#and i go back and forth on whether or not that happened behind the scenes

[syndrossi]

Uuugggh I swear, Resonant is a traffic jam right now. (To the outside eye, it might seem like things have been crawling along, and that's somewhat true, but behind the scenes lemme tell you.)

I keep going back and forth on whether it should be a Daemon chapter or a Jon chapter. There are three fairly substantial plot things that I have to get slotted in and keep switching two of them up, where either could be Jon but only one could be Daemon. I really want to get to the one that I have for now sequenced second, but the order sort of impacts what happens with the first. And if I fit 1 & 2 in the same chapter, that's way too much happening at once!

Also my excitement levels for writing them go basically 2 >> 3 >>>> 1. 2 is also something that would be very satisfying in that it brings a lot of things together in a big payoff.

Don't mind me, just dealing with the mid-story writing doldrums. Things open up so much after 1, 2, and 3 (plus 3.5/1 redux) conclude! And then we near the very distant 4 and 5!

[floylia]

𝐈𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 🖋️

Entry #03: The Persistence of Memories

“What is important is to spread confusion, not eliminate it” —Salvador Dalí

—S. MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

THE THING ABOUT YOUR eyes is that they can lie, but your ears can’t

Your ears can hear the truth whether you like it or not. While your eyes when disturbed can turn you into a fool.

Right now, you feel like one.

The smoke permeates your nose. You cough them out praying for your lungs as you grab the newspaper by your feet with a headline that fills your chest with more confusion than the smoke does.

It reads: Devastating fire engulfs Yae Publishing House; kept in time, lost to flames. 19XX.

Then it clicks. You remember the letter sent to Scaramouche:

“In walls where knowledge sleeps,

Monsters dwell in paper heaps.

Kept in time, lost to flames

Play with me, these silly games.”

The poem repeats itself in your head, until you hear a familiar voice. You turn around to see Albedo and Navia. You’ve never felt more relief than watching them safely step on the stairs.

“Are you alright?” Navia hugs you tight. Her weight on your body feels like a cold blanket in this heat. They must’ve heard the explosion.

You nod, “Are you?”

“Yeah, I was stuck in a crowd of people, Albedo helped me out. What the hell happened?”

You look around, glancing at the people fleeing the scene. Cops and the fire department alike arrive.

Your grip on the newspaper tightens as your heart hammers in your chest like a nail too deeply engraved on a wall.

“I have to go.” You say, your adrenaline keeps you from thinking straight.

“Where are you going?” Albedo asks.

The Publishing House. But you fail to voice it outloud.

╰──────»»❀❀❀««──────╯

The smell of roses and ink wafts in the air of the publishing house. Banners of the popular, “Legend of Sword,” hang in glory.

Across the long hallway sits a desk, reminiscing the times you’ve been here. Lisa types away on her computer, too focused to notice your arrival. Or maybe she does and chooses to ignore you. You tap the bell on the edge of her desk. You feel like Scaramouche when he disrupted Venti earlier, “Hello, Lisa.”

The brunette looks up at you with a sweet smile–a smile that swoons both women and men alike, “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m good,” It’s a good thing you can’t hear your own lies.

“What brings you here?”

“I came to see Miss Yae Miko.” And to see if the publishing house is still in tact.

Lisa shakes her head, “You missed her already, dear. She left a moment ago.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“I’m not her secretary.”

You awkwardly nod, “Right, sorry.”

She squints her eyes and tilts her neck in wonder, “What else do you need, dear? I’m surprised you wanted to see her on your own accord.”

Lisa is right. In truth, Yae Miko terrifies you. One stare and you feel so little. Whether it’d be the constant teasing, or her prying questions about every detail of your life—it’s all the same.

“I just have a question.”

She nods, typing away on her computer again. You see heaps of paper along with stacked books next to her. Not only is Lisa a receptionist, but she’s also an author with her own works. She started as a receptionist then worked her way up to become a successful author, you never knew why she stayed, but since she’s the oldest worker, and Yae Miko isn’t here, she’s your best source of answer.

“What do you know about this?” You hand her the newspaper.

Her eyes dart back and forth between you and the headline, “Where did you get this?”

You shrug, “Is it true?”

“It happened a long time ago.”

“Do you know why?”

“I do.” There’s a playful glint in her eyes.

You look at her expecting to hear more. She leans back in her chair. You can tell she’s enjoying this. It’s hard to know why. You can only wonder if the mystery behind it is a worthy story to tell.

“Why do you want to know?” She asks.

You shrug, “Curious.”

Her brows rise up, “Where did you get it?”

“I found it.”

“You found it?” She repeats your words.

You nod. Technically you did find it. There’s no lie in that.

She sighs, finally giving in, “There’s a lot of theories as to why it was burned down. Some say it was an accident, others say it was on purpose.”

“Which one is it?”

“No one knows.”

You tilt your head, “You said you do.”

“I know the truth I believe in.”

And when people believe something wholeheartedly even if it was a lie—that’s the truth they see—and that’s the truth you hear.

“So you don’t actually know?” Scaramouche emerges from the shadows, you didn’t even hear him.

You turn around, crossing your arms, “How long have you been here?”

“What, you think you’re the only one who snoops into people’s territories?”

“I’m glad to see you two still getting along,” Lisa says sarcastically.

Scaramouche rolls his eyes, and hands Lisa a book. She stacks it high next to heaps of other literary works on her desk. Although, it’s smaller than the rest, it matches the same concept: flowers. You imagine it’s a research paper she’s doing. People like Lisa acquire more knowledge, and that‘s respectable enough.

“Tell your mother I said, thanks,” She says.

“So, which one is it?” You ask.

“You’re still asking?” She chuckles.

You nod.

“I think it was on purpose.”

“Why?” It’s Scaramouche’s turn to pry.

You hold your breath as Lisa looks at both of you, prolonging her words. You feel like a kid in a camp as the instructor tells a horror story in front of the fireplace, eagerly waiting for the story to unfold, “They say that a monster used to live within those walls.”

Scaramouche chuckles lowly as if he’s cursing himself for falling into a trap, “Do you have to be delusion to work here?”

“Fairy tales and wonders, work magic. Life is boring without it, dear. Have a little imagination in your life will you,” Lisa smirks as Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

“What kind of monster?” You press.

She shrugs, “I imagine the kind that kills.”

“That’s every monster.”

“Some monsters just play games with you.”

You and Scaramouche exchange looks at the mention of games. That has been a recurring word for you two lately.

“What happened to the publishing house later?”

“It burned down as fires do. It was quick. The first publishing house was more of a house rather than a proper building–only because it was in its developing stages.”

“Where was it located?” Scaramouche inquires.

She shrugs, but it’s not because she doesn’t know, she just doesn’t want to say. The more you talk to her, the more you want to leave.

But curiosity is a dangerous tool.

“Why do you think it’s a monster?” You say.

“It's a better story to tell.”

“We should go,” Scaramouche tells Lisa. And you’re stunned at his choices of words. We.

“Thank you for visiting,” She smiles—and you’re not sure if the glint in her eyes mean well or not. That maybe your eyes are playing tricks with you once again as they often do. Then Lisa sighs, “It’s a shame you don’t visit more often.”

“There’s no reason for me to,” The words come out strained, but it’s the truth.

“Makoto had you on a vice, didn’t she?” She offers you a look of pity. Whether she means it or not, it doesn’t feel great, almost mocking.

“Why do you say that?”

She shrugs, “I miss her.”

You nodded, “I miss her too.”

Only you weren’t lying.

╰──────»»❀❀❀««──────╯

“Tell me that was weird.” Scaramouche says as you two stand in the parking lot.

“That was weird.” You reply.

He glared at you, “You should’ve disagreed with me.”

“There’s no winning with you, is there?”

He points at the newspaper in your grip, “Where’d you find that? Is it from the same person?”

You hand it to him, “An alarm was pulled in the museum. Then a car exploded, and I saw this laying beside my feet. It reminded me of that letter that was sent to you.”

He starts pacing to his car. You follow him. He enters the driver’s seat. And you just stand. Finding the casualness of it all uncomfortable as if you didn’t just have a heated argument.

“Should I drive away without you?”

“I assumed you would.”

He starts the car.

You hurriedly get in. He scoffs, but you see a small smirk playing in his mouth. Screw him.

“What is it?” You ask as he traces random numbers and letters with his fingers on the newspaper.

“They’re underlined.”

“Do they mean something?” You tried to lean in.

He takes a moment, flipping the pages and squinting his eyes over and over, “I think it’s an address.”

“To where?”

“Are you putting on your seatbelt or not?”

Alternatively, it also means, Are you coming with me or not?

“Do you want me to put on my seatbelt?” You answer.

Do you want me to come with you?

“If I didn’t I would’ve driven off without you.”

You put it on.

Before he puts his hands on the steering wheel, he looks at you. It’s venomous–the same stare he gave Venti before–the kind you never wanted to be at the receiving end. The ones that makes you feel small underneath his gaze, “You better not make me a fool a second time.”

Then he steps on the gas.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

i’m aiming for this series to have 15 chapters. i love the next chapter 🫶

🏷️ (OPEN):

@danfelions @scaraenthusiast1 @meowrenapurrdo @dreamayy @misterpoofin @eternal-dokja @lalalaloveallmydays @jshkfan @kazeyozuha @yotraumainthebuilding @marivaudages

[communistfries]

Why did the writer in me reawaken after years just to write smut in my notes app and be unwell about a woman i named after a diagnostic manual

[prettymfwrites]

CaitVi Streamer Headcanons

Streamer Caitlyn x Streamer Vi x female Reader Headcanons

1. Streamer Chaos

Caitlyn’s streams are polished, focused, and often tactical, whether she’s dominating in FPS games or discussing strategies with her chat. She’s the analytical one, always reading her opponents and responding gracefully, even in defeat.

Vi, on the other hand, streams pure chaos. She’s loud, competitive, and incredibly reactive to the highs and lows of her games. Her stream often involves a lot of trash-talking, slamming the desk (lightly), and sometimes standing up mid-game to shout at the screen.

You? You’re their grounding force, occasionally wandering between the two setups to bring snacks, drinks, or calm them down when a particularly intense game has them riled up.

2. Cute Interactions on Stream

Sometimes, you appear on Vi’s stream just to egg her on. “Babe, Cait’s gonna destroy you again if you keep rushing in like that,” you tease, leaning into her frame.

Caitlyn's chat loves seeing you pop into her stream because you always bring a sense of calm. You’ll hand her a cup of tea or sneak a kiss to her cheek, prompting Caitlyn’s infamous deadpan: “Don’t let Vi see this,she might cry.”

When Caitlyn and Vi stream together, their streams are full of back-and-forth banter, playful insults, and moments of teamwork that go hilariously wrong. You’re often caught in the crossfire when they drag you into their antics.

3. Dinner Drama

After Caitlyn utterly demolishes Vi in an intense round of Apex Legends, Vi refuses to speak. You bring dinner to the table, trying not to laugh at her overdramatic huffs and pouts.

Caitlyn doesn’t help, though. She casually asks for a dinner roll, knowing full well it’ll set Vi off. As predicted, Vi flings the roll at Caitlyn, who dodges dramatically before laughing and picking it up. “You missed, sweetheart.”

Caitlyn leans over Vi’s chair, wrapping her arms around her and pressing teasing kisses to her cheek. “I can’t believe you let this unhinged mongoose beat you,” she murmurs, her tone dripping with amusement. Vi tries to hold back a smile, but her mumbled “shut up” only makes you both giggle harder.

4. Protective Moments

Vi’s chat can get rowdy, and while most fans adore your presence, there’s always a troll or two who makes snide comments about you. The first time it happens, Vi is not having it. She stops her game mid-round, fixes her camera with a death glare, and goes on a fiery rant about respecting her girlfriend.

Caitlyn, however, handles trolls differently. She’ll casually ban them without a second thought, coolly saying, “You’re clearly not here for the right reasons. Bye.” Her chat cheers her on every time.

You feel so loved by how fiercely they both protect you, though you often tell them not to worry about the comments. “They’re just jealous they don’t get dinner rolls thrown at them by Vi,” you joke.

5. Competitive Chaos

When Vi loses a game to Caitlyn (which happens often), she’ll dramatically collapse into your lap while you’re sitting nearby, whining, “Why are you with her when she’s such a bully?”

You can’t help but laugh, running your fingers through her hair. Caitlyn, from her desk, will smirk and say, “Because I bring her snacks and don’t break my keyboard after every loss.”

One time, Vi gets so worked up after losing three matches in a row that she challenges Caitlyn to a physical game of Mario Kart. You end up being the neutral referee, though you mostly just laugh as Vi leans so far into the turns she nearly falls off the couch.

6. Sweet Moments Behind the Scenes

After an exhausting stream, the three of you cuddle up on the couch. Caitlyn leans against your shoulder while Vi sprawls across both of you. Despite their competitive nature on stream, they’re both soft with you, taking turns to kiss your temple and thank you for always being there for them.

On Caitlyn’s birthday stream, you and Vi plan a surprise. Mid-stream, you burst into her room with a cake and balloons, and her normally calm demeanor breaks into pure joy. The chat floods with hearts as she pulls both of you into a hug, her headset awkwardly bumping against your face.

7. Dealing With the Drama

The three of you sit down together to discuss handling fan toxicity when it flares up. Caitlyn insists on stricter moderation rules, while Vi wants to call out every disrespectful fan by name.

“Babe, you can’t go to war with every troll,” Caitlyn tells Vi, amused.

“Watch me,” Vi responds, though she eventually agrees that focusing on the positive outweighs feeding into the negativity.

8. Fan Favorites

Fans adore how much Caitlyn and Vi clearly love you. Compilations of the three of you interacting flood YouTube and TikTok, with titles like "Cutest Streamer Trio Moments!"

Your favorite clip? The time Caitlyn leaned over to kiss Vi after a win, only for you to pop up in the background and say, “Forgetting something?” Both of them immediately pulled you into frame for kisses, and the chat exploded with comments about how lucky you all were to have each other.

---------

I take requests!

[ruewrote]

𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡.

PAIRING: stiles stilinski x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: teenage dream by katy perry WORD COUNT: 1.2k

navigation | ask | stiles stilinski masterlist

it wasn't out of the blue for you and stiles to have a sleepover on fridays, actually it was a sort of unspoken rule between the two of you.

it first started when you said that you had never watched star wars before, which led to the both of you sitting on your couch with a big bowl of popcorn in between.

him explaining the little parts you'd get confused about or him just ranting about his favourite scenes. after that it was a back and forth of showing each other your favourite unseen movies.

when finishing said movie the following days you'd receive multiple memes from him about the specific films, it had become a recurring pattern that you'd come to love. it almost felt weird if he didn't.

tonight it was your turn to introduce him to the to all the boys i loved before trilogy since you'd been obsessed with the movies since they first came out.

he was on the fence about watching them since he wasn't a huge fan of romcoms, you somehow convinced him by saying "it's practice for watching them with your future girlfriend!" internally wincing at that.

every friday you felt more anxious before stiles showed, trying to fluff up your pillows and straighten out your blankets. wanting to make everything perfect.

you had a huge crush on stiles, how could you not after spending so much time together, learning all of his little quirks, his likes and his dislikes, the only thing you weren't sure about was the way he felt about you.

it was the one thing you wanted to know the most about him. did he think about you the same ways you thought about him? did he like the way cuddled when you'd watch these movies and shows with him?

you couldn't tell him though, what if he didn't feel the same way you did and it completely ruins the good friendship you have right now?

what would it take for you to finally tell him?

ding dong!

the doorbell ringing a couple times had you jogging down the stairs, opening the door with a warm smile to see hyper stiles.

"i'm so ready to get my movie night on! i had a math test today and let me tell you it sucked," he whines as he dramatically wraps his arms around your waist as he fake cries into your shoulder.

"well if it helps i have enough microwaveable popcorn to keep us going through the apocalypse soo you coming upstairs or what?"

with that said he zips past you up your stairs, falling up them in the process, making you giggle at his eagerness as you follow close behind him.

watching stiles practically swan dive onto your bed and aggressively sniff your pillow has you side eyeing him, "why is your bed so much comfier and smells so much nicer than mine? it's so not fair."

"it's a little thing called fabric softener and if you continuously jump into your bed the way you do mine, then i guess you've got your answer you dufus," you laugh at him burrowing himself deep under your duvet.

"plus i've slept in your bed it's plenty comfy, the key is lots of pillows and fluffy blankets." he hums as you settle yourself beside him before pressing play on the movie.

it was like ten minutes into the film when you could feel him slightly shuffle closer to you, keeping your eyes on the screen pretending it didn't happen. just patiently waiting until he felt comfortable enough to say something.

"can...can we cuddle?" you wordlessly lifted your arm, letting him slip himself under, his head on your chest, the rest of his body lightly pressed to your side.

it was like second nature to you two, whether either one of you had a bad week you'd take turns holding each other. you helped install healthy mannerisms that proved that it was okay for a man to be held because they deserve it too and that it was okay for guys to cry no matter who they're with.

so yes , when he had a rough day he'd often walk up to you and bury his face into your neck, his arms firmly wrapped around you as you cupped the back of his head and rubbed soft circles on his back just letting him know that you were there for him.

with everything he had gone through he deserved all the comfort he could get and if the source was you then so be it.

you would be lying if you said that your heart didn't speed up at the closeness and how his touch on your skin left goosebumps.

trying to be as casual as possible, you raise the hand that was currently wrapped around his shoulders to gently stroke his hair, feeling him physically melt into you calmed your nerves.

feeling your eyelids slowly droop, your hand movements become slower so your palm now laid on the back of his neck, fighting sleep felt so difficult when he was beside you. his presence was so peaceful, comforting even without him saying anything.

the early start of your day hitting even harder now. He won't mind if you rested your eyes for a little bit, right?

stiles noticed the similarities between the two characters to the both of you, but there's no way that you deliberately put this on as a sign? was he reading too deep into it?

when he went to question you about it, lifting his head he was met with you sleeping peacefully. his gaze softened at the sight, gently tucking the piece of hair that fell in front of your face.

"you are so goddamn beautiful and don't even know it, even when you sleep? like can you save some beauty for the rest of us?" he chuckles at his own joke.

"i don't know how long i can keep pretending that i'm not totally in love with you...there really isn't anything that i wouldn't do for you." he whispers and he studies your features.

"it's honestly crazy how i feel your absence in everything that i do when i'm alone, in every place i go without you." he sighs, going to go back to watching the tv.

"you really mean all of that?" you whisper, making him jump back.

"uh- i-i do, but i thought you were asleep?"

"no i was just resting my eyes, but i'm sorta glad that you thought i was for you to finally confess your feelings for me." you smirk at him.

his mouth opens and closes, utterly bewildered at what you just said, "what do you mean finally?"

"You realise that i like you too, right? that i have for the longest time?" stiles eyes now wide, looking even more lost than before.

"you like me? like like me like me?"

sitting up, grasping the back of his neck, "what are you..." pulling him closer, your lips brushing against his. it takes him a second to register the kiss before melting into it. leaning closer to deepen the kiss. his hands brushing over your hips as he laid you down, now hovering over you. your hand running through his hair, tugging at the roots.

you're both now smiling as you share a few more pecks before pulling away. "so you do like me!" he grins, "oh my god. dude yes!"

"ya know if you're gonna be my girlfriend, you're gonna have to calling me dude."

"would you prefer shnookums?"

"that's it!" he pulled away just enough to tickle you.

from that night forth you and stiles had become inseparable, practically connected at the hip. but you wouldn't want it any other way.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[meanbossart]

Okay, one more question on the Bhaalist Drow au, if you'll indulge. What happens in Astarion's mindthe immediate aftermath of the ascension failing (as in, right then but also up until the game's end). Do they bother showing up to Withers' party? How does Astarion go slip sliding down into a cowed version of himself over time? And, what I am most fascinated by in something like this, how do the other cultists, especially direct reporters to DU Drow, or like deputies, treat him? Does Astarion find he's confined certain places?

Sorry, thank you!

No apologies needed! This is a very fun scenario to play around in.

So, I'm not sure if Astarion would immediately realize that DU drow purposefully ruined the ritual, but regardless he would have realized that this is the outcome he truly wanted.

I imagine that after Du drow embraced Bhaal, Astarion would have gotten it into his head that he now must ascend so they will be on leveled ground, and fully capable of pursuing their plans of taking control over the sword coast together as equally powerful individuals. DU drow would have sold himself as completely behind this plan and supportive of the idea, eager for them to exert total control as the most dashingly evil couple in all of Faerun. And perhaps this was genuine for a day, before the fear of losing his grasp over Astarion began to settle in. He didn't voice this as all, of course, but as an avid manipulator himself Astarion would be able to tell post-failure that his support wasn't earnest.

And I think Astarion just panicked; going back and forth between convincing himself that he should be thankful to have someone powerful by his side, and just feeling like has no other option but to go along with it. Whether or not he thinks he can abandon DU drow successfully, the world has just become a much scarier place than before, and at least here he knows he has someone to take care of him - someone he should be fond of, even if time eventually proves him wrong.

For a while (weeks, if not months) Astarion would have appeared nothing if not pleased with his predicament. He has a man who is head-over-heels for him who also happens to be the head-honcho of a powerful cult, he has access to as much blood and violence as he pleases and the ability to entertain his fantasies of power and cruelty to their fullest. If there is anyone left who cares for him, he paints elaborate pictures of their routine together - of their outings, of their riches, of his exquisite quarters and their intense sex. He tells them that DU drow might be Bhaal's chosen, but he has him wrapped tight around his finger day and night and pretty much runs the show behind the scenes.

These are fantasies that he wants to others to believe in as much as he wants to convince himself of them, and a narrative that DU drow might even humor - he likes the illusion of Astarion being in control, but it can't ever be like that in practice - but reality is a lot more hollow. They have gold, and they have the expensive garments, and the sex is intense, but life has become a performance from morning until night and Astarion has completely lost the element of tenderness that he had grown to enjoy. DU drow loves him like a prized possession, like a novelty - a fragile ornament that only he knows how to handle, and no one else is allowed near.

Whenever there is push back, whenever Astarion wants to branch out, he is reminded of how vulnerable and small he is. How every day occurrences and objects can harm him, and that while DU drow may appreciate him for the man he is, others will take him for a simple monster. That It is much easier to stick by his side, sacrifice some of his freedom but be cared for than to risk exposing himself to harm. DU drow also constantly reminds him of the pain he would be in if anything were to ever draw them apart, and guilts him about what may happen if he was to die.

And as rebellious towards Cazador as he might have been, total servitude is a default he learned to fall back into in search of safety. It is easier to turn to old habits and simply accept his circumstances, surrender to them. At least here, he is never tortured, he is never physically hurt, and he is only sometimes verbally berated. He can deal with it as long as it is an improvement upon his previous situation. Slowly, he'd just become DU drow's yes-man, he'd concern himself constantly with pleasing him, looking desirable, acting desirable, fulfilling his fantasies and acting the part that's expected of him. From the outside it may even seen like he enjoys the life.

He is basically seen but not heard by DU drow's consorts. It's less about the respect that they may or may not have for him and more about the respect (or should I say fear) that they have for their leader. DU Drow would make it clear again and again that no one is allowed to touch him, he would be weary of anybody trying get too close, of being too friendly, even of staring a little too hard - he would kill and torture men over the most mundane of comments whether they be positive or negative until everyone is just too fearful of interacting with Astarion at all. As for people outside of the temple, he basically never has a chance to mingle without DU drow's watchful gaze over him (all for the sake of protecting him, of course).

I think Sceleritas would be the only person who can consistently interact with alone, since DU drow trusts him completely. The little goblin himself no longer sees Astarion as so much of a person, more so a possession; one that keeps his master happy and productive. So he extends the same amount of respect to him as he does to DU drow himself, and functions as a butler to both.

He also reports back to DU drow about Astarion's every request, every diversion from habit, every misplaced sigh and fluctuation in mood, every eye-roll. He knows the questions to ask to get the answers he wants, to interrogate him with poise on behalf of his master so he can make sure that his beau is always happy and content. Astarion realizes this learns to watch himself around Sceleritas over time too.

[kittenintheden]

hit the bricks

surprise PWP drop lol. this is sort of a deleted scene from Not Your Sweetheart. this is not a scenario that will end up in the NYS so you get to have it here in bite-size instead. enjoy!

Rating: E Paring: Astarion/Ori (f!Tav) Word Count: 1.6k Content: 18+, established relationship, semi-public sex, quickie, wall sex, Ori being a bit of a power bottom

Link to AO3

This stakeout is horrifically boring and likely entirely pointless.

Astarion leans with his back against one side of a narrow alley, arms folded. Ori faces the opposite wall, peeking her head around the corner every now and again to try and spot their quarry.

He sighs.

She continues to look.

“This stakeout is horrifically boring,” he voices aloud. “And likely entirely pointless.”

From further down the alleyway, Elias chimes in. “We’d feel real stupid if they managed to sneak by us, though, wouldn’t we?”

Astarion rolls his eyes as hard as he possibly can and glares at them. They smirk at him, knowing full well where his annoyance comes from. He’s certain of it. When he’d volunteered to pair with Ori for this reconnaissance mission, he hadn’t expected a third wheel. But Gale had insisted that they keep an open method of communication just in case, and, well. Elias is as convenient as it gets, considering they can move from group to group through the Ethereal Plane in seconds.

Whether or not they prefer to be used as de facto communication is yet to be determined.

It’s a bother. He maintains his irritated expression as he goes back to staring at Ori’s arse as she wriggles it back and forth between glances out of the alley. She might be doing it on purpose. The breeches she’s chosen to wear this evening are quite form-fitting.

His brow smooths and his eyes go lidded as he lets himself fall into fantasy, picturing her just like this, but all soft skin, warm and gray beneath his touch as he runs his fingers down the length of her spine. He hasn’t taken her from behind yet. All in good time.

Astarion slow blinks and flicks his tongue over his bottom lip.

Now could be a good time.

He’s brought abruptly back to reality as arousal rises in him, sending a rush of heat between his legs. He huffs and shifts position, straightening one leg with a grimace. Fantastic. Now he’s grouchy again.

Their corner of the square remains unpopulated. At this time of evening in this part of town, passerby are few and far between. He scans the space sullenly for a moment before his eyes are drawn back to Ori. She stands straight, still facing the wall, and puts her arms over her head in a long, arching stretch.

Astarion tucks his chin. That’s definitely on purpose.

“Elias,” Astarion says. “I think perhaps you should go check in on the other team.”

“What for?” they say distractedly, their eyes currently tracking a stray cat at the far end. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Something’s about to,” he says lowly. Then he pushes off the wall and closes the space between his body and Ori’s, pinning her up against the bricks on the opposite wall. She squeaks in surprise.

“Oh, for fuck’s-” is all they hear before Elias’ voice cuts itself off as they vanish.

Ori’s laughing, now. She turns her head to one side and puts her palms against the wall in front of her, pushing gently back against Astarion. He puts his mouth to the side of her neck, running his tongue over her pulse point and punctuating it with a kiss.

“What was that about?” she teases, even as she shivers and shuts her eyes.

“I needed to ask you something.” He places another kiss to her neck, this time closer to her ear.

“Mm. And what’s that?” She stretches her head to one side to give him more access.

Astarion puts his lips to her ear and whispers, “How wet are you?”

She gives a quiet giggle, her mouth stretching in a playful smile as she cracks her eyes to look at him.

“Wet enough,” she whispers back.

That’s all the go-ahead he needs before his hands are at the front of her trousers, undoing her fastenings quicker than she’d be able to herself. As soon as he’s able, he dips a hand down her front and into her smallclothes.

His fingers find her slick and he huffs out a breath, dropping his open mouth to the spot where her shoulder meets her neck. He slides his fingers against her and she gives a controlled moan when he finds the swell of her.

“You’re always so ready for me,” Astarion groans into her skin. “It drives me mad.”

Ori hiccups and responds, “If you knew how good it is to take your cock, you’d be walking around wet all the time, too. But we’re supposed to be, ah, keeping a lookout. Someone could… mmm… catch us with our literal pants down.”

They’re not exactly in public, but they’re not exactly not in public, either. Being quiet may not be an option. Does he care?

Not at the moment.

Astarion stops teasing her clit long enough to push her clothing down past her hips. As he goes to deal with his own ties, he breathes, “Then they’ll get a show, because you know anyone about to stumble on this would have no choice but to watch.”

She answers with a quiet growl and play-bites at him.

“Ah, ah,” he says as he pulls himself free of his trousers. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Disappointing,” she teases.

He presses his hard cock between her legs, causing her to gasp and arch as he draws himself along her slick cunt and grazes her clit. Her thighs are trapped tight together from her breeches, coating him in her wet as he grinds.

“I said quick,” he says, hiding the shake in his voice with a laugh. “I didn’t say disappointing.”

The head of his cock finds her willing entrance and he pushes inside, the slide smooth, but oh, he didn’t think that through, that’s very-

Ori clocks the way he tries to quiet the moan that spills from him as he enters her. She clocks it even as she leans her head onto his shoulder, arching her back as hard as she can with him pressing her to the wall. The glide and stretch are perfect. She can feel him everywhere.

But he’s not moving.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” she says, voice shivering.

Astarion has been clenching his jaw. She can feel him loosen it as he says, “You are so t-tight like this.”

She grins, holding back her laugh. “Did you…?”

“No,” he huffs, wrapping his hand around hers where it’s pressed against the brick. “Give a professional a little credit, dear. I just, ah, needed a moment.”

“Glad to hear-” she starts.

“Moment’s over,” he interrupts.

His hips begin working with short, shallow thrusts, grinding Ori up against the wall, her front pressed to the masonry, and she pants prettily for him as he ignites the fire between them. He keeps one hand over hers on the wall and the other wrapped around her hip, guiding her in time with his rhythm.

She feels exquisite. He presses his lips to her exposed shoulder and sucks, vaguely aware he’ll leave a mark there, but he doesn’t care, because it feels good this feels good she feels good all around him. Fangs graze skin, tempting. Her arse is so plush pressed close.

He moves the hand on her hip around to her front and between her legs, using his fingers to spread her just a little wider, exposing her to better feel the root of him on her clit every time he thrusts into her. It has the intended effect as she whimpers out his name surrounded on all sides by soft ah ah ahs. Gods, it’s hot.

Taking her here, hidden but not invisible, makes the rush of being discovered hit his blood and urgency pulses through his core. He pulls his mouth from her and pants through his teeth, molten heat coiling around the base of his spine.

“I need you to come for me, darling,” he whispers. “Can you do that? Can you come for me? Don’t let me…” He gasps on the next breath and continues, “... embarrass myself, love.”

“Say please,” she breathes with a surprising amount of control given her current position.

“What?” he blurts, brow furrowed as he continues to rut into her. His body wants to come so badly that it’s making thought beyond gods gods fuck yes gods difficult.

Ori groans this time before she repeats, “Say. Please.”

Astarion presses his mouth to the side of her face and says, “Please, please, come, please come, please, love, love, please, come, come-”

She clenches down hard around him and he whines, barely managing to ride out her climax before he hits his own, the flutters of her peak continuing all around him. Ori bites her own forearm, her cry lost against her skin. Astarion does his best to stifle his inelegant grunts as he spends himself inside her, the relief palpable.

They take a moment before Ori mumbles, “Neither of us really considered how to extricate ourselves from this situation, did we?”

“We did not,” Astarion mumbles back with his mouth against her temple.

There’s another beat of quiet.

From around the corner out of view, they hear Elias say, “The mark is here, you’d better be done, I swear, I’m not coming around there. Let’s go.”

The mad scramble to separate and quickly rearrange clothing goes smoother than expected, all things considered. It isn’t until they pick up their things and make to run for the square that Ori pulls a face.

“All right, love?” Astarion asks, dagger already drawn.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll, erm. Deal with it later.”

She speeds by him and it takes him a full second to catch on before he snorts out a laugh and follows her.

[leaawrites]

Between Us

Damon Albarn x fem!reader

Summary: After a heavy break up, both of them see that what they've done wasn't what they wasn't

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

You’d think that over time, people would forget. That they would move on, find new people to obsess over, new couples to admire. Though some stayed focused on one past forever. Lingering over photos from a decade ago, a smile on their faces. Gushing over people’s private life that they didn’t know.

But she knew. She lingered over the pictures and she knew what happened, how it all ended. She knew the story and she knew the ending. Though she never told anyone.

Damon and her dated for seven years, until it ended in 2001. An abrupt ending with little explanation to anyone outside of their house.

“It just didn’t work anymore,” she told the press at movie premiers. All while Damon simply ignored every question that involved even the slightest mention of her name.

The media, being hungry for the meanest kind of funny and not accepting that two adults could make a mutual decision, painted a picture of their own imagination.

‘DAMON ALBARN SHOWING UP ALONE TO THE BRIT AWARDS AFTER LONG-TIME GIRLFRIEND, Y/N L/N, CHEATED ON HIM.’

‘GOOD LUCK TO NEWLY SINGLE, DAMON ALBARN. May he live in peace now.’

“Do you want me to say something?” He asked her over the phone, miles away from her. Not able to console her like he once did. It hurt to hear her broken voice over the phone, knowing that part of him was at fault for it.

“No, don’t worry about it, Damon.” The use of his name on her tongue almost hurting more than the sniffle she let out seconds after it. “I’ll be fine. It’s gonna last a week or so and then it’ll be forgotten anyway. No need to make more drama out of it.”

Though it didn’t just last a week, it lasted twenty years.

Twenty years filled with accusations, reminders, rumors. Haunting both of them day and night. Pictures in magazines when they had nothing else to print. ‘DAMON ALBARN SPOTTED WITH NEW WOMAN, WHAT DOES HIS EX THINK ABOUT IT?’

Spoiler: She thought absolutely nothing about it.

‘He lives his life, I live mine. He can do whatever he wants.’

‘IS SHE JEALOUS FOR LETTING HIM GO SO EASILY? FIND OUT IN A BEHIND-THE-SCENES INTERVIEW WITH HOLLYWOOD DIRECTOR, Y/N L/N.’

It was pathetic, truly. Truly pathetic, that’s what they should call themselves.

Her and Damon still stayed in contact sometimes, whether it was to congratulate the other on their new project or a small conversation about life when they accidentally met in a coffee shop.

Though, the night when she was woken up by knocks against her front door at 3 in the morning, she didn’t expect more than an axe-murderer.

With reluctant steps towards the door, the thought that she had nothing and no one to protect her in the middle of the country became more apparent as her hand lingered over the door knob and there was no other sound besides the knocking and her heavy breathing. The knife in her shaking hand not being stable enough to defend herself.

She could just ignore it, but when she heard the sobs through the wooden door separating her and the unexpected guest, she couldn’t help herself.

Swinging the door open, her eyes widened as Damon stood on the other side, bloodshot eyes, probably drunk, crying.

“What are you doing here, Damon?” she asked, the name still hurting to say. No ‘love’ anymore, he was simply Damon to her now.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, his head lulling back and forth as he leaned against the door frame.

Putting the knife down, she tried pulling him inside her house, though he didn’t budge.

“No, no, no. Leave me alone, I have something to say.” He pushed her away slightly, holding her by her biceps at arms-length.

“Can’t you do that inside? It’s freezing.” She tried pulling him inside again, but he only pulled her closer.

Their chest pressed together, the alcohol apparent on his breath fanning down her face. His heart beating against her ribcage. Her hands stabling her body as the fell on his shoulders. Grabbing the flesh under her fingernails to hold herself upwards as her legs felt like giving up from being so close to him again.

“I know the last years were horrible. I should’ve said something earlier, apologize earlier,” he started talking, slurring some of his words.

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known it’d be this bad.”

“Sh,” he shushed her before gathering his words and talking once more. Finger laying over her lips. “And I refuse to believe that all those years ago was our end. It can’t have been. It can’t end like that, not you and me.”

She wanted to interrupt him again, ask what he was saying, what he was referring to. She wanted to stop his movement as his hands slid down her arms and lost her skin at her fingertips, until his whole body moved down. One knee propped up in front of him. His fingers messily scrambling for something in jeans pocket.

Pulling out a little velvet box, tears pooled out her eyes as well, streaming down her face.

“Damon,” she tried once more, aware of his condition. Aware of what he must’ve taken to act this way. He wouldn’t do it if he was sober, right?

“Marry me.”

The words hung in the air, surrounded by tension and sobs. Surrounded by lingering looks and feelings they both still held dearly.

“Please,” his voice was quieter now. Almost begging. “I know we haven’t been as close as before, but I still hold you in my heart the same I did 10 years ago. I can’t let you go. Not if I still don’t know if we’re absolutely over. Until then I’ll fight and dream and ask. So, please, say yes and let us fight and dream and love together.”

“Damon,” she said. “You’re drunk. High, I don’t know. I can’t just say yes if you’re like this.”

“You don’t want to marry me?” His voice was shaking, his head hung low in surrender, tears welling up in his own eyes once more.

“I do,” she whispered. “I want to marry you, always did. But it’s unfair of you to ask me now.”

“Then say yes and let us be happy.”

“Not now, in the morning maybe.”

Damon nodded, standing up, closing the box and putting it back to where it had been hidden for too long. It had to wait a bit longer now, maybe forever.

She stepped to the side, letting him pass her, his eyes lingering on her face, searching parts he forgot. Though there was nothing. It was still the same face he saw in his dreams whenever he closed his eyes.

The rest of the night was spent in silence, she brought him pillows and a blanket to have it comfortable on her couch. And while night went and day rose, both laid down, trying to rest, but neither getting the rapid beating of their heart to slow down.

The sun dried her tears away and soon enough, she found herself in her kitchen making coffee for both of them, Damon asleep in the room next to her.

She could still ponder the options in her head, but what would they do when he woke up? What would she say to him? If he even remembered what happened.

A groan coming from him made her head turn around, reality creeping up their spines at the same time. He didn’t recognize the ceiling, neither the walls around him, but he could identify the smell that hung in the air. It was hers.

A strike of lightning shot through his body, making him sit up, the pain coming shortly after. His head aching. But it didn’t matter when her wide eyes stared back at him.

Slowly, one by one, pictures crept back.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh my god. I didn’t ask you, did I? Please say I didn’t.”

“You did,” she confessed, making him grown once more.

Scrambling to his feet, Damon walked over to the kitchen entrance. “Shit. I swear I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably nothing.”

His words made her throat tighten, her heart cried out a sorrowful scream, half laughing about her, half yearning for him to take his words back.

“So, you don’t actually want to marry me? It was all just some drunk mistake?” The words felt like venom on her tongue.

Venom that made his eyes widen in realization.

“I mean, I did - I do. But I never- I never wanted you to know. I just- you probably hate me now. You said, no, right?” He couldn’t remember what she said. After his speech, he forgot everything.

“I never said no,” she confessed.

“You didn’t?” It surprised him. Why didn’t she say no?

Shaking her head softly, she walked closer to him. Leaning on the wall next to him. “I told you, that I wouldn’t answer you until you were sober.”

His eyes slipped down to her lips, sucked between her teeth anxiously.

“Marry me.”

He said it once more, the words feeling heavier now. Reality feeling heavier now.

But her words were light.

“Yes.”

And when her lips fell on his, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, the world felt light.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” she said as they laid under her covers, hidden from the rest of the world. “Let us stay like this forever.”

“Like what?”

“Secretly happy, enjoying ourselves and letting no one else near what we have. I want you, Damon. I want to love you unconditionally. I don’t want to end like we did last time.”

“We won’t let it happen, I promise. I won’t let it happen.”

“So, we keep it between us?”

“It’s just you and me. Forever.”

And they said yes, forever. Keeping it quiet, keeping their life away from anyone who was too interested in it.

Another ten years passed, and when the same day came around from which on they were bound together by a promise, they made it official.

A post, a simple one.

‘New song at midnight. A special one.’

‘Between Us’ was nothing anyone expected. A simple piano, words of love and a video of memories. Just them two. Like it had always been.

A message at the end of the video.

‘I can’t believe I get to live my life with you. The most perfect person I’ve ever met. The love of my life. Twenty years have passed, with a break in between that I’ve never regretted more than when I saw you again, and I still love you like I did the first day I saw you. Until death do us apart and every life time after.’

Written by Damon Albarn and Y/n L/n.

Directed by Y/n L/n.

[valyrfia]

Carlos has to know something right? He still doesnt have a contract, but is saying how he is not rushing. At this point it would be sooo weird if he didnt have any info about a free seat. Not to be a conspiracy girly but at this point lestappengate is getting more and more likely (or something else along those lines) . If they had the ferrari meeting yet fred made the comments that came out today, then nothing is gonna change. No accountability, not admiting that they fucked the car just blaming the drivers. Still experimenting this week, probably screwing over Charles in the process. Im not a tifosa, im a Charles fan I will admit that but at this point he NEEDS to leave that team. Year after year nothing changes.

I've gone back and forth on whether to respond to this ask because I don't want to sound TOO tinfoil, but him 'waiting'....it makes me think that something has happened behind the scenes that makes Carlos think that a Ferrari seat might still be up for grabs. I think it's much more likely that Lewis could only do one year and then retire (esp if Ferrari concentrate everything on getting him an 8th) and that's the high risk gamble that Carlos might be planning for.....but I don't think it's completely crazy to suggest that Lestappen Gate could also be a possible explanation for Carlos moving weirdly.

Looking at this logically, Red Bull have categorically said they don't want him, Mercedes are undecided but especially after Kimi's Silverstone win it's looking more and more likely that Kimi will be in that seat, Aston seats are locked down, McLaren seats are locked down. Unless there's about to be a really crazy silly season shake up we don't know about like: Lewis retiring early, Oscar to Red Bull, Lestappen Gate. It makes NO sense for Carlos not to sign the apparently pretty excellent contract he had with Williams. I think there's something going on BTS we have no clue about and personally...I'm sitting and waiting patiently.

[jenna-ortega]

history of man

pairing - joelmiller x femalereader ratings - 18+ word count - 4k warnings - arranged marriage AU, dubious con(the whole arranged marriage against readers will thing), angst, brat!reader, softdom!joel, kidnapping, jumpscare!david, salt lake but a very different salt lake than the games (aka no cannibalism) , panic attack authors note - thank you for waiting for this! i really hope you enjoy it, no smut in the first chapter :( (ik boooo) but there will be smut to come. cause you know joel miller is nothing if not a seducer of woman. comment, and let me know what you think! lets have a discourse.

SUMMARY - You thought coming to silver lake would be better than your previous QZ living situation. Come to find out, you had more than freedom waiting for you on the other side of the wall. You had Joel Miller, whether you wanted him or not.

series masterlist

Fuck this. Fuck him. They hold you hostage then offer you food and water? This shit doesn’t feel right. Your whole body turns away from him. Pushing the glass further from you as you pout.  “Drink.”  “No.”   “Now. The growl in his voice startles you. For someone who swears they aren’t going to hurt you, it feels a hell of a lot like he is. Your eyes find his, now dark with a scowl on his face.  “I’m not gonna tell ya again, girl.”  You scoff. “What…you’re gonna force me?” 

Nothing you’ve been through thus far could have prepared you for this. 

It’s dark. So, so dark. 

“Get off me!” you screamed while trashing your body in the man's arms. Earning you an elbow to the side that made you groan at the harsh hit. Your body trembling, wishing you could see through the pitch black area ahead. 

You arrived at Silver lake only a short time ago, not realizing how much of a mistake this stop in your long journey would be. You only made it a few hours into nightfall trying to observe the town from the far woods when a bunch of men caught you from behind. Now dragging you across the snowy town and making a scene of it. 

“I will KILL you!” Your empty threats made the man dragging your left arm along laugh, causing you to turn your head and give him a nasty look. 

“Hear that, ted?” the mystery man nodded his head to the man on your right, “we caught a feisty one. Know just who’d like this one…” the men disregarded your attempts at kicking, laughing as they went back and forth as if this was just another day. 

You made it to what looked like some sort of run down restaurant, your brain working over time to think of every possible scenario that could happen here. Worst is you’re dead. Best is they feed you, cloth you, and tell you this was all a prank. But you doubt it’s the latter. 

You huff out a small ouch as you’re being thrown into a makeshift jail cell at the back of the place you surveyed earlier, hitting the grown so hard dust particles float in the bright white light casting above you. 

“Don’t move.” the taller man shouts down at you, 

Your eyes roll at the request, “Nowhere to go in here, jackass.” you cross your arms and death glare at him from below. 

“Fucking bitch,” his hand grabs your hair from in between the bars and drags you to it. Your whole body moved to follow his hand, trying to shield yourself from the pinching pain, 

“HEY!, get off her, man. You know they’ve gotta be in one piece.” the other man warns, thankfully giving your scalp a break from the pull. 

“Whatever.” he scoffs, turning to walk out with his buddy. Both of their backs towards you. You slap the cell bars and scream in frustration. Quickly realizing you needed to figure out your next move. You need to stay alive, you need to get the fuck out of here. Your body pushes itself against the wall, head falling back as you begin to silently cry. Nobody here but you and your thoughts for the foreseeable future. Your head falls against the wall, and your eyes close. Forcing yourself into slumber. 

—

Drool begins to dry on your face before you are suddenly awakened by the loud slam of a door. You gasp, waking up and forgetting this is now where you have been staying. A cold, dirty cell floor. You look up quickly and your eyes find a taller man, one you haven't seen before; walking slowly towards you. You instinctively crawl to the further edge of the cell.

“Stay back.” you warned, as if you had any upper hand in this situation. 

“m’sorry to scare you” the strangers hands raise in defense as he stopped walking towards you. “Just wanted to check on you.” He stands with his arms to his side now. Waiting on your next move. 

“Check on me?” you begin, voice dripping with malice. “I was just kidnapped and thrown into this fucking cell.” his eyes follow your body as you kneel to stand up. Wiping down your pants to get the dust off. Fully standing, now closer to his height. 

His face is flat and stern as he begins to observe how you are acting. Deeply in his own thoughts as he looks down at the ground, only to be brought back by your incessant nagging, 

“HELLO! Can you even hear me?” 

“I want to help you” 

You’re confused by his bold statement, but accept his help by nodding slowly as you walk towards him in your cell.

“You’re not leaving this cell until they think you’re calm enough…and you’re not leaving this town. At least not alive, I’m sorry.” 

“What does that even mean? What do you guys even want from me?” 

“It’s not the right time.” the man turns on his heels and begins walking out, leaving you more pissed than you originally were.

“Please, please don’t leave yet!” you whined,

He turns his head over his shoulder slightly to acknowledge your plea, his back still to you.There is a comfortable silence until he breaks it, “What’s your name?” 

You go back and forth with yourself for a little while, wondering if you should be honest. You have to get out of here, and maybe he is your best bet. If you play nice with him, maybe you can bring his guard down enough to get released and escape. You’ll play this role for now, and you tell him your name in a silent whisper. 

He nods in acknowledgement, and you throw his question back to him. Another silence looming before he breaks it, 

“Joel.” 

—

It’s been hours.

The metallic clang echoed through the dimly lit room as a new man fumbled with rusty keys. You squinted at the sudden sound as he swung the creaking cell door open. His average figure standing at the opening of your cell, beckoning you to come with him.  

“About time," you muttered, rubbing your eyes and standing up.

The man flashed a wry smile, his reddish beard framing weathered features. "Apologies for the delay. We don't get many visitors here in Silver Lake, and security is tight." 

You stay silent as you give him a shy smile. Following him out of the room, and close on his trail as you walk an appropriate distance away from him as he brings you outside. It’s an oddly calm vibe, and you begin to overthink. Is this your chance to run, he’s giving you so much freedom…would he be able to even catch you? He does look kind of older, skinner than the other men you’ve had the pleasure of interacting with. As if he reads your mind, he breaks your thought pattern, 

“Sorry about my guards. They can be protective of this place.” he eyes your bruises, 

“What is this place?”

The man gestured for you to follow again as he led you through town. "Silver Lake is more than just a town. It's a haven for those who survived the apocalypse, a place where people from different walks of life came together to rebuild what was lost."

As you walked, you noticed families huddled in makeshift homes, the sounds of children playing echoing through the air. The aroma of cooking wafted from a communal kitchen, and people greeted you with nods as you both passed.

"It's been a tough journey, but we've managed to create something special here," the man continued. "We have families, we have friends, we’re a community"

“A community that throws people into dark dungeons and leaves them there for days?” you bite back, causing him to stop in his tracks, turning to you. 

“I am very sorry about that. Let’s start over.” he holds his hand out for you to shake, “I’m David. And who might you be?” 

You give him a funny look, face scrunching in disgust, not wanting to do whatever this is. But you remember what Joel had told you. Remember your plan to play along. 

You shook his hand and told him your name, earning a smile from him, “It’s very nice to meet you.” 

The air was thick with a sense of uncertainty the rest of the walk. You both ended up at a rather small house, the look of it just like every single other one. As you approached the house, the wooden boards creaked beneath your feet. The windows, covered with tattered curtains, revealed only glimpses of the dim interior. A sturdy figure with a graying beard stood on the porch, his eyes scrutinizing the surroundings.

"David," Joel called out, a tight smile breaking through the gruff exterior. "Wasn’t expectin’ you so soon." 

“Thought I’d bring her here, have her rest up by you. Get acclimated to the community.” 

You’re confused by David’s words. Was Joel one of his guards? Like the other two men who had caught you? You have so many questions you wanted to ask, but you were insecure. Didn’t know if these were people you could really trust or not, and you just wanted to make it out of here. You had to push through, had to endure whatever the hell this was. Just until you were able to make it out. 

David begins to introduce you both, but Joel raises his hand stopping David’s words– “We’ve met.” 

David looks at Joel in a peculiar way, a way you couldn’t quite decipher yet. Then back at you, grinning widely, “Glad you’re taking this so well, Joel.” he walks back off down the stairs, turning back just once to shout, “You’re in good hands!” 

You sway back and forth slowly, hands crossing over the other as your gaze is glued to the ground. You don’t know what to think, what to do, what to say…

“You can come in.” 

—

You’ve been sitting in silence for the past 30 minutes while Joel is simmering something on the stove. His kitchen table is small, and placed in the corner of his modest sized kitchen. It all looks so..normal. So much like how it was before. You watch Joel as he stirs the big pot, banging the spoon handle on the side to watch the sauce drip back down into the pot. He brings the spoon back down onto the counter, turning towards you to sit. You rip your gaze away from him, pretending you haven’t been observing his every move.

“You’re nervous?” His voice is soft. He is still standing at this point, noticing you flinch as he goes to sit. You get the feeling he isn’t bad…but at this point, you don’t know what to think. You look up at him, biting your lip as you stay silent. 

“m’not gonna hurt you.” he reminds you. Joel grabs a cup from his counter, turning on the faucet and pouring you water. Water. You haven’t seen a stable source of water in…oh god it’s been long. 

Joel takes note of the glint in your eyes as he pours you a cup, taking a deep breath in relief. Seeing you nervous only makes the seed of guilt in his stomach grow. The soft look of fear you’ve had plastered on your face since he’s seen you makes him angry. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to do this. 

“Here.” He sets the water down in front of you, sitting in the seat next to you. 

Fuck this. Fuck him. They hold you hostage then offer you food and water? This shit doesn’t feel right. Your whole body turns away from him. Pushing the glass further from you as you pout. 

“Drink.” 

“No.”  

“Now.

The growl in his voice startles you. For someone who swears they aren’t going to hurt you, it feels a hell of a lot like he is. Your eyes find his, now dark with a scowl on his face. 

“I’m not gonna tell ya again, girl.” 

You scoff.

“What…you’re gonna force me?” 

“f’i have to.” 

“Then go ahead.” 

You hear him grumble to himself, words that resemble “fucking stubborn.” as he pushes out his chair, pushing it back in roughly. He slams a bowl down on the counter, causing you to gasp. You watch as he scoops a few spoonfuls of food into the bowl, turning abruptly to slam it down in front of you. Rushing off after he does. Leaving you to ponder your own thoughts. You’re looking down at the steamy bowl of what looks like a stew as you hear the front door slam open and closed. He’s left you. Has he gone to tell David about your interaction? Shit. You should have listened to him, you wanted to play this smart. Now for all you know this will be the last bowl of food you’ll have in a while. Will they bring you back down to the cell? Your thoughts frighten you into eating scoops of the food, taking huge gulps of water. Your belly burns from the nutrients you’ve been neglecting yourself for weeks. You sip the last remnants of liquid from the bowl and get up to set it down into the sink. With Joel gone, you were free to roam the house. But you just felt like a scared little mouse, too afraid to disturb anything not familiar. 

You’ve decided against your better judgment to take a look at the place. Just until someone eventually comes back to take you away. 

You look around the living room first, a small brown couch, enough to fit three bodies comfortably sits directly across from a fireplace. A mantle with nothing but dust lays atop of the fireplace, not homey at all. You inspect the room, finding nothing that tells you about the man who left you here. You decide to move on. 

There are 4 stairs that lead up into what looks like a small wing of the house, the last square footage you have left to survey. To your left, a small bathroom. A large tub, one that reminds you of yours from home. Bubble baths and candle lit nights fog your memory. You surprise yourself as you feel water run down your eyes. Tears. Shit. This is all too much. 

Just a few feet down, there’s an empty room with nothing but the sunlight of the open window shining through. Directly across, there’s another room. You break through that doorway and find a bed, a nightstand, and what looks to be a 6 drawer dresser filling the room. So empty, yet you wonder how he lives. You walk towards the drawers, opening up the top left one to find a few pairs of flannels. Of course. You open the top right and find it empty. He must travel light. 

You get bored and begin walking to the bed, sitting atop of it to feel how soft the sheets are. You haven’t sat down on a bed in forever. So comfortable. The sheets stretched over the bed softer than you remember sheets being. The pillows are fluffier than you ever felt. The blanket is so warm…so…inviting. Your body does it before your brain thinks of it. Crawls under the covers. Your head hits the soft pillow, and you feel your eyes closing and your brain settling down. Your shoulders relax into the mattress, and your breathing evens out. You’re gone before you know it. 

…You feel a thump on the bed that startles you awake, darkness engrosses the room and you thrash in bed to find your bearings. 

“Joel?” you rub your eyes and see him standing in front of the bed, you look down to see fresh clothes lying next to you. 

“Take a shower. We got somewhere to be.”

—

You are trying to catch up to Joel as he’s walking ahead of you, “Slow down!” you shouted to him, stumbling over your feet as you grabbed his arm to stay up.

“We’re already late,” 

“For what?” 

He huffs, but begins walking slower for you. Both of you now silently walk into the same restaurant you were kept at just a day ago. Your body goes rigid as you think of all the things that will happen. You fucked up. You did this to yourself, you didn’t follow the—your thoughts pause as you see the place crawling with people. Like a huge get together, chatter and laughs bounce off the walls. It’s so…alive. 

The crowd of people part, and all eyes are now on you and Joel. David at the forefront of the room. “Welcome, Welcome! We’ve been waiting for you two.” he laughs as he walks past the sea of people to you both, grabbing onto Joel’s shoulder and smiling widely,  “Hopefully you were late for a fun reason,” he winks at you two and you shudder, what the fuck was this guy assuming? You rip your hand off Joel’s arm, patting down your dress and making note of all the faces in the room. Your eyes catch the two men from your capture, hand and hand with ladies. How the hell did they land those girls? They were absolute dicks to you. But as you rip those men apart in your head, you notice everyone is coupled up. Kids in the mix as well. Maybe the community wasn’t terrible…seems family oriented at least. 

You follow Joel to the front of the room, wanting to stick by him and not venture off too far. He seemed to be a rigid asshole sometimes, but he was an asshole that didn’t hurt you yet. You stand close to him, arms bumping as you look up at him. He looks down at you, smiling with his eyes turned down, a worried look etched on his face. Maybe he was as anxious at public events as you were. 

“Please, everyone welcome our newcomer into silver lake!” David introduced you by name to the room, the whole room saying hello directly towards you in a cult like manner. 

“Uh–Hi everyone?” you stuttered, heart beating so fast the pounding began to overtake your hearing. 

David’s speech began again, mentioning new updates and new hunts their men had succeeded at. You zoned out again, only brought back to the present by Joel nudging you gently, your head batting to look towards David who had beckoned you to stand on the other side of Joel, sandwiched between the two men. You smiled and nodded, doing as you were told for this one instance. Put on the spot as you got comfortable in your new position, David called upon you, 

“She has been a wonder, ladies and gentlemen. An absolute prize. That’s why I think we should all welcome her with open arms.”

You stood by David's side, feeling the curious eyes of the community upon you. Joel, a stern figure with a rugged exterior, stood nearby. The unease in the room was palpable as David continued his introduction.

"And this, my friends, is a crucial time for us. Unity is our strength, and it's my pleasure to announce that we have a new bond to forge. In the days to come, our friend here will be joining hands with Joel."

Your heart skipped a beat, panic creeping into every fiber of your being. You exchanged a wary glance with Joel, whose expression remained stoic. David's words echoed in your ears like an impending storm.

"Joel," David continued, "our only hermetic guard, will stand as a pillar of strength for our newcomer. Together, they will contribute to the resilience of Silver Lake and ensure the prosperity of our community."

A lump in your throat formed, the weight of the announcement settling in. Arranged marriage—a relic of a bygone era—now thrust upon you in the midst of survival. Your eyes darted between David and Joel, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

"Survival often demands sacrifices," David said, his tone filled with conviction. "And in this new chapter, we come together to build a stronger, more resilient future."

The room buzzed with whispers, but you could only hear the thudding of your own heart. Joel's gaze met yours, and you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, as if he, too, had been thrust into this against his will.

As the community welcomed you both with a mix of cheers and polite applause, you felt the walls closing in. The air grew heavier, and your breaths quickened. This was worse than the cell. This was worse than your impending death. This was something you could have never seen coming. 

As David's words lingered in the air, a suffocating tension settled over the room. The weight of the announcement hung over you like a dark cloud, and you couldn't bear the collective gaze of the community any longer. Without a word, you turned on your heels and bolted from the room, breaths coming in erratic gasps.

The cold night air hit you as you stumbled into the open, the dim glow of lanterns casting long shadows over the uneven ground. Panic gripped you like a vise, and you ran blindly through the narrow pathways, seeking solace in the darkness.

"Wait!" Joel's voice echoed behind, his footsteps closing in. You refused to stop, the desperation to escape overwhelming reason. But he caught up, his hand gently gripping your shoulder. "Stop."

You whirled around, chest heaving, eyes wide with fear. "I can't do this, Joel."

He stepped closer, his gaze softening. "None of us asked for this. But we're survivors, and sometimes survival means making tough choices."

You shook your head, the panic escalating. "I won't be someone's pawn. I won't let them control my life."

Joel's expression softened, and he pulled you into a hesitant embrace. "Shh, babygirl, calm down. Running won't change anything."

The unexpected term of endearment caught you off guard, but the gentleness in his voice began to chip away at the walls of panic. You trembled against him, the tension in your body slowly dissipating.

"We can figure this out," he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "You're not alone here. We'll find a way out. Told ya I wouldn’t hurt ya."

You took a shaky breath, the warmth of his embrace offering a strange comfort in the midst of chaos. The reality of your shared predicament began to sink in, and you reluctantly nodded. "I don't want this, Joel.."

He pulled back slightly, locking eyes with you. "I know. You gotta smarten up if you want to survive. No more being stubborn."

You wipe your tears from your cheeks, sniffling as you nod at him. “Okay.” 

“If we want to get out of this together. There are some rules ya gotta follow.” Joel began, surprising you with how fast the gentleness in his tone shifted into something more stern…

“This is not a fairy tale. It's about survival. Our survival."

You nodded, a bitter taste settling in your mouth. The harsh truth of your situation echoed in Joel's words.

"First rule," he continued, his eyes piercing through the darkness. "We stick together. There's safety in numbers, and in this world, trust is a luxury we can't afford. You stay close, and you follow my lead."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the arrangement sinking in. "Fine," you mumbled, my defiance momentarily subdued.

"Second rule," Joel continued, unfazed. "We present a united front. Whether you like it or not, we're bound by this arrangement. Any sign of discord, and it puts both of us at risk. We can't afford internal conflicts."

You bristled at the demand,  frustration bubbling to the surface. "I didn't sign up for this, Joel. I won't be some indentured servant."

He narrowed his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "You're not the only one dealing with shit. I won’t touch you, I won’t make you any kind of servant. You follow my rules, and you don’t fuck with our chance at getting out. Understand me?"

Reluctantly, you nodded, conceding to the harsh reality that enveloped you.

“I said, do you understand me?” he repeats, expecting an answer from you. 

“I understand,” you whispered to him, lips curving down as you felt tears swell in your eyes.

You met his gaze, defiance flickering. "I won't play house just to appease the crowd."

He sighed, the weariness in his eyes suggesting a history of battles fought and lost. "You don't have to like it, but you have to do it. It's the only way we make it out of this mess alive."

As Joel's rules echoed in the silence that followed, you couldn't shake the feeling that your autonomy had been sacrificed on the altar of survival.

taglist - @joeldjarin @love-affair-with-fandoms @punkshort @movievillainess721 @fragilefable

[musamora]

— 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 + 𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖚𝖞𝖆 ₊˚⊹

pairing: chuuya nakahara (bungou stray dogs) x gender-neutral!reader

content warning(s): usage of strong language, discussions of money, nicknames (doll, love, honey), capitalism

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

One would believe that Chuuya Nakahara, the fearsome gravity-manipulator of the Port Mafia and one of the richest men in Yokohoma, wouldn't care about scrutinizing over labels or sales. It wouldn't matter to him — practically nothing could make a dent in his bank account, and anything that could would be replaced with more money a week later. He had more than most would see in a lifetime.

But you reconsidered this notion as you stood at the entrance of a large shopping center. observing your fiery red-headed boyfriend badger the regional manager over the abnormally increased price of a glassware set.

"You know damn well these only go for a third of the price in the next town over. So what's the fucking deal, eh?"

Anyone watching the scene would have assumed that it was another stuck-up snob harassing a poor sales associate, but you knew better. Chuuya was heavily involved in almost every trade in Yokohama, whether those at the surface knew or not. And while he had no problem draining every last cent out of bastards who spent all their time terrorizing innocent people for money, he would never target an innocent employee like that. It was always the higher-ups skimming off the top of their sales, and it always managed to piss him off. After all, they pay less in production for the products, cut their employees' salaries as low as they can, and take the rest for themselves.

It happened almost each time you went out for a seasonal shopping try. That was a trait of his, calling out bullshit whenever he deems it necessary. And there was no way in hell he would allow people to get in the way of spoiling those he loves — at the reasonable value for the items he's purchasing.

"Come on, doll. We're leavin'."

You promptly left the store in toe, the ginger standing out front in a huff. It wouldn't surprise you if the store appeared on the news in a couple of days, or even hours. You merely cracked a smile, the corners of your lips quivering as they tried to hold back laughter, only for it to spill forth as you attempted to contain it behind a gloved hand.

His brows furrowed, inching closer to catch a look at you as you tried to shield your face. "What'd ya' think is so funny, huh?"

You couldn't restrain yourself any longer, practically making a fool of yourself as you laughed in his face. He looked like a pouting kitten as you both stood in the frigid winter air, his pale cheeks reddened with the wind along with a flush of sheer embarassment. Your laughter ended, or at least attempted to in a handful of unbecoming snorts, swallowing your giggles while catching your breath as his twisting expression on preserved your humor.

"S-Sorry, love. You're just-" you huffed between stammers, grin reaching your eyes as he continued to glare. "Your enthusiasm is unmatched."

He pouted, his persistant scowl looking even cuter with each passing second as he hid his face. "It pisses me off, okay."

You finally calmed your breathing, shuffling around in a vain attempt to catch his gaze through the corner of his eyes, but nothing. So, you pressed a kiss against his cheek, making the peony color bloom into a full rose as he shrunk further into his scarf.

"I looove you, Chuuya," you teased with a smirk. He mumbled something underneath his breath, incoherent with only the wind as his witness. You raised a brow, leaning forward as you tilted your head to look him in the eye.

"What was that, honey? I couldn't hear—"

You melted as he melded his lips into your own, as brief as the life of a snowflake as he pulled away, not looking you in the eyes. Instead, he intertwined his hand with yours, squeezing tight as he obstructed your view of his face.

"I said I love you, too, idiot."

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @aquigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @kotysluny

© MUSAMORA 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[yangsharperavery]

i do find the contrast between body language/nonverbal communication and verbal communication with these two so fascinating.

especially as carmy and sydney navigate each other in a space where there's clearly something that exists between them that one, or both of them, aren't conscious of yet.

as they struggle so significantly with verbal communication, we see the way they use nonverbal communication via their bodies and mannerisms and facial expressions to convey how they feel and what they want.

what sticks out to me is the way that carmy shakes and nods his head when he and sydney are having a serious, intimate or important conversation.

as if he knows himself well enough to know that his verbal agreement or response would fall short so he simply moves his head in affirmation. letting his energy convey the rest.

this is also part of why he uses his gaze and eye contact the way that he does. he's speaking to her without words.

they often stand so close to one another. like... all the time.

in many of their scenes, one could say this is a stylistic or director's choice for the shot but that makes zero sense because the shots with everyone else don't have that level of physical closeness except for some of the obvious kitchen (behind!) scenes. carmy and sydney's closeness is almost tactile even though they only touch a handful of times.

which is why the wall tear down scene is so amusing because they literally had no reason to be in each others face like that.

carmy got in her space, looked at the demo/the guys before he turned back to sydney, but she only moved away from him after they made eye contact and she said "yeah, exactly".

as if it was super normal for him to be that close to her, whether he was looking at her or not.

the under the table moment is incredibly intimate for a number of reasons. they're already incredibly close because there's not a lot of space under there, but not only do they situate and move their bodies within the confines of that space notating physical proximity, carmy reaches out and fiddles with her side of the table, which posits her energetically directly underneath him. not just beside him.

conceptually, that is almost the closest he could be to her without actively touching her.

nevermind that moments later his fidgeting hand starts to quicken when she looks up at him and they have that moment of prolonged eye contact.

again, a form of nonverbal communication practically shouting. she can't see his hand, but we do.

the wordlessness of that particular moment, especially after they had managed to say some of the most vulnerable, affirming and comforting phrases they'd ever uttered to one another up to that point (their best verbal communication yet), is pretty extraordinary.

when they're talking about the veal fat in s1, and she's reaching over her head and says the right answer and he turns to look at her, they're SO physically close.

when they're cooking at his apt and he's cutting tape, he's so physically close to her, his shoulder is practically leaning into hers when she teases him about the chef's whites.

even in the meeting with cicero, if you look at the three of them sitting behind the table, sydney is closer to carmy than nat and carmy has his arm out, mere centimeters from sydney's elbow.

before they start their back and forth about stars, when sydney says "we're going to be better", their arms are practically touching.

even when she's walking out after saying goodnight and carmy gitches, she walks so close to him to leave. his body fully turns to accommodate and follow her energy, she almost literally physically brushes past him.

claire kind of moves out of the way but sydney walks into carmy's space and he moves his focus/attention with her as she exits.

if you watch it happen, he acquiesces to her energy and presence like a human revolving door. again, nonverbal communication.

the doorframe isn't that narrow. she could have easily said whatever polite thing to claire and not gotten THAT close to carmy to say "i'm saying goodnight."

there are a bunch of examples of their physical closeness that doesn't make sense outside of gravitational pull, a desire to be that close to one another and nonverbal communication.

sydney's body language after the under the table moment and before receiving her gift is also a huge tell, even though it's not directed at, or meant to be communicative towards, him. she's clearly impacted by what occurred.

of the two, i think sydney is the closest to realizing that what exists between them is far beyond professional likeness, purpose or partnership.

the way she's obviously trying not to get mad at him when she says "well tell claire thanks then", you physically can see her stuffing something down.

even carmy can see it, he says something about it. sydney actually does this alot with carmy specifically, ayo is so damn skilled at it.

we've seen her get mean or be reactionary with richie, tina and marcus.

but never carmy. even when she walked out on him s1, in the midst of a highly emotionally volatile scene, she didn't raise her voice.

that's why she doesn't argue with or lash out at carmy, even though it's often warranted, she doesn't want to hurt him. doesn't want to make him feel bad. doesn't want to be angry or annoyed with him.

but why? she has no problem being upfront and direct and again, even argumentative if she needs to be. but never with carmy.

to me, it seems like she doesn't want to display too much emotion with or in front of him.

but why? does the range and depth of those emotions scare her? are they messy? are they warranted? are they illuminating?

sydney is very protective of carmy (and of herself emotionally). see how she reacts when richie talks shit or when her father questions her trust in him. or even when nat makes that snide remark after he gets locked in the walk in.

she cares a lot about carmy's emotional and mental fragility and feelings.

when she came back to "get her check" they don't hash it out or fight. he just stares at her, with this unbridled relief that he can't articulate but we all see it! it's so obvious he can't even start speaking right away.

and then he launches into talking about the dining space for a new restaurant and she forgot why she was mad.

it's like when the person you have a crush on does something cute or sweet and the dumb or mean thing they did right before it completely leaves your mind.

none of this is written in the dialogue of this show. it's all nonverbal communication, toward each other or to us, the audience.

[wonderland-smile-stories]

~ Chapter 1 ~

I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes and how poorly written this fanfic is. English is not my first language and together with my dyslexia ass things can go wrong I'm sorry.

Everything was so cold and dark around me. 

I don't even know where I was. 

Nothing seemed to be in front of me when I reached my hand out, yet everything seemed to be pitch black around me. Like a black cloak was thrown over me. 

What happened? 

How did I even get here? 

What was the last thing I remembered? 

I was home.... I think. 

There was a text of from Ji-su. She asked me to come to her apartment for a song she made. 

No, there was other stuff that had happened, right? 

Suddenly a bright light appeared behind me making me turn around. I had to hold my hand in front of my face because of how bright it was. 

There were voices coming from it, but they were muffled. Being completely confused I was debating whether to go to it or to just wait when it came flashing towards me.

"Eun-hyuk." He looked up from the monitors. 

"You're infected aren't you?" For a few seconds, he just stared at me, before answering. 

"How do you...?" I shrug my shoulders 

"I don't know. I can feel it I guess." 

He looks back to the monitors before saying. 

"Don't tell anyone."

"They have to know. You can't hide this forever." I explained turning his chair so that he could face me again. 

"I'm not. It's just that." He looks down at his hands not finishing his sentence. 

"You don't think you'll resist the monster." 

He looked back at me when those words left my lips. Giving him a small smile I took his hand in mine.

"Eun-hyuk out of all the people here you're the one who can do it." 

"I don't know. I don't want to hurt anyone if I would turn." 

I shook my head. 

"You won't. Trust me. You can do this." He was quiet for a moment thinking about what I said. 

"If you don't want to tell the other I understand, but you have to tell Eun-yu." 

Before something else happened a flash of light appeared ripping me away. When the light was gone another scene began to play in front of me. 

"You're the reason she's dead!" Hyun-su yelled at Sang-wook while trying to punch him. It looked like they were in a car, which confused me completely. 

"Are you sure about that? I'm not the one who killed her." Sank-wook laughs mocking him. 

"I should have listened to her!" Hyun-su yelled. 

"You would have ended up just in the ground like her." 

Again the scene changed right in front of my eyes. 

"You're special. There isn't a second monster like you." A man in a white doctor coat said against Hyun-su 

"There was, but she is dead." Hyun-su answers with no emotions in his voice. 

"She? There was another like you?" The doctor asked excitedly 

"Was, yes." 

"How remarkable. You seem to care deeply for her. Did she care deeply about you too?" The doctor asked him. 

"I don't know. I like to think she did, but I'm not sure." Hyun-su said looking down 

"A special monster like you being killed is surprising. If you don't mind me asking how did she die?" 

Hyun-su was silent for a moment before answering. 

"I killed her." The doctor looked surprised 

"Ah, I see. And you're sure she's dead." 

Hyun-su looked back up at him. 

"Yes, I saw her body myself. Cold, stiff, and not breathing." So much pain was heard in his voice when he spoke. 

Hyun-su and the doctor disappeared before something else came into my view replacing them. 

"Mi-na you need to get out of there! They are going to marry you off to some creep!" Ace said pacing back and forth in front of me. 

"Do you think I want to stay there?! Hell, if I could I would have run years ago!" I answered looking up at him. 

"What is stopping you?" 

I shrug. 

"I just can't leave." 

He stopped moving to look down at me. 

"It's those kids, right? You won't leave because they will be hurt by her." I look back up at him before saying. 

"Who will protect them if I'm gone?" 

"So you're just going to live your life in hell to help those kids?" 

I shrug again. 

"Do I have another choice? If I don't look after them nobody will." 

Ace let out a sigh before kneeling down in front of me. 

"You're too good for this world Mi-na." 

I look back up at him shaking my head.

"Flattering me won't make me change my mind, Ace." He laughs shaking his head, before taking a seat next to me. 

"I know, but for once think about yourself." 

I shook my head. 

"I wish I could, but I'm just one person and there are so many of those kids who deserve to be treated normally." Ace looked at me before saying. 

"What if I find a way to help them and you have a way out?" 

For a few seconds, I looked at him confused before answering. 

"I didn't know you could do magic, but yes tell me." 

The scene changed but it was still Ace and me. Just a different time. 

"Korea? I can't speak the language. How would I survive there?" I asked confused. 

"You love the culture and history! You know so much about Asia in general!" Ace explained. 

"I love learning about cultures and history in general, but that doesn't mean I can just live there without knowing the language!" I argued back. 

"You're smart you can learn it quickly." 

"It's a whole freaking other alphabet that I need to learn in a few months!" I added, but he just shook his head. 

"You'll be alright." Ace stopped for a moment seeing I was not on board with this. 

"Look it's far away. They won't look for you there for sure. My guy can give you a new passport and other documents to get you there. Once you're there my family who lives there will help you on your feet." He explained happily hoping I would say yes. 

"I don't know. What if I get caught? I will be sent to jail here or there." 

"It depends on where you would be caught. Besides, going to jail is a step up from where you live now." 

I hit his arm saying. "Ace, this isn't funny." 

He gave me a small smile before answering. 

"I know, but I want to send you to a place where I know you will be safe and good. My family lives there so I know you will be fine. Who knows maybe I can come visit in the future!" 

Again I was pulled back into the dark confused about what just had happened. Some were memories, but others were things I had never seen before. I don't even know where I am right now or what happened. 

Why was I even seeing those things? 

"Memories." 

Turning around I came face to face with myself. 

"What?" She had pitch-black eyes, but I could tell that she rolled them when I spoke. 

"The things you saw. They were memories." 

I shook my head.

"How and why? What happened? Is this a dream as well." 

The other me let out a sigh before walking closer. 

"They weren't all your memories, but they were memories. You'll get it in the future, but now it's time for you to wake up." Before I could answer she gave me a shove making me trip over my own feet.

I thought I would hit the ground, but I just kept on falling. The other me was looking down with a big grin, getting smaller and smaller while I fell further down.

Next Chapter

———————————————————

Hey, guys! It’s finally here! I’m so sorry that it took so long, but my email got hacked almost two months ago! So I couldn’t go on any of my accounts that had that email, but luckily I have smart friends and they hacked my email back! Also, today seems like a good day to post! I know that today is a shit day for a lot of people, so I hope I can cheer you up with this! I know it’s not much, but I hope it helps a little!

[etherfall]

What does N call Alder? I think a cute fanfic idea would be the first time he calls Alder his dad, whether it's to his face or like, "my dad told me..."

I've got a little story just for this moment, hope you enjoy!

“Alder!”

Alder, who was sitting at the front entrance to their home, turned his head at the sound to see N excitedly bounding across the grass with his poncho trailing behind him. 

It had been a few months since he first found N in the woods. To Alder’s delight he was adjusting very well, and was now incredibly comfortable being in his home. For the first few weeks N didn’t speak. Alder was initially worried that his critical period for language learning had passed, but N was very smart and quickly picked up English.

N’s old shirt and pants had been replaced with a cream-colored poncho embroidered with gold lace that Alder had spent all night painstakingly sewing. Although he had lost many nights of sleep, it was worth it to see N’s smile of happiness as he slipped the new poncho across his shoulders. It felt good to be taking care of somebody again.

N stumbled to a stop, panting as he caught his breath. Alder let out a chuckle, amused.

“Slow down there N, what happened?”

N tugged on his hand excitedly. “Alder you have to see this!”

Alder stood up from the front steps of the house and let N lead him into the forest. “Where are we going? You still haven’t told me what’s happening.”

“Shhhh!” N said, hushing him. Alder smiled and closed his lips, letting the boy lead him deeper into the woods.

When they had gotten a good distance from the house N suddenly crouched down, pulling Alder into the bushes with him. He pointed into the brambles, wide-eyed and awed. 

“Look!”

Alder squinted, trying to see what N was pointing at. His eyesight had definitely waned over the years, but he eventually made out the figure of a Sawsbuck who was followed by a group of Deerling. 

It was truly a sight to behold. The great Sawsbuck held itself majestically, blinking slowly as it turned its head. The dapple of soft forest light scattered across its brown fur in a beautiful display of pattern. It would have blended in perfectly with the surrounding trees if not for the crowd of bright pink spring Deerling that were bouncing back and forth at its feet. Alder let out a breath of deep admiration. It was always a breathtaking scene to see such a beautiful creature in the wild.

The Sawsbuck dipped its head to calm the excited group of Deerling, nuzzling one softly with its nose. The Deerling wiggled its tail, letting out a happy bleat of excitement. The Sawsbuck lifted itself up regally and began to trot away into the woods, with the Deerling following behind. Soon they disappeared into the thick tangle of the forest.

Alder was beaming. The Sawsbuck was a great surprise to see. When they were both sure the pokemon were gone, Alder stood up and brushed the dirt off of his pants.

“That was a really beautiful thing you found, N. Did you see all those Deerling? That Sawsbuck is one busy dad.” He said with a chuckle.

N stood up as well, his expression of awe shifting to one of confusion.

“Wait, what’s a dad?” He asked, puzzled.

Alder silently face-palmed himself. He had completely forgotten that N had a very different upbringing than other people. He racked his brain for a quick explanation.

“Err…well I suppose you could say that a dad is a parent who raises you and cares for you.”

Alder gestured towards the forest where the Sawsbuck had disappeared. 

“That Sawsbuck we just saw is the dad to all those young Deerling. He cares for them and makes sure that they are all safe.”

Alder could see the gears in N’s head turning. He tried to clarify it a little more.

“Pretty much everyone has a dad, and their job is to look out for you as you grow up. Whether that be, let's say, making you food or teaching you how the world works. A dad doesn’t have to be related to you by blood, but he should be there to support you.”

N brightened in understanding, then turned his head to look at Alder. 

“Wait, that means that I should call you dad!”

Alder paused, stunned by the sudden response. “I…what?”

“Well you made me dinner every day, you gave me a home when it was raining, and you made me new clothes!” He said, excitedly lifting up an arm to show off the poncho. “You taught me about things I didn’t know and took care of me.”

N nodded to himself, beaming, oblivious to the fact that he was making Alder melt with happiness. He turned his head back towards the forest, looking out at where the pokemon had disappeared. A small smile hung on his lips.

“If you say that everyone has a dad, then you must be mine.” He murmured, tilting his head to look at Alder. “Right?”

Alder felt his heart twist. A complicated feeling of delight and sadness tore cruelly at his heartstrings.

“Oh N… A dad can be anyone, as long as you believe they care for you enough.”

N wrapped his arms around Alder’s waist, repeating the word a few more times, before burying his head into the folds of Alder’s poncho with a soft smile on his face.

“I like that. I think that I will call you dad.”

Alder felt as if he might start bawling. He tucked one hand around N’s shoulders, pulling him close. He pressed his other hand against his heart, turning his head to look down at N, trying to capture the moment forever in his mind.

“You can call me whatever you want N, but I feel very honored that you would choose to call me your dad.”

They stood together in the embrace, basking in the warm evening light. Alder turned his head away, feeling his heart flip with so many complicated emotions that had been dormant for years. He didn’t know if N knew the weight of the words that he had just said, but all he hoped for in the moment was that N was feeling comforted and loved. After a while Alder gently let go of N, giving him a bright smile.

“It’s starting to get late. Let’s head home now, son.”

N looked confused again. “Son? What’s a son?”

Alder laughed, ruffling N’s hair before gently taking his hand and leading him out of the bushes towards their house. The fading tendrils of the afternoon sun danced across their ponchos as they made their way through the woods together.

“That’s a name that I would call you N, the person whom the dad loves and cares for the most.”

[juppl]

TWST Silver x reader Hcs

Okay okay it’s been stuck in my head and I really need to just write it out or else my head will fucking implode because I love this beautiful boy wayyyyy too much. Like I imagine a cute little romance where the reader is absolutely heart-struck for Silver.

He could be training outside whether it be by himself or with someone like Sebek, and you would just be there cooing and squealing on the sides.

“I should start charging you with how much you just come here to ogle.” Lilia teased as he looked back and forth between you and his son. You could only respond with quiet yet long set of giggles as you tried to fan the heat away from your face. Your heart quickening it’s pace just at the sight of Silver glancing your way only to return back to his spar.

The times you would quite literally chase after him in the hallways just to give him gifts or to just profess your love again.

“Wait!! Please Silver just one chance I’m begging you!” You shouted with an exhausted tone, the difference between yours and Silver’s stamina was quite apparent as you grew tired after running past only three classrooms. Pure stubbornness and love were the only things keeping your feet moving to try and catch up. This became a common occurrence in the hallways, making it a bit of a jest to some students witnessing the scene. “When do you think she’ll get tired of running?” Deuce asked, “five minutes ago.” Ace sighed.

You’d mope around whenever you lost sight of him or get politely rejected once again.

Grim would wack you repeatedly to get you to focus and not get your tears stained on you work again. “Henchman stop crying while you write, the papers are getting all wet because of you!” “He’ll never love me at this rate…” you sobbed as you began to finish up your class work.

Diasomnia would poke fun at Silver whenever another confession letter (more so a desperate plea) would wind up in his hands again.

“Please please please please please, I’m a wonderful person to be in a relationship with dare I say the best!-”with you listing off the multiple reasons as to why you were, the best. The letters he would sometimes share with his father or even Malleus, sighing as he was always met with their hearty laughs. He continued to read all your letters that came in even if he knew what would most likely be written in them, and dare I say growing to like them. A warm grin appearing on Lilia’s lips as he watched a small flustered smile form on Silver’s, hidden behind an unopened envelope he held.

Your excitement whenever you do get the chance to be near or work with him.

You tried your best to control yourself from physically vibrating with excitement as you got to sit next to Silver at lunch (after pushing Sebek out the way). Though, you did forget to eat your lunch from how much you were gazing at him, earning a few gags from Sebek. “Would there happen to be something on my face?” Silver asked genuinely as her grazed his fingers along his cheek and lips to try and find some sort of food. You could only laugh softly before responding warmly, “You’re just so pretty it’s hard to not just stare.” Your gaze softened as you watched a pink hue grow on his cheeks. This time Grim gagged.

You being bamboozled when Silver is the one to make the first move instead, leaving passerby even more shell shocked.

“You’re… You’re free after this class right? Would you want to go out somewhere then—if it isn’t much to ask of course…” Silver mumbled the last part, his familiar pink tint gracing his cheeks again. In comparison to your face though, you were left completely pale. You weren’t happen to be dreaming again were you??? After a minute to process his offer you shoot to grabbing his hands as you jumped to him with excitement. “Of course!” Stars practically replacing your eyes as steam rose from your overheated red cheeks.

[ofthehands]

I think another, often overlooked aspect of Drayton’s parenting that would have been detrimental to his brothers and formative for them is his inconsistency. It’s probably less discussed because it’s more subtle and inconsistent parenting isn’t necessarily abusive, but I think it is worth considering/ exploring with these characters. 

Heads up for discussion of abuse/ unhealthy family dynamics. 

Drayton is shown to be a very inconsistent man, primarily in the first film but in the second as well. He’s sadistic in the scene where he has Sally in the truck with him, stabbing her with the broom handle for fun, and in the dinner scene at points, where he seems to be enjoying his brother’s antics- then he abruptly turns and snaps at them, telling them not to “torture the poor girl”. He’s fine with the family living in filth- he doesn’t complain about things like the room with the chicken in it being covered in feathers or the rotting flesh and taxidermy around them or the corpses they keep in the house- until he turns and snaps at Bubba for not having pride in his home and beats him for breaking the door. He talks on and on about how family comes first, and insists his brothers live by this- with their near worship of Grandpa and lack of outside connections and his anger at Bubba for his perceived relationship with Stretch, but at the same time he isn’t supportive of his brothers and only very rarely indulges them in their interests or listens to them. And while it’s a goofy scene, because of the nature of TCM2, Drayton does ultimately commit murder-suicide, taking out nearly his entire family with him- without any visible concern as to whether or not Chop Top will be present when it happens, leaving him behind. 

All of this makes sense with what we know about Drayton’s character- he’s inconsistent because he’s in conflict with himself. Drayton goes back and forth about being sadistic towards Sally because he likes it, but feels ashamed about that. In Chainsaw Confidential, Gunnar Hansen said that Hooper wanted to get across that, “[Drayton] seems to enjoy torturing her and, at the same time, to be afraid that the torture will produce some terrible reaction with which he will be unable to cope” in the dinner scene, and Hansen describes him as afraid of his own sadistic desires. He also probably cares and doesn’t care about the house because of his own waxing and waning lucidity. He’s also shown to be the most lucid of the Sawyers- running multiple businesses and interacting mostly normally with strangers, but at the same time his priorities and perceptions of the world are shown to be skewed in odd ways. He runs back in to turn the lights off with a hostage in his truck, he misunderstands Bubba’s infatuation with Stretch as her coming on to his little brother, and he thinks Lefty was sent by another catering business and could be payed off despite witnessing evidence of dozens of murders and witnessing their attempted murder of Stretch right at that moment. 

But, no matter what’s going on in his head, his inconsistency is going to create a very confusing and disorienting environment for his little brothers to grow up in. Consistency is very important in parenting- especially in children’s formative years. The younger Sawyers would have, in this time, dealt with both whatever changes took their parents out of the picture, and Drayton’s erratic behavior. Children with inconsistent parents are often more easily agitated, more anxious, and struggle more with regulating their emotions and behaviors than their peers. They have also been shown to have difficulty with self-doubt, self-esteem issues, and inconsistency in extreme cases can even impact a young person’s development of their identity.  Which, when coupled with the physical and verbal abuse they clearly endured, really didn’t give the younger Sawyers much of a chance. Much of this is very evident in the twins- they’re both easily agitated and seem to struggle with emotional and behavioral regulation. Bubba shows it too, but in different ways. He’s often anxious and seems to doubt himself when he’s left alone- as shown in the scene after he kills Jerry when he’s panicking and unsure of what to do. Bubba also, very famously, has identity issues that are explained in depth in Chainsaw Confidential and brought up in interviews. 

Of course there are aspects of these characters that explain these traits and behaviors- the brothers’ different disabilities coming to mind quickly- but I think even in situations where the primary reasoning for the behavior is something else, the impacts of Drayton’s inconsistent parenting style could come into play by exacerbating their existing issues. It also undoubtedly causes and worsens tension between Drayton and his brothers. With how inconsistent Drayton is, his brothers likely don’t know what behaviors will get them punished and what won’t- because it varies. Of course, there are some sure-fire ways to get punished, like disobeying something Drayton tells them directly- for instance Nubbins leaving behind Bubba and going to the graveyard. But other things, like Bubba cutting through the door in pursuit of Sally are more variable. Clearly Drayton wanted Bubba to catch all the kids no matter what- Bubba only manages to escape a beating after convincing Drayton he did. But, then in spite of the importance of letting no one get away, and Drayton’s general lack of care for their home- Drayton gets angry with Bubba for not taking pride in his home and starts berating him for that instead. This seems to be frustrating for Nubbins, who snaps at Drayton when he tries to stop them from tormenting Sally- saying he never lets them have any fun- and it seems to be frightening for Bubba- who cowers and tries to explain himself almost the moment Drayton walks through the door.Ultimately, Drayton’s inconsistent parenting style compounds on the problems the Sawyers have, entrenching them further and further in unhealthy behaviors and worsening the effects of his abuse. 

It’s sad, really, and more likely than not a manifestation of the cycle of abuse continuing its way down the Sawyer line. I don’t think its much of a reach to conclude that Drayton parents the way he does because that’s what he knows/ what he experienced to some degree. I’m not sure where to end this exactly. I wanna do some properly sourced and in depth analysis of them in the future, but tonight is not that night. I just had this idea in my head and needed to write it all down before it escaped me. I just think it’s sorrowful and fascinating the way that they never even had a chance.  

Source below is a study/ analysis of the effects of consistency in parenting I found useful when writing this. There’s a lot more literature on this, but this one condenses it pretty well.