#hello friends i am here trying to find muse before i do replies & such

[reidmarieprentiss]

Home From The Bar

Summary: Y/N goes on the town with the ladies from the BAU, she calls Spencer to pick her up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: flirty fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, getting drunk, doing embarrassing drunk things, suggestive content (16+)

Word count: 2.8k

a/n: can be read alone but it is a blurb from Finding Home Again !!

main masterlist

Y/N had grown a lot closer to the BAU ladies over the past few months. JJ, Emily, and Penelope had become more than just Spencer’s coworkers—they were her friends too. So when they invited her out for a girls’ night, she eagerly accepted. The evening had been a whirlwind of dancing, laughter, and more than a few drinks. Now, they were sat at a table, cooling off after dancing their hearts out and sweating through their clothes.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, the conversation inevitably turned sideways, as it always does when good friends and alcohol are involved. And unfortunately for Y/N, everyone was curious about her sex life with the good doctor.

“So… how is he?” JJ asked, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin.

“Be honest,” Emily chimed in, leaning forward with a sly smile. “Was he a virgin?”

“Is he a pillow princess?” Penelope added, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Their questions came at her in rapid succession, leaving Y/N no time to prepare. Under the influence of alcohol, she could only laugh at the absurdity of it all, her cheeks flushing with both amusement and embarrassment.

“Oh my god, you guys,” Y/N giggled, trying to deflect the attention. “You’re terrible!”

“C’mon, we’re dying to know!” JJ teased, nudging her playfully.

“Yeah, spill the tea!” Penelope added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N shook her head, laughing harder. “I’m not giving you all the details, no way!”

“But he’s so… proper,” Emily said, leaning back with a smirk. “I just can’t picture him getting all… you know.”

“He’s definitely not a pillow princess,” Y/N blurted out, the alcohol loosening her tongue. The words were out before she could stop them, and the shocked expressions on the other women’s faces sent her into another fit of giggles.

JJ’s jaw dropped. “No way!”

Penelope gasped dramatically. “You’re kidding!”

Emily grinned wickedly. “Oh, this I’ve got to hear.”

Y/N held up her hands in surrender, still laughing. “Okay, okay! Look, all I’m going to say is that he’s… full of surprises.”

The women burst into laughter, clinking their glasses together in celebration of the newfound knowledge.

“Who knew the good doctor had it in him?” Penelope mused, still giggling.

“I always knew there was something underneath that nerdy exterior,” Emily added with a wink.

JJ shook her head, smiling. “Well, Y/N, you’re one lucky woman.”

Y/N smiled back, her heart warming at the thought of Spencer. “Yeah, I really am.”

Of course, the conversation didn’t let up—it just took different paths. JJ shared some funny anecdotes about Will, Emily regaled the group with wild stories from her past, and Penelope brought up that infamous “one time” with Derek that always got everyone laughing. The evening was a blur of laughter, camaraderie, and just a little too much alcohol, which led Y/N to realize that she needed Spencer to come get her—now.

She fumbled for her phone and dialed his number, her fingers slightly uncoordinated from the drinks she’d had. After a few rings, Spencer’s voice, thick with sleep, answered, “Hello?”

“Hi baby!!” Y/N yelled into the phone, her voice louder than she intended.

“Ouch…hi, Y/N. Are you okay?” Spencer asked, wincing at the volume, his concern evident even through his sleepy haze.

“Physically? Yes. Well, no actually,” Y/N slurred slightly.

“No? What’s wrong? Do you need me to come get you? Are you still at the bar?” Spencer was instantly more awake, worry creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, I’m still here. Can you please come get me?”

“Of course, I’m on my way,” Spencer replied, already throwing on his clothes and grabbing his keys.

His mind raced with a million possibilities—had Y/N hurt herself? Had she drunk too much? What could have happened? When he arrived at the bar, his anxiety spiked when he saw Emily smoking a cigar outside, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with panic.

Emily took a slow drag from her cigar, exhaling the smoke before she responded with a smirk, “Oh, she’s fine… go get your girl, Doctor. She’s been waiting for you.”

Spencer nodded in confusion, rushing inside to find Y/N. He barely made it through the entrance when Y/N came barreling toward him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug and planting a huge, sloppy kiss on his neck.

“Spencer! You’re my fiancé, isn’t that just insane?” she laughed, her eyes sparkling with the joy and inebriation of the evening.

Spencer couldn’t help but smile, wrapping his arms around her, holding her steady. “Well, I did propose. I’m still amazed you said yes.”

Y/N’s expression turned serious, or at least as serious as she could manage in her current state. “I will never say no to you, Spencer. You are my best friend.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, touched by her words. “And you’re mine. But are you okay? You said you weren’t physically well?” His gaze quickly scanned her for any signs of injury.

“Oh…um, I have a problem,” Y/N mumbled, looking up at him with wide, drunken eyes.

“What kind of problem?” Spencer asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“The kind only you can fix,” she whispered, leaning in closer.

Spencer’s concern grew as he looked Y/N over, trying to assess the situation. The dim lighting of the bar didn’t help, but from what he could see, she seemed unharmed—just a bit tipsy. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and the corners of her lips twitched in a way that told him she was up to something. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more concerned.

“What kind of problem?” Spencer asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “I’m horny.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in shock, and he instinctively pulled back to look at her, making sure he’d heard her correctly. She looked back at him with the most innocent expression, as if she hadn’t just dropped that bombshell.

“Uh… what?” Spencer stammered, his voice going up an octave.

“I said I’m horny, Spencer,” Y/N repeated, a little louder this time, clearly not aware—or not caring—how public they were.

Spencer’s face flushed a deep shade of red as he glanced around, hoping no one else heard. “Y/N, we’re in a bar,” he hissed, his voice low and urgent.

“I know, and that’s why you need to fix it!” she declared, her hands fisting in his shirt as she tried to pull him closer.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Okay, let’s get you home before you say anything else that’ll make me die of embarrassment.”

Y/N giggled, holding onto him as they made their way out of the bar. “You’re the best fiancé ever, you know that?”

Spencer shook his head fondly, his heart swelling with affection despite the situation. “Yeah, yeah, let’s just get you home, okay?”

As they stepped outside, Emily caught Spencer’s eye and gave him a knowing wink. “Take care of her, Reid,” she said with a smirk.

Spencer simply nodded, still blushing as he led Y/N to the car. He managed to get her into the passenger seat and buckled in before they were on the road. Y/N immediately began fiddling with the radio, her intoxicated focus darting from station to station until she found something she liked.

“Oh!!! I love this song!” she exclaimed, as Lollipop by Lil Wayne started playing.

As the music filled the car, Y/N began to sing along, her voice a little off-key but full of enthusiasm. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at her antics, but when she started doing a tipsy dance in her seat—more of a rhythmic humping, really—his eyes widened.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he sighed, trying to keep his eyes on the road while his very drunk, very sexy fiancée put on quite the show next to him.

Y/N laughed, rubbing her hands over her body in a playful, exaggerated way, even groping her own chest. “See something you like, doc?” she teased, her voice dripping with sultry mischief.

“See something I love,” he grunted, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. It frustrated him knowing he couldn’t act on his desires while she was in this state. He loved her too much to take advantage of the situation.

Apparently, Y/N didn’t share that restraint. Before Spencer could process what was happening, her hand was reaching over, grabbing at his crotch without a hint of subtlety.

“Y/N,” Spencer choked out, his voice strained as he tried to keep control of the car—and himself. “You have to stop that, sweetheart.”

“But Spence,” she pouted, continuing her mischief, “you’re so sexy when you’re all serious like this.”

Spencer’s heart raced as he gently removed her hand, placing it back on her lap. “We’re almost home, okay? Just hold on a little longer.”

Y/N huffed, leaning back in her seat with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, but you owe me.”

Spencer laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With that, he focused on getting them home safely, all the while knowing that the real challenge would be keeping Y/N at bay until she sobered up.

When Spencer parked the car and rounded it to get Y/N, she was ready. The second he opened the door, Y/N sprang into action, pulling him down for a heated kiss. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she pressed herself against him with all the intensity of someone who had waited far too long.

“Y/N…” Spencer mumbled against her lips, trying to regain some composure before gently pulling back. “Upstairs first.”

“You are no fun, Spencer Reid,” she whined, pouting up at him.

“Hmm, I know, love,” he laughed softly, shaking his head at her antics.

Getting Y/N up the stairs proved to be another challenge entirely. She insisted on trying to walk behind him, grabbing his ass and making it clear she was enjoying the view. Spencer, on the other hand, was trying his best to keep them both moving without succumbing to her teasing.

“Hey, grab hands,” Spencer said sternly, taking her wrists in one hand and holding them behind her back, guiding her up the stairs with a firm but gentle push. “Get your drunk ass into the apartment before I drop you off at the firehouse.”

Y/N groaned, clearly turned on by his no-nonsense demeanor. “Fuck, this is so hot, Spence.”

“Shut up,” Spencer muttered, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Take me like this,” she purred, her voice low and sultry.

“I’m going to take you to bed,” Spencer replied, his tone exasperated but with a hint of amusement.

“Yesss,” she moaned, clearly misunderstanding his intentions.

“To sleep,” he clarified, his voice firm.

“With you,” she added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I will sleep on the couch if you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” he threatened, though they both knew it was an empty threat. Still, the seriousness in his tone made Y/N pause, her eyes widening.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Y/N mumbled, her voice small and contrite.

“Nope, not starting that,” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head as he continued to guide her up the stairs.

Y/N finally shut her mouth, pouting as they reached the apartment door. Spencer unlocked it with a practiced ease and gently pushed her inside, relieved to have made it this far without any further incidents.

“Alright, water, bathroom, bed, got it?” Spencer said, his hands on his hips as he looked down at Y/N with a mixture of amusement and determination.

“If I do it, can I get a kiss?” Y/N asked, her voice slightly slurred but filled with playful intent.

“Yes, you can have one—one—kiss if you do it all,” Spencer agreed, knowing it was the only way to get her to cooperate.

With Spencer’s assistance, Y/N managed to drink a full glass of water, albeit with a few spills. She then, somewhat successfully, removed her makeup, though Spencer had to point out a few missed spots. She brushed her teeth, giggling at the sight of herself in the mirror, and finally slipped into bed in her pajamas, looking pleased with herself.

Spencer turned off the light, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he returned to the bed. He was ready to give Y/N her promised kiss, leaning down with a soft smile on his face. But as he approached, he realized she was already passed out, mouth open, snoring softly.

“Thank god,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head with a fond smile as he pulled the covers up around her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently, the affection in his heart swelling. 

As he settled into bed beside her, Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, thinking about how unpredictable and wild life with Y/N could be—and how much he wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

When Y/N woke up, she immediately regretted every choice she had made the night before. Her head pounded like a drum, her mouth felt like sandpaper, her stomach churned uneasily, and her body was too warm under the covers. She groaned, kicking the sheets off in frustration.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Spencer said, his tone gentle but laced with amusement.

“No,” Y/N grumbled, pulling a pillow over her face.

“No?” Spencer echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Not good morning. Bad morning,” she corrected, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Feeling the effects of last night?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, nodding slightly under the pillow.

“Want me to get you some water?”

“And meds,” Y/N added pitifully.

“Be right back,” Spencer said, pressing a kiss to her head before heading off to the kitchen. He returned shortly with a glass of water and some painkillers. “Sit up and drink,” he instructed, holding the glass out to her.

“You’re bossy,” Y/N sassed, though she reluctantly did as he asked.

“You liked it last night,” Spencer teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What?” Y/N froze, her eyes widening as she looked at him, horrified. “Oh my god, what did I do?”

“Oh, do you not remember trying to mount me on the staircase? And then moaning when I told you to stop?”

“No! Oh my god, that is humiliating,” Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It was pretty funny,” Spencer said with a snort, clearly enjoying himself.

“What else did I do?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper, terrified but too curious not to ask.

Spencer grinned, clearly holding back a laugh. “You called me ‘daddy.’”

Y/N’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Spencer sat down beside her on the bed, his expression softening as he watched her. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” he said gently. “We’ve all done stupid things when we’re drunk.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think most people try to seduce their fiancés on the stairs while calling them ‘daddy,’” Y/N muttered, setting the empty glass on the nightstand.

Spencer laughed softly, shaking his head. “Maybe not, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. You were just being… affectionate. In your own way.”

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers, still covering her face. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No, not at all,” Spencer reassured her. “I found it kind of adorable, honestly. You’re always so confident and put together, it was nice to see you let go for once.”

“Adorable? I’m pretty sure ‘adorable’ wasn’t the vibe I was going for,” Y/N said, finally lowering her hands, though her cheeks were still pink.

Spencer smiled warmly at her, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. “It’s okay. I love all your vibes.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, finally starting to relax. “Thanks, Spence. You’re too good to me.”

“Only because you deserve it,” he replied, stroking her hair gently. “Now, why don’t you lie back down and rest? I’ll make you some toast and coffee.”

“Toast and coffee sound like heaven right now,” Y/N sighed, leaning into his touch. “But only if you bring it to me in bed.”

Spencer grinned. “Deal. Anything for you, even after you tried to seduce me on the stairs.”

Y/N laughed, her spirits lifting as she watched him head to the kitchen. Despite the embarrassing memories, she felt grateful to have Spencer by her side—someone who could make even the most mortifying situations feel a little less awful.

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[theemporium]

hello! may I request James finding out that reader has a huge crush on Remus and so he starts meddling to get them together and it eventually works

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

It had been your own drunken mistake that you told James about the feelings you harboured for his best friend.

The Gryffindor team had just won the quidditch cup and everyone was celebrating. You had one too many cups of whatever spiked concoction Sirius had whipped up for the party and found yourself sitting in a bathtub with the quidditch captain, spilling your heart out. 

“Sometimes I wish I had what you and Lily have,” you had confessed to him that night, your eyes feeling heavier with each passing minute.

James knocked his shoulder against yours. “You’re a catch, mate. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Not the person I want though,” you snorted, the pitiful words feeling bitter on your tongue.

“Who’s that?” 

And in your drunken, tired state, you hadn’t seen an issue in confessing that the boy in question was none other that Remus Lupin. Quiet, soft-spoken Remus Lupin who barely spared you a glance, let alone talked to you on a good day. 

But your confession had awoken something in James as he scrambled out of the bathtub, clapping his hands in excitement as he started rambling. He told you he would sort it out, despite the fact you told him not to get involved. He told you he was going to play matchmaker, despite you begging him not to. 

James Potter was going to set you up even if you wanted him to just pretend like you never said a word. 

The next week had been spent with awkward and dreadful attempts of James trying to live up to his promise. You knew he had a good heart and his intentions were pure, but you couldn't help but feel as though this setup was going to end up with Remus wanting nothing to do with you rather than the opposite. 

It all led up to the following weekend.

The marauders were pranksters at their core and they usually liked to work as their own little group. But James had dragged you along, insisting that they would need your assistance for this prank. And being as trusting and naive as you were, you genuinely believed him. You genuinely believed that he needed your help for whatever prank he was setting up this time around. 

What you didn’t expect—and you honestly should have because it was James fucking Potter—was to end up trapped in a closet with Remus Lupin, the door locked and the light dim and the sound of your cackling friend disappearing on the other side of the door.

“JAMES!” 

Your fists pounded on the door but it didn’t budge. You reached for your wand, only to find it wasn’t in your back pocket like it always was and cursed the boy under your breath. You let out a small huff, leaning your forehead against the wooden door. 

“Is being stuck with me really that bad?” Remus had asked, his amusement clear in his voice but that didn’t stop your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 

“No, of course no! I just…James clearly just likes to torture me,” you stumbled over your words, wincing a little when you realised just how it sounded. “Not that being stuck in here with you is torture! It’s the opposite really. I mean—”

Remus chuckled. “Do you always get this nervous or am I narcissistic enough to believe it’s because of me?” 

You opened your mouth to reply but no words came out.

“Oh?” Remus mused as he stepped forward, now just in front of you. You couldn’t make out the features on his face, more so his general silhouette but all you could think was that he was huge and so tall and you could’ve died quite happily in that position. “It is because of me.”

“No,” you squeaked out, your face burning and you were almost glad he couldn’t see you. 

“Is it because you’re scared of me?” he asked, his voice a little softer.

“Never,” you answered almost immediately. 

“Good,” he murmured with a small nod of his head. “So you won’t mind if I do this.” 

You didn’t get much of a chance to question the boy before you watched his head duck down, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss you had ever experienced but it wasn’t enough. You needed more. 

Your fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him further down as his lips pressed against yours, hard. He let out a small ‘oomph’ before groaning, his hands finding your waist and tugging you close until your body was pressed against his. You let out a small whine when he pulled away, even if his attention just shifted to placing soft, chaste kisses along your jaw.

“I have a confession,” he muttered against your skin. 

Your eyes fell shut, your head leaning back against the door. “What?”

“James told me how you felt,” he murmured, smirking a little when he felt you tense beneath him. “Relax, he knew I felt the same. He just can’t keep a secret very well.” 

“I’m gonna kill that little bastard,” you breathed out.

“You can do it later, love,” Remus whispered before his lips found yours in the dark once again.

.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 13

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: hello! yes, finally, an update! thank you to all of you who were patiently waiting for this. tbh the Benophie announcement gave me a bit of a spark of motivation to finish this chapter! enjoy!

Series Masterlist

My dearest Y/N,

I am not sure what else to say other than I am sorry. I am sorry for making you feel as though you meant nothing to me. I must admit, due to my own self-induced heartbreak, I refused to read your letters previously. However, you will not find me doing that again. I have missed your friendship dearly. It is my own fault for doing this to us. I will never do that to you again, I promise.

Always feel free to write to me. You will receive a response from me, now and always.

Yours,

Benedict

You read the short letter over and over again. You're in a bit of disbelief, yet you're overjoyed. You kept your expectations low after sending that letter to Benedict. However, you're pleasantly surprised that not only has he written back, but he desires to renew your friendship once more.

You immediately go to your writing desk and begin to write a reply.

You spend some time writing everything down, how grateful you are for Ben, how you've been spending your days, as well as your moments of grief.

James' parents have provided good company to you. Ever since meeting you, that have been so kind and loving. They remind you of how your parents used to be prior to your mother's passing.

In your letter, your relay to Benedict how you've been trying to write poetry to help you process and cope James' passing, but nothing has come from these attempts.

Admittedly, Benedict was your muse for so long. After he left, James became your muse. Now he's gone. You don't want to think about Benedict potentially taking up the place as your muse again. A part of you feels as though that would be a betrayal to James, however, your muse was originally Benedict...

It's fine. You won't worry about it too much right now. You'll just take things day by day.

After you finish your letter, you fold and seal it. Calling upon a footman, you ask him to send it to Benedict and the young man leaves promptly.

__________________________

Dear Benedict,

I may be going stir-crazy here. Mama and papa have been very loving and supportive, however, I feel that, even in this large estate, I cannot get away.

I've been riding a lot more than usual now just to get out. I know, it is shocking to me as well since I was never fond of it. However, now I find myself wanting to ride every single day just to be out and about.

Maybe I should discuss with mama and papa if I can start accepting guests again. For I am not sure how much longer I can take this.

Anyway, I hope you are well. It has been some time since we last exchanged letters. I am sure you have been busy with the new exhibit coming up. I hope it is successful. Everyone will be able to see just how talented you are.

I am so proud of you and what you have achieved, Ben. Never forget that.

Yours,

Y/N

Benedict sighs, reading over your letter. He is visiting his family, taking break from working on his last painting for the exhibition.

"What ails you, brother?" Eloise asks as she sits beside him.

"Would it be improper if I were to visit Y/N soon?" he asks her with confliction written on his face.

"Why would it be improper? You two are friends again, yes?" Eloise asks confused.

He lets out a deep breath before explaining, "After the death of a spouse, it's customary to mourn them for a year before accepting guests and taking part is society again. It's only been sixth months."

Eloise scoffs, "Benedict, you know that I am the last person to tell you of what you should or should not do in terms of societal rules."

"Of course," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"What is it that you really want to ask me?"

Benedict remains silent, contemplating on how he should ask his sister.

The truth is, Benedict has felt whole again. Having you back in his life has brought so much happiness, familiarity, and comfort that he's been seeking for the past few years.

It's clear to him that his love for you will never seize. You will always remain a part of him and he will always hold you in a special place in his heart. However, if he takes this step to be close to you again, will it end in heartbreak once more? He doesn't want to think of such an outcome, but there's always a possibility. No. Nonsense. He can't think about that.

Benedict may love you, but you are first and foremost his best friend. Therefore, any feelings he has of you must be cast aside. Being your friend, in your company, speaking with you, being there for you, that is the priority. Benedict's feelings be damned. He will not make the same idiotic mistakes he made before. He's wiser and stronger now.

The relationship you two share is much more important, now that ever.

Benedict turns to Eloise and smiles, "I think I'll alright, Eloise," he stands with confidence.

His sister looks at him with uncertainty, "Are you sure? You're not going to do anything stupid again, are you?"

He shakes his head, "No. I promise, I am better. I will be better for Y/N."

"If you're sure," Eloise says before Benedict exits the sitting room.

______________________

The wind is blowing through your hair as you ride through the forest. It is midday and you have a lot of energy. James' horse, now yours, Bluebell, is fast and agile. She leaps over bushes and fallen tree trunks with ease.

You and Bluebell have gotten quite close these past few months. She's been able to grant you the freedom you've been aching for.

The first three months after James' passing were hard. Now six months later, you've finally accepted his death. It was unexpected and there was nothing you could do to help. You had loved him dearly and he accepted and understood you like very few have.

You are grateful for the short time you had with him, but now you'd like to slowly move on with your life.

You've been trying to get back into writing. Very few pieces have come out well. The rest thrown into the fireplace, burning to ash so you wouldn't have to see it again.

You've come to realize that the few works that have been kept, you've come up with while riding. Another reason why you have gone out a lot more. You're trying to find that spark again that you once had before James' passing.

You stop at a small creek flowing through the Montclair land. You dismount Bluebell and guide her to the water so she may quench her thirst and rest a bit. You sit by the creek, watching as the water flows by. You listen to the birds chirping, the trees swaying in the wind.

You think about how you've been feeling the past six months. How only in the late hours of the night is when you experienced the heart ache of James' passing, how you felt knowing you will no longer experience his freeing and doting love.

You pull out your journal from your satchel and begin to write:

Deep in the shadows where heartache grew

Mourning hearts match skies of grey

A love once bright as morning dew

Now drifted gone as night to day

The halls keep our memories

Our laughter and tears

Walking among those walls, memories sunken

deep within the seas

It's short yet conveys the feelings you want it too. You don't hate it, but it may need some work. So you keep it in your journal and stand. Some time has passed for Bluebell to catch a break. You mount her once more and head back to the estate in more of a trot rather than a flying gallop.

When you arrive back, you see Clarissa waiting for you.

"Something the matter?"

She gives you a small smile, "I know Jean Louis and myself have informed you of the mourning customs, however, it has been brought to our attention that sometimes one does not need twelve months to mourn the loss of her husband."

"Mother?" you ask her confused.

"I just know that you have always been more of a free spirited woman, which is why James was so drawn to you. I also know that you did love him dearly and I will not be upset that you shorten your mourning period. You wanted to be free from societal standards from the very beginning, therefore, we will allow you to start accepting guests back at this home. You are also free to go back to yours and James' home in London."

You're not sure why your mother-in-law is saying all of this, "I-Thank you, mama. I do appreciate all of that, however, I must admit I am confused why you are mentioning this."

"I received a letter from Mister Benedict Bridgerton. He was requesting to see you."

Your eyes widen in surprise, "I assure you, I didn't ask him to do that. I was planning on asking you myself."

Your mother-in-law chuckles, "Yes, well, it seems Mister Bridgerton beat you to it."

You sigh, "So it seems."

"Everyone mourns differently, cheri, we understand that you would also like to be in the company of others during this time. Mister Bridgerton is a close friend of yours, yes?"

You nod, "He is. I'll make sure we can be seen and-"

Clarissa chuckles, "You don't have to worry about those things here, cheri. I trust you. I will write back to Mister Bridgerton right now."

You curtsey, "Thank you, mama. As usual, your kindness is greatly appreciated."

The older woman sighs, walking up to you and cupping your face, "You never have to thank me for kindness. It is a mother's duty to listen and understand her children. Although you are not my blood, you are my daughter just the same."

Her words brings tears to your eyes. She reminds you so much of your own mother, it hurts a little. To know that your own mother can't be here with you during this time. You're sure she would have provided a lot of her wisdom and advice. Nonetheless, you are grateful to now call Madame Montclair as your own mother.

"Thank you, again."

"Of course," she kisses your cheek, "Best wash up before lunch, yes?"

"Right. Excuse me," you pick up your skirt and rush back into the house to have a quick bath.

[randomwriteronline]

The first time, it was something like a light that wasn't quite a light.

It was bright - very bright, or at least he thought it had to be; but it did not burn his eyes as he stared at it, nor did his vision get spotty if he looked away from it.

It was somewhat pleasant, in truth. And it seemed to have a vague shape of sorts.

Hello, the beautiful thing said in an incomprehensible voice.

"Hello," Ackar replied drowsily, like he was about to fall asleep. He narrowed his eyes a little, squinting to envision the silhouette a little better: "Where have I seen you before?"

The beautiful thing laughed. It was a stilted sound, but genuine.

Here, of course, the beautiful thing told him.

"Here?"

He turned his head around: so much sand in the Vulcanus arena... He briefly wondered how the heat wasn't turning it into glass. It was really comfortable to lay on, though.

"Oh," he mumbled, "Yes, now I remember. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Has it?, the beautiful thing asked in honest surprise: To me it almost seems like it was only hours ago, since I had to bid you goodbye. Although perhaps, to one like me, a long period might need to span several millenia to be felt as such.

"It's a fickle thing, this time of ours," Ackar mused.

I suppose it is, the beautiful thing convened.

Then it made a strange noise: it sounded almost like a sigh.

I'm so very glad I got to see you again, my friend, the beautiful thing said in such a sad way.

"Me too," he nodded. "Though I can't quite say I see you."

I apologize, the beautiful thing smiled (he could not recognize the shape of a mouth, but he heard it in the tone): It seems I can never hold onto a body, doesn't it? Not even in one's mind.

In one's mind? Oh dear.

"Why didn't you say so from the beginning? I'll make you one right away, just give me a moment."

The beautiful thing laughed again.

Ackar squinted his eyes harder, trying to ignore the heaviness settling on his eyelids as he concentrated on the figure approaching him without walking, trying to shape out limbs and a torso and a head. His imagination appeared a little too weak to be up to the task, though, and his mind seemed to be so floaty yet heavy, lulled into a comfortable stasis...

Don't stress yourself over something not meant to be, my friend, the beautiful thing said with such sweetness and the sort of blinding crooked smile of someone who never had a mouth before: It would be best for you to rise now.

And Ackar blinked, and found himself awake.

-

The second time, he realized much sooner where he was: it was a large slab of rock under the burning sun. He had to shield his eyes with his hand before they got shriveled up like dried fruits.

He looked around to find the familiar dunes of Bara Magna - and the light, edges fuzzy and gentle, looking at him.

"Oh!" Ackar smiled. "Hello there."

Hello, the beautiful thing said, very genuinely surprised.

"Has something happened?"

What do you mean?

"You don't seem happy to see me."

Oh! Oh, the beautiful thing replied in an almost bashful manner: I assure you I am, my friend. But I had not expected to see you once more, in truth.

"Why not?"

The beautiful thing did not quite reply, merely lowering what probably were shoulders.

Ackar squinted his eyes at the gentler light again, like in the first dream in which he'd seen it: it definitely had a shape, if he looked at it like this, similar to that of a Glatorian - or an Agori - a Toa, maybe? They all looked so alike, either way. Noticeably, however, he could not make out a face.

He wondered what body a being like this would prefer, or need... What bodies other than the few ones he did know he could even imagine for a being like this.

The light looked back at him quietly. Standing at a distance.

"Why are you so far away?" the Glatorian asked.

The beautiful thing blinked quickly a few times before managing to answer softly: I don't think I understand.

"I can't figure you out if you stand over there," Ackar replied so simply. He made a motion with his hand, inviting the light to come closer: "Come here; it'll be easier for me to me make something up if I can at least get an idea of you."

The beautiful thing stared bewildered.

But I have no body, it stammered.

"That's why I'll imagine you one," he replied: "But please now, come here. Just a minute."

But the light did not move.

The poor thing shifted where it stood, sand clinging to its bright form anxiously: for a moment only Ackar thought he saw it cover it completely, shaping it in a way so immediately recognizable - for a moment he saw a humanoid figure stand over its luminous face, arms outstretched, in a strangely familiar manner - but it all fell off, leaving it once more fuzzy edged and unfocused.

I have no body, my friend, the beautiful thing repeated in an almost pleading manner.

"That's why I'll imagine you one," Ackar repeated.

No, no, the beautiful thing shook its head, which was shining so much that, had it not left his eyes unhurt, it would have been utterly indistinguishable from the sun: My friend, you mustn't.

"Why not?"

I have no body - I lost the ones I had, all of them. I do not want you to waste your energy on something I am bound to slip away from.

"Well, you won't this time."

How can you be so certain?

"Because I'll make sure of it."

I don't - I don't understand, I simply don't.

"What is it you don't understand?"

Why would you wish to make me one? Only for as fickle a thing as a dream like this?

"Because I miss you."

The beautiful thing looked at him intently, blindingly bright.

It seemed utterly distraught.

Please, it begged him finally as its shine overwhelmed everything in sight - leaving only a pair of slanted, pleading eyes (the only thing he could envision clearly) to gaze at him from afar.

Ackar stared back: "Please what?"

The beautiful thing only shook its head in despair.

"Please what?"

Stop sleeping!

And Ackar blinked, and found himself awake.

-

The third time, the light still did not hurt.

It covered every inch of his vision, annihilating the shape of his own body against its shine; but it did not hurt.

Not you too, he heard the beautiful thing cry, Not you, please!

"Where are you?" Ackar called out. He felt as though he was turning around, to look everywhere in search of that vague silhouette, but he could not tell any direction apart from the other. "My friend! I am here! What ails you?"

Why you, friend?, the beautiful thing sobbed inconsolably: Why must I have cursed you of all people?

"Cursed? Where are you?" he tried to reach out, to find something on which to lay his hands - if hands he did still have among the indescribable glow.

The blinding light shifted without leaving, slithering away from him like an eel struck at its tail yet incapable of not overwhelming him.

Leave! Leave! Quickly!

"Where are you!"

Leave, now!

"Why?"

He felt the light shift again. Blinding eyes, bigger than the whole world and burning wildly like twin suns, fixed themselves upon him in a look of terror.

Oh.

Yes, of course.

He remembered now.

(Did he?)

(Or was someone remembering through him?)

Sleep could be inescapable.

And Ackar blinked, and found himself awake.

-

The fourth time, he smiled.

He'd been trying to dream this again for a long while. It had been pretty damn hard - he didn't necessarily know how to do that, after all. Then again, he also didn't necessarily know how to care for a Scarabax beetle either, or a variety of mostly adult beings who had imprinted onto him like orphaned ducklings for no discernible reason other than him being large enough, probably, but he had been handling that with a surprising amount of grace for a Glatorian; so, nothing was too impossible.

He'd been thinking about a body for days too, observing those around him with newfound fascination as he wondered absentmindedly - should it be more organic, or more robotic? Should one be able to tell, even? Which parts would feel more comfortable, more natural, which would reawaken unwelcome memories...

So when he turned, and searched through the vague environment he hadn't put too much thought into, and found it, he smiled.

The beautiful thing was looking at itself.

It flexed its phalanxes gently, almost enthralled by their color, their feeling, the way they moved. Its feet shifted shyly, sinking in the soft sands without leaving indents.

"Do you like it?" Ackar asked, smiling.

The beautiful thing's head jolted up to gaze at him.

For a moment, a single moment, his vision seemed swapped: for a moment, a single moment, he saw himself - younger than he was, from before the war, as he liked to imagine himself, yet the armor still bore the dents and scratches and wear of a life at the service of Vulcanus - and the beautiful thing in a single image.

His eyesight settled back into his head feeling as though it was somebody else's.

The beautiful thing stared deep into him, slanted eyes wide.

Why?, it asked.

Its voice sounded a little too much like his; it must have realized that too, and gotten just as unsettled by it as him, because that strange disjointed sensation struck him again and the next time he blinked his eyes were back to being fully his own.

Why?, the beautiful thing repeated.

"Because you don't have one," Ackar replied matter-of-factly. "And I missed you."

He watched its shoulders jump as if hurt: I can't keep this, the beautiful thing nearly sobbed.

"Of course you can! I made it just for you."

I can't keep this. Not forever.

"For now, you can. In a dream. In any dream I have."

The beautiful thing shook its head, clamping it hard between its hands as if to crush it, looking so horribly, terribly dismayed that it almost hurt to see.

Please, please! I beg you - stop sleeping, friend, stop sleeping.

"I'd die if did that, my friend."

You'll die if you keep sleeping, too.

"You make it sound as though I won't wake up."

That is what a dream can do!

"You're being silly," he smiled: "I can assure you, there's no dream good enough to keep me asleep forever."

Then why did you look for me?, the beautiful thing cried, Why did you go through the effort of giving me a body? Why waste your time on something like this?

Its body turned bright and blinding, but not enough to erase its shape; Ackar stared straight at it, without flinching, without hurting.

His hand reached out.

He'd had his fair share of chances to touch protodermis by now, just about enough to recognize its texture from that of normal metal; he still couldn't help but make the mask cave in and turn soft, malleable, like skin.

The beautiful thing froze as he cupped its cheek in his palm. Its pleading eyes seemed fearful for a long moment: it looked at him expecting a painful metamorphosis to take place.

But Ackar smiled, and did not change.

This wasn't the Ignika, after all.

Just a mask.

A simple powerless shape for a face, based on countless he'd seen.

Slowly, carefully, the beautiful thing relaxed within his hand. Its new arms, colored in a gentle golden tan, raised slowly to rest its wrists on the warrior's arm: they were light, almost impossibly so, and carried a tender sort of heat not too dissimilar from that of a living organic body, which radiated onto everything it touched in soothing waves.

Such a far cry from the enormous cold body it had once thought within, its absentminded musings whispered across the dream, camouflaged as the wind passing through it... And so alive, unlike the puppet of sand the Ignika had made for it...

The beautiful thing exhaled a sigh against Ackar's warm skin and slumped slightly in the steady hold. It seemed guilty as it closed its eyes to bask in the offered comfort.

"So, my friend?" the Glatorian asked again. "Do you like it?"

The beautiful thing did not reply, hiding further into his hand.

"Is that a yes?"

The beautiful thing nodded, ashamed.

Ackar chuckled gently, as if to reassure it that it needed not feel like that: "Then I'm glad I did a good job."

Its fingers curled around him.

Somehow, they seemed even softer than how he'd imagined them.

Please, the beautiful thing whispered, Don't stay here.

"Don't be like that. It's just a dream, isn't it?"

You don't understand.

"I do. You felt it through me, last time I dreamt you."

Oh.

The grip on his wrist tightened apologetically.

Oh, the beautiful thing repeated: I am sorry. I am so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't... I am sorry. I am sorry.

"There's nothing to be sorry about."

It was horrible. It was horrible. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't... I am sorry, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have...

"Breathe, my friend. You're safe."

It's happening all over again, Ackar. All over again. All I can do is sleep, sleep, sleep... I am powerless, I am useless. My will is null. Oh, my friend, and the beautiful thing cried tears of silver onto his hand, Oh, my friend, I can't stand it. I can't stand it and I can't fight it, for I am too weak. I am trapped. And reaching out to you I fear I trapped you here with me.

"You haven't. I've always woken up, haven't I?"

But one day you might not.

"Of course I will, my friend. I have three menaces who'll shake me right up if I tried to sleep in - make that four! Click has yet to hesitate when he wants to pinch me awake."

A gentle laugh reverberated through his skin like a song; his thumb brushed away stray tears.

"And your children, too, they're quite a handful," Ackar added: "I can't very well leave them alone in this new world you've reunited for us, now can I?"

My children?, the beautiful thing asked.

He nodded sweetly: "Your Toa, your brave warriors."

The beautiful thing's eyes seemed to shine.

"I've met Tahu," he continued: "I understand your admiration of him. He's every bit the skilled swordsman you described to me. A little short on patience, maybe."

It laughed again: Only maybe, it convened. A saddened breath left it: I still have yet to meet them properly.

"I can tell you about them, in the meantime. Until you can."

You shouldn't. You mustn't. You cannot risk...

"I missed you too. If I could still see you like this, in a dream, and bring you company and solace, I'd be delighted."

The world's edges were turning fuzzy, retreating slowly into a comfortable, indescribable monochrome that was unlike any color either could have ever seen. Neither saw that - they simply felt it, in the way one feels water slide off of an arm as it's pulled out of its surface and cooled by the air.

"See?" Ackar said. "I'm already waking up. You have nothing to fear."

Be careful, still, friend, the beautiful thing pleaded, sounding so, so far away.

"Of course I will."

The beautiful thing tore its new head away from his hand carefully, already missing the contact. It looked at the Glatorian in the eyes, perfectly still: then it smiled.

I will see you then, my friend.

And Ackar blinked, and found himself awake.

[ohmyohmygosh]

Looking for a Partner (a male top)

Click here if you're interested. 23+. minors do not interact. 

Hello, I hope this e-mail found you well.

This is my first time posting something in Tumblr, so do forgive me if it doesn't look pleasing to the eyes.

October is approaching, which means some of the best holidays are just around the corner—wouldn't it be nice to spend it with someone? I just recently got some time to roleplay again and thus I steeled myself and posted this advertisement. also because joining a place and having so many dms always get me overwhelmed and lazy.

At the moment I am just looking for someone to make some memories with and companionship. the things that we do can range from watching movies, listening to music, playing games, anything really. But what's important for me at the moment is someone that I can write freely with; from cuddling, dates, etc. 

I would expect my partner to be semi literate and can write in detail, since I tend to write in somewhat of a lengthy paragraph—but do not worry, I can also write short or casual text when the times are appropriate or any of us get a bit too busy with life.

I am of age OOC, 23+, and would prefer for my partner to also be 23+. at the moment I am in gmt +8 (planning to move to gmt - sometimes next year), and mostly active during the night time because of work. There will be times at night where my reply comes periodically because sometimes I do play video games with my friends, but I will still reply whenever I can. That includes the day time. Also I don't mind my partner being in the minus gmt, we will just communicate things properly.

My limits for kinks and anything sexual are varied, and honestly still looking into it. I am very much open to anything, including taboo things like age gap, etc., but my big turn off is scat and urine. we can discuss our limits and the rest once we agree to writing. I am a very honest and transparent person, so I expect you to do the same and not play the guessing game with me when it comes to your likes and dislikes, and also what you are feeling at the moment.

Speaking of guessing games, this is very important to me, because I am the worst when it comes to reading someone. When I become comfortable with someone, I tend to be very playful and not know when to stop with my teasing and everything, so do tell me if it gets too much or if you are simply not in the mood.

for cafe claims, currently my muse are Jang Wonyoung of IVE, Winter of Aespa, Ricky, Gunwook and Zhanghao of Zero Base O1, Doyoung of NCT,  and Sohee and Wonbin of RIIZE and I heavily bottom, but I don't mind topping if I must (though I'll be using my male FC for that). I don't have any preferent with whom my partner will be, but here are some face claims that are my current obsession:

✦ Zero Base 01's Jiwoong ✦ Actor Song Kang  ✦ NCT's Jaehyun, Johnny, and Jisung ✦ Riize's Sungchan and Anton ✦ NCT's Mingyu and Dokyeom ✦ Astro’s Cha Eunwoo ✦ TXT's Soobin

Generally I am attracted to tall guys with softer looks (yes something about this video changed the chemistry in my brain), so if the names that I suggest don't suit your taste, do feel free to be anyone that you want, please make sure to let me know beforehand. Also do keep in mind that the age gap before our character should be between 7 to 10 years.

As for the medium, I prefer to be using Instagram because I’ve been using it for a long time. So please do not try to make me learn another medium, unfortunately I don’t have the time.

If you find this e-mail to be intriguing or have more questions you want to ask, please send me a private message containing a small introduction about yourself, including the face claim you’ll be using, and account to your Instagram account.

With love, ohmyohmygosh

[mumiyah]

𓂀𓋹𓆣 Rules.𓂀𓋹𓆣

INTRO: Hello! I’m Ramone, 24, they/them. Ancient Egypt has been a special interest of mine since childhood, as has Bat.man/D.C comics in general (I grew up with some cartoons). I enjoy creating original interpretations of villains/rogues from the Bat.man series, as it lets me play around with different perspectives and outcomes. You may have seen me from my various other blogs, such as sifonie, joque, and bonesmade! Fatimah here is another example of my original interpretation collection, and I hope you find her fun to interact with, as I’ve put personal knowledge/interest and research into crafting her.

IMPORTANT NOTES/DISCLAIMERS: I am not writing Kin.g Tu.t himself. I do not write rpf (real person fiction). Fatimah only believes she is him when she experiences an episode of psychosis. I have two degrees (and 6 years of experience) in psychology, meaning that I have put care and research into creating her. Still, I may get things wrong at times due to me not having personal experience with bipolar I disorder nor psychosis. If I write something that seems incorrect/harmful, please let me know politely and I will absolutely correct myself. I am open to listening to others about their experiences. I am aware of the stereotype that people who experience psychosis are violent. That belief is actually false and is usually an argument used against people with mental illness in order to harm them.

That being said, please read these notes here in addition to her biography/about page. They go in depth about her bipolar I disorder, and I thought it’d be important to discuss specifically what her symptoms are/how it affects her, as it is something that will come up in interactions.

This blog is 21+. Minors do not interact. Personals do not interact unless you have a roleplay sideblog. Please communicate that you have a sideblog with me if it is not linked somewhere that I can easily find it. Do not reblog threads that you are not a part of. Do not reblog my headcanons if they do not relate to your character nor steal any of my content.

GENERAL: Do not rush me for replies. Roleplay is a hobby, not a job. This is a mindset I extend to my writing partners as well. I would rather wait for a reply than have my partner feel forced and rushed, which can lead to burnout. A reminder or two is welcome, however, if you feel I've overlooked our thread. My goal for roleplay is to make friends, have good, lasting ooc/ic connections, and have fun creating stories with people.

GODMODDING/COMMUNICATION: While Fatimah does have powers/abilities, any major or disastrous effects will be discussed with the writing partner. I do not want to godmod, nor do I want anyone else to do so with me. Let's discuss major fights/injuries/death before they happen!! That being said, I want to foster open communication. Please tell me if I've overstepped or crossed a boundary, if I have gotten something wrong about your muse, or if I have upset you otherwise. I would prefer to talk it out so that I can correct my behavior for the future. I can misread tone over text on occasion, so if I ask for a clarification, I am trying to understand what you are saying better. Muse does not equal mun and vice versa.

ACTIVITY: My activity is slow and can vary per week/month depending on my life circumstances. I am currently looking for a job, which will be full-time, so that will take up some of my time. I also struggle with mental illness of my own, so I may not have energy or motivation to be on and writing. Please don't take any periods of inactivity personally, I may just be having a rough month or am catching up on other blogs of mine. My muse level can vary, but I find that keeping up ooc conversations about a muse keeps them high muse and active. Again, please don't rush or pressure me for replies. Please do not guilt me if I only have energy to answer asks or short things for a period of time.

INTERACTIONS/FORMATTING: I adore asks/memes and like to use them as icebreakers or to get interactions started. Send as many as you'd like and don't be scared to send some. My slowness does not equal disinterest. Plotting is optional, as I know it can be difficult to do off the bat if some muses aren't from the same franchise/fandom. However, I do try my best to plot when the time comes and find it enjoyable when muses really click. I would like to plot any action-heavy threads, just so I can have a bit of an idea of how to approach the situation. It doesn't have to be in-depth, but a little guidance is beneficial to me.

I do not use icons, just bolds/italics and sometimes small text to match the formatting of whoever I'm writing with. I do not do any special spacing or colored text.

TRIGGERS: Triggers that may be found on this blog include descriptions and depictions of mental illness, as well as violence/death/murder. These will all be tagged to the best of my ability. If I am unsure of how to tag something, I try to use 'ask to tag' so anyone may approach me with specifics. I do read rules and make note of any triggers I see there, but please reach out if I have missed a tag.

My triggers include pregnancy, suggestive/smutty content, and chainmail messages.

SHIPPING: Fatimah's age range is 19-21, therefore I will not romantically ship her with anyone older than 25. I will not ship her with anyone under 18, either. Other ships are game, such as familial, platonic, enemies, etc. If you have a dynamic you want to write, please come to me with it! I'd love to try things out.

Smut or suggestive content (as she is an adult) may or may not happen depending on my comfort level and if I have any romantic ships or not. If it does happen, it will be tagged with usfw tw and usfw if smut, and suggestive and suggestive tw if anything suggestive. I do not mind writing it, despite it being listed as a trigger above, because I can control what I write and set boundaries/can consent to what I am seeing.

[fandomfollowerart]

Plague Beatles

Sooo- I’ve been invested in The Arcana and finally had the confidence to post this- 

Spoilers ahead, no ships, also Lucio’s being a complete a-hole

Julian walked quite quickly down the hall of the count's wing. The only thing these days that could drag him away from his work on finding a cure was his patients, specifically the count himself. This plague was already taking a toll on Julian's mental health, knowing someone he considered a friend was sick didn't help. As annoying as Count Lucio could be, they still got along fine, and he didn't want him to die. He had to find a cure, but right now he had to check up on Lucio. Two guards stood at the door, but Julian proudly walked up to them. 

"Greetings gentlemen, I am here to check in on the Count." The guards nodded to him, opening the doors and ushering him into the room. Lucio was lying in his bed, looking just as terrible as the last time the doctor had checked up on him. The whites of his eyes were even more red than before, his hair was a mess, and he looked much paler than usual. He didn't even seem to notice the other had entered until Julian spoke up. "Hello Count Lucio, happy to see you're not dead yet!" he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Lucio sat up, a small smile forming on his face as he turned to the doctor. 

"Ah, Dr.Devorak here to save me from the boredom of this prison." 

Leave it to the count to still manage to be dramatic in such a situation. He pulled up a chair next to his bed, setting down his doctor bag. 

"Well, are you feeling any better since last time?" Julian asked, fishing out some of his tools. 

As if to answer the question, Lucio fell into a coughing fit, letting out an annoyed groan once he was able to catch his breath. 

"Oh sadly no, if anything I feel worse." Julian nodded, feeling terrible that he couldn't help much more. He sat the other up again, doing a proper check-up. "Ya know, it would be nice if these are no longer the circumstances we speak under. How's the cure coming along?" Lucio asked, though he was already quite sure of the answer. 

Julian gave a weak laugh. 

"Sadly no," the doctor said. 

He hated having to admit it. People were dying, so, so many people were dying, his friend was dying, and he was practically helpless until he found a cure. If he had been paying better attention, he would have taken note of the look that passed over Lucio's face. 

"Oh, what a shame." The count looked over to the two guards still inside the room, giving a signal for them to move. They did so quickly, grabbing the doctor and restraining him. Julian was too surprised to even shout at the sudden action, Lucio pushing himself to the edge of the bed. "Maybe you just down have the right- motivation, Jules." he mused, signaling to one of the guards again. 

The guard reached into the nightstand, pulling out a jar with a red beetle inside, handing it to the count before moving back over to Julian, practically ripping off the doctor's mask. 

"Lucio what are you doing!?" Julian shouted, finally finding his voice. 

Lucio ignored the question, grabbing the beetle from the jar as the guard pulled Julian's head back. Julian opened his mouth to speak again, or even scream, but the count was quick to shove the beetle into his mouth, managing to get him to swallow. 

"Find Valdemar and have them lock him up. He'll need to get to work right away if he wants to find his cure in time." Count Lucio ordered, one of the guards helping him lay back down. 

Emotions swirled inside Julian. Anger, hurt, betrayal.

"How could you!?" he shouted. 

Lucio turned to him, not a shred of guilt present on his face.

"Nothing personal Dr.Devorak," he replied, his town even and calm, "it's just business." 

Julian continued to struggle as the guard dragged him away, his shouts and pleas falling on deaf ears. After everything he'd done for the count, this is the thanks he gets?

[sealinth]

Hello, Guidelines and Info

This is a Sideblog

Hey, I'm Mar! Any pronouns you feel like is good. I'm gonna be calling myself a woman, a guy and whatever I feel like. Muses here!

Here you'll find more about Me, and How and What I write :) Português lá no fim!! (em construção)

Me

I write in english and portuguese

Born in 1995. Will only write with adults, and all preferably 21+, ideally 25+.

Blog title is sea + labyrinth, because i was thinking of concepts i like and mashed words together like my brain works less than a bot. naming blogs is really hard. But this works (even if it sounds like a pokemon name)

I'm a huge nerd and am usually going on about a book, a game, a series or whatever else really

Timezone is GMT -3

I'll be liking from a blog called "mar0la"

Writing Hows

I've been writing for 11 years now

Only via discord! Love a cute organized server :)

Will only move to discord after we decided on plot and characters. I don't like having my discord full of people that don't talk to me and having to clean it every once in a while :/

Can use tupper or not

Can do short replies but would rather we have at least a full paragraph to work with. That said, if writing too much brings the rp to a halt let's just write :)

Only write OC's. I prefer to write males or masc coded people. favored dynamics are, in order, mxf, nbxf and fxf

Usual style is what I think it's called literate with like 2 or 3 paragraphs usually

I have a little trouble with certain letter and words sounds so it's possible I'll be making mistakes like trading "will" for "you" or stuff like "brief" for "breath". I usually pay attention but it happens, so let me know and I'll edit the reply

I don't currently want to join any groups as they take too much attention

Will be replying at least once a day but I usually manage to squeeze in 2 or 3 replies. Depends on partner speed too! :D

I will let you know if I'm in a particularly busy period of my life and we can either do shorter replies or wait a bit. Of course all the same goes for you!

OOC Communication

Love plotting and headcanoing together

Playlists, graphics, pinterest boards, art or just memes - whatever we talk about with our characters is fun

That said I truly would like to make friends and made some greats ones writing so I'll be open to talk about other things as well

It's a habit to say good morning and good night for me (if my adhd let's me remember) precisely because it keeps the rp and the partner fresh in my darn brain (and it's polite and I enjoy it :) ). It's not in any way, shape or form a sign that I'm pressuring you to write, ever

If you take longer to reply (always beyond 24 hours) I'll be asking if everything is okay and that's it

Writing Whats

Plot comes before anything for me and I'm looking to create worlds together

Also love romance, love shipping and that's always what I'm looking for the most, but without forcing anything and just having fun and seeing if the characters hit it off

I'm an artist and as such I'll always be more inclined to draw my characters or just stick to the descriptions on text

If you want a irl faceclaim from me, I'm probably just going to pick one from your own wanted opposite list

A partner can draw, have an irl faceclaim, use picrew or whatever other means they want of presenting their character

I prefer fantastic plots in some way or another over slice-of-life things. That means if the setting is modern there's got to be something else going on

It doesn't mean I won't write slice-of-life, it's just harder and I get slower

My favorite setting are fantasy (low or high), scifi stuff and I'd like to try at least one fresh apocalipse here and there tbh

I don't focus on smut ever, but I can write it if you really want to. Otherwise it's all fade to black and headcanons

Trigger Warnings and the such: I have no triggers for content except characters that smoke weed, specially if they keep talking about it. Otherwise it's all good. We can always talk about content deeper depending on the sort of rp we're planning to do!

WON'T WRITE: Serial killer/slasher, incest, abusive/toxic/mean spirited relationships im general - I'm all in for complex, angsty, grey area ships. Stuff like too much devotion or forbidden love and all. Just not obsessive, destructive, controlling etc

Ok I can't think of anything else so whatever you need to know, ask me!

That's all! Thank you for reading all the way here :)

[cflight]

get to know the author!

it's been quite a while since i've done one of these so i figure i might as well get this out of the way (even tho i chose to do it like. lol. i just woke up from a nap, spare me)

name: evan

pronouns: they/them (he is also fine)

preference of communication: discord by far (starteas#6241)

most active muse: the only muse i currently have for this blog- ekira. i'd honestly love to add some of my other muses to this blog such as hemlock since he's incredibly prevalent in ekira's story, but i need to curb my own laziness and finally give him a page lmao. i'm also incredibly out of practice with writing villains so it's been quite a while. i definitely need to freshen up there.

experience / how many years: i've been roleplaying on tumblr since i was about 13 so i have about 8 or so years of experience. i only started taking it seriously fairly recently into my early teen years, and i've been trying to do so ever since. i don't keep up to date with my rp experience nowadays (considering thinking back on old things i did as a tween makes me cringe heavily.)

when i rebooted ekira's blog back in 2020 or so is when i started taking writing up as less of a hobby and more of an artistic pursuit. i've always enjoyed it for as long as i can remember, and have loved making up stories with my characters since i was little. i consider rping to be an extension of that, and it's always great to improve my writing and characters along the way.

platforms you use: tumblr and discord, but mainly this hellsite

best experience: my best experience has been meeting other muns and interacting with characters from all aspects- whether it be canon muses or ocs, or even heavily canon-divergent muses, i love them all and interacting with each muse has been so fun. i know i would like to interact with more muns one on one more often, but i don't mind the mini interactions we do get with replying to each other's posts or seeing each other in our notifs. hello friend!

rp pet peeves: punctuation. this might be me considering i am VERY finicky on correct punctuation and spelling, so it's incredibly hard for me to jive with characters that don't seem to have as much care in their writing presentation. that's just a me thing though, and i absolutely don't fault anyone who falls into this category! it just itches my brain in a way i really do not like

this is also directed at myself, but i dislike happy-go-lucky characters with little to no substance. when i first started writing ekira that's the only thing they tended to embody. they were sweet and kind and friendly and incredibly fucking boring. they could get emotional, sure, and could get angry sometimes, but they were completely sanded down and unfun to right and otherwise just boring. i wasn't having fun writing them and i wasn't having fun in threads because i wrote them all so... samey.

it's why i decided to revamp ekira's blog the way i did, and in the same vein change up how i wrote them completely. i won't get too much into it (because tbh i already stated my problems with it and we'd be here ALL DAY if i continued) but i'm much happier writing them now than i ever was before the reboot. sometimes i still find myself falling into the same patterns as i did when i first wrote them, and it's something i personally am striving to improve on the more i write them.

ekira's still friendly and kind but can get frustrated, sad, angry, and isn't much of a blank slate as they were before. i'm incredibly proud of how far they've come since then, and hope to avoid any of the same stuff i ran into before in the past.

fluff, angst, or smut: fluff and angst are both good in moderation. i'd personally love to get into more angst threads as it's the ones i surprisingly get the least of (understandable) but i'd also like to get into more smut. i don't write it much as i'm still very much a beginner to it, but it's something i'd like to explore more of in the future; same with angst. there's a lot to ekira i'm grateful i get to explore with my friend @modestmuses and i'd certainly love more of it whether it be in those two categories.

plots or memes: i have a lot of fun doing both, but i definitely want to get better with doing things that are much more planned out. i'm not the best at thinking of in depth plots on the spot, but i know it's something i want to do more of. memes are also great (again, shouting out teddy for this one) because he just knows how to craft plots around memes so expertly that makes me crave EXACTLY what he's writing.

long or short replies: i tend to do medium replies depending on length, but recently i've been feeling more drawn to long replies. it helps me improve my writing and i love testing the waters with longer replies; it gives me more opprotunity to flesh out ekira's thoughts and actions much more than two paragraphs ever could.

best time to write: whenever i feel like it. i'm sporadic when i use tumblr so i get bursts of inspiration randomly. usually it comes best to me either mid afternoon or very late at night.

are you like your muse(s): yes and no. i'd go more in depth about it but all i can say is we both need to learn to love ourselves a bit more. also i want goat horns and a tail, it'd be sick as hell

tagged by: @modestmuses (not actually i stole this lol)

tagging: steal it

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter 3

Your boredom prompts you to market, where you find a possible friend and concerning unrest.

Chapter list

Your inkwell is running low but not for the right reasons. Tearing yet another page out of your journal, you crumple it up into a ball and toss it somewhere into the room to join the other failed poems, your mind too hazy to formulate a properly sounding sentence.

Giving up for today, you decide to check up on Quintus, who has buried himself yet again in his work, still unsatisfied with how things are going around the fishing village. You enter his office with bated breath, hoping to find him in a mood that is not too foul, for it has happened more than once that a bowl of olives was hurled your way upon your entrance. 

The Praetor seems just concentrated today, though, and you let out a relieved sigh whilst approaching him, catching his attention almost immediately.

“Hello, darling.” He wears a rare, true smile on his features, and you wonder what has gotten him in such a good mood. “How are you today?”

“Frankly, I am uninspired,” you confess, allowing him to beckon you closer and pull you into his lap. He brushes some (h/c) hair behind your ear and taps your nose with his finger. Fickle as his mood tends to be, he is strangely chipper. You are curious to know what has brought him in such good spirits, but as if he can read your mind, he enlightens you with the news before you even have to ask about it.

“One thing around this wretched city seems to be going well. Oh, (Y/n), truly, I am not even exaggerating!” - you would be the judge of that -  “The tax collector here, I haven’t met the guy and do not plan to do so, but I have rarely seen such an organised list of all that’s been levied! Ha! My darling, I feel like the next paycheck is going to be fat, and what I’m thinking is that you and I are going out for a nice dinner, hm?”

You force a smile on your features and adjust his cloak, patting him on the chest before pushing yourself off, or at least you try to, for his grip on your back is like iron. He keeps you in his lap, snaking his other hand around your waist. “Pilate will be proud, don’t you think so?”

When you don’t reply and Quintus raises a questioning eyebrow, you soon nod. “Oh, yes, I’m certain he will be.” 

He leans up to press his mouth against yours in a kiss that feels clinical at best and you cut it short before he can get his hands under your tunic. Once apart, you get up from his lap and pat his shoulder, telling him that he should get back to his work.

“A break won’t hurt, my dearest.” he muses with a grin, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go and head over to the market for a bit? Let’s see, ah, Marcus, could you be my wife’s chaperone whilst she goes to visit the market? Here, why don’t you treat yourself to something nice?” 

Before you can protest, Quintus slides a pouch of denarii into your pocket, and determining by the weight of it you don’t even dare ask how much is in there. 

Marcus awaits you patiently on the threshold and knows better than to start a conversation, just giving you a small bow as well with the request as to where you would like to go after stepping outside of the residence.

Your answer, however, raises his brow, and he hopes that the Praetor has not heard it.

“The local market, please.”

“It’s very busy today,” Marcus tries to change your mind, “Lots of Jews roaming about. If I were you, I’d avoid it altogether and send out one of your maids to get you fresh produce.”

“I’d like to see it for myself, thank you very much.”

He takes a deep breath. “But ma’am, the ground is filthy with mud and faeces. Think about your tunic…” 

You take the linen between your fingers. “This old thing?” you scoff, and Marcus realises that you will not reconsider. He sighs and escorts you without further delay, allowing you your first real sight of Capernaum.

The village is bustling with life, with merchants from far and wide attempting to sell their goods for prices criminally low, desperation visible in their sunken eyes. The sharp stench of rotting fish causes your eyes to water, but it does not abhor you to turn back to the safe comfort of your home.

Marcus had not been lying when he said that the roads were soiled, but you pay it no mind, nor do you care about the hem of your robe becoming soaked with an unfamiliar substance whilst walking past an animal pen. Your escort keeps a close eye on you as you pass by a cart loaded with hay, and puts his hand on the handle of his sword when a blind lady grabs the end of your Palla, grasping hopelessly at the fabric.

“Please,” she begs, “Oh, do you have something? One denarius, please! Please!”

“Back off!” Marcus spits her way, voice dripping with malice, and he pushes her back before you can stop him. 

“Hey, quit that!” you whimper, reaching for your pocket, “You back off, Marcus!”

Your chastisement has him step away, his face falling in slight shame. “I apologise, ma’am, I—”

“I am not the one you should apologise to.” you bite his way, and even though you do not expect him to act on it, it is enough to have him shut his mouth and the blind woman to crack the smallest of smiles. You drop five denarii in her cup and the chime of it makes her grin widen, and she takes hold of your hand firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers, “I’ve been so hungry. Thank you.”

Even though she cannot see it, you smile at her, squeezing her hand before she lets you go. 

You walk away, a few curious eyes on you, and you cower a little under the attention. Marcus is close behind you, extra alert now that you have shown your ostentatious wealth to the folk around. 

The sight of fresh fruit suddenly tickles your fancy upon turning the corner, and you go to purchase some olives for Quintus, choose some dried prunes and apricots for yourself, until your eye falls on a small box of sugared figs, your mouth watering at the sight. “I’ll have one of those, please.”

The seller is glad to be of service and throws in a handful of walnuts as a gift. “Keep the change,” you tell him in return, even though the money he owes you back is of way greater value than the amount of nuts he has dropped into your back, but you don’t mind.

“That man just charged you double for that box of figs,” Marcus hisses behind you. “I know it is not my place, ma’am, but it is my duty to protect you from being cheated.”

You stroll further with a shrug, prying open the small wooden box, chewing your bottom lip at the smell of the candied figs soon filling your senses.

“Do you think that Quintus and I will go hungry over a denarius or two?”

He looks at you with slight disbelief as you pop one of the fruits into your mouth and crack the sugar with your teeth, closing your eyes in enjoyment. “Mmm, that’s good.”

“They’re… They’re Jews !” Marcus implores you. 

“So?”

“They’d slit your throat in cold blood before you could even eat another one of these figs.”

You sniff at his shallow attitude and hold out the box towards him. “Want one?” Not wanting trouble with your husband, he takes one without much protest, and he chews down on it as you walk on further over the market.

The next stall that catches your attention contains blooming flowers in all colours imaginable. A bright young woman makes eye contact with you and you smile, a gesture that has her frowning in surprise even though she soon mirrors it. 

“ Shalom !” she greets you, a word that you still have to grow accustomed to, “Would you like to buy some flowers?”

You nod and inspect the blooms with great scrutiny. “I’ve just moved into a new home,” you clarify, “I am thinking something that represents love, but not red.”

“Coming right up!” she chimes.

Whilst she searches for some flowers and gathers them in her basket, you take in her appearance. She is obviously not from around here, clad in a toned shade of red. A beautiful headpiece forged from either brass or gold is perched on her head and a necklace made from beads sits around her neck.

“How about these,” she questions, showing you a bouquet of pink wild garlic blossoms, lilac Jerusalem autumn crocus, some rose-coloured Bristly Hollock and blue lupin, with a few Syrian cornflowers peeping through.

“It looks exquisite,” you breathe, already taking the pouch of talents to grab the amount necessary. The woman blinks at you slowly in disbelief when you drop way more than needed into the palm of her hand and once again refuse the change she tries to give you.

She shakes her head slowly whilst you prop the bouquet of flowers into the crook of your arm to keep upright the blossoms. “I can’t take this,” she says, “This is more than a week’s pay.”

“I do not need it.” you dare to tell her in all honesty, “You seem like a good woman. Spend it well.”

Tears spring into her eyes and she swallows thickly, her bottom lip starting to tremble as she speaks up. “My friend, he’s… He’s paralysed. This will buy him enough pain medicine to last him a month!”

Your throat grows tight and you force back the lump that forms there, showing her a watery smile. “Then it will end up in a good place. Thank you for the flowers, ma’am.”

You ignore Marcus as he attempts to complain about your reckless shopping spree whilst the woman calls after you with glee in her voice, “No, thank you! I will not forget this kindness!”

Another sugared fig disappears into your mouth as you turn to Marcus with a sweet smile, innocent as dew itself. “I think I’m done shopping for today.”

“I must insist you to take back the money they owe you, ma’am, otherwise your husband will–”

“Relax, Marcus.” you tell him. “Quintus will not notice. Your reputation will not be harmed, I’ll make sure—”

A cry of agony from the alleyway on your left causes the words to get stuck in your throat, and Marcus lunges forwards at once, drawing his sword to keep you safe from any harm by throwing himself between you and the noise.

Shouts unfold and bounce against the walls, a fight breaking loose.

“Go, go!” Marcus urges, and you nearly slip in the mud as you hurry back towards the safer quarter of the city.

“What’s going on?” you query, but are not given a response. 

Dust flying up with every quickened step, you make your way back to the place you called your home, an unidentified feeling starting to grow in the pit of your stomach at the sound of ruckus behind you, becoming distant as Marcus escorts you back.

“What was that about?” you once again ask, but Marcus lets nothing go, instead hurries further up the road. “I demand that you inform me of what is going on!”

Your words fall on deaf ears and you arrive at your husband’s office, where your chaperone disappears to speak to a few of his peers as well as his captain, and a few immediately move out together with the one you recognise as Gaius. 

Entering the chamber where Quintus is scribbling away on a piece of parchment, you clear your throat and cause him to look up with a raised brow. 

“Hm? Oh, good to see you again.” He seems unaware of what had unfolded in the fishing village mere minutes ago, even though you yourself aren’t entirely sure of what had been going on either. “Did you get anything nice?”

You approach him and put the leather pouch with remaining denarii on the surface of his desk. He takes it wordlessly, momentarily weighing it in his palm. “Good deal out of there. What did you get?”

“Sugared figs,” you admit buying the delicacy that is still sticking to the roof of your mouth, “And these,” You show him the flowers, which he does not seem to care about, instead keeps looking at you with a raised brow, until you reach into the basket on your arm and take out the small container of olives you have bought him.

“Almost forgetting the most important part.” you try to jest and he smiles a little, humming in acknowledgement and careful appreciation, opening the lid and having a taste. His gaze positively softens as he bites down into the salty fruit, a grin tugging at the corner of his lip.

He nods, “These are beautiful, darling. Thank you.” A rare word of gratitude. He spits the pit into the cup on his desk and looks at you expectantly. “Anything else? Was it eventful at all?”

“That’s it,” you lie, not wanting to alarm him about the disturbance taking place right when you were about to head home, “Nothing worth mentioning.”

“In that case, if you don’t mind, I will be joining you for supper later today. I still have work to do. Oh, and while you’re at it, please do change into a clean tunic. You smell like a sheepcote.”

For a moment, your gaze falls to the dirty hem of your tunic, reckoning that he must be right. You excuse yourself, heading back to the residence unescorted for once, most soldiers called to assist in the village itself. 

Despite your curiosity, you head inside the house, give your flowers to a servant to put them into an ornamental vase, and head up to the washroom to take a bath, washing off the dirt and allowing your mind to wander to what the commotion in the city could have been about.

Chapter list

[phoenix-of-jade]

REMINDED

GLIMPSES OF THE PAST

send REMINDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they encountered something that reminded them of a difficult experience / trauma

Xuan had been going through his stuff, cleaning things here and there around his study, when he heard a knock at the door. A bit confused, the man stopped what he was doing to look at the clock, then tell the person at the door they could come in. "The door is open, you can come in." Strange, I wasn't expecting anyone this afternoon... Could it be Mizuka forgot to write it down in my agenda? The raven haired thought to himself. He was soon going to understand why he had no clue about this visit once the mysterious guest entered the office.

"Well well well, what have we here? Hello to you too, stranger! Long time no see!" The snarky sassy voice made Xuan scrunch his nose, recognizing its owner as none other than his former long time best friend, turned now business associate, Huang Cheng. Without responding to the greeting, Xuan turned around to face the blond, arms crossed as he looked at him coldly. "What are you doing here and how have you found me?" He could've sworn that he'd erased every trace after he left, so how...?

"Tsk! What a way to greet your best friend! Come on, Xuxu! Don't tell me you've forgotten about me already?! After all we've been through together..." Cheng mewled in a pathetic attempt of sounding offended by the other's reaction, as he pulled the chair stood in front of Xuan's desk, flopping down onto it as if he was in his own home.

"Cut the crap, I asked you something. How did you find me?" Xuan was unimpressed by all that and rubbed his temples in order to calm himself down. The last thing he needed was this walking talking pain in the ass to come and bother him out of nowhere. "Pfft, you really haven't changed one bit, have you?" Cheng raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Fine, I hired someone to find me where you've decided to settle down. Although, if you ask me, I find it really stupid that I even had to do this in the first place, since we are best friends and I am your primary stock supplier! I think I deserved to know at least this tiny bit of information! Don't you think?" Frowning himself, Cheng then started fiddling with his finger nails, pretending to admire his manicure and not let the displeasure show.

Xuan sighed and sat back down himself. "You already know why I couldn't tell you. It was too risky, and that's why I am pissed off at you that you've been stupid enough to even do such a thing not even thinking about the potential consequences it could have! What if your little private investigator would've ended up selling this information further down the line, to whom it shouldn't?! Now I'd have to literally pick up shop after all the efforts I did to rebuild things and start over once again somewhere else!"

"That's why I killed him." Cheng replied unphased. "I'm not an idiot either, Xuan. I wouldn't intentionally hurt you, not unless it's the kind of hurt you like, and you know that too." The blond then grinned suggestively, rendering Xuan to roll his eyes. "Whatever... What brings you here then? I do hope you have good reasons for coming here in person and not simply writing me like I've precisely instructed you to." The young mob's reply seemed to have made his guest smile in amusement. "Why must I have a reason for being here? Can't I just see my friend? Come on Xuan! It's been 3 fucking years already! I miss you! Have you really forgotten all the nights..."

So that was it... Xuan rolled his eyes again and stopped Cheng from speaking, trying his best not to get even more annoyed. "I already told you back then and now I tell you for a second time that things between us are to remain strictly professional and nothing more! Anything that happened before I left remains in the past and I refuse to bring this up again. Am I clear?!" It really looked like the topic was starting to get on his nerves.

How rude! I bet that if it were him, you wouldn't have reacted like that! The short blond thought to himself, scoffing at the way he was being treated. "Yeah, whatever... I guess it was worth a try... Anyways, it looks like you've been doing fine. The new branch you've opened here is making good numbers and you don't seem to be too stressed. I bet you've probably even found yourself someone to date..." Cheng's blue eyes betrayed a slight hint of sadness as he locked eyes with the raven haired, then shifted his gaze towards the mountain of documents laying on Xuan's desk, which the mobster had been going through prior to his intrusion. "All in all, you look good Xuan. I am glad! Also, I see you let your hair grow back. It looks good on you."

Unimpressed by the other's compliments and comments on his current situation, Xuan didn't seem to give off any warmth or appreciation for his friend. Not saying anything, the green eyed then proceeded to pick up one of the books on the table to put it back in the shelve next to his desk. "If you're done here, I think you should be going Cheng. I am busy." His tone was cold and he didn't even bathe an eye at him before turning his back on the blond to take care of the book.

This was indeed kind of hurtful for the conceited young man whom once used to spend his entire days together with the longhaired beauty. "Yeah, I guess so... Sorry for having bothered you with my presence! I guess it really was stupid of me to think you'd even want to consider going to visit his grave together for old time's sake like we used to do every year on his anniversary. I bet you even forgot about it, given you couldn't care less about me either, and I am still alive! You owe him at least that little bit of respect after everything he's done for you!" Cheng's cold words shot like daggers through Xuan's heart, making the latter freeze on the spot, wide eyed, causing him to drop the book.

The hardcovered hit the floor with a loud "thud", before bouncing back a little from the impact and spreading open close to Xuan's foot. As it did so, in the fall, something slipped from within its pages, drawing Cheng's attention. Seeing such a visceral reaction from his friend, the blond stopped to look at him again, having now second thoughts about his choice of words. Maybe he'd been too harsh after all, saying that...

"Ah, looks like you've dropped something!" Cheng hurried to help Xuan pick up the book, to which the raven haired didn't seem to have any reaction, staring blankly into space for a moment. Had I really forgotten? No, it couldn't be! Cheng must be wrong or he said it just to get back at me! The thoughts ran like an avalanche through Xuan's mind and he only snapped out of it at Cheng's next exclamation. "Ah! I can't believe you still have this!"

Xuan turned his eyes to look at him. Cheng was now stood next to him, holding the book in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. "Man, look how young we were in this one! I think this could even be the first one we ever took! Xia looked soo cheerful in this one! He'd always had a soft spot for you!" The blond was now all smiles, staring with nostalgic eyes at the paper that turned out to be an old photo.

The picture depicted a group of three young boys that couldn't be older than 9 or 10 years old, smiling and chit chattering in high spirits. On the left, the tallest and probably eldest of the three, a brunet with soft brown eyes and a warm smile, was touching the middle kid's shoulder in a comforting and friendly manner; the middle child, a shy looking boy with bright green eyes and long black hair braided into a long ponytail, was looking back at him with a faint smile, seeming appreciative of the kindness and warmth displayed by the former; and finally, on their right, the last boy was gesticulating in a lively manner, leaning towards his two friends, as he seemed really caught up in whatever they must've been talking about, shedding his own thoughts on the matter with a firey passion, his bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement and joy and his own braided light brown hair following the motion line of his body. They all had the distinguishable feature of the same dark green and black Chinese uniform, as well as the braided hair.

We really were soo young... Once he was finally out of the slight trance, Xuan sighed and threw Cheng an apologetic look, before gently pulling the photo out of his hands to place it back into the book and seat it on the bookshelf. "Is it really that time again? God, how could I have been soo careless and allow myself to forget!" There was pure, unfiltered sadness and pain in his voice as he spoke, making Cheng bite his lip in slight guilt.

"Yeah... It really is... And since it's already been 3 years since we've last went there together, I thought that maybe... He would've been happy if we started doing this again." Feeling remorseful, the blond then placed his hand on Xuan's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, we can still get there in time if we leave by plane before the end of the week... Then maybe we can have a drink and chat like in the good old days as we share with him what's been new in our lives. Xia would be glad to know you are doing better. Then we can visit auntie Wang! She missed you greatly too!"

3 Years... So they've almost reached the 15 years anniversary and he'd forgotten about the entire thing for the past 3 years?! Xuan felt miserable. Yeah, there sure was a lot to share to catch up on things... So maybe for once, he could allow himself to go back home just once after nearly 6 years... "Yeah, sure. Let's do that Cheng!"

[honeypiehotchner]

Gravedigger’s Daughter (Hangman x Fem!Reader) -- part two

I play with Hangman’s backstory a LOT here lol fair warning. I’m not sure if he really got one in the movie or not (I don’t think he did), but I read that they asked Glen Powell to add some southern charm since he was raised in Texas, so I’ve been running with that. Anywho! Happy reading

Summary: You’re finally back in Fightertown to visit Penny and Amelia, but there also happens to be a group of aviators back at Top Gun. One of which who seems dead-set on wooing you.

Warnings: more shameless flirting, some angst if you squint really hard, and maaaayyybeee a sexy thought or two

WC: 3,498

You contemplate for hours about going back to The Hard Deck that night. But Amelia ends up spending the night at her friend’s house, so you almost have no choice. You can’t stay at home with her and watch movies, so naturally, Penny asks you to join her at the bar. And you’d look incredibly weird to say no.

No aviators are inside when you arrive, surprisingly, but you know they’ll all be along soon. But even without them, the place is packed.

“Hey,” Penny starts, pausing to breathe, “you know I’d never ask, but this was an unexpected rush--”

“Move over,” you laugh, walking around the bar. “What am I pouring?”

Penny smiles in relief and points you in the direction of some patrons she hasn’t gotten to yet.

It’s been a while since you’ve helped her here, but the role is easy enough to slip back into. People want their beer, and as long as you pour it, they’re happy campers. Bonus points if you flash a grin, engage in some small talk, and entertain some flirting from the men.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Penny says once the rush dies down somewhat.

“It’s no problem. How do you manage?” you ask genuinely, turning to someone who just approached the bar with an empty glass. “What’d you have?”

As you pour their refill, Penny answers you. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Here you go,” you hand off the beer, turning back to Penny. “Well. I’m glad I came in when I did.”

“Me too,” she says. “Any idea where all the pilots are?”

“Oh, who knows,” you shrug. “Why? Looking for Mav?”

“Maybe,” she gives you a look, but then her eyes flick toward the door. “Speak of the devil.”

“And he shall appear,” you finish, turning your head to see Maverick has arrived. Along with Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy. The whole entourage.

Everyone except Hangman walks to Penny’s side of the bar. Hangman, of course, comes straight to you.

“They’ll let anybody in here, huh?” you call out.

“Ouch,” Hangman replies, sidling up to the bar, resting his elbows on the wood. “That hurts, sweetheart.”

You smile. “What do you want?”

“One for me, one for you,” he grins, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “The usual.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You trying to get your ass kicked again?”

“Maybe,” he muses. “How about you join us for a game of pool?”

“Hmm,” you think it over. “Teams or solo?”

“Whatever you want, darlin’.”

“Bad decision, Hangman,” Maverick comments from the other side of the bar.

“Oh, come on,” you retort. “I haven’t played pool in years, Mav.”

“I doubt that makes any difference,” Maverick replies, sliding onto a stool. “I’ll be keeping my ass up here.”

“Smart man,” Penny comments. “Your usual?”

“Please,” Mav says, smiling sweetly at her. It’s sickening.

“Alright, fine,” you bite, reaching down and grabbing two glasses. “We can play. But I’m supposed to be helping Pen.”

“The rush is done,” she chides. “Go have fun.”

“You heard her,” Hangman quips. “Come have some fun.”

You give him a look before turning around to pour two beers. You wouldn’t be entirely surprised if you turned back around to find he was staring at your ass. You hate that you don’t entirely mind if he is.

You spin back around and hand him his beer, tipping yours back for a drink. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are,” he replies, making you roll your eyes.

You pass the group of aviators and call out a hello, earning greetings in return. When they see where you’re headed and who’s in tow, you hear Fanboy say, “Ohhhh, shit.”

“Lemme guess,” you start, pausing to sit your beer on the windowsill. “You’re the best of the group?”

“How’d you know?” Hangman grins, grabbing a stick.

You take more time than needed picking out your stick and chalk. Maybe it’s hustling, but you’ll call it getting comfortable. “Just figured you’re trying to level the playing field after last night.”

“Maybe,” Hangman shrugs, grabbing chalk. “Want me to rack ‘em?”

“Ha, no,” you reply. “I’ve got it.”

“Please crush him,” Payback says.

“Don’t worry, I will,” you reply, grabbing the triangle rack. “8 ball, I’m assuming?”

You fill in the pool balls, making sure the 10 is in the middle of the third row. You put one on top of the second row, looking up at Hangman. He’s watching you closely, with something in his eyes you can’t quite place.

You jerk the rack and the ball jumps into the final hole, filling the rack and nestling tightly. One of the aviators whistles loudly. That’s a trick you didn’t have to do, but you definitely wanted to.

“Fuck,” Hangman mutters under his breath.

You pull the rack up and hang it back on the wall. “Your break.”

“Thanks, sweetheart, how kind of you,” Hangman smiles, placing the cue ball where he wants it. “Stripes or solids, honey?”

“Your break, Hangman,” you repeat. “Your pick.”

He shoots the ball forward, and immediately a stripe lands in the left corner pocket. “Stripes it is.”

“Stripes are unlucky if you ask me,” you grimace, watching him shoot again.

He lands another ball. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve only ever played solids,” you smirk.

Hangman lands another. “It’s looking pretty good to me.”

“For now.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Gladly,” you grin. He misses. “Ouch,” you echo him from earlier. “Sucks.”

“It’s alright,” Hangman replies, gesturing to the table. “Let’s see how you do.”

“Loser buys drinks?” you ask.

“Sounds good,” he says. “As long as you’re willing to spend some money.”

“Please,” you deadpan. “We’ll see about that.”

“Keep talkin’, honey,” Hangman smirks.

You take your shot and sink a solid pool ball. “That’s one.” You turn and sink another. “Two.” This time, you have to walk around and adjust, but you take another shot. “Three. Four. Should I go for five?”

“If you so desire,” Hangman replies through a clenched jaw. “My wallet is burning already.”

“That’s five,” you pause, looking up at him. “Six?”

He shrugs, but he’s biting back a smile, his tongue curled against his molars.

You purposefully miss the shot, deciding to back off a little. “Damn. Your turn.”

“I was just getting comfortable here,” he groans, feigning annoyance.

“Oh, so sorry,” you frown. “Miss your shot and you can get comfortable again.”

“Nice try,” he replies sweetly, bending down to shoot. “Damn. You messed up the board, huh?”

“Shut up,” you say through a laugh. You grab your beer and take a sip, watching him adjust to get a better angle. He bends over and his pants stretch against his ass. You look for just a little too long and—

“Like what you see?”

Your eyes snap to his and his cocky smile. “Nope.”

He shakes his head. “Dear Lord, woman.” He takes the shot, almost sinking a stripe, but it bounces.

“You’re not doing too good tonight,” you comment.

“You fluster me, sweetheart,” he replies, holding out his arms. “What can I say?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoot and sink your sixth. “One left.”

“Then the 8,” Hangman adds.

“Yes, I know,” you mock. You sink your seventh solid. “Shall I go for the 8?”

“Go ahead,” Hangman says. “I’ve already accepted that I’ll be buying another round.”

You take your shot and the 8 sinks right into the hole. “Looks like you’re right.”

He hangs his head in defeat. “Alright then.” He rests his pool stick against the wall. “Let’s go.”

You turn and see another wave of people entering the bar. “Actually, I probably need to see if Penny needs any help.”

“I’ll keep you company,” Hangman takes your stick and rests it next to his. “Come on.”

You give him a stern look. “Don’t make me ring the bell on you.”

“I’d never disrespect you, darlin’,” he grins.

You walk off before he can catch your smile.

Penny wasn’t going to ask for your help, but you give her no choice before you begin pouring drinks and handing off glasses to impatient customers.

Hangman stays true to his word (not that you were worried) and keeps his mouth shut at the bar. You don’t even realize that you haven’t given him a refill until many minutes have passed.

“Shit, sorry,” you grab his glass. “Totally forgot we came up here for refills.”

“It’s alright, you’re busy,” he replies. “You look good up there.”

You slide his glass across the bar, fighting back a smile, honing your scolding glare instead. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he winks, raising his glass to toast you.

Once the rush dies down again, you stay to help clean glasses. Penny is at the other end of the bar, talking to Maverick, of course. Hangman has remained on this one stool at your end, sipping his beer quietly. His friends have moved to the pool table, and you thought surely he’d join them, but he hasn’t.

“You grew up here?” he asks, though it’s posed more as a statement.

“Yep,” you reply. You evaded his small talk all night so far. It’s no wonder he’d choose this moment to weasel it in. “Moved here when I was just a year old. That’s when my dad was called to Top Gun.”

“Wow,” Hangman says slowly. “You never thought about joining the Navy?”

“Please,” you give him a look, then shake your head. “Absolutely not. It’s not for me.”

“Understandable,” he shrugs. “It’s not for everyone.”

“Is it for you?”

“It’s in my blood,” he says, not mocking, this time more matter-of-fact. “My father was in the Navy, so was his father. My mother’s father as well.”

“Wow,” you reply. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Why would I be?” he sounds defensive, understandably.

“Most guys who say the Navy is ‘in their blood,’” you use air quotes, rolling your eyes. “They’re full of shit. It’s not in their blood; it’s in their ego. There’s a difference. Those guys are absolute jackasses. My dad worked with quite a few.”

“Oh,” he nods. “You can sniff out the bullshit then.”

“From a mile away,” you add, grabbing another glass to wipe down. “You’re cocky, but you’re serious about what you do. I can tell.”

“A compliment like that from Gravedigger’s daughter?” Hangman whistles lowly. “I’ll drink to that.” He takes a long sip, then says, “Wanna join me for some darts?”

You’re mid-pouring yourself a beer and you shake your head. “You never learn, do you?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head, grinning wildly. “And I hope I never do.”

+++

When Hangman finally returns to the barracks at Top Gun, the entire team is camped out in the hallway, outside their respective doors.

“Hangman came home alone again for the second night in a row? Say it ain’t so!”

“I don’t need a song, Fanboy,” Hangman scowls. “What are you all doing out here?”

“Waiting on you,” Coyote says.

“We figured you’d have someone with you,” Payback chimes.

“Where is she?” Phoenix asks.

“At Penny’s, I guess,” Hangman replies, turning toward his door. “When did you become so concerned about who I sleep with? Usually you’re complaining that it’s too loud.” He plasters his famous shit-eating grin on his face, hoping it’ll make them let this go. But it doesn’t.

“That’s just it,” Rooster speaks up. “It’s been quiet.”

“Too quiet,” Bob adds. “It’s weird.”

“Seriously?” Hangman laughs. “Well, if you have to know, Y/N is not here and will not be here. Is that better?”

“Whatever,” Phoenix shrugs, still looking skeptical. “Something’s up with you.”

“Nothing is up with me,” Hangman replies, quickly growing defensive. “I’m getting some sleep. We’ve got another long day tomorrow.”

A chorus of “goodnight’s” follow him into his room until he shuts the door.

It’s true, he’s the Flirt of the group. Even when they were going through Top Gun together, no one said a word about it. Hangman figured this time around would be the same. He’d fly under the radar as he spent so much time with you. No one would think anything of it.

But this change in behavior is suspicious enough for his fellow pilots to catch on. Now they’re certain something is up with him, and well, they’d be right.

The only thing up with Hangman is you. Just, you. He can’t get you out of his head. Ever since you walked into The Hard Deck two days ago, he’s been off his game. Or at least, he’s felt like it.

No one has ever flustered him this way. You spar with him verbally, dodging all his charm and throwing some back at him. You’re quick on your feet, a menace at darts and pool. You understand the life he leads, on a level he didn’t comprehend until tonight. You’re everything he’s been waiting for, everything he’s wanted, and yet.

You’re unavailable. You’ve made it clear that it’ll never happen, that you won’t let it.

You didn’t say you couldn’t be friends, though, so that’s what Hangman has been trying to do, even though he has no idea what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how to be “just friends” — not with someone like you.

But if that’s what he has to do to see you more before you go back to San Diego, and he goes on this mission next week, then he’ll do it. He’ll do whatever you want him to.

+++

You spend the next evening with Amelia, which means you aren’t at The Hard Deck.

Penny texts you and tells you that Hangman is looking for you, but you don’t reply to her. Amelia asked to watch a rom-com, so that’s exactly what you do.

The two of you definitely stay up a little too late considering she has school the next morning, but you don’t care. You know Penny doesn’t mind. But at breakfast the next morning, you pour Amelia a cup of coffee that isn’t decaf.

Naturally, you find yourself at The Hard Deck for the day, helping out Penny with whatever she needs.

The aviators don’t show, but you aren’t surprised. One day of beach football is probably enough, before Maverick gets in trouble even more. You can hear the jets, though, so you know they’re doing maneuvers.

It’s incredibly soothing to hear the engines. You’ve missed it.

The way they rip through the air, rattling your brain. It never terrified you, not even when you were younger.

You can still hear them in San Diego, but it isn’t the same as being here, being this close.

It’s a stupid idea, but part of you wants to see if Maverick might let you visit Top Gun, just for a day. Just to walk around the tarmac, see the planes, feel their wings. Nothing crazy.

“Hey, weird question,” you blurt, getting Penny’s attention. She lifts her head, listening. “Would Mav let me visit Top Gun?”

“Why?” Penny starts to smile.

“Not that,” you chuckle, knowing her mind has gone right to Hangman. “I just miss the planes, I don’t know. I didn’t want to ask him if it’s not allowed. Things have changed since I was a kid.”

Penny smiles sympathetically now, understanding. “He’d love to have you.”

“Maybe once they’re done with whatever they’re here for,” you suggest. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

Penny shrugs. “It’s worth asking. You never know.”

So, you do.

Maverick shows up first, unsurprisingly. He says the rest of the crew are on their way, which you don’t doubt, but you’re glad for a moment alone with him, with no one listening in.

“Quick question,” you start, and Mav raises his eyebrows. “Feel free to say no, by the way,” you add.

“Now you’ve got me worried,” he chuckles. “Spit it out.”

“I don’t know what you’re doing at Top Gun or why, and I know I’m not allowed to know — I’m not asking. I just was wondering if it was possible to visit. Just for an hour, maybe.” He doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “I miss the jets, Mav. I miss them like hell. It’s been so long, and hearing them today,” you pause, shrugging. “It’s stupid, but I feel like I need to hug one.”

Finally, Maverick grins. “Why didn’t you ask sooner?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies. “I’ll make a call right now, see if we can’t get you over there tomorrow once we’re done training. I don’t see why it would be an issue.”

“Don’t get yourself in trouble,” you warn.

“Oh yeah,” Maverick laughs. “They’ll love to have you.”

You punch his shoulder and walk off, back to the bar with Penny. True to his word, Maverick steps outside with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Where’s he going?” Penny asks, nodding toward Mav.

“Making some calls,” you explain. “Looks like I might be going to Top Gun tomorrow.”

“Atta girl,” Penny smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Ah, your favorite has arrived.”

“My fav—? Hangman,” you deadpan, looking up to see he’s making a beeline for you.

“Hey honey,” he says, leaning on the bar top with that stupid grin of his. “Where were you yesterday?”

“Watching a rom-com and stuffing my face with ice cream.”

Hangman looks genuinely hurt. “And you didn’t invite me?”

“I was with my niece, idiot,” you laugh. “You miss me or something?”

“Only every minute,” he winks. “You gonna let me buy you a drink tonight?”

“I’ll never say no to free beer.”

“My kind of woman.”

“Your kind of woman is one who breathes.”

“Your point? Are you not breathing?”

You stare at him tiredly, and he starts laughing. The sound is so sweet that you want to shove him, but you don’t. Instead, you pour two beers and walk around the bar, taking the stool next to him.

“How was your day?” you ask, surprising yourself.

“Pretty good, kicked some ass,” he grins. “Maneuvers went well.”

“I could hear you guys,” you reply. “I forgot how soothing it is.”

“To hear the jets?” he questions, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nod seriously. “It’s my favorite thing. I would fall asleep quicker with the jets than I would a lullaby when I was a kid.”

“Damn,” Hangman shakes his head, grinning wide before sipping his beer.

“I told you I grew up in this world,” you reply, just a little confused by his reaction.

“It’s hot.”

“Careful,” you warn.

“Alright, alright,” he backs off. “I won’t say it. I’ll just think it.”

You give him another tired stare, but he winks. You wonder if that’s his way of saying you’re hot again, but without words.

Maverick renters the bar with a triumphant smile, coming straight to where you and Hangman are sitting.

“Well,” Mav starts. “An old friend said he’d like to see you tomorrow.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Who?”

“Rear Admiral Solomon,” Mav says, waiting for it to dawn on you. “Or call sign—”

“Warlock? He’s a Rear Admiral now? I didn’t know he was back here,” your thoughts come out fast. You haven’t spoken to any of your dad’s buddies in years, with Warlock, it’s been even longer. Probably since you were 13.

“Hang on,” Hangman interjects, holding up his hand, his fingers just barely brushing your arm. “Are you coming to Top Gun tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” you say.

“Yes,” Maverick says instead. “She is. But not until after training.” He turns to you. “I’ll text you when to head over.”

“Okay, thanks,” you murmur.

Part of you didn’t expect them to allow it, especially given Maverick’s reputation. Apparently yours as the Gravedigger’s daughter outweighs his trouble-inclined attitude. But now that you have the go ahead, you’re suddenly nervous.

“So,” Hangman says, sounding a little too excited. “Can I give you a personal tour?”

“That’s a great idea,” Maverick says, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Fuck off,” you swat at Mav, who laughs and walks away, heading toward Penny. You look at Hangman skeptically. “You want to give me a tour?”

He puts a hand over his heart. “It would be an honor.”

“I grew up there. I don’t need a tour.”

Hangman sputters for a moment. “Well—”

“I’m teasing,” you nudge his arm. “Sure. If I can handle it, I’d love for you to walk around with me.”

“Music to my ears, sweetheart,” he replies.

“Mhm,” you raise your eyebrows. “Until you realize I know more than you.”

You expect that to start another round of bickering between the two of you, but it doesn’t. Hangman’s reply surprises you. “I already know you do.”

His admittance and blatant honesty makes you smile, and dammit, sit a little closer.

You’re already going back on your own rules, but you can’t help it. Your time is limited here. The end of your time off from work is fastly approaching. You’d rather spend it happily than be miserable, even if that means getting too friendly with a naval aviator who you know is no good for you.

[headmonstress-blog]

real footage of dean hardscrabble observing the scare games every year knowing full well she created that clown fiesta

[diamond-coral]

Bargaining Chip

Hello! This is my first time posting on Tumblr ever:) I pulled this one-shot from a fic I posted on AO3 a few months ago but the plot is irrelavent and I changed it from first person to second as well as some details so it can be read as a stand alone. There’s some plot from the actual story but you really don’t need to know it at all.

There might be a few errors, especially because I changed the entire point of view and converted it to present tense from past tense so sorry:) 

Loki manages to get his hands on you and exchanges you and your body for his ticket to independence from the Avengers. Bucky gets to go first.

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters included: Loki, and a little bit of Tony, Steve, and Thor

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY!!! SMUT (NON-CON TOUCHING, FORCED ORAL SEX (m receiving), KNIFE THREATS, DARK! AVENGERS, BUCKY’S AN ASSHOLE IN THIS, DEGRADATION, BASICALLY FORCED PROSTITUTION) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You awake in the passenger seat of your own car with only foggy memories of you and your partner before everything had gone dark. Your mission from the CIA...breaking and entering the motherfucking Avenger’s facility and managing to escape...you were so close. If it weren’t for him. In your haze, you look to see who could possibly have the audacity to be driving your car, and there sits Loki, the God of Mischief, who you had only scene on the news, driving one hand and inspecting something in his other.

“Good evening my lady. Sleep well?” he mocks without taking his eyes off the item in his hand which upon further inspection from you looks to be... a red leash?

What the hell?

“I do hope you like your outfit,” he continues. “I think I assembled quite the get up for you.”

Looking down, you let out a muffled scream that was cut off by a strip of duct tape. Your hands are bound in your lap, but that isn’t what horrifies you. It’s what’s underneath them. You take into account your bare legs, fully on display, with a black dress leaving little to the imagination. The top half is just as horrifying with it’s plunging neckline. Your legs end with a pair of strappy gold heels that ensures any chances of running away to be futile while your upper arms are adorned in golden bracelets accented with emeralds. Whether the emeralds were real or fake, you could care less. You have bigger problems to worry about.

“What the fuck?!”

Is what you try to say, but the gag only makes it come out as a mangled ball of muffled murmurs. Though the chuckle Loki lets out implies he understands your enraged speaking attempt.

“You, my dear, are going to be a bargaining chip. I heard about your little escapade at the Avenger’s facility last night. Impressive, I must say, but my brother and his little hero posse had been looking for you relentlessly after that. They are practically obsessed with catching the women that managed to break into their high security building.”

Loki takes a sharp turn into a parking garage, narrowly missing the wall. You squeal as your precious car runs over the curb.

“I forgot how much I hate mortal transportation devices. But Stark had to build this tower in the middle of New York to feed his ever-growing ego and now I’m the one that has to rely on a car to get me there,” he grumbles while pulling into a parking space. He takes a deep breath once the car is parked. “Now, I’m going to remove that gag out of your mouth, and if you scream, I will peel your skin off of your body in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. Understood?”

You nod frantically and he rips the tape off, extracting a whimper from your now stinging mouth. You open your mouth for him to take the wad of cloth out that was under the duct tape. As he extracts it, you snap your mouth shut in an attempt to bite him, but he’s quick to evade and grabs your jaw harshly.

“What did I say before?” he seethes. 

“You said not to scream. I didn’t scream. Now let go of my face.”

Loki roughly throughs your face to the side, letting go, and looks around the surroundings of the car, probably checking for any unwanted onlookers.

“Out of the car. Now,” he orders and you hastily oblige using your bound hands to open the door.

As you shut the door, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection and grimace. You look like a hooker. Aside from the skimpy outfit, your hair was pinned up and intertwined with gold strands. Your makeup is done as well. Sultry eye shadow and dark red lipstick.

“I didn’t know the God of Mischief was a makeup guru,” you jab.

He ignores you and harshly pushes you forward. “Walk.”

“Where’s my partner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki replies. “She has other uses than the one I currently need you for.”

“And what use am I needed for?”

“I already told you. By the gods, you mortals are stupid. You are to be a bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

Your blood runs cold. “How do you know my name?” you ask.

“I know everything about you. Including your peculiar abilities.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Now, don’t worry,” he adds. “As amusing to me as it would be, I have no interest in enlightening the Avengers to your secret identity. As far as they will know, I am simply giving them the criminal that broke into their compound.”

“And what’s in it for you?” you ask as he guidesyou into an elevator.

After pushing a button, he goes to fix his dark green tie. “Clever girl now aren’t you?”

“Answer the question.”

“How about-no?” he muses and a soft ding resonates through the elevator.

The doors opened and, for a moment, you forget the predicament your in. Inside was the most beautiful penthouse you had ever seen. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass allowing a view of the New York City night skyline. Everything little piece of furniture each looks as expensive as your car, but your focus becomes drawn to the minibar. The Avengers were all sitting there, laughing, and most were obviously drunk.

“Here James, try some of this,” Thor booms.

Bucky makes a face. “Why would I drink something from another planet meant for Gods?”

“Jeez Buck it’s the only thing that can get you and I drunk,” Steve slurs and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It’s your birthday. Live it up a little.”

Bucky hesitates before grabbing the flask Thor offers him and throwing his head back, downing the flask in one go.

Loki seems to have enough of the party scene as he clears his throat to interrupt them.

“Gentlemen-”

Before Loki uttered another word all the Avengers clambered from their seats to grab their weapons, but their intoxicated state just makes it a comical sight. Captain America falls over in an attempt to reach for his shield below the table. Tony Stark’s iron man mask smacks him over the head as he fails to turn in time to catch it on his face. Sam Wilson chokes on his drink and falls backwards off his barstool in shock.

“I come bearing no ill tidings.” Loki spread his arms.

“Then why bother coming at all?” Thor growls, shifting his hammer to his right hand.

“I’ve come to make an offer.”

With that, Loki snatches your wrist and throws you towards him and the other men. You stumbled in you stilettos and let out a yelp as you land on the floor looking up at the 5 present Avengers: Thor, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Falcon. They all look down on you with perplexed looks etched onto their faces.

“You guys have been so caught up and stressed about finding your security breaches that I was generous enough to do some finding myself,” Loki explains.

“And how do we know you didn’t just pluck some prostitute off the street?” Caps eyes rake up and down your body.

Loki scoffs. “Always the skeptic captain. Does this answer your question?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash-drive.

Tony snatches it from his hands. “Jarvis, what’s on this drive?” he asks, holding the drive up to a scanner in the glasses he’s wearing.

“It appears to be the files you have been collecting the 2 vigilantes you have been tracking and-.”

“Okay thanks J!” Tony interrupts quickly before Jarvis could spill any more information. He proceeds to storm up to your cowering and kneeling form that hadn’t dared move and harshly grabs your jaw.

Jesus, what was with these men and your poor, bruised jaw?

“Why would you possibly need this information?” he asks calmly, but his eyes are feral. He studies you and his brows furrow. Did he manage to piece it all together that you were the alleged vigilante they had been hunting? He lets go of your jaw and throws you back on the floor. “What business do you have looking for them?”

Looking for them? You let out a sigh of relief.

“None of your business,” you spit.

“Anyways,” Loki continues, and the drive suddenly disintegrated in Tony’s hand while reappearing in Loki’s. “I will happily hand over this seemingly important information along with the girl for you to do with her as you please, but…” He pauses. “Only if you stop tracking my current whereabouts.”

“And why would we do that, Loki? You’re dangerous,” Steve notes.

“I was dangerous,” Loki interjects. “I have been a good boy haven’t I? I would like to lead a normal life without you imbeciles tailing my every move. If I slip, Thor here will know within the second if I’m involved with anyone wrong doings, won’t you brother dear?”

Thor grunts at that statement.

“Besides, Stark’s satellite can track any magical energy if I use it. Which I won’t.”

“Fine. Now hand over the drive,” Tony snaps and holds his hand out.

After Loki drops the small gadget into Tony’s hand, he hauls you up and spins you around to face him.

His voice is quiet and low. “Be glad I didn’t tell them about my plans for you friend. It would be a shame if they found out about her abilities...and yours.”

He spins you back around to face the 5 men whose eyes were now raking up and down your body. “Easy on the eyes isn’t she?” Loki mentions, hands falling on your waist making you squirm. “You know, I almost considered keeping her for myself. Her exotic beauty is that of a pleasure maiden on Asgard.” Your struggles are invigorated at his implications. “Enjoy your whore.” And with that, he gives you one final shove before vanishing.

It’s silent for half a minute before one of the men speak up.

“Alright who wants to take her for a spin?” Tony asks, clapping his hands together. “I vote the birthday boy gets first dibs. Huh, Buckaroo?”

You blanch at the idea. Were they really going to go through with what Loki wanted? What happened to the valiant heroes you saw on your screen?

“Wait Tony, you can’t be seriously considering Loki’s suggestion?” Sam Wilson sounds surprised.

Tony shrugs. “Why not, Birdie? It’s either this or high security prison and I don’t think she wants to rot in a cell.”

“She is standing right here and would rather rot in hell than do what Loki had in mind,” you hiss.

“Well it’s a good thing we weren’t asking for her opinion,” Tony says.

“Tony’s right, Sam,” Steve adds slowly. “We bust our asses out there. We deserve something nice.”

“Day after day we save this pathetic world, and no thanks are given. Just everyone saying what we did wrong. We should’ve left the world to fend for itself after they tried shoving those ridiculous accords down our throats,” Thor murmurs

Sam raises both of his hands up in defense. “Fine. Do what you want with her. I’m gonna head out.” And with that he leaves. Your heart sinks, watching the only glimmer of hope, your knight in shining armor, walk out the door. Your self-pity party is cut short by an arm snaking around your waist.

Bucky Barnes, trained assassin, mass murderer, and now current Avenger, puts his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending shivers down your spine while you stand frozen like a deer in headlights. “What do you say, doll? Wanna finish what we started the other night?” His hand on your waist slowly drifts down to your ass.

You stomp your heel down on his foot eliciting a groan of pain. “Last time I checked, you were in the dirt, and I was driving away that night after a successful robbery. There’s nothing to finish.”

He moves quickly as he rips your hair out of what’s securing it up, using the opportunity to tangle his hand into the roots and drag you away to a separate room. He wrenches open and throws you in, leaving you to stumble and trip. A searing pain on your forehead signaled that you hit your head.

“How about we use that snarky mouth of yours for something better hmm?” His voice is ice cold with malice as he grips your hair and yanks you up.

You cry out in pain, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers down at you. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling and pants unzipping, you shut your eyes.

A tear escapes, cascading down your face, but his thumb gently wipes it away.

“Open your eyes, doll,” he coos.

You shake your head and screw them shut even tighter.

“I said...OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” he roars and your eyes fly open only to see his member sticking out of his slacks right in front of your face. He’s almost fully hard as precum dribbles out of the tip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, since you can’t seem to keep your snarky mouth shut, let’s put it to better use. How bout that?”

You don’t move, and he sighed as you look down to the floor. You hear some shuffling, a small click, and suddenly something cold and sharp is pressing under your chin, tilting your gaze to his steel blue eyes.

“Let’s try this again.” He pushes the knife harder, digging it a little deeper, but not enough to draw blood. A knife. This dirty bastard has a knife. “Suck. My. Cock.”

Pushing all your pride aside, you direct your gaze to the task in front of you. Bucky lets out an approving hum and the knife is removed from your throat. You swallow before opening your mouth and dragging your tongue from his base to the tip before wrapping your lips around him and sucking lightly.

Bucky was no slacker down there, you had to give him that. You ease your mouth down his shaft and his head tilts back.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” he moans. “Take my dick down your throat.” He grunts. His metal hand fists your hair to push your head down, sliding a few more inches into your throat. “Oh-that’s a good whore,” he breathes.

A gag is torn from you and you slap your hands against his thighs to imply you couldn’t take much more. Bucky’s only response is another grunt as he jams the rest of his length down your throat leaving your only intake of oxygen to come from your nose which was now mashed right above the base of his thick cock. As quickly as he pushed you down before, he pulls you back off by your hair, letting you go to wretch, gasping for air and freedom. A strand of saliva still connects from his tip to my lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He snags your hair again. “Open wide, slut.”

You do just that and he begins to fuck your throat at his own pace, sliding his entire length down every time. Tears brim at your eyes, not just from the lack of oxygen, but the humiliation of the moment as well. The time passes much too slowly for your liking, minutes dragging on for eternity, before he begins to reach his climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His cock twitches in your mouth.He holds your head with both hands as he releases straight into your mouth, warm thick strands of his release coating the back of your throat. He pulls out  with a pop and smirks down at you. “Good little sluts swallow” he orders.

You glare up at him, making a show of not doing anything.

“Well?” he demands and raises a dark brow.

You spit his own climax onto his expensive shoes.

“Why you-!” He raises his hand, getting ready to send a smack to your face.

“Barnes!” A female voice comes from the doorway as the door flies open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

There stood none other than the Black Widow.

[fanficimagery]

Talking to the Dead

Imagine your sister calling in a favor, only to find out said favor is for the vampire sheriff of Louisiana.

Words: 6.3K Author's Note: I am not Bill's biggest fan, nor am I Eric/Sookie's biggest fan either. That said, this takes place AFTER all damn drama with King Bill. Eric still runs Fangtasia alongside Pam and Sookie still works under Sam at Merlotte's. They're friends. That's it.

Eric sits behind his desk, the bottom half of his face covered in blood as Pam files her nails. She had been going through Fangtasia's books when she realized the money wasn't adding up and that some of their product was missing. So when Tara brought forward those responsible in making sure Fangtasia was up to date with their taxes and everything, Eric called in a favor from Sookie to get a read on them. Only Eric lost his temper and killed the two men, leaving thousands of his money stashed somewhere only the dead knew of now.

The office door opens and Sookie stumbles inside, still in her Merlotte's uniform. She takes one look at Eric and sighs. "Did you have to kill them? I just wasted a trip out here, Eric Northman."

"How tragic," he deadpans. "You wasted about five dollars in gas, meanwhile I'm still out of thousands, Miss Stackhouse."

"Don't you take that tone with me, Mister!"

Pam snorts. "Shame your little fae powers don't allow you to speak to the dead," she drawls. "That would really come in handy right about now." Sookie opens her mouth to defend her still untrained powers, only to pause and snap her mouth shut. Immediately that catches both vampires' attention and Pam leans forward, interest piqued. "Have you been holding out on us, Tinkerbell?"

"No." Sookie scoffs, suddenly overcome with wariness. "But I, uh, I might know someone who-"

"No." Eric cuts her off. "No witches."

"She's not a witch," Sookie says. "Y/N is, um, she's my sister."

Eric freezes before he leans forward in his chair. "There's a third Stackhouse? How come we never learned of this?"

Sookie sighs and drops onto the couch. She shrugs. "Y/N's powers manifested a lot earlier than mine did and they.. well it drove her crazy. She was in and out of the hospital, and the death of our parents didn't do her any favors. She started rebelling at seventeen and drank herself into oblivion. Constantly."

Pam hums. "Sounds like my kind of girl."

Sookie frowns at her before looking back at Eric. "She's actually due for a visit tomorrow. I'll bring her by."

"How are you so sure she'll do this for us? If I recall correctly, you did not come peacefully," Eric muses.

Sookie rolls her eyes. "Y/N is a free spirit. If I hadn't told you she was my sister, you wouldn't have known we were twins."

"Twins?" Eric seems to perk up, eyes lighting up, and this time it's Pam's turn to roll her eyes.

Sookie scoffs. "Don't be gross. We'll be by after my shift tomorrow."

Finding an Uber into Bon Temps after the sun had set was almost impossible, but fortunately you found someone who was willing to make the trip. You knew Louisiana had become a vampire hotspot, but you didn't know people had found traveling in the state quite so fearsome.

You don't have much on you, with the exception of a small suitcase holding a few change of clothes, so you opt to be dropped off at Merlotte's rather than your childhood home. And upon exiting the car after making sure your payment went through, you grab your suitcase by the handle and walk towards the entrance. A few whispers attempt to reach out to you, but you shake off the echoes of death and march on.

There's only a handful of locals inside Merlotte's, but the no-good nosy folk still all stop to see who's entering their local establishment. Inside, the whispers get louder, but you reign in your control and shake your head clear. What the hell happened here that there are so many echoes?

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that my favorite Stackhouse?"

You're already grinning as you find the source of the comment, grin widening as Sam's familiar handsome self makes his way towards you. "Come on, Sam. We all know who your favorite Stackhouse really is?"

He laughs as he opens his arms for a hug and you drop your suitcase to step into his embrace. "Jason's bragging again, isn't he?"

You huff a laugh and pinch his side, the two of you not speaking of all the years he spent pining after your sister. "So where is my twin?" You ask as you pull back and roll your eyes when Sam readily picks up your suitcase.

You follow him to the bar as he says, "She's taking a call in the back. Want me to let her know you're here?"

"Nah, but can you put in an order for me? I miss Lafayette's burgers."

"Sure thing, chère. What do you want?"

"Cheeseburger with everything, cut the onions. Extra ketchup. Fries. And whatever beer you have on tap."

Sam chuckles as he's already pouring your beer. "So the usual." You grin as he slides your glass across the bar. "I'll be back."

Taking a seat on the stool there at the bar, you grab your glass and sip at the ice cold beer. It feels so good sliding down your throat that the sip turns into a gulp, and before you know it half the glass is gone. Needing a breath, you set the glass down and inhale deeply. As you exhale, you burp, and then take a moment to stretch in your seat while glancing around. A few people are still staring and murmuring far too low to their companions for you to hear, so instead you raise an eyebrow at them- challenging them to say their opinion out loud. None of them do and you scoff an amused laugh before drinking the rest of your beer.

Sam reappears. "Long flight?" He takes your glass and refills it.

"Flight was fine. It's the people of Bon Temps who annoy the shit out of me." Sam frowns, but you shrug off his concern as he quickly glances around at those in his establishment. You're well aware of what everyone thinks of you and Sookie thanks to Sookie's abilities, and you're grateful you didn't quite get the same ability as her. If you had to hear every living being's thoughts on top of the dead's, you'd have permanently committed yourself long ago.

"Well I talked to your sister in the back. She said she'll be right out."

"That's fine." Accepting your second glass of beer, you smile gratefully at Sam before taking another drink.

"Girl, I knows you ain't tryin' to eat my food without saying hello."

You turn on your stool, one knee crossed over the other as you beam at the cook. "Lafayette!" He approaches with your plated cheeseburger and a basket of fries, setting them in front of you before pulling you into a hug. "I wouldn't have left without saying hello. I just wanted my food first."

"'Course you did," he muses. "How long you here for, little Stackhouse?"

"Um, I'm kind of between jobs at the moment," you sheepishly admit. You quickly grab a fry and pop it into your mouth. "I'll probably stick around until I can find something or Sookie kicks me out."

Lafayette swats you with his dish towel. "You know damn well Sook won't kick you out. That sister of yours misses you lots. She's been talkin' nonstop about your visit."

"If you need a job, chère, I'll be happy to give you one."

You pop another fry into your mouth, grinning over at Sam. "Lord knows you can barely handle one Stackhouse, Sam. No way in hell you can two- three if Jason is around as much as I'm assuming." Sam opens his mouth to retort, but a shriek cuts him off. It's Sookie and she barrels right into your side. "Jesus Sook," you laugh. "Warn a girl."

As you and Sookie quickly catch up (she's all for you staying as long as you need), more patrons enter Merlotte's and Lafayette's forced back into the kitchen. Jason and his best friend Hoyt walk in, so you walk over to join them as Sookie gets back to work also.

Jason is glad Sookie won't be in the house all on her own since he has his own place and Hoyt is just glad to see all the Stackhouses together once again. You finish your cheeseburger and fries there at the table with them, along with three glasses of beer and two shots courtesy of your brother who wanted to properly celebrate your homecoming.

Jason and Hoyt leave, you waving them off when they asked if you wanted a ride home. Sookie's shift is just about over and you remember her asking if you could wait for her because she wanted to take you someplace. So when Sookie comes out from the back to collect you from the bar, you're slightly swaying on your stool as you grin at her.

"Are you drunk?" She incredulously asks. "Y/N, I need you level headed."

"Ooohhh," you coo and reach out to bop her on the nose. "And just what do I need to be level headed for, sis?"

"Can you walk?" She asks instead. You laugh and nod, hopping off the stool and giving yourself a moment to make sure the room isn't tilting. She sighs. "That's good enough for me. Come on. A friend of mine needs a favor." She walks behind the bar to collect your suitcase and a bottle of water from the small refrigerator under the bar. "Bye, Sam! See you later!" She then calls out as she leads you down a hall. You hear Sam's muffled reply from one door in particular and then Sookie's leading you out the back exit and towards her car.

Outside she opens the passenger door to her small yellow Honda Civic that looks newer than the last time you saw it, and tosses your suitcase in the backseat. She pushes you down onto the passenger seat and holds the water bottle out to you. "Drink."

You take the bottle without a word, twist off the cap, and start to guzzle the water as she shuts the door and walks around the car to the driver's side door. You only get half of it down before needing to breathe. "What.. am I.. guzzling water for?" You ask in between breaths.

As Sookie starts up her car, she casts a wary glance your way before looking back to where she's driving. "Shreveport. We're going to Fangtasia. The owner of the bar needs you to listen to some echoes."

"Fangstasia?" Your brow furrows as you try to wrack your brain about why that sounds so familiar. A moment later, however, the answer comes to you and you groan. "First off, I can overlook the vampire bar. What I can't overlook is that of all people to tell our secret to, you chose vampires. Vampires! Do you know we're like crack to them?"

"I'm sorry, okay! I got involved with them a while back, which is a mistake that I can admit now, but Eric actually tried helping me in his own way. Somewhat. We've become friends."

"Sookie." You groan again. Your sister pouts and you decide to keep quiet, sipping on your water and wishing it were something stronger. "So what does this Eric know about me listening to echoes?"

"Nothing really," she says. "I know how you like your privacy, so last night was the first time I mentioned that I even had a sister." You grin, not hurt at all by her not mentioning you to others. "I just said that you could listen in on the dead. They don't know about anything else."

"Good. I like to keep 'em on their toes." Sookie snorts at your all too amused expression. "And besides, I learned a new trick! I can't wait to test it out."

Your sister glances between you and the road, her smile faltering. "Are you- are you sure you're okay to do this? I know how it can get when you're not truly focused."

"We're on the road." You giggle. "No turning around now."

This time it's Sookie's turn to groan. "I knew I should have asked beforehand. Now the night's gonna end with one of us pinned to a wall."

"Oooh. Kinky."

The rest of the drive is painfully quiet, with the exception of some gospel music station Sookie has playing on low. You're humming a completely different song under your breath, right arm hanging out the window and letting the humid air rush over the skin of your arm. Thankfully the drive isn't too long and Sookie is soon pulling into the parking lot with a building partially decorated with neon red lights. The outside of Fangtasia is not what you expected, but seeing the line of both human and vampires in their scantily clad outfits makes you excited to see what's going on inside.

You're practically bouncing in your seat as Sookie parks and she can't help but grin at your apparent excitement. "Get it all out now," she says. "You won't be smilin' the closer you get to the buildin'. Not while you're half drunk."

"Shut up and let's go!"

Sookie fondly rolls her eyes and the two of you simultaneously pull down the sun visors to check yourselves in the small mirrors provided. Happy with your reflections, the two of you climb out of the vehicle. As your sister comes around to your side, you hook your arm through hers and the two of you head for the building.

Instead of heading straight to the back of line, Sookie leads you directly to Fangtasia's bouncer and ignores the grumbled displeasures of those waiting in line to get in. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the dark skinned female checking ID's, but when she turns to greet Sookie and her eyes widen upon seeing you, you grin. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

"Oh Lord," Tara muses. "Eric's gonna murder the both of y'all."

Sookie huffs and she holds you back as you attempt to poke at Tara's abdomen. "Who put him in a bad mood now?"

Tara shrugs as she swats your hand away. "It's Eric. He's always in a bad mood unless he's balls deep in some fang-banger."

Your sister ew's and you grin, clearly impressed, until Sookie elbows you. Tara just chuckles and gestures inside. "Go on in. You know where to find him. See you later, Y/N."

"Lookin' forward to it." Sookie drags you inside and the second you step foot in the darkened hallway, you sway on your feet as pressure builds up in your head. "Wait, wait, wait." You step aside to lean against the wall, shaking your head clear and trying to build up mental walls. When you catch a glimpse of your sister, you see her smiling sadly at you and are grateful she doesn't gloat about being right. "This is why I don't hang around vampires much," you murmur. "So much death."

"Sorry. I know I should have asked beforehand, but I didn't want to give you a chance to say no. Eric's annoying when he doesn't get what he wants."

"Yeah, yeah." You wave her off, close your eyes, and take a few deep breaths. Once you feel a bite more settled, you push off the wall and meet your sister's gaze. "Okay. I'm ready."

Entering the main part of the club you can't help but look around in wide-eyed wonder. While most would think you were awe, you actually weren't and instead bit back the comment about how ridiculously cliché the establishment is. Everything is in blacks and reds, vampires in leather or electrical tape are dancing on poles, and the humans reek of desperation.

"Huh. No one's on the throne," Sookie muses.

You glance towards a raised platform, eyes lighting up at the sight of two actual thrones. Sookie's grip on your arm, however, stops you from attempting to go up there. "At least buy me a drink before we meet Mr. Scary Vampire." You pout.

"Nope." She starts marching away from the bar and towards a back hallway. "You're drunk enough already. You can have one at home when we're done here."

"Boo. You're no fun."

Sookie stops right outside a black door and impatiently knocks. You grin at her already huffy attitude and then walk in behind her as soon as someone permits entrance. The office is very plain, with the exception of a blood red couch off to the side and the two vampires behind the desk, and you frown as Sookie guides you towards a black leather chair and pushes you down into it.

"So this is the mysterious Stackhouse." The blonde male drawls.

You drag your gaze from your sister to the vampire in question and sit a little straighter in your seat as a lazy smile stretches across your lips. "And you're the mysterious vampire I've only heard about an hour ago." You then look at your sister. "Please tell me you banged this one."

There are simultaneous snorts from behind the desk and Sookie exhales roughly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Eric. Pam, this is my sister Y/N. She might be a little drunk."

"Just a little," you muse, giggling.

"Well at least we know who the fun Stackhouse is."

You perk up again, putting one finger on the tip of your nose and pointing at Pam who's smirking at you with the other hand. "And don't you forget it."

"As amusing as this is," Eric drawls again, "I need a favor. Are you capable of doing what your sister claims you can do?"

"I wouldn't be here if I couldn't." You smirk. The smirk falters however as you feel a chill slide across the back of your neck. You still and slowly glance over your shoulder, whispers you hadn't been listening to earlier getting louder. You wince and turn back around, strengthening your shields. A moment passes before you clear your throat and say, "But I have two conditions before I start."

Eric and Pam had been watching you closely, intrigued the second Sookie held up her hand to stall their questions when they noticed you zone out and stare at the corner of the room. "Money is no issue," Eric then says.

"Pft. I don't want money."

"Y/N!" Sookie reprimands. "You're in between jobs. Take the money."

Without looking at your sister, you wave your hand at your sister to get her to shut up. You know you've done your job when she swats your hand so you continue speaking to Eric. "First condition, no biting! I don't care how delicious I smell. No gnawing on the tiny little gremlin."

Pam's lips stretch into a wide smile whereas Eric's lips faintly twitch. "And the second?"

"I get free drinks from the bar whenever I'm here."

"Deal."

"Yes!"

"You're such an idiot," Sookie mutters.

You look to your sister, bouncing in your seat in excitement. "Joke's on Dracula. I'm gonna be in Bon Temps for the foreseeable future. That's a lot of free drinks for me. Suck it, Pixie."

"Oohh. I like this mouth breather. Can we please keep her?"

You meet Pam's gaze and wink. "As beautiful as you are, sweet stuff, you are so not my type."

Her left eyebrow raises as she's still clearly amused. "Because I'm a vampire?"

"Nah. Because you're female," you say. "I can appreciate a hot as fuck lady when I see one, but I still prefer cock."

"Okay!" Sookie nearly shouts as she stands up. Eric beams at your drunken blunt attitude. "We're here so Y/N can find out where your money is and we're way off topic. Can we please get on with it so I can get her home?"

You snort. "Prude." Sookie slaps the back of your arm and you squeal, slapping her arm back. You glare at her until her lips twitch and then you're back to giggling, looking back toward the vampires. "So let's do it. Do you have anything of the dead guy I'm supposed to be listening for? It'll make it easier to listen in on him."

Pam shrugs. "His blood is still in the dungeon. Will that work?"

"Gross, but yeah. Lead the way."

As soon as you stand, the voices amp up and you sway at the sudden onslaught of voices. You grit your teeth and tune them out, nodding at Eric who had stilled to keep an eye on you. He gestures to follow after Pam and you do, Sookie and Eric following behind you. Pam makes a beeline for the stage of thrones, but before you can follow there's a hand gripping your wrist and leading you towards a door behind the bar.

You're led down into a dimly lit dungeon behind Eric and you can't help the next words that leave your mouth. "It's always such a let down when the dungeon is actually a dungeon and not a sex dungeon."

Eric turns around to stare at you with a leering gaze and Sookie groans. "Been in a lot of dungeons?"

"Not really." You shrug and walk towards the back of the room where there are metal poles sticking up from the concrete floor. Chains hang from each of them and you shiver as your fingers run over them, the metallic rattling immediately tuning you in to the whispers. Subtly shaking your head, you look towards Sookie. "You know the drill."

She nods, pulling small orange styrofoam plugs from her pocket. "If it looks like you're struggling, plug my ears. Or get out."

"Bingo." You grin at your sister before looking at Eric. "If it gets bad, I expect you to vamp speed her little butt outta here."

"And how would I know what bad looks like?"

"Oh you'll know," Sookie mutters.

Grinning one last time at Sookie and Eric, you turn back towards where Eric obviously chains up those who end up on his bad side. So touching the chains again, you let the rattling and whispers overcome your senses.

"..dangerous. Need to leave."

"..bad place. I just want to go home."

"Stupid fuckin' vampers."

The room turns hazy and silhouettes walk to and from around the basement. You stare at them, letting the voices come and go until you find the one you're looking for.

"..so screwed. Never should have done it." Your gaze zeroes in on the silhouette, watching it pace back and forth. "It was just a little money. Pocket change."

"Never gonna find it. Calm down. We're already dead."

You listen a bit more to their whining, hoping for anything useful when a loud dry sob pierces the air. You wince and whirl around to spot the source of noise.

"Did she- can she hear us?"

"If she can then she can tell that goddamn vamper where his stuff is." You whirl back around, gasping at the too close silhouette. "Hello." A chill rushes through you and your too tense muscles seem to relax as a haze takes over your mind.

"Y/N? You good?" Sookie asks. She warily glances around, she and Eric both noticing the atmosphere in the room thickening.

"Hm?" Your eyes blink rapidly as if clearing your vision. "Yeah. All good," you hear yourself saying.

"Well what did you find out?" Eric asks.

You feel your head turning left and right as if taking in your surroundings before you turn around and walk towards the wall where more chains are hanging. Eric growls at being ignored and Sookie quietly assures him that this is normal. Reaching for a chain, you feel your hand gliding along one chain and picking it up, caressing a metal stake at the end of it.

"Y/N," Sookie cautiously calls out. "What are you doing?"

Getting a good grasp on the stake in one hand, you turn around and smile at Eric- a chilling smile that immediately sets Sookie on edge and lets even Eric know that something is off. "Fuck your money. You're never gonna get it, you dead piece of shit."

"Y/N, don't!" Sookie screams as your arm suddenly thrusts the stake towards the side of your neck, only to stop mere centimeters from the intended target.

Sookie gasps and Eric raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Are her eyes supposed to completely white over?"

"Well she did mention learning a new trick." Sookie nervously shifts beside Eric and they watch you slowly come back to yourself, expression hardening.

Eyes completely white, you stare straight ahead as you lower your hand without any resistance from the spirits. "You dead fucks try that shit again and I will obliterate your fuckin' souls, and mark every soul in your goddamn family. Do I make myself clear?" You seethe. The dungeon gets chilly before the tension seems to suddenly dwindle. The whispers amp up before completely dying out and you stand a little taller. "Good. Now where is the money?"

Eric and Sookie patiently watch Y/N as she lazily glances back and forth before the white recedes from her eyes. Her shoulders sag and she meets Eric's gaze. "That Rafael guy had a building he was renovating over on.. over on.." she trails off, brow furrowing as she tries to collect her thoughts.

"I know of it," Eric says.

She sighs. "Well the money's in the wall on the second floor. Happy demolishing."

Then like a puppet with its strings cut, Y/N collapses right before their very eyes.

          - - - - - - - - - -

A pounding at your temples is what wakes you and you groan as your eyes flutter open. You're apparently still at Fangtasia, back in Eric's plain office and laying on the most uncomfortable couch you've ever laid on.

"You're awake. Good."

You begrudgingly sit up, wincing as the throbbing persists. Glancing around, you frown as you notice you and Eric are the only two in the room. "Where's my sister?"

"Miss Stackhouse couldn't bother a mere hour in my presence so she went out front to pester Tara."

"You two exes or something?"

Not even close. "No. I admit I pursued her once, but it was only to satiate my curiosity about why she smelled so divine." Bill fuckin' Compton was also a cock block of epic proportions.

You snort. "Cock block. Who is Bill and why did he cock block you from Sookie?" Eric stills and he goes quiet. You frown at him and then between one blink and the next, Eric is kneeling in front of you.

Can you hear me?

"Um, yes?" You say. A moment passes and then you realize your slip-up. You groan. "Okay, so yeah. I can't read the minds of humans, but apparently I can read the minds of vampires. It only happens when I'm at my most vulnerable and being slightly possessed makes me vulnerable."

Eric slowly smirks. "Well aren't you my new favorite Stackhouse."

You fall back against the back of the couch, groaning. "Whatever. I don't have the energy to argue with you. Just please don't tell Sookie. She gets all huffy when I can do something she can't."

Another blink and Eric is sitting beside you on the couch. "Is there a reason why you can read vampires and she can read everyone else but vampires?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." You shrug. "I eventually came to the conclusion that we're just a part of different courts. She's Light Fae and I'm Dark. She flourishes under the sun and I under the moon. I don't really know."

"Have you tried getting answers from other Fae?"

"Yeah, no. I met a member of the Fae court and that's a hard pass. Those fairy fucks can keep their imposter foods. I like this realm just fine, thank you very much."

Eric's lips twitch. "If the vampires find out about your powers, they're going to fight to put their claim on you."

"Is that your not so subtle way in trying to convince me that I should ask you for protection?"

"I'm the sheriff of this area, sweetheart. You won't be able to find anyone better suited for the job."

You huff a quiet laugh. "Keep your fangs to yourself, sweetheart. I can take care of myself."

We'll see about that.

Settling in at what was always known as Gran's house, you almost take Sam up on his offer to become a waitress or bartender at Merlotte's. But then a day after doing Eric a favor, a check arrives for you- a check worth thousands of dollars- along with an offer from Eric to work every other day at Fangtasia to read the vampires coming and going from his area.

You didn't get back to him right away, instead choosing to just keep to yourself for a bit and re-familiarize yourself with the town. And then just when you think you have a lid on things, a constant buzzing makes a home just at the back of your skull.

For days Eric tries reaching you through texts and calls, but you just don't have the patience to deal with him. The buzzing is non-stop, the echoes of the dead sound as if they're underwater, and you can't hold a conversation longer than a minute. Sookie seems to understand that you can't be around people, so she leaves you be for the most part.

Your sister is currently at work so you have the house all to yourself. You haven't been able to clear your head and the buzzing is only getting louder and louder. You're nearing your breaking point, so when there's a knock at the front door you try to ignore it.

The knocking persists so you reluctantly roll out of bed, frowning as you march downstairs and towards the front door. Through the screen door you can see Eric standing there. You scowl at him, he grins, and when you push open the door he's immediately leaning against the door jamb. "You've been ignoring me."

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest. "I haven't been feeling well. Something's.. off."

That causes his faint grin to drop. "Is it something serious?"

"I'm not sure. I just- it feels like something bad is on the way."

"Well in that case.." Eric straightens up and stares down at you. "You're going to invite me in so I can protect you-" you scoff, "-or have primal passionate sex with you. You pick."

Though your mind is on overdrive, you can't help but faintly grin at the tall vampire. "I'll take a raincheck on the sex, but if you still want to come in, then come in."

Eric smirks as he crosses the threshold of the house and you shake your head at him before turning around and leading him to the living room. You take a seat in the corner of the couch, curling up with a pillow in your lap, and Eric sits on the middle seat to be as close to you as possible. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

"Few days now," you tell him. "There's this.. buzz. It's constant and it just keeps getting louder and louder."

"And the voices?"

"Muffled. No matter how much I concentrate, I can't hear them clearly. It's like they're trying to tell me something, but I can't tune in to the right station. It's annoying." Eric hums in thought and you attempt to change the subject. "So what brings you down here to Bon Temps? Surely my first impression wasn't that memorable."

He smirks as his arm rests along the top of the backrest of the couch, his fingers tugging on a few pieces of your hair. "It's rare for someone to amuse me these days. And you weren't what I was expecting Sookie's twin to be."

"Between the two of us, Sookie got all the perkiness. I, uh, I got stuck with all the doom and gloom." Eric quirks an eyebrow at you and you chuckle, wincing a moment later as an lingering echo screeches in your ear. Your attention is immediately drawn towards the kitchen where you see a silhouette walk by and the buzzing amps up.

Without uttering a word, you get up and follow it.

Eric watches as Y/N laughs one moment and then in the next second her expression is completely blank and attention elsewhere. Normally he'd be offended, but after learning what he could from Sookie he knows to never bring Y/N out of a trance. So in order to protect this little fae that just continues to become more and more interesting, Eric gets up and follows Y/N through the kitchen and out the back door.

He keeps several feet between himself and Y/N, his curiosity piqued as he notices her stop in the middle of the field behind her home. She glances back and forth as if searching for something, slowly turning in a circle. She winces and stumbles back, eyes wide and heart pumping furiously. Whatever's going on, Eric's instincts suddenly kick in and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the look of fear on Y/N's face.

One sudden stumble sends Y/N to her knees, hands clamping around her ears.

"No, no, no," you mumble. The buzzing is extremely loud now, voices are screaming but you're still unable to make out what they're saying. Rocking back and forth, you glance around and your heart sinks as you watch Eric standing there across from you. "Go. Get away. I can't-"

"What's wrong? I can help you."

You shake your head. "You can't. You need to go. Get away from me. Please."

Eric watches you and you whimper when you see his resolve strengthen. He's not going anywhere. Clenching your eyes shut against the onslaught of noise, you slam your hands down on the ground in front of you and your fingers dig into the earth. Your breaths come faster and faster, and when you can't take it anymore your eyes fly open as you open your mouth and scream.

Your scream drowns out the buzz, the voices become clearer and it's only there alongside your scream do you understand them. You don't know how long you scream for, but when you stop your throat feels raw.

"What was that?" Eric asks.

"Sookie."

He's immediately kneeling before you, fingers under your chin to tilt your face upward. "What did you say?"

"My sister. She's not- she's not safe."

"She's at work under the ever watchful eye of the shifter."

"She is. Until she walks out back to take out the trash," you say. "Please," you beg. "Just.. just go check on her."

Eric continues to hold your gaze for a moment longer before he gives you a terse nod and then stands tall. Your eyes follow him as she lifts off into the air and it's like a weight is lifted off your chest. You sob in relief, curling in on yourself with your face in your hands.

"..inside.. safer.."

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your cries immediately cease. Sniffling, you sit back up and glance around the field you're in. Hearing the chirping insects and the ruffling of tree limbs puts you at unease, so you climb to your feet and hurriedly make your way back towards the house. You don't breathe until you're inside, behind closed doors, but even then you're still a little tense and wondering if your sister is okay.

The minutes tick on by as you pace back and forth in the kitchen, and you yelp when you turn around and Eric is standing right there. You raise a fist in order to punch him, but stop halfway there and instead poke his chest as you push him back a step. "Don't do that."

He smirks. "Sookie is fine. A couple of human junkies needed some money for their next fix. The sheriff is on the way to take care of the issue."

"Thank you." You sigh. As you move aside to take a seat at the table, you glance back at Eric and see a blood trail falling from his ear. Your eyes widen and you rush towards him, uncaring about boundaries when one hand lands on his chest and the other grasping his chin to turn his face sideways. "Your ear! I told you to leave before I screamed. Why didn't you listen?" You let go of his chin and then shove him a step back as you go back to pacing.

Eric chuckles. "You've been keeping secrets. You're not just Fae, are you?"

You shrug. "I'm not really sure what I am. I only found out I was part Fae because you guys told Sookie she was. The mind reading is from Fae abilities, but the screaming-"

"The wailing is a whole different breed."

You stop pacing and face him once more. "There's only one creature that wails," you say, "but I gave up on digging into our family history a long time ago."

"You truly are a rare breed, Miss Stackhouse. Half fae, half banshee. The vampires are going to be in a tizzy over you."

You groan. "A problem is inevitable until I agree to a claim, isn't it?"

"Aren't you a smart cookie."

You scowl at Eric then, holding his gaze until you sigh. "If I say yes to a claim, can I have your word that you won't take advantage?" He smiles then and though this vampire is ridiculously good looking, you rather not be someone's pet. But alas, you know he's right. "If the offer for a job at Fangtasia is still open, I'll take it. I don't plan to leave Bon Temps anytime soon and I'm going to need the cash."

"Sweetheart, if you agree to be mine I'll give you all the cash you could want."

Your nose wrinkles. "I'm so gonna regret this." There's a faint click! as Eric's fangs appear, his eyes darkening as he readily bites into his wrist. "Don't tell my sister."

Drink up, little one. We're going to have some fun.

[a-earthssprout]

🥀🍯 QUALITY OF … EXPERIENCE? UPDATES. hello, my dear friends ! 🌼 I hope everyone has had a pleasant start to their week 😊 I know it has been a minute since I’ve responded to anything on here, & the short explanation as to why is … my mother was home for two weeks & it severely threw off my rhythm 😭 I had no peaceful mornings to enjoy in solitude, which are the hours that tend to be my best time to write. acknowledging that it would only be frustrating to keep trying to push through & get things down on the paper, I decided to do what I could, since there was much outside of writing that needed to be done on Ari’s blog 🌷 now, I unfortunately did not get everything done that I had hoped to by this time, & some of these goals are still in progress—but the blog is in a much cleaner & organized state than it was before this winter break ! 😊

to not fill the dash with useless information ( as I often tend to do incessant rambling 😅 ), I shall place the updates that may be most important to others first. you will find all things ‘ trivial ’ beneath the cut 🌿

MY RULES HAVE BEEN UPDATED. old information has been updated & new information has been added to align best with the way I currently run my blog ��� I’ve adjusted some areas that had poor flow, removed anything that sounded redundant or repetitive, & corrected the many errors that I found within the page. the only new section added to my rules is the ‘ accessibility & accommodations ’ section. while it is not required that my rules are looked over by any who are already mutuals with me, you are free to take a look if this section—or anything else previously mentioned—is of interest to you ! 🌼

ARI’S ICON STYLE. she’s got a new one, & how lovely are they ? 😊 I am not done with them all just yet—I’ve had to edit them by hand, & I’m very close to finishing all folders 👀—but I think they look absolutely precious … I’m very excited to use them ! ( I’ve also found this process to be most inspiring for muse, oddly enough ? 🤔 )

ASK & ABOUT HEADERS. precious Stella / @theircurse back at it with her remarkable talent once more ! 🌼 Ari now has adorable headers & matching dividers for her ask & about posts. as to not make this post exceptionally long above the cut, you shall see them the next time I post a little something about Ari or answer a fun ask ! 🌷

AN UPDATE TO THE WAY I RUN THE ASK BOX. the ask box will no longer be closed, & I will rarely ever close it again in the future. I have decided to handle the ask box differently from the way I had been doing so before. as you all very well know, I am not fast 😅 I tend to take many moons to answer things, & though I have never received a complaint from any mutual about my reply speed, it is never not a worry in my mind 😔 I do think that ask memes serve as wonderful icebreakers for new interactions, & I now feel that closing my ask box limits the opportunity that newer mutuals have to start something with me. I intend to go through my asks at my own pace, however, but I feel like this decision will help new things get started ! 🍃additionally, my meme tag has now been linked to Ari’s pinned post ! 😊

I AM SLOWLY GOING THROUGH & RESPONDING TO DM’S. to those who have been patient with me & my slowness, thank you so very much ! 🌻 I am trying to answer everything that has been waiting for a response. I have made more progress than ever with this, but there are still many people that I need to reach out to—so if you haven’t heard from me yet, trust that you will soon ! 😊

OTHER UPDATES: 

added a picture of Ari to the top of her about section on her carrd. 🍃

updated my about at the bottom of the rules. 🍯

organized dm’s 

did that follower sweep / went through & unfollowed inactive / archived blogs 

learned how to crochet a bookmark … completely unrelated to the blog, but still a personal triumph 👵