#based on the fact that kindle is there

[anabsoluteagathokakological]

"...and these...*fond sigh* these are my babies...." I say as I point towards my Kindle, my laptop, my smart watch, my earphones, my power bank, my-

[444ajax]

beg for it

– miguel o'hara x male reader.

cw; dom!miguel, sub male!reader, miguel is mean in this, a little non-con but you (the reader) is into it, rough sex, impact play, praise, degradation, breeding kink, a little surprise at the end, miguel speaks spanish in this (i google translated it so if it's not good, sorry). also, this is 4k words and no, i won't do the "MDNI" because y'all ignore it anyway.

It seemed like you were just rubbing it in his face that he couldn't catch you, no matter how hard he tried. Sure, there were times where he almost caught you, but you slipped out of his grasp before he could finally put a stop to this.

Until one day, Miguel did catch you.

And he wasn't nice about it.

+++

You were swinging through rooftops, easily dodging Miguel, laughing underneath your mask. The chase was so fun and enthralling that adrenaline began to pump through your veins, kindling a fire to brew and burst through the crevices of your chest and —

And then your foot slips, causing you to lose balance as you stumbled off the rooftop and landed on the dumpster, back erupting in agony as you gasped.

Fuck, you couldn't help but think as you rolled off the dumpster and landed on your side, air rushing out of your chest as you once again gasped. You laid there for a few seconds, breathing — no — gulping in air desperately. Then, you hear feet smack on the ground by the end of the alleyway and you freeze.

You almost forgot about Miguel because of the white-hot flashes of agony coursing through your body, nails digging into the filthy ground as you forced your gaze up and there he was, standing menacingly.

You could make out his broad chest, his wide shoulders, his tiny waist, and how his fists were curled up.

In other circumstances, you would find him drop-dead gorgeous, stunning, beautiful. Miguel isn't gross, or ugly, or any negative symptom.

But at this moment, you aren’t thinking about his beauty or his fat voluptuous ass, or his deep voice, or—

Goddamn, stop being down bad! And so you focus on the fact that you're absolutely screwed as you turned around and tried to crawl — your muscles burning and aching as you did so, panting.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Your words are cut off as you heard Miguel’s callous, harsh laughter.

You could hear him approaching — footsteps slow, but loud enough to ring in the otherwise empty alleyway.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Miguel rasped, chuckling to himself; it's muffled because of his mask and you tried to crawl more, but your muscles were screaming. “And here, I thought I could never catch you, after all this time.”

You grunted, hearing Miguel’s footsteps stop before the heel of his foot digs into the lower end of your back, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

“And now?” He presses harder on your back, making you groan, “I have you here. Alone. Maybe injured.”

You can't help but shake your head, attempting to crane it upward so your gaze can meet his own; a throbbing sensation in your head forces it back down, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I–I’m not alone—”

Miguel laughs again, digging his heel harder. “Stop the lies,” he hissed. Then, he removes his foot and you decide that it's either definitely getting locked up or trying to salvage what you can of yourself.

You begin to lift yourself up on your elbows, arms trembling as you try to use one of your web shooters to yank a broken chair down the alleyway, but Miguel is faster.

He immediately drops to sit on your fucking backside, pressing down, down, down, until you're forced on the ground again; his hand had encircled around your wrist and he slams it down, uncaring and unkind as you grimced in pain.

“Fuck!” You cried out in pain, trying to wriggle from beneath the man, but he quickly used his other hand to grip the base of your neck and slam it down onto the cement; pain explodes in your skull, affliction rushing through your blood and you weep.

“Stop fucking moving,” Miguel growled in your ear, and you do, chest wheezing with bated breaths. Everything fucking hurts and you let yourself become limp for a moment; the presence of Miguel doesn't leave. In fact, he leans away for a moment before he’s leaning over you again, minty breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

A shudder ripples through your frame and you have to hold yourself back from whimpering, feeling Miguel's hand tangle in your dark tresses as he grips them, yanking your head back.

“You’re trapped, you little shit, I have all of my crew on speed dial.” Miguel says, warning in his voice.

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing. Warmth pools in your stomach and you're trying, desperately, to fight against it.

Not now, you think to yourself as you could feel Miguel’s talons scraping and digging into your scalp, causing beads of crimson to drip down the slope of your temple.

And sure, like any other person, they would have cried in pain because it hurts, but you? No. You liked it.

“Fuck, I—” Your voice is breathy, quiet. You can feel yourself slowly getting hard in the suit; it constricts around your cock and you squirm, holding in the moan at the contact. “It wasn't — I was just…messing with you.”

Miguel is quiet for a moment, his breath harsh before he snarls out, “Just messing with me? You kept ruining the multiverse, and we had to clean up your damn mess! Eres estúpido,” He finished in Spanish and wow.

You swallow again, trying to clear the lumpiness and tightness in it as you whispered, “I…It wasn't like that …I just—”

Miguel slams your head back on the concert and hisses, “Save it! I don't want to hear your fucking excuses, maldito mocoso.”

His tone is harsh, yet there's a hint of huskiness and rasp in it that makes your back bow, just a little. Of course, nothing goes unnoticed with Miguel, and he grabs your neck; his talons barely missing the fabric of your suit.

“You think I haven't noticed?”

You freeze, nails digging into the dirty ground, trying to control the storm brewing. “Noticed…what?” Your reply is quiet, but Miguel is in your space, in your face, his breath fanning over your ear and over the side of your face; your mask had slipped a little to expose these features, and you were terrified that he would know who you were.

“The fact that you're enjoying this,” he breathily says, warm lips brushing along your ear. “You like this, huh? Does it turn you on when men like me chase you?”

You don't know what to say. He isn't wrong, the evidence in your suit that is too damn tight, a bead of precum dribbling from the tip of your shaft.

And — when Miguel pressed his hips against the curve of your ass — you could feel him and fuck, he’s big.

“S’fine, I—” Miguel huffs, before pushing some of your mask up a little more, making you try to claw at his arm and he quickly pins that.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Miguel growled, before he forcefully twisted your head to the side as he hungrily pressed his lips against yours; it's rough, unkind, as he devours your trembling whines. He swallows them as Miguel wrapped an arm around your neck, fingers caressing over your jaw, squeezing it until you mewl.

He pulls back, inhaling sharply as spit connects your lips before he leaned in again, kissing you once more.

This time, he's a little more gentle, swiping at your bottom lip and you open your mouth, letting him inside.

Your tongues brush against each other and you moan, swirling yours along his and he groans, scraping his talons along your cheek.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away as he pressed more kisses along the curve of your cheek, then your jaw, until he huffs and pulls back. “Fuckin’ look at you, cariño, you're a mess.“ He thumbs at your swollen lips and you can't help but whimper.

Your eyes are blown wide and your face is flushed, body warm and hot and needy as your hips bucked against the ground; Miguel easily noticed and pushed your head back down, making sure to sit back on your legs for a moment as you writhed.

“What are you…what are you going to do?” You asked, voice quiet; hints of nervousness slips into your tone and you wonder, briefly, if Miguel can notice.

When he replies, he either hasn't noticed, or doesn't care enough to comment. Both seem suitable. “Use your brain, what do you think I’m going to do?”

You hear his talons rip down your suit and you gasp, trying to crawl away; you knew what was to come and you wanted no part of it.

“No, no, stop—” You cried but Miguel held you down, pinning both of your wrists and squeezing them so hard until you sob, face buried into the ground.

Yet, your cock twitches, more precum leaking and your suit is stained; Miguel is an asshole, a menace, but he makes your body so hot that it feels like it could boil over.

You want this.

It seems like Miguel has read your mind because he leans down and whispers, “Don't fucking pretend you hate this. Remember, you got hard first.”

He's not wrong.

“Miguel, I—” You gulp, accidentally brushing your ass against his clothed cock and moaning.

He leans back his hips and tsks. “If you want it, you gotta beg for it, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy. Pretty boy. Pretty—

Miguel just said you're pretty and your brain is melting, so you're nodding, words almost slurring as you whispered;

“Please.”

He doesn't shift for a moment before a shallow “fuck” escapes his lips and you can hear movement, a zipper sound, then something is rubbing along your ass and you know it's his cock.

“Can't wait until I’m filling up this ass of yours, what do you think, hm? I know you can take me. Boys like you will do anything to be fucked. Isn't that right, querido?”

You nod, moaning as he ripped more of your suit until your ass was exposed; Miguel easily maneuvers you until you were onto your hands and knees, a groan escaping your mouth as your cock hung between your thighs.

God, you were so hard, that it physically pained you.

Miguel's large hands roamed over the dip and curves of your supple ass, before squeezing it and giving a nice, rough smack; the flesh jiggles you and you groan, arching your back deeper.

“Mhm, good boy, just like that — keep that back arched,” Miguel muttered as he spread your cheeks and leaned forward, blowing warm air over your hole.

A whine escaped your lips as you wiggled your hips, desperate. “Please, Miguel, need it—”

“Is that so, slut? You think you deserve this? My tongue, lapping over your hole, hand wrapped around that pathetic cock of yours that just keeps fucking leaking,” Miguel growled out the last part as his large hand engulfs the base of your dick and squeezes tightly, forcing a muffled cry from your lips.

You were trembling, toes curling as you nodded, breaths ragged. “Please, please, need it—ngh—so badly,” you begged, nails clawing at the ground as Miguel stroked from base to tip, tightening his palm around the head as he stroked over the glans; sensitivity flowing through your veins as tears sprung to your tears.

Miguel curses, “Suenas hermoso — necesito hacerte sentir bien,” and then Miguel dives forward to push his warm tongue along the curve of your hole before flicking it, making you moan as you sink your head down onto the ground. Pleasure wracks up and down your spine, thighs trembling.

You peek one eye open as you watch Miguel wrap his hand around his cock and squeeze the base, grunting into your hole; he pulls back and spits on it before slurping, relaxing you enough so he can ease his tongue inside, making a surprised groan leave your mouth.

“Oh, god, please–” You whined, back arching deeper, trying to get a hand around your dick to release some pressure but Miguel is quicker, slapping it away.

He pulls back, making sure to collect the precum that has been leaking on his palm to smear it over your asshole, before easing one finger in; it's easy and you relax, grunting. His fingers are thick as he pushes past the tight ring of muscle, groaning himself.

“Just like that, babyboy,” Miguel’s voice is encouraging and you shudder, letting yourself relax more as he pushes all the way knuckle deep. A gasp leaves your lips and you squirm, uncomfortableness stretching across the pane and curve of your frame.

Miguel wraps his other hand around your cock, tugging on it. It's clear he’s trying to distract you. “I know you can take it, like I said.”

You pant, but nod anyway. “I—I can,” you stumble over your words and feel sweat roll down your temple.

“That’s right.”

You think about his talons and shift, “You haven't scratched me with your talons, at least, in my ass.”

Miguel thrusts another finger inside, making you grimace. Wrong thing to say, then?

“Sounds like you're asking me to do it.” He says it like a statement, not a question, and you shake your head quickly before opening your mouth; no words of such slip out, instead, a moan falls from it as he scissors you open easily.

He keeps stroking you, making you pant and moan in bliss. Miguel then proceeds to curl his fingers upward and —

“Fuck!” You cursed in the open, gasping as he hit your prostate, and you moaned wantonly. Miguel continues to press on the bundle of nerves, forcing back-to-back cries and squeals from you.

Miguel grunts, leaning over you as he eased his hand off your cock. “You sound so good, sweetheart. Like a little mutt in fucking heat, dontcha agree?”

You're nodding, but you're too deep in your pleasure to really think as you gasp, feeling him stroke over it consistently. The tightness in your balls, your stomach, in your chest slowly begins to unfurl as you claw at Miguel's forearm that rested next to your head.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, Miguel—ngh, hah—so close, m’so close—!” You squealed, but then he slips his fingers out, forcing your climax to settle down before it could explode. You slump down onto the floor, limbs quivering.

Miguel easily rolls you onto your back, his suit pooling around his waist and the front part tucked under his heavy balls; broad chest covered in little scars here and there, nipples hardened, waist snatched and wide shoulders hunched over as Miguel caressed over your smaller frame.

“Even though your mask is halfway up, you still look good—” You tried saying, but Miguel slaps a hand over your mouth, narrowing his eyes.

“Shut up,” and then he pulls his hand away before he lifts your legs up and settles them over his shoulders, forcing your body to slide up as one of his large hands grip your waist, the other wrapping around the base.

You look down and swallow, tongue darting out to lick your chapped lips. “I know you said, uh—”

Miguel glares at you, face scrunching in annoyance, fangs poking over his bottom lip.

“But…I don't think it’ll fit, I mean, you only prepped me a little and–”

Miguel rolls his neck as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your wet hole, looking up; his dark, crimson eyes stare into yours as he says, “Then we’ll make it fit, you fucking slut.”

Then he pushed the head inside, slowly, but the stretch was unbearable as your back bowed and your chest was exposed; Miguel greedily touched your nipple and rolled it between his fingers, making a whine leave your lips.

“F–Fuck, Miguel,” you moaned, feeling him push his cock deeper, carving himself in and out of your hole. It felt amazing, yet it hurt so much, you knew it was gonna ache after, but in the moment? You didn't care.

He keeps pushing, panting as he wraps his hand back around your trimmed waist, squeezing it. “Fuck, you feel so good around me, so goddamn tight — might make me cum raw in you,” and then he eased more of himself into you.

You freeze, blinking as you look at him. Shit, you forgot to ask if he had a condom or not, and you know you wouldn't get pregnant but still…STDS and shit.

“Condom?” You pant, trying to push against his large chest, but he’s quick to shove you back roughly and essentially trap you so you can't move; you realize belatedly that you're in the mating press position and moan, writhing.

Miguel is all the way in and fuck it hurts yet the stretch is so good, you find your hands digging and clawing at his muscular biceps because of it. You can't tell if you want to beg for more or ask him to pull out.

“Too late for that, cariño, but it's s’fine, isn't it? Whores like you just take it like this — raw and deep so they can breed you, right?” Miguel’s voice is husky and raspy, it brings a shudder down your spine and you can't help but whimper at his words, writhing some more.

“Not—” You gasped, toes curling as you felt his hips roll forward, almost pushing you back. “Not true, Miguel, not—”

He’s shaking his head and leaning into your space, large frame pressing you down, down, down, until you whimper. “It is true, and you can't deny it. Admit it, baby, admit that you're a fucking whore.”

The thick head of his dick is pressing against your prostate and you moan, arching your back as he slowly pulls himself out, then pushes back in.

“Say it,” Miguel hissed, pushing himself out faster before ramming his hips forward, jolting you back and you have to hold onto him; your eyes are watering, cock twitching and leaking precum, it ends up smearing across the pane of your stomach as you nod.

You sob out, “Yes, yes, I’m a whore,” and moan as he grinds against your sweet spot.

“That’s it,” Miguel murmured, a wicked grin on his pretty lips. “Since you said it, I’m gonna reward you like the good little slut you are.”

Miguel begins a deep, but hard rhythmic pace as his hips and balls slap against your ass, his head near your face as he grunts in your ear; his harsh breaths fanning across your sweaty face as you cling onto him and squeal when he pulls back and forces himself back inside, each time.

“Hah—ah—yes! Miguel, please, harder—” You cry out, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he folds you completely in half, making a gasp rip from your throat as he placed his arms next to your head and tangled his fingers with yours.

He continues to fuck you like this, making your eyes roll back as your mouth falls open; streams of unfiltered, breathy whines escape your mouth and you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Look at me,” Miguel rasped, his own voice cracking as you trembled.

Miguel buried himself to the hilt, grinding against your prostate as you sobbed, eyes flying open as you writhed.

“M–Miguel, please…” You begged hopelessly, jolting from the constant pleasure on your spot. “Keep going, need it, need you to fuck me stupid and–”

He looked at you and then boldly pushed your mask off, gazing into your watery eyes as he brushed away your locks. Fear sinks deep and low into your stomach and you quickly look away, trying — (failing) — to hide your face.

“Chico hermoso,” Miguel whispers, before using his hand to brush off his own mask, then he dips down to kiss your bruised lips. It's soft, too soft, before he rested his forehead against yours.

You feel your throat tighten. “M–Miguel?” Your voice breaks.

Then, he pulls away and settles his arms around your head once more before saying; “You wouldn't look at me like I asked.”

Miguel then keeps pounding into you, mercilessly and ruthlessly as you hold onto him, nails carving into his flesh. Your cock is trapped between both of your sweaty bodies and you wrap around him, moaning into his ear.

“Taking me so fuckin’ well like I knew you would,” Miguel groaned, thrusting into you faster. “Been wanting to do this since I laid eyes on you, muñeca.”

You rake your nails down his broad back and hear him moan, hips spluttering before he resumes; not stopping, even though your limbs are trembling as you feel your stomach begin to tighten.

The orgasm from earlier is creeping on you and your back barely arched as your head pushed back against the ground, eyes rolling back. You can feel it getting closer, rolling in the pit of your stomach, settling beneath your bones and in your cock.

“Miguel, please, please, s’close, please–!” You cried, holding him closer as he erratically rutted into you, panting in your ear.

The rope in your stomach is loosening, forcing you to hold onto Miguel even more and you sob, “Miguel!”

He groans, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “You wanna cum for me, hm?”

Nodding, you claw at his back again. “M’gonna cum, fuck, I’m so close—ngh—let me cum, Miguel, please, I need it–”

Miguel huffs and tangles his fingers with yours again, removing his face from your forehead to whisper into your ear, “Beg for it, mi amor.”

Your voice pitches into desperation as your orgasm begins to unravel, “Please, please, please, Miguel I need it, I need to cum—ngh—please, I’m desperate, I’ll do anything just to cum, let me cum,” and you sob, tears rushing down your cheeks as Miguel groaned.

“Go ahead, baby, let go for me — be a good boy and cum for me,” Miguel rasps and you do, your orgasm untangling at the seams as it washes over you in waves; your heart thrumming hard as you wailed into his shoulder, body jerking and spasming from the intensity.

Ropes of cum paint both of your stomachs but Miguel doesn't even seem to care as he ruthlessly fucks into you. He’s animalistic in the way he pounds into you, unrelenting and unforgiving.

You can't even formulate a response or a moan because of how hard he’s fucking you; all you can do is hold onto him and rut your softening cock against his toned stomach, the aftershocks of your orgasm still making you spasm.

“Gonna fill you up sweetheart and breed your pretty hole — joder cariño, ya voy..” Miguel hisses, giving a few more hard thrusts before his hips stutter as he lets out a breathy moan. His talons accidentally dig into your hands and cause blood to spill because of how much he’s coming.

Both of your breathing is heavy and ragged as he slumps against you, releasing your hands as Miguel sighed, propping himself onto his elbows.

“I hurt you—”

You shrug and mumble, “S’fine. I’ve been a brat recently.”

Miguel hums before his tongue darts out to lick up the blood easily, soothing his tongue over the cuts before he pulls back, grunting. “All cleaned up.”

“It’ll heal, Mig, so it's fine,” you stressed and the man huffs, nuzzling against your cheek with a grunt.

His voice is muffled as he says, “I know, but still. We didn't plan that part out.”

“You know how much I’m a slut for pain, though, so is it really a problem?”

Miguel is quiet before he pulls himself away and gently eases his softening cock from your hole, which immediately allows his seed to spill from your asshole and you flush, cheeks in a deep shade of red.

“No need to be embarrassed, pretty boy, I did just fuck you in this alleyway, knowing anyone could see us,” Miguel brushes away your hair and gives you…a small smile? You can't tell because it's so dark, but his red irises stick out and your hand strokes along his sharp cheekbone.

“Yeah, you're right. We definitely needed this, but, uh, can we go? I’m absolutely starved.”

Miguel chuckled. “Of course, baby.”

Back at the apartment, Miguel gives you a massage, a well-deserved blowjob, and fucks you in multiple positions after you beg for it.

[berberriescorner]

"Through It All"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: There aren’t many things that put Rio on edge. Most people see a calm, cool, and collected individual. Keeping a level head is his specialty. What happens when the person he loves most needs him to be strong for both of them? Get a glimpse of what it’s like seeing him hold someone down through thick and thin, in sickness and health. If you know, you know.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND AUTHOR’S NOTE**

Warnings: Angst…like seriously. You’ll understand once you read the author’s note. This fic contains sweet, soft, fluffy Rio. The fic includes some of my crazy humor with a smidge of the character’s inner thoughts. If reading about gynecological procedures makes you uncomfortable, this may not be a fic for you. It doesn’t go into great detail, but it is mentioned and sheds a bit of light. If mentions of the ins and outs of fertility is a soft spot, please read with caution. It isn’t my intention to bring anyone down, but this story is based on parts of my own experiences. Again, the note will explain more.

Author/Personal Note: Okay. Where to start? So, as some of you may know throughout the past two years I’ve been getting cycles of iron infusions. This year, after making several complaints and an ER visit or two. I had an ultrasound performed, which led to me getting surgery months later (the procedure I had done recently). I’ve been spending my days at home recovering, and it’s given me time to reflect. Damn, it’s been a rough couple of years, but I’m so thankful through it all. It’s difficult having a plethora of health issues. This situation put so much added stress on top of it all. As a woman, hearing you have a fibroid. Learning it’s best to get it removed to protect your fertility is scary as hell. You get it done, get sent home, and though you have loved ones taking amazing care of you. It’s still a difficult, challenging process. At times, it’s lonely. No one but you can fully wrap your head around the emotions and feelings the body is going through. It’s pretty wild.

Anywho, sorry y’all. Let me stop rambling and get to the point. We all know how overactive my imagination is. Being stuck in bed, my mind has been wandering. I thought to myself why not take this experience and channel it into a fic. I’m hoping that this will also be a comforting story to anyone who’s been through the same experience. Here is a look at how I envision Rio taking in the experience with his lady. I plan to write at least two more parts for this. Happy reading my lovelies! I wrote this on a whim, in celebration of my birthday, so ignore the grammatical errors my loves. I may come back and do some more editing. Depends on how I’m feeling.

Word Count: 1,800+. 

Inspired By💜:

Random fun fact: Toni Braxton and I have the same birthday😆. Happy Birthday, Queen💓.

Everything was still as a deafening silence fell across the room. It was as if each occupant was afraid to utter a single word. Your mother pretended to distract herself with a Kindle book as your father paced the floor quietly. They’d share a glance each time they checked their watch, smiling at one another in comfort and reassurance. 

Then, together, they directed their attention toward the chair in the far right corner. It was tucked in a tight corner next to a window, giving little relief and comfort to your husband, Rio. He, too was anxious, but no one would ever know it. He was always able to still his facial features. Never one to give his emotions away. The only person who could read him wasn’t in the room. You were on the other side of the building and the reason for your families’ nervousness. No longer able to stand the constant glances and silence, Rio stood from his seat. He released a breath, rubbing his palms against his jeans. Turning to your parents, he stated, “I’m going to grab a quick cup of coffee from the cafeteria. Would you two like something?”

Your mother, a gentle, nurturing soul, responded for both of them.

“No, baby. We’re fine. Don’t worry. I’ll come find you if we receive news.”

Rio ducked away in a vacant spot in the cafeteria, hands folded over top of the steam of the coffee. He searched for peace and solace until a jolting vibration exploded in his jacket pocket. Fumbling for the phone, he answered without looking.

“What they say ma-. Oh, my bad. Wassup? Everything good?” Rio listened patiently before snapping. “You know this is something you could’ve handled yourself, right? I don’t have time for the three stooges bullshit today.”

He instantly felt a slight pang of guilt. Rio realized that the stress and worry of his current situation were influencing his mood. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed. Inhaling, he continued, “My bad bro. She’s been in for three hours, and it’s got me tweaking. Nobody’s giving us any damn answers. It’s a non-invasive procedure, but it’s still considered major surgery. I just need to hear she’s good.”

“It’s all good, boss. I know you’re worried about wifey. She’s a strong woman. Boss lady’s going to be alright. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Call me as soon as you know something,” Mick responded.

“You're right. Thank you for holdin’ shit down.”

He laid his phone on the table, burying his face in his hands. The last few moments he spent with you were on repeat in his mind. Rio returned to the present, hearing the chair opposite him slide backward. His eyes connected with your father’s, and he readied himself for wherever the conversation would go.

It was no secret that the two hadn’t always seen eye to eye. The two men sat for several minutes before your father started speaking.

“I’ll be honest with you, man. You’re not at all what I envisioned for my daughter.”

“You seriously want to have this conversation right now?”

“Now wait, son. Let me finish.”

Hold up. It’s son now? Where is this going? It didn’t even sound disrespectful. It doesn’t sound like he’s trying to play me on some sucka shit. I’ll hear him out.

Rio nodded his head, giving your father the floor.

“I may not know all you do for a living, son, but I know you’ve managed to make a comfortable and safe life for my baby girl. When it comes down to it, that’s what I’ve always wanted for her. It took me some time to come to terms with it, but I know, without a doubt, that you’re doing everything in your power to make her feel protected and loved. Let me just say what I’m getting at,” he chuckled. “You’re good at hiding it, son, but I know you’re worried. Hell, so are we, but that’s alright.”

Rio’s head dropped, shoulders slumping. He took the opportunity to be vulnerable finally. Your father’s acceptance allowed him the space to do so. He felt a comforting grip land on his shoulder. Your father finished, “Baby girl is going to be alright, son. With all your love and support, she’ll be back on her feet soon. Now, you take a few more moments to yourself. Don’t be surprised when her momma wraps you up in a big hug when you head back. She’s worried about her favorite son-in-law.”

Rio chuckled, “I’m her only son-in-law, sir.”

“Even better. You ain’t gotta share. That sweet woman sure knows how to smother people in love.”

“You’re daughter is the same way. It’s one of the many things I love about her.”

“Which is why you understand my reasons for being so guarded. That’s my baby girl. Enough with that ‘sir’ shit too. Call me pops. My son may not like that, but I get a kick out of irritating him anyway. He’s overprotective of his sister.”

“Y’all gon’ try to take me out if I ever mess up, huh?”

“What I look like snitching on myself? Let’s not ever get to that bridge, son.”

The two men shared a laugh, but everything turned serious when they saw your mom power walking towards them. Rio's heart began thudding in his chest.

“Ma, what’s wrong? Did-.”

“Relax, sugar,” she cooed, rubbing a hand against both men’s arms. “The nurse said the doctor should be ready to talk to us in about fifteen minutes. Let’s head back to the waiting room.”

Fifteen minutes came and went. Your mother couldn’t help but crack a smile at both men. They both started fussing about how long the surgeon was taking. She felt sorry for the man once he approached them. The doctor, attempting to apologize, was cut off by an impatient Rio.

“You good, doc. We understand these things take time, but excuse us for being anxious. We were under the impression this would be about an hour-long procedure. How’s my wife?”

The surgeon explained himself. “That’s what we anticipated, but the process took longer. Your wife’s last ultrasound a few months back showed a fibroid the size of a plum. Sadly, it grew to the size of an orange, which would explain why things grew more difficult during her last few cycles. However, you’ll be happy to know that we managed to do it laparoscopically, and everything looks great. She’s being taken to recovery now, but we’ve decided to keep her overnight.”

All three of your family members asked, “Why is that,” in unison.

“We just want to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours. Given gas was used to see things more clearly, we’d like to monitor her. We’ll need to see that she gets up and walks to get things flowing. I just want to be sure she gets it moving out of her system. Also, since she’s anemic, we just want to be extra careful. I promise everything went well, and she should be ready to go in the morning.”

Each family member felt at ease. The trio waited for an invitation to your recovery room. Though he wanted to be the first person you saw when you woke up, Rio encouraged your parents to go first. The two visitors' only rule irritated them all.

Your eyes fluttered open, and your parents laughed at the slurred responses given to your nurse. Your parents took turns kissing your forehead, expressing encouraging words. Your father, now at ease, left the room in search of Rio.

“You might want to hurry back there. She’s still a bit loopy. Baby girl has been asking the nurse, where my husband? You got my baby acting ratchet in this hospital,” he joked.

“Aye, she was like that when I met her,” he laughed, walking towards recovery.

Rio slid behind the curtain, laying eyes on the most precious sight. You were in bed, laid back, eyes closed, singing off-key as your mother held your hand, laughing. The nurse stepped beside him, giving a small giggle.

“She’s been looking for you. Ma’am, the man of the hour is here.”

Your eyes popped open as you halted the song. “My husbannnd! Hey baeee,” you winced, given the pain and having a hoarse voice.

“Mama, you back here wildin’ ain’t you? How’s our little patient doing, ma,” he directed toward your mom.

“Crazy as ever. This girl opened her eyes, looked at me, and called herself whispering. Loud as ever, she asked me if she still had a uterus. Her daddy would’ve turned red if he were capable.”

They both shared a laugh as you did your best to shrug shoulders. Wanting to give you two privacy, your mom went to sit in the waiting room. Rio turned to you, holding your hand. His lips brushed across your knuckles, and he shivered at how cold they were. Wrapping his hand around yours, he tried warming the digits.

“My momma ain’t answer my question though,” you mumbled, eyes closed.

Rio smiled, “What’s that now, mama?”

“My uterus. Sis still in there, right?”

“Yes, darlin’. What makes you think it’s not?”

“I signed them papers, man. In the event of a ‘mergency, they were going to take shawty,” you sassed, words still slurring.

Rio did his best to hold back a cackle. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Mama, you straight. Everything went according to plan. There was no emergency. The fibroid is out. It was bigger than expected. That’s why it feels like you were out for a while.”

“Aight bet. So when we making babies,” you asked, wincing again.

“First off, sit still, mama. Your body is pretty sore right now.”

“Baby, I’m drugged up! I don’t feel nothin’.”

“Second. You’ll be recovering for four to six weeks. You’re not going to be in any type of mood for all that. I believe the surgeon said no sex for two to three weeks. No babies for at least six months, darlin’. They just sliced your uterus open and stitched it back together, mama,” he explained, running his thumb across your lip.

He laughed at the pout etched on your face. Rio caressed the side of your face, kissing you gently. “On some real shit. I was worried out my mind over you, mama. I’m so glad you’re good. You’re my world. The clock kept ticking, and I was about to lose it.”

Your eyes connected with his, “I’m right here, papa. I’m good. We gonna be good. No matter what,” you whispered. Even through the drugs and drowsiness, you could feel his angst. Rio could read between the lines. He knew what you were trying to communicate. It had been on both your minds heavily. Your eyes connected with his. Rio saw the unshed tears you were holding back, and he swallowed hard, nodding his head in agreement. No matter where this path led, Rio knew, in his heart, that he loved you with everything in him.

Baby or not, we’ll still feel fulfilled and happy. My life’s purpose is to love and give you the world.

This piece was both personal and therapeutic for me to write. I truly hope you all enjoyed it. Please be sure to comment and reblog, it's appreciated. Now I'm about to go eat some birthday cake and read some amazing fan fiction😆.

Divider credit💜 : @firefly-graphics

tagging💜 : @4everbrookemarie @darqchilddaydreamz @astoldbychae @sunshine-flower

@nightlywords7 @starrynite7114 @amorestevens @fineanddandy

@rio-reid-whoreee @that-one-anxious-mango @novaniskye

@alertyoulikeitsamber @1andonlytashae @lovedlover @blkbutterfly816 @banana123pudding

[hrhmimieucliffe]

⚠️⚠️Another Mimi Rant Incoming (ik, not again) ⚠️⚠️

Love and Deepspace.

I love the game. I've met so many kind and wonderful people within this fandom. But no fandom is without its problems.

If you know me, you know what my page is all about and how I advocate for the inclusion of more Black women in different fandom spaces and consumable media. We are often either forgotten about, used as comedic relief, stereotypes, or as an antagonist who is loud, bitter, has an attitude, etc.

Cool, fine, whatever, over it.

But one thing I will address is the fact that some people in the LADS fandom seem to have forgotten one major thing about the game. Pertaining to the MC.

SHE IS FULLY CUSTOMIZABLE AND DOES NOT HAVE A CANON APPEARANCE.

Yes, I'm aware the devs use a 'base' look for her on some of the cards and in the previews of new battle mechanics/ five-star kindled scenes. But they're not how she canonically looks. She looks that way because Infold is an eastern based company with certain beauty standards, cool, not asking you to suddenly change her. I'm cool with that.

But people in the FANDOM seem to be forgetting that you can customize her yourself. Into an OC or a self insert, it doesn't matter.

So if you know this, why is it that people with a tan or dark MC receive hate and harassment for making fanart of their self-insert MCs who look like the real them with the MLs?

Why is it that as non pale/fair skinned women, we are expected to always sit back and relate to a pale MC who has a personality that usually doesn't match some of us, either? If we can bear it for our entire lives, why is it a problem when we get a *small crumb* of inclusiveness in making the MC customizable to shape her how we want, it's not a problem until someone actually makes fanart of their MC with an ML and that MC is not the same pale/fair-skinned one?

How is that fair? It's like some people deliberately ignore it or are part of the problem. Especially those who make excuses like

"Oh, but they're not a western based company." I know that. Which is why I'm not aiming this rant at Infold themselves.

"Oh, don't bring politics into the game". First of all, how is the existence of dark or tan people politics? It's not "politics" when it involves someone who is part of the usual beauty standard, is it? Second of all, Infold themselves practically brought those said "politics" in by having tan/dark skinned options into the game in the first place.

Do you all see what I'm getting at, here?

This all came about because I'm part of (both) LADS subs on Reddit, and someone recently made a post about how they were attacked on Tiktok by LADS "fans" for her MC being dark in some *FANART* she made of her MC (based on herself) with her favourite ML.

Why can't we just have peace as women who don't conform to the outdated beauty standards? Why does it matter so much if MC is customizable?

What, do people think that as dark or Black women, we're not allowed to have certain interests? We're not allowed to like certain characters, games, movies, shows, etc? Why?

Wake UP and start calling it out when you see it!! You can't claim not to be a part of the "bad part" when you sit back and let it happen which makes those people get comfortable doing it.

Rant over. Have a nice day girls.

[laurenwalshart]

So I love Druids in WoW. I love their lore, their diversity & complexity, but the magic they use and how they use it is hard to untangle for RP. A new quest in Hallowfall may explain how Dreamwalking works!

Some spoilers ahead if you haven’t done “The Last Mage” in Hallowfall.

–

In “The Last Mage” we learn that teleportation can use memory as an anchor point. It can use something as simple as a plant's memory of where it was grown. This means that plants hold memory. We’ve recently been introduced to memory magic with the Kyrian and the Primus in the Shadowlands who use Anima as a source of their magic. Since non-sentient life can hold memory it may be that memory is linked to Anima and thereby Spirit and Decay, meaning you may be able to access memory via these raw elemental pathways. 

This then could explain how Druids in WoW are able to Dreamwalk and physically teleport to the Dreamway without arcane based teleportation. Since most of the trees in the Dreamway are connected to G’hanir in some way (via the acorn used to plant Nordrassil) it means you are literally traveling a spirit/memory network of G’hanir, the Mother Tree. That in turn poses an interesting question about the origin of G’hanir & how Amirdrassil connects to the Dreamway. Since we know Elune is connected to the creation of Amirdrassil’s seed and that She offers seeds of trees in The Legend of Elun’ahir as a part of her portfolio and habits it may be an even larger network of seeds and trees connected to Elune and spans the cosmos (See Thiernax). Further proof that it may be Elune’s memories is the fact that your character casts a moon spell effect and you are bathed in moonlight as you cast Dreamwalking. As an added note we’ve also seen this type of non-arcane teleportation magic in Ardenweald with Marasmius’s fungal network which again likely uses anima, spirit, and/or decay.

Since all life, sentient and non-sentient, has memory and spirit it provides some more clarity on other things like how Malfurion is able to speak to trees (essentially he is witnessing their memories) and more context regarding the Wild God, Aessina. This connection of spirit with all things may explain why she is “the center of the web of life.” She is essentially a Wild God of Spirit connecting all living things. It is no shock then that she is found deep in the oldest and wildest of forests where the concentration of Spirit from old trees is strongest for her and wisps to manifest. It too could explain why those that are deeply devoted to a particular forest and the spirit of that forest become wisps to serve in death because their spirit is so closely tied to that one place.

This may also expand our understanding of the Ancients of Lore, War, and Arcane as well. We already know that Ancients have vast knowledge and wisdom and pass this knowledge on to Druids, but this access to Spirit and the memory of the plant life may be the source of their knowledge making them vital tutors in this interconnected web of life.

It may be that the environment that an Ancient is from or tends to informs what they will become - an Ancient in a peaceful place with many Druids may become an Ancient of Lore, an Ancient from a land that has seen continued conflict may become an Ancient of War, land that has been heavily influenced by the Arcane may become an Ancient of Arcane. We also see that the biome they are from affects them as well. We see this with the coral like Ancients in Nazjatar and the Ancients on Dreanor that reflect their biomes in how they are formed.

This web of life/spirit in nature may also be why Blight and Fel corruption are so hard to cleanse and why it affects the elements as well. Both Blight and Fel may use the spirit of the land and nature to continuously fuel itself making it a magical runaway fire that is almost impossible to control. Fel in particular seems to use Spirit like kindling. Nearly every zone you go to that has been touched by the fel is either in a state of decay or completely barren.

The corruption of Spirit poses an interesting concept as well. If Spirit is the conduit of memory then perhaps Decay acting as Spirit’s elemental counterpart is the conduit of madness and why it pairs so well with the Void. This lines up with things like the Emerald Nightmare and Shadow Flame, both have connections to the Void and both drive those corrupted by it to madness. While the Void and its infinite possibilities and whispers may be the source of madness, the element of Decay may be the channel by which it is able to make contact.

With a network of memory like this there is no need for recorded history. Just like Druids of our own history, knowledge is passed down from Teacher to Student, Shan’do to Thero'shan and on Azeroth the forest itself may be your teacher if you are able to listen.

-

For Roleplay of a Druid, all of this may offer your character a new reason to hold a grove, a certain forest, and the land so sacred because they hold ancient memories that can be passed down. Also maybe this might help players see the enigmatic network of knowledge your Druid might have access to. 

Also in my personal opinion this all means that D&D spells like “Speak with Plants” and “Transport via Plants” are viable spells for Druids in WoW rp with all the concepts stated above as long as your character has a memory of that tree/plant and your dm’s permission of course!

–

Hope you enjoyed my deep dive into this concept and I would love to hear your thoughts! I have a ton of more theories about the cycle of life from the Druidic perspective, World Trees, the Nightmare, Thros, and more. One day I'll get around to posting them.

[thatuselesshuman]

Casper's 101 guide to improving your writing

So uh I'm not at all qualified to tell you how to write but someone irl told me I should make a guide so here it is. This is how I learned to write, and I like to think I'm not that terrible

Step One: Read

It's difficult to learn to write if you don't have the base material. It's like cooking, if you never eat different foods then your food will be bland cause you don't know what flavors are out there. Reading is the best thing you can do to when you start getting into writing. It'll tell you what your preferences are and it'll expand your vocabulary (both very important steps!). It'll tell you what POV you want to write in, certain words that give you the ick, plot points you enjoy, genres you like, how many mistakes you can tolerate, styles of writing you enjoy, etc.

Note: don't just read prim and proper books. Read fanfiction, read manga, read manhwa, read webnovels, read anything and everything that catches your eye. They all have their different qualities, and they're all better at doing one thing or another. Read, read, and read some more.

Step Two: Start Small, and Start Enjoyably

No sane person starts out writing massive novels out of the gate. A novel is a massive undertaking, and if you do it incorrectly it's a great way to kill your enjoyment though writer's block. What you're going to want to start with is short stories, one shots on Ao3, etc. Write small stories that are manageable and write a lot of them. Write stuff you enjoy as well, since you're not trying to impress anyone. This step is to dip your toes into the world of writing and kindle a good starting flame so you don't crumble into the ground the first time you hit writer's block.

Note: Don't be afraid to start with nitty gritty stuff if that's what you enjoy writing. I personally started with heavy angst, whump, torture, and the like because that's what interested me. That's what I wanted to write. There's nothing wrong with writing whatever the hell you want. I stand by the fact that censorship is the death of art.

Step Three: Practice Detail

Have you ever looked at a passage while reading and thought 'huh, this description is really bland'? Well I have. A mark of a good writer is being able to describe everything down to the dirt (not that you always should, but that's another lesson for another day). You may think that it should be easy to describe things in detail, but trust me when I say that it's a skill. Some ways you can practice are:

Describe your room in excruciating detail through brush strokes (like you would a painting)

Describe a mundane object through the lens of someone from the far past

Describe the nature around your house in abstract shapes

Describe a waterfall through the perspective of someone who has never seen one in their life

There are plenty more, but here are some to get you started.

Step Four: Grammar

Trust me when I say this is most people's least favorite step. It's boring, I know, but knowing how to utilized commas, ellipses, — <- these things, semicolons, etc, is a relatively easy way to instantly boost your writing. No one likes to read a story where it seems like the author hasn't seen a period in their life.

Note: This is just general advice, but if you wouldn't want to read it, then don't write it. That's another reason why the first step of reading is important.

Step Five: Share Your Writing With People

Whether you share it with strangers (like I did) or people you know, sharing your writing is an amazing way to get advice and feedback. It's also a great way to meet people who have the same interests as you. Writing is a bubble with no outside interaction makes it harder to get better at writing because it's easy to have rose-tinted glasses about your writing. It's also easy to think your writing is ass, even if it's really not. Having people around you who will tell you the truth is great as a reality check whenever you're blind to how things are.

Step Six: Write Until Your Hands Hurt

This is the step that always shows up on writing how-tos, and I'm not immune to it either. The reason everyone says to write a ton is because you're never gonna get better or have a passion for writing if you never do it. It's like art or a sport, how the hell do you expect to get better if you never touch a pencil or never pick up the ball? Divine intervention? I mean that is possible but unless you're writing the Bible then I don't think God is going to bless you miraculously with amazing writing skills. It's like anything in life, practice makes progress.

Everyone starts out terribly, and there's always going to be that 8 year old prodigy who's better than you, but that's not why writers write. We write because if we don't, the voices hunt us down-

Anyways, jokes aside, that's my guide to writing. I don't think it's too terrible, but that could just be the glasses I mentioned in the fifth step speaking.

[raygunny]

Tav Goes Missing

Ok uh holy shit this is long, I hope you all like it - it was a labor of love 💙

Based on my prompt by the same name

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Tav

Word count: 7,556

Synopsis: Tav is under a lot of pressure - she’s suddenly been shoved into leading a team of parasite infested misfits, everything seems to want to kill them, and a certain vampire has been on her mind far too much. She needs some time away from camp, but while venturing out on her own she gets hurt - and even worse, stuck. Who will come to her rescue?

---------------------------------------------

Trudging back to camp Tav feels a heaviness descend upon her. In her body, sure, but that’s an unavoidable fact of life at this point. More so her mind feels weary, and she’s pretty sure it’s not the parasite’s doing. At least not this time.

There’s been an anxiety hovering over her, one that only seems to kick in as they return each evening. The events of the day and the many before catching up with her as she enters the safety of camp. She should be relieved each time they make it back with all their limbs still attached, but lately, she just feels dread.

Tav feels somewhat guilty at the thought.

It’s been a pleasant surprise how much she’s enjoyed traveling with her new companions. Who would have thought that being in constant danger and sharing a psychic tadpole would be so effective in bonding them together?

If she’s being honest, though - it can be a bit much at times. There’s always some crisis, some literal life-ending problem popping up at the worst time. Really it doesn't matter what it is, Tav knows she can't bring herself to let any of them to deal with it alone. She knows that feeling all too well.

And truly, she is happy to have people around who need her and who she needs. Who enjoys her as she enjoys them.

So then why do I always feel so alone still?

Tav dismisses the thought. It’s not their fault, everything has been too much recently. Too much fighting, too much talking - trying to save their skin at every turn from some new, twisted form of danger. During the day she has no other option but to stay strong, to push the anxieties away. Failing at that means risking the safety of the whole party.

Upon their return to camp, all those thoughts suddenly come racing back. Sometimes it feels impossible to shut them off - and she needs to figure out how to shut them off. Even within the bounds of camp she knows she needs to be their unwavering leader. Sure of herself and them - carrying none of the doubts and fears that keep running through her mind. 

She just needs a minute to think - to breathe. Some space would do her well, just for a couple hours so she can get this out of her system. As tempting as it is to wander off without saying anything, she convinces herself to check in with the others.

“What can I do to help?” Tav asks as she approaches Gale. He’s building a fire, preparing to cook dinner.

Gale looks up, “Well, well - if it isn’t our fearless leader!” Tav winces a little at that. 

He doesn’t notice, glancing around, “Hmm, I think most of it is covered. I suppose we need firewood? And about this much kindling.” He holds his arms out making a circle away from his body. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, he could’ve just said an armful. “There’s enough to get us through cooking dinner, but we won’t have enough into the night.”

Shadowheart is nearby, helping Gale with dinner by chopping carrots. She pipes up, “I just saw Karloch with her axe heading towards the other side of camp. I think she’s going to chop some wood for us.”

Tav surveys the rest of their camp. Wyll is by the communal chest, focused on going through their inventory, trying to organize everything they’ve gathered in the last few days. Hopefully they’ll be going to the market tomorrow to sell some items and pick up some much needed supplies. She’s relieved, silently thanking Wyll - her brain could not handle that task right now.

Next to him is Lae’zel, who like clockwork can be found cleaning and sharpening her weapons each evening. She’s doing just that. Tav smiles as she notices Wyll’s sword and one of Karloch’s many axes at her feet.

Lately, Lae’zel has taken to helping the rest of the camp keep their weapons in top condition. Slowly but surely beginning to open up to them - in her own way of course. “You take such poor care of your blade. You clearly are unsuited for such a task, I will take it to my tent and return it to you later,” she says, her face giving away nothing. But Tav sees how she pays attention, how she knows who needs their weapons taken care of on any given evening.

Gale interrupts her train of thought, “Sounds like that leaves kindling Tav, do you want to grab some? Dinner won’t be ready for a while.” He starts talking about the stew he’s making and stresses that it needs an absolute minimum cooking time of two hours for optimal tenderness and flavor. He starts complaining about how they haven’t had a hot meal in far too long. 

It’s been like a day, Tav sighs internally. That’s fine, it just means she’s got plenty of time to burn.

“Patience is a virtue,” Gale finishes, holding one finger up. Turning it towards himself he continues with a grin, “And I’m quite virtuous”. She’s amused but won’t let him see it, he’s been incorrigible lately. 

Her stomach rumbles loudly. She, on the other hand, is not particularly virtuous it would seem. Fishing out an apple and some bread from her larger pack, she makes purposeful eye contact with Gale and raises her eyebrows. He shakes his head chuckling a little and turns back to building the campfire. She stashes the snacks in her satchel, she won’t be gone that long but it doesn’t hurt to have on hand.

“I’ll go get the kindling, I might be a little while though.” Gale waves a hand in her direction and just tells her to have fun.

Tav goes to change into her camp clothes and as she strips off her shirt she notices a tear in the sleeve. It’s going to need to be mended. She grabs it and heads towards Astarion’s tent.

As far as camp duties go, Astarion typically gets away with minimal work - instead focusing on looking pretty while reading one of his many books. He swears up and down that he’s doing it for research purposes, “You never know what kind of helpful information can be found until you find it, darling. If you think about it, I’m doing the most arduous work here! Now shoo.”

Occasionally, he can be convinced to mend clothing and the like. She approaches Astarion’s tent, knowing there’s about a 50/50 chance she’ll be able to talk him into fixing it for her. Better than it used to be, she thinks with a smirk.

Seeing the shirt in her hands as she walks up, Astarion doesn’t even wait before he says, “Oh no you don’t - you better not be coming over here with that. I’ve already mended plenty of clothing this week! It’s getting ridiculous really, I hadn’t realized I’d become the camp seamstress,” he huffs. “I mean honestly Tav, can’t you tell I’ve got plenty of reading to do,” he gestures to the books haphazardly stacked next to him. She can see the smile he’s trying to hide and knows he’ll do it for her if she chooses her next words carefully.

“I don’t see those books going anywhere anytime soon, Astarion.” Her eyes flick to his, “Plus, I’ll make it worth your while, I promise,” she says, knowing he’ll take the bait.

“Worth my while?” the corners of his lips twitch before revealing the smile he had tried hiding. She very much enjoys those smiles, the ones he doesn't mean to let slip. “I like the sound of that”, he purrs, effortlessly switching into a more flirtatious tone.

She steals one of his moves - a quick look up and down, as if shamelessly admiring his beauty while simultaneously sizing him up. Bringing her eyes to his, she flirts back with, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, handsome. We’ll have to see how good of a job you do before we work out payment.”

“That hardly sounds fair,” he fake pouts.  

Time to appeal to his more practical side, “Besides, you need to make yourself look busy before you get pulled into doing something more labor intensive by the others.”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully before making up his mind, “Fine, I suppose you can’t keep walking around looking like a slob. Hand it here.” She goes to hand it over and he brushes his long fingers across hers purposefully. That flirtatious tone comes back, “And don’t forget, you owe me.”

She almost rolls her eyes, but reminds herself she had encouraged it. Sometimes he can be so frustrating. One second he’s there, present and having a good time, then something happens and she sees one of his many masks slip into place. It was difficult to spot at first, but now that she’s gotten to know him better, it’s hard not to notice. Tav still can’t pin down the why - it seems so random at times. Despite her curiosity, she doesn’t call him out on it. She’s gathered enough bits and pieces to know it’s not the kind of subject that leads to an easy conversation.

And to be fair, it is fun to flirt back and forth with him.

“See, was that so hard?” she teases before turning away. Waving over her shoulder she throws out a quick, “Thank you Astarion!” and is off.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters back, lost in thought, eyes still glued to her as she walks away.

Tav knows he won’t say it, but he likes people coming to him, needing his help. At least in this kind of way. The small, satisfied smile he has on his face when she examines his handiwork and praises him for the quality of it - “Wow, good as new!” - is all she needs to know.

She heads towards the edge of camp. Sure enough, Karloch is going to town on the surprisingly large tree limb she’d carried back a couple days ago. Tav catches Karloch’s eye just as her greataxe finds itself driven into the wood once again. Karloch waves, yelling out, “Just letting off some steam!” with a proud smile on her face. “Pun fully intended!”

Tav just chuckles and waves back.

----

It’s turning into a pleasantly cool evening, the sun will set in the next few hours but that gives her plenty of time to gather wood at her leisure - relishing the alone time this affords her.

She knows where she wants to go and starts heading that direction. They passed a cave the other day, but despite her pleas the others didn’t want to explore it, saying they were too tired. Tav suspects none of them are going to be interested in going back so she figures, if she has to go pick up sticks, then might as well do it somewhere interesting.

Her mind begins to wander. Thinking about the events of the last few days, dissecting a recent fight with some Harpies near the grove.

They’d caught the party by surprise. It was a rough start to the encounter. Shadowheart, who was closest to the beasts, immediately fell into a trance, charmed by their song. Karloch wasn’t in an ideal position either, too far from the harpies to charge them but also too low down for her ranged attacks to be effective. She settled for stepping in front of the child to create the best tiefling shield she could. That was good thinking on her part, Tav notes.

Tav and Gale caught each other’s eyes and silently agreed to move towards higher ground. Both scrambling up the opposite sides of the embankment, ready to use their ranged spells.

Despite the initial disadvantage, they were making good progress handling the beasts. That is, until two more flew in - this time heading straight for them. One descended on Gale, kicking him square in the chest. He was thrown off the embankment right as he used a fireball scroll to finish off the harpy singing across the water.

Thankfully, that broke Shadowheart’s trance and she quickly oriented herself to cast silence on the two harpies closest to her, a much welcomed relief. With the third preoccupied - trying to stomp Gale into the ground albeit - at least they didn’t have to worry about being charmed for now.

An arrow wizzes by, finding its way into the neck of the harpy attacking Gale. Astarion had tagged along that day as their fifth member, saying something about how dreadfully bored he was and that he needed to go to the market. It was a good thing Tav let him, he was the one really covering their asses at the moment. He had secured a hiding spot high on the nearby cliffs and relentlessly fired arrow after arrow, crippling their enemies from the shadows. With the one near Gale now critically wounded, Astarion immediately turned to shoot the one closing in on Shadowheart - it dropped right out of the air, hitting the ground hard. Tav sees it from the corner of her eye, nice one.

Karloch, happy to finally be able to properly hit the damn things, finishes off the one standing over Gale with a quick swing of her axe. She then proceeds to run to the now badly injured harpy lying on the ground, a fury of ruthless swings befall it and it soon lies still, thoroughly dead. The final harpy screeches and takes flight, in the next second Tav is pinned. She tried to free herself but was running on fumes, already hurt pretty badly. Astarion is the one who drives two arrows into its back, killing it before it can get another swipe on her. Shadowheart, out of breath but generally unhurt, runs over and proceeds to heal everyone. After almost getting their asses handed to them, they really needed it.

“What in the nine hells was that all about?!” Astarion yells, only sounding slightly hysterical. “I was practically carrying the whole team just now!” His pitch somehow increases, “And I’m not even supposed to be here!!”

They collectively groan. Rubbing her sore shoulder Tav just says, “Not now Astarion. We weren’t expecting to fight on this side of the grove.”

He scoffs, “Really though, is that how you all fight when I’m not here? Next time try to be a little more perceptive. You’re extremely lucky I came along today. I can’t always be the one saving you from danger!”

Tav glares at him, about to argue. Instead, Karloch steps in to defuse the strange tension that’s begun to form between the two of them. She smiles cheerfully, “Of course you can soldier, that was some top notch fighting out there.” Looking at the others she says, “Shall we head back to camp?” Her tone is light but they can tell it’s an order, not a question.

Shaking herself out of the daydream, Tav smiles - despite the ambush and the drama, the team had worked well together. They’ve been working well together for a while now, she reflects. In this relatively short amount of time, they really have fallen into a good rhythm. Learning to trust each other and adapting their fighting styles to compliment one another. Thinking back to what camp looks like right now, she realizes it’s not just battle they’ve fallen into a good rhythm with either. She feels a little bit better at the thought.

Slowing down Tav takes a moment to re-orient herself - she hadn’t realized how far she’d walked. The cave should be nearby but she’s not sure. Up ahead there's an overturned tree stump, they’d passed it the same day she spotted the cave. She relaxes, it shouldn’t be much further. 

Marching on, the cool air has gotten even cooler, starting to feel heavy with moisture. The trees are swaying gently as the wind picks up, their leaves fluttering above her.

It’s going to rain, she realizes.

To her disappointment, there will be no time to explore the cave today. She turns to head back to camp, miffed about walking all this way for nothing, but knowing she’ll need to pick up her pace if she’s going to get back before it rains. She considers leaving without the wood, after all, they’re probably not going to be able to keep the fire going tonight with the rain. She decides against it, they’ll need dry kindling for the morning.

The storm clouds are rolling in and have darkened the sky, by proxy the forest darkens as well. This is not good, Tav thinks. She really needs to pick up the pace now. Her arms are completely full of twigs and branches, making it difficult to walk. She stops, shifting to get a better grip. It’s hard to see over the pile in her arms and the light is fading fast.

She should've just grabbed wood near camp then went exploring. She mentally kicks herself.

As Tav begins to hurry along again, she doesn’t get very far. A tree root jutting out of the earth finds itself in her path. She doesn’t see it and as she steps forward, directly on the root, her right ankle gives out. As Tav swings towards the dirt, she lets out a startled, “SHIT”.

She finds herself not just hitting the ground, but tumbling down into the ditch she’d been walking along. A fiery pain shoots up her leg. Tav groans as she rolls over and sits upright. Taking stock of herself, she tries moving her ankle but that intensifies the pain. Yeah, that’s messed up for sure. She reaches up to her brow where she feels a trickle of something wet. She brushes her fingers over the area and winces at the sting of a small cut. It’s bleeding, but that’s the least of her worries right now.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself. Getting back to camp will not be fun, but she’ll have to try her best. The wood is a lost cause, strewn about in a rough pile on the ground. She tries to gain her composure before attempting to prop herself against the side of the ditch. It’s a steep incline, she’ll need to stand to have a chance to pull herself out. She tries several times to shift to a better position, but with her right foot dangling uselessly she’s not going anywhere this way. The pain in her ankle is no joke, but she’s been hurt way worse than this before and kept going. It’ll be okay, she tells herself.

Her optimism is met with rain. The universe makes it clear that it is staunchly opposed to giving her a break today. It’s only sprinkling for now, but the incline out of the ditch is only going to get slicker.

----

Back at camp the others begin to wonder where she’s at. It's getting dark and they’ve noticed the rain clouds too. They’re gathered near the fire, discussing what they should do. “She said she might be a while,” Gale chimes in, “I bet she’ll be back any minute now. She’s not going to want to miss my delicious stew.” It’s a hopeful statement, but his voice still carries a tinge of worry. 

Karloch frowns, “I don’t know Gale, she should be back by now. Gathering kindling doesn’t take that long, even if she was taking herself for a little walk.”

“Yeah, plus it’s about to rain.” Wyll backs her up.

While the group continues debating if they should go look for her or wait just a little longer, Astarion is quiet. He’s been painfully aware of the approaching rainstorm and how long it’s been since she left, but he also knows Tav is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. 

Though...they did see some juvenile gnolls the other day, but never found their den - he can’t shake the thought, something else occurring to him - shit and she probably ventured out to that damn cave she was going on about the other day.

He tries to push away the worry in the pit of his stomach, but those two thoughts make up his mind. “You lot do whatever you want - I’m not sitting around here any longer to wait until it starts pouring to go look for her,” he says, storming off in the direction she had exited camp. He hears Karloch and Wyll volunteer to go look too, splitting down different paths to cover more ground.

Astarion heads in the general direction of the cave. It’s a much farther walk than he was expecting, several times doubting if he was going in the right direction. Soon it starts raining lightly, and to his annoyance his nice clothes are getting wet, his poor shoes muddying as well. Ugh, and his hair must look a mess. He combs a hand through it, pushing it back and off his face. If Tav is back at camp right now and he’s out here for nothing he’s going to be pissed. With the path getting muddier by the minute, he considers heading back. The gnolls flash through his mind and a feeling of dread rises inside his chest.

No, not quite yet, he thinks.

Soon he sees the large stump they’d passed the other day - he’s getting close. Astarion keeps an eye out for any signs of Tav, soon coming across a rough pile of sticks down in a ditch. It looks suspiciously like someone had gathered wood and then chucked it down there. Looking a little closer he sees what appears to be drag marks moving away from the pile. Shit, that’s not good. The dread turns into real fear. Now he’s certain Tav has to be nearby.

“Tav?” he calls out loudly before he can stop himself. After all, someone or something nefarious could be lurking about. That thought is interrupted by Tav’s relieved voice calling back, “Astarion, is that you?”

Duh, he thinks, who else sounds like him? He hurries in the direction of her voice. She’s not far.

When he spots her, his throat feels tight. She looks an absolute mess - covered in mud, scratches down her chest and arms, and her head is bleeding. He rushes over and climbs down to her. “What in the hells are you doing down here? What happened? Are you ok?” He starts looking her over, positive she can hear the worry in his voice, but he doesn't care about that right now.

He looks rather disheveled, Tav observes. The rain has picked up and his hair is wet and matted to his head, his shoes and now his pants covered in mud. His shirt clings to his chest, slightly translucent from the rain. She’s never quite seen him like this. Focus Tav, she thinks.

“I hurt myself and couldn’t get out of the ditch,” she grimaces, gesturing to her ankle. “I was trying to drag myself to higher ground in case a flash flood came through here.”

“Well, that’s one smart thing you did.”

Tav wants to be offended, but now is not the time. She can see he’s upset - whether it’s at her or the situation she’s not sure. “Did you bring any healing supplies?” she asks hopefully. 

He deflates, “Uhhh no, those seem to have, uh, evaded me.”

She just looks up at the sky, fat raindrops falling on her face, cursing whatever deity has it out for her today. 

“What? Don't be like that. I rushed out of camp and came all this way through the rain and the wretched mud to rescue you.” He frowns. “Of course it would've been ideal if I had thought to grab a healing potion or two but..” trailing off there’s nothing else to say except, “I’m here alright??”

She lets out a sigh, “Just please get me out of this ditch before you get stuck down here too.”

She doesn't need to tell him twice. Astarion bends down and without warning throws Tav over his shoulder in one smooth motion. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he’s going to be covered in mud by the time they get out of here. She lets out a startled yelp. “Shit, Tav, I’m sorry - did I hurt you?” She can hear the worry creep back into his voice.

She feels a bit lightheaded, “Ah, no. You just surprised me. Didn’t expect to be hauled over your shoulder like a rag doll,” she tries to play it off with a joke, but it just comes out lamely. In actuality, she didn’t think he could lift her like that - but she won’t dare say that. He’s strong, don’t get her wrong, but not the Karloch or Lae’zel type of strong. It’s kind of impressive actually.

“Honestly Tav, if you’re going to keep criticizing my rescue attempt I can leave you right here.” While he is genuinely annoyed, they both know he doesn’t mean it one bit.

“No no, you’re doing a great job hero-ing it up. Please just get me out of here, I’m tired of sitting in the mud.”

He doesn’t even justify that with a response, instead taking a few steps forward and shifting her so he can boost her up to grab another tree root. She has to push up with both legs for a moment and she lets out an actual cry from the pain.

This is awful, Astarion thinks.

She makes it and he pulls himself up right behind her, she is grimacing in pain on her hands and knees. Astarion puts a hand on her back and her arm around his neck, helping her up to stand on one foot.

The rain is quickly turning into a downpour and it’s almost fully dark now. Now what? Try to carry her back to camp, through the mud and rain? He doesn’t think that’s an option at this point. They need to find shelter.

“You were out here looking for that damn cave weren’t you?” he asks. 

She looks at him sheepishly, “Yeah it should be just past those trees.” She points to a nearby cluster of trees. “Are you thinking about sheltering there until the rain passes?”

He doesn’t answer her question, just scoops her up in his arms and starts walking.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, but doesn’t give him any more attitude than that. She’s starting to feel bad, knowing that this is not what Astarion had planned for his evening. 

He just keeps looking forward, trying not to think about how nice she feels in his arms. She’s shivering, but compared to him she’s so warm against his chest. It feels good, clearing away some of the worry that's been knotting in there for the last couple hours. Relief, he supposes, unconsciously holding her a little tighter.

They reach the cave and he sets her down gently on a rock right inside the entrance. He peers further into the cave, obviously wondering if they’re the only occupants, the threat of gnolls popping back into his head. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he quietly makes his way further in. Astarion returns a couple minutes later and reports there’s nothing else in there with them. He picks Tav up again and carries her further into a larger, dryer portion of the cave.

She spots a bedroll in decent condition, discarded near what looks to have been an extinguished campfire. Some wood even remained stacked next to it. Someone must have been here recently.

“Do you think anyone will be coming back?” she asks, pointing to the firewood.

Astarion sets her down again, this time on the ground so she can lean against the wall. “No, I don’t think so. There’s too many cobwebs covering that pile, I doubt anyone has been here for a while.”

She agrees and relaxes a little. Her ankle is throbbing in pain, she’s really noticing how bad it is now that they’re in relative safety. Sounds about right, she thinks, shivering again. 

Astarion looks at her, lips pressed together as if to keep himself from saying what’s really on his mind. How unusual.

“You’re drenched and disgusting.” 

Ah. There it is. She fires back, “Well you’re not much better off, pal.”

His frown deepens. “Very observant Tav, that is in fact correct,” he hisses. His voice rises dramatically, echoing through the cave, “AND who’s fault might that be?”

Yikes, ok, she needs to cool it with the comments. He is understandably not in the mood for her shit right now. It’s just so hard to resist poking at him, she likes it when he gets riled up. And usually he does too, though he hides his amusement the best he can.

He takes a breath, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Looking at the ceiling of the cave as if asking, why me?  

“Look, I’m not going to catch a cold but you might,” he finally says, and she fears that frown on his face isn’t going away anytime soon.

“We can build a fire while waiting for the storm to pass,” she pauses before asking, “You can build a fire, right?”

She’s on thin ice. He huffs, “In theory, yes. In practice, I’m not sure. That’s usually Gale’s job.”

She knows he just needs some encouragement. “I think I have a flint in my satchel, grab it and I can walk you through it.” He turns and does so without any complaints - that’s also odd for him, she notes.

Once the fire is going she can see Astarion relax a little. Tav looks down at her muddy clothing. Astarion looks at her again, “You should probably take your clothes off.” 

Tav understands what he’s saying, but still she jokes in a scandalized voice, “Astarion, now is hardly the time for that.” He rolls his eyes and she gets the tiniest smile out of him. She knew it, he can’t help himself either. She holds her hands up in peace, “Sorry, just trying to lighten up a pretty shit situation.”

Astarion shakes out the abandoned bedroll, ripping a strip of fabric from its bottom layer. He then lays it down near the fire. It’s not ideal but better than lying on the uncomfortable cave floor. “And I love that for you, darling, but excuse me if I’m still feeling a little on edge.”

There’s no real venom behind the words. That guilty feeling creeps back up on Tav. “Hey, I’m really sorry about this. I-”

He’s not ready to talk about it yet, interrupting her by saying, “At least take your pants off so I can look at your ankle.”

Tav gives up, she won’t argue this time. Moving to undo her pants she says, “I’m going to need some help with these. They’re soaked and I’m not the most…mobile right now.” She looks up at him, her exhaustion is starting to show, “Please?”

Something flashes across his face, a look she hasn’t seen before. It stays put this time, no flirtatious words or familiar mask taking its place. He moves closer, leaning down.

“Grab my shoulders,” he says, his tone a little gruffer than she’s used to. Tav does as he says, wrapping her arms around his neck. One of his arms wraps around her waist while the other hand travels up the back of her right thigh, holding that leg steady so she doesn’t have to put any pressure on it while he stands her up. 

Clinging to him as he lifts her off the ground, her face finds its way into his neck. She exhales and can feel a shiver run down his body. Tav was not expecting whatever this is. Her heart rate picks up and she can feel a blush spread down her neck. 

Astarion moves them towards where he laid out the bedroll. He doesn’t lay her down but instead continues to hold her tightly. He moves his leg between hers, removing his hand from her thigh and bracing her against his own, so her hurt leg still dangles a little off the ground. She feels tingly and a little lightheaded, she’s quick to blame it on the fact that she hasn’t eaten much tonight.

The arm wrapped around her waist helps keep her up while the other moves to her waistband. He pulls back and looks at her for permission, all she can do is nod breathlessly. He maneuvers his fingers gently into her waistband, sliding her pants past her butt and down to her thighs as far as he can go.

“I’m going to set you down now.” He places his hand on the back of her thigh again and begins lowering her back down. His voice still sounds a little strange.

She’s stunned - what the hell was that.

He doesn’t say anything else as he continues on, gently pulling her boots off first, her pants soon following. He makes sure to be especially careful with her injured foot. Her ankle is already swollen and a concerning shade of purple.

“What do you think doc?”, she breaks the tension in the air. 

He clears his throat, his voice sounds normal again as he says, “Tsk, I don’t think you’re going to make it.” He shakes his head solemnly, “Such a shame - before all of this you were my favorite one at camp.”

He doesn’t leave her any time to retort before standing up to go lay out her pants on the other side of the fire. It won’t fix how muddy they are but it will dry them out. “Do you want to dry your shirt too, or no? I can always, ahem, help with that if needed.”

Tav can see the mask reforming, whatever happened moments ago slipping away. Don’t go, she thinks - instead she says, “No need, I’ve had you do enough for one day.” She only feels a little shy as she takes it off, tossing it over to him. He follows suit, stripping his shirt off, but briefly hesitating before slipping his pants off as well. He’s practically never the shy one, it’s something he’s done thousands of times - but with Tav he suddenly feels vulnerable.

Something in the air still feels weird between them. Tav can’t think of anything to say except, “Nice undies.” She apparently just cannot help herself with the comments today.

That charming face is fully back on. Deflecting, he makes a comment about her getting lost out here to seduce him. “All you had to do was ask and we could both be in my tent, in a similar state of undress, nice and warm right now.”

She looks at him and blurts out, “Why do you do that?”

His face drops for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Your face, it..changes sometimes, like you’re flipping a switch.” She hesitates before adding, “Or putting on a mask.”

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re getting at..” he starts to say, but he’s tired and decides to be somewhat honest. She’s certainly being direct with him. “Well, I suppose when you’re as pretty as I am dear, people expect a little flirtation.” He looks down at Tav, trying to get a read on her after asking him such a strange question. “Usually it’s welcomed, but...I mean, if you’re uncomfortable I can tone it down.” 

She shakes her head, “I don’t mind per se, but I feel weird sometimes because it doesn’t always seem authentic.”

Shit, she’s way more perceptive than I thought.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way, but..” she trails off for a second. “You do know we can just be friends, right? I don’t need you to flirt with me to like you, Astarion.”

Now he really doesn’t know what to say.

“Why?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth.

“Why would I like you even when you’re not flirting with me?”

“Yes, that’s usually what everyone wants.”

She’s starting to understand a little better now, so she says, “Well, I guess I don’t particularly want anything from you, Astarion.”

Ah, there it is, so she just doesn’t want him around in general. He can’t even lie to himself - it stings a little bit. He’s not used to being rejected, especially not by someone he actually gives a shit about. He laughs louder than he means to, “Well I can’t fathom why my company isn’t wanted - I’m a delight, if I do say so myself - but if you want me to leave then so be it. I can go and grab the others now that you’re in a safe place.”

She’s slightly baffled by his response, “What? No, Astarion, I do want you around. I just mean I will take what you’ll give me. I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give.” 

Ok, now she’s really not making sense. What does that even mean? He tries to hide his confusion. “Ah ok I see...but why?” he asks again. This time there’s curiosity behind it - instead of an accusation in the form of a question.

She shrugs, “Do I need a reason? I enjoy you Astarion. I like your company, you’re fun to talk to. We’re friends, and friends don’t have to do anything for each other. We can just be.”

He doesn’t say anything so she continues, “I admire you in a lot of ways - how you speak your mind, your sense of humor, the way you indulge me when I’m being annoying.” She sees an amused look form on his face and she smiles, “How you make me feel protected.” Oh no, it’s getting too serious now - she recovers, “I mean, your proclivity for violence definitely comes in handy.” Her eyes swing to his with a mischievous look on her face. 

She hadn’t even mentioned anything about my looks, Astarion thinks, digesting her words. He’s practically naked too. Usually he would feel offended, but this time it feels..nice. “We’re friends?” It’s the only thing he can think to say.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

This is not how he imagined this conversation, let alone this night, going. He decides it’s his turn now, “Well if we’re friends then let me ask you a question.”

Tav raises one eyebrow, “Go on.”

“Why did you go off all this way by yourself? And don’t you dare say it was just to explore this awful cave - there’s more to it.” Astarion knows he’s right. After all, Tav’s not the only one good at reading people.

Tav sighs. “I guess I’ve just been very overwhelmed lately. I needed some time away, to sort through my thoughts and figure shit out. Just exist without the weight of the world on my shoulders for a little bit.”

Astarion ponders that for a second then says, “I may not have the most experience in this arena, but isn’t that the kind of thing friends help out with? ‘Venting’, I think they call it.” She snorts and he continues, “Everyone is always coming to you, but you never come to us.”

He’s not sure if he should say this next part, “You say I have a mask, but I see yours too.”

He’s not wrong, she thinks. “I don’t know, everyone else just has these big huge things going on and I’m just..here. How could I not help?”

He rephrases his statement into a question, “Ok yes, but why do you feel the need to help literally every single person you come into contact with, yet still can’t ask for it in return?”

She looks at her hands, another sigh escaping her lips, “Probably because I’m used to handling my own problems by myself.”

The thought of her being alone is surprising to him. Tav seems like the kind of person who has lots of friends back home. She’s funny and charismatic, always taking care of others - he can’t think of one reason why she wouldn’t have people eager to be her friend. He’s not going to dig further into that at the moment, he senses it’s not what she needs right now.

“I may not know much about friendship, but I do happen to know a few things about loneliness.” He sits down facing her, gingerly propping her hurt leg up in his lap and carefully begins to wrap her ankle with fabric he tore from the bedroll. His bedside manner isn’t the worst she’s experienced. “Back in Baldur’s Gate I couldn’t let myself get close to anyone. If I did, they would just become another weakness for Cazador to exploit against me.” His face twists, “And honestly, people weren’t exactly lining up looking for friendship from me.” He keeps going, “What I do know is the last several weeks traveling in a team has been…good. I feel lighter, safer. Like I can actually somewhat enjoy my days, even when you all are acting insufferable.”

He just had to throw that last part in there, Tav thinks - letting out a small chuckle. She doesn’t care, she’s just happy to hear him open up to her like this. She feels less alone.

He moves his hand to her shin, not even thinking as he nervously rubs small circles into her skin. “And Tav, I attribute most of that to you.”

Her breath catches for a second at the look on his face, she can tell he means it when he says, “I may not be the best at it, but I want to be here for you as well.” He clears his throat. “So you need to get it together and start relying on your friends.”

Her face is on fire, but she tries to play it cool. Once again, she was not expecting that at all. 

“What I’m hearing you say is that you do like me after all,” she teases him, a grin on her face now.

He groans in response, “Don’t make me regret this.”

They both sit in silence for a minute, each thinking about what the other said.

“So hypothetically, what if I wanted to keep flirting with you?” Astarion asks, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She laughs, of all things that’s what he wants to circle back to? “If you want to flirt with me, I’m all for it - but only if you hypothetically really want to.” She tries to read his face.

He looks at her now, eyes straying to her lips. She’s so beautiful in the light of the fire. Hair wet, cheeks rosy, eyes sparkling with amusement. Even slightly scratched up and muddy, she's a vision. He can’t stop himself, “And what if..what if I wanted to kiss you?”

Tav's heart is racing so fast that she can feel her own pulse. What is going on today? First the worst luck she’s had in a while, and now this? The universe is messing with her.

Time to put her cards on the table. She wants to show him she’s sure about him - sure about whatever the hell is going on right now. “I would welcome it.”

He moves her leg gently, placing it back on the ground. In the next moment he’s moved up next to her, studying her face the whole time. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

His eyes are so round and soft - the softest expression she's ever seen on his face. His voice is much lower now, "What if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Looking to his lips and then back at his eyes, she leans towards him. Only a breath away now, Tav whispers, “Then I would kiss you back.”

And with that he closes the distance, her lips are so soft and warm that it makes him shiver. His tongue swipes against her bottom lip and she welcomes him. It’s not fair how good she tastes. His hands come up to cup both sides of her face and he kisses her more deeply. Her head is swimming, it’s by far one of the most passionate kisses she’s ever received.

He pulls back, slightly breathless, and moves his face to rest against her cheek. “I was really worried about you today.” It's a confession. 

She doesn’t move, just says, “I know,” and brings her hand to cup the back of his neck. She can feel the tension there. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Anytime.”

And she knows he means it.

--

--

--

--

Bonus:

“Ok but seriously, where are the others at? They just let you venture off alone to rescue me?”

He shrugs, “I know at least Karloch and Wyll also went out looking, but I’m sure they’re back at camp by now.”

“What about the others?” 

“They just don’t like you as much as I do apparently.” he cracks a mischievous smile.

“That’s messed up.” She says, but she’s laughing. He loves it when she laughs.

Astarion chuckles, “I can tell you that Gale’s probably making love to his stew right about now.”

Tav shakes her head still smiling, “That sounds painful.”

[applesandbannas747]

i wanna hear your thoughts on the fence challengers: long shot preview pages if you want to share!

oh mAN I have so many and they are all over the place!!

The first one is a little thing, but I bet Seiji had a crush on Marcus Washington when he was a kid--Nick's horror, Harvard's teasing, and Seiji's indignant blush imply as much.

And a fun fact, Jo posted a mini preview of baby Seiji to Patreon on February 14th...maybe I'm reading into it too much, but that's nothing new XD

Next couple of things are about the scene with the trophy case. It was really interesting and fun to see side-by-side redraws of Robert! It really illustrates the way the style has evolved, and also I gOTTA say it feels like Jo is more invested in Robert based on the level of detail she put in--like it's not just a style comparison, it's also just obvious a lot of attention was put into these shots when a) she could have just reused old shots (which she's done before, so I know it was an option), or kept it more simplified like she did when drawing the original shots.

I also think it's sweet that the redraws have Robert looking much more like Jesse than the originals.

And I am sure I will get flack for this, but I have incredible second-hand embarrassment from Nick leaving his newspaper clipping + note in the trophy case jfhdasl like bestieee noooo anyone can see that shit now oh my god please stooop

Onto some Nichoji thoughts! I love that Seiji's been confirmed as a before-bed reader! Him having a Kindle makes sense for the sheer efficiency of it too lmfao. Of course it's also adorable to see him in reading glasses <3 And then my favorite detail is Nick's stupid nightlight...notice where it is?

Rather than illuminating Nick's side of the room, it's peeking around the curtain and lighting up Seiji's reading, which is beyond adorable and sweet. I wonder whether Seiji stole it or Nick put it there knowing Seiji likes to read before bed, and I love both scenarios.

Also, it's fucking adorable that as soon as Nick mentions their date appointment, Seiji takes off his glasses and lowers his Kindle because it's got his full attention and investment.

And a quick pitstop to the locker rooms!

I like the visual metaphor here with Aiden and Bobby both very casual about changing and both literally having their shirts open; meanwhile, Seiji's straightening the cuffs on his button-down, which is already neatly tucked in and complete with his tie. It just highlights how Seiji's a lot more closed off than the others, and I think this was a neat trick to remind us of that.

In regards to plot, I'm still...really disappointed in the pacing. I know most people feel like it's a slowburn/it's taken a long time to develop, but if you waited to read Fence at all until it was complete and then read it all in one sitting, I think you'd see how unbalanced it is. Williams says that their first match will be in three weeks back right after tryouts:

which means everything between issue 12 and CHALLENGERS has happened in 3 weeks. Seiji and Nick's relationship is so sweet and cute, but it went from resentful rivalry to puppy love overnight with very little 'screen time' dedicated to the actual transition from resentment to friends (which I could write a whole essay on but this is not the post for that lmfao). Furthermore, the fact that it's the first match of State Championships rather than first match of the season is crazy to me. I'll admit, I didn't fence in high school--it wasn't even an option because we didn't have a team. And despite hours of research, the structure of high school team fencing is not entirely clear to me. However, I do know that typical high school sports go through the season, facing every other team in their division or whatever. Based on performance in those matches, they can qualify for state, and then their win ratio determines their seeding order for the state championships that happen in like 1-2 days. Seeding order is who you go up against in a bracket, so it's what this diagram is, basically:

(side note, but it appears there are 24 schools competing at state). Again, fencing could be different, but it kinda seems to me like we skipped over the season and went right to State Championships, which just cuts out so much development and build-up. It's like we're speed-running the entire story to get to the end faster. We cut out showing the development in the romance, and now we're cutting out the development of the plot. There's still plenty that we can do at state, of course, but imagine how much more it would mean to see Nick fencing in front of Robert if we'd built that up more. I just don't understand how we spent 12 issues on try outs, 4 on a practice match, 8 on camp, and none on the fencing season. It feels so abrupt and unbalanced. Tryouts and camp were my favorites arcs because they felt pretty well-paced as self-contained pieces of the story. I just feel like we needed waaaaay more relationship development between those two arcs to be satisfying, and I feel like there should be waaaaay more build up during the fencing season between camp and State Championships.

and now, the moment you've all been waiting for: my devastation over Eugene's role (???) in the story. I honestly question why he's in the story at all--at this point, it would have made more sense to have him flat-out not make the team. Except that keeping him this long lowkey backs up the theory I've had on his role since Striking Distance/RIVALS: Eugene is here to make everyone else look better/cooler/more impressive. The very first thing that struck me when reading the first look was this:

The dialogue here suggests that only one reserve actually gets to be on the team in the end, and the reserve is Nick. And, worse, everyone expected it to be Nick. Sure, it's sweet that Seiji thinks Nick's the better fencer, but all I can think about is how hard Eugene's worked for ten years trying to make the team as opposed to Nick's three months of fencing. Now, I love an underdog story. But it's interesting because Pacat stated in an interview (I'd have to go find where for the specific quote) that he always feels bad for the person who's been working to be #1 their whole lives only to be knocked out of the running by an upstart underdog--which I've always assumed would influence the path taken in Fence...and it seems like we may well let Seiji and Jesse remain above Nick in skill (or at least it seems like we won't be dethroning Seiji, even if we go for Jesse), but Nick's overcoming smaller obstacles. And those smaller obstacles hurt worse to see crushed because Eugene almost made the team in a way that mattered, only to have that taken away. It would have been less cruel to him and his fans to let Nick take the reserve slot back in issue 12, but instead we brought Eugene along to serve as a means to make Nick out 'secret weapon' and elevate his story.

I will say though, this page is one of my favorite Eugene moments because I see the character I selfishly want Eugene to be in it. From the context of the panels above, this page is likely Williams telling them that only one will be fencing in State Championships, and this is their reaction. Eugene's immediate concern for Nick and the comforting hand on his shoulder followed by a bright smile and a thumbs up--he just cares so much about other people and it so used to smiling through his own pain/disappointment and comforts Nick through being positive (and as seen back in issue 12, up playing his competitiveness) and acting like it's no big deal.

Eugene deserved better, but if this is where he goes out, I think I can live with it. Better to see him go now than continue to be a means to uplift the rest of team by being less than. but, man, I was really hoping we were turning it around after his moment in REDEMPTION being the only KR boy not to lose his bout

anyway, thank you sm for listening to my rambles!!! <33

[fourthwingfanclub]

Violets Second Signet **Spoiler Warning**

Ok, after a long time thinking about this, and reading Iron Flame 4 times I think I am ready to theorize my idea for Violets second signet.

Let's start by summarizing what we know.

I have seen that some people have speculated that her signet is Distance wielder because she asked Xaden if that was his. While I don't think that was just brought up without a purpose, I don't think that would be her signet. (I think Aaric might end up being that).

I also think Violet's signet is going to be something that either we have never seen before, or very rare. This power comes from Andarna, she's a special breed of Dragon that has been basically extinct for 650 years.

Signets are based on the rider, and what they need most at their core. Violet needs information, Facts.

It is also mentioned many times that Violet has a mind of a scribe and the heart of a rider. I think this is important, more important than we know yet.

I think Violet can process events and information in slow motion. I think she can see everything around her happening, giving her time to process and record the events within her mind. While this doesn't seem significant, to Violet its everything. There are a few events that's stood out to me that made me think this.

First, when she reviews what Aiofe wrote and admits she missed some things. Also, Jesinia mentions that stories can change depending on who is transcribing them. Violet is mad about the amount of information that has been forgotten or changed due to scribes hiding the Venin from Navarre. She would want to recount everything correctly.

“Absolutely.” I nod, then take the notebook and skim Aoife’s neat handwriting. It’s amazingly accurate, with little details I’d missed, like the two infantry cadets who’d offered to be the healers’ aides because that’s their job for the squad. They have designated roles for each mission. I set it down on top of the book I’m returning to sign. “This is incredible.” “Glad to hear it’s accurate.” She glances over her shoulder, as if checking to see if we’re alone, which we are. “The tricky thing is to capture the truth and not just an interpretation. Stories can change depending on who tells them.”

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean Book 2) (p. 224). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

Second, the way some of the events and wording were portrayed made me suspicious that these were written a specific way. They were very detailed catching events that were happening in seconds or described as happening in slow motion. I think we see some clues to this being her signet once we get to Part 2 of the book and Andarna is awake and Channeling. We know Violets first signet showed up right after she started channeling with Tairn (that first kiss with Xaden), so it would make sense that she could have been showing signs of her second signet without realizing it. I don't think she was fully able to wield until the final battle though. My reasoning for this is if she was, even if she was unaware, Tairn would have sensed her pulling power from another source and wielding. If he did during the battle, we won't know that until the 3rd book since we don't get much info on events once battle has ended.

Examples of her signet showing up prior to final battle as follows...

Time slows to sluggish heartbeats as I watch him reach for the ground.

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean Book 2) (p. 567). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

Everything somehow slows and yet happens at once.

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean Book 2) (p. 597). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

Time slows to heartbeats, my breath freezing in my heated chest. Then the wyvern crosses the invisible barrier, and my heart stops beating altogether as its wings flap once. Twice.

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean Book 2) (p. 745). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

During the battle, two events really stood out - when Violet was waiting for the Venin to come upon them and worried about her friends. She says they have 10 seconds maybe. It is then described in detail all the events taking place a second at a time. Shes following this dagger being repaired while simultaneously aware of everything and everyone around her. She is able to gather copious amounts of information in a short, small amount of time.

One. Ridoc waves his hands at my right, holding a dagger that’s been snapped in two. Shit, if his only remaining blade is broken—I blink when the pieces disappear. He wasn’t waving at me. Two. Snapping my head to the left, I find the pieces already in Rhiannon’s hands as Feirge dives to where Sliseag hovers beneath. Three. Feirge flies alongside Sliseag, and Rhiannon tosses the pieces. Four. To Sawyer’s credit, he catches them. Five. Sgaeyl rises to take Feirge’s place, and I lock eyes with Xaden only long enough to see that he’s unharmed. Blood both drips from Sgaeyl’s mouth and runs in rain-driven rivulets down the side of Xaden’s face, but I instinctively know it’s not his and focus on the imminent threat. Six. Breathe. I have to breathe through the firestorm in my chest or I’ll burn out. It’s not that I don’t recognize the signs: the trembling, the heat, the fatigue. It’s just that they don’t matter. Everyone I love is on this field. Seven. They’re almost on us, and I look down at the ward chamber, where Marbh stands watch with a Blue Clubtail I don’t recognize and a vague shape I hope is Andarna, and when a flash of sunlight reflects on the dagger in Sawyer’s hand, it disappears again, Feirge already on the move. Eight. “Dajalair is frustrated by the unflyable conditions,” Tairn relays as Feirge rises alongside Aotrom. Nine. “Tell them they’re more efficient guarding the courtyard and incoming wounded than struggling with waterlogged wings,” I note. “They’d be a liability up here right now, not an asset.” The dagger changes hands, and Ridoc is once again armed. I grin at how seamlessly we work as a team, then face the coming tidal wave. Ten. “You’re beginning to think—” Tairn starts. “Like Brennan?” I suggest as the wyvern enter our airspace. “Like Tairn,” Sgaeyl answers,

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean Book 2) (pp. 827-828). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

The last scene that made me think this was when Sawyer and Aotrom was being attacked by multiple wyverns. Violet is able to assess the situation, gather the information, which gave her the opportunity to save her friends. I think this speaks directly to the battle at Resson, her world had been so turned upside down with the realization that everything she knew was false she was unable to fully piece together the information she did know about how wyvern is made from Venin, she feels responsible for Liam.

We’re almost there, but everything happens so fucking fast that it’s as if the rest of the world slows down. In one heartbeat, the closest wyvern opens its jaws. In the second, it blasts green fire across Sliseag and Sawyer dives backward out of the seat, narrowly avoiding being burned to death and rolling down Sliseag’s spine with a smoking boot. In the third, it completes its assault, snapping at Sliseag’s exposed side. Sawyer kicks at the gaping jaws to save his dragon from the bite, but in the next, he takes it himself, his leg disappearing between the wyvern’s massive teeth.

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean Book 2) (p. 833). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

With that I leave you with this blurb from Xaden

“You have to find your center again, Violet. I can’t do it for you.” He holds my gaze, letting his words sink in, before adding, “You are a creature of logic and facts, and everything you know got turned upside down and shaken. You’ll never know how truly sorry I am for that. But you can’t just sit there and hope. You want it to change, then you have to figure it out, just like Gauntlet. You’re the only one who can.”

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean Book 2) (p. 663). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

[bucksdaffy]

lou's comparison of "kinley" to kindling makes me feel so soft because 1) both buck and tommy are firefighters so it serves as a nice reference to that but also 2) we use kindling so that we can sustain the fire which itself can have so many love connotations I'M GOING INSANE like it can be associated with passion and desire and warmth and affection and comfort and security and transformation and growth and hope and so much more?? and the fact that kindling serves as a base for all of that?? so as long as they are together and make sure to nurture their relationship they will basically have it all?? which i'm pretty sure is like the goal of every relationship??

[yelenasdiary]

Alright friend, so when I was watching Hawkeye and it's the scene where he's talking with Kate about the cost of being a hero. It gave me an idea, so I was thinking kate, yelena and reader are on a mission to scout an abandoned hydra base or something. Kate and reader enter a room when they are looking at a computer, reader hears a bomb. They both look around and when they find it it's about to explode. So reader pushes kate out of the room and shuts the door to protect her or if you like it better I was also thinking of reader getting shot saving kate or something while fighting hydra agents. Anyway, however you want reader to get hurt. So then at the compound in the med bay, reader is on life support when kate calls clint and just starts breaking down saying how she understands the cost now. Clint ends up coming to the compound to help kate. Reader ends up being ok in the end though cause kate deserves to be happy. I was thinking for a title you could call it the cost or something like that. Sorry sounds cliché I know, especially the title. Anyway, you're the best 💖 Also bonus points for having reader be yelena's younger sister and sorry if I rambled to much

The Cost

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Super Soldier! Reader

Summary: After saving Kate from a bomb, it opens the archer’s eyes to a much, much bigger picture about her new job. 

Angst | Fluff | Mentions of Blood | Medical Talk | They/Them Pronouns Used | 1.4K | 

AC: Thank you for sending this! I’m so happy to do some more Kate content, I made reader a Super Soldier for this, I hope that’s okay x 

Not a second thought went through your mind when you pushed Kate out of the room that held the data you and Kate were collecting. The bomb went off not even a second after Kate was pushed to safety, not leaving you a chance to get yourself to safety as the building fell on top of you. Kate was speechless as she searched the rubble for you, back up was on the way but even when they arrived, Kate didn't stop looking for you. 

When you were found, all Kate could see was how much blood covered your body and instantly she thought the worst. Tears filled her eyes as the others made sure to get you to safety and take you back to the compound's medical center. Kate was beside herself as she waited outside your medical bay while the medical team did their best to keep you alive. If it wasn't for the fact that you were a super soldier, there would be no way you'd have survived the blast of the bomb. 

It didn't matter how many times Kate replayed the situation over and over in her head, she knew you saved her life when you pushed her out the window of that room. Anytime Kate saw a nurse come out of the medical room, she would stop them and ask for an update but just like any hospital, they couldn't give the young archer any update until the doctor had completed the operation. Hours would pass before Kate would have any news on your condition. 

"For now, they're in a medical induced coma to help their body heal. We won't know anything further until they wake up" Bruce explained to the team, but more so to Kate who felt sick to her stomach with worry. 

You've been Kate's work partner for a little over a year now but only recently over the course of a couple of months have the two of you kindled a romance. Its new and exciting to the two of you which is why nobody else knew about it just yet. Besides, you'd be lying if you said you were slightly scared of what Clint might say considering how close he and Kate are. She's basically his adopted daughter and he's very protective of her. 

"But they're going to be okay, right?!" Kate asked with a worried tone, she just needed Bruce to assure her that you were okay because she called the one person, she knew would help her through this situation.

"Right now, yes but until they wake up, we won't know if there us anything further that needs attention" he replied. It wasn't exactly jumping for joy news, but it was enough for Kate to calm down for a moment and excuse herself form the room.

"Clint, I need you to come to the compound, please" Kate's broken voice spoke through the phone. 

"Is everything okay?!" Clint asked in an instant worried tone. 

"I just…I need you here, I understand now" Kate replied. 

"Understand what? Kate, are you okay? What's happened?"

"It all happened so fast, we were just getting data from this Hydra base when Y/n noticed an active bomb….it was already too late to run, they pushed me out the window before I had a chance to help them" Kate broke as she recalled the events that took place. Tears streamed down her face as she hoped you'd be okay. "The building just came down, there wasn't anything I could do Clint" Kate added in a sob, her words breaking with every tear that streamed down her face. 

Clint gave the young avenger a moment of silence, already packing his overnight bag and writing a note for Laura to see later. "Kate, I'm on my way, okay?" he spoke, breaking the silence. 

Kate nodded, even though she knew Clint couldn't see her action. "I need them to be okay" she sobbed. 

"I know sweetheart, I know" Clint replied, not afraid to show her his caring side. "I'm on my way, just hang in there for me, can you do that?" he added. 

"Yeah" Kate wiped her tears even though it felt pointless as more tears filled the place of the last ones. 

----

Clint arrived and found Kate sitting by your bedside when her hand gently resting on top of your left, her thumb gently stroking your knuckles. The thought of you knowing she was by your side helped calm her wondering thoughts as she would tell you repeatedly how much she needed you to be okay. 

"How are they?" Clint asked, quietly taking a few steps into the room. Kate looked up at him, her exhausted expression worried him. "Bruce said we won't know anything else until they wake up" Kate explained. 

"What about you? Have you been checked out?" 

"I'm fine, just a couple of cuts and bruises" Kate replied before she looked back at you, "they saved me Clint, without a second thought….they just pushed me out the window and I'm not sure how I didn't understand it before, but now I get it…this is the cost" Kate looked back at Clint with teary eyes, "I could lose them" she added. 

"You can't think that way" Clint replied, placing a hand on her shoulder as he looked into her eyes, "yeah, this is the cost and there is a chance you or somebody on your team could lose their life but that's what makes you fight harder so that doesn't happen. Y/n's first thought was to protect you, to keep you safe and they did that. They are willing to risk their life to make sure you're okay and this is the cost they took. When it comes to life-or-death moments, there isn't time to think, you just do. This is why we train as hard as we do and why are so annoying with going over mission details to help prevent things like this happening." Clint added. 

Kate's tears broke and once again formed another stream down her face as Clint wrapped his arms around the younger woman, holding her close for comfort.

----

6 months later and you were back on your feet like nothing happened, a few scars to remember but you made a full recovery. 

"What's on your mind pretty?" you asked, breaking Kate's train of thought as she staired into space. "Huh? Oh, just you" she replied with a soft smile. 

"That looked like some intense thoughts" you chuckled, "good ones I hope" you added. Kate wandered over to you and straddled your lap before softly pressing her lips against yours, "promise me you won't scare me like that again?" she spoke. 

"What? Bring you back from your thoughts?" you asked, gently rubbing her back. 

"No, I mean" Kate paused for a moment, "I don't want to lose you, ever! Clint told me something a couple of years back, you know, before I became an avenger. This job comes with a cost an-"

"Baby, listen to me" you stopped Kate's worrying thoughts leaving her lips, "it's going to take much more than a bomb explosion to get rid of me, I knew there was no way the two of us were going to get out of that room safely and I knew I'd have a much higher fighting chance at surviving the bomb because of the serum" you couldn't help by brush a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear. 

"I wake up every morning worried that something might happen to you on a mission or just by doing day to day things, I wish I could protect you from every single thing but it's not how life goes but if I can protect you, I will, without a second thought" you added while looking into her eyes.

"But what if one day you don't make it? That's what I'm worried about baby" Kate replied as her hands rested peacefully on your shoulders. "Kate, honey, let's not think about the what ifs, let's think about the now. I'm here and I'm okay. You're here and you're okay, we have each other and to me, that's all that matters. I'm not going anywhere, I promise" you cupped her face gently, pulling her closer to your lips as you kissed her deeply. "I love you" Kate whispered between kisses. A smile tugged at your lips before you kissed her once more, "I love you too baby" you replied.

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[hermitscratch]

7 or 16 - Bdubs/Joel?

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

16. A kiss while someone watches, Bdubs/Joel, 849 words

Honestly, Bdubs saw this coming ages ago.

Since Double Life, in fact. He'd have to be blind, deaf, and stupid not to notice the way Etho and Joel clicked. Like two halves of the same whole that had Bdubs wondering, not for the first time, if the game knew something they didn't. Bdubs hadn't been surprised when Etho came to him two sessions in to say that being with Joel felt Good. The kind of capital-letter-warranting feeling that Etho used to describe how he felt with people like Doc, like Beef, like Bdubs. Bdubs was sure at that point that Etho was in love. He was just as sure that, in time, he'd love Joel as well.

A lot had happened since then. Limited Life, the Rift debacle, The Decked Out 2 invitations, Secret Life. Season Nine had ended. When Season Ten began, Joel was there, and he took to being a Hermit like sparks to dry kindling, getting happily caught up in the whirlwind of early-game adventures.

Joel always seemed busy. Never too busy to indulge a conversation with any passersby who grabbed his attention, never too busy to pay calls and visits to his wife, and certainly never too busy to build- but busy enough that by the time he showed up on Bdubs' doorstep, Bdubs hadn't seen him since the season introduction.

It was nice, having Joel to himself for a while. They chatted, they caught up, they talked about their building plans as Bdubs toured Joel around his house and the space he'd cleared for future projects. Joel was a great rubber duck, taking all Bdubs' ideas and bouncing them back a little to the left, helping him see what could change for the better. Using the tree as a living indicator of the passage of time? Genius.

Bdubs tried to be the same, when it came time to tour Joel's base, but what could he add to perfection? His builds had so much visual interest, each decorated sign and hanging banner significant to the image as a whole. It felt like a part of a city, chiseled right out of the mountainside, and Bdubs was incredibly impressed. Verticality, especially, was a tough thing to work with.

They were on their way through the shopping district when Joel stopped. Bdubs walked a few paces ahead before he noticed, and stopped as well to let Joel catch up. The next time it happened, Bdubs paused with him. "You alright?"

Joel seemed to stare at the corner of the building they'd just passed. "Fine," He said, turning back around and gesturing with a nod for them to keep moving. As they did, Joel continued, "Any ideas why your boyfriends are following us?"

"What?" Immediately, Bdubs tried to backtrack to the corner Joel had been staring at, but Joel grabbed him by the arm.

"Shh! Bloody- don't make a scene of it. Etho's lurking behind the building," Joel nodded towards the shade behind the oddly tall pop-up shop, "And Impulse is going from roof to roof."

Bdubs had known for a long time that he was going to love Joel some day.

He just... didn't expect it to start here, with enchanting eyes glinting mischievously and a smile that made compelling promises as Joel said, "We should mess with 'em."

Bdubs' throat dried. Now wasn't the time to be looking at Joel's mouth. "Yeah, uh-huh," He said with a nervous-excited chuckle, "They've got it coming! Wh-what do they think they're doing, spyin' on us!"

Joel giggled back, and the sound made Bdubs' heart do these funny little flips that he hadn't felt since he and Impulse were bound in Double Life, "Gotta make it convincing," Joel warned.

Oh. Joel's lips were soft.

Softer than Bdubs would have expected from a man who bit them while he thought. Warm, as well, and Bdubs' awareness narrowed to that point of contact. It was tame, as far as kisses went. Joel wasn't much for tame, and possessed by resentment that Joel might be doing something stupid like holding back, Bdubs grabbed Joel by the folds of his kimono and pulled him closer, kissed him harder.

They broke apart with a gasp only after hearing the sound of Impulse falling from his rooftop perch.

For a moment, there was nothing. They both stared at where Impulse had been, then to the dissipating smoke of his lost life, his items scattered haphazardly around the area. They looked at each other, kiss-drunk and surprised, like they'd forgotten that this started as a way to get back at Etho and Impulse for stalking them through the shopping district. Like they'd forgotten that they're very much still in the, very public, shopping district. Admittedly, Bdubs might have forgotten his own name if they'd kept up like that for much longer.

They laughed.

"That's enough of that," Joel finally said, "We should get Impulse's stuff put away, before it despawns on 'im."

Bdubs nodded his agreement, already in the process of crafting a chest. "And what happens then?"

"After that," Joel had that mischievous flicker in his eyes again, "I think you and I've got a lot to talk about."

[syoddeye]

pursuit

poly 141 x reader ~1k words, lightly edited cw: chase/pursuit, human furniture continuation of spoils 2024/04/01 Update: This series is now Poly141! x transmasc!Reader.

The fireplace crackles, logs groaning in its flames. A mute servant slides narrow slats of kindling into the gaps and collects the ash. Reading in the privacy of his study after an indulgence is a languid ritual, and John leans in the seat of the tufted armchair like a lion sated. The servant continues their work in silence, with only the sound of turning pages cutting the quiet.

His eyes lift to the door seconds before the first knock falls, ending his peace abruptly. The grim face of a subordinate pokes through.

“Sir? You need to see this.”

John stares a moment before lifting his feet from the ottoman. The curled, nude man beneath his boots grunts quietly when he nudges him aside.

He allows the subordinate to bring up the security feed at his desk, one brow arched in intrigue rather than concern. He smirks as he watches a figure force themselves through a hedge. He summons his hounds with the press of a button, and one by one, they slink into his office, tails wagging at their own pace.

“Our little bird has flown the nest. Find ‘em, but do not engage lest they stray too close to the garden’s edge,” Reaching for his jacket, he pulls it on a sleeve at a time. “‘S preferable we allow them to believe they’ve slipped our grasp for now.”

With John’s instructions given, the three men race from the room. The Captain turns to the windows. If their plunder sought a game, he would indulge them.

~~

Over comms, John monitors the chase’s progress, tone detached as he saunters down the shallow steps leading from the manse to an exit of the maze. “Drive them towards the northwest corner.”

With precision timing and manipulation, John orchestrates the movements like a conductor guiding an orchestra, ensuring that every step their quarry takes is one he guides. The hollering and whooping voices of his men echo across the garden’s expanse, loud then soft—all to keep them uncertain and on edge. They’re far from being the first rabbit loose on the grounds, on the run from his dogs.

“Give them a little room,” He lopes along the outer path, then hooks into the exit, scratching at his beard. “Only tighten the lead on my command.”

He stops at a stone bench nestled within an alcove of tall brush and hedge and eases into it. A soft groan escapes him. Perhaps he overextended himself when welcoming their guest in his excitement. Clearly, next time, he’ll need to wear them out more. The fact they had the energy and strength to climb out of the window of their chambers was a miscalculation on his part. A distant shriek makes his lip curl.

He checks his watch. Any minute now.

~~

The ache of your knee and the warm track of blood are negligible, given current circumstances. The fabric is heavy, clutched in your fists, hoisted, and hitting against your calves with every step. You believe the head start will be enough. You must. You abandoned the bracelets and necklaces at the base of the wall beneath your window and tied shredded pillowcases around your bare feet.

Your heart hammers in your chest, lungs burning. After a few minutes, you skid to a halt and gulp down air. From the window, you estimated the maze was an acre and saw that it butted up against an iron fence, but it feels longer as if new paths spring up around each corner. Just as you catch your breath to continue, you hear it. Hear them.

Shouts.

Muttering a curse, you scramble onward. Although you try, it is impossible to keep quiet; whimpers and squeaks slip out as your poor makeshift feet coverings gradually rip away. The soles of your feet find every twig and pebble, and your scraped knee slows you further. Then there are the bruises that little your backside and thighs, thighs unhelpfully chafing and raw from John’s ministrations.

Your movements become more frantic as you weave through the garden, the voices—at once murmurs in your ear and distant howls beyond the shrubs—play tricks with your mind. Shadows await within the deadends and dark corners you find, morphing into figures, only to dissipate when you reel away.

A loud crunch of wood shocks you off your feet, and you hurtle into a wet patch of earth, biting your lip through. A burst of copper blooms in your mouth, but you gather your limbs up in a ball, tucking into recess on one of the living walls. Just as you retreat, the monstrous form of one of John’s men—Simon, the beast in black—stalks out from the gap you emerged from seconds before, sniffing the air like a dog. Heart in your throat, you watch him turn with a chuff, and disappear down a different passage.

You wait until his steps disappear. Cries erupt from a far corner of the grounds, and you shakily stand, trying to count the tones. One…two…

“Boo.”

A shriek rips out of you, and you stumble out of your hiding spot to take off. A deep laugh echoes behind you, and terror licks at your heels. It’s the mohawked one. The man with the teeth. MacTavish.

You must find a way out. No part of you can afford a second or third surrender. Your sides are in stitches, fisting the unwieldy drapes covering your body. Desperate, flawed math maps your footfalls, your panic-stricken mind trying to calculate not only your rough location within the maze but the routes least likely to land you in the clutches of one of John’s men.

Rounding a corner, every part of you aching, you glide clumsily to a halt. The cool mud on your feet and legs meets the warmth of your blood.

Seated upon a bench as if it is a throne, is John.

He smiles. Teeth tombstones in the dark.

“Did you have a nice run?” 

You wheel around to disappear into the garden and meet a wall of solid mass. You bounce back a step and look up. The third man grins and encloses your wrist in an ironclad fist.

What about Kyle? He usually keeps his hands to himself.

Kyle's companions loom over his shoulders. He gently turns you to face John, who’s still seated.

Steps to your left and right crunch. Surrounded on three sides.

“Let’s see if they can’t work that insolence out of your system, eh?”

[paper-gold-theories]

Super happy and in a good mood ☺️ cause I was able to buy and read Villanos - Bitacora de investigación del Dr. Flug: ¡Diario de Dem! (Flug's Investigation Journal and Demencia's Diary)

Had some issues installing it last time with kindle 😅, but managed to install it because I wanted to catch up before The Villain Manual gets released.

(I wanna also read Black Hat 's Completely Harmless Books and check out the colouring book as well and will also have to rewrite some of my theories based on the debunked information in the books. Haha 😅)

Fun fact, as mentioned in the end of Flug's Journal he mentioned that some of the pages of The Villain Manual are written by Black Hat but most of them are written by Flug (Black Hat probably got lazy delegated the work to him 😂)

[Google Translate]

In other news: Master Black Hat has made an announcement that he will soon release the “Black Hat Organization Villains Manual”, which is also written by moi (and me!) and by Mr. Black Hat himself… at least a few pages , others of them were dictated to me, my fingers need a break from writing after writing down everything the little boss said for this new book.

Anyway, we don't know yet when it will be available but the publisher affiliated with the Black Hat Organization with the funny penguin will surely announce it at the time.

-Dr. Kenning Flugslys V.

(Hmm …noticed that Flug ends his name with a V (fifth) so does that mean that his father’s name is Kenning Flugslys IV ? 🤔)

[cramopener]

@epicfroggz

You brought up so many good points that it’s making my brain do backflips and I had to make a whole ass post about it to get my thoughts out. Well played.

SO I’ve seen people have a few different interpretations of this sentence, and I’ve even looked into it myself recently, and it seems the general consensus is that what Melina is saying is that a Tarnished who is guided by a Maiden will one day have to face Maliketh and restore Destined Death back into the Elden Ring. While Melina’s whole thing is specifically being the kindling Maiden, we know for a fact that with any Tarnished and Maiden pair, the Maiden must be sacrificed. We know this because of Vyke, the Tarnished closest to becoming Elden Lord before us, because he was so against sacrificing his Maiden that he tried to circumvent fate and ended up losing not only himself, but his Maiden in the process.

Now, this can actually parallel Messmer a little bit. He is destined to one day be completely consumed by the Base Serpent within him. In the beginning, him and Marika actively fight against this with every means at their disposal. However, just as Vyke failed, so too did Marika and Messmer. Marika realized first that she couldn’t do anything to help Messmer (if only they had had Miquella’s Needle back then…) and began to fear his power, and so locked him away in the Land of Shadows where then Messmer also gave up after many, many years of being alone and with no hope in sight. Then we show up and Messmer finally succumbs to the Serpent. Despite his best efforts, he met Destined Death anyway, as once he destroys the grace seal, even if he had managed to kill us, he would be shortly completely consumed by the Base Serpent. One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it.

This could mean what Melina is saying does apply to both herself and Messmer, especially given they’re siblings. There’s even evidence to suggest that they’re twins, so their fates would be naturally linked in some way.

As to your second point, I’m so glad you brought that up!! I even left a comment on Bonfire’s video noting that Messmer looks like he’s in so much unbelievable pain once he unleashes and turns into the Base Serpent. I was chewing on this earlier and I think Godwyn’s and Messmer’s afflictions are different, but also similar. Godwyn becomes this awful bloated corpse because it’s essentially an empty vessel that continues to grow without end. In Messmer’s case, he’s been fighting against the Base Serpent more or less since birth, and I think because of that suppression, the Base Serpent has been growing unrestrained within Messmer until he inevitably gives in and unleashes it which is why there’s so resemblance between Godwyn with all the eyes.

It’s said the Base Serpent is incredibly malevolent, and I think being locked away within Messmer for so long made it resentful and in turn that resentment made it grow. As soon as it’s free, you can see it’s tearing Messmer’s body apart with little thought or concern. Messmer’s muscles are completely bursting with snake scales and flesh, covered in blood.

In this way, I think the Base Serpent is also feeding off of Messmer’s emotional pain and anger in that moment. Messmer at this point in the fight realizes that his mother completely, totally abandoned him. She left Messmer to rot and the one purpose she did give her son, she gave up on a long time ago. That kind of betrayal would be the perfect thing for this evil snake god to use. Even though it’s a snake, it’s very parasitic in a lot of ways. It’s using Messmer’s body as a skin suit until he unleashes it, upon which it’ll devour him until there is no Messmer left. What better fuel than the combined anger of a malevolent deity and the anger of the one it’s possessing to then use that to consume its host entirely

[purecantarella]

BLACKPINK Reactions : You Deal With Racism

request : Question, can you do a post about a black reader dating a blackpink member and then dealing with racism? I’m black and never seen it done so it would make me happy! i was very nervous when i saw this, because i don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or to get anything wrong and offend more people, so i hope that i did the request and the community as a whole justice. i would like to stress and say that while i am filipino, while i have experienced microaggressions, i have been blessed enough to not have experienced outright racism...that i can remember at least. i hope i do the ideas justice though and to those who have to stand for these actions, you are brave souls indeed. blackpink x black!reader disclaimer/s : racial slurs and aggressive acts (verbal and physical), oh and cursing. read with a level head.

Kim Jisoo

When Jisoo began dating you, she entered the relationship with a sort of colorblind mindset. It didn't matter to her what color of skin you had, she just liked you and found your energy electric.

It was never an issue to her, until you came home one night in a rage.

She scrolled through her timeline, laughing softly at viral memes of her member over the course of the tour when you entered the house. Jumping when the door slammed against it's frame as you stormed in. Tears in your eyes as you pulled your jacket off of your body.

Instantly, Jisoo stared at you with a concerned expression. She allowed you to calm down as you paced in front of her, thoughts clouded with rage. "I just can't believe that in this century, this point in time people still look at me with such..."

You're unable to continue your statement, only blundering into a groan of frustration. Jisoo was rather confused, before taking your hands in hers, the contrast between your hands only fueling your frustration further.

You sit beside her before letting your tears run down your cheeks, feeling helpless as she runs her hands atop your head lovingly. "What happened...?" She asks, her clumsy English accent making you smile.

You sniffle softly before pulling your hands, wiping your tears away, "Just some idiots...they thought I couldn't understand them and they said quote-on-quote, be careful with your bags kids, that gangster might steal them from you." You explain quickly, not wanting to dwell on it any further, just wanting to find comfort in your soft girlfriend.

However, your beloved girlfriend simply tilts her head to the side, offering you a small smile. On a normal day, the hint of innocence in her smile would often comfort you, bringing you a sense of calm and reminding you just why you fell for her in the first place.

Now though, it struck you as insensitive and all together it added onto your frustration. Just when you thought she would say nothing more and you could brush it aside, Jisoo says, "Just ignore them."

It wasn't anything offensive. In fact it was good advice. But after the day you had, after how much you've pent up with living in South Korea and having to deal with it each day of your life, ignoring those kinds of comments felt impossible.

You pull your hands away from Jisoo, her bright expression melting into one of concern again. You laugh dryly before getting up, walking towards your shared bedroom, "You...Soo I don't think you get it."

"No, no, I do, I swear," She tries to backtrack before she shifts to face you better. Innocence smeared all over her face. "I get a lot of hate as an idol, but I suppose the best thing to do is to just turn the other cheek."

You laugh again, tears of frustration pricking your eyes. Your hands rushing over your face over and over again in attempts to get your thoughts together. "I will always be discriminated based solely on how my skin looks. It isn't the same." You try to explain calmly in spite of the fire kindling in the pit of your stomach.

Still she looks up at you confused.

You sigh deeply before walking back towards your shared bedroom, "It doesn't matter, Jisoo. It's fine." You say quickly before slowly closing the door behind you. Leaving Jisoo confused and guilty.

As soon as she hears the door click, she's on the phone with Jennie, asking for advice. Wanting to understand you and what you go through better without hurting you further.

"I'm sorry, you said what to her?" Jennie berated her as she looked at your closed door with a bitter taste in her mouth, regretting everything she'd said and done in the span of a five minute conversation.

Kim Jennie

Getting into a very public relationship was already a scandal to Jennie's fans, but dating someone like you was almost unheard of for her fans who saw her as an angel and had assumptions of you. Both of you were very aware of the potential consequences.

But in that moment it was all or nothing. And you were both all in.

To Jennie, the freedom of being able to hold her girlfriend's hand while they were on a date was the most liberating and amazing feeling she could ever have. Your hands intertwined with one another as you told her about your day, waiting for a waiter to approach.

"Ah miss Kim! It's a pleasure to serve you again." The waiter greets politely, his smile gleaming. The rapper offers him a kind smile before she notices that he looks over at you. Expression not as polished, more restrained. Merely offering you an acknowledging nod but she chalked it up to her being a regular and more familiar to the man.

"Hon, what do you feel like having?" Jennie asks you, her hand momentarily breaking from yours to pluck the menu from in front of her. You turn to her but before you can say anything the waiter butts in, "We have a selection of chicken, normally we wouldn't fry anything but if that's what your..." There's a pause as he eyes you up and down, "...companion would like miss Kim we can surely find a way."

You fall silent and laugh nervously while Jennie glares at him, resentment boiling under her skin, "N-No thank you, I'd actually like-" Again he cuts you off, "Or perhaps she would like baked potatoes, Miss Kim? We can have them serve it extra spicy for your companion."

"I can speak for my-"

"However I am sad to say there are no more watermelons available, miss Kim-"

Finally, Jennie has enough and cuts the waiter off with a kind but venomous smile. "First of all, she can speak for herself. If you had anything valuable to say, you can say it directly to her. She is not an object or dare I say what you think she is...the help." Jennie says begrudgingly, shooting you an apologetic look.

She watches the waiter gulp nervously, "Second, the stereotypes you've stuck to her based on what she looks like are not only offensive but outlandishly wrong. And lastly, saying she's my girlfriend. Not a companion but my girlfriend."

You've heard it a million times before but it still makes your insides melt when she says that. A sense of pride fills you as you watch the rapper stand up for you so fiercely. "Now, I suggest you go back and come back when you're ready to actually listen and tend to your patrons." Jennie finishes before the man bows, muttering a soft apology before he runs back to the kitchen.

You look over at your flushed with rage girlfriend before she looks over at you rather sheepishly. "I"m sorry if I caused a scene." You smile and shake your head, leaning in to place a delicate kiss over her soft cheek.

"I've never seen you get so riled up, Jen." You pause to laugh softly, "Anger is almost a good color on you."

She pauses and leans into you, catching you off guard. Just a moment ago she was a warrior, ready to fight any battle for you. The armor quickly melts as her hand finds yours again. Her thumb brushes over your knuckles, making you lean in closer. Nose burrowing in her hair.

"I shouldn't have made a scene...It might have made you look even worse to the public...I can see the headline now. Jennie Kim's black girlfriend is a bad influence to her good girl nature." Her voice is fragile before you shake your head.

"You meant well, Jen. Just don't make it a every night thing." You whisper before leaving a light kiss on the crown of her head. In attempts to lighten the mood, you look down at the menu, "You know, that chicken sound about right now."

Jennie chuckles softly before shoving your chest gently, "Shut up Y/n, I know you don't like chicken."

After that, the night wasn't so bad. But Jennie definitely took note to not come to the restaurant again.

Park Chaeyoung / Rosé

From the moment you entered the limelight as Park Chaeyoung's girlfriend, you were under so much more fire than you usually were. Scrutinized for every little thing and it didn't help that you were a woman of color.

It was an uphill battle every day, working extra hard to prove that you were worthy of the Blink's angel on Earth. You couldn't afford to make a mistake or even be proud of your heritage.

Rosé saw the pain that caused you every day.

One day, being fed up with how restricted you had to be, she got you something that she thought you would have loved.

"Okay Rosie, my eyes are closed and I'm in the bedroom. What's this big surprise?" You ask, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you feel around, swatting the air excitedly. You hear your girlfriend giggle softly before excitedly screaming, "Open your eyes love!"

You open your eyes and see a set of matching outfits. You chuckle as you turn to Rosé who wore a proud smile. It was the one where her cheeks crumpled in and her eyes were crescents, it made your heart do all sorts of flips. "We're going to your favorite coffee shop, picking out some books, and playing chess in the park down the street! Everything you've been hinting at the past few weeks."

You blush and twirl on your own axis, "I didn't think you were listening."

She smiles before leaning forward, pressing her lips to yours. "Get dressed, my love. I'm going to hop in the shower." She pecks your lips again quickly, "I want to be looking my best for you."

You smile as Rosé skips happily to the bathroom. You walk over to the bed, a smile growing on your lips as you see just what she's done. She was truly a dream come true.

After preparing yourselves, you take a short walk to the coffee shop nearby. It was secluded enough that Rosé wouldn't be spotted and they made your favorite drink perfectly. Of course there was an odd stare here and there upon seeing you walk in, but you'd come so often that it had slowly stopped.

"Y/n! You're back!" The manager called out jovially before taking head of the register. "You make it sound like I wasn't here last week, Han." You joke before Rosé departs from you to grab a table.

You say your order and the older man nods, striking up conversation with a new staff member. He introduces you but you can see the distain in her eyes as she nods you off. Feeling uneasy you walk over to your girlfriend who chirps up when you walk towards her.

You force a shaky smile, being fully aware of how much of your skin was showing in the outfit Rosé chose, pulling it down every few seconds. She takes your hand in hers, a concerned pair of eyes baring into yours, "Home...?"

A fond smile finds its way onto your face. She only asked when she was worried if you felt comfortable or not and would act according to your answer. You shake your head as the manager serves you your drinks, offering you his apologies about his employee. The singer's eyes shoot back to you but you wave off the concern.

You think it will get better at the bookstore. For a moment, there's a sense of bliss as you and your girlfriend roam around, laughing at certain titles, and offering one another a few recommendations.

You notice the owner's daughter carefully watching you but there was no surprise to you there. It was something you'd grown used to over the years of living in South Korea but it wouldn't deter you from the day Rosé had planned.

You two walk out hand in hand after you checked out. You read the back to Rosé who was curious what you had picked up. "'...will Lucky be able to escape the regime forced onto her or will luck not be on her side this time...?' I don't know it sounded really cool when I picked it up."

She laughs before nodding along, "So...park or home, my love?"

You look up at her with a warm smile, "Rosie I'm fine, you don't need to worry about-"

"Hey! Stop!" Your words are cut off, you and Rosé turn around surprised at the angry young woman, practically gasping for air. Your girlfriend raises a curious brow while dread sets into your stomach. "You didn't pay for that!"

You open your mouth to explain when she shakes her head disappointed, "I watched you the whole time! Not once did you hand that to any staff member. I had a feeling when you walked in something would happen." She pries the book out of your hands and shoves your shoulder. Your eyes jot everywhere at once, panic filling you as a crowd begins to form. "How dare you try and steal from my father, you know your people have always-"

Rosé steps between the two of you with a piece of paper in her hands, "I paid for both books myself, you can see for yourself." The woman, recognizing the idol, lets her jaw hang open and eyes bulge to an alarming degree. Her hands tremble as she takes the receipt, reading it quickly before handing it back, offering the idol a low bow.

Without another word, Rosé wraps her arm around you and she guides you away from the now-dispersing scene. She taps your waist gently, before whispering, "Home?"

You nod, tears flooding your eyes, "Home."

She nods before quickly walking back to the safety of your shared apartment with her blood boiling. But she would get it all out later, in her own time. She knew that she needed to be strong for you, even for a moment.

Lalisa Manoban / Lisa

Lisa was absolutely bouncing off the walls to call you her girlfriend...that the most amazing, kind, intelligent, talented, and gorgeous being chose her. While you think you're the one who lucked out with her, she actively denied it.

In that spirit, she wanted to show you off constantly. In public appearances, you two were attached at the hip. You were always permitted backstage at the group's concerts. And most of all, once your relationship was made public, she bragged about her beloved girlfriend on social media.

It was innocent at first. Wanting Blinks to get a glimpse into her personal life, but then it became a whole PR thing for the company. Green lighting and excusing their actions by showing off that one of the company's aces, Lisa Manoban, was all about people of color so that excused all their actions.

However, that didn't stop Blinks who weren't on board to come after you and Lisa.

It was meant to be a romantic night, Lisa drew you a bath for the both of you when you got home, cooked you a nice hot meal, and played the romcom you watched for your first date.

It was a lovely evening. But it did come with a lot of preparation, so the moment the meet-cute for the couple in the movie rolled around your girlfriend was sound asleep on your shoulder. You smile fondly and see your phone light up.

A notification on Instagram.

You smile warmly as you see a post by Lisa. She had uploaded a time lapse of the bits of the evening that were appropriate and posted it for her fans to enjoy. You cringe to yourself as you see your surprised face when you see the meal she had prepared, but a loving smile grows from the sour face when you see the elation in her expression. Arms wide open for you to fall into.

By the end of the video, you've pulled Lisa closer to your body, gaining extra appreciation for your beloved. You see the likes and shares sky-rocket and feel the love from her fans.

But curiosity killed the cat. It was Lisa's number one rule about social media posts with you in them to not go through the comments. As an idol, she knew how toxic they could get. You scrolled through the text, it was sweet for the most part. Commenting how you were so happy with one another.

But those weren't the ones that stood out to you.

no one ever told me lisa got a pet gorilla 🤣

she's using lisa for clout, chick probably doesnt even shower probably, look how smelly she looks 🫥🫥🫥

🤮🤮🤮

@lalalalisa blink twice in your next story if you're being held hostage by this n-word (im sorry but im not writing the whole word)

They echo in your head and before you know it tears are streaming down your cheeks. The realization that you were probably in over your head. What was Lisa doing with someone like you anyway?

Feeling the dampness of your tears on her cheek, Lisa groggily lifts her head. Try as you may to hide it, she was wide awake when she saw the weepy look on your face. She's quick to brush the residuals away and her sleepy expression twinges into one of concern.

"Baby...baby...what happened? What-"

"I know you told me not to look at comments but I couldn't help it...and-and..." Your voice failed you and you fell into fits of sobs, unable to properly convey your emotions. Without another word, she takes you in her arms, brushing your hair back.

You calm down after a while, choking on air as you try to breath. Lisa patiently waits for you to be completely fine before she pulls away. She looks down at the bright screen and tosses the device to the side.

The dancer cups your cheeks, "I don't blame you, sometimes you want to know what they're going to say...so that when they say it again, it can't hurt you." She chuckles bitterly before continuing, "When I first came to Korea, I was the only trainee who wasn't Korean in the batch. They called me every name in the book, made fun of my accent, said that I was probably a transgender trying to pass as a woman."

You scowl before taking her free hand. "I'm sorry you had to go through that Lili..." A protective aura floating around you. Lisa shakes her head, whether its to say 'no' or to shake out the tears is a mystery to you. "People are shitty for no reason other than to feel superior to others."

She pauses, leaving a lingering kiss over your lips before pulling away, the pad of her thumb rubbing against your cheek lovingly. "But no matter what these people say, I love you. Despite everything people may think. I. Love. You."

You smile before nodding and pressing your forehead against hers, your grip on her hand tightening. "I'm lucky to have you, Lili."

"I'm even luckier, N/n."

The rest of the night was dedicated to you two talking about your experiences and feelings about them.

By morning, comments were disabled and a story defending you was posted. Suffice to say, Lisa made a personal account for just you and her friends.

i am so scared of posting this because sincerely i dont want to offend anyone but i do think it's important for media like this on a more informal platform to open up about how to and not to treat situations like this. i hope this got across what my anon wanted :"") and i hope you all enjoyed this one and i'll probably see you all tomorrow with a fluffier oneshot, im sorry this is how i returned to tumblr :"") - r