#do things really have to get worse before getting better

[kawareo]

Non-Durge Strike would've been a far worse person than he is as Durge, fun fact

Non-Bhaalspawn Strike is a child of a drow and a cambien who was found by his adoptive mothers back in their pirate days, before they settled down. He's a magical prodigy that grows up in a loving home that actively encourages him in pursuing the study of magic. He's an extremely talented sorcerer and he knows it, and without Bhaal who would keep his ego in check by being an abusive father, Strike becomes just kind of the worst?

No Bhaal means that doing good (non-murder) things isn't taboo or a novelty anymore, so they're boring now. He has no god to serve so there is noone he would feel inferior to, which means that all his ambition now goes unchecked and he ends up wanting to be a god himself. He's a sociopath in any au, here that just means less murder and more selfishness. He's still charming and manipulative but now lacks the background of a sheltered, abused child, so boy does it get worse.

In game time: There is no memory loss and no physical trauma, meaning that Strike doesn't have to rely on his companions for survival and support for his crippling mental health; he's sane, perfectly self aware and in perfect control of himself. Because of that he just manipulates mansplains manwhores his way to be in charge of the team and never establishes a strong bond with anyone there. Him and Gale know eachother from when they were studying in Waterdeep and Strike always looked down on Gale for needing to rely on Mystra for his spells. He would very much encourage Gale to explode himself and in the end succeed.

He gets Astarion to ascend. Why? Cause he wants to see how the ritual works, nothing else. Demonic magic would be really interesting to him. He'd then break up with Astarion and laugh in his face at the idea of becoming bonded to him for life - they leave off on bitter terms. They do save Aylin but only because Strike wants to see a demigod in action; later he helps her kill Lorroakan but also steals the wand that could seal Aylin forever, just in case if he ever needs a convenient immortality on hand.

When he meets Gortash they vibe so hard with eachother that Karlach punches Strike in the face for being such an awful dick about it, but he manipulates his way out of the situation. He does like Gortash but at the same time pities him because he thinks it's pathetic to serve a god like that.

In the end, he gets the crown of Karsus for himself and manages to override it back into its true purpose, and the gang would have to fight him to try and stop him. Upon their failure, he'd become the next Karsus.

So yeah, all in all? Bhaal surprisingly helps him be a way better person lmao

[seitmai]

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

Uff 😬

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

Damn

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

To know that you don't know a lot and will never know more is rough...

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

Sometimes being honest to oneself is not easy

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Hey, nobody slander thin crust there are far worse kind of pizza ☝🏻

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken. “…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown. “I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

God they are lowkey awkward together and neither of them just knows what to do with themselves 🥴

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

I feel like this maybe hurts Bradley more than her..

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

👀

Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese.

I mean it could be worse lol🤷🏻‍♀️

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

At that I would have laughed too 🤭

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That's really shitty, especially knowing Mav's reputation 🥴

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

At that they really share a bit of similar fate

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him. Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

Good thinking Bradley, nothing worse than an unwanted hug by a stranger 🫣

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

I'm sure he does 🤭

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.” Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

It seems his feeling run deep 😬

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?” Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that. “The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

This is rough... I get her questioning the process, it's not something that someone is usually confronted with..

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

🥺🥺🥺

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“ “Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.” You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is.

She has every right to be angry, upset and sad even if he really just ries to be nice, this is just not a good situation anyway and with the news of the investigation it just got SO MUCH worse🥴

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him. “You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

I like that he is thinking practical!

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse. He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. “You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

Just a night or two, sure 😏🤭

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: mitchell!reader, no physical descriptors other than the implication that Bradley is taller, no use of YN, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of you. This place is something that you had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not your home and it has never been, until now. Now, you’re stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, you had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. 

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself. 

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of your bags in one hand behind you today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind you, reminding you that you’re standing stationary and blocking his path. 

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

You shrug your duffel bag closer to your body and turn left. Bradley huffs under the weight of your luggage from behind you, watching you walk your cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of your single duffel bag, you turn slowly to face him and frown slightly. “My room.” 

You don’t remember Bradley. Not in your own memories, anyway. You know he was around, you’ve seen him in pictures but the image in your head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat. 

Even with all those differences, there’s a familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” You hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was yours. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was yours. It’s not like you kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that you would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between you. 

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on your face is killing him. 

The big room. The loft room upstairs. You’re pretty sure that you’ve never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?” 

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that you stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on your face, he hadn’t even considered leaving you here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for your sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone. 

“Okay,” You agree, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like yours. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. You call Maverick ‘Pete’ now. 

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of your bags and nodding for you to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself. 

Of course, as you walk silently across it, neither one of you would know that. Neither one of you was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind you, following you up. You stop at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind you.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around you with your bags in his hands and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at you. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, your shoes along the tan oak floors. Your fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now. 

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before. 

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding you of why exactly it is that you’re here.

Fire burns behind your eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets your bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling your eyes out, and you refuse to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again. That thick feeling sits in your throat like a stack of weights as you sit down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking your weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to you and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing you onto your feet again. 

Mobile once more, you turn slowly to take in your surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, you were prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing you want is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” You nod, setting into motion to help take the sheets off. You watch him instead of what you’re doing. 

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, you’ve not seen how he has been for the past few days. “I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to you with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of you until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows. 

There’s a moment of total stillness between the two of you. Your gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of you. Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of you.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

You watch his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. You wonder if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. You stand there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew your dad. Once. 

When it comes to wracking your brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, you can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside your shoddily installed car seat. 

Truthfully, your experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to you as any of the other guys in the stories you grew up hearing about. Your very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at you.

He can’t hide from you forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger. 

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of you. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. You’re barely unpacked. You set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever your space to claim.

You chew absentmindedly at the bite you had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above your heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why you aren’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for you. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here you are, calm as can be. 

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at you. Your hair is up now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs. You’re wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes you got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think you look that much like your old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when you offer him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

You stop chewing. That last bite sits in your mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. You stare across at him, awkwardly making yourself swallow down the last of your bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at your mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.” 

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” You pick up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell you not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches you, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.” You explain with a shrug.

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For you, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.” 

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into yours under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” You hum, pushing back in your chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that you wake up. He hears you coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s yours, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making you uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as you stroll into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at your eyes.

You’re wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt you had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if you’re wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making you lift your gaze from busily tapping at your phone. Your gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton. 

Blinking, you find his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. You lock your gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles. 

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” You head right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when you grab the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. You set the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching your face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” You skim your fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much you know about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for you to get yourself one.  “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.” 

“Did he like Mav much?” You ask, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make your coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. You swing it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if you’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across your mind — what’ll happen to this place when you leave it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into your tone as you curl your fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white. 

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on your face, stuck between whether you’re sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for you without thought. His palm claps against your shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on your shoulder, your eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what you’re searching for, or whether you find it. His fingers squeeze softly against your skin before the touch is gone all together.

You drink your coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in your silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — you don’t have a clue of what to expect. 

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces you not to wear the more formal dress you had thought you’d have to wear. You slip into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes your dusty old car look even worse. 

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, you watch him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; you silently appreciate that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when you cut sleep from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep you up. 

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with your car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night. 

“You ready?” His voice startles you from your daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” You’re stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before you’re taking your next breath, leaving him to catch up to you. 

His long strides have him at your side before long, reaching ahead of you to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters. 

This process has already been easier with him at your side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops you from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against yours.

He catches your forearm as you try to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm. 

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on your forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of your wrist as he nods his head towards you.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way you’ve stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards you, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who you must be. 

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from your forearm and his palm falls flat between your shoulder blades, giving you a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid her hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while you continue down the hall.

Bradley catches up to you as you rap your knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against your thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind you. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into yours and shakes your hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting your hand go, he then reaches to your right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps your back as he leans into the handshake.

You step away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?” You answer.

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to you than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

You sit in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can. 

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

You blink at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley. 

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Your brows knit together.

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

You shoot him a look. When it’s clear that you aren’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue. 

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects 

are delivered to you.”

You drag your teeth across your bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of your head.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns you. He’d heard that you had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead you about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for you. 

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing you across the parking lot, listening to you try to control your breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching you cautiously as you crowd yourself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

You sniff, turning your gaze towards the ground. The lump in your throat burns and bobs as you try to swallow it away. 

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. 

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

…

[murdrdocs]

INTERVIEW 030. KICK-ASS murdrtober 2024 remnants. sex machines

Really, you and Kick-Ass should have a handler. Maybe that would keep the two of you from getting into irresponsible, and frankly, odd, situations. Such as this one. 1k+ words MDNI 18+

God, this is so irresponsible. The two of you are irresponsible. 

You originally offered to team up with Kick Ass to watch each other’s backs and hold each other accountable. A team, albeit a small one, nothing comparable to Justice Forever.

No other superhero is as active as the two of you, and being alone was never a good look, especially for you. So you needed someone with you, someone strong and recognizable. Someone who sent a message to anyone who even had the idea to threaten you. 

Who better than Kick Ass? Plus, you thought he was reliable. Save for the brief stretch where everyone assumed he abandoned his patrols, Kick Ass had been a steady figure in the community, always there to help whoever needed it. In the idea you conjured up of him, he would be that sort of figure in private, too. Someone who would keep you from dicking around as soon as there was a lull on the streets. 

Someone who would keep your head straight on your shoulders. 

Unfortunately, Kick Ass seemed to be as much of a dumbass as you—possibly even more. 

“I mean … when else are you gonna have the opportunity to use something like this.”

And Kick Ass does have a point. The two of you already got what you came here for—a tiny harddrive tucked in your top that you know to have intel about the latest crime boss to terrorize your neighborhood. The penthouse is empty otherwise, and the owner shouldn’t be back for a while, considering she's serving time and all. 

You and Kick Ass have the place all to yourselves, but that shouldn’t matter. You should be leaving the way you came out, but as Kick Ass claims: where’s the fun in that?

“What’s it feel like?” 

You swallow a moan before attempting to respond, and even when you do, you speak methodically, trying to ward off the way your voice threatens to wobble. 

“It feels like I’m being fucked by a machine.”

Kick Ass scoffs. You watch him put his hands on his hips, the muscles in his back flexing. Has his suit shrunk in the wash, or is he just getting buffer by the day? Knowing Kick Ass, it could truly be either. His head turns to the side as if he’s about to turn around,  but he stops at the last minute, likely remembering that the one thing you had asked of him was to not look. 

“Well that’s not very descriptive.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to—” Whatever snarky comeback you were going to throw at him embarrassingly dies before it can be completely born. You can’t help but let out this moan, and to make matters worse, it’s loud. 

Louder than the mechanical whirring of the machine working. Louder than the squelch of your cunt sucking up the silicone dildo attached at the end of the mechanism. 

You think you see Kick Ass physically shudder, but you can’t tell when you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“Is it …” Kick Ass hesitates. He clears his throat and tries again. “Is it better than … you know … a guy?” 

You don’t say anything for a minute, too busy trying to balance focusing on the pleasure and attempting to figure out where to go from here. Eventually, you simply say, “Kick Ass?”

When he says, “Yeah,” his voice cracks, but neither of you acknowledge it. 

“You can turn around.”

You expected him to question your change of heart. Maybe ask if you were sure. But he doesn’t. He just turns around, the heavy thud of his Timberlands knocking against the hardwood floors one after the other. 

You watch his light eyes settle on your face at first, and then slowly crawl down until he’s watching the faux-cock slip in and out of you. His lips part, a voiceless word slipping past them and out into the air. 

You don’t have to tell him to come closer, he does that completely on his own. He kneels beside you, attentive eyes flickering back and forth between your spread legs and your eyes with a slight squint that leads you to believe he might need glasses.

Whatever barrier that existed between the two of you before has been completely broken down. You’ll never come back from this, so you might as well feed into it. 

When you tell him to kiss you, he doesn’t hesitate. His gloved hands hold your face in place as he practically assaults his mouth with his. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and so hot. You’re feeding him moans and he quickly swallows them. You’re sliding your tongue and tongue, mimicking the action of licking ice cream. At one point, you suck Kick Ass’ tongue into your mouth, and he whimpers like a girl. You think he might wet like one, too. 

Only one way to find out. 

When you pull away, unattractively heaving in breaths of air, you ask him, “Do you wanna fuck me instead? Help me see which is better?”

The pressure is definitely on for him, but he’s so eager with the way he slips his suit and Timberland’s off that you don’t think this could go wrong. And you’re so, so right. 

Kick Ass’ eagerness is as useful as it is attractive. You expected his thrusts to be strong and jack hammering, and for a second it is, until you tell him to slow down and then he has passion behind it. Grinding his cock into you, sending all of his length deeper and deeper and gliding his girth along the ridges of your walls. It’s so much better than the unforgiving pace of the machine, and you make sure he knows, too. 

Scratching his back, threading your fingers into the curls you’d never seen before today, wrapping your ankles around his back and pulling him as deep as you can get him. You don’t know what you expected, but he certainly exceeds your expectations. 

He does wet like a girl, too.

And he’s loud. So vocal as he sings praises about how good your cunt feels (your pussy, as he calls it), how thankful he is that you’re letting him do this, how he’s thought of this ever since the two of you teamed up for the first time.

“I know, Kick-Ass,” you tell him, minutely nodding as you dig your fingernails into the cushion beneath you. “I know. Me too.”

“Dave,” he corrects.

You tell him your name, and then not even a second later you’re moaning his name. He slumps forward, nestling his head into the crook of your neck. His hand comes to the top of your head, holding you to him as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“You close?”

You nod, your nose brushing against his shoulder as your breathing increases. “I’m so close, Dave.”

“Yeah? You gonna come?” Dave asks, and you can hear the smile when he says it.

You hit him, because you just said that, but all of the strength in your body is focused on getting you there so it’s nothing more than a weak punch that actually makes him laugh.

“Prove it to me,” he taunts, the competitive side to him that you're so used to coming out. “C’mon. Show me.”

[gem-de-lune]

Daily Vibe Check 11/13

Hehe surprise!

After some deliberation, I decided to do vibe check just very late bc i had to cleanse and prepare some other decks i had. So i will be showing some new cards today. I took pics and everything just for yall ig 🙄🩵

Tarot Deck: Tarot of the Divine

Oracle Deck: Black Moon Astrology Cards

Please enjoy!

Seunghan

Two of Swords + Knight of Cups

Oracle: Neptune

In his spread there are a lot of depictions of eyes being closed. With this combination, in short, it is as though he feels as though he has no choice but to surrender to his circumstances. He feels the love and compassion of others reaching him earnestly, but he knows that in the end he will fall victim to whatever choices and decisions that are currently being withheld, for better or for worse. It is kinda when you close your eyes and flinch because you think you're about to get hit. The chances to him are 50/50 therefore he is preparing himself to be hit. So i would say he feels very stifled and restricted today.

Sungchan

Strength

Oracle: Saturn

These two pulls really compliment each other in that Sungchan is feeling very determined today. No matter what he is going to follow through on a lot of actions. Tbh, I can see this being very intimidating and coming off as very abrasive to others who come accross him and mention whatever it is he is determined about. If the person isnt 100% with him, the air may fill with tension. He is just not playing games today. But he needs to stay calm and collected and not emotionally fixated. I think he will be fine.

Eunseok

Eight of Coins

Orcale: 7th House

He seems to have his attention focused on something intently. With the 7th house oracle this usually depicts legal matters or partnerships. So either A- he is perhaps contemplating contract issues, perhaps regarding Seunghan- OR he is focused on nurturing and working on a relationship that may or may not have anything to do with SH. Either way, it seems he is doing so with a lot of anxiety and pain. Though he sees some results it is a painful process just in general.

Sohee

Justice

Oracle: Void of Course Moon

Sohee has been very simple lately and stable. In short, he is sitting and waiting. He does not tend to fluctuate as severely as the other members at the core once he has come to a verdict within himself. He understands that nothing he specifically says or does will alter anything at this point. So he is going to trust that whatever literal Justice is to be served will come to fruition with or without his assistance. He is very calm, maybe anxious deep down in that he can't do anything else- but accepting and firm in his stance.

Wonbin

Queen of Swords

Oracle: 10th House

Wonbin, as our #1 Seunghan supporter, seems to be hellbent on not giving up. I have pulled this queen for him before and pulled it again. I will say the same thing I have before, and it's that he will be very vocal about things. Anything he does or says is calculated and for a purpose. I have half a mind to believe he may do something drastic on his own to make himself abundantly clear. Where members like Sohee will avoid being scolded, he really does not care when it comes down to his ambitions. I really think if not us, the people around him are going to be on their toes because he will not be letting anything go anytime soon.

Anton

The Empress

Oracle: 6th House

Today, it seems as though Anton is taking care of himself physically, mentally, and just in general. He has been very emotional and stressed out lately, so I think he is taking the time to handle his responsibilities more carefully and remember to eat well. He may have had a spook in which he realized he has been neglecting himself in some ways. He not only will pay more attention to his own wellbeing but those very close to him today.

Shotaro

Page of Cups

Oracle: 4th house + Black Moon Lilith

This is a bit weird. It seems that either A: Shotaro will be the first to know some very shocking news, or B: he plans to do something fairly shocking or deliver said shocking news. There is something he may need to hide for a while, but the consensus is that it is relatively good? If I had to say what the general vibe for today only was, it is about having to keep a secret and/or wait for something to reveal itself. I have said it before, but Taro has a crazy intuition. He sees things before they occur. Idk why he saw, but hopefully, we can see it too soon.

No notes today. I'm sleepy

[knottedhearts]

Argument Pt 2: M.S

The cold air hit your face as you stepped outside, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a blanket. The tension in your chest began to loosen, but the knot in your stomach remained. The whole argument with Matt had left you feeling exhausted, like your body was at war with itself between the physical pain and the emotional toll of the fight. You hadn’t meant to storm out like that, but you didn’t know how else to handle it.

You didn’t even know where you were going, just walking, letting the cool night air clear your mind. The city was quiet, the streets empty save for a few passing cars and distant voices, nothing but the occasional sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

You found yourself at the nearby park, sitting on a bench beneath a streetlamp. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to breathe, a space to think. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it. But you couldn’t. It was Matt.

You hesitated before pulling it out. There was a message: "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can we talk?"

You stared at the screen for a moment, the apology almost feeling too little too late, but something inside of you softened. You knew Matt’s pride was as big as his voice, so for him to admit that much meant something. The frustration in your chest ebbed a little, replaced by a mix of confusion and the tiniest shred of hope.

You typed out a quick reply: "I need space right now. I can’t talk."

You sat there for a while, the screen of your phone glowing in the dim light as you waited for a response. When the buzz came again, you opened it to find a single sentence: "I understand. I just want you to be okay."

For a moment, you just stared at the words, not knowing how to feel. Was it genuine? Did he really understand? You wanted to believe it, but your heart was still heavy with everything that had been said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this fight had dug a deeper divide between the two of you.

You exhaled slowly and looked up at the stars, letting the chill of the night ground you. The silence was a comfort, though it didn’t completely take away the lingering tension. You weren’t sure how to fix things right now, but you knew you couldn’t stay angry forever.

After a while, you felt your phone buzz once more, this time with a call. It was Matt.

You debated for a moment before answering, your thumb hovering over the screen before finally accepting. "Hey," you said, your voice quieter than before, the tension still not fully gone.

"Hey," Matt’s voice came through, softer than usual, almost hesitant. "I know you’re pissed, and I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have been so loud, and I should’ve listened when you said you weren’t feeling well. I… I get it now."

You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you leaned back against the bench. "Matt, it’s not just about the noise. It’s about not feeling heard. I need you to see when I’m struggling, not just assume I’ll get over it."

He was quiet for a moment, the sound of his breathing coming through the phone. "I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize how bad it was for you. I just… I didn’t know how to tone it down, you know? It’s like I’m stuck in my own head sometimes, and I forget that there are people around me who need something different."

"Yeah, well," you paused, your voice steady but tired, "maybe it’s time you start noticing."

Another silence passed, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It felt like he was reflecting, trying to understand, really trying.

"I get that," he said eventually, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to make it worse. I’ll do better. I just… I care about you, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like your needs didn’t matter."

There was something in his words that made the anger in your chest loosen a little more. It wasn’t perfect, and the fight was still fresh in your mind, but you knew this was the start of something. The start of him learning how to be more considerate, how to see when you were struggling instead of barreling through with his own world.

"I know you didn’t," you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of your phone. "But you have to hear me next time, Matt. I don’t want to be the one always having to ask for peace. I need you to understand that."

"I do," he replied quietly. "I’ll make sure of it."

You leaned back, your shoulders loosening just a little, the tension still present but not as overwhelming. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little more even now. "I just… need a little time to cool down."

"I get it. Take all the time you need," Matt said, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here when you’re ready."

The conversation ended shortly after, and as you sat there in the quiet park, the cold air wrapping around you, you realized that maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe this was the start of a bigger change, one where both of you learned to meet in the middle, to understand each other better.

You didn’t know when you’d be ready to go back, but for the first time that evening, the idea of heading home didn’t seem so daunting. There was still work to do, but things would get better. You had to believe that.

As you stood up from the bench, the weight on your chest felt lighter. With each step, you felt a little more like yourself, a little more hopeful that the space and time would help Matt understand, and that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to make things work between you two.

[kkcauseway]

My Number One

Husband Joel Miller x Wife f!reader

Main masterlist

Summary: Every month at that dreaded time you can't help how awful it makes you feel. How insecure you become when you're usually so confident. You can't help the way you become incredibly sensitive, but Joel wont let it remain. Joel refuses to let you feel like that and he's decided enough is enough. Even when you try to cower away from him he doesn't let you, you're perfect and he will make sure you know. Content/warnings: Reader and Joel showering whilst he tells her just how beautiful she is. Joel Miller being the cutest husband. Reader is on her period and feeling insecure but Joel wont let the insecurities remain. So much fluff! No use of Y/n, no outbreak. Word count: 1k A/n: Lil soppy fic of Joel being the most doting husband who refuses to let his wife remain insecure.

You’re in the shower after a long day at work feeling shitty and its only made worse by the fact you started your period on your lunch break.

You always hate your time of the month because more than anything it makes you feel crappy, you can’t look in the mirror without hating yourself. Can’t look at your body because it makes you feel disgusting even though you know you’re perfect just the way you are. And you hear it constantly with Joel forever telling you.

He’s never let the mood swings stop him from being wholly himself with you, if anything it’s even better because he knows you need that extra reassurance when it happens.

You’re hoping that a shower will help with the cramps and just overall shitty feeling that’s clouding you.

“Baby?” He utters softly as he knocks on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

Shit, he’s gonna see you when you feel like this. Which is exactly the last thing you want right now, but he asked nicely.

“Erm, okay.”

He’s quick to enter the room as you try to hide yourself from him, not that you really can whilst stood naked under the spray.

“You, okay?” He looks to you as he quizzes softly. Leaning against the bathroom door.

You don’t know why the question makes you so emotional, but tears instantly fill your eyes, and you have to do everything in your power to hold them back as you nod.

“S’okay baby I know how you’re feelin’, you’re so beautiful don’t ever forget it.”

Fuck he really is trying everything he can to make you cry right now, but what he asks next snaps you out of it momentarily.

“Can I join you?”

Join you when you’re like this, is he crazy? “Joel I…”

“Baby I’ve always told you I don’t care, I wana hold you.”

“Okay.” You nod, because as vulnerable as you may feel you want nothing more than to be in his arms.

He nods with a smile quickly stripping himself of his clothes and steps in next to you instantly bringing a hand to the small of your back and it’s those little things that are the reason you love him so much, but even so. You know you’re disgusting right now so you can’t help the way you pull away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

You don’t respond you just close your eyes and face the water spray.

“Hey” he whispers after a few seconds “baby look at me.” He turns your body so that you’re facing one another in the small space of the shower. “What is it?” He asks softly.

“Why do you want to touch me? How can you even bare to look at me?” You quiz averting his gaze. Staring down at your feet as you try not to cry.

“Hey.” He grabs your chin, so you have no choice but to face him. “Baby, open your eyes please.”

You take a deep breath before you do.

“Tell me what’s goin’ through that beautiful head o’yours.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m so gross, I don’t know how you can look at me and want me when I’m like this. I don’t get why you want to be in the shower with me right now when I’m bleeding, it’s not nice. I’m so disgusting.” You can’t help as tears fall now.

He shakes his head instantly; his voice is firm as he replies. “No baby, you stop that talk right now. It’s not about whether it’s nice or not, it’s a part of life, a part of you and it’s natural. Baby I want you to be comfortable around me, you have no reason not to be. I love you just the way you are.” His one hand has moved to cup your cheek whilst the other strokes your hip softly.

But he quickly moves to pull you close too him snaking his arms round your body. He leans to kiss your forehead as you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of having him close. “Bleedin’ or not baby you’re beautiful to me, I will not have you thinkin’ differently.”

You nod into his chest as he leans his chin on the top of your head. He strokes your back softly as you listen in tune to his heartbeat and the spray of water as it keeps your skin warm. “You have nothin’ t’be ashamed of. Your body is part of you, I love every fuckin’ inch, it’s perfect just the way it is.”

You cry softly against him, not having realised just how much you needed to hear those words. It’s nice to hear them and know that they’re the truth. He isn’t just saying it to make you feel better, it’s all meant.

He reaches out to brush his fingers through your wet hair, “lean back baby let me help.”

You do so instantly, keeping your eyes closed as you lean your head back allowing your hair to be completely submerged under the stream. As he lathers his hands in shampoo and begins to gently massage it into your scalp he utters “you have nothin’ t’feel ashamed or embarrassed about. It’s a natural part of life baby and you’re perfect just the way you are.”

He continues to wash you hair gently before helping you to rinse it out. Once done you finally open your eyes to look at him and there, he is staring at you with so much love as he smiles.

“You’re so beautiful I love you so much.”

You smile back adding “I love you too.”

“Now how about we finish gettin’ cleaned up and then go watch a movie in bed? I got some of your favourite ice cream on my way home from work.”

“Yes please.” You smile at him, so thankful to have him. For him to be your number one fan, your biggest supporter through every part of life. He is the most amazing husband in everything he does.

[utilitycaster]

The thing that I think gets me about Neve the most, and this is past the point where I personally am in the game, is that you can still romance her after you've chosen to prioritize Treviso (which you can't do for Lucanis if you do the reverse). The thing is, it makes sense. Neve judges you negatively for trusting her. There's a dialogue in the Shadow Dragons hideout where Tarquin (Shadow Dragons faction agent) gripes about The Viper (Shadow Dragons faction agent and leader) running background checks on him, before admitting he'd probably do the same. And the thing is, if you tell Tarquin that this seems reasonable he accepts it, but he seems irritated. Neve doesn't.

You meet Neve striking a pose, having frozen her assailants, needing none of your help. Neve does not, on the whole, ever seem to want your help until she begs you to save Minrathous. She approves of you taking her to interrupt the ritual, and seems to be entirely unbothered by the fact that it leaves her badly bruised - indeed, you have to actively choose to leave her behind later when you go looking for Bellara.

Neve loves Minrathous and Dock Town, which means she also hates them. She takes you there, if you do the companion quest, which you should. She invites you after Bellara fangirls out over some news pieces about her (Neve drily remarks they were hit pieces), to go pick up some leads and some serials Bellara wants. For all she's sarcastic, gruff, and even a little snide with Bellara (and with my playing of Rook, who is fairly direct and positive with the Veilguard companions) and doesn't believe a Tevinter serial would ever truly end happily if it were remotely realistic, she still wants to get those serials for her teammates. She's not here to make friends, though she's slowly doing so, but she also believes in working with your allies even when they're sunny and scatterbrained or bracingly positive and you're an exhausted, cynical detective.

Exhausted is I think the most salient point. Neve is fucking tired. She tells you she's lived in Dock Town her whole life, and she became a detective, taking on cases for people who weren't helped by the Templars (who, you learn in one of the core missions prior to your choice to save only one of Minrathous and Treviso, are corrupt all the way up to the top). After solving a missing person case successfully, with an implication that she freed a slave in the process, the Shadow Dragons recruited her, but she's been doing the same work she always done. And the Shadow Dragons, meanwhile, in addition to attempting, with limited success, to infiltrate the Magistrate and fight for abolitionism, also do a lot of work like Neve's: helping people on the street. Their basement is full of unhoused and hungry people with nowhere else to go.

Neve is tired because, I think, she doesn't really believe Minrathous will get much better in her lifetime. She tells you in her companion quest, as you eat street food on the docks, looking out into the ocean, that she treasures the small wins because that's what she gets. Whereas the Crows remember a free Treviso and fight for that, Neve, in particular, feels like she's just trying to keep things from getting worse, and maybe help a few people. She's cynical because dreaming big probably won't pan out and she knows it so she's not going to waste her time.

Her work is her life. Her gift is literally just more evidence. Harding, Lucanis, and Bellara all reminisce about friends and family, but Neve still hasn't yet. You get the sense that Rana, one of the few clean Templars with whom she works, is probably the person she'd put down as an emergency contact. She doesn't even really get along with Tarquin, though, to be fair, doesn't seem like anyone does. Her world is a network of people who are useful.

I'm going somewhere with this, and that's, unsurprisingly, to Critical Role Campaign 3, because after all that here's my thesis: Neve is what people want some of Bells Hells, but especially Ashton, to be.

I've seen defense of Ashton's abrasiveness because many leftists are abrasive people, and the thing is, that's not untrue, but they're abrasive because they're like Neve: they're doing endless difficult work with very little reward or thanks, and at most they get small wins.

What has Ashton done for their communities? The Nobodies and Krook House aren't feeding the hungry or fighting corruption; the former is a group of thieves with no particular cause and the latter a punk co-op house. What was Ashton doing for the people of Jrusar or Bassuras? I struggle to find anything tangible. There's a lot of talk and no action - punk aesthetics and a lot of talk about standing for the weak, but when do they actually do that? It's all very surface level, and so the defenses of Ashton must focus entirely on what and who they are (nb, disabled, punk, had a terrible childhood) and what they say but never, ever, what they do. It's posturing.

Neve? It's entirely what she does. She is, for what it's worth, disabled and queer (and played by a woman of color, though whether she's coded as such in-game probably requires an academic background in both the history of Thedas and the history of the real-world Black Sea region) but we don't know a damn thing about her childhood yet. We don't know if she's been hurt or heartbroken or abandoned until we, as Rook, have to decide whether to do that to her. And when we do? She takes her time (she's not back yet in my game) but in the end, she blames the actual root causes of the elven gods sending the dragon and blight, and the Venatori working with them and, as far as I know, gets back to work. As she always has.

[icarusredwings]

oooooh HELLO NEW CONTESTANT!!

Ps. Im so sorry for whoever has to see this huge chain of reblogs.

So yeah that was semi the plan love love love your thoughts except I had the idea that eventually they would find the cure BECAUSE of wade. Since wade can consent (and can restrain himself not to chomp people) he (unfortunately) would infact be the perfect test subject and because logan is definitely not gonna let some assholes test his lover without making sure its ethical and not harm him more then good, Wade would be quite accepting.

It also helps (Now don't look at me like that- you gotta understand his situation) that wade is very food and affection motivated so yes while he does still feel pain and heals slower then usual (still way faster then a human) it would only be natural for him to whine or not want hurt.

So yeah, in between shots and what not he's given pieces of meat and hugged, nuzzled, etc.

"One more and then were done. Hear me?" Logan tells them, coming to wade, Giving him some left overs and putting his arm around him.

"Just one more okay? Then we'll go see the girls."

He nods, mouth already full of the food, happy at the mention from the girls.

Another thing is Wade dosn't just wonder off in a sense of he dosn't know what hes doing or just aimlessly is leaving like how other zombies mindlessly walk around. Wade "wonders off" mainly because he knows if he dosn't eat anything soon hes going to hurt someone and he dosn't want that so he removes himself from the situation.

He also eats just about anything. Yeah he heavily prefers meat because something about the virus craves protein, its why his muscles have gotten weaker too but the virus knows of they eat their host there wont be anymore.

Most zombies die because the virus starves and has to eat the host, but because when they eat wades cancer it just keeps coming back, and eventually the cancer would whoop the virus's ass due to sheer out numbering but I like to think that before things get better (much like cancer) it gets WAY worse.

So yes, for a year or two hes off an on, randomly being feral the first year but the second year only being feral about once a month for a short period of time.

He slowly is becoming better and better as the third year rolls around to the point where he hasn't been feral in awhile, slipping up only because he hasn't eaten in 2 days, in which Logan apologizes to him because it's winter and theres not much to spare.

Wade knows he gets fed last, and honestly isn't too upset about it. He's lucky to get food twice a day simply from how scarce it is. In the summer its a lot better, much more animals come out, theres a lot of plants, hell the girls started a garden before Logan and Wade even found them so often times they have food its just... not.. sustainable.. for wade.

Yes, he'll eat it. He'll eat it all, clear his entire plate like hes been starving for months but he needs the protein. He needs the high fat content. Its why he gets a lot of beans.

Laura had even managed to trade for a chicken that first year but uhhhhhh wade ate it.... just... mauled the poor thing. Ripped it to shreds. It made gabs cry because she already named the hen "Penny". Well. No more penny. And now Wade isnt allowed out back by the chicken coop no more.

Sometimes, still 3 years later, She'll catch wade crouched down and staring at them with such wide eyes, like a cat watching a fish in a bowl.

"What are you doin? Get away from there! You know better." She'll tell him and he'll whine at her a bit because once in a great while Logan will let him pet the chickens. He'll hold it tight and let Wade run his fingers on its back with the biggest grin. But after whats happened to penny? No sir. He wasnt allowed to pet them without Logan around.

He's just so... hungry. And there's nothing really anyone can do about it. Because of this though, Wade makes a great hunter and well... sometimes.. even in the third year half of the animal will be eaten by the time he brings it home but he does infact bring home many intact kills. It sucks though because bassically anything Wade puts his mouth on or licks immediately is thrown out and cant be eaten by the girls or logan, So yeah.. Logan gets frustrated when Wade comes home with a useless deer because wade already took a chunk out of it.

By the fourth year wade is allowed to sleep in the house nightly, is allowed to hug the girls each day, and can control himself enough to even have dinner with them as a family. Year 4s biggest issue right now is that he keeps trying to kiss them. Trying to kiss the girls cheeks, trying to kiss logan, and he keeps trying to share food, trying to give Gabs more vegetables off his plate when now her entire plate is ruined because of cross contamination.

From what they know is that this virus is similar to rabies because it stems from the same family in which feasts on proteins and fat but its evolved enough to understand that the host needs to be able to do things such as swallow and walk so they do not attack the spinal cord or the ceribellum which controls movements. Unlike rabies in who devoures the brain, rendering the person not to be able to swallow and mindlessly walks around looking for water especially in heavily dense human population with zero fear. (Seen in foxes the most)

The zombie virus does attack the Broca's area though in which controls speech. They attack other parts of the brain like memory logic and processing but because of how much cancer wade has it just keeps growing back.

Some early days of being bitten he will just stare at you like a dementia patient trying to remember who you are, other days he will run into a door and then just stand there like a sim who cant move because theres a plate on the ground.

It also is better for him to NOT get bit or licked again by other zombies so after year one Logan stops letting him eat other zombies, noticing that he gets worse afterwards because he becomes reinfected. This- Has limited wades food sources to human grade stuff, aka.... a lot less.. which causes more snappiness for a few days, but after 2 weeks he improves a lot.

By year 5 he has an entire week straight where he is unconscious, growling and struggling against the chains in the shed. Logan is sitting out side of the shed on a stump, crying because he dosn't know what happened or what to do. Wade was doing so good to the point he was starting not to worry about him biting anymore and now he was at square one.

The next day he sees that the noise has stopped and wade is pased out for another good week. Logan is almost relieved. He thinks Wades body finally gave up. Finally died.

He sobs that morning, Whispering thank yous to nothing and im sorrys. He dosnt even know why hes apologizing, he didnt do it. If he could put wade out of his misery he would have done it years ago, so this is a blessing.

Laura, much like her father, has very mixed feelings, crying behind closed doors but is glad. Finally he wouldn't hurt anymore.

Being barley 18 now, Gabs still sobs. Cries that its not fair that her papa died. Cries because he was so nice to her and now he was gone for good. She would never get to hug her papa ever again.

This was until...anyway.. when 8 days later theres a soft knock on the inside of the shed. Logan couldn't bare the idea of him coming back and hurting the girls so he sealed off the shed, being his husbands forever tomb.

At first he thinks its a cruel joke. "Gabby, quit! That's not funny-"

"What dad?"

But if gabs wasn't doing that, and lauras in the house..

Carefully, he unlocks it, peeking in to see Wade awkwardly standing here. Blinking.

"...hai..?"

"....hi...??"

"...urrhhm... yor wracked meh n hare.."

Logan swears hes gone insane, he could have SWORN his dead husband just said "You locked me in here" and "hi"

His skin looking better, less open gashes and healed up, still scarred up but no longer really decomposing.

This has to be a dream right?

"..no.. No. Ha! Heh.. no."

"...no rhat?"

He stares in disbelief, wondering how in gods name he was alive still. And talking? Like.. actually talking.. Tears run down his face faster then he can think, Gabby is already crying and quickly unchaining him. "You're the worst dad ever!! Yo-you know that!?" She sobs, angry from the hurt but also so glad that he was okay.

"Ar rnow... I Sarry."

"B-but you were gone- I... I saw you.. you were rotting and everything.."

"Rhat rRh- er... h-harppins." He smiles softly, worried just how much he upset his family, and is even more worried by how tight Logan held him and sobbed into his shoulder. "You fucking IDIOT!" He cries, breaking a few of his ribs.

"Aouch! Owr" he whines, turning his head from him and everything, not wanting any of his saliva to touch Logan despite him desperately trying to bury himself in his neck.

It wasn't much Laura seen her father like this, but she has a pretty similar reaction, complete with a slap and telling him to never die on them ever again.

"Nor pramases!"

Hello there. You must be crying by now. Dont worry so am I. If anyone wishes to draw zombie wade I would be extremely happy. Different stages would be so cool to see. I might do a little sketch if I have time. Anyway. Here. You will need these.

I dont CARE that it's November 9th and "Halloweens over" ITS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH ILL POST IF I WANT TOO

Anyway.

Thinking about apocolpse au.

Wade getting bitten by a zombie, Logan freaking out, Wade dying, and him coming back (Again)

"Didn't you just die?? I literally fucking burried you!!"

And wades like:

"Of course. Man, God REALLY hates you dosn't he?"

And he's bassically the same person except just saying, "Rahhah har ran re" (translation: I think the devil doesn't want me either)

"What?? Oh for fucks sake... tell me you're kidding.."

"Rah?" 🤔

"Great so now you stink more and you can't talk. Fucking lovely."

"Mmmmh..." 🥺 (would you still love me if I was a zombie?)

"*sighs, blushes and grumbles how insane this is and how much of a bad idea this is* Fine! Come on...."

"Raah!!" 😄

And sometimes his limbs fall off because I think it would be funny if you just saw him stop, turn around, pick up his arm and shove it back into place like a dislocated shoulder. (Marvel Magic)

But its very obvious that Wade is still consious and so logan leads him around, puts a leash on him, ties him up when he goes to sleep the first few nights so wade dosn't eat him, sometimes luring him with a piece of his thigh or telling him he'll feed him soon to make him behave.

The only thing about this resource wise is that it seems Wade is a bottomless pit, not ever able to get enough. It's like all the nutrients just pass right through him, so he can't get fed meals daily, but Logan will share at least one bite of his food. It makes Wade so happy and way more "wade like" than zombie.

Logan has learned that the hungrier Wade gets the worse it would be, snapping at logan a few times.

"Grr-"

"Aye! That's enough outta ya"

"GggRah!"

"Hey!! I said no! Bad! Bad wade!"

"Mmmh??"

"Bad!!"

"Mmh....rahah.."

"I forgive you. But stop trying to bite me. I feed you, don't I? I hold your hand and tell you that I love you?"

Wade is actually extremely friendly for a zombie (duh) and still yaps at logan except its nonsense. Logan tries hard to understand him and talk back.

He holds his hand sometimes, even lays next to him only to scold him if he gets too bitey. This is hard because wade already had a biting issue and seeing as he practically ate anything or anybody now it was more difficult.

"...aahh-"

"Wade- No."

"Ggr.. raahh"

"Wade! No! Bad."

"Mmmh..."

"Ill feed you tomarrow. Don't bite me mkay? You wanna hurt me?"

He shakes his head like a dog shaking off from a bath, or that ate a bee.

"Then don't bite me."

"Mmh? Mrah?"

"No. No kisses right now. Im still not even sure if thats safe.."

"Mmmh...🥺 ahrrah?"

"No, not even a tiny one."

"Mm...😔"

Until Logan grunts and pecks his hand. "There. Happy?"

"🙂‍↕️mh"

"Good."

Honestly Logan felt bad, pitited him. No matter what food he ate it wasnt enough substance to sustain him and sometimes Logan would wake up to find him eating a different zombie that made the mistake of trying to eat Logan.

You ever wake up in the morning, lose your zombie boyfriend, call for him only to walk outside and see him knawing on some poor chaps arm like a happy puppy who found a chicken leg? Logan has. Many times. And he wishes his phone would charge so he could take a picture of it but unfortunately theres no electricity in the post apocalypse world.

This being said Logan is like- THE perfect guy for apocalypse au because he can smell everything and hear anyone before they even get to you, he has better wilderness survival skills then anyone I know and he'll never NOT have a weapon on him because of his claws. The only downside is that he's tired easily, needs a lot of food, and would lowkey be withdrawing from his tabccao and alchool, therefore very moody.

"Stupid fucking apocalypse having to happen when im fucking alive!! Why can't I just NOT live through ONE major historical event! Is that too fucking much to ask? One damn decade where everything is fine and dandy and- WADE! Get your ass away from that!! It's radioactive!! For fucks sake!"

"Rahahrah?"

"NO!! You can not become Spiderman! That's not how that works!"

"Aawr..😔"

The whole thing is they're on a quest to find Laura and Gabby, because when everything went to shit, they were on a cabin trip and now Logans brain is itching because he dosn't know where his babies are and its driving him insane. Once he finds them, they're gonna shack up somewhere with food and animals to hunt, and hes gonna make a little shed outside for Wade to sleep because he'll kill him if he bites one of the girls.

He dosnt care that much about himself really and he hates himself deep down for not being able to trust wade anymore but even wade dosnt trust wade, sometimes wandering off on purpose, staying about 30 feet away from him at all times, growling and giving Logan that glazed over look of unconsiousness. The only good thing about this, though, is after he removes himself from the idea of hurting Logan (because if logaj were to become infected - HA! Your all fucked. Utterly fucked. The whole humanoid species would go extinct because he'd kill anything that moved) he feels more trusting of him and it's not uncommon for them to hug after either. Afterall Wade- Some how???- is still wade and is very affectionate and sensitive when its not returned.

This whole thing also makes him think worse about himself, kicking reflective objects or staring at himself in a shop window in utter shock and disgust with a face of 'thats me..?' While logans raiding the place for supplies.

Did you know zombies can cry? Well, Wade could. Not a lot, only able to get a bit of liquid from dehydration, but sometimes Logan will catch him just... sitting there.. crying. Upset with himself for being bit. Upset with himself for trying to bite logan all the time. Upset at how ugly he is. Upset that he's starving all the time. Upset that he can't even talk to anyone, and Logan just has to guess what he's saying 90% of the time. Bro is literally

When they DO find Laura and Gabby, the girls are doing great. Laura was going to blow wades head off until Gabby ran in the shot, hugging him instantly, only to be ripped away.

"Of course my dad is the weirdo married to a zombie." Laura grunts, but is secrelty happy that wade is still 'alive'

Gabby, being as young as she is, thinks it's so SICK that her dad is a zombie now, giggling when he talks to her and holding his hand. She's not allowed near him for long, and not at all by herself, but Gabby bassically becomes Wades number one supporter, defending him when he messes up and snaps at laura.

"He's just hungry!! He's not bad! It's not bad to be hungry!" She'll say. "You wouldn't kill me if I was hungry.." she tells her bigger, more survival oriented sister whos suggested putting wade out of his misery, for his own sake. "I tried that... he found me again 3 days later." Logan tells her with a pang in his chest. It had taken everything in him to kill him the first time, and sobbed himself to sleep the next 2 days. By the third when he noticed Wade following him from a distance he couldn't believe it.

Not even the apocalypse could keep them away from each other..

[bots-and-cons]

Do you mind writing about Knockout, Ratchet, and or Breakdown with a human reader on their period. They fee nauseous and don’t have an appetite for the first few days, really bad cramps, chest pain, and migraines too. Idk if this breaks any rules or the character limit if choosing one character is better for you there will be no complaints from me thank you for taking request 😄.

A/N: I’ve got a couple of other posts with period stuff too, you can find those, here, here, here, and here. You get four extra posts for one request lol. I decided to do just Knockout and Ratchet, seems I’m in the mood for those two lately

~Ratchet~

•For like the first two months since he first met you he noticed that for about 6 days a month, you were pretty freaking miserable

•You barely ate anything and you seemed to be in pain and all around uncomfortable

•The first time Ratchet thought that maybe you were just sick, and he didn’t really know you that well yet, so he didn’t really express that much concern

•He did ask if you were okay a couple of times, but you assured him it was nothing to worry about

•But when the whole thing repeated a month later, he thought it was weird

•When he asked again if you were okay, and told you about his observations, you realized he probably doesn’t know about periods

•You had to explain the whole thing to him, because he obviously had no idea this is a normal human bodily function

•Ratchet is of course a bit weirded out by the whole thing, but he’s not grossed out

•He just finds it wild that some humans have to deal with something like that

•And all the cramps, migraines and stuff on top of that? How do you survive this every month?

•Ratchet doesn’t consider it his problem, but he will make sure everyone else is as quiet as possible when you have a migraine and are resting in a dark room somewhere in the base

•He wants to make sure he or anyone else doesn’t make it worse

•If you show symptoms he hasn’t seen before, he will ask about it, and he makes sure you’re doing fine

•While he insists it’s not his problem and that he doesn’t have time to take care of you, he still checks on you periodically

~Knockout~

•Knockout notices you’re uncomfortable and he immediately asks you about it

•You’re leaning on a wall because you’re having a really bad cramp, and you’re just not feeling well in general

•You have to explain to Knockout that you’re not sick, you’re just having your period

•He’s like, “And what exactly is that?”

•You explain to him, it’s your uterine lining shedding and bleeding out of you

•He makes a very grossed out face for a second, before being like “Are you okay? That doesn’t sound healthy”

•You sort of chuckle, but you assure him that it’s natural, even if it totally sucks

•He asks how you cope with it, because that sounds like a mess and painful and all around not a good time

•He’s honestly kind of curious about the whole thing, even if he does find it pretty freaking weird

•How is it even possible for you to bleed for multiple days in a row? That doesn’t sound like it’s good for you

•Knockout constantly reminds you about drinking water, and he somehow got his hands on some dark chocolate for you too, because he read it might help with the cramps

•He’s worried about the migraines especially, because it seems you’re having a very, very bad time

•Knockout is worried about everything that’s making you uncomfortable, and it annoys him that he can’t really do anything about your pains or aches

[armandcock]

In love with the idea of OldDaniel feeling firstly ashamed by the seeming age gap (firstly, he'll eventually make it his brand let's be real) between him and Armand, and Armand just being so so excited cause this (their weird problematic dynamic) just got so much worse (better)

This especially makes me think of a fic I read a while ago that really stuck with me where D and A finally reunite in one of Daniel's book premieres and Armand makes his appearance as Daniel's very young student/college, reads everybody's mind on how inappropriate their relationship must be and says to Daniel how he'll apply to college, get a job as a barista and start saying he doesn't even have his driver's license just to make their whole thing seemingly worse. and of course he says it in front of one of Daniel's daughters. Anyways, the point is their voyeuristic style can never be reached

WOHOOOO BABY ‼️‼️‼️ armand daniel age gap so funny to me because of course its the other way around but the faux scandal. like the taboo of it all. & they think theyre so fucking funny. daniel is like hes older than he looks i swear & then armand is like mr molloy can you help me with my ap calc homework. & daniel is a pervert so as much as i think he'll make a big show out of being like ugh i cant do this what will Thr World Think he'll give up on that in about three seconds. bless.

anyway can you send me the fic i think ive read it before but im not sure. yeah they are fucking crazy. also armand people who dont have a drivers license yet rep rise ✊😔

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 4

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3506

Warnings: arranged marriage, abbondanment, jealousy, unpleasent surprises and a little breakdown.

A/N: Okay, so... how do we say? Before it gets better... it gets worse. Right? All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Dean had been gone on a third business trip and this time he told Y/N that he would be gone for almost two weeks. Y/N had known that he was a busy man. After all, his reputation had preceded him. But somehow she had hoped for him to step back from it a little and spend the time with her. Turned out, she was wrong. It had really affected her, but she didn't want to show it to him.

So, she sad goodbye to him. Again. And it felt as if a piece of her heart had been broken off. A piece he did not see and that he just left lying on the ground for everyone else to walk over and step on it. She had expected resistance and irritation, but not such a cold shoulder. But Y/N just wanted to love him. Why did he not let her love him?

After Dean left Y/N started to to fully take over her position. Ellen had already included her in most things, letting Y/N decide how and what to do and everyone seemed to like the fresh air she brought with her.

She finally ordered that the men had to help carry the heavy objects. So not only did they have to carry the full pots out of the kitchen, but also the heavy tubs or washing vats for the laundry. And the men, surprisingly, didn't mind. On the contrary, they enjoyed the opportunity to flex their muscles. Sam had told her about it at some point. She tried not to change too much too quickly and received acceptance. From everyone except Cassie.

The young woman was still frosty towards her, but Y/N tried not to let it bother her to much. She would need to come around eventually. Or Dean would need to make an decision in the end. And none of them would want that. Hence Y/N always remained friendly and sometimes even tried to start a conversation with Cassie, but she always turned her down. However, she wouldn't let that deter her.

It's been almost two weeks again since Dean had left and Y/N missed him. But she started to feel more and more at home with each day. The castle was big, she had gotten lost a few times, but it exuded a cozy calm. The color of the carpets and curtains, the dark wood everywhere, it all reminded her of Dean somehow. The vast countryside, which seemed almost barren when the weather was good, also suited her husband. He also loved to ride horses and the landscape was perfect for that. It was as if his spirit was everywhere, influencing everything and giving life to everything around him. Even if he wasn't there. But maybe she was just lovesick by now.

"How are you holding up, pretty?"

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts a bit and looked over at Benny, who had just spoken to her. He took care of the horses. She stood at the horse pasture on the outside of the fence and watched Arrow and the other horses as they whiled away their time. She smiled at Benny. A friendship had developed between them.

"It get's better day by day and I actually start to love it here."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"But you obviously would like it more when Dean would be around, too." Benny grinned and Y/N's cheeks took on a deeper color.

"It was not fair to him, Benny. Not at all. And I understand that he's mad."

"But then why did he bring you here? If he would not at least like you, he could've just rejected you."

That was something she had told herself in the beginning too. Something she had hoped for herself. But with every passing day that hope faded.

"Maybe... he just felt pity for me."

"No, pretty. No." Benny came a little closer. "I don't believe that. That's not Dean. You see..."

Suddenly he stopped talking and his brows furrowed. She saw him look past her head and behind her and something in his eyes worried her. So Y/N turned around too, but she couldn't see anything unusual.

"What?" she turned her head back to Benny. "What did you see?"

It took a few seconds before Benny turned his attention back to Y/N.

"I... I don't know." He looked one last time at the spot he had in view, but there was nothing left to see. "But... it looked like someone was standing there... in the shadows."

An uneasy feeling spread through Y/N ​​because she knew that Benny wouldn't joke with statements like that. So she looked behind her again and hoped it was just a mistake.

But by the end of the third week that Dean had been gone, this feeling had become her constant companion. At first she thought it was just her imagination, but after she saw for herself that someone was watching her, she realized that someone was targeting her.

In the meantime she had also told Benny about it, who hardly wanted to leave her side after her confession. At some point this alarmed Sam, who wanted to know what was going on. Even though he spent a lot of time with Millie, he never lost track of what was happening here.

So, the two men started to team up after they agreed on keeping this just between them. The only other person they told was Millie. She was still Y/N's maid and she knew that she could trust her friend. And while they tried to discreetly figure out who might be behind it, Y/N already had a strong suspicion. There was actually only one person left. Cassie.

She was currently in the kitchen, one of the few places where she felt safe, making herself some tea. Lost in thought, she didn't hear Ellen come into the kitchen and place her basket full of vegetables on the table.

"So..." Ellen made herself known and crossed her arms over her chest. "...what's going on here?"

Y/N slowly turned around, trying to look as ignorant as possible. "I do not know what you mean."

"Oh come on." Ellen snorted. "Sam and Benny rarely leave your side anymore and you're constantly looking around like you're looking for something."

That surprised Y/N and you could see it on her face. Was she really acting so conspicuously? Ellen released her arms again and came over to Y/N.

"Don't worry. The others have no idea about it. But I've been in charge here for years and I practically had to help raise Dean and Sam. The two rascals were always up to something. That's why my eyes are just a little sharper than the eyes of others." she smiled a little. "And my mind too. But don't let the men hear that."

After a nervous laugh, Y/N took a deep breath and then told Ellen everything. She knew that she could be trusted too. Besides, she probably knew the place best. She knew all the clan members and everyone trusted her. It wasn't a bad idea to have her on the observer team.

Ellen's eyes widened somewhat in shock. She would never have thought that someone here would do something like that. Y/N was about to tell the older woman her suspicions about Cassie, but it didn't come to that. Jo came running into the kitchen, a small smile on her face.

"Dean is back!" she came around to Y/N and her mother. "He just went in with his stuff and was asking for you."

The blonde young woman looked at Y/N beaming with joy and squeezed her shoulders excitedly. Of course she also noticed that Dean was rather dismissive and distant. She was now all the more happy for her friend and hoped that it meant something positive. Y/N let this affect her and, with her heart pounding slightly, made her way to her husband.

Dean was happy to finally be home again. The business trip had been strenuous and the negotiations had been long. But true to his reputation, he persevered and ultimately succeeded again. Yet another liquor deal that included him as the sole supplier. That also meant that there were more jobs and people were always looking for jobs.

As his castle slowly came into view, he could finally breathe deeply again. As much as he enjoyed traveling, he still preferred wearing things at home. His deputy, Castiel, had everything under control in Edinburgh and he could rely on him implicitly. That was quite a relief and he was grateful for it.

The sun was warm on his back and he had a small smile on his face. But the closer he got to the castle, the more the smile disappeared. At first he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but then he realized what was bothering him. His men carried washing vats and buckets of water to fill them. Instead of training or doing the manual work, they did women's work. What was going on here?

After stopping his horse in front of the castle, he dismounted and marched towards the entrance. Benny came running, but couldn't reach him. He was already in the entrance hall when Jo ran towards him. He asked for Y/N and Jo told him she would get her. He went upstairs to remove his coat and bag before going back outside to talk to Benny.

"How is everybody doing?" Dean asked and led his horse into the stable where Alex took him to rub him down.

"Everything is fine. We were just waiting for you to come home."Benny answered as he walked next to Dean. "This was the last business trip for this year, right?"

"Yes, it was." Dean came to a halt and looked serious at Benny. "What is going on here?"

Benny looked at Dean questioningly, whereupon he gestured to two of his men who were still carrying buckets of water while three maids were doing laundry.

"Oh! Yeah... Y/N has changed some things."

"Why?"

"Because... it just made sense."

And then Benny told Dean about the lamb stew incident and how there were other situations like that. But since Y/N changed that, nothing like that had happened again and the men found it a good change to exercise their muscles. And to impress the women, of course.

That surprised Dean. Especially that these changes were so well received. And even though he might not want to admit it, he saw the logic behind it and it definitely made sense.

Maybe his original annoyance wasn't appropriate after all if everyone agreed with it. And again Y/N brought drastic changes into his life. Even though he tried to stay away from it as much as possible.

"You brought a really good wife home, brother." Benny said and padded Dean's shoulder before he left him with a smile.

But that statement didn't help Dean in the slightest. The only reason he took Y/N with him in the first place was because of the way her father treated her. Even though he was still upset about the betrayal, he could still understand why Y/N had taken Helena's place. There was just too much attached to it and he even admired her courage a little bit. Still, it hadn't given Y/N's father the right to treat her like that. That too had scratched at long-forgotten memories and so he simply couldn't leave her behind. He just couldn't do it.

"Dean!" he heared a familiar voice call after him and he rolled his eyes a little.

Cassie came running down to him again, but this time he was prepared and could stop her before she could hug him again.

"Finally you're back. Have you seen what have been going on here?"

When Y/N came out of the kitchen, she saw Dean disappearing out the front door. She didn't want to keep him waiting and was already running after him when Millie caught her just in time.

"Y/N. Y/N!" the woman was calling out and Y/N stopped in her tracks.

"Yeah? What happened?" now a little alarmed she waited for her friend to speak.

"Dean is back. He just arrived ten minutes ago."

Relief spread through her that what her friend had wanted to say to her wasn't anything worse.

"Oh, I know. Jo just told me that he's back. And he was looking for me." she couldn't suppress a grin.

"Really?" Millie started to grin too. "Maybe the long distance worked some magic."

"I don't know. But I don't want to let him wait to long. It's the first time that he has ever asked for me..." and she tried not to get her hopes to high up.

She was already on her way out again when Millie stopped her again.

"Wait!" she came close to her, so that she could whisper. "Would it not be best to tell Dean... about the situation?"

Y/N had already thought of that. "I don't know yet. Let me first see why he was looking for me and then I will decide."

Millie nodded her head in agreement and Y/N made her way back to Dean. It didn't take long until she saw him, only he wasn't alone. Cassie was standing next to him again. Shouldn’t Y/N be the first to greet him back?

She slowed her pace and tried not to attract attention. The two of them talked and stood so close to each other again that Y/N's heart sank a little. And what she then heard didn't make it any better.

"She changes everything here. She messes everything up." Cassie insisted and took a step closer to Dean. "Why are you letting this happen? I would never do that."

"Cassie..."

"You could've married me. I would never do this." Cassie said and placed her hand lightly on his chest.

Dean didn't say anything to that. He didn't even try to free himself from her grasp and that really hit Y/N.

"And if you remember, Dean... I said I would take over the responsebility from Ellen. Since I was the only woman fitting for it here. Why did you have to take that away from me? From us?"

That was enough for Y/N. She didn't need to hear anything more. With quick steps she made her way back into the castle and without stopping ran up to the bedroom. Once there, she leaned against the door, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had held herself together for so long that Cassie wouldn't let her lose her composure even now.

When she opened her eyes again, she noticed a small package on the bed. It was wrapped in dark green fabric and tied with a red bow. Had Dean brought her something from Edinburgh?

She walked towards the bed and carefully untied the bow. It was almost too pretty to unpack. She opened the fabric and lifted the lid of the box, curious to see what was hidden underneath. But as soon as she realized what it was, she wished she hadn't seen it.

On a bed of red, withered roses lay a severed head of a black cat. And it wasn't long before Y/N let out a bloodcurdling scream that could be heard throughout the castle.

When the scream itself reached Dean outside the castle, he suddenly broke away from Cassie and ran back inside. He already saw Millie in front of the stairs, who was just about to make her way up when she saw him.

"Y/N. That's Y/N!" was all she needed to say for Dean to sprint up the stairs.

"Stay here!" Dean ordered and Millie complyed.

He heard Y/N sobbing in the shared bedroom and was standing in the room just a few moments later. Y/N stood near the windows and was completely distraught. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held a hand over her mouth to prevent any further loud noises. At first, Dean wasn't entirely sure what the problem was.

"What happened?" he asked in confusion.

With a shaking hand she pointed to the bed and then Dean also saw the small package. Weird. When he was upstairs to put his things down, it wasn't there yet. He took a few steps towards it, but immediately recognized what was inside. And if he was honest, he felt a little sick. But he still wondered what, or rather who, had put this there.

"That's... black magic." Y/N uttered in strangled words.

"What? No." Dean huffed. "That's not magic."

He didn't believe in magic and even though it was a really sick action that he wouldn't tolerate, Y/N had to calm down. He took the green cloth that lay next to the package and covered the inside.

"Then it's a threat. Which is addressed to me." Y/N said a little calmer, but still with emotion.

"Why would anyone threaten you?"

"Because you married me. That wasn't well received by everyone here."

Now Dean listened a little. "It sounds like you have some suspicions about who that might have been."

Y/N hesitated for a second. She actually didn't want to broach the subject like that, but they were now in a completely new situation. So she nodded.

"It was Cassie." she said in a firm voice.

"Oh, c'mon." Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Why would Cassie do something like that?"

"Because she wanted to marry you!" was he serious right now? "From the day you brought me here she avoided me. And she made it very clear to everyone else that she does not like me."

That made Dean a little amazed. "I know she's not necessarily easy, but she wouldn't be capable of something like that."

"You thought the same about Helena. And yet, here we are."

That left Dean a little speechless, but he didn't dwell on it.

"I don't know what's going on in your head, but it sure as hell wasn't Cassie." defended Dean the other woman again.

Dean didn't believe her. He simply sided with Cassie. That was enough. She couldn't take it anymore. For the last two months she had endured everything and never complained. His lack of interest in her and the fact that he constantly left her alone. She had endured it all, but now it was over.

"It was her! It could only have been her! I've been followed by someone lately and I..." but Dean did not really pay attention to her.

"But whoever it was, I won't tolerate that. Let's see what I can find out."

"You are not listening to me!" she almost screamed and now earned Dean's full attention.

"I try to talk to you, explain things to you and you don't listen to me! You just don't care! I tell you that it must have been Cassie because she's jealous of me and you don't believe me. Even though her behavior towards you should be proof enough."

"I do... listen..." Dean stumbled over his words, his mind trying to catch up.

And he did. He really listened to her, even if he didn't answer. At first, Dean had found it somewhat strange that Y/N had just started talking. But little by little he started to like it. Y/N talked a lot about herself. What she liked and what she didn't like. She also talked about her childhood and what memories she still carried with her. He had learned a lot about her and without meaning to, it had brought her closer to him.

"This situation isn't easy for me either. I'm giving my all here, trying to stay strong and not let myself get dragged down. I'm trying to find my way in a home that's completely unfamiliar to me, while my husband travels around the world and leaves me here alone." She let it all out.

"Hey, hey!" Dean interrupted. "I'm not just 'traveling around'. I'm making money. For all of us!"

Now Dean felt attacked. Of course it wasn't nice that he traveled so often, but it was necessary. This was how he made a living and, apart from that, he loved his work. So he wouldn't justify it.

"Do I look like I care about your money? No. I never have. But I did care about you! After the whole mess, I just wanted to make it up to you."

"But you can't! You're not Helena!" Dean replied angrily.

"I know that too! And yet you finally decided to take me with you." she fired back, causing Dean to fold his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I should have thought about that for a minute."

But as soon as those words left his mouth, he regretted them. He didn't mean that. He saw Y/N's eyes fill with tears again and wanted to kick himself. Without another word, Y/N stormed past him to the door.

"Y/N..." he called after her, but it was useless.

The woman had already disappeared from the room without stopping or turning back.

A/N: Yeah, I'm... gonna leave it at that. See you next week! 🫣 Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

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[mbbmz]

Long time no see, Ms. VP

꩜ Chapter 1.

꩜ Synopsis. The life of the party wasn’t really for you. An unexpected encounter happens, for the better or for the worse.

꩜ Paring. Bonten!Ran x Fem!Reader

꩜ Chapter warnings. None

꩜ WC. 2.1k

꩜ a/n. Not particularly proud of this one but it’s mostly an introduction chapter, so no smut, sorry! But wait for next chapter ;)

The sound of multiple voices echoed through the hallways, where students were waiting for class time. Some were mindlessly chatting between themselves while others were reading or studying, or whatever.

Ran, however, was attending his favorite activity of the day. The only thing that was worth him leaving his bed so early in the morning.

- "Haitani! Stop playing around and put it on!"

A feminine voice echoed in the hallway. Her uniform was neatly worn, her shirt ironed and her skirt covering her knees. The scowl on her face was the reason he still came here in the first place. Well, that and the fact he wanted to graduate from highschool.

- "Chill out, what’s the big deal? It’s just a tie…"

He almost couldn’t stop an amused smile to form on his face. It was just so funny to him, how dedicated she was for something so small.

- "It’s a dress code violation!"

She corrected, her face scrunching up even more. It was always the same with him. He’d always find a way to piss her off for God knows what reason.

A loud sigh escaped his lips, his fingers circling the edge of the glass. There were days like this. His sleep schedule was off, work was shit, traffic was bad and the bartender somehow managed to fuck up his drink the first time.

He was bored out of his mind. It wasn’t in his habits to stay on the side, but he didn’t seem to find anyone interesting.

His gaze trailed down on the first floor where a mass of people was dancing, bumping into each others. He couldn’t distinguish any any faces, not like he really cared. For some reason, his eyes landed on a girl, chatting with what seemed like her friend. She had a beautiful smile.

- "You should smile more often, suits you."

- "Stop being so stuck up for once, smile and have a good time."

- "There’s that beautiful smile~"

Those memories seemed almost foreign to him. He wasn’t expecting those particular memories to flood through his mind. What was her name?.. He didn’t remember.

- "Chill, VP. You’re gonna get all wrinkled."

He almost chuckled. It’s been a long time since the last time he thought about her. The recollection of her signature scowl felt bittersweet.

- "Huh? You didn’t hear? She moved…"

He still remembers the churning of his stomach at those words. The confusion, the disbelief, the anger.

Why didn’t she tell me?

Ah, who cares anyways.

It was years ago, he didn’t remember her face, let alone her name… No need to dwell over this.

So why did he find himself walking down the stairs of the club, his eyes fixated in her direction?

He needed another drink.

He got closer to the bar, ignoring the lingering thought to just go and see that woman, just to get the confirmation she wasn’t who he thought she was. Suddenly, he felt something, someone bump into his back.

The woman apologized, but it was all white noise to him. He shrugged it off with a gesture of his hand, before walking away.

- "Haitani ? Is that you ?"

He heard a voice, realization hitting him. Ah, he remembered her name now.

- "Haitani ! You’re late again !"

- "Why do you keep getting yourself in trouble, Haitani ?!"

- "Haitani… You again…"

He turned around, a small smile on his face. The first one of the night.

It really was her. How amusing.

- "Well, well… Isn’t it our dear student council vice president ?"

You looked around the place, a hint of nervousness in your eyes. You never really enjoyed the atmosphere in clubs. It was packed, loud and hot. But tonight wasn't about you. Tonight was your best friend bachelorette party, and what she says goes, even if it meant keeping her company in this ridiculously fancy club.

- "(Y/N) ! Why aren't you having fun ?"

You heard her crisp voice directed at you. She was a bit pouty, something you wouldn’t expect from a grown woman like her, but you were used to it by now.

- "I am having fun !"

You lied. After all, you weren’t going to tell her the truth about being bored and annoyed out of your mind at her big night. You didn’t want to ruin it.

She rolled her eyes, getting closer to you. She leaned in closer in a slight wobbly demeanor, probably to whisper something. Yeah, she was definitely tipsy.

- "Do you know why I chose this club ?"

She asked, her voice teasing and playful. It was your turn to roll your eyes.

- "Because you would take any occasion to spend your money in luxurious establishments ?"

You arched a brow, even though your tone was a bit playful as well. She scoffed, light-heartedly nudging your shoulder.

- "Because… I was thinking… if there is a chance a man took interest in you… let him at least be rich !"

She said humorously, making you roll your eyes again. You swore you’d end up cross eyed by the end of the night.

- "But seriously though, you’re thirty and still single !"

Her words made you wince slightly. You were aware that the more you waited, the harder it will get to find someone. It wasn’t your fault, you were just… not really good at flirting. You sighed, on your way to get another drink.

As you made your way to the bar through the mass of dancing people, you bumped into someone. You immediately apologized, not yet looking at the face of the lanky man you bothered. As you looked up, trying to get a better look at the stranger, you were met with a familiar pair of violet eyes.

- "S-Stop looking at me like that, Haitani!.."

- "Like what ?"

- "Like you’re coming up with an evil plan or something…"

But before you could say anything, the man turned his back at you, making his way to the bar. Panic filled you, not wanting to let him go, for some reason.

- "Haitani ? Is that you ?"

You found yourself saying, unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth. You needed to know if it was him. It probably wasn’t, but the worst that can happen was an embarrassing moment. However, you saw the man stop, he had that smile on his face.

- "You know you’re creepy, Haitani…"

- "Damn, you really have no filter, do you ?"

- "It’s the way you’re smiling… like you have something on your mind."

You never wanted to admit how much you loved that smile.

- "Well, well… Isn’t it our dear student council vice president ?"

His words made your eyes widen. It was him. The troublemaker that managed to lighten up your high school years. You were faced with a mixture of clashing feelings. Of course, you were surprised, pleasantly so. So why didn’t you find the strength to smile at him ? Was it because it has been such a long time ? Or was it because of the gnawing guilt that crushed you ?

You left without saying goodbye.

You managed to give him an awkward smile. You didn’t really know what to do. Part of you wanted to talk to him, but the other part was calling you stupid. You knew what you were doing when you moved. You knew you wouldn’t tell him anything, you knew you wouldn’t tell him goodbye. You knew you would hurt him.

But… past was past, right?..

- "It’s been a while since the last time I’ve been called that…"

You laughed awkwardly, still trying to get your head around the fact that Ran Haitani was standing in front of you. He was… well, how could you even describe your relationship?..

You were polar opposite. You were part of the student council, and he was your worst nightmare. At first, at least.

You only saw him smile, but somehow, it didn’t hit the same as it did in high school. Maybe because it wasn’t the smile you remembered.

This wasn’t his teasing, shit eating grin. It was more like a cold, calculating smirk. Scrutinizing you, sizing you up. Almost hypocritical. It was an unpleasant feeling.

He had changed. A lot. Of course, it has been more than ten years but… you wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for those lazy violet eyes of his. You remembered the way you would lecture him on his long hair, and how it wasn’t “appropriate for school” or bullshit like that. His short hair made him look more… mature, in a way. You almost found yourself wanting to run your hand in the lilac strands. You cleared your throat, trying to find something to say. But it was hard with his studying gaze fixated on you. But before you could say anything, you saw him taking out a pack of cigarettes.

- "Care to join me for a smoke ?"

The chilly wind made you shiver slightly, but it was still better than the suffocating atmosphere inside the club. Maybe you should’ve worn a longer dress to accommodate the cold weather of November. You looked at the tall man beside you, who didn’t seem bothered by the cold. You sighed, feeling the wind blow the smoke of his cigarette in your direction. He had a somewhat distant look, one you don’t think you’ve ever seen before.

- "So, you came back, after all."

You heard him saying, still looking into the distance. You glanced at him inquisitively, not quite understanding his statement.

- "In Tokyo, I mean."

He clarified, making you hum in acknowledgment. You moved out of Tokyo when you were seventeen, in the middle of the school year. Well, it was about that time too, in November. You still remember your class already thinking about Christmas, planning winter outings with their friends, Christmas dates… You even remember planning to get a gift for him. But that was before you got the news that you would go live with your mother. This sudden change didn’t enchant you, but you didn’t really have your say on the matter.

- "Yeah… I came back to go to college."

You finally answered, not really looking at him. You didn’t want to talk about how you left without saying anything, even though you knew you would have to, eventually. What were you thinking, back then ? Maybe you just didn’t want to say goodbye, so you didn’t. If only you could remember.

You looked back at him, only to find out he was staring right at you. You felt almost small under his piercing gaze. You wish you could find that easiness and that tranquility from back then. But you couldn’t. Now the air was heavy and it felt like there was a wall between the two of you. You wish you had the strength, the right to break that wall, but you couldn’t. Nothing was like before, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Was it wrong to want it to be like back then ? You were both adults now. You couldn’t afford that nonchalance you both had years ago. Those days, so far away yet so vivid in your memory. You remember now.

You were in love with him. Maybe that’s why you were so scared to say goodbye.

The silence felt heavy on your shoulders, and none of you were saying anything. You were just standing there while he was smoking his cigarette. Back then, he would’ve already tried to piss you off at least 3 times. But he didn’t.

- "What ?"

You asked, wanting to know why he was staring at you so much. In fact, you dreaded the question you knew was on the tip of his tongue. After the few seconds, he spoke.

- "Nothing. This dress looks nice on you."

You didn’t know how to react. Maybe it just… didn’t matter to him. You wished it did, though. You gripped the guardrail, looking at one of Tokyo’s tall buildings. The old you would’ve stammered over her words at a compliment from him. But it wasn’t the Ran you knew, you realized that. It was no use reminiscing the good ol’ time, it was all gone.

- "Thank you."

Then the silence again. You wondered why you even followed him in the first place. Perhaps you were looking for an occasion to justify yourself. It was crazy, because none of it would even matter if you hadn't landed on him tonight. All of those memories would’ve stayed locked up deep into the abyss of your mind if his eyes hadn’t met yours. Suddenly, a small vibration cut through the heavy silence. You took out your phone, looking at the text you just received.

|Bitch where r u 12:47am

|Im worried 12:49am

You sighed, knowing it was time to part ways. You would probably not see him again, maybe it was for the best.

- "I should go, my friend’s looking for me."

He didn’t say anything for a moment, silently bringing the stick to his lips.

- "Yeah."

He simply answered. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or glad he was letting you go this easily. You finally decided you shouldn’t care.

You turned away, walking back inside the building, not sparing him a last glance, the air filled with unspoken words.

Hi guys! I hope you are all doing okay. Im back with my first long fic, and i hope you'll like it! Dont hesitate to point out mistakes i might have made, english isnt my first language. If you have any questions about it, my inbox is open! Tell me if you want to be tagged.

I unfortunately didn’t manage to tag everyone, sorry about that.

Taglist. @honeygonebads-blog @thesadvampire @nahoyaandsouya @onyankaponsbae @shadowstar123

[delta-lethonomia]

ok depresso week is over, back to deliberate hyperfixation on bg3:

It is absolutely wild to me that people take Astarion to the foursome with the drow twins (romanced, spawn, post-cazador) and are shocked, shocked I tell you, that he has a bad time. But it leads me to think that there's an interesting conversation to be had here about morality applied to video games. I'm going to be using what's a bit of a strawman tbh, what I would consider an archetypical, "good person" gamer for this niche example.

(3k essay under the cut about irl morals vs video game behavior, my take on why Astarion agrees to the orgy, beating the dead horse of Astarion discourse now that the fandom has cooled off enough I might not get flogged for it, and all my election stress being translated into an increasingly bitchy narrative voice that I hope is at least mildly amusing.)

"Good Person Gamer" romances Astarion. They're probably female, which I am mentioning exclusively so I can turn that into "Good Girl Gamer" 😏, or G3. G3 picks nice dialogue options. G3 tries to support their companions, and finds diplomatic and moral solutions to problems. G3 saved the tieflings. G3 still romances Astarion because he's hot, and vulnerable, and it's not like he forces you to be evil - he just complains a bit when you save kittens stuck in trees, but you get that approval back anyway just by being nice to him. Talk him out of Ascension and you've proven to yourself he's got a good soul under all that attitude anyway. He'd healed! You banged on his grave! It's all good now!

The brothel is fun. The drow twins are hot. It's always fun when games lets you do spicy things like have threesomes and orgies! We're sex-positive! Look, the drow twins said they love their job! It's totally fine! G3, as most people, probably does not do these things in real life, but that's the fun in video games: you get to be someone you're not.

And then Astarion noticeably dissociates. He throws himself in the center and lavishes everyone with attention; he's a professional, you know. Even an unromanced Tav/Durge notices something's off, and Astarion replies something along the lines of "you don't have the right to look at me like that," presumably with worry, distress, or sympathy.

G3 is upset. They did everything right - they didn't want to hurt him, and Astarion himself said he wanted this. Why couldn't they stop midway through and remind him that he doesn't have to hurt himself? Why couldn't they talk about it afterwards, and clear the air? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HURT ME

Now, to all the G3's out there: if you were dating a person with extensive sexual trauma, having been raped literally thousands of times, would you suggest having a threesome/orgy? With prostitutes, if that's better or worse? Putting them on the spot before your mutual friends? Would you wait a few years to mention the idea, or would you do so only weeks/months into a relationship? Your first "I love you" might have only been yesterday.

And most people, I think, would say "No." Writing that scenario outside of the lens of a video game makes it sound insane - of course you wouldn't! I'm not saying that they should never have group sex or that it can't be done, but I think most people instinctively get how that would be a shitty thing to do in that context, especially without discussing it in depth beforehand and making sure you're both on the same page.

And this is the meat of the issue. Most gamers play good-aligned characters: there's a strong culture of wanting to play the hero and saving the day. But tied into that cultural monomyth, in society itself, is the idea that sex is a reward at the end. You get sex at the end of the romance arc. The date where you have sex is one of many milestones, and you're not really dating if you haven't done it yet. Some people don't have sex until their wedding night. Threesome scenes especially are a video game classic: old-school God of War, for instance, had a hidden room in every game with scantily-clad women just waiting for you to button-mash away, a little treat for the player's keen puzzle-solving abilities.

Not all romances in BG3 have sex or end with sex, (some even start with sex), but that is because BG3's character writing tries to ground itself in reality despite being a medium people utilize for fantasy. Role-playing a "good" character is mostly easy: you typically know which dialogue choice is the ethical choice, can chide Astarion for being racist, can save the numerous children with moral ease - and BG3 rewards this: a good playthrough is more fleshed out, because you haven't killed off half the cast. You get better gear. You have more allies, better allies. You know what to do.

Or, well, mostly. BG3 is kind of special imo because even the good choices have a lot of nuance, where two people can make different choices but still feel like they both picked the most ethical one. Take Shadowheart's parents, for example: they beg for her to let them go so they can die and save their daughter. Saving them leaves Shadowheart in Shar's clutches - she will experience pain for the rest of her life, but regains her parents, and with luck, Selûne will claim her soul when she dies. Kill them, and Shadowheart is free - truly free, to live her life on her own terms, free from Shar and Selûne both. Both can be the ethical choice, depending on your morals.

"But if Astarion didn't want to have the threesome, the game should have let me stop midway through/made it clearer that this would happen. He said no before Cazador - why couldn't he say no again? Why would Larian put me in this position and make me feel bad when I thought everything was alright? I wanted to be good and have fun, not feel like I pressured my boyfriend." - Strawman G3.

Because BG3 treats it's characters like people. Multiple companions make choices outside of what the player character decides for them - Shadowheart's decision to save or kill her parents, kill or save the Nightsong, or Gale, to go for the crown or not depend on what events they are there to witness personally, or can be informed by conversations you have in camp about unrelated issues. You can fully let them make their own decisions and be surprised each time as they develop into different people with each successive playthrough. A lot of people are surprised when Gale goes for the Crown of Karsus without their input. In my last multiplayer playthrough, we could not prevent Shadowheart from wanting to kill the Nightsong, and so we were forced to kill her.

Astarion is not like that. The way he talks about Ascension changes depending on your relationship. If you're merely friends, he acknowledges it's probably a bad idea, even, in direct contrast to the somewhat obsessive and frightening way he pursues it in a romantic relationship. But Astarion can't decide what to do at the end: he has no hidden point system, no hidden flags - he will always pursue Ascension even if he knows it's a bad idea, because Astarion does not trust himself, has no experience trusting himself, and needs help. As counter-intuitive as it may sound, he needs support to make his own decisions, because in that moment, he cannot be objective.

(If Astarion is ever objective is another story....)

So much of Astarion's reactions and opinions are instinctive and unthinking. "Don't let the pixie out of the lantern, are you an idiot?" -> "A pixie! And honest-to-goodness pixie! *giggles*"

"We don't need a urchin hanging around." -> Astarion approves if you help Yenna

etc. etc. etc. There's so many times he says one thing, the cruel thing, the "fuck everyone else, I've got mine"-thing, and then approves when you do the good thing. Astarion does not live in line with his values (besides pursuing a growing need for freedom) and he frankly does not really know what his values even are.

Astarion doesn't react with glee to finding all the people he seduced - who inadvertently raped him, though they didn't know, some lowlifes and scoundrels and people having a bad day and even some sweet, naive virgins like Sebastian, who took that smoking hot Elf on his word and followed him home, probably in disbelief someone so gorgeous would pay them any attention at all - tortured and locked in a dungeon underground. He's crushed by guilt. He's in pain. Astarion delights in you causing others pain (the torture scene) because it aligns with his worldview, the joy of seeing someone else suffer for once. But he's not a cold-hearted murderer. (And yes, I am differentiating between "adventurer kills a bandit" murder and "deliberately killing someone you know for reasons/no reason" murder.) He doesn't hurt anyone in camp - Shadowheart and Lae'zel are far more dangerous than him. You never have to stop him from drinking anyone else to death. Even if you never feed him again, never use his bite attack, he never bites anyone in camp. Despite being a vampire, Astarion is, effectively, harmless. (Bite night was about checking whether or not Cazador's old command's still worked. It's his first real attempt at freedom, proving to himself that he's free from compulsion. Hence why the roll to get him to stop is a 5, giving you a 75% likelihood of succeeding. He doesn't actually want to kill you. And you get two chances!!!)

Astarion doesn't enjoy death for the sake of death. He's terrified if you side with the goblins and kill the tieflings despite goading you into doing it. I don't doubt that he could hurt others (god knows he's got enough feelings to work out that way), but there's a significant difference between a little knife play and condemning thousands of people to be tortured in the Hells for all eternity. Sacrificing his siblings is different, because they, like him, are guilty, and deserve their deaths. He agrees to sacrifice his fellow spawn as an act of self hatred, of self harm. But all those other people stupid enough to want to sleep with him? Given a day to think about it, I think Astarion would agree that that's not right - and that's why he thanks you for preventing his Ascension. That much murder isn't him. He can be thoughtless, cruel, and unkind, but Astarion isn't a psychopath.

Take him to the brothel, and slipping back into that role, the seductive rake, it as easy as breathing. I don't think Astarion has ever thought about if he's the type of person to enjoy group sex, or even if he wants it. I don't doubt that Astarion enjoys sex, that he wants to have sex (he is, after all that, still shockingly horny), but he's just discovered the idea of having sex with someone he loves. He's riding that high. Of course he says yes: not only is he a different man now (he's free!), it's something he's done a thousand times already - maybe it'll be different this time, maybe something has changed - or maybe, an orgy was on offer, so of course Astarion is there. It's his purpose. He's been doing it for 200 years. Where else would he be?

What I'm saying is that Astarion didn't think about what sleeping with the drow twins meant for your relationship, or how he would feel about it at all. He just went for it. He had a bad time. You then don't discuss it because that would mean admitting that he finally made a choice by himself and it backfired. He didn't think, or maybe he did, and it turns out he just doesn't know himself. Why discuss it? A relationship with G3 apparently means group sex. They probably asked twice. They backtracked all the way to Wyrm's Crossing post-Cazador. Will they ask again? How many times can he say no?

In reality, in the real world, the act of asking can be the problem in and of itself. If your significant other/spouse/lover asks you to do something you don't want to do, be it a threesome, anal, opening the relationship etc, these actions have consequences. The act of asking doesn't happen in a vacuum like it does in video games: there is a cost associated with it, a gamble, and while it may pay off, it may not. Some people get worn down and agree to things they don't want to do. Sometimes you break up because the act of asking is so inherently disrespectful you can't reconcile your differing wants and needs. If you're dating someone who has experienced the gut-wrenching pain of being cheated on, you don't ask 2 months into a new relationship if you can fuck other people. This should not come as a surprise to you, to G3, to anyone. It's common sense.

BG3 giving you the opportunity for a foursome with Astarion not only to give the player their hot'n'spicy sex scene (then playfully bops you on the nose by making it a fade-to-black, you naughty little perverts, you), but also to continue its theme of treating the player like a mature adult, who is dealing with other mature adults, and who can and should live with the consequences of their own actions. Subsequent patches have watered this down, I admit, but I do believe that that was the ethos guiding their work from the beginning. BG3 wants you to interact with the characters like people. If you roll over and tell them what they want to hear, you will Ascend Astarion, and he'll enslave you in turn. If you agree with Gale on everything, he will kill himself and you - or, he'll become a god, becoming the exact sort of god he used to rail against. Agree with Karlach, and she will rather die than go back to the Hells. You get my point.

"But Larian could have let me check in on Astarion midway through. Maybe it was a mistake to ask, but they should have let me check on him and stop it all if he wanted. I was trying to trust him to make his own decisions." - Strawman G3

Ok. We add a dialogue option. "Astarion, love, are you alright? We can stop at any time if you want."

Astarion disapproves (-5)

He's not backing out. Thank you for asking, darling, but fuck off. (I don't think he'd actually say fuck off but the implicit message would be there. I can't see Astarion stopping midway through, nor appreciating you doubting him. Nothing changes.)

"But I still feel bad." - Strawman G3

And I completely understand that. It's a video game. Don't worry! Of course you should get your sex scene - it's a reward! You got their approval high enough! You have enough charisma points! In DA:O, you can also have an orgy, unlocked by giving your companions enough gifts! It's a game! You have enough points, you get the thing!!! You killed Cazador - you win! Have your cake and eat it too! Congrats, you unlocked your hot slutty vampire elf who's basically a trained courtesan, who needs you to be his moral compass, who will never leave you so long as you don't actively rape him - enjoy all the fun orgies in your future!

Your actual choice - the choice the game gives you - is to realize that taking what's essentially a human trafficking victim to a brothel is a dumb idea, but they didn't want to punish you for it.

"Well, Astarion should have said something then. He said no before, he can say no again." - Strawman G3

If you go through life pushing peoples boundaries and expect them to verbally tell you what you're doing wrong, you're gonna be friendless and have a bad time. This ties back to both Astarion having difficulty knowing and defending his own values, BG3 trying to let you make your own decisions without setting out a clear "good or bad" path on occasion, and the hope that you'd use your own morals to make decisions. G3 would never behave in this way irl, and that's where the shock comes from, the guilt from committing an action they thought was without consequence in a risk-free fantasy scenario, and then feeling unpleasantly surprised when called out.

But it's a video game, and you didn't get the little zap, the little sting of an Astarion disapproves in the corner that told you you made the wrong choice. In fact, because he doesn't disapprove, it's not actually the wrong choice!

It really was mean how the Narrator made G3 feel bad, wasn't it. They didn't mean to hurt him. Astarion doesn't mention it, so it's probably fine.

... have you talked to Halsin yet? Surely he had a good time. Right?

CONCLUSION

People think they're good and moral and will typically behave "heroically" in video games. Games support this and reward players for doing so. The "good path" is expected to be clear. However, video games are not real life no matter how much they play at immersion, and multiple games have trained players in a linear "do x, receive y" type fashion. Sex is a reward in games, and is treated that way in real life as well, so players expect the Sharess' orgy scene to be a reward, and are then shocked when Astarion/Gale/Halsin etc reveal during or afterwards that they had a bad time. This is because Larian wants you to treat BG3 like a role playing game and interact with it seriously, and isn't afraid to boop you for your actions in ways that mimic real life relationships. This ethical dissonance makes people uncomfortable especially when they play games to role-play as someone better than themselves, and are surprised when they aren't herded down predetermined "good" paths via instantaneous approval/disapproval mechanics or unlockable "ideal" dialogue.

It is absolutely possible that someday Astarion might be into meaningless group sex with prostitutes for fun and pleasure. However, that is the sort of thing you'd probably either wait for him to bring up by himself organically, or discuss in a long-term trusting relationship after he's had potentially years to process the idea of not immediately hopping into bed with someone, as well as disentangling his instinctive "beaten-in" sexually available behavior from his actual desires. People much more emotionally mature and undamaged than Astarion have destroyed their own relationships by inadvertently pushing a partner (or themselves) into various forms of group sex or other sexual acts. It's not something you do on a random Tuesday on a whim.

Or maybe it is, and I'm just chronically boring and surrounded by boring people lmao

TO THE POSTER THAT INSPIRED THIS: I'm so so sorry if you ever see this, not trying to call you out at all hence no linking, I just wanted to pick apart why I think you felt that way. The thoughts just finally bubbled over after a year+ lol

[itsmyfandomandilikeit]

Ok I have gone through all available evidence and I have a prediction.

Look I'm ngl I am watching Arcane for Cait and Vi. I love the show overall but this ship is what I'm most here for, especially after I spent the last 3 years under the assumption that Mel was dead. Glad she isn't. Point is, I really want CaitVi/Violyn/Piltover's Finest to be handled well, and I pay a disproportionate amount of attention to what happens with these two.

After watching the first arc of season 2 the other day, I was trying really hard to ignore the ending to episode 3. I didn't like that Cait hit Vi in the stomach and abandoned her in a pit after being all classist at her, but I thought, this is Arcane. Arcane is the greatest fucking thing I've ever seen, of course they're gonna find a way to make this work. But that made me think of it as a puzzle. How could they possibly make this work?

Option one, Cait sucks now and she and Vi don't get back together. I don't think this makes sense, because of the brand. CaitVi is a popular ship that just about everybody likes. A huge amount of the hype for this season before the trailers came out was building up assurances that don't worry, CaitVi is happening and it's not gonna be ambiguous. Take this teaser from like two weeks after season 1 ended, a couple of Valentine's Day icons, and one million tweets from Amanda Overton. Why the fuck would they make this season be about Cait and Vi not working out? It simply doesn't make logical sense.

Ok, so we're starting from the assumption that Cait and Vi have a happy ending that makes people feel like they should be together, and continue to want to play as them in the games and buy merchandise. That means they either explicitly get back together, or it's so implied there isn't much of a difference. My money is on zero ambiguity. Vi is the main character and Cait is maybe #3 or #4. Ambiguity about their ending would just look like a weak writing choice and they didn't know what they're doing. The Arcane writers don't tend to go for wishy washy.

But here's the problem. Domestic violence is bad. It's about the fastest way to guarantee the majority of your audience doesn't think two characters should be together. It would take a herculean effort on Cait's part to make up for that and honestly I still wouldn't believe it. To me, there isn't any kind of act of service that makes up for hitting your partner. Not even ensuring the independence of the nation of Zaun. Add on top of that the over the top hurtful comments about Vi's blood and class. It makes her look very much like, deep down, she thinks of Vi as beneath her. If she meant those things, a relationship between them is impossible. (Not to mention how many teenaged girls I know are watching this, and I don't want them to think it's ever okay to be treated like that, even in a fantasy series.)

So my prediction is this. The only way to make a relationship between Cait and Vi viable again is to render those comments and the sentiment they carry meaningless. How do the writers do that? Imo it turns out later that Cait intentionally came up with cruel things to say to cut Vi loose. She realized that Vi would never be able to kill Jinx, and this new explosion will make the situation aboveground even worse, and Vi still won't be able to contribute to the hunt after this. Vi has no future as an enforcer against Jinx and will probably get treated like dogshit as a Zaunite, so Cait is "breaking her heart to save her", as Tvtropes would say. In Cait's mind, it's better if she's left down here in Zaun.

What evidence do I have for this? It fits Cait's characterization as a genius who thinks quickly and several steps ahead. It fits the tiny animation details we zero in on of her stiffening her trembling lips and furled eyebrows. It un-ruins the most popular canon relationship in League. It allows act 1 to end on massive shock value but roll it back later to show that Cait actually does love Vi, enough to let her go for her own good.

I'm not arguing this is the best possible solution but it's the one I think they're going to go with. Amanda Overton and some others have repeatedly said that CaitVi fans will be happy with the ending to Arcane. Everything about the show(the opening, Netflix Brazil's Twitter account, the story) points to them being the show's OTP except for this one scene. I think Cait intentionally cut Vi out of her life by pretending to be much crueler than she wanted to be, to protect her and, likely, as a form of self destruction.

[xiaq]

Do you mind if I ask what symptoms you had with the intestinal stuff? I have several food intolerances & I have been very careful but everything seems to bloat me up & im not sure if im just getting more sensitive or if its a symptom of an infection/something more serious I should look in to…

So I had H Pylori for nearly a year before Doctor #2 elected to do tests instead of discounting my symptoms as anxiety.

I pretty much stayed bloated/gassy at all times and within an hour of eating I’d get cramps that would then last for hours afterward. Also really bad heartburn. I was a 6/7 at all times on the Bristol stool chart. It was definitely worse when I had fodmaps but even on a no-fodmap diet I was constantly uncomfortable at best and in serious pain at worst.

I also had a bunch of dermatitis issues—my scalp was the worst spot, but also around my nose, eyelids, and corners of my mouth. Random little rashy spots that would pop up with no rhyme or reason, especially since I’m really careful about my skin/hair care routines. Since treatment, those have all gone away.

I really wish I’d pushed back on the first doctor a lot harder, because it’s wild how fast I started feeling better once they got me on a treatment plan, and I could have avoided 8+ months of misery. I’m still not back to normal— my stomach is more sensitive than it used to be– but I’m so much better than I was.

At the very least, go see a doc and get testing done to rule out the obvious things!

[coffeecoloredpages]

A Not-So-White Christmas

“They'll wrinkle if you pack them like that,” Regulus appeared at his elbow, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

Sirius shrugged. “If Walburga doesn't like it, she'll just charm the wrinkles out. I don't really give a toss.”

Regulus sighed, giving Sirius a light shove, his eyes rolling and mouth quirking in a way that was almost normal for them. “Budge over, I'll fix it. And this just came for you.”

Sirius took the slightly crumpled envelope Regulus shoved into his hands and sat back onto the mattress, relinquishing the task of packing for the moment. Regulus had always been better at making things neat and tidy, his hands always straightening and smoothing out of habit. Yet another way they differed from each other despite their shared upbringing. Lately it felt as if their differences were multiplying in a way they never had before Hogwarts.

Pushing his musings aside, Sirius tipped open the envelope. His face split into a grin as he read; it was from James. When he finished, he looked up to find Regulus watching him, the guarded look that had haunted his face for the last six months already back in place. “Thanks,” Sirius said sincerely. “Guess I'm lucky you found it before mum did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever.” Regulus shut and fastened the suitcase, having managed to even fit the dress robes in with everything. “You'd better not get anymore, I think Kreacher is suspicious, he'll be keeping an eye out now.”

“Oh, to hell with Kreacher. I'm not afraid of that gas bag. The worst he can do is screech a few insults at me.”

“Don't talk about him like that,” Regulus snapped, eyes sparking. “And he can do a lot worse than just yell at you; Maman has ordered him to report on everything you do, and that takes precedence over any order you give. If he, or anyone else here, catches a letter coming from your precious Hogwarts friends then you'll really have it coming.”

Sirius stared for a moment, taken aback at the outburst. “Right, sorry,” he offered. “Look, I am sorry, okay?” He repeated at Regulus’ skeptical look. “Listen, I'll be on my best behavior this week, alright? I'll tell James and the others not to send anything and won't even make a face when Grandmama demands a kiss. I'll be a perfect little heir. So can you not be mad at me anymore? Please?”

Regulus eyed him for a long moment before softening just slightly, mouth quirking again. “I'm not mad at you, but fine, deal.”

“Brilliant,” Sirius beamed. He didn't know how he'd survive this week without Regulus on his side. “I'll write a note quick and be right down. D’you think a dozen dung bombs will be enough?”

“Sirius!” Regulus hissed, fighting a smile.

“Kidding! Kidding!” Sirius laughed, dancing out of range as his brother swung a half-hearted smack at him.

(fic is Meet Me Halfway, by Wordwyrm on ao3)