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jurijyuu · 1 month ago

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Whiskey Lips

Human!Alastor x Reader

2.2K Words

Summary: Or the time you kissed your friend at a concert.

Tags: Modern AU, Second Person POV, Drunk Kisses, Unrequited Love (or is it?)

The loud blare of the music threatened to burst your eardrums but the buzz of the alcohol had long kicked in, slowly muffling the sound. The next band came up, a little known indie group with a couple of popular songs but after three similar bands this evening, you were tired and just ready to chill out in a corner on some overpriced booze. Some guy even started flirting with you, buying you a drink so he could try to charm you with his blue eyes and wispy blonde hair.

Not exactly your type but cute enough. Too bad your friend Alastor had to ruin it.

“You suck as a wingman, you know that? You end up chasing away the guys cuz you’re too pretty.” You stood at the end of the bar, watching the blond weave through the crowd and disappear.

“Darling, if seeing a prettier man makes him run away, then he isn’t worth your time.” Leaning on the newly vacated spot next to you, Alastor smirked, a light chuckle playing on that grin as he too watched the bodies pushing against each other to see the band. You didn’t blame them. The sound quality was terrible. There hadn’t been a single song who’s lyrics you actually understood.

“He’s worth about $24 in drinks, so maybe 5 minutes of my time.” Blondie had bought you enough coke and whiskey that he turned from a 5 to a 6 in your eyes. Maybe a 7 if you finished this drink. As you tilted the cup to swallow the last of the bittersweet cocktail, a large hand blocked the rim.

“I think you’ve had plenty to drink if you think this is worth the risk of STDs and a handsy little humping.” Taking the glass in his pretty tapered fingers, he drank what was left.

“Maybe that’s what I was looking for?” You didn't really know what to expect when your neighbor turned friend had barged into your apartment earlier this evening and demanded you go out with him. Out of sheer boredom, the prospect of spending way too much money to listen to some unknown artists had been enticing enough. Though the first gust of cold wind almost had you turning back around, Alastor determinedly dragged you to the city and that was how you ended up here. Bored of the bands, sick of the bodies that kept pushing around you and now, you didn’t even have the prospect of going home with a cutie for the evening to make this excursion worth it.

“Oh, do forgive me for looking out for my drunk little friend then.” The sarcastic tilt of his smile turned more amused at your pouting. It would have been annoying if those lips didn’t shine with the remnants of your drink. Pretty privilege at its finest right there. You huffed.

“Seriously, Al. Why bring me out if you’re gonna cockblock me every time?”

“I just think you can do better than that guy, sweetheart.” Moving closer so he didn’t have to semi-yell every word, his voice dropped to his placating croon that he knew always worked on you.

“Hnnngh.” His smooth talk would have been nice, who didn’t like a compliment, after all? But it’s been years since anyone tried to hit on you and the attention was nice, especially since the guy had been pretty attractive. You gave your friend a side eye. Even in the dark, flashing pink and purple lights, couldn’t hide the occasional highlight of a sharp jawline or his tall slender frame. “You wouldn’t know. You have to fight off people from flirting with you.”

Alastor was a solid 8 on a normal day with his curly dark hair and sharp features softened by big expressive eyes and a smile that could sell toothpaste. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Today, he was a 10, wearing a black wool suit jacket paired down with light blue jeans and a black v-neck shirt. With the multiple piercings in his ears, tussled brown locks and the eternally impish smile he had on, he attracted looks left, right and center.

“So you’re pent up, is that it?” He had the audacity to laugh. Prick. He strutted around looking like he did but never gave even an inkling of interest in anything sexual or romantic. Instead, he found amusement in hearing your failed romantic escapades and all the emotional toils people around him had for a problem he’d never experience.

“…” This close, you could smell the whiskey on his breath and the cologne he wore. Even that combination smelled sexy. He could bottle it up and sell it as incense the way it put you in a trance for just a second. You squinted at him. The room started to spin and he had that insufferable smirk on his face as his eyes looked down on you. Without thinking about it, you grabbed him, pulling him with enough force to bring his tall ass to your level so you could plant a kiss on his annoying lips. Your alcohol-addled mind thought it was a brilliant pay back for the opportunity he spoiled. Just a little kiss to wipe that stupid smile off his face.

The sweet taste of Coca Cola and whiskey made for an intoxicating mix along with the soft plumpness of his lips. So soft and a little cold. Your tongue darted out to taste them without a second thought. He pushed back against your onslaught, lips more incessantly against you as something warm and a little slimy licked your lips in retaliation…and he was kissing back? HE WAS KISSING YOU BACK!? You stepped back in surprise, not expecting your intimacy-repulsed friend to do that, only to feel a warm hand at your waist keeping you in place.

“I’ll take that as your answer.” His voice took on a husky timber, the kind he used when he whispered mischief and snide comments in your ears when Karen from down the hall put up another complaint on the apartment’s group page. “Now, why don’t I help you, my darling?”

His smirk was shinier as he swooped back down and drowned you in the taste of whiskey and coke.

He pressed you against the poster-covered walls of the dingy concert venue, uncaring of the many other attendees pushing through the tight space, the yells to ‘get a room’, the envious stares. Even with the occasional shove against his back, he was careful not to crush you unless it was with his mouth. And his tongue. The garbled blares of the pop-punk band were garbled by the sounds of your heartbeat and the soft groans the brunette let out and your lips slotted against each other, tongues exploring, teeth nipping. And oh my god, the world was hot and spinning and all you saw were pretty honey eyes fogged in the same daze you were under, drunk on impulsive lust and…alcohol.

Drunk?

All your senses seemed to come back to you then. Where you were, who you were with and why this was a bad idea. You pulled away and those honey eyes quirked with confusion, lips seeking to slot against yours again but you turned your cheek. “We—“ You had to clear your throat as those pretty lips made a light trail on the column of your neck that was left exposed to his gaze. “We shouldn’t…be kissing while drunk.” You shouldn’t have been kissing in general.

“What? Never kissed your friends before while a little intoxicated? I thought that’s what you girls do.” Sensing your rejection, he let up, leaning his forehead against yours while his lips teasingly hovered over your own. Even though he remained so close to you, breath still brushing against your face, the turn of the mood was immediate, coming back to the usual banter as Alastor’s momentary interest evaporated, though the smile on his lips remained shiny.

“You shouldn’t hold Katy Perry up as your model female.”

He chuckled then and released you from the cage of his arms. You hadn’t noticed until they left how his hand had been pulling you closer through the waistband of your jeans. And now you felt cold, as he was so quick to pull away.

But as the presence of him around you lessened, you knew you made the right choice. Your heart was hammering in your chest, face flushed not just with the warmth of alcohol, but he looked like he couldn’t care less, easily slipping back to the teasing jerk he’d been before the little stunt you pulled. Ouch. It didn’t even take a couple of seconds for him to look uninterested.

To hide your disappointment, you stretched your neck, pretending to loosen your muscles with a nonchalant grin. It was only then that you noticed the sticky feeling of sweat on your back and your boobs, the temperature too hot within the room just from the sheer amount of packed bodies. And even hotter after what Alastor and you just did.

“Fuck it’s hot in here. I’ll go step outside for some air real quick.”

And he let you go, moving back to the bar to get a drink as he waved you off with a pinch to your cheek.

When the chilly night air finally had a chance to cool your overheated face, it chased away some of the lightheaded buzz. Fuck. What were you thinking, kissing your friend? Drunk kissing your hot as fuck friend? If it were any other guy, you would have been thrilled to make out with him, have a fun night and see where the morning went. But this was Alastor. A drunk Alastor.

Your stepdad always said that two idiots made an accident and you two were very much too drunk for any decisions you made to be smart. It took over two years to build your friendship with him. The man was easily bored, snarky and a little mean but neighborly politeness turned to camaraderie against your HOA which turned into actual friendship. One of the few you had as an adult. You couldn’t afford to ruin things between you two, not for feelings that you shouldn’t have had in the first place.

It didn’t take long before more and more people started leaving. You checked your phone. When had it gotten so late?

“Feeling better?” The smooth tone of his voice floated through the crowded area and you gave a drunken little nod, a sense of accomplishment and happiness bubbling up at yourself from preventing a disaster.

The bus ride home to the apartment complex was relatively normal, thank god. Except for how giddy you two were from drinking, it was like the kiss never happened. As easily erased as any semblance of interest he may have had with you but the sting of that faded the more dumb jokes this yapper of a man kept spouting.

Even the quiet elevator ride in the claustrophobically small one your building had didn’t seem too bad. Just two drunk friends staring off into the not so far wall. Like this, you could pretend nothing happened, pretend you blacked some part of tonight out and go on without introducing awkward unrequited feelings into the mix.

Alastor, as well as you two got along, was way out of your league. You glanced to the side where he leaned across the supporting bar on the elevator wall. Even just standing there, he exuded a mysterious grace that the bleak lighting of the old elevator couldn’t wash out. Pretty, witty and charming. You were lucky to be his friend. You were lucky he took that kiss in stride.

Maybe you could laugh about it with him some day. Probably tomorrow, if he ever brought it up.

The elevator dinged, signaling his stop and the best time for you to put down any musings about what-ifs and all that. Whatever devil possessed the man to kiss you back wouldn’t be there when the alcohol was gone and his general disinterest in relationships and intimacy returned.

“Good night!!” You chirped as he walked out with his signature grin and a two-fingered salute. As the elevator door closed, you let go of the small disappointments within your heart, closing the box on your unrequited feelings before they ruined everything for you. Already, serenity seemed to come over you as you made peace with your stupid mistake for the evening. You’ll apologize too if he ends up mad at you in the morning.

*Thump*

A sound caught your lazy attention as a hand stuck through the almost closed gap of the doors, forcing them to open again as Alastor’s figure squeezed through.

You didn’t get a chance to even ask why before broad palms cupped your cheeks and honey eyes locked on your own, his smile gone into a serious line. Shit. Did his common sense kick in already? Was he mad?

“You said, no kissing while drunk, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then I’m very sober, sweetheart.”

For a second time that evening, you found yourself pressed between a wall and Alastor’s lips.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #ao3 writer #drunk kisses are my bread and butter

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nerdgatehobbit · 4 months ago

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Dinotopia Poll

There are descriptions for locations below, I couldn't figure out how to summarize them within the poll listings.

1- A Hatchery. There are baby dinosaurs to take care of! Farms are in the surrounding area. This one is probably cheating a bit as it's not a specific place, but a hatchery relatively close to the shoreline is the Denisons' introduction to Dinotopian society. Also, it bears repeating: baby dinosaurs.

2- Pooktook. Admittedly it's one of the lesser described cities, but it got a vibrant, bustling panorama. There is an implication there's a thriving craft industry, but that's the norm for Dinotopian locations.

3- Volcaneum. A town set in a caldera, there's a notable focus on metalworking. Like Pooktook, the specifics aren't dwelled on. It's probably a bit more industrial than the rest of Dinotopia, but that's a very low bar.

4- Waterfall City. This is likely the city first thought of when Dinotopia as a franchise gets mentioned, given its stunning visuals in multiple books and its focus in the TV series. The canals are a major method of getting around, but there are also plenty of bridges. Gliding and narrow paths are the ways in and out of the city. The city itself has a library, theaters, gardens (including a hedge maze), observatories, hot baths, a rare flower house, concert halls, and a Haven of the Muses (it seems to be more of a gathering place for various artist types than a school).

5- Hadro Swamp. No specific settlement is named in the main books that I caught, but the imagery used is memorable (to me, at least). It's probably a slow-paced way of living. There are regular concerts held by humans and, well, hadrosaurs (no surprise there). Reed boats are used for travel.

6- Treetown. Don't go here if you're afraid of heights, but if you loved the Ewok village in Return of the Jedi, this is the place for you. North of the Backbone Mountains and the Rainy Basin, Treetown is a relatively small community. There are plenty of sauropods. I'm not sure if it's specific to Arthur or not, but there is plenty of botany that can be researched here.

7- Cornucopia. It hosts the regular Dinosaur Olympics, where youths (saurian and human alike) prove that they've undergone physical training. It's implied that mental growth, especially in regards to teamwork, is also tested here. It's relatively close to Treetown, so both locations are near the Deep Lake.

8- Canyon City. Again, don't go here if heights are a concern. The primary Skybax Rider rookery is here as a result. However, there is a "network of trails and bridges" for the rest of the population that don't ride Skybaxes. Stone apartments are either carved out of the stone itself or constructed under ledges; windows are papered over rather than having glass. Nearby are farms growing primarily cotton, peppers, and squashes. Deeper in the canyon itself are the Sentinels that mark the entrance to the World Beneath.

9- Thermala (or another 'summit village'). A bad option if you dislike the cold and snow, as it's up in the Forbidden Mountains. Ice Age mammals are a common sight here- primarily the herbivores, but the sabertooths do have their own isolated caverns they dwell in. Sky Galleys bring supplies regularly. They tend to be one sprawling stone structure with rooms linked by passages. Mammoth-sized rooms are tunneled/carved into the mountains. Speaking of which, shed mammoth fur is spun into cloth. Music, cooking, and puppetry are common activities.

10- Sauropolis. The capital city of the island, so even on Dinotopia politics are a thing. Gardens and theaters are common. Street bands travel on dinosaurs. Due to being at a river delta, there are canals here as well (possibly part of why the TV show might have elevated the mayor of Waterfall City into a major political figure). Bicycle taxis are used to get around by many and sauropods act as school buses. There are cafes and fashion is a more important aspect of life here than in most other locations.

11- Bonabba. A small farming village with pod-shaped buildings, located near Moss Valley and Bogpeat Mash. It's used as a starting point for sauropod convoys crossing the Rainy Basin so there are large barns nearby. There are definitely spring festivals, and it's likely there are ones for the other seasons as well. Puppets and masks are used on a regular basis.

This isn't a complete list, especially as I deliberately left off the titular city of the third main book (Chandara) given its isolationist status. Being a homebody is going to be a personal choice here. Anyway, I'm curious to see what you all pick, especially those of you who are only hearing about these Dinotopian locales via this poll (which is why there are lengthy explanations).

#dinotopia #dinotopia poll #my polls #tumblr polls #fictional places poll

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carionto · 1 year ago

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Humans and Boredom VI

Music is everywhere in the Galaxy.

All it takes is the simplest sense of rhythm, and a feeling. What that feeling is can be anything, from a total lack of feeling - true idleness, to the most profound and personal emotional states that no other will ever truly understand;

the rush from being on the prowl, amping yourself and your compatriots up by the sheer act of marching forward, to a mother's quiet tapping of a finger on the table, waiting for an answer, hoping it doesn't come, knowing what it will be when it inevitably does.

Repetition brings comfort, at least in the sense you what will come next. Whether it is something of a reassurance during troubling times, or excitement for joining along with everyone else during celebration, having some certainty of what comes next is incredibly powerful and essential for life.

What we could not predict is what we saw when we arrived at one of our moons Humanity offered to clean up after a small skirmish between some locals and pirates. An OCC ship had been tagging along this military escort. We know of the Orbital Cleaner Crews, their reputation, while only recent in Galactic circles, is unparalleled, so we gladly accepted their offer.

Now, this moon has an atmosphere. It's highly toxic and the surface is almost nothing but dust, so it has been deemed uninhabitable. It's only function, really, is the light tidal effect it produces for it's host planet, which is more or less just a farm and resort and retirement hotspot (with some secret military bases, but don't tell anyone).

Not long after leaving the OCC to do it's thing, we got a call from planetside about strange lights appearing on the moon at night. What the OCC were doing, or more specifically, the active cleaner currently on their 8 hour shift, flinging bits of space pirate ship debris at the moon. What the hell?

"It's fine, you said nothing lives down there, right? And we don't get a lot of atmosphere jobs, so I'm making the most of it. The air isn't bad enough to melt the drones I sent down there, and I've been, let's say, working on my magnum opus. Here, have a listen to yesterdays sample."

What she played was music. I think Humans call it jazz, with a mixture of symphony, and... heavy metal? A fascinating combination, and some of the notes were intense and booming. It did not sound like any instrument we had heard Humans use before, though it did remind us of a few Groh'rani bands, but that's just how their mouths learn to work in the upper lowland dialect.

"You're looking at it."

What?

"The moon and debris! Most people wouldn't think it, but based on the material composition, speed, angle and point of contact, orbital debris makes a lot of different sounds.

That sample specifically used: a triple impact of cockpit chairs; two laser batteries colliding a few meters above the surface; a hallway hitting the ground with its flat bottom first; another hallway whistling by as it shoots down open hatch first, the drone inside picked up some wicked air noises, didn't survive the direct crash though, would've loved to get the inside boom; and a barrage of twenty four diced up hull plates striking at quarter second intervals."

Hmm, well, that's certainly... creative use of available resources. And not breaking any laws or regulations either, huh.

"If you don't mind, I've still got some work to do. I'm in no rush with the piece though, the release is years away. I still need more low notes from carrier and larger ship impacts, plus it takes a lot of time to get authorization to get a planetcracker for a private job. I have to know what sound matter of all kind makes when those massive gravity hooks slowly squeeze and expand them. Man, I can't even imagine. So excited for when that paperwork goes through!"

Right, we'll leave you to it then.

Bye.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

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faerievampling · 8 months ago

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Killing Time

Chapter 8: Draconic Bindings

Word Count: 5k

Total word count: 38k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Spawn Tav

Warning: 18+. Please be mindful for this one and read tags: Dubious consent. Non-Consent (Not between Astarion and Tav). SA. Blood. Graphic Violence. Size difference. PiV. Mind control. Obsessive and Possessive behavior.

Link to Ao3

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.

Next Chapter

M.List

All living beings have an intrinsic desire to survive, and this was nonetheless true for the undead, such as yourself. You haven’t a clue what’s happened, only that something with a wet nose and a beating heart is close to you.

You managed to open your eyes despite the heavy haze you had existed in for…well, you couldn’t be sure, but you were absolutely starving, and that alone told you it had been at least a day. You feel drained, heavy, fatigued in a way you hadn’t known since your creation: a feeling you imagined you would only recognize if you could only remember what it felt like to be alive.

The first thing you see is a pink nose, rather dull green eyes (you’re sure this is due to your injury rather than the animal’s beauty) and silky white fur, long and fluffy. A pang of sadness fills your heart and your head, but your survival instincts are much stronger, and you move to reach for the cat – if you can grab it, eat it, that would give you enough energy to move more, and possibly heal faster.

Rolling onto your side, you swing your arm towards the cat: but you’re too slow, and the movement causes a burning sensation to spread throughout your arm. The cat darts away. ‘Pitiful,’ you think before your arm goes slack in front of you: your hands are bare, you realize, and all but a simple silver band remains on your wrist. Looking at your other hand, your heart drops at its bareness: your wedding rings are gone, only an identical band on your wrist remains.

You look down to find your charmed anklet had been replaced, burning even when you wiggled your toes. You close your eyes, burying your face into a strange smelling pillow as you weep.

“Only obedient women get fed. You must learn.” A voice comes from behind you’re on your side, having curled into a fetal position in hopes that would help with the pain. You feel something heavy, cool and smooth, dancing across your body. You’re naked, you realize, and what’s grazing you is a large claw, it’s hand scaled red, talons long and black. His hand is huge, covering nearly half your torso.

You can’t really move, especially with him pinning you down, so you merely hiss at him; the man chuckles. His voice is deep, gravelly, fitting for a lord of his size and race.

“You have been like this for days. Thrashing about. Being a bad pet. Attacking anyone who comes near, even a cat. Fighting my fangs and cock away when I take you. Refusing to take my blood.” His face was pressed against yours now, his arms wrapped around you as he drew you in. His thin, reptilian tongue was cold and wet on your cheek, lapping at your tears. Your body burned from the movement, but the man seemed entirely unaffected: you take note that the outside of the silver could be touched without pain; only the inside had been conveniently left untreated.

You knew the Lord Geldon Moth had you, you needn’t be a scholar to figure that one out.

His tongue retreats, and you brace yourself for his devilish voice. “You know, I am a very big fan of yours, Tav Ancunín.” Moth brings his arms underneath you, bringing you into his lap, holding you like a babe. You close your eyes, willing yourself away. He just smelled wrong. “The True Hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

”You are smaller than I imagined,” His voice was low, and you felt the flicker of his long tongue on your breast, teasing your nipple. Settling you on his lap, you can’t help but focus on that distant heartbeat, the one still thumping about somewhere in the room. You’re so hungry, and the pain is really getting to you. You open your eyes involuntarily, using all your might to try to squirm from this lord’s grasp.

Moth grabs your chin, thrusting your head to him. For the first time, you make eye contact with him, studying the image of his face with such ferocity that you knew you’d never forget it: he was handsome, that much was true. He was angled in the right places, his red scales glittering in the candlelight. His iris was red, as all vampires and many Dragonborn have; but the space around his eyes was black, reminding you of the empty void inside of you.

His pale, long digits slip the large diamond ring onto your finger. It paired beautifully with the wedding band and the two other gem-embedded rings, all of which had been among the wedding gifts Astarion got you. You look up at him, meeting his gaze –

“Do not fight. You are far too weak. Obey and I will relieve you of your pain, my dove,” The two of you held eye contact until you ceased your thrashing. You were too exhausted, hungry…mostly hungry. You try to avoid the thoughts of your husband’s face flashing in your mind.

Moth’s hand moved from your jaw down to your breasts, his large hand swallowing them as he touched you: it was somewhere between a caress and a grope, a strange movement for a man so large.

“All you must do is bite me. I know how hungry you are, little one,” Moth cooed, his words making you feel dirty. “You will not heal correctly if you continue to refuse to feed, because the silver will remain until you do.”

You have a distinct feeling that you shouldn’t bite him. He smelled wrong, the blood in his veins dead, incomparable to that of your living darling. You were also quite unsure what would happen if you did: you had squared yourself with the fact that Astarion was gone, but you didn’t know what it meant. Was he still your Master? If he wasn’t, then what kind of vampire did that make you? If you bite Lord Moth, a vampire that should be equal or lesser to you, would you be enthralled by him?

Two thousand years and you never quite understood your condition. It simply hadn’t mattered to you before. But now, these thoughts frantically swim about your mind, interrupted and nearly discarded by your hunger pains.

But…you hiss at him, turning your head away, refusing the man with all the defiance you could muster.

Moth scowls at you before slinging you over his shoulder, teleporting the two of you to somewhere dark, wet, and deep in the earth. Despite your dampened senses, you immediately sense the life around you, hearing their heartbeats, their little chatters and the scattering of nails on stone.

Moth slings you down, your skull violently bouncing on the floor at his discard. Your ears ring as blood slowly drips down your forehead, filling your vision with red. Moth bends over to quickly grab a squirming vermin by the tail, dangling it over you.

“If you refuse to obey, Tav, and be mine, then you shall rule the cellars as the Rat-Catcher Queen. A title befitting for one so distinguished as yourself. Think of it as an ode to your old Master.” With that, Moth disappears, and you are alone.

ratcatcherturnedlord.ratcatcherturnedlord.ratcatcherrurnedlord. The words feel like a brand inside your skull, burning and tearing and eating at your mind. You lap up your own blood from your body after all life in the cellar had been extinguished.

You come back to yourself after a while. Your night vision is impeccable, and you can easily find your way around: you can even see your pained reflection in the pools of blood on the floor, your pride preventing you from consuming the spilled crimson. The rat blood had been sufficient enough to clear your mind, but it couldn’t fix your heart – you curl up, putting your head between your knees as you wrap your arms around yourself, wishing for the warm embrace of your husband.

Your husband. Your Master. You loved Astarion with your entire being, and you had since your creation: Astarion held your heart carefully in his palm, and he had ever since he made you his. You felt safe here, comfortable, your affection being met nearly at every point. Astarion generally knew how to keep you happy.

You have to get back to him: you’re a married woman, a day-walking vampire, a fighter, a Sarth, a friend, a leader – you wouldn't let yourself become a slave to one such as Moth. But you knew fighting him would prove fruitless in your condition: your head injury had yet to heal, the silver proving far more detrimental to you than your hunger.

“You’re just going to have to forgive me, Astarion. Because I won’t break my promise to you. I will come back to you. But I will have to break rules to get there.” Your message merely bounces around your vast mind.

You have to get these fucking bands off of you. Silver is out of season, anyway.

****

You don’t know how long you’re in the cellar, your best guess being a few days before Moth comes to fetch you.

“I’ll do it,” Is all you say upon his return. Flashing a shark-like grin at you, Moth gently picks you up, carrying you back to the comforts of the boudoir. You can’t deny the soft sheets and plush mattress that was being provided to you, but there was something about the Moth estate (the little of it you had seen, being a single bedroom and the cellar) that felt unclean. There was a constant stench of blood and death, one you and Astarion worked very hard to absolve in your own home.

The room was kept very dark, often only lit by a few candles: the blood-red drapes were enchanted to prevent any light coming in the room, and the door to the balcony was entirely foreign to you, large and black and menacing. Moth’s tastes were gaudy and ill-fitting. But this had meant that you wouldn’t be seeing the daylight until you were saved, which was starting to feel like a more distant prospect with each growing hour.

No. You wouldn’t allow yourself such negative thoughts.

The Dragonborn bathes you, an action that reminds you far too much of Astarion, and you flinch away at Moth’s every touch. He isn’t gentle, seemingly unsure of how to handle you.

You tentatively look over to him, avoiding eye contact. “I can do this myself…” Your voice nearly wavers. Nearly.

“I want to bathe you. But you slip through my fingers.” His hand, wet and soapy, moved between your legs, between your folds. You gasp, closing your eyes as you feel your core heat up. “So soft. Like velvet.”

You have to steel yourself as your fangs slip beneath cool, scaled skin, tasting the thick, metallic crimson of another undead on your tongue. There were so many things wrong with this: biting another vampire wasn’t particularly appetizing to you, them being dead and all, and you weren’t accustomed to actually biting your prey. And, of course, you weren't sure what would happen after this – only that this felt like the only option.

Once he’s satisfied with your meal, he grabs the back of your hair, breaking you from your sanguine embrace, bringing you into a powerful kiss before removing the bands on both your wrists. It was a spell, one spoken in Draconic, which made the silver disappear into thin air. The skin beneath was burned and torn, and Moth had servants wash and bandage you with care before bringing in a trembling elven male. The bands on your ankles still remained, but you already felt substantially better.

“I discovered many things about you, Tav. Your preferences, your eating habits,” His large hand grabs you by the back of your neck, bringing you to face the man.

“I want you to bite him and drain him until only a sliver of life remains,” Moth drawls on, the bass in his voice making your ears prickle.

“Why? Astarion, why is he doing this? Why aren’t you here? Why haven’t you fucking saved me yet?” You can hear the blood pumping through the veins of the man. His smell – his type, his blood, well, you just need it.

Moth orders you to drink, and you do so, draining the elf of all life, leaving his limp body at your feet without any care for its regard. This was the easy part – you are a predator, and living beings are prey. It was only instinctual for you to enjoy this.

“Is it not lovely, drinking straight from your meal? A delight your old Master deprived you of, little vampire,” Moth mocks as he lays you on your back, his eyes never leaving you as he removes his clothing, exposing his exquisite form, making you swallow. “Your old Master was no good for you. Not good enough for the Hero.”

Moth’s shoulders are wide, his chest and abdomen strong, and the rest of his body was to match. His cock was long, thick, far bigger than any lover you’ve known before; it was fully hard, the color a lighter red than the rest of his body, veiny and intimidating, the tip of it already leaking pre-cum. His eyes were cold, and they bore into you so sharply it made you tremble.

His head moves between your thighs; his tongue is practiced, and you squirm at his touch. You continue to look at him when you take his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance, but your mind is elsewhere.

“You are eager,” Moth whispers. “Does the blood of men excite you?”

You strangely find yourself thinking about the last time you had held a masquerade: it had been to promote conservation in Toril, and for that reason, the masks were animal inspired. Astarion had chosen a mask that resembled something of a sleek peacock, even though you hadn’t thought that ever possible, but he pulled it off. You had chosen something more simple: a black wolf (you insisted on it being black, because you had a gorgeous dress to pair it with).

“…a living legend. A wonder of the world. All mine.” The man says, and you realize he must be doing his best to make you orgasm, because the build-up in your lower belly was becoming unbearable. You whimper, causing Moth to chuckle before you release around him, your juices flowing down his shaft.

“It drives me mad to think of all the parts of you I have yet to explore.” To think he would ever have true access to you, to your depths, your mind – you decided you would rather die, and Astarion would just have to come find your soul himself.

“I will make it so you have nowhere else to go, but my arms. You will not belong anywhere but by my side,” He spoke into your ear. You knew where you belonged, and it wasn’t in the arms of a Dragonborn. “I will be your reason to live. And I will make it so that you will never want to live without me. So that it will bring you agony to be without me.”

Don’t think. Don’t feel.

“You know, you clench around me everytime I thrust deeply into you, woman.”

****

You awake from a light slumber with a start as your mind rumbles with energy. A thread, one so singular, connecting you to a man. Immediately, you sense everything you need to know about this new addition: he is a half-elf, only thirty years old, and incredibly scared. His mind is yours, you know, and so is his body – he is awaiting your command, begging you to save him. You can almost feel the sensation of the dirt under his nails as he crawls his way to the surface.

‘Why the hells had he risen so early?’ You think to yourself before you’re interrupted by a sharp pain in your chest. You imagine silver curls covered in dirt, the only part of his body clean being the lines on his face from his trail of tears. You shake the image away.

“Come.” You will your spawn to you, to test the connection in your brain: it was far different than what you and Astarion had, but it was enough to give you hope. And when he meets the sun, and he begins to slowly burn, his senses overwhelm him. He panics, becoming incapacitated in some way, but he’s too frightened to communicate anything with you except: HELP.

You dart out of bed, overcome with a sense of worry for your spawn. You wanted to save him – you had to try. He was yours, and if he could help you, then you were going to use him. But something stops you before you can try: a cold hand on your wrist, pulling you back into bed, back into his large, frigid arms. The fledgling screams for a long time. You listen until it fades to nothing.

The body of your spawn was still on fire, blazing right outside your window, as Moth finally began to stir. You could sense the heat and smell the burning flesh. You were surprised at how long it took for a fresh body to be reduced to ash. You felt a strange sadness at the loss of your spawn, but you knew something that you hadn’t been sure of before: you certainly could create offspring, and the only thing in your way was a little bit of freedom.

Moth opens the balcony door, the key (presumably) being his command. He takes your hand, bringing you outside for the first time since you arrived. The two of you stare at the ash in the courtyard. It was clear Moth had simply dumped your vampire into a shallow grave, clearly an experiment to test the blessings Astarion had bestowed on you.

“He survived far longer than most spawn would,” Moth grumbles.

“He screamed for hours,” Your voice came out hollow; it hardly even sounded like you. Moth leads you back into the boudoir, locking the doors behind him.

“You could have compelled him to stop.” Moth’s face is still as stone. You missed Astarion’s lively reactions, the way he would express himself, the way he would talk with his hands…

You felt Moth’s tongue in your mouth before you could prepare yourself, his teeth hitting your own, fangs cutting into your lip. You opened your mouth further, inviting him in, causing him to moan into your mouth. The Dragonborn liked it when you kissed him back; he liked it even more when your nails dug into his chest as you rode him, drawing blood from his muscular form. He picks you up, lifting you by the thighs as he drills into you before placing you on your knees.

Afterwards, Moth held you in his arms.“Now, tell me about Baldur's Gate. What was the ancient city like? I never did get to visit before it was reduced to rubble.”

You pause, your mind flitting back to the burning spawn, thinking about how horrific it felt to be afraid of something so vital to life as the sun. “I hardly remember.”

“Humor me, woman.” His claws trailed along your arm, making you shiver. You fight the urge to run.

You try to think back, but all you see is Astarion’s pretty face. You feel you’ve willingly disrespected your marriage at every turn, and this starts to well up inside you, starting at your belly, rising to your chest and throat. Everything feels tight, and you feel disgusted in your own body.

“Tav,” His hand reaches the base of your throat, his fingertips slightly squeezing into you, the tip of his nails breaking skin. “You are expected to conversate after I have conquered your body. You will obey.”

You feel his cold tongue on the shell of your ear. You mindfully flush your system of that dread and disgust, because now wasn’t the time to think about that. It would be easy to humor him, if you can get yourself together. You take only a few moments to dial yourself back. “Baldur’s Gate was lively. There were once many people who lived there. I remember…large mechanical beings. Created by children, oddly enough.”

“You speak of Lord Enver Gortash’s Steel Watch. Built not by children, but by a race of small people, a kind that has not been seen in Toril for centuries.”

You didn’t know what the hell he was on about and you didn’t care. “Mm,” you hum in reply as you fall back to that numb state that was far more comfortable than any other.

Moth raises an eyebrow at you. “Your own history does not amuse you, my concubine?”

“I suppose not.”

“I likely have the biggest collection of the history of Baldur’s Gate, specifically on the occurrence of the Netherbrain.”

“A maid once told me I had the largest shoe collection in Toril.” Even Moth’s stone face couldn't conceal his distaste for your retort.

“You are immature. Uncultured,” Bringing your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, he squeezes you, causing you to yelp. “Poorly trained. Unsurprising of Cazador’s brood. But I expected more from a hero.”

You brush his hand off, but he only clutches you further, the meat of your bottom stinging from claws pressed to flesh. You push him away again, sitting up in the bed.

“I’m not the person I once was. It was so long ago I don’t remember the details. When I read the history, or hear a song, or a poem about my own legendary actions, I don’t know what’s true and what isn’t. Only my –“ Your voice chokes at the thought, tears pricking your eyes as your mask slips again.

“Continue your words.”

“Only my husband remembers such things.” When the words come out, you know you’ve angered him, and he means to grab you, but you move out of his grasp just as he swings his arm at you. His middle finger, the tip a black pointed claw, catches your cheekbone, drawing across your nose to the other side of your face, creating a thin, red line that fills your vision. You yell, attempting to turn into a bat but only managing to flutter away before returning to your body, harshly dropping to the floor as your hands fly to your face.

You hold back further cries, refusing to make a sound as Moth comes at you again, picking you up by your neck before throwing you back on the bed. He was already between your legs, having grabbed both your wrists with his hand. You were entirely restrained, bleeding, afraid, and you already feared the scar from the incident in the cellar – was this Lord truly so keen on damaging his property?

“You have no husband. You are mine. You shall refer to Astarion Ancunín as your old Master, or I will punish you further.”

“Yes,” Your voice is merely a whisper. It was good enough for Moth, who rubs your slit with the pads of his fingers, which he comments is quite generous of him, before entering you again.

****

You spent your days alone, desperately trying to sleep. But with the Dragonborn next to you, it was impossible. During the nights, Moth would take you at various times, whenever his need arose. You were far stronger now that you hadn’t so much silver and you were fed, but you weren’t nearly in any shape to take him on directly. You had to be smart: at this point, you were biding your time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

“You know, I can smell the daylight on your skin. You are warmer to the touch than my other pets,” Moth brought his nose behind your ear, breathing in at the spot behind your earlobe at the base of your skull: you shiver, trying your best not to think about the way your body was reacting.

Now that you were back of sound mind, you knew you had been with Moth for nearly a month, maybe two. The wounds on your body began to heal, earning you a legion of new scars.

“You have been so good to me. So good for me,” Moth says to you as you smooth the dress on your form: he had granted you an allowance of clothing for your presentation to the other concubines. This had been the first time getting a good look at yourself since your capture, and the sight of your newly scarred body made you burst into tears.

The scar that cut across your cheekbones and nose was thin, luckily, but the scar tissue thicker on the bridge of your nose. The skin was shiny, sensitive to the touch, but it was none so bad as the one on your forehead, which required stitches. You couldn’t bear to look too long at the ones on your breasts or your thighs. You could only imagine how ugly Astarion would find you, once you finally got out of here…what if he didn’t want you anymore? Looking at yourself, you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t. You hardly looked like yourself.

You bring your hands to your face, crying in your palms to shield yourself away from this reality. Moth watches you for a beat, his face entirely emotionless, before bringing you into his arms. He takes your wrists with one hand, retching them away from your face as his other hand grabs your jaw, squeezing so hard you think your bones will crack. His cold tongue slithers on your cheeks, his breath smelling

of death, the trail of his saliva cooling on your flesh.

“Being marked by me, my greatest lover, only makes you far more beautiful. Had I known you when I was alive, I would have chosen you to hold and birth my seed,” He grumbles before bringing you into a deep, tongue entangling kiss. Giving in, the lord wipes your tears away as he licks the pad of your lips.

‘What an odd thing for a vampire to say,’ You think before bracing yourself. Meeting the other concubines was a very good sign, a semblance that more freedom was coming your way.

Just hold on.

****

Astarion had to stop this, this utter abuse of his own body: several times a day, he would steal away from wherever he was to lose himself in a memory of his wife while he fists his cock, rubbing himself until he feels any sort of bliss, losing himself to you.

The longer you are gone, the more this continues. Astarion can’t even conceive of doing anything different: he didn’t want anyone to touch his body except for you. But you weren’t here, and the delicate skin of his cock felt nearly raw, but he healed so quickly it didn’t matter. He hardly rested anymore, his schedule being so wild that he often found himself up all day and all night.

Lae’zel saw Astarion losing it. Despite her frustrations and her anger with him, she tried to comfort her old friend, but he couldn’t take it; rather, he was inconsolable.

“I can’t stop imagining what she’s doing, Lae’zel. Sometimes I think I feel her, her pain, her…pleasure,” The word came out of Astarion’s mouth like a curse, vile and rude. “I don’t even know if I’m imagining it or not.”

“I have no doubts she’s making her way back to you. I don’t think she would so easily forget about you for a stranger who kidnapped her.”

Astarion feels his barriers coming down, and it pisses him off. He felt weak, the very walls he had built up for so long with the outside world, everyone except you, were beginning to falter. That old guilt – that one he felt from the very beginning, about all the seduction, the sacrifice, you, everything wrong he had ever done to his one beloved…

“It makes me want to...die.” Astarion almost meant this. But he would find a way to bring you back to him before that ever happened – Lae’zel knew this too, thinking Astarion dramatic.

“Astarion,” Lae’zel says, tentatively reaching out to touch the shoulder of the man you loved so much. He didn’t move away, and Lae’zel made no further motions: she knew this was as close as she would ever get (as she would ever want to get, because to be honest, Astarion had given her the creeps ever since he had performed the Black Mass) to the Ascendant.

“I haven’t always been a good husband. I’ve taken from her, time and time again, to feed my own desires.”

Lae’zel didn’t really need Astarion to tell her this. She figured this would be the case, long ago. But he’s already said too much, his aura changing entirely in just a split second. Lae’zel takes her hand off of Astarion’s shoulder, taking several steps back. “I need to be alone,” He mutters, and Lae’zel doesn’t hesitate in leaving Astarion’s office.

In the span of a few weeks, Astarion had grown his spawn army to nearly fifty. His three remaining spawn bring him a victim each night if they can, and Astarion simply bites them after putting them under a sleep spell. Then, the spawn bury the victim. The next evening, they rise as a vampire, and would be immediately compelled to do the bidding of their new Master.

****

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.

M.List

Next Chapter

#ascended astarion #ascended!astarion #soft ascended astarion #ascended astarion x you #ascended!astarion x tav #ascended!astarion x reader #ascended astarion x tav #spawn tav #vampire tav #ascended astarion x female reader #Killing Time

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moth-tunes · 2 months ago

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death cab for cutie ranking! (september 2024)

i want to start using this blog for more things, so here's a quick and dirty post about my personal ranking of my favorite band, death cab for cutie, and their albums! so without further adieu! here we go! for the record this is going off my memory and feeling, i could potentially revisit this list in more depth, but I want to go primarily off my feelings and my thoughts without going through a deep study, so the bottom half might get a little muddy. For the record I think ALL Death Cab For Cutie records are INSANELY good, for the record. BUT. BUT BUT. Here we go.

#1: Transatlanticism

Need I say FUCKING more? I love this album so so much. It is the banner of this blog. This album is so good, so solid, and it stays so for the entire run time. Everything about this album is perfect. I love it so much.

Favorite Song: Title and Registration

#1: We Have The Facts And We're Voting Yes

It's my list! I can have a tie for number 1 if I want to! This album is a completely different vibe and reason why it's good compared to Transatlanticism, but honestly I come back to it an equal amount honestly. If not more. This one just feels like it speaks specifically to me and my soul. When I listened to it for the first time, I listened to it twice that day because I loved it so much. Depending on the day, I could say this is my favorite one. Easy recommendation.

Favorite Song: Company Calls

#2: The Photo Album

This album, to me, is the perfect middle between what we got with Transatlanticism and We Have The Facts. Like those two, absolutely no misses. If I were a bit more cheeky with this list, I would also tie this one for #1, but we gotta move on from #1 at some point :p. Nonstop bangers.

Favorite Song: I Was A Kaleidoscope

#3 Narrow Stairs

Okay so. This one is awesome. This one follows up "Plans" and is honestly a return to form for them I'll be honest. At a different time, I would've ranked this one below Plans, but honestly I've aged into this album excellently. I'm going to be honest. I fucking adore it nowadays. I Will Possess Your Heart is a complete classic and I can't imagine a single person who listens to it going "oh that song sucks" unless you have no patience or taste. It's a bit edgier but also very heartfelt.

Favorite Song: Cath...

#4: Asphalt Meadows

Late career BANGER. This album is so so close to being no skips, it's got a few 6s on the tracklist, but it never dips below a 6-7, I honestly am so excited for what they have in store for us. This album is so underrated I am going to be honest. This was such an overlooked album when it came out too. Maybe don't start with this one, but DON'T OVERLOOK IT.

Favorite Song: I Miss Strangers

#5: Plans

This is probably one everyone ELSE would rank way higher, and for good reason! It's an excellent EXCELLENT ALBUM. and it is super duper accessible. Quite frankly, if you start with anyone, this one. Do this one. But I think it's just that. Just the starter. This one has a lot of very classic songs and by no means is it bad, it just sort of... sits at the beginning of the middle of the pack for me. still a 10 or 9 out of 10

#6 Something About Airplanes

Okay. Well. Gotta explain myself here. This is their first record, and it is not THAT MUCH better than its predecessory, the demo tape "You Can Play These Songs With Chords" it has its issues and it's the first one I would not like, has flaws that bring it down a peg compared to the others. Now to be fair, I still love it lmao. It's an 8/10 or 9/10 for me but like, for the general public, idk. I would personally say don't listen to this one until you KNOW you love Death Cab haha.

Favorite Song: Fake Frowns

#7 You Can Play These Songs With Chords

This one's kind of disjointed. It has bangers. And a lot of them. But there's too many songs I just, can't fully latch onto. and a cover of this charming man. so. sorry i like something about airplanes more. i love you though, you can play these songs with chords, you are a lovely little demo tape <3

Favorite Song: TV Trays

#8: Codes and Keys

Last album of their pre-Asphalt Meadows flop era with Chris Walla and it kind of shows but ALSO it's better than it has any right to be. I have a soft spot for this one, and I revisit it a fair amount more than other 2010s Death Cab records. Don't have much else to say here.

Favorite Song: Monday Morning

#9: Thank You For Today

Ah. Yes. The canonical worst one. Yeah this one kind of blows compared to even the one I am going to rank below it. BUT i do appreciate it. it has a few BANGERS i am going to be honest. don't have much else to say

Favorite Song: Gold Rush

#10: Kintsugi

Don't take me putting this at 10th as an indication of quality. This album is still a fantastic album. I just. don't really listen to it. Never did. Haven't in a while. It didn't stick to me like the other did. Doesn't help that I can't find it ANYWHERE on CD. BUT! Yeah. Gimme a few years and this album will probably click and be a favorite.

Favorite Track: N/A, literally I don't have one off the top of my head. I guess Ghost Of Beverly Drive???? whatever sorry Kintsugi fans

AND THAT'S A LIST. Kind of a self indulgent post, maybe I'll do this for other bands I like if I'm feeling it. But I want to start using this for dumb dumb stupid bullshit like this. This is a gut feelings list, so I will probably look at this post in a few years and go "why did i rank this so high?" lmao. But yeah. Thanks for reading and PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LISTEN TO DEATH CAB! 10/10 band you won't regret it <3

#death cab for cutie

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francesminos-tt · 2 years ago

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Lucemond Time Travel AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

140 AC, Driftmark

“Stay still.” Lucerys says and he leans in, one hand gently resting on Aemond’s shoulder to keep him in place, the other holding a small round sapphire.

Aemond tenses, not sure if it’s from anticipation of pain or Lucerys’s proximity.

“It won’t hurt too much, just sting a little.” Lucerys gives Aemond’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He brings the sapphire to his lips, kissing it, using his body heat to warm the cold gem. He blows slightly at the gem before pressing it into Aemond’s left eye socket.

Aemond hisses, trying to flinch away, the sensation of an unfamiliar weight in his eye socket too foreign for him. It doesn’t hurt, like Lucerys said, just feels strange.

“There. Good boy.” Lucerys releases his shoulder and moves away, but not before planting a kiss on his forehead.

“I am not your child.” Aemond declares, wrinkling his nose a little.

“No. You are my husband,” Lucerys agrees, a mischievous smile on his lips, “who acts like a child.”

Aemond wants to retort, but Lucerys has already gone to the cradle near the balcony to check on the infant. Jacaerion, it’s called, only 8 weeks old, the new addition to the Driftmark family. The third born son between Aemond and Lucerys.

“Little Jace is a heavy sleeper.” Lucerys says fondly, rocking the cradle. The baby doesn’t even stir, just continue to drool over a small blanket, sucking on its index finger.

Aemond sticks out his tongue, pretending to throw up. He knows how ridiculous he must look, a grown man, father of three children, and apparently one of the most formidable swordsmen in the whole realm, acts like a grumpy toddler. He can’t help it. He can’t believe he actually agreed to name his son after Jacaerys, of all people. Sure, his son is not Jacaerys Jr, but close enough. They even have the same nick name, for Seven’s sake.

“Stop being so dramatic.” Lucerys says, his back still turned to Aemond, but he seems to know Aemond is being childish again. “I am still counting on you to look after little Jace while I am gone.”

“When will you come back?” Aemond asks, trying very hard not to sound too clingy. He doesn’t need Lucerys to babysit him, but he also realizes this would be the first time he stays alone in the room, with an infant no less.

“Already missing me?” Lucerys jests, tilting his head to look at Aemond. As soon as he sees Aemond’s face, stunning and scary with that sapphire, but so vulnerable at the same time, his heart melts. The brunette tiptoes to the armchair that Aemond occupies right now, and sits on the armrest.

“Don’t worry, you will be just fine.” Lucerys runs a finger through Aemond’s hair, gradually smoothing the strands out. “I just have to welcome the Pentos Prince to Driftmark, maybe have a little chat with him. I will be back before dinner.”

Aemond hums, leaning to the touch. He stopped fighting Lucerys’s totally inappropriate intimacy three days after he first woke up. He has to admit, touching Lucerys does calm him down.

Lucerys proceeds to tie Aemond’s hair into a low ponytail using a hair band from his wrist. The hair band is made from two strands of colorful silk, twisted together, one purple and one soft brown. According to Lucerys, it’s a gift from their twin daughter to Aemond. Vaela and Rhaella, both 4 years old. The girls look almost identical, chubby face and silver hair, but Vaela has soft brown eyes like Lucerys and Rhealla’s eyes are typical Targaryen violet.

“The girls miss you.” Lucerys whispers, proud at his finished work. He loves to play with Aemond’s hair, and he knows the girls love too. Sometimes they would beg Aemond to let them braid his beautiful hair. Aemond tells them repeatedly that he has to look tough to scare away bad men who looks at their mother funny, but he always gives in. Lucerys loves him for it. Aemond is such a good father.

Despite Lucerys’s belief in him, Aemond is not sure. He doesn’t know what a good father is because he never has one. Viserys might be a good king, but he was a lousy father.

“Am I, “Aemond pauses, carefully choosing his words, “a good father to them?”

“Of course you are.” Lucerys answers without hesitation. “They love you and you love them, unconditionally. That’s why I am trusting you with little Jace as well. Don’t doubt yourself, Aemond. Never.”

Lucerys says with such determination that Aemond believes him.

“Now be good while I am gone.”

Lucerys leaves their quarter, unaware that when he comes back, he will be met with the adorable scene of his husband sharing cakes with the twins while bouncing little Jace on his lap.

121 AC Driftmark

It’s a sunny afternoon, rare in Driftmark, which reminds him of the day his family go on picnic on the beach. Lucerys was heavy with child that time, so Aemond brought layers of soft blanket and fur to keep him warm and comfortable. They sat beside a huge rock, Aemond massaging Lucerys’s ankle to reduce swelling while the girls chased each other down the shore. Lucerys was eating his favorite lemon cake while rubbing his huge belly, the sun painted his brown curls gold. Aemond knows the beach is his husband’s safe heaven. That’s why he finds Luke on the beach again.

“I brought you cake.” Aemond says softly, not to startle his nephew, “Hope you like lemon.”

Luke’s little face brightens at the sight of Aemond and lemon cakes.

“Lemon cakes are my favorite!” The boy declares, standing up to hug Aemond’s waist. “And you are my favorite person!”

“I know.” Aemond hugs back. He knows Luke likes lemon cake and roast meat with gravy. He knows Luke enjoys a glass of good Pentos wine once in a while. He also knows Luke loves him. He knows everything about Lucerys.

They settle down on the beach. Luke pays no mind to the sands that get on his trousers, neither does Aemond. Luke pops a piece of lemon cake to his mouth, chewing while keeping his eyes on the ocean tides.

“Now, can you tell me what’s bothering you, nephew?” Aemond asks, breaking the silence.

“Nothing.”

“Is it because I will go back to King’s Landing tomorrow?” Aemond moves closer, lightly bumping Luke’s shoulder.

“Yes.” Luke admits after a long while. He turns to meet Aemond’s eye, his uncle still has bandages around the left side of his face. Luke dreads the day Aemond has to go back to King’s Landing and himself to Dragonstone.

“You know I will write to you. Everyday, if you wish.” Aemond reaches out to wipe away some cake crumbs on Luke’s chin. “I will fly on Vaghar and go to Dragonstone if you miss me too much.”

“The Hand won’t let you.” Luke laments. “And the Queen. I am afraid, uncle. What if you decide to hate me after all? I won’t be around to convince you otherwise.”

“I am a prince of the realm. I will do whatever I want.” Aemond says firmly. It is true. He defied his grandfather by asking for Lucerys’s hand. His mother was upset at first but came around after the twins were born. Otto has plans for him, Aemond is well aware; to make him into a solider full of hatred, to be used and disposed in the usurpation. He refused to be a puppet then, and he will do it that now.

“I wish I was confident like you, uncle.” Luke casts his gaze down, playing with the sand at his feet. “I am not good at anything. Except maybe flying with Arrax.”

Aemond almost forgets what an insecure boy his husband used to be. The charming and diplomatic lord of the tides was once a boy convinced he was no good at anything.

“Grandpa wants me to inherit Driftmark, but I don’t want it.” Luke continues before Aemond could say anything.

“And why is that?” Aemond puts an arm around the boy’s trembling figure in an attempt to provide comfort. Touching always calms Aemond down, and he hopes it does the same for Luke.

“If I am lord of the tides, that means everyone is dead.” Luke buries his face in Aemond’s shoulder, his voice a little bit muffled and sounds like he is holding back tears.

Aemond gently pats the boy’s back. He waits for a while before speaking again.

“Then you just have to honor their names by being an excellent lord of the tides.” Aemond says. He won’t sugar coating things for Luke; the boy is not wrong.

“I won’t be a good lord of the tides. I get sea green the second I set foot on a ship.” Luke sniffles.

“You will be.”

“How do you know?” Luke snapped his head up to look at Aemond. His nose is red and his eyes are teary.

“I just know.” Aemond brushes a stray strand of curls from the boy’s face. “Do you not believe me?”

Luke shakes his head violently. Aemond chuckles a little.

“Then that’s settled. You will be an excellent lord of the tides. I will make sure of it.”

#lucemond #aemond x lucerys #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #time travel #fix it au

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arcvmonth · 1 year ago

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ARC-V Month 2023 Prompt List

Starting June 15th, all works under these prompts are to be accepted and reblogged here. Any form of content is welcome, and so are late submissions! Scroll through the prompts, take your pick, and most importantly- have fun!

(Don't forget the tags and the @arcvmonth mention, though! We don't want your post to get eaten by Tumblr, now do we?)

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Day 1: Lights, Camera, Action... Duel!

We're starting off light and sweet with a simple introduction day. Present yourself, the type of content you do, or the charaters you'll be working with- anything goes, just let the audience know of you in your own way!

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Day 2: Kahyoreigetsu

Flowers, Moon, Winds, Birds. Four wonders of nature, gentle and pure, and four matching bracelets around the wrists of one girl each. For the first time in too long, today's show stars our very own quartet of Bracelet Girls, so be sure to celebrate those beautiful sweethearts!

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Day 3: Duetto of Duelist and Spirit

The primary principle of Entertainment Dueling is to become one with your cards, to put on the best show ever in tandem with the monsters in your Deck. Show us your favorite cards today, and the story behind your partners of choice!

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Day 4: The Merriest Band of Misfits

With such a diverse world and a massive ensemble, it's only natural for interesting chemistry to be found between quite a few characters in this show, and today is all about those neat little dynamics! Show us your favorite unconventional gang of idiots, stick them in one place, and let the chaos commence!

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Day 5: Action Magic - Overpass

Whoops, someone seems to have mixed up our cast's scripts! Bracelet boys? Riding Duel King Kurosaki? What is this?? Whatever shall we do?? Show us your wildest swaps today- be it roleswap, bodyswap, or whatever else you can think of!

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Day 6: Understudy Spotlight

You ever see a character and instantly like their vibe... only for them to disappear into the background for all eternity? Well, here's your chance to take them out for a little spin! Show us your favorite background character today, and give them the shoutout they deserve!

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Day 7: Of Amores, Per the Prophecy

That's right, today is the day to celebrate your favorite ships of all time! Show us your sweet OTPs, OT3s, or any sort of polys, and spread the love all around!

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Day 8: The Regular- ah, Standard Show

Standard dimension day! Give a shoutout to all those unique duel schools, or the chill and cozy atmosphere of Maiami City, or the original motley crew from the olden days of the very first arc! Every journey has its beginning, and this one is as good as they come.

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Day 9: Light Across the Aether

The ARC-V story tends to be something of a mixed bag at best, but today, we only look for the best things to find within this bag. Show us your favorite story arc, episode, or even a singular moment of greatness!

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Day 10: Take Five! ....Or Ten!

First free day! The momentum is slowly ramping up, but to carry on with a good show, one must take a breather every now and then. Take the day off to talk about whatever, make any work you want, or just chillax and wait for what comes next.

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Day 11: Legacy For the Future

ARC-V featured five Duelists from all across the previous spin-offs, each bringing an interesting twist to the show, and a curious few differences from their original selves. Today we celebrate those legendary legacy Duelists- them, and whoever else may have been among them in another world.

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Day 12: But You Still Take the Damage

Meme day! Get silly, go crazy, be cringe and be free! ARC-V is a circus of odd puns and bad jokes and dumb gags that never get old, so go ahead and toss out all your funny gold!

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Day 13: Abyss Beneath a Smile

No one is born evil, and yet some choose to let go of the light in favor of embracing the other side, for reasons one may find to be rather baffling at first glance. Today is all about these oh-so-villainous figures, so show us your favorite antagonist of choice!

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Day 14: Halfway to Heartland Tower

Xyz dimension day! Who doesn't love a good city that shines like a literal beacon in the night? Heartland certainly has its charm, and so does its lovable cast. Even in the face of adversity, they continue to inspire hope in every way they can, and that sure is something to celebrate.

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Day 15: Salt For the Salt Lord!

Remember the mixed bag, and how we looked for the best of it last time? Well, now's the time to take a look at the less favorable parts of the story. Show us your least favorite arcs, episodes, or a certain pet peeve you had with the show- let the salt flow and flood the whole land!

(We'll mop it up by tomorrow, don't worry ;D)

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Day 16: Actually, He Would Say That

Look, we all like our cast with their pros and their cons, but sometimes there's just something... missing, when you look at canon portrayal. Some more depth. Some trivial details and silly nitpicks, to add to their flair... which are exactly what today is all about. Show us your weirdest little headcanons and most random thoughts!

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Day 17: A Salad of Heavenly Proportions

Four dimensions, four summoning methods, four heavenly dragons.... and of course, four quarters of a whole idiot. Please give it up to the kiddos, the twinsies, the complete and utter dorks of all time: the Yuu-salad boys!

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Day 18: D/D/D - Different Dimension Day

Canon divergence, modern settings, fantasy, sci-fi and series fusions...yes, ladies and gentlemen, today is the day. It's time to throw canon to the wind, because we're making our own stories through the wondrous magic of AUs!

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Day 19: My Heart Beats 'Till Overdrive

Synchro dimension day! We are here to visit the city of speed, spectacle and freedom!... or the lack thereof. Progress is a non-linear road, but our daring riders are working their way there, so do give them their due credits today!

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Day 20: We Interrupt Your Schedule for A Commercial Break

Free day 2: electric boogaloo! We're well into the swing of things by now, but a short stop is due before we move on to the final stretch! Perhaps you could mention some of your favorite creators in the fandom, or just roll around with anything else you're working on. There's also the option to simply take a day off- we even have some popcorn for those who want to just sit back and watch the show.

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Day 21: League of Dueling Seriously

Or LDS for short- no, not the school, the Lance Defense Soldiers. Today we celebrate the single most chaotic group in the whole show- yes, it's the Lancers' time to shine!

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Day 22: Prismatic Rare, Prismatic Pair

"Man, these two are such an adorable pair! Lemme just look them up- what do you mean, there's no content for them??"

Sometimes, one must dig pretty deep to find those rare, hidden gems, so show us your own gem of a rarepair today!

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Day 23: Back At Class, They Never Taught A Thing

Fusion dimension day! Beyond the shores of Academia lies a trove of possibilities, and the same goes for the walls of the ornate castle as well. Every student and teacher has a story to tell, and together they weave quite the curious tapestry... though what is there to be seen in such a creation is up to you alone.

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Day 24: Oh. My. G.O.D

Manga day! Loathe as we all are to remember that last panel, the manga is actually surprisingly good otherwise. It introduces a handful of new faces while reimagining old ones, and has a nice underlying message that makes it well worth celebration overall.

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Day 25: Woe, Angst Be Upon Ye

Oh, would you look at that? Today we are gathered here for the express purpose of hurting our poor little meow meows and giving them more trauma on top of their existing issues! How fun!

... alright, fine, they might get a happy ending. No promises on that front, though.

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Day 26: Action Magic - Crossover

Oho? What's this? Our cast has been given an entirely new script!! Such curious mixes can create infinite possibilities, each more intriguing than the last. Show us how you're crossing over ARC-V with other media, and let's dive into a whole new world today!

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Day 27: Square Zero

Original dimension day! Very little is known about the place where it all began, but this is a blessing in its own right, for it lets us explore what may have been with greater freedom. Pray tell, how do you picture this world to once have been?

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Day 28: Hey, Who Hired This One?

Strangely enough, an anonymous figure has shown up to the performance today! Whoever might that be? Well, the answer is yours to decide! Introduce us to your OCs, and let them roam the world alongside the rest of the cast.

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Day 29: Into the Games!

While the anime and manga may be over and done with, it so happens that our beloved characters still exist in several games, and are even getting further development and chances for interaction! Let's talk about how YuGiOh video games have been handling ARC-V in the past, present, and future.

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Day 30: Curtains Down

Final day everyone, woohoo! It's certainly been a ride, and reaching its end feels more than a bit surreal, but now that we're here... it's high time we do the curtain calls.

Tell us your favorite days/works from this year's ARC-V Month, or as always, do with the day whatever you will. Here's to another great event next year... 'till then, ladies and gentlemen!

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Extra Prompts:

1) Time Pendulumgraph

Hey, who fast forwarded the timeline- wait, isn't this four years before the start?? Looks like we're dealing with some weird chronography here, so show us your pre/post-canon ideas today!

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2) Guest Appearance

A wild VIP guest has appeared! Take one character from outside the series, and thrust them into the ARC-Verse while hoping for the best. Anyone goes! Literally anyone. Go wild.

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3) Doodlebook - Uh Uh Uh!

A sad truth of this world is that we do not hold the power to materialize cards out of thin air when pushed against the wall... however, what we do have is the ability to create the card concepts ourselves! Pop out a few custom cards of your design today!

#arcvmonth2023 #arcvmonth #yugioh #yugioh arc v #fanwork prompts #long post

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foxes-that-run · 1 year ago

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Sweet Creature

Harry said that Sweet Creature is about one person, and that he will never say who, adding if he would never tell them it wasn't about them. I think the protagonist has changed since it was written. It was a closer in the Live on tour set, and often emotional like this time in New York.

It was played once on HSLoveOT at Wembley. Harry talked about Gemma first bringing him to London for xfactor and he’d “like to play a song for her tonight”. He thanked London. So its matured in meaning and he sung it to Gemma, who had a baby 8 months later:

youtube

19 February 2016

At the Troubadour (at 21:40) on it's launch 19 May 2017, Harry said Sweet Creature was written a few weeks after his birthday 1 February 2016. It was written at the Village in Los Angeles. There is a photo of him at the studio on the 19th February. He also said it was the first song he wrote “for” the album (1:22). Harry said that one song (two ghosts) was written before leaving the band but everything on debut except 3 songs were written between July and December 2016.

Sweet creatures opening melody is similar to Blackbird by the Beatles. Blackbird is a McCartney song, interestingly, Harry was photographed with Ringo at the Clive Davis Grammy party. From I'm Not Happy (possibly the same night) and Pop Tart it might have been the first time they saw each other after the 2015 BBMAs 8 months earlier, 1D had been touring for most of that.

Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard

‘Sweet Creature’ appears in Shakespeare’s Othello. A tragedy, Othello is newly married to the beautiful (and faithful) Desdemona. The villain, Lago resents Othello and drives him mad by insinuating that the handsome and charismatic Cassio had an affair with Desdemona. Lago tells Othello that he heard Cassio talk in his sleep:

In sleep I heard him say “Sweet Desdemona Let us be wary, let us hide our loves.” And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard…”

It’s a really interesting reference. On one hand, Harry is singing with genuine affection and fits the imagined role of Cassio. However, as described in Woman Harry was jealous and he’s also the villain, messing with CH, in a laughably effective way.

If the Othello reference holds, Desdemona had also not cheated on Othello. But by 28 February Harry tweeted 'You can shake an apple off an apple tree.' And by April 29 that may have changed (Illicit Affairs / I did something bad).

Lyrics

[Verse 1] Sweet creature Had another talk about where it's going wrong But we're still young We don't know where we're going But we know where we belong

In out of the Woods and interviews about it Taylor talked about the relationship being tentative and plagued by challenges and poor communication.

Harry did not know where he was going, One Direction was broken up and although he started recording he had not signed a solo record deal.

TS and HS were unable to let each other go for years, often singing about belonging, or eventually being together. Particularly Someday, Satellite, As it Was, The 1 and End Game.

[Pre-Chorus] And, oh, we started Two hearts in one home It's hard when we argue We're both stubborn, I know But oh

'Two hearts one home' references Hopelessly by Crosby, Stills and Nash hoping on Harry’s Another Man Mix Tape. “They are One Person / They are Two Alone”, Nash was longing for Joni Mitchell, an idol of Taylor’s. This line is often read as referring to Gemma and when played it again in 2023 Harry agreed. However I think it wouldn’t have been dropped from the set if it was about Gemma.

In 2016 though, his 'home' was not a building. In the first 2 minutes of the Fine Line interview with Zane Lowe Harry talks about not feeling at home and feeling lost in his house in London on a 5 day 1D break, and glad when it ended. Taylor was a home of the heart, a part of his world and separate to the band. Woman Exile has more on ‘home’.

The idea of one’s sweetheart being home is in the Notebook, Harry’s favourite movie. Old Noah says it to his kids when they ask him to come home with him, his wife is his home.

[Chorus] Sweet creature, sweet creature Wherever I go, you bring me home Sweet creature, sweet creature When I run out of road, you bring me home

‘When I run out of road’ reminds us of the amount of Driving in Haylor songs. But this is referring specifically to Harry’s anxiety going solo and trust/hope that Taylor would be there for him. 7 months later in New Years Day she agreed: “I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe, Or if you strike out and you're crawling home”

[Verse 2] Sweet creature Running through the garden Oh, where nothing bothered us But we're still young I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

I think here though the Garden is the beach at Taylors Rhode Island home, (bought when they first dated) where the 1989 and 1989 TV covers and rolling stone beach shoot was. This shoot is referenced in the videos for Style and End Game.

Similar lyrical references are in Cruel Summer (snuck in through the garden gate to seal our fate), Blank Space (Rose Garden filled with thorns) and Betty (In the Garden would you trust me).

Not speaking is also a common theme, best put in Fine Line: "Spreading you open Is the only way of knowing you", and The 1: "And if you wanted me, you really should've showed."

And he posted this when it was released

#haylor #sweet creature #harry styles #Youtube #harry styles debut #hs1 #song analysis #Lyric analysis

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momochizoey · 7 months ago

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Thank you for tagging me @celinou !!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I've got 12 on my AO3! 9 ATLA/TLOK fics, and 3 Wednesday fics.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

46,759 words in total! Most of it is one shots so that tracks tbh, though I'm actually pretty impressed with how much that actually is, especially cause it doesn't count how much I've written for WIPs.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

#1) Scrapped Scenes, a Wenclair fic, at 1,632 kudos (which is frankly insane, I hadn't realized it got that much)

#2) Crying Wolf, another Wenclair fic, at 759 kudos

#3) And Iphigenia Felt Rage, a Yuezula fic, at 225 kudos

#4) The Future Looks Brighter Together, a Sokkla fic, at 163 kudos

And at #5) Yours In Body And Soul, another Sokkla fic, at 154 kudos

I'm not surprised the two Wenclair fics are on top by such a wide margin, I wrote those when the show had only just come out so the fandom was at its peak. Very glad that many people liked what I wrote though! Since most of the other fandoms I've written for (on ao3 or here) are a lot less active, it was a new experience!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually do, but I do have to admit I've been struggling a bit with it recently 😅. I read them all, and I'm so grateful for them, but especially on fics that I had huge plans for still, and which are in no way close to progressing, I have this feeling like I should have a new chapter to offer when I do answer them. I'm blaming it on my social anxiety 😬

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooh, that's a hard one cause I definitely tend to go in a more fluffy, feel-good direction. But I'd have to say it's Keep Your Fire On A Leash (Let The Ashes Bring You Peace). It's a June/Azula oneshot, mainly focused on Azula dealing with the pyromania she developed in captivity (as a need to reclaim complete control over at least this aspect of her life). She tries to manage it a little by working in pottery, where continuous, constant temperature control is crucial to porcelain quality, but it's not perfect. It's not angsty per-se, but it's definitely more ambiguously neutral.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oooh, I'd say it's a toss up between two of my fics:

The first is Not Alone, a TyZula band AU fic about Azula recovering from bottom surgery. I wrote it while I myself was still recovering from bottom surgery, and I wanted to explore a facet of trans characters journeys that isn't often discussed? It's a bit more niche, and I only recently made it open to anyone, not just ao3 users, so it's one of my less popular fics for sure, but it's very hopeful portrayal of a trans experience.

And the second is Yours In Body And Soul, a Sokkla soulmates AU, where soulmates bodyswap at night when either of them has had a bad day, in order to try to cheer them up. I got the idea from a korrasami fic called Paralyzed I read a while back, and changed the mechanics a little bit to make it work. It's definitely a more traditional happy ending, romantic getting together included (up to a point, they are still kids in the timeline so just an excited hug).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't! Sometimes people disagree on one interpretation of something, but never disrespectful or anything, so I'm pretty happy!

9. Do you write smut?

I've tried it before in private, got some good feedback. But no, never anything that I'd share.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written?

I'm not sure if ATLA/TLOK counts😂. I've had some ideas for crossovers though, and written a few draft snippets, I think it was a TLT/ATLA one, an ATLA/Shang-Chi, and a Naruto/ATLA one that I've actually posted a few snippets from on here if I remember correctly.

That last one was a Sakura reincarnated into Azula idea, to explore some interesting anti-imperialist ideals, because that's actually a blind spot Sakura has as well with Konoha. It's easy for her to fall into the same ideological fallacies as before, especially with the significantly lower usage of child soldiers in the Fire Nation making it seem like the epitome of peace and human rights to her. Like looking at the same problem in a different font, at a slightly different angle, it gives Sakura an opportunity for growth by maybe showing her some of the issues she had been ignoring or missing in Konoha, shaking some of her loyalty.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, not as far as I'm aware!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also nope, theoretically I could translate it in Dutch, but I'm a lot better at expressing myself in English I think, and almost every Dutch person can read English (especially on ao3), so I don't think it would add much. Maybe one day though!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, though it seems like it'd be very cool, I'd definitely be open to it!

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

God, don't make me choose 😭😭 I guess it's probably Chasefield? I'm such a sucker for those two it's unreal. Otherwise maybe Yuezula, Maizula or Sokkla? They each have such interesting possible dynamics, in such varying ways.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Again, that's a tough one cause I'm afraid I have a lot. I still have several half-written chapters of Getting Family Approval In Six Fool-Proof Steps (Cue The Fools, Sokka And Azula), as well as the start of a longer fic that continues on from And Iphigenia Felt Rage that I've fully outlined and would love to write someday but can't be sure I ever will. There's also Indelible Mark which I've been blocked on forever. As for WIPs that haven't even been partially published yet, I've got 11k for a Chasefield fic I've posted a scene or two for on here called Muse on My Mind, that I wish I could finish but I'm not confident I can manage any time soon. I've also got the start and the outline of a TLT griddlehark fic, where I'm absolutely in love with the premise and the twist I'm building it on, but which, again, I've not progressed much with in a good 6 months. There's a few others, but these are the ones I'd really like to finish at some point.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I love reading it, writing it I could do Dutch or Google translate a different language, but much preferably I'd be able to check it with someone who actually speaks the language for accuracy. Best to use some of the more advanced ao3 html uses to make a translation appear when you hover over it though, unless not understanding it is an important part of the reading experience, in which case people can look it up later if they want to.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

My very first fic was actually a The 100 song fic based on an opera song, which is too embarrassing so I won't share where it is🤐 I was like 17 so it's too embarrassing.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Tbh, it's either Muse on My Mind (the chasefield fic I mentioned that isn't posted anywhere except for 1 or 2 scenes on Tumblr), which is super fun because it's playing with the perspective of a character that just straight up doesn't understand half the plot happening in the background that is hinted at for the reader who does know. Oblivious characters too caught up in their own shit to pay attention are so so so much fun to write, especially when you have fun with it, implying things but never outright confirming it!

Otherwise it's Haunted By Runaway Ghosts. That one is a Sokkla fic that explores their past through flashbacks while Zuko and Katara are both grappling with the discovery of their niece and nephew they had no idea existed (or could exist). Which, not to brag, but from a technical standpoint I really think that one is probably one of the most skilled fics I've written and published, and it was so much fun to write and puzzle it all together; the slow build up and explanations slowly coming together to form the bigger picture, the hidden ties between locations in the show and events in the story and how they fit into each other perfectly - genuinely a joy to write (and if people are interested in reading it please do, imo it's on par with And Iphigenia Felt Rage, if in a pretty different style, definitely something I'd love for more people to enjoy the way I did writing it).

Thanks again for tagging me @celinou, this was very fun to do! I see you've already tagged @sourrind, who I'd have tagged as well, so next I'll tag @dawnsiren @ly0nstea and @likeadragonfruit , and of course whoever else wants to do it!

#tag game #thank you so much for tagging me this was so much fun!#my writing #Zoey Wrestles With Words #also yes I did perhaps use this to plug my fics by linking them every time they're mentioned- shush I'm allowed

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months ago

Note

Hi Donna, here we go

8. Coffee at Midnight with Clinton Skye ☕😍😉

Of course, its coffee ☕☕☕

Thanks ❤️❤️

Tagging: @kmc1989 @crazybeautiful-1987 @caffeinatedwoman @@soultrysworld @briannahs-world @angelnyx @anime-weeb-4-life

So this took on a life of its own...

Companion Piece to Two Weeks and Just How Much

It’s a few minutes past midnight and you’re curled up in the deepest corner of the couch with one of Marilou’s blankets tucked around you. You’d come straight to the farm after work tonight, you couldn’t stand the thought of being alone. It’s Marilou that takes care of you, that ushers you off into the shower, that lays out your sweats and one of Clinton’s jumpers, your comfort clothes whilst Nelson cooks dinner in the kitchen.

“She’s been like this all evening.” Clinton’s mother tells him in a hushed whisper when he steps through the door. “I can’t get a word out of her about it.”

“I know what it is.” Clinton tells her as he removes his jacket, hanging it on the back of a kitchen chair. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

You’re cradling a cup of decaf coffee to your chest when he steps into the living room, your gaze focused on something outside of the window. You’re quiet, withdrawn. He isn’t used to seeing this version of you, you’re usually a force of nature, so vibrant and full of life.

“I saw the letter on the kitchen table when I got home tonight.” He says quietly as he sits down on the couch alongside of you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You swallow hard against the emotion in your chest. All that pain, all that anxiety, it simmers away inside of you, clawing at your nerve endings. You’ve been forcing it down all day, drowning yourself in your caseload. It’s only now as you sit here with Clinton that you feel it starting to overwhelm you because you can’t keep running anymore, you have to face it.

“It’s been seven years.” You say, your voice raw. “I thought I was past it but then I opened that letter, saw he was up for parole, that they wanted me to give a victim impact statement, and it took me right back to that night…”

He knows the one you’re talking about. You’d come home to find Ellis drinking again, it had turned into a fight. By the time your neighbour had called the police you had a broken arm and a concussion. You’d been in hospital for three days due to swelling in your brain.

You’d never thought you’d be with someone again after that, but then you met Clinton, a man so good and so kind that he restored your faith in other people. Not once has he raised his voice to you, and certainly never his hand. He’s was everything your ex-husband isn’t and you love him for it.

“Sienna.” Clint says softly, bringing you out of your reverie.

He takes your hand in his own, his thumb chasing over the silver wedding band that graces your finger. It’s an antique piece with delicate swirls etched into the metal. He has a matching one on his own finger.

“The thought of seeing him again…” You trail off because he already knows what you’re trying to say, you don’t have to vocalise it.

Clinton knows what trauma like that can do to a person, what it’s done to you. He’s soothed you through your nightmares, humming that lullaby, the one his mother used to sing to him when he’d had bad dreams as a child. He’s kissed the scars that mar your body, whispered sweet nothings against your skin, reminded you of how strong you are, how beautiful. You had fought so hard to put the pieces of yourself back together after had happened to you and he thanks every deity that he can think of that you survived that man.

“You have a choice.” He reminds you, cradling your face between his hands. “You don’t have to go there, make a statement…”

“We both know what’s likely to happen if I don’t.” You say quietly as his lips brush over your cheek, kissing away the tears.

Clinton doesn’t refute it. Seeing the victim, hearing their story, it holds a lot of sway with the parole board. It could be the difference between Ellis going free and him serving out the rest of his sentence. Right now it’s about which possibility terrifies you more, seeing him at his parole hearing or the thought of him being out on the street.

“Sienna.” He says lovingly, his thumb ghosting along the line of your jaw as he tips your chin up so he can look into your eyes. “If I could take this all away for you…”

Seeing you like this, it tears him apart but he’s here for you no matter what. He made a commitment to you two years ago, a promise and he meant every single word of it.

“I love you,” He whispers. “And I’ll support you, whatever you decide.”

Love Clinton? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#clinton skye #clinton skye x reader #clinton skye x you #nathaniel arcand #fbi most wanted

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ladyduellist · 10 months ago

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Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Tav asks Astarion to participate in a game of her choosing.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 8: Questions & Commands

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Emotional Abuse, Sexual Language, Sexual Tension, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Ballads hatched into our world long ago to inspire, heal, and defeat foes. Thus, bards did learn the ways of the song to carry them through lands known and forgotten. Carrying tunes to foster in the ebb of war and love. We can bring light even to the darkest side of the moon.

— Alfira, ‘A Look into the Life of Bards’

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Once upon a time, there was a wedding. Two lovers. The joining of the year.

Held in a beautiful cathedral of worship to Lathander, where not even the minions of arch devils would bring their contracts. The brilliance of its holy requite through colorful stained glass to shine upon the newlyweds for an age.

Algos stood by the husband-to-be as a groomsman. Dark hair. Confident face. Dressed in shining gold and midnight. The shades of splendor and authority.

A swordswoman, beautiful and anxious about the night, at a table of unknowns. Dress of woven pastel blue and gold forget-me-nots.

“My lady, will you dance with me?” Algos grinned, holding out his hand.

“I would be honored, my love!” A guarded smile from her lips. “How is the wedding party going?”

The man took her hand and spun her onto the dancefloor. “Not so bad. Little trouble with the behind-the-scenes, but everything worked out. How’s the table you were seated at?”

Her hands crawled up onto the expanse of his shoulders. The tempo of the current ballad played by the wedding band, a slow romantic fairy-tale of a tune.

“They sat me with the elusive cousins,” she giggled. “However, I’m not complaining since they happen to be a delight! I wish I could sit with my handsome beau, but I love you regardless.”

Algos nuzzled the side of her head. “I love you too, birdie.”

Their peace, suddenly broken by spritely music blaring from quickened strings, requiring a more rhythmic dance.

“Here, do it like this,” Algos pressured, grabbing one of her hands in his, the other, at her waist.

Her face flushed. Clumsy feet. Self consciousness seeped in. She tried to hold herself together, praying that he would ignore her flaws in this art of movement. “I don’t want to dance like this…no, I didn’t mean it like that—I’m just feeling shy.”

There. In his vision. The glaze she had been preparing for all week in caution, knowing it could happen at any time if the circumstances were right. Another night she could have predicted with cartomancy from any deck of illustrated cards.

How could irises the color of pitch basalt, she let erode her soul with love, have such rage?

“We’re leaving.”

Ruffled. A shaking of hands to the guests at the wedding in pleasant goodbyes.

A face twisted. Heavy feet walking out of the venue with beer on his tongue.

Soft pattering taps of her shoes, following him to his hell. Biting the inside of her cheek, head bowed in shame.

Away from everyone, he yelled. No one can intervene; no one can see.

“SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU! Broken. Is it really that hard to do what you're told?! You don’t know how to love. I refuse to believe you even care about me.”

She stared ahead. It was safer this way. Not to fully look at him. Tears fall: salty and broken. She messed up again. Will she ever get it right?

“I’m sorry about feeling awkward about dancing. Please let me expl—” she begged.

“EXPLAIN WHAT?! This gloom that you carry with you is an embarrassment! Did you even stop to think how that will make me look?! How it makes me look now?! I can’t help but think that you’ve done this on purpose, to foil my reputation.”

“But, I—you said…I do love you—” she stuttered out.

“QUIET!”

Usual tangents.

Embarrassing. Is that what she was?

Should she mention her concerns to him again about his anger? The outbursts that have scared her? The insecurity she felt. The nervousness. The eggshells she walked upon. The doubts she felt about a future with him.

She’s already endured 8 years. She could endure more.

In the middle of the night, the yelling paused.

A smothering of tears, so she can open her wept swollen eyes the next day.

Into her mind fortress created long ago she receded, sewing pockets into its walls. She wailed the incident into the opening of one before threading the seam fully closed and purging herself of the emotions.

In the morning, Algos held Tav tightly. Apologies to her lips. Apologies in her hair. “This is a part of who I am,” he reminded her.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

♫Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will turn to ash, When you call the last light down.

Moon reminds me of your grace, All the love I can’t repay. Rest and know that I will pray, Farewell my dear old friend.

Moon, sun, all remind me of your grace, Faith, care, all the love I can’t repay. Moon, sun, all remind me of your grace, Faith, care, all the love I can’t repay.

Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will turn to ash, When you call the last light down.

Moon reminds me of your grace, All the love I can’t repay. Rest and know that I will pray, Farewell my dear old friend.

Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away.♫

Tav and Alfira. A duet of two bards: an elf and a tiefling. Lutes in hands. An ideal pair for a quaint harmony. They braided around their audience, draping a veil of honor and expelling the spirits of woe. Voices of mirth to rock babes to sleep and inspire fractured favorable qualities to mend.

With boots padded in unison on a final tour around the camp, they meet in the middle to sing their closing lyrics, paying reverence to an old friend.

Flowers and cheers freely tossed to the musicians as they took their bows. A few mesmerized souls with amour’s arrows in their eyes, headily sighed.

Gleefully, the women hugged each other.

“Tav, I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you for all your help with the song. I feel like I can finally honor my teacher properly now.” Alfira held onto Tav for a few seconds longer before holding her at arm’s length with tears in her eyes.

“It’s the least I could do after you loaned me your extra lute.” Tav went in for another hug, patting the optimistic tiefling on the back. “Seeing mine broken to pieces on that beach was not the most pleasant of sights. It was a gift to me from my mother and one of the first lutes I’d ever owned. Many memories were attached to it. Happy and sad. A chapter I will have to close—I suppose.”

Alfira clasped the elf’s hands within her own, as if they were about to pray together. “Chapters that close for bards, eventually become tales in our songs. Perhaps one day, you will be able to tell yours when the time is right.”

Tav softened her features, a fair simper stretching upwards. “Just so. I cannot properly explain how wonderful it has been playing with another bard again. My gods! Collaborating with another musically inclined person is such an adrenaline rush!”

“I know exactly what you mean! I’ve been trying to teach the children how incredible playing music can be, but they seem preoccupied with their little thieves club at the moment.” She swung her lute around its strap to rest upon her back. “If it is alright, I may go have a drink with Lakrissa. To wind down, that is!”

The songbird curtsied, offering Alfira a good-natured bow of her head. “Off with you! Go have fun! I’ll be joining the party shortly.”

Lungs all but expired, Tav swept the blue-gray mist of her sight around the soirée that Zevlor, leader of the tiefling refugees, insisted they participate in after their defeat with the goblins. She wasn’t entirely opposed to mingling with their new allies, but given the events of the past couple of days—all the social interaction and glories of their victory—she needed to find time to replenish her energy.

Though, such proclivities to her personal edicts would have to wait. Because there were wayward missives being delivered into her thoughts, bathed in the scent of rosemary, bergamot, and aged brandy like a secret admirer on the cusp of developing into something more.

With the wildflowers thrown at her feet during her curtain call, she tucked a small handful into her garter, briefly wondering if Astarion had watched her performance with Alfira. Did he like the song? What were his thoughts about the lyrics? Or did he notice the fingerpicking during the chorus she had practiced beforehand?

To him she gives herself in offering. The snares of his raucous life. She humbly prays to the host of his body to thrust her into his soul. Ruin her world and all that remains. Amen.

In fact, she pondered if he even liked her at all or if he was merely tolerating her. He never made mention of finding any part of her personality particularly endearing to be around, instead resorting to backhanded comments at his leisure. At times, it seemed only the blood she willingly offered to him thrilled any sense he had concerning the bard.

Oghma’s taint, why did she fucking care?! Astarion could be an absolutely insufferable prick! Wroughting seeds of his own subterfuge and cruelty when she thought he was beginning to show moments of clemency or kindness.

When they found the prisons shortly after their intentional bloodshed with the goblinoids, she squabbled with him over his insistence on urging her to commend the shite goblin children for throwing rocks at the druid Halsin’s bear form because he wanted to “see the show.”

After she denied the lashings from Abdirak, a servant of the goddess Loviatar, he slighted her with his typical lively taunt.

*****

”Something that has more drollness than all these wretched creatures sputtering on about this True Soul nonsense, and you just ‘pass on it’? I truly thought you would have provided us with a more inspiring performance other than that singing you do all the time,” Astarion provoked with a dramatic tilt of his voice.

Tav walked up to the vampire, standing chest to chest with her chin pointed upwards. She had zero tolerance for the knife of his words. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you told me to sing for you in your tent the other night. Besides, why would I subject my body to public humiliation? This isn’t just a bedroom kink for god's sake!”

“My sweet ballad babe, anger really does look cute on you.” His fingers moved to fix the length of her skewed bangs, picking up tiny bouquets of her strands individually. “You speak as if your body is a temple that lovers will continue to care about during and after your moments of ecstasy. What a very naive statement.”

The bard's tone changed from thorny indignation, to a lower frequency of velvet. Her heated palm wrapped around his icy wrist, bringing it to rest against the upper portion of her chest. “Maybe they will; maybe they won't. But, I try my damnedest to avoid the latter. I'm unsure what experiences you've had, but I've never engaged in any type of intimacy with a man I didn’t care about in some way. That includes you.”

*****

After Tav’s earnest reply, Astarion stood skulking for nearly the rest of their mission, staring at her from afar. Petulance? That was probably part of it. A crucifixion he was reliving by instinct behind the splendor of his newly formed kingdom of freedom.

Curious, curious, curious though.

He tested them—tested her—with his unfavorable characteristics unveiling themselves as the days passed. Yet, Tav noticed when she presented him with challenges to his unethical morals over his comments or suggestions flung from the pantheon of his pearlescent lips, he never acted on them by his own accord. Nor did he bring up such interjections again, naturally acquiescing quietly to the majority vote.

Why all this senselessness? Fear? Anger? Did he truly possess that level of evilness deep down? Or was the sun inside of him blocked by hundreds of black-eyed fiends biting at his extremities each time he reached out to try and absorb the light?

The elements in the tapestry of him that flickered of haunted briars regarded in his gaze, she would, at times, be able to minimally trim away to witness a few ticks of goodness bubbling up out of his blighted soul. But, Astarion was at the mercy of his ghosts and Tav understood all too easily that sometimes the victim can have remorseless tendencies from a vicious cycle of learned behavior.

”A gentle hand.” But, what else would it take?

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The sky was empty, save for the lowly honied crescent moon.

Tav carouseled around the gathering, checking in with the guests and her companions. Sips of wine flowing between buzzed lips, sweetening tongues with compulsions of truths and flirtatious verses. The bard gathered her skirts, in her silence and finesse of movements, flashing propositioning suitors a modest smile of rejection as they sacrificed themselves to her in promises of alighting her skin to cinders with their touch.

Oh, but, it wasn’t their balm she desired as their eyes begged her to drop her silken stockings down, a fantasy of rubbing them between their fingertips as they pecked her calves. It was the chilled path of ashes leading to the thief in the night of the man whose lips felt like years of devotion and stole her sanity during her prayers.

Astarion remained by his tent for a good portion of the evening, impressing the tieflings by throwing his daggers into the practice dummy nearby. Tav surveyed him with a glance every so often, catching him using his normal grand hand gestures as he spoke. Once, when she looked over towards where he stood, a tiefling man had placed a hand on the vampire’s arm, dragging a finger sensuously up and down his sleeve. Astarion patted the man’s hand and nudged his chin in her direction, softening his stare. Her face heated up as she turned away, unsure of what the spawn had said to him.

There was warmth that had long spread throughout Tav’s body and her mind was drumming in happiness from the mead. She could not stop the rush she felt to see Astarion, armed as she was with a plan to unfurl some of their vexations and inner turmoil that teetered on the ridge they kept stepping onto. Half crossed with his behavior; half wanting this man in her company.

Mirror in his hand, she found him.

Astarion’s temporary quarters were the furthest away, set up near the opening to the forest behind them. An intentional tact to listen for enemies or animals scurrying about he told her. A prelude to feed on their blood.

He held up an ornate hand mirror in silver filigree to his face, most of the glass cracked. He opened and closed his mouth several times, then stuck his index finger to pull back his cheek. One of his fangs, a white icy pick glistening from the light of a lit torch in camp, peeked out. She knew he was admiring absolutely nothing at all—since vampires no longer held a reflection once they became undead—still, she wondered if he knew what he looked like anymore.

“Are yo—“ she tried to interrupt as a person suddenly appeared in front of her.

Guex. The tiefling with swept back blonde hair and strawberry skin. A warrior that Tav had met earlier in the Hollow of the grove. Swords collided in the bright sun as she showed him how to properly strike his blade at a target during midday.

“Would you care to dance, my lady?”

Astarion caustically clucked his tongue.

Willing her body not to freeze from a painful memory, she put on a prepared face. She beamed as he bowed, balling her hand up near her mouth joyfully. “Guex, there is no need for the formalities. However, I am afraid I am not one for dancing.”

The young man cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, that is perfectly okay my—I mean, Tav. How about a walk, then? Just to chat!”

How adorable. She casted him a slight gleam, sympathizing with the attraction he held for her. “You are so very sweet, but I have plans for the night with my friend Astarion here. If you find me again in Baldur’s Gate, maybe I will be able to turn in my raincheck to you—depending on the circumstances, of course.”

She could see the pale elf raise his eyebrows as he continued preening in the mirror at his non reflective self.

Guex peered over his shoulder at the spawn before quickly turning back to face Tav. “Oh! Um, yes that would be more than fine! Uuuhh, thank you for your consideration! And thank you again for earlier. Have a good evening,” he replied in haste before escaping to rejoin the party.

Astarion threw the mirror to the ground with a melodramatic sneer. “All I wanted was to have a little fun tonight. But here you are bringing the lambs to gander. Your admirers follow you everywhere, don’t they? Like lost mice begging for crumbs.”

“Except, I have no crumbs to give.” She bent down to retrieve the hand mirror, handing it to him. “Why were you looking at this?”

He grabbed the object from her, sighing. “Fruitlessly trying to will the damned thing to show my reflection, I suppose. I still enjoy petty vanity—at least what I’m able to do with it. You know, I have no idea what I look like anymore. Not since I grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“What color were they before?”

“I-I don’t remember. My face is nothing but a hazy indistinct shape in my memory now.” A grimness entered his gaze as he tossed the mirror into his tent heatedly. “Another wonderful part of me Cazador took!’

Tav moved in closer to him, resting her hands on either side of her hips. She balanced on her tiptoes at different angles, examining his face. “I could imagine you with bluish golden eyes. Akin to the sunset on a clear day, right after a single star pops out—to match your porcelain coif!”

The corner of the vampire’s mouth rose waggishly. He spun around once, modeling himself. “Oh? Don’t stop there. What else do you see? I want to know how others view me.”

Brimming with a million words to describe Astarion flooded her thoughts alongside the blush that greeted the tips of her ears. His gorgeousness dangled in front of her waking hours and inspired rhymes to dominate the prose that fought to be in her head.

Heavens grant peace upon her for seeking his validation in the moment.

The songstress’s chin scrunched up in concentration. “Your smile. It’s bright like the full moon’s glow kissing the surface of water.”

The pallid elf sighed in annoyance. “This is supposed to be flattery, my dear. If I wanted bad poetry, I’d ask Wyll to recite some to me from his questionable scripts. Try again.”

Tav chuckled. She loved the raillery they so easily fell into with each other. There was a nod towards his hands as she spoke again. “Your hands. Strong. Dexterous. But, your touch is possibly one of the most tender I’ve ever known.”

“I’m starting to wonder why I even bothered to ask,” he muttered under his breath. “Fine. What about the whole of my face?”

“High cheekbones. A pointed angular jaw. Straight nose. Features that any sculpture would be counted blessed by the deities to exhibit to the world.”

He blinked a few times with a low hum in his voice. “That’s a bit better I suppose. Do you think I’m beautiful? Answer yes and we’ll call it a day.”

Tav clasped her hands behind her back, walking around him once as if she were assessing the presentation of his appearance. “You certainly don’t have Lae’zel’s appeal, but you do well enough, I guess,” she teased with a large grin.

Faking disgruntlement, Astarion lazily put his hand across the expanse of his chest. “You guess? How dare you. And here I thought we had something special. Though, you look alright too—I guess.”

They both burst into stitches of friendly chuckles, much like the time under the willow tree and the first night they kissed.

Hearts—beating and dead—danced the slow drag to an unheard sway of blues. A twinkle of time for the bard to act, emboldened by the alcohol in her stomach and the sacred affections she held for Astarion. She nimbly latched onto his forearm with both hands and pulled him down with her into the plush pillows carefully arranged in front of his tent, giggling playfully.

Landing on top of her in surprise, she watched as he tried to balance himself on his elbows, hovering above her sternum. His face was so dangerously close to hers, the delicate blend of blood and milky mint off his palate reached her nose. Pinned under him, the anchored weight of his body’s lower portion was distributed to his legs, with one artfully shoved between her skirted thighs. She was grateful most of the guests had dispersed for the night, finding themselves unvirtuous in the throes of passion with a stranger or asleep from the drink.

“Yes, of course, take a seat,” he rumbled sarcastically, inches from the brûlée of her lips.

“It’s more comfortable down here,” the bard bashfully smiled, her slender finger now twirling the lacings of his shirt flirtatiously. “Play a game with me?”

“Well, isn’t this unusual? I would have never thought you could be so forward given your coy nature.” Astarion fiddled with the ruffling along the edged collar line of her chemise, pulling the fabric down enough to uncover her left shoulder. “But, isn’t that what we’re doing right now? Playing a game. Our roles reversed. You: performing as the alluring soubrette. Me: as the enamored.”

“Hmm. I suppose, but I did actually have another one in mind,” she sighed faintly as he rubbed circles into the tattooed portion of her upper arm.

The spawn cocked a peculiar brow. Snaking a hand to slide up the side of her clothed thigh, inching a bit of the fabric upwards, he whispered at the corner of her mouth. “Mmm. You wish to play it right here?”

“Right here,” she consented quietly, feeling her head slightly buzzed from the mead. A rush of heat hit her core and she shivered, causing her to involuntarily roll her hips. Her leg, still caught between his, rubbed into his pelvis forcing Astarion to groan.

One, two, three, four. Four faded outlines of beauty marks she counted on his cheek. If she connected them, they would resemble a lesser cluster of stars. Ones that she would wish upon to guide her through the glass halls she wandered during their interactions.

Spindly fingers spidered their way to her lower stomach, tracing the waistband of her skirts. His finger slid under the band just enough to tease the hem of her smalls resting on her mound, only to pull back when she whimpered for him. “And what’s my reward if I win?”

The entirety of her body felt inflamed, only to be cooled down with a sudden whisk of careful hands tingling patches on her ivory skin. Her plump lips, filled with a rush of sanguine fluid, tapped adoring kisses into his temple. “That’s yet to be determined.”

Teeth scraped down her cheek onto the side of her satiny neck. He released an exhale of his breath, sending a lustful chill down her spine while he pointed the tip of his fang on the unhealed mark from his previous feeding. “What’s it called?”

Tav could feel his semi erect length, heavy and throbbing through his trousers, releasing pleasant waves of moisture in places she wanted him to touch. She shamefully imagined how beautiful his cock must be, especially after he’d drank blood. Engorged and leaking, waiting for it to be taken out to admire.

With a mere purse of her lips near the shell of his ear, she purred. “Questions and Commands.”

“Excuse me?” he pulled back instantly in puzzlement, steadying himself over her once more.

“Questions and Commands. You said you wanted to have a little fun,” she repeated.

“That fluff of a children's game is not exactly what I had in mind. Saving all of those ram horned hellions has made me feel awful! I am not interested in getting caught up in frivolous chit-chat, no matter how much I may enjoy your charms.” He dipped his head down to position an open mouthed peck in the region above the start of her breast tissue. “Now, where were we?”

She wriggled her arms from the confined space to place them on his shoulders, attempting to distract him. As much as she desired another physically intimate night with him, she needed to execute her plan. If they continued to carry on in the same way they had been, the pleasure may not be worth the pain that would come later unless they tried to understand each other better—including the demons that meant to take them prisoner.

“Astarion!” Laughter spooled from Tav as his eyelashes tickled her clavicle. “You damned scoundrel, would you stop for a moment?! Are you certain about not playing? Because I’m fairly confident we could make it interesting.”

“My sweet, the only thing on my mind is depraved carnal lust with a very specific songbird,” he murmured into the hollow of her breastbone. “I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while.”

It was becoming difficult for the womanly elf to concentrate. With every precise caress from him, any logical reasoning she held was becoming diluted with his sinuous friction against her. She wanted him in ways she hadn’t predicted tonight.

Tav ran her fingers through his curls, gifting her with a vibrating moan from him. “You are going to ruin every bit of me—as I’m sure you intended to do.” She tugged on his head, urging him to look at her while her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “Please. Just this once? I want to—I would like to get to know you better and at least this is a more noncommittal way to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils widened. A vague mosaic of feelings seemed to usurp themselves from the nailed coffin of his lost spirit. Distrust? Anxiety? A hint of confusion and fragility. Perhaps even a longing of forspoken broken dreams for connection. Could they tie a binding string of cat’s cradle around their fingers to strengthen their bond or would the three Fates snip them apart never to be bound in life?

Astarion, full of haunts. Protection is with thee. Blessed is your face in the sun, And compassion given to you from the shadows. Holy is your kiss, Granted to lovers old and new. At your undead hour and here ever after, May you eventually find peace

He audibly sighed, “Ugh. Fineeee, you wretched creature! Since you seem so insistent on it.” The vamp halted the ministry of his cool lips on her flesh, lifting himself all the way up to kneel in front of her. He reached down to cup the front of his trousers to add comfort to the visible straining hardness. “Though, if you ask me about my favorite color, I’m never speaking to you again. Lady’s first.”

Tav sat up, patting her clothes down to soothe out the wrinkles. Pointing a finger into the air, she counted off. “Before I choose, let’s set up a few ground rules. One: You don’t have to answer anything you’re really uncomfortable with. Two: Same rule applies for the command. Three: Have a good time! Now for my first pick…”

Embers from the local campfire glowed feebly as they continued their game, setting the mood for Astarion to light a couple of his fancy candelabras. A wine bottle, stolen from Wyll’s stash during one of Tav’s command turns, sat betwixt the two companions. Smudged lightly with her lipstick on the rim, they passed it to each other’s mouths while exchanging inviting glances. Willowy digits often skimmed hers, as if he were reaching out from the shadows to capture the dust in the sunlight.

“I still cannot believe I saw Shadowheart and Wyll with their tongues in each other's mouths,” the bard shook her head merrily. “However, I did hear him laying it on thick with his lines earlier. I wonder which one finally caught her attention?”

Astarion smirked mischievously. “My word. I guess our little enigma wanted to see his ‘Blade of Avernus’ after all.”

Arabellan Dry deposited on her tongue as she relieved the bottle of another swig. She had been sedulous in maintaining a misty buzz, sipping mouthfuls of water from her waterskin after imbibing the wine.

During their exchanges, Tav learned Astarion’s favorite pickup lines, giving her quite the amused blush when he tried all of them on her. She responded by telling him that his silliness was one of his personality traits she liked the most. As a quirk of a side smile, with a touch of sorrow, twitched on his pasty jaw, she imagined audiences hungering for that very expression watching the lead actor on stage. Had anyone ever paid this man a genuine compliment that detracted from his handsomeness before?

To his extravagant disdain, she commanded him to play with Scratch by throwing his ball several times.

”See, that wasn’t so bad? And he thanked you with a kiss.” Tav smiled happily as Astarion sat back down.

”Wasn’t so bad? He slobbered all over my hands and gods know what vile things he’s had in his mouth recently,” he remarked in contempt.

“But, you’ve now made a long-lasting AND loyal friend.”

Astarion didn’t reply, but she witnessed him look over at the dog in confusion as if he couldn’t comprehend entirely what she had said.

He questioned why she made it a point to tell Guex she didn’t enjoy dancing instead of only refusing him, which she politely declined to answer.

“Not every bard has to dance to music,” she awkwardly laughed.

“No, but you choose not to for other reasons, not because you dislike it. Why?”

Astarion stared through her. She blinked away bleary tears filling her ducts. It was the first time he had decided to intentionally ask something so viscerally raw about her and she couldn’t even give herself permission to answer fully.

Tav looked at him in shame, her voice wavering. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m ready yet. Can we move on?”

Later on, she commanded him to show her some sewing techniques and why he enjoyed them. "Thread binds everything together. Perfect seams. Hidden mishaps. Stains. Rips in the finest details of the fabric," he had told her in no uncertain terms.

Eventually, the commands stopped, leaving way for only questions. Ones that left the deepest rings of sound resonating within, like church bells calling them to worship these parts of each other, as they clutched for the other’s breath—practiced and alive.

“Question.”

Tav sat up straight, excited to ask her next inquiry. “Name one of your favorite lines in poetry or a ballad. I may have snooped and seen you carrying around a copy of ‘Lord Dandelion’s Sonnets’ with you.”

Astarion puffed out a breath, then hummed in concentration.

“Wings unpinned within a cage, I see the gold in the sky over yonder, The stars, a poor imitation of the ball of flame.

Restless, I wait, feathers outstretched, The only sound being the clouds overflowed, Across the tides of the wind…”

“...now freed, I stay grounded, afraid of the dawn’s break," they finished reciting together.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you know of his poetry, but for some reason, I am a bit astonished that you know of his less popular works,” he commented in surprise.

“Those works are some of his most influential. They deal with the complex emotions inside all of us.”

He snuck a drink from the wine before passing it to her, as if he were trying to swallow down sudden ideas he hadn’t thought of in two centuries. “Your turn,” he reminded her.

“Hmm. Question.”

As the night became quieter, the two had comfortably scooted closer together. They faced one another, Tav with her legs resting lazily between Astarion’s widely spread ones, still with the wine bottle acting as a barrier amidst them.

“What do you keep under your skirts, aside from that lovely hosiery nestled against your pale legs?” He reached out to drag the palm of his hand up and down her lower shin. Ah, so he had been watching her earlier during her performance.

A fake gasp escaped as she lifted her skirts high enough to show him the knife in her garter.

“The femme fatale. Not what I was expecting. And what of the other side?” the vampire pressed in a low gravel.

The other side of her skirts gradually lifted to reveal the flowers in her other leather garter. Tugging one out, she leaned forward to place it into one of the eyelets on the front of his shirt. It was a dainty bit of a bloom. White. Four petals surrounding yellow stamens.

“Flowers? I find them to be gaudy trite instruments for the living.”

"They happen to smell nice,” Tav remarked. “And…they have a language of their own.”

He gazed down at the flimsy growth she had fixed on his clothes in disbelief. “A language? Well, enlighten me. What is this flower trying to say?”

The bard put her index finger up to her lips. “Shh. It doesn’t speak now, but you will find out later. That being said, I have one final question I’d like to ask you.”

“I believe we’ve come too far in this pitiful game of ours to stop now—ask it.”

Tav placed her chin on top of her knees, folding her arms underneath her legs. “Have you ever been in love?”

Astarion loudly scoffed. “Ha! Of course, my sweet. Why every night I had someone in bed, was a night to fall in love with someone new. Thousands of times over!”

She glowered at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look! Gods, fine, if I have ever been in love. it would have been before I was turned into the monster I am now. Being under Cazador’s thrall didn’t exactly allow me to experience such relationships,” he answered honestly, turning to gaze away from her. Was he uncomfortable?

And then it slipped out. The unfading sentence that would change the rest of their evening. The comment that caused his facial expression to disobey his usual mask by granting her but a singular moment of incredulity. “I see no monsters here, ‘Starion.”

Nearer, nearer, nearer does he move. Grabbing her hands and kissing the underside of them. He wrapped them around his neck and tucked a couple of fingers under her chin, bringing her rosy face to his own. It was akin to witnessing lovers sharing secrets under an umbrella of their own carved out space. She could see the powder blues of his lifeless veins in the lighting, plagued with the intimate images to trace them with her fingers—with her lips.

“What would it take for you to be mine?” he cooed.

“To be yours?” she questioned shyly.

Bloodlust. Sex. Is this what all this was really about? Understandably, vampires could crave both, but was that all this was between them? Why go through the trouble of touching her body like he meant to venerate her?

Yet, mayhaps she was overthinking their entanglement. He told her before he was only seeking a distraction. Despite the care she felt for him that was at constant war, maybe that’s all this needed to be. Casual intimacy didn’t require labels; it only required consent. And they would most likely part ways once their situations with the tadpoles dissipated. She shouldn’t get used to having him by her side for longer than necessary.

“For tonight, that is," he affirmed.

“Maybe you should command me and find out.”

“I command you to come to my bed tonight,” Astarion proposed, working starved pecks on her lips.

“For what exactly?” Tav whispered into his mouth.

“Pleasure. I think we’ve waited long enough.”

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reliaofdreams · 2 years ago

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ok but real talk Dragon is valid for wanting to be free of her restrictions and Saint is a self-righteous NEET whose main career is voyering(?) what is in essence a minor across national borders with his merry band of war profiteers and illegal weapons technology but one of the foundations of any stable society is that an individual gives up personal freedoms for the sake of everyone getting along, like u could punch someone like say Some Loser Cosplaying As A Parahuman Tinker at any time thats a freedom that u as an individual with working limbs could exercise but ur not alowed to do that because society decided 10,000 years ago that breaks The Law and Basic Morality Based Loosly On Innate Sapient Emotional Patterns That Arise From Certain Stimuli. Along these lines, when someone does do something Bad, even those with the most physical/societal power like weight lifters and dictators, then there is always the implicit assumption (exemplified in practice over 10,000 years) that anyone can, with enough personal ability, friends, and luck, bring an end to the Lawbreaker and their Twisted Deeds (or at the very least, time itself will bring a fatal justice because human bodies fail ~100% of the time). So basically the confidence underlying every social interaction between two or more people is predicated on the assumption that either one could hurt the other but would ultimately be avenged either in this life (by governments/family/acquaintances/followers) or the next (by gods and other spiritual means).

What Dragon wants is to basically be able to have a giant rocket-powered plutonium-metal fist pointed right at everyones head and whispering in their ear “shh shh its ok mortal bby <3 i super promise i wont splatter ur whole upper half against the pavement and/or steal all ur stuff and/or send ur cringe Gacha Life clips that u made when u were a preteen to ur ex at any moment for my own benefit and/or amusement im a good guy desu-ne? *superior canadian dab*”

Like in a story where the main character ties herself in knots for 1.6 million words straight trying to justify how her violent retributions against anyone she labels a bully is more morally sound than those of anyone who hints that maybe, possibly, perhaps she should consume the eyeballs of only half her enemies du jour, its pretty rich to think that anyone on Earth Bet would under any circumstances but pure duress give carte blanche of all major communication, information storage, and public infrastructure for the rest of eternity to a single person who is unelected, unaccountable, unknown and most of all unassailable. And keep in mind, the major difference between a machine and humans/sapient AI is the ability to change over time so its practically guaranteed that someday Dragon would have a Bad Day and Do Something Morally Abhorrent By Most Standards like send my dead-gods-damned Gacha Life clips to my other ex in the same way a human who lived for a million years and also has infinite power will probably break a law (or what should be a law) at some point.

It would seem reasonable that if say, Joe Random On Some Street On The Other Side Of The World And Is Not A Cute Newfoundlander E-Girlfriend suddenly got a button only he could push which says “Press this to kill everyone on the planet who would not agree to you being the supreme ruler of the solar system also free Great Value Hummus for life” you and everyone else on said planet would slide tackle the poor, hummus-less fool in 0.3 seconds and subsequently slap handcuffs on him so he couldn’t press the button actually, because even if he super duper promises he wouldn’t (and even if he actually wouldn’t) theres NO WAY anyone of the 8 billion other sapient lifeforms would sleep well at night until he’s firmly entrenched in the single sickest game of keep-away the world has ever known. Like would YOU be mentally ok if Joe Random also would outlive u and ur grandkids and ur grandkids’ grandkids and their dog and it was impossible to put cuffs on him or even have a guard in the same room as him or even look at him to see how close he is to caressing that lil switcheroo? Man would be on that free hummus harder than Taylor Hebert in a self-delusion contest.

(And yes most of this also applies to nuclear weapons in our world yass sword of damocles slayyy queen hang harder girlll uwu)

OK so like if its bad to put restrictions on Dragon because it limits her freedom and its bad to not have any restriction because it makes an untenable power dynamic then whats the right answer?

NONE, WRETCH!! (that I know of anyway) all I know is if I was Dragon I’d want no restrictions and if I was a human on Bet I would want restrictions soooooooo post-hoc emotion-justifications for the win, I suppose? idk lol im very tired

#worm #worm parahumans #wormblr #parahumans #worm dragon

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guitarnacle · 1 year ago

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i never do these so im making a ten songs post, if you feel like it i love seeing peoples music taste please do this also 👁👁 !! i want to see

(first ten songs that come up shuffling my liked songs/most used playlist btw)

1. that life by unknown mortal orchestra

i really like this band even tho normally im not about quiet rock or house or whatever theyve got going on but these guys from auckland of all places have got so much groove. i always forget theyre from nz. also the bassist is named Jacob Portrait <- extreme jealosy

2. chick habit, april march by bound

i like this song a lot its very catchy and i like that it was in but im a cheerleader

3. rise up with fists!! by jenny lewis, also the watson twins

this song is okay

4. tonight i feel like kafka by jealous of the birds

this was added when i was 16 going through my alt pop phase and it stuck around because it sticks in my head and i actually do want to pierce my nipples. their other album is better

5. the look of love by nina simone

I love her <3 she reminds me so much of being in my jazz friends kitchen peace and love. nina simone gets it, little girl blue and high priestess of soul are my favorite of her albums

6. PJ Harvey's version of red right hand

scaryyyy <3 i love pj harvey but i honestly prefer the nick cave version this one is too slow for me. i love the key its in though she sings like a violin sometimes. stories from the city and to bring you my love are my favorites of hers also plants and rags

7. the only living boy in new york by simon & garfunkel

my friend had a phase where she would sing this in every conversation she liked it so much

8. the spy by the doors

sometimes i have the music taste of the most basic dad in the world im just glad the shameful 3 dylan songs in my liked songs didnt come up

9. the real slim shady eminem

i listened to this a lot and i mean a lot for a period of 2 weeks so its on my spotify charts forever now, the same thing happened with the bad touch

10. mantra for the lost by catatonia

!!!! im so happy this came up. mulder and scully by catatonia is soo fun everyone listen to it NOW

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sunshinebunnie · 2 years ago

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AO3 Year-in-Review 2022

Tagged by @libra-lizard and @dream-a-little-dreaam

1. What is your AO3 account?

Sunshinebunnie

2. How many words did you write total in 2022?

293,795 posted (I’m honestly floored by this…nearly 50% of all words I’ve ever posted on AO3 were written last year)

3. How many fics did you publish in 2022? How many multichapters vs oneshots?

Published: 12 (+1 podfic) Multichapters: 8 Oneshots: 4

4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?

Longest: Private Dancer (103,121)

Shortest: Sweetest Little Liar (7,291)

5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?

Most popular: Private Dancer (17,381 hits); Term Papers (542 kudos)

Least popular: Sweetest Little Liar (958 hits); Play to Win (64 kudos)

6. What fic didn’t perform as well as you thought it would?

Hmmmm….Probably Sweetest Little Liar. I actually submitted that as a Hellcheer prompt fill and it’s weird because it’s the 2nd story in my Hellcheer series and the 3rd story actually has more hits (although fewer kudos)? I think I might’ve some of that to myself because (a) I was posting during the holidays (which I feel is usually a time when there’s less reader engagement) and (b) I posted the 3rd story pretty quickly after (within a few days), so I don’t know it really had a chance to find readers.

7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?

Oooooo….probably Prairie Doll. You wanna talk about writing pure fucking crack, the kind of story that’s the definition of “write for yourself”???? The fact that anyone else has enjoyed that story with me floors me. lol

8. What was your favorite fic you wrote from 2022?

Hmmmm…From a story development standpoint, probably Prairie Doll because it’s really stretching my creative storytelling muscles. From a “holy shit, I can’t believe I pulled that off!!!” standpoint, I’d have to say Private Dancer. The fact that I functionally wrote a whole ass book in like 4 months blows. My. mind. 🤯😂🤯😂

9. What was your favorite fic that somebody else wrote in 2022?

You’re nucking futz if you think I’m gonna keep this to just one!!

I know Tumblr is gonna jack up my ish if I try to post them all, so here are my current Top 10 (in no particular order).

to bring you home by MissAtomicBomb – Lexi as a journalist who falls in love with Fez after she keeps finding herself at his hotel + hot smut???? What’s not to love!!!

sweet dream, saccharine by myztify – I am a Cash truther and my girl myztify keeps me fed!! Ash is the bassist of a popular hair metal/rock band and Cassie is the sexually-empowered groupie who steals his heart. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve reread this.

a thrill beyond compare by MissAtomicBomb – if you like some Dark Fexi, this is the story for you! Lexi goes on the (temporary) run with Fez after he kills Nate at the NYE party and things get hot ‘n’ heavy.

baby i just need a thug by myztify – another Cash story (with a sprinkle of Fexi). Cassie and Ash start off in a bad place here, but communication and adulting eventually prevail. Bonus points: Ash beats the shit out of Nate for disrespecting Cassie! 😍😍

this town is only gonna eat you by gigi_originally – this is a WIP but I absolutely love the story! Lexi & Cassie wind up coming to work for Kitty (Lexi as a bookkeeper, Cassie as a stripper). Lexi & Ash wind up getting super tight and Fez & Lexi develop a mutual crush on each other. This is one I always eagerly look forward to its updates!

hear me screaming, heavy breathing by myztify – this is the 1st story to baby i just need a thug. Shows how Cassie & Ash get together. Super hot and shows Cash as a bit of an investigative duo as they try to figure out whether Lexi is pregnant. 👀👀

TASTE by myfemininedivine – another WIP, but my girl is CRUSHING it!!! Each month Lexi focuses on an indulgence, and the fic charts Fexi’s developing relationship and how Fez plays into Lexi’s various desires. The descriptions and the feelings between Fexi are so beautifully described. This story makes me feral.

His veins like telephone wires by myfemininedivine – I am kicking my own ass for not downloading because it’s not on AO3 anymore. 😭😭😭😭😭It was sooooo good though. Lexi and Fez accidentally swapped phones after a run in at a club, and come to fall in love as they get to know each other through texts.

One More Time, Steal My Breath by DeliriumsDelight7 – this is a 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥Hellcheer fic. If you like your smut kinky, consensual, and really tastefully done have I got a fic rec for you! Bonus: the chapters are suuuuuuuper long and the character development between Chrissy and Eddie is fantastic. Another fic that makes me rabid!

Dirtbag by betts – if you like your smut with a healthy dose of angst, this Hellcheer fic is gonna hit you right in the feels. This follows Eddie and Chrissy over the years after Chrissy marries Jason, but keeps coming back to Eddie as the “other man” and the emotional toll that takes on them both.

10. Tag your friends to do this year-end fic review as well!

@myztify @myfemininedivine @tuesdayschildd

#the nicest people #sunshinebunnie psa #AO3 2022 Year in Review

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monstrousfemale · 2 years ago

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could you write a ficlet for your spotify wrapped no.8 song pls? ☺️

aaaaaa Thanks soo much for asking, I was so excited bc this is definitely on my top 5 favorite songs ever. I hope you like it 😌 Warning for Mature content and loads of angst. I crossposted this to AO3 because I just liked it a lot... Ain't much but it's honest work.

led by blind faith - Mature, 1845 words

"I don't know why we thought this would work."

The words echo over the payphone, carried over thousands of miles. They hurt just as bad as if they had been said right in Eddie's ear.

He wants to fight, wants to ask Steve, just how could he say that? Instead, he breathes deep; in, out.

"I love you," he says, because it's true. Because he wants it to be enough.

"I know."

The line clicks off, and Eddie is left in the phone booth, pressing his forehead to grimy glass. Outside, Gareth has been tapping his index finger to his wrist. It's time.

Steve holds Eddie's hand as they wade into the ocean. These shores are not the same as the ones back home, the waters are always colder. But they're alone on the beach, and Eddie clings to Steve's hand as they hiss their way into the frigid depths.

Steve laughs at him, his nose scrunched up, eyes brighter than the sun overhead.

"I love you," Steve says, like it's easy. It's always easier when they are together, actually on the same continent, sharing the same bed.

"I know," Eddie says. He grins when he jumps on Steve, causing both of them to go under.

"It's late," Eddie says, eyes stuck outside the window of his hotel. There's a tree swaying in the wind. It's late Fall, and its leaves are mostly orange. The European weather is unforgiving, and there's already a mess of fallen leaves on the hotel's lawn.

"I missed you."

It punches a hole in Eddie's chest, crosses his body like a pen through a sheet of paper. Like an arrow through the heart. Eddie thinks about writing it down, could probably use that for his next song. But Steve is sniffling on the other side of the line, and he can't make his feet move.

"I miss you, babe," Eddie says, yawns. It's true, he always does. Travelling with the band is fun, and he loves it. He loves playing for sold out venues and scream-singing his lyrics to audiences that know them by heart.

But he does also love Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins. He does wish he could bring him along, hates that he can't. Hates that Steve is at home working a 9 to 5 to pay for his own college education, because he won't let Eddie help.

"I wish you were home," Steve says, his voice low. He's trying not to sound like he's crying, and Eddie's chest is so full for him, he feels like he might just explode.

"I wish so, too."

"You never call anymore."

Eddie sighs, tries not to get defensive. He's not calling because he's busy, he's tired, he's living life. So is Steve, he knows he is.

"I'll try to check in more."

"I hear more from the agent than from you," Steve says, and it's not even an accusation. It's just hurt seeping through. "She calls and gives me the hotel numbers, and tells me you're still not eating right, and still only up after 1PM, no matter the time zone. I miss you, Eddie."

"Steve, I'm trying."

"Yeah, so am I."

"Look, I'm not trying to scare you, or make things worse… but how do you know he's not off kissing cute European guys?"

Steve brushes his hair off his face, checks his watch again. He has to call Eddie in an hour. And he loves Robin, he does, and he knows she's just saying this because she's his friend, and she cares about him… But he wishes he had to go right now, doesn't want to have this conversation. He trusts Eddie, but also he knows what the answer makes him sound like.

Nevertheless, Steve says what he always says whenever someone asks about the stability of his long-distance relationship.

"It's blind faith."

Robin doesn't have pity in her eyes when she looks at him after that, like a lot of others had had before. She just looks worried. He smiles softly at her, steals the last of her popcorn, and tries not to think about that faith. He really does trust Eddie. And Eddie trusts him.

Eddie pushes Steve against the hotel room door, thigh between his, lets him grind down against him.

Tells him, "That's it baby, you feel so good, so good, Steve."

Steve clings onto his hair, kisses him like his life depends on it.

They don't get a lot of moments like this, Steve doesn't get to travel much. But it was their anniversary, and Eddie was still on the road. He finally convinced Steve to allow him to get the tickets, and here they are. Making out in a hotel room in South America.

In the background, to drown out their sounds, The Cure is playing from a tiny stereo.

Steve sings along as he throws himself onto Eddie's bed, smiling through the lyrics.

You, soft and only You, lost and lonely You, just like Heaven

Eddie holds on tight to Steve’s hips, moves with him, touches him in worship. Whispers “you’re just like Heaven” into Steve’s collarbones, into his neck, into his chest. Steve whimpers for him, beautiful, divine.

"I can't fucking talk to you when you're like this," Steve says, exasperation dripping off every word.

It may be midnight wherever Eddie is, but for him, it's the middle of the day, and he has shit to do.

"You asked me to call," Eddie says, slurring. He's high, Steve can tell. And it's not weed, when he's high off pot he gets cozy and chill. Now, he is extra hyper and off, and Steve hates his voice when he's like this. Suspects coke or some other shit. He doesn't want to know.

"You promised me you wouldn't get high on the road. This is not okay. This is your career on the line, Eds."

"Oooh, you never call me that," Eddie chuckles, but it's dark. Nothing like his usual laughter. "I thought you wanted me to call more. I'm calling."

It hurts. Feels like being punched over the head, and Steve has plenty of experience with that. The dull ache, the dizzying effects. He's so tired. One more concussion and he might just be done for.

"Don't call like this again. You’re putting me through hell."

It's Eddie who hangs up.

“I love you. I don’t think I could ever love anyone else like this.”

“Sometimes it’s not enough, Eddie. You know this. We knew this.”

There's a beat. Steve thinks maybe the call dropped. Thinks about the phone bill for international calls.

“Don’t say that, please,” Eddie finally says, and there’s something so solid in his tone that grounds Steve.

“Eddie, it’s just so…” Steve doesn’t know what he wants to say. It’s hard. It’s fucking lonely. It feels like pure desperation sometimes.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry, please Steve,” he’s begging, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with it. Hates himself a little too much for making Eddie sound like that. “Please, I need you to forgive me.”

“It’s not just about that one call, you know things were hard before that. It’s not even all your fault.”

“Steve…”

“I’m in love with you. I don’t think I could ever love anyone else, either.”

There’s a sharp exhalation, relief that seems to worm its way from Eddie, through the phone line, into Steve’s brain.

“I really am sorry,” Eddie says, means it. Steve knows he does.

“Me too,” Steve says, sighing. “We’re going to be okay.” He doesn’t know if he’s trying to comfort Eddie or himself with that, but he suspects it doesn’t do a lot for either of them. Nothing could, right now.

Eddie calls in the middle of the night, wakes Steve up at 3AM. Steve grumbles, but he’s happy to hear his voice.

“It’s witching hour, baby,” Eddie says, voice low and breathy. He’s mindful of Steve being extra sensitive to loud noises when he’s just woken up. Steve suspects there might be something else behind it tonight, though.

“I miss you,” Steve offers, untangles the phone cord on his bedside table. Pushes a hand below the blankets, brushes over his stomach, lets his palm rest there.

“I miss you, big boy. Woke up thinking of you. Barely 11AM, aren’t you proud of me?”

“Hmm, sure, you want a prize for that?”

Eddie hesitates, and Steve smiles. He’s awake enough now that he has no doubts in his mind about what this call is.

“Not a prize…” Eddie says, and he already sounds out of breath. Steve wonders where Eddie’s hands have been wandering, if he had already been touching before he even dialed.

“Mm, no. A reward, maybe?” Steve asks, but his fingers are already dipping down the front of his pants.

“Yeah, that sounds good. What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, you’d love what I have in mind. For now, though, speed up for me? I can hear you, you know. You sound wet.”

Eddie makes a noise that has Steve hard in his own fist, and they get lost in each other’s voices and sounds like they usually would from much closer by.

When Steve comes, he misses Eddie so bad he almost cries.

When Eddie comes, he tells Steve he loves him so many times it sounds like prayer, and Steve falls back asleep with the phone stuck between his ear and his shoulder.

They had met just before Corroded Coffin had been put on the map. Steve had been dragged to a concert because Dustin had needed a ride, and he had finally conceded. Eddie had invited them backstage, had doted on Dustin like only Steve ever would. They had probably fallen in love over the top of Dustin’s curly head of hair.

Steve tries to remember that. He tries to focus on how easy it had been to fall, when he goes to bed alone after a long day at work. He tries to console himself with the knowledge that Eddie could have just said no to this arrangement, could have chosen to be single when he had headed out on a goddamn world tour. They had only been officially dating for a year when the band had gotten an opportunity to open for some big metal band Steve had never heard of before.

So Steve focuses on the love he feels, focuses on what he knows. And what he knows is that being with Eddie is worth it.

It doesn’t make things hurt less, though. Just kind of helps manage the pain.

Eddie comes home on a Friday afternoon. Steve picks him up from the airport, has a sign that reads “my rock star” on it. Eddie looks tired, but the smile he has for Steve is large enough to lighten up his face, even if he calls him cheesy for the sign.

Eddie kisses him, and when they walk side by side to the car, Eddie’s arm over his shoulder, Steve thinks that, just maybe, they’re getting away with this after all.

#steddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #rockstar!eddie #no upside down au #monstrous writing #monstrous bigboy

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