#gods and spirits crate

[mtchee]

Bubbles Along the Surface - [Zhongli] GN

blurb:

A minor god awakened years after the Archon War, and with your brother, Osial, pinned to the depths below, you've made your own way in the world. In the most recent year, sailing with a merchant crew, you've forever decided to conceal your identity as a god, keeping to the life of a mortal with an intense fascination with the land of Geo. In all your years, its only now you have the chance to finally step foot in Liyue, meeting a tall and handsome man who eventually comes to be your beloved--but not without a few misunderstandings.

cw: not edited, fluff, minor angst, second-person-pov, spoilers for liyue playthrough but nothing major, osial is [name]'s older brother, archon siblings fr, zhongli loving on you, a reassuring zhongli, feat. childe but really he only gets like four lines

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[8.2k]

Eons ago, after the Archon war, arose a young archon hidden in a dreamless sleep beneath oceanic depths, protecting them from the catastrophe above. Awoken by the change in currents, they rose to the water's surface whilst their elder brother was pinned to the crust below—for they was the beloved sibling of the God of Vortex, Osial.

Their own title, God of Bubbles, and it was they whom were responsible for the health of marine life and the ocean oxidation.

While their followers had either converted or were wiped out in the war, they retreated from their title as an Archon, knowing it would only get them into trouble with the rising seven who battled for their rightful seats in ruling Teyvat.

Though their stories never died.

Sheltered due to the war and then lost without their big brother, they began a new life as a merchant, sailing the high seas and traversing from nation to nation. Although the world had changed from what they had originally thought, they were open minded and of a bright spirit—and couldn't wait to explore.

"To Liyue we sail!" The captain called, a rugged but sweet man who practically adopted you, "they've new silks due for Inazuma on the second moon, if we get there early enough we can rest on some solid ground for a while. Lets give ourselves a holiday, ay?"

The rest of the crew cheered back ecstatically, having been docked in Schneznaya for more than long enough. They could use a change of scenery; most weren't built for this kind of cold.

You laughed at their eagerness, quickly aiding your mates in loading on the last few crates of supplies before the ship was to set off once more.

You made sure your route was clear of storm—well, as much as you could. Your power's influence was better equipped for the water's depths, not its surface.

But you made do.

"Excited, love?" Darla, a Fontaine merchant about ten years your senior (physically at least) approached, a wide and knowing grin on her face, "you've always wanted to go to Liyue, haven't you?"

You grin back, eyes closed as you giggle sheepishly, "You've heard all my rambles, haven't you? Of course I am! And we get to stay there for... how long? Oh! Almost two moons! Two moons! Darla, that's two months of exploring! I've always wanted to visit the adepti shrines..."

"Of course you have," The older woman rolls her eyes playfully, gently bumping into your hip, "calm yourself, dear. We don't want you to combust."

You laugh at her in good nature.

"How come we're staying so long anyway? Not that I'm complaining."

"Why do you think?" Darla gives you an incredulous look, "because you're the captain's pearl, that's why. He's always had a soft spot for you," she nods her head towards the old man by the wheel, "not that the rest of us mind. Gives us a break too."

They watch as while the evening prevails, the ship's leader bounds below deck despite his age and practically hauls up a barrel of drinks for the mates to share, letting out a bellowing laugh all the whilst.

You snort, "Mm, I see what you mean."

After a week or so of smooth sailing, you finally port in Liyue Harbour and settle yourselves at the available inns, unloading any personal cargo and clearing the ship for its future stocks.

The Portside is bustling with life, fishermen promoting their fresh produce and other sailors maintaining their boats. Your eyes are wide in awe at the architecture and vivacity, excitement only continuing to build within you.

"Oh, pa!" You eagerly turn to your father figure with pleading eyes, "the city's just past the docks, may I please—?"

"Just be back before dark, alright?" The captain huffs out with feigned exasperation, "some of the crew and I will be hangin' around the plaza for a bit. Some place called Third around Knockout? I dunno..."

He scratches the back of his head before letting out a puff of air as you launch yourself at him, arms latched tightly around his torso in a hug.

His once narrowed eyes widen while the colour pink tints his sun kissed cheeks, "O-Oi!"

"Thank you, pa!" You pull back with a gleeful smile, "I'll be back soon, I promise!"

You lean up and places a chaste kiss on his frizzy cheek before rushing off past the docks.

The male stammers as some of the crew snicker at him from behind, teasing him for putting up his so called 'cold exterior'.

"Yeah yeah... uh, b-be safe!" He calls out at last. He quickly whips around to those laughing, "who're you chucklin' at, huh? hUh?!"

Eager to explore, you find yourself in the middle of the plaza ahead of your crew and are immediately overwhelmed by the smell of food and a rush of people.

You can't help but grin at the sight.

You wander past the open shops and stalls, simply admiring the sights and everything the locals of Liyue had to offer. You feel your heart swell at the kindness of a sweet granny who ran a toy stall, the elder woman giving you a colourful paper windmill with the only explanation being that you had a beautiful smile.

You express your gratitude and wish for her good health before continuing onwards with more of a skip in her step, gift clutched to you closely.

In the midst of your exploration, you bump into a tall man, profusely apologising as you stumble for your balance, toy falling to the floor.

"Ah, no sweat!" The male replies, and you look up to meet deep blue orbs and a boyish grin. The ginger haired stranger leans down to pick up your fallen gift, handing it back to you whilst introducing himself as Childe.

"[name]," You reply politely, shaking his hand with a bright smile, "it's a pleasure! Uh, a-apologies for the collision..."

At your sheepish expression, the male only chuckles and waves it off, a certain glint appearing in his eyes at the mention of your name.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He tilts his head curiously.

"Oh, no, heh, I'm a—" You stop yourself momentarily, clearing your throat, "I'm a foreigner. I work as a merchant across the waters."

"I see, I see," His gaze grows half lidded, flickering to the glowless hydro vision by your waist, "you like the ocean?" His curiosity peaks as he notices you perk up immediately.

"Yes! Indeed, aha, it's practically my life."

He gives you a nod of understanding, and you indulge yourself in idle chatter before parting ways, the male heading towards the crimson stairs leading to the balconies above. It's then that you realise where you are.

Not in the plaza, that's for sure.

Finding yourself lost, you take note of the increasingly darkening sky, "Oh dear..." your stomach drops.

Your eyes dart around hurriedly in hopes of landing on something familiar, spinning around in a circle and only managing to loose hope.

Your chest tightens as the sun finally dips past the horizon, and you cuss quietly under your breath. Your knuckles grip the stem of the paper windmill closely, the toy being your only sense of comfort.

"Excuse me," A deep voice adresses you from behind and you jump.

You whirl around, wide eyes meeting the chest of the individual talking to you.

Wary gaze trailing upwards, you come into contact with almost luminescent amber isises, and a concerned frown.

"Are you alright? You seem rather... distressed."

You take in a sharp breath, eyes flickering—the man is breathtaking.

He is tall and of a strong physique, with wide shoulders and a toned, but slimmed waist. His clothes are dark, although intricate and rich with black and brown to gold features.

His hair is long at the back, tied neatly in a low tail whilst the front frames his eyes in curt strands.

You blink, "Oh, yes. I—uh, ahem. I-I'm not from here, you see? And, um, I appear to have found myself a bit lost..." you can't help but feel small under his stony gaze, hearing him hum lowly in response.

"I see. From where do you hail?"

"Oh, I'm a travelling merchant. I docked today with my crew and told pa—uh, m-my captain that I would be back before dark, but..."

"Ah, I understand," The male's stern features seem to melt ever so slightly at your stammer, and he gives you a small smile to ease your nerves, "do you recall where you are suppose to be?"

"Somewhere called Third Round Knockout, I believe."

You give him a sheepish grin in return, toy clutched close. The stranger's eyes lighten in recognition of the name.

"A place I frequent in my days of rest. If you would like, may I escort you to your destination?"

"Really?" You brighten hopefully as he offers you his arm, "you wouldn't mind? Thank you, sir!"

"Zhongli," He states as you link your arm with his, "you may refer to me as Zhongli."

He smiles at you softly, causing you to flush, and begins leading you back towards the plaza.

"Mister Zhongli! Mister Zhongli!" You wave him down excitedly, the male breathing out a chuckle at the notion.

Throughout the following months, the two of you had bumped into each other once more and became well acquainted, soon becoming friends as you met up frequently.

The geo user became acutely aware of his new found friend's fascination with Liyue and was more than happy to show you around and tell you the many tales of said nation.

You got to know each other well within your first visit, you having been rather disheartened when the time came for you and your crew to leave--though the man had assured you that when you next returned, he would still be waiting.

"[name]," He greets with a gentle smile, opening his arms as you gleefully jumps into them, "how have you been fairing?"

"Good," You reply curtly, smiling up at him, "but better now that I'm here."

You laugh when he shake his head at you, "What about you? Are you okay?"

Zhongli tilts his head slightly with a confused hum, "I heard about the Archon's passing, news of it has already reached Fontaine although it was a few days ago. Are you alright?"

"Oh, that, yes," Zhongli clears his throat and composes himself, "indeed, it is tragic. However, I believe the Qixing has everything under control."

"I suppose. Something doesn't... feel right though..."

He leans forwards in interest, a certain glint in his eyes at your words.

"Oh? How so?"

"I'm not sure, I just feel as though Morax—uh," You glance at him momentarily, catching yourself before you blurt out something controversial.

As an Archon yourself, you swore you could still sense the presence of Liyue's God; though you doubt herself, chalking it up to the fact that you were an inexperienced Archon, simply sensing the ramenants of his power.

"N-nothing. It just feels, odd? Someone having the ability to murder a God, and the Geo Archon no less... Um, anyway..."

Zhongli hums, the glint in his eyes ever so prominent, "I understand what you are inferring. In any case, it will be a long time before any such revelations come to fruition."

He takes note of your nerves, watching as you squeeze your left hand nervously and swiftly changes the subject to ease your discomfort.

You traverse towards Yujing Terrace, where Zhongli breaks any silence by running his mouth on about the flowers maintained in the gardens.

"A dear friend of mine, Madame Ping maintains the flora."

"Really?" You hum, "what kind of silk flowers does she grow?"

"All three variations I believe," The man goes on to continue but is interrupted by a high pitched and child-like voice from afar.

"Mister Zhongliiiiiii!"

The duo pause and turn towards the sound, you tilting your head at the sight of a frantically waving, floating mushroom fairy child and a boy.

The unknown blond makes no attempts to hush his companion, simply shaking his head at her loudness before approaching.

Glancing to the side, you notice Zhongli's ease in their presence and calm yourself.

"Ah, Aether, Paimon, hello," He greets with a nod, "what brings you two here?"

"Oh, we were just about to meet Ms. Ningguang! We've got a special invitation to head up to the Jade Chamber!" The mushroom fairy child—Paimon—explains proudly.

"Oh? Impressive, indeed." Zhongli humours her kindly.

"Sorry, did Paimon disturb you?" The blond—Aether—asks, ignoring his companion's offended 'hey!'.

"Not at all," You give the two a smile, "don't worry about it. Zhongli was just going to show me around Yujing Terrace."

Your companion nods, "Aether, Paimon, this is [name]. A dear friend of mine."

"[name]?" Paimon blinks, "you mean like the—"

Zhongli clears his throat, "Anyhow, I suppose the Qixing won't be too fond of waiting. I take it you are prepared?"

Sharing a peculiar look with Aether, the two communicate silently.

"Right!" The blond scratches the back of his head, "we've just picked up a gift for Lady Ningguang. Hopefully it's good enough."

"I'm sure she'll enjoy it." The taller assures.

Paimon huffs and stomps in the air, "Hey! Why are you interrupting—"

"Anyway, we'll see you later then! It was nice meeting you, Mx. [name]!" Aether grins at you and waves before bolting off, leaving his companion dazed.

"I—uh, whaaa? Heyyy! Wait for me!" The floating mushroom fairy is quick to fly after him, the two fading from sight.

You laugh, mildly confusde, "Well, they're an interesting pair."

The male beside you releases the breath he was quietly holding, chuckling softly, "Yes, indeed they are. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, about the silk flowers..."

"[name]?"

You perk up at the sound of your name, peering up from behind the stock of open crates you had been counting.

"Oh, Zhongli!" You brighten immediately, hopping over the boxes to reach him.

"Hi! What are you doing here? I thought you had work today?"

Despite your concern, you give him a grateful smile, a familiar warmth creeping up your neck.

The man smiles at you contently.

"I took a small break earlier than usual, though my boss doesn't mind."

He internally winces and fights back a flush of embarrassment when recalling Hu Tao's thorough interrogation for the sudden departure.

He wasn't in any trouble for doing so, no—but once Hu Tao found out it was to see someone outside of work, oh boy...

"Ah, anyhow," he clears his throat, "I... wanted to ask you something, and I suppose I just couldn't wait any longer."

Your interest peaks. Unfortunately, so too does some of your crew mates--a few of them slowing in their work to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Zhongli takes in a breath, "I was hoping to be able to treat you to dinner tonight, if you would be interested?"

His amber eyes meet yours with a hopeful glaze. Despite his outward composure, he could feel his nerves skyrocketing once he took note of their minor audience.

Your eyes widen and you bite back a squeak.

Is this even real? Or are you just assuming things? Oh, you could feel the excitement bursting within you—wait, but you're an Archon... oh gods you forgot about that. Ugh, but he's so—

"[name]?"

You snap out of your thoughts, embarrassment flooding you.

You quickly blurt out, "Yes! I-I mean, uh," you straighten yourself up as to not seem so flustered, "sure, ahem. Um... a-are you...?"

Zhongli let's out a subtle sigh of relief, closing his eyes as he allows a ginger smile to grace his lips.

"Yes, [name]. If you would, may I take your hand in courting?"

Oh.

Oh.

OH SHI-

You tense and fight to push down an unholy squeal, mind racing. You could feel your mouth go dry the moment he reopened his eyes and made contact with yours.

You only manage to give him another giddy smile, nodding shyly with sore cheeks. Zhongli chuckles at you, taking a step closer and gently grasping your dominant hand in both of his.

"Then, I will see you tonight by the stairs of Yujin Terrace. Do not fret, my dear, you are perfect as always."

He brings your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon its skin whilst maintaining eye contact.

He gives you one last charming smile before stepping away and leaving the harbour, ignoring the light blush coating his cheeks.

Later that day, as the sun kisses the horizon, you make your way from the inn and towards Yujing Terrace.

The night life in the plaza is bustling, the noise and chatter growing faint as you move farther from the docks.

Well into the city and past Luili Pavilion, the moonlight glinting across the shallow water catches your eye.

You slow and stop for a moment to peer into the pool, smiling softly as the golden bass and koi curl towards you. You glimpse a shadow passes from behind.

You giggle softly and, with a wave of your hand, summon gentle currents beneath the water's surface to play with the fish.

While the bass laze and let the gentle currents drag them along, the koi play along with the hidden tides, weaving in and out of the streams.

"Ah, there you are."

With a gasp and a jolt, you drop your hand to your side and step away from the waters edge.

"My apologies, [name]," Zhongli chuckles light heartedly, "I did not mean to frighten you."

"No! Not at all, aha," You quickly smooth any secret crinkles in your clothing and give your suitor a sheepish smile, heart racing in mild panic, "j-just nervous, I guess."

"Nervous?" The male quirks up a brow, "do I make you nervous, my dear?" Though his eyes--sharp as always--watch you attentively, the cheeky glint and subtle smile gives him away.

Stumbling over your tongue, you simply sigh and give him a pleading look, warmth creeping up behind your ears. Zhongli just smiles at you before offering you his arm; henceforth, commencing your date.

As evening turns into night, the moon rises higher and higher into the darkening sky with the two of you remaining arm in arm.

You find yourselves at the very top of the Terrace, where the annual Rite of Descension would have taken place.

Overlooking the sea of clouds*, you lean yourself against the railing, sighing softly as you gaze down at the waters fondly. Zhongli remains behind for a moment, watching you and getting lost in his thoughts before finally approaching.

He leans down beside you, facing the ocean although his attention is drawn to your being.

"[name]?"

You hum in response.

"May I... tell you something?"

Your attention peaks at his hesitancy, and you turn towards him curiously.

Zhongli keeps his glowing eyes out on the ocean.

"What I am about to say must remain secret between us. It is something that only a select few know," His gaze never wavers, "and I hope it changes very little, if it changes anything at all, between us."

Your brows furrow slightly, and you give his profil a soft smile, tilting your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

Zhongli takes in a breath, "You know my name, correct?"

Your frown deepends, "Zhongli?"

The male nods slowly, "Indeed. Although, prior to this name, I used to go by many others—the most famous of which is one, revered, throughout all of Liyue."

You lean towards him in your puzzlement, and it is only then that he looks at you.

"My name, is Rex Lapis."

He doesn't blink, and your heart stops.

You can't breathe.

Disbelieving of your own ears, you search his gaze for any sign of deceit.

Alas, he remains firm.

His sharp amber irises seem to glow in the low light, glinting beneath the moon.

You swallow nervously and take in an uneven breath, a single word passing through your lips.

"...Morax."

Dread fills your entire being, and fear overturns your heart.

Why would he tell you this?

Why would he tell you now?

Why should he have ever told you? You don't just say that you're a dead archon to your friends—

You feel deathly cold all of a sudden.

He knows.

All tension in your being drops into the weight of lead as the entirety of Teyvat comes to a halt.

He knows. 

He knows who you are, he knows you're a God, he knows all about you.

And for how long?

You feel sick to your stomach, and so you take a step back.

Seeing you fumble and your dreadful silence, Zhongli's firm gaze softens. He sighs quietly through his nose and moves towards you as he speaks.

"[name]—"

"Please."

He stops, face falling at the amount of fear in your eyes. He sees the unwavering fright in your very being.

The horrors of the war echo in your memories--whereby from stories or the experience of its aftermath.

Unadultered terror regarding your ultimate death as an archon sits like cement in your bone and tissue.

Zhongli watches, and you don't dare to breathe.

This wasn't how it was suppose to go.

He steps towards you again, but you fear to step back.

"Please don't."

Your voice wavers, almost a whisper.

It takes every fibre of your being not to retreat in immediate terror. But you know the power of a God, even if they no longer claim the title.

Zhongli's heart clenches, eyes widening as his mind begin to race once he notices your form trembling.

Though your hands were tense and nearly hidden by your sides, he could see their tight tremors. Barely glancing off to the side, he could see ripples surfacing from beneath the shallow pools of water decorating the Terrace.

They slowly grew bigger, and began to bubble.

"[name]... My dear, please. Calm yourself—"

"D-Don't!" Your voice barely raises, though your fear and desperation are apparent.

"Please... I...I don't have any followers. I don't have any land. I-I don't plan on taking anything, I swear I've basically only just woke up—"

His brows furrow, "[name]—"

"—I'll leave! I promise!" Your legs give out, and you collapse to your knees.

Your terror filled eyes no longer dare to look upon him, "I...I'm not a part of the seven but... I-I didn't..! I'd never..!"

A pitched cry forces itself passed your lips, "if I had a choice I wouldn't be here in the first place so p-please! Please... Banish me to the seas! I just--I... I don't want to die..."

Zhongli's stomach drops, "Oh, my dear—no..."

Sickness fills him to the brim and despair overwhelms him in waves.

He slowly lowers himself to your level, gaze soft as he does so.

"[name], please, look at me," Your lack of response causes him to sigh, but his patience is ever present, "here, how about you take my hand?"

Sniffling quietly, you tense when he draws closer.

"...I couldn't... M-Morax—"

"Whilst I retain the name of a former archon, the name you have come to know bares no such burden."

He keeps his hand outstretched, "So please, won't you look at me?"

It takes a moment of tension before you feel you foolishly dare attempt to make contact.

Your head lifts ever so slowly, and though you refuse to meet his eyes, you gradually reach out a trembling hand to meet his.

Zhongli breathes out a silent sigh of relief, gently tracing his thumb across your tense knuckles to soothe your nerves.

He whispers small praises of strength and gratitude, smiling gingerly when you look at him in alarm and embarrassment when he presses a kiss to your stiff fingers.

"There you go," He hums softly, "nothing is going to harm you, lest of all me, my dear..."

Slowly, slowly, the tremors stop and terror fades from your body. Exhaustion clouds you once you you're conscious of your senses.

Your embarrassment only grows at the awareness of your state: settled on your knees and with tear stained cheeks—not just in front of another archon but your (once upon a time) date no less.

Uh oh, you forgot about that.

You take in a sharp breath and look away to hide your face, clearing your throat as you attempt to pull away your hand.

Zhongli refuses to let go.

Instead, he stands, and gently pulls you up with him. Your voice wavers, feeling the dryness of your tongue, but Zhongli is patient.

He waits for you to gather your bearings.

"How," You sniffle quietly, "ah... how long have you known..?"

You refuse to meet his gaze.

Zhongli smiles gently, "From the very moment you mentioned your name."

"What?" You blink.

He chuckles lightheartedly, "No mortal would dare name a child after a God, my dear. Besides, your youth as an archon means you have yet to master how to conceal your presence."

"Oh."

While mortals may not be able to detect a God among the people, there is always a connection from archon to archon unless they wish to mask it.

As you are a young archon (though two thousand years old, you've been asleep for the past five hundred) with your elder brother trapped beneath the ocean depths, you lacked the guidance he would have provided.

You've managed to figure out a few things on your own, but your isolation from others of your being have left you clueless.

Zhongli smiles at you softly, "Not to worry, my dear. While I may have officially, well, unofficially, really—retired from being an archon, you are no longer alone. Do not carry this burden by yourself, hm?"

You take in a bashful breath, "R-Right. Thank you, uh, Zhongli."

He offers his arm to you once more, keeping a soft look upon his features as to keep you assured.

You glance between him and the ground, hesitation clouding your mind before you rationalise your thoughts—he had known about you from the moment you met. If he really wanted you gone, you would be.

But you weren't.

And so you give him a shy smile before accepting his arm, and you continue your night at a slower pace.

Though you both remain oblivious to the soulless blue eyes that observe you from within the shadowed darkness of the night.

A sly smirk traces his lips—a that plan would soon come to fruition.

Nearly two weeks since that night, you help load up at the docks on a bright sunny day.

The ramp creaks slightly with every heavy weight carried over from land and on board, the workers chattering about as they go on with their business.

Zhongli and you had continued to meet up, occasionally for lunch, but more so in the evenings so you had more time to spend together. Your crew mates teased you relentlessly, but they were nice about it—thanks to your pa, that is.

He was in near tears when he first heard about it, sniffling about how his little one was all grown up, even when you've never been a child in the time he'd known you, but it was funny (and sweet) nonetheless.

Darla was ready for all the gossip, and gave you all the romance talk you could ever need.

Needless to say, you were incredibly embarrassed that day.

Particularly when Zhongli came to pick you up at the docks after seeing you were late. Never again will you let Darla speak to him.

Zhongli was amused though.

It was around midday when things began to get weird.

It was only you who noticed at first, though you brushed it off seeing as you would be the only one to notice.

You'd noticed the currents beneath the water's surface began to quicken, gradually turning into a swirl. Then the sky darkened, and the swirling currents moved further out to sea before breaching the surface—a vortex.

Thunder clouds rolled in and lightning struck the ground. At the sudden change in weather, the people of Liyue slowed in their works.

Panic came to fruition as the vortexes rose into the air, connecting with the storm clouds above.

Harsh rain pelted down on Liyue Harbour, the ocean waves rising and crashing down like a dominoes on the docks; the water became so rough it began to damage the boats and ships, fiercely pulling the wooden stakes of the docks.

"Run! Run!" People screamed, "move inland!"

"Away from the waters!"

"Move! Quickly!"

The harbour was in hysterics.

You felt pain grip your heart at the fearful screams of the people you had come to love, worry flooding you as the wooden stakes began to rock.

"[name]!" Your pa comes barrelling towards you with heavy footsteps, his rain drenched clothes weighing him down, "stay away from the boats! Get inside the buildings!"

He hurriedly nudges you away from the docking point, eyes rapidly blinking to get rid of the water.

"What about you?!"

You have to yell over the sound of the thunder and heavy rainfall.

"I'm getting the rest of the crew!" He calls back, "stay put!"

You can do nothing but nod, dumbfounded at the sudden turn of events.

As you turn to leave the harbour, a deep voice calls for you.

It's quiet, yet it rings throughout your head and echoes in your ears, and your eyes widen.

You recognise the voice, though it had been many centuries.

"Big brother..." You mutter under your breath.

You move your gaze towards the violent waters, seeing a small, snake like tendril beckoning you forwards. You feel a sting in your eyes--and not just for the pelting rain.

Nervous butterflies flurry in your chest as the rain falling around you grows lighter.

"[name]..."

The voice beckons you, and you move closer.

It repeats your name again, "little one... follow..." the tendril falls back into the water, and you gasp.

"W-Wait! No!"

You rush towards the rough waters edge and collapse to your knees, peering into the depths.

Desperation clings to you and you loose all rationale, a cotton haze in your mind forcing you to no longer pay heed to the life you had built since your awakening.

"Brother! Brother, where are you!?" Your eyes dart around before spotting the tendril once again, and relief floods your system. It motions for you to follow before disappearing once more.

You follow.

Chasing it across Liyue Harbour and spying it from the ocean border, it popped up each time before dropping down and appearing someplace else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself by the cliffs of Wuwang Hill.

You struggle to see through the veil of rain, the thunder grumbling louder and louder. Through the thick of it, you spot the faint outline of a man, his back turned to you.

Shock almost paralyses your body. You find yourself slowly moving towards the man nonetheless.

The closer you gets, the better you can determine some of his features.

While tall, he maintains a lean build, ocean hued locks cascading down his pale back. His body is adorned in a loose hanfu, colours corresponding with the oceanic depths.

Your eyes widen when he turns his head toward you, lapis blue irises meeting with the [colour] of your own.

The smallest of smiles tugs at his thinned, pale lips, fondness softening his gaze.

"Hello," He greets, voice—though with a slight rasp—is rich and otherwise smooth, "little one."

Your heart races, a heavy breath leaving you before you bolt towards the man, tears streaking down from your eyes and mixing with the rain.

"Big brother!" You cry out, embracing his form from behind.

Despite your affection, the male keeps himself facing the cliffs edge. He places his hands upon yours, tracing your knuckles softly.

He hums softly, "My dear, sweet sibling," a sad look overcomes his features, and he gazes out towards the harbour.

At his lackluster, you sniffle before looking up confusedly.

"Osial..?" You question, eyes glistening.

He does not ordain you with a response.

Your attention slowly draws towards the city of Liyue, absolute horror filling you to the brim at the sight of it—vortexes reaching from between the sea and the sky threaten to swallow the buildings and wreck the stone mountains, whirlpools drawing closer to the bayside.

You spot giant tendrils of a hydra composed of water thrashing amidst the chaos, roaring and hissing as the rain pours heavy.

"Osial!" You cry out in terror.

"Brother—what's going on?! What are you doing?!" You remove your arms from the figure of the God, pushing yourself in front of him in a panic, "brother, please!"

The male's firm eyes do not falter, and he merely glances at you.

"It is for the best, dear one," A frown makes itself known on his once passive features.

You feel a swirl of emotions well up inside you, "What? No, no! Please—brother, Liyue is my home!"

Osial's gaze hardens, and anger clouds his view.

"Liyue," He spits the name, "has corrupted you, dear one," his fists clench by his side, and the large tendrils of water grow even more fierce, "he has corrupted you."

Your stature falters, "W-What..?"

The man only huffs, crossing his arms across his chest as he holds his chin high, "Do not act so naïve. I know who you confide with. You have betrayed me, little one."

"Betrayed you..? Betrayed? Brother, what are yo—"

"You have made treason with the one whom trapped me under our depths for millennia. You have taken side with Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon—he has taken you from me!"

The God's hair rises in opposition to the heavy downpour, locks twisting into the form of snakes that hiss, "and so I too, will take something precious from him."

His voice booms across the hills and across the waters.

From the edge of the Jade Chamber, Aether and his comrades divert their attention towards the sound of the yell, and their eyes widen.

You feel your heart break in your chest, "What..? No.. no! Osial! Brother—" you begin to scream, tears, like a waterfall, steaming down your face, "brother, please! Think for a moment! Brother!"

The elder ignores your cries of anguish.

Staring you down sternly despite the ache in his chest. He says nothing as he pushes you to the side, walking towards the cliffs edge once more.

He turns to you one last time, a sharp bite present in his tone.

"Once this is over, I will be back for you, dear one. And him," His eyes glint dangerously, "I will kill."

And then he leaps, vanishing into the furious, crashing depths below.

Your stomach drops, and the amount of panic coursing through you makes you dizzy.

You can't lose your brother.

But you can't lose him either.

And you surely wouldn't be able to cope without your beloved city.

So you run.

You race through the forest on foot, terror coursing through your veins.

While it would be faster to traverse through the waters in your bubbled form, it's current condition would render you immobile, and it would only be easier for your brother to hunt you down.

You hiss at the rain hitting your eyes, pushing through the irritation and the pain as you continues to run.

Not to the harbour, no.

It would be much to easy for him to find you there.

You must get away, far away.

Away from the waters, away from your brother, and away from him—your beloved, Morax.

Zhongli.

Your body aches and your heart shatters, but you persist--never once sparing a glance over your shoulder at the chaos that ensues.

You didn't know where you were, but even if you were far, the distance between you and the harbour still could not disguise the explosion from afar.

Your eyes widen at the light booming from whence you had gone, hands covering your gaping mouth as you fall to your knees with a stifled cry.

That was it.

It was done.

The fight was over, but you could feel it, in your heart, that it was not your brother who had won.

The breath in you chest is forcefully taken from you, and you can't find it within yourself to fight for it back.

You stumble into the nook of a mountain base you had hidden in, falling onto the cobbled and cold ground with tears. Your shoulders heave with your heavy and silent cries, before a loud scream escapes you, rocking the land and rippling the waters.

A searing pain grips your heart.

Despite their victory and with their feet on solid ground, the traveller and the rest cannot help but feel unease.

After their win is assured, a shrill shriek of pain ruptures the air, having echoed from afar. The people of the harbour shudder and almost collapse, looking around in fear, worry, and wonder.

But the group know better, and Aether shares a look of alarm with Paimon—their attention is yet to be caught by the figure slowly and weakly rising through the bubbling of the ocean water.

Through your tears and anguished cries, your exhausted mind forces you into a deep slumber—your body rested in the cave.

You remain undisturbed for days.

Panic and worry consumes those who know you, unknowing of your whereabouts and your condition.

Zhongli, putting aside his contract, feared for you the moment of the attack.

News reached him quickly of Osial's anger towards Rex Lapis for having 'stolen' his beloved sibling, though information of Morax's mortality remain only with the adepti and the Qixing.

By request of the former archon, the traveller sought the help of the fellow adepti to track down the missing god, the Qixing keeping an eye out, though having to prioritise the chaos of the people.

Within the time of their search, you awaken in a daze. Though still heartbroken, your mind is in more ease.

You peek outside of your little cave, stepping out and glancing around. It seems that you made it to the border between Cuijue Slope and Tianqiu Valley, near the adeptus mountains.

About to leave your enclosure, a cold fear consumes you as a shadow obscures you overhead. You look up, spotting the retreating form of Cloud Retainer from above.

Panic grips you again, and you immediately return to your stone cold haven.

They've discovered your existence—they're after you.

After the defeat of your brother, they've come to deal with you next. Since the destruction your brother had caused, surely only death would befall you as punishment in suit.

Tears gather in your eyes again and you muffle a weep. Your body stiffens at the sound of a shuffle from the cave's mouth, and your throat tightens.

Slowly, you stand, keeping silent as the intruder grows closer. You take in one last breath, deciding to play defense as there was no where for you to go.

You summon your catalyst which rotates with your elemental, encased in a bubble with strands of water circling around it. In your spare hand you generates the first burst of hydro, ready to attack.

Anticipation and anxiety flood you as a head pops around the corner, followed by a body with a sword in their hand.

Without hesitation, you clench your eyes shut and let out a battle cry, throwing down your elemental and attacking at a rapid pace.

While your original attack is not powerful, it's continuous onslaught is fast and taxing.

Yells of alarm and pain are heard from the intruder, voices reverberating around the cave.

"Wait! W-Wait!"

"[name]—Wait! It's me! Aether—t-the traveller!"

"A-Aether..?" You slowly cease your attack and peek your eye open, gasping at the sight of the familiar blond male and his floating mushroom fairy companion, "oh! Archons..! Aether, Paimon—I'm so sorry!"

The traveller gives you a sheepish grin whilst Paimon shakes the remaining bubbles off her head, smiling at you.

"Don't sweat it!" The little fairy dismisses.

"So this is where you've been hiding, huh?" Aether comments, "are you okay?"

You shrug, weapon dissapating, "I..I don't know. I've been too afraid to leave, and had fallen asleep in my grief... I don't know how to feel."

The male hums, "Liyue has been looking for you, you know," his voice is gentle, "come on. Everyone is worried."

With a bit more coaxing, the traveller and his companion manage to lead you out of the cave.

You freeze at the sight of someone waiting outside.

Xiao had been standing guard the mouth of the cave, waiting for Aether's return. His hardened eyes meet yours, and you cower in fear, re-summoning your catalyst on a whim.

Your hands bubble with hydro.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy!" Paimon flies in front of you, waving her arms about frantically, "it's just Xiao! Paimon knows he looks scary, but Paimon promises he's really nice! Deep, deep down!"

You glance between Paimon and the adeptus, who eyes you back wearily.

"He...he's not here to kill me..?"

"Kill you?" Everyone is taken aback by the statement, "why would he kill you?" Aether furrows his brows worriedly, "we've been searching for you for days."

"And Zhongli's been worried sick!" Paimon chips in.

"Z-Zhongli..?" Your eyes flutter, and your guard lowers, "oh no... please—take me to him..!" And so they do.

A weary but rushed trip back to Liyue Harbour consisted of Paimon fretting over you and lowkey (okay, highkey) freaking out over the fact that you were indeed another archon, you fearing for your life whenever Xiao so much as glanced at you, and Aether reassuring you that no one wanted you dead. 

Reaching the harbour was like a slap in the face for you, of both uncertainty and relief--relief at the fact that most were safe, and casualties were little, but uncertain of how those who knew you would react to you returning, especially the Qixing and Zhongli.

You wondered if the Qixing will let you roam or imprison you for your brother's acts, or if Zhongli will shadow you in favour for his city--though that would be fair, you conclude.

They are his people after all. 

"Baby pearl!" Your head perks up at the name, head darting around in search for the source of the watery call, "oh, thank the archons!"

Your papa comes barreling towards you, unshed tears glistening in his dark brown eyes as he wraps his arms around your frazzled form, "you're safe..! You're safe..." 

"P-Papa..." Tears, once again, well up in your pretty [colour] orbs, and you sniffle at the tightness of his hold, "...papa..!"

You let out a cry, sobbing into his shoulder, "I-I'm so sorry..!" 

"You're okay, pearl, you're oka-y!" The usually stoic captain's voice cracks, and he sniffles with you. As your tears die down, he straightens himself and clears his throat, turning towards your onlookers, "thank you, for bringing [name] back safe." 

Paimon tiltes her head slightly, "Hm? Doesn't he know that they're...?" She eyes you shaking your head rapidly and a lightbulb goes off in Paimon's head, "Ooh! Paimon gets it. Yes! We kept them very safe indeed! Hehe." 

"Of course, sir," Aether nods respectfully, Xiao simply dozing off into his thoughts. 

"Papa," You gently call his attention, "have you seen Zhongli anywhere?"

The man scoffs, "Where haven't I seen him? He's been frantic since you left. He's either by the pavillion or the terrace. You've given the young man quite the fright."

You sweatdrop.

"Ah, y-yes..." You give your papa one more shaky smile, planting a grateful kiss on his scruffy cheek, "I'll be back soon okay? I promise I won't be going anywhere again."

"Hmph, you better... now, come on you lot! We could use a few more hands down by the docks!"

Xiao promptly disappears at that, with Paimon groaning and Aether simply smiling and giving a polite nod before heading off to help. 

With that, the young archon begins making their way towards the destinated areas, checking the pavillion first before heading up to the terrace.

Anxiety pulses in your heart momentarily, but you quickly dismisses it--like papa said, Zhongli had been frantic, so you have nothing to worry about. 

Making your way up the stairs, you ignore the eyes of a certain ginger who walks opposite to you, watching as you pass him by.

Reaching the top, disbelief takes over your very being.

Your jaw drops and your shoulders sag at the amount of shock coursing through you. 

There, atop the end of the terrace, was Zhongli talking to a man only a few blue hairs taller than him.

His clothes are slightly tattered, and still loose, reflecting colours of the ocean depths. His skin, though pale, is slightly bruised. And although his brows are furrowed ever so slightly, the smallest of smiles rests confortably on his thin lips. 

It was Osial. 

Your brother.

Your brother. 

Talking to Zhongli. 

The geo archon. 

Civilly. 

How in the abyss were you suppose to react to this?

How the hell are you suppose to approach them?

Do you say hi to your brother first? Would Zhongli be offended? Or do you greet your lover? But wouldn't Osial be mad then? You couldn't really just waltz over either, you'd just been recovered from hiding. What does someone even say after that?

Your mind races with these conflicted thoughts, eyes dazed and mouth still agape in shock. 

You blink.

"Ah, [name]," Your brother addresses you first, the two men turning their attention to your figure, "dear one..."

His gaze is soft, a regretful look on his features. His shoulders are no longer held back and squared, and his chin is no longer held up so high. Sadness overwhelms him at your lack of response.

You continue to stare, only taking small, slow steps towards them. 

"I..." He sighs, "my dearest kin... I am so... sorry. Truly. It was I, who was corrupt, not you. Never you." His throat tightens, but he continues.

"So many years under trapped under the surface made my mind weary, and I was easily influenced by those you call the Fatui. I had not meant to hurt you, or cause you great fear... My mind was overwhelmed by anger when I was told that the very God who entrapped me had stolen you, forcefully entrapturing you," Osial closes his eyes in remorse, "it is only now that I learn it was all a ploy, and for that, I deeply apologi--"

He stops mid sentence, eyes snapping open in surprise with a silent breath. 

Once within arms length, you had thrown your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his chest with watery eyes. Osial looks down at you in bewilderment, Zhongli quietly chuckling at his expression off to the side.

You sniffle. 

"I'm just glad you're still here, big brother..." 

Blood rushes to the male's cheeks at the sentiment, and his own eyes begin to gloss over with unshed tears. He takes in a sharp breath, holding you close and tight. He rests his chin atop your head.

"As am I, dear one... I had taken you for granted..." Osial is the first to pull away, smiling down at you gently.

He cups your cheek in his hand, caressing it gently, "My, how you've grown... so beautiful and mature now. I've missed you, little one." 

"And I, you, dear brother..." You smile tearfully back up at him, leaning into his familial touch. He places a loving kiss on your forehead before releasing you, stepping away and looking towards the former geo archon.

Your eyes draw towards the dark haired man, stomach fluttering while your heart does flips. 

Zhongli smiles down at you fondly, gaze soft. He steps towards you, outstretching his arms before pulling you into a secure embrace. He nestles his nose unto your head, breathing in your familiar scent.

"You had me so incredibly worried..." You flush at his bold affection, nuzzling him back. 

"I know... I'm sorry." 

He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face in his hands, "It's alright, my love. You're here now, and we're safe. Everyone is."

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart thumping from his endearment. He leans closer to you, nose brushing against your as his eyes grow half lidded.

"...I'm overjoyed that you're safe--"

"Ahem," Osial clears his throat, interrupting you.

Your face blossoms in heat with embarrassment, and you turn away in shame from your brother. Osial's arms cross with a deadpan look on his face.

"Not in front of me, you overgrown reptile," Osial hisses.

Zhongli rolls his eyes. 

"Blink, then, you water-born cretin." 

With that, Zhongli leans down and captures your lips in a long overdue kiss.

A squeak escapes you at his uncharacteristic vigor, though you figure he's doing so to get on your brother's nerves. Despite that, you can't help but indulge, eyes fluttering shut and humming into the kiss.

Your mind goes haywire at the feeling of his tongue gently running over the plump flesh of your lips. You can feel his breath through his nose caressing you, the air breaking upon contact with your skin, and he moans lowly against your mouth. 

Osial gags at the sight, "Alright--alright! That's enough! Get your filthy hands off of my family, you decrepit fossil!" 

It's safe to say that his protests went on unheard. 

[calypso707]

Could I request for Astarion to react to gn crush always thanking him for helping them even something simple like for helping to carry some stuff for them?

My first request, this is so exciting !

reminder : I'm a french who writes in english, so I apologize in advance if I didn't understand the request and if there is mistakes, but I hope you'll like it !

Enjoy ! (๑>◡<๑)

OS - Astarion x gn reader : A thousand thanks.

You had been on the road for months, desperate to find a cure to get rid of the larva in your skull. Trying desperately not to fall under the spell of the Absolute. You could not even remember what your life was like before.

This adventure, strange and incredible as it was, had allowed you to surround yourself with people you could trust. From a tiefling to a devil to a two-hundred-year-old vampire. They had chosen to follow you and fight by your side and with time, bonds had been formed, feelings established.

Your eyes rested on each of your companions before finally losing themselves on the object of all your desires, who was nonchalantly seated on a wooden chair outside his tent, absorbed in the manuscript he held in his hands. You scrutinized his whitish curls that surrounded his face harmoniously, the wrinkles that lined the contour of his magnificent carmine eyes, his slightly pink lips that from time to time silently rephrased the words he had just read. Gods, he was seductive, dangerously seductive. And like a novice, you had fallen under his spell.

It took all your strength to refocus on what you were doing and chase him out of your thoughts. You sighed silently, assessing your mental state. Today, you were feeling particularly exhausted. The burden on your shoulders was growing heavier and heavier, many lives depended on you, and fear was creeping quietly into your mind. Your thoughts became more and more scattered as you tried to sort the camp's provisions, placing in a wooden crate alcohols and other drinks that might warm the evenings and lull the spirits. Just as you were about to grab it and bring it to the campfire, the crate lifted before your eyes. Astarion.

"Let me take care of that for you, darling"

There. His mere presence dispelled the darkness that was trying to envelop and consume you. He noticed your trouble and raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile on his lips.

"Well, cat got your tongue?"

You cleared your throat, finally shaking your head. "I thought it was not your habit… Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail?"

"Terrified but what can I say? I am in a generous mood tonight. Enjoy it." He winked at you, words heavy with meaning.

You smiled, examining his facial features carefully before replying, "I thank you, Astarion."

A strange expression appeared on his face, confusion.

"Thank you so much," you said.

You had thanked him before, countless times, and each time he sighed in despair. He always scoffed, pointing out that it sounded like torment to his pointed ears. But once again, you wanted to thank him. Not because he was helping you carry that old wooden crate, and he knew it. You were thanking him for everything he had done and continued to do for you. For his loyalty, his strange sense of humor, his presence. You thanked him for existing.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

I hope you enjoyed it, feel free to have a look at my other writings on Astarion !

Fic : Astarion x Fem! bard Tav : Fruit of The Poisonned Tree

Astarion x gn reader : On your skin

Astarion x gn reader : No place for love

[gayskogul]

Another Saturday

I pulled the short straw again. That was three weeks in a row now that I'd worn the scarf. I brayed about it, but didn't mind, really. You got an extra finger of booze every now and then for the trouble, and the jigs were easier to do backwards.

These dances were good, all said. It beat the alternative, sitting around freezing with nothing but our thoughts for company—and God knew no one wanted that. Being so far out from town for so long, one's own thoughts could take on a cruel voice. Almost as cruel as the keening of the wind as it raked away at our cabins with icy claws.

We used the mess for the dances, seeing as it had the most space. The room was overly warm from a bunch of oil lamps, set upon the floor. They cast long shadows that nipped at the heels of the dancers and twisted about in time with their steps. Pipe-smoke hung in the air, which didn't help. It had a way of making one's head fuzzy. I'd loosened my shirt a few buttons, like most of the others. Sweat pooled in the exposed hollows above our collarbones, and in the light it glistened like strings of pearls.

One of the younger lads from down south had pulled out a fiddle. He sawed away at it with his bow, striking up a number of merry tunes. Another man, with iron starting to thread at his temples, kept the beat with a battered drum. Old Morgan swayed atop a crate and played his concertina. Occasionally, someone would join them and sing a verse or two, but being heard over the laughter and stomping of boots upon wood was harder done than said. There was no tin whistle tonight. We'd lost him to the cave-in.

I drank my spirits and danced with the other men. It had taken a while getting used to, indulging in such silliness. But with the strong drink and the feverish mood charging these impromptu fetes, nobody paid that any mind. It wasn't so bad, dancing with them. There were a few of us who played the woman at these affairs, so one never felt too exposed. Besides, with a strong frame and good arms from all the mining and hauling, one could feel quite secure with another man doing the leading. I was led by Garrick, spun by Leopold, knocked knees with Ernest. Fritz dripped with sweat after he dipped me, and I laughed and dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief after the tune ended. One-eyed Dominic grinned and pinged the strap of my suspenders on my shoulder after our jig together. It stung like anything, but gave us one hell of a laugh.

It was when I'd gone to pour another slug of whisky into my cup when you came up to me. You tapped my shoulder once. I'd been wondering if you'd do it for a while, now.

"Next one's mine?" you said, fiddling with the brim of your hat.

"If I must," I said, rolling my eyes and plucking at the scarf, because it was easier to pretend.

You flinched and began to stutter an apology. But the tune had started up, so I pulled you by your shirtsleeve and yelled, "Come on!"

Within the crowd of dancers you looked more than a little bewildered, but you moved well enough. The booze did most of the work. You were taller by about a hand, but were awful wiry. You hadn't been here as long, so there was none of the miner's stout muscle built up on you yet. We shared two more drinks, grimacing at each other through the liquor's harsh burn. By the time we'd gotten to the fifth tune without stopping, a curl of hair, darkened and damp, flicked forwards onto your brow. There was a deep rosiness daubed high across your cheeks. From the heat, I'd guessed. When the music slowed to a ballad you nodded to the door.

I was more than happy, naturally. I'd been tossed between the men for a few hours now, with barely a break between dances. Freezing or not, my head was starting to fog over with a thickness that only fresh air would cure. I threw on one of the furs and stepped out onto the deck. The wooden boards were slippy with ice.

You came out a minute later, carrying two full tin cups. I grunted my thanks.

There was a fleeting lick of amber up your side from the lamplight inside before the door clicked shut behind you.

We leant over the deck balcony and stared out into the treeline. The tops caught the moonlight and lit up like silver feathers.

"Got a light?" you asked, a straight dangling from your lip.

I did, of course. I lit my own, then tilted my chin up. You hunched over and raised a hand to shelter the gap between us from the wind. Your fingers were quite fine, considering our line of work. The tips of them were hot when they brushed against my cheek. You smelled like pine and soap and smoke, and I could taste the fire of the whisky on your breath.

My skin prickled. I puffed a couple of times until your straight was lit, then pulled away and drew my coat tighter around myself. Damn cold.

You hadn't bothered with a coat. The whisky was enough, I thought, until you shivered a little.

"You warm enough?" I asked.

"Plenty," you said.

You didn't say much. You never did. At least, not with words. Your eyes always did the talking. And with barely a foot of night between us, they had much to say tonight.

The drink made my head spin. I'd had enough that stringing together a sentence was getting to be a task, so I decided to try your way of talking. The windows to the cabin were covered with thick curtains and furs to block out the draughts, and with the moon as the only witness I figured it safe enough to risk a longer look than I might've done inside.

You'd shaved today. I saw the hazy shadow coming back in under your jaw already. I was glad that you'd left the moustache. I thought it was funny how you'd cleaned up for the party tonight. How you'd worn a nice, clean cream shirt tonight, with no stains from the soot. How you'd wanted to look your best for a group of tired and lonely men. How you'd danced with none of them, besides me.

Snow had started to fall again. Soft and downy, hanging thick in the air, it made a blanket of sorts to cushion us from the raucous sounds inside.

"It's been grand tonight," you said. "A right bacchanal."

You'd called it a bacchanal before. Not a dance, like the rest of us. None of us had known the word. With your fair hair and delicate features and fine accent, I'd always wondered that you seemed out of place. I wondered what had brought you here. Maybe it was why you didn't speak.

"You dance well," I said. It was a lie, but the upwards curl of your lip around the straight was worth a little staining of the soul.

You didn't reply. I saw what you wanted to say.

I wanted you to say it, too. But I didn't dig. I watched you ash out your straight upon the bannister that we were leant against, and stride back towards the door. Fingers on the handle, latch half depressed by your thumb, you turned back to give me another one of those long looks of yours. I think I knew what you'd said with it. You smiled and headed back in.

For a while, I stood there under the moon. With my big coat, my cup of whisky and another fresh smoke, the night barely touched me. I thought about you and let out an amused huff. Silver smoke curled around my hand and flitted off upwards. You were right, of course. The dance had been grand. With a bit of luck, I thought, it'd be better next week. Maybe you'd get the scarf. I'd ask you to dance, and not let you go, that time. I ground the straight out next to where you'd done the same.

There was always another Saturday.

[lightan117]

Chains that Bind and Break Us

**So here is the next installment of Daisy's journey! A little bit on the darker side as this is more backstory into her life and her reflection on the choices she had to make between Treviso and Minrathous, as I felt it was a little lackluster on Rooks's part. My girl would have been devastated about what city to save (Treviso made the most sense, in my opinion, as they only had the fucking Antaam, while Minrathous has fucking cannons).**

Pairing: Lucanis X (F)Mourn Watch Rook

Warnings: Mentions of torture, kidnapping, blood, mutilation, angst, crying, Spite being noisy.

**Edit - Spite is in bold during the second half

Enjoy!

Daisy knew she was in a nightmare.

It's almost always the same, this night of hers. She couldn't drag herself from it, no matter how she tried to control her dreams. This nightmare of hers has haunted her, hunted her like a demon digging and dragging its claws inside her mind. Even at her weakest moments, Daisy feels this nightmare is a punishment for past failures, sins, and transgressions. She believed in the gods of the dead and spirits. So her dreams and nightmares must be tied to somebody, something in the fade.

Daisy's nightmare starts the same.

She's walking the streets of Nevarra on her way home from school. It's their yearly break, during which the students can visit their families. The sun is shining on a happy day. There's a blue sky above her, and a few civilians she passed greeted her with a kind hello. The city is quiet and peaceful, but Daisy notices the never-ending street. The route she always took on her way home passed a bakery with the most mouth-watering pastries. The dress shop next to the alleyway was run by a woman who helped Daisy fix her mourn watcher apprentice robes. The same people say hello to her, the same ring of a shop store, and the same bang of a crate being dropped in the alleyway. The beginning always lulls her in with a false sense of safety, like a thin vale drapped over her eyes to the truth.

Dark clouds then roll overhead. A tremendous, large boom shatters the peace.

Skeletal hands emerge from the ground. Their skin was plucked, and they clung to the bones beneath. Dirty, disgusting fingers wrapped around any part of Daisy they could take hold of, their nails digging into her skin. The smell of decay Daisy has smelt before is nothing compared to the scent that invades her nose. The hands grip her tight as they suddenly start to drag her down under the ground into a black abyss. Daisy screams, but no one helps her; only the sound of sadistic laughter echoes the heavens above her. No one ever comes to save her.

Daisy kneels before faceless mourn watchers, their gold jewelry gleaming on their green, purple cloaks. As always, she begs and pleads to be released and that what they were doing wasn't right. They smile, laugh, and jeer at her. Pathetic. You are always thinking of yourself and sucking up to the professors. No, that's a lie. She worked hard in her studies. Professors admired her hard work ethic due to her stern upbringing from her mother. You are nothing, worse than nothing. No, no, that's not true. You try so hard to be human, to be an elf, but you are nothing more than a mutt. A dog. A weed. No wonder you were left alone to die. Not a mutt. Not a weed. Just half of two different wholes.

"Please! I won't tell anyone!"

Wrong words to say when you are up against people who hold power over you.

"You can't do this?! What have I ever done to you?!"

Mutt-weed. If you want to be a human so bad. We can make you one.

Screams and cries. Pulling and tearing. Slicing and sawing. Burning and stinging. Daisy felt cold hands hold her down as she cried. She tried to kick and claw her way, but they held her firm. The laughter continued to echo, and it echoed so loudly. Then, the world went silent. Daisy remained where she was on the floor, quivering as, one by one, the figures above her disappeared until one remained. Broken, wretched thing you are. Mutt-weed. What would the righteous mourn watch want with you? Broken? Was she broken now? Daisy's hands covered her bleeding, stinging ears, eyes locked on the feet of the figure above her. You should have just stayed silent. Remained quiet as the grave. Dead and buried. Dead with your mother.

"Please...I want to go home."

The figure above her faded into the abyss around her, leaving her on the ground. Then, the jingle of chains and the click of a lock. Daisy would then find herself in an unfamiliar room. Iron chains infused with lyrium held her down to the wooden table under her. The smell, Maker the smell, would make anyone hurl if they walked in—the smell of burnt flesh, rotting meat, and dampness. It was a hopeless room with no light, life, or escape. Days turned to weeks to months to years in the blink of an eye, and yet only a few days would pass on the outside of the single iron door. Tears and cries for help did her no such luck where she was.

The one who controlled her fate had knives for fingers, cold and sharp. They dug, dug, pinched, pulled, saw, slashed, and hacked away at Daisy little by little. Squelching and squeaking of organs removed and replaced. She wasn't really there anymore, but she was there at one point. Laying on that table, numb to all the feelings around her, she shut everything away.

One little emotion remained; a tiny flame flickered secretly deep within her.  

Daisy watched for what felt like hours. This is how it usually ends, her nightmare—watching her being tortured, taunted, teased, and tempted to just give in. Allow the swirling voices to jump into her body. Accept the deals they offered in response to her pain. The one who held her down screamed at her to accept deals and offers made to her. Wanting to watch her transform into someone, something more significant. More powerful.

Daisy wouldn't. She couldn't.

Something was wrong with this nightmare. Someone else was in the room with her, watching, taking in her pain with a look of pure pity. He approached the table, hands behind his back as he looked down upon her. No, no, this was wrong. He was not here before and should not be here now. Why was he here?

"You're dreaming. This is a nightmare." The voice was muffled and faint. He removed one hand from his back, but before he could raise it any higher, a glowing hand shot out with a firm grip, eyes glowing in cerulean color.

"GET OUT."

The world was right again, and Daisy was awake. She panted and tried to control her breathing, but it was more challenging than usual. Each intake felt like someone was squeezing her lungs tightly. Daisy rolled off the chaise lounge couch in her room, the coldness of the floor grounding her slowly. She could still feel hands over her, wandering and roaming while the chain around her neck and wrists stilled any movement. There was no chain, of course, but she could still feel it; it was still here. Daisy got to her feet and staggered to the mirror beside her wardrobe. Green eyes reflected at her, slowly moving down her neck and chest.

A large linear mark sat around her neck. The faint impression of a chainlink could be made from it; however, it faded into a deep red color with time. Similar marks were on her wrists and ankles as well. Sweat dripped from her face as Daisy found that she couldn't breathe in her clothing. Stripping them off, she felt herself slowly becoming unconstricted. Once freed, the tears she was trying so hard to hold back broke. A pillow muffled her screams and cries as she released everything that she had been feeling the past few days.

Failure

Failure

Failure

"Quiet!" Daisy yelled at the voices around her, slamming her hands to the ground. Butterflies emerged from the release of magic, but they seemed shakey and erratic. The voices shattered into a quiet hum of the fade. The objects on the shelves rattled for a few seconds before becoming still.

The nightmare was punishment for not saving Minrathous. For not saving the Shadow Dragons. For not being there for Neve. For failing an entire city to die.

Daisy had never felt more like a failure when Davrin and her arrived in Minrathous to see that the city was burning from Venatori's control. Lucanis stayed behind in Treviso to help the Crows contain the fires raging in their city. Still, it was nothing compared to the damage caused by Minrathous's dragon. Blight raged rampantly, as did the Venatori cheering below them. Neve was angry at her and couldn't even look Daisy in the eye, but Tarquin wanted to take her head clean off. Of course, he made a snide comment that someone who spends so much time with the dead could hardly feel empathy for the living. Neve said nothing, and that hurt even worse. Only Viper spoke in her defense, and it was a shaky one.

Daisy made a choice. There was no going back now.

After her throat was sore from screaming and more than a dozen butterflies were floating around her room, Daisy had the energy to get up. Tossing on a simple dress in the mourn watch colors, she left the room searching for something to help her settle.

"You alright, kid?" Daisy turned to see Varric heading into the infirmary with a cup in his hand.

"I'm alright, Varric. Just...a nightmare." Daisy tried her best to smile at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes as they usually do.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later. I'm just running to the kitchen for something."

"Well, alright then. You know where to find me if you need to talk." Varric gave her a smile and a wink. "You got this kid."

"Thank you, Varric. I will see you later. Pleasant dreams." Daisy passed by Varric, touching his shoulder before descending the steps with a soft pat. The walk to the kitchen felt like miles, each step as if she was sinking further into the mud. Her head felt like it was underwater, and her eyes hurt from the crying. Inside the kitchen, it was warm and inviting as always. The fire was still going; the fade continuously allowed it to burn. Off in the corner was the small nook where Lucanis and Bellara cooked for everyone. Daisy pitched in occasionally, but she mainly did the chore of making desserts for everyone. It was a calming, relaxing chore where she didn't have to worry about the gods trying to take control of Thedas. If it brought any small amount of joy to her team, she was grateful for it.

Although the kitchen area wasn't as big as her home, finding the tea she was looking for still took her a second. The tea was held in a small wooden box, but it always moved around with the amount of coffee Lucanis would purchase. Perhaps it was the headache sitting behind her eyes, but her foot caught the leg of the side table, jostling it roughly that a cup was knocked to the floor, shattering. The cup Lucanis was currently favored to use almost every day. Daisy couldn't stop the tears from flowing as she fell to the floor, trying her best to find every piece. Maybe she could mend them with magic, but she lied.

"God's dammit," Daisy cursed at herself. It was another mistake—there were always more mistakes—and now Lucanis would see what a mess she was. She wiped the few stray tears that fell as she gathered the pieces she could see. "Fuck."

"Rook? Daisy?" Daisy refused to look at the voice that had called to her. She knew who it was and it was the last person she wanted to see at that moment. "Are you alright? I heard a noise."

"I'm sorry," Daisy said in a shaky voice, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I caught the table and did not see the cup. It went flying, and I am so sorry."

"It's alright, Daisy, it's just a cup." Lucanis's knees came into view as he knelt next to her.

"It's your favorite cup that you always use. If that one is dirty, you use the one that's dark blue, but that one is Neve's." Daisy took a look at the pile in front of her. Minrathous looks just like the cup on the floor, in pieces.

"You know my favorite cup?" Lucanis tried to hide the surprise in his voice, but the tone had a slight hinge.

"Everyone has a favorite cup." Daisy sniffled. "Harding's the one with leaves; Neve's is the dark blue one with swirls. Davrin hasn't picked on yet, but I'm betting on the silver tankard one that no one uses. Bellara is the intricate one, but she secretly uses everyone else when no one is looking. Mine has a Nevarran beetle on it, and yours is this purple one with gold. Was this one." Daisy looked up for the first time at Lucanis; he was dressed in a simple pair of linen pants and a shirt. The dark circles under his eyes clearly show that he hasn't slept. If he woke up because of her...

Daisy gave a sad sign and cast her eyes back to the ground.

A hand came out to rest on hers, still cradling the shattered pieces in her hands. Daisy closed her eyes and stared at the floor until the hand removed the pieces. Lucanis gathered up the broken shards as Daisy remained where she was. The room was silent except for the movement that Lucanis made. It was deafening to Daisy, and she just wanted the fade to swallow her up. Inside Lucanis's head, Spite whispered that the woman on the floor smelled weak and pitiful. He also mentioned words of tears, fade, and honeysuckle, but he ignored those.

"Did I make the right decision, Lucanis?" Lucanis stilled his movements to listen to the whisper that was uttered. He wasn't sure if he had heard her, so he tilted his head toward her. "Leaving Minrathous to burn?"

"Do you regret saving Treviso?" Lucanis tried to keep his tone even, but inside, he wanted to question her—why she was questioning herself. She saved the city that he loved and the people within it. When he saw her in the courtyard, he was stunned that she was really there. Immediately, she asked about the situation and how she could help. Daisy didn't even look fearful in the face of the dragon when she was facing it down.

"If you want it, come and claim it!" Daisy shouted at Ghilan'nain when the blighted god demanded the dagger. The city would have been so much worse if she hadn't come.

Now...

Now, she looked so small.

"Of course not!" Daisy looked at him with a sad, stern expression. "Treviso has waterways that could spread across Antiva, affecting so much more. I thought-" Daisy clenched her hands into tight fists, "I thought that if any city had a better fighting chance, it would be Minrathous. They have magic cannons, for the Maker's sake! But...you weren't with us when we arrived, Lucanis."

"Harding told me some of what Bellara and her did."

"It was that and so much more. I could hear the screams from where I met with Neve. The Viper took a claw in the gut and is now infected with the blight. Neve was so angry with me that I abandoned her city. And Tarquin..." Daisy chuckled briefly, "Taquin wanted to take my head then and there. All but threatened that if I did more damage to the Shadow Dragons, the Venatori would be the least of my concerns. Neve didn't even step in when he all but shoved me to the ground to make a point. Some leader I am to get tossed like that."

"He attacked you?!" Lucanis felt the anger at her bubble up towards a new target now. He looked down at Daisy to see her smiling softly at him.

"Coming to my rescue? Little late for that." She shook her head. "No point now; what's done is done. Honestly, Tarquin was mainly upset that Viper was the one who got hurt. I always saw a certain fondness between them when we were there, so...if they are together, then I understand the anger. Seeing someone we love hurt or even beyond help. I would have done the same thing."

"You're not mad that he shoved you to the ground and all but blamed you for what's going on?"

"My actions did release the gods, Lucanis. I have to take some responsibility for it even if Solas is the core problem." Daisy shuffled and got to her feet. "I'm sorry if I woke you up, Lucanis. I was looking for some tea before trying to fall back asleep."

"You didn't wake me; I wasn't sleeping." Lucanis threw the shards away and put the kettle on the stove. "Please, sit. I'll make you something."

"Lucanis, you don't have to do that. I can take care of it myself." Daisy moved forward, but Lucanis held up his hand.

"Please, allow me. It's the least I can do to show how thankful I am for you coming to aid Treviso." Lucanis ignored Spite's words of how pathetic he sounded, but that didn't matter to him. When Daisy smiled at him, the warmth that bloomed in his chest was worth it. Lucanis got to work while Daisy took a seat at the table. It was strange seeing their leader dressed so simply. Usually her hair is neatly styled but it was in disarray. Her dress was simple and plain compared to her mourn watcher armor with gold accents. And her feet were bare. "Teia sends a thank you to you, by the way. She never got the chance back in Treviso before you took off."

"I couldn't have the Seventh Talon dying by falling balcony. That's too tragic. Viago would also be very upset." Daisy said. Lucanis remembered how Viago called out in agony as the balcony crashed upon Teia as they left the courtyard to return to the casino. He didn't even see Daisy move forward until it was too late. Lucanis had to pull the Fifth Talon before he could rush in to pull any rubble off. With how unstable the building next to them was, Lucanis didn't want anyone else getting trapped under it. Even if inside, he was praying that they were alright. Viago pulled at him, but before either of them could move forward, the rocks over the women suddenly were lifted and moved a foot away. Daisy was the first to emerge from the rubble, followed by Teia, and both of them were a little scuffed up but intact. Daisy gave Teia a once over before she quickly left, promising to return as soon as Minrathous was seen to.

Lucanis wanted to run after her. He wanted to go with her and watch her back, making sure that she would return. The feeling, the pulling, he felt never felt as strong as it did in that moment. Teia and Viago gave him a look, but he shook his head at them. Friends. Daisy and him were just...

Friends.

"I believe they have done nothing but sing your praises. It would be best to visit soon, or Teia might come looking for you. She's quite fond of you now," Lucanis said with a chuckle, the kettle whistling to indicate that the water was done.

"I promise I will go see them and check-in. Jacobus sent me a letter telling me he had something to show me. I think I've been adopted." Daisy giggled at the end, and Lucanis couldn't help but smile at the noise. He made her a cup of ginger-lemon tea and a plate of dried meat. When she gave him a look, Lucanis mentioned that she hadn't eaten dinner and that starving herself would be suitable for no one. Daisy sipped the tea, enjoying the spicy warmth that washed over her. They sat in relative silence for a few moments, enjoying the peace as they both picked from the plate. Lucanis then started to ask Daisy what being a mourn watcher was like; changing the subject to something more pleasant.

The woman told stories about her years in training, the lessons she learned, and the spirits she made friends with. Daisy talked about the memorial gardens she would always volunteer to tend to, enjoying the garden's quiet. She went into detail about how the plants are only native to the Necropolis and that people have tried to grow above them with no success. Daisy moved some hair behind her ear when she suddenly froze. Lucanis didn't understand until he saw it. It was quick, but before she covered her ear again with her hair, Lucanis caught her hand.

Her ears were cropped short.

Lucanis didn't honestly notice it until she went to cover one, but a large portion of her ears was missing. Perhaps it was the exhaustion getting to him, but now, without her ear cuff, he could see it. The ear he was staring at with intent was a little longer than a human ear, but it's been crudely cut away as if someone sliced it at one angle and then another to match. Elves took great pride in their ears. There was no reason why Daisy would crop them herself, being an elf. Being an elf herself, Teia would have killed anyone who attempted to do so.

"Daisy-"

"It was an accident a long time ago. It's why I wear earcuffs, so people don't get the wrong idea." Daisy took Lucanis's hand in her own, gently squeezing it. "I promise I'm alright."

That is a lie! She. Lies! Spite hissed, appearing next to Daisy. Spite walked around her, getting his face up close to hers. Tell her. To tell. The truth!

"Daisy, we both know that's not true." Daisy went to release her hand, but he found he could not allow her. Lucanis slightly tightened his hold on her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "When you are ready, I want to know the true story." Coward. Ask who hurt. Rook!

"Thank you, Lucanis." Daisy's eyes showed unshed tears, but her smile was warm. It didn't quite reach her eyes yet, but it was getting there. Lucanis hushed Spite, and the demon simmered back down. The two of them stayed like that, one hand clasped in the other as if it were routine. They tidied up once the food was eaten, and the tea was gone. "When I was studying to be a mourn watcher, I was a tad overeager student. I had something to prove." Lucanis looked at Daisy, who hadn't looked up from drying her cup.

"You see, I was found in the lower halls of the Necropolis next to the body of my mother, from what I've been told. A skeleton had found the nearest mourn watcher, my adoptive mother, and led her to me. She took me in, but not as her daughter but to be raised in her household as a servant. I was six when I started to show signs of magical talent, so she officially took me in as her daughter, much to her husband's displeasure." Daisy sneered. "Not the most pleasant father figure, but he died a few years later. I am a half-human, half-elf abandoned child to a household who could not bear children." Daisy turned towards Lucanis with a sour look. "You can only imagine the pressure put upon me."

"One can imagine how the others might look at you." He answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I took to my studies hard and my spell casting even harder. I wanted people to see me as something, anything besides a...mutt." The words were bitter in her mouth. "A few noble houses saw me as a blemish to their children's learning, and that resentment brushed off on them. They took their anger out on me. There was this one boy who butted heads with me constantly. One too many arguments and he...snapped. He caught me on my way home during a break when I was sixteen. He wasn't alone; he had his friends with him, so they held me down while he...cut my ears. If you want to be a human, I can make you look like one."

Lucanis could feel the rage inside him, and Spite was right there. "Did you report him? Tell me you got justice." Find them. Kill them. Make them pay.

Daisy bitterly laughed. "Of course not. No one witnessed it, and even if I dared to speak at the time, I...I didn't want to bring any more shame to my mother. She knew, of course, but the boy's family was mostly the problem. No, we decided that it would be best to watch and wait. The fear that I would retaliate made him suffer in his studies anyway." Partially, that was the truth, but the whole story was not meant to be told that night. "I have the earcuffs to make up most of my ears now, and I hardly feel anything. Something that I live with."

"It's something you should never have had to go through." Lucanis stepped closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Made me stronger and a bit little self-conscious about my looks. I don't want people to think I'm ashamed of my heritage. I never wanted to be human, but being raised by humans is tough to know who you are." Daisy placed a hand over one of his own.

"You are strong, Daisy," Lucanis said softly, and her bright smile returned. "You are leading a team to go up against gods, and one of us has a demon attached to himself. No one here will judge you on who you are." Lucanis moved some hair behind her ear. "If it helps, the cuffs suit you." Lucanis then cleared his throat and let her go, his face burning a bit with how close they had gotten. Daisy asked at the doorway if what was spoken would remain between them, to which Lucanis replied that he would.

"Daisy?" The woman turned around to face the crow. "Neve will come back once things are settled. Any advice I can give would be to keep looking forward. That helped me in the Ossuary. Looking to tomorrow."

A grand smile graced Daisy's face. "Thank you, Lucanis. Goodnight, you two." Lucanis watched as she walked away, not turning to return to his room until she was behind closed doors of the Lighthouse. He looked down at the hand that held hers and smiled, clenching at the ghost feeling of her touch.

A few days after the talk, Lucanis entered his room and saw a brand new coffee set with a note sitting beside his bed. Hopefully, I won't break any more cups of yours. Thank you for listening. At the very bottom was a simple drawing of a flower.

[morimess]

Everyone makes fun of Linebeck for his crate. And I will agree, it's a ridiculous concept at first- a grown man hiding away in a crate to get away from his crazy ex-lover, while a random kid fights her.

But what if we're thinking about the crate all wrong. What if the original purpose of the crate is not for Jolene, but for miniblins?

Ok, so- in game there are only 8 ships piloted by hylians. We have imposter wind-waker (1), brother of the imposter wind-waker (2), Beedle (3), Jolene (4), the old wayfarer (5), the merchants in the SE sea (6), the Man of Smiles (7), and the SS Linebeck (8). Everything else is pirate ships piloted by hordes of miniblins.

Most people will first see Linebeck use the crate as a hiding spot when you fight Jolene. And this is probably where the seed gets planted that the crate is solely for Jolene's visits comes from. But, he uses that exact same crate when the miniblins board your ship.

Now, you can beat the entire game (not at 100%, but still beat it) without ever once having the miniblins board your vessel, so I don't blame people for forgetting that this is a thing they can do- especially when you have to try to even get them to board your ship.

But I think even more telling evidence is what happens when you encounter a vessel that's been overrun by the monsters.

The most common vessel to see this happen is in the 2nd vessel mentioned. On this vessel, you board the ship to see miniblins abound, and the ship's captain face-down on the floor. After you defeat all the miniblins, you talk to the guy and find out he's-thankfully- still alive, and he may just give you a treasure or two for your troubles.

You leave, and forget about it- but if you ever sail back to that ship, you'll find it overrun again. And this dude is, once again, face down on the floor.

The point being- I think playing dead is a legitimate strategy that most of the people still sailing use to fool the miniblins into leaving them alone. Linebeck, however, has found a way to avoid the threat of pitchforks being jabbed at him if he accidentally moves, and has just started hiding in a crate.

This is in character for him as, even when you first start sailing with him, there is no offensive capabilities on the vessel, whatsoever. He just has a jump mechanic too help him run away more effectively. If Linebeck truly is more of a runner than a fighter, I 100% believe he would use the "play dead" method over fighting the things any day.

Now, most people think Linebeck is a coward who lets Link do all his fighting- and while the fighting part is true, I would like to remind everyone of the fact that only 8 vessels are still in the water, and his ship is one of them. He would not be one of the only ones left if he was just a coward and dumb. And I don't believe he's alone in the "play dead" method either.

I actually believe the only person actively fighting the miniblins is Jolene- everyone else either plays dead, has attack crows that stop any miniblins wearing anything shiny from boarding, or keeps them locked in a cellar for gods know what reason.

But, when it comes to Jolene boarding the ship- well, he already has a crate good for hiding in during most other pirate attacks, why wouldn't it work on his ex? You know, the girl who likes to dress up like a pirate.

And, I mean, it technically does work. It stops her from attacking him right away, and allows the player to distract her until she gets bored enough to leave. We only find out she caught on because she outright tells us she knows where he's hiding during the last encounter.

But this is just another thought on a growing pile of "Linebeck wasn't really cowardly, he was just a normal guy- if not smarter than average- who we were constantly told was cowardly by the literal Spirit of Courage, who was traveling along with the former holder of the Triforce of Courage. There could not have been a more skewed judge of his character."

[ornii]

—They will be Loved—

So after finishing the Multiverse of Madness film, I had an idea of a story where the reader is the Widow of Black Widow (see what I did there?) and is also the spirit of Vengeance because Ghost Rider needs an R-Rated MCU Film, and shares his grief with an also grieving Wanda.

Strange Had requested help with a “little” issue as he called it, little being an absolute lie since it’s dealing with the god damn multiverse, but you relented and agreed. It’s been, lonely since Nat left and the avengers are gone, it’ll be nice to at least get out of the house.

You rode down the countryside, the hum of your chopper in your ears and the wind on your face, you went to the orchad of Mrs Maximoff. it was often you did the dirty work of others. This one, was personal though. Wanda did some things many would consider simply evil, but it’s not always so cut and dry with things like this. The white petal orchard trees lined the side of the road and nearing her home, a voice of pure evil calls from the back of your head like a speaker.

“I sense immense magic here..” the Spirit of Vengeance, my others self you could say, was speaking to you

“Yeah, I felt it too..” You replied, I saw from the corner of my eye a woman grafting the orchard. You slowly came to a halt and halted your bike and kicked up the stand. Stepping off, you approached her, the warm scent of apple and grass felt so, human. And you haven���t felt human in a long time.

You get behind her, and she obviously senses your presence.

“Apples, right?” You ask, trying to break the ice with your old friend. “Nat would have loved it..” you start.

“Eventually.” Wanda replies in Jest, she turns to face you and you can see that her beauty hasn’t changed at all. Those beautiful eyes hold so much grief behind them. You nod, “It’s almost to good to be true, you know?” You say, trying to hint at Wanda.

“It's all very real. Thanks. I put the magic behind me.” She said to you, she walks off to continue pruning limbs and you casually follow her, “Well, I knew sooner or later you'd... show up, wanting to discuss what happened at WestView. I made mistakes, and people were hurt.” She said, the pain in her eyes, her power was neatly unmatched, and that lead to catastrophic consequences.

“I'm not here to talk about WestView Wanda.” You say.

“Then what are you here for?”

“Strange, needs your help.” You start.

“With what?” She inquired, you rubbed your chin trying to think of a way to explain. “You, ever come across the concept of, the Multiverse?” You said, Wanda didn’t look as confused as you thought she would.

“The Multiverse. Vis had his theories. He believed it was real. And, dangerous.” She drops the limbs into a crate and then gives her full attention to you.

“Well, he was right about that. From what he told me, he found a girl who can somehow travel across it but she's being pursued.” You say.

“Pursued by who?”

“Some kind of demon. From what strange told me, I’d go with Underworld Deity, a Trickster wouldn’t try to take her by force but trick her into giving her soul or powers away. Strange is ready to defend her, and we could use another Avenger.” You offer, trying to get a smile out of Wanda, she gives you a sad one.

“There are other Avengers, (Y/n).”

“Yeah but, it’s not really the same, besides between Clint, A Teenager webslinger, and …Whatever I am. We’re the best line of defense for her.” You explain, and Wanda poses a question.

“What if you brought America here?” She asks.

“Here?” You reply? And the spirit in your head also picks it up.

“She knows the name of America Chavez…”

“Yeah, she’s been stalking her..” you think, and Wanda goes on.

“Yeah. I know what it's like. To be on your own, hunted for abilities you never wanted. I can protect her.” She explains, you continue to look at Wanda, not saying anything as she realizes her slip up.

“..You never told me her name, did you?” She asks, now realizing she’s been had.

“No. No, I didn't.” You reply, Wanda sighs, and looks around. “You know, the Hex was the easy part. The lying, not so much.”

Wanda calmly moves her hand, which dispels the illusion and reveals the truly hellish world she’s been on, it’s blood red, mixed with such evil darkenss, no life, no trees, no happy little farm. And what stood there for you, was a Book. The, Book.

“The Darkhold.” You felt its eternal power reach out to you, ready to swallow you whole. You fight its call of power and hear Wanda.

“You've heard of the Darkhold?” She asks you, turning your eyes to her, you see her dawned not in regular civilian clothes, but that of the Scarlet Witch.

“it's the Book of the Damned. And that it corrupts everything and everyone that it touches. The Way Chthon intended it, it shows you falsehoods and a sense of power you will never control.”

“The Darkhold only showed me the truth. Everything I lost... can be mine again.” She said, somehow believing her own lies, you shook your head in disbelief, that Wanda would go so, far.

“What do you want with America? And What do you want with the Multiverse?” You demand, and she gives up her plan.

“I'm going to leave this reality, and go to one where I can be with my children.” She said, but you calmly countered.

“Wanda, your children aren't real. They were made from magic.”

“That's what every mother does. If you knew... there was a universe, where you were happy, happy with Natasha, with a family, wouldn't you wanna go there?” She asks you, and admittedly, she’s right. A simple life on the countryside, away from the Spy games and Occult evil, a world where you’re happy. Your anger slowly transformed into melancholic empathy, you frowned softly to Wanda.

“You know… Nat couldn’t have kids, so we considered adopting. It was the last thing we talked about. She really would have loved any child we had. I know it can’t compare to you and Viz though. It’s not enough that, In Many other universes, they’ll be loved?” You ask, Wanda’s walls come down for a moment and you saw the real Her. A grieving mother and widow. A tear comes down her eye, and she couldn’t reply.

“You’re right, I would love a world where I can be happy with Nat, love her, hold her… but in order to do that I’d have to kill a version of myself that’s happy. I can’t do that, I can’t kill a version of myself for my own happiness. If I did that, would I even deserve to be happy? Would you kill a version of yourself that’s happy because you’re not?” You reply. Just for a moment you saw Wanda’s eyes have a hint of remorse in them. “Wanda, what you plan do to will cause irreparable damage to our universe and the one you intended to murder and implant yourself inside, if you try to child's power, she won't survive.” You warn her, but it seems she unfortunately stuck in a fusion of corruption and grief.

“I don't relish hurting anyone, (Y/n). But she's not a child. She's a supernatural being. Such raw power could wreak havoc on this, and other worlds. Her sacrifice would be for the greater good.” She said, still trying to justify this absolutely diabolical behavior.

“You’re starting to sound just like Him, the same man who killed Vision and half of the universe.” You shake you Head, turning away from her to walk away.

“Strange killed half of the universe When he gave Thanos the Time Stone.” She retorts back to you. You halt in your steps and slowly turn back to her.

“He breaks the rules and becomes a hero. I do it and I become the enemy. That doesn't seem fair.” She replies, You Storm over, frustration coming to a boil, she could see it, the red burning flame in your eyes, the Ghost Rider.

“That was different, Strange gave Thanos the stone because it’s the only way in Fourteen Million outcomes that we beat Thanos. You want it to bring back children that don’t exist for you, Strange was Selfless, you’re just Selfish.” The venom in your words, they haunt Wanda, the growing disconnect between her and reality was apparent.. she shook off your threat.

“Return to Kamar-Taj, and prepare to hand over America Chavez by sundown. Peacefully. After that... You'll never see me again.” She bargains.

“And if I refuse?” You ask, and her sinister aura changes.

“Then it won’t be Wanda who comes for her, it will be the Scarlet Witch.” With those haunting words, she turns to walk away, you felt a blend of anger, sadness, grief all your own.

“Wanda..” you say, she stood still but didn’t turn to face you.

“I… I Miss the people that we used to be..” you say. Wanda gives a shaky sigh, you can hear her trying not to break down into tears.

“.. So do I Pral..” she mutters before leaving, as much as it tore you apart, as much as you hated it. This, could only end one way.

[haleswallows]

No dragons this week - instead I have some more Uncle Fright Knight

Teaser:

“It is not our scheduled time.”

Tim blearily squints at Fright Knight. Or it's Death telling him it isn't his time to die yet. The jury is out while Tim’s brain refuses to get with the program.

Falling isn't so bad. Tim is familiar with falling. Scraped knees and palms. A payment to the god of gravity until you stick the trick. The nature of being a growing boy whose limbs didn't always match where he thought they should be. The falling part did not suck. Hitting things hurt.

Like hitting multiple crates while falling. Tim thinks it is the ladder to the catwalk that he bounced his head off of.

Oh yeah, Fright Knight said something. Why is Fright Knight here? Tim frowns. It makes his head and mouth hurt. But he wants to frown, so he keeps it up.

“Have you sustained an injury?” Boots barely brush the dusty warehouse floor as he drifts closer. Tim wishes Fright Knight had a face. Then he could know what the spirit's expression was. And it'd be nice. It'd be nice to have a friend with a face.

“Yeah, I'm definitely concussed.” Talking hurts. Tim spits out a tooth. Nice. “I think this is my last baby tooth. Or it's an adult tooth and now I'm down one.”

Surprise is a vague fuzzy thing as Tim notices the blood on his shirt. From his mouth, his tooth? Probably. Ah, now it makes sense.

“Look!” Tim presents the ugly pewter amulet, smeared with blood. He's taken to wearing it everywhere. You know, in case. “Wait, if I summoned you with my lost tooth, does that mean I can't also cash it in with the Tooth Fairy?”

If Fright Knight breathed, he'd sigh. Tim is sure of it.

[bow-of-aros]

Fair and Square

Hey guys I'm back :)) This is heavily inspired by the most recent chapter of my fic I'll Follow You Anywhere (hellyeahheistbooks if you're curious) because I wanted to include this there but I had different plans already. So here it shall go :D I'm just a big fan of Charles crumbling and Edwin looking at him as though his smile is the most beautiful thing in the world okay?????????????

I hope y'all enjoy!! <3

-

“Shit!” Edwin tugs him further along as spectral bullets whizz through the air around them, close enough to add another shaved stripe to Charles’ hair.

Edwin glances back at his shout, eyebrows furrowing as Charles lags behind, “Good God, Charles! Move your legs. I promise you that it is not that difficult!”

It takes Charles a moment to formulate a response through his desperate intake of unnecessary breath between each step. “I’m trying! Not everyone has a fucking infinite endurance like you—look out!”

Charles throws himself at Edwin, sending them both crashing into an alleyway and away from the fucking iron grenade that was just thrown at them.

The alley is bathed in an orange glow as an explosion roars behind them, shrapnel and pieces of debris rain down on them like divine fury and they quickly scramble their way out.

Edwin pulls Charles to his feet and he finds himself in a small alcove, surrounded by crates and abandoned furniture. More sounds of general destruction rang out from where they were, but because of everything blocking them from view and the disorganized state of the spirit, Charles was pretty sure that they were in the clear.

That didn’t stop Edwin from placing his hand over Charles’ mouth and raising an eyebrow when he opened his mouth to speak. Or from pushing him more firmly against the wall when he tried to move.

Alright, so this is how it’s going to be.

Charles just barely refrains from licking Edwin’s hand, and instead settles in to wait until they’re in the clear.

It doesn’t take very long for the spirit to move elsewhere, either to continue searching for them or because it forgot what it was doing entirely didn’t matter much to Charles as he tried once more to move past Edwin and out into the open.

He’s halted by a firm hand on his shoulders and a whispered, “It may still be out there. We should stay here for a few more minutes, just to be safe.”

And, you see, Charles would normally agree that it’s better to be safe than sorry in these situations, but Edwin’s thumbs have started brushing back and forth against the base of his neck and Charles has a feeling that Edwin knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Ed—” He’s cut off by the swipe of fingers just under his jaw, and he purses his lips together to keep from making any loud noises.

Edwin grins at him, the curl of his lips is all mischief and playfulness as he says, “You may want to remain quiet, Charles. We wouldn’t want to alert anyone to our position.”

Alright. Charles knows this game. He’s got this.

A light graze on the shell of his ear has him immediately reconsidering that thought.

He tries to bury that ear against his shoulder, but that only exposes the other one to Edwin’s careful ministrations. And, surprise surprise, when he goes to hide the other ear, Edwin just moves back to the original one.

Charles can tell that Edwin’s very amused at the little dance that he’s created, but can’t say anything about it due to his ever-widening grin and the stream of giggles that are just itching to burst out.

Edwin grows bored after a few rounds of this and switches to drawing barely-there patterns against Charles’ ribs, lighting up his nerves despite the layers of clothing that should be blocking out the sensation. This almost gets Charles to crack, the lightness of the touch making him want to crawl out of his skin.

He’d almost prefer it if Edwin just dug in and forced him to lose his tenuous grasp on his control. But that wasn’t part of the game, so Charles stuck it out by offering meager defenses that Edwin easily thwarted.

It was like his strength was completely sapped in moments like these. Honestly, he was surprised that his knees were still holding him up with how desperately he wanted to curl up into a ball to protect himself.

Instead, after a particularly evil curl of fingers under his chin, Charles made the fatal mistake of burying his face in Edwin’s shoulder.

Exposing his back.

Fingers immediately started tracing up Charles’ spine as he did his best to stifle the silent laughter that was shaking his shoulders and muffle his grin against Edwin’s jacket. Edwin simply placed his chin atop Charles' head and lazily drew his trailing fingers upwards, ignoring Charles grabbing desperate fistfuls of fabric in an attempt to steady himself.

Charles had lost the moment the game began, but he really lost when Edwin reached the space between his shoulder blades, and began slowly dragging his fingers in and out.

It started with a squeak, one so quiet that you wouldn’t hear it unless you were listening for it. Then came the trickle of smothered giggles, Charles still trying to stay quiet despite already being defeated.

Then, out of fucking nowhere, Edwin switched tactics and scribbled his fingers in that spot, drawing out a half-snort, half-squeal and sending Charles crashing to his knees in an attempt to get away.

He only got about halfway down before running out of room, but Edwin pulled away to allow him to recover.

When Charles looked up again, he was greeted by Edwin’s smug smile, one that was softened by the fond light in his eyes as he gazed down at Charles.

His grin only widened as he caught Charles’ eye, and Charles just knew that he was about to say—

“I win.”

Yeah, that.

“Like hell! You totally cheated!” Not really, but Charles will be damned if he goes down without a fight, “You know that my back is unfair!”

There was a shift in the air, and Charles straightened up only to be backed further against the wall as Edwin moved forward once more. “You take that back, Charles Rowland. I am no cheater, I won fair and square.”

And, well, there’s a reason that Charles isn’t called the brains in this agency. “I will not. You, Edwin Payne, cheated.”

Edwin lets out a sigh filled with false remorse and says, “Well, I did give you a chance. But what must be done must be done, I suppose.”

Charles really does hope that the spirit is long gone by now, because he would be leading it right to them.

They don’t get back to the office for a while, but, when they do, one thing’s for certain.

Edwin Payne is not a cheater.

[ratinayellowbandana]

Hi!! I love your fics so much, and was hoping you could possibly do these prompts (or combine them!):

Hug

&

"You're safe here, I promise."

Thank you!! And no stress if you don't do this particular prompt, I'm just happy to read anything you write ❤️

ok so.. this ask if from September, but we're going to ignore that because I finally got around to filling it (with a slight variation). so thanks so much for your patience on that one. tossing my ep. 78 brainrot into the ring with everyone else's. here's a canon-divergent take on laudna bolting after the ziggurat and recounting old memories.

what if she retreated to the old laboratory instead of the woods?

cw: mentions of torture (canonical)

length: 1431 words

also on ao3

~~~

“Laudna, sweetheart?”

Imogen’s voice is a distant echo, resounding off the stone walls that warp and twist her words. She cannot see Imogen, cannot let Imogen see her. The veil that creeps over her face flickers in and out of existence, the phantom pressure of the choker heavy around her throat. Laudna bites back a low whine in the darkness. Shadows congeal around her feet, cloaking her from Imogen’s searching eyes. 

“Are you in here?” The question fades into heavy silence. The broken bookshelves and shattered vials give her no reply. 

Imogen had known just where to look, her clever girl. Laudna’s feet, guided by Delilah’s sweet whispers, had returned her unbidden to the laboratory. The scent of dried blood lingers in the groutwork. The metal table lies on its side, overturned during their spat with the castle’s vengeful spirits, its shackles dangling loose.

Laudna curls against the furthest wall, her form lengthening, cracking, shifting into something more. The thrumming in her chest urges her to lash out with cruel talons and jagged teeth. To tear and shred and protect until no one would dare cross her again. To snarl and fight until she is left alone once more.  

Her mama always said she was too trusting. Too gullible. It would get her into trouble. Trusting the wrong people. Lady Briarwood had been welcoming, so accommodating in her beautiful castle. She had seen something special in the farmgirl from the outskirts of the Parchwood. Her invitation had been a gift from the gods. The promise of private tutelage lured a girl below the city.  

Flashes of memory, scattered as fallen leaves, reveal racks of knives beside the door. The bite of iron into famine-thinned wrists. A throat screamed raw. Lady Briarwood’s traitorous sneer. 

“Laudna?”

The tunnels promised safety. It was easy to lose herself among the twists and turns. Carving a nook for herself was simple enough. A few well-placed crates disguised a forgotten passageway. She snuck up to the castle kitchens for castaway scraps. Pupils grew accustomed to the dark. Discarded trash became the foundation of her odd collection of possessions. Chipped bottles and forgotten tokens decorated her first home. 

They searched below the city for any traces of the Briarwoods’ nefarious projects. Laudna was flushed out of hiding when an unsuspecting guard stumbled across her enclave. 

Laudna?

The sting of betrayal sits fresh on her tongue. 

The spell is workin’, so you gotta be close. 

Her fingers stretch and claw at her hair. The fear of waking up alone again. A bed of moss tucked into broad tree roots. 

She wants to bite and mangle and–

Everyone leaves. True colors will show; it’s only a matter of time. They’ll learn what she is. They always do. 

Please don’t run from me.

Purple light dances overhead, casting Imogen in a familiar glow. 

“Where are you?” 

Laudna hunches into herself, a growl bubbling in her chest. 

“Stay away,” she spits, hating the way the words fall at her feet.

Imogen turns in the direction of her voice, eyes flitting over the swath of shadow hiding Laudna’s quivering shape. 

“If you really want me to go, I’ll go,” she says simply, ignoring the high notes of fear in Laudna’s voice. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“You won’t.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“But I know you.” Imogen sighs, says softly, “Will you let me see you?” 

“Her influence is stronger here,” Laudna rasps. 

Imogen stiffens. “That’s alright. We’ll fight her off together if we have to.” Laudna doesn’t miss the barely concealed rage hidden beneath a layer of steely nonchalance Laudna suspects isn’t solely for her benefit. 

“She wants me to kill him and take the shard.” 

“She can’t have it.” 

“She needs it,” Laudna whispers, “and I’m afraid of what she’ll do to get her way.” She drops the shroud of darkness. “She always gets her way.” A broken sob tears from her throat. 

Imogen rushes forward, stopping short two paces away. “Oh, honey, can I–” she reaches out her hand, and Laudna nods. Imogen collapses at her side, taking Laudna into her arms. Laudna clings to her, trembling in the warm glow of Imogen’s lights. 

“I hate it here,” Laudna rushes. “I hate this city, I hate this fucking castle, I hate the gods-damned moon.” It bursts out of her in a wave as Imogen caresses her hair with gentle, practiced hands. “I hate Ashton,” she confesses through a choked cry, “I hate them, Imogen. Why would he betray us?” 

“‘Cause he’s a dumbass,” Imogen replies. “A dumbass who doesn’t think about the consequences of their actions and hurts everyone around them ‘cause he thinks we don’t care.” 

“He hurt Fearne. And he hurt you, and he hurt me–”

“Yeah, they did. And I’m fuckin’ pissed at ‘em ‘cause of it, but I don’t hate him.” She sounds weary and world-worn. 

Silence falls between them, save the dripping of a distant pipe.

Laudna speaks quietly. “She– she tortured me here, you know?” She feels Imogen tense beneath her, her hand faltering its steady course through Laudna’s hair before recovering once more. “I don’t… I don’t remember most of it. Probably for the best, really. Awful business, torture. I’ve heard it’s terribly messy.” Imogen isn’t smiling, and Laudna drops her attempt at lightheartedness. “I’m sorry. I don’t– I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Being in this room, I suppose–”

“In this room?” Imogen realizes, horrified. Her head swivels, taking in the overturned table, the broken beakers, the discoloration of the floor. “I didn’t realize– gods, Laudna, you never… We should go–” She moves to stand, but Laudna stops her. “She wanted to remind me, I think, of what she’s capable of.”

“You’re safe now. I promise.” Imogen murmurs fiercely, pressing her lips to the crown of Laudna’s head. 

“My ears,” Laudna continues, because Imogen knows this story. “She promised me lessons. Said I would be able to hear her better with my ears just so.” A dry laugh escapes. “I suppose she was right.” 

There is something about being here, in the room of her nightmares, with another living person. With Imogen, who grips her tighter, holds her a little closer. Who does not flinch away, but extends herself as a comfort. 

“I don’t think you’d have liked me when I returned the first time.” Laudna swallows. “I was… lost, callous. I hurt people.”

“You did what you needed to survive.” 

Laudna shakes her head. “I was angry and bitter. I fought recklessly and killed without thinking. Not every shack I came across was abandoned, Imogen. And when Delilah began her meddling… I felt it was justice for the harm done to me.” 

Laudna sits up, leans away from Imogen and twists her fingers around themselves. 

“There was a little girl once. She was kind to me, the way young children are with their imaginary friends.” She smiles fondly at the memory. “I do love children… I loved her, I think. She snuck me kitchen scraps and apples, and we would play games into the twilight hours before she had to return home.” Laudna’s face falls. “One day, she brought her parents to meet her spooky friend in the barn. They were not so kind to me.” She rubs self-consciously at a spot on her hip. “They attacked me, and I–” She swallows thickly. “I killed them.” 

Another sob resurfaces. 

“I didn’t mean to, I swear it. They were shouting at me, and then I was shifting back into my body, and the little girl was crying. And I ran.” She exhales a shaky breath. “I betrayed her trust. I’m no better than Ashton or Delilah or–”

“You didn’t deserve that,” Imogen says softly. “Any of it. Then or now.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Imogen holds out her arms again, and Laudna falls into them. 

“You did what you needed to survive,” Imogen repeats. “We’ve all done things we can’t take back. All we can do is move forward and strive to be better.”

“I don’t hate Ashton,” Laudna whispers into the fabric of Imogen’s dress. 

“I know, Laud,” Imogen murmurs, “I don’t either.” 

They sit in the ransacked laboratory until the last of Laudna’s cries subside, and Imogen’s back is sore from leaning against the wall at an awkward angle.

“What do you say we go find the others?” Imogen asks gently.

Laudna nods and gets to her feet, dabbing ichor from her eyes. Imogen squeezes her hand. 

Together, they climb the stairs of the hidden passageway behind the bookcase and do not look back. 

[vamossainz55]

❛ keep it. it looks better on you. ❜ + mick schumacher because i need him in my life rn i’m missing him so bad

Brother's Best Friend

a what are we drabble where mick is reader's brother's best friend. just fluff and teasing tw: hints of s*x/hooking up, apart from that just light and fun

a/n: aaa spirits! ilu, hope you enjoy and i feed ur mick brainrot <3 (idk how it got to 1k oops)

want to request a drabble? check gudelines here

“Esteban, I hate you!” You groan as you push yourself out of the pool, shirt and pants soaked and sticking to your body. You get on your feet, floor warm from the sun. Your brother only laughs, splashing water from the pool as if you weren’t already dripping.You roll your eyes, muttering dickhead as you attempt to wring the water out of your shirt, but it does little to help your situation. You’re so busy trying to dry yourself that you don’t even notice Mick coming up behind you, arm brushing against yours as he heads to the grill. The touch sends goosebumps over your skin.

“I thought you didn’t want to swim,” he says teasingly, setting the crate of beer on the grass. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, trying his best to hide his devious smile. His eyes travel from the pool back to you and he doesn’t even need to say it for you to know what he was thinking. 

“You,” you say, pointing at him accusingly. “Don’t you dare,” he’s already coming close though, ignoring your pleas as his arm wraps around your waist to lift you up. “Mick! Put me down,” 

To your demise he does put you down, well, more like throws you, sending you into the pool once more. You come out just on time for Mick to jump in himself, soon splashing you again. You can’t help but laugh this time when Mick peeks out of the water, only his eyes and blond matted hair showing. He’s giving you his puppy dog-eyed apology as he comes close, although you have a sneaking suspicion he has an ulterior motive. 

“Stop it, you are not sorry.” You say splashing him again just as his hands reach to your sides, poking you under the water. You laugh, squirming as you push him away. “Mick, I swear to god!” You say, he only stops when you successfully push him away. 

“Hey- you were wet already.” Mick says defensively with his hands up. “Why didn’t you want to swim anyways?” You splash him back, almost sending daggers with your eyes. 

“She has a date in two hours, and didn't want to wet her hair and wash it.” Esteban laughs, too busy with splashing you that he doesn’t notice the change in Mick’s demeanor. You do though. 

“Oh,” Mick says, his smile suddenly going into a straight line. You look at him almost curiously, surprised by his reaction but you don’t entertain it too much. 

“You two are too annoying sometimes,” You murmur out, swimming over to the side of the pool again. This time you’re not by yourself though, Mick is next to you, pushing himself out of the water first. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were going somewhere.” He says apologetically, offering his hand out. You smile, rolling your eyes playfully before you’re taking his hand to get out. Of course Mick would feel bad, you wring your hair out as you stand by the pool still. His eyes steal a look over you, the clothes clinging onto you leaving little to one’s imagination. 

“Esteban started it, so it’s okay. Can I borrow some clothes to go home though?” 

You follow Mick upstairs, apologizing for the trail of wet footsteps you were leaving behind. He rummages through his closet, looking for something for you to borrow. It’s not the first time you’re in his room, but it’s the first time you’re there sober. 

“So, who are you going out with?” Mick asks. You look at him, towel wrapped around you. 

“Riley, a friend from university.” You answer just as he hands you one of his shirts. You thank him, setting it on the bed. Without hesitation you’re pulling your shirt off your body, taking the opportunity of Mick being turned back to the closet. 

You don’t expect your shirt to get stuck though, the wet fabric clinging onto you as you try to get it past your head. You’re struggling for a few seconds before you forfeit.  

“Mick? Can you help?” You ask defeatedly and you hear Mick shuffle to turn towards you. It’s quiet for a split second and you furrow your brows. “Mick?” 

The German boy is quick to splutter apologies, hands going to help you slip your shirt off. By the time you get it over your head you're met with Mick’s face, only inches away from yours. It’s not too different from the look he had given you nights ago. 

“I- thanks,” You murmur as you drop the soaked shirt to the ground. Mick nods, fingers gently brushing over your bare back. 

“About your date,” You interrupt him before he can finish. 

“It’s not a date Mick, Esteban was joking.” You say softly with a smile pulling at your lips. “Why do you care though?” You ask, “Thought we were just having fun this summer?” You both know it isn’t true, but you’ve never really discussed it either. You’re slipping on the scuderia ferrari shirt he had handed you, slipping off your soaked shorts. Mick doesn’t answer though, only chuckles as he swipes his bottom lip with his thumb. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Mick asks. 

“Yeah, if I can sneak out.” You say just as you put on the joggers he had also handed over to you. “Remind me to bring your clothes.” You murmur once you’re at the door of his room. 

He shakes his head, stepping towards you. He checks down the hallway and once he’s sure your brother is nowhere to be seen he steals a kiss. You’re surprised, cheeks going red. 

“Keep it, it looks better on you.” 

You both head down and you pop your head out quickly to the backyard, telling your brother goodbye and that you’d be seeing him later that night. 

To your surprise, Mick calls you once you get home, letting you know about the earful Esteban had given him as soon as you left. You decide to forego the shirt just for a little while.

[cornfields-td-nonsense]

this is your reminder to talk about how stubbornness runs in the miller family

*cracks knuckles* y’all ready for me to go off about the Millers again?

alright, Patrick’s an obvious example of stubbornness being a negative. He’s stuck in his ways, he’s got an idea mapped out in his head of how his wife and children ‘should’ behave, and by God he’ll make sure everyone follows it to a tee. When he decides it’s time for Ezekiel to learn how to man up and come hunting, it’s time. When he decides Esther’s outgrown her free-spirited and 'unladylike' nature, she’s outgrown it. He’s right, you’re wrong, debate over.

Mary might initially seem like an outlier, like the picture of a docile housewife, but she’s more than that. She’s stubborn as any Miller. More than anything, she loves her children and wants the best for them. She plays her part of domestic femininity on the outside, while quietly waiting for the opportunity to make her move. She may not know how exactly to get out of her situation, but she’ll get a better life for Esther and Zeke no matter what it takes. (And it goes without saying that once she found out what happened on those hunting trips, it would fuel her resolve even more to get Patrick out of their lives.)

Now onto the kids, and oh boy is there a lot to say about them.

Zeke is, again, an obvious one. His stubbornness to rectify his absolute failure in the first season is evident through all of World Tour. He came out the past season with no friends, no accomplishments, no chance of fame and nothing to show for himself at all, and he’s going to do whatever it takes to make this his season. He’s going to get something out of this - he’s going to win. Even as it destroys him.

He gets thrown off the plane before it even takes off? Run and catch up to it, and then march right up to the host and demand to get back on the show. He loses and gets voted off? Physically cling to the outside of the plane and then hide away in the cargo. Put on the best serial killer performance of his life while clinging to whatever’s left of his humanity. Claw his way back onto the plane once, twice, three, four times, then after it explodes? Hitch a ride all the way to Tijuana Beach. If the other finalists can do it, so can he. Getting the million - winning the game - proving to himself that it was all worth it - stays in his brain until it’s literally all there is left of him.

And then he falls into a goddamn volcano to top it off.

But he keeps coming back to the island. Because he’s still trying to get the win. To prove that all of this, sacrificing his own humanity and his entire life, was WORTH something.

And then there's Esther. Throughout her childhood, the more her father tried to get her to conform to the ideal of what a young lady should act like, the more she pushed back. Though as she's gotten older, sort of like her mother, she's learned to hide behind the veneer of a "perfect daughter". It's a front. She's every bit the loud, lively "free spirit" she was as a small child, she just doesn't show it in front of Patrick anymore. Hanging onto your beliefs and identity in an environment like this is not an easy task, believe me, so it's already a testament to Esther's stubbornness, but there's so much more to unpack with her.

From the moment she sees Zeke on TV in his feral form, even as the shock is still wearing off, she becomes determined to find him and bring him home. Even if it seems impossible, even if he's almost (but not quite) beyond recognition, even against the odds, Esther's going to do it. Because that's just who she is. She doesn't accept defeat, and if one route doesn't work, she'll brute force another.

(For example, if attempting to pack herself in a crate and mail herself to Wawanakwa Island doesn't work - yes, she really tried that - she gets there the only other way she can think off. By signing up to join the exact same show that nearly destroyed her brother's life, because that's just how far she's willing to go.)

When Esther first sees Art picking on Lara, she confronts him directly, because fuck no she's not going to let that slide. And when Lara later tells her she's "used to it", and not to worry, Esther just doesn't accept that, because why should Lara be used to it? It's not right, and she sticks hard to that belief, because it's what Esther does.

This is a family trait, and they all wield it differently. Stubbornness and determination are Miller family jewels, and they can be destructive or vital to living, depending on how they're used.

[startseeingstars]

Killer Instinct - Charlie Walker (Scream 4)

CH11 🎶 Thunderdome - Ocean Grove 🎶

Music blared from the speakers, and the once-empty barn had become lively, tucked away on a dirt road just off the highway, hidden from prying eyes. Stabathon was a whole different level compared to Cinema Club—larger, more chaotic, and charged with a buzzing energy.

The crowd was mostly in costume, and you had thrown yours together at the last minute: a plain white shirt splattered with red paint, courtesy of the campus art facilities. The jeans you wore fit just right, hugging your curves effortlessly. Charlie, standing off to the side, couldn’t help but admire you from a distance. He appreciated that you’d put in the effort, even if your costume was a simple nod to the classic horror icon.

A sudden pressure on your shoulder made you jump, the shock rattling through your bones as you spun around.

Charlie appeared, a crooked half smile on his lips. “Someone’s jumpy.” He teased a little and you blushed. “I make you nervous or somethin’?” His voice and glint in his eye spelled mischief and you giggled.

“Something like that.” You admitted, beginning to walk again. He fell in step easily beside you, pushing the hair out of his face.

“Nice Billy costume,” he smirked as his eyes wandered up and down you in an obvious fashion, handing you a red solo cup. You smiled and took the drink, the noise of the crowd swirling around you.

“I had to get into the spirit, you know?” you said, taking a sip and forcing yourself not to grimace as the harsh liquor burned down your throat.

Kirby appeared at your side, flashing a grin at Charlie. “Another year, another Stabathon. Well done, Walker.” She gave his shoulder a friendly pat, and Charlie beamed, clearly proud of the event he’d organized.

“Speaking of which, we should probably get started.” Charlie glanced over his shoulder at Robbie, who was leaning against the wall, the projector light casting eerie shadows on the barn. “I’ll catch you later,” he added, turning back to you. He hesitated for a moment before planting a quick kiss on your cheek. The unexpected peck made you blush, and you watched him walk away, caught off guard by the gesture.

As Charlie made his way toward the front, he chewed the inside of his cheek, his pulse racing. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline—partly because of the kiss, but mostly because he knew Gale was somewhere in the crowd, snooping around where she shouldn’t be, but where they’d counted on her being.

The crowd’s chant echoed through the barn—“Stabathon!” Charlie spotted you and Kirby in the back, caught up in the energy of it all, your voices joining in. Smiling, he walked up to join Robbie at the makeshift stage, which was just a couple of crates they’d scrounged together for height.

Charlie raised his hands to hush the crowd, and the room quickly quieted.

“Cinema Club thanks you for coming out to our third annual Stabathon!” His voice didn’t waver, despite the mix of anxiety and excitement bubbling up in his chest. The crowd cheered, and he could feel his nerves melting into the moment. “Who’s ready to drink every time someone can’t get a cell phone signal?” More cheers erupted from the audience.

Robbie jumped in theatrically, “Who’s ready to drink every time someone shuts the refrigerator door and—oh my God, there’s a harmless character right behind it?” Laughter spread through the crowd, and you couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all.

Charlie raised his red cup, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Who’s ready to drink every time someone screams the word—”

“No!” The crowd, including you, shouted in unison, and you giggled at the familiarity of it. Crowds weren’t usually your thing, but the energy here was different. With Charlie at the center of it all, there was a sense of anticipation you couldn’t shake.

“Let’s start this movie marathon!” Robbie exclaimed eagerly as he and Charlie left the stage. You kept your eyes on Charlie, watching as most people turned their attention to the opening credits projected onto the barn wall. But after a few moments, you lost track of him in the sea of Ghostfaces and bloodied costumes. You frowned, a subtle twinge of disappointment stirring inside you when he didn’t return to your side. Kirby, sitting next to you with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, seemed oblivious to your quiet frustration.

As the movie progressed, you drank when everyone else did, cheered when the crowd cheered, but it didn’t quite feel the same without Charlie by your side. You’d saved him a seat, after all. After a while, you excused yourself to “refresh your drink,” but really, you just needed an excuse to look for him.

You wandered through the crowd for a bit, but after a fruitless search, you pulled out your phone.

Where’d you disappear to? x

Before the message could even send, a firm grip on your arm startled you from your thoughts. You looked up, and there he was—Charlie, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His chest was rising and falling heavily, like he’d just run a marathon, but he was trying to hide it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, raising an eyebrow at him. “Where’ve you been?” you asked over the booming sounds of the movie. His gaze lingered on you a moment too long, and you caught the flicker of something intense behind his eyes. His heart was racing, and he was practically vibrating with a kind of energy you couldn’t quite place. He wanted to tell you how it felt—how everything seemed to be pulsing with adrenaline and something else—but he held back. He knew better than to share too much.

Before he could answer, the distant sound of police sirens pierced through the noise. Charlie’s eyes flicked to the barn doors with a flash of panic.

“Shut it down!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the crowd, booming louder and more fiercely than you knew he was capable of. A few people booed, but as the sirens grew louder, the mood shifted. You watched as people scrambled to react, unsure of what was happening.

Then the cops barged in, the sound of the barn doors splintering under their force. Flashlights were immediately pointed into the crowd, blinding everyone in their path.

Kirby gripped your arm, and without thinking, you pulled Charlie behind you as you followed her outside. The cold night air hit you immediately, sharper than before, and you regretted not bringing a jacket. The officer ordered everyone to remain in front of the barn, and you stood there, shivering slightly.

Your eyes went to Gale as she was lifted into an ambulance on a stretcher. She was clearly hurt, a bloodied bandage wrapped tightly around her chest and shoulder. Your stomach twisted with worry.

Another attack. At Stabathon. Just like Sidney said. The realization hit you hard.

You turned to Charlie, wide-eyed, but his gaze wasn’t on you. It was fixed on Gale, his expression unreadable. Something dark flickered in his eyes before it was gone, replaced by his usual calm. He finally turned toward you, his voice softer than before.

“Are you cold?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he was already shrugging off his leather jacket and draping it around your shoulders. The gesture was so natural, so instinctive, that it took you by surprise. As he stepped back, his gaze caught on you in his jacket, his eyes lingering on the way it looked on you. You felt a rush of warmth despite the cold night air, and you blushed hard under his stare.

Just then, a police officer approached, his face grim. “Gonna ask you some questions,” he said in a gruff voice. You nodded, stepping away from Charlie and Kirby, the weight of the situation settling in. The last thing you expected tonight was to be caught up in something like this.

xxx 🎶 Strangers - Kenya Grace 🎶 xxx

You sat on the peeling laminate bench in the bathroom, waiting patiently for Kirby as she showered. Of course, she insisted you couldn’t be alone while she was in there, and it made sense—especially in the dorms—but it meant you were with her practically 24/7.

You’d just finished your own shower and smelled like herbal soaps, but the scent of Charlie’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders was overpowering. As you slipped your hands into the pockets to keep warm, your brows furrowed when your fingers brushed against something damp inside the right pocket.

Pulling your hand out, you stared at the reddish tint staining your fingertips. Blood. The residue was unmistakable.

For a few long moments, you just stared at it, trying to convince yourself it was fake blood. But his outfit hadn’t had any of that on it tonight. And it was strange—he’d disappeared for a while, only to return breathless right before Gale was found wounded.

Your phone buzzed from the sink, startling you. You exhaled sharply, willing your body to relax. You grabbed the phone quickly and saw a text from Charlie.

Thinking of you. Sweet dreams x

‘Sweet dreams’ The text from Ghostface echoed in your mind, and you narrowed your eyes, a cold shiver crawling down your spine. No. Could you really be suspicious of Charlie? The thought felt foreign, but it held a menacing persistence you couldn’t shake off completely.

Just then, Kirby emerged from the shower, her damp hair clinging to her skin as steam billowed around her. She was wrapped in a towel, her expression casual, though you could tell something was off in her tone. “You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The smirk on her lips didn’t reach her eyes.

You quickly shook off your thoughts, forcing a smile as you pushed the unsettling theory of Charlie being a serial killer out of your mind. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

[cannibalisticskittles]

in the spirit of that last post -- obviously, astarion burning in the sun and running off to hide, alone, would not fly.

amity would be running after him right away, casting darkness. she'd throw her cloak over him. crouch down next to him, behind those crates he hides behind, and start casting the teleportation circle spell that's linked to the circle she made in her home/company basement while frantically muttering all the invitations she thinks he could ever need as she writes the sigil(s) -- it takes a full minute to cast so she has time to cover everything, she hopes. "i invite you into my home and my place of business and anything and everything i do or have ever called mine -- okay go go go go go"

helps him into the portal, if he needs the help; it only lasts 6 seconds so they've gotta be Real Quick

runs back to everyone else and gives an almost incoherent goodbye/explanation before scurrying off, like "YOU'RE ALL INVITED TO MY HOME, I WILL SEND WORD TO THE ELFSONG TAVERN WITH WHERE TO FIND IT BEFORE NIGHTFALL, I HAVE TO GO NOW"

and then she fucking books it through the city

full crying because two of her best friends just consigned themselves to wandering the hells just to keep one of them alive and yeah they can probably fix that eventually but that's so awful, karlach is so scared, and now astarion is all burned up in her basement, gods damn it

a tiefling running at full speed, openly weeping, probably snotty, bloody and covered in brain goo, getting closer and closer to the actual ritzy part of the city and getting stranger and stranger looks all the while

using a sending spell as she runs -- she has three 3rd level spell slots and she's using all of them on sending spells, addressing them to whichever of the company employees she thinks would be most likely to be there and/or to go down to where the teleportation circle is -- "friend in basement FRIEND NOT FOE DO NOT HARM help please, be there soon, close windows and draw blinds please, urgent urgent urgent"

meanwhile in the basement of the morninglade trading company hub, someone is coming down the stairs with an armful of scrolls, sees a dazed man hastily wrapped in a cloak who smells distinctly of ash and burnt flesh, and says "oh hey! new recruit? haha, wow, you're in slightly worse shape than we usually get. welcome aboard tho!"

astarion has just had something dear to him ripped away from him, and might never see sunlight again. just rolled into a portal that spat him out into a basement. has just sustained a minimum of 20 points of sunlight damage. he's not at his best.

it's a nice basement tho, at least

[rabbitcruiser]

National Pasta Day

No matter where it started or how it became so popular, pasta is a simple and versatile dish that is absolutely worth celebrating.

Fusilli, Penne, Spaghetti, Capellini and Fettuccine, pasta comes in a myriad of shapes and sizes. Pasta acts as a sort of blank canvas for the almost infinite variety of sauces that can be made to pair with them.

And National Pasta Day is the perfect time to learn more about and celebrate all things pasta!

History of National Pasta Day

Historians don’t completely agree on the origins of pasta. Many people believe that pasta originated in Italy, while others say that it came all the way from China when Marco Polo was on his adventures in the 13th century.

Still other historians claim that pasta is actually much older than that, to the 4th century BC. In fact, in the place that is now Italy, an Etruscan tomb shows pictures of natives making something that appears to be pasta.

Even Greek mythology gets involved in the stories about the origination of pasta. The god Hephaestus, known as Vulcan, made a device that would create long strands of dough, which some people think may have been a version of pasta or spaghetti.

Not long before he became the President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson is believed to have brought pasta to the US after a trip to Paris in the late 1780s. After eating what he referred to as “macaroni” in France, Jefferson brought two cases back with him and helped influence its popularity in America.

National Pasta Day Timeline

4th Century BC

Pasta is traced back to Etruscan civilization

The Etruscan civilization shows evidence of people making pasta in the area that is now known as Italy.

12th Century AD

Pasta-like noodles are made in China

During the Shang Dynasty, in what is now Northern China, noodles are made from rice or wheat flour.

16th Century AD

First pasta maker in Italy

Beginning at the court of Ferrara and then adopted by the Neopolitans, the pasta maker Christoforo Messisbugo documents what he refers to as the ”macaroni invention”.

Late 1780s

Thomas Jefferson brings pasta to the US

After an extended trip to Paris, the future US President brings crates of pasta back from Europe to America.

1877

Barilla Pasta Company is founded

Founded in Parma, Italy, the Barilla company will eventually become the largest pasta company in the world.

How to Celebrate National Pasta Day

Get into the spirit of this delightful day by inviting friends and family to enjoy and celebrate National Pasta Day in a variety of ways. Consider taking part in some of these ideas, or come up with some of your own:

Enjoy Eating Pasta

Of course, National Pasta Day is the right time to enjoy eating some pasta! And the great thing is that there are so many different options of ways to enjoy pastas.

Invite some friends or family members over for a meal and experiment with some new and interesting recipes for pasta. Try out some unique ideas for making sauces for pasta, such as these:

Truffle Cream Pasta Sauce. Enjoy this exquisite sauce made from special truffle oil, heavy cream, butter and Parmesan cheese. Serve it on penne or linguini.

Frutti de Mare Pasta Sauce. A seafood based pasta sauce, the name literally means “fruit of the sea”. The sauce is fairly quick to cook up, including mussels, wild shrimp and squid tentacles that are cooked in a base made from white wine, basil, garlic and arrabbiata tomato sauce. Serve on long noodles like spaghetti or fettuccine.

Arrabbiata Pasta Sauce. A simple sauce made from tomatoes, garlic and dried chili peppers, this one is delicious when cooked in olive oil. This type of sauce originates from the region of Rome and is a classic sauce that can be served on almost any pasta, from spaghetti to zucchini noodles.

Salsa di Noci Pasta Sauce. This rich and creamy pasta sauce is made from cream, walnuts, Pecorino Romano cheese and fresh herbs. Serve the sauce of short, freshly-made pastas.

Learn Fun Facts About Pasta

Enjoy National Pasta Day and spread the word to friends and family members by sharing various delightful bits of trivia. Try out some of these fun facts to get started:

The average person living in Italy eats approximately 51 pounds of pasta every year!

Italy produces approximately 2.75 million tons of pasta each year, while the United States produces around 1.9 million tons annually.

At least 600 different shapes of pasta are made all around the world, and each type has its own purpose.

Before pasta machines were invented, the dough for pasta was kneaded by foot as workers would walk over large batches of the dough!

Get a Discount for National Pasta Day

Some restaurants that serve pasta may choose to offer a special discount in honor of National Pasta Day! In celebration of the day, check out which national restaurant chains have been known to offer certain deals. Consider enjoying pasta places such as Noodles & Company, Olive Garden, Buca di Beppo, Carrabba’s Italian Grill and many others.

One great thing about celebrating National Pasta Day at a local restaurant is that it means someone else will make the meal for you – and they will even clean it up! Plus, when eating with a group, it’s fun for everyone in the party to order a different dish so everyone can try something new.

Take a Trip to Italy

In celebration of National Pasta Day, take the opportunity to head over to the place that does pasta best – Italy! What could be a better place to really soak up the delicious and delightful flavors of pastas and sauces?

Some people might want to make their decisions about travel based on the types of pasta that different regions of Italy have to offer. Take a look at some of these pastas hailing from different regions in Italy:

Farfalle from Lombardy. Also known as ‘bow-tie pasta’, farfalle may be best enjoyed in the north-central region of Italy where Milan, and Bergamo are located.

Penne from Campania. These delightful little tubes of pasta work well to hold the sauce for bursts of flavor. Enjoy dishes with penne pasta in the region of Campania, which is the south-western region that includes Naples.

Ziti from Sicily. Similar to penne, ziti are short tubes of pasta that are often baked after being covered in sauce. Head down to the largest Mediterranean island at the tip of Italy to enjoy this pasta shape in Sicily.

Gigli from Tuscany. Translated to mean ‘lilies’, Gigli pasta is a light and thin style that makes just a slight twirl. Gigli is from the city of Florence where the lily acts as a local emblem.

National Pasta Day FAQs

Is pasta vegan?

Yes, almost all packaged pastas are 100% vegan, though some types of noodles do contain eggs.

Did pasta come from Italy?

While some historians believe pasta came from Italy, others say that Marco Polo actually brought it from China.

Does pasta have gluten?

Yes, most standard pastas are made from flour and have gluten, though gluten free pasta is available made from rice, corn or other grains.

Does pasta have protein?

Traditional pasta is made from wheat flour and has about 8 grams of protein per serving. Some pastas made from lentils, edamame and chickpeas should contain more protein.

Is pasta healthy?

If it’s made from whole grains, pasta can provide fiber, and it is also a good source of energy from carbohydrates, which is healthy in moderation.

Source

[dulcie-hernandez]

Am I Making You Proud? || Self-Para

The peak of Dulcie's intoxication had seemed to pass and as she started to settle down, she found herself in great need of some fresh air, especially as more and more couples started to make out around her. She told Odessa she'd be right back and slipped out the back door of the club, grateful as the cool air hit her. Even more grateful when she found the back alley empty. The muffled sound of the music was comforting as she found a crate to sit on and slip off her heels for a moment. It was definitely one of the better pride events she had been to lately and though her month was sure to be full of them, she couldn't say she was exactly ecstatic about all of them. Most of the time they often made her think too much about her loneliness, about the lingering eagerness that came along with wanting to be in a relationship.

As she thought about it, her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her dress pocket, smiling to herself as she saw her sister's name and a text asking how her night was going. She wondered if her sister could feel it in the universe that she was having this melancholy moment with herself. She hesitated in texting her back, instead scrolling through her recent texts, smiling as she clicked on her family's group chat. A couple of days earlier her father had sent a rainbow emoji with a 'Happy Pride' message followed by a rainbow gif from her mother. Her sister had called them corny but had sent her own message, accompanied by the tik tok clip of someone saying 'be who you are for your pride.." it made her laugh all over again and before she could stop herself, she found tears coming to eyes.

There had been a time where she could have never fathomed this happening. Where the idea of admitting even to herself that she was gay felt like the most terrifying thing in the world. If her younger self could see her now...the thought brought on more tears and she set her phone in her lap as she brought her hands to her face. She knew she was drunk but she also knew that these were feelings she rarely let herself dwell on because most of the time it hurt. It hurt to think about all the time she spent keeping quiet, watching from the sidelines and she supposed in some ways she still felt the same.

But things weren't the same. She wasn't that same scared teenager, longing for her best friends affection or attention. She wasn't hiding in that closet, so sure that God would hate her, that she'd be the biggest disappointment to her parents. She had fallen in love, gotten her heartbroken, in fact tonight she had already run into two of her exes. One who she was still on great terms with and whose partner she loved and another who she had avoided. A full lesbian experience depending on who you asked. She had made out with women she had never seen again, danced and laughed and learned so much about herself. Her confidence had grown tremendously and though her pickup lines were somewhat cheesy and she hadn't been in a relationship in over two years, when she really thought about it - she was happy. Not only that, she was comfortable in her skin. And when she looked at herself in the mirror, she genuinely loved the person looking back at her.

In the past couple of years, she had found her relationship with God again. She had seen how much it grounded her and understood now that whatever spirit was flying around in the sky loved her exactly as she was. Her family loved her. Her friends loved her. Dulcie was loved. Deeply and infinitely. In a way her teenage self could have never imagined or dared to dream of. She was so far from that Dulcie. The one who used to pull uncomfortably at her uniform skirt while pretending not to look at other girls in theirs. The girl who kept her head in the books and did everything she could to not disturb the trust of her parents and teachers. The girl who lived in fear every single day.

The tears were flowing freely now and she had to laugh at herself as she started to wipe at her face. Maybe she hadn't given herself enough credit for how much she had grown and learn. She knew she didn't. She had been too focused on being hard on herself. But tonight, sitting in the Kat's back alley, she could admit that she was so proud of who she had become. And though her teenage self would likely be a judgmental little bitch about it, she still felt confident that even that version of herself would be proud.

"Get it together," she mumbled to herself, laughing as she slid her heels back on, texted her sister that she was having a great time and got back to her feet. Inspired by the feeling that she hadn't come this far just to sit on the sidelines again, she took a deep breath and opened the door and went back inside, in search of her friends and all of the love (and alcohol) she deserved.

[heygerald]

Love Mummified : (The Mummy, 1999)

OFC x OMC

General chaos, just a little excerpt from a story that doesn't even really exist but that I enjoyed writing, idiot coded.

"And what exactly is the plan here?" she shouted over the gunfire, gaze wild as it swept from the men cloaked in black to the Americans to the cowboy standing beside her. He had a smile on his face as if he enjoyed the chaos, but when he realized she was staring at him his eyebrows furrowed into a little divet.

"Plan?" he echoed dumbly.

"Gracious," Catherine hissed, jerking back behind a crate when a bullet shattered the lamp over her head. Louis ducked as well until his shoulder was pressed against hers, but while Catherine was brushing broken glass out of her hair, he took the moment to swipe a whiskey bottle off the ground. She watched him take a long swallow before wiping his mouth, tossing the bottle overboard, and springing upwards as if preparing to charge into the fray. Just as quickly as he had drank the liquor she tugged him back down by the coattails. "Honestly, how you and O'Connell managed to survive a war will forever remain a mystery to me."

"Well, heh—"

"That was a rhetorical statement, Mr. Abbott!"

"Rhetorical?" he scoffed, mouth flattened into an unamused line. "You ever get tired of using big words no one knows or do you like feeling like the smartest person in the room?"

"It's hardly a difficult feat to be the smartest person in the room when you're around," she snapped as she tried to come up with a plan. Louis didn't seem to take the time to think as he stood and fired off another round of bullets, and for the first time in a long time, Catherine prayed to whatever god would listen that she would be given strength. "Now will you—come on! Dying in the presence of a handsome cowboy was a childhood dream, not a current one."

He stumbled after her as Catherine dodged between the Americans. She was half-worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up; yet, when her foot slipped Louis was the one to catch her, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Handsome, huh?"

She stared at him for a mere moment before slapping away his hand.

"Idiots," she muttered. "That's why you and Rick get along so well. You're both hopeless idiots."

"Handsome idiots, apparently. Doesn't seem all that bad to me."

Catherine was in the process of rolling her eyes when something orange flickered at the corner of her vision. A fire spread across the upper rooms of the steam rig they were on—licking its way across the deck towards the engine at the far side of the boat—and suddenly she was wondering if Rick O'Connell truly would be the death of her.

"I take it back," she whined like a petulant child. "I don't need any more adventures in my life. One was enough."

Louis grinned at that. It was a wild grin, one that consisted half of spirit and half of joy, and she knew without a doubt that it was nothing but trouble. He was nothing but trouble. It was most likely penance for her wild childhood, for always wanting something more than the straight and narrow life her parents designed for her. Somewhere, Catherine was sure, her mother was laughing at her turn in luck.

"Ah, come on, Miss Sinclair," he teased. "You can never have too many adventures, can ya? Now, you can swim, right?"

"What?"

"Cuz it looks like we ain't got any other way out of here," he said, moving so swiftly that she didn't know what was happening until he was dragging her by the hand across the deck in the direction that the others had disappeared overboard. She did her best to pull out of his grip, cursing all the way, but it only seemed to spur him on further. She didn't even need to look to know that his grin was fantastically smug as he raced towards the deck railing. "If you can't swim, I'd be happy to provide mouth to mouth."

She scoffed just as they reached the railing, and the hallway behind them groaned to a collapse, ash dotting the sky. "I'd rather drown," she snarked.

His smile didn't dim; just pulled sideways in bemusement. As if he didn't understand the difference between a scorned woman and a flirting one. "Yeah, well Miss, that can be arranged if you don't get moving. It's either me or the boat."

Catherine paused, glancing around them.

When she glanced back, he had narrowed his eyes into a glare of his own, all humor gone. "Don't say I didn't warn ya."

"Warn me—?"

Louis threw her overboard before she could comprehend what was happening, and by the time she surfaced the shockingly cold water, he had joined her in the river. She watched him struggle to fix his sopping hat back in place; the garment didn't seem to cooperate as he huffed, and eventually he decided to clutch it in his fist instead. Catherine hated the way that his hair was slicked back on his forehead, hated how well the dark strands framed his features to make him seem younger than he was, and she was reminded—not for the first time—that he was quite a handsome man when he wasn't talking.

When he caught her looking, his smirk returned. "Ain't too late to change your mind about the mouth to mouth," he drawled. "Might even be a nice way to thank me for saving your life and all that."

Catherine responded by spitting a mouthful of water into his face.