#LOVE TO PUT THEM IN MORTAL PERIL

[jakeperalta]

Kadiff Kirwan as Marcus Longridge in SLOW HORSES 4x06 "Hello Goodbye"

[keydekyie]

bird-induced peril

After endless struggling with the composition and values of this, I actually really had fun doing the linework. I'm trying to do actual lines more often these days, and combining it with the more painterly style I favor. Comes out with a nice sort of illustration look that makes me happy.

here was my final value study I did before starting to line it.

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Astarion Drinking Your Blood•°

Oh, Astarion never tires of your taste.

Whether it's his first time drinking from you or the hundredth.

You were his first human after all.

But even if he hadn't of lived centuries slaking his thirst with that of vermin...

Forcing their rotten, diseased blood down his hungry maw in sheer desperation...

The Vampire would still find your blood to be like ambrosia from the gods.

The sweetest thing to grace his tongue and warm his belly.

Sometimes it's hard to stop, if Astarion is being honest with himself.

But he loves you too, too much to put you in any mortal peril.

Though after a feeding you may feel dizzy and need to recuperate the next day.

It's just, after so long dining upon infected, squirming rats with mottled fur and yellowing buck teeth...

In the shadows of night, prowling the pests and repugnant riffraff.

He can't help himself and he's grateful you allow him to indulge a little.

But despite however ravenous he is, he's always gentle.

Pulling you close and kissing the moonlit column of your throat.

Tenderly wrapping his ivory arms around your waist, his tone sultry while whispering sweet nothings and gratitudes in your ear.

Astarion is so well versed in his ministrations that you've come to want him to feed off of you just as much as he wants, no, needs to be fed by you.

You relishing his hands leaving indents in the flesh of your hips and his breath upon your nape...

Often finding yourself tugging on strands of his curled silver locks to pull him closer.

Until no space is between you two. Until his mouth touches your neck.

And once it does, Astarion can't help but close his eyes, an involuntary shudder resounding through his whole body at the perfume of you.

Your essence a seductive potion which the Vampire would gladly, willingly lap up forever and ever.

No matter how gentle and inviting he makes the build up though, there's simply nothing to be done about the initial pain.

Astarion can't help the fact that once he bares his pearly, white fangs and sinks them into the sensitive flesh of your neck that it's unpleasant.

His fangs like two white hot pokers burrowing into your jugular vein, causing a muffled scream to leave you.

Your bottom lip plump from how hard you gnaw at it.

He does hate your scream. It revolts him that he's the cause of it.

But it is a momentary distress from you before you reassuringly comb through his hair again.

And after a few labored breaths, you ease into the pain. Getting used to it every single time.

By then he's drunk on you. Gorging himself on the nectar of your life. The crimson, pulsing river of your very being.

He's practically sent to heaven with each swallow and he never thought a spawn like him would get there.

Once you go slack in Astarion's arms he holds you tight, cradling your warm body. His fingers ghosting over your chest, hips, stomach...

And when your heartbeat begins to slow that's when he forces himself to pull away.

Licking the scarlet stream which drips down the two raw puncture wounds.

Cleaning up his mess all the way down to the start of your cleavage, exposed from your unlaced shirt.

Aftercare is incredibly important to Astarion and he is quick to sweep you up bridal style in his arms.

Tucking you safely into your shared bed and fetching you a glass of cool water.

You, weakened and tired, putting up little fuss but managing to smile at him and reach out to take his hand.

He wastes no time, falling into bed with you and pulling you close so your head is upon his chest.

He keeps you in a vice grip all night long so that any who would dare come to harm you in your diminished state would have to go through him first.

And he damn well would never let any harm come to you, save that of the wounds he assaults upon your neck.

And with you content but exhausted in Astarion's arms he licks his red stained lips and smiles in satisfaction.

He thinks you are a marvel really, to allow him to drink your blood in the first place.

To consent willingly and give him a taste of pure ecstasy.

And with his flushed cheeks and twinkling, enlivened crimson eyes, he places a kiss on your forehead.

Whispering how very much he loves you while you sleep soundly upon his chest.

[ode-to-melpomene]

hi hi mel!!! i love all your works and your writing is so wonderful ^^

was wondering if you could write something where one of the bat boys reaches the reader right before they’re about to get kidnapped by some criminals?? like maybe they’re publicly in a relationship w the batboy’s wayne identity n get targeted for that reason but one of the boys gets there js in the nick of time :)

thank u sm and have a great rest of ur day ^^

Love this prompt! Some of these are pre-kidnapping, some are mid-kidnapping. If anyone wants additional characters added, let me know! Hope you enjoy 💛

Daring Rescues

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x gn!reader, Dick Grayson x gn!reader, Jason Todd x gn!reader, Tim Drake x gn!reader Synopsis: Who comes to your aid when you find yourself in need of saving? Word Count: 2466 Warnings: Established relationship! Kidnapping, minor injuries, general mortal peril.

Bruce Wayne:

Bruce knew better than to associate you with Batman. He had learned that lesson a hundred times over by now, how dangerous it was to associate the people he cared for with the cowl. But now wasn't the time to dwell on the blunder.

“Oracle, update,” he barked over the communication device. Bruce perched atop a balcony, staring down at the street below.

“Black SUV turning onto Carlton,” Barbera replied, the sound of her fingers furiously working over the keys of the Batcomputer meeting his ears. “The car is registered to a loan shark put away a few years ago. Suspected ties to Falcone.”

Bruce uttered a grunted mm in response, eyes narrowed beneath the cowl. His eyes scanned the road below. He caught the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance. “GCPD?”

“I’ve got them cutting off side roads. Headed your way now.”

He squared his shoulders and prepared himself to launch from the balcony, one hand braced on the ledge beneath him and the other on his belt. He cocked his head to the East and narrowed his eyes- yes, there. He watched the SUV turn the corner, skidding as it spun around the sharp turn and narrowly avoided oncoming traffic.

“Sixty-three miles an hour?” he guessed.

“Sixty-six. Sounds like you might be losing your touch.”

“Oracle,” Bruce warned. He scowled. That extra speed would change his entry angle.

“Sorry. Dropping in three-”

Bruce’s hand shot to his belt.

“Two-”

The end of the grappling hook shot out from the device in his hand and buried itself within the construction scaffolding across from him. He gave a single tug, then launched himself from the balcony-

“One-”

- And crashed feet first into the rear passenger window of the interior of the modified SUV, seats removed to provide more space in the back. Panicked shouts rang out as glass shards shattered across the interior. Bruce pulled his cape over the lower half of his face, preventing glass from cutting his skin as he hit the floor.

The vehicle swerved and he used the momentum to bring his elbow into collision with a man’s partially covered face, his jaw making a distressing crack at the impact. His other hand lashed out, grabbing the driver by his hair and slamming his face against the steering wheel. The driver’s nose crunched and blood sprayed against the vehicle’s dash.

Hands grasped at his suit and he drove his knee into the third assailant’s ribs, sending him stumbling backwards. Your muffled shriek filled the interior of the SUV as the vehicle swerved and momentarily rocked into the curb.

The driver’s hands gripped at Bruce’s wrist behind his head, his foot flooring the accelerator. Bruce let out a tsk as he lunged forward and looped his arm around the driver’s neck. The man’s shrill scream was quickly silenced as Bruce squeezed the man’s neck in the juncture of his elbow and bicep.

He pulled the man backwards and used his opposite hand to stabilize the chokehold. His freehand reached for the steering wheel, guiding the vehicle down the road. He just needed a moment-

The driver finally went limp in Bruce’s arms. He tugged, pulling the man from his seat and wedged a batarang against the brake, quickly bleeding off speed.

Muffled screams filled the room, followed by a grunt of pain. Familiar hands raked over Bruce’s belt. He gripped the wheel with one hand and turned his head just in time to see a zap of electricity come to life.

You dove towards the third kidnapper, barreling into him and driving the taser into the side of his neck. The man screamed, spasmed, and went limp.

You panted around the gag in your mouth, your hands chained together in front of you. You held the taser tightly in your hands, glaring down with a fiery expression.

When you turned your gaze on him, that fiery passion was replaced with a soft, mirthful glint in your eye. You gave him your best smile, despite the gag, and a cheesy thumbs up.

Bruce scowled, despite the way his heart skipped a beat.

Dick Grayson:

Why did you always have to rush into things?

Of course it was a set up. That was so obvious now that you had a split lip and blood trickling from your nose. It was a last ditch effort on the part of some petty criminals who wanted a piece of the Wayne wealth in exchange for Dick’s hapless partner.

The masked goons cornered you in your own apartment, toying with you like cats stalking a mouse. One swung a pipe wrench and you skittered backwards, nearly bumping into the end table next to your couch. You really needed to move that when this was all over, and make sure the space was less cluttered so you wouldn’t get tripped up like this again-

A blade came slashing down, glinting in the waning sunlight that filled your apartment as it narrowly missed your face. Your curse was met by vicious laughter. With a snarl, you gripped the end table and hucked it at the figure holding the blade. 

Two of the goons jumped away from the end table as it flung towards them. You took the chance to dash to the kitchen, knocking over and tossing random items in your wake. As much as you appreciated the self defense training Dick had put you through, you didn’t trust yourself against their weapons. You took solace in knowing they weren’t here to kill you… but that didn’t mean they weren’t more than willing to rough you up.

You just needed to waste some time. So you threw a plate, a beautiful, arbor rimmed plate that had been a gift to you and Dick from Selina and Bruce (you suspected Selina stole them.) The assailants dodged the ceramic, so you snatched the detachable faucet and sprayed the nearest goon in the face with cold water. Too bad they were smart enough to wear masks.

And then you saw the balcony door slide open. It all happened so fast, a flash of black, blue, and silver darting into the space. Metal clashed with skin, a sickening thunk sounding as an escrima collided with an attacker’s skull. An angered shout tore through the air, only to be quickly silenced by a thud as the outspoken figure hit the floor.

It was over in a matter of moments. Three unconscious bodies on the floor, tucked out of sight behind your kitchen island, and a shadowed figure huffing agitated breaths through gritted teeth. Spots of blood on the escrima, on his face.

You blinked once, twice, clearing the fog from your vision. Nightwing- Dick loomed across from you. He tucked the escrimas behind his back and turned to face you, the scrunch in his brow covered by his mask.

“Are you alright?” you asked, voice barely above a tremble.

His expression softened immediately. He heaved a sigh and dashed around the kitchen island, sweeping you into his tight grasp. You wrapped your arms around him just as eagerly, pressing your face to the stretchy fabric of his suit.

“Should be asking you that, love.” Dick pulled away slightly, holding you at arms length. Though you couldn’t see his eyes through his mask, you knew he was carefully taking stock of your injuries.

“Just a few scrapes,” you said with a reassuring smile in spite of the way your swollen lip burned. “You should see the other guys.”

Dick barked out a laugh and pulled you flush against him once again, burying you in a tight embrace.

Jason Todd:

You should have called a cab.

Rain poured down on you, drenching you to the skin. Rain hadn’t been on the forecast today–you always made sure to check on days you chose to walk to-and-from work. When you had stepped out of the office building to find a slight drizzle dappling the sidewalk, you had thought nothing of it. Like many other Gothamites, you had assumed it was a passing spring weather.

Now the storm drains gurgled pitifully as water gushed into it. Your clothes were sodden, shoes waterlogged, mood dampened. You squelched down the sidewalk with a sour expression plastered across your features. The torrential downpour quieted your sentences, muffling your ears to the acute sound of footsteps following you from a distance.

You turned onto the next block and huffed, the wind now buffeting you face on. What a dreary, horrible day to be let off late from work. Jason would likely be on patrol by now, leaving you to sit alone in your shared apartment, reheating whatever he had left over from lunch. Maybe you could curl up in your bed and dive into that novel you had both been reading. That could make for a good conversation to wind him down from the emotional high of his patrol-

Foreign hands snatched you from your thoughts and dragged you into a dark alley, your scream muffled by a gloved palm.

You were slammed face first into a brick wall, the rough texture scraping your cheek. You bit back a snarl as the hands turned you around and smacked the back of your head against the hard stone. The chill edge of a blade was pressed to your throat and when your eyes readjusted to the sudden darkness and stinging pain in your head you were met with a masked figure. Great, because what you really needed after a long day was a mugging.

You fought viciously as the figures around you herded you down the back alley like a spitting, snarling animal. You stomped your heel on their feet, bit at their hands, kicked and flailed until you heard muffled requests for rope and chloroform. It wasn’t until you saw the van tucked away beside an industrial grade dumpster that you began caterwauling like an anguished banshee.

You were relieved by the sound of a familiar thump at the edge of the alleyway–you would recognize the sound of those heavy boots dropping anywhere, with how often you heard them on your fire escape. Your attackers slammed you against the van and you barked out a gleeful laugh at the sight. The attackers had a moment to turn their heads before Red Hood was descending on them with ferocity. You turned away, pressing your forehead to the van.

Screams, bones cracking, bodies hitting the ground. It was over quickly. When you turned to face him, his armored chest was heaving and he clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. You knew better than to touch him when he was this high strung, so you settled for the safer option.

“Took you look enough,” you teased breathlessly, keeping your gaze one the way the red surface of his helmet snapped to face you instead of on the (you hoped) unconscious kidnappers. “I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to take care of this myself.”

The toe of Jason’s boot nudged an unconscious figure, a red and rapidly welting bite mark blossoming on the individual’s hand and wrist. “I don’t doubt you could’ve, but a little help never hurt.”

You cracked a smile, softening the hard lines of your expression in the hopes it would ease him. His shoulders relaxed at your placating gesture. You extended a hand, fingers spread in a silent offer.

“Walk me home?” you asked, more for his benefit than yours. Your heart still pounded in your chest, but the tightness eased when he interlaced his gloved fingers with yours.

Tim Drake:

Warehouses were such a cliché place to harbor an abductee. What happened to creativity? Tim crawled through an upper window of the dilapidated warehouse, some thirty feet above the ground. He stepped carefully across the rafters as he surveyed the scene.

There you were, a normal college student tied to a chair–well, normal if you ignore the fact that you were rumored to be in a relationship with the Timothy Drake-Wayne. He frowned at the sight of your arms twisted behind you and tied to the back of the chair. They had you situated in the center of the empty room with goons patrolling around you. His eyes sought a singular figure atop a pile of scrap, a rifle in hand. The figure searched the rafters–Tim would have to be careful to avoid him.

Tim stalked across the rafters, keeping to the shadows. He crept across one of the beams that bridged the center of the warehouse, ducking low and staying out of the light. His eyes were fixed on you-

Oh. You perked up, your head lifting and shoulders easing. You knew he was there somewhere, judging by the way your head turned slightly to scan the open room. You tilted your head, a flimsy gesture towards a second figure, patrolling near you with one hand tucked away in her coat. A hidden weapon? He bit back a smile at your clever aid.

Tim took another step, and something clanged. He looked below him, spotting a hook hanging from a long chain, the chain swinging under the beams subtle movements. He turned just in time to see the sniper swing his rifle in the direction of the sound-

You screamed.

The shrill shriek shook each of the assailants and all eyes turned to you. He exhaled a harsh breath of relief as you wailed and the masked figures moved in towards you. The sniper’s weapons whipped towards you and away from Tim.

Tim dropped. His landing was cushioned by the goon you had pointed out, knocking the figure to the ground. He used the momentum to carry himself into a roll, then launched to his feet and barrelled into the next unsuspecting kidnapper. This one was ready, his hands up in fists. Tim gave an opening and ducked as the man’s fist sailed past Tim. He gripped the attacker's arm and yanked, tossing him over Tim’s shoulder. The man landed with a thunk and Tim was quick to follow, extracting a pair of cuffs from his belt and linking the two fallen attackers together.

A shot rang out. It seemed the sniper wasn’t very good, considering Tim remained fully intact. His hands dipped to his belt again and withdrew a few batarangs. A quick volley knocked the sniper's mask askew and sent them stumbling down the rickety pile of scrap they stood upon. He used the opening to launch himself across the room, bo staff extending in hand. He swept the kidnapper’s legs, sending the figure tumbling down the pile.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked as he knelt to cuff and gag the attacker, kicking the rifle aside in the process.

“It got drafty,” you called back from where you sat tied in the center of the room. “Must’ve left the window open.”

[threepandas]

Bad End: Mama Mine

I woke, that first time, to the most beautiful child I had ever seen. Even through a fever that felt like it was cooking me from within, I could see she was different. It was honestly impossible not too. She looked cherubic. Angelic. Impossible, somehow. As though favored by the gods.

Even in worn, threadbare, patched then re-patched old clothes, so far from new as to have forgotten the name of it, she looked... like a dancer. Beautiful. A tiny painting brought to life. I couldn't understand, delirious as I was. I thought I was hallucinating. Worried her terribly.

She was just a small thing. Trying her best. Too care for her sick mother. She could barely reach the stove. Struggled to carry the buckets of water she needed, to cook and wipe my fevered sweat away. But she let nothing stop her. So determined to save me. Her little face so filled with love and worry, forever a step away from tears.

She was so afraid.

How could I do anything but love her back?

Disoriented or not. Lost and confused I may be. I had a child. Any plan I made? Would be for two. I had never really seen myself a mother, but cast into the role? I refused to abandon the child who loved and needed me. Who was innocent in all this.

Instead, as my fever broke, I held her close. Told her she had been so, so brave. Let her cry. Cuddled my little girl and gave myself a moment to just... breathe.

Then in the morning I got to work.

I appeared to be a single mother. A PEASANT single mother. Delightful. We had little to nothing to our name. I could try and fix that, I think. I knew a few crafts. But I had "forgotten" everything practical. Great. Luckily? I had a VERY observant little helper. Who remembered most of how everything was done.

I could context clues from there.

We made due.

Cleaned up the house, washed the linens, aired everything out. In bits and pieces, using half remembered wiki binges and crafting videos, I improved our little homestead somewhat. It wasn't by MUCH. I didn't have the skills. But it looked... nicer, I think. Homey.

We foraged. Sold hunted animals and things we had found. The occasional baked good. More then that? I tried to make time for my daughter. Keep her away from powerful eyes. The sort that might covet a pretty young thing. Taught her what I could.

Not just how to braid her beautiful hair, but that her beauty did not define her. That love was wonderful but not all there was to life. Too be wary of empty promises and watch for how the powerful treat those that they deem weaker then them. To lead with a smile but be prepared to throw her fist.

Also don't eat those mushrooms, honey, those are the poisonous ones.

I wish... Honestly? I wish I could have given my daughter a better childhood. Better education then the lessons scratched in dirt I was able. If I'd been able to REMEMBER. To recognize. Maybe I would have scrimped and saved more for third or forth hand textbooks, instead of the new hunting knife she so badly wanted.

But I didn't remember.

And as we were visiting town? PROPER town as opposed to our little settlement? I heard about wealthy, comparatively, family's having their children tested for... magic?

I faltered but adapted. Was it that much stranger then being transported into a new body and world? Magic it was then, I guess. Huh. We continued shopping. I bought my daughter a new sturdy pair of boots. Room to grow, would serve her well. She adored them. They had FLOWERS on them, mama! I couldn't help but laugh. Ah, my daughter is so cute!

Then I saw it.

As we passed the temple square. The only building in this whole town that could count as ostentatious. Some silk clad toddler broke from the pressing crowds, no doubt displeased with being crushed in on all sides. He wriggled free. Back from the steps and out into the road. Blind to the mortal peril he had just put himself in as the carriage of some wealthy To-Do raced carelessly down the street. Looking around, innocent, as only a toddler can as he wandered farther and farther from safety.

I dropped my shopping.

The world fuzzy and muffled, far away in my panic. Some Mother's instinct SCREAMING as I raced forward. Throwing a few people aside to reach the road. Then bolting. Distantly I heard my daughter scream, another scream as they finally notice, too late, their child was in mortal peril. But all I could see... was the little boy. Turning. Noticing. The big scary horses.

About to crush him to death.

Time felt slow.

I got there.

Then PAIN.

Far away, people were screaming. A child was crying. Small and terrified in my arms. Some arrogant voice was first demanding, then stuttering, then begging. A frantic voice, joined by others. Rich perfume. The... the child reaching for someone. Safe? Safe. I let go. Tried to smile. Ah... my daughters voice. Crying. Shhhh, shhhh. I'm sorry. It's okay. I'm sorry.

Ah... there... there was so much blood.....

Then there was LIGHT.

Like someone had cupped the sky itself and poured it directly onto me. Blue. So light and weightless and blue. The pain vanished as though erased. New agony and old aches alike. My eyes blinked open in suprise. And there? Tear stained and glowing? Was my daughter.

Like the sky itself had wrapped around her. Sunlight and blue sky and drifting clouds. Swirling like she was the world itself. Her eyes filled with tears when they connected with mine. With a choked cry, she through herself into my arms. Oh, baby. My poor baby. I wrapped my arms around her tight. Hugged her back for all I was worth.

"Your daughter?" A gentle voice asked.

I looked up. What HAD to be a noble woman sat, skirts ruined, in the dirt and blood at my head. Clutching desperately at the toddler I had saved. I could only nod. Understanding passed between us. Mother to mother.

Which is why, when a priest with covetous eyes came forward?

The noble women's smile turned cold.

She had changed her mind. She was, in fact, going to have her son tested by the temple closer to home. AND? She was going to be taking us with her. I agreed. Immediately and before anyone could try to seperate us. Daughter mine, darling, honey, Get In The Carriage. NOW.

We got out of there while the getting was still possible.

It was safe to assume, my new noble friend eventually said, that my daughter had magic. But what did that mean for us? Well, according to Nation Law? (Oh goodie. Laws I know nothing about.) She would have to attend the Royal Magica Academy.

What.

I knew that name. I KNEW that name! My jaw was surely on the floor, my daughter squeeking out flustered and rambling questions at my side. But... but all I could do? Was slowly turn to look at her. She was healthier then the game cover. Not as "that's not what real women look like!" Thin that... that in hindsight? Was probably prolonged food scarcity. Starvation.

She was taller too. Less... oh god, less "child like". That had to have been malnutrition. Stunted growth.

The way her hair shown, soft and healthy. The brightness to her skin and nails. Clarity to her eyes. Fullness to her cheeks. She was hardly even within sight of being a plump child, more muscle then anything, from a life of work and survival, but? She wasn't... waifish. I had made sure of that.

Even if it meant sacrificing my own meals to do so.

But I could SEE it. Could SEE the familiar features. The curling hair and doe like grey eyes. The generic princess character that I had been playing right before... before... God, I couldn't even remember the game's NAME. Just the plot. It had been mid at best. Magnificent art. Everyone raving there was some secret twist after the first play through.

So I grit my teeth a pushed through the generic. Tried to figure out what it was.

Never did get the chance. I died before the second play through and the twist everyone insisted made the game awesome. Now I wish I had caved and looked up spoilers. I tried to remember the mother. Did she die? What happens to my baby girl? Should I push her towards one man or another? Let her follow her heart?

It's a long, long night.

We stay in a guest room. Fancier then anything I've ever seen in this life. I keep my daughter calm. Help her avoid embarrassing herself. Tips for when in doubt. See, honey? It's a learning opportunity! No need to panic! Mama's certainly not, on the inside! She's very calm. Completely, utterly, definitely very ultra calm. Ha ha...

I think my soul had a panic attack.

Things moved very quickly after that. In the end, they had too, if I was to keep my daughter safe. The temple would want to train her. Her magic was apparently quite rare. Religiously significant. And being so lovely? She would make an EXCELLENT propaganda peice. A figurehead and puppet, forevermore in gilded chains.

Everything I feared for her.

No. That was NOT going to happen.

The Academy it was. Nobles and their games aside. The education would be unparalleled. She could probably even make friends. Possibly find love. I told her to Be CAREFUL. That is was a treacherous but beautiful place. Filled with powerful people used to getting their way. Do whatever she must to survive. Thrive. Be happy.

And remember, she is loved.

I...Returning home alone felt like ripping my heart out. I had thought I would have years, yet, before my daughter married and moved out. That I would have time to adjust. Get used to the idea, as my future son-in-law came around. Instead? I returned from a trip to emptiness. A life interrupted.

My daughters sewing, still resting, waiting for her, on the kitchen table.

I collapsed. Weeping. In the entryway.

My tiny home had never felt so vast and hollow.

Days passed. Then weeks. Finally, a letter arrived. Delivered by a very uncomfortable servant. The man checking more then once if I was TRUELY who he was supposed to deliver too. Clearly more then a little uncomfortable in the presence of such poverty. I did not care. I had a letter, thick with writing, from my daughter.

She was doing well.

MORE then well. My lessons had actually put her ahead of the curve in several classes, much to the shock and outrage of her peers. They had expected poverty to equal mental deficiency, it seems. And the library was quickly making up for any classes she was behind in. That's my girl!

She had made several friends that way. Quiet young ladies, willing to help her make sense of the complexities of history or magical theory. From nice, stable, neutral houses, too. No tea parties yet. Or boys. But I didn't care.

My baby had FRIENDS!

I sent a care package of her things back. Not indiscriminately, of course. But tools and notes, a few unfinished projects she had been working on to pass the time. Some snacks from home. They would likely still embarrass her somewhat, but... I did not want her to think I did not CARE. That I had tossed her towards that Academy and promptly forgotten her.

The servant, Geoffrey, and I got to see quite a lot of each other.

He got over the state of my house rather quickly. Instead, started bringing things he "just happened to have lying around" that would you look at THAT? I happened to need! Between letters on my daughter's meeting, then dramas, with pretty wealthy boys? Geoffrey helped me repair my roof. I mended his uniform. We shared new year's festivities together.

I even went to the actual festival, like I was some sort of lovely young thing.

As my daughter grew closer to graduation, the questions started. If I could go anywhere, where would it be? If I could do anything? What if I never had to work again? I wasn't a fool. Told her in no uncertain terms. If I EVER suspected she married for anything less then love and herself, I would disown her.

I did not sacrifice so that my daughter would SUFFER.

However... it seemed there was more then a few things my daughter had left from her letters. The next letter arrived in the hand of a man that wore Geoffrey's face, but even as I walked back towards my cabin from the forest... I knew.

That was not the man I had grown to love.

When the imposter turned, no doubt to lie, I RAN. Dropping my harvest of foraged wild greens. I had been planning to make a dish for him. One he was fond off. Perhaps my daughter's magic came from me, my line instead of her unknown father, or perhaps I had just enough to give it wings. To carry her to term.

Because...

I knew he was dead.

They pursued me. Of course they did. But this was a forest I had wandered for years. I lost them in the trees. Attacked them with rocks and stones. Destroyed my trails with rocks and rivers. Every hunter I crossed paths with an ally. Every hunting trap a peril I could lead them into. They were good.

I was better.

But more came.

Then more. And more. And MORE.

And I was not so good as to fend of a legion. I would not risk the village for some nobles scheme. I was dragged, bloody, bruised before some arrogant little sadist. A nasty little creature, like a porcelain doll filled with bile. What an utter waste of good fabric. I told her as much. Interrupt her sneering little monolog.

The backhand across the face barely hurt.

Toddlers had more muscle.

Unfortunate for this brat. My daughter had arrived in time to see that. And worse for this brat, she brought her friends and suitors. A veritable crowd of power and influence. The brat did not have the common sense to shut up while she was ahead. Even I, a peasant, could recognize royalty on sight. There were at least two of them before us.

MY daughter was not as merciful as the Cannon Protagonist had been.

It was a blood bath.

I tried to stay awake. Head wounds and all that. I... I had wanted to introduce Geoffrey to my daughter. Hinted at it, over my letters. I would... would never get the chance now... oh god. Geoff. Geoff, forgive me. Tears welled up. I could not stop them. Just as I could not stand. Just as I could not move...

I was... was rather useless... wasn't I?

Familiar yet no longer familiar arms threw themselves around me. Cradled me close to a softly perfumed chest, locks of hair I'd know anywhere, shielding me from the world.

"Mama..." my little girl said. Her voice the very picture of heartbreak. "I'm sorry. I... I was too late."

One of her suitors untied me. The knight, probably, from the calluses I felt. But all I could think about was, wrapping my daught in my arms. Together for the first time in years. And it had to be like THIS? Oh gods. Why was fate so cruel?

My little girl had grown so big.

This was a grown woman in my arms.

I just... I just wanted this terrible night to END. And as my daughters power slid over me? It did.

I woke up in a guest room. He dear friend Agatha had INSISTED. Geoffrey had worked for her family. It... it brought relief. To mourn with people who had known him. He had apparently spoken of me. Quite often. The sap.

It... it wasn't fair.

But when was life ever fair?

My daughter visisted. Now that i was finally closer. Her suitors dropped by, to pay their respects I think. Possibly win me over, as mother of their lady love. They were awkward little things. It was adorable. I was patient. Listened. Prodded them when then froze up, uncertain of what to talk about. Got them rambling about their hobbies. Really, it was no great difference then most shy kids.

The visited more. Stayed longer.

Brought gifts.

The gifts were expensive, elaborate, and wildly impractical. I was forced to gently explain why I, a peasant woman, could NOT accept their gift of fist size gemstones. It started with "I will be robbed" and ended with "they WILL be certain I stole these, no matter WHAT documentation you give me. I will die". They were very confused and alarmed. Much like puppies learning that suddenly treats were somehow illegal.

Agatha herself? Was a delight.

A very "mob" looking young lady with a sharp wit and an old man's sense of humor. Her personal maid was Geoffrey's niece. That neither held against me what had happened? Spoke of both of their maturity and grace. They WOULD however, never forgive the house that ordered the attack. I much agreed.

I considered, going back to the village, but...

The memories were too raw there.

I decided to follow my daughter, settle near wherever she decided to go. She seemed thrilled at the idea. Somehow, word spread. On the next visit, the future "head of the mage's tower" and man of entirely too many titles, Valtaan mentions an estate he owns near the Tower. How it lies empty. Would be the PERFECT place for a mother-in-law, you know... if he had one. Lovely gardens!

Oh, really?

Then, the Knight mentions how HE'S going to be stationed up North. In a Great Big Fortress with SO many rooms. Just... just SO MANY. Entirely too many, really. Honestly, he should bring more people! Like a wife! And... and a Mother-in-law! Really fill up the place, you know?

Mmmmhmmm.

The Prime Minister to be? Oh HE talks of TRAVEL. Ever considered traveling? The Embassies are LOVELY. So much to DO around them. Foreign lands, beautiful locals, silks and lovely little treats.

You don't say....

The Duke is blunt about it, at least.

I have a castle. I have SEVERAL castles. Estates. He is aware you are not motivated by that, but it does leave you with options for where you want to live should your daughter decide to marry him. And he DOES intend to marry my daughter. Second husband if not the first. Motivated, aren't we?

I politely infor both prince's, the SECOND they sit down, before they open their mouth, that I like them. I do. A lot in fact. But it's not going to happen. It'll be a cold day in hell the day I let my daughter marry into the royal family and they both know exactly why. They pause... consider it. Then nod.

They agree.

Wouldn't wish this life upon ANYONE who had a chance at something better.

My daughter graduates, with HONORS. There is much gnashing are rending of clothes from the elitist base. Ha! Get fucked. I STILL have no idea what the "twist" is in the plot or if I was being punked. Also not a single clue which, if any, of her suitors she's chosen. Could be all of um. I could care less so long as everyone consents and is aware of each other.

The graduation party is, naturally, grand. I'm in a dress one of the suitors likely bought for me. Somehow, I actually look like I belong. Instead of dancing and reveling, my munchkins hover. As though afraid to leave me alone at my first Big Girl Party. I laugh, trying to shoo them away. Go, go!

My daughter stubbornly shakes her head, leaning against me, her dress complimenting mine. Though I doubt I could be half as lovely.

"Noooo~ I refuse! I will be staying Right HERE, Mama!" Her voice is playful but... there's something strained. Desperate, that's never really gone away I think. Not since the accident. "What if someone tries to take you AWAY? You're too pretty! You gotta stay with US, mama!"

I laugh out loud, completely missing the interested looks that glance my way. Well to do gentleman, widowers and respected servants alike. Long time bachelor's, who's eyes linger a touch too long on the length of my neck, the curve of shoulder. The way it dips down, past my collarbones towards someplace... interesting.

My crowd of young protectors DO NOT miss the looks.

Bristle like angry cats. Eye venomous and society smiles sharp enough too cut glass. There is a murder to their expression. A command to Look Away.

While you still have EYES.

"No, Mama." My daughter insists when I try to tell her she's wrong. That I am far from desirable. "I'm not letting go. Not EVER. We're FAMILY. And that means? That means you're MINE."

[rayshippouuchiha]

Tasea!

Okay so I just stumbled upon your Tasea au and it's living rent free in my mind.

Skull and Tsuna just living their best life while Hibari and Reborn are chewing glass is my favorite thing ever

Consider this:

Both Skull and Tsuna become ridiculous strong throughout this trip.

They don't even notice it.

It starts with casual convos about how they use flames, then experiments, light spars etc.

Turns out not being in mortal peril 24/7 does wonders for some people.

So from time to time, videos of them come to light, Tsunas twink ass obliterating someone in an arm wrestling match. Skull killing it in some weightlifting challenge or doing some insane acrobatics.

Videos of them sparring without flames in open parks or maybe being stumbled upon in abandoned warehouses.

Everyone who isn't Reborn or Hibari can actually see how good this is for them.

Gokudera keeps a collection of "Decimo being Amazing" pictures and videos he finds. That's his best friend after all!

Maybe Reborn would feel slightly jealous that even his teacher position was usurped, but he's kinda busy picking which leash he's going to put on Skull the moment he catches him.

Hibari is listening to Olivia Rodriguez during his speedrun of becoming the world most feared Hitman (only possible because Reborn is busy picking which tracker to put under Skulls skin once he finds him) in search of Tsuna

Sometimes, he picks a random grunt to ask for relationship advice.

I also like to think that as time goes on, a whole countersquad starts to form.

Like they notice that maybe they have some things to talk out, and that's why they keep searching, but they aren't per se helping Hibari or Reborn either.

But yeah anyway I love this au

I need a 100 chapter fic injected i to my veins pronto, but als I don't have that kind of talent... R.I.P

See, the thing is, it's not that Tsuna and Skull become ridiculously strong during their little vacation.

They're both already monstrously strong in their own right.

It's just that, for the first time since they were each dragged into this lifestyle kicking and screaming, they're spending time with someone who A.) learns in a similar fashion and B.) also understands what it's like to be given no choice about this entire thing.

So, for the first time, they're both ,,, comfortable.

Tsuna can ask questions without having to worry about dodging bullets or having to scream to be heard. Skull can impart his hard and bloodily won knowledge on someone without having to hear any "well actually" type bullshit because the way he uses his Flames is technically "wrong".

So of course that means they both start rapidly progressing.

Skull is able to describe things to Tsuna in terms that he understands and can actually visualize. Tsuna is so genuinely open to whatever it is that Skull's doing that Skull no longer feels the need to really hide.

Tsuna gets his hand-to-hand and acrobatic skills refined. Skull starts really opening up about what he's capable of.

They both refine how they look at and utilize their Flames.

They both stop caring about what everyone else is going to say/do.

On the opposite side of the situation, Reborn is ready to chew glass, Hibari is actively forcing other people to chew glass, and if Kusababe has to deal with Kyo-san turning to him one more time asking about why "the little animal fled" he's going to look into taking a vacation of his own.

The others, having now seen countless videos and photos of Skull and Tsuna taking the world by storm together, are starting to reevaluate what they think/know of the situation.

[rottenpumpkin13]

I’m just now playing Rebirth, and god I love Chadley so much. Yes I DID order a yappuccino. Yes I DO want to activate this tower for you. You’re my son, by the way, did you know that? Get on the Chocobo, we’re going to Midgar to get your adoption certificate.

I love him so much. This is why I think Sephiroth and Chadley could have gotten along were Chadley created pre-canon. Just give him this robot child who didn't put up with Hojo's shit, loves science, never shuts up, and Sephiroth will be happy.

Genesis: A mini you? Who's this?

Sephiroth: This is Chadley.

Chadley: Greetings!

Sephiroth: Show him what you can do, Chadley.

Chadley: The human body hosts around 38 trillion bacteria! Many of them live in the intestines and aid in digestion, but a sudden imbalance in this microbial community can lead to overgrowth of harmful bacteria or pathogens, resulting in infections, disease, and death! The imbalance is often sporadic and unpredictable, meaning you could be in mortal peril right now and not know!

Sephiroth: Isn't that fascinating?

Genesis: NO?

[mysteryshoptls]

During the Harveston event, Epel mentions a couple of folktale stories and folklore. Do you think you can make a compilation / list of all the folklore he mentions, what they mean, what what they possibly could be inspired by? Also, I love your work! We love you Ras <3

Hello! I'm happy to help where I can. Scouring through an event for specific lore can take time, so I appreciate your patience. Here are some folklore that Epel mentions in the Sledathon event. If I've missed any, please let me know and I can add to this list.

"...A long time ago, a beautiful maiden was walking in the woods, but a villain crept up from behind putting her life in mortal peril. Fearing for her safety, the animals around her rushed off down the mountain path in search of help. The animals ran ragged until they finally found someone to come help her. They then frantically pushed and pulled them as swiftly as they could back to the young maiden..."

Mentioned in Episode 1-3 of the event.

This is the anecdote that the Sledathon competition was based on.

This seems to be inspired by a combinations of the scenes of the Hunter approaching Snow White from behind to fulfill his mission, as well as when the animals rushed out to find the seven dwarves in the mines to bring them back in time to try to save her from the Evil Queen near the end of the movie.

"The dwarves who used to live on this land soon stopped getting sick after they started washing their whole body with soap... ...The story goes that the dwarves would scoop up the water and even wash their faces, too.

Mentioned in Episode 3-4 of the event.

This occurs when the boys were told to go wash up in the well before eating.

Inspired by the scene where Snow White has the seven dwarves wash up before their meal.

"It's said that if you face the well and make a wish, it'll come true. It's said this all started because long ago, a young maiden made a wish for love in a well. They say that the stronger the wish, the more likely it is to come true, so everyone from the village does it right before a harvest or heavy snow."

Mentioned in Episode 3-4 of the event.

This occurs after the boys were finished washing up before eating.

Inspired by the scene in Snow White where she is singing at the well at the beginning of the movie.

"Legend has it that the Fairest Queen prized red apples above all."

Mentioned in Episode 3-5 of the event.

In Harveston, there is an apple competition to determine the reddest possible apple.

Inspired by the red, red apple that the Evil Queen makes in her dungeon.

"Long ago, there was a traveler who came across a home with a scandalously disorganized dinner table, so they fixed up a grand meal for that family..."

Mentioned in Episode 4-6 of the event.

There was an unused set of dishware on the table during a meal, which is due to a superstition that as long as a plate is left on the table, then they'll never want for food.

Inspired by Snow White coming into the dwarves home and cleaning it up after seeing how dirty it is.

[bluemooniegif]

something I've been thinking about a lot recently is the parallels that consistently pop up whenever Kikoru is rlly feeling her daddy issues

like the first time we learn about her relationship with her father, she's throwing herself into imminent mortal peril. she's upset that she can't take down a HONJU on her first try (which is so real, I also set unrealistic expectations for myself and have a meltdown when I can't reach them) and starts internally apologising to him:

and IMMEDIATELY after she says this, Kafka is there.

he doesn't know why she's putting herself in harms way, or what she's thinking to herself. he's genuinely impressed with her, and understands that she at least wanted to give the rest of the examinees time to evacuate, and he's proud of her. once he's taken down the honju, he makes sure to scold her for putting herself in danger, and just look at her expression here:

that is the face of a girl who's never truly thought of herself as a person. she's spent a majority of her life polishing herself into the finest possible weapon, something perfect and flawless, and imagining the cognitive dissonance she must be feeling in that moment genuinely makes me ill.

then, in the anime, we're gifted this bonus scene: Kikoru wakes up in the infirmary, mumbling apologies to herself and to her father. when she looks up through the foggy pod, she sees a silhouette, and assuming (hoping) that it's Isao, she apologises.

but it turns out, as the cover comes off, it's not Isao, but Hoshina. and he's very impressed with Kikoru's hard work- granted, he doesn't know that she didn't actually take down the honju, but he also thanks her for giving the other examinees a chance to escape.

so anyway, this all happens in episode FOUR (chapter 5/6) and I just love that Kikoru is collecting parents and siblings everywhere she goes <3

[plantsjustwannahavefun]

"Izzy Canyon dwellers just want to turn him into an innocent victim who did nothing wrong!"

Actually my problem is that, in hindsight, Izzy didn't do enough wrong to justify the common interpretation of his relationship with Ed. In my book, the first time in the series he legitimately crossed over to villainous antagonist territory - someone you actually loved to hate for it even if you understood his reasons - was when he set the British Navy on the Revenge. That way he not only betrayed his integrity as a pirate by consorting with the common enemy of all pirates, but risked Ed's life too - cause, like, come on, that "plan" to send CJ to convince Ed to leave Stede was so far-fetched it barely counts as a plan. I don't buy Izzy ever looking at CJ and going "yep that seems like a smart, responsible, trustworthy man I could rely on for a delicate mind games operation like this". It was an act of sheer desperation on Izzy's part, but he still chose to do it. IMO this was actually worse than what he said to Ed in S1 finale. Although of course that was very nasty, too.

But the thing is, we don't actually have any info on what their relationship used to be like before S1. We were only ever shown, not told - and both times from Izzy's perspective: the first time in S01E04 during his resignation rant, which was very heartfelt and I'm sure a lot of it was true, but it's still one-sided, and the second time during his deathbed speech, which was, again, one-sided and this time biased in another direction - instead of airing his pent-up grievanced Izzy was putting most of the blame on himself.

Other than this, the entirety of Ed and Izzy's pre-S1 relationship gets extrapolated from one single episode, S01E04. The narrative itself seems to want us to see it as a microcosm of their usual long-standing dynamic, at least on the surface. We see Ed being depressed and suicidal, trying to open up to Izzy about it, and Izzy shutting him down and making him act like Blackbeard again. Since it's already clear that Ed and Stede are the main characters, we're primed to see Ed as the victim here and Izzy being an annoying, insensitive nag.

Except the context of those interactions changes everything. The context being that they are literally about to be attacked by the Spanish - something Ed knowingly brought on them with his decisive power as captain - and Ed is deliberately withholding crucial information from his own first mate and the rest of the crew, making them all think they're going to die and he isn't doing anything about it. Izzy wasn't just being a boring buzzkill not being excited for Ed when he showed him that ship model. He was actively panicking and trying to do his job asking Ed for orders so they don't all get slaughtered.

So, yeah, those are some very exceptional circumstances that don't say anything about their typical day to day interactions go when they're not in immediate mortal peril due to lack of communication. Was this the first time Ed ever told him about not wanting to be Blackbeard anymore? Izzy didn't seem very surprised, so probably not, but we don't know, and if Ed had confided in him before, we don't know how Izzy reacted - but I'd like to point out that this time he didn't ridicule Ed in any way, he simply pointed out that they were about to die if Ed didn't do anything. Does Izzy usually indulge Ed in the stuff he finds fun when they're not about to be killed? Again, we don't know, but Izzy's playfulness during that first confrontation with Stede in S01E02, and his whittling and jokes in S2 showed that he wasn't always as grouchy and joyless as he's made out to be. We actually saw him smile when Ed got excited about Buttons, too. Pretty sure if Izzy always shut him down about things like that, Ed would have stopped trying to share it with him long ago.

And, finally, there's one piece of this puzzle that doesn't seem to fit in with the rest at all. The show both told us and implied that Izzy couldn't let Blackbeard go because his own identity was too tied up in it, and because he idolised the glory of violent pirate lifestyle. But if that's the case, then why did he have no problem with Ed wanting to retire? Izzy literally gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up on the whole "kill Stede and steal his identity so he could live the rest of his life as a rich aristocrat" plan. If Izzy only admired Ed as a pirate, and was so hell-bent on keeping the Blackbeard persona alive, why was he ok with Ed retiring? How does this square up with the idea that Izzy had been keeping Ed chained to piracy?

I'd honestly hoped we would get some flashbacks of the two of them in S2, and then S3 before that hope died too, because there's still so much we're missing.

[azure-firecracker]

The X-Files Season 1 Review (First-Time Watcher)

(Any fans-please come talk to me about the show and send me asks-I’m obsessed!)

It did not take long for me to realize that this was going to become my newest hyperfixation show. It has everything I love in my shows-a strong focus on its main characters, campy sci-fi monsters mixed with some genuine creepiness, slow burn romance, banter. In short, it’s the perfect show for me. I was basically hooked right away.

Like all first seasons, it was pretty clear that the show was still finding its footing. There were some clunky bits to iron out and the show definitely found its vibe more and more as it went along. I would say it began getting overall more consistent around episode 10 (with individual exceptions before and after that).

In terms of episodes, I enjoyed almost all the episodes of this season even though I would only call a couple stellar. Most episodes were fun or at least had fun moments, and the banter between Mulder and Scully (what’s their ship name?) is enough to keep me going through even the clunkiest and cringiest plots.

Speaking of Mulder and Scully, it’s rare that a show can make me love two characters so equally but I really do. Although Scully is much more in line with my usual favorite characters (she is my special girl and I will do anything for her), I also have a special place in my heart for Mulder’s neurodivergent traumatized puppy energy. Of course they really go together so it’s natural that I love them both.

The only weighty criticism I have for this season is that I feel Mulder gets more spotlight moments than Scully. Not egregiously, but it feels like he’s usually the one in the final fight, seeing the aliens, figuring it out, etc. I do know that they were trying to break gender roles by making Scully the skeptic, but given that the aliens are so real…here at least she often came off as oblivious and she sometimes felt like she was tagging along on Mulder’s quests. Which SUCKS! Because I LOVE HER and she could be SO USEFUL if the writers LET HER. This is why I really loved the moments where she got to step up. Veteran viewers…want to tell me if this gets better?

That criticism aside, I could watch these two fight monsters for days, and I know the S2-S5/6 stretch is considered the show’s best, so I’m looking forward to that.

Individual episode reviews under the cut.

Pilot: Fantastic introduction! It did a great job establishing the characters and their dynamic pretty seamlessly, as well as introducing the alien lore in a way that we could digest. It wasn’t perfect and the story was a bit clunky at times, but it got me hooked and did its job well. I also liked Scully being the audience surrogate here. 8/10

Deep Throat: This episode really solidified the dynamic introduced in the pilot, and is packed with great character moments. It gets a HUGE boost from Scully exchanging the guard to rescue Mulder at the end. I mentioned living for the moments when Scully gets to step up, but I think it was necessary to put this moment so early. Because Scully is new to the X-Files and also clearly wrong about aliens, it was necessary to show us that she had a lot to bring to the table and that Mulder needs her. Also a special shoutout to Seth Green as a stoner. 9.5/10

Squeeze: A very fun monster of the week episode, slightly reminiscent of BtVS. Decently creepy with that 90s horror/sci-fi vibe we all love. Plus lots of great Mulder/Scully moments. (Also, despite my complaints about Scully being underutilized, I enjoyed Mulder saving Scully at the end. Rescuing one another from mortal peril is actually my favorite trope, as long as it’s balanced. In that regard, this season has been). 8/10

Conduit: Honestly this episode was a little slow for me, I felt like the pacing could have been better. I had a hard time staying interested. Also it was hilarious that this was supposed to be Iowa because Iowa does not have mountains like that. It gets a boost from the ending scene which in itself is a 100/10. 6/10

The Jersey Devil: Now this is campier and goofier than suits the show, and I feel like they realized that soon after this. The Mulder/Scully banter still made this a good time, but it wasn’t great. Also not helped by the fact that everything happened during the day (the only time in this show where the lighting was too bright) and the Jersey Devil looked like a normal person with some dust on her. 6/10

Shadows: I found the mystery of this one quite engaging. Back with those 90s horror vibes we love, and it kept me guessing right up until the agents figured it out. Negative points for the lack of Mulder/Scully banter though. 7/10

Ghost in the Machine: Was this cheesy? Yes. Was it objectively good? No. Did I enjoy it anyway? Yes. Who doesn’t love a killer computer? Also Scully crawling out of the vents was badass af. Objectively like a 6/10 but 7/10 for my personal enjoyment.

Ice: Now THIS was the stuff. An objectively great episode of television. The tension, the paranoia, the fallout, seeing what our leads do under that kind of stress…brilliant. (Although my dad the geologist couldn’t help but point out that there is no ice sheet in Alaska). Very tempted to write an alternate version where Mulder actually is infected and Scully has to find a cure before the others kill him. That would’ve been interesting. Anyway 10/10

Space: Apparently people don’t like this episode but I enjoyed it. It had a ticking time bomb feel that I quite enjoyed. Also Mulder’s space nerdiness was adorable. 8/10

Fallen Angel: Similar to Conduit, this episode felt rather slow to me despite the fact that there was a lot happening. It just sort of failed to hook me, which is a rarity for this show. 6/10

Eve: This was FUN! I love when we get to unravel the mystery along with the agents and the plot twists definitely kept me guessing. Props to the child actors who did a great job. I did get thrown off by the many parallels to Stranger Things-even though this obviously came out first. 8/10

Fire: Once I got over my anger at sharing a name with Mulder’s horrendous ex, I liked this one. Both Mulder and Scully got good character moments here, with Mulder trying to shield Scully from all his drama and also showing one of his flaws-he’s susceptible to manipulation. Scully, conversely, was really the MVP of this episode and carried the investigation on her back. Also props to our bad guy of the week-great job being creepy! 7.5/10

Beyond the Sea: Immaculate. Probably my favorite episode of the season. Scully burying her grief in work and Mulder being gentler with her than he’s ever been. Scully’s family lore reveal. Both of them going toe to toe with this killer (forgot his name) and not knowing what to believe. Mulder getting shot and Scully getting FURIOUS. Scully’s complicated relationship forming with this killer while she also thinks about her father (rather reminiscent of Silence of the Lambs). Cinema. 10/10

Genderbender: So we have gender switching aliens who kill people…I’ll give the show overall a pass since it’s 1994 but I will not be revisiting this one. Extra points for Mulder yelling GET OFF OF HER at the guy who’s working his weird magic on Scully. Minus points for him blaming her for it after. 2.5/10

Lazarus: So we got panicked Scully 2 episodes ago and now we get panicked Mulder and it is GLORIOUS. I also found all 3 side characters-Scully’s ex as well as both criminals, interesting, especially as Scully’s ex began to mix with the bad guy. Minus points for not shooting the bank robber until after he started shooting up a room full of civilians, extra points for Mulder being great this entire episode. 9/10

Young at Heart: Episodes with creepy killers are always my favorite, and I loved seeing Mulder get toyed with. Reverse aging science…eh it’s not the main point. Minus points for the worst plan ever (let’s invite the killer into a crowded area and let him shoot at Scully even though apparently her bulletproof vest barely saved her), but extra points for Mulder angst. This man has so much guilt. 9/10

E.B.E: Honestly the plot of this one wasn’t super interesting but that’s not what we’re here for is it? Every Mulder and Deep Throat interaction? Perfect. Scully’s little « the truth is out there, but so are lies » speech? Immaculate. The ending where Deep Throat reveals his backstory and Mulder says « I’m trying to decide which lie to believe? » Cinema. 9.5/10

Miracle Man: A bit of a letdown after such a strong streak, but still solid. Pretty good! And I admired that they had the guts to kill the kid too. 6.5/10

Shapes: Another fun 90s horror episode, HEAVY on the BtVS vibes. And it actually dealt with all of the Native American issues better than I thought it would! Not necessarily well in every aspect, but I was expecting much worse considering Genderbender. 7.5/10

Darkness Falls: Y’all this was GOOD! I loved the sense of impending doom that was just present the whole time, and the melancholic feel of the entire thing. Minus points for the anti-environmentalist sentiments and for the blatant plot armor at the end (they really should have died…but then there wouldn’t be a show). 9/10

Tooms: While Tooms being let out on parole was a bit of a stretch, I enjoyed seeing Mulder stretched to his limit. He’s a good character to do that with. Tooms was an even better villain here than in Squeeze imo, because his craftiness really got to shine through. Huge bonus points for the scene in the car. « Mulder, I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody but you. » I’M DEAD. 8.5/10

Born Again: The most memorable parts of this episode for me were the thick fake New York accents and the fact that the kid was named Michelle so I kept quoting Derry Girls in my terrible fake Derry accent the whole time. 5/10

Roland: This was the only episode I hated. I could barely get through any Roland scenes-I thought the autism portrayal was clunky and unnecessary and I just don’t want to watch autistic people suffer. It pained me. There wasn’t even any Mulder/Scully banter to salvage it. In fact, it seemed they were barely in the episode at all. It gets half a point because Scully looked really pretty this episode. 0.5/10

The Erlenmeyer Flask: Now this was GOOD STUFF. I feel like since we know the aliens are there and there’s less mystery, alien-focused episodes so far have been slower and I’ve liked them less but THIS kept the pace up and the mystery going throughout. I was fully hooked. I was also WORRIED for Mulder at the end-I thought we were getting a season cliffhanger! And those chemical burns looked BAD. And I DID NOT expect Deep Throat to die OR for them to get shut down. Where the heck are they gonna go from here? I love it. My favorite thing about this episode was really getting back into Scully’s headspace for the last 10 minutes or so. With some exceptions, I feel like a lot of the season has been shown through Mulder’s eyes (part of my gripe from earlier), but the pilot was 100% Scully and circling back to her here felt right. I also liked that she had to do another hostage exchange-a parallel to the first time she really showed why Mulder needs her. So much to love here. 10/10

Idk how many txf fans I have here aside from my one post that made the rounds, but if you’re here congratulations for making it through my essay! Let me know if you’d like any more thoughts/analyses, and if you’d like shorter, episodic posts when it comes time for Season 2:)

[pursuitseternal]

“Bites in the Night: Part 3…” Astarion x Reader on the road… with sexy daggers this time ⚔️

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Part 3: “Daggers are a love language, my sweet…”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4k of swords + smut

Summary: You keep watch over your companions, but after the events of the… and after weeks of growing closer with your Vampire Rogue in terms other than sex… you need to burn some of your energy off. A midnight session with your blades seems the solution… especially when you find yourself with… a sparring partner.

Inspired by Careful—ibite’s post and amazing blog! Thank you @careful---ibite !

CW: sword sexual innuendo, getting handedly defeated by Astarion, true feelings confession ™️, NSFW: forest edition, and some bad “sheathing” puns that make Astarion roll his eyes.

Read here if you prefer AO3

Don’t lose your breath on this one, Darling…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Keeping watch, you sit by the fire, the sound of your companions breathing joins the soft crackles and pops of the fire. Your rotation falls tonight, it’s crisp in the mountains, the pine air is cool, so you stay by the fire, tending it until your watch is done. Keeping the others warm and safe.

Well…. All the others except for Astarion. You watched him slip into the trees an hour ago, one last look thrown you way over his shoulder. Your vampire, heading out to hunt.

Your heart aches, knowing full well just how many long horrors he endured as a spawn. Watching him hide that self doubt behind his swagger, covering his self-loathing behind constant flirtation as smooth as silk. It had been easy to give him the space he had asked for you, to grow in your knowledge of one another, not just carnally.

In fact, it had been weeks. Traveling and fighting, and seeking down cures… and all the while, he had not asked for you to come to his bed again. Of course, he had crept beside yours to feed when you gave him every opportunity, but his touches were light. You scoff to yourself, thinking as you scan the treeline for movement. You would call his attentions almost chaste if it were not for the way he looks at you, undressing you in his mind, and the way his words beckon you with every little flirtatious thought that crosses that same dirty mind.

But you wait. You show him there is more to intimacy than fucking. Every conversation you have, every time you offer for him to feed when he begins to look haphazard and bedraggled, all those little ways you do care.

Grabbing two more logs, you set them in the blaze. Wiping your hands together, you slowly stand, eyeing the rest of your party as they sleep. Blissful for now. Exhausted from the journey and from your latest grisly encounter of the day. Sometimes, you had even seen your own life flash before your eyes, let alone watched in horror as every one of your companions nearly met an end today.

It was a rest well deserved. And you had taken the watch tonight, guilt plaguing you to have put every single one of them in such mortal peril.

Nothing a little self-prescribed training couldn’t fix. Or at least, couldn’t help clear your conscience.

You check your hips, blade on one side, dagger at the other. These weapons were… newly acquired. Well, stolen… well, stolen for you by your Vampire rogue. Thievery seemed to be his love language. But they were unfamiliar at best, their balance, their grip were strange, even if they were stronger and more powerful. And it had almost cost lives today.

You walk towards the forest, sure that the fire would keep burning for a couple hours at least now. The hard scrape of your weapons as you draw them both sets you on edge, wakes you up.

They feel light, lighter than the blades you knew. You give them a spin, the soft handles steady in your palms, trying hard not to fumble them, to catch your fingers on the elegant cross guards. Holding them aloft, you settle yourself on the balls of your toes, readying stance, primed to begin your forms. They flow through you, form after form, swiping and stabbing and parrying. Slowly. Carefully at first.

Then you pick up speed. Swiping faster, sword and dagger more familiar now. You spin on your toes, as if you mean to strike your enemies from behind.

And you jolt as your blade meets another with a clang.

Astarion smirks at you, that twist of his lips and cant of his brows that makes your blood run hot. His dagger shines in the moonlight as he slowly scrapes it down the length of your sword.

“Hello, darling,” he purrs. “I see you took some advice to practice for once.” He pushes your sword to your side, but that sharpened dagger still remains in his hand, his smirk widens as he slowly presses its point beneath your chin.

You laugh, breathless, unable to deny the edge of fear he still manages to incite in you. “Amazing, Astarion,” you try to laugh, feeling his body drawing closer. “You can’t help but shove cold, pointed things in my face even when we aren’t…”

“What?” he smirks wider, clearly enjoying where this is going, “doing the deed?”

Your own smirk turns your mouth, your tongue suddenly wet as you try to swallow. Not as wet as other parts of your grow, however. “Exactly,” you manage to reply the single word steadily.

“Hmm, yes, about that,” he continues, voice suddenly quiet and steady and raw. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you. You are different, you do care. Enough to actually become acquainted with me, to come to know me, more than I do myself it seems.” That veil of seduction slips, his voice cracking a bit as he lowers his dagger from your skin. “Today, watching you almost get vivisected on some enemy spear, however, made me realize many things.”

“Oh?” you breathe. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, hard and throbbing to hear his confessions, and to be reminded of your burning guilt yet again.

“Many things,” he repeats, “the least of which is that you are far too precious to me to watch you die.” His words are filled with ache, his crimson eyes wide and wet as he looks down at you.

Tears? you wonder. It is too dark to really see, but from the way his voice seems to stick in his throat…

But he clears his voice, quickly back to that honeyed tone. “I also realize that you need a sparring partner, training alone will only do you so much good. And since I’m so much better than you…”

You step back, folding your arms across your chest, trying to be exacting. But your back bumps unceremoniously against some pine. And his body closes in to cover you, faster than you can gasp. His hands pin you in, splaying around your shoulders as he pushes into your frame, your back scratched by the peeling bark. But you can’t care. Not with the ecstacy of his body bearing into you, all hard and strong and everywhere.

You sigh, “Gods, I’ve missed this…” the words are out of your mouth before you can even think them.

“Mmm, I have, as well,” his words rasp in your mouth, his lips, his fangs so close again. “Almost losing you today, I realized one more thing, that I would go mad, I would rather die, than to lose you, to live my life alone without your affection, your care… and without that perfect body of yours, darling.”

Molten. Your blood is singing in your veins, your mouth waters and your cunt aches, positively drenching your breeches, you are sure.

Your body writhes, a little unbidden roll of your hips against him as he presses you harder.

“Your dual-wielding requires finesse, darling,” he is insufferable, the way his eyes skate over your face, fixing on the way your veins pulse in your neck. “Shame I only have one weapon you could grip to practice with… guess we will have to do this the old-fashioned way…”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to think of you in terms of….”

“A person can have a change of heart, can’t they?” His voice is like music, lilting and deep. “In fact, I’d like to up the ante, raise the stakes a bit, my dear…”

He withdraws from you, his hands unsheathing two daggers, so sharp you can almost hear them whistle in the air as he grips them with a flourish. A smile plays around his lips, more enticing than fear inducing, though you feel both pounding in your body as you watch him square up to you. “If you win, you get to have me in whatever fashion you so desire, darling. Let your imagination run wild….”

“And if you win?” You force an air of confidence, a swing of your side sword and dagger that mimics his own flare.

But Astarion only laughs, that rapid, low-toned giggle as he grins so wide, you see his fangs in the starlight. “No spoilers, my dear, but I promise you will never forget it…”

“You’re not going to…”

“Kill you? No,” his brows furrow in a rush of hurt. “Weren’t you listening? The only way for me not to personally worry myself into another grave about you is to make sure you are up to snuff with those new blades. Now, put up and shut up….” He breathes, a deep exhale that eases the clenching of his body, “…darling.”

You smile, heart pounding as you take the sight of him in. You remember the way you first met… his dagger at your throat, your body trapped between his legs. And now, the way he sways on his feet, a bit feline and totally predacious. His fingers twitch on the hilts of his elegant blades, his eyes watching you. Daring you. Assessing you.

He waits for you to move first. So you do, you stab, you spin. But every swing of your sword, he deflects, barely moving as he parries you just so easily. There is no way, no way his two short daggers should be able to work the magic he draws from them. They seem part of his body, just as cold and hard, sharper than his tongue.

You try a few more swings, doing your best to catch him off guard. But he always anticipates you. Always blocks you. Steady and unmoving.

Until he begins to press his advantage. You notice the way he begins to lean on his toes, his dodges becoming advances, his parries turning into quick little attacks. And then, you see him smile, brow arching in that rakish way that unsettles your stomach and makes your neck burn where he bites you.

He lunges, his blades everywhere at once. His silver hair whips in the breeze, moving so quickly. You dodge, having to retreat step after step, so you don’t get sliced by more than his fangs. You manage to hook one dagger with yours, a slight twist sends it careening to the forest floor. But it’s all he will allow you as a small victory. He knocks first one blade out of your grip, then the next.

His empty hand grips both of yours, lighting-quick speed flying you back against that same fated tree. He raises your arms above your head, pinned in one large, icy palm, leaving you dangling by his preternatural strength.

But that other hand still holds one weapon, its sharp tip pressing along the line of your jaw.

You pant, unable to catch your breath or cease your racing heart. But he, he stands, cooler than the shade, not even a sweat on his brow. He lets the blade of his dagger score down your skin, careful not to cut. Just the delicious drag of metal to send you panting and writhing.

“It would seem you lost, darling…”

“Have I, though?” you let yourself give in to the feeling of being his prey. Savoring the clenching of his body as he cages you in. “I’m fairly certain by now you just shove daggers at my throat as a way of saying you want me, Astarion…”

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth and cocks his head, eyeing you with deep enjoyment. “Daggers are a love language, my sweet, one of my favorites.” He leans in closer to you, that dangerous blade still pushed gently against your flesh. “When you’ve seduced as many as I have, you learn to use… all… your weapons. But I’ve saved the best for you, my love.”

“Thoughtful of you, my love,” you match his ardor, throwing the same new pet name back between his hovering lips.

“Mmm, best wait to thank me until I’ve finished claiming my victory, since you…” he reaches your hands higher above you head, blade of his dagger slipping like hard silk under your chin, tilting your mouth higher. Closer. “… since you lost, darling.”

“Did I? I’m pretty sure I’ll win, once you’ve… stowed your weapon…”

His eyes flash in humor, a giggle erupting loudly from his throat. “Gods, don’t spoil my winnings with such puns, I plan to have such a good time…”

Your lips flutter, stomach sinking to your knees, pulling on his hand that holds you pinned, raising on the tips of your toes until his blade slips away and your lips crash into his. He releases the dagger, letting clatter at your feet. Unleashing his favorite weapons, his lust and his fangs, and both tear into you. The surge of his hunger pushes into you, his tongue tangling with your, his hands dropping, caressing and massaging your body everywhere. Like he can’t feel you enough. Can’t bring him into his body, his mouth enough to sate him.

Your hands meet his in equal need, your fingers tearing at his doublet, snapping the buttons until Astarion can easily shirk it off. His hands make quick work of his own tunic, and you hold your breath, the moment you see that ivory body, chiseled and hard and perfect. You throb for more. Hand cupping at the back of your neck, he devours you again, lips working yours with demand, your hands wandering up and down the ridges of his stomach. That always hungry stomach. Your hands pull him, all your pent up need igniting to feel his smooth, icy skin against you. You pull your own shirt from your breeches, his hands instantly aiding, making quick work of it, pulling it over your head.

He won’t stop there, instantly ripping into your breeches, tearing them open until you feel his cool touch slipping into your folds. So swollen, so drenched, you shudder, instantly throwing your head back against the tree.

“More,” you pant, sliding your own clothing from your legs.

“If you joke about sheathing my weapon, right now; I swear I’ll bite you…” he growls, hand freed now to work into you all the more.

“You’re going to bite me anyway,” you sigh a laugh, “why not let you stow…”

His mouth stops your words, his fingers crooking and thrusting into your folds, arousal dripping down his knuckles, making other noises come from your throat than less-than-tasteful wordplay.

Your hands shake, fingers trying so hard to free the buckle at his waist, to sneak into the fastened band of his breeches. Fumbling with the clasp, you make him gasp, scoring your nails into his belly.

He hisses into your mouth, “Careful, love, unless you’re so eager to draw my blood. Just as much a danger with your nails as you are your blades…”

You laugh, slow as his hand slips from inside you, giving you the aid you seek with haste. Clothing falls, his cock springs free, prodding against your mound, your belly. His skin is a relief against your flushed body, you crave more. Need more.

He sees it on your face as he looks down at you. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, “the glisten of your sweat, the dilation of your eyes and swell of your kissed lips… the only thing missing is a little blood…” his face quirks into that rakish leer, twisting smirk and canting brows. You nod, pulling your own hair from your neck, crying out the moment he bites into you. The intoxicating way you feel him feeding, swallowing down your blood, you bodies joined before he even fucks you. You moan, aching for more of him as he lifts his mouth from your skin.

Hands grasp at your ass, lifting you, and you jump into his arms. He treads to the mossy hills around you, settling you down. Covering you with the weight of his body, the force of his desire that you had craved for so, so long.

You would have it no other way, giving him everything under the stars, finally seeing his eyes fixed into yours as he enters you. At last. His words run dry, mouth far too busy stealing your breath and tongue too occupied dancing with yours to make any sultry remarks.

He is speechless. But the thrusts of his body, the obsessive stare into your eyes, the working of his kiss, it showers you with more praise than any flirtation ever had.

This. This was real. No holding back, no pretense. Just his absolute need to bury himself to his balls in you. To consume your every living breath as if it would give him life again.

He takes his time, making you feel every inch of his massive length dragging through you, in and out. His arms wrap you into him, clinging around your shoulders. And you do the same, hands clutching those mysterious lines of infernal that cover the clenching muscles of his back. You wrap him in your arms, your legs, as if to reassure him you won’t let go. Won’t ever let go. His breathing grows harsh, damp in your mouth. Aching as if a million emotions will burst from his chest. Your hands move to his cheeks, feeling them slightly damp beneath your fingers.

Sweat or tears, you don’t know. You can’t know in this darkness. But he wants it that way. You kiss the damp, salt on your lips as you keep your mouth there. Hands cradling his face as he still draws himself in and out.

You breathe his name, your hands caressing into those silver silken locks… “Astarion…”

Something between you shifts he lifts his head, mouth devouring yours, hands wandering from that hard embrace to cling to your ass, holding you as his thrusts suddenly pick up speed, hammering into you with all the precision and force of his fighting. You can feel him winding tight like a spring, bearing into you with hunger. Single focused need. As if you are the last morsel between him and starvation.

He grunts with each thrust, your own wave of climax swirling through you, driven higher with his pounding. The slaps of his body against yours echo in your ears, his voice silken even as he curses, “Gods below, so tight, so wet… so good…”

You shatter with his praise, tumbling in a writhing stuttering, wet mess as you come. His head thrown back, face blissfully contorted, he follows you into his own. Hardest yet, he slams into you, collapsing against your body on the forest floor.

His head nestles into the crook of your shoulder, blood still seeping. And you don’t fail to notice that his tongue licks you slowly.

“Well, handsome victor,” you tease, “enjoy your prize?”

He props himself up from you slightly, his eyes even smirking as he smiles. A little swivel of his hips drags his still hard cock through the mingling juices of you both. “Enjoy it? Yes, very much, my love. But I am hardly satisfied…” He giggles in that bubbly way of his, pulling out and pulling you to your feet. “I think it requires closer inspection in my tent…”

He doesn’t stop to collect your clothes or your weapons, no. His strength is tenfold with all your blood inside him as he bends down to throw you over his shoulder. You give a muffled yelp, one he corrects with a slight slap on your rear as you dangle down his back.

“Prizes don’t need to draw so much attention to themselves, darling…” He carries you, your body swaying over his shoulder like some good he pinched, coming closer and closer to the circle of light from your camp.

“Attention? I was on watch, Astarion,” you growl, mortified as you realize what you abandoned.

“Not anymore,” you hear a sleepy voice from behind you. Gale clears his throat louder as he does not approach you, your naked vampire rogue drawing nearer to his own tent. “You’re both off the watch rotation until you can practice some self control.” He sounds grumpy, but you don’t care as Astarion swings you around.

“I’ll be much obliged to you, wizard,” he taunts, running a hand over the pert swell of your ass “Might take some time you know…. Practice does make perfect…”

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE *  assorted (and slightly adapted to suit this meme format) dialogue from the book by casey mcquiston, adjust as necessary

on purpose. i love him on purpose.

i've always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden.

i'm going to have you offed. you'll never see it coming.

take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.

get in there.

you're literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state.

before you, i was all right letting everything happen to me.

i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.

sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again?

you've been warned.

he died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.

my life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person.

hey, have i told you lately that you're brave?

i honestly have never thought i deserved to choose.

we're gonna make it work. you and me and history, remember?

if you finish that sentence, i'm gonna spend tonight in jail.

but the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.

i actively wish for the sweet release of death.

yes, good, carry on.

i won't hear a word against it.

we're gonna do it together.

i said you look great, baby!

i meet you in every dream, and when i wake i cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness.

i'm so in love i could die.

you can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse.

i wonder if it's too late to swan dive off the roof.

i'm learning all your hidden depths today, sweetheart.

you must invent an entirely new system.

a curious thing about grief is the way it takes your entire life, all those foundational years that made you who you are, and makes them so painful to look back on.

he's proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is.

i've bloody well had it!

we can unpack the ironic symbolism later.

that's beyond our sense of decorum!

i'm not afraid of anything i feel. i'm afraid of saying it. i'm only afraid of what happens when i do.

aw, you do care.

if there's any legacy for me on this earth, i want it to be true.

straight people probably don't spend this much time convincing themselves that they're straight.

the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed.

you are the absolute worst idea i've ever had.

should i tell you that when we're apart, your body comes back to me in dreams?

can you perhaps stop putting your sodding life in danger now?

what are we even defending here?

history will remember us.

when i sleep, i see you.

i hate this so much.

every person who bears a legacy makes the choice of a partner with whom they will share it with.

we're just gonna fucking fight.

he is my choice.

i can appreciate that maybe this isn't your fault.

i've been gay as a maypole since the day i came out of mom.

when i wake up in the morning, it feels like i've just been with you.

i can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache.

your spine's a ridge i'd die climbing.

for a few moments, i can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all.

the phrase 'see attached bibliography' is the single sexiest thing you have ever written me.

i promise you, one day we'll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you.

i want to set myself on fire, but i can't afford for anyone to see me burn.

you see, for me, memories are difficult.

never tell me the odds.

i wish there weren't a wall.

jesus christ, it's like they can see into your soul.

you're it, okay? i'm never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you.

i'm finished. i don't care.

god, i want to fight everyone who's ever hurt you.

the whole world watched, and history remembered.

are you quite finished?

just so we're clear. i'm about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family.

you insane, hopeless romantic little shit.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 29 - Flirting Under Fire

@wolfstarmicrofic May 29, word count 557

They were pinned down. The Death Eaters had cornered them. Their intel had been bad, there were so many of them. How did they know? He had no idea how many of their side had made it out, but he and Remus were now barricaded in a back room of the factory. They couldn’t apparate out of there and their only exit was through the door they’d just come through that currently had at least ten Death Eaters trying to break through their defences. 

Sirius looked over at his friend and saw him shaking. His eyes were darting about searching for an escape that didn’t exist. Sirius reached out and grasped Remus’s hand in his. 

“We’re going to be okay,” He put on his best Sirius doesn’t care about the crazy murderers trying to kill them face. It didn’t help, Remus was spiralling. Sirius had to keep trying. 

“When we get out of here,” He started.

“We’re not getting out of here, Sirius,” Remus snapped. 

“Pessimist. When we get out of here, I’m making you pancakes with chocolate chips in them.” He grinned. Remus loved chocolate and pancakes, so why not mix them?

“What for dinner?” Remus had closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. 

“Oh, no baby, for breakfast.” Sirius grinned at him. 

“You think we’ll be in here this long?” Remus’s breathing had levelled out again, and he opened his worried eyes to look at Sirius. 

“No, sweetheart, first I’m gonna take you to bed.” He winked. 

“Really, Sirius, are you trying to flirt with me while we’re in mortal peril? Sirius, it’s not funny.”

“You’re so pretty when you’re angry,” Sirius batted his eyelashes. 

“Merlin, Sirius, you’re such a pain.” Remus huffed as he shoved Sirius. 

“Oh, Remus do it again,” Sirius wiggled closer, making Remus laugh quietly. It had worked, Remus had calmed down and was thinking clearly again. 

“I know what you were doing, thanks.” Remus said, just as something boomed against the door, making it rattle in its hinges. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I meant every word I said.” Sirius cooed as he turned to look worriedly at the door. Whoever was out there started shouting and yelling. More bangs sounded but further away. 

“Ha, ha, Sirius,” Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius snapped his head back. 

“I meant it, Remus,” Sirius said honestly. He leaned over and cupped Remus’s face in his hands. “I meant it,” Remus stilled and cupped Sirius’s face. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, wincing after the words came out, knowing exactly what Sirius was about to say. 

“Since the day I was born,” Remus groaned. “But yes, Remus, I am deadly serious.” He closed the gap between them and kissed Remus on his lips, just as the door flew open. 

“Really guys, we’re out here fighting Death Eaters, and you’re in here making out?” James chortled as he stood dramatically in the doorway with smoke billowing behind him like some sort of action hero. 

“What can I say Prongs, watching Moony handle a wand does things to me.” He smirked, feeling extremely cocky. Remus snorted and Sirius kissed him again. “Come on, Moony, I promised you pancakes.” He took Remus’s hand again and led him from the room they’d been trapped in and out into the night to apparate back to Remus’s flat.

[saltysatellite804]

Woke up and started going into character analysis mode while drinking my coffee. This is about Aizen of course.

Thinking about how much of a loose canon (and lowkey suicidal/fate-tempting) Aizen actually is. He plays it all cool, but he isn't actually always as meticulous as he comes across.

-fused himself with Hogyoku without knowing for sure it was a wish granting jewel (he just suspected). Even disregarding that, he went into battle before it even "understood" him. He had no guarantee it would actually keep him alive. He also had zero guarantee it would bring him back to life after a fatal injury. These were all just hypothetical.

-allowed White to give its powers to a Quincy because he wanted to know what would happen. Total fluke, but he went with it. Presumably, he knows that a Quincy is unlikely to survive this process.

-recruited Kaname knowing he could never control him with Hypnosis.

-risked Gin being by his side knowing he was planning his death because he wanted to "see how he would do it". He even told him how to neutralize his power. He was just like "okay kid, I like you, freebie shot at killing me," !!!. Like omg.

-risked empowering the Vasto Lordes, not knowing if they would become stronger than himself or not (they did not). He even said he suspected they would.

-decided to help Ichigo become stronger, not knowing what would happen

-risked Orihime finding someway to use her power against him (okay this has become more of a headcanon. I like to think he was curious to see if she would actually try to erase Hogyoku).

-furthermore he pits Ichigo against his Espada, not knowing who the victor will be, made 0 effort to keep Ichigo alive.

-completely went power mad and off guard after evolving. He arguably had to have some of those qualities before fusing.

-fought Yhwach with 0 guarantee of success. Put himself in extreme mortal peril to defeat him. Sure it was becoming a very "do or die" situation but it doesnt feel out of character

(Notice how None of his risks went wrong until Ichigo)

There's probably some more things I'm not thinking of.

I was thinking about how Aizen comes across very "a man with nothing to lose". It really matches up with who he is. He has mastered all his powers and there's nothing left because he feels no connection to those around him, no sense of purpose or love or comraderie. It must drive him insane, and make him lose some regard for his own safety, in some sense. So he decides he will keep reaching higher because what else is there. If he cannot be like anyone else, he must go above them. He thinks the current system is fuckin BS but he can't tell anyone because it's illegal to even question the status quo lol. It's almost like fate to him.

But deep down he still wants to fall, wants to fit in like Stark did, wants his own hubris to knock him down like Icarus reaching for the sun. He wants one of these gambles to catch up with him deep down. It's like a fantasy. And he knows it.

[berenwrites]

Quiet - Stranger Things - Steddie - G

Rating: G | cw: none | tags: D&D, future fic, Corroded Coffin made it, Eddie lives, fluff

Prompt: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing (@steddieasitgoes)

A/N: Written for @steddielovemonth day 6. I love the idea of Corroded Coffin being a big name, but still being nerds at heart, so this is what I went with.

Also on AO3 | All My Other Stranger Things Fic

Quiet: But Far From Idle

Eddie tapped his pen against his lips as he tried to come up with a dastardly trap for the D&D campaign he was writing. He could use the laptop, but he’s old school and he likes to write things out by hand. It gave him a chance to doodle at the same time.

The fact D&D had made Corroded Coffin relevant to the youth of today rather than finding them via their music was ironic, but he was not arguing with it. It had been Steve’s idea to record one of the band’s campaign sessions and put it on YouTube with clips on TikTok because D&D had become popular again. The band were still touring, still releasing albums, but the social media thing had brought in a whole new generation of fans.

Their new album was nearly ready for release, so Eddie was writing a campaign that incorporated some of the themes from it. Part fun, part advertising. Their record company had been thrilled by the extra attention and had even planned time into their upcoming tour for filmed D&D nights to keep the fans happy. Writing D&D campaigns was now almost as important as writing new music.

Eddie was having a ball.

He glanced over to where Steve had the other end of their dining room table with various large pieces of paper spread everywhere. Steve had a pink hairband pushing his silver-fox hair back to keep it out of his face and his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose. There was a red pen behind his ear and a green one in his hand, and his tongue was poking between his lips as he concentrated.

It was all utterly adorable.

While Eddie planned fantasy, Steve was going over venue security for the beginning of the tour. Steve took the band’s security very seriously. They had a professional team these days to handle everything, and Steve let them do their jobs, but he always insisted on checking. Gone were the days when their only security was Steve in the corner with his baseball bat. However, Steve couldn’t let it go. It was a hang-up from the Upside Down days when they had had no one to rely on but themselves.

They had both almost died, so Eddie could very much understand Steve’s need to make sure those around him were safe.

Steve liked to go old school with paper and a pen as well, and from the looks of it he had found quite a few things wrong with at least one of the venues. The printed plan was covered in red notes. Eddie smiled to himself, knowing that nothing would ever get past Steve.

“Need anything, Sweetheart?” he asked as Steve changed pens while glaring at the venue plan right in front of him.

His husband looked up, blinked, and then smiled.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Steve said. “How’s the campaign going?”

“They will not know what hit them,” Eddie replied with his best evil grin.

“They never do,” Steve said, glancing back down at the sheet of paper he was currently studying. “You should have a t-shirt made with the old hell-fire logo to make sure everyone knows you’re a demon,” he added as he circled something in red.

Eddie laughed as he lost his husband back to his self-appointed task. He took out his phone and made a quick note to ask Liz, his assistant, about t-shirts before focussing down on his notes again. Steve always had great ideas. It was one of the many reasons Eddie loved him with all his heart. He counted himself one of the luckiest guys on the planet as he went back to quietly planning how to put his best friends into mortal peril.

All My Other Stranger Things Fic