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sm0lprism · 3 months

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Bite-Sized (12) - A BG3 G/t Fanfic

This contains g/t (giant/tiny content) so if that isn't your thing, then I suggest you stop reading. Thank you!

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Summary: Astarion finds Ria unconscious after her encounter with Minthara. The others are still unaware of Ria's whereabouts and it quickly backfires once Astarion returns to camp.

Pairing: Astarion x f!borrower!oc (Tav/oc) (slow-burn)

Warnings: Blood drinking, gore, vampire stuff, swearing/course language.

Word count: 4.3k

Taglist: @alexcutecolly @rose7420 @empressxmachina @taters169 @feral-sins @smolgloves @smolkuriboh27 (if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!)

A rasping, gurgling sound was the only noise that came out of Minthara’s throat as more blood oozed out of the wound. The sweet, metallic scent of blood flooded Astarion’s senses and his stomach lurched. He was so hungry, and the drow was weakened and vulnerable…if he was quick, he could sate his hunger and put an end to her before any of the goblin guards decided to venture into the room.

“Y-You wretch,” Minthara managed to choke out, blood bubbling from her chapped lips as she sent him a scathing look. “Gua-”

Before she could finish her sentence, Astarion lunged towards the drow’s neck and sank his fangs deep into her flesh. He wrenched the dagger free from Minthara’s chest, more blood now gushing out of the raw wound in the process as he drank deeply. Minthara’s knees buckled as Astarion continued to drain her life force, her body growing weaker by the second. A ripple of pleasure shuddered throughout his body as he tasted the drow’s blood on his tongue, it was as rich as wine and it filled his mouth with warmth. He could feel Minthara’s body stiffen as he continued to drink, her pulse becoming weaker with each passing moment as life slipped away from her.

With one final gulp, Minthara’s body went completely limp in his grasp, and her lifeless body slumped to the floor. Astarion licked the delicious crimson off his lips, his stomach somewhat full, at least momentarily until he needed to feed again. His gaze quickly flicked across the floor and saw Ria’s tiny, broken body lying on the solid stone floor. Immediately he rushed towards her small frame, dropping to one knee, he leaned over her and his heart welled.

She was so small, so delicate. He was afraid that if he reached down to touch her, she would shatter into a million pieces. Her body was so battered and broken, one arm in a very awkward and unnatural angle, and her head was bleeding onto the floor. Hastily he rummaged through his small daypack and pulled out a Potion of Healing. Since she was so small, she would only need a tiny drop of the potion to heal. Very carefully he tilted the open bottle over her bruised body and parted her mouth open using the tip of his index finger, being very mindful not to accidentally damage her any further. A small drop splashed onto her mouth, some of it going down her throat, but a lot of it went on her face.

Gods, please be alright!

His chest tightened as he waited anxiously for the potion to take effect. He couldn’t explain why, but a feeling of protectiveness surged throughout his entire body. Never had he felt the need to protect anyone like this, let alone someone so incredibly small. He tried to push the feeling away, but it was terribly persistent, and refused to leave his brain. Perhaps it was the tadpole again, making him feel stupid things about the borrower.

The potion finally began to kick in as the purple bruises on Ria’s skin began to vanish, the bloodied wound on her head healing completely, and her arm shifted back into place until it looked normal again. Moving his ears, he picked up the very faint and small sound of Ria’s heartbeat.

He exhaled deeply, a feeling of relief washing over him, as he continued to listen to the small thump, thump, thump of the borrower’s heartbeat. She was alive.

Thank the gods…

Despite her present pulse and healed wounds, Ria’s little body refused to stir. Very gently he stroked the tip of his finger down her slender arm, but the borrower didn’t move a muscle. His gaze darted around the room, keeping a lookout for any Scrying Eyes or goblins that might notice him standing there. He needed to get out of there quick, before anyone noticed him beside Minthara’s corpse.

Cautiously, he moved Ria’s body into his hands and almost immediately he wanted to bring her closer to his chest. She was so warm, something that he hadn’t felt since he had been turned. The warmth from her tiny body quickly spread throughout his hand, and he cupped her gently against his chest before moving her into his pocket near his breast. There was a part of him that wanted to hold her in his hand for longer, but he knew now was not the time nor the place for anything like that.

“Astarion!”

The pale elf stiffened as he watched Gale, Karlach, and Wyll enter the room. All three of them stared at him dumbfoundingly, their jaws slack open as their eyes trailed over to Minthara’s bloodied corpse on the stone floor.

“Gods, Astarion, you couldn’t wait to kill someone before we got here?” Karlach exclaimed, striding over towards where the dead drow lay.

A small exhale parted from his lips as he realised that none of them had walked in when he had healed Ria. They were all still completely unaware of the small borrower now tucked safely in his breast pocket, and that relaxed his nerves slightly.

“What can I say? I just couldn’t help myself,” Astarion answered, licking the remnants of drow blood off his lips.

“Clearly not,” Karlach remarked.

“Fortunately, we need to kill all three of the goblin leaders if we want to help the tieflings in the grove,” Wyll said. “We managed to free the archdruid, Halsin, but we told him to wait in the worg pens until we had cleared out the camp.” He leaned down, inspecting the drow’s corpse. “Minthara was one of them. That means we just have Dror Ragzlin and Priestess Gut to finish off.”

“Well, I’ve just made that easier for all of us,” Astarion said somewhat smugly. “Now all we need to do is kill two more leaders and some goblins. Sounds like a great lot of fun if you ask me.”

“You weren’t seen by anyone, were you?” Gale asked, glancing around the room somewhat anxiously. “There are Scrying Eyes about, not to mention goblins everywhere. I hope you were careful.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and heaved a loud sigh. “Please, Gale, sneaking around unseen is one of my many talents. Killing the drow quietly was like taking candy from a gnome.”

“Fair point, Astarion.” Gale paused as his hazel eyes suddenly grew very wide. “By Mystra, we forgot to press Minthara for questions!”

Karlach’s face immediately fell upon hearing the wizard’s words. “Oh no, we fucking did! Shit, I promised Ria that we would do it and everything! She’s going to be so disappointed…”

“Astarion, please tell me that you pressed the drow for answers?” Wyll asked the pale elf, his gaze hardening. “This was very important for her.”

Astarion bit his lip as he racked his brain to think of what to say. He hadn’t managed to overhear Ria’s conversation with the drow, as he arrived just before she had fired a bolt of electricity out of her fingers. That was another thing as well, the fact that the borrower could do magic was truly something unusual and very unexpected. He would have to question Ria about that later.

“I do have some Speak with the Dead scrolls in my daypack,” Gale quickly said, rummaging around in his pack for the scroll.

“N-no, it’s quite alright,” Astarion swiftly interjected, realising that if they used the Speak with the Dead spell, they would discover that Ria had been there all along with Minthara. “I got all the information that Ria needed. I’ll tell her when we’re back at camp.”

All three of them exchanged glances between each other, staring quizzically at Astarion.

“You really did that?” Wyll questioned.

“That was awfully nice of you Fangs,” Karlach said, her golden eyes widening.

“I am capable of doing the right thing from time to time,” Astarion replied. “Let’s get going, shall we? We have a lot of goblins left to kill and I’m still feeling rather peckish.”

Gale eyed up the pale elf with searing scepticism, his brown gaze almost boring into the vampire’s skull as he tried to decipher his words. Unfortunately for the wizard, Astarion was an expert when it came to lying.

“I was pretty certain you hated Ria,” Gale said, his eyes narrowing. “It seems very odd to me that you would go out of your way to help her like that.”

“Well, what can I say? Even a little borrower can have its charms,” Astarion said smoothly, a grin plastering itself across his angular features. “I thought it was the least that I could do, after everything that I’ve put her through.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Gale responded, scepticism still evident on his face, but it had lessened to a degree.

“I think we should really discuss this back at camp,” Wyll said firmly, his eyes scanning the room somewhat frantically. “Goblins could walk in any second now and we have a lot of work to do.”

“You’re right Wyll,” Gale answered, heaving a small sigh. “Let’s get going then.”

As the four of them left the room, Astarion’s hand hovered protectively over the small passenger that was resting soundly in his pocket. Perhaps he was growing soft, or the tadpole was affecting his judgement, but he couldn’t deny that his undead heart was filled with worry for the tiny borrower. He could only hope that she would wake up soon, otherwise he would have a lot of explaining to do when they got back to camp.

***

“Tsk’va! Shadowheart, you will return what rightfully belongs to me!” Lae’zel growled fiercely, her hands balled into fists as she glared at the half-elf.

“You are utterly deluded to believe that it belongs to you of all people,” Shadowheart snapped back, tossing her ebony braid over her shoulder dismissively. “I won’t warn you again.”

Astarion and the others had returned to camp after successfully freeing the archdruid Halsin and eliminating the goblin leaders. Halsin had left to go inform Zevlor of the news and to deal with the druid, Kagha, and prevent her and the rest of the druids from completing the ritual in the Emerald Grove. Now Astarion, Gale, Karlach, and Wyll stared at the event that was transpiring before their very eyes. Lae’zel and Shadowheart were at each other’s throats, most likely squabbling over the artefact that Shadowheart had been carrying with her since the Nautiloid crash.

While everyone else was at a loss for words, Astarion couldn’t help himself but to smile at the drama that was unfolding.

“Oh, this does look quite a show,” Astarion smirked. “It seems we came back at just the right time.”

“What in the Nine Hells are you two doing?” Wyll exclaimed, pushing himself in between the githyanki and the cleric. “Get a hold of yourselves!”

“Shadowheart carries an heirloom of my people. I demand she return it to me at once and explain why in the name of the mother gith that she even has it!” Lae’zel hissed, her lips curling back to reveal pointed teeth.

“I’ve said this already, it has nothing to do with her,” Shadowheart persisted.

“Lies!” Lae’zel retorted. “This has everything to do with me. Now hand it to me if you ever want to see the light of day again.”

“Stop this, please!” Karlach pleaded, rushing in towards them but being mindful to keep her distance. “Shadowheart, this isn’t worth any bloodshed. Can’t you and Lae’zel meet somewhere in the middle?”

Shadowheart’s dark eyes flicked to the tiefling, and her gaze immediately softened. There was a change in her expression, as if she was suddenly feeling conflicted now that Karlach was asking her to stop. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words mustered from her lips. Heaving a defeated sigh, she turned to look directly at Lae’zel.

“Let’s leave this, shall we? There’s no point in fighting over something like this when we have the pressing issue of these tadpoles in our brains,” Shadowheart said calmly.

A growl resonated in the back of Lae’zel’s throat, her gaze so sharp it could cut through diamonds as she glared at the cleric standing before her.

“Chk! You think something like this can be settled with just words? No, honour demands I take something from you.”

“Why don’t we wait until tomorrow to sort this debacle out? We’ll be hosting a party tonight and both of your tempers will be cool enough by tomorrow,” Wyll commented. “There is no need for fighting amongst ourselves. We can’t afford to given our condition.”

“I doubt the gith’s wits will be any sharper by then,” Shadowheart retorted.

“I do not wish to spill blood here,” Lae’zel interjected, staring intensely at the cleric with distaste. “Come daylight, we will find a place to end this.”

“No, you will absolutely not be ending anything!” Karlach shouted, her skin illuminating vibrant flickers of orange fire as her engine flared. “Listen to Wyll. There is no need for any of this. Please.”

“I do apologise for interrupting,” Gale suddenly said, who had been completely quiet up until now. “But may I ask where our borrower guest is? I don’t see her anywhere.”

Astarion felt his stomach drop like a stone.

The entire camp went deathly quiet as everyone processed Gale’s words, and soon everyone was staring at both Lae’zel and Shadowheart for answers.

“We…we haven’t seen her since you left this morning,” Shadowheart said breathlessly, panic seeping into her voice. “I assumed she had just returned to her tent.”

For the first time since Astarion had met Lae’zel, the gith looked anxious. It was unusual to see her so stressed about something given her stone cold and ruthless demeanour towards most things. But right at that moment, the harsh façade she usually displayed was fracturing at the edges as worry quickly spread across her features.

“Ria!” Lae’zel cried out, immediately rushing to the borrower’s small tent. “Are you there? Answer me!”

When Lae’zel was met with nothing, she tentatively opened the flap of the tent with a clawed finger.

“She isn’t there,” Lae’zel breathed heavily, stepping away from the reduced tent rather numbly.

“Both of you were meant to be keeping watch at camp while we were gone,” Wyll said sternly. “What in the Nine Hells were you doing? Didn’t you stop and think where Ria was amidst all this?”

“Truthfully, we didn’t,” Shadowheart answered grimly. “We were…distracted.”

“Oh gods, I hope she’s okay,” Karlach said, scanning around the camp frantically. “She’s so small, anything could’ve happened to her! What if an animal got her?”

While the rest of the group frantically searched for Ria, Astarion remained silent as his stomach twisted into knots. If he pulled Ria out of his pocket now, he would be in for a hell of a beating from just about everyone, especially Lae’zel. In fact, he’d be lucky if he even survived. For now, the best course of action was to keep to himself and wait for the right moment to remove Ria from his pocket when she was awake and not in the presence of the rest of the group.

He swallowed thickly, freezing in place like a statue when he felt the dagger dislodge itself from his gums and slip towards his throat.

Shit! Not now!

The sharp blade stabbed his throat which instantly triggered his gag reflex. Instinctively he began to cough harshly, the blade jostling free from his throat and onto the soft expanse of his tongue. Without thinking, he spat the dagger out into the palm of his hand, releasing a small sigh now that the stabbing pain in his mouth and throat was gone.

Astarion quickly realised what a grave mistake that was.

He had caught the eyes of everyone in camp from coughing, and now all his companions were staring at him intently with shock as all of them gazed at the tiny dagger in the centre of his palm.

“Is that…” Shadowheart murmured softly, her eyes widening with horror as she stared at Astarion’s palm.

“That is Ria’s dagger,” Wyll said grimly, his eyes dark.

“No…not Ria,” Gale whispered softly, his face contorted in disbelief and horror. “Astarion, how could you do that?”

“Hold on, it’s not what it looks like,” Astarion said breathlessly as everyone started to crowd around him. “You must believe me. I didn’t hurt her, I swear it-!”

“Astarion, why the fuck would you do that?!” Karlach exclaimed loudly, tears beginning to swell in her eyes. “She was just a little borrower! She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Karlach, please, calm down,” Astarion said. “I can honestly say that I did not hurt her. I know this looks bad, but, please, believe me.”

Ignoring the vampire spawn’s words, Karlach rushed towards him and crouched down so that she was eye-level with Astarion’s stomach. The tears that spilled from her eyes were almost evaporated into steam in an instant, creating a small cloud of mist around the tiefling’s head.

“Hold on soldier, we’re going to get you out of there!” Karlach shouted at Astarion’s stomach in between sobs. “Just hold on tight! You’ll be okay!”

“I swear I did not eat her!” Astarion protested. “If you just let me, I’ll tell you everything!”

“That will not be necessary,” Lae’zel’s cold voice cut through the still air like a knife through butter. “It is painstakingly obvious what you have done. I will fillet you, Astarion, and rip out your spinal cord and wear it as a necklace once I have freed Ria from your wretched insides.”

Lae’zel unsheathed her longsword and pointed it directly at Astarion. She was poised like a venomous snake, ready to strike him down at any moment.

“Move, Karlach,” Lae’zel hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes blazing with pure fury.

“Hold on, you might hurt her!” Karlach turned to face Lae’zel, her eyes puffy from crying. “We have to do this carefully if we want to get her out alive.”

“I could extract her with magic,” Gale chimed in, his hands glowing with the essence of the Weave as he began to prepare a spell. “Sit tight, Astarion, this won’t hurt a bit – but don’t think we’re going to let you off so easily. We will unleash Lae’zel and all her fury onto you once Ria is safe.”

“Chk, fine.” Lae’zel angrily sheathed her sword, not taking her seething gaze off Astarion. “I will destroy you for this, spawn.”

“Please, just listen to me!” Astarion yelled at the top of his lungs. If his undead heart could beat, it would be threatening to tear itself out of his chest right at that very moment. “For the last time, I did not eat her! If you would just allow me to explain, I can tell you what happened.”

“I think you’ve said enough, Astarion,” Shadowheart remarked. “We all know how badly you wanted to eat her since she first arrived in the camp.”

As his companions inched closer towards him, something stirred in Astarion’s breast pocket. He glanced down and saw Ria’s tiny head pop out of the lip of his pocket, her blue eyes blinking as she slowly came to her senses. Relief immediately flooded through him upon seeing Ria’s tired face staring at everyone around her. The healing potion had worked and now she was finally conscious again, and just at the right time.

“W-What…” Ria murmured, her voice thick with sleep as she drank in her surroundings. “What is going on? What happened?”

A hushed silence fell over the entire camp as everyone processed what was happening. A few seconds passed as nobody said anything, everyone was too stunned to even muster a word.

“She’s alive,” Wyll finally said. “Astarion was telling the truth after all.”

“Thank Mystra!” Gale cried, lowering his hands as the magic of the Weave left his fingertips, relief spreading across his face. “Perhaps we jumped to conclusions a little too quickly.”

“Thank the gods!” Karlach exclaimed, wiping the evaporating tears from her eyes. “She’s fine…fuck, I was almost ready to tear your head off Astarion.”

Astarion grimaced as the image of Karlach ripping his head off and Lae’zel tearing his spine out flashed through his brain vividly. He was glad that Ria chose to wake up when she did, otherwise he would’ve met a very gruesome fate.

Lae’zel’s expression relaxed, the burning scowl from her features mostly vanished but the gith was still staring at the pale elf intently. “Chk. Tell us, Astarion, why do you have Ria in your pocket?”

“Wait, you brought Ria to the Goblin Camp?” Karlach spluttered.

I suppose this was unavoidable…

He pressed his lips together thinly before inhaling a steady breath. “Yes, fine, I took her with me. But she wanted to come. All of you didn’t want her to come along, and this was important to her, so I was a gentleman and obliged her.” He flashed a small grin, but no one reciprocated it.

“Gods above, Astarion, we were going to find out the information for her!” Gale snapped, pushing towards the spawn. “It was incredibly dangerous and stupid for you to bring her along with you, didn’t you think about that? She could’ve been seriously hurt, or even worse!”

“I realise that,” Astarion hissed, his fangs flashing for a small moment as he glared at the wizard. “But this is what she wanted. And she’s perfectly fine.”

“Why don’t we ask Ria that?” Wyll said coldly.

Ria, who was still safely tucked in Astarion’s pocket, was still blinking away confusion over what was happening. Everyone fell silent as they all waited for the borrower to respond.

“Um…” Ria rasped. “I…I did go with Astarion. It was my choice.”

“But how did your dagger end up in Astarion’s mouth?” Shadowheart questioned, quirking a brow. “That is a very peculiar place for your dagger to be, and I hardly think Astarion was holding it in there to keep it warm for you.”

Astarion stiffened as his breath caught in his throat. Just how much of the truth was Ria going to say? Would she tell them everything that happened or will she lie? He hated to think what Lae’zel would do to him if she found out that he had put Ria in his jaws unwillingly. He chewed the bottom of his lip nervously as he waited with bated breath for the borrower to answer.

“I-I…” Ria stammered, her cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. “I’d rather not talk about it, please. I’m tired. Can’t we discuss this later? It’s been…one hell of a day.”

“I agree, we should discuss this later,” Wyll said, his gaze softening upon seeing how exhausted Ria was. “It’s been a long day for all of us. Besides, the tiefling’s and the archdruid will be here soon.”

“W-What?” Ria coughed, her eyes widening with shock. “What do you mean?”

“After we defeated the goblin leaders, Zevlor, the leader of the tieflings in the grove, offered to celebrate by throwing a party for us,” Gale explained. “They will most likely be here any minute now.”

Ria’s jaw slacked open as she digested Gale’s words and her eyes grew very wide. “They’ll be here…any minute?!” Her breath hitched and Astarion could feel her squirm against his chest. “Put me on the ground. Now.”

Astarion pinched Ria’s waist in between his index finger and thumb and placed her softly on the ground below. Before anyone could say anything to the borrower, she immediately sprinted away from everyone as fast as she could.

“Ria,” Astarion said softly, his chest tightened as he watched her scamper away.

Lae’zel looked conflicted, as if she was silently debating whether to chase after her or not, but the gith did not move from her spot.

“I think it’s best that we leave her for now,” Wyll said.

“Poor little thing,” Karlach murmured, her gaze forlorn.

“It may have been an oversight that we didn’t consult Ria first about having the party,” Gale commented, his brows furrowed. “Being surrounding by seven giants is one thing, but dozens of them? Now that is quite a difference.”

Wyll nodded in agreement. “It was a bit selfish of us not to think of her. But there isn’t a lot we can do about it now; we should start to get ready."

While the rest of the group began to prepare for the evening ahead, Astarion’s thoughts were distracted. A part of him wanted to go follow Ria, and he surprised himself that he even felt the need to go after her at all. He had put her through a lot today to say the least, and he wasn’t sure what information she had managed to pry from the drow. Hopefully she had found out what she wanted to know, although perhaps it hadn’t been the answers she had been looking for.

It wasn’t long before the druid, Halsin, and Zevlor with his group of tieflings arrived. They brought plenty of wine and food, much to Astarion’s delight. While he would much prefer to be drinking blood, he could make do with some wine for the time being. Not like he could taste much anyway given his vampiric nature. He swiftly opened a bottle of wine with ease and pressed it to his lips. It had to be better than the goblin beer he had the misfortune of tasting earlier that day. His expression quickly soured as the foul taste of vinegar spread across his tastebuds and he lowered the bottle in disappointment. Oh, what he would do for goblet full of blood.

Still clutching the wine bottle in his hand, his gaze scanned across the camp as cheers of celebration filled the night air. He hadn’t seen Ria since she had run off and worry began to flicker deep inside his chest as he thought about her. Shaking his head lightly, he attempted to dismiss the thought festering in his brain, but it refused to leave.

There was no use in pushing it away anymore, he had to find her. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he honed in on her scent amidst the tieflings and began his search.

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coffee-at-daybreak · 1 year

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burning | vilkas x reader

this is very enemies to lovers-esque, i find that trope fitting for vilkas. there is some mild steam thrown in but nothing too suggestive. im just very sick and sleepless rn so i had to crank something out to keep me sane :} hope you guys like it!

"You got lucky this time," you say as you finally finish wrapping the gauze around Farkas's hand. "That sword could have cut much deeper."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing we've got you on standby," he responds gruffly, flexing his palm. The dusky white bandage sits firmly against his skin. He gives you a wide grin. "Thank you, Harbinger."

You nod. "You're welcome. Just... don't make it a habit, yeah?"

Farkas chuckles. "Course. I'll be more careful. See you." He turns and heads back to the training field outside of Jorrvaskr, where he joins Ria's side as they watch Athis and Torvar engage in a practice sparring session. The approaching dusk is bringing a chill to the air, yet the Companions continue their training like nothing.

As you gather the materials you were just using to patch up Farkas's hand, you feel a tingling sensation crawling along your scalp. Someone's glare is practically digging daggers into your skin. You turn around to make your way back into the building, and you lock eyes with Vilkas, who stands next to the door with his back leaning against the wall and his arms folded across his chest.

His gaze reminds you of being hit with an ice spike spell: shards of piercing, pale blue striking right through you and leaving you momentarily breathless. You break eye contact, but the prickling feeling of his eyes on you follows you even when you slip through the door and into the building.

You head for one of the shelves in the corner to put away the bandages and anti-infection salves you used. You hear footsteps coming in behind you.

"How'd he hurt himself this time?" Vilkas asks.

You peer at him over your shoulder. His gaze is averted, pretending to adjust the rug on the floor with his boot. Not so glare-y now, is he?

"It was a sword, from his spar session with Njada." You step away from the shelf and brush past him as you head for the staircase leading into the living quarters below. "She's getting better. She gave him a pretty nasty cut this time."

Vilkas scoffs. "Didn't look nasty enough to need you there working on him for that long."

You stop in your tracks and whip around. This time, his eyes flick up to meet yours. The tingling sensation returns to your skin, except now, it spreads beyond just your head, running down your spine.

"Excuse me?" You cross your arms. "He was hurt, and I knew how to patch it up quick."

"Yes, so does Tilma," Vilkas protests, referring to the elderly servant who is often around tending to the Companions. He tilts his head, eyeing you intently. "Yet you always seem eager to step up first."

Heat floods the tips of your ears. "I'm the Harbinger. Part of my job is looking after the others."

"Yes, yes, I'm not denying that." The Nord waves his hand loosely. "Just pointing it out. This is the third time this has happened, you know?"

You snort. "What, you're keeping track now?" You narrow your eyes. "Hang on. You're jealous."

The eye roll you get in return is equal parts infuriating and attractive. "Please. Don't be childish," he mutters.

You ignore him and play the dangerous game of poking him further. "You know you can get yourself hurt around me, too." You crack a super sweet, super fake smile. "If you ask nicely, I might patch you up."

"I would rather bleed out and die, thank you."

You shake your head, looking away in exasperation. That has to be the cause for your heart rate rising and your temperature climbing. He is exasperating.

"I'm just looking out for him," Vilkas speaks up. When you glance at him, you realize he has stepped closer. You stare back at his storm-colored eyes, as intimidating as they are. "I don't want him making the mistake of getting tangled up with you."

You almost laugh at that, and bite your lip to keep from smiling. Vilkas's eyes dart down for just a second before meeting your own. You try to pretend like that gesture doesn't make your heart skitter.

"Give him some credit, he's smarter than that," you say. "He's just a friend. Not that you know what that is, you ray of sunshine, you."

His jaw clenches, and you watch the muscles of his neck flex as he swallows. Whatever insult he had ready, he thought better of it. A rush of victory swells in your chest.

But you see a flicker of something in his eyes, and there's a sinking sensation in your belly. Amongst the hard, icy emotions of that glare, there's something much softer. Something vulnerable, something you can't pinpoint but you recognize all the same, because it's something you've felt as well.

This is how it's been for a long time, too damn long. You hide behind your quips and your insults because you're afraid to face reality. The heavy, heart-wrenching reality that you have feelings for each other. To everyone else, it looks like you hate each other, when really, you hate how much you love each other.

"It's hard to be a ray of sunshine when you're a godsforsaken pain in my ass," Vilkas growls, and takes another step closer.

You should step back, you should. But the proximity of his body near yours traps you in place, and eventually, draws you in. You dare to lean closer.

"Well, I would stop, if it wasn't oddly entertaining," you murmur. "You are easy to rile up."

"You haven't seen me truly riled up."

The eye contact is searing your skin and blood, yet you don't dare break it. The voice in your mind is now screaming at you - back away, push him away, just move.

But there is also a voice telling you to grab him, to pull into him, to surrender. It takes all the effort in the world to resist.

"Not yet, maybe," you jab. "How do I get there? Do I have to patch up more muscular men?"

"Shut up," he warns, a hiss through his teeth.

"Or should I head to the inn and-"

You don't even get to finish your incessant babbling before his hand reaches for the back of your neck. You don't flinch - in fact, you let him pull you in and crash his lips against your own.

It's exactly as you imagined it, which embarrassingly, you did a lot. It's rough and firm and electrifying. His breath is hot as it mingles with your own, his stubble scraping the skin around your mouth. Your hands subconsciously claw at his torso, pulling him as close as you can, until you feel his chest against your own, drawing in the same heavy breaths that you are. His free hand grasps your hip, and your breath hitches briefly before he is plunging back in with a kiss so hard that his teeth skim over your bottom lip.

There is that hot, searing fire you always feel around him, coursing through your entire being. Burning hatred, burning desire. No difference right now, just one overwhelming inferno.

Muffled voices and laughter approach the doors a few feet away from you. Just as quickly as it happened, Vilkas lets you go. He steps back in two long strides just as the door opens.

Ria was busy giggling at something Torvar said, but she is quick to notice the tension in the room. "Woah. What's going on?" She looks between you and Vilkas. "You two look like you're about to kill each other."

You can't come up with a reasonable response, not when you're still trying to catch your breath, when your lips are still tingling with sparks and your mind is still in a white-hot daze. All you can do for a second is foolishly stare at Vilkas.

He glares back at you. Icy eyes that don't cool you down, but only make you feel warmer.

"Just a mild disagreement," he says, looking to Ria with surprising calm. Then he looks back at you. "But we'll settle it later."

Then he turns and walks away, like nothing happened. You almost huff out a breath of awe.

The other Companions pile in, chattering excitedly and ready to start preparing for dinner. You finally manage to move, your legs still feeling a little unsteady, but you try to help the others anyway, and try to keep hating him, even though now you think you love him more than ever.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #tesv #dragonborn #vilkas #reader insert #tes #dovahkiin #elder scrolls skyrim #fanfic #gender neutral reader

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blueberrypancakesworld · 7 months

Note

Hey there @blueberrypancakesworld I just wondering if you could maybe do a lost boys fic, where the boys are being very loud and having a adrenaline high decision to make a visit to the Emerson’s house to get Michael to hung out with them, but they wake up Lucy and try to get them to calm down, so out of options Lucy decides to sing them a lullaby which the boys laugh at the idea that a lullaby would get them to sleep, so to make it more challenging they challenge each other to not sleep before dawn!

If you want to do it! 😅

A Lullaby for sleep

warning : fluff, implied killing, The lost boys x Michael implied

Info : Hey my dear @ria-coolgirl thank you for the request it was reaally about time to get another tlb request and such a cute one. Have fun reading and everyone else too ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was like a drug every time she drank the blood it wasn't just incredibly intoxicating it was also incredibly exciting as if adrenaline was flowing through her actually dead body again.

The veir races flew around Sante Carla, looking for new victims, playing pranks or simply smoking another joint only to come down again and against the blood. But like everyone on drugs, they came up with stupid ideas.

,,How about we go out like Michael… have a little fun, the night is still young," suggested Marko with a broad grin, flying around David, who was dragging on his cigarette, the smoke of the nicotine mixing with Paul's as they flew over the beach parking lot, where they had not found a car that they could take together Unfortunately, there was no snack that they could take with them, so they had already helped themselves to a few more.

,,He loves to fly," Paul joined in and Dwayne nodded a gesture that David saw in the corner of his eye before flicking his cigarette away and announcing,

,,Well then, off to see our sweet Micheal!" and a yelp was heard as the four of them flew to the family. Laughter and shouts could be heard as they arrived at the window of Lucy's eldest son. As he should be, Michael was still awake, looking up from his computer screen and smiling as he saw his friends.

,,Boys! Come on in," he said, hurrying to the bedroom and the four of them floated in, even though the room was getting a little crowded with Dwayne leaning against the wardrobe, Marko and Pauul sitting on the bed and David standing with Michael, the boys didn't mind. On the contrary, discussions broke out, jokes were told and Michael talked about the time the four of them slept.

,,Come on, let's go to the new place where we had a snack!" shouted Paul, grabbing Michael's hand and the four of them were about to disappear from the bedroom when the door to the man's room flew open and an angry Lucy stood in the doorway. Her hair was a shock of white turquoise and she was wearing an evening coat.

,,Michael Emerson, David, Dwayne, Paul and Marko! I'm human and I want to sleep just like your brother and grandfather and you're not going to some place in the middle of nowhere, you're staying here!" she shouted as quietly as she could and closed the door behind her, pushing past the five of them before closing the window again.

,,Miss Em-" David tried to placate her, but Lucy just raised her finger and gestured for the five of them to go somewhere. This made Dwayne smile, especially as he hadn't said anything yet and was very happy to leave himself on the bed.

,,You're all wound up from…eating so how about a good old lullaby and you could spend the day hanging from the ceiling here or down in the basement-I mean stay," she suggested and turned off the light as the giggles of the five made her sigh.

,,Mom you can try I guess" Michael mumbled and made himself comfortable on his bed before Dwayne said ,,Make it more interesting the first one to fall asleep has to fetch food for the others" he suggested and the boys even Michael seemed convinced before everyone listened to Lucy's voice and lay down comfortably and tried not to fall asleep of course.

Only that minutes later, at sunrise, the mother had a band of five snoring boys in the room where she pulled out with a grin, knowing she was pulling on every kid. The soothing song of a mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@misslavenderlady

#the lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko

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cardansriddle · 6 months

Text

Gilded Serendipity - (tom riddle x oc)

Part 3/10: "False God"

Story summary: A summer meant to be spent in the tranquil seaside mansion of Rosier's was not supposed to sway hearts like rustling leaves. Sereia Nova was most definitely not supposed to feel drawn to Tom Riddle. Yet August had a way of weaving chaos and desire together, only to dissolve into the shadows, leaving behind a bittersweet aftermath- an ephemeral illusion of love.

(gif not mine)

PART 1 PART 2

chapter warnings: sensual themes.

A/N: took me a whileee but here is the third part!!

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

The subconscious was always a bitter thing. It liked playing wicked games with its owner, taking the things the person did not want to think about out of that pocket of forbidden thoughts and bringing it to the very front of the mind.

Sereia was cursing her brain as she was hurriedly descending the stairs. Her mind was cruel, replaying the night before like a broken film reel, unrelenting in its vividity. She could still feel the ghost of his touch trailing illicit whispers along her skin. The shape of his lips haunted her own.

She was going insane, and there was nothing she could do to put an end to it. With that one kiss, Tom had sunk his fangs deep into her vein, poisoning her blood with the feel of him so she would not dare forget it. Sereia had spent a good hour in the bath, scrubbing her skin raw until it was red and irritated, yet his touch remained imprinted. No amount of effort could wash away his claim.

"Merlin's beard, Ria, did you sleep at all? You look like...death."

She huffed and shot him a sharp glare. "Not in the mood, Tony.""

"Woah, alright. Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today." He grumbled, putting his hands up as if to surrender. The witch was half-tempted to hit him, but stopped when Walburga entered the room with a sly smirk curling on her lips.

"Who woke up in your bed?" She questioned. Her eyes flicked to Sereia, and they suddenly shone with mirth. "Our Sereia here? It was about time."

Sereia's cheeks flushed at her comment, and she helplessly looked at Antoine to say something. But before he could utter a word, Avery strutted into the room.

"What was about time?" He asked lazily, barely attempting to cover his mouth as he yawned. "Well?"

"Sereia and Antoine here. Apparently they were up to no good last night." The brunette winked cheekily, and shot her an approving smile. "I must say, dear Ria, I did not know you had it in you. Always thought you were a prude."

Sereia was sure her whole face was the same shade as the maroon wine Avery was holding in his hand. The boy stared between them for a moment, before frowning. "Salazar's spit, Antoine. I wanted to woo her this summer." He paused, as if reconsidering, and then strode towards the girl. She barely registered more people filing into the room as he leaned closer to her. "But, I assure you, should you fall into my arms, I will make you see the stars. I am much better company in bed than Antoine."

"Avery, enough." Tony warned from next to her.

Walburga laughed. "Well, Avery, Abraxas, you owe me ten galleons. They fucked before winter."

I buried my face in my palms. "Tony!"

"Everyone, shut it. Sereia and I most definetely did not fuck. So please, shut your mouths."

"But—"

"You misheard, Walburga. She did not sleep in my bed. We are strictly platonic."

The girl seemed to recover from her embarassed state and added. "Exactly. It's more of a he's my brother type of situation and what you all are suggesting is— it's just gross."

She lifted her chin, attempting to rid herself of the embarassment and mortification that the conversation had caused. Straightening her spine, she regarded eeryone around her. They all looked either amused or confused. When her eyes met Riddle's, she had to surpress her shudder at the intensity behind his heated gaze. She could not quite read his expression, but the displeasure was as evident as ever. Flashes of the previous night suddenly invaded her mind, and she had to avert her gaze quickly lest she blushed once more.

Clapping his hands, and snapping the girl from her brief memory lane, Antoine drew the attention to himself. "Great, let us end this conversation now!" He questioned from beside her, and she felt the ghost of his fingers brushing against her elbow in reassurance. Her gaze subconsciously saught Riddle's, and when she saw the dark look he was shooting to where Antoine's hand was touching, the girl stepped aside. Her friend shot her a confused look, but she just shrugged.

"Can we eat now that that's settled?" She rose an expectant brow, gesturing towards the table that had already been set and filled with food. Avery was the first to break the pregnant silence, huffing and puffing about how he was starving. Seria shared a look with Antoine before following Avery's lead and taking a seat. As she placed some fruits onto her plate, the chair beside her was pulled back and she could feel before she could see that it was Riddle. It was bizarre— the way she could simply feel the air still whenever she was in his presence. It was like the very atmosphere was telling— no— warning her that he was near, that she should brace herself to face him.

His clothed arm brushed hers as he shifted, and the girl had to resist the urge to shiver.

"Salazar's spit, Riddle, are you not parched in those clothes?" Antoine suddenly questioned, and suddenly all eyes were on the wizard.

"Some people have the decency not to walk around naked, Rosier. Perhaps you should take notes." Walburga muttered snidely.

"It was the middle of the night! Am I supposed to walk in a whole three-piece suit at the crack of dawn?"

"A shirt and sleeping pants would suffice."

"Can you cut it out? This is making me lose my appetite." Abraxas grumbled abruptly, his voice slicing through the escalating bickering. A smirk of triumph flashed across his face as the table fell into a silence. He grabbed his cutlery and digged into his breakfast aggressively.

Sereia, feeling a lack of appetite, mechanically nibbled on assorted fruits. She tuned out Lestrange and Rosier as they began squabbling again about another matter she did not care to know. She was about to reach for her goblet when a warm breath tickled her cheek, drawing her attention.

"Had I known you'd run to Rosier to finish what I started, perhaps I would not have let you slip away so easily, little siren." Tom whispered lowly, Tom murmured, his lips grazing the curve of her ear with each syllable. The girl try as she might, could not help the shudder that ran through her body.

He noticed. Of course, he did. He never missed a thing. Yet, before he could revel in his discernment, she retorted, her voice a low hiss meant to avoid alarming the others nearby. "How dare you?" she countered, struggling to keep her voice subdued. She truly could not believe the nerve of him to imply such a thing. "I did not run to anyone. Antoine and I certainly did not spend the night together, so I'd appreciate if you refrained from implying that I'm a whore."

"I never said that."

"You implied it."

"I did not."

"Whatever. But if we are talking about whores, why not talk about you?" She turned her head to meet his gaze squarely. "You are the resident whore of Hogwarts, perhaps second place to Avery, or maybe you just hide it better." She watched as surprise flickered across his features for a fleeting moment before he swiftly masked it, as if it had never been there at all. "I will not be a plaything, Riddle. While you may find amusement in Walburga, you will not find me so compliant," she declared, her tone firm, before redirecting her attention to the others at the table. Meanwhile, Tom studied her profile, a barely perceptible smirk tugging at his lips. She was a fiery little thing, and oh how he relished a challenge.

Not used not having the last word, he leaned to whisper in her ear once again. "You may resist all you want, but I will have you succumb to me." he murmured, his gaze searching her face for a reaction. She responded with a smirk, but she did not deign to meet his eyes.

"Maybe I will consider it... if you beg."

He laughed loudly at that, genuinely amused at her bravery. Everyone at the table suddenly diverted their attention towards them, disbelief flashing across their features at seeing Riddle laugh.

"Is he—"

"Salazar's spit..."

"What's so funny?"

Tom hummed softly, a languid smile lingering on his lips as he casually draped an arm over the back of Sereia's chair. She clenched her teeth in frustration at his nearness, struggling to push aside the unwelcome flood of thoughts crowding her mind. "Miss Nova here has a good sense of humour, that is all."

Sereia lowered her gaze, avoiding the curious stares of those around her, and brought her goblet to her lips in a feeble attempt to distract herself.

"Sereia—"

The girl sprung from her seat with far more enthusiasm than was necessary. "Time to go for a swim!" she declared with a forced smile, her discomfort palpable, before hastily departing from the table, nearly breaking into a run as she fled the house.

Walburga's gaze shifted to Tom, flickering between the self-satisfied, lazy grin etched on his face and the intensity of his gaze fixed on the doorway through which Sereia had hastily departed through mere moments ago.

"Look at little Sereia starting to charm boys." Abraxas snorted, looking at Antoine with a mirthful smile. "You will have to work overtime to ward off the boys now, mate."

"Shut it. I do not do anything of the sort. She is free to court whomever she likes whenever she likes." He paused, rethinking his words. "Except you all."

"Really? How about the time in third year you hexed Arnold because he kissed her on the cheek?" Avery rose a brow.

"Or the time in fourth year you petrified that git who was going on a date with her?" Malfoy added.

"Remember when—"

"Alright! Alright! So fucking be it! None of you are allowed to pursue anything romantic, sexual— especially sexual— relations with her. Off-limits!"

"Mate, that's unfair! She's not even your sister, you can't put a ban like that!" Avery whined, rolling his eyes in a very exaggerated manner.

"She is like my little sister in every manner except by blood."

Dahlia Greengrass pouted, looking affronted at the way the wizards were behaving. "Leave it be, everyone. Would you rather ruin your friendship with Antoine by pursuing Sereia? The entirety is Hogwarts isn't enough for you all to corrupt?" She questioned. "Leave the poor girl alone."

Riddle observed the scene unfolding with a curious glint in his eyes.

"Thank you, Dahlia." Antoine said gratefully. "Now that everything is loud and clear, let's go join Ria before she starts wondering what took us so long."

Everyone muttered their agreement as they stood.

"Tom, would you like to head to the library first?" Walburga asked as everyone started filing out of the room.

Tom glanced at the witch momentarily before looking away distractedly. "I shall like to rest for a bit before rejoining the company." He did not wait for a reply before striding away in the opposite direction.

Walburga watched his retreating back, the familiar bitter taste feeling her mouth as it always did whenever he disregarded her in such a belittling manner. She begrudgingly followed after the group, glancing back one last time in hopes that Tom also would, but he had already disappeared up the stairs, and the girl heaved a sigh in disappointment.

Her sharp gaze fixated on the distant figure, observing as the girl who managed to coax a rare laugh from Tom Riddle swam gracefully in the water. Sereia Nova had never posed a threat in her mind. Antoine's best friend had always been a sweet little thing, too pure to be around the likes of them. Though Walburga harbored fondness for the girl, her desires lay elsewhere — with Tom Riddle.

She pondered the allure that Sereia held for Tom. Was it her innocence, her sweetness? Or was she simply another conquest in his relentless pursuit to tarnish purity? Perhaps, she mused, innocence was a challenge for him, something to be conquered and corrupted at his whim.

At least that is what Walburga told herself as she smiled bittersweetly at the younger witch.

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

"Ria." Antoine began, his tone firm, signaling to Sereia that a lecture was imminent.

"I know what you're going to say, but it's nothing alright? I am not involved with Riddle...like that." Sereia interjected, her words rushed and defensive, preempting Antoine's anticipated disapproval.

Antoine's furrowed brow softened slightly, but skepticism still lingered in his gaze. With a resigned sigh, he conceded, "I will choose to take your word for it. But I will tell you this, Ria— my friends are all off-limits. They are the worst pick of the bunch for any girl." He paused, as if another thought had just invaded his already disturbed mind. "Actually, just do not go for any Slytherins. You can go for uh...Hufflepuff perhaps? They do not have a bad bone in their body. Be kind and all that shite, yeah? Yeah. No Gryffindorks either I suppose, they're all gits—"

"Tony!"

"What?"

"Would you like to arrange who I will be marrying too? Stop acting like my father. Fine, I will not date your friends out of my respect for you, but other than that you have no right to dictate who I can and can't date."

"But—" Antoine began to protest, but Sereia cut him off with a firm stare.

"Dahlia!" Sereia's sharp call drew the attention of the girl, who began to swim over with a curious expression. Sereia shot a warning look at Antoine, silently telling him to behave.

"Yes, darling?"

"Nothing. It's just an effective way of shutting him up." Sereia smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"What is?"

"Any mention of you."

As Dahlia's cheeks flushed with a soft hue of pink, Antoine's face transformed into a vivid crimson, the color spreading like wildfire across his features. Sereia couldn't suppress a satisfied grin as she watched the effect of her diversion tactic unfold. "Well, I'll leave you be. It's time for my nap!"

"You just woke up!"

"Nope, that was a while ago." "Nope, that was a while ago," she singsonged, her voice carrying over the gentle lapping of the waves as she began trudging out of the water, droplets cascading from her form like shimmering diamonds. Her eyes met Avery's across the distance, his grin mirroring her own playful one as he responded with a mock salute, the sun casting playful glimmers in his eyes.

As she approached the shore, she glanced over her shoulder at the call of her name, catching Abraxas's gaze, his eyes alight with something she could not decipher as he swam towards her, his sleek form slicing effortlessly through the water. His expression morphed into a sickly sweet smile as he drew nearer.

"My dear, dear Sereia," he greeted her with exaggerated warmth, his voice dripping with faux sincerity.

"What is it?" Sereia replied, her tone laced with playful anticipation, already bracing herself for his inevitable request.

"Would you be so kind and bring us a wine?"

Sereia raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you ask one of the house elves?"

"You see, I'm craving a particular one and seeing as the creatures can't read...it complicates things. Can you get me the Chateau d'Yquem?"

Sereia couldn't help but laugh at his audacity, her playful demeanor unwavering. "Does Antoine know you're drinking his most expensive reserves dry?" she retorted, her tone teasing

Abraxas replied with a casual shrug, his smile unapologetic. "He encourages it"

Sereia rolled her eyes. "Alright. But know that you are very annoying." She conceded, her words accompanied by a playful splash in his direction.

"Thank you, Sereia," Abraxas replied, his sweet smile bordering on saccharine as he watched her depart, a twinkle of mischief gleaming in his eyes. Sereia narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously before turning on her heel and heading out of the water. She quickly slipped on her sheer beach cover over her wet swimsuit, debating whether to change into dry clothes or return to the water after fulfilling Abraxas' request.

She hummed a random melody as she walked away from the private beach and slipped into the garden that lead to the winery, running her hands through her wet hair and slicking it back.

She trekked the familiar path through the greenery, each step accompanied by the gentle rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. The summer sun cast golden rays that danced across her skin, warming her with its tender caress. As she neared the fountain, its marble basin shimmered in the sunlight and the girl resisted the urge to dip her fingers into the cool water.

"Out for a stroll, little siren?" A familiar voice, smooth as silk and laced with a taunting edge, shattered the serenity of her surroundings.

Her movements stilled, her senses alert to the presence behind her. She hesitated to turn, wary of facing the figure who she had been trying to cast out of her mind. She knew as soon as she met his eyes the thoughts of yesterday's kiss would come back to haunt her once again—or the bold teasing she had unabashedly engaged in during breakfast.

With a steadying breath, she shut her eyes, grappling with the urge to flee or confront him. Before she could decide, a warm breath ghosted over her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Tom had drawn closer, his proximity suffusing her with a mixture of apprehension and something she dared not name.

"Or have you come to see me beg?" He murmured into her ear.

Suppressing the rising panic in her chest, she attempted to step away, only to find his hand firmly encircling her waist, anchoring her in place. Her breath caught in her throat as his touch ignited a flurry of conflicting emotions within her. Her gaze dropped to the hand sliding further until his entire arm covered her stomach.

"Unhand me, Riddle. I am just going to the winery." Sereia tried to protest against his advances, her voice twinged with defiance that wavered due to his proximity.

"Are you now?" He asked, and even though she could not see him, she could feel the amused smirk that was no doubt on his face.

"Yea—Yes. I am expected to return." She insisted.

Tom hummed, a low, tantalizing sound that sent a tremor through her core. "What a shame," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. Just as she thought he was going to let her go, he abruptly spun her around to face him. Caught off guard, she stumbled, her heart pounding erratically as she braced her hands against his chest lest she crashed into him. "You will not be going back anytime soon."

"What?"

"Can't have you running to Rosier to finish what I started. That would make me unseemly would it not?"

"Riddle, what are you say—"

"It would create the impression that I leave a lady unsatisfied. Which is insulting." His lips brushed hers with every syllable, and Sereia was finding it harder by the second to resist the temptation of him. She desperately willed herself to push him away and leave before the situation would escalate any further. But she was immobilised. He had her right where he wanted, and her traitorous body was craving him. Any further protest was cut short as his lips captured hers in a searing kiss and she found it bothersome how she did not hesitate to kiss him back.

His lips moved with a fervent urgency, coaxing a response from her that she couldn't deny. Each brush of his mouth against hers sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her, erasing whatever had remnants of rational thought.

Her hands moved on their own accord, sliding over his chest, collarbones, and moving up to tangle themselves in his dark hair. He groaned as she tugged at his locks and the world around her fell away at the guttural sound. His kiss was a tempest, fierce and consuming, igniting a fire within her that blazed with undeniable fervor. She yielded to him, her senses overwhelmed by the heady rush of his touch, every nerve in her body electrified.

His hand moved to the hem of sheer cover dress, fingers brushing against her inner thighs before bunching up the fabric and tugging it upwards. Tom stepped towards her, forcing her to blindly walk backwards until she felt marble digging into her back. He broke away from the kiss to momentarily lift her to sit on the edge of the fountain.

Sereia suppressed a whine at the loss of contact, but a loud moan escaped her throat when his lips fell to the hollow of her throat and sucked, no doubt leaving a bruise with his ministrations. She should have told him to stop— or at the very least not mark her up for all to see, but she found she did not care. She wanted—no— needed more of him.

Her fingers dropped to the buttons of his shirt, fumbling, trying to pull them open. She had only gotten half of them undone when he grabbed her wrists. "No." He panted. "This time I will make you beg. We can save that for next time."

Sereia was confused, but was quick to retort. "What makes you think there is going to be a next time?" She asked through laboured breaths, dazed eyes roving over his dilated pupils and his swollen lips. For the first time ever, he looked like a mess, and Sereia could not get enough of the sight.

Tom only smirked in response, his fingers going under her cover to pull at the strings of her bikini bottoms. She trembled beneath his touch, her pulse racing with a heady mix of anticipation and desire.

"Because I am going to make you beg for a next time."

Sereia's jaw dropped when he sunk to his knees, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

#tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle one shot #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle fic #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x female reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle angst #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x you #gilded serendipity

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yourkimjaejin · 7 months

Text

Impressed - A scene from my muse's past in which they tried to impress someone, successful or not

"The first moment that comes to mind brings me back to 20....18? The KBS Music Festival that year. Everybody had there own section of time to do a performance and SM wanted to highlight all of us. or at least try to. It was NCT, Red Velvet, Exo, and Hyoyeon sunbaenim's. It was a lot of moving parts but long story short myself, Juno and Aurora were involved in a couple of sections."

"First we did Punk Right Now with Hyoyeon and Red Velvet unnies. Then we were with Dream for Go/Boss and lastly we performed with Exo sunbae for their song Monster. Now let me preface this by saying I never got to meet to Exo members before this. I never met them during my training so they don't know me and at the time I didn't know them."

"Weeks before the show, a bunch of the nct members got together to learn/refresh our memories on the Monster's choreo. It was more like refreshing because who doesn't know that dance. When we gathered together to practice with Exo, I'm not gonna name any names, but there were a couple of confused faces."

"I can't confirm who said this cause my back was turned. But I heard someone say something along the lines of 'Are we sure they can keep up?"

"Now, I have a bit of a reputation when it comes to proving people wrong. I wasn't nicknamed The Shark during training for nothing. I would advise anyone who wants to challenge me to not to. Cause you'll never win. Cause I won't let you."

"I got so heated extremely quickly. In my head I was like, Who TF are you to assume I can't keep up. To quote the Michael Joradn meme, 'and I took that personally'. I out danced all those boys in every run though. I was mean mugging everyone in the mirror. I think I heard Johnny-oppa telling one of the exo members 'there's a reason Migyeong was called the shark."

"I don't take kindly to be underestimated. By anyone. There aren't many idols in my position. In fact, there's only four, Me, Aurora, Juno and Hannah. And I think that fact alone should inform everyone of how good I am at my job. You worry about you and yourself and I'll worry about me and mine. But I can guarantee I won't need to worry that much." ~ Moxy

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I think it was during We Young era that this happened. Fans have always wanted to know why there are some scars on my left knee."

"For those who don't know I'm a pretty good skateboarder. One day, the dreamies and I were in the dance studio and Chenle saw some trick video. He asked if I could do any of them. I chose to be a cocky idiot cause I said yes."

"Some of the tricks I already knew how to do but there was one I had yet to try. The 360 ollie heelflip. Essentially you flick the board so it spins in a full circle. During this, you turn your body in a 180 to land on the board then complete the rest of the circle to face forward again. Not the most complicated but it takes a moment to get in down. Even then, sometimes you can miss the board or it could spin too much."

"So I bet Chenle what would be 50 dollars in the America that I could do all those tricks. We met up after practice at the skate park I frequent and I was nailing everything. Time came for me to do the heelflip. I had the blueprint laid out in head on what to do. I went for it, everything was going well........until I over rotated and completely whiffed the landing. I fell on my knee and scrapped it."

"Thing is, I'm not mad about the scrape. You know those are battle scars that I'm proud of."

"I'm mad I had to pay Chenle 50 bucks." ~ Aurora

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Request Prompt: And for the ask game, I’m picking impressed (it can be both romantic, platonic, or proving someone wrong). If you want to do all members, that’s okay, or if you want to do one for this ask, I’ll pick Moxy.

Taglist: @alixnsuperstxr / @1-800-call-ria / @sophrodite / @sunflower-0180

#NCT AG.Request #NCT AG.Moxy #NCT AG.Aurora #NCT AG.Info #nct female addition #nct female member #kpop addition #kpop!au #kpop!oc #kpop!addition #nct female unit #kpop!fakegroup #nct female oc #nct female subunit #kpop female member #kpop fake group #fictional idol oc #fictional idol group #fictional idol community

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sapphireginger · 1 year

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Title: Peter & the Sunflower: Chapter #3 | 1900 - Autumn, Neverland

Pairing: Steter [Stiles + Peter]

Rating: Mature

Warning/Tags:

None

Summary:

“Pan! Come here. I want you to meet some people.” Pan tilted his head and joined Peter, turning to follow the boy’s gaze. He gaped at the three beings below them, sitting like royalty on the smooth obsidian rocks. “Sirens?” he whispered, shocked. “In a sense, yes. They prefer the term mermaids. However, they are just as deadly and much prettier.”

@steter-stackson-bingo

Card Number: 107

Square: Sirens Are Mermans

1900 — Autumn, Neverland

Pan fell in love with his new home. Neverland was beautiful and he relished in all the serenity. There were so many colors, such a glorious thing to see after hatching to find a barren ash colored wasteland instead of the meadow of helianthus it should’ve been.

He came to Neverland with nothing but after a week had more than he could ever possibly use. Peter offered to teach him how to make clothes if he wanted to. Pan was delighted to learn and now had one set of clothes for each day of the week. He still went barefoot but would now wear a small tunic made from one of Peter’s favorite tunics, a little belt to tie it made from leather and a tiny pair of pants made from the same material as Peter’s tights. His favorites to wear were the red tunic, black belt and black pants since they matched his wings. He also learned to make a small quilt for his feather bed. It was fun to learn, and he grew closer with Peter during that time.

A few months later, Peter led him to the Numquam Grotto, also known as the Never Grotto. It stole Pan’s breath, his amber eyes wide with awe and wonder. The moon was high and full in the sky as they whizzed through the cavernous space. With giggles like bells, Pan trailed his fingers and toes through the water, using some of his magic to flick water at Peter.

The Never Boy laughed and shot ahead before doubling back and letting out a crow. Pan blushed as his stomach flipped a little at the sound. The Never Boy sounded so joyous. The Sióg was starting to realize that he had formed an attachment to Peter. He wasn’t sure what to make of it but at the boy’s beckoning and giant grin, he pushed the thought off for now.

“Pan! Come here. I want you to meet some people.”

Pan tilted his head and joined Peter, turning to follow the boy’s gaze. He gaped at the three beings below them, sitting like royalty on the smooth obsidian rocks. “Sirens?” he whispered, shocked.

“In a sense, yes. They prefer the term mermaids. However, they are just as deadly and much prettier.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose they are pretty. The way they look I’m sure aided them in drawing people in. Then, the deadly part comes into play?” Pan flushed nervously as Peter’s eyes found his own. “They’re your friends?”

“Yep!” Peter said, popping the p. “But, they’re harmless to me and you, okay?”

Pan sent him a nervous smile. “Promise?”

Peter grinned and held out his pinky. “I promise.”

With a scrunched up nose, Pan wrapped his small pale hand around Peter’s pinkie and shook it. “Good.” They stared at each other for a bit, until a splash of water echoed around the cavern, drawing their attention.

“A dolphin!” Pan exclaimed in a breathless whisper of excitement, his wings shivering and fluttering. “It’s gorgeous.” His eyes were glued to the way the creature swam, like the goddess had taught her to dance along with the ocean’s rhythm. Pan was unaware of the admiring gaze of the Never Boy who never got tired of seeing the wonder on his friend’s face.

After the dolphin had disappeared again, Peter gently nudged the Sióg. “Wanna know their names?”

“Uh yes! Absolutely. Um. I mean assuming they don’t mind?”

“Not at all. So first the one there with blue shells and blue scales with hair like golden sun rays is named Nymeria but I call her Nym or Ria. Second is the raven haired woman there with emerald shells and emerald scales. Her name is Rhymise but I call her Rhys or Ry. Then, last but not least, the one there with lavender shells, lavender scales and hair like a dragon’s fire is Philomena but I call her Mena.”

“Woah,” Pan said softly. “I thought merfolk were super secret or at least isolated. How come they’re not?”

Peter glanced at Pan and then shrugged one shoulder, seemingly nonchalant but his cheeks pinked as he said, “There was a terrible hurricane one year, stretched from the water’s surface to the bottom of the ocean. They were the only ones to survive. I offered them a haven. Here they aren’t disturbed by anyone. Here they don’t have to be afraid.”

Pan’s heart began to race as he admired the blush on Peter’s cheeks, his wings shivering with pride. He had to push away the stray thought that had been plaguing his mind lately. He couldn’t push it away completely though and so, in his mind, only to himself he would agree that Peter would be the perfect maité for him, or for any Sióg really but such things were the things of dreams, not reality.

“Oh, fair maidens of Poseidon, I have returned. Where’s my hello, Nym, Rhys, and Mena?”

The three mermaids whipped their heads in Peter’s direction and trilled happily as they leapt into the water and swam toward them. “Hello, Peter!” they sang out, their teeth sharp, and deadly and yet hauntingly beautiful. “We missed you!”

Pan’s stomach clenched at the sight of utter adoration in their eyes but when he looked at Peter, sure he’d find the same adoration in his, he was shocked to find the Never Boy completely oblivious. In a way, Pan was glad, because if Peter recognized the look in their eyes, surely he’d recognize the same look in Pan’s eyes.

Unaware of his new friend’s internal struggles, Peter regaled the maids with tales of his adventures, and Pan found himself just as enraptured by them as the maids were.

When it came time to leave, Pan was speechless as the maids each offered him a small shell. It was their approval of him, and he tried not to get emotional when he promised he’d return to play soon.

Peter kept close to him that night, sensing his friend’s emotions and Pan was grateful for the closeness, but even more grateful that the Never Boy didn’t ask what was wrong.

As Peter slipped into dreamland, Pan, curled up in his meadowlark feather bed, remained awake. It was nearly impossible to fall asleep, for the emotional toll he experienced with the maids made his heart hurt too much to so easily greet the sandman.

When he had cradled those small shells and had met the gazes of the maids, Pan couldn’t help that he desperately missed his parents. So, confident that the Never Boy was finally asleep, Pan began to cry, the sound of snare drums echoing in the small house as he finally began to grieve. He wept for his parents, wept the hatchlings that never got to live, wept the helianthus blossoms that never bloomed, the flora, the fauna and the goddess herself, for all who were marked by the fire in the valley. Only then, after hours had passed and the sun began to rise, did Pan finally succumb to sleep.

#teen wolf #steter bang 2023 #steter big bang 2023 #steter big bang #steter bang #steter #fae stiles stilinski #never boy peter hale #steter stackson bingo #prompt: sirens are mermans #reincarnation #neverland #peter pan fusion #temporary character death #temporary amnesia

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rainiishowers · 2 years

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Part 2

Mammon leans in the glass barriers covered with Barbatos' magic. Despite being high technology, risks couldn't be taken given how he willingly downed a nuclear cube in case he lost his dominance. Greed hears the clinking of utensils, the hushed whispers, the beeping of machines, all around him.

Pressure, they say.

He feels the insanity eating him away, the apathy that overfilled. Teal and red stares bore in his back, and Mammon was aware. He sees their discomfort, their fear, their hatred, and their helplessness. It was his desicion and he knew that they had no right to interfere.

"Tell me if you're ready, Avatar."

Mammon simply smiles before raising his hand.

"Don't call me Avatar. I'd be someone else after this."

The researcher flinches, as they stuttered a response. Flicks of switches were heard and the darkness swallowed everything but his chamber.

They all felt the chills, the despair, the fear, all swept by the darkness.

They see the Avatar's pacts, his sanity, all shattered to ash.

They all know.

"The trial has begone."

RIA???? YOU GENIUS??? I want to add more but I don't think it needs anything to add (and idk what to add)

#omswd #om! mammon #ria #rainiianswers

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solemn-siren · 3 months

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One way mirror - villain!storm au

A rewrite of my old villain!storm Au! Except with a cyberpunk twist because I’m too obsessed with VALORANT. (And for anyone wondering, I’m a Clove fan)

As usual, no hate to anyone mentioned it’s all fun and games

In neon lit streets of spiraling skyscrapers, a false god was ready to put his plan into motion.

To travel to another world, and to become a god. And then rule over this worthless city.

Stormlordzeus, as he called himself, patrolled around his creation, a massive portal made of crying obsidian, ancient crystals of powerful radiation, and his own genius making. Hidden inside one of the many skyscrapers, he was ready, and he was prepared.

All he had to do to gain godhood was to flick one lever. Then he could rule the world.

But standing high above the room, perched over a catwalk, a shrouded figure stood, zoomed in through thin purple lenses. “Right on time.”

Siren Endwilds. Magically attuned by freak accident.

She touched a small implant on her temples. “Ri, keep a check on me.” She spoke into a hidden microphone.

Outside in the darkened city, Ria sat down, her legs dangling over the multicolored abyss below, multiple floating panels and a holographic keyboard in front of her. Her eyes faced the very skyscraper her teammate was in.

“Don’t expect a free save.” She answered, pulling up more screens and discarding ones that weren’t needed. “This. This was all your idea.”

“For a good reason.” Siren whispered back, summoning a scythe in her hand. “And going in three, two…”

As Storm prepared to flick the lever, he heard the sound of heavy weight being lifted off the metal catwalks high above.

“…one”

Siren plummeted down and appeared behind Storm, scythe swung all the way back, and her eyes transitioning from a calming brown to a raging bright pink.

”It has begun.”

Ria pulled out the last of her screens as the sound of blades hitting against each other screeched in her ears. The various screens began to display various statistics and life metrics, and Ria looked through each one quickly but throughly.

She sighed. “Your adrenaline levels are stupidly high. What do you even run on?”

There was no answer on the other side. Just the sound of swords against steel and blade.

“…You’ll regret this.” Ria sighed, continuing her work.

It wasn’t that Siren was ignoring Ria on purpose, but she was too busy and focused to even say a word.

Her scythe arced in beautiful crescent shapes, a trail of purple fire behind every swing. As it clashed with Storm’s prismarine tridents, it created purple sparks with a small hint of cyan leeching through. Momentum carried over to its next swing, as if this very duel was a dance itself.

Storm twirled around, channeling lighting into a gold trident, and bringing it down in front of Siren. A white light erupted, splitting into million fragments, but when he thought he had gotten her, Siren had dashed behind, using her magical force to get out of the radius fast and swiftly.

“You…” he growled, and threw a bolt of lighting that bounded between the walls, lighting up the world around in cyan flashes.

Siren dashed through each bounce, a trail of amethyst purple dancing between the cyan, before coming to a stop above, floating above on cotton candy clouds.

“Stormlordzeus. Or should I say, Stormlordfreak.” Siren looked down at the false god. “Did you really think you could hide from me, the guardian of harmony? Can you not feel the people’s pain as you continue on with whatever freak show you’re doing?”

On the other side, Ria sighed. “Bold word choice. Totally.” She muttered to herself.

Storm glared at Siren, enraged by her words. “Do you not realize that I have to do this?!” He yelled, his eyes glowing pure white from his anger. “I’ve lost everything I loved to this wreck of a city, and becoming a god is my only way to get them back! I don’t care what it takes, I will become a god and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Nothing.”

Siren stared blankly at Storm. “There are no winners in a loosing game.” She said, before leaping off from her platform, her scythe transforming into a pair of wings that sat on her back. She dashed between the walls, before reappearing in front of Storm’s portal device, the wings transforming back into a scythe, swung back behind her to deliver its strike.

Storm let his anger drive his body forward. He bolted forward in a white light, before leaping above and tackling Siren to the ground.

“Ouch, that doesn’t look good.” Ria muttered to herself again on the other side as a green bar on one of her screens went down. “What even is happening…”

She could only imagine the worst.

Storm pointed his trident at Siren’s neck as they came to a skidding halt far from the portal. “Don’t, you, dare.” He hissed, his eyes narrowed like a viper on its hunt. “My heart and soul went into that thing, and I’m not letting it be destroyed.”

He brought the trident closer to Siren’s neck, enough that it was ever so slightly poking at her skin. One move and it would go right in.

Siren flicked a small switch on her gloves. It was in a position where she could instantly flick it with just one finger or any surface.

A signal was sent to one of Ria’s screens. “Lul, you’re in.” She muttered, clicking away at her keys.

“But maybe.” Storm continued. “I could always use a sacrifice-“

A giant bat dove into the room, knocking Storm off Siren. The giant bat had sharp angular wings with teal and pink markings, appearing like a poisonous creature.

“Thanks Lul.” Siren said, getting back up on her feet. Lul disappeared as fast as he had appeared, vanishing into the shadows as Siren resummoned her scythe, now back on her streak.

As Storm got back onto his feet, Siren rammed into him like a wild animal, sparks of purple shining through. On the other side, Ria, smiled, almost chuckling to herself. As Storm came down to the ground once again, Siren stabbed her scythe into Storm’s hood, pinning him in place.

“Now WHO’S the HUNTER now?!” She cackled, her eyes ignited bright pink from her madness taking over. “That’s right! Me! Cause you’re in the presence of one who’s divine!”

“Siren no you can’t just take my line…” Ria groaned from the other side.

“Aww Ri, let me just for this moment.” Siren mocked, cackling as she created another scythe in her hand, before dashing towards the portal.

Storm pried the scythe’s blade out, before activating a pair of wings behind his back, dashing forward at lightning speed.

From Ria’s perspective, all you could hear was the sound of blades clashing and lightning surging. She sighed, pulling up another screen in front of her.

“Siren, can you really see who Storm is?” She said to herself, looking at Storm’s recent data logs that she had hacked into. “I honestly feel so sorry for him. Losing both his brothers to a cult. Feeling forced that the only way to save them is through power alone…”

As another surge of lightning pierced her ears, she dismissed the screen and looked at the tower her friend was fighting in. She let out a deep sigh.

“Both of you… aren’t you looking through a one way mirror?”

#Stormlordzeus #villain series #my stuff

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lutoogyan · 1 year

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'Polite Society' director Nida Manzoor says Spotify knows her too well

Like a delirious cross between Scott Pilgrim and Bend It Like Beckham, Nida Manzoor’s debut feature Polite Society isn’t your usual coming of age flick. It centers on Ria Khan (Priya Kansara), a British Pakistani teen who dreams of becoming a stunt woman, but finds herself at a loss when her sister decides to marry a handsome young doctor. To help save her sister, she has to overcome the groom’s…

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justinmoviereviews · 2 years

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The Class of 2022

Bringing this feature back out. Some pretty good films this year.

Dog - Reid Carolin and Channing Tatum

If a movie about a damaged guy getting saved during his darkest night by a dog doesn’t make you weep, you don’t have a dog.

Barbarian - Zach Cregger

This movie slaps so fucking hard.

Don’t Worry Darling - Olivia Wilde

Basically I think this one was killed by its press tour. I think the critic class decided liking this wasn’t worth the risk so collectively expelled it, but going in without any idea anything had even happened I thought it was the best movie so far in the nascent Deconstructing Toxic Masculinity genre that’s become one of the few acceptable avenues for mainstream films. I don’t want to spoil anything, but the twist is so much more interesting than the Stepford Wives aura that hangs over this suggests it will be. And it’s a pretty good looking flick.

Bros - Nicholas Stoller

A very sexually explicit, funnier than average romcom. Allison’s take: I can’t tell if he’s making fun of romcom tropes or just using them.

The Banshees of Inisherin - Martin McDonagh

More than any movie he’s ever made, this one invites interpretation. I’m still working on it, and I don’t imagine there’s a definitive explanation, but right now the one I like is that this is a movie about death. I’m not sure whose death. I look forward to watching this several more times.

Confess, Fletch - Greg Mottola

Has there ever been a talented actor worse at understanding his gifts than Jon Hamm? The dude is an unknowable phantom with the face of Adonis, not an Apatow comedian. This is not a bad movie, but the guy at the center of it doesn’t fit and never feels natural. They would have been better off with just about anyone else. Even an unknown would have worked better than our man.

Amsterdam - David O. Russell

For awhile this movie has a Thomas Pynchon quality to it, where a ragtag group of goofuses stumble into an evil global shadow conspiracy they’ll never defeat or understand or even directly encounter. Its so good for a minute that I wondered if Thomas Pynchon was somehow involved (maybe he is, I didn’t look into it). The end wraps everything up too neatly to really spin into anything great, and it ends up as an enjoyably forgettable ride, which I guess befits David O. Russell’s late career stage as a guy living in the purgatory of Netflix after missing a bunch of Oscars he still can’t believe he didn’t win.

Prey - Dan Trachtenberg

I don’t know. It’s solid, I guess.

Emily the Criminal - John Patton Ford

This is a B action movie that caught extra attention because it stars Aubrey Plaza. A lot of people liked it. I’m happy for them.

Nope - Jordan Peele

Let’s see here. My first take was that it was his weakest movie because it didn’t have any neat core conceit at its center. Get Out was a revelation, and Us was I thought basically a perfect movie, a really cool idea from a filmmaker very good at realizing his cool ideas. Nope is more of a regular old flick. But the more I thought about it the more I saw that as a strength. I think most movies are not as good as Us, but it’s ultimately kind of a very expensive Twilight Zone episode. This movie is doing something he hasn’t done yet, which implies he’s going to continue to grow and get more ambitious. I still think there’s something a little undercooked about this one, and the mystery at the center is a little less cool than I think he wanted, but its beginning to seem very clear that greatness awaits.

Men - Alex Garland

If this guy wants to spin conceits out for awhile and then have his movies devolve into lunatic madness, I’ll come out for it every single time. The title and current political moment made me think this would be more of an indictment of the gender, another in the series of aforementioned Deconstructing Toxic Masculinity movies, and it’s sort of that, but its much more elemental, personal, and bizarre. I fucking love this director.

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery - Rian Johnson

Like most sequels, some of the plot points go over the top as the movie attempts to outdo the original, and the billionaires are actually dumb plotline feels ripped directly out of leftist Twitter, but as long as Rian Johnson and Daniel Craig are involved I’ll watch every Knives Out movie they make. This is what happens when you let talented people do their jobs. Also as far as I know this is the first movie that includes Covid as a central life event. I love that for some reason. It is a central life event, its like making a movie about World War II.

Bodies Bodies Bodies - Halina Reijn

I’ll be honest, I was pretty drunk when I watched this on a plane. So this will be an impressionistic review. I thought it was pretty fun. There’s one scene that feels like it was written by people outrightly mocking woke culture. Pete Davidson is in it.

Everything Everywhere All At Once - Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert

For the first hour I thought this was the Matrix, and wished that, as a movie about the literally unlimited nature of the universe, it was a little more creative. The second hour changed that thought. It is basically the Matrix, but while that movie was drab and minor key (by design) this movie is colorful and kaleidoscopic and wild and never ever ever not fun. The moviest movie I’ve seen in a long time, by which I mean a piece of art that could only be a movie, and one that pushes into new places what a movie can and should do. It’s big and beautiful and weird and exciting, and at 139 minutes it whooshes by. We’re in a weird place with representation at the moment, but this movie doesn’t feel like its correcting an error about who gets to star in Kung Fu movies, instead the Chinese heritage of the family is a natural part of the plot and makes the movie more than it otherwise would be. It’s hard to imagine this isn’t the best film of the year.

The Northman - Robert Eggers

The verisimilitude alone is worth the price of admission. I can’t think of a movie that’s setting feels so real since the Revenant. This is, and I guess I mean this as a compliment, the most normal movie Robert Eggers will ever make. If the Lighthouse was pure uncut Eggers, just a gonzo madhouse of his shit, this is basically Gladiator with a couple of spirit visions, which come to think of it Gladiator also had. I looked into it and learned that his compromise with the studio to make a big budget picture was to sacrifice final cut, which makes a ton of sense in retrospect and which I’m guessing is responsible for the movie’s worst parts, like when the main character monologues to himself about his motivation and plans for no reason. This is my take: the whole time I watched it I wanted it to be weirder. But as a bloody Viking flick, it’s a good movie.

The Menu - Mark Mylod

A movie about a great chef who got so tired of cooking for shitheads that he went insane. Pitched at a tone that, for me, made any level of insanity make sense. The characters in this movie aren’t unlikeable so much as they are urgently deserving of death. And you’re never, for a minute, worried they aren’t going to receive it. It’s been a good year for fun horror flicks.

X - Ti West

Except for the obvious reason--they’re both primal feelings--it’s never been fully apparent to me why these movies are always structured to be one half sexual titillation then one half slasher-horror. But while in the 80s they just pumped them out cuz they made money, now we’re getting all sorts of deconstructions and meta commentaries and sex as terror merges. Anyway, this is the most cerebral sex ‘n’ death horror movie I’ve ever seen; the most knotty, the most intellectualized, the most constructed in its creators’ heads. I felt a sourness at first--Barbarian and The Menu are two brilliant horror movies that do something genuinely new rather than comment on the old method in increasingly myopic ways--but that’s gone now. The things this movie does are just too fun and smart. I guess every one of these flicks is in one way or another punishing you for enjoying the T&A it gave you in its first hour, but this is the first to make you watch its monsters actually fuck. The final line is both a compliment to the movie I’m not sure it deserves, and an objectively fantastic last line.

White Noise - Noah Baumbach

Nothing says Fuck It Netflix money quite like the existence of this movie, an admiring adaptation of a book that’s essentially a novelization of Jean Baudrillard’s ideas. I remember liking the novel a lot, and finding it, for a book about mass hysteria over everyday life, oddly soothing. This movie is mostly faithful to the book, but it isn’t soothing. Baumbach uses chaos and claustrophobia to convey the story’s existential anxiety rather than the artificial feeling of meek contentment that is DeLillo’s chosen mode. The movie is noisy and full of static and incredibly ugly, like watching an 80s sitcom through a fishbowl. Interesting choices, but not pleasant ones, which matters when you’re watching a movie. But Noah Baumbach is an obvious fan, and he understands the ideas he’s working with. He even gets in some pretty good Noah Baumbach jokes. It’s an amazingly timely story too, as we head into the fourth year of a global pandemic that has foregrounded our collective anxiety and shrunken our worlds to a degree that can’t not be causing long term damage. There’s a scene here where a guy in a quarantine camp riles the crowd by demanding his fear not only be recognized but made the center of the public’s attention, which if anything is quaint when put up against what the MAGA mutants in this country actually want. But here’s what I kept thinking about while I watched a movie that I liked but that never truly distinguished itself from its very good source material: in 1985 Don DeLillo wrote a book about the fear of death as a uniquely modern condition of our sad and shrinking reality. These days, that condition gets called anxiety and we validate it on social media. Our culture sucks now.

Father of the Bride - Gary Alazraki

Shit! I watched this right before I got married. I didn’t realize it was a 2022 release. It’s pretty good! Nice and warm. Andy Garcia is a boss. Recommended for right before you get married.

Elvis - Baz Luhrmann

- Here’s a movie I thought of when I was watching this one that I think would be good: young Elvis spends all his free time watching the black people in his town make the music he loves. Most of the movie takes place in churches and after-hours clubs. It’s musical performance heavy. It ends right as he’s being discovered.

- Here’s what I assumed this movie would be: A shy kid with a lot of talent gets discovered by a sleazy manager. He rises to the top, meets a girl, then money, fame, ego, and the influence of shady characters bring him down. A lot of musical performances.

Baz Luhrmann likes his spectacle, but I can’t believe how shoddy and lazy this movie actually is. There’s no structure, no real story, no actions of consequence. It's a three hour montage of events I don’t even believe really happened. Did Elvis really feel strongly about Bobby Kennedy’s death? I sort of doubt it. Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman were trite, but here’s a director looking his audience in the eye and saying “I know you hogs like this shit.”

Tar - Todd Field

This movie is such a slow burn I didn’t even realize she kept two houses until it was almost over. It doesn’t tell anything and it takes its sweet time showing. Some of its early scenes feel largely pointless. I wasn’t sure why at first, other than the fact that it’s a type of storytelling, but upon consideration I get it: the movie is told in the first person. It doesn’t tell you anything for the same reason I don’t wake up every morning and tell myself the address of my house. This is the story of a monster told from her point of view, and as the movie progresses you start to see the cracks in her self-image. Its slow and controlled and quiet, with an intensity hovering offscreen that peaks its head in just enough to let you know its there. Because of the narrative style there’s a ton of stuff I missed, and more than any other movie I’ve seen this year I look forward to watching this again.

All Quiet on the Western Front - Edward Berger

It felt for awhile like we were done with old fashioned war flicks, and modern war movies would all have some kind of stylistic or thematic bent. But this is about as simplistic and plain a story as you can come up with. So maybe the lesson is you can do whatever you want as long as you do it really well. This is an incredibly effective movie. A battle scene where the French close in on the Germans like an unfeeling horde of aliens will stay with me for a long time. A scene at the end which exposes the brutal evil of men who control the lives of other men will as well. Maybe I’m getting softer, but this is the most haunting and disturbing war movie I’ve ever seen. We can do terrible, unspeakable things to each other, and we can do them for no reason. One way of understanding this movie is that it’s about the humanity of a nothing special enlisted man, and follows him until he finally loses it. It’s also about the machinations of power that control his life from afar without any humanity at all. Also, it looks and sounds incredible.

The Fabelmans - Steven Spielberg

At this point, you should know what you’re getting from Spielberg. His movies are impeccably made, stories told seamlessly with warmth and craftsmanship. He’s the ultimate major key filmmaker, with an intuitive understanding of how to compel audiences that the movie says he’s had since he was a kid. The Fabelmans is, for better or worse, a Spielberg movie. My sense is that how you feel about it will be determined by how you feel about him. If you think he’s the best to ever do it, you’ll probably appreciate this career retrospective about how he discovered the power and joy of cinema. If you’re cooler on him, maybe you’ll wonder why he gets to do it but Martin Scorsese or Federico Fellini, two guys who also probably grew up with cameras attached to their hands, don’t. I guess the obvious answer is that those guys never would, which is probably one of the reasons I like them more.

Black Adam - Jaume Collet-Serra

Jaume Collet-Serra is responsible for two of the best schlock masterpieces of the century, the Shallows and the Commuter, so I am hopeful he’s just paying his dues now before they’ll let him go back to cooking those up, and not that he’s been swallowed by the Comic Book Movie Industrial Complex, which really does gobble up everything cool or interesting or unique about filmmaking. That said, like most of them are, this is a perfectly fine beer watch. The Rock, who is straight up one of the most likeable people on the planet, has been a real life superhero ever since he didn’t care what your name was.

Triangle of Sadness - Ruben Ostlund

I got big The Lobster vibes from this one. Both from the structure--part 1 takes place in a hospitality center, part 2 takes place in the wilderness--and from the overt strangeness that keeps you on your toes the entire time; both movies could go anywhere. Ostlund makes so many choices that are so fun; one highlight being a drunken mock debate over economic policy between the ship’s raging alcoholic captain and a Russian oligarch who accidentally became incredibly rich and now lives with an acutely Russian nihilistic joie de vivre. The movie begins as a pretty open satire of wealth and grows increasingly hysterical until it suddenly transforms into something else--something smarter and more deft. A bunch of seemingly useless rich people are all forced to pivot into a society where none of their material gifts will benefit them at all, and do better than expected. What is Ostlund saying? I’m not sure. But another way he reminds me of my man Yorgos is that he sets up a wild premise and then explores it as he thinks it would go in real life. Its a fun way to make movies.

Bullet Train - David Leitch

So you’re an excellent filmmaker, just dripping with talent, but you’d rather make snappy action flicks than three hour Capital-F Films about classical music conductors (I loved Tar, just making a point). I can’t believe how good this movie is. Fast, witty, bouncing through timelines and stories with a throughline that keeps expanding and gets fuller and more fun as it chugs along. This is like if Guy Ritchie took better drugs, or if Tarantino didn’t have final cut. Brad Pitt is one of the best actors on the planet if you can find interesting things for him to do. Here he plays a reformed underworld professional who speaks almost entirely through New Age self-improvement jargon as he tries to find a new life path for himself. And that’s maybe the fifth best thing this movie does.

Argentina, 1985 - Santiago Mitre

This is a pretty downbeat movie. The dialogue is spoken at a low tone, the color palette is dark and brown, it never gets too loud. Knowledge of the country’s history would help--I needed Google for things every Argentinian already knows. Otherwise this is a very straight trial movie, all the way down to the verdict resting on the prosecutor’s ability to give a sufficiently inspiring speech. Most of the movie takes place in the courtroom or a law office. One of the protagonists comes from a comfortably fascist background and at one point has to attend the world’s worst family gathering, but otherwise there’s very little on the periphery.

Nanny - Nikyatu Jusu

The structure is fucked. This movie takes ages to get started and then rushes its ending. It feels very messy and less clear than it wants to be. I'll need to chew on it some more, but I think the idea here is the titular immigrant nanny is carried through a consuming anxiety about the family she left behind by an African spirit that is committed to her survival but isn’t necessarily benevolent. It’s really not a horror movie, and the beats it hits in service of the genre are largely unnecessary and fairly lame--I think we can go ahead and put a period on scary dream jump scares. But despite its flaws, which are all just novice direction shit, I really liked this. It looks great, and it has a control over its tone that makes it consistently engaging even if it doesn’t ever really cohere. I’m starting to think the reason why there are so many good horror movies now is because they’re cheap to make and aren’t beholden to existing IP--essentially they’re a bush league for promising young filmmakers. I suspect Jusu is more interested in exploring the African experience in America than she is in the genre. It will be interesting to see what she does next.

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair - Jane Schoenbrun

I should say that the Internet didn’t invent loneliness, and things like these online sinkholes are just a new outlet for an old problem. If more people are isolating and detaching from reality, that has more to do with our culture and our politics (which the movie knows. A shot of a boarded Toys ‘R’ Us is as grim and unsettling as any of the webcam freakout scenes.) This is an incredibly effective film about a culture I don’t understand and have anxieties about. It seems pretty documented that more people are in fact isolating and detaching, and if they’re leaning into the type of solipsism that creates this stuff, that’s a fertile topic for new filmmakers. Maybe too fertile. Jesus Christ, this movie.

To Leslie - Michael Morris

The thing is, she’s really good in this! She’s not a sympathetic character for most it, she’s a full on addict, using the people who care about her and taking advantage of the Samaritans dumb enough to feel empathy for her. She’s resentful of the help she needs and then livid when people stop helping her. This is a movie I would not have heard about were it not for the insurgent Oscar campaign, but am glad I saw it. Sometimes its nice to watch small, universal stories play out. The third act redemption maybe comes a little too easily, and I’m not sure I buy what inspired it (a Willie Nelson song, apparently), but I’m just noting that for my own memory’s sake. This is a good one.

Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths - Alejandro Inarritu

There’s a scene here where the main character climbs up a giant pile of dead bodies until he reaches the top, where Spanish conquistador and founder of Mexico Hernan Cortes is waiting for him, and they get into a conversation about heritage. It’s a ripe scene, and its been set up perfectly, but the conversation isn’t as profound or layered as it could be, or that the height the director is reaching for suggests it should be. Then after a few minutes, some ash from Cortes’s cigarette falls on one of the dead bodies, who sits up to complain about it, and it’s revealed the whole thing is a scene from a film someone is making. Its not the first time and not the last time you want to throttle Inarritu. You’re one of the best filmmakers currently working, why do you keep fucking up your own good ideas with this jokey shit?!

I want to take my time with this movie because it deserves to be carefully considered. It is, without hesitation, the most ambitious movie of the last few years. My theory on Alejandro is that his life’s goal is to be Fellini; both this and Birdman shoot for the same surreal modernism that the Italian legend mastered back in the ‘60s. This one doesn’t get there the same way Birdman didn’t, and one of the reasons, at least in this case, is that he keeps telling us what he’s thinking instead of showing us. This film looks incredible, and the camera moves with the same fluidity it did in Birdman, but he runs out of tricks sooner than he should. His ideas could be conveyed visually, but instead he just has his characters say them out loud.

All that being said, I loved it. I loved it more than I loved Birdman when I first saw it, before I decided it was a failed version of 8 1/2. This is also a failed version of 8 1/2, but it’s playing with a different set of ideas. Instead of being a satire of the industry, it’s considering Mexican identity, and its ultimately more interested in mortality than in the morass of being alive. It’s incredibly rare to get a director who swings this hard, who’s given the space to work out his ideas like this, or who even has the balls or vision to try. A lot of this movie doesn’t work. But the parts that do are incredibly good, and his visual sensibility is unparalleled. This should be a -10,000 lock for best cinematography, but it won’t win because no one saw it. Which is to the detriment of the discourse. This movie deserves to be debated and raged over. It deserves to have partisans and detractors who crucify each other online. The culture would be infinitely better if we got three of these a year.

Vengeance - B.J. Novak

Parts of this movie are so good I had trouble believing the bad parts could be as bad as they were. A New York journo douchebag goes to deep west Texas for the funeral of a hookup he barely remembers because she’s told her family that they’re in a serious relationship, then stays because he thinks he’s found a podcast. The parts about Texas are fantastic; his dialogue is sharp and interesting--down here we don’t have police, we have Mike and Dan--and incredibly well observed. During a scene at a rodeo somebody is eating a giant barbecue chicken leg, someone else is eating potato chips covered in queso. But B.J. is playing a guy so cartoonishly dopey it feels beamed in from a different, much worse movie (sample dialogue: “Have you ever been in a fight?” “Like a real fight, or like a Twitter fight?”) Scenes where he’s on the phone describing the story to his incredulous producer give off Hallmark Christmas movie vibes. It’s so much worse than the stuff around it that I figured it had to be intentional. Maybe he’s the villain or something. But no, he just learns to love these simple people and their small town. One other thing, Ashton Kutcher, playing a sort of deep Texas ghost, is legitimately amazing here. Easily the best thing in it. If people had seen this he’d have been nominated. It’s that kind of performance.

Babylon - Damien Chazelle

Damien’s learned how to direct. Watching the guy who’s floundered (in my opinion) ever since his his tiny little arthouse flick about ambition put him on the map get these giant scenes to work makes me legitimately happy for him. There’s a moment during the party scene at the beginning where he turns the bacchanalia into an organized dance sequence, which feels like a guy making a choice; we’re going to stick classic film elements in the middle of this chaos, because we like them and we can. As far as I can tell the idea here is simple--turn the end of the silent film era into the fall of Babylon, or the Weimar Republic, or Vichy France, or any other era of decadence that was always going to be on borrowed time. Was it really like that? Is this a story that needed to be told? Who knows? And who cares? Unlike with First Man, he’s justified his decision by doing it well. There’s a scene here where a cruel and careless death cuts to a giant party, and its more effective--drunk and sobering--than when Scorsese did it in the Wolf of Wall Street.

RRR - S.S. Rajamouli

Maybe I’d feel differently if I was better versed in Bollywood; as it stands this film represents the entirety of the industry to me. Maybe this is like showing a person who’s never seen an American movie before the Avengers, and an Indian friend who liked it tells me it is not representative of Bollywood. But it ultimately doesn’t matter. First of all, I think it’s genuinely awesome that this has become such a crossover sensation, and that more people are getting exposed to world cinema. Second of all, this movie whips so much ass. It took me a minute to get used to the style, but once I did I was all the way in. The first film ever to get me pumping my fists in my living room. And a thing I’ve always believed is that being good at dancing is incredibly manly.

KIMI - Steven Soderbergh

There are two ideas in this that I like a lot: 1. what would the kind of trauma most thrillers like this are about do to a person after the movie ends?, and 2. what does a corporation that has to pretend it cares about ethics after #MeToo and Believe Women even though it obviously doesn’t look like in the year of our lord 2022? More than any other top shelf filmmaker I can name, Steven Soderbergh doesn’t seem to have any throughline other than that his movies are all made with a certain level of quality. There’s no thematic cohesion that I can find, other than a healthy dislike for companies and governments, and not really any stylistic one either, other than that his movies are all really neat and tidy. And while he used to get nominated for Oscars, for the past few years he’s seemed to be content pumping out genre flicks like a gun-for-hire Woody Allen, which I wonder if is just him being prescient about the state of the industry now. This is a quick little film, something that comes out by the truckload in the era of Netflix, but if you watched it without knowing who Steven Soderbergh was you’d be surprised by how good it is.

Watcher - Chloe Okuno

Didn’t really respond to this one. The acting’s not great, the pacing is off--she gets pretty scared pretty quickly--and beats that should hit hard land harmlessly. High point: Bucharest seems like a cool city.

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio - Guillermo del Toro and Mark Gustafson

Guillermo is very good at putting the things he likes in movies that are ostensibly pretty one-for-them--some of these images belong on his highlight reel. There’s also a sweetness here that’s got his name all over it. This was apparently a years in the making passion project, and I have no doubt the animation is a triumph, but its a status as a Kids Movie papers over some storytelling messiness that bothered me as a person who doesn’t care about kids movies. At its best this movie makes me wish he’d gone full tilt into del Toro creature madness. Fuck the kids, man.

Women Talking - Sarah Polley

My take on this movie was that it’s the first piece of art to explicitly lay out the tenets of modern feminist philosophy, like a No Exit for the 21st Century American leftist political moment. I have never felt less equipped to give my opinion on a film, but suffice to say I liked this and thought it was intellectually interesting. Here’s the best I can do: this is an interesting one. Less interested in anger or revenge than in compassion and the value of forgiveness, and by value I mean worth, as in what do we gain by forgiving and what is the toll that forgiving will take on us? It’s that kind of a movie, managing emotional states with a philosophical detachment. Deal with the problem first, figure out how we feel about it later. Every atrocity visited upon these women is described in a matter of fact way. Nothing is shown.

The Good Nurse - Tobias Lindholm

This is firmly in Movie of the Week territory, all the way up to a soundtrack and establishing shots straight out of Law and Order, elevated slightly by its inclusion of two of our better actors.

Top Gun: Maverick - Joseph Kosinski

Loses points with me because it sags in the middle; I don’t care about Maverick’s guilt over his friend’s death or his romantic life. It’s great when he’s in the air. This whole movie should take place in a plane. Late period Tom Cruise is beloved by many, but not by me. I feel like he should have more to say at this point in his career than lying about his age.

The Whale - Darren Aronofsky

A very strange film. I’m not sure what to say about it. I wouldn’t call it pleasant, exactly. The main character’s morbid obesity seems almost like body horror at times. The plot seems simple enough; a guy makes the decision to remove himself from life after he loses a loved one, but it’s never quite that movie. I’m not sure if he’s a good person or not, or if he’s meant to be. He left his wife and daughter for someone else and was never in their life afterwards, though if you listen to him, he tried to be. I wondered if he’s someone that seeks out the good in others and extends that to himself even if he doesn’t deserve it. But if that’s the case, why is he killing himself? There’s also a religious element that fits in somewhere, but I’m not sure where. I thought about this movie the whole car ride home. I’m still working on it.

Empire of Light - Sam Mendes

Sam Mendes makes almost comically beautiful movies. This one, about a ragtag group of theater employees in England in 1981, takes place mostly in a movie theater, which is lit up and shot to look like a museum exhibit. This is a perfectly decent flick. It’s well paced, a simple story told well, emotional in the right places without being manipulative. It’s pleasant when its over. Not gutting, but pleasant.

Spiderhead - Joseph Kosinski

Quick, self-contained, well made, not too expensive, fun and kinda trippy, with a neat little twist at the end. I remember watching The Discovery a few years ago and thinking it was going to be the ur-text of a new genre called the Netflix Movie, and buddy was I right. These things now are being assembly-lined out by the dozen, and most of them are largely decent if a little bloodless. Sooner or later they’ll feel so packaged AI will start writing them, but until we get there I’m fine recommending a movie like Spiderhead. It’s a little bloodless in a way the similar genre grind-out KIMI isn’t, but it’s eerie while still being fun, holds its tone almost the whole way through, and includes the best Chris Hemsworth acting I’ve ever seen as a jocky nerd charming sociopath.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever - Ryan Coogler

The first one isn’t perfect, but like a lot of people I walked away from it thinking I’d just seen Marvel’s highwater mark. This one is even better. While the original stood above the rest by looking at real racial politics through the lens of a comic book movie, this one doubles down by bringing in a second superhero-ized colonized civilization with its own ideas about how to respond to the world at large and has the two of them meet and discuss. It even throws in for good measure a complex political dynamic at the top of the Wakanda power structure where every argument makes sense and is defensible. And while my biggest issue with the first one was that it could have used more world-building, some of the scenes here look genuinely great. All the standard Marvel movie objections apply--the dorky jokes, the dumb action scenes, the weirdly dark color palette these things are apparently mandated to have--but Ryan Coogler is possibly the only director franchised into the MCU who seems interested in making or allowed to make real movies.

Pleasure - Ninja Thyberg

A thing I learned the other day is that the movie Deepthroat was one of the highest grossing films of 1975. It is amazing to imagine the families of America lining up en masse to watch a movie, the premise of which is that a woman was born with her clitoris inside of her throat. I wouldn’t call Pleasure a return to a more sex positive past, exactly, but it’s explicitly sexually graphic in a way I’ve never really seen before outside of an actual porno. Parts of it are about the dark side of the porn industry, but other parts are about the light side, or the harmless side, and most of the characters are basically decent people. In fact one case this movie is making, maybe unintentionally, is that the ugly parts of the porn star life aren’t really any different than the ugly parts of the Hollywood life, or the sports life, or the investment banking life. The cost of success in this economy is your humanity, whether that means getting double-raw dogged in the ass or outsourcing a factory to Pakistan.

Ambulance - Michael Bay

Worth watching. Pretty fun. Basically incoherent. I will use this space for two observations: 1. Michael Bay has a fully singular visual style that if I had to give name to I would call Saturday afternoon barbecue full of hopefully not racist white men getting weepy after the fifth round of Coors Light, but its his, and as far as I can tell he created it, which means he fits my definition of an auteur. 2. Jake Gyllenhaal might actually be my favorite actor. He is incredible in this movie. I want to call it my second favorite performance of the year after Cate Blanchett in Tar. He’s not the most naturally gifted actor, it will never come as naturally to him as it does to, for instance, Cate Blanchett, but he makes up for that by going completely in on every role. He slips into raw nerve-ending panic within the first five minutes of being on screen in this movie. I think he also might be one the smartest actors in Hollywood. He has one particular line reading in this about a collection of plush flamingos that is so good, and so indicative that he knows exactly what he’s doing and what makes what he’s doing good, it singlehandedly bumps the movie up a letter grade.

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