#he's so happy and relaxed at wither's party

[lordcaptains]

WAITING FOR HIS LOVER | Baldur's Gate III

Enjoy your time with the others. Bless them with your presence.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

8: SURPRISE!

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Bucky's surprise birthday party provides more surprises than you had hoped.

Word count 3.2k

Warnings: Birthday boy behaving badly, Priya is the warning here!

Erik’s sexual intervention had released you of the tension you felt whenever you were around Bucky and you realized that his birthday was quickly approaching. You made it your mission to start working on Bucky’s birthday party. The previous year he had flat out refused to let you throw him any festive gathering and you had only accepted that on one condition: he would get one this year. You had no intention of letting him wheedle his way out of it this year. He had begrudgingly agreed but only if it was something small and intimate with his friends only. 

You had given Bucky a withering look. "Trust me! I know you well enough. You’re going to like it. I promise!"

You felt like a kid in a candy store, who had been given the keys to Willy Wonka’s entire kingdom. Glee was written across your features, you wanted everything to be perfect for your best friend. Steve was your trusty accomplice and you had invited Priya into the fold as a way to make up for your misdemeanors. She had suggested that you order food from Sticks and Stones because he loved the food there and even convinced Victor to help with the catering.

A week before the auspicious day, you had pulled Steve aside to ask him if he would accompany you to pick up Bucky’s birthday gift.

"Did you find it?" Steve asked you.

"The Glenn Miller vinyl?" 

Steve nodded.

"Yeah, I found it! It’s in a vintage records store in SoHo." You smiled.

"Bucky’s going to love it. His family would play them all the time, he was such a natural dancer. It would be nice for him to do that again."

"I’m glad it’s got Captain America’s seal of approval!" you quipped cheekily.

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling relaxed and happy for once. "Do you want to go and pick it up now? I’ll drive. I can pick up my gift at the same time!"

"Oh that would be great, Steve! What did you get him?"

"You know that picture you took, the one of Bucky, you, me, Nat and Sam?"

"Yeah, I know the one."

"I painted it. There is a guy who said he would frame it and he texted me this morning saying it was ready to collect.

"Steve! I can’t wait to see it!" you squealed with excitement. "Let’s go!"

Both of you set off, climbing the stairs that led to the parking garage.

"Oh, Priya, hey! Didn't see you there!" you smiled at her as you noticed her presence at the top of the staircase. 

Priya smiled back at you tersely. 

"Everything okay?" Steve asked.

"Fine."

"Do you need a lift home?"

"No, I'm spending the night with Bucky."

"Ahh," Steve blushed at the implication of sex.

You rolled your eyes and tugged on Steve's sleeve. "Come on, punk. See you later Priya!"

*

March tenth came around quicker than expected. You waited impatiently for Bucky to arrive as his 'surprise’ party. Even though Priya was distracting him, Bucky knew about the events that had been planned. You knew he didn't like loud noises or jump scares, but he had promised to act suitably surprised.

Everything for the party went off without a hitch. The room was filled with dozens and dozens of black and gold balloons. Swing music was playing on the gramophone that Tony had purchased for the occasion. Sam cheekily had a cardboard cut out of Bucky made with his vibranium arm cut off so you could play ‘Pin the arm on Bucky’. You groaned but secretly you wanted to beat everyone.

Thor had made an appearance and was already half way through the bucketful of Asgardian ale, which he claimed to have brought for the birthday boy. Even Ayo, who you'd invited, had graced you with her presence. When she arrived, you flung your arms around the reserved Wakandan warrior. The Dora Milaje did not engage in public displays of emotion, but for you she offered a hug in return.

Things seemed to be going well. Bucky arrived with Priya and was greeted with yells and streamers. Bucky's surprise was convincing… possibly a little too dramatic, making Priya laugh and you groan exasperatedly. You stood on the side of the room watching everyone mingle, enjoying how Bucky's attention was demanded from everyone in the room. His friends were kind enough not to crowd him, or overwhelm him, but also make him feel special all at the same time.

It warmed your heart to see the light in his eyes, the enjoyment on his face. Priya was glued to his side, stroking his hair, whispering in his ear. His arm was constantly around her waist. She was the only thing that marred your perfect vision of the event.

"I am surprised that James chose that woman," Ayo appeared beside you, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Jesus, Ayo. We've talked about you sneaking around. Don't make me tie a bell around your ankles!"

Ayo smiled. "Why isn't that you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you told James how you feel?" Ayo doesn't wait for your reply. "It could be you dancing with him rather than standing here looking like a wallflower."

"Maybe you could dance with me."

"I think not, Y/N." Ayo never used your nickname.

"Way to let a girl down gently, Ayo."

Ayo just rolled her eyes at you and ventured over to Thor who was challenging everyone to a drinking contest, one which no one was engaging in. Steve was beside him, sipping the liquor carefully enjoying the buzz he rarely got to experience. Wanda and Vision were lovingly embraced in each other's arms in a corner, dancing like the rest of the world didn't exist. Nat was behind the bar serving her own special cocktails and flirting with a blushing Bruce. Clint and Laura were laughing with Pepper, while Tony, Sam and Rhodey were playing cards and making the most outrageous noise. 

You loved your little found family, even though you missed the one that brought you up. Coulson's S.H.I.E.L.D. team had inducted you into the world of violence and espionage and aliens and time travel. It was with them that you'd learnt to control your powers and become worthy to call yourself an Avenger.

Agent Melinda May was the only member of the team you saw regularly anymore since she worked close by in the new S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy HQ. She had been your S.O. for many years and held a special place in your heart, despite her prickly exterior. She often joked that you would make an excellent addition to her staff at the Academy and to ensure that you lived long enough to accept the position when retiring from ‘that Avenger gig’. 

You were brought out of your reverie about the past by Priya, who was standing on a chair shouting about it being time for presents.

Everyone cheered and you were grinning like a lunatic now. You felt excited to give Bucky your gift. The first edition Glenn Miller record was safely wrapped in a solid casing. In the Mood was the last song that Bucky and his family had danced to while he had been on leave from the War. His last happy memory of them before he had fallen from the life he had known, before he had been thrust into a world of ice and torture.

About a year ago, you had caught Bucky using your Spotify to listen to music from his childhood and had offhandedly mentioned this piece of information about his past. You kept hold of this precious tidbit for the right occasion.

Bucky had already started ripping open wrapping paper when you ventured over. Wanda had knitted him a black scarf with golden threads to match his arm, which had made him smile. Next Sam handed him a small black box which Bucky opened to find a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

"Thought you could use some props, spice life up a little," he winked at Bucky. Sam had a way of pushing Bucky's buttons, but you could see the mild blush on Bucky's cheeks which deepened when Priya interjected. 

"Thank you very much, Samuel, but James and I don't need such tawdry things in the bedroom."

Bucky shrugged apologetically at Sam and you wondered if he was thinking about your recent conversation.

Sam was pushed aside by Thor, who deposited a large vat of ale into Bucky's arms. "Many happy returns, metal man." He patted Bucky on the back so hard that Bucky almost dropped his gift.

Bucky was depositing the alcohol on the gift table when he was approached by Ayo. "Happy Birthday, James."

"Thank you for coming, it means a lot that you took the time."

"You look like you are doing well for yourself."

"Yeah, it’s good," Bucky smiled.

"This is for you." She handed him a simple box with padding on the inside. Bucky opened it to find a pair of ornately decorated blades made from vibranium. Everyone gasped at how beautiful they looked in the dim lights. They collapsed in on themselves and were discrete and easy to conceal. Ayo pointed out a small device which acted like a homing beacon so Bucky would be able to locate them if he lost sight of them.

"These are incredible! Thank you."

Tony didn't have many words but he did hand Bucky a beautifully ornate envelope which Bucky opened tentatively. Inside was an invitation to a magnificent moonlit dinner on a yacht on the Hudson. Bucky held the gift reverently in his hands, his vibranium fingers barely gripping, as though their strength might make the gift crumble. His eyes glistened in the party lights, a thin film of unshed tears. There had been a time where they were ready to kill each other, and even now they never spent any time alone together. You knew that this gift meant a lot to Bucky.

"Dinner on a boat? I think we'll have to pass on that, I get sea sick." Priya commented, gazing at the gift certificate around Bucky's arm.

A flicker of irritation crossed Tony's face, before he grinned mischievously. "Not a problem, it's not person specific. Manchurian Candidate here can take anyone he likes. Capsicle might not be a fan of the food, but I think Cricket would really enjoy the cuisine."

He turned to wink at you, making you blush. You couldn’t help but notice the scowl on Priya’s face, no matter how short lived it was and you knew you were about to meet your comeuppance when the glowering look she was shooting in your direction turned into a beaming smile.

"Jamie! It’s my turn, baby. I have a very special gift for you!" She hands him a thin square shaped gift wrapped in shiny golden wrapping paper. "Here!"

You felt a sudden weight on your chest, a feeling of dread washing over you. It felt like things were moving in slow motion, watching Bucky unwrap the gift. You didn’t know what you had been expecting when he pulled out a shiny record cover. It was as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you, except you were paralyzed. The color drained from your face as you realized what the album was.

‘The Very Best of Glenn Miller.’

Bucky’s eyes shone brightly as he dropped the wrapping paper and ran his flesh fingers over the cover reverently. "Priya," he gasped in a whisper. "I- it's perfect." Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest and giving her a long, passionate kiss. "I love it! I love you!"

You barely noticed Steve sideling up to you, you couldn't hear him asking if you were okay. That was your gift. It was yours! If you didn’t have the vinyl you’d bought and so lovingly wrapped in your hand, you’d think she had stolen it from you. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, every attempt you made felt futile, like the air around you had left the room. He had shared the same things with her, you thought he trusted you with his past, but you weren't as special as you thought you were. 

Eventually you looked up when Steve put a gentle hand on your shoulder. He whispered, almost as though his words he was about to use were criminal. "Do you remember when we were talking last week? Before we went to pick up our gifts? You don’t think she overheard us… do you? And…"

In the end, it didn’t really matter. You knew in the moment that you’d lost Bucky forever. Everything felt far away, the room was suffocating, why were there so many people? Tears burned in your orbital sockets, drowning you from the inside out. You couldn’t face them anymore, seeing the happiness on Bucky’s face, knowing that someone else was responsible for that smile, that light inside him, was heartbreaking. Ultimately, you wanted him to be happy but you wanted to share that joy with him, you wanted to be the one to give it to him and watching that mantle being taken from you and bequeathed to another person was soul crushing. Gripping your present tightly, you slipped out of the room, Steve watching your retreating footsteps with sympathy, but knowing not to follow.

A few tears escaped as you found refuge in the kitchen, but you had no desire to explain red eyes and a blotchy nose to any of the other team members or party goers, so you wiped them away angrily, taking a few calming breaths before pouring yourself a strong drink. You sank onto a bar stool, shoving the record onto the chair to your right, you had no use for it anymore. There had barely been time for you to take 2-3 sips from your drink before Bucky popped his head into the room.

"Cricket? There you are!"

"Hey Buck! Having a good time?" You plastered a smile on your face, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Deception in this case was a futile attempt, Bucky was well versed in the movements of your face. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you lied. "Just getting a drink."

"There are plenty of drinks back there."

He looked searchingly into your eyes and the facade you had erected was crumbling. You looked away, dropping your head to try and hide your face with your hair.

"It was just a bit much, everyone there… I don’t know, I feel a little… overwhelmed."

Too much drain of the social battery, Bucky was familiar with that. He pulled out the chair on your left, almost giving you a heart attack because you had momentarily forgotten which chair you’d left the present on.

"If you want to give me my gift here, we can do it privately. Everyone else is done," Bucky suggested, leaning towards you.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. Suddenly you felt angry that he was there, why couldn’t he give you a moment to grieve? Constantly invading your space, reminding you of what you couldn’t have, dangling the carrot but keeping it just out of reach. "Well you already have the perfect gift from your girlfriend, what more do you need?" You couldn’t keep the bitterness out of your tone.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. But the damage was done. There was a deathly silence between you where you were afraid to look at your best friend. 

"You know, I thought I would have you both in my life; my best friend and my girlfriend. I feel like you’re making me choose you over her and it’s not fair, Cricket! I’ve tried, I really have but you’re making it impossible! So you know what, I’m going to have to choose Priya. At least she bothered to put some effort into getting me a birthday gift. I can have a future with her."

The worst thing about his words were the disappointment and finality in his tone. And with that he left you alone with only your thoughts for company. A storm raged inside you, a maelstrom of emotions; anger, betrayal, abandonment, rejection, loss, just outright pain. How could he? How could he choose her over you? After everything you had been through together, the bond you had forged, the absolute faith and trust you had put in each other. Did it mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him?

Trudging back to your room, you sought comfort in your giant bed, hoping it would envelope you completely. Wrapping the duvet around your body and over your head, you buried your face in a pillow and allowed the tears to fall. Once the gates had opened, the trickle of tears became a flood as you sobbed into your pillow to muffle the sound.

Why did he have to choose? Why didn’t he choose you? The pain in your chest was unbearable, a physical ache that matched the emotional turmoil inside you. You had tried so hard to make things work, to give him a balance of your friendship with his relationship with Priya, but now it seemed like all your efforts had been in vain. He had made his choice, and it wasn’t with you.

As you lay there in your bed, the tears continued to flow, a never-ending stream of sadness and heartbreak. You felt like a piece of you had been ripped away, leaving a raw, gaping wound in its place. How could you move on from this? How could you ever trust anyone again, knowing that they could just choose someone else over you?

You sighed, you knew now that you would never be good enough for him. Everything you’d tried to hold on to, had done nothing but push him away. You remembered when you had first understood your feelings, you’d considered pulling away to protect yourself. But Bucky had reeled you back in, constantly asking if he had done something to hurt you. So you’d given in, telling yourself you didn’t want to hurt him. But in reality, it had been selfish, you had indulged in a fantasy and ended up hurting the man you loved and getting hurt in the process.

You startled as a door slammed shut nearby. It was Bucky’s bedroom door, you could hear Priya giggling and Bucky’s deep voice through the wall. Your body froze with shock, the last thing you needed right now was to listen to your best friend having sex with his girlfriend. You shoved your airpods into your ears and turned up one of your lo-fi playlists and closed your eyes.

The decision you should have made then, was far more clear to you now. Your friend and old superior officer from your S.H.I.E.L.D. team had repeatedly offered you the chance to teach with her at the newly formed Coulson Academy. She had taught you everything you knew and believed in your ability to impart the knowledge you’d gained to potential agents. It was time for you to take her up on this offer.

As you wiped away your tears and made a decision to move forward, you knew that it was time to focus on yourself and your own happiness. Bucky had made his choice, and now it was time for you to make yours. You couldn’t continue to dwell on what would never be, on the pain of rejection and heartbreak.

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[laracrofted]

i want your midnights

synopsis: on the coldest new year's eve in a decade, bob floyd shows up at your door. prequel to delicate.

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni, bob is really soft and cozy and lovestruck, swearing (barely), so much yearning and pining, kissing kissing kissing (wc: 2.2K)

note: surprise! i wasn't planning to write something for new year's, but i missed lovestruck bob. happy new year, loves! 🍾

summoning a few people who might be interested: @sometimesanalice @roosterbruiser @theharddeck @callsignspark @lewmagoo @gretagerwigsmuse @roosterforme @rhettabbotts

He shouldn't be here right now. For several reasons. 

Technically, Bob should be on a plane right now – or on one of several planes because San Diego International doesn't offer any direct flights to the part of Montana Bob is from

He usually flies from San Diego to Los Angeles and Los Angeles to Bozeman and drives from there.

Except when half of California freezes over in the coldest storm in a decade on the very day Bob is supposed to head home for New Year's and grounds all of LAX.

This normally wouldn't be a big deal. He doesn't even care all that much about New Year's – New Year's is celebrated very casually in his family. He's usually in bed well before midnight. – but Bob already missed Christmas. 

He and Phoenix were selected for a special detachment at the end of December, which – while an honor and a privilege, etcetera – meant Bob spent Christmas on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific. He didn't get back until December 28.

Phoenix immediately drove up to San Francisco to be with her nieces and nephews. He'd been waiting for New Year's. 

Now, after countless delays and an eventual cancellation – which should've happened hours ago when Bob maybe could've found another way home, rented a car and driven the seventeen hours – Bob is stuck in San Diego.

Disappointed isn't a good enough word to express what Bob is feeling right now. 

He could've driven back to his apartment – his sad apartment, already devoid of colorful lights and silver and gold decorations because Bob didn't expect to come back until January. He could've called Fanboy or gone to the New Year's Eve party at the Hard Deck, but Bob isn't in the mood to be around people right now. 

He only wants to see one person. 

And now Bob is here – standing outside of your apartment with a backpack and a carry-on, like Bob is about to clear out a drawer and move right in. 

He probably looks like a weirdo. He definitely feels like a weirdo. 

Damn. This was a mistake. 

It's a brisk 40 degrees and dropping outside, and Coronado smells like ocean air and fireplace smoke. Pine needles, shed from the withering evergreens hauled onto the streets and abandoned the day after Christmas. Seawater and camphor and burning wood.

He shivers in the cold, broad shoulders rounding under the worn wool of his sweater. He should've worn something warmer – something nicer – but all of Bob's warmer coats are either deep in his suitcase or at his parents' house. He never expected to need them in San Diego.

A shaky puff of breath blows from his quivering lips. 

He breathes in a deep and steadying breath. A bracing breath. And knocks on the door. 

Minutes pass. Or maybe, just seconds.

Finally, Bob hears a voice from inside. Blessedly.

"Just a minute!" 

Your calm voice is like a soothing balm, even muffled, even barely audible, and Bob feels like a loosed bowstring – held taut for hours on end and at the sound of your voice, finally let free. He can drop his shoulders and loosen his clenched jaw for the first time in the past day – in the past week.

Tension melts off of him like the last snow of late spring from the Montana pines. He can finally relax. He can breathe again.

A crack of light spills out of the creaking door, and Bob pulls his gaze from his scuffed brown Blundstones. 

You are silhouetted in the doorway like a priceless Renaissance sculpture, glowing, curves highlighted and illuminated in the most beautiful dress Bob has ever seen.

Black satin, catching in the dim light and glimmering, like a blanket of stars on a cloudless December night.

He used to lay under stars like those in Montana and memorize the constellations. He feels the same sense of wonder, of awe looking at you.

He's always found you beautiful – even dressed in your coveralls with grease smudged on your cheeks, sometimes especially then – but now, fuck.

He's never seen your hair like that before, loose around your shoulders, curled like the ends of a ribbon on a beautifully wrapped present on Christmas morning. He shoves his hands in his pockets, slightly chapped and reddened from the dry cold, and pinches the denim between his palms, squashing the urge to reach out and wrap one of the delicate strands of hair around his finger.

A deep shade of red paints your lips, parting in a surprised smile. "Bob Floyd, is that you?" You shiver and hug your arms, and Bob, respectfully, keeps his eyes on your face. "Jesus Christ, when did it get so cold out here? Aren't you cold?" 

"I, uh... run warm, I guess," Bob says. He lifts his baseball cap and runs his fingers through the mess of strands underneath, in desperate need of a trim. Sets it back on his head and squares his shoulders. "Are you headed out?" 

You look down and absentmindedly shuffle your feet to look down at your heels – which reveals a slit in the fabric, exposing a line of bare skin all the way up to your thigh. God help him. 

"Kind of. I'm supposed to meet up with some of the other mechanics at the Hard Deck. There’s some New Year’s thing there, I guess.” You fold your arms across your chest and look at him, still smiling curiously. “But what about you? What brings you here on New Year's Eve?" 

He showed up out of the blue. Anyone else might be annoyed, but all Bob hears in your voice is gentle curiosity. Like Bob is the most pleasant of surprises. 

"I spent 12 hours in the airport, only for my flight to get canceled, and I couldn't go back to my apartment after that and spend New Year's alone, but I couldn't go to the Hard Deck either. I'm sorry," Bob adds. "I shouldn't have shown up here like this. I should've called you. You have plans."

You regard him, expression calm. "Don't be sorry. I'm happy to see you."

You're happy to see him. You're happy to see him.

Is it cold enough for the pink in his cheeks to be mistaken for a different kind of flush? He hopes so.

"Do you wanna come in?"

His eyes grow wide. "Oh... well, what about your party?"

You drop your shoulder in a shrug. "New Year's is kind of lame anyway. I was really going as an excuse to get dressed up because I never go anywhere fancy enough to wear this dress. It's been in the back of my closet for months."

His eyes drop to the dress again, and absently, Bob wonders what the material would feel like between his fingers, what it'd feel like to run his hand over the elegant slope of your hip. He swallows.

"It's quite a dress," Bob croaks. His mouth is so damn dry. "You, uh... You look really beautiful. It's really... yeah."

You watch him, expression softening like warmed butter. "Thank you, Bob."

You look at him – look past the backpack and the scuffed carry-on and the slightly baggy sweater that once belonged to his older brother – and Bob feels seen, really seen. He feels safe.

You bump the door open wider with your hip and reach for his luggage, wiggling your fingers playfully until Bob passes the suitcase over. He's rewarded with a beaming smile, radiant and warm.

"Come on. You like Chinese?"

You change after Bob comes in, hanging up your dress and putting on an oversized gray sweater, pushed up at the sleeves, and a pair of fleece pajama pants that aren't quite the right length for your legs, covered in white dots and blue and white snowflakes.

You order the food and put on your favorite New Year's Eve movie while Bob calls his parents and gets comfortable, changing into sweatpants. His mom is pleased that Bob isn't spending New Year's alone, but Bob chooses his words carefully.

He is spending New Year's with a friend, not with a girl.

She'd ask questions Bob couldn't really answer in your hall bathroom.

When Bob comes back in, When Harry Met Sally is on.

You explain: "It's my favorite New Year's Eve movie. I watch it almost every year. If I start watching it 28 seconds after 10:30 PM – exactly, like down to the second – I can count down to midnight while Harry is confessing his love to Sally in the New Year’s scene."

You curl up on the couch, nursing a glass of champagne, while Bob sips from a chilled can of Ginger Ale while Harry and Sally banter and dance around each other and fall in love.

Admittedly, Bob is only half watching.

He likes this movie, but Bob is much more interested in you.

He is rarely alone with you.

He usually comes to see you on the Naval base – sometimes even making up questions as an excuse to come and talk to you, bringing coffee as a thank you for your answers – or seeks you out at the Hard Deck. He drove you home once when Bob was working late and spotted you in one of the hangars, but otherwise, Bob has never been here before.

About 30 minutes into the movie, Bob gets overheated and sheds his sweater, leaving him in a white short-sleeve and sweatpants underneath the oversized blanket from your bedroom. It's made of some kind of sherpa and smells like you.

Everything in here smells like you.

His legs are sprawled out in front of him, resting on the coffee table between a half-eaten plate of spring rolls and what’s left of his chicken chow mein. He ate his body weight in noodles and miso soup, and Bob feels warm and relaxed – if bordering on uncomfortably full.

He can barely focus with the smell of your perfume in his nostrils; excruciatingly aware of you underneath the blanket next to him, curled up with your legs folded underneath yourself, head lolling to the side, dangerously close to resting on his shoulder; smelling like cherries and champagne and vanilla and you.

A countdown begins in the background of the scene.

“Five…”

You sit up underneath the blanket, which brings you closer to him, inadvertently.

“Four…” 

Your arm brushes against Bob’s.

“Three…”

You watch the screen, excited, and count along.

“Two…” 

Your lips part in a wide and excited smile.

“One…” 

Cheers erupt on the screen, but Bob isn’t even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He’s watching you. 

You grin at him, eyes bright, looking so beautiful that Bob can’t hold the words in.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Surprise flashes across your face, soon replaced with a small smile. Bob can see a lipstick stain at the corner of your mouth from where earlier, you'd messily wiped the red from your lips with a cocktail napkin. He wants to reach out and smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. He wants to kiss the spot where the smudge used to be.

Instead, Bob holds his breath. Waits.

He shouldn't have said anything. You've been such a good friend to him. You changed your plans, invited him in.

What if Bob's ruined everything now?

You've never been so close. You ask, "Like a New Year's kiss? Or like a real kiss?"

What if Bob hasn't ruined anything at all?

“Both,” Bob says softly, like a confession.

What if?

You're glowing in the sparkle of multi-colored lights, still strung along the walls, still decorating the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, blues and reds and greens, eyes glimmering, liquid warm. "Yeah. That'd be okay."

"Okay," Bob echoes, leaning in.

He presses his lips against yours in a gentle but firm kiss, cradling your jaw with a careful hand, stroking your cheek.

Bob doesn't linger. Doesn't press his luck.

He gives you a good and solid kiss and pulls back, eyes slowly opening.

"How was that?"

You lick your lips, and Bob follows the movement with his gaze, entranced.

"Kiss me again."

It's after midnight now, and uncertain, Bob asks, "Like a New Year's kiss?"

You shake your head, slow and clear, and lean in, and Bob meets you in the middle.

He kisses you in earnest now, kissing the smudge of red on the corner of your mouth, licking a drop of champagne from your bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth, running his hands over your skin.

You do the same, running your hands over his shoulders, over his neck, and knocking his baseball hat from his head, run your fingers through his hair. You pull on the ends of the strands, pull him closer, and god, it's all Bob can do not to moan into your mouth.

You're all warm skin and soft curves and sweet perfume, and Bob is drowning drowning drowning.

You knock the wind out of him, and eventually, Bob is forced to pull back and catch his breath. His chest is heaving. His cheeks are pink and warm.

You blink up at him, eyes wide and glassy, as if pulled from a dream, and give him a dazed smile. You murmur, low and breathless, "Happy New Year, Bob."

I think I'm in love with you.

"Happy New Year," Bob whispers instead.

end note: likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all!

[underdark-dreams]

thinking about rolan being super protective over tav 😭 him constantly sneering at the party at any partial sign of tav seeming overworked or stressed and assuming its because they cant take care of their own business- him constantly giving tav books for no charge when they stop by sorcerous sundries and insisting they make time to read and enjoy some leisure for the night and giving a VERY TARGETED GLARE at the party over their shoulder (when tav isnt looking) so they know not to bother them

Yes, yes, yes! 😭 Overprotective Rolan with a bookish Tav is so good

It takes a minute, but once Rolan's protective side toward them kicks in, he's hovering around Tav's periphery any time they cross paths. Glancing at them every ten seconds while trying to seem chill and aloof. Fussing in a way that's very blunt but well-meaning at heart

If Tav has slipped away from a gathering for a quiet moment of relaxation, anyone who dares to interrupt them is stared down under Rolan's withering gaze until they take too much psychic damage and decide to leave Tav alone

If he sees Tav yawn one (1) time at a party, Rolan will step in to guide them away under some pretense, only to shoo them off to their tent

OR. If they're visiting him at the Tower, Rolan insists they take the guest room immediately. He keeps it spotless in the event that someone (read: Tav) might need it. He's truly very generous to the people he cares about...also highkey dying to impress Tav by showing off his new place. Would be over the moon if they started spending many nights there and would make any changes the thought might make Tav more comfortable

Finds a lot of happiness in looking after Tav & providing them a place where they can unwind away from everything. And if it means Rolan gets to spend more time around them, well, that's just a fringe benefit

Rolan definitely does not memorize every niche interest that Tav happens to mention. He also does not keep an eye out while combing through his library, pull any volumes he thinks Tav would enjoy, and place them in a strategic and very obvious location before Tav's next visit

Tav: Oh what a coincidence, I love [subject] :)

Rolan: You don't say! Take these seven books about it, I insist

Rolan would be absolutely smitten to find out that Tav is a reader. Also would be personally offended if he found out that they don't have time to sit down with a good book. He gives them an open invitation to the Tower's library for as much quiet time as they like. Maybe even gives them a key to his private collection [blush]

For Rolan, having a lively discussion with Tav about whatever book they last read from his library is like the most thrilling form of flirtation. He could talk with them for an hour and his tail tip would be swaying in little excited arcs behind him the whole time. This tsundere nerd

[onewmin]

better man | knj (18+)

part 2 of “shreds”.

Pairing: idol!Kim Namjoon x idol!female!reader

Summary: Two years have passed after your breakup with Namjoon.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI), oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up buddies), a bit of dirty talk, praises, cheating, mentions of pregnancy and abortion, profanity, typos, unhealthy relationship, possessive bf Namjoon

Author’s note: hope you enjoy the part 2! I haven’t planned on writing it, but here we are :) tell me what you think!!

Tags: @namjooningera @namtaeh

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

P.S. The pictures are taken from Pinterest, so if you know their owners, please let me know!

Wedding planning was not a piece of cake.

Sure, you’ve had multiple assistants and your friends helping you out — however, it was still a really hard thing to do. To fit everything into your schedule was nearly impossible, but you tried, moving rehearsals to early mornings, studio sessions to late nights and taking the whole afternoon for the wedding stuff. Just as your wedding was around the corner — three months before it — you landed in Seoul after the tour. And since then, it has been nothing but a crazy roller coaster.

Your company has decided you have to be prepared for your next comeback in advance; as your boss said, you would be too relaxed to get back to your regular rhythm after the honeymoon. Not that you disagreed.

Your fiancé wasn’t that happy about your new rushy routine: he couldn’t but get infuriated every time he had to pick you up in a state of literal exhaustion; you had to beg him not to quarrel with your bosses, reassuring him that’s what you wanted yourself too. Whenever you spoke of it, he agreed.

You couldn’t ever admit even to yourself you were the type of girl to enjoy wedding planning. You’d look arrogantly when your girlfriends gushed over wedding dresses and party planning, trying to seem untouchable, “not-like-other-girls” type of girlie. But you were. The second Namjoon hinted at the wedding, in your head you were already at the altar, bouquet of light pink roses in your hands, the veil covering your face.

But Kim Namjoon never came to the altar. He was a runaway groom, who was standing at the church doors, but never took a step forward. Throughout eight years of being with him, your dress’ white color turned into yellow, the roses withered and the veil got covered in a thick layer of dust. You turned into a Corpse Bride while being alive and breathing, with your own evil boyfriend who, in reality, never wanted to marry you.

The sheer amount of freedom you felt the second you let him go was mind blowing. It was overwhelming, how you could dress up in those tight, revealing outfits without his judgement or lingering jealousy. You were his girl, but only behind closed doors. However, even being kept as a secret, you had to be cautious with what you wore, who you talked with. For god’s sake, if someone flirted with you, and you laughed it off? Namjoon would be clenching his jaw in the back of the room, all pent up frustration later turned into aggressive make out session. He’d grab handfuls of your ass, squeeze your hips, bite your lips till they were a light shade of purple. “You’re mine”, he’d growl into your skin, leaving love marks all over your neck, “and mine only”.

You loved being his, even as an illicit affair. When the two of you met, never in a million years you’d think this relationship could last that long. You were nineteen, freshly debuted as a soloist, slowly building up your career and fanbase. He was twenty, a well-known star already, but not worldwide popular. Having been a promising songwriter, you were assigned to work with his group by your company. It would bring a great benefit to all of us, they said. Oh yeah, it did.

You two seemed to hit it off in an instant; you’d stay there, long hours spent in the studio, writing and sharing your lyrics with one another. He’d write about his ex-girlfriend, you’d write about your previous relationship with the high-school ex. No wonder, several months later you ended up staring at him in awe, as he held out a bouquet of pink roses, his face matching the shade of the flowers.

“Go on date with me”, he uttered, voice a bit shaky. “And go out with me”.

You agreed to both simultaneously, taking the bouquet from his hands, the smell of your favourite flowers, associating with him, forever etched on your memory.

Your date turned out to be the quietest you’d been on. You had a picnic in the park, with people surrounding you — sure, not every freaking person knew him back then. You shared fruits and berries, as he read his favorite poems to you, while you were sitting beside him. And as the end of the day approached, apricot colored sunset drawing everyone’s attention to it, Namjoon took your hand in his. You remember looking at him as he watched the sunset, your interwoven hands on his lap, a big delighted smile on his face. You returned it, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and put your head on his shoulder, immediately melting to his warmth. That was the moment you fell in love with him. And that was the moment, one of many, you kept reminding yourself of whenever any doubts about him would creep up in your brain.

The boy you fell in love with turned into a man. The man had this intimidating aura to him, so mysterious yet so fluffy at the same time. He was still that boy who held your hand under the table and blushed every time you pecked him on the cheek. But the man Namjoon grew up to be was more demanding, his hand creeping up your thigh under the table now, fingers playing with the hem of your panties. You hated when he did that, but he never listened to your complaints.

The man also turned all the promises the boy gave you into empty ones. He gave you the ring three years in the relationship — a simple one that you saw in one cheap jewelry shop, with light purple flowers engraved on it — and promised he’d give you a real one when the time comes. You believed the boy, but the man was the person you couldn’t put your trust in. You didn’t need the ring, nor the promises; the only thing you wanted was openness. You were tired of hiding, tired of women flirting with him and him flirting back — well, it’s not like the two of you were official — tired of lying to everyone. The only thing you craved was him claiming your relationship, being proud of it.

As the two years passed, you realized there was never even a hint of pride in him. Namjoon was comfortable in the relationship with you, as you were ready to put everything at stake just for him, but he, himself? His career was a superiority to everything, always. How foolish of you was to even think that he would put you in the top list of his priorities?

So you broke it off, the relationship, the engagement, the promise you’d give to each other years ago. “To grow up, and to grow old together”, sounded like a wedding vow — there was yet another lie you fed yourself with every time he’d reject going public with you. Or, “Happiness is in privacy”, you mom would say. Wrong. Happiness is in not being scared to show your partner off. Happiness is in being proud of your relationship. That’s what you understood when your new boyfriend appeared at the horizon, putting your loneliness to an end.

It’s been almost two years and a half after you breakup with Namjoon now. He enlisted in the military not long after, texting you to ask, “Will you wait for me?”. You answered negatively, blocking his number and all of his accounts, too. The audacity this man has, you thought while crying your eyes out, asking if I’d wait for him? Seriously?

You read the news about him obsessively, though. The first few months after the breakup you unblocked him several times, waiting, hoping he’d text you. If he had done that, you’d have been crawling on your knees back to him, back to the mess your relationship turned into. But he never did.

Drowning in the mere presence of him, created by the news articles, fanfiction you’d read, edits you’d watched — anything to build up an image of him being beside you. However, the more you drowned, the more disgusted you’d become. Seeing his face on the screen didn’t bring you the necessary joy anymore — you were exhausted of his dimples, his voice, the mere image of him. Several months passed before you caught yourself not thinking of him anymore. It’d hurt a little bit if someone spoke of him or if you saw his face — but only because your heart was aching for you. You didn’t think about Namjoon anymore, and that’s when you were ready to move on.

You met Park Dae-Hyun at a party, the one your company made you come to. As a brand ambassador, you had to attend; the next morning you’d read how every tabloid tossed your photos around, saying how skinny you looked, speculating that it was the breakup affecting you that way. Everybody knew you were back on the single market, and everybody wanted to find out who your ex was. As if.

Dae-Hyun is 10 years older than you, with an established business and a divorce left behind. He has no kids, no scandals, no skeletons hidden in his closet. He’s stable, restricted, serious. He’s a grown man who’s been on the same page with you since day one.

You went out as a couple to another brand event two months in your relationship. Pictures were taken, tabloids were eating the shit up, savoring every little detail of your body language around each other. And when his hands were roaming around your waist in the back of the car, heavy kisses trailed alongside your neck, you, as moved on and conscientious you were, imagined Namjoon’s hands on your waist and his lips on your skin.

When Dae-Hyun proposed, it was straight out of your teenage dreams — on top of the highest building in Seoul, a table in the center of the rooftop with champagne and red roses. You wished they were pink though, but you never told Dae-Hyun that light pink ones were your favourite. He proposed a year into relationship, willing to give you the life you’ve always wanted. You knew he was telling the truth.

Park Dae-Hyun was a better man: he always found the time for you, no matter how much work he had; always brought you flowers whenever you felt down, returned from tour or had a successful comeback. When you fist started dating, you were in the middle of searching for a new apartment, and he helped, using all of his ties and connections in the estate business to land the best option for you. You didn’t ask for it, but he did it anyways. With Dae-Hyun, you’ve learnt how to ask for help, gradually and slowly.

So you agreed to be his wife, to be the better woman with the better man. You put Kim Namjoon to the darkest and dustiest shelf in the story of your life, letting the memory of him rot in the back of your head. You were happier now; you didn’t feel lonely whenever Dae-Hyun would leave. Now, you felt like a whole person, even when your partner wasn’t around. This is the epitome of a healthy relationship, isn’t it?

Yeah, it is. And all of it would’ve been just perfect if only Kim Namjoon didn’t come back from his military service two months ago.

Everyone was talking about it, every news source filled in with his photos and short comments about the comeback he’s already planning. And of course, of-fucking-course, he had to attend the same party as you. As if he’d known you’d be there.

Simple greetings and bows exchanged by the two of you, and you walked away, planning to leave as soon as possible. As you managed to escape seeing him again, Namjoon didn’t miss the chance to show up at your door in the middle of the night.

“Get out”

“I’m only here to talk”.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve said everything to you already”.

“But I haven’t!” He retorted. “You didn’t even let me speak!”

“I know everything”, you took several steps towards him, “everything you’re going to say. It’s always these false promises and empty words that you speak of”.

You stood in front of him, eyes piercing through his. Namjoon let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What happened to us, baby?”

You winced at the pet name, goosebumps appearing all over your body the moment he mumbled it. You have forgotten how much the sound of his voice only made blood rush to the sensitive bundle of nerves down your body.

“You”. The answer was sharp. “You happened. You ruined me. And us”. He looked at you, gaze fixated on your trembling lips. “‘Cause you forgot when you promised… that we’d always be together. ‘To grow up, and grow old together’, do you remember?” You let out a breathy chuckle, tears already collecting on your eyelashes. “Because I do. I remember, uh… I remember when I thought you meant it. ‘Cause I did”.

The last sentence came out as a whisper as you almost collapsed there; Namjoon was quick to catch you and hold you in his arms, while you let out muffled cries. He wrapped his arms around you even tighter when you body started shaking because of all of the sobbing. You heard his breath hitch, chest heavy as he let you cry out in his arms for as long as you could.

And when you calmed down, you raised your head to find him looking at you, cheeks wet from tears. You gently wiped them away, subconsciously smiling — just because you felt cozy in his arms again. And as he cupped your cheek and returned a smile, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

I’m a swift moment your back was pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist. The kiss was sloppy, saliva dripping from both of your mouths as your tongues battled for dominance. You were both grinding on each other, moaning every time his growing bulge would touch your closeted clit.

As your clothes were left somewhere in the living room, you were on the bed, fingers tangled in his hair. Namjoon was between your legs again, biting your thighs gently.

“Joon-“

“Don’t say a word”, he growled, ripping your panties off your body, “you didn’t let me finish this last time. Take it as a good girl now”.

You’d forgotten his dominant persona; when he was this demanding during sex, you loved turning into the obedient mess he was making out of you.

Slow circles drawn by his tongue on your clit, torturous pleasure making you arch your back. His hands were massaging your hips, as he lapped at your folds, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Parting your lips, he tongue-fucked you, moving rapidly from licking your folds to sucking on your clit. One of your hands tugged on his hair, burying yourself in the soft curls, while the other was pressed to your mouth in order not to let a single sound escape. All of your neighbors knew who your fiancé was; and tonight, he wasn’t in town.

Heat pooling in the lower back, you felt your cheeks burning. The familiar ache between your thighs signaled at you chasing a climax, and the sloppy sounds Namjoon was making brought you even closer to the edge. As you slightly raised your head to look at him, you found him watching you the entire time while making broad strokes with his tongue, eating you out as if you’d been his last dessert.

“You wanna come, baby?”, he asked, slipping two fingers inside, slowly spreading your pussy open, ready for him. “Where d’you wanna come?”

You panted. “On y-your..”

Namjoon moved from in between your legs and you gasped at a loss of contact; he positioned himself at your entrance, his even more bulky body hovering over you now.

“On my mouth?” He asked again, a playful smile on his lips. You noticed saliva dripping down his chin and leaned forward to lick it, savoring your own taste on the tongue. Namjoon moaned and grabbed the back of your head to pull you in another sloppy kiss.

“On your dick”, an open-mouthed kiss left on his jaw, “I wanna come on your dick”.

A smug smile on his face. “Your wish is my command, baby”.

He pushed in inch by inch, making your breath hitch in your throat. In a mere moment you were stuffed with him again, and it felt-

“So, so good”, you whined, hand grabbing the back of his neck, “Joon, uh, shit!”

“I haven’t even moved yet”, he whispered against your lips, “and you’re already begging? Pretty girl”, he tucked strained hair behind your ear, “all mine”.

And his hips snapped. In a merciless rhythm, he thrusted in an out of your entrance, hitting that sweet spot with every frenzied pound of his. He sucked on your lips, teeth grazing, as his thumb was pressed onto your clit, circling around.

“Aw”, he cooed, hand grabbing your breast, “your legs are trembling. Does it feel that good?”

“Yeah”, you breathed out, pressing your tits to his chest, grabbing his back to pull him even closer if it were possible. You were kissing each other, lips nibbling, hot breaths on skin.

“O-oh shit”, he huffed, the sound of smacking flesh being music to his ears. He licked the skin on your collarbones, as your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks all over them. “You’re all mine, baby”, his breathy moans filled in the room, “mine, and mine only”.

You let out a chuckle. “Ah-I.. I’m not.. y-yours…”.

He growled into your ear, hands grabbing your hips roughly to lift them up a little, fingers leaving marks.

He slammed into you frantically. “You” Another slam. “Are”. Slam. “Mine”. Slam.

You bit on his shoulder to hold back your moans. “D’you understand this, baby?” He kept on drawing circles on your swollen clit. “You’re my girl”.

Having heard his last words, you felt your walls fluttering around his cock, and your eyes rolled back as you only saw the dark while Namjoon fucked you through your high. Sweet nothings whispered into your ear, with the one last powerful thrust he emptied himself inside of you, painting you as his once again. You both were shivering but holding each other tightly as Namjoon left a languid kiss on your lips.

He fucked you in the shower several minutes later; made you come on his fingers when you were trying to get dressed; you sucked him off as he sat on the couch. The couch you fiancé bought you.

After that you swore to never see Namjoon again. You tried to forget that you cheated on your future husband with your ex-boyfriend, but not even a week later you found yourself on your knees in the studio.

“Fu-uck, baby”, Namjoon croaked, as you swirled your tongue over the tip of his cock, “you’re being such a good girl to me. Sucking me off so, so perfectly”. He brushed the hair out of your face, maintaining an eye contact. “Only you, my girl, shit, only you”.

After that? You broke it off again. You were torn between the perfect, healthy relationship you’ve had with Dae-Hyun and that unhealthy, hot mess you and Namjoon shared. You wouldn’t continue this affair, you’d break up with him again and move on to your wedding preparations.

But you just had to come back and taste him one more time. You had to make excuses, to cover it up with rehearsals and late night studio sessions, with dance practices leaving you sweaty and out-of-breath. Joon would fuck you in the practice room, making you watch yourself in the mirror, and then you’d get seated in Dae-Hyun’s car, while he drove you home.

You were the most horrible person on the entire planet. Although, you swore to yourself it’ll all end when you get married; after the official ceremony, you’ll be committed to Dae-Hyun only. The time passed, you’d get dicked down by your ex at any possible moment and then you’d come back to your fiancé to have him gently make love to you. Such stupid double-life moment will always result in disaster.

And so it does now. You’re standing next to the sink, a pregnancy test in your hands. His arms suddenly wrap around your waist, head on your shoulder.

“Is it mine?” Namjoon whispers, kissing your neck slowly, knowing exactly whose baby you were pregnant with.

“Yeah”, you breathe out. Dae-Hyun would always use protection, as the two of you planned to have kids after the marriage. Now, you guessed, the whole plan went south.

“Good”, Joon responds, his grip on you tightening. “Means we’ll get married now”.

What a shit show. All of the thoughts were mixed into a mess in your head, not knowing whether to get an abortion, break up with Joon and go back to Dae-Hyun like nothing happened, or to start a messy little family with your ex-boyfriend. What have I done?

As you have stated many times, Dae-Hyun was a better man. Namjoon, on the other hand, was toxic and possessive, needy to keep you around for him and him only. And, as much as you wanted to become a better woman alongside Dae-Hyun, you were destined to be a beautiful disaster beside Kim Namjoon.

[brideofdiscord-rewritten]

Bride of Discord Rewritten

Chapter 3: The Return

So far, the Gala was a success. Even the snobbiest of ponies were enjoying themselves. While Pinkie Pie kept the entertainment going, Rainbow Dash and Applejack were hanging with the young creatures of far and wide, who acted as transfer students to the ponyville school districts. They were eager to see them both. applejack slinging her arm around rainbow's withers, pulling her close as rainbow leaned her head onto the other's.

The rather snobbish ponies simple snickered at their best outfits from home. "Why, they are just like school on a Sunday! No class."

"I wanna be just like you!" they kept saying to either one or the other, oblivious.

"Aw, shucks," Applejack blushed.

"Think big, kids," Rainbow said. "With a lot of practice and guts, you can go anywhere!"

"Girls," Twilight interjected. "Have either of you seen Fluttershy? It's almost time for her performance."

"What, She weren't in her dressin' room?" Applejack asked.

"No, I checked."

"She's probably out in the garden. Ya know how she feels more comfortable round' the critters."

"relax guy, I've got this." Rainbow volunteered.

In the garden, rainbow began before she stopped herself. "hey hey hey! It's Raaainnnnbow da-!"

Indeed, Fluttershy was observed in the garden, surrounded by marigolds that made her face glow. warming up her voice, She was so nervous, she felt like it was going to crack. Even in that state, her voice was fine tuned Spanish guitar. EADGBE, her tuning. Her chords rattled and sent vibrations through Rainbow's chest and throat. She felt like she did when she flew, like nothing could ever be wrong again. Am, G, C, G, A. Ripples through clear northern waters. Am, G, Em, C, G, Am.

"Oh, what am I doing?" she muttered to herself. Her enchanting chords broke into radio crackles. "I can't go up in front of every pony and sing."

"Why not? We all know you're great."

She turned to see Rainbow Dash in her Wonderbolts uniform. She embraced her with a smile.

"I'm happy to see you."

"Really?" Rainbow asked. "Because the others told me that you haven't been very happy lately."

Fluttershy glanced down at her hooves. "Well, um…"

"They say it's because you keep having nightmares about Discord?"

She looked up at her with serious eyes. Her gentle baby blue eyes now cerulean in hue as she looked beyond her eyebrows, head lowered.

"It was different. In my dreams, he usually just holds me and laughs. That's what I dreamt he did last night, but this time, he was…" She shivered. "Stroked my mane.. with his talons, and I was powerless... All I worked for was nothing."

Rainbow put her hoof around her. She gave her a comforting squeeze. Her coat was glimmering Prussian blue. Just enough undercoat to have her a fluffy feel. Of course, she'd have it sheared had it not been very cold. The loose hair would fall off in her performance anyhow.

"Hey, it was just a dream. And in dreams, things don't mean diddly squat yo! I had a dream where I was rarity's cat , but I was orange. And I headbutted a table. WHATEVER! You'd be able to pound him to a pulp if it were real! You've got to hang loose. This is a party!" She pat Fluttershy's back. "Crap, That reminds me. It's time for your song."

"Oh, I don't really feel like singing…"

"Don't tell me you've still got stage fright! Come on, don't you remember how you helped us all with that hurricane?"

"Singing's different from flying."

"You're a great singer! You were able to sing that pet song with me."

"That was when I was only around you and the critters. But there are hundreds of ponies here, watching me and…"

"Don't worry. I'll be right there to support you. We all will."

Fluttershy gulped. "Okay."

"for real though, we need to hit the buffet. I'm so hungry..."

Fluttershy turned to rainbow. Her features more defined under solid jet black light.

"...how hungry?"

Discord was bored with the entire scene, though he had to admit this year's gala was much more interesting than last year's and the year before. Still, there just wasn't enough chaos! So to entertain himself, he pulled a few pranks on the posh ponies, like making a hare appear in the punch bowl, but he could not draw attention to himself until the time was right.

He chuckled as he watched the baby dragon attempt to attract attention from the older mare, rarity for a dance. Applejack did her best as his "wingmare," giving in only because it was adorable to witness his first crush. She remembered the feeling, and hey! What she would give to dance with rarity as well! Unfortunately for spike, only one of them got what they truly wished for.

He looked around the room and noticed that the little dragon Spike was attempting to get a dance with Rarity. He rolled his eyes. Give it up, kid. It's never going to happen. Though he had to admire his persistence. Meanwhile, that party pony Pinkie Pie was, rather consciously, making a show of herself.

"IM P TO THE INKIE TO THE P, THE I, THE E, and while I'm at it ponies, won't you be friends with me?! I'm PINKIELICIOUS!"

It was then that Twilight pulled the microphone away. With considerable effort. and Thank you! Discord silently said to himself. You finally do something right!

The princess tapped the mic, getting every pony's attention.

Ladies and gentlestallions, put your hooves together for the Grand Galloping Gala!"

A cheer erupted from the crowd. The children, in their higher pitch grated on the ears. The Lord of Chaos grunted. He didn't mind children, ones who caused annoyance for simple pleasure were especially entertaining. But why couldn't they just be born sounding like Maregan Freeman?!

"Well, there's more to come," Twilight continued. "We have a wide range of entertainment planned for you tonight, including an air show, full of daring dives and booms from the one and only esteemed Wonderbolts!"

The crowd stomped their hooves and the Wonderbolts flew up and bowed slightly. Discord simply yawned. I might as well do it now, he thought, but the alicorn kept talking.

"But first, we're going to hear a song from a very good friend of mine. Mares and gentle colts, the Element of Kindness herself: the illustrious, Fluttershy!"

Spike, a smaller onlooker, turned his head to see his crush's beautiful smile of perfect whites, only to witness her hooves intertwined with Applejack's, nuzzling her cheek as the workhorse clinked ciders with rainbow dash, and noogied her mane.

At that, at least he could still see her smile.

Oh, goody! The little wimpy pegasus is going to sing! This ought to be hilarious. Then he noticed the awestruck looks on the stallions. What are they staring at? Discord followed their gaze like a Lazer, laying his eyes upon the softest feather of a sight.

The yellow pegasus was walking nervously up to the mic. a flowing, nearly translucent green dress flowers off her figure like a waterfall, gentle as a breeze. It highlighted her round features like a butterfly wing, so delicate and fragile, yet poised and headstrong. with white daisies braided in her smooth baby pastel crimson mane. It was the first time in years that Discord had seen the Element of Kindness. His mirror did not do her justice. And she was…she was…

He shook the thought out of his head. How alluring her features were, so aware of that she'd have to be to captivate the mind in such a manner. She was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Fluttershy looked out towards the audience and felt her hock and fetlocks buckling under the pressure. Then she noticed her five best friends and the Cutie Mark Crusaders in the front row, giving her assuring smiles. She glanced over at the pianist, who nodded and played her starting note. Her voice was weak at first.

"Can…any pony…" she cleared her throat, "find me…some pony to…?"

The music swelled gently, like the unfolding of wings. Her voice echoed through silver halls until it couldn't.

Her wings had to unfurl. She has to hover.

"LOVE."

Her wings sprung out, loose feathers flew as the piano matched their cue. The drums kicked to the lighted as they burst into a purple blaze.

"Each morning I get up I die a little

Can barely stand on my hooves,…"

The backup began,

"take a look at yourself!"

"Take a look in the mirror and cry

Lord, why do what you do?!

I have spent all my years in believing you

But I just can't get no relief, Lord!

Some pony…"

"Some pony!"

Fluttershy started to smile. "Some pony…"

"Some pony!" sang her friends.

"Can any pony find me…some pony to love?"

The ponies stomped their hooves to the beat as it banged through the auditorium, and cheered. Fluttershy blushed.

From her great chest rose the shaking of the halls, as she belted out her every thought.

"Got no feel, I got no rhythm

I just keep losing my beat…"

The audience, "She just keeps losing her beat!"

"I'm okay, I'm alright."

"She's alright, she's alright!"

"Ain't gonna face no defeat!

I just gotta get out of this prison cell!

One day I'm gonna be free, Lord!

Some pony…"

"Some pony!"

"Some pony…"

"Some pony!"

"Can any pony find me…?" Fluttershy pulled the mic off the stand. "Some pony to love?!"

A wide grin spread across her face as she continued singing. Soon the audience was nothing but background vocals and loud cheers, just instrumental, as she was lost in a world of her own. In the spur of the moment, she flew high into the air. She soared, she face stretched to fit the sheer emotion she could never express.

"She works hard!"

"Every day…"

"Every day!"

"I try and I try and I try!

But every pony wants to put me down

They say I'm going crazy

They say I got a lot of water in my brain

Got no common sense

I got no pony left to believe!

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"

Discord watched her performance in astonishment. Was this the same pegasus he had met in the labyrinth? Was this the same pegasus who ran at the sight of butterflies? Who hardly ever uttered an audible word? Was this pony singing in that strong, confident voice, spinning circles in the air, shining in the spotlight, really the 'weak and helpless' Fluttershy? How her wings beat to the rhythm, her thin skin distorted to give way to raw, unadulterated enjoyment, and yearning...

He watched as she danced during the interlude. Every move she made was delicate and graceful, not a single flaw present. She was a ballerina, somehow performing a lone Pas De Deaux, she was Odette, fragile swan, somehow utilizing every muscle and sinew to create a powerful pose every second, balancing everything on her seemingly delicate frame. It made him sick.

"Find her some pony to love…"

"Find her some pony to love…"

As they repeated the line, Fluttershy kept twirling in the air, forgetting all her troubles. Nothing in that moment mattered but the wind in her coat.

Then she felt something grab her hoof and spin her around, but she was so lost she thought nothing of it. She did not even hear the screams from the ponies. It was after her mysterious partner had dipped her that Fluttershy opened her eyes and her smile disappeared, replaced with agony.

Standing over her, holding her in his arms, was the very object of her nightmares.

"My dear Fluttershy, I had no idea you had such a lovely voice!"

She was frozen in place and had lost all knowledge of speech. She could not even scream. A cry from a familiar voice broke her out of her trance.

"Get off of her!"

Rainbow Dash bolted from her personal area betwixt applejack and rarity, cut between them and protectively moved her friend behind her.

"What?" the draconequus shrugged innocently. "We were only dancing."

"Discord," Twilight growled between her teeth.

"Ah, Twilight Sparkle. Or should I say your highness? Surprised to see me? Well, it certainly has been a while since last we met. Sorry I didn't send you a postcard." He glanced down at the fillies onstage. "Well, if it isn't my three little saviors!"

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle hid behind their sisters, while Scootaloo sought protection from the closest adult, Pinkie.

Rainbow interjected, "don't change the subject! It ain't Saturday night, and you sure as hell ain't getting feverish! Now what do ya want?!"

"I thought it was obvious. I've come to take over Equestria!"

The crowd gasped. The children cowered in fear and huddled around Applejack, with rarity in hoof, as they assumed a battle stance."

"Ha!" Twilight smirked. "You should have stayed in hiding, Discord! Now that you've revealed yourself, we can turn you to stone!"

"Oh, really?" Discord said. "As I recall, you need the Elements of Harmony for that."

"Yes! Exact…" She then looked around at her friends and realized that they weren't wearing their necklaces. How foolish they were to ever take them off! That maniac wanted this! He was planning this whole damn charade!

But she stood defiantly. "We don't need the Elements of Harmony to teach you a lesson!"

Light enveloped Twilight's horn as she prepared a spell. Discord raised an eyebrow.

"You're kidding, right?"

She shot a purple beam; He swatted it away as if it were a housefly. It bounced onto a nearby Greek column and burst it into pebbles.

"You really think that's going to stop me? Have you forgotten?"

He then snapped his eagle talons and Twilight's horn disappeared.

"Hey!" she cried. "Give that back!"

"Really, Twilight Sparkle? Are you as big a stick in the mud as Celestia? Truly, you should know how to party at this point!"

He snapped his fingers again and a puddle of mud appeared beneath the alicorn's hooves. Pinkie Pie snickered.

"Stick in the mud! That's funny!"

Twilight groaned and used her wings to pull herself out. "Just you wait until Princess Celestia gets back! She'll give you your just desserts! She might even use you as a PARTY PLATTER!"

Discord clutched his stomach as he laughed. "What's the matter, Twilight? Can't run a kingdom by yourself? You need big sissy Celestia to come and make everything all better?"

"Hey!" Rainbow Dash belted. "Lay off it!"

Discord only smirked and squeezed fluttershy in response, earning him a pained yelp.

Rainbow had enough. "THATS IT! say goodbye to ya kneecaps, CHUCKLEHEAD!"

She charged toward him, but he only had to step off to the side to dodge her. Rainbow hit a pillar, almost causing it to fall. She swerved in a roundabout manner, shaking off the dizzy sight and once more flying towards him, contorting her body to kick him. He teleported her with a snap, off to the floor where she simply poofed, and stood there, before trying to steal a weapon from the royal gaurds.

"Have you ponies learnt nothing from our last encounter?" He cackled. "You even thought I was gone for good!" He looked towards Fluttershy. "Except for you, my dear."

The pegasus was stunned. She winced with every move. "How…how did you…?"

She tensed as he took her chin in his claw and said lowly, "I've been watching you."

"You touch her one more time and you're gonna get it, Dipcord!"

He held up his hands. "Very well. I have other things to attend to anyway." He turned to Twilight. "I'm afraid Celestia won't be able to help you, given her current predicament in," he used air quotes, "Saddle Arabia."

The duchess tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled and snapped his fingers, causing an image to materialize. The crowd gasped as they saw Princesses Celestia, Luna and Cadence sitting in a cage, their horns missing from their heads in what seemed to be real time upon a cloud screen. Shining Armor narrowed his eyes at Discord and hissed.

"What have you done with my wife you MANIAC?!"

"She's perfectly fine, I assure you. So is her foal, by the way, though it would be a shame if something were to happen to her mother before her birth."

The prince's eyes widened. He looked at the floor as he seemed to momentarily forget the threats being made against his wife and unborn filly. "Her? A filly?"

"Yes, you're having a girl! Congratulations and blah, blah, blah!"

"If you lay a... WHATEVER THAT TINY THING IS ON YOUR PAW on MY Cadence…!"

Discord snapped the image away. "Wouldn't dream of it, but if any of you ponies even try to defeat me in any way, your princesses will never see the light of day again!"

In a flash, he was wearing a tie and standing in front of a map of Equestria.

"Now for the weather! Today's forecast is cotton candy cloudy with a chance of chocolate milk! You know what? Might even be raining cats and dogs! Hope every pony gets home safely!"

With a final triumphant laugh, the draconequus disappeared and lightening struck indoors. The crowd glanced outside as it started to rain chocolate cats and dogs. Every pony screamed and ran out of the ballroom in panic.

Pinkie and rarity stuttered, "what, like, he's just gonna leave? Didn't actually hurt anypony??"

Applejack held spike. "Dang, he just quit?"

Rainbow dash spat venom in his general direction, "yeah, I dare ya, rage quit. C'mon, make us both happy!"

"Every pony!" Twilight commanded. "Calm down! Everything is under control!"

No pony listened to their duchess and they started flocking outside.

"Keep it together! Stay inside until further notice! I…"

But the crowd took their chances and hurried home through the chocolate storm. Even the Wonderbolts dashed out of there, retreating above the clouds to perceived safety. Only the students, Shining Armor, the palace guards, the princess and her friends remained.

"Applejack, Rainbow Dash!" Twilight shouted. "Get the students down to the cellar! They can stay there until the storm blows over. It's not safe for them to return to the flimsy school."

"Copy that," Rainbow saluted as she and Applejack began escorting the frightened fillies and colts out.

"Fluttershy, you keep an eye on Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. Don't let them out of your sight."

The pegasus nodded. She was scared out of her wits, but she was willing to protect those three at all costs.

"I'll round up the guards to help all the citizens of Canterlot get inside," Shining Armor volunteered. He looked hollow, yet terrified, like his thoughts raced.

As every pony set on their tasks, Twilight hung her head. How could she have let this happen? Equestria was in peril because she had not been prepared. Even if she did have the Elements of Harmony, she could not power them without her horn. She let her mind wander into dark corners.

"Good idea, Shining Armor," Twilight said. "We'll rendezvous in the throne room in an hour! The most important thing to do now is to keep calm!"

Pinkie pie looked introspectively out the window, resting her hoof on the foggy glass. The dimmed light shot up as she spoke, and her face bathed in shadow.

"chocolate rain. Some stay dry.... And others feel the pain..."

Some princess I've turned out to be.

[mongoose-bite]

She's so beautiful. And yeah, I got her the Blood of Lethander, despite it taking ages, cause I couldn't find a battleaxe until someone told me there was one in front of the guardian. I had Gale use mage hand to grab it. Got the mace, left, remembered we'd used Shadowheart's mace to solve the puzzle and had to go back and retrieve it. I play BG3 like I play minecraft; constantly forgetting to pick up shit.

That gdilf dragonrider gith showed up again, and then a genuine celebrity, Elminster! In a rare moment of unity, I truly love how the entire party's reaction is 'fuck that,' to Mystra's plan. Even Asterion, which is a relief. Faye doesn't need him to like her, she's content with him making friends. Everybody loves Gale. I suspect he's been giving everyone magic lessons, and good for him. Although, does he offer to do so if you're a wizard too? That would be very condescending.

We went to the shadowlands and Asterion said he wanted to make a deal with the devil. I left him at camp and when I came back to fetch him, having located said devil, he'd come up with another brilliant idea; to rule on high as tadpole monarchs. He does raise a good point about the sheer number of potential infected, and Faye will accept living with it in her head is preferable to dying or tentacles, so she'll humour his wild theory for now. He clearly finds this atmosphere intellectually stimulating, but I kind of wish he didn't as each idea seems worse than the last. If he mentions crypto I'm kicking him out of camp.

He disapproved (of course) of humouring the half-spectre kid in the abandoned house. Just shut up and bear with it; we're lucky no one got possessed or followed back to camp. Not that we could avoid it forever; now we have a new-minted orphan hanging around, although Withers seems to be taking care of her? I guess he never leaves.

Speaking of failing to avoid awkward situations, Wyll invited Faye to dance, and she had to disappoint him. He apologised the next day, using almost the exact same words as Faye did to Halsin. They're good now and Faye can go back to spending hours trying to figure out he dream-friend. He's so chill and relaxed and wants hugs now, but she knows she wears her heart on her sleeve; you can literally read her oath in a book. Saying the right things to her is pretty easy and she knows it.

So. The artifact is gith, if it's an illithid inside, why didn't they just say so? The implication from the gdilf is it's someone else, probably the prince. Is the dream visitor not in the artifact at all, and just taking credit for it? but if that was the case surely we wouldn't have been sent right to it by whatsherface? It makes our heads hurt. What has Shar got to do with this? Maybe it is a weapon against the Absolute, which seems to be the biggest threat here. Illithids = Absolute? Divinity doesn't seem their thing. 

Halsin finally joined us, and Thaniel isn't actually a real kid, so he can hang around camp for a while. The party seems to be divided into two camps on our newest recruit: woof he big, and Shadowheart. Maybe he ate her cheese or something.

He's so nice? So calm? Doesn't guilt-trip you when you leave him in camp. Polite and grateful for all you've done. I need to get him some gear though, and figure out how to druid. Faye is very happy to have him around.

[sonicasura]

2/2

Yeah Kafka would indeed forget when shedding seasons is near. Even more so if his work at Monster Sweepers had been very busy as of late too. Though once the main events happens, Tabiki is not alone in making sure Kafka remember either.

Kafka first shedding season on base was quite the adventure too. Noone but Tabiki knew what to do and it was good thing he was there or else someone was about to loose a limb when they accidently set Kafka off. Shedding season is most likely one of the worse things about being a kaiju in general, nevermind being a hybrid.

The Science Dpeartment is having a blast though. And most the more foolish of them quikly learn to leave Kafka well alone when this happen. Its not really worth it to agonize the himbo when he is like this just to get a sample that will be handed to them later on anyways.

Most the key word there.

And yes I think indeed the DF deals with sewer operations given that kaijus are quite diverse in not only size but types, temperment and much more. At least from what we've seen so far in the managa and anime. It sure makes things interesting with what everyone has to deal with.

No doubt that this little adventure was some of the worse of it indeed. I won't be surprised that Kafka will get withering glares from all the retired officer that was part of that ordeal. Isao and Keiji is no doubt among them.

Now while the sewer incident is just one of them, theres other capture mission Isao has had with Kafka that have been less then ideal for the-to-be General of the DF.

One of which includes Isao and Jugo having to chase Kafka around in a amusement park where Kafka managed to lure the pair into a haunted house section. Which ended up in both men getting trapped somehow and Kafka scaring the living daylight out of them too boot.

Another involved once again paint, though this time its Isao turn to look like a rainbow barfed on him. Along with getting drenched in those party paper things used on birthdays (have I mention english is not my first languages?). Look up the offical music vidoe Light it up by Major Lazar for how Isao ended up looking if I confused you.

And the less said about baker incident the better really. Isao to this day still can't eat certain sweets thanks to that.

Mina and Soshiro give Kafka permission to taze any scientists who get too close. Especially if they try to take pictures or take samples of his sheds when he ain't done. The entire Defense Force knows it's stupid to aggravate a shedding kaiju, plus it would be a good lesson in boundaries to the unhinged Science Department members.

Kafka being extra happy and cuddly once the season is over. There also be a schedule installed as this ain't gonna be a one time occurrence. Although Kafka really hopes nobody shares those shedding picks cause he looks really stupid in some of them. Like wearing an oversized skin jacket or the 'shed pope hat'.

It would be so ironic if the dessert Isao can't eat is one of those Tiramisu cakes with his face on it that Kikoru bought in Kaiju No.8 Relax. The sheer irony as she shares the pastries only to see him cringe at the cakes.

[thisismysecondrodeo]

I love your wedding blurb so much BUT what about the angst of the roles being reversed? Ted is panicking and Roy or beard come to tell Keeley to let you know cause they don’t know what to do. When you do finally make it to him:

“Ted, honey what’s wrong? Do you… not want to get married? Are you having second thoughts?”

“Oh I don’t have any doubts about marrying you, of course. You’re the only thing I’m sure of most days. But I won’t lie to you darlin’ I am a tad bit nervous about being a husband again because I wasn’t all that good at it the first time.”

AN: Thank you for this request!! Now that I've finished Twitter Famous I have time to catch up on requests haha I think it turned out a little angstier than the first fic but I really liked this idea!

Rating: General

Tags: Keeley Jones, Coach Beard, Romance, Fluff, Weddings, Light Angst, Panic Attack, Happy Ending Wedding Day (OG) | Fic Masterlist

-

Ted wiggled his hips, dancing as usual to Easy Lover as he buttoned his suit pants and tried his hardest not to think. He had been looking forward to this day for an entire year since he popped the question and now that it was here he wasn’t less excited, but if he thought too hard…well, he didn’t want to think about thinking either. He wanted to get dressed and walk down the aisle and greet you with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes and he absolutely did not want to think. 

But as he tied his tie, his hands shook and his temples were sweaty and, shoot, he definitely didn’t want to have to change shirts even though he did have extras. He thought he was making good time, he thought he was totally calm, but all of a sudden he was on the floor. He didn’t know how he got there, but his back was pressed to the wall and Beard was in front of him, and Roy was in the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed, which generally wasn’t a huge concern because Roy kind of always looked like that, but now he was self-conscious. 

“I’m, uh, my shirt,” Ted tried to say but it was a hoarse whisper and Beard wasn’t sure what he was actually attempting to communicate. “God, and my hair! I just—” 

Beard was doing his best but he was at a bit of a loss and Roy, ever the stoic, was certainly no use. “Go tell Keeley to get Y/N,” Beard said, his voice quiet to try to not send Ted further into his panic, but the other man didn’t even seem to notice. 

“But they shouldn’t see each other, I tho—”

Beard wanted to yell at Roy, wanted to point at Ted and ask, “do you really think that matters right now?” But he just fixed him with a withering look and Roy scrambled to obey. 

-

Keeley tapped lightly on the door where you were getting ready. You were glad everyone was staying on-site at the venue because it made it easy to relax as you did your own hair and makeup. You didn’t have to worry about leaving at a particular time and it was ultimately comforting to know Ted was well within reach, even though you hadn’t seen him in 24 hours. 

“Yeah, come in!” 

Keeley peeked around the corner and where you expected a gleeful grin and squeal the woman’s face was set and grim. “Ted’shavingapanicattackandwethinkyoushouldgoseehim,” Keeley said in a singular breath and you only caught “Ted” and “panic attack” but that was enough to get your pulse thundering. You stood up, throwing a silky white dressing gown over your tank top and shorts that had been a gift from Rebecca at your bachelorette party. 

“Take me to him.” 

By the time you made it to Ted’s suite, he was up and drinking water and looking a little rumpled and tired but generally okay and God, you loved him. Roy and Beard looked to you immediately as Keeley let you in the room, but you had eyes only for Ted and you knew you loved him more than he did yesterday and yet less than you would tomorrow. Ted finally noticed you and turned, his one loose tendril falling into his eyes and a frustrated look on his face. 

“Y/N you didn’t have to come, I told them I was fine—”

You ignored his protests, nodding at Beard and Ted and hooking your thumb at the door, and they quickly took the hint. As soon as the door shut, you took Ted’s hands in your own, running your thumbs over his knuckles. 

“Baby, I love you so much. More than I even have words for right now, but it’s okay if you don’t want to get married. I don’t want you to send yourself into a tizzy over that,” you meant it, you’d love him forever no matter what happened, but just saying the words brought tears to your eyes. 

“Honey, honey, of course I want to marry you! Don’t you doubt that for a single second, darlin’ I’m so sorry for scarin’ ya. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and on most days you’re the only thing I’m sure of. I, uh, I guess I was just in here gettin’ ready and I realized that I was about to be a husband again…and I don’t know how good I was at that the first time.” 

You tugged Ted toward the bed in the center of the room, your back against the headboard, and pulled your future husband to rest against your chest. You rocked him gently, your hands wrapped around him and pressing into his chest. “Don’t you apologize for scaring me. I’m sorry you’re scared. But I don’t believe in ‘good husbands.’” 

You felt Ted tense in your arms and you tightened your grasp, pressing a kiss to the graying temples you loved so much. “Here me out,” you chuckled, “I don’t believe in ‘good husbands.’ I believe in two people that love each other committing to filing their taxes together forever.” Ted laughed lightly, relaxing into your hold. “I believe in taking turns doing the dishes and going to sleep angry if it means still sleeping in your arms. I believe people that love each other aren’t good husbands and good wives, they’re just good people. And, my love, you're the best person I know.” 

Ted hummed, surreptitiously wiping his eyes and covering his emotion with a cough, but he knew that you knew you’d gotten through to him. 

“You know what,” Ted said, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a kiss on your open palm. “I believe you’re right.” 

“See, that’ll get you halfway there already,” you teased, kissing his ear and neck and he tilted his head to give you more space. You grinned, “I believe this part comes later. After I commit to living happily ever after with the love of my life.” 

Ted groaned playfully, but sat up and pulled you with him, “well we oughta get to gettin’ then, shouldn’t we?”

<- Wedding Day OG

[hawkepockets]

BG3 CHARACTER PAGE

Jove they/any 🌩️ blue dragonborn 🌩️ paladin 🌩️ guild artisan

🌩️ multiclass: bard

Jove’s Oath of Ancients is a sacred commitment to affirm life, foster joy, be excellent to each other, and PARTY ON, DUDES!! A literally sworn optimist, they can come across as risk-happy, blasé, even callous in their dismissal of danger and negativity, but it’s also easy to get swept up in their huge dragonborn muscles and +9 rizz modifier and believe them when they say it’ll all be okay.

They used to be a gifted artisan, but don’t talk about their career or how it ended. Now they’re a paladin errant, wielding their giant glaive and ferocious positivity against the agents of despair. After losing an eye, breaking their wrist and their oath, Jove’s optimism has grown back harder and more gnarled than before, and they tend to defer to their companions for major decisions, not trusting their own judgment anymore.

Romancing Shadowheart Lae’zel. Best friends with Gale. Healer tank.

My first solo playthrough PC, abandoned at Moonrise Towers (for now).

TAG: #oc: jove

Estis she/her 🌞 gold dwarf 🌞 dream guardian

Ritika Estis was the master metallurgist who taught Jove to work with molten materials, despite their misgivings about being a blue dragonborn without fire breath or resistance. She passed away some years ago in Baldur’s Gate, but Jove’s dream guardian takes her form—whether as a cheap ploy to gain Jove’s trust, or as a genuine echo of their old mentor, they can’t be sure.

Auntie she/her ◾️ githyanki ▪️wild magic barbarian◾️ The Dark Urge

▪️ multiclass: storm sorcerer

This gith knows nothing about her life before the nautiloid, but since Lae’zel addressed her (and mocked her) like an elder relative she answers to “Auntie.” Lonely, curious, reactive. Center of a Venn diagram between “cigarette mom” and “Frankenstein’s monster.” Looks and fights like a gith, but lacks any cultural context or instincts that would make her feel like one.

Romancing Gale & Minthara.

Second playthrough, the only one I’ve completed.

TAGS: #oc: auntie, #ellie’s fucked up playthrough

Deadeye & Singer she/her 🏹 human 🏹 rogue/ranger she/her 🪕 halfling 🪕 bard

Auntie’s 2 hirelings. Deadeye was a young hunter, blinded in an accident and then given her sight back by a True Soul… just so she could watch her entire village burn, then have—her killers thought—her eyes put out and closed forever. Singer was a halfling traveling apothecary, killed for refusing to tend to Absolutists and sing for them after the massacre.

Though both women’s presences are cold and diminished and they can only speak with Withers’s vocabulary, traces of their personality remain. Deadeye was playful once, and still has the light step, deft hand, and trace of a wicked smile to prove it. Astarion swears he’s heard her coo and giggle faintly while playing with Scratch at night, long after the party’s living members are asleep. Singer was stern, matronly, and humorless with others, her face only relaxing when she was absorbed in her herbcraft or music making. Auntie gifted her Lihala’s lute, though it hurts to see a bard outlined against the campfire again, quietly picking out the notes of “The Power,” just feet away from the shadow of Alfira’s bloodstain.

Auntie doesn’t know she is a Bhaalspawn, but she feels instinctively that it’s her duty to care for murdered bodies and souls. She knows the names these revanants bore in life (Maddala and Brenna), but doesn’t use them, out of respect for these women’s vengeful echoes being different from the women themselves, and she’s as protective of them as she is of her “real” companions.

Terpsichore 🐏 she/her 🐏 satyr 🐏 rogue

She sings! She dances! She rams you with her horns!

Like Shadowheart, Terpsichore is on a holy mission for her patron goddess, armed only with her wits, blades, and the memories that her enclave—her Selûnite enclave—considered necessary for her to complete the task she’s been set: a pilgrimage to Moonrise Towers to assassinate an agent of Shar.

One second, she was crossing the Tower’s threshold (or windowsill, in the adept rogue’s case)—the next that she knew, she was being sealed in a pod aboard the nautiloid for processing. Failed. Abandoned. Godless. For now. If she doesn’t salvage this.

Terpsichore was told she’d know her target on sight, but she can’t be sure it isn’t Shadowheart—after all, while wrestling for the chance to kill each other they saw flashes of their own memories in each other’s minds, and Terpsichore feels… a lot… when she lays eyes on this particular enemy. ;-)

Romance: 3 guesses

TAG: #oc: terpsichore

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Something from the Engagement Series??

Hello! Thank you so much for playing ❤️ it took me a little while to settle on what to write, but this has been rattling around my head for days. Enjoy!

It started on their last visit to Novyi Zem.

The council had been coming down on Jesper especially hard since the engagement was announced— what used to be whispered rumours had become outward antagonising. Councilman Veld treated him like an imbecile, going as far as to mention his dropping out of university in the middle of a gala. Boer, Gekkehuis, and even Hansen, though, had started to act as if he was a criminal, about to murder Wylan for his money. Like that had been the plan from the moment they met.

That bothered Jes. Wylan could feel it in the way he’d kiss him after nights like that— both hands on his cheeks, tilting his face up to guide every moment, lush and deep. There was a tension up his spine, even while he made Wylan melt right into him.

Plenty of people thought Jesper was stupid, or a garden variety Barrel bum. They would be wrong, but Jes was used to that— there was so much that could roll off his back. But these men thought Jesper didn’t love Wylan. They thought he was using him.

The constant barrage of insidious commentary had started to get under his skin.

Council dinners had become interrogations. Garden parties were so frosty, Jesper had tried to joke that the flowers were going to die.

It didn’t quite reach his eyes, and his smile was a wane thing. It was Jes who was wilting, frostbitten as autumn set in.

So, Wylan did the only thing he could do— he called a meeting at the Church of Barter, a special meeting. There, he made abundantly clear, with every inch of intimidation he had learned from Kaz, that he and Jesper were taking a trip to Novyi Zem for the rest of autumn, to visit Jesper’s father. And by the time they returned, the council had better start treating Jes with the same respect they’d give to any other mercher spouse.

Their bags were packed before he even told Jes that he’d booked them passage.

It was in Novyi Zem— when Jesper’s tense muscles had finally begun to thaw, and the long hours in the Zemeni sun had brought the freckles out in Wylan’s cheeks— that Colm gave him the idea.

“It’s tough right now, isn’t it?”

Wylan smiled, sitting on the porch step when the old farmer joined him. “What gave us away?”

“Could’ve been the sudden visit, or could’ve been the way Jesper joked about being a gold-digging whore, which… sounded a little too bitter for his usual humour.”

He barely swallowed an apology— Colm would call it needless, he usually did— but the crush of feeling in his chest demanded some sort of explanation. For that moment, he felt like he’d failed Jesper, and failed Colm. His son wasn’t happy with Wylan. Jes was withering under the gazes of these dour old sentinels, and he wasn’t sure yet if he’d been able to make it right.

“I… I think I’ve handled that.” He better have, at least. “But, Jes claims he’s a city boy, through and through. He loves Ketterdam. And I don’t not believe him, but I…”

Out in the distance, under the endless expanse of blue sky, with the jurda growing gold behind him, Wylan could see Jes as he made his way from the barn. He had an empty pail in his hand from feeding the animals, a contented type of grin on his handsome face that Wylan could see all the way over on the porch. Saints. He hadn’t looked that relaxed since the announcement.

“Son?”

“There are some types of joy he only feels here, and I just wish there was a way to bring a little bit of Novyi Zem home with us.” He tugged a hand through his curls, looking out at his lover, the most beautiful thing in the world even while he chased a goat kid who’d escaped their pen.

The answer was right in front of him, he supposed.

“Has Jes ever told you about his old horse?” Colm asked, squeezing Wylan’s shoulder comfortingly. “I bought him a horse of his own when he was a lad. Saints, he loves anything with fur and four legs.”

Which was how they got here— back at the geldstraat estate, with Wylan leading a blindfolded Jesper by the hands. To the stables. Where their two, distinguished old draught horses had a new companion.

Thanks for playing! And feel free to send more or ask questions! ❤️

[too-destiny-panda]

Wyllvember Day 22: Camp

A/N: Another day, another wyllvember post. This one was very fun to think about, the camp shenanigans the party got up to must be glorious to witness sometimes. Credits go to @sagscrib, and tagging @commander-yinello

WC: 656

The Blade of Frontiers was no stranger to camping. When he was out on the road, taverns and inns were often hard to come by, especially in the more isolated and dangerous areas of the continent. And, of course, he was alone, unless Mizora decided to pop in for one of her visits, but even then, it was mostly him trying to ignore her. He had to admit, this was a nice change of pace.

It was far louder and more… chaotic than he was used to, but he guessed that such things come with the territory of sharing a space with a multiple other, very unique, individuals. Everyone had their own tent, though he wondered where some of them got their decorations from (he swore that mounted mindflayer head would be the death of him one of these nights), and most importantly where they found the time and space to colour coordinate their things, especially when some of them were snatched from decidedly un-campy places. He also had to show several of them how to mount a tent properly, and to comfort an exasperated Gale who bemoaned the fact he couldn’t make the inside of his tent bigger with magic.

Lae’zel handled herself well enough, presumably due to her gith training, their leader as well, what with their experience as a ranger. Shadowheart was vaguely familiar with how to make shelter but didn’t seem to remember how to. Gale and Astarion were lost causes. They wouldn’t be able to keep a tent up for longer than a few seconds if their life depended on it. But he supposes they would have to figure it out quickly enough, if their almost daily location changing was any indication. When Karlach joined their troupe, he heaved a sigh of relief at her quick tent-pitching, happy that he wouldn’t have to repeat himself once again.

And once they all settled into their routines, their own daily rituals and camp duties, he felt far more relaxed than he has been in ages. He likely shouldn’t be, especially with their current predicament, but he couldn’t help himself. He had others to lean on, others to wake up for watch, others he could ask to cook dinner, others to talk to than the fireflies flitting along the outskirts of their campsite. For the first time in a long time, he felt normal. He wasn’t the one with the most secrets or most scars, and unlike a lot of the others, he didn’t have any ties to the celestial, for better or worse.

The duties were distributed according to their skills, which was no surprise. Lae’zel and Astarion usually were in the watch roster, one due to his diet, the other because she insisted that her senses were the sharpest of all of them. He and Gale usually shared cooking duties, though the wizard was prone to politely strongarm him away from the pot. Ah well, more time for him to read his books and train, he supposes. Shadowheart, and later on Halsin, were exempt from any camp duties as their healing is invaluable and exhausting, and not having a healer in tip top shape to, well, heal, was a recipe for disaster both on and off the battlefield. Karclach was just good company, though she was also a decent cook, so when Gale was busy or too tired, she would help Wyll with supper.

And then there was, of course, Withers. The young man still wasn’t sure what to make of the undead priest. He speaks as if he serves a god, yet he answers remarkably little questions when it came to his faith, or himself overall. And he could have sworn such powerful resurrection magic doesn’t come easy to any priest, no matter how powerful they are. Oh well, as long as he wasn’t some kind of God in disguise, spying on them, he supposed he didn’t care who he was.

[talkin-tdc]

Calling all AoR and good omens fans!

After watching season 2, I have an AU I made recently I’d like to share! (No spoils for season 2 don’t worry). So it’s basically Crowley and Azi (AU begins after season one ends), get transported to Thra by both satan and god as they’re mad Armageddon is ruined, god just got Netflix, and wanted to trap them in a fictional world where the outcome is predetermined so they can’t save anything and will be helpless but to watch everything wither. Crowley just chills and drinks but Azi is like “ThE gElFlInG,” so Crowley tries to help save them or try to prove they’re beyond saving (whichever gets Azi happy about them finally being able to be away from the shenanigans of heaven and hell).

They arrive at the castle, Crowley parties with the Skeksis while Azi goes around befriending each guard and getting to know them by name, their backstories, and their families, and decides they need to be saved. After slight bickering, Crowley agrees it’s worth a shot. So, they try to conjure up a miracle to make the Skeksis go away. But it doesn’t work. They both realize rather quickly that while they can perform small miracles, big ones aren’t possible (ie no changing the story), so they summon their car and bookshop to have a place to hunker down and find out what to do.

They both go back and forth with Crowley arguing it’s technically all fiction (he’s a dark crystal fan but has only seen the movie) so the gelfling don’t exist ergo they should relax and let it happen. Azi argues they’re creations of the humans and therefore god as god made humans in her image. Crowley spits out for Azi to prove it, when a bold Drenchen man walks in. Azi tends to him and allows him to join the conversation, though sad to inform him he can’t check out any books. The gelfling assured him it’s not a problem since he can’t read anyway. He introduces himself as prince of the swamp, and claims he was worried about them as he heard the other guards whispering bad things about them. He tells them to just ignore the other guards, that they can’t stand what’s different, and that he thinks they’re great and hoped to get to know them better. Azi is all smug and asks Crowley if it’s enough proof. So, off they go to save the gelfling.

The plan is Crowley convinces the Skeksis to give the gelfling their freedom and Azi starts a small rebellion led by gelfling (Azi wanted to lead himself but Crowley got upset bc he thought it was too dangerous so Azi obliged). But…he’s so enthusiastic about the idea that he hands out flyers and starts speaking about it out loud. Crowley convinced the Skeksis to ignore it, but the gelfling are unnerved to say the least. To the first official rebellion meeting (with crumpets and tea of course), there’s only four members. The Drenchen man from before, his StoneWood and Vapra friend, and another StoneWood looking man but with a deathly glare. Azi knew of course Gurjin, Rian, and Mira by name, but the StoneWood man he’d never met. He writes the three names down, before asking the StoneWood for his, making conversation about Rian’s name meaning in StoneWood and asking if the man’s name had any meaning. The man was starkly offended, correcting that he was Spriton and on the verge of leaving. Azi apologized to the Spriton he now knew as Tolyn.

They form a plan to get new recruits and stop the Skeksis from draining the crystal (intel they gathered via Crowley) for unum (months) after. In this time, Crowley and Azi become closer than they had in the past as they were forced to live together since the gelfling all but cast them out as they were deemed too unsafe to be in a village and the Skeksis didn’t wanna waste the resources to make another house like Azi’s bookshop. So romance between them as they grow closer, making Crowley more eager to keep the whole thing going so they don’t have to return to reality. He does this by sometimes thwarting Azi’s rebellious plans, and by making up silly bets to keep him distracted (‘Oh, bet you ten pounds I could get the Spriton and Drenchen together by the end of the unum! Oh I bet five pounds Rian is dating Mira and Ordon knows!’). Eventually, Rian messes up Azi’s plan so bad he gets hurt.

It wasn’t due to Crowley’s intervention that time, but when his angel comes to him weeping and begging for hugs and cuddles and attention, Crowley quickly finds he is sickening addicted to it. He felt bad that Ordon seemed so stressed and worried at Rian getting hurt yet…he couldn’t help but be in complete euphoria. It had been awhile since he and Azi had been forced to be so close, yet they hadn’t discussed anything about them possibly being a thing. Crowley got it into his head (probably from too much time around the Skeksis), that if he picked up the pieces enough, he could mold the way Azi saw him enough to get what he truly wanted, them being together. He decided he needed someone on the inside so he enlists Tolyn, who is very easily swayed, and they stop the rebellion. Though the rebellion still have wins, they have devastating fails, each worse than the last.

Crowley and Tolyn work great as a team, and they make sure the rebels do no real damage to the Skeksis power. Eventually, perhaps through Ordon or another channel, rebellion learns that Tolyn and Crowley were behind their failings. I don’t exactly know what happens from there, probably them being stubborn and fighting till getting back together through finding the dual glaive or something with minimal Gelfling casualties as the Skeksis become no more. After all is said and done, Azi decides they can stay in Thra and Crowley agrees, though not before they go to earth to gather a few things. They then go back to Thra, congratulating the gelfling and making Thra a better, brighter place for the thralings.

If there are ships you don’t like, feel free to ignore them I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and I want everyone to enjoy this! Any suggestions to make it better? What would you guys add or change? Thanks!

[recapcrew]

Week 22 Transcript

Video

Intro

Extra extra, read all about it! Welcome to the Empire’s Recap, and today we will be going over the chaos and drama of our (somewhat) respected rulers!

This week, there’s no time for intros - there’s work to be done!

Pixl

Pixlriffs heads right back into the End with iJevin this time, after a quick trip to make, I mean FIND, some dodos.

[PIX] Abracadabra, LORE! There we go.

[JEVIN] Oh my god, that was amazing!

[PIX] and LORE! There it is.

[NARRATOR] Making this farm requires spawning a new End gateway, which means fighting the Ender Dragon, from Dodo-back this time. With the help of community tools and destroying the intended spawn location, they force the gateway to appear in the middle of nothing, perfect for making an Enderman farm. This’ll help Pix achieve his goal of getting godlike with ender pearls, though first he and Jevin have to actually get an endermite to spawn, which takes unusually long. Finally, the farm is up and running, complete with an overflow flush so that the server isn’t overwhelmed by Endermen.

In the Overworld, Pix decides to face the overwhelming amount of cats that Joe Hills has been breeding by giving the man something else to do with his time.

[PIX] Wh- Why, Joe? Why all the cats?

[NARRATOR] The museum needs a security guard, to keep anything else from getting swiped, and a man with his love of poetry and history seems perfect for the job. And maybe those cats can be useful, or at least moved off of the bridge.

That handled, Pix pops back into the end to improve the new Enderman farm just a bit. He adds a pearl voider to clean out the inventory, and a minecart system to make passage to and from the farm as quick and hopefully un-glitchy as possible.

Not content with one massive project this week, we find Pix placing an infinite amount of buttons in the process of making a Wither Skeleton farm. I’m starting to think this man’s definition of relaxing is “more work somewhere else”.

That, or the wine and cheese parties that happen in the froglight orchard, as he tells a visiting Rendog, who has a very enticing offer for him. Pieces of history, the Firsts of Rendog himself, a collection that Pix is eager to get his hands on. He gains a single piece in return for a dodo, that Rendog swiftly falls in love with.

[REN, LOUDLY] Her name is Deirdre!

[PIX] There you go, alright, she has a name now. And she’s all yours.

[NARRATOR] After sacrificing snow golems to a bound Wither in the End for wither roses, Pixlriffs makes the first spawning platform for the skeleton farm, and it’s so effective that he swiftly runs out of food. His trip back to the Overworld is far from uneventful, however.

Joe Hills, in his duty as museum security guard, noticed some odd patches of sculk popping up around the buildings. And then found out that Cubfan had placed more than a few sculk catalysts in the area.

[JOE] Anyway, I found the first few sculk catalysts and I put them in the evidence locker here, and… then I found another ninety.

[NARRATOR] Even with all the identified and removed catalysts, there’s still more in the area; a single mob burning in the sun could set off a chain reaction. Pix thanks Joe for his thorough and continued service, and returns to the Wither Skeleton farm to distract himself from the infection riddling the Ancient Capital, because if he can’t stop it, he can at least stop thinking about it.

Xisuma pops in yet again, happy to help move piglins in exchange for some of the wither skulls. They get just enough that even a few losses moving them into the farm are acceptable, and though only one layer is finished, the farm is shaping up to be quite strong. And dangerous - wither skulls in the wrong hands could spell a lot of trouble, and there’s a LOT of wrong hands on the server right now.

Joel

Those wrong hands include whoever replaced all of Joel's torches and lanterns with blue soul equivalents and left all of the replaced lighting in a chest with no explanation. Well, there was a sign, something about souls and skulk, but Joel is no less confused.

He plans to build a temple for Hermes in Upper Stratos, but first, he needs to gather some materials. His expedition into the nether goes awry when he accidentally places his bed instead of an ender chest, and explodes himself, along with all of his stuff. After putting together a set of backup gear, he finishes gathering all the items he needs for the build, and heads off to the ancient city to obtain another swift sneak book. He lucks out, finding one in the first chest he searches.

Joel then builds Hermes' temple, complete with golden throne for his boy. Hermes also has a new outfit, and Joel brings him over to Sanctuary to show off his new dapper fit.

fWhip also comes to visit, asking for Joel's protection from the Sheriff and his Hotguy. Joel, eager for any chance to fight and kill the Sheriff, agrees, and even pays fWhip to set up an opportunity to do so.

[FWHIP] I’ll call on you when I need ya.

[JOEL] Alright, cool.

[FWHIP] Thank you Joel!

[JOEL] Just—Just-- Just blow any horn, at any time.

[FWHIP] …You got it! Okay!

[NARRATOR] Finally, he moves part of the wall surrounding lore city outwards in preparation for building a temple to himself, but for now, the sheriff best be wary of goat horns sounding.

Jimmy

This week begins with a new dilemma for Jimmy. His strongest alliance and friend, Scar, has tagged Jimmy for the Hermit’s game of tag. As funny as the tag hat looks on the tiny sheriff, Jimmy wants to immediately get rid of the large responsibility. Afterall, he does have many other responsibilities in order to uphold the law back in Tumble Town.

Pearl finds herself as the Sheriff’s target after the tag machine tells Jimmy he must use fall damage. The plan is simple, somehow convince Pearl to climb to the tallest part of Hermitopia, retrieve her wings, and push her off the edge.

[JIMMY] Oh hello!

[PEARL] Oh, gosh!

[JIMMY, LAUGHING] Wait, that was the most British reaction I’ve ever heard!

[NARRATOR] Easy… kind of. The challenge proves successful when Pearl is a bit too trusting of the Sheriff’s law and hands over her wings to be inspected. With his plan being a success, he hands over the tag hat to Pearl. It was too big for a tiny toy anyway.

However, another hurdle presents itself soon after when Grian and Joel decide to spawn a wither right next to Tumble Town. Jimmy’s worry ends up being for nothing because the wither remains in the ‘wasteland’ and only hits parts of Tumble Town, which is also known as Joel’s kingdom seeing as he’s built most of what was damaged. Jimmy retrieves the star from the two outlaws but ends up in a high speed chase, forcing him to trade his prize for the wither skull and a bunch of random trash the others didn’t want.

Jimmy vows to get back at the God for his shenanigans to which he soon follows through. The sheriff happens upon something named an invisibility switch that reveals the secrets of Stratos. Turns out, the kingdom of Stratos is not floating, but held up by stilts.

[JIMMY] His base is being held up by-- by stilts! It ain’t flying! It aint hovering! It aint a God! He’s a liar!

[JIMMY SNICKERS]

[JIMMY READING SIGNS] I thought you were a God and you had like Lore and stuff. Your base isn’t even hovering. Bit cringe.

[JIMMY] There it is. There it is! I got him. I got him!

[NARRATOR] Later, Jimmy meets up with Scar who is wearing Scott’s hat that Scar had to trade the spare sheriff hat for. Scar swears he’ll get the sheriff hat back… eventually. This does not stop the two from showering each other in gifts. Jimmy bestows Scar with the deputy badge and Multiverse Jellie in return for a villager trading centre and stacks of iron for a Tumble Town beacon.

Finally, Jimmy heads back over to Hermitopia to try and sneak his way in only to find the Hermits have added a face to the build, a face that is unrecognizable to Jimmy.

Sausage

The economy is thriving in Sanctuary! There are a whole new array of villagers, ready to trade their goods. But a special guest arrives! Keralis laughs at everything Bdubs, including the cute dodo named Bdoubledodo. He makes plans for a more effective wood farm under Sausage's current one.

Sausage needs a disguise to infiltrate the Hermempire. He devises a clever outfit of sunglasses and goes undercover with Oli. They encounter Impulse and point him in the direction of fWhip's course, while freaking out over the sleeping Grumbot.

Meanwhile, back at home, Sausage has a vision, this time teleporting him to a dungeon that seems awfully familiar. And then, from the shadows, another him appears! And he is evil, but thankfully, he gets rescued by Bubbles.

Safe back in Sanctuary, Sausage builds his Casita. It's got everything: from a meditation room for him to a new bedroom for Hermes. But actually, Sausage decides that's not good enough for his boy. So he builds him an entire house, called Hermes’ tower. It's fit for a prince.

In another reality, something is brewing. Evil Sausage is planning something, and it's not good.

Scott

Something weird is at work in Chromia when all the torches and lanterns are replaced by soul versions! I mean, come on, corruption is so last season.

[SCOTT] Guys come on, a corruption-like thing spreading over a server? Like that’s so last year.

[NARRATOR] Updates from the stream include the somewhat illegal acquisition of Jimmy’s sheriff hat and Scar’s head to be placed in the tavern.

[SCOTT] I got some important items. One item being Scars head, the other item being a Sheriff hat!

But! To decorate the tavern slightly more than just some heads, Scott takes Pearl's suggestion to add a sunflower field out front.

[SCOTT] Just like that, we have a little sunflower patch outside the tavern, which I think looks super cute.

We’re going underground with this market and Scott realizes that he probably should add some more entrances. Make everyone complicit, you know? The sheriff can’t arrest them all.

[SCOTT] Ok, here is the entry from Sanctuary side, and again it’s a one way in so I’m going to need to go round and go back up into Chromia, and I think I do the other one over here in Joels area.

[NARRATOR] New entrances aren’t the only new thing, as there appears to be some sculk catalysts lining the walls and a new stall set up selling deputy badges.

[SCOTT] Ok so deputy badge, I will take one, thank you very much. *Cha-ching noise*

[NARRATOR] New pirate Cleo surprises him with some questions about the market, and makes some purchases of her own.

[CLEO] I… don’t have a diamond, but I can steal a diamond.

[SCOTT] There we go.

[CLEO] That is a thing that I can… *laughs*

[SCOTT] I love it.

[CELO] If I- If I wear that around Jimmy, is he going to absolutely lose it?

[SCOTT] He’ll probably be very confused if you suddenly flash it, just-- you can just be like, ‘it was a totem I don’t know what you mean’.

[NARRATOR] Cleo must’ve told Joey though, as next time Scott visits he gets a gun to his head and an interrogation about a missing trident.

[JOEY] Oh, so you just like to take things that don’t belong to you, and sell them to strange people?

[SCOTT] I have no idea what you’re on about Joey. Also isn’t taking things that don’t belong to you your entire thing?

[JOEY] Yeah, exactly, so leave it to me!

[NARRATOR] Apparently, Scott can defeat Joey with the power of customer service and being unfazed by a gun. At least he got a profit out of it!

[SCOTT] --and somehow also scam Joey twice, like I’m—I’m actually very impressed with that. You know, maybe this life of crime is actually made for me. Huh!

Joey

[NARRATOR] Joey says he’s ready for anything, and immediately gets proven wrong by ZombieCleo showing up in her new non-pirate hat. She knows how observant her Captain is, (or isn’t) and she’s got a message for him: his magical trident has been stolen! He checks, and she’s actually telling the truth.

Outraged, Joe follows her to Hermitopia and to the secret black market inside of the Greatbridge, which is apparently where his trident was last spotted as Scott of Chromia stole and sold it! He thanks Cleo for the lead, lying in wait until the thieving salesman himself appears.

And appear he does, checking on his ill-gotten wares. Joey threatens Scott at gunpoint, and bribes him with gunpowder, and the mixed messages do the trick: Scott sold the trident to Animalia’s own Mayor Lizzie! He also invites Joey to make a stall of his own, smoothing over the ruffled feathers. A black market is practically a second home for a pirate!

But first, he needs his trident back. Joey bursts into the Critter Council, holding all of them for ransom from a terrified Mayor for an amount of plunder so exorbitant, even Pirate Joe doesn’t know exactly how much it is.

[LIZZIE] How much is a bajillion in… pirate terms?

[JOEY] I think that’s like probably, like uh… *laughs*, ten stacks or something.

[NARRATOR] Mayor Lizzie pays up, returning the trident and paying the pirate, who returns home to Eversea feeling rather pleased with himself. And look, someone left him a little gift; does the pirate have a secret admirer?

[JOEY] Aw, that’s so sweet…

Shelby

[NARRATOR] If you're wondering how we got here, Shelby has finally emerged from her journey into the fog with a recap of the first encounters with the Hermits. Truly, the strange man - Tango, he said - is lucky he found the Evermoore. She’d prefer not to have lost souls wandering around the Mangrove anymore than they already are!

He’s not the only strange occurrence, and after False’s doppelgänger shows up, and the two are very happy to see each other – she finds out there was a group came through a portal but were apparently separated!

[TANGO] -Hermitcraft, yes. And we were sent through a portal by Grian. Do you know Grian?

[SHELBY] Grian… No.

[TANGO] No, you don’t. Ok. Well—

[SHELBY] No, we don’t have one of those.

[FALSE, OVERLAPPING] Uh.

[SHELBY] Welcome to the mangrove—

[SHELBY, SURPRISED] Oop—Is that Grian?

[TANGO] That’s the Grian! Yep!

[SHELBY] That’s the guy!

[NARRATOR] She equips them with an iron sword before setting out to Sanctuary, it’s probably the most welcoming place on the server. She’s not the only one with that idea, and the three of them meet up with a much larger group of people, including all the people fWhip and Joel found!

Sausage turns up with Keralis and Jevin in tow, but he’s a little late to stop the ransacking of his storage room.

She takes off back towards her swamp after hearing that there are some more visitors, and it’s Scott, Katherine and their collection of new people!

She directs them all to Sanctuary and ends up at the border of Eversea, where Joeys “new pirates” try to murder her! The truce is definitely off now!

[JOEY] Now, get her!

[SHELBY] NO!

[CLEO] Now!

[SAUSAGE, IN THE BACKGROUND] No, Shelby, run!

[SHELBY] I thought we had a truce!

[KERALIS] No, no, no.

[XISUMA] Kill the witch!

[JOEY AND CLEO] Kill the witch! Kill the witch!

[XISUMA] We were told to do it I’m so sorry!

[SHELBY] No!

[JOEY, ANGRILY] NO!

[SHELBY] So much for a truce with Joey. Sounds like we are no longer friends and not in a truce. And he wonders why Katherine didn’t pick him.

[NARRATOR] Old habits die hard, and Shelby and Tango meet again while ransacking fWhip’s storage room. He’s still wearing the hat she gave him, and ends up agreeing to have a few lessons on witchcraft!

One must always do brewing in a proper area - gotta make a good impression! - so Shelby and Tango travel to the Evermoore where she can teach him about potions! He listens intently, but he’s disappeared when she turns around!

Maybe he drank something and turned into a frog!

[SHELBY] Tango? Are you—did I? Why I didn’t even… Did you drink something? Tango? Did I make you a frog? I’m so sorry, it was an accident, I can fix this, I can fix this! I can make—oh my god.

[TANGO] What? What, what, what? What’s the matter?

[SHELBY] Oh my god. Wait, Tango? Are you speak--You can talk?

[TANGO] ...I’m right- I’m right here. Hi. Hi.

[NARRATOR] Oh. Oh good, he’s fine! It’s fine!

The two “new pirates” come skulking around, they’re called Cleo and Xisuma, and *apparently* they’ve been ordered to murder her, but actually want to recruit her to a scheme to kill Joey?

…she’s in!

[SHELBY] This goes against all of my morals—yeah no I’ll do it.

[NARRATOR] Joey is very mad after the murder and reveals he knows a secret of hers - blackmail, of course. What could he know? He can’t know anything! Well… that letter for her grandmother…

One of the new guys, Cubfan, comes over upon request to use his massive axe and science brain to figure out something about the fog - he comes back not quite right.

She decides to take a look for herself, which may not be the smartest idea. She gets further and further into the forest and finds a massive, massive frog.

He must be so old! The vines are so overgrown… maybe he got lost! She decides to help him out, and tries her best to lead him back towards the Evermoore again.

They get there, and the frog lets her put a saddle on him - he must like her enough, even though he’s not talking to her.

Outro

And with that, join us next week for more chaos and shenanigans! Thank you for watching, liking, and subscribing, and thanks to everyone helping with the project, check them all out below!

[mycharacterdump]

𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me I'm just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth And there's nothing I can do about it.

“But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men know him not - and to know not is to not care for.”

― Bram Stoker, Dracula

No one ever saw Dash for who he was, only who they perceived him as. He could blame only himself for this — because nothing seemed a worse fate than letting people see the most vulnerable and nonsensical things of which made you operate the way you did. Better off they remain in darkness, stumbling about until they found something they liked about you on accident. It’s why his parents didn’t entertain the idea of therapy despite the trouble he caused them as a child and pre-teen. He downright refused to be psychoanalyzed. Although that didn’t stop those closest to him from trying anyway. It seemed to be their favorite hobby, as a matter-of-fact. But he did his best to swerve from all expectations made of him, which made him ever difficult to pin into that lovely shadowbox wherein all Jensens inevitably lay on display for the world to see. 

Because of his evasive manner of living, he was sent away to boarding school at the ripe age of fourteen. In the heat of adolescence he was shipped off to Ermitage International School of France, where he would spend the next four years being taught by strict professors all the while enjoying the backdrop of Paris from his dorm room window. He would attend the occasional party held by his peers, however he never truly engaged with the rager scene. Secretly he feared that being caught would only motivate his parents to increase the restrictions already heavily enforced, and behind being read, being held back from experiencing life was what he despised most in the world. So, for a short time, he stuck to his books and advanced to the top of his class eventually.

He excelled in French and his history lessons, slacking off a bit where it concerned science and mathematics, but not enough to garner attention from his professors. His parents would call every other week just to check in and eventually the anger that had festered within him from the beginning of his stay at Ermitage had begun withering away. He had made friends that were much less concerned with who he actually was and moreso in what he could contribute to their circle — namely his knowledge in classes they were falling behind in, trading his secrets for precious euros. One novelty he afforded himself between studying was smoking weed, which he always acquired by taking the train to Amsterdam over the weekends and purchasing it from a dealer he came into contact with via one of the seniors that left too soon for Dash’s liking. 

One weekend, when he had just celebrated his sixteenth birthday and was sent a generous fifteen hundred euros from his parents, he embarked on yet another trip to the Netherlands in the hopes of stocking up on what he needed for the next few weeks as well as enjoy the nightlife that he normally didn’t indulge in during his short stints there prior. He drank in the French countryside, envisioning a relaxing life there once he finished his studies and earned his inheritance. He was thinking he’d buy one of those secluded villas and install a pool, maybe a jacuzzi while he was at it, and start his own vineyard. Put something meaningful to the Jensen name overseas. 

The doors buzzed open and he grabbed his backpack off the floor, skirting through the small crowds of people gathered in the aisle as he hopped off the train. He bypassed the stands that held maps, having known the city like the back of his hand at that point, and made a b-line for the first coffee shop he could remember existing outside the station. He bought a black coffee and smoked a cigarette outside the shop, people-watching and calculating the rest of his afternoon in peace. Once the cherry burned halfway through he disposed of the cigarette and downed the last of his coffee, beginning to explore the streets of Amsterdam while in search of his apartment he had rented out with some of his birthday money. 

The apartment was located on one of the main streets with a beautiful view of a canal. He found the key underneath the doormat and pushed himself inside, grinning as he walked inside and immediately rushed upstairs so he could unburden himself and change. Ripping his school uniform over his head and kicking it aside, he swapped it with his casual clothes he only ever wore on the weekends and left once more. He was hoping he could come into contact with his dealer before sunset, and admired the sights that surrounded his apartment as he ventured to the correct neighborhood nestled within the heart of Amsterdam. The sky was a soft blue that had begun to look like it was dipped in a golden honey and spread across the horizon, and there were pink petals that ebbed and flowed in the gentle spring breeze, which was almost as calming as the sound of the canal splashing against the brickwork that held up the city’s medieval architecture. Scratch that thought about a villa in the French countryside — he might’ve enjoyed the thought of purchasing a townhouse and growing weed from flowerboxes in his windowsill more.

His dealer, Johannes, was chainsmoking underneath a glowing streelight by the time Dash found him. His gangly figure was illuminated by the artificial lamp that hung overhead and the smoke somehow made him look even more emaciated, but Dash didn’t care how he looked, as long as he had what he needed on him, which he always did.

“Long time, no see, klootzak,” Johannes commented with a cheshire grin.

“Yeah, right?” Dash returned as he reached into his back pocket and fished out half of the birthday money he was given, flashing it in Johannes’ face with perked up brows. This attracted the older man’s attention immediately and he nearly coughed on the next puff of smoke he inhaled, lungs backpedaling as he stared blankly at the high schooler. 

“God, where’d you steal that from?” the dealer asked, reaching out so he could grab the cash and stuff it into his pocket without a second thought.

Dash snorted at the lack of hesitation. “Didn’t have to steal it. My birthday present,” he clarified. “Well?” he asked expectantly. 

Johannes buffered for a moment before he started rifling through the bag he always kept on him, eventually unearthing two baggies that would easily last Dash through the rest of the semester. Thank fucking God, he cursed to himself as he reached out so he could take the goods. Before he could get a grasp, however, Johannes held the baggies above his head.

“I got something even better, if you’re interested,” Johannes said, humming as he gave Dash a once over. He had grown a considerable amount since they first met and was certainly in better condition than Johannes himself. “You always buy the same shit. Might as well cross the border with something that’ll actually give you a rush.”

Dash’s dark brown eyes narrowed at him. “Who said I was looking for a rush?” “Never said you were looking for one, but that just proves you need it,” Johannes noted. He tossed the baggies over without another word, yet still reached into his bag so he could retrieve another plastic baggie that contained white pills. “You should be having a good time while you’re here, brother.”

He eyed the baggie for a moment and debated it heavily. He had never gone farther than experimenting with varieties of pot, what would this mean for him? Then, he thought about how good of a person he had managed to be while under the keen eyes of his professors, and decided: fuck it. He fished out another hundred euros and accepted the baggie.

For the remainder of his stay in Amsterdam he wouldn’t touch the pills given to him, he hadn’t even lit up the weed he bought, saving them all for when he returned to Paris. On the train ride back he couldn’t stare out the window wistfully at the countryside, preoccupied by thinking about what would come of the drugs he had safely stored at the bottom of his backpack beneath all his clothes; new and old, as he sort of went on a huge shopping spree his final day in the city, since he’d planned on traveling more over the summer rather than return to Boston. There was nothing there for him besides high expectations and the same boring lifestyle he had grown to be glad he was rid of. 

The first night back in his dorm, he waited until his roommate had escaped to study hall before fishing out the baggie that contained the white pills and cautiously taking one out — inspecting it in his palm before he threw it back into his mouth. He grimaced at the taste, quickly swallowing it and washing it down with some tap water. He started on some reading material for his AP History course that was wrapping up within the next month while waiting for the effects of the pills to manifest in his central nervous system.

Suddenly, as he read the extensive and intriguing history of Napoleon Bonaparte, he felt the room shift and his heartrate begin to pick up exponentially. As he glanced up he watched as his vision extended and his peripheral started to blur, blinking multiple times without any change. His impulse control seemed to shoot down within seconds and he had half a mind to toss his book aside and begin patrolling the hallways in search of something he had previously no inclination to find — a party.

On the third floor he could hear distant music. He was brushed aside by a small group of students that were giggling to themselves and chose to follow them, unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt for better ventilation as he entered the hazy student lounge that normally went unnoticed by the counselors, whose office was located on the opposite side of the wing. He glanced around, his rapidly beating heart guiding him toward a table where multiple bottles of liquor could be spotted. He had a hankering for some type of alcohol and wound up choosing one of the more popular bottles, a golden handle of Triple sec that was half-emptied already. He poured some into a cup and sipped at it, ignoring the burning sensation on his tongue as he began wandering around the lounge.

He came to a stop in the middle of the chaos. A French pop song was blaring from above. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Everything was amplified and he would’ve felt overwhelmed if he first hadn’t felt more alive than he ever had before in his life. What the fuck was he doing studying all that time, ignoring the parties taking place all around him just so he seemed more elusive and foreboding? Adjusting his glasses, he started swaying his hips along to the beat, a smile growing on his lips as he felt his organs buzz from within.

As he closed his eyes and enjoyed the energy coursing through the lounge, he would find himself nearly pressed against a shorter girl who had an entire handle in her hand and a grin laced on her glossy lips. They danced together in total silence, syncing their movements and moving closer and closer, not exchanging a single word — and this is when Dash realized that he could have both worlds, in fact, ignorance and pleasure seemed to entwine quite well. He never knew her name, he couldn’t even place her face, and they despite their clear attraction they didn’t engage in useless small talk underneath the stars or on some rickety staircase. All they did was dance and he felt as if he were on top of the world.

At some point she became braver and reached up, sliding off his glasses and tucking them into her pocket. She grinned up at him and he mirrored the expression despite his blurry vision obscuring her face.

“Cute boy,” she finally spoke up. “My dorm?”

It was clear that she wasn’t fluent in English, but hell, he had forgotten half of his vocabulary thanks to whatever it was that he downed earlier, so it wasn’t a point of contention for him. He followed her through the lounge until they reached the hallway, then climbed up an obscene amount of stairs until they arrived at the girls’ dormitory. They stumbled into her room and exchanged a few sips of the alcohol they had stolen, eyeing one another’s movements the entire time, and Dash didn’t think to say anything that entire time.

For the first time, he had felt completely uninhibited. He would attribute it to the subsequent making out and then the loss of his virginity shortly thereafter, but in reality it had been the pills that unearthed a part of him he thought had died the day he was sent off to France so he wouldn’t be such a burden to his family.

He wondered, staring at her in the moonlight that cast through her thin curtains, how he could feel this way forever. Guiltless. Free. Infinite. Then, it occurred to him:

He wasn’t a Jensen to her, or to any of those people. Not even to Johannes. He was only a boy. And that’s how he would remain until someone pried the youth out of him, which he would have to prevent for as long as he could. 

No girlfriends, no best friends, no family. Only himself. That’s the one person who he could ever count on, truly. Himself and a few white pills to help alleviate the pressure of wearing a thousand different masks all at once.

[ae-neon]

I'm sorry but y'all don't understand how much Nessian makes me want to throw up

Like from the beginning, it's one of my most hated dynamics - very sitcom-esque where the serious or bitchy woman is paired with a goofy and nice man and because of these character archetypes, all of his harassment of her is taken lightly.

The whole thing always relies on breaking her perceived stiffness. It's like saying "relax", "you should smile more" etc

It's the taming of the shrew. I fucking despise this trope. As someone with a rbf I can't tell you how many times people have taken it upon themselves to "thaw" me.

Cassian comes into her home, when she's already scared of Fae and is now putting her and others lives at risk to collaborate with them and he goes at her. She takes what he says and ignores him. But he pushes her. She says later on that she doesn't want to work with him but he literally flies across the continent to be in her house.

PS read the Nessian special chapter wings and ember, it's free, just Google it.

This man corners her and gives her flashbacks to her assault then won't get away from her until she knees him in the balls but it's supposed to be seen as sexy?

Like she's a victim of assault?? An assault his actions remind her of?

And then we get acowar, the supposed Nessian holy grail but when you think of all the best Nessian moments don't you see that it's all moments where Nesta acts in favour of Cassian and not vice versa?

Nesta sticks up for Cassian at the High Lords' meeting, she calls his name and saves his life. And Cassian? He promises forever and pulls away? He kisses her when it's just them but doesn't wanna be seen holding her hand when his friends and family are around. He doesn't make sure she's okay after she survives her first war.

Like cool, he's not her caretaker, right, so why act like he cares? Cassian has the highest emotional intelligence of any man in acotar, he's able to comfort Feyre and Mor verbally and non verbally.

But with Nesta he never puts forward that sort of patience and understanding. He disliked her from the moment they met but he was also attracted to her. But that's all it is, just attraction.

Even in acofas, Nesta was at the party the whole time but Cassian only approached her when she was heading home alone?

He sees her withering away post war and in the same thought will think of her breasts.

He only "likes" Nesta when she stops being herself, when sjm twists the character to fit a more Feyre like shape.

Nesta who was the most prideful and modest of the sisters - not because she's superior but that's just part of her character - must become a sex object to be able to even begin to connect with Cassian because as much as they tried before, they simply don't connect on any other level

They cannot even move forward in their relationship until Nesta is literally broken down by depression, isolated from her comfort spaces and threatened with repercussions

Cassian sees she's using sex in a way that's negative specifically because it's so out of character for her and what does he do? He goes along only when and because it benefits him

It's easy to say they understand each other better now because that's what Sarah says but if you really think about it, these two people aren't even genuinely happy with each other now, what makes you think they would last 10 years? 100 years?

Nesta doesn't belong in Cassian's little world and he is too contained to it to allow her the space she needs to heal and grow.

She wanted to cross the ocean and sea what a woman could make of herself in the world and now she has all the time possible to do that but she can't leave the Night Court cause Cassian's world is reduced to it and to the people in it

I won't go too hard on him cause y'all like him but there's no other way to put it. They hold each other back from leading fulfilling lives and achieving great character arcs.

DIDI STRIKES AGAIN

Cassian, siding with your abusive brother to punish a twenty-something girl for being honest with her own sister is not very feminist of you

@ae-neon get him one more time for me