#and hes painted in such a kindly light in a lot of the book. just some guy

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

Been listening to harrow the ninth again and Fuck man FUCK. the last thing mercy said to john was “i forgive you” before she mist-ified him. and that is such a kind death. its SO kind. she just found out that he let their cavaliers die and she made sure he heard her say “i forgive you” before she killed him. one last comfort for the man who destroyed every life he had ever touched.

and then, when he coalesced again, he exploded her chest. he killed her cruelly. her heart fucking splattered on augustine and she wasnt dead yet. She only died when he tapped the back of her head a moment later. he could have done that from the start but he didnt. he wanted her to hurt, first. he later excuses not giving her the choice to remain loyal because he was pissed but holy fuxking shit, he was cruel. both of them were hurt by discovering the betrayals of the other but mercy was fucking. merciful. and he made sure she felt him explode her heart. im going insane

[thehollowwriter]

Meet Finn Clearcove, Octavinelle's silent observer!

(Art by @/authoruio (left), @/quartztwst (middle), and @/boopshoops (right))

Finn is an Octavinelle student from Night Raven College. He's seventeen and has a love for butterflies and art, especially music painting. He's got a spooky, dark secret that will be very much not a secret later in this post.

Some Basic Info:

☆Voice Claim: Muichiro Tokiro (sub voice played by Kengo Kawanishi)

☆Class: 2-C

☆Club: Gargoyle Research Club

☆Favourite subjects: Art, biology

☆Homeland: The Coral Sea

☆Species: Cookie cutter shark merfolk (half abyssal, half coastal)

☆Height/length: 147cm/4'9

☆Birthday: 20th November

☆Dominant hand: Right

☆Hobbies: Finn LOVES to paint, not only is he incredibly good at it (just not drawing people lmao) but it's his way of putting down his thoughts and feelings, often in twisted and unsettling imagery. He also loves tending to plants gardening, as well as studying butterflies (they're his favourite animals)

☆Likes: Animals, reading, cooking, music, making drinks

☆Dislikes: Loud noises, large crowds, bright lights,

☆Favourite food: Chocolate mousse

☆Least favourite food: Chicken

Personality:

Finn is very quiet and prefers to spend his time in quiet solitude. He's very anti-social, inexpressive (most of the time), and blunt. He's a character that, although capable of lying, doesn't beat around the bush during the times be does talk.

Finn is very practical and hands on, he likes to get things done and in an efficient manner. He prefers doing things by hand himself rather than using magic or relying on others.

He's immensely confident in himself and who he is, and it gives certain students a nasty surprise when they expect him to be shy and mousy. He may not fit the beauty standard, but he thinks he looks fantastic as well, thank you, though his teeth are a bit off a sensitive spot for him (he doesn't like them)

Finn sometimes misses social cues, but a lot of the time he notices and just ignores them because he doesn't understand the point of them, or the point of a lot of things considered the "norm" really, and he'd rather you just tell him what you're desperately trying to *imply* at him.

Despite his quiet and seemingly calm disposition, Finn is a fella that is ruled by his emotions. He's not on the same level as Floyd (or Morrigan lmao) but sometimes they do override his logical judgement, especially when he feels afraid. He's got a short temper and will not treat you kindly when he's run out of patience, especially if he's overstimulated and irritated already. When he was younger he used to get into fights with Azul's bullies and his own, and bite them and chase them off.

Finn isn't quite as sadistic Jade or Azul or, well, a lot of NRC students, but he'd be lying if he told you he didn't find it amusing or satisfying watching students who couldn't pay the price for their decisions grovel and panic. Or just messing around with students by himself.

Despite all this, Finn is a deeply caring individual towards those he's close to. He feels his emotions vert powerfully, especially love. (Platonic, romantic, doesn't matter). He will fuss over those he cares for and put an effort in to look out for them or protect them if he feels they need it. His main way of showing affection is giving them little gifts like bones, teeth, flowers, or little sketches or mini paintings. He will also be physically affectionate with headpats or something like that, though its more reserved.

(*ahem ahem* he has a horrible problem of enabling those he cares for and letting or helping them get away with shit because he wants them to be happy and doesn't really know how to provide that in any other away. He won't let them walk over or hurt himself though, apart from Book 3 but that's a long story...)

Appearance:

Finn has light amethyst purple eyes, long dark green hair, and dark green skin except on his palms and fins, where it seafoam green. Finn has swirling black markings on his back, shoulders, and arms. His left shoulder has a large patch of bad scarring. He has long black claws and nasty teeth that'll give the tweels a run for their money. They are smaller, but there are many of them and they look sinilar to that of an anglerfish's teeth, and his jaw is hinged in a way that lets Finn bite perfectly circular holes into things, like his irl counterparts do. His tail is just like that of a cookie cutter shark's. He has hard to notice freckles on his face and stretch marks on his stomach (and thighs in his human form).

Finn has a band of black scales around his neck, and from just below that all the way to his navel are photophores that glow in the dark, which helps him camouflage and can even make him look like a school of fish from below.

He's very short, noticeably shorter than both Riddle and Epel, but he is fat and that unfortunately means that on land, his clothes are either too big on him or too tight T.T

His human form is the same, except he has legs, is slightly taller, and isn't green anymore djdiso. The teeth and black markings (but not the one on his neck) also remain.

Important Things To Know:

☆Unique Magic: Mirror Image. He can copy the voice of anyone he directly touches and their physical form if he pushes hard enough. If he wants, he can limit it to certain characteristics. (E.g: voice or eye colour). He can also copy their unique magic. However, it often comes out "wrong" (for example, King's Roar will result in a goopy black tar instead of sand), and if it results in a physical object like Riddle's collar, the object will look nonsensical and ai generated

☆Finn is gay and polyamorous and is currently dating the octotrio and @theleechyskrunkly 's Aurinelle

☆Finn is autistic

☆Finn's dad Silas is an abyssal mer that taught him Abyssal magic, a form of magic thought to either be a myth or lost art. It is extremely powerful and dangerous, but Finn only knows a few spells so far and rarely uses it (he rarely uses magic outside of classes in general)

☆Finn is haunted by the ghosts of the siblings that he devoured in the womb. They cause him intense fear and frequent nightmares that have been affecting him negatively for a while now. They also make a sense of dread settle over anyone who look in their direction (aka at Finn because they always hover around him)

Finn's Family:

Finn's Papa is Silas Clearcove, a butcher originally from the Abyss. His other dad, who unfortunately passed away before he was born, is Morrigan Clearcove

Timo Byun is Finn's big brother figure and was also his babysitter when he was younger. Gale Angeles is someone he views in a similar light, but also kind of as an uncle? Most of his Papa's staff are like aunts and uncles to him.

Alastair Blair and Ezra Citlalli are Finn's godfathers. He doesn't see them often but they do their best to visit when they can and make sure they spoil him.

@distant-velleity 's Chrysos eventually becomes Finn's adopted brother :) atm he's Finn's favourite first year, who Finn views as a little brother.

Finn has a grandmother on Morrigan's side, as well as several aunts, uncles and cousins. He barely sees them and dislikes all of them.

Backstory:

Finn's backstory isn't particularly long or complicated.

Hewas born under depressing circumstances, freshly after his dad's murder and after eating his own siblings who ended up attaching themselves to him permanently. Those things aside, though, he's had a fairly happy upbringing brought down only by the ghosts or his classmates who would either avoid or bully him. He became friends with octotrio during their time at the land boot camp, and they fell in love and got together by the end of their first year at NRC. Most of the important plot stuff for him happens after Yuu arrives tbh

Some Fun Facts/Extra Info

☆Finn has a lot of first aid knowledge and is part of the school's first aid team

☆Finn has made a number of friends during his time at NRC! To name a few, @ramshacklerumble 's Gia, @the-banana-0verlord 's Lilian, and @tixdixl 's Kinglsey. There's more as I have moots with many ocs who just vibe well with Finn XD

☆Finn's voice is incredibly soft and ASMR worthy. It's oddly calming though sometimes you'll have to ask him to speak a bit louder

☆He's very good at flying and enjoys it a lot

☆He listens out for information that will benefit Azul, since when not looking directly at him most students don't even notice he's there

☆He sometimes goes to the beach to swim and catch fish to eat and/or share with his friends and partners

Art by @/clovenoko

...........................................

A/N: Yaaaay my boy got a redo! I hope ya'll like it :P

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

@quartztwst @skibidibabygirl @paperclvps @devosin

@pinky27freak

[nanqmies]

Priest!Baizhu | Drabble+ Hc

cw: lowkey manipulative baizhu?? creampie, masturbation, semi-public sex, very religious themes, m!reader, dubcon?? idk, if i forgot anythin please inform me!!

wc: 0.7k

a/n: i do apologize for not postin that much!! i have a lot going on 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹 , writers block is kickin my ass.. i do have fics in the works!! m tryna to make everything more pleasin to the eye, i will try to make a masterlist soon ^^ please enjoy my work.♡

nsfw under the cut~

Priest!Baizhu; who kindly welcomed you to the church with open arms, always inviting you to his sermons to listen to him preach the words of archon. Seeming so kind, a humble smile always on his face while preaching at the stand, welcoming others into the church. Soft voice filling the room as he spoke, sending heat down to the deepest parts of you.. Utterly mesmerizing, the way his soft eyes scanned over the room, pushing up his glasses when the slide down the slope of his nose. His eyes ended up being on you at the end of the day.

Priest!Baizhu; who listens to every single time you avow your deep urges, whispering in shame of the sinful thoughts that constantly flooded your mind when you thought of him. How shameful you are, giving into the hands of sin,, you never notice how his eyes darken as he listens, Priest baizhu is a mysterious man they say..

Priest!Baizhu; who can’t help but laugh at how cute you are, trusting him with all the little things you’ve told him behind the confessional walls. How much you yearned for a certain mans touch against your untouched skin, to ruin the only true form of purity you had.

Priest!Baizhu; who pops a boner whenever you sob and beg archons to forgive you and your misbehaviors. Maybe he should feel bad,, clearly your faith was a big part of living, but god the tears flowing down the apples of your cheeks make him want to ruin you. Wiping your tears with his thumbs, whispering prayers whilst rubbing your back softly,, telling you everything will be okay when he’s there. That he’ll gracefully listen to any of the problems you may have,, hushing your hiccuping sobs. he hopes you don’t notice the tent in his pants

Priest!Baizhu; who ends up touching himself after speaking to you, lightly rubbing his glands with his fingertips, smearing thick beads of pre over his length. Baizhu obviously knows how perverted he is, thinking of ruining you, rutting his hips against his clasped palm. Sticky white covering his thin fingers, he sighs and takes off his glasses. A light layer of sweat over his forehead, you’ve clouded his mind for weeks.

Priest!Baizhu; who (sometimes) when he’s feeling risky will tread his hands down his pants while listening to your voice in the confessional, shallowly stroking his shaft trying to keep in his breathy groans. Nearly coming in his pants when your voice is laced with shame. A small part of him wishes you’d hear him, hear him pleasing himself at the sound of your soft voice.

Priest!Baizhu; who always tells you that ‘Theres nothing wrong with such urges ’ whispering in your ears, his hands brushing against your thighs gently pushing them apart.. just enough for your eyes to meet his, a smile painted against his pretty pink lips

was his smile always this unsettling?

Priest!Baizhu; who ends up fucking you in the the confessional booth, ripping off your modest attire, defiling you in public, shushing you when you get too loud reciting the words from the holy book in his hand. Ripping away the only form of purity you had, taking your virginity as retribution for your sins. Baizhu’s thumbs pressed harder into your hips, he can barely keep in the groans that bless his lips. Committing such sacrilege in the house of the lord above, turned him on in such a way.

‘It’s the only way you’ll be forgiven’

Priest!Baizhu; who comforts you when his cocks aggressively enter and leave your sex, shushing your tears and promising that you’ll be reborn pure after he blows his load into you. His words singing false promises into your ears, its oddly comforting.. the feeling of being so full in his warm embrace,,

Priest!Baizhu; who thinks about making you worship him instead, shouldn’t you be begging him to save you? Maybe he hasn’t fucked the greedful lust out of your system yet.. Every session ends up with you bent over while Baizhu has his way with you, pleading of archon to pardon your transgressions of their word.

‘Oh my love.. you’ll earn your forgiveness soon my dear..’ he kisses the corner of your lips gently.

‘Just keep being a good boy for me..’

Priest!Baizhu; who fills you full with his seed, telling you that the ones above forgive you for your sins,, petting your hair and pressing you against his chest.

Priest!baizhu; who can’t wait for next Sunday to come to redo it all again..

@nanqmies © 2023

please do not translate, steal or repost my work.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 11: meet cute

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

A special one, I really enjoyed writing it. Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer walked through the gallery in silence, paying attention to all the paintings and trying to give them his own interpretation. For some strange reason, being in those places relaxed him greatly and right now it was what he needed most: a well-deserved respite after a long day of work.

“Good night,” he greeted a young woman, who was attentively looking at a painting.

The woman he saw couldn't have been more than thirty years old and her clothing was... how to put it? Something eccentric. All the clothes were vibrant tones and she wore a woven bag with uneven parts, who knows if it was on purpose or not.

“Good night,” you murmured just as kindly, keeping your hands in the pockets of your colorful jacket.

The painting in front of you was, in short, something grotesque. But it wasn't in a bad way, it had a certain special touch that made it… Spencer couldn't even describe it. It was very good, but to some extent uncomfortable to look at. Almost like a ritualistic crime scene that he was so used to: beautiful, but at the same time terrifying.

"Do you like it?"

“Huh?” the man asked, fearing he had misheard the girl next to him. She nodded toward the exhibit and her brain filled in the blanks. “The painting? Yes, I think it's very good. I'm afraid I'm not a great connoisseur of artistic currents, but from a very point of view this could be part of The Black Paintings, Francisco de Goya's collection”

“I know them,” you said happily. “My favorite is that one about Saturn devouring his son. You know, the one where they're eating a…” you started to say, making signs with your hands that he understood immediately.

“I think art is very subjective, like everything in the world. Some people may consider the Mona Lisa a masterpiece and others may appreciate more the style of Van Gogh or the cubism of Picasso and they are all right. Each person enjoys art things that reflect the content of their soul and I think that is the beautiful thing about paintings, don't you think?

“You know a lot for someone who is not knowledgeable about art” you smiled, feeling captivated by the way the stranger next to you expressed himself.

“Actually I say that I am not a connoisseur because I don’t want to offend those who are. I've only read a couple of books on the subject and... well, I love coming to museums, but that's all”

“Honestly, I think it's very ugly,” you said suddenly, turning your head slightly to observe the painting “It looks a little strange on the bottom, whoever did it should improve their technique a little.”

Spencer felt strange hearing such a cruel comment coming from a person who seemed to be sweet, but he figured you would have your reasons for holding that opinion. He considered leaving there but his attempt was interrupted by another presence, this time a man dressed in an elegant suit who approached you.

“Miss Y/L/N” he greeted you cordially, while you shook his hand “I see you came to appreciate our exhibition, do you like the light we put there? Does it help the colors of the work or do you want us to change it to a warmer one?”

“Oh, don't worry Frank. I like that one, it makes it look gloomy” you answered nonchalantly “You just should put it somewhere else, I'm not very proud of this one in particular”

"What are you talking about? Many people liked it. Isn't it good, gentleman?” he asked, turning to Spencer who was watching the two of them curiously.

“It's beautiful,” he confessed. He actually thought that, he wasn't saying it out of commitment or anything, and his response made you smile sheepishly.

"Stop. Everything is perfect here, thank you for giving it a home in your gallery”

“And there will be more spaces in the future, think about it,” the man murmured, squeezing your shoulder warmly and friendly. “Have a good night, excuse me.”

“Goodbye, Frank.”

The two of you watched the man walk down the hallway until he got lost in a turn and then the agent turned his attention to you.

“So you're an artist?”

“I try that” you laughed. He took a look at you and then at the picture in front of you, as if he had a hard time believing that you were the creator, of course due to the difference in styles that both elements had “But I like that people don't know, so I can hear honest opinions. And I appreciate yours, you are very kind.”

"I only say what I see"

“Would it be very bold of me if I asked you to be my model one day?” you asked cautiously, hoping not to scare him with your request.

"A model?"

“I really like your jaw,” you exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air at the line you were talking about. “And the way your hair falls. They are nice to paint”

“Well, I…I would be flattered,” Spencer said, not knowing how to react to what you had just said. Something like that had never been suggested to him and he felt strange, but excited at the same time.

“Do you want to write me your number?”

“I can give you my card,” he stammered, digging in his briefcase so he could give you the piece of paper. When he extended it to you, you analyzed it with curiosity.

“Dr. Spencer Reid. FBI” you read, quite impressed “So we both got a surprise today, huh?”

"Definitely"

“I'll call you,” you promised, pocketing the card warily and rewarding him with one of yours. They were simpler with hand-painted details and with fewer titles, but it would be useful for him to contact you “And who knows, maybe the next time you come it will be you who is in the gallery.”

Spencer blushed at the thought and smiled at you, wondering how possible that was. You responded to the smile with pleasure, because unintentionally you had just found the one who would permanently become your muse.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

[unusualwhatsits]

I love you, your takes are phenomenal, do you perchance have any favorite byler head cannons you would like to share?

Thank you lovely!! I love you too!! That's so sweet <3 tbh I usually think about them more in a college setting, or sometimes right out of college at whatever job they're doing. I have a lot of fun fantasizing about what their life could be like in the future, so these are made more with that setting in mind, but I'm sure some could be taken as present time situations!

I'm back-hugger!Mike's #1 fan, so a few of those to start: When it's cold out Mike will walk behind Will and wrap his arms around him to stick his hands in his pockets to get warm/keep Will's hands warm, forcing them to waddle along instead of actually getting out of the cold weather.

When they sit on the couch Will's sitting in front of Mike, back against his chest, and Mike's got his hands down the collar of his shirt, other hand up the bottom of his sweatshirt, legs wrapped around his waist, feet resting in Will's lap, just cuddling the absolute hell out of him

When they're at the grocery store they BOTH push the cart because Will's there to get shit done and Mike can't help but loom over him and cuddle up to "help" him push

I think they both develop a need for glasses eventually. Artist/writers who don't need glasses are performing witchcraft imo I think Mike probably needs glasses in general and just refuses to wear them most of the time. If he's super sleepy he might pop them on to read at night. Whereas Will probably is farsighted and chooses to wear them when painting to make sure it comes out correct, but otherwise also ignores them. Will's probably the "squinting at the ingredients label" kinda guy. You know the one. Mike's the, "I JUST had them!!" glasses lost on the top of his head kind of guy. You know that one too, I'm sure.

Mike's a heavy sleeper, Will's a light sleeper. Mike's a starfish, for sure. I think Mike's the big spoon most of the time, except when he's starfishing, then either Will is laying flat on his back, an arm and a leg from Mike draped over him, or he's just starfished right on top of Mike lmao If Mike's on his back obvs Will is cuddled up to his side. Will's the blanket hog. Mike's a furnace when he sleeps. It evens out.

Once they start saying "I love you" they say it no less than 100 times a day that's a fact and I take no criticism

Sometimes their date nights are just them getting chocolate wasted and having a movie marathon. So the usual hangout day, but now they get to make out lmao

I like the hc where Will learns how to braid hair from El, and he braids Mike's hair. Short or long, it's just something to fiddle with, and be creative with, and I think it'd make Mike absolutely melt to be doted on like that, plus it feels nice.

Will's art is everywhere, covering the walls, the counters/tables with framed pieces, paints + pens + sketchbooks absolutely litter the house. He makes random stuff to decorate for Halloween/Christmas etc. like wreaths and garland and helps El make kitschy trinkets figurines to decorate her apartment with! Mike's writing is also everywhere, papers pinned to bulletin boards, books stacked next to his desk, work briefcase overflowing. No less than three draws open in his filing cabinet at any one time, half of the folders pulled out and scattered on the floor/on top of the cabinet.

They definitely make a comic together. Whether that comic gets published or not is up in the air, but they definitely at least make it

Mike prefers to listen to his music with headphones on, even though Will sneaks up on him from behind and startles him 99% of the times he wears them. Will prefers to listen to his record player. They get noise complaints in their apartment and Mike sneakily slips outside without Will knowing to kindly tell them to kick rocks <3 His boy needs his rock and roll time.

Neither one of them knows how to cook, but they have the spirit! Usually results in burnt food and takeout from the local deli or fast food joint, but that's ok too.

I love the idea of Will having a pierced earlobe, and Mike getting some kind of cartilage piercing. That one might just be my bias to Mike's lil ear tips peaking out of his hair. Idk it's just precious to me and I think it would suit him. A little rebellious but nothing too crazy. His mom would still probably have a fit, though.

Every time they go to sit down somewhere Mike does the pulling a chair closer with his foot thing like Patrick does to Art in Challengers

Mike often wears a layer extra than he needs during the winter because Will insists he's "not even cold!!" as a just in case thing (almost always needed <3) "Can I have your jacket?" "Sure <33" "I'm not cold >:| you just look hot" 'Thank you ;)" "Not what I meant... but accurate." ":0 <33"

Anyway, that was way more than I intended and just super random thoughts but whatever lmao Thanks for letting me talk about the boys! :D

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 7

“The darkness is oppressive....” Wyll frowned as the party stood on the precipice of the sickened land. “Almost like it could clutch at my throat with a clawed hand like a monster in a folktale.” Jaina gazed forward into the gloom, eyes narrowing. It was difficult to see two feet in front of her face and reaching out her hand felt almost like pressing into a rip tide. Frowning, she looked at the torches in the burning pyre that seemed to have been left for adventurers and the idea of how easily they might be snuffed out crossed her mind. “Deep in the ocean, there exist creatures that thrive under pressure and oppressive darkness. Their bodies give off light...it guides their way and it can attract prey as well....If my theory is correct, if we could do the same we might overtake a scouting party from Moonrise and find out how they traverse this place...” She looked to Sentry and Shadowheart. “You two deal in holy magic, can you give our armor and weapons some sort of illumination?” Shadowheart seemed puzzled a moment as she stepped forward. “I don't seem to be effected by this curse...Halsin did say it was Sharran in nature...” Her eyes widened and her expression became one of awe. “She must truly love me, I really am her chosen....” She breathed.

“Yes, well, that just means you have more spell power to protect the rest of us...So perhaps stop gawking and get to it?” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Gods above, I never thought I'd be begging someone to cast a light spell on me.” He muttered, folding his arms across his chest. Sentry gently laid a hand on Astarion's shoulder, the touch was so soft, almost apologetic and warm, golden light pulsed over the vampire's body leaving a gentle, subtle glow. The tiefling smiled gently. “So it doesn't hurt your eyes too, I know how that can be...” Astarion looked up at him, taken aback. Sentry was a strong man, and when they'd slept together, he'd certainly been the handsy sort. But as he thought back to Sentry's healing touches or when they would just talk, he was so delicate about it, never insisting on more contact than was absolutely necessary. At first, Astarion wondered if the way he fed on Sentry disgusted the young man, but that couldn't be true, Sentry's expression was always that dopey puppy dog look of devotion. “Yes...well...thank you, darling.” He finally said absently. “No trouble!” Sentry nodded kindly and walked over to Jaina and Wyll, pressing a hand to each of their shoulders as their clothing lit up with that same gentle glow. Finally he sheepishly approached Shadowheart. “Hey...Running a bit low on energy and I still need to be able to smite if Jaina's plan's gonna work...d'you mind, Shart?” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Please stop calling me that.” She muttered through gritted teeth, but obliged, spreading her fingers over Sentry's chest plate and wreathing him in light. The party began to make their way through the shadows slowly and cautiously, Sentry taking the lead and Shadowheart bringing up the rear. As they ventured deeper into the curse, Sentry got the intense feeling he had been here before. A memory of carelessly wandering a town wreathed in similar shadows, the view of this forest from a bedroom window, a fine carriage with clockwork horses, strange blue lanterns hanging from the rooftops.

“Hey, do you hear something up ahead?” Jaina whispered. “I think someone else is out here.” Subconsciously, she took a protective step in front of Wyll as Sentry snapped out of the memory and joined her in peering around the corner. “Who are they?” Sentry whispered back, frowning in confusion. “They're definitely wearing a uniform.” “They're Harpers, see the pins?” Jaina replied, pointing to the silver harps pinned to the figures' cloaks. “We would trade with them for information a lot and sometimes they'd book passage aboard our ships. They're generally friendly if you aren't some elder evil...” She explained as she stepped out, hands raised peacefully. “Who's there?! State your business!” Their leader, a pretty human with long dark curls called out, raising her torch to get a better look at the strange tieflings standing before her. “Jaina Thalassia, Daughter of Captain Jonah Thalassia of The Bitch's Fury.” Jaina introduced herself clearly and amicably. “My friends and I have come here looking to confront the cult at Moonrise Tower.”

Sentry's eyes moved from Jaina and the woman as he noticed one of the archers was moving just a bit to close to the edge of the torch's light. Part of him debated calling out a warning, part of him knew what would happen, he had seen it before, he realized. But that nasty little voice at the back of his mind told him to stay quiet, let it happen. Either they'd make a stronger case to earn the Harpers' trust, or they would have one less weapon brandishing group to worry about. A sick feeling in his stomach chastised him for that, as the other Harpers turned to see their friend swallowed by shadows. “Yonas!” The dark haired woman called out, she and her friends closing ranks, letting the torch light glow brighter around them as a horrible screech sounded from the shadows and shades began erupting from the ground, the unfortunate harper crawling from the gloom, eyes glowing a haunting sickly green as ichor dripped from his lips, dark and slimy. “Sentry! Those smites of yours would be very useful right now.” Jaina bit her lip as lightning crackled in her hands. Wyll drew his blade and behind them, motes of moonlight appeared around Shadowheart, burning at the cursed creatures surrounding them. Astarion shifted behind Sentry, bow drawn. Sentry's blade glowed as he held it at the ready, joining the remaining Harpers in defending their position. ----

“This place gives me the creeps...” Karlach shuddered as she and Lae'zel led the party into the strange, sickly divide between the mountains and this strange, cursed forest. “Makes me wanna carry Clive at my hip, y'know, as a little comfort thing.” “My blade is the only comfort I require.” Lae'zel replied bluntly as she slashed a dead branch out of the way with a frown. “Hold...There is someone up ahead.” “Is that...” Octavia's bright eyes widened and she couldn't help but point, her mouth open wide. The figure before the party was dressed in lavishly embroidered fine traveling robes. A wizard's hat to rival the finest she'd seen in any city boutique she'd ever visited adorned his head of long, snowy white hair, and though he leaned on a staff, there was a quiet power about him, elderly though he was.“Elminster Au'rum? The archmage?” She breathed, barely containing excitement at seeing the legend she had only heard stories of in person. “T'chk....Whoever he is, he looks like an elderly Istik out for a stroll in his sleep clothes.” Kroger quirked a brow. “Who is this person that you're so in awe of?” To Kroger's eyes, the man before them was ancient, especially for a human. He was dressed in clothing laughably ill suited for the environment and a frankly ridiculous hat atop his aged head. Gale sighed, rolling his eyes as he stepped forward. “Nothing to be concerned about, just an old friend...” He approached, raising a hand in greeting. “Hello, Elminster...What brings you to this less than pleasant locale?” “Gale, my boy....I've come to speak with you, in fact.” The man replied. With a sigh, he added. “Ah, but I find myself exhausted from the long journey and in need of refreshment. Mystra bade me travel as quickly as I could with little time for comfort or concern for my wellbeing. Perhaps we might reconvene at your camp?”

“Mystra herself send you?” Gale seemed taken aback, his eyes widening, mouth set in an anxious frown. “But why?” “By the gods, boy. Have you no manners? Let us speak of this someplace more comfortable.” Elminster groaned like a grandfather, inconvenienced by a naughty child. “Aww, izzat Gale's grandad?” Karlach chuckled as she approached. “Apparently so.” Kroger quirked a brow, folding his arms across his chest. “But anyway, he IS right, we should rest a moment while we discern a way through this cursed fog. Let's find a safe place to bed down for the night and get the old man's energy back up. As I have read, some humans get quite irritable when they lack sustenance, or worse than that, they go collapsing left and right.” As the party set up camp, Gale folded his arms and eyed Elminster as they stood near his tent (which was presently setting itself up with the aid of glowing motes of purple energy. “Alright, Elminster, now why did Mystra send you to find me?” “Don't be crass, Gale. I've still yet to eat even a morsel!” The old man chastised, pausing and turning his head as Octavia tapped him shyly on the shoulder. “Here you are, Elminster, sir. And some for you as well, Gale. Speaking on such important mysteries of the arcane can be hungry work!” Octavia gave a shy smile as she hand Elminster some cheese and dried beef wrapped in a cloth and the same for Gale, with some warm spiced bread for them to share. “I'll leave you be.” She bowed politely, backing up into the darkness. “A kind and clever girl, what an apprentice she'll make some day for some lucky wizard.” Elminster nodded as he began to eat. “She's nearly as accomplished as I am, she's got no need to be an apprentice.” Gale replied defensively. “Mm...yes, well...at any rate, Gale...Mystra has told me she knows of your current plight...and she would consider forgiveness. Not only that, but in doing so, help you defeat this Absolute.” Elminster intoned, his voice low and somewhat more ominous than Gale might have hoped for one discussing forgiveness. “She would?” He paused a moment, a look of surprise crossing his face. “And what would I need to do?”

Elminster's expression softened a moment. “The orb you carry could be detonated at will in order to destroy The Absolute and its followers. I can grant a boon that will soothe it temporarily until you are close enough to set it off...” The air behind them rippled as Octavia rushed up to them. “No! Then Gale would die? It's out of the question, we will find another way! My sister is the greatest warrior our people have ever known, it will not come to this!” “Octavia...I should have known you couldn't help but listen in...” Gale shook his head with a sad smile. “But, if this is our only option...” “It isn't! It can't be! You are smarter than that! What about what Jaina and Wyll said about putting our heads together when we all first joined up?” The Githyanki frowned, her already big blue eyes wide as if fighting back tears. “It is the only way Mystra will consider forgiveness, Gale. I'll leave you with this...” Elminster murmured something quietly and crossed a hand over Gale's chest. The wizard had to admit, the orb felt calmer and more quiet than it had in some time as Elminster disappeared. “Maybe if that's the only way she will forgive you, her forgiveness isn't worth it.” Octavia frowned. “Goddesses can be wrong. Vlaakith is, why not Mystra?” “Because...” Gale gently took Octavia by the hand. “I wronged her first.” “What? By seeking greater magic? By searching for understanding? I study Istik cultures, Gale. I know what Mystra bids her followers to do, exactly what she is punishing you for now. Is that a just, wise goddess? To me it sounds like a petty tyrant.” Octavia's expression soured. “I questioned Vlaakith, perhaps it is your turn to start questioning your goddess too.” She squeezed Gale's hand tightly, her expression sorrowful under its ferocity as she looked him in the eye. Gale didn't quite know how to respond. He just held Octavia's hands gently in his and looked her in the eyes. A nagging twinge at the back of his mind told him she was right, that he was being played by his goddess and that he was being punished for doing nothing more than embodying what her chosen should. But another part of him still paused, Karsus' folly haunting his memory like a childhood fable meant as a warning.

Across the camp, Karlach was preparing for bed as Kroger approached, sitting beside her. She gave him a small smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey soldier. Missing Wyll, hmm? Afraid Jaina's got him all to herself?” Kroger blushed and cleared his throat. “N...No, why would you...what makes you think?” He inhaled deeply. “No, I merely....he is a good friend of yours, and...as I am a good friend of his, I'd be remiss not to assist you in any way I can...You talked about having your...soft-thing...at your side for comfort, I thought of a way it would be useful to you in this place.” “Oh yeah?” Karlach grinned, chuckling as she folded her arms across her chest. “You can make Clive REALLY able to protect me against this Shadowcurse?” “Well, I believe I can...” Kroger nodded thoughtfully, taking the worn bear carefully in his hands and focusing a spell very cautiously on it. With a little time, the bear began to glow gently with a warm, comforting light. “And then you'd just wear him at your waist...As you suggested you might.” He offered the stuffed animal back to Karlach. “Oh fuck yeah! Always wanted a battle buddy all my own. Thanks!” She slugged Kroger appreciatively in the arm, the smaller man wincing but giving a small smile and nod.

After the shadow creatures had been quieted, the remaining Harpers had proven grateful and informed the party of a safe haven not far from where they were attacked. Shadowheart paused to direct a sending spell to Kroger to let the other party know where to meet them and they started towards safety. “Huh...well, it certainly does look cozy enough.” Sentry nodded as they reached the threshold. He looked around at the various inhabitants about the grounds, noting with relief that it seemed the tieflings had made it here. “It's good these people have found a safe haven here.” Wyll smiled approvingly. “Hopefully it stays that way.” “We can help ensure that it does.” Jaina replied, offering him a small smile in return. “Well, I suppose at least it's better than bedding down in these awful woods another night.” Astarion rolled his eyes. Sentry was about to speak, but shifted uncomfortably looking down at his feet instead as he found vines rising from the ground and wrapping around his legs, snaking up his body. His face paled and his mind snapped back to a memory, a small Tiefling child with long white hair tied down on a dirty mattress in a cage, hands gripping at his limbs as he cried out and tried to struggle. He froze and his face flashed between panic and rage.

“Release me this instant.” He growled. “I think not...”A calm, authoritative voice replied as an old half-elven woman walked slowly towards him, her fierce brown eyes narrowed. In her hand she held a vial with a squirming creature inside, banging at the glass eagerly as she held it out to Sentry. “Ketheric is growing bold sending his True Souls into our base...” Sentry was starting to struggle, his mouth set in a snarl, eyes glazing over. Jaina frowned and hurried to step between Sentry and the woman, holding her hands up apologetically. “We aren't True Souls. We want to be rid of these tadpoles. We're here to defeat The Absolute and keep it from causing anymore harm.” She began to explain. The half-elf frowned and raised a brow. “Is that so? And how is it you are not under its control then?” “Please, let him go. He's frightened. If he calms down, we can show you.” Jaina replied. “There is an artifact, but he's the one carrying it.” The woman shook her head. “I cannot let him go until I am certain what you say is true, my people's safety comes first.” Jaina looked back towards Wyll and the others pleadingly. Sentry was fully gone at this point, panic had set in and awakened the urge. “Alright, let me.” Astarion sighed, walking up beside Sentry. He put on an air of annoyance, as though the spectacle was all too much for him, rolling his eyes and shaking his head dramatically. But when he reached Sentry, he gently laid his hand on the tiefling's arm, light and cautious, giving him room to jerk away if he needed. His mind connected to Sentry's. 'They can't hurt you, darling. Wherever you think you are, it isn't real. You don't have to go back there.' Sentry's eyes focused again. His breathing slowed. His surroundings in his minds eye changed. The walls of the cage were blown apart, the house scorched from fire damage. He stood hand in hand with that dark haired man, smiling appreciatively up at a pair of mutilated corpses hanging from the ceiling. He gave a small smile as the scene shifted again. Dark tossled hair gave way to soft white curls and deep emerald eyes gave way to shining ruby.

“Thanks...What's going on, again?” Sentry murmured, voice slurring just a bit. “The artifact, darling.” Astarion prompted. “Right...yeah...Um..” He fidgeted against the vines a bit before managing to produce the artifact from one of his side pouches. The half-elf watched in surprise as the tadpole in the jar thrashed and squirmed, trying in vain to get away from the strange device before seeming to fall unconscious. “Huh...A useful thing to have indeed.” She blinked, finally letting the vines fall away from Sentry, who heaved a sigh of relief and allowed himself to go to his knees. “If you truly seek to destroy The Absolute, then it seems our goals are aligned. Come and speak with me inside...And have a drink, I am sure you've had a long journey.” She nodded towards the inn as she turned and walked away.

Sentry blinked, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Shit...” He murmured. He could still feel himself trembling and his cheeks felt wet. That memory had hit him so hard, he'd felt truly helpless. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply and when he opened them, a gloved hand was extended towards him. “Are you alright, Sentry?” Wyll asked, his smile was reassuring as Sentry accepted his hand and allowed him to help him to his feet. “Yeah...sorry...” Sentry replied sheepishly, looking away and frowning. “A drink will calm your nerves. Father always says a good swig of rum heals all wounds.” Jaina patted him on the back with a fond chuckle. “You did well considering the way that woman treated you.” “The funny thing? She was actually a little familiar, I think.” Sentry blinked, scratching his head. ---- Sentry needed some time to calm himself before meeting with The High Harper, so the party split up to explore the grounds and get comfortable. Halsin arrived from their encampment and went to see to Sentry, relieving Jaina of caring for him. She stepped out into an open area behind the inn, no one really seemed to be walking about back here, but the comforting light protecting the inn still covered it. The water was nearby, lapping peacefully at the shore, but she saw a flash of movement to the side down on the beach, her pale blue eyes scanning to find the source.

She couldn't help but smile as she saw Wyll there, dancing on the sand. His movements were so fluid, so graceful. The lean muscles of his body moved with an elegance she wasn't used to from the sort of dancing she usually watched. Slowly, she approached him with an appreciative smile, arms folded across her chest as she watched. He turned with a dashing grin to face her, finishing his dance and bowing politely as she clapped her hands. “Well, it seems there are some things nobles do that I can appreciate.” She teased. “I'm afraid the best I can do is a sailor's jig.” “Oh come now, I don't believe that for an instant. I've sparred with you and I've seen you in combat, you've a dancer's grace all your own, Miss Thalassia.” Wyll held out a hand to her. Jaina giggled and couldn't help but smile widely, sighing and rolling her eyes before taking his hand. “Well, alright my lord, but it'll be your feet that get stomped when I can't keep up.” Wyll winced at the title. “Just Wyll is fine...I should have told you sooner, but there seemed no point in it, my father exiled me ages ago...I'm no more a lord or a noble than you are a...a deck hand.” Jaina raised a brow. “A deckhand? Well, I've never been a deck hand...Do you mean a cabin girl? I was a cabin girl for a time when I was little.” Wyll frowned, giving her a deeply sincere look as he held her hand. “All I mean is, I know it hurt you that I kept my past a secret, and I'm sorry for that...But it isn't who I am. The person I am is the person you sparred and joked with at camp, the person whose side you fight by...I'm just Wyll.” Jaina nodded, turning her head away in thought for a moment and sighing softly. “No, you're right...I took it personally when it had nothing to do with me. You had your reasons for keeping it secret and it's true, that isn't who you are...You've never behaved like the stuffy nobles who treated me like garbage back in the city...I don't believe you have a cruel bone in your body.” She sighed and bit her lip. Wyll smiled softly, squeezing Jaina's hand and pulling her close. She smiled back at him and began to follow the way his feet moved, slowly and carefully at first, but soon picking up the patterns and allowing him to lead. The stars shone only over the inn, protected as it was by the warm, glowing light, and the two of them danced together, bodies close, hearts beating in time. When finally, Jaina leaned back and Wyll leaned forward, their lips met and they held the kiss as time seemed to stand still, her tail slipping around his waist, holding him gently.

“So...does this mean I'm forgiven?” Wyll asked softly. Jaina gave him a roguish smile and gave him another long, deep kiss. “There was nothing to forgive. I was a fool to see you for anything but the man I was smitten with the moment I saw him with those children.” “You're not a fool for guarding your heart...” He gently pressed a hand to her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes. “But I'm glad you could let that guard down for me. I'll protect it as valiantly as you have.”

--- Inside, Kroger and the others had entered the inn, approaching Sentry and the others at a small table. Shadowheart handed a few gold pieces to one of the tiefling children who had just set down a fine white wine on the table. “You would think this General Thorm would consider how difficult it might be for his own army to traverse this place in the fog.” Kroger rolled his eyes. “Well, one would assume they have some strategy to pass through unscathed.” Halsin suggested, sipping from a mug of ale. “Oh, they did.” Octavia replied, producing an odd little lantern from the straps she hung her staff from. “I wanted to see how it works in the presence of the entire party. Where are Jaina and Wyll?” “Off pining for eachother and pretending to be in some imagined disagreement still, I'm sure.” Astarion snorted, examining his nails. “What else is new?” “Well, I suppose we could first see if it's holy magic...Mr. Ojeda? Miss Shadowheart?” Octavia held the lantern out.

“You couldn't have just asked your brother?” Shadowheart cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “He is...dealing with a crisis of faith, we will explain further in time.” The wizard apologized, pushing the lantern towards the paladin and the cleric. Sentry's hands rested on the lantern a moment and then he picked it up, eyeing the glass panes. “Well, it isn't holy magic but there is very obviously something stuck in there, it's pounding on the glass, see? Poor little thing.” He unlatched the tiny pane that opened into a door, and a blur of color shot free of the lantern. “Huh...It's some little fae thing, see? You okay there?” Sentry blinked as the little being landed on the end of his freckled nose, standing on the tip and looking him in the eyes. He could see every detail of her tiny frame from the simple dress she wore to her long purple hair. “Thank you, thank you, good sir knight! For freeing me from that glass light!” The pixie spoke, her expression one of exaggerated gratefulness, saccharine and syrupy. “Oh...uh...no thanks are needed, lady fair, but how did you get stuck in there?” Sentry blinked. “Captured I was, by monsters most foul! But I must ask you: What comes now?” “You can go and fly away. I'd never keep you locked away.” Sentry nodded his head gently, earning a look of annoyance from the pixie as his nod threw her off balance. “Boy, you're dumber than you seem. I'll spell it out: I can grant your dreams.” The pixie rolled her eyes. “Er...It's getting tough to speak in verse, but can you get us safely through this curse?” Sentry scratched the back of his neck. “Protection from the shadow curse, what more could a dingus want?” The Pixie replied, tossing Sentry a strange little bell. “Ring this bell and speak the words, and it will give you what you've earned.” “Okay, thank you but that didn't....” Sentry began as the pixie flew off into the night. “Rhyme...Did I not have to rhyme either? Did I come up with all of that for nothing?” He frowned, a puzzled expression crossing his face. “Ah, but at least you've learned you're quite the poet, Mr. Ojeda!” Octavia clapped her hands and smiled. “You should write!” “Ugh...trust me, no one wants that.” Sentry blanched, shaking his head and taking a gulp from his glass of wine.

“Have you checked on your kin yet?” Kroger asked, sliding into a chair and accepting a glass of wine from Shadowheart, which he downed swiftly with a sigh. Sentry looked around at the tieflings holed up throughout the inn and frowned. He counted so few compared to back at the grove. He was also just beginning to notice how tired and shaken many of them seemed. His heart sank as he noticed that even a few of the kids were missing...and Zevlor as well.

He rose to his feet and slowly made his way over to the bard he recognized from The Grove. A feeling of foreboding looming over him as he approached her. The last bard he'd encountered had suffered a grisly fate and he could already feel his hands twitching. He gripped his own wrist firmly and squeezed, digging his nails in to keep the urge down. “Alfira?” He addressed her gently. “What happened? Are you alright? Where's Lakrissa?” Sentry asked, sitting beside her and examining the thousand yard stare on her face, noting the tremble in her arms. “We....we encountered a group of cultists...” She began, shakily taking a sip from her drink to steady her nerves. “Some of us tried to fight, some ran....Zevlor...he just...he just stood there...Rolan shielded me and the kids while Cal and Lia charged the cultists...but....” “Zevlor didn't fight?” Sentry frowned, looking away thoughtfully. Why? He was a Hellrider, a paladin. Even Sentry would have put himself between the others and harm, even despite the whispers in his mind. What would make Zevlor freeze like that? “Where is he now?” “I don't know...anyone who didn't die or run here got taken away by the cultists...Who knows where they've gone?” Alfira shook her head sadly. With a deep sigh, she raised her head and looked Sentry dead in the eyes. “How do you do it, Mr. Ojeda? How do you keep going through all of this?” Sentry gave a hollow laugh and shook his head, pouring himself a drink and taking a long sip. “Well, I'll let you know when I find out....I'm kind of making this up as I go...” He admitted. She gave a small, sad smile in return. “Well...at least it's good to know even heroes don't have it all figured out.” She raised her glass and took another drink. Sentry paled and stared into the distance, forcing back the urge in his mind so heavily a trickle of blood began to issue from his nose. “I'm not a hero...” He simply said, collecting his glass and hurrying back to his party.

[spncvr]

show me how you care | s. reid

summary: spencer’s smart, you’re stuck.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: hurt/comfort, idk if this counts as gn!reader?? but uh nothing gender specific here!! (i think?),, teeth rotting fluff, possible delusions might follow after reading el em eyo

a/n: OMG FIRST POST (boo what a lie). first writing post?? (also a lie, i mean first fic posted on this account) this lowkey sucks bc i wrote it in, like, an hour lolz. and the idea came when i was crying over chem, so.

HE’S SPEAKING. It’s soft and patient and you can’t help the small smile that paints itself on the edge of your lips. His fingers trace the book, adorned by words you don't quite get, and his eyebrows are furrowed, just slightly, right behind his glasses, as he reads. He’s trying to explain—and you can tell he doesn’t mind, but you feel like a complete idiot nonetheless.

He’s gone out of his way to try and explain whatever was written in the textbook. He does all of this for you, and your focus rests elsewhere. He’s reading from the book, the words rest easy on his tongue, but it’s all messed up and scrambled in your mind like a game of scrabble.

Your smile falters.

He notices, of course. He’s too smart and observant not to.

“Hey,” he whispers, tapping his fingers under your chin softly so you’d look at him. And when you don’t, he ducks down to meet your eyes that were dead set on your lap.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

You purse your lips, and shake your head meekly, “I just . . .”

“D’you want to take a break?” he asks, voice full of nothing but concern.

That makes you feel worse. He’s being so nice about everything and you still just don't get it.

“I’m sorry,” the words escape you, barely a whisper.

“What for?”His laughter is light, a melody that eases the situation “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Not ever, yeah?”

But you’re already shaking your head in frustration, knitting your eyebrows together, “No. No, you’re so kind, Spence.”

He smiles (a sickly sweet thing)  but doesn’t answer. He’s waiting for you to continue, you realise. 

“You’ve gone out of your way to help and I— it’s… it’s not clicking. I’m not smart like you—I’m just dumb, I think.” You say, in a stream of miserable defeat. Your eyes are everywhere but his.

His touch on your back is solace. It’s filled with such care, you feel like you could cry.

“You aren’t dumb,” he says reassuringly, then he fixes his posture, “in fact, academic performance, like grades, usually offers a pretty limited view of an individual’s intelligence. The assessments tests make, tend to overlook a lot of crucial factors.”

“Well this isn’t a test,” you grumble.

“It will be.”

“Don’t remind me!” you say, throwing your head back, for dramatic effect.

“Let’s take a break,” he offers. And still, in that soft tone. “It’s said to improve cognitive performance, you know?”

“Yeah, I know that,” you tell him, even though you probably didn’t.

“I just don’t want you to get annoyed by me.” you try to explain, “I don’t get things as quickly as you do— it’s . . . I’ll just ask my professor for help.” 

“You don’t annoy me. Don’t think that.” he chides softly. He lets his hand rest on your cheek, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek kindly. His touch is warm; it could melt away the coldest of fears. His next words are sweet, a promise dipped in honey. “I’ll explain all this to you over and over, till my words run dry—I don’t mind, yeah?”

You nod softly and stare at the open textbook that lay idly on the desk to avoid looking at him. You can’t look at him. Because to look at him meant that you’d notice how he’d softly trace your jaw with his fingers like this, looking at you like that and—

God.

Then, soft kiss on your cheek, “Let’s take that break,” he proposes, again, and this time you find the strength to agree.

[doberbutts]

God this. Sauron as Annatar and as Tar-Mairon was not given a lot of characterization. The bulk of characterization we have for him in these forms is popular FANON, not canon. We know that in both of those forms he was a smooth talker, subservient as an act, manipulative, and bided his time until he was trusted before revealing his plans and by then it was way too late to stop him. We know a handful of elves rejected him immediately because they caught on that something was up. We know that Celebrimbor was a bit naive and actively wanted to trust him. We know that he was able to pursuade a cult to follow him in Numenor. But we have very little of his actual interactions with these people because they aren't written like a story, they're written like a history book, more like a list of events than "and then Sauron said x, and then Tylepe said y, and then Sauron said abc to him" etc.

This means there's a LOT of room for interpretation for how these events actually played out. "Annatar" was never given a description outside of "fair, like an elf" and Tar-Mairon was "like a man, but taller/bigger, with a terrible light in his eyes"- meaning popular fan-created depiction of him as a red-haired or blonde twink with long hair is exactly that. Fanon. Not canon. Canon does not give us a physical description for any of Sauron's forms except his armor which is why the armor is the only this consistent about him across all adaptions. "Seduce" meant something very different in Tolkien's time. We never actually SEE the interactions between Annatar and Celebrimbor, we're just told that by the end of things Annatar had Brimby wrapped around his little finger.

[also, Aragorn is eventually described as 'fair, like an elf' as well- so if we're accepting Viggo in that description, we also should accept Charlie as well. Neither are my cup of tea but there's no denying both have an army of fangirls drooling over them.]

Similarly, Galadriel does not have much characterization (no one in the Silm does unless it is a story actually written as a story, such as Beren and Luthien or Turin or the theft of the Silmarils etc, rather than a historical list of events) and what she does have paints a very different picture to what LOTR gives us later. She lies about her involvement with the kin-slayings. She goes to Middle Earth because she wants to rule a land of her own. She rejects convention and shacks up with Celeborn pretty much the second she meets him. She leads an army to throw down with Sauron. She's renowned as such a powerful elf sorcereress that the men of Gondor are STILL scared of her 3000 years later when she hasn't been spotted outside of elven realms unless she's kicking Sauron's ass. She's not even particularly nice to the Fellowship as a whole until after she talks to Frodo about the Ring, and even then most of her positive interactions are with Frodo (because he Gets It), Aragorn (because he's marrying her granddaughter), and Gimli (because he flattered her). The kindly and matronly figure we associate her with is a PJ thing, not a books thing.

Actually, I was just talking to a fellow Books Lover about this, and one of the things he complained about in the OG PJ trilogy was that change to Galadriel to downplay just how terrifying she was. Like a goddess. Beautiful, powerful, could squash you like a bug without even trying, made sure you knew it.

[general] You don't have to like the Rings of Power. My aforementioned friend hasn't seen it yet and hesitates to do so because he's been repeatedly let down by PJ's adaptions- adaptions *I* like. It's not to say that it doesn't have flaws, or that I'm totally happy with the liberties that were taken. But... some of these characters and some of these events do not exist in adaptable form, and so shit has to be made up, which means things will differ from popular headcanons of those who've been making it up themselves the whole time. And that's okay! The beauty of fanfiction and fanart and adaptive/transformative works is that you don't have to care how other people chose to interpret the source material.

You don’t hate Amazon you hate the Silmarillion: a genuine review of Rings of Power

It’s no secret that overall I liked RoP. I watched it with my roommate who gets very hyped about stuff like that and it made for a really exciting viewing experience, instead of the more bitter perspective I might have taken if I watched it alone. But, I also know there are some real faults with the show, I never thought it was perfect and know it’s not on par with the the LOTR movies and I never expected it to be. But, the reason it falls short is not Amazons.

I want to note that I am not defending Amazon. I hate Amazon. Jeff Bezos can catch this guillotine. I am, however, defending the creative team behind the show, which is how I will refer to them from here on out, I only called it Amazon to grab your attention.

Here’s my point though, almost every (valid) critique I see of this show isn’t a problem with decisions the creative team made, it’s an inherent problem in any adaptation of the Silmarillion (and associated works but I’m just going to refer to the Silmarillion for brevity’s sake).

The Silmarillion, as full and detailed as it is, is a shit story. The events of the second age do not fit neatly into a clean story the way LOTR does because it’s not supposed to. The Silmarillion isn’t a story, it’s a history, and history is never narratively satisfying. Tolkien (Jirt, not talking about Christopher here) didn’t publish the Silmarillion in his lifetime, he only even published LOTR and the hobbit, everything else attributed to him was published after his death. He had no intent of making the other works anything other than a comprehensive history of the world he made for documentation’s sake, never with intent to publish.

Because if this, the Silmarillion is really hard to adapt for a number of reasons:

1. Elves aren’t good main characters.

Elves aren’t supposed to be relatable characters, they’re aloof and static and inherently non-relatable (There are exceptions but they’re usually not regular elves. Elrond is half elven, Legolas is very young). Humans and hobbits are the relatable characters through which we view the world, because they can have human flaws and conflicts, which makes for a very human story. To make elves the main characters you need to make them interesting characters, and elves aren’t supposed to have human flaws, and so they either don’t feel relatable human, or feel disingenuous to what we know elves to be like. It’s a lose lose.

2. Middle earth is not supposed to be pretty.

A huge part of LOTR is realizing every place they visit is either the ruins of a past, much larger civilization, or a city that is a fraction of what it used to be (Gondor in lotr is NOTHING compared to what it was in the early 3rd age, or Arnor and definitely not Númenor, Rivendell is a pebble compared to Lindon and Eregion, we only ever Khazad-dûm as a decrepit tomb instead of the most prosperous mine in all of middle earth is once was). This juxtaposition is integral to the main themes of lotr and is imperative to the story jirt was trying to tell. A story set in the 2nd age cannot have these ruins because IT IS THE RUINS. It cannot “feel like lotr” because it is what will make lotr lotr.

3. Characters(individuals) are of little importance in the Silmarillion.

As important as Elendil and Isildur (and even Anárion) are to the plot of literally the entire 3rd age, we know little about their own narratives. They are names for the people that did these important actions and that’s it. Again, the Silmarillion is a history, it’s not going to say what Elendil and Isildur’s relationship was like in excruciating detail or what Isildur wanted to do with his life before sailing to middle-earth and becoming a king. You have to write these characters a good story if you’re adapting the Silmarillion and sometimes there isn’t space to write a compelling journey in the space Tolkien left. Because they don’t have a character, any character you give them will seem “out of character” to many people.

Basically my point is that before you go and say “well this is weird or I didn’t like this choice” think about what the creative team had to create to make an interesting show out of a story not designed to be told. Sometimes they didn’t make the perfect decision, but if you were tasked with adapting something unadaptable do you think you would do it perfectly?

[straykids-97]

Silhouette 

Synopsis: Hyunjin enjoys painting… But he likes painting you more…

Warnings: Softdom, dirty talking, degradation, teasing, foreplay, daddy kink (per usual, heh), unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, pet names. (Lmk if I forget anything, ya filthy animals) 

Also, if you want to be tagged, just let me know :) 

‘Guys like a waistline. They like a silhouette.’- L’Wren Scott

Word Count: 3.1k

You cross your legs in front of you, holding a book in your hands as Hyunjin poses against the white backdrop behind him. He wore primarily dark colors, his dyed blond hair standing out, and his almond-shaped eyes coated with deep-hued eye shadows. The contacts in his eyes were a light blue, making you wonder the power Asian men could have if they had bright eyes; they’d murder you. Hell, they already had power over you, Hyunjin especially. His lean figure, mixed with his tall stature, was enough to knock you off your feet. You didn’t think Hyunjin needed anything to look attractive because, to you, he was already attractive without the add-ons. But, when he wore the makeup, the contacts mixed together, it was enough to make you swoon. You lean against the fabric of the leather couch as Hyunjin poses, forgetting about the book you had brought with you. 

Gosh, he’s so breathtaking. You think to yourself, propping your hand under your chin. You blink at him lazily, also forgetting that there were people around, watching you stare at your boyfriend like a crazy person. Some thought it was adorable, while others thought it was strange. 

You hear someone behind you, causing you to turn; it was their manager. “They’re going to be taking pictures on the couch, could you go somewhere else so they can get the set ready?” He asks you kindly. You nod, “Of course.” You rise to your feet and move through the small set to a spot by the window, placing the book in front of you. You puff out a sigh and shake your head, “Gotta read.” You say to yourself and begin to read your book. 

After a few moments, you feel fingers dance up your forearm, causing you to turn your head. You hear a camera click, making your mouth fall open, followed by another shutter noise. “Hyunjin!” You cry, covering your face and trying to push him away. “Stop!” You giggle as he leans in, squishing his face teasingly, “Awh! C’mon! You look so cute.” you feel your cheeks heat up. He chuckles, “How’s the new book?” He asks, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Eh, not bad…. A lot of uh… Steamy scenes.” You admit, shutting the book to look up at him. “How’s going?” You gesture to the photo shoot. He sighs, putting his camera down to sit across from you at the table. “The usuall… So this book….” He trails off, snatching it away from you before you can react. “Hyunjin! Give it back!” You plead as he opens to the page you were on, skimming through the previous pages to see if he could find a ‘steamy’ scene. 

He holds the book above his head so you can’t reach it at all, so you give up, crossing your arms as he stands there, reading the sex scene from a few chapters ago. You glance around to see the other members milling around, not caring about you two; they’re used to Hyunjin’s antics. But they didn’t know what he was up to this time. You turn your gaze back to him to see him concentrate on the words on the page. His eyes danced across the black and white print as you stood there, flustered. 

Hyunjin put the book down before turning to you, “So… That’s what you like?” He asked, stepping toward you. You feel the air leave your lungs for a moment, “Hyunjin-” you begin to say, but Chan interrupts you two, “Come on, Hyunjin.” Chan claps his hands and your boyfriend. Hyunjin takes a step away from you and walks toward the other members for a group photo. He takes one last glimpse at you before switching and becoming the soft giggly Hyunjin you all knew. You took a deep breath and held your chest; that was too close. 

Hyunjin will deal with you later. That part both terrified and excited you. Would Hyunjin do the things he just read in the book? Or would he just tease you about it?

You didn’t find out that night. Hyunjin acted like he didn’t read absolute filth in the book you had brought with you. He didn’t read about the female protagonist being tied up and getting her brains fucked out by the antagonist. No, he rode with you so that you could be dropped off at home before he himself returned to the dorms with the rest of his bandmates. No, Hyunjin pretended as if nothing had happened. That scared you even more. 

A few days later, you get off work later than you expected, making sure to text Hyunjin that you would just be going straight home after work because you needed to take a shower. You were clammy from work and wanted to rest your aching muscles. The book incident had all but left your mind now, and you had almost forgotten about it, especially since you had finished it. 

You step into your apartment, kicking off your shoes as you toss your keys and purse on the counter. You hang your jacket up before shuffling down the hallway, stripping your clothes off as you go. You enter the bathroom, lean over, and turn the tub on. You sigh as the tub begins to fill with warm water, finally being able to relax now that you are home. You peel off the rest of your clothes and toss your hair into a messy bun. You hear your phone chirping at you and see that Hyunjin is calling you, and you ignore it because you were getting in the tub. 

You text him after the call goes to voicemail, explaining that you were in the tub and that you couldn’t talk. After stepping into the tub, your phone begins to ring again, making you roll your eyes to see him calling again. This time, facetime. You answer, knowing that Hunjin will only keep calling until you pick up. “Hyunie, I’m in the tub-” You begin to say, but you stop when you see him. 

Hyunjin’s wearing a white button-up, and the top few buttons were undone. His hair is half up and half down. He raises his eyebrows, leaning against the wall, revealing that he is standing outside your apartment door. “Are you going to make me wait?” You glance to the bathroom door, unsure of what to do. 

“If you make me wait too long, I won’t be pleased.” He tsks at you. You set your phone down and hung up before wrapping the fluffy white robe that was on the back of your bathroom door around your body. You didn’t care that you were dripping water throughout your apartment, trying not to run to the door as your pulse quickened. You unlock the door and open it to reveal Hyunjin leaning against the door jam, staring down at you. Your mouth falls open slightly, “Good girl.” He hums, shifting around you to enter your apartment. You close the door, watching as he spins a pink bag slowly in his hand. 

He peeks over his shoulder at you, “Follow me.” He hums. You wordlessly follow him out of curiosity. What did he have for you? You wondered as he guided you to your bedroom. Like the proper gentleman he is, he held the door open for you. He tosses the bag on the bed, “Look at what I brought you, princess.” He nods to the load on your bed, your pulse thrumming through your veins harder now. 

You slowly make your way to the bed, tossing him a look before reaching for the bag. He was leaning against the door, arms crossed, watching your movements like a vulture. You gulp and turn your gaze to the contents of the bag. Your mouth falls open, and a soft gasp falls out when a cold pair of cuffs fall out of the bag first. The next was a small bottle of lubricant, three different kinds of body paint, and the last was a black blindfold. 

You whip around to look at Hyunjin, knowing that the scene he had read did not involve lube or a blindfold, which happens further in the book when the woman won’t leave the artist alone. And the painted sex scene isn’t until one of the last chapters. “You know, I relate a lot to the artist in that book.” He trails off, pushing off the door to cross the space between you two. “Likes to paint… Likes to paint his girlfriend naked… Likes to paint on his girlfriend…. Likes to fuck his girlfriend….”  He purrs, making you shiver. “I hope… You don’t like your sheets….” He trails off, pulling the duvet off your bed and tossing it on the floor. 

“Get on the bed.” he orders, making you jump slightly. You do as he says, climbing on the bed. “On your knees,” he says, making you turn to him, sitting back on your heels. He flicks his fingers at you, motioning you to come closer. You obey and shift closer to him, watching as he pulls the rope off your bathrobe. “You read such dirty things… But act so innocent….” He says, pushing the robe off your shoulders. “Act like an angel but want to be fucked like a whore, hmm?” His words go straight to your groin. He wraps his hand around your throat; you feel his long slender fingers almost enclose your entire neck. “Hmm? Does my sweet little angel like that? Being fucked like a dirty, filthy whore?” He uses his free hand to push the rest of your robe off your body. 

You sit there, watching as he pulls away, tossing the robe onto the floor. He shifts and unbuttons his shirt, revealing his toned torso as he pitches his shirt next to your robe. You watch wide-eyed as he reaches into the bag and pulls out the silver handcuffs. “Hands behind your back.” He demands, and you do what you are told without hesitation. You weren’t sure why you were so quick to obey him, ordinarily, when Hyunjin told you to do something, you whined about it, but this was not the kind of Hyunjin who seemed to be as lenient. 

He wraps his hand around your wrists, pressing his chest to you. He gazes down at you wordlessly as he snaps the cuffs in place. “Sit on your heels.” He orders, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on your lips. You shiver, doing as he asks. You watch breathlessly as he reaches into the bag to grab the blue paint out of the bag, opening it and putting some on his forefinger. Hyunjin hums to himself, “I can’t wait to see how this turns out.” He presses the cold paint to your flushed skin, causing you to mewl. You throw your head back as he smears the paint down your chest to your sternum. He makes lazy designs with the blue until he reaches into the bag and pulls out the yellow, putting a lot on his three first fingers. 

He gives you a humored look before he smears the paint on your nipples, making you buck your hips and whimper. The cold color made your nipples harden, even more, making you shake as he smeared the thick paint over your other nipple. You watch his face, trying to figure out his emotions as he darkly watches his canvas twist and wiggle under his touch. You moan as he pulls away, grabbing the red and repeating the process, smearing the paint along your skin until he was satisfied with the outcome. You thought he was done, but he wasn’t. He picked the paints back up and held them above you, making the colors drip onto your skin in gobs. He groaned, tossing the paint onto the floor. He didn’t say a word as he pushed you on your back; you groaned, looking down at him as you shifted, so your legs were out from underneath you. You hadn’t realized that the paint had dripped down to your thighs. 

Hyunjin did. 

You watch in awe as he pulls his belt off and strips himself of his strained boxers. He climbs up your body, holding the keys between his teeth. You whimper as he holds himself up, staring into your eyes. He uses his fingers to pull the keys out of his mouth, “If your quiet, I’ll unlock the cuffs.” You nod your head, “ok.” You whisper, making him grin like the Cheshire cat. Hyunjin looked absolutely feral as he put the keys on your nightstand. 

He leans down and presses a hot kiss to your lips, which had been delayed for so long. Hyunjin kisses you hard, teeth gnashing as he holds your head to his. He’s careful not to press his body to yours as he teases you, his fingers dancing along your thighs to your wet core. You bite your lip as he runs a single digit up your folds, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You hadn’t realized that you were that hot for him already. He chuckles, “So wet… So dirty, aren’t you pretty baby?” You nod your head at him, “Yes.” You whimper softly as he digs his fingers into your core. He grunts, “Fuck, you really are wet.” He laughs, “I hardly touched you, and you’re dripping for me. Such a fucking whore for me.” 

“Only you.” You whimper, begging him to do anything more than slowly prod you. “Please, Hyunjin, please.” You beg. He looks down at you regarding your features. “Please, what? Hmm?”

“Hyunjin,” You whine, trying to find the words. It was becoming harder and harder because the mixture of your need and his fingers made it nearly impossible to think straight. “What? Say the words baby girl.” 

“Hyunjin,” You whimper. He ceases his movements, “I let the first one slide. You know better.” He growls. “I’m sorry.” you lean forward, capturing his lips in yours. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” You whimper, biting on his bottom lip the way he likes. He hisses angrily, “I don’t think so, kitten. Teasing me will get you nowhere. You’re the one tied up, remember?” He bites you back, making you mewl. “Please, Daddy. Please.” You beg, on the verge of tears. His fingers plunge back into your core, causing you to shudder. “Please, what?” He growls, making your head spin. “Fuck me, god, please.” He leans forward, his lips inches away from yours, “Fuck you? What, like the woman in your book?” You nod your head, “Yes, please.” You plead. He chuckles, pulling away from you. “Sit up.” You instantly do as you’re told, and he reaches behind you to the cuffs behind your back. He grabs the key and undoes one of the cuffs going to the rail of your bed and snapping it above your head. 

You begged to protest, but his lips crashing to yours made you stop. Hyunjin pulled your torso to him, smearing the paint on your torso onto his. The color made you both very slippery, but he didn’t seem to care. You were too preoccupied with his cock poking your soaking cunt to think about him holding you in place. “Fuck.” He moans, pressing himself into you until he bottomed out. You whine loudly, using your free hand to entangle your fingers into his hair. He grunts, rolling his hips in and out of you leisurely. 

“Baby,” he groans, biting your neck. You can’t form words; you were so close to cumming already that it was embarrassing. “Oh, fuck, angel.” He purred, his hips picking up speed. You were gasping, tugging at the cuffs as he fucked you. You were reeling on the edge of perhaps the best orgasm you had ever experienced, gasping frantically as the knot in your stomach tightened so tight you thought it would indeed rip you apart. You shutter, feeling the knot unfurl as Hyunjin keeps his sickening pace up. “Hyunjin!” You cry out, holding him to you. Your legs were wrapped around his hips as he rocked in and out of you, groaning and panting as he desperately tried not to bust. You tremble as you come down from your high, shaking as he begins to go faster, “Oh, I’m gonna fucking cum.” he whimpers, pulling away from you and holding your hips in his grasp. He pulls you up so that he can use you as he pleases, making you gasp. If he kept this up, you were going to cum again. 

You look up to his paint-swirled torso. It looked gorgeous; most of the yellow and blue had swirled to make a magnificent emerald color, the red and yellow became a brilliant hot orange, the blue and red made a deep purple, and there were other colors in between, as well as the primary ones. He watches your face as he fucks you faster, your mouth forming a small ‘o’ as he goes harder. “Hyunjin!” You cry again, feeling another orgasm again, “Fuck- cum again, princess. Please.” he begs, going even faster. You gasp, holding one of his wrists in your hand as he fucks you into oblivion. 

His nails were digging into your hips as his hips stuttered and stopped. He let out a loud groan, his head rolling between his shoulders before slumping forward. Hyunjin blinked up at you for a moment before reaching over and finally unlocking your wrist. You sigh, and the both of you stare at one another for a moment. Hyunjin pulls out, sliding off the bed, “We should shower before cuddling, hmm?” He held his hand out to you, and you took it. You wobble slightly as you stand to your feet. He laughs at you, “Oh, shut up.” You swat him. “I can’t help it.” He giggles as he follows you down your hall to your bathroom. 

“Oh, I forgot about my bath.” You giggle to yourself and go to unplug the tub to let it drain. Hyunjin is standing in front of the mirror, admiring his handy work. He glances at you and grabs your wrist, pulling you to him. “C’mere.” He purrs, grabbing your phone off the vanity. He opens the camera app, holding the camera up to take pictures of your naked bodies. He makes sure to cover your breasts. The flash was bright enough to hide your face, making you giggle. “Now, if someone gets your phone, they’ll never know who covered in sex paint.” 

“But, they’ll see my face… And see the pictures I have of you on my phone?” you giggle. He purses his lips, “Yeah, but they won’t know it’s us.” He waves his hand before sending them to him. “Now, I’ll paint this later.”

©️straykids-97

[gayerthanevertbh]

conversations with your demons - part three.

pairing | step-mom!natasha x fem!reader (romantic)

summary | you and natasha have a little vacation in france with her friends and feelings are starting to get involved for the both of you. 

warnings | DARK THEMES INVOLVED! fluff (somehow), slight argument, natasha’s pretty unhinged here, mentions of panic attack, and more. 18+!

notes | i loved loved LOVED this part. i think it was well written for me, i don’t know about ya’ll but i do hope you enjoy this chapter. <3

series masterlist | masterlist | taglist for this series

The time I spent with Natasha on the plane was quiet. Too quiet – if I’m going, to be honest. I was by the window while she was reading a book from her phone on the plane, swiping once in a while and I would catch a glimpse of her chuckling to herself. Maybe I was investigating her in a way that I find uncomfortable, but hoping she doesn’t know that – it’ll be too awkward. But then sometimes, she would ask me how I was feeling or if I wanted to watch something on her computer. Though I’d tell her I was okay and she would give me a sincere smile that sends these tingling feelings all the way to my stomach.

I had a lot of questions for her and wanted to understand and know about the infamous Natasha Romanoff – I exaggerated there – but it leaves me all curious at how quiet she was. I wanted to ask: are you a jovial, playful, or prude woman that likes to stare at me once in a while? But that was metaphorically considering that she would turn those questions down. It probably meant nothing, I would, later on, think she was just kind and sweet.

When we landed safely on the ground, I realized that we were in Les Estables – somewhere in South-central France. Natasha mentioned to me that a man will pick us up; probably Steve. I never knew her friends that well, maybe because I don’t ask a lot about her personal life nor did my mom ever talk about it with me once. But Steve seemed like a nice guy, was he the guy who has a beach house?

“You’re quiet,” she mentioned, lighting up a cigarette that was in between her lips. “Are you okay? Motion sickness?”

I shake my head to disagree, and she nods.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged my shoulders while I watched her blow out a thick puff of smoke in the air that swirls around my head crazy. I added, “I hope this will take my mind off of everything.”

She shoved her lighter back into her pocket and turned her head side to look at me. She said, “It will. I hope you and I can bond.”

Then, Natasha smiles and gives me a pat on the shoulder – squeezing it with utmost care that I wanted her to hold me like that. It felt so reassuring in some way that I can’t really begin how to explain it like it’s an abstract painting that you’re just so baffled and confused; yet you know what it means. Though you can’t word it out. But it’s there.

An old conversion van comes along our way and I watch intently as the man gets out of the vehicle, looking buff and tall with a beard around his mouth. He didn’t look threatening because he smiled at me – then at Natasha. He gave her a warm hug and asked how was our flight. I hear Natasha murmuring that it went well and he smiled kindly at her. Then, his eyes flickered to mine and shook my hand like it was a business meeting.

“Good to meet you, Y/N,” Before he gave me a chance to say a word, he said: “Your mother shared so many things about you.”

I was thinking if he was referring to Natasha for a second, then realize it was my mom who he was talking about considering that his face fell for a good two seconds then quickly added, “I’m sorry. I know that’s pretty insensitive–”

“No, you weren’t,” I cut him off with honesty coming out of my mouth. Then, I smiled at him, but not also in a bright way – it was an early morning, and I was extremely exhausted. “It’s good to meet you too, Steve.”

We both smiled at each other.

                                                   —

When we got to the house, there was a dog that was waiting outside. It looked like an Australian Shepherd and was brown but had white fur around its chest all the way down to its stomach. I grabbed my duffle bag that was inside the drunk and walked with Natasha into the entryway of the house. The house had a huge sandstone facade, with white-painted shutters on the windows and a huge brown door at the back. I looked further and saw how beautiful the ocean was right in front of the house, which made me a little excited since I have a fascination with the sea. Natasha had her hand on my lower waist and brought me inside the house, seeing how extremely tidy and smelled like lavender in every room. I saw a man walking downstairs and gave Natasha a smug look, hugging her quickly.

“Welcome!” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. While I looked at him questionably, Natasha murmured to my side: “That’s Tony Stark. He’s one of my good friends. Tony, this is my stepdaughter Y/N. Although we consider each other friends.”

Tony gave me a wink that I immediately thought it was friendly and gave me a brief hug, pulled away, and said: “This isn’t my house but I will definitely make you feel at home. Come, you should see the patio. We have a fireplace where we could melt marshmallows–”

“Tony, she’s eighteen.” Natasha cut him off with a nonchalant tone as she crossed her arms tightly around herself. That word eighteen sprang around my head, feeling surprised and cringed by the fact that she had to mention my age. I knew how old I was, but knowing how young I was made me feel small and everyone else will treat me like a kid. But I usually don’t mind that, I just find it quite funny that Natasha had to say it like that.

He rolls his eyes – rather playfully – and whispered, “Your mother is always like that.”

I didn’t like the way he said the word mother, either. God, what was wrong with me?

Natasha and I walked to the other house and saw that there were two rooms inside it. She opened the door for me and we walked inside, hearing the door close gently. It felt intimidating to be in a small place with her like something felt odd right yet wrong. I try not to mind it, but it keeps relapsing in my head. There was a room by the left and opened the door, gasping when I was faced with the ocean. The room was just in the right size, not too big and not too small. The bed was on the floor but was neat because the blanket is so tucked under the mattress. I looked behind Natasha and I could see her leaning against the doorway with a slight smile on her face – as if admiring my joy.

“Where are you going to stay?” I asked.

There was a pause, and then she answered with a grating tone.

“In the other house since someone else is staying in that room that is in front of yours.”

Was I a little disappointed when she wasn’t going to sleep near me? A little, only a little. Though, it was sort of hilarious and disturbing to think that way – I was a little baffled at myself. Especially when she’s looking at me with those eyes that she always uses whenever I look at her.

“Thank you for this, Nat,” I said, turning my head as I sat on the edge of the mattress. I added, “It really means a lot to me since you’ve seen how I am. I may have thought you were going to ditch me since I’m not your blood.”

Her face slightly went pale when I told her that I wasn’t her blood. She knew it deeply well that we aren’t related, and we never considered ourselves that way since we have this bond of friendship. She dismisses me and responds with a trembling voice, “You know you’re like my friend, Y/N. Please, let us keep it that way except for maybe a motherly relationship with you if you get too mean sometimes.”

I chuckled but almost in an awkward way as that thought deepened inside of me until it kind of spread all over my head. What did she mean by that? She was never a motherly figure to me before, so what was she trying to imply?

I was going to answer her but quickly she says, “I’ll leave you alone for now, okay? I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. You might have some company later.”

She left without looking back and I sat there, feeling dumbfounded by everything that she has said. I still can’t figure out whether she was joking a few seconds ago or not, but hopefully, she was.

It was around late noon when I woke up from a long nap that I didn’t even realize I fell asleep on the bed. I could feel my skin being sticky and tight, so I stretched out my back and decided to wash my face so I don’t look like I came home from a dreaded flight. After that, I walked outside and saw two unfamiliar faces that were talking to Natasha. I had a look of a sleepy face, so I merely hoped that I didn’t look too tired as I approached them with a kind face.

“Good sleep?” Natasha asked, I nodded but then laughed audibly.

“You could say that,” I responded and sat down beside her on the cushioned seat that had no support on the back. She smiles at me and points to the two people in front of me with her hands.

“That is Peter and Michelle,” she says, introducing them to me as I smile and give them a little wave. I could’ve stood up and shook their hand, but my body disagreed with it. “They are just talking about their stay in Steve’s shitty beach house.”

“Language!” a faded masculine voice was heard from afar and I saw Steve roasting something that I couldn’t see much. Natasha chuckled and brought the glass to her lips, noticing that it was red wine. Of course, she likes it red. It’s either whiskey or red.

“How long have you guys stayed here?” I asked in a matter of mannerism and politeness.

“Two weeks,” the girl – assuming it was Michelle – answered me, placing the glass back down on the table. “You look like you came out from a shitty nap.”

I chuckled in response.

“Yeah, I did. It felt so hot that I forgot to turn on the air conditioning.”

“It’s quite cold here, don’t you think?” the boy, Peter, says with a shivering tone that matches the body movement he made. I nodded but dragged my hum – sounding curious but agreed with his statement. “Sorry, I’ve never been to any country other than London and France. Mr. Stark gave me and MJ sort of a… holiday getaway.”

I could hear Natasha laughing but not in a rude and profound way, she was probably amused by Peter – and I was too. And they looked like my age, so I couldn’t help but ask: “Are you guys eighteen?”

They both nodded and Michelle began to respond to my question, “Were you afraid that you’re going to be alone with a bunch of adults?”

I laughed and nodded, she smiled fondly at me.

“Don’t worry Y/N,” Natasha inches closer to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder, pulling me into her body but not in an awkward way – but like in a way that was appropriate, somehow. “Clint and Tony are kids. They’re definitely not adults.”

When we were all at the same table, I was beside a man named Bucky and to my right was near the patio door. Tony mentioned that he wanted to go hiking tomorrow while Steve said it was a good idea but thinks that the younger adults wouldn’t appreciate it; referring to us. Me, Michelle, and Peter gave each other that look and almost laughed in the middle of the conversation like little kids. Never once in my life, I’ve ever felt like being in this big group of people that Natasha considers family to her. I hear Peter say: we would like to but I think all of us “young adults” would go for a swim tomorrow.

And when I look away from my plate, I see Natasha gazing at me with those typical eyes again that she uses only when I’m around. I watch the way she bites her lower lip as if being tempted into something sinful and regretful but as soon as I was about to say something – she quickly looked away and ate a mouthful of steak, munching it harshly. It’s making me think that she has an interest in me, like developing a silly crush. Although this is speaking theoretically, I’m almost leaning into that assumption. There was once when I was sleeping on the plane, I could feel her warm knuckles sliding down against my cheek. I was going to protest but the way that she did that was so caring and sweet, I decided not to mind it and instead be buried into that type of thing.

It was obvious, too obvious; and I was a little scared by the actions that she makes that aren’t so subtle.

Yet it’s truly alluring and addicting at the same time.

“Have you got any into colleges yet, Y/N?” asked Tony with a beer that he was holding. I felt intimidated whenever people would ask me these questions, especially after the tragic passing of my mother. Natasha knows the struggle with the bat in her eyes as she looks at me and says you don’t have to answer that look. But instead, I turned to Tony and smiled at him politely.

“Not yet but I plan to apply to NYU after this year.”

“You’re going to NYU?” Michelle then says from afar, who has her eyebrows scrunched. I nodded, wondering if that was offensive but I guess it was not. She’s probably curious about why I’m not going to school this year – I’d rather not explain it. Sometimes it can get difficult. She nods slowly and added, “Good luck. It was hard for me to apply.”

I could feel the sense of heavy feeling that felt like a rock that was in my back, pressuring me to fall onto this table but I kept my head high – tried at least. I was feeling a little dizzy after the question that Tony mentioned and after maybe fifteen more minutes, I excused myself from the table. Natasha’s eyes starts to worry as I walked back to my room that wasn’t so far away from the main house, and when I disappeared into her eyes – part of her was that she wanted to chase me and asked what was all that about. Instead, she kept her head low and listen to Tony’s jokes for the whole dinner that was presented that evening.

                                                   —

Natasha was alone in the pool area with a cigarette in her mouth, playing with her feet in the water like a little kid as she thinks about what happened at that dinner table. She thinks about Y/N heavily, that girl cannot be left in her mind. In fact, she starts to develop these unwanted feelings toward the girl that in the first place shouldn’t be involved. It happened when her mother died, and she wasn’t guilty about it.

Why would she be guilty about it?

“You okay?”

She turns her head and sees Steve with a beer in his hand, sitting down beside her as he tries to cover his nose with the beer he’s holding. Natasha shakes her head and takes out the cigarette from her lips, throwing it across the wilderness that was near them.

“I don’t know.”

There was a brief silence until he asked: “Was it about Y/N?”

Within three seconds, she nods. And with that simple agreement, Steve understood that little statement that she gave silently. They always considered themselves siblings because they acted like one and understood each other that way. He watches as Natasha smoothens out her arms with her rough hand that was trembling a little, he began to understand what was going on – with a glimpse of action; a simple one.

“I know what you’re thinking–”

“I don’t need your judgment,” Natasha defends and didn’t let him finish when she quickly added: “I don’t know why I feel this way about her. It’s like–It’s uncontrollable, Steve. Ever since Ellie died, I began to have an interest in her daughter and sometimes I think maybe I just miss my wife when I don’t even miss her.”

“Natasha, I think it’s a very bad idea to fall for your wife’s daughter.”

The redhead tries to say something in order for him not to think that way but nothing comes out of her mouth. She struggles as she tries to think of the words properly to elaborate, but instead, she lets out a defeated whimper and throws her hands up in the air – feeling like a fool. Her love for Ellie wasn’t a spontaneous love, or maybe it was. She simply married the woman because she thought that it could help her with the career she was building, but maybe she did fall for her. And with Y/N, she never took an interest in the girl at that time. She saw her as a friend, nothing more.

But after she died, Natasha develops these sinful feelings toward the innocent girl and she can’t help but have this hatred inside of her. There were no regrets, though.

I didn’t mean to.

“You’re going to take advantage of her.” Steve started with a stern voice.

She shakes her head, “I'm not. Unless she doesn't feel that way.”

“Natasha, this is dangerous!”

“You’re not understanding the situation,” Natasha stands up from the ground and places her hands on her hips. “I know I shouldn’t. Yes, I’m aware. But I can’t help it.”

“Yes you can,” he said with his voice rising, but not to the point where everyone could hear them arguing. “This is just a crush. I’m sure it’ll go away soon.”

Natasha scoffed loudly and turned around, kicking the pebble that was by her feed a few seconds ago. She wanted to yell at Steve and punch him in his chest, trying to defend herself for being such a clueless woman that is having unidentified feelings for a girl who should be her friend or even worse, a daughter. To the lack of judgment she had, her mouth was closed, and instead tried to hold tears behind her eyes. Steve sighs.

“If that girl does not find anyone else in her life,” the redhead turns slowly to him and takes a few steps closer to her friend, who looks broad and tall, she immediately added, “I’m going to do reckless things. I want her to find someone, and let them love her. And maybe eventually I’ll lose these feelings. So if you don’t fucking find her that someone then I might as well steal her away from them because she’s mine.”

Natasha couldn’t put up with Steve’s brotherly antics, the way that he wasn’t on her side was confusing and angered her heart. She looked at him for one last time and walked away with a condemning heart. In each step she makes, she remembers how stupid she was when she couldn’t stop staring at Y/N. It’s not like she could help it, but simply – she was beautiful and Natasha was this vile creature that shouldn’t be getting attached to a girl that she has been living with for a long time; maybe not too long.

I had to do it.

                                                     —

Midnight occurred and I was on this small wooden desk with a journal in my hand. I was going to write my thoughts for today, but instead – nothing comes out in my brain. I began to think I was just tired from the travel and decided to take off my clothes and go to bed. I usually have them off, because I saw in an article once that it’s healthier to sleep that way. Plus, I think clothes aren’t necessary for bed sometimes. But before I even do that, there was a knock on my door and quickly I think it was Peter or Michelle since we were talking about going to the store tomorrow.

When I opened the door, I see Natasha who was standing right in front of me with her tired gloomy eyes. I gulped, nodding my head to give her permission to come inside my room. She shakes her head and leans against the doorway, smiling at me even though she looked extremely tired.

“Are you okay?” she asked with a slightly hoarse tone, but I heard her perfectly well.

“Yeah,” I replied, looking down at my feet shamefully when I remember what happened at that dinner table. I could feel her staring at me and I whispered, “I’m sorry about that. I was very tired and I had a headache.”

“It’s okay, detka.”

I remained silent, biting my lower lip in nervousness.

“I hope you’re having a good time here,” she finally breaks the silence between us – although it was brief – and I lift my chin up and saw that she was smiling softly at me, kindly even. “I was thinking if you want to go to the city with me. Maybe just the two of us, perhaps.”

She sounded like she had planned for this a long time ago, and I could tell from the depth of her voice. She sounded meek, inviting, but tired. I was supposed to say yes, but then eventually remembered that I was going to the city with Peter and Michelle – unless they won’t mind. So, I nodded slowly at her and I could see her grinning with her teeth showing.

That was the first time I realized how gorgeous and alluring Natasha was.

That’s also the first time I realized that I’m having a little crush on her.

“Good, I’ll come to pick you up tomorrow here. Okay?” I nodded and she pulled me into a hug, a warm one. I could hear and feel her heart beating against my ear and I immediately thought that she was having a panic attack despite the pacing of her heart. I was so comfortable with the lovely embrace that I felt Natasha’s lips pressed against my forehead, pulled away after a few seconds, and smiling down at me. She whispered close, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

When she left, I could feel her kiss lingering on my forehead; feeling safe.

thoughts? <3

taglist: @sayah13 @lizzieolsen89 @marvelwomen-simp @when-wolves-howl @cmfouatslota77 @riles-is-an-idiot @ygtft-chen @aru-son @karmasgxrl  @natszn @d14n4ol @hitthatsnappy @natasharomanoffswifeyyy @simpforolderwomen @fluffypanda1603 @whore4nat @trashbod​ @katherineromanova​ @aliancvnas​ @its-just-geek (i’m sorry i can’t tag any of you, it won’t work :( )

[vuulpecula]

She heard the car at least a mile off, rolling across the unpaved, gravel roads. Hoping it would just keep going, past the property, on its way elsewhere. Anywhere but here. Of course, she wasn’t lucky, and Nessa’s vehicle was pulling into view. There was a dent on the front bumper, the transfer of yellow paint. Fox was looking down again before the car was parked. Returning to idly peeling off the nail polish stubbornly remaining to her fingernails, exposing the dirty beds beneath. No amount of blush pink or lovely lilac could cover it up, like painting the face of a corpse. Even with all that color, dead was still dead. Nothing was still nothing.

“Hey,” she greeted in return, not bothering to look up at him. Only when he walked away, when his back was to her, carrying her things to the car. When he couldn’t see, that is when she looked. Remembering the dark hair and the stature that always made her think of libraries and old books. He was older, taller than she remembered. Of course, they had only been kids then. Despite the memories, challenging him in the woods, claiming that a princess could be a dragon too, he still felt as much a stranger as Nessa did. Nessa, with her overly sweet smiles and laughter, the perfect pageant queen to anyone who was looking. Sweet tea, that’s what she wanted people to think of her, but she was as bitter as tea without any sugar.

“No,” Fox sighed, dropping her gaze back to her nails and away from the woman who was happily telling the officer she was the stepmother of the whole situation. An angel coming to save her ex-husband’s kid from the system. “The house is already locked up; nothing in there worth taking.” Everything that was worth keeping had already been sold to help with legal fees, the rest would stay there. Waiting, becoming dust covered and forgotten until the state decided to take the entire estate. Bulldoze it for a cookie-cutter neighborhood or an eyesore of a strip mall.

Pushing herself up from the splintering steps, Fox looked him over from the front. Her shiny new brother sweating in his leather jacket. Her own arms were bare, t-shirt sleeves cut off, exposing sun-kissed freckles and the light pink edges of a burn. They’d been sitting out there a while. “Aren’t you hot in that,” she asked, adjusting the straps of her backpack. Even her legs were bare and had she not been about to leave with them, her feet would have been too. The lithe wild thing. “You must not go outside a lot, huh,” she observed. Not kindly. Nessa had already spoke to her like she was trash on their brief phone calls, she figured Khan must’ve turned out the same way—or at least shared some of his mother’s views.

Every time Nessa broke the silence he preferred to wallow in, every moment that she spoke and invoked the good lord's name, he fell just a bit deeper into himself. She ought to be accustomed to his silence anyway, how he haunted their little house like a ghost without means to continue on. Or holed up in his room, avoiding Vitality, nose buried so deep into a book he might fall into it. What a blessing that would be, he thought, to transcend into ink and paper.

The only notion that had managed to sink into his thoughts from her one-sided conversation was that he did remember. Briefly, in fragments, shock-blond hair, running through the trees, sparring with sticks-turned-swords. A princess he had to rescue from a dragon. Maybe none of that, how unreliable memory was, yet the emotions remained.

He remembered missing her, asking Nessa, and facing Vitaly's wrath soon after.

Then he'd moved on. Falling instead into studying relentlessly, aiming to choose a university with decent financial aid programs; to get the hell out of this backwater town. Anywhere but here, across the country, the ocean, into the depths of space.

Khan hadn't stopped staring out of the window until they'd turned, letting his quiet gaze fall over the cruiser, the magnolias, unto the ramshackle house that marred the surrounding foliage like a stain. It looked haunted. The entire lot looked haunted. He caught Nessa's pitying look and offered her a blank expression in response. Get the bags in the trunk...

"Of course," and then, he feigned a smile, as if he'd been on the same page the entire time. Heavy, hot air filled his lungs as soon as the car door opened, threatening to push him down into the earth, where he'd finally meet the worms he'd watched struggle on the cement every time it rained. Despite it, he dutifully grabbed the suitcase and skates, tossing them into the trunk before approaching Fox. Alexei's absence hadn't permitted him to enter the house-- not like this.

"Fox, hello," with a nod of his head, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket-- leather, worn, entirely unfitting for the environment. He'd been able to pry her from the officer, letting Nessa overtake the conversation. In lieu of it, he'd nothing much to say, preoccupied with looking her over. The same hair, same sad eyes, the willowy princess he'd rescued in the woods. "Do you have more bags in the house?"

[songofpolaris]

Eternal muses | P.P.

-> pairing; Peter Parker x reader

-> word count; 1.5k

-> warnings; just fluff, college au

-> a/n; hi loves! so it’s been… idk fucking forever since i last posted a fic and even though i was still writing a lot, nothing seemed to be good enough. so, i decided to just post something. i’m so sorry if it’s confusing lmao i wrote it while i was really fucking tired… anyway i hope you still like it and please reblog if you do <3

this fic was inspired by this pin! and @im-still-tryin-to-find-it

While you sit down, the smell of fresh cut grass and rain fills you. Intoxicating you from head to toe. The still damp grass makes a nice place to lay down on, no picnic blanket needed with this heat. 

You hear the sound of canvas and a pencil. A sound you’ve sadly become very accustomed to in the past weeks. Fresh strawberries and a plate of melon slices gets placed next to you and the sound resumes as you decide to grab one of the gorgeous red shining strawberries. As the berry touches your tongue and you take the first bite, a beautifully sweet taste overflows your taste buds. 

“You need champagne with that?”

“Mmmhm” You just mumble back, enjoying the sweet summer sensation. 

There’s a popping sound and a glass of champagne gets handed to your free hand. Then, the sound of pencil on canvas continues. You look around, annoyed with whomever decided to paint right this minute. 

What you didn’t expect to see was Peter Parker, nerdy and clumsy Peter Parker, sitting there with a gray pencil in his hand. Looking concentratedly at the canvas before him, with blue stripes of paint already on his hand. He looks up, back at you. 

“What’re you doing?” You ask while taking a last bite of the strawberry and sipping your champagne.

“Well, I just painted the background with blue, because the sky -”

“No no,” You point at the gray pencil “what are you doing now?” 

“I’m sketching.” He answers, his brow starting to form one line.

“Could you lay back down? It’s … hard to paint you if you keep moving.” 

You just look at him questioningly. Shake your head. And lay back down, resting the arm you used for the strawberry now on your eyes and sunglasses. 

“Also, please eat another strawberry. I’m not a star at this that I can paint the position you were in from memory.” The boy speaks from behind you. You grunt, but grab another strawberry anyway and dip it in your champagne quickly before popping it into your mouth elegantly. Just like you did before.

“Thank you.” He says kindly.

The sound of pencil on paper continues. Though, weirdly enough, it doesn’t bother you as much now. 

“So I’m your muse huh?” You say in between eating more strawberries. 

“Mhmm.” Is all you get back.

“Can I move already?”

No answer. Just the sound of a brush on canvas. At least he’s there now. Wait. He’s finally there.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, thankful to finally get some movement. The empty glass next to you glistens in the afternoon sunlight.  You turn back to Peter, crossing your legs and grabbing a book. You try to look at the painting, but he swiftly moves the work away from you.

“I can’t see the painting you made of me?” You say surprised. 

Peter stares at you.

 “No, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

He has a speckle of light glimmering in his right eye.

“Because it has to be perfect.”

“It’s an amateur class. You don’t even have to do homework. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Is that a freckle?

“But it does.” Is all he answers before he gets back to painting, signing you to start reading the monstrous big book laying in your lap.

After an hour, the sun decides to set. Orange and pinks fill the sky. The boy in front of you hasn’t even moved for 60 minutes.

“You gonna hand it in? The professor wanted to choose one of the paintings we made in class or at home to show at an exhibition.” You ask while putting away your book and eating the last slice of melon. The boy sweeps his brush over the painting one last time and then puts it down against his back.

“I might, if you’re okay with that of course.” He says, stealing the melon from you for the last bite.

“Yeah that’s fine.” You smile back.

Two weeks later, you and Ned decide to go to the exhibition together. Peter said he’d meet you there, you’ve become close since the picnic. Or a paint session. Though you’ve never actually seen the painting. 

The walls are white except for the paintings and sculptures in the halls and class room- turned art center-for a night. You’re wearing your favorite summer dress, feeling like a 2000s rom com character for some weird reason. You stopped with the course after the one before the picnic, simply because painting just wasn’t for you. Peter, however, loved it. He painted whenever you hung out. And he never let you see any of the paintings.

As you round the corner together with the giddy best friend, your eyes first catch a big, red, cloth on the wall. Seemingly hanging onto a painting. A ginormous one. 

“...That’s not gonna be his, right?” You ask Ned sadly, pointing at the red stain on the white wall.

“Yeah no, I love him but he would never be able to make a painting that big.” Ned pouts.

You look around, hoping to see Peter standing somewhere. Suddenly, music starts. 

“Hello everyone.” A woman speaks, walking to go stand in front of the red cloth, “please all gather in front of me.” She looks around the room with a patient look in her eyes. It’s the professor. Her hand beckoning from the crowd to step forward. You just focus on the red crying for your attention. Until a hard bump feels against your shoulder.

“Jezus Ned, why’d you feel the need to-”

He just points at the woman in front of you, now standing next to a boy. A boy you know very well.

“Peter?” You say.

“Peter.” Ned smiles.

“- this young man will now present to you multiple works of his. It’s his very first collection of paintings, titled eternal muse. I’d like to call it perfect,” She smiles while signing for two people standing on both sides of the cloth to take it down “but he didn’t want to come across as arrogant I assume.”

The red cloth drops, revealing multiple paintings of someone. He beautifully created shadows, vibrant colors, there’s even a painting of just their eyes. You gape at the scene in front of you, tears starting to cloud your sight. Under every painting, there’s a short story. 

“Peter, would you like to say something about this?” The professor asks him, giving him the spotlight. Peter looks back at you for a quick second. Trying to read your reaction.

“Alright. Yes please.” He answers politely, “they once called themselves my muse actually.” He starts.

“The first painting on the left,” He points at a painting on the left corner, where you’re lying with a strawberry kissing your lips and champagne accompanying your other hand “was the first one. I wrote a story beneath it. I would like to read it to all of you.” 

He stalks toward the piece of paper hanging under the painting and carefully loosens it off of the wall.

“My y/n, my muse. You inspired me to do this. To start painting, I mean. I don’t think you know that. Which makes sense. I’ll explain.” The boy starts.

Ned pinches you softly as he sees tears falling down your cheeks. You wipe your hand underneath the and give him a quick smile while turning your attention back to the man telling you about … you.

“The first day I met you, you painted a strawberry. I started the class because I missed someone and needed an outlet and you started because you wanted to learn how to paint your favorite fruit. Not just because your friends wanted to. So I asked you why you wanted that and you just said “Because it’s as sweet as I wish life could be” , I didn’t expect to hear that from all the answers you could’ve given. So we became study buddies. Painted on one canvas together. You hated every class beside the first, so I mostly painted and you ate strawberries. But we had to make a portrait. So I studied you. I studied your words and your movements. Your lips, your cheeks, your eyes. And I noticed I couldn’t forget anything I studied about you after a while. I couldn’t even forget your words.” He takes a shaky breath. “So you became my eternal muse.” 

[starlightcevans]

Your Ghost - A Ransom Drysdale story

Hello everyone! I have written stories on Wattpad, but I have decided to share the stories on Tumblr too. I have written two full stories based on Ransom Drysdale. I am currently busy on the third story. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing the story.

A lot of thought and work was put into this story.

Warning: This story contains mature content: Strong language, and smut. I'd recommend 18+ to read this story, but viewer discretion is advised. Please be aware that this fan fiction will contain strong language, explicit scenes that may not be suitable for younger viewers, and scenes of alcohol. There is mature content in this fan fiction.

Please note that this is purely fiction writing. I do not own any of the characters, this is purely for fiction.

Feedback is always welcome. Please let me know if you like this story or not.

If you find any grammar errors, please let me know.

Link to the Wattpad story: https://www.wattpad.com/story/230456351-your-ghost

EVELYN:

I rummage through my cupboard to see what food I have left in my apartment. I am running late already and I have errands to run today.

My phone buzzes and I see who it is.

"Hello H -Mr. Thrombey." I answer on the first ring.

"Evelyn darling! Can you pop through to my place today? I would like us to discuss your book." Harlan kindly asks.

I look at my wall clock. "Of cause I can. I just need to run a few errands before I can see you. Would that be okay?"

"That sounds perfect. Fran will meet you at the door. I have given Marta the day off because she has family business to attend to. And call me Harlan dear." Harlan warmly says and hangs up the phone.

I smile to myself. I was taught as I grew up to respect my elders. When I first met Harlan, I called him "Mr. Thrombey.", but he tells me to call him by his first name. I did seem to have certain faces glaring at me every time I called him "Harlan".

I look at the wall clock and curse. It is nearly the afternoon and I have slept for most of the morning. The shops will close soon. Thank you Sundays!

I finish packing my lunchbox for the day because I really don't have to make breakfast. I know I am going to be on the road for most of the time, so I need to pack some food for the road. This time I remembered to actually pack myself some healthy food - well if you consider a packet of salted chips, crackers, mixed nuts and a soda a healthy snack.

I climb into my car and my phone buzzes. It's a text from him. I don't bother reading the text because I have more important tasks to do today. I throw my phone on the seat next to me and I jolt when I see myself in the rear view mirror. My hair is still in an untidy bun from when I woke up and my face looks pale. I grab what makeup I have in my bag and try to make myself look good - at least presentable. I look down to see that I am wearing normal clothing and not my pajamas.

I start the engine and pull out of my driveway. I first drive to the hardware store. Before I enter the store, I reach for my phone to view what I need to purchase.

Light bulbs X2

Electrical Cable X1

20L Lilac paint X2

20L Undercoat paint X1

I was fortunate enough to have one of the staff members carry the paint tins to my car.

"Thanks Larry." I look at the tall, lanky man's name tag.

"Anytime Ma'am. Don't forget that we do offer a service where our selected staff members will come out and paint whatever you need painted." He smiles at me. I thank him and tell him that I will think about it. My father has offered to help me paint the interior of my apartment.

The next stop I drive to is the grocery store. I take a look at my grocery list on my phone as I grab hold of a trolley and start to scratch out what I am picking up:

Broccoli

Chamomile tea - For Harlan

Avocado - Ripe and ready

1 Bag Apples

1 Pack Grapefruit

2L Milk X2

Cucumber

Cauliflower

Sweet Potatoes

Can of baked beans X3

Pet food X1

Spaghetti pasta

Spaghetti Sauce

Loaf of Bread

Chocolate bars

Garbage bags

Laundry Detergent

Body soap

Once I am done collecting the fruit and vegetables, I walk down the hot beverage section when all of a sudden, I accidentally ram right into someone.

"I am so sorry! I -" I stop talking when I realize who I rammed into.

"Linda!" I seem to sound surprised. This is a grocery store close to where she lives.

"I mean Mrs. Drysdale." I correct myself.

"Hello Evelyn. Long time and no see." She smiles, but her tone sounds condescending.

"I have been very busy lately. Work has been getting busier and I am also trying to renovate my apartment." I tell her in a calm voice.

Linda eyes my trolley while sticking her nose in the air. "Clearly." She blatantly says.

I clench my hands into fists, but immediately unclench them before Linda notices. She will know that she is getting in my head.

I look at my watch. "Anyway I have to get going. I need to finish my shopping." I plaster a smile on my face and pull my trolley forward, literally flying past her.

"When you are done with your shopping...say hello to my dad from me will you?" She says with a snarky attitude.

I halt in my tracks and in the process nearly knock someone else who was about to walk down the aisle. "Excuse me?" I am surprised that my tone is neutral.

Linda walks over to my trolley - in the elegant way that she does - and picks up the box of chamomile tea and raises it in the air. "My dad drinks this specific tea. I know you don't like this tea. If I recall last time you drank this tea, you said it tastes like dirt."

Damn it! I hate that she knows I dislike that tea.

I spout the first thought that enters my mind. "Sometimes trying something new is good."

I shut my mouth. Damn it! Why didn't I think before saying those words!

Linda raises a brow. "Sure...just like being with someone new is sometimes better than -"

"I have to go." I cut her off and immediately turn around. "Bye Li - I mean Mrs. Drysdale."

I walk as fast as my feet can take me until Linda is out of my sight.

I rush to collect the rest of my groceries and once I am in the queue, I look at my watch.

"Shit!" I say out loud and one mother gasps and covers her child's ears.

I apologize and look in the opposite direction. I need to get to Harlan's place. I don't like to keep him waiting. He is a busy man - even at 84 years old. I take out my phone and dial Harlan's home number. Harlan does not believe in having a cellphone. He says that cellphones brainwash young minds with all their fancy apps.

Harlan doesn't answer, so I leave a voice message stating that I am on my way to him soon.

I spot Linda leaving the store. I sigh. I think back to what she told me. She was right. Harlan loves chamomile tea, especially this makes one.

Once I am back in my car, I drive west to Natick to Harlan's house. As I pull up in front of the gothic revival house, I notice that there are no visitors - this time. I sigh in relief.

I am welcomed by Fran, the housekeeper, who looks at me up and down in the way she always does. I know I wasn't her biggest fan whenever I visit Harlan, but I can understand why so I don't blame her. I just made sure that I was kind to her.

"Hello Fran. How ar -"

"Mr. Thrombey is in his study. Would you like any assistance with anything?" Fran cuts me off and smiles at me as she speaks, but I know it is not sincere.

I smile warmly and look at my car. "I have some groceries which need to go into the fridge while I visit. Would that be alright? I mean I can -"

Fran storms past me, rolling her eyes no doubt, and waits by me car. I stand frozen for a couple of seconds, but I shake my head and walk to my car to open the boot and tell Fran what need to go into the fridge. She nods and does not speak to me again.

Once the groceries are in the fridge that needs to be there, I walk to Harlan's study. I open the door.

"Hello Ha - I mean Mr. Thrombey. I am sorry I ran late." I speak quietly.

"Come in child." Harlan softly speaks, closing a book he seemed to be writing in.

I close the door and walk into the cozy red study which has a low, curved ceiling. I sit on one of the two comfortable armchairs.

To this day I still feel slightly uneasy being in Harlan's study. It could be because of...I shake the thought out of my mind; I am here to speak to Harlan.

"You wanted to see me." I tell Harlan.

He looks up at me and takes off his glasses. He clasps his hands together. "Yes I did Evelyn. And for goodness sake! Call me Harlan. You are practically family." He smiles.

I shyly smile back.

Harlan continues. "How is your novel coming along?" He asks.

"It's going great." I lie.

Harlan frowns and smiles. "You can tell me if you are struggling with the story line."

I open my mouth to speak, but Harlan starts to talk. "Last time we were discussing your novel, you stated that you were worried where your story was heading."

I hold up my finger to interject, but decide against it.

Harlan chuckles. "I may be 83, but my memory is still strong. Well...most of the time."

We both start laughing.

I take out my notepad and pen and sit opposite Harlan to discuss a scene from my novel that I am struggling with.

I decided to write a mystery novel about a year ago and at first I did not want help with my story, but eventually my story was not making sense. So I eventually decided to speak to Harlan, who is a mystery novelist.

Fran made tea for the both of us. One chamomile tea for Harlan who hugged me because I found the brand he loves. The tea I drank was flavored, which I didn't mind.

Once we have spent an hour on my novel, we end up changing the subject to baseball for some reason. We discuss how we used to attend baseball matches and there was one time we went and Harlan caught the baseball. He picks the ball up from his desk and throws it to me and we both end up laughing.

Just then the door opens. I look to see who is at the door. "Fran. Is -"

I stop speaking and my laughter fades quickly.

"Hello Eve."

Wearing a white sweater under a brown trench coat, I stare at the man who once made me feel weak to my knees. Ransom.

[im-a-gaymess]

How do I tell him?

Young!Tom Riddle x Male Reader.

7th Year.

Angsty Fluff? Contains suggestive/smut scenes.

Slight mention of violence (Just Tom wanting to punch the stupid out of people).

Summary: You and Tom are in love with each other, always were, though you only realize it after ending a pretty toxic relationship.

Word Count: 1786

A/N: I thought of this while listening to Strawberries & Cigarettes thought I'd share

[1:42 AM]

"Look, I'm not saying that I want their attention 24/7, it's just that, well, they don't ever try to make time for me. Even when I need them, they're never here. But I'm expected to be there for them at all times. I'm just so tired of it. I don't know what to do anymore." You sighed, lowering your head as your eyes wander around the ground.

You've lost sense of time, place even. Only once you stopped to take a breath did you note how late it became. As you raised your head you saw how dark it really was there. The clouds over the stars making their light nearly non existent, and the moon half hidden behind some trees.

And as your eyes travel all over the quiet, dark yet beautiful sky, Tom's attention is strictly fixed on you.

If only you knew how much that man felt at the moment. Really, he was almost overwhelmed with the amount of different emotions.

For one, how badly he wanted to punch your partner for how deeply they hurt you. He knew, from your previous vents, that there was so much more than them just having no time that bothered you. He wanted to make them cry out apologies with regret guilt for how they made you feel.

But also, he couldn't help but feel the need to hold you, keep you close to him, tell you how everything's going to be alright. How all he wants to do is protect you from all of the world's evil, to keep you from anything that could cause you harm.

Without you even noticing, Tom gently put his hand over yours, rubbing circles with his thumb on your hand. How can someone be so,, so endearing,, so loveable and be treated this way? How could someone ever look at him and want to use him? he thought, not brave enough to bring himself to tell you what he truly thinks of you.

"You know you deserve better, right, my love?" he asked, and you, all too familiar with the pet name reply with a little smile. "Would you be surprised if I said yes?" you chuckled, turning to face him, the sight of the boy in front of you making your smile grow a little bigger, causing the other to look at you with loving eyes.

"I still love them, though, I don't even know why, but I do. I still hope they're going to change, even when I know they won't" you continued, a short, awkward laugh leaving your lips.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I know exactly how that feels." he smiled at you, gently stroking your face with his free hand as the two of you continued to talk about everything, and anything, enjoying the company you gave each other.

[Following day, 4:27 PM]

Who knew that drawing in the library's restricted section would be so relaxing? Sketching animals, book covers, objects and even some random fellow housemates. It wasn't so bad, right?

But let's be honest, you were only using it as a means of distraction, trying to get yourself to forget about the fact that you're going to break up with your s/o. You don't even know how Tom managed to convince you.

Of course, it's for the best, you know that. Doesn't change the fact that you feel so damn guilty about it. I mean, why do you even? It's not like they value you, it's not like they won't have other people lined up to take their bullshit right the moment you decide to leave.

Okay, that's it. You're doing it, you're definitely doing it. You mumbled to yourself. After, of course, another art session in your little distraction place.

[5:54 PM]

What's the worst that can happen if I confess? I mean, it's not like the world would end, not like the world would explode and I'd be buried underneath layers of rock and lava.

You had him feeling something he's never even imagined he'd feel; he was nervous. His forehead full of sweat, causing his hair to stick on to him. What are you putting him through?

Friendship...That's all I am to him. I'm just a friend to [Y/N]. He only sees me as a friend. Nothing more than that. Maybe I shouldn't. I probably shouldn't.

[6:11 PM]

To his surprise, Tom heard a knock on his door. He most definitely wasn't in the mood to see, yet even talk to anyone.

"Tommy? My love, are you in there?" You questioned quite loudly, making sure to be heard from across the wall.

That petname, you have no idea what it made him want to do. Did he want to have you underneath him, touch every little bit of your body? Did he want to show you that you're his? Hear you whine and beg for him to kiss you; and so, so much more than you could imagine.

It's not the time to get lost in such sinister thoughts, Tom, he mumbled to himself, finally walking over the room to let you in.

"Hello, darli―" before he could finish, you rushed into his arms. Wrapping your hands around your friend's waist as your head rested under his own. "I missed you all day, dummie" you spoke quietly, finally happy to spend time with him.

He was quite surprised to say the least, you weren't the type to enjoy going for any type of physical affection of any type, unless it was under certain circumstances. Especially the hug being so long.

He wasn't complaining, he adored it, but he couldn't help but worry. Was something wrong? Were you hurt?

"Love, as much as I enjoy moments like this, is there anything you need to tell me? Should I kick anyone's arse?" he raised his brow, looking down at you.

You shook your head, never letting go of the taller man, a smile appearing on your face. How cute he is when he's worried, you thought.

That's pretty much how the rest of the day night went. The two of you in each other's embrace, spending it in utter silence, just glad to be in your own little world together.

You told him, before going back to your dorm, about how you finally broke up with that douchebag, and was your man proud.

The couple next days, weeks even, went by quickly. You and Tom would hang by the library after classes to complete and give help with what the other might have been stuck on.

Tom walks towards you, so dangerously close, you can practically feel his lips on yours. A hand's glued on the wall next to you, right above your head. Your body pressed against a door, his knee right in between your legs, brushing against your crotch. His other hand pulling you closer by your waist, soon planting kisses all over your jaw and neck. You can't help but melt into his touch, his lips- you just want more, more of him.

You gasp, practically jumping up your bed. It was only a dream, wasn't it you thought, sighed in slight disappointment. You wouldn't like to admit it to yourself, but you've been thinking about Tom in a certain way lately.

That only made things worse for you. Because according to you, he would never see you that way. Because the way you saw it, Tom only ever thought of you as a friend.

And so thought he. He was just as disappointed every time he'd dream of the two of you being intimate, romantically, sexually, it didn't matter. He was just as devastated when he woke up. Always went back to sleep hoping those wonderful dreams would go on.

Both of you had a few dreams like those. Some were a whole lot sweeter. Dates together, just the two of you softly making out with the sound of classical music in the background. All of this causing the two of you a bittersweet feeling, thinking that all of this was just hopeless dreams, impossible to come true.

════════════════════

Starry night, you and him, the lake, the full moon shining bright. There's nothing that could ruin this delightful night. It feels like a dream, so much that you even question the reality of what's going on.

"Is this...real?" you ask Tom, not taking your eyes off the sky you so dearly loved. He raised a brow at you, looking at you in a clearly confused expression.

"If it wasn't, we'd be doing more than just stargazing, love" he chuckled, really hoping you'd take it as a joke.

"What would we be doing then, darling?" you question once again, mocking the way he calls you petnames while at it, a visibly evil smile painted on your face.

Tom takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, turning to face his pretty boy. "Do you really want to know, [Y/N]?"

The usage of your name kind of, just a little bit, frightened you. Not in a necessarily bad way, more like in a 'I have no idea what to expect next' way.

"What would you do if I kissed you?" he smirked at you, feeling oddly confident, though your silence and shocked face slowly faded. He was about to mutter apologies 'till you let out a mumble. "I'd like that" you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What was that, my prince? Would you kindly repeat that for me?" he told you with a straight face, making you wonder if he truly didn't hear you. If only you knew the amount of pride he felt at that moment, barely four words and his mind wandering to so, so many things he knew the both of you would like.

The shade of your cheeks changed a bit, was it from embarrassment? Or from the idea that he may actually like you back. Either way, you did repeat what you had told him, blushing even harder as there was an ever-growing smile on your face.

Soon enough, Tom sat up, leaned against a tree nearby. Motioning on his lap, he asked you to sit there, and happily you did.

You've never seen him smile like that. He looked at you like you're the only person in the world. His hands firmly on your cheeks, slowly pulling you in.

Your arms instinctively went around his neck, tilting your head to the side in order to deepen the kiss.

Once you pulled away to take a breath, his hands rested on your lower waist, his eyes staring at you lovingly as they always did.

"You know I'm no good with words." you looked at him exactly the way he was looking at you; you were truly each other's everything. "I know, my prince" his hand wandered around his loverboy's hair, soon pulling him in yet another kiss.

He knew he loved you, and now he was sure you loved him too. Only thing is, he wasn't sure how to ask you to take over the world with him, but for now, he was happy with what you had, and so were you.

[pivotalmark]

her excited grin can't be toned down , but she tries desperately to keep herself contained ----- her hand is brought up so that a nail can be bitten with anxiety. would he like it ? or would he say she should spend her time doing something more productive ? no , carlisle has always been kind &* compassionate. she has no reason to believe he wouldn't react kindly. so she just smiles all the more brightly when she's proven right.

after his first compliment , she quickly sidles up beside him to admire her own work , gaze soft &* proud as she follows his line of sight. ❛ PLENTY OF WINDOWS. lots of natural light. i can grow house plants. i was always good at farming back home. maybe i could grow plants you could use for medicine. ❜ she certainly understands the risk of sunlight mixed with their kind , but this home was meant to be a safe haven. somewhere they didn't have to hide.

❛ don't know much about forests myself ; ohio isn't known for them. ❜ a faint laugh , tinkling &* dainty. ❛ i've seen paintings , though. &* read books. i've always wanted to travel. my parents couldn't because of the farm ; my husband wouldn't take me with him , &* i suppose i'm grateful for that . . . never stopped the yearning to go , though. ❜

All things considered, Esme has adjusted really well. He knows that she may have differing opinions, but self control isn't something he expects everyone who lives this life to have. He's proud of the progress that she had made, and has felt happiness trickle back into his life with each moment he spends with her.

"I'd love to," Carlisle says, a smile on his lips the moment he hears the excitement in Esme's voice. He looks at the easel she's gestured to, and approaches it so he can look it over properly. He doesn't need to with his excellent vision, but he wants to look at it up close. He smiles as he reads the title.

"Forever house," he murmurs, his smile widening as he keeps examining it. He looks at Esme. "This is amazing, Esme. It's beautiful." He looks at it again. "It's perfect. Are all these windows along this wall? We'll have to build it somewhere with a good view." Presumptuous, perhaps, but it's not like he's short on funds. The coven can live in comfort for centuries with the amount he's saved up over this years. "Maybe somewhere north with a good view of the forest. Somewhere quiet."

[diorjadore]

hii, can you make a part 2 for the vinnie pop up shop where she gives her number to liza?? i love it so much

Hello! Part 1 link :’)

—

You gave Liza your number and though she was confused at first, she caught on when Vinnie gave her a knowing look. “He uh…he asked for it so…” you laughed. “Thank you!” You cheered.

“You’re like the first person he ever did this to, what did you do?” She chuckled, curiosity bringing the best of her.

“I just kissed him on the cheek and gave him a book, that’s all,” you spoke low, only realizing that must’ve been quite peculiar. Usually, fans would give out jewelry or their art but instead you gave a book. That alone should make him remember you. Not that giving art is a bad thing! It’s just not common to give a book, more so a personally annotated one.

“Oh! Well you did leave a great first impression,” Liza said and that was your cue to leave. You kindly waved and smiled at the few people you met and Vinnie was just looking at you, giving you that knowing look again, hoping that he sees you soon.

A few days after, Vinnie finally messaged you asking to hang out. You told him that you value your privacy and would love to keep this date private or secluded, you know, to protect the both of you. Vinnie got the idea to take you to Griffith Observatory because not many people go there and if there are some, they wouldn’t bother you both since they’re on dates of their own.

He finally picked you up with his shiny and bright RX7 and you couldn’t believe that this is all real right now. I mean, how many fans can say that they’ve been in his iconic car? “Hey, Vinnie. So where are you taking me?” You gave him a fake skeptical look as if you’re claiming that he’s kidnapping you. He just flashed his pearly white teeth and chuckled.

“Hey, Y/n. Somewhere I like to go to alone…” he trailed off.

“Oh. Then why are you taking me there?” You asked, curious but he just continued driving.

“What? I can’t take a pretty special girl to my pretty special place?” You felt lucky that out of all the places he could bring you, he drove to where he goes when he just wants to be alone. A place that he’s never mentioned to anyone before other than his best friend, Jett.

You started to recognize the uphill path and realized he’s taking you to the observatory. “You’re taking me to Griffith?” You exclaimed, pure joy rushing through you.

“Yeah, you ever been?”

“Nah but I’ve always wanted to though. Who knew this is where you go to.” You confessed. You’ve always seen vlogs and random video clips of the place but never really had the urge to go. You wondered what makes the place so special for Vinnie and as if reading your mind…

“I like it, it’s quiet and the view is phenomenal. You’re the first one I’m taking there, Y/n,” he looked at you and you just swatted his arm and looked out. Your heart warmed at the thought of him sharing this place with you and you sharing your first time there with him. “I just go there to think and regroup myself. Sometimes I get carried away and start to think how I can conquer LA,” he joked, referencing to Naruto. You giggled at his remark and finally you arrived at the observatory.

It was the perfect time because pink and lilac hues painted the sky pretty. The cold air quickly brushed through your body but Vinnie’s hand on your back warmed you right back up. “Let’s go over there…” he pointed to a quaint place by the corner.

You both marveled at the view below when you uttered: “This is so beautiful.”

“Mhmm…” Vinnie hummed in agreement while looking at you instead of the view. The sky perfectly complimenting your face as the light bounced off your eyes. He wanted nothing more than to just grab your face and kiss you but he fought the urge off as he just adoringly stared at the beauty beside him. He knew there would be lots of this in the future so he convinced himself to wait for the perfect time.

—

Author’s Note: Absolutely don’t know how to go about this so sorry if it sucks! + a part was deleted because I forgot to save so. This is cheesy as hell for what