffed him to the bed which amused him. It was rather the horrible yearning she had sparked. Once again.

Amusing. Cruel in the bargain.

At this point he was aware of the type of fool he had become. Someone stubborn, someone who always fell for it. Someone who would burn himself a thousand times while reaching for her.

"Oh, thank you," she said. She was still sitting on his hips and levelled her weight. Clearly, someone this sadistic couldn't call themselves a hero. "I am impressed by myself, to be honest. This has got to be a new record. How long until you were in my bed? Thirty seconds?"

"Can you blame me? When you are promising all those sweet things to me?" He smirked, lowered his voice. "What was it again? You said you wanted to get down on your knees and put your tongue on my-"

The hero put her hand on his mouth immediately, but he still caught a glimpse of her ears turning red.

For the most part, she ignored his flirting, but for some reason, she had been more interested in him lately. She had returned the flirting and now, she was even touching him.

Which fried his brain to the fullest. He could barely concentrate when they were in a room together. It was ridiculous. He was losing his edge.

"You're truly stupid if you think I was going to go through with that." She leaned forward, her chest against his. "You know we do not always get what we want in this dog-eat-dog world."

He mumbled something under the hero’s hand and she pulled her arm away.

"If you truly mean that, then you should probably stop moving your hips like that…" He let his eyes drop to her waist and let them wander, only slightly distracted by how clearly visible her hip dips were today.

"I like challenging you," she said.

His hands would probably fit perfectly into those sweet indents.

He bit the inside of his cheek.

"Is that so?" he whispered, his eyes still occupied.

Would she like it? To be held like that? Would she guide his hands there? Would she ask him to touch her there?

He couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to feel her skin against his fingertips. His heartbeat increased heavily.

He squeezed his eyes shut and frowned.

At his very core, he was a slave to his own cravings. A true loser.

"You look very tortured right now." Her voice was still soft. Still sweet.

He opened his eyes again and stared at the hero's lips through half-lidded eyes.

"I..." He didn't quite know what to say. He knew he wasn't the brightest, but was that really all it took to defeat him? His pretty nemesis sitting on his hips?

"Take your time…" She smiled and he would have melted right then, right there. But slowly, he realised that he was in big trouble.

She had tied him to the bed.

She was distracting him.

She waited for reinforcement.

"Uh…uncuff me? Please?"

"No way." He had to concentrate. He had to focus. She sighed softly. "I'm way too easy on you. I blame those good looks of yours, my boss won't accept that, though."

Suddenly, she put her hand on his chest and let her fingertips crawl up to his neck where they dipped under the shirt. Running along his collarbone.

Good lord.

"This is your fault, all of this. You shouldn't say those things to me, you shouldn't look at me the way you do…" She dug her nails into his shoulder gently. Their eyes met.

He took in a sharp breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't apologise. Just try to be a good boy."

He nodded.

Both of them knew that wasn't happening for as long as him being the enemy meant they'd end up like this regularly.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

hi! I wanted to ask questions about how you proceed to write:

Do you have a general idea with plot twits and such figured out? like general guidelines and then go crazy and write these amazing fics or you just go with the flow?

How do you establish world building? Like, all the fics I've read from you (which are more than great) got lots of info in the world building though strangely enough (in a good way) I wasn't lost on it? Like Cyanide Narwhal has crazy lore to it with lots of characters and stuff going on but as you read you get what happens even though hundreds of stuff happen at once. HOW DO YOU DO IT :0

How do you write so smooth also? Like going from one scene to another makes total sense without there being a cut? (idk if i make any sense sorry ^^').

Finally, how do you explain feelings so well? Well not explaining directly but making us FEEL *looking at cyanide narwhal and i think you're so good (and i'm nothing like you)*. I think that the description of them interacting helps w it (like the way Zhongli looks at Ajax (i am melting please thats so cute-) but even the interaction between Ajax and the kids (big brother behavior)

oh god

i do always have a general idea on how the story is going to go, like what plotbeats i want to hit and what i want to happen. but since it's not a good idea to marry to one path, the details for how things happen or how we get from point a to point b specifically i usually come up with on-the-go, and i do leave room for modifications. like i have a million fic ideas and scenes i want to write but i never actually write any if i cannot picture two things: 1, what the point of it is (the main climax, the main mystery, etc), and 2, how it ends. (the reason why most wips don't make it past a couple chapters is bc i struggle to picture the ending accurately, or how to get there)

i genuinely have no idea how to explain the world building, i'm sorry lmao. if i really had to think about it, no joke, i think i'd say this was stardew valley's fault. yes you read that correctly. more specifically, the earmuffs item. now- it might not be evident as it is rn w the way i write, since it's been a while since i've started doing my worldbuilding like this and obviously it's evolved and gotten more complex w time, but- for those unaware, stardew isn't a game you play for the worldbuilding per se. for the deep world lore. especially pre-ginger island update (1.6?). but there IS worldbuilding, it's just you don't really see it, it's not the point of the game. you're there to grow crops tend to animals suffer in the mines and get a partner. that's it. but you know there's more outside the town and the valley. you know the biggest city nearby is called zuzu, you know what the sea is called, you know there is a war going on in the background, you know there is an empire involved, you know lewis might be the mayor of the town but he's still under the governor of the region. you know there's witches and spirits and elemental beings and aliens n shit. the fucking earmuffs were sort of like my epiphany years back bc their description says they're lined w artisanal velvet from castle village. what the fuck is castle village?? were you ever going to tell me about it outside of those fucking earmuffs? does it even matter? no. it doesn't matter. but just because it doesn't matter doesn't mean the earmuffs stop being an artisanal item from castle village. just because it doesn't matter what the sea is called doesn't stop it from being the gem sea specifically. the fact that you only care, gameplay-wise, about your farm and pelican town- it doesn't stop your country from being at war, from being called the ferngill republic. the world of the game exists outside of what matters to you for the plot. and so even if you're never going to find out some of these things if you don't look, they're going to be there anyway.

i don't know if that makes any sense. it probably doesn't LMAO a probably better way to explain it is like- write stuff the same way you hear our own world being talked about irl. does it matter for the 'plot' of your day if your mother says she's going to one specific supermarket? no. does she still call it by name? most likely. that's just how it works. you know it exists because this is the world you live in, regardless as to how much it matters to the actual 'plot'. it's not there exclusively to serve the purpose of aiding the plot, but because it's a part of your world and therefore must be connected to the world beyond you. the world will only read like it's lived in if the characters speak about it like they actually live in it.

i'm not actually sure that answers the question now that i think about it. it's just- i trully don't know how to answer it. i don't know what i'm doing that makes it interesting and not a complete mess to read even if it IS a complete mess. the only explanation i can think of is that: that i write the characters interacting with their world as though they actually live there. the plot is just something that happens to an already existing, already established world.

also i think you might be merging lore and worldbuilding with plot. yes, the worldbuilding and lore in my fics are absurd, but that alone i don't think would be hard to keep up with. it's the plot also being absurd what makes it seem like there's a lot going on at once (there is, just- in two different fronts). like there's not a million things happening at once in the worldbuilding - there's a million things happening at once in the plot. you're finding out a lot of stuff about the world at the same time, is the thing. anyway,

scene transition without the cuts being smooth i also am not sure how to explain. that's probably on me for not following scene structures properly tbh. so uh- no clue here chief, i'm sorry. i don't even have a guess as with the worldbuilding.

with the writing feelings i do have somewhat of a guess- it genuinely might be some undiagnosed brain fuckery i have. kinda like how the inside joke of asexuals being shockingly good at writing sex scenes goes. if you have a different-than-intended perspective on the stuff, it would probably lead to a different approach to writing it. but other than that i also am not sure

i think the main takeaway is i don't know shit LMAOOOOO

[fawnsflowerbed]

If You Asked Him To || Leon Kennedy x Reader

Who loves angst? I do, I do!

Using @whygodohgodwhy 's conversation prompt.

“He’d die for you, if you asked him to.”

“I know. And it worries me that I’d never have to ask. He’d do it anyway.”

(Sorry if this is a little short)

After another long mission, you and Leon recall the toll this life has taken on the both of you.

Post re4 Leon x reader

Warnings: Angst ahead, mentions of violence and death, Leon and reader just wanting a normal life.

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⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

After months of waiting, pleading with the universe that you’d get him and not a sad knock at the door followed by a heartbreaking message, you heard the door open slowly. You felt your own chest clench at the thought of that being someone other than him. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking like that. You’d memorised the sound of his footsteps. The distance between each step, how long it took him to get to the coat rack, and the small puff he always let out before climbing the stairs to your room. Two steps to the coat rack. Another five to get to the staircase. A slow exhale, then more footsteps.

It was him.

You were so glad it was him.

You’d get mission updates from time to time when he was away, the occasional message passed on from Leon to Hunnigan as she handed the transmitter over for you to read. Usually cheesy, something quick and sweet with little details to secure the notion that it was him. 

‘Missing you, sweetheart. Keep our bed warm for me <3.’

‘View here’s amazing. Wish you could see it, sugar.’

‘ I have to keep these messages sfw, so I’ll leave it at I miss you. You can learn the rest later ,’:)’

Especially that last one. That face sealed the deal that it was definitely him. He found it hilarious, and would sit laughing to himself at how pissed you’d get at him for how often he’d use that stupid little emoticon. 

And honestly in times like these, he needed it. Needed to know that no matter how worried you were, deep down part of you was rolling your eyes at something as dumb as a little face. He was a full-fledged dork with you, and he loved every second he could spend making you so much as smile. But that laugh knocked him off his feet. He loved making you laugh. 

That’s why whenever he had to leave, he’d crack a new little joke before heading off. He just wanted to hear that laugh one last time, that heaven-sent laugh that took a weight off of his chest.

“I think you should replace that calendar while I’m gone. Its days are numbered.”

“You know if we get a goldfish we gotta get him a bowtie, too. Then he’ll look extra sofishticated.”

“That moon looks amazing right now. Got his hair done and everything. I gotta ask him what barber he goes to. Oh you know what, I bet eclipse it.”

And then there it was. A little curl of the corner of your lips, a shake of your head as you wiped your eyes and chuckled weakly. Anything to soften the blow. To let him know you’d be okay.

But you never were. You’d never be more okay with this situation. Not when your partner was running off to some corner of the world to prevent a war or global catastrophe.

Especially after the Tall Oaks incident.

Leon had come home from that mission, bruised and broken from exhaustion, to find you wrapped in one of his old RPD hoodies. You’d curled up on the bed you shared, hoodie over your head as each silent sob shook your body. You hadn’t bothered to pull the blankets up over yourself. You just laid there, knees to your chest as you tried to snuggle even deeper into the fabric of the jumper. Searching for his heartbeat under the polar fleece, as if digging into it enough would reveal to you that this was all just a bad dream. And when you couldn’t feel his steady body with you, you kept weeping.

All he could do was stare for a moment. His heavy body, scarred and sore, pressed against the door frame as he watched the love of his life mourn him. He had limited contact with Hunnigan at that time, meaning there was no break for sappy messages and check-ins. No time to remind you that he was still alive. That’s when he realised just how much of a toll this had on you. 

He just bundled you fully into a hug without a word, watching those puffy (E/C) eyes stare up at him in a mix of confusion, realisation, and pain. A sob rolled from your lips as you clung to him as if he were oxygen, grateful to feel the usual sensation of his hand stroking over your hair as he muttered soft reassurances of  ‘I know, baby. I’m here. I’m safe.’ He’d change his bloodied clothes later, run you both a bath and refuse to leave your side. You both couldn’t stand the thought of parting.

 Since then Leon had sworn to take the time to speak to you when he was off somewhere. Even if it was just a quick ‘I’m still here’. To let you know he wasn’t leaving you, not on his watch. He’d walk through hell to get back to you. To hold you in his arms after a week of fighting nonstop.

Since then, he was now floored whenever he came home from usual missions. 

Much like he was about to be right now. He sighed out as he reached the stairwell, heard the tip tapping of your sock covered feet racing down the carpeted stairs, and gave you that usual Kennedy tired smile. He was almost knocked off his feet at the force of you sprinting up to him and engulfing him in a hug that smelt of fresh air and most importantly, home. The fact that the sheer strength of your love for him could nearly kick him to the floor was what he adored about you. Your love was big. Huge. He was amazed that such a big heart could fit in such a little body.

That’s why he couldn’t bear to abandon you like that. To leave you waiting by a silent door, sitting slumped on the staircase as you searched for any sign of him. He didn’t dare imagine it. The wail you’d let out as some unknown soldier told you the details of his death. The way he knew you’d crumple to the floor. How you’d refuse to leave bed for weeks, months even. He ran a hand over his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror to wake himself from that nightmare.

And that night he just stayed up watching you sleep soundly in his arms. He focused on the patterns of your breaths, each slow inhale and exhale that moved through your lungs out into the air. Leon’s hold on you tightened slightly, as if scared you’d drift away if he was too loose with you. Too sloppy. Too relaxed. He’d already lost so many people, but he refused to lose you. To leave you.

Leon got so worried about you when he went away. He just couldn’t show it, or you’d worry even more than you already did. He’d sit staring at his hands and imagine your smaller ones nestling there, interlocking your fingers with his own. He’d stop and stare at flower shops on destroyed downtown streets and wish he could give you that regular lovebird relationship. Flowers every month, breakfast in bed. But instead he left you with a kiss, a hug, and an ‘I’ll be back soon. Promise.’

And if he broke that promise, in that sick afterlife he’d never forgive himself.

You were his comfort, his safety in a hallway of a thousand living corpses. His flashlight in a dark room for the loneliest blackout. Every curve of your being, every hair, every freckle and mole. You were sculpted and chiseled into the image of perfection and delivered to him wrapped in soft blankets as you were escorted into the DSO office. 

And from that moment on, he had someone new to protect. Someone he was willing to take a bullet for.

You’d arranged to visit Claire at her work and volunteer wherever you could. What you weren’t expecting to see was the kids they currently had in temporary care, recovering from the unresolved issues revolving around the Panamstan incident so many years ago. The traumas still affected so many kids, no matter how young they were. That fear was passed down into these children somehow. So as you took your time washing up the used plates to help Claire prepare dinner for the children, all you could do was watch Leon.

When you stood in the Terrasave office watching Leon check in on the kids in recovery, you felt that bittersweet sting in your chest. After dating for so so long, you finally sat down and discussed potentially having a family in the future. Both of you were hesitant to even think of it. But god, how you wanted that picket fence life. The two kids with a dog. The home cooked meals and Leon ducking behind you in the kitchen to cuddle you. It was just so risky. Leon woke up in cold sweats from nightmares of coming home to the same situation he was found in as a child. Beloved slaughtered, children vanished. And so you’d rub his back as he laid his head on your chest, feeling the gentle stroke of your fingers through his hair as his breath evened out. He found a home in your soul that he refused to leave.

All you could focus on right now was how happy he looked. That spring in his step, brushing his hair out of his eyes with a loud laugh as he dodged a kid’s attempt to tackle him. How natural it was for him to interact with kids. The way his demenour changed depending on if he was roughhousing with the boys or hugging one of the little girls crying in the corner. In another lifetime, where you weren’t surrounded by violence, he would’ve made such a great father. The best papa. 

You could almost see it. It was just out of reach, like it was caught in a fog. No matter how fast you ran, you just couldn’t catch up. But you could make out the sight of a baby girl swaddled in blankets as Leon wiped his eyes. He’d hold her in one arm, holding your hand with the other. Whispering over and over about how thankful he was and how much he loved you. Hearing your daughter stir slightly as he shushed her gently. You could feel that love flood your body in a knee-buckling tidal wave of agony.

“I can practically hear your yearning from here.” Claire couldn’t help but smile at you, her voice knocking you out of your painful imaginary state. All you could do was shrug. It was a sad shrug, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. She could’ve read it like a book anyways, Claire was always good at picking up on body language. A drained sigh left your lips.

“We’d kill for that kind of life.” You mumbled into your mug as you raised it to your lips, chasing down the left over cold water. Claire’s once cheerful expression faltered as she set her own cup down to look out the window with you. Your nails dug into the ceramic of your cup as you spoke. “He’s just so scared of us getting hurt.”

She put a hand on your shoulder with a solemn look. You both knew just how far Leon was willing to go for you. Her eyebrows knitted in worry and sympathy at you. “He’d protect you with his whole heart. He already does. He’d die for you, if you asked him to.”

You blinked back waterworks as you locked eyes with Leon in the backyard. He’d stopped just for a second, just to catch his breath before going back to carefully crash tackling with the kids.

You kept that eye contact as you responded to Claire, voice numbingly flat as you forced a smile at him. “I know. And it worries me that I’d never have to ask.” When he grinned back, so pure and genuine, full of a liveliness you hadn’t seen in an eternity,  you couldn’t help the single tear that trickled down your cheek.

“He’d do it anyway.”

[a-gay-bloodmage]

One of my favorite hobbies to engage in is ignoring the canon course of video game romances

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[svartalfhild]

Even more thoughts!

Emmrich has officially stolen my Rook's heart. Sorry, Lucanis, you had a good run, but your game just wasn't quite as effective on me as Emmrich's was.

This is fine, though, because my lowkey shipping of Lucanis with Neve got major vindication.

10,000 years of shame for Illario. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $100. What a dumbass.

Idk what happens if you save Minrathous, but if you don't, Neve's final confrontation with her personal villain is, uh...well, let's just say I'm a bit worried for her. Woof.

Worms! (if you know, you know)

Been lusting after Myrna's robe and I thought I finally found it, but it turns out it's a pants version that's basically the Mourn Watch starter outfit with a coat. I hate those pants so much. I just want that cool ass coat but alas the clothes underneath are awful.

Not sure how I feel about Shathann getting character development at the last second, but man, I feel so bad for Taash.

Harding and Taash are very cute together.

I didn't expect Harding to be the one to cancel the old man for romancing Rook. Davrin's reaction to the news is hilarious, though.

The Lucanis and Davrin drunk scene is priceless.

Crying big ugly tears for Bellara.

MANFRED!!! BIGGER, UGLIER TEARS FOR MY SON!!!!

Harding's banters with Lucanis about dreaming are so funny and often relatable.

The choice at the end of Emmrich's arc is heinous. Thanks, BioWare. I will never recover.

Never over the fact that the Veilguard has a book club. Love these nerds.

"I think we're out of onions. Again." XDDDD

I love how between banters with Neve and a codex entry about Manfred, it's pretty clear that Lucanis is a Union Man, or should I say Guild Man. He is all about fair compensation for labor. I know this isn't necessarily surprising, since he's a guild assassin, but I'm very much enjoying the fact that it comes up in game.

I support Bellara and her writing aspirations.

Lmao, Rest In Annoyance, Johanna. Enjoy watching/listening to Emmrich woo his girlfriend and not being able to leave. Enjoy Manfred routinely walking up to you to (in his own way) call you a nasty bitch.

Also love the banter where Emmrich's like "Why the FUCK did you think it was a good idea to build a mech, Johanna???"

Highly recommend bringing Lucanis/Neve and Taash/Harding along for each other's personal quests if they're together or even just at the flirting stage, because you get good shippy stuff.

Earning Solas' respect is so satisfying. That's right, experience growth, bitch!

Haven't done Davrin's big final arc quest yet, but I'm fully prepared to get emotional, given how things went with everyone else's arcs.

Some fun DATV things I'm experiencing:

Playing as female Rook makes the first few quests until you get Lucanis very Girls Night, which I really started to notice after a friend pointed it out and she is so right.

Neve is bestie.

Lucanis' intro cinematic made me feel so attacked. That shit was so my brand lol.

Lucanis and Neve's banter is hilarious and if I don't romance Lucanis I may end up shipping him with Neve.

Did Bellara's first personal quest and almost cried. Hit me a little close to home.

Neve's hangout quest was delightful. I want to chat and snack and walk around with her all day.

Neve and Bellara's developing friendship is so fun. I want to see a scene where Lucanis gets involved in their cooking adventures.

Shopping and getting coffee with Lucanis was like Oh No He's Thoughtful And Charming And I'm Weak.

Chose Lucanis over Neve in that one decision that made me want to scream and now she's hardened and I'm so sorry bestie I was thinking of the defenseless people and I will never be okay again.

Varric playing mentor to Rook got me right where it hurts. He's there for when you need an adultier adult to tell you that you're doing okay and that he's proud if you. I cry forever.

Assan and Manfred are my SONS and I LOVE THEM and I make the most ridiculous noises when they are on screen. THEY ARE SUCH GOOD BOYS.

The quest to acquire Emmrich is fucking delightful if you're a nice Mourn Watcher and you bring Bellara along. Just three huge nerds enjoying each other's company while doing dangerous shit.

Davrin and Emmrich's banter is like two dad's comparing notes.

As a Watcher, Myrna kinda feels like my mentor-mom, which is funny.

More thoughts to come. Just wanted to scribble down a few things so far for the people to let y'all know I'm having a fucking blast.

[shorlinesorrows]

just got the time to start the sunshine court and I'm Vibrating out of my skin

[encrucijada]

might be silly and write bullet points for a possible tears of the kingdom fic 🫶

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things

[hjartasalt]

Hey not to be a bitch or anything but maybe don't tag my posts where I talk about my very real trauma disorder that affects me in real life with some fandom nonsense

[tathrin]

A response to this ask; taken from this prompt; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox).

#28....as a lie.

*technically this one picks up after the end of this story if you want to read that first, although you don’t need to; it’s as much a self-contained snippet as any of the others, it just happens take place in a setting within the events of a specific fic, that’s all.

Gimli’s eyes were drawn ever and again to the elvish dancers, even as he was drawn several times into brief conversations as friends and acquaintances paused at the table he now shared with Gandalf to exchange a few words and toast their well-wishes together for Gondor’s king and queen. Gimli was glad of the toasts, at least, for they brought fresh mugs of cool ale, and the heat of so many cavorting bodies had raised the temperature of the hall to near-dwarven levels, despite the cool white stone and tall windows through which a summer’s breeze still wafted.

Legolas’s hair shone like a sunrise in the rich torchlight, and his eyes gleamed like starlight on pale clouds. Gimli was amazed that anyone could long look elsewhere, with the shine of him whirling there to draw the eye.

He was not amazed that the other elves twirling on the dance floor were drawn to him; of course they were. How could they help but be lured in, dull drab moths circling that golden glow? Long hands ran up and down Legolas’s lithe limbs and pressed against his slender waist, long fingers twined through the streaming locks of his unfettered hair and curled possessively around his braids—

The mug in Gimli’s hands gave a crack and shattered, soft metal collapsing in on itself in his grip. He stared at the mess in his hands, numbly grateful that he had at least drained it already and so there was no ale left to spill out across his lap, and then he hurriedly shoved it onto the table behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning hotter than any torch in the hall.

Gimli chanced a sideways glance at Gandalf, who was watching the dancers with every evidence of placid enjoyment on his old face. Had he seen? Had he heard? He said nothing, but that did not always mean anything with Gandalf. Perhaps Gimli should speak, should craft some excuse...

“Flimsy human metal,” he muttered, and glanced at the wizard again. Gandalf nodded absently, but did not otherwise react.

Gimli let out his breath in relief—and then a second later he nearly choked on it, as Legolas suddenly bounded out of the tumult to perch on the bench beside him. His eyes danced as merrily as any of the revelers and his smile beamed bright and clear upon his beardless face.

“Will you not dance with us, Gimli?” he asked. His voice was light with laughter and with joy and his thin chest heaved from his exertions. Gimli found his eyes drawn upwards to the bare lips above that smooth and hairless chin.

“What?” he said.

“Dance with us, Gimli!” Legolas repeated. “Come, you can teach us dwarven steps and I will show you the ways of elvish revelry up close.”

“No,” Gimli answered automatically, his heart stuttering in his throat. “No, I—I am quite comfortable here, thank you.”

“You do not seem comfortable,” Legolas observed, and Gimli felt his stomach drop like a stone. He could not stop himself from glancing behind him at the ruined mug, even though he knew the gesture was a dead give-away; if Legolas had not seen it before, he surely would now, with Gimli’s gaze to lead him to it like a map—or a swift arrow.

“I am perfectly fine,” Gimli insisted. “Gandalf and I are enjoying the dancing quite well from here, thank you.”

Legolas spared a glance at the unmoving wizard but his eyes soon fixed on Gimli once more. “You are bothered by something,” he said quietly. “I can tell. Will you not tell me what? Perhaps I can help.”

Gimli’s mind stuttered with the possibilities of the help that Legolas might offer, and he quickly shied away from the idea. “No!” he blurted. “No, I—as I said, I am fine. It is merely warm in here.”

Legolas laughed. “Warm!” he cried. “But you are a dwarf!”

“Aye, a dwarf,” said Gimli, “and one who is enjoying his ale from his comfortable seat, and has no need to go whirling about like some flighty elven dandelion!”

Legolas should have laughed; Gimli knew his friend well enough to know that much. He should have laughed, but he did not. Instead his pale eyes narrowed sharp and keen on Gimli’s face, and Gimli could feel himself blushing beneath that tight scrutiny.

“Does it bother you,” Legolas asked in a low voice, “to see me frolicking so with these other elves?”

“What?” Gimli exclaimed. His hands clenched convulsively, and he was glad that he had already broken his mug; had he still been holding it now, he would surely have turned the thing into a flattened disk of over-stressed and useless metal. “Bother me! Of course it does not!”

To prove it, Gimli made himself laugh and shake his head, as though Legolas had spoken some ridiculous jest. He even lifted the elf’s lean brown hand and kissed the smooth knuckles as more evidence of how thoroughly unbothered he was. “Go back to your dancing, Master Elf!” Gimli chortled. “I am doing quite well watching it from afar, thank you!”

Legolas stared at him for another moment, his smooth face unreadable . The tips of his ears were flushed dark red from all of his cavorting and his pale eyed looked very wide with no beard to frame them.

Then he shrugged, and said, “As you like, then!” and squeezed Gimli’s shoulder once before bounding away and throwing himself back into the whirl of the merry elvish dancers.

Gimli let out a shaky breath and flexed his hands a few times, getting the blood-flow back into them.

"Lying will do no good for either of you," Gandalf declared calmly. "And it is hardly fair to Legolas; he will take you at your word, whatever you tell him."

Gimli could feel his cheeks burning hotter, shame coming along to add its kindling to the blaze. He managed to force an unintelligible grumble of disagreement from his lips, but nothing more articulate than that; he felt as though he was already strangling on all the words he would not, could not, say.

"He will," Gandalf insisted. "The elvenking might be able to spot a lie from 300 leagues and skewer it as neatly as his son ever has an enemy with that bow of his, but Thranduil's people are another matter. Lies are not generally told in Mirkwood. It is not a place for dissembling, or oaths, or scheming. The Wood-elves are a simple, honest people. And you are Legolas's friend." Gandalf pulled his eyes away from the dancing and fixed his gaze on Gimli instead. His bushy brows were drawn very low atop them, making his eyes glint like embers in deep shadow. "If you tell him something, he will believe you, Gimli. And you will have none but yourself to blame for the results."

Without waiting for Gimli to muster either the courage or the wits for a response, Gandalf swept to his feet and strode off into the tumult of the party.

Gimli slumped low on his bench and stared miserably at the dancing elves.

Legolas was still so impossibly vibrant and noticeable against the duller backdrop of the others. Gimli's eyes fixed on him at once. He seemed to be moving now with even greater abandon than before, if such a thing were possible.

And if such a thing were not impossible, Gimli would almost have said that Legolas kept glancing back at the table where Gimli sat as well—but he was not, of course, and so Gimli put the thought from his mind.

He had more than enough to think of anyway, when a tall elf of Lórien slid up behind Legolas and snaked her arms across his narrow shoulders, leaning in low to murmur something into his finely-pointed ear.

Legolas laughed and turned to face her, their long lithe arms entwining as close as any dwarven lovers. They swayed and swirled together with the music, and the elf-woman’s hands slid up from Legolas’s shoulders to tangle in his braids. Legolas smiled up at her and said something that Gimli was too far away to hear, but it made her laugh. Then Legolas gave one of her dark braids a gentle tug, and Gimli realized that he was growling low in his throat as though facing down a horde of goblins.

He turned away blindly and reached for his mug, realized that it was both empty and broken, and turned back around just in time to see the elf-woman twirl away into someone else’s arms as another pair of hands took Legolas by his trim waist and plucked him out of the center of the tumult to pull him in close against their long lean body, and—

And it was Haldir, Mahal curse it. Gimli’s mouth went dry, his blood pounding in his ears like drumbeats as the March Warden leaned in close and lowered his mouth to Legolas’s ear, whispering something. He took one of Legolas’s braids in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the heavy golden strands, like a dwarf might test a metal for its quality. Haldir was hardly dancing; only swaying a little as he stared down at Legolas, who stood balanced before him on his toes like a bird paused on the edge of flight.

Gimli was on his feet before he realized it, about to start forward and—and what?

His hand was at his belt, which was empty of course; a wedding was no place for weapons. And why was he reaching for his axe, anyway? He sat back down on the bench with a heavy, hollow thump. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

He had had too much ale, clearly. It was the only explanation for his strange behavior tonight. His throat was dry, but he would not drink anymore tonight; he had drunk too much already, clearly, and it was clouding his thoughts. Making him think strange, impossible things. Making him dream things that—that were not, that could never...!

Legolas laughed and rose up onto his toes to press a light kiss to Haldir’s lips.

His head reeling, Gimli watched as the March Warden took Legolas by the hand and led him, smiling, towards the door. If Gimli thought that Legolas paused on the threshold and looked back, somehow finding Gimli’s eyes across the crowded room and glancing at him hesitatingly, questioningly, even hopefully—well, then that was just another sign that he had reached the night’s limit for ale; reached, and more than passed.

Gimli held himself very still, schooling his expression to a placid calmness that might have rivaled Gandalf’s, and then he forced a smile and a nod—just in case Legolas was really looking; just in case he could really see him.

A shadow seemed to flicker across those bright elvish eyes, as though one of the torches near the door was on the verge of guttering; although when Gimli looked at them, they both appeared to be burning tall and strong still.

When he looked back, there was only a faint fading flicker of golden locks flowing around the corner as Legolas vanished into the night and Haldir’s arms.

Gimli sat there for several minutes, staring into the empty darkness of the door. The noise of the wedding revels that had once filled the hall with such bright merriment seemed to have faded now, somehow; he heard it from a distance, like echoes from some far-off cave. Eventually he forced himself to rise, and murmur unintelligible farewells as he passed his friends, and trudge his way across the long white hall towards the other door.

He stumbled back to the rooms the Fellowship shared, alone.