#JOKE BASTARD CAN CHOKE AND DIE.

[metalomagnetic]

Any chance you can share an excerpt of the Harry/Sirius fic you have planned? 🥺

“That’s teenage years for you, kid; you’re always angry.”

Harry frowns. “You think that’s all there is to it?”

“Sure. I was that way, too.”

“Was?” Harry asks, and he’s finally smiling. A tiny thing, frail, but it’s a smile. “Seems like you’re still going through your teenage years, then.”

“Cheeky bastard.” Sirius swats him over the head, playfully.

The frail smile turns into a grin. There’s a mischievous side to Harry, buried deep under the trauma, the burden of being the Boy Who Lived.

Harry reaches for the bottle again. “Gross,” he shudders, making a face after he swallows. “Does it get better? The taste?”

“Eventually,” Sirius says, opening a second bottle, now that he relinquished the first to Harry. “You get used to it.”

He got Regulus drunk in this very room some twenty years before.

His mother sighs in his head. She sounds resigned.

“How about those?” Harry nods at the pack of cigarettes Mundungus snuggled in for Sirius. “Will you teach me?”

“Not much to teach,” Sirius says, giving Harry a fag, taking one for himself.

He lights them with his wand and tells Harry to breathe the smoke in.

Predictably, he chokes.

“Being a bad boy isn’t easy, Harry,” Sirius mocks.

“It’s disgusting,” Harry wheezes, still choking, but when he calms he tries again, to the same result.

By the time he finishes, Harry grows even paler, says he’s a bit dizzy.

How innocent he is; how young. Sirius remembers the first time he smoked, that dizziness Harry speaks of.

He was thirteen, and life was good, even if it didn’t feel like it. Now he wishes he could go back to those times.

Would you abandon us again? If you could go back, would you still betray us? the voices demand.

“I’ll teach you to ride a bike,” Sirius promises. “Next summer. I’ll buy one. Miss riding, anyway.”

“Drinking, smoking, riding bikes, moping around in corners, being angry- what else is on the requirement list for being a bad boy?”

“I don’t mope around,” Sirius argues. “And never in corners. I brood in full view of everyone.”

Harry laughs. It might be the whiskey, but there’s some colour returning to his face. He almost looks alive.

He’ll die, eventually. Everyone around you dies, brother.

Regulus was always a spoilsport.

“Alright, alright. Brooding, then. What else?”

“Fucking,” Sirius says, just to embarrass him, and it works like a charm. Harry goes red, instantly. “Can’t be a bad boy if you don’t fuck around.”

Harry looks away. He runs his fingers through his hair again, making it stick out more than usual. It still doesn’t remind him of James.

When James did it, there was intention behind it. He liked his hair like that, and he knew some girls liked it, too.

When Harry does it, there’s nothing intentional about it. It screams of insecurity, something that wasn’t in James’ vocabulary.

“Well,” Harry says, so red he’s turning purple. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that, too.”

A warning rings in Sirius’ head.

Don’t poke at it, his mother advises him. Leave it be, Sirius.

Sirius never listened to her, so he won’t start now.

“You know girls that won’t mind your godfather joining you for a bit of fun?” Sirius teases. “Why, Harry, you’re already running with a bad crowd in that case.” Harry snorts, gulps more whiskey. “I barely know any girls at all,” he mumbles. “But I’m sure no girl would say no to you; it’s more likely they’ll protest to me, really.”

“First lesson,” Sirius says. “No self-depreciating jokes. No poor-me attitude. No one finds that attractive.”

“Well, that’s who I am,” Harry snaps, that temper of his rearing its head for a second.

“Even so, you hide that shit if you want to pull birds. Pretend you’re confident, even when you aren’t.”

“That’s wrong, though. Misleading someone, lying-”

“Bad boys lie all the time.”

Harry huffs. He slumps back into the couch. “Forget it. I can’t be a bad boy.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Sirius agrees. “Plus, if you want to be really bad, you’d need to do some prison time. Not worth it, I assure you.”

“Being locked up in a cupboard doesn’t count?” Harry asks. “Did about ten years of that.”

[baohanhanesel]

World Praise Day with TF141

GN Reader, no warnings. Could be read as both platonic and romantic. 🤷

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick did see what was coming. The shit-eating grin on your face spoke loudly. He had a feeling you would make one of your casual "to blow off some steam" jokes until he saw your eyes look him up and down. He choked on thin air.

"Are you checking me out, mate?"

"Your body's a sight for sore eyes. The fair amount of muscle and flush skin." You brought your fingers to your lips, kissing them and flicking your wrist away; you sent him an air kiss. It damaged him as if you called an air strike on the guy.

"Load of bullshit, aren't you?" He laughed, eyes crinkling while he smiled

"There it is!" You threw your hands up in the air. "The beauty my art is inspired from!"

"Shut your trap, geez... Don't bring the sketchbook into this, sappy bastard." As much as he tried to play it cool he was flustered. His face got red and laughter started to sound lighter than ever.

"Love your smile" you say." The way your lips curl upward is mesmerizing. The shade of your lips is pretty by itself." The specific praise was doing things. You knew. He knew.

"About to kiss you with these pretty lips if you do not shut up." He chuckled, smirk wide as ever. He was happy and a kiss would only let you know just how happy you were making him. So when you did not stop, you were made just as happy as he was.

John "Soap" Mactavish had just joined you in the common room, you were ready to attack once you caught a glimpse of his messy mohawk.

"Always taking care of yourself like a good man. Even when it is messy it remains just as pretty. Do you even have bad hair days?" Your smile got wider and wider while you took his startled expression in. He blinked, then smiled brightly. "Would die for your smile, Mactavish. Pretty privileges everyday,"

"Yer aff yer heid, lass/lad. "He laughed hard, smirk bright as the damn sun. "Ya know how it feels tae hae the privilege How's it feel, ay?"

You flushed back at the counter attack and the smile. You were just about to make your own move before he reached for your hand "Haes seen war, aye breathtaking. You'd be mah choice in mah lest breath. If a'm jammy enough tae see ye as th' lest damned thing oan earth, ah'd already hae taken a taste o' heavens."

You stopped functioning. His heavy Scottish accent was getting your head fuzzy. The praise attack you started is getting overpowered by his flirt attack. And boy, he is winning.

"Mactavish." you warn him, yielding. He is too good you fear your face is no different than a tomato right now.

"Yah whit's it? My bad!" He brings your hand to his lips. "Ah cannae use mah bonny privileges now? Na? " Fuck him and his confident smirk. You don't know whether to slap him or kiss him.

Captain John Price had just light up a cigarette, letting it stay in-between his lips while he looked through the reports you just brought in.

"Another successful mission. We nailed the mission, captain. Saved our asses, without lead we'd be dead." Praising his work did little, but you had to start somewhere. He gave a tight lipped smile, exhaling the smoke. "Your hat's fitting you nicely, sir. The way it casts a shadow over your temple brings your eyes out. A sight, it is."

He grumble-laughs. You don't know which. You'll go with the latter though. "Your beard, too. Gathers your features together Strict 'n all?"

He dismisses you with a nod and a forced smile. You can see his eyes doing best to not look at you. "Can I get started on your scent?"

"Don't." he snorts, raising his one hand up to rub his temples, tilting his head down. You were about to yield until you notice he was actually trying to suppress a smile.

"I'd do just about anything to see that smile, sir. Makes me proud of myself." You blurt out, because you are willing to take your chances.

"Lovely cheeky thing "he chuckles, blush covering his entire face. "Pretty personality to match your face. You are a strong soldier, I am always proud of you."

Your smile widens.

"Happy world praise day, love." your smile falters, you end up laughing because he knew what you were at but despite it all he still let you humour him.

"Not a single word was a lie."

"As was mine. Back to work, love."

You shake your head, walking out of the office. Today's been very efficient so far.

Simon "Ghost" Riley was cleaning his gun while you were sitting across from him, sewing shut a gash on your uniform. You stole a few glances before collecting enough courage to speak. You were a brave soldier. Bravest of them all. You surely could praise the man before you with that courage.

"Good work" You beam "So fast too."

"Is all experience." He grunts. "You'd be fast too if your hand got on one of these." He had a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

You had a feeling it was because you dislocated your shoulder in the last mission while using a rifle. It was bad luck. Not like you were that inexperienced. He just liked to toy with you.

"You are the best, lieutenant. I don't have to do much with cleaning."

"Because?"

"You clean the battlefield well enough for us all."

"As I should." So praising his work wouldn't work. "Your eyes, always so expressive. You like our banters, sir?"

"Naturally." He scolds, hands fidgeting with the gun.

"I like your presence. You are safe. You are the safe for me." He didn't utter a single word after that. "Always patient with me too. I am grateful for you. Can always rely on you. You are strong in every aspect."

You notice him hanging his head too low, eyes dragging on the ground. He is... flattered? You don't know but it doesn't seem bad. His eyes are actually very expressive as you stated earlier. But it is not enough to tell everything he feels. So you stop for a moment before he starts the conversation again.

"You trust a man with a mask?"

"I trust the man under that mask. Pretty like your knife skills, yeah? I never doubt it, witnessing it myself." This earns him a full-blown laughter.

"Enough." He cuts you then, standing up. He is burning red under that mask. He can't help but feel embarrassed. The silence caught into you, you blink at him. Did you go a bit too far?

"Thank you." he spats the word as if it is dirt in his mouth and he leaves, overwhelmed by you.

[nagaparadise]

Chasing Sandstorms

You are a bounty hunter that spent the last six years in pursuit of the notorious "sandstorm" Silvio. At long last, you finally found your target, but you quickly come to realize that killing him might be harder than you think.

I had this one sitting in my drafts for a while, so I think now is a good time to get it out! (Plus it kinda counts for teratovember 😆)

Female reader x Silvio (diamondback rattlesnake naga), explicit, no warnings

If you enjoyed, please help support me on ko-fi!

It was hard to close the distance between you, but you pushed yourself even further than you’ve gone before. You quickly raised your revolver, and though you didn’t have a clear aim as you did before, you were comforted in knowing that there was nobody around if you happened to miss. The crack of your revolver rang out into the air but narrowly missed Silvio’s head. Then you fired another, and another, and another, to the point where you only had half the ammo left. Tears of frustration began to drip down your cheeks, and your breathing became uneven to the point where it felt like you were choking on your own breath, but you continued to push your body forward. Everything is against you now. You couldn’t aim, see, or breathe properly, but there was still one thing you could do: run. The naga you hated, that you’ve been obsessed with for years on end, was right in front of you, and there wasn’t a single chance that you were about to let him go. So no matter the cost, you continued your perusal until your legs cramped, determined that you wouldn’t let him live long enough to see the sun rise. But to your surprise, he took a strange turn and slithered inside a small storehouse. If you had any sense of reasoning still intact, you would have thought that this was a trap, but at this point, you were operating purely on instinct. Just as you had reasoned before, you could easily get a clear shot so long as he was cornered, and now you’ll finally get that chance.

You nearly tore the door off its hinges as you ran into the storehouse after Silvio. Luckily, the storehouse was mostly barren aside from a couple of barrels of grain that were placed unevenly across the floor, stacks of hay that lined one wall, and of course, Silvio, who was in the middle, slumped over and hands rested on his waist as he attempted to catch his breath. You made no effort to restrain yourself as you flew at him, toppling his exhausted humanoid body over with ease.

Silvio yelped in surprise, and you snarled in response. Silvio lay helplessly on his back while your legs were straddled over his tail, and pointed the barrel of your gun at his nose.

“Haah…haah… Finally… I’ve got you now, bastard.”

“Haah…haah… Definitely looks that way,” Silvio tried to force a grin, but even he could admit that looking down the barrel of your revolver intimidated him. “The terror of “Sandstorm” Silvio ended by a stunning bounty hunter who had him straddled… Heh, I don’t mind the sound of that.”

“Shut up!” You exclaimed as you brought down the hammer of your revolver with a satisfying click. “Are you really cracking jokes as you’re about to die?!”

“Ain’t life just one big joke anyway? If ya can’t laugh at that, then what can you laugh at?” Silvio responded with a cocky grin. “One thing I should point out… Is that I’m not that close to death just yet.”

Before you had a chance to react, you felt a constricting pressure around your chest, then a weight around your arms, and finally, the sound of a rattle shaking just behind your head. It was Silvio’s tail, constricting around your body, pinning one arm to your body, and compressing around your hand holding the gun. You tried to move your finger around the trigger, but you were quickly beginning to lose feeling in your hand, and any sensation was instead replaced by a heavy numbness. 

“Aw, look at us! Quite the stalemate, if I do say so myself.”

“You…bast…ard!” You choked out. It wasn’t as if you were actually choking, and neither were you losing circulation in your hand, but his tail was tight enough that you couldn’t move an inch.

“Hey, look at me,” Silvio said with an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “Just calm down a sec, will ya? Look, we got off on the wrong foot, but I think we should look past that.”

“Don’t act like this was a misunderstanding! You’ve been stealing and terrorizing innocent folks for years! Your crimes aren’t something that can just—”

You just happened to look down during your rant, and under your groin, a thin vertical slit opened up on Silvio’s tail.

“What the hell is that?” You questioned with a slight tremble in your voice.

“Fuck… Just ignore it. It’s nothin’, really.”

“You can’t fool me! That’s a hidden weapon, isn’t it?”

“N-no! I’m serious, it’s nothing!” Silvio tried to plead, but his body betrayed him. Slowly, from under your groin, the tips of his twin cocks began to emerge.

“This doesn’t look like “nothing” to me! Don’t tell me these are your…”

“Oh my god, yes, they’re my cocks! Listen, you can’t blame me for gettin’ a little excited when I’ve got an attractive bounty hunter straddlin’ my tail and waving a gun in my face!”

You wanted to retort, but you couldn’t peel your eyes off the cocks that had now fully unsheathed themselves. Hard and throbbing, the shafts were an unusual forest green, which transitioned to a bright yellow towards the tips. Both were ribbed by lines that ran vertically down the shaft. The first thing that came to mind was how much they resembled the lava cactus without the spikes. The second was a thought that you would keep hidden deep in your heart until the day you died.

Silvio took notice of how mesmerized you were, and a sly smirk played on his lips. “Like whatcha see, darlin’?”

“No,” you lied.

“Y’know, I wouldn’t mind lettin’ you take ‘em for a ride. Think of it as a reward for all your hard work. After all, nobody’s ever gotten close to pinnin’ me like this before.”

“You are a piece of work, you know that? Nothing’s going to stop me from killing you!”

“Then let’s compromise: first we can have some fun, and then you can kill me. Actually, I can’t think of a better way of goin’ out!”

Your grip remained firm on your revolver. But at the same time, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his enticing cocks. You gulped as you began to seriously contemplate his words. You would never admit that you’d want to have sex with him, but the thought of those thick cocks stuffed in your hole lit a fire in your belly. You glanced back at his face to see that infuriating grin creeping along his lips. You knew that you were playing right into his hand if you accepted, but curiosity and arousal were starting to get the better of you.

Silvio’s hands began to run along your thighs, fingertips barely ghosting the fabric over your skin as they slowly moved up and down. “Whaddya say, darlin’?”

You tried to hide your increased breathing, but there was no way he couldn’t feel your chest rise from under his tail. You were hit with a sense of relief that he couldn’t see your maddening blush in the darkness.

“You know that it’ll only take me a split second to kill you, right? Which means that by the time we’re done—”

“Yup, you’ll blow my brains out. That is, if I haven’t already blown yours,” Silvio’s fingers began to skirt around the underside of your thighs. One hand continued until it reached your groin, while the other began to loop over the opening of your bottoms. You shivered under his tail, both from one hand grazing your skin under your bottoms and his strong fingers tracing your slit from under the fabric.

“Please, there’s no way you’re that good.” You tried to maintain your composure as he lifted you with his tail, giving enough room to slip your bottoms off. In one swift motion, your underwear, bottoms, and shoes had been shed from your legs, and you gasped at the sudden cold breeze brushing past your exposed skin.

“Have you ever been with a naga, darlin’? I can guarantee you that you won’t ever forget this night,” Silvio couldn’t prevent a gasp from escaping his throat once he saw your exposed pussy. With his cocks vibrating in response, he used his tail to position you over his cocks. His cold tips felt tantalizing against your warm folds as he teasingly rubbed them over your opening. You wanted to beg for him, to plead him to stuff you, but you didn’t want to show how eager you were. Unfortunately, your body exposed your desire, and you began to involuntarily grind against his throbbing tips.

“I see someone’s excited.”

“Shut up.” 

With a chuckle, he used his tail to slowly lower you onto one of his hard cocks. A drawn out moan escaped from your throat as his cock slid into your tight pussy, stretching you to your limits. A jubilance rose through your body as his cock slithered along your walls, and reached the end of your cave, allowing your opening and clit to rest at the base of his tail. It had been so long since you’ve felt such satisfaction that you felt like crying out in joy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to express your exuberance when the cock belonged to the naga you hated the most. Though as much as you tried to hide your bliss, Silvio was able to read you like an open book. Your face was twisted in both disdain and pleasure, but you were fervently rolling your hips along the base of his tail, hoping to get any sort of friction against your walls and clit, which elicited a dreamy sigh from Silvio.

“Some bounty hunter you are. You’re practically begging your target to fuck you!”

“Go to hell—Ahhhhhn!” Your cursing was interrupted by Silvio sneaking a finger over your clit and mercilessly pressing on it. You unconsciously jerked your hips in response, which only encouraged him to continue rolling his index and middle over your throbbing bud. 

“Fuck… I’ve barely done anythin’ and you’re already wet. God, you’re so cute,” another cheeky remark from Silivo that evoked blood to rush to your cheeks. You tipped your head back, hoping that he wouldn’t see, but no matter what you did, he knew that you were enjoying every moment of his teasing. Then without warning, you began to feel his cock slowly slip out from your wet pussy. His fingers continued to play with your clit as he made his descent, but stopped as the tip of his cock reached just above your opening. Then, he stopped all movement. You held your breath as you expected him to do something, anything, but he continued to remain still. After the excruciatingly long pause, you finally looked back down, ready to yell at him, to tell him to hurry up, but you stopped yourself when you saw his placid face glistening in sweat from the moonlight. His eyes were hooded, and smile seemed oddly sincere. For a second, you thought you were looking at your beloved partner. But the illusion was quickly broken when his lips drew apart to reveal a sinister grin, accented by his fangs. “Ready, darlin’? ‘Cus I ain’t holdin’ back anymore.”

You had no chance to retort as he instantly slammed his cock into your pussy. The pleasure and pain forced a shriek from the bottom of your lungs, but Silvio was quick to coil his tail around the base of your neck and over your mouth.

“Shhh, don’t be too noisy now. We don’t need the townsfolk interruptin’ us.” Silvio cooed as he continued his swift and merciless thrusts. You couldn’t help but agree as you clenched around his thick cock, trying to get as close to him as possible, hoping that this pleasure would never end. His hands latched onto your inner thighs, fingers gently digging into your skin as he massaged them while he heaved his cocks upward, forcing the base of his cool tail to meet your swollen opening. Though you found his kneading delightful, you wished that his fingers were attending to your sensitive bud instead. But you figured he would be more keen on teasing than satisfying. Ultimately, you figured that you couldn’t complain too much when his second throbbing cock bounced against your tummy in time with his thrusts, occasionally rubbing against your clit. But to your surprise, his hands slowly moved from massaging your thighs, to reaching around to your ass. His thrusts slowly came to a pause as his fingers dug into your skin to spread your cheeks apart. Your eyes widened as you looked down at Silvio and you tried to ask what he was doing, but your voice was muffled under his tail. Once again, he looked back up at you with the same serene smile.

“I know just how much you want both of ‘em, but I don’t think you’re ready just yet for a two-in-one. Maybe next time, darlin’,” Silvio whispered, and you wanted to remind him that there won’t be a next time, but came to accept that he wasn’t going to remove his makeshift gag anytime soon. “I know this ain’t the best way to do it, but, I should be slippery enough,” he said to the side. Just as you wondered what he meant, you felt something wet prod at your second hole, then promptly pushed through, stretching your rectum until you were aligned with the cock nestled in your pussy. You wanted to cry out just from the pressure in both your holes, but you held back as much as you could. Even if he was handsome, even if his cocks felt fucking amazing, you couldn’t let either of those distract you from your goal. 

Once again without warning Silvio began his assault, relentlessly assailing your holes. Your body went limp in his tail as it narrowed in on the pressure in your abdomen, causing your grip around your gun to loosen and allowing it to fall next to Silvio’s head with a dull thump. Screams and whimpers continuously poured from your lips, interspersed with moans of Silvio’s name. He couldn’t hear you from under his tail, but he could tell exactly what you were saying from the vibrations that ran through it. 

“That’s it, honey. Tell the world whose finger you’re wrapped around.” Silvio’s grin grew wider as he watched you weaken under his grasp. But he wasn’t done yet. He wanted to see you ravaged yet satisfied, exhausted yet glowing. Pulling out all the stops, he began by moving one hand back to your sensitive clit, rolling his fingertips over its wet and sensitive surface. You flung your head back as a scream rose from your throat, and you arched your back in his tail, using whatever strength you have left to grind along his fingers. Then, while you were unaware, the rattle of his tail sneaked through the opening of your shirt, vibrating over your throat, collarbone, and stopping in the valley between your breasts. Then, he started to vigorously shake his rattle over your stiff nipples, causing you to arch back towards Silvio, and trapping his rattle between your breasts and the portion of his tail around your body. You shook uncontrollably as every nerve exploded with pleasure, as his tail muffled your cries of delight, his rattle quivered over your nipples, as your thighs and his tail became drenched in your juices, as his cocks stormed your swollen holes, and his fingers dug into your clit and cheeks. 

Just as he had hoped, you were quickly reduced to his little whimpering sub. But his confident facade was beginning to wear, and he was close to crumbling under the pressure as well. Silvio’s pace began to slow, and his thrusts started to come at random intervals. After one sloppy heave after another, Silvio pulled out slightly, leaving just the tips at your entrance. His chest sank and rose erratically as he tried to catch his breath, remaining in the position for a while. This time, you didn’t pay any mind to the long pause. You slumped in Silvio’s tail, exhausted, but satisfied. You got all you wanted from him and more, to the point where you even considered letting him go after you were finished. But your heart ached from under the intoxicating waves of pleasure, and you were starting to regret the thought of letting him go.

Your complex emotions quickly dissipated when you felt his cocks shoved inside your holes one more time. His tail crashed into your soaked opening and thighs, and you felt an eruption of cum spread inside your holes, which began to drip from your openings. Another wave of pleasure pulsated through your body, and you screamed in time with Silvio’s cursing. After the wave subsided, you slumped back into this tail, your nerves forcing you to unconsciously grind against his tail as you rode out your orgasm. Being so thoroughly exhausted, you were close to passing out on the spot until you felt a sharp jolt run through your abdomen. 

“Fuck… I haven’t felt like this in a long damn time. You oughta give up your bounty huntin’ business, ‘cus I think you’re the one for me, darlin’,'' Silvio tried to make out in between his deep breaths. In his fatigue, he dropped his tail from your mouth, which was dripping with your saliva. You considered his proposal for a split second, but upon mentioning your occupation, you remembered your objective.

“N-no way… In hell,” you spat out as you also tried to catch your breath. “No matter what, I will kill you.”

Silvio laughed lazily in response. “Well, you’re gonna hafta wait a bit. You’re in my knot, and it takes a while for the barbs to flatten.”

“Barbs?” you repeated, suddenly making sense of the sharp sensation in your holes.

“Yup. I’m sure you’re feelin’ them by now. Sharp little buggers, they are. Honestly, it’s why I don’t like stuffin’ the same hole. I love how tight you humans are, and I love fillin’ y’all with cum, but man do I hate feelin’ my own barbs,” 

“You little bast—aaahhhhhh,” just as you were about to curse him, you were cut off by another eruption of cum spreading through your holes. Though you were shocked by the initial appearance of the barbs, you quickly got used to the sensation, and even found it enjoyable. But you had to acknowledge that the fun was over, and you had to get back to business. “Th-then, how long do these things last?”

“Mmm… I dunno. An hour or two at least,” Silvio said as he began to yawn, and moved his hands from your ass and clit to stretch one above his head, while the other that glistened with your fluids moved to cover his mouth. Then, he began to slink his long forked tongue over his fingers, savouring your juices. “Fuck, you taste good. Maybe next time you’ll give me a full-course meal.”

“How many times do I have to say it, there won’t be a next ti—ah, ahhhhh,” once again, you were cut off by another wave of cum. You were starting to wonder if he was doing this on purpose. But Silvio just grinned and returned his hands to your thighs, gently tracing circles on your skin with his thumbs.

“Well, in any case it’s going to be a long while before we’re outta this rut, so I suggest ya get comfy. We’re both tired, the sun is about to rise, and between you and me,” Silvio cut himself off with another large yawn. “I think we would be better off sleepin’ tonight off, then resuming our little chase when we’re rested up. Whaddya think, darlin’?”

“Do you seriously expect me to sleep when I’m wrapped up in your tail and have barbs stuck in my—f-fuck!”

“It’s not that bad, is it? After all, you seemed to have really enjoyed getting fucked in it. And if ya want, I could use my rattle to lull you to sleep.”

“The last thing I want is to hear anything from you!”

“Oh well, can’t say I didn’t try. G’night, darlin’!”

“Wh-what?! Wait, at least let me go, you bastard! I know you’re not sleeping! Let me gooooo!!”

You desperately pleaded, but even if Silvio had uncoiled his tail, you were still stuck on his cocks. A cheeky smile played on his lips as he drifted to sleep, and you couldn’t help but notice that he looked painstakingly serene under the stark moonlight. He was a charming devil when you saw him up close, and after having spent an intimate night with him, you couldn’t even bear to pull the trigger. A chuckle rose from your lungs at your own sentimental nonsense. Six years of pursuit going down the drain just because you had amazing sex.

No. 

You couldn’t let him get away from you just yet. 

He was a dangerous criminal, and you promised the townspeople that you would kill him. And you always follow through on your promises. But at this moment, fatigue wore heavy on your body, and you could barely keep your eyes open.

Just a couple of hours should be enough. In a couple of hours, his barbs will flatten, you’ll wake up before Silvio, and after he unravels his tail, you’ll grab your gun and pull the trigger. Yes, that sounds like a solid plan. But until then, some rest wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Your eyes fluttered open, and you were first met with the harsh rays of the sun. You slowly picked yourself up from the wooden floor of the storehouse, both hands reaching up to feel the blanket around your shoulders, while your thighs twitched uncontrollably. When you removed the blanket - which you realize that you’ve never seen before - you were shocked to see your nude lower body along with white dried flakes that covered your thighs and floor. You were about to panic until you recalled what happened the night before - or more realistically, what happened just only a couple of hours ago. The excruciating and wild chase, the excitement that your dream was about to come true, the mind blowing sex, the slight pain of letting him go, the sight of his face sleeping serenely in the moonlight. Then, you noticed your bottoms neatly folded next to a barrel, with your revolver and a scrap of paper sitting on top. You rushed to your items, ignoring the pain in your abdomen as you hastily dressed yourself. At first you barely registered the scrap paper, but curiosity got the better of you when you saw it next to your feet. You picked it up and read the oddly neat writing.  

Thanks for keeping me company last night.

Hope we get the chance to meet again.

Yours truly, 

“Sandstorm” Silvio 

You were livid, enraged, furious! How could you be so careless to let him tempt you like that when your gun was right between his eyes? You immediately tore up the scrap paper and got to your feet, rushing out of the storehouse. The tingling in your abdomen and thighs hindered your speed, and the townspeople tried to stop you as you rushed to locate your horse, but you couldn’t bear them any attention, nor could you explain your failure. You fled the town the moment you took to your horse, leaving behind a crowd of dazed and confused townspeople. You realized this was an impulsive decision. You have no trail, no hint, absolutely nothing to guide you in his direction. But there was one thing you did know.

The chase was still on. You two will meet again. 

And when you do—

You will kill him.

[avocado-writing]

Ohhhh my lord I would DIE for some sort of AU where Astarion had a lover/partner before he was turned by Cazador???

And maybe he finds you visiting his grave after being freed from the tadpole or something and mentally debating whether to go to you or stay hidden bc he’s insecure about being a vampire?

Idk I’ve just been thinking about this randomly and the angst would be so goooood

Love Love Love your work Avo 💚💚💚

notes: sorry for this I swear I’ll write something happy next.

pairing: astarion x reader.

warnings: hurt, no comfort

rating: T

He dies and leaves you broken.

At least, you think he does. There is no way for him to come to you through those first few years, when Cazador keeps him imprisoned alone and half-crazed with starvation, sucking the innards out of rats until their desiccated husks are his only company. Eventually he manages to endear himself to his master enough that he is allowed out of the palace, though that is only to bring food back in the form of the unsuspecting nobles of Baldur’s Gate.

It is a miserable existence. He hates his body, hates himself, and as Cazador forces him to seduce people back, using his own beauty as bait, the soft nights he spent with you are all that keeps him sane.

Your memory is a light in the darkness of his new life.

On the fifth anniversary of his death, the first chance he has since he was turned, he cannot help but go and visit his grave. Call him maudlin, but he wonders if it has yet fallen into disrepair. As a magistrate he was hardly the most popular man in the city, and now everyone thinks he’s long gone…

He does not find it empty. He finds a sobbing figure next to the headstone.

You are just as lovely as he remembers, though your face is stained with tears. You grieve as if he died yesterday and not several years past. Your fingers carefully caress the engraving of his name, the way you used to trace them over his cheekbones, his lips.

It is a punch to the gut.

“Why did you have to leave me…” you choke, gripping the grass so hard you tear it from the ground.

He wants to hold you in his arms. To tell you that he is here, that death didn’t take him. He wants to remember what it feels like to touch you, really touch you, not just live by an echo of it in his memory. 

But he can’t, because he is a monster. A creature which belongs to the night. You would not want him now, would you? You’re a thing of beating blood and soft flesh and breathed air and life. He simply cannot anchor you to this thing which he has become and drag you down too.

That would just kill him all over again.

Wordlessly, he leaves you to mourn.

He comes back every year, to that little corner of the graveyard. You still cry but as time moves on, it is less, and eventually you make it through a whole visit without shedding a tear. You wax poetic about your favourite memories of him: quiet meals spent together, days when you never left bed, private in-jokes he thinks you would have forgotten by now. He listens to you talk from the shadows. 

It is the one thing he has to look forward to all year.

Then you start bringing company.

Your partner holds your hand tightly, and Astarion seethes from the darkness as you tell them about all him, about the pale elf you used to love. They listen as you fondly recount stories of your time together, and Astarion is torn: you no longer sound hurt like you once did, like the grief is a constant companion as you stumble on through life; but he is bitter. You were his. And now your hand easily links through the fingers of another.

He considers attacking you both. Biting you, trying to turn you. Killing your new paramour and having their bastard blood quench his unholy thirst.

But then you laugh, really laugh, tipping your head back in mirth at something they said, and leaning up against them. The way you used to with him.

How can a dead heart break?

He leaves.

The next year, when the two of you visit, you have matching rings on your fingers.

The year after that, you do not come to his grave at all. He wonders if you have finally forgotten about him. He tries to swallow this fact and move on, but what does he have to move on to? More misery. More loneliness. More Cazador.

The year after he finds you there, once again, and he feels the first twinge of joy in gods know how long –

“We had a baby, Astarion,” you say to the cold stone in front of you, carefully clearing off the moss which has attempted to take it over. “A little boy. He’s so precious… I know you never really liked children, but I hope you’d be pleased for me. I miss you, my darling, but I’m finally happy.”

He never visits his grave again.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate@dhampling

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Can u please do a fic where reader is the only surging member of team black and she is the the bastard daughter of rhaenyra and daemon (the middle child between jace and luke) and aegon the only survive of team green so bc he is the king he forced her to marry him bc the realm need stability. Maybe a bit dark at the beginning bc he is obsessed with her but then with time they started build feeling for each other. It's a bit dark but i would like you to write this if u like the idea❤️

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

summary: reader is the only surviving member of team black and she is the the bastard daughter of Rhaenyra and daemon (the middle child between Jace and Luke) and Aegon the only surviving member of team green so because he is the king he forced her to marry him because the realm needed stability. Maybe a bit dark at the beginning bc he is obsessed with her but then with time they started build feeling for each other.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Angst, fluff

"What is the long face for, dear niece?" Aegon leaned closer to you to whisper. You scrunched your face in disgust when a whiff of his smell hit you, it was a mix between wine and his cologne of something that made you feel nauseas.

"What do you think?" You did not even bother addressing him with any titles, neither official or familial. Aegon took a sip of his wine before placing the cup on the table again and moved closer to you.

"Smile niece, tis your wedding after all" He reminded. He reached over grasping your hand tightly in his, not giving you space to pull away, he pulled your hand over to his lips placing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. You snapped your hand back forcefully wiping whatever spit remained on your knuckles on your dress.

"My lips shall never smile, especially in your presence" You hissed glaring at him. You will never forget how he laughed as Sunfyre ate your mother, you will never forget how he himself held you in place with an arm around your waist and another was choking you as you tried to help her. You will never forget how he forced your brother Aegon to watch and then sent him to be locked in his chambers where he remained until recently. You had an inkling that he also had a hand in Aegon's death but could not voice it, you had no proof and they announced he was sick.

"When your lord husband demands something, you will give it" He grabbed your chin making sure to dig his nails into your flesh. You pushed his hand away, pushing your chair back you stood up. The sound of people laughing in the background made you want to kill. The sound of the music gave you a headache and the dancing made you dizzy, how could these people celebrate the deaths of your family? how could they celebrate the death of children?

"Do not ever touch me ever again you cunt" You growled pointing a finger at him. Aegon laughed as if you told him the funniest joke. He pushed his chair back and stood up to face you too wiping his tears of laughter away. He was acting as if his mother, brothers and sister did not die in this war as well. Was he so heartless?

"You forget niece, as your husband I have a right to you, I have a right to your body" His words made your blood run cold but you remained standing in front of him. He reached up to touch your cheek almost gently until he dug his fingertips into the nail marks he left earlier.

"I own you" He whispered. You gulped but found the strength to push his hand away from you. Aegon chuckled darkly before turning to the people at the feast and announced, "My bride and I shall retire for the night" his announcement was met with loud cheering and clap with some wolf whistles from the disgusting men.

"If you think I will let you touch you are mistaken" You hissed as he grabbed your wrist to drag you out of the room. You struggled against his grip but nothing worked. He pulled you to his own chambers and pushed you inside. He locked the doors tightly so no one can help you and you won't be able to escape.

"You will be begging me to touch you, sweet niece" Aegon taunted. He moved to step closer to you but you moved away. You moved as far away from the bed as possible. Aegon followed with a maddened smirk on his face.

"I would rather die" You pushed a table to throw him off. He raised his foot and planted it down on the table making it stop inches away from him. He leaned down on his knee atop the table smirking.

"You die when I allow you to die and as your king I demand you do your wifely duties" Your eyes watered with fear and humiliation. None of this was supposed to happen, you were supposed to marry you older brother Jace and rule this kingdom side by side after your mother.

"Never" You shook your head from side to side. Your blonde locks moved along with your head. You were a known bastard of both your parents, everyone knew it as a fact and not a rumour like your brothers. You were born from a night of passion during a visit your father made during his stay in Essos with his lady wife Laena.

"I would rather burn myself than let filth like you come near me" The first tear rolled down your cheek. Aegon laughed standing up straight again and pushed the low table to the side. He stalked over to you and you moved back with each muscle trembling with dear. Your back made contact with the balcony door still closed.

"Me filth? I am not the bastard here, niece" Aegon raised a hand to touch your cheek when he was close enough to you. You reached a hand behind you trying the handle of the door and found it unlocked so you pushed it down stumbling back on the balcony. Aegon watched with shock.

You moved to the railing of the balcony and moved to climb it until you were stood on it, it was made of stone like the rest of the castle. You turned to face Aegon you was shaking his head to get rid of his shock. His face morphed into one of horror. He walked out onto the balcony attempting to save you.

"Do not come any closer" You warned him, holding one hand up to signal him to stop. Aegon froze in his spot also raising both his hands, they were shaking with fear.

"Come down" He ordered. His voice sounded like it was trembling, unlike when he spoke to you earlier, with confidence and authority.

"If you come any closer I will throw myself off" You threatened. His room was not on the ground and instead it was in the tower where the entire royal family resided, the family that had three members left of it, you two and Jaehaera, poor Jaehaera who lost her mother and two brothers, one which was her twin and she had to watch as Blood and Cheese ripped his head from his body. You never really forgave your father from such tyranny but in grief for your brother Lucaerys you never voiced your dislike of the mater.

"Come down ... please" He begged. His whole body was shaking as flashbacks ran through his head. He may have not loved his sister-wife but she was still his sister. It was like history was repeating itself with you stood where she once stood.

"Back away" You hissed. Tears streaked down your face, tears of anger, how dare he feel sad? How dare he feel fear? He was a tyrant who killed your family. He killed your mother and brothers!

"I'll back away b-but come down first" Now looking closely you saw tears streaming down his round cheeks. You gulped remembering your aunt Helaena, you had forgotten about her and her end. You felt a little guilty making him relieve this traumatic event but then you remembered your mother and the guilt was gone.

"I'll come down if you walk step away" You bargained. Aegon took a deep shaking breath, nodding his head he took two steps back. Seeing that wasn't enough for you he took two more now being inside of the room again. With shaking hands you guided yourself back down to stand on solid ground but kept yourself close to the railing.

"Leave the room or I will climb up again and throw myself off" You threatened. Aegon's showed a third emotion that sadness and fear, it showed anger. He huffed angrily and kicked a close by chair making you jump a little.

"You little fucker" He hissed composing himself again. Nonetheless he made his way out of the room leaving you alone in his room. He did not leave because of your threat, he left because he could no longer bare looking at you. Seeing you so broken and then the stunt you pulled, you looked so much like Helaena, maddened with grief and tears of despair running down your face. Aegon made his way to the nursery where his only remaining child slept peacefully, Jaehaera who snored away in the night not knowing what happened.

That night you slept in your wedding dress on Aegon's bed fearing changing into anything else if he were to return, you wedding gown had too much layers to buy you time to escape him. When you woke up again there was a maid in the room preparing you a bath as another fixed the table for you to eat breakfast. They said Aegon had sent them which made you uneasy to eat so you forced one of them to eat a little from everything before you, she left the room crying and trembling with fear.

Aegon was furious with the situation but refrained himself from going to you. You locked yourself in the room afraid of leaving. You were slowly growing mad with loneliness so after two weeks you finally left the room with a black gown on. The people that saw you walk by began to whisper at the sight of you looking like death, hair untamed and face sullen with dark circles under your eyes from the nightmare, you had lost a lost of weight as well leaving the dress to look loose on you.

You walked through the halls remembering the way to the gardens as if it was yesterday you still lived here with your family. Your body froze once you saw Aegon laughing a few feet away. With the full intend to return to his chambers you turned around but stopped at the sound of a child's voice yelling "Kepa! Come catch me" Father. You turned around feeling tears build up in your eyes.

A small head of blonde locks matching your own and Aegon's zoomed in front of him. Aegon grinned cheekily and moved to follow little Jaehaera making small roars like a dragon not caring who saw or heard. Jaehaera was heading in your direction and before your could move she crashed against your legs falling back on her bottom. She looked up at you as tears welled up in her purple eyes. Aegon froze a couple of feet away from her at the sight of you, you looked like a ghost. You crouched down in front of her much to his horror, will you hurt his little girl? You were not that heartless to take her away from him as well, were you?

"Are you alright?" Your voice sounded hoarse from the lack of use. You held your hand out to the little girl of five. She sniffled rubbing her left eye but reached her other hand to grab yours and pulled herself to her feet again.

"My bottom hurts" She whimpered. You smiled a tiny smile, genuine nonetheless. Your other hand moved back to rub at her sore bottom to ease the pain away.

"Is that better?" You questioned. She nodded her head and moved to take a step closer to you. One of her small hands reached to grab a lock of your hair and looked at it with wonder.

"You have hair like my muña, did you know her?" Mother. She pointed out. Her question that followed broke your heart. At least the remembered her mother, even a singular memory would be enough, it was enough for you.

"Yes, Helaena was a beautiful woman" You answered. Aegon sighed in relief seeing you so calm and collected in front of his child. He finally stepped closer to you two and placed both his hands on jaehaera's shoulders.

"Kepa says muña is with Jaehaerys and Maelor now" Father, mother. She whispered sadly. You placed a hand on her cheek trying to comfort her.

"I am sure your mother is saddened to leave you as well" You leaned closer to place a kiss on her blushing cheek. She smiled sadly at you rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet.

"Will you play with me like she used to?" She asked tilting her head to the side. Aegon held his breath watching your reaction. You gave no reaction at first before nodding with a smile. She giggled pulling you in for a hug before running back to where she and Aegon were earlier and began running in circles singing a children's song.

"Thank you" Aegon broke the silence that fell between you two. He held out a hand to assist you back to your feet. He did not expect you to take the help but you surprised him by accepting the hand and let him help you back to your feet.

"It was no bother" You nodded. You turned to watch the now happy little girl giggle to herself as she sang and played alone. Still she looked so lonely, all alone when she used to have two brothers.

"At least she's happy" Aegon sighed deeply. That was mattered to him now, the light of his life was happy.

"Yes" You agreed, nodding your head. You jumped when you felt Aegon slid his hand into yours. You turned to look at him, scold him and yell at him but froze when you saw him looking at your with tears in his eyes.

"I am sorry" He whispered. You gulped not knowing what to say. Was he sorry for the way he treated you? Or was it because he killed your mother? Or for the war? Instead of answering you pulled him in for a hug, in the middle of the garden where anyone could see. He sighed in relief wrapping both his arms around your waist holding you tightly to him. You placed a kiss on his cheek as you moved back to look at him.

"Will you at least try to make this work?" he asked. You looked between his violet eyes, searching for an ill intention, not like there was anything worse that could happen.

"Yes" You responded. He smiled gently and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, gentle and sweet, a beginning to a new life for the three of you, Aegon, Jaehaera and you.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Feb 4 th - Week 5

I’m in the middle of a 8hr class for work today, so I’m doing this quick and dirty, with no rec notes. I’m sorry. Enjoy the list and kudos/comment for your authors! 

~*~ 

Method Refinements (subtype C, designation Capsicle) by galwednesday

"It's not hate sex," Steve objected. "I don't hate you."

That actually made Tony feel a little warm and fuzzy inside, which he knew was pathetic. He talked louder and faster to cover it. "Angry sex, then, whatever. I should just walk up to you and say 'Hey, Rogers, I was looking to blow off some steam, wanna have loud, animalistic sex all over the Tower?' That's what does it for you?"

A flush was creeping up his neck--God, Tony loved Steve's blushes, the Victorian-maiden-modesty veneer over the built-like-a-brick-shithouse physique drove him wild--but Steve's eyes were steady on his. "Try it and see."

Subtle Clues and Context Cues by galwednesday

“Cosplay,” Sam repeated. He and Steve were jogging through Central Park. Steve had just lapped him for a fourth time before slowing to match his pace, and the bastard didn’t even have the decency to sound winded. “As what?”

“You ever see the Pride and Prejudice movie, the really long one?”

“Dude. I have three sisters. It was required viewing.”

“I need a Mr. Darcy outfit.”

Sam slowed to a walk, holding one hand up in a time-out gesture until he caught his breath enough to form full sentences. “You’re going to cosplay as Mr. Darcy? The Colin Firth, look-how-wet-and-clinging-my-shirt-is Mr. Darcy?”

Steve looked down and shuffled his feet. It was amazing to watch over six feet of pure muscle somehow telegraph bashful. “Yeah. Tony’s birthday is coming up, and, well. It’s sort of an inside joke.”

(Five times everyone but Tony knew he was dating Steve, and one time Tony figured it out.)

'Cause It's a Beautiful Night by galwednesday

“Holy shit,” Clint’s eyes were huge and round. “Did you get Steve pregnant?”

Tony choked on his coffee. “What? How--why--what? How would that even happen?”

“Hey, you’re the one planning to ambush him with a shotgun wedding.” Clint moved his bowl of Lucky Charms out of the range of Tony’s coffee spray. “It’s a reasonable question.”

“Steve’s not pregnant!” Tony shouted. Was he? He couldn’t be. They hadn’t been gender-swapped lately. What about that alien fertility ray? No, that had been at least seven months ago.

Steve wasn’t pregnant.

Probably.

“I’m not ready to be a father,” Tony blurted, clutching his hair with both hands.

“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.” Clint opened the liquor cabinet and examined its contents with a critical eye. “What kind of booze goes best with marshmallows?”

(Tony plans a wedding. The wedding is in ten hours and he hasn’t exactly proposed yet, but he’s used to compressed project cycles. What could possibly go wrong?)

annex 11 by soliloquent

“This annex document, filed by SHIELD operatives under the designation SR-NR-CB-AS/000008-11, contains a verbatim transcript of a conversation between Anthony E. Stark (callsign Iron Man) and Steven G. Rogers (callsign Captain America) as recorded by Iron Man’s advanced artificial intelligence, J.A.R.V.I.S.”

—⎊—

or: Trapped together during a snowstorm in the middle of a mission, Steve attempts to soothe Tony’s growing anxiety, only to discover that Tony had the solution all along. 📄

Exit Wounds (The No Exit Remix) by sheron

Tony gets trapped together with Steve in a collapsed HYDRA facility, which makes it hard to avoid him.

Like Hell and Heaven by ChocolateCapCookie 

“I feel great now, though,” said Steve, lifting the sheets up to peer at his leg, which looked almost normal. “Can I leave?”

“Steve, we watched you almost die. Just… listen to the doctors, okay? Just this once.”

This Simple Feeling by inukagome15 

When are two good friends not good friends? Sounds like the setup for a brilliant joke, right? Except when the joke mirrors real life. Tony and Steve are just very good friends. So why is it everyone thinks they're dating?

Pinky Promise by Tahlruil

Steve wasn't looking for a relationship not really - dating was fun and he was busy learning how to adult properly. A chance encounter with Tony, who's even worse at grocery shopping than he is, has the potential to change all that. The meeting feels significant, even if he could never imagine where it would end up taking him.

Tony, meanwhile, was pretty happy with his string of one night stands and no feelings involved relationships. Despite being pushed of of the nest - he suspects Jarvis of giving his mother ideas - he's really not interested in becoming a real adult. Steve makes him want more for the first time ever, and even if it terrifies him, he's willing to see where it goes.

When I Think (Oh, it Terrifies Me) by celli

Look, some mornings you wake up and little green men are invading New York City; some mornings you wake up and you can hear Captain America's voice in your head. Tony has been an Avenger long enough that he saves his freakout for important things.

Unexpected Thaw by Neverever 

Steve has a rough ride through the multiverse and ends up questioning his relationship with Tony.

alone (together) by Thahire

"Will you tell me what’s wrong or do I have to -" Tony went on, motioning down Steve’s body, "make you?"

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Make me? I’d like to see you try." Except he didn’t. After a moment, in which Tony did nothing but give him a flat stare, Steve awkwardly added, "Lower left rib cage. I think maybe, uh, a sprained rib or something."

"Thank you. That wasn’t so bad, was it?" Tony replied slowly, the way one would to an unruly child.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "I’m not a child."

"No, you aren’t," Tony replied, lips twitching. "As the parent of one, I can tell you, you are way worse."

Or: Steve is really bad at letting people take care of him. Tony is really bad at minding his business. Things happen.

I'll Give You Gifts Until You Know My Name by Amuly 

Mr. Stark is an extravagant gift-giver: he has the money for it, after all. As Iron Man, Tony has the opportunity to gift Steve even more presents that, while less expensive, are more heartfelt. Having a secret identity means Tony gets to have his cake and eat it too when it comes to showering Steve with presents.

Until Steve starts developing feelings for his armored companion, and all the benefits of living a double life are turned on their head for Tony Stark.

The Love Song of a Pair of Awkward Weirdos by MusicalLuna 

Tony flirts with Steve and then the strangest possible thing happens:

Steve starts to flirt back.

the slightest touch (and I feel weak) by SailorChibi

“When you’re really tired or out of it, you show the underside of your wings to Steve,” Natasha says to Tony, ignoring Clint, who is doing an excellent impression of a fish. “We’ve all noticed it, but no one ever said anything because we didn’t think you knew. And judging from the look on your face, you didn’t.”

[123pixieaod]

Hunger Games AU

The people he's killed visit him. They sit beside him, the two boys and two girls and Orange Lady. Their presence like stones settling into water, sinking further and further into him.

Daniel keeps his eyes shut. It doesn't help. He can still hear them.

Max was never haunted by the people he killed. He would just shrug, say if he hasn't killed them they would've killed him. It was called the Hunger Games. All a game and he was just a player.

You want someone to blame for their deaths, blame Snow and every bastard in Panem who watched, he'd tell Daniel.

But Snow hadn't been the one to hold the handle, listen to the gurgled screams, hold them still as he pulled the knife through.

Blood. Even with his eyes closed there's so much blood.

It's cold in the cave. He shivers, even though Max has left him under moss and foliage. At least, he presumes it was Max.

Max left. Daniel told him not to, told him he was being a fool, was looking to be killed.

You'd said you'd protect me, he finally resorted to, teeth chattering.

You have a fever, Max whispered, brushing a hand over Daniel's clammy forehead. You'll die if I don't go Daniel.

And you'll die if you do, he replied. Max had just smiled grimly, running his fingers through Daniel's curls until he slipped into a restless sleep.

He doesn't know how long it's been. Days? Weeks? Maybe the game is actually over, Max murdered by Charles or Carlita or someone. A new winner of winners. Pack up, leave, Daniel left behind.

The girl sitting beside him starts to choke. Daniel keeps his eyes tightly closed, even when he feels the water splashing his cheeks and arms.

Daniel, Max says softly. Not a ghost, because he's not dead. He can't be. How are you feeling? Fingers ghost through his hair.

It was so stupid. The tribute from District 6. Max had wanted to kill him immediately, but Daniel knew him. He had stood beside him a few years back during the screening of the Hunger Games, commiserated each other on the inevitable deaths of the children they tried to protect. He knew him. He was sane, usually drunk or high, but sane. Not rambling, drinking sea water and trying to tear out his own tongue.

The 75th Hunger Games. The Third Quater Quell. What a fucking joke. They survived the games with the promise of never getting sent back in. That was the deal.

They had gotten separated. The alliance Sebastian helped him and Max form. The two of them, then the career tributes from 1 and 2, Lando and Carlita, District 5's Alex, Disticts 10's Pierrina and District 11's Charles.

Sebastian had grabbed Daniel, pulling him into the shadows.

You have to keep Charles and Max alive. Nobody else, not even yourself matters. Just those two.

And Daniel had nodded, understanding all the unsaid things Sebastian meant, everything that rided on Charles and Max's survival. The fanning of the rebellion already kindling across the country. And now look where he is, how far he's failed.

"They're probably both dead," the District 10 boy says. Daniel had beaten his head with a stone until he stopped twitching. He speaks as if he can't quite remember how words should be formed. The District 5 girl is still chocking.

It was his fault. He was the one who suggested going to the shore.

Maybe there'll be dolphins we can watch, he has said, stupidly, trying to lift the mood.

Dolphins can kill too, Pierrina has muttered. She walked close to Charles, eyes flitting between the rest of then. Daniel knew she wouldn't hesitate to kill any of them, even Max, if it meant keeping Charles safe.

It'll mean we can keep our backs to the water, give us an easier defensive position, Georgina piped up. She and Daniel got on well, had always done so since the very first time they first met, years ago. Georgina, newly crowned victor, shoved in front of Panem aristocracy, young and naieve and blue eyes like a startled deer. Daniel was there, a quiet voice in her ear, guiding her through it. Max told him he was stupid, especially considering Georgina had been the one to murder their Distrct 8 girl, Monique. Daniel had shrugged, unable to reply.

"Maybe he's left you," the District 2 boy says. His blood still feels tacky on Daniel's hands.

"No, Max wouldn't do that," the Distrct 12 girl says confidently. She's the kindest of them all because Daniel had found her after the Careers had. A slit throat was a mercy.

It had been a tsunami. Alex had spotted it first, screaming at them all to run, and then Daniel had seen it too. Just a body of water, an impenetrable wall of grey gliding towards them.

Max grabbed his hand. They ran. Max was quick, faster than his blocky build suggest is possible. They ran together, breath burning as the noise of rushing water built around them. The wild birds of the rainforest fled overhead, painting the azure sky a watercolour of terror.

The sounds filled his ears too, the squaking of the birds, the frantic huffs of their breaths, the crackle of leaves and twigs underfoot. The shaking, the roar of water hitting land. Max speeding, legs pumping, pulling Daniel along with him, faster, higher, on and on.

"You're lucky the hut was there to climb up on top of," the girl from 12 says softly.

"It wasn't luck," the boy from 10 snaps. "Of course the game makers couldn't have Max Verstappen being taken out by a big wave. That's no fun."

The girl from 5 is still chocking.

-

Max killed 12 people in his games. It was a new record. 'Mad Max', he was dubbed. The 13 year old from District 8 who dominated his games the second it had started. He had volunteered for it too. He wanted to cause pain, he wanted to kill.

He volunteered for these games too, but for an entirely different reason.

I need to be there to protect you Daniel, he had said simply, and from anyone else it would be superfluous, hyperbolic. From Max, it was painfully earnest, painfully truthful.

I won my own games Maxy, Daniel whispered, running his fingers through his tawny hair. I know how to kill.

Max looked up at him, eyes dark and blue and as expansive as the sea, only ever like this for Daniel. I know. But you will not need to do it if I am there.

Nothing I can say will make him not volunteer, Sebastian said later, over hot midnight rum. Daniel looked away, hands wrapped around the glass. I've told him. I've told him that these Quarter Quills are only happening because Snow is scared of us, of the Victors. If what Max and Charles represent, what they can do. The rest of us are just people. The two of them are the idea of rebellion. They can't be allowed to die.

I presume he didn't take well to that, Daniel finally said, a wry smile tugging on his lips. No other choice; humour or tears.

No, Sebastian says stoutly. He did not take that well. Think he wanted to punch me for daring to suggest your life was worth less than the rebellion we've worked decades for. He laughed humourlessly. Why did it have to be you, Daniel? Anyone else, and he'd remain that angry, silent boy we sent into the games. Uncaring, blindingly obedient. The rebellion would be over by June. He shook his head, voice turned bitter from the rum. Or better yet, why couldn't he have taken in love with Charles? Solve all our problems in one fell sweep. Max would storm the capitol by himself and kill snow with his bare hands to keep Charles save. But not. It had to be you, Daniel.

Daniel managed a thin smile, looking out Sebastian's window. Max's house is in darkness but Daniel's is bright, his bedroom lit and waiting for him to come home.

It was two out of three. No women Victors from District 8 for over a century, so there had to be two men sent. Daniel, Sebastian, Max. Either Daniel would go or Max would. Best case scenario.

He had stood very still on the stage when his name had been called. Vaguely, he was aware of a wailing, a mother's cry as she was forced to live through it all again. Her son, to be murdered or to murder - which was worse.

Daniel didn't breathe. The defeat was crushing, listening to Max volunteer before the presenter even finished reading Sebastian's name. He stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Max as he stepped up beside him, refusing to even return the touch when Max brushed his shoulder against his.

"You were secretly glad he volunteered though," the boy from District 2 sneers. "You're too selfish not to have him with you. I hope he dies and you survive, just so you have to live with it. I hope he haunts you, just like we do."

Daniel squeezes his eyes shut even tighter. He can't stop shivering.

Part 2!

[skullfaced-fruitcake]

TELL ME MORE ABOUT THE MARINE ARCHIVES AU (I'm using the Eyes power to Compell you and it's working)

OKAY SO BASICALLY. I made this AU because of the dumbest pun imaginable, involving Helen and Melanie.

I’ll show the pun at the end of the post.

Under the cut is an assortment of fish character conversions and headcanons. :)

Melanie King: pufferfish.

Helen Distortion: I originally thought of her as an eel, but later on I changed her character to a catfish. Y’know. (as much as the Distortion can be one single species)

Michael Distortion: cuttlefish. They can change their colors/patterns to deceive prey!

Jonah Magnus: Malawi Eyebiter. This one might be self-explanatory, but I think it’s fun to picture little eyebiter Jonah living inside Eel-Elias’s head. speaking of which,

Elias Bouchard: Green Moray Eel. Did you know that green moray eels aren’t even actually green. How fucked up is that.

Jonathan Sims: Cuatros Ojos (Four Eyes). They technically only have two eyes, but their eyes are split so that they can see above and below the surface of the water!! I think they’re neat. They’re also known for refusing to die when they’re outside of the water and exposed to air.

Nikola Orsinov: clownfish. Pretty self-explanatory, I think.

NotThem: octopus. Slimy little bastards who mimic other animals.

Georgie Barker: jellyfish. It just feels right to me.

That’s as far as I’ve gotten with character conversions, but I also have some random headcanons:

During the fisheyepocalypse, holes in coral could be seen to have eyes peeking out of them.

Allegiances between entities are slightly different! For example:

The Dark and the Stranger kinda band together at the bottom of the ocean, and the Vast is extremely powerful.

The Buried has a lot more to do with water pressure, but many statements that would have been related to heavy rain or getting choked on water now have to do with suffocating on air underwater.

The Hunt now obviously has a lot more to do with underwater predators than wolves and things like that above water. They have more power in this fish world.

The Vast also has pretty easy prey, and avatars sometimes take the shape of very large creatures such as blue whales.

The Slaughter is probably not as powerful here, because I don’t know how many fish go to war with each other…

I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t look up spider fish because that sounds like nightmare fuel to me, but I know that they exist. They scuttle around on the floor, and that’s what the Web embodies itself as, instead of regular spiders.

I think that the Extinction might actually be more powerful here, and may have become a fully fledged Fear. Y’know, because of all the plastic, oil, and general trash that’s contaminating the ocean.

The Corruption probably has a similar influence, but maybe a little less potent because of the lack of hive-minded bugs (at least, I think there are no hive-bugs underwater. I don’t really want to look that up).

I think it’d be really funny if the Spiral just worked like normal, and it opened like, mini doors in coral for fish to swim through.

Although I guess in this AU, there needs to be some sort of institute and fish society. So yeah, the Distortion could function pretty similarly to canon TMA.

As for the Lonely, I think that would work pretty similarly (see above), but its famous fog might not work out underwater. Maybe it just makes the water go really still and cold, indicating the absence of other life-forms.

The Eye is one I’m not so sure about, but if we believe the previous (^^) statement, the Eye might function pretty similarly to canon.

Now I’m gonna include the joke that started this off in the first place, but bear in mind that this might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever thought of….

Fish!Helen: What do you call a fish with no eyes? Fish!Melanie: ... Fish!Helen: A fsh! :)

(I’ll tag you because I know that tumblr can be weird about answered asks. @samwise1548 )

[lyraminerva]

This is a scene I wrote out years ago for a fic and just rediscovered. I’m turning it into a oneshot but this is what I found:

They’re hanging out in the UA dorms, Todoroki isn’t there because he’s visiting his mom. Todoroki has been really protective of Midoriya lately so the squads saw this as the perfect opportunity to see why the class cinnamon roll has been more cinnamon and less roll as of late.

Uraraka: What’s wrong Deku, you’ve been a bit irritable lately? Did something happen?

Izuku: No! I’m perfectly fine! Everything is fine! Ok?!

Kaminari: I think you just proved her point there man.

Kirishima: yeah, what’s up with you lately midobro?

Deku: I said it’s fine, can’t you just drop it already?

Iida: Midoriya, we’re worried about you and your well-being. If something is bothering you, you should tell us. We might be able to help.

Deku: Trust me, you won’t. This isn’t something that can just be fixed.

Shinso: So you admit there’s something wrong?

Deku: Wow you really aren’t going to let this go are you? Fine, you caught me, I’m mad at all might. There! Happy now?

Bakugou: What?Why! He’s been your idol since you were 2!

Deku: You know what? *inhaling sharply then releasing with a frustrated sigh, mumbling the rest of his response * Nevermind, it’s nothing. I’m just being petty over something that’s none of my business to begin with.

Tsu: If it’s bothering you then it’s not nothing, Midoriya. You know you can tell us anything right? We won’t judge. *kero*

Sero: yeah man! If it’s making you this mad it’s clearly not “nothing”

Deku: You really want to know what happened?! Fine! All Might’s fucking my Mom! He’s dating my fucking Mom! *Midoriya starts to dissolve into a fit of angry tears*

Everyone: trying not to laugh

Todoroki comes back from his weekly meeting with his mom to find deku bawling in the living room with a pissed looking Iida scolding Kaminari and Sero for breaking. Uraraka and Tsu are trying their best to comfort deku while Mina is busy choking on her water after doing the spit take to end all spit takes. Kirishima is busy trying to keep Bakugou from killing All Might. Katsuki is screaming “THAT BASTARD!ILL KILL HIM! HES GONNA PAY FOR WHAT HES DONE!HES DEAD,HEAR ME?DEAD!” Then devolving into growls and screams. Todoroki isn’t one to show a lot of emotion but he’s pissed.

Once everything has calmed down…

With the baku squad without Bakugou.

Jirou: does anyone know why Midoriya is so on edge lately? He snapped his pencil earlier today when All Might came in for heroics…

Kaminari: Oh, yeah. It’s because All might us Detroit smashing his Mom.

Kirishima and Sero both die of laughter. Jirou looks at Kaminari disgusted, which, fair enough, who would actually want to know about their teacher’s sex life.

Kirishima pulls himself together: not cool bro, you can’t just say stuff like that

Kaminari: But it’s true!

Sero: yeah, I mean, he told us himself.

Kirishima: still, it’s not our place to joke about it

Kaminari: maybe not, but that doesn’t change the fact that All Might is Full Cowling Fucking Mido’s Mom.

Jirou laughs at that one.

Jirou: shut up *can’t stop laughing*

[chim-aera]

divine rage

gods, it's always the gods, them and their shining helms of sunlight and symphonies, all their glory, all their splendor.

but it's bloody, all of it, marred by echoed screams, by silent pleas for mercy. nails raking down flesh, jaws agape crying torment to the heavens.

why did we ever choose to worship them?

blasphemy? oh I'm good at that.

sometimes I like to pretend my very existence is blasphemous. all gunsmoke mixed with gardenias. something saccharine yet sickening.

but the gods, what am I to even say about it? there's a rot, for someone everlasting, the undying ones have a festering madness.

call me Arachne, let me scream my truth as they drag me under, thrashing and clawing I will tip back my head and laugh like a Fury herself all marred maws and ink stained talons.

there is so much injustice, truly. I could name some.

Daphne, ran on fleet footed legs, swift, and seeking, no, no, no. she fled, past trees, past orchards.

Mother saved her, but was that fate, to eternally be held without movement, bark and branches instead of flesh and bone, is that truly a fate one wishes for?

it's a mercy though, yes. it was kinder then the fate she'd have met at the greedy hands of that glorious, grinning god. but still, why couldn't she have just been free?

Callisto, Io, Ganymede, Europa, Persephone, Leda, Creusa, Danaë. and many, many more. victims. all of them.

I cannot tell their stories, I cannot hear their truths from their very own lips but I can fasten my own from thread and threats, and my own bitter vengeful verbosity.

divine?

what's divine about it?

I feel so much, I am used to nothing, nothing at all.

why am I weeping for beings who may have never existed?

but the gods. oh, the gods, lately I have found far less comfort in them.

It is harder to offer prayer and penance when every story and myth is riddled with grasping, groping hands, and lecherous lustful violence.

what if were to rescind my worships?

would you strike me down where I stand?

I'm so tired but I have this fury, like a mouth full of blood stained bile, I want to bite I want to claw I want to flee.

I want to protect.

I have never been good at self preservation, but I hold empathy in my hand like a wounded, bloody dove, feathers ripped and withered, but still there.

ever persisting.

the humans looked to the heavens in hopes for guidance, for solace, we named the stars and saw patterns within them so we felt less alone. we are lonely, we are searching.

why are we here?

Is it some divine joke?

I fall from the hands of some sick bastard of a god but are my gods any better?

I feel like I'm falling, but not like Icarus, there is no sunlight, no warmth, no golden ichor staining my feathers, the wax burns and I choke on it, I choke on my screams, I choke on my savagery and my pain, and it kills me over and over and over.

oh Echidna, what fate awaits monsters like me?

but then again are we really the monsters when beasts hold thrones and shining goblets.

mortals. that's what we are.

it's cruel, irony really, generally translating to ones who die.

how fitting!

how lovely, how quaint.

oh I believe I must sound so bitter but trust me dear I am.

I am.

even Asceplius son of the golden god, his fate was brutal, met with a swift death for interrupting the order of the ichor-veined ones.

for bringing shades back to life, for saving others.

how horrible a crime.

of course he is fit to die!

humans have no place among your golden chambers!

Elysium is also a lie if it is but a forgotten fate of meandering in meadows with no recollection of who you once were, no love, no memories.

I will shun your asphodel, pitch the blossoms at Charon's feet, I will flee from those meadows you cannot take me.

you cannot touch me.

I will wither and shrink and fold into myself until I have become immortal in my own suffering my madness with make me mythical

no.

I am rambling but I could not care less.

for something that is a god, you can change fate, you can bend rules.

you are immortal, if you have so much power what are you fucking doing with it?

oh I am so, so angry.

for all of them, let me be their rage, their fury

in temples. in fields. in cages. swans with beaks like blades digging into flesh.

a bull's hoof clamped against your chest bruising your ribcage, holding you down.

a lyre and a bow and a god who never tires racing behind you like a hound on the hunt.

gods. kings. men.

It is all the same, the same fucking story, over and over.

a cruel conundrum, an pattern of suffering and greed.

I'm so sick of it!

is there no safety in the ones who are meant to keep us safe?

are there no sanctums, no heroes, no deities, that protect us anymore, did they even ever?

why must I worship, why must I watch my tongue, why must I give respect to beings I cannot even see?

I am here, and breathing, I have lived through every twist and turn, every wound, every arrow life has shot at me!

where is my divinity? where is my justice? Themis, where is my reward? or my judgment?

but call me Atalanta because I will throw back my head as my hands shift to paws, as tawny fur sets in across my pallid skin, I will throw open my jaws, gleaming and sharp toothed and I will bark out a laugh to the heavens.

you cannot judge me.

I judged myself, and at the end of things, I did it well.

but gods.

perhaps I will even cease from saying it.

the word holy sits in my mouth like rancid rot, I am no Demeter, but I will spit it out to the earth, and chase my own silvery sunset.

away.

away from hands that grasp, from arrows, and storms, and crashing tides.

I find no glory in gods.

perhaps I am just getting older, jaded, harsh.

but for once, I see understanding in the mortals, the nymphs, the naiads.

I find a strange sympathy.

I understand. but for now, I'll sit here, seething, simmering in my own fury.

perhaps that makes me a heretic, but something about this feels righteous, perhaps one day, my damnation will be my own divinity. but now, I will hold this divine rage in my palms, and I will protect, I will persist.

I am.

[league-of-starlight]

Miss Fortune Hypothetical Voice Update:

Warning: It’s long. But she deserves it, so I’m only half sorry.

This is my first time making a big post like this so if you have any critiques or advice to make it better, I'd be happy to hear it. And if you have suggestions for any old champions you want me to update, I'll see what I can do.

@teeto-peteto

First Move:

“Let’s show what the Reaver Queen can do.”

“Two guns, five targets.”

“Been doing this for a while. Can’t get rusty.”

“Nothing like a bounty hunt to blow off the steam.”

First move with team:

“Anyone chokes, throw ‘em overboard.”

“Captain Fortune, coming through.”

“Alright, let’s sink these fools!”

“If we win this, everyone gets a free drink!”

Moving:

“These pistols were made by the best in Bilgewater.”

“Being a captain is tough work, but it’s gotta be done.”

“Gangs to kill, ships to fix, guns to shoot. Same thing as always.”

“In Bilgewater, there’s always someone looking to stick a knife in someone’s back. That needs to change.”

“When I was a girl, I dreamed about sailing the seas. …A part of me still wants to.”

Long move:

*Sings a sea shanty before sighing nostalgically*

“Ever since that night, I dreamed of gutting Gangplank… now it’s done and it’s only gotten harder.”

“Gangplank might be dethroned, but that brings its own trouble. I’ve gotta clean it up.”

“Sometimes, I just want to take a ship and sail away. But duty calls.”

“Bilgewater might be rough, but she’s home sweet home. I’ve just… gotta spruce her up.”

“Maybe there’s better guns out there, but nothing’s better than family technique.”

First encounter: (general)

“Call me Captain, and I might spare you.”

“I’m looking for a crew, you interested?”

“Friend or foe? Answer fast.”

First encounter with Ahri:

“Hey, nine tails. Figured yourself out yet?”

First encounter with Braum:

“Got any Druvask stew with you?”

“Save the stories for after the match, okay?”

First encounter with Gangplank:

“Bilgewater is mine.”

“Too dumb to die, are you?”

First encounter with Graves:

“Graves, glad to see you’re still kicking about!”

First encounter with Illaoi:

“Illaoi, here for chat?”

First encounter with Nautilus:

*exasperated sigh* “Look, I pay my tithe whenever I sail. …Usually.”

First encounter with Nilah:

“Do you ever stop smiling?”

First encounter with Pyke:

“Here to cross a name off?”

“You know, my offer’s still open.”

Encounter with Senna:

“Ah, so this is Lucian’s wife. Hm, lucky man.”

First encounter with Twisted Fate:

“Shuffled your deck? Let’s play.

First encounter with Yasuo:

“If I win, you owe me a flute song.”

Encounter with a Freljord champion:

“This is what Braum lives with? Interesting.”

Joke: *Fortune tosses her guns into the air, as if getting ready to catch them, but they fall on her and she rubs her head in annoyance before picking them up.*

“What comes up must- Ah! Damn it…”

Joke response:

“No room for comedy on my crew.”

Taunt to Illaoi:

“How much is that totem worth? Kidding, kidding.”

Taunt response:

“Ooh, clever. Now hush up.”

Killing:

(General):

“Bang.”

“That’s how we do it back home.”

“Fortune wasn’t in your favour.”

*Scoff*

Ahri: “You’ll come back from this, right? Right?”

Braum: “Sorry, big guy. I’ll tell a story about you.”

Gangplank: “Be smart and stay dead, bastard.”

“Abigail Fortune sends her regards.”

“Someone throw him into the sea!”

“No kraken to save you this time.”

Graves: “There’s a grave waiting for Graves. See, it’s because your name, it’s- you get it.”

“I’ll smoke a cigar for you.”

Illaoi: “Sorry, Illaoi. But I need to follow my path.”

“Things could’ve been different…”

Nilah: “And she’s still smiling.”

Nocturne: “Nightmares don’t scare me anymore.”

Pyke: “Crossed the wrong Captain.”

Twisted Fate: “Bad hand, Tobias.”

Yasuo: “Guess I’ll wait for the flute.”

“You were a good crewman, Yasuo.”

Recall:

“Don’t go dyin’ without me?”

“Captain duties, be back shortly.”

“Give me a minute, okay?”

Death:

*Groan* Mom…?

“I’m not… done yet…!”

“Damn it…”

Respawn:

“Woah, okay…”

“So that’s what it feels like.”

“Mom! Oh, I’m… never mind.”

*Scoffs* “Lucky shot…”

*Annoyed growl* “Oh, now it’s personal.”

(Pyke assists in a kill)

“Aw, you do care.”

[bohemian-nights]

I don't understand when people say Daemon choking Rhaenyra is for shock value? So what is supposed to mean? What are they expecting in S2? Them pretending it never happened? Delusional since Emma said it's the start of the change of their relationship so no defenitely isn't shock value to make more audience, but a way to explore deepen Daemon's psyche and the nature of the relationship as Sara said and Ryan spoke about Daemon's feelings for her is related strictly to his brother. It's not Rhaenyra who he loves, but the idea of being close to Viserys.

Why they will make up by making passionate love to one another on this table for approximately ten minutes where Daemon will confess his undying love to Rhaenyra and promise never to let any non-Valyrian bastard girls from Driftmark lead him into temptation🙏🏽:

The choking was obviously just foreplay😊

I really wish I was joking but this is legitimately what they are hoping for. That or Alys consumes a potion that makes her appear like Rhaenyra then rape him because that would still count as a Dumbnyra sex scene🤷🏽‍♀️(Go on Twitter 🤦🏽‍♀️)

Everyone knows you can’t listen to what the actors or directors say. It's all lies. Daemon is going to survive the Battle Above the Gods eye and make his way back to Rhaenyra that way they can die a dragonrider's death together. Dumbnyra will live on forever 💀

They hate Emma’s guts and high-key wish Milly was still playing Rhaenyra. They hate Ryan’s guts too for saying the things he has said(and they flip-flop on Sara), but they want him to cater to them. It’s all very confusing. They are a deeply delusional fanbase. Best not to question what they say cause it doesn’t make much sense and you won’t get a real answer besides them crying and then blocking you when you point out the obvious.

[seraatonin]

A little drabble about my Warden, and her final hours. Not sure if I want this to be my canon yet, but we'll see!

The Final Hours

"Hedda... I insist that you reconsider," Morrigan frowned, brows furrowed in grief as she gazed to her best friend. The dwarf looked so much older after the months of travelling to end the Blight; Her greasy, auburn hair seemed thinner, her cheeks seemed hollower, and her eyes lacked the mischevious, excitable spark they'd once held when she'd first gotten to the surface.

Hedda shook her head as she smiled sadly to her best friend. Morrigan never had agreed with her choices, and this seemed to be no exception. "I'm not asking Alistair to father a child," she said simply, voice gruff with emotion. "He resents his own upbringing as a bastard as it is - how much worse would it be for him to do the same to another child?"

"I suspect he would much prefer that than to see you die," Morrigan growled, emotion choking her own voice. Her grief, however, was hidden with anger.

The warden stepped closer to her friend, reaching up to pat her shoulder. "... I'm tired, Morrigan," she said simply. "I'm done fighting. Just know that whatever happens? You were a good friend."

Morrigan tensed, shrugging the hand away from her shoulder. Her knuckles went white in anger, grief. "You are a fool," she spat, storming out of the room with a shake to her body. As Hedda watched her go, she knew somehow that this would be the last she would see of her. It broke her heart... But she couldn't be mad at her friend for leaving now.

With a heavy heart, the warden moved into her room for the night, where her lover for the past few months sat by the bed, hands clasped together in prayer.

Leliana... She'd seen the woman's deadly precision, seen her slip through the shadows and commit treachery that would make the Chantry mothers tremble... Yet, as the light of the fireplace danced over her pale features, Hedda thought her beauty could rival Andraste herself.

At the sound of Hedda entering, Leliana looked up from her prayers, dark lashes fluttering and brows furrowing as she gazed over. "... How did it go?" she asked uncertainly, in regards to the new knowledge shared on how to defeat the Archdemon.

Somehow, by the gaze in Leliana's eyes? Hedda suspected she knew.

"We know hot to stop the Archdemon," she said quietly, deflecting the question as she stepped over. "So if all goes well, tomorrow? The Blight will end."

Leliana narrowed her eyes as she gazed to her, staying on her knees as she cupped the dwarf's face. "Just like that?" she asked suspiciously. Hedda avoided her gaze, taking a shaky breath.

"... Either of us could die tomorrow," she responded gruffly, swallowing back a lump in her throat. "Just for tonight, let's focus on... Us. On being together."

Leliana didn't move, clearly debating her lover's words, and so Hedda moved to sit on the bed, grunting softly as she finally pulled away her heavy armour for the day.

"... We can focus on us tomorrow, when we celebrate our victory," Leliana told her firmly, moving to help the dwarf strip. Hedda cracked a smile at that, but it was weak at best. She'd struggled to really smile since they'd gotten back from Ozamar.

"Mmh, so... No sex then?" Hedda teased, attempting to lighten the mood. Leliana flushed, the tips of her ears going pink in surprise, and Hedda took the chance to run her fingers through straight, ginger locks. It was such a tender touch, for such a blunt joke.

"I-... Now's hardly the time, is it?" Leliana asked, flustered, but affectionate. She nuzzled into the dwarf's soft touch, pressing her lips to the calloused palm of her lover's hand.

Hedda gave a tired hum. "Maybe not..." she agreed, closing her eyes. "... Could you do something for me?"

As Leliana joined her on the bed, she settled in to gently undo Hedda's hair so she could sleep. "Of course," she cooed, softer now, letting herself be distracted by these gentle affections.

Hedda felt her heart ache. Just because she felt ready to die, didn't mean she was ready to let this go. "... Sing for me?"

As the pair laid back to sleep, Hedda settled her head on Leliana's chest, listening to her heartbeat as the bard sung sweet, soft Chantry songs to her. She may not have believed in Leliana's Maker... But she still prayed that he would give her strength, when this was all over.

-----

"Alistair?" the dwarf warden asked, as their fellow warden left the room. The air was thick with tension, with an unspoken grief.

Alistair gazed to his friend, looking far older as he did so. His boyish charm gave way to maturity, in the way that only such an endless onslaught of trauma could bring. "Yes? What is it?" he asked uncertainly.

"If we have to make that choice, let me deal the final blow," she said firmly, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Absolutely not!" he barked in response, eyes widening. "I won't -"

Hedda held up a hand to cut him off. "Let me finish," she huffed in annoyance.

The warden shifted on his feet, but reluctantly stayed quiet.

"I want you to tell Leliana to bury me in one of her fancy Chantry gardens, if she can," Hedda continued, angrily wiping at her face as tears started to fall.

Alistair looked dumbfounded. "What- But-... You don't even believe in the Maker," he protested. "Why would you ask that?"

Unable to help herself, Hedda gave a laugh, sniffling as she shook her head. "I will always go back to the Stone," she agreed. "But perhaps Leliana will know peace if she believes me to be by the Maker's side."

"Idiot," Leliana huffed, tears streaming down her face as Alistair relayed the story to her. Her body shook with silent sobs. "It's not the Maker's side I want her to be at, it's mine."

Alistair hung his head, giving his own soft sniffle. "I'm sorry," he said simply. His companion gave a dry laugh, shaking her head.

"Don't be," she told him, wiping her face as she moved to stand. "She would never have let you be a martyr." As she spoke, Leliana gazed out at the setting sun, giving a shaky breath. She didn't understand why the Maker would torture her this way... But he surely had a plan.

[unhingedwomandiaries]

Dragged my sorry arse out of bed at 3AM for this flight to Gouda because apparently I hate myself. The taxi driver appeared at 4 like some chipper morning demon, desperate to chat despite my best "fuck off and die" vibes. No food, no water, basically a walking corpse with a passport. But hey, at least I got to play at being a fancy cunt in business class with their posh chair-bed bollocks.

They served up this wanky wooden plank of nibbles - proper pretentious shit. Cheese, meat circles that looked suspiciously like sliced corpse, hummus that could've been wall filler, and one tragic radish that some chef definitely threw on as a joke. Plus yoghurt wearing what looked like jam's worst toupee, a muffin that wouldn't have looked out of place in a drug mule's arsehole, and hot leaf juice. Michelin fucking star material. Later they tried pushing some egg disaster that looked like something I'd find in the pockets of a criminal.

Landed at 8 but couldn't check in until 3 because the universe is a sadistic bastard. Found this bike shop where they made me test-ride increasingly tiny bikes like I was auditioning for the fucking circus. Staff thought it was hilarious watching me try to fold myself onto these pocket-sized death traps. Five quid though - those London bike-rental cunts would've charged me my firstborn child and both kidneys. Plus you can just dump it anywhere when you're done, which is proper civilised for a country that's basically a giant cycle path.

Did the work shit, then stuffed my face with what they claimed were pancakes but were actually lying French bastards in disguise, plus a stroopwafel that was basically diabetes in disk form. Finally got into this B&B around 4 - same name as my husband's nan which is definitely not creepy at all. Came with a cat called Vivi but pronounced "FEE-fee" because normal names are clearly too mainstream for the Dutch.

Went to Amsterdam for my kapsalon fix because I'm basically a junkie for that shit. Had to brave the Red Light District which meant dodging American tourists either sneaking photos like the perverted twats they are or trying to break down doors like the Kool-Aid Man's violent cousin. Have some fucking manners, people!

Did this Van Gogh "experience" thing after - basically a room where they project his shit everywhere and you stand there like a twat pretending to be cultured. Eight euros and a free tote though, so basically daylight robbery in reverse.

By this point I was proper fucked. Made it back to find Vivi playing queen of the fucking manor in the dining room. She did that manipulative cat routine where they act like they don't actually want to murder you in your sleep, then followed me upstairs like a furry stalker. Ended up channel-surfing through absolute shite until I found some documentary about cock statues because of course that's what you want to see at midnight. Settled for Harry Potter speaking Dutch until I finally passed out. At least Voldemort sounds properly evil when he's speaking what sounds like someone choking on a windmill.

Fuck me, I don't like work trips.

[tvrningout]

“ who did this to you !? ” and one more for cyrillo because i need him to see her go absolutely crazy :')

send " who did this to you? " to find my muse injured | @vonerde finds cyrillo!

being undead has its perks, like being hard to kill; then again, being hard to kill simply means it's easier to be tortured. the body can withstand more, won't cease to function when most other mortals' would, and cyrillo has found himself hating it on more than one occasion. now is one of those times, especially as gaia rushes into the room and finds him coughing up blood while attempting to pull a sword free from his chest. it's difficult work. he can't get a good grip on the blade, the sharp edges slicing through calloused skin, and the distinct smell of burning flesh chokes him worse than the blood working its way up his throat.

the bastard used a charmed sword.

he'd hoped to get himself free of the blade pinning him to the floor before someone found him. he still wouldn't look good, but at least no one would have to see him struggling. at least it wouldn't be quite so obvious that despite his age and power, he was still surprised and bested. maybe then gaia wouldn't look ready to go kill his attacker -- which, if cyrillo's honest, is utterly endearing. maybe a little arousing, if it weren't for the current circumstances. he can appreciate murder for the sake of the one you care for.

" you know, i forgot to ask their name, " cyrillo jokes. he can tell it does little to alleviate the tension and gaia's anger, particularly when another round of coughing begins. once it's over, the vampire groans, scrunches his eyes shut. " don't worry about them for now. i won't die here. i'm much harder to kill than this. " a shallow breath and a beat, and he fixes her with a half-smile. " i can see you burning inside, but i will be alright, gaia. "

[bougiebutchbitch]

@eijaksa's tags got my brain buzzing......

Okay but imagine Izzy is legitimately in a bad way from the fever. None of them know if he's going to make it. Stede and Ed have him in their bed while they take the sofa/the floor. They take it in turns to watch over him during the night, unsure if he's gonna make it through till morning.

At one point, when Stede and Ed are both awake during the midnight handover, Izzy blearily reaches towards them, smiling like a total dork. Burbling about how his husbands are soooo fucking pretty and he's the luckiest guy in all the oceans to be married to such amazing men.

Stede sighs. "Oh, excellent," he says, exhaustion dragging on every word. "Now he's hallucinating."

Ed shushes him. He grabs Izzy's hand and kneels at the bedside. "Yeah, babe," he says - whether to make a joke out of this or to offer Izzy genuine comfort, only he knows. "We're here."

Only Izzy looks directly at him with glazed eyes and a wavery smile and says "Love you, Eddie."

Then he turns to Stede. "Love you, Stede. My captains. My husbands. Love you so much."

There's a gaping silence.

Stede and Ed stare at each other, then at Izzy, frozen but for the twitch of their eyes. Did he just say...? Does this mean...??? He knows it's them, and he's still saying all of this?

Ed grimaces, extracting himself from Izzy's feeble grip. Izzy would never let this slip into the open air if he were himself. How can Ed enjoy this confession, when it's a testament to how far gone Izzy is? Fuck, Ed can't lose him. Not after everything. He can't...

Stede, meanwhile, has bluescreened. Izzy... loves him? Him?? And as for what he feels for Izzy... Well, a year ago, he would've confidently proclaimed that he hated the little bastard as much as Izzy hated him. Now... he's not so sure.

Izzy stares at them, smile slowly falling from his face. His hand drops weakly onto the covers of their bed, and he sags against the pillows. "Kay," he mumbles into them, and Stede and Ed realise with a jerk that he was waiting for them to say it back.

They don't even have to swap a glance to communicate their intentions. They already know.

Stede and Ed pile onto the bed, bracketing Izzy, grasping his pale, sweaty hands. Interlocking their fingers, like they're tying knots in the lines.

"Of course we love you, silly," says Stede, because Ed's throat has clogged up and he's trying so hard not to cry. "You're our Iz. Our husband. Aren't you?"

Izzy relaxes, squeezing their hands with what little strength he has left. "Yeah," he mumbles, fevered and dazed and oh-so-content. Smiling, small and sweet, in a way even Ed has never seen. "Yeah. M'yours. Always. Forever."

"Our husband," chokes Ed. He bundles Izzy into his arms, roughly kissing the top of our head. "Yeah. Which means you're not allowed to leave us until we all die together, okay?"

Stede opens his mouth to inform Ed that this isn't actually what that part of the matrimonial vows means. Then he shuts it again. He shuffles in to hug Ed around Izzy's back, sandwiching their first mate between them.

"You heard Ed," he says, mock-authoritative, in Izzy's ear (and.... yeah, he's never gonna forget the tiny shiver Izzy makes in response, or the way he pushes his floppy, fever-hot body back against Stede's. Dammit.) "You've got to survive this. Husband's orders."

"Husbands' orders," mumbles Izzy into Ed's hair, nodding like that's in any way a sane or rational thing to say. Then he plants a messy kiss on Ed's jawline and falls back asleep.

He breathes so laboriously, like it hurts him. Chest rattling on the inhale, struggling to fill. Stede swaps a grim look with Ed. They both know this is bad. But, at the very least, they've given Izzy some happiness in his last days. Some comfort. And, oh, but if only they could've talked this through together sooner; if only they had more time... If only this wasn't a tragedy.

Only, as it turns out, this show is a fucking romcom.

The next morning, the fever breaks. Roach cheerily informs the Co-captains that Izzy is through the worst of it. So long as they make sure he keeps eating and drinking and resting as much as humanely possible - even if they have to tie him to the bed - he'll make a full recovery.

Izzy refuses to meet Stede or Ed's eyes. He remembers everything, including how much he 'embarrassed' himself while half-lost in delirium.

Clinging to them, telling them all about the feelings he's kept stomped way down at the bottom of his belly... Fuck. He's so fucking pathetic. They played along out of fucking pity, he knows it. If he wasn't too lethargic to lift his legs, he'd strap on his hoof, stomp to the edge of the deck, and hurl himself over again to finish the job.

"We can just pretend that never happened," he croaks, as soon as Roach leaves the room. "It's fine. Whatever."

He looks so small, cuddled up under the sweat-soaked blankets of Ed and Stede's bed. All alone.

Obviously, this has to be rectified.

"What happened?" says Ed, though he looks sad about it. Stede's heart squeezes for him - he knows what Ed's trying to do; protecting Izzy's pride, in the way he thinks Izzy wants. But Stede's not so sure that is what Izzy wants.

Taking a chance - assuring himself that Izzy's too sick to stab him if he's misjudged - Stede crawls onto the mattress next to Izzy, grasping his hand like he did last night. Lifting it to his lips, dropping a kiss on the dry, cracked knuckles while looking into Izzy's baggy, deep-set eyes.

"We looked after our husband," he says, privately congratulating himself on the hitch in Izzy's breath, the way his guarded expression shatters, just for a split-most second, revealing something vulnerable and desperate through the cracks. "Like married men are supposed to. For better or worse, in sickness or health - isn't that right, Ed?"

Ed assesses Izzy, searching for his reaction. Whatever he sees, it makes his face break into a broad smile. "Yeah," he says, shuffling onto the bed to reclaim his and Stede's positions from the previous night. One on each side of Izzy, their pinkies brushing where they rest over Izzy's legs. "Sounds about right. You got a problem with that, Iz?"

Izzy shakes his head. His eyes have gone shiny as wet pebbles, and he bites his lip like he doesn't trust himself to speak. Stede draws him into a hug, chivalrous enough not to mention the tiny snuffly sobs coming from his chest region. His gaze seeks Ed, over Izzy's lank salt-and-pepper hair. He finds him looking at Izzy in that way Izzy so often looks at Ed: awe-struck, yearning, like Ed hung the entire sky.

"You'd better recover fast, mate," Ed tells Izzy. "I wanna make proper honest men outta the two of you."

Izzy snorts moistly into Stede's feeble attempt at chest hair. Stede spares a moment to marvel at how the prospect of marriage - to the two lovely, deadly, brilliant men before him - can feel like the sturdy knots of the mainstays that hold the mast in place, rather than the knot of a noose.

Izzy goes overboard in a storm and is in a bad way when Ed pulls him out. Head lolling, lips blue, barely breathing.

Obviously they have to get him warm - so Ed snuggles him down in bed with him and Stede, all of them in minimal clothing.

Stede is delightfully charmed by how Izzy keeps mumbling both of their names even though he's barely conscious and cuddling closer to them, open and needy in a way he'd never let himself be while awake. Ed is just so fucking relieved that Izzy's okay, he refuses to let go of him for anything, burying his head in the weathered skin at the base of his throat and breathing him in.

Cue Izzy waking up the next morning and being like 😳Fuck. D-did we.... 😳 are we, like... together?

He's still a tiny bit fevered and low on inhibitions, and the naked hope on his face is breaking Ed's heart

So Ed looks at Stede with big pleading eyes and Stede immediately grins and nods, and Ed wraps his arms around Izzy and gives him a big' ol cuddle and says "Yeah mate, absolutely, we're together now. Talked it all through last night. Us three against the world, mmkay?"

And Izzy just relaxes against him, burying his face in his chest, muttering "Oh thank fuck, took us long enough"

Anyway sometimes Your Little Guy almost dying is just what you need to drag him into the throuple lsdhkfgdksgf