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risingoftime · 8 months

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AGAINST ALL ODDS | CORIOLANUS SNOW X PLINTH!READER | CHAPTER FOUR

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a/n: i'm sorry for the delay! my grandpa (who's like my dad) is in the hospital and it's been a rough month, especially with finding the motivation to write. hope you like the chapter & thanks for being patient with me ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Coriolanus awoke with a pulsing headache and little recollection of what had occurred the night before and how he had returned to his room, still in the clothes he had worn the night before. The scent of white liquor remained on Coriolanus’s skin, and his mouth tasted sour from being sick. He cringed at the memory of last night when he had shown up drunk in front of the Plinth’s family doorstep. Coriolanus had all intentions of returning to his penthouse suite, yet when it was time to leave Pluribus’s nightclub, he dialled the Plinth residence in hopes of hearing your voice. His body had a mind of its own, guiding his feet back to you of all people. Strabo Plinth’s daughter haunted his mind amid all his thoughts.

Coriolanus had vowed he would not be entrapped by something as fickle as love. Gone was the foolish boy whose heart could be serenaded and swayed by a girl like Lucy Gray—the ghost of District 12 who sings with Mockingjays.

At first glance, Strabo Plinth’s daughter appeared to be the ideal candidate to become his wife. She was beautiful in a way the other Capitol girls weren’t. Although she’s well-mannered, there’s a hint of defiance within her that Coriolanus wants to tame, and most importantly, she is District. Despite your redeeming qualities, Coriolanus had no intentions of falling in love with you. But lust? That he would allow. Coriolanus knew he would be deluding himself if he didn’t admit that he was intrigued and partially awe-struck when he first met you.

You were seven and a force to be reckoned with. Most had assumed that Sejanus was the younger sibling because he crouched behind his sister and parents. Coriolanus had never met anyone his age from the Districts. Everything that he learned of them was from his family and the Capitol. He had heard that the people were vile and undignified.

District were merely scum that belonged underneath his shoe. You were the first person who had made him question if those statements were factual. At the academy, you introduced yourself to your classmates with confidence and poise that he thought uncommon of someone his age, especially from a lower class individual. She didn’t blink twice when no one embraced her and seemed content with having her brother, Sejanus, by her side. Romulus was the only person who could squeeze between the pair.

Years had passed, and as Strabo Plinth had begun solidifying his place within the Capitol’s society, so had his children. Although impulsive and reckless, Sejanus had become Professor Agrippina Sickle’s protégé. He earned himself a spot in the Hunger Games as a mentor to the impudent Marcus. It irritated Coriolanus beyond belief that Highbottom favoured Sejanus and his sister over him. Good riddance.

His daughter excelled academically and in all challenges thrown at her. She had blossomed into a head turner, catching the eye of many suitors she paid no attention to. Many of the boys in his grade whispered and gossiped about how it would feel to be with a girl from the Districts, nonetheless one who could assimilate and possibly surpass Capitol expectations of those who have been low-bred. And they had tried, all failed miserably. Romulus and Sejanus acted as your guard dogs, never allowing outsiders too close. And now, Romulus was trying to do the same again. Coriolanus would not allow it.

Even though he was able to win over Sejanus, Romulus is a different breed that would only learn from sheer force.

The plan was simple. Coriolanus called for a favour from two of his dumb brute classmates to teach Romulus a lesson. He instructed Henric and Reuben to rough him up a little, making it apparent what would come to those who tried to intervene with him. Coriolanus promised the two that he would review their 11th Hunger Games proposals. Henric and Reuben are at the bottom of the class and are Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s least favourite students. She had made it painfully evident that she couldn’t stand them. Coriolanus threatened the duo that he would snitch to Dr. Gaul that they had assistance with their proposal, and he knew very well Volumnia despised liars. It was a form of insurance. No one would find out who was indeed behind the attack. It’s not like the Dolittle family has disposable income to bribe anyone, especially after “downsizing” and moving out of the penthouse building. The Plinth family now lived in their old residence.

Reuben assured Coriolanus that he would notify him once the deed was done. It was easy to pinpoint Romulus’s schedule and routine since he shared the same classes as his fiancee and was Remus’s little brother. Coriolanus knew Remus quite well and had figured out where the Dolittle’s now lived. The thought reminded Coriolanus of the conversation he shared with Sejanus’s sister.

Coriolanus had no one close to him. She stated that it’s hard to know and trust the version of him presented to her. Coriolanus thought he had friends. But upon further reflection, they were rather accomplices and acquaintances. Her observation was correct. It left him wondering what else Sejanus shared with her in those god-forsaken letters. Did he write of his character? Had Sejanus ever suspected his actions of betrayal? Or worse, did he tell his younger sister about the true nature of his relationship with Lucy Gray? It would be strenuous to win her over if she knew that information. Not that it mattered. She would still have to marry him, Coriolanus thought. But it still nagged at him. As Tigris once said, she would do nothing for Coryo if she didn’t trust or believe he cared. The advice had worked with Lucy Gray; why would it be any different this time?

𓇢𓆸

Cold water ran down his body, washing away the night. Coriolanus’s mind wandered to his cousin, Tigris. The empty spot remained from when she had the maintenance man drill holes in the tesserae from the bathroom. Tigris may hate him now, but she will know whenever she buys new fabric and can design a fresh piece. It was because of Coriolanus and his detriments. He was no longer her precious and naive Coryo. Lucy Gray had made sure of that. No other District girl would make him feel foolish again. He knew better. Lucy Gray was glitter and gold, a shiny new toy that caught his attention. She was fascinating and a true performer who could capture her audience. Coriolanus hadn’t realized he was another audience member until the hanging tree.

Grandma’am’s voice echoed throughout the penthouse, singing the national anthem of Panem. Her shaky, shrill voice made his ears ring and head throb. He needed to stop drinking. Coriolanus doesn’t even know why he decided to go to the gin joint; he is just so angry. He could confide in no one about Lucy Gray and the truth behind her disappearance and their relationship. Although Coriolanus has improved, he won’t make the same misstep that he did with Lucy Gray. He would lie better. She was the one exception.

His most intimate firsts would all be shared with those from the Districts. Coriolanus’s first kill was Bobbin from District 8, his first kiss was Lucy Gray from District 12, and now the girl he would marry and bed would be from District 2, the Plinth’s daughter. The thought made his stomach turn. How many associations does one need with the Districts before they're seen as one themselves?

Grandma’am continued to bellow the Capitol anthem at the dining table while the cooks placed food on the placemats. His head still throbbed, and Coriolanus had half the mind to tell her to shut up. He couldn’t blame her. Grandma’am clung to a reality that provided her comfort, her life before the Dark Days. Coriolanus couldn’t imagine how the Capitol must’ve been prehistoric to the war, and the Dark Days remained in his mind. The bombing from the District 13 rebels still shook him to his core.

“Are you going to eat that?” Tigris questioned. The scrambled eggs and bacon lay on his plate untouched. Her face was inquisitive. It was a refreshing break from the usual deadpan expression that she gave him at every glance. He sometimes wondered if Tigris would ever grow tired of her childish grudge against his Father and him. After all, she was the one reaping the benefits from their sacrifices. She should be grateful.

“I’ll just have the bread for now, thank you,” he mumbled.

Coriolanus was unsure if he could stomach anything else. He didn’t think this through. How would he impress and gain the trust of Strabo’s daughter in this condition?” The only currency he had to get him past her walls was his charm and his wits. She isn’t the type of girl who is quickly swept off her feet. He would ask Tigiris, but Coriolanus doubted that she would agree to help him, considering she made her distaste evident when he had announced his engagement deal with Strabo Plinth.

Tigris went on a tangent. She had spoken fast and brash towards Coriolanus, ranting that a woman wasn’t to be owned or bought but cherished for who she is and not her assets or the pleasure she can provide to her male counterparts. Tigris implores that he doesn't seal the Plinth's daughter's fate for Snow's dynasty uprisal. She claimed we could survive without the Plinth's assistance, but Coriolanus knew better. They wouldn't make it through the year if they had to pay the rent fee and his monthly tuition, not off of the pennies she earned from Fabricia Whatnot and her storefront. Coriolanus was above asking Tigris to charge men for favours in the night. However, it did briefly cross his mind. Upon first impressions, Coriolanus had thought Tigris was trying to debate him on his morals. It was more profound than that. Tigris was reminded of the possibility that the Plinth's daughter could have been her if Coriolanus found a respectable suitor willing to pay a hefty sum for the chance to take the name of a Snow. Isn't that what Strabo Plinth had done? He traded his daughter for the power that comes with Coriolanus's last name. Stabo's daughter was now his.

Brunch was short-lived. Coriolanus needed time to gather and prepare for his date with his fiance. Although he had strategized and managed to survive the games alongside Lucy Gray, he needed to figure out how to romance and court a girl. It never crossed his mind.

Coriolanus knocked on the Plinth's residence door with a bouquet of Grandma'am's finest roses. He wanted to make an excellent first impression on their date. When Strabo Plinth’s daughter came to the door, Coriolanus wasn't surprised to see her looking as radiant as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a slick and neat ponytail, her enticing features on display. Whenever she tied her hair up, sinful thoughts plagued his mind. Coriolanus had to fight the urge to take hold of the flowing strands and pull her closer. He was tempted to laugh at the audacity of performing such an action but chose against it and handed the bouquet to her.

“These are for you,” he grinned.

She gracefully accepted them, returning his smile with her own. But her nose wrinkled at the sickly sweet fragrance when she brought the flowers closer to her face as if the smell unnerved her.

"You don't like roses?" It was a question, but it was apparent that Plinth's daughter was not entirely pleased as she initially led him to believe when she took the bouquet.

"You had never asked."

Coriolanus narrowed his eyes at her. It was true. He hadn't bothered to get to know the girl that he was to be married to. Call him naive, but he assumed it wasn't necessary, as the wedding was just another transaction along the road to his presidency. A minor misstep, he would make up for it later.

𓇢𓆸

The vehicle pulled up to the Citadel, and Noll escorted them out of the car. The cold, brisk winter air knicked his face as he grasped his trench coat closer to his body and clenched the picnic basket in his hand, seeking comfort and stability to calm his nerves.

"Coriolanus, if your idea of taking me out on a date is bringing me back to school, I promise you won't get far with me." Her tone was deadpanned as she stared at him with an unimpressed expression. He couldn't help but chuckle. Coriolanus was not only bringing Strabo Plinth's daughter to the Citadel. Dr. Volumnia Gaul had designed a prototype environment for the next Hunger Games. A large gilded cage-like room that encapsulates lush green plants of all kinds, bright, breathtaking butterflies that are poisonous to the touch, and tropical Jabberjays that flew overhead. It is a cornucopian change of environment from the Capitol of Panem. A small escape that only Coriolanus could provide her. "Trust me, just for today. Take a leap of faith that I'm not as bad as you believe I am," Coriolanus pleaded. He brought his hands together and put them under his chin with the basket to give her his best sad puppy dog expression. He felt like an idiot doing so until she let out a whimsical laugh at his expense and shook her head.

They walked through the Citadel, and she followed behind Coriolanus, silently taking everything in as they approached Dr. Volumnia Gaul's sector. He remembered the first time he had visited the lab personally to deliver his paper assignment to Dr. Gaul. His stomach turned at the memory of Clemensia and the attack of the rainbow snake mutts. Doubt settled in Coriolanus's mind. Was this a bright idea? Would she appreciate the lengths he has gone for this to happen? Dr. Gaul only allowed authorized scientists and doctors like herself in the lab without supervision. It took a lot to regain her trust after the stunt he had pulled with Lucy Gray and his handkerchief. But she softened slightly when he told Dr. Gaul why he wanted to access the gilded cage exhibit. Coriolanus had a sneaky suspicion that Dr. Volumnia Gaul wished to recruit Strabo Plinth's daughter as an apprentice in the future. It would be the perfect demonstration to the districts that their own could turn on them and align with the Capitol. That's what he would do.

Coriolanus ushered Ms. Plinth to the changerooms and placed the picnic basket carefully into his locker. "Here, change into these." Coriolanus handed her white cotton coveralls, gloves, and matching beekeeper hat with disposable shoe covers; these were required to enter the exhibition. She eyed them carefully, "Why do I have to change?" Coriolanus felt unsure if he should ruin the surprise. She looked at the clothing with great suspicion. You'd think that he was handing her a wild animal. They wouldn't make any progress if she were going to doubt every step of the way.

He let out an exasperated sigh, "You're going to want to wear them for where we're going." Coriolanus knew that if he mentioned the butterflies, she would surely leave him right then and there.

"And why-"

"Please," Coriolanus cut her off before she could question him again. He must've looked as desperate as he felt because she offered him a tight smile and huffed, "Fine, but turn around when I change."

She snatched the coveralls from Coriolanus and found a locker across from his to place her belongings and coat inside. He watched with her back facing him as she struggled to unzip her dress. "Here, let me help you," Coriolanus got a hold of her zipper and slowly dragged it down to reveal more of her skin. His fingers grazed her mid-back. The feeling was electrifying and invigorated an excitement within him that he hadn't felt since District 12.

"I told you to turn around!" Plinth's daughter playfully shoved him back. Coriolanus chuckled more to himself. What was that? he thought. The goal is to make her fall for him, not vice versa. He needed to focus.

They returned to their respective sides of the changeroom to put on their assigned uniforms. She stifled her giggle when they faced one another as Coriolanus adjusted the beekeeper's hat on his head.

"You look ridiculous," she snorted.

"You're not a sight for sore eyes either," he retorted.

Strabo Plinth's daughter was swimming in the fabric of the coveralls, and the hat made her head appear bigger than it was, yet she still captured his eye.

“Follow me and stay close,” he cleared his throat and turned for the exit to return to the Capitol’s War Department. The endless white hallways made it easy to get lost, but Coriolanus had spent almost every day with Dr. Gaul as her apprentice and practically memorized all the ins and outs. The guards must’ve been informed of their visit. They eyed them curiously but did not utter a word.

Finally, Coriolanus arrived in front of door 50. “You ready?” He faced her, trying to read her facial expression, but seeing past the thick mesh was hard.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she quipped.

He fished for the key card in his pocket and opened the door to reveal the hidden tropical rainforest. From the outside, you wouldn’t have guessed that such a thing existed inside the Citadel. Hues of vibrant dark green leaves and foliage surrounded the two of them.

“Wow,” she gasped.

“I’ll take it that you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” She walked past him to take it all in. District 2 is one of the districts closest to the Capitol, mostly made of rocky mountains and stone quarries. It was a shared first for both of them. He’s only seen such forestry in textbooks about the green forests that thrived during the pre-dark days. Coriolanus made a calculated guess that she had also never seen anything like it. The butterflies flew freely around them in an array of colours and shades. "Wow," she repeated the word quietly with each step she took further into the gilded cage. She brushed her gloved hands across the leaves in awe, taking it all in.

"Coriolanus, this is beautiful."

One of the butterflies landed on her forearm, another, and another. It was like she was a walking magnet. Strabo Plinth's daughter froze in place, mimicking a statue. "Oh... my... God," she whispered.

"No sudden movements. They're poisonous, after all," Coriolanus replied calmly.

Her body jerked at the word poisonous, knocking the creatures off her in one motion. "Gentle! They won't cause you any harm," he exclaimed. The last thing he needed was Dr. Volumnia Gaul penalizing him over dead butterflies.

"You're such a jerk!" She punched his shoulder hard. That's going to leave a bruise in the morning. "You're horrible at this," she muttered.

"At what?" Coriolanus obliviously asked.

"Dating."

"Go easy on me. This is my first time." It bruised Coriolanus's ego to admit it. "You're lying," the surprise was obvious in her tone. She was facing him now, just a mere step away from them being chest to chest. The butterflies continued to fly overhead, but Plinth's daughter didn't seem to care anymore.

"Why would I lie?" He countered.

"You're the Capitol's golden boy! Of course, it's safe to assume you know your way around." She said dryly.

"I know I have quite the reputation, but I haven't had much time to think about who I would've brought to the Cornucopia Ball." Coriolanus wasn't unaware of the whispers from his peers about who he might ask to be his date. Sejanus had even pressed him about it a couple of times. The ball occurs each year a couple of weeks before graduation. Considering that Coriolanus had been banished to District 12, he never got the chance to attend.

"What about Lucy Gray? You say that you and she were never a couple?"

Coriolanus's body stiffened. Hearing her name come out of Sejanus's sister's mouth unsettled him to his core. It was a question, no, a test. She was baiting him. But how would she know anything? Silence stretched in between them.

"Sejanus was quite the gossip." She continued. Yes, he was. It was one of the reasons why he was killed. Sejanus never knew when to shut his mouth and turn a blind eye. It was against his whole being. Even in death, Sejanus's voice will haunt him.

"I had feelings for Lucy Gray, but she didn't feel the same in the end. I was just another part of the games to her."

"That's not what-"

"Sejanus is a idealistic romantic." He cut her off abruptly. "Maybe in another lifetime, things could be different." Coriolanus side-stepped Sejanus's sister to walk further into the gilded room. The air had begun to feel too thick, too hard to breathe. This was not a part of the plan. She was ruining it, just like her brother. Coriolanus needed to gain control and shift the conversation. Yet his mind wouldn't cooperate, his brain filled with nonsensical thoughts. He could hear her footsteps follow after him, but he chose to focus on the three butterflies that landed on his hand—taking slow, deep breaths with each flap of its wings.

"I'm sorry- I didn’t mean to upset you."

“It doesn’t matter anymore; she’s lost in the trees.” It wasn't a complete lie, and he wouldn’t explain further. It was up to her interpretation at this point. Lucy Gray could've been dead for all he cared, and it would be for the better. Coriolanus closed his eyes to refocus and center himself. His last two loves would lay to rest in District 12. They couldn’t reach him now.

The butterflies flew away when he let out his last exhale. In the blink of an eye, it was idle and empty when he looked back at his outstretched hand.

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bingus35 · 1 year

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Buggy is… goated??? Unironically????? Not as a gag?????????

Tbh I never liked Buggy because I thought he’s basically Usopp except with no character depth or redeeming qualities. This chapter punched me square in the face.

He actually grew balls of steel after all those beatings from Crocodile and Mihawk and recreated Roger’s last moment. And it’s actually epic. He’s crying and his body is nowhere to be found and Crocodile is stomping on his head, but he has a dream. The dream that he abandoned like 20 years ago and haven’t said it out loud to a soul. He’s now screaming it out loud to the world. That’s legit so cool.

Also turns out Buggy secretly wanted Shanks to inherit Roger’s legacy. He did care about Shanks and hold respect for him after all. His real grudge was born out of bitterness because Shanks seemingly abandoned their dream... the dream he previously gave up from lack of self confidence and secretly entrusted it to Shanks. The treasure map had always been just an excuse.

(Not sure why I didn’t expect this. Oda loves writing goofy, seemingly gag stuff only to make them sad in hindsight. I never expected this petty grudge to be anything more than a gag like “haha look at this stupid shallow guy”)

#one piece 1082 #buggy #shanks

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 6 days

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Seven

TW: medical stuff, talk of dying, nsfw

The next time you go to see Detective Washington Linda is there. She’s always there, bless, and you think that maybe she could use a change of scenery. “Would you like to get a coffee with me?”

She blinks up at you, as though the thought of being anywhere but by her husband’s side never even occurred to her. You sympathize, maybe even more now than a few days ago. You know that if Tom was in that bed…you would be losing your fucking mind. You try not to think about how real a possibility it could be, with the dangers of Tom’s job. Of how it could be not if, but when.

You need caffeine.

You go to the little café, Linda following a step behind you. You order a super sweet frappe drink that barely masquerades as coffee. She gets a latte.

“So…how is he doing?”

“Better,” she answers, looking into the frothed milk atop her coffee. “Stable, now, thank god. But…when he wakes up, we’re still going to have a long road ahead of us.”

“Yeah,” you acknowledge, understanding all too well. “But he’s strong. And you are too. I can tell. You’re going to make it.”

“We were going to leave LA, you know? That money they found in the car? We sold our house. We were going to start over in the Bahamas.”

“Well, maybe you can still do that? After he recovers? I’ve seen people recover from gunshots really well.” You hope you’re soothing her, instead of breaking her psyche down even more, but in truth you’ve never really thought you were good at this human connection stuff.

Linda gives you the tiniest of smiles, and it warms you up more than the steaming cup in her hands. “You could be doing anything with your break…Why are you coming to see me?”

“I don’t take breaks,” you say, leaning over with a smile like this is top secret highschool drama stuff. “Well, not usually.”

She laughs in a huff. “Well, thank you.”

“I wanna be there for you,” you tell her truthfully, toying with the plastic, icy cup in your hands. “I think you could use a friend if I’m not mistaken?”

“You’re right,” she nods, looking down into her own brew. “Although I’m sensing you need the company, too? After all, the only person I’ve seen you around here with is Ludlow.”

Oh….Oh.

Yeah, you suppose it makes sense that everyone knows by now. Tom is a little hard to miss, and you’ve been pinned to his side since the grocery store shootout. Every piece of you wants to defend him again—from the venomous way Linda says his name—dust off his badge and put him on the pedestal he deserves, but this isn’t about Tom…or you right now. “I’m… sorry,” you say, unsure of what else to provide. You bow to her grief, her anger, her pain, because sometimes that’s just what you have to do.

“Can you just tell me something?” She asks, her sorrow suddenly forefront.

“Of course, anything.”

“Tom…didn’t try and hurt him? Did he? He didn’t help the shooters?”

“Linda… No. Jesus, no. Tom, he…” you rub a hand over your face, forgetting that you’re wearing mascara to work because you feel this new sense of pride and confidence and beauty thanks to the subject of your current conversation. “He tried to help him, just like me. He did what he could. I swear to you.”

“And if he didn’t? Would you still be with him?”

For some reason, and it’s a reason you’ll have to do some soul searching about later on, you hesitate to answer that question. Because you’re not sure. Not sure if you would have blacklisted Ludlow for being involved with Washington’s near death, or comforted him about it—“you did what you had to.”

It’s scary, to give all of yourself when you…fuck it, when you love someone. Push morals and decencies and laws aside for a person. Lose yourself trying to justify their behaviors. You’ve been here, what? A dozen times? With friends, family, lovers. Thinking that if you could just see something in them, some redeemable quality, maybe that would erase all their copious horrible ones.

So, would you? Defend Tom if he had tried to kill Linda’s husband? You answer with what you truly believe:

“He wouldn’t. Maybe he would try and fight him. Break something, even. But he wouldn’t kill him, Linda. I know he wouldn’t.”

She appraises you with something in her eyes that resembles trust, and it makes you wonder what you did to deserve it. “I believe you,” she says, confirming your suspicions about her expression.

“Look. I know…our boys have had their differences. I know I don’t know the details. What I do know, is that Tom is determined to find the guys who shot your husband. He’s…all in on that.”

You’re surprised when Linda frowns at hearing this. “And what does the almighty Captain Wander think about that?”

Now you’re frowning too, because her skepticism maybe puts some things into perspective for you. You remember what Tom told you, about going around the official channels to get things done. “Honestly? I’m not sure it’s official. I just know Tom is on it like a missile. He’s not going to give up.”

Linda sighs, looking down into her coffee. “There’s a part of me that just wants to sweep all this under the rug and start over. But the other part of me?” She looks up at you, a fierce fire in her honey-brown eyes that makes you feel like you just stumbled on a lioness on the prowl. “The other part of me hopes Ludlow kills them all.”

***

It’s a long, hard day. The weather is getting colder, although it’s hard to call outside cold right now, especially considering where you’re from, but dropping temps, no matter how insignificant Kansians think they may be, still come with colds and sepsis and lung troubles, even here in sweltering LA.

It’s easier to get through the shift, though, because you’ve made a new friend, and she’s pretty damn cool. Linda is fierce, loyal, beautiful; you would envy her if it wasn’t for admiration getting in the way. Even better, you just seem to click with her so naturally, the vibes between you are immaculate—you feel like you’ve known her your whole life, and that’s really rare to have with someone.

You chart with a smile for once, because you really hate charting more than anything else on God’s green earth, but take a pause when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Hey, baby, am I still picking you up at 1930, or you gonna be late?

Your smile sharpens and spreads, warmth flaring up your bones like freshly plugged Christmas lights, at Tom’s message.

I can do seven thirty if you stop distracting me.

But I miss you :(

Oh my god. Now you’re blushing and giggling.

C’mon, you know you’ve been thinking about me all day.

Nope. Forgot your name, actually. Who is this, anyway?

I think it’s time we give you that spanking.

I can take the bus home….

You know I will stop that bus with my lights and sirens on.

Fuck u, handsome.

Maybe after I turn that little ass red.

You roll your eyes, scoffing just as hard as clenching. This man is going to kill you. He’s so goddamn sexy it should be illegal. And he’s making all your dirty little fantasies come true while simultaneously making your heart melt. You shove your phone back into your pocket, determined to go back to work so you can actually get out at the time you’re supposed to, but it vibrates again.

I’m very serious about pulling that bus over. Don’t even try it.

Yes, officer.

Good girl.

What a dick. You’re absolutely head over heels for him. Asshole.

How the hell are you going to betray his trust and let Julian have his way with you? How are you not going to feel crippling guilt every time you look into those coffee brown eyes? How. Furthermore, is Julian going to want to keep doing this with you? Training you like you’re some sideshow pony? You grimace at the thought.

It’s wonderful, how when you see Tom all those bad feelings seem to go away—especially since he picks you up in full uniform, those delicious glinting handcuffs strung proud to his belt. You bite your lip when you see him, and he kisses the sting away.

“Working late?” You ask, shimmying your thumbs into his belt loops and pulling him closer. It’s been long, hard hours without him, and you missed him more than you want to admit.

He presses you up against the wall, just like you want, and tucks stray, wild hairs behind your ears. “Had a residential disturbance,” he says, “let me make you dinner.” It’s beautiful, how such mundane things sound so sinfully promising through his voice.

“You are dinner, Officer Ludlow.” Because God, you really have just been aching to lean into this cops and robbers fantasy that he started on that dark highway. All you’ve been able to think about is getting on your knees and undoing this uniform and sucking him empty.

Fuck Julian, and your job, and everything else when he kisses you with a growl, hands cupping the back of your head and threading through your hair so he can get you closer. He either really likes this feral beast you’ve become, or really doesn’t like it judging by this lip splitting dance of tongue and teeth that leaves you gasping for breath. “Careful, baby, might have to lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

You do love the sound of that.

***

You ask Tom to take you somewhere…somewhere high and airy where you can look down on the city of Angels. The city you both protect, with shining colorful lights that fight valiantly against the dark night. Tom holds you in his arms, chin on your head, and you don’t mind that all the shiny bobbles on his uniform poke at you. You feel so safe, right here, even though you’re alone in the woodsy hills of LA, and it’s because he has you securely tucked between his biceps.

“Something’s going on with you,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “I can tell, you know that?”

The fine hairs along your spine lift, and you hide your face in his arm, trying with all your might not to start crying like a baby.

“I’m just scared, of those guys trying to get rid of me…” it’s not a total lie, although it, surprisingly, between Julian’s clutches and Tom’s freedom, is the least of your worries.

He pulls you closer. “Listen, baby, I’m gonna protect you. I know you’re not used to that, to someone having your back, but I do. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere…not even if you want me too.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, I know.”

“I think I should probably ask you out properly, but I’ve been a little nervous.”

Your chuckle turns to confused laughter, and you look up at his sheepish smile. “The unbreakable Tom Ludlow, nervous?”

“Yeah, that you’re gonna tell me to go pound salt…again.” He tries to smile his way out of that statement, but his eyes droop and the corners of his mouth twitch with the effort of nonchalance. And you are a fucking asshole for trusting Julian and snubbing Tom—that’s all you really know for sure.

“Will you go out with me?”

His grin turns authentic, and it scares you how much lighter you feel now that he’s genuinely happy again.

“Yeah,” he agrees on the soft crown of your hair.

#tom ludlow x you #tom ludlow x reader #keanuverse

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blenselche · 6 months

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tags: bubbline finnfern finnferntress ZaDr merge HC feral Fern Huntress Wizard dadFinn makes me cry goatmom things chickenblr gift art asks

My AUs:

About Keep Yourself (FinnFern) a story about wishing for a fresh start, letting yourself ask for what you want and recognizing that you can't run forever.

At 27 Finn Mertens finalizes a wish that will allow him to channel all of his lived experiences into a new, fresh self in the hopes he can be a little more selfish, be a little less proud and not make the same mistakes that he cannot help but dwell on.

Ch 2 Excerpt: Anxiety bubbles its way up his esophagus and Finn drowns it with a long pull off his homebrew, eyes flickering from the bottle to his prosthetic, foot tapping furiously. He sighs and gives into the itch at the back of his brain, taking the wish out and reading it over again, biting more teeth marks into a pencil already shredded down to the lead. It’s something to look forward to. Something he can put off, hoping ‘it gets better’ but it hasn’t and he’s almost certain it won’t. A morbid form of motivation to get more built, work harder, save more people, hoping against hope he’ll wake up happy before he has to spirit himself away. But none of it matters without fulfillment, sat alone and suffocating under his own melancholy in this empty space, only a facsimile of a loved one on his chest for company.

Keep Yourself Series (E rated vers.)

Keep Yourself Series (T rated vers. sans comic)

Keep Yourself AU Comic on AO3

This is a ~30 page comic that can be read without knowledge of the rest of the series and can be read as platonic. Their soul snakes in on itself like flustered birds panicking in their chests as it tries to magnetize and recombine when within a certain distance of one another, and so Fern's job of stalking Finn turns into a headache of trying to keep his silence in all his double's one sided ramblings.

Keep Yourself AU posts (sketches, asks, etc.)

Keep Yourself Playlist

About Vanlife AU (FinnFernTress) a story about the interplay between the self and selfless love inspired by the Gregg Araki films like Nowhere, The Living End and The Doom Generation.

Finn collects Fern after his arm mishears him in his want to just go home together, and never one for reading is left ignorant of the demon contract and its terms, unknowingly burying Fern alive. Fern reforms and takes off to the Nightosphere to find himself after being forced to confront what he is. The comic starts with him reappearing six years later, much to the annoyance of Huntress Wizard, Finn's casual hook up and confidant.

Vanlife AU on AO3 (posted by batch, higher quality images)

Vanlife AU Posts (sketches, asks, etc.)

Vanlife AU Playlist

About Erasure (ZaDr/ZaGf) [on temp hiatus since the first "chapter" is done] a story about freight hopping, folk punk, and falling in love over and over again. (and hating it.)

[...] in his Junior year of high school Zim receives an SOS and rushes off planet without telling anyone, feeling responsible for what happened and yearning for a chance to redeem himself to his masters and people. He does not come back until Dib’s senior year of college, and does not talk about what happened on Irk. He and Gaz have grown close- she had been living in his abandoned base after dropping out in an effort to avoid Membrane and his increasing disappointment, apathetic neglect and rigid expectations. The two have made connections with all manner of tramps, oogles, crusties and homebums through their circumstances and Zim’s lifestyle due to lack of proof of identity, and so the house gradually evolves into the local squat. The comic starts with Zim interrupting Dib’s work (and day drinking) to let him know they’ll be heading out of Michigan to play a show, and offers to let him come along when he sees how overworked Dib is.

Erasure AU pages in order

Erasure AU posts (sketches, asks, etc.)

Erasure AU playlist

#keep yourself au #vanlife au #erasure au #finnfern #finncest #finnferntress #finntress #ferntress #huntress wizard #finn mertens #fern the human #adventure time #atimers #zadr #zagf #invader zim

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casmick-consequences · 10 months

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Black Pete, my beloved

This is just gonna be a post where I talk about Black Pete from 'Our Flag Means Death' and his arc on the show (so far!!!!), as well as what he means to me. (And by post, I mean essay, lol. I'm passionate.)

So right from the get-go, you immediately see the kind of character Pete is set up to be. Stereotypical rugged pirate, very much "I live to loot and plunder and I eat danger and bloodshed for breakfast". He's immediately set up to be someone who is very unlikeable, and someone who you would get annoyed with fast. An overly confident macho character that thinks he's better than everyone else, yet has nothing to prove it. Think characters like Nelson Muntz from 'The Simpsons' or Eric Cartman from 'South Park'.

In episode 1, you see him being the character to effectively try to start a mutiny because he thinks the captain, Stede Bonnet, is incompetent and unfit to be a captain, even confidently stating that he'd take over in his stead because 'he's the most experienced'.

If there was one character trait to shadow all of this, though, it is undoubtedly his idolization and admiration for the dreaded and feared pirate; Captain Blackbeard. He makes up stories of him having been on his crew, and this being the reason as to why he is so skilled and great. Whether these stories are true is never mentioned, but nonetheless not a single person (except the quite gullible captain Stede) believes a word he says.

What is SO interesting about his character, however, is that all of this is just a first look into his character. It's a first impression. Yes, throughout the show he shall always have his little moments of "being a dick", but the further you get into the show, the more you see the layers of him.

We've established he's kind of a dick, he's self-centered, delusional... but under all this there's actually the sweetest core you could imagine. Whenever he does something wrong, or he offends someone, he's the first to apologize as soon as he can.

Accidentally stab Frenchie's flag during an ambitious attempt to start a mutiny? Show remorse and say I'm sorry immediately. Your captain makes someone cry? Tell him that that wasn't okay and console the crying person as soon as possible. Your captain wants to put a cursed suit onto other innocent people, just to lift the curse from themselves? Question it because it makes you feel like a horrible person.

And even to Stede himself. In Season 1, it was pretty clear that Pete did not think anything of Stede. He thought he was dumb, incompetent etc etc and loved NOTHING more than the idea to get rid of him. But then in Season 2, where a very offensive comment is made towards Stede by the newly-back-from-the-sorta-dead scribe, Lucius Spriggs, who now holds a vendetta against Stede because he's indirectly the reason Lucius had to come sorta back from the dead in the first place, you see him like this:

He is visibly uncomfortable here, while in season 1, he would've jumped on the Anti-Stede train in a SECOND. But here, he just sits and tries to kind of get rid of the thick tension of that moment, and get the negative attention away from Stede. GROWTH.

Not only that, but (and this is gonna be an insanely weird opinion of mine but hear me out): out of all the crewmembers on Stede's ship, I might say that none of them are as much like Stede than Pete is. Stede is quite dumb, quite gullible, obsessed with Blackbeard, very much wants to be a "big, strong pirate" and despite all of this still manages to be kind to the people around him and makes sure to take care of others just like he takes care of himself. To me, that sounds just like Pete.

And, maybe one of his most redeeming qualities:

He is the sweetest, most loving and most caring partner on the ship.

Lucius is pretty much what you think of when you hear the words "sassy gay sidekick". He's sassy, he's queer, he's confident, he's very flirtatious and basically the LAST person you'd think to pair with Pete. He's also immediately portrayed as likeable, and is understandably one of the absolute favorites in the entire fandom.

They sound like the crackiest pair of them all. And yet somehow, they work perfectly together. They balance eachother out like two sides of the same coin. What Pete lacks in self-awareness, Lucius got enough for the both of them. What Lucius lacks in pirate skills, Pete has heaps to keep them both safe. And so on and so forth.

Throughout the show, Pete has learned to put someone else before him for once. It used to always be him as number one, but it becomes very clear that he now has a new number one. His number one.

There are lots of reasons why this relationship in particular means a lot to me. The main one being the way that they are perceived in the show.

Pete has a cleft lip, a bit of a lisp, a bald head, and overall just isn't what you'd normally expect from a TV show that depicts gay characters. He's average-looking. He's just some guy. And despite all of this, he gets to be in a sweet and loving relationship with his cute boyfriend who loves him, adores him, and looks at Pete like he's the most beautiful thing in the world.

Lucius himself isn't really that conventionally attractive either, but this fandom definitely perceives him better than they do Pete. Which is apparent in the way they pair him up with other, more conventionally attractive people, which is upsetting but hey. That's how the world works, I guess.

But it's the way these two are not perfect in any way, they're just two dudes on a ship who happen to be in the most beautiful relationship imaginable. Their relationship isn't perfect either, but it's perfect enough. They're just like a regular couple you'd see anywhere in real life. Nothing too fabricated, and it all just feels so real. Which is also why they remind me so much of my personal relationship with my beautiful, amazing partner whom I love more than anything in the world. The Lucius to my Pete.

Pete means a lot to me because, aside from having the best oneliners in the show and making me want to study him in a lab, in a way I see a lot of myself in him. I like to think I'm not nearly as delusional or self-centered as him, but the way he engages with the world around him feels just so familiar to me.

He's a bit dumb most of the time, and he's prone to make mistakes, but he always means well. He keeps up a hard, rough exterior to be able to protect his loved ones and look tough to others, yet in his core he is so incredibly sensitive and caring He found love in a place and time where it pretty much could've been impossible, and he spreads that love as far as his bare, sleeveless arms can reach.

He's a dick, but he's my dick. He whittled his boyfriend a damn finger, he deserves to be a little obnoxious every now and again as a treat.

So yeah. Black Pete does not NEARLY get the appreciation and recognition he deserves. And neither does his relationship with Lucius. And I wanna thank Matthew Maher for his incredible performance of this incredible character. Thank you!

(Also he's trans because I'm trans and I said so <3 ok bye)

#black pete #matthew maher #im so sorry i didnt mean for this to be a whole ass essay skfjsdkfj i love him ok #he means the world to me #APPRECIATE MY BOY!!! YOU COWARDS #anyway this goes out to all my fellow pete girlies #lucius x pete #ofmd #our flag means death #rhys darby #taika waititi #david jenkins

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erinelliotc · 7 months

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Some people (including myself) are Eddy apologists for this exact reason too- they can understand why he acts as he acts, where do come from his anger and insatisfaction with his life, and how he often gets a pretty unfair treatmente in some episodes (To Sir with Ed, Sorry Wrong Ed, X Marks the Ed, Who let The Ed In, The Good, The Bad and The Ed). On other side other characters (the kids) act just as bad as him and (almost) always come go unpunished. There several years ago Eddy got lots of hate, he was demonished and treated like a real monster and a sociopath by the fandom, devoid of any redeeming qualities. People who feel sympathy for him for his background and some of these episodes began to come to his defende and shows how he is a great character with a lot of good moments and a heart deep down.

Edd, on other side, always had the ''elite treament'', he was a angel, a perfect princess, who can do anything wrong in certain fans's eyes. Not to mention he pretty much overshadowed every other character on fanfics and fan arts, was everything about him. Another fans (usually Eddy fans) naturally got sick of this and started to push his flaws, the moments were he acted like a jerk, and how he's not above anyone on the show. And how not all his actions are (indeed) justifyable. Summing up, people were just sick of seeing Eddy being treated like a psychotic monster and Edd as the Jesus Christ figure.

Politely, just clarifying this to you. Good afternoon.

First of all, thanks for politely telling me all this! I wasn't really aware of all this because I only joined the fandom 5 months ago. And I totally get this, that's why I made the post. I saw some posts of people talking about those people who think Double D is an innocent little angel and I started to wonder if people think that about me, if I ever sounded like that, and I started to worry that someday I would sound like that in one of my future texts and videos talking about him. I hadn't thought about it when I made the post, but I hope it didn't come off as rude or an "attack" (???), I was just afraid that people would mistake me for one of those annoying people and just wanted to clarify that I'm not, because I really like this fandom and I don't want people to think that I'm annoying or that I make superficial analyses of the characters (because I personally think that oversimplifying Double D as good and Eddy as bad is something people do when they watch the show very superficially). I tend to be that type of person who feels the need to always clarify and justify myself for fear of others hating me, and also, I'm a little traumatized by Twitter where people tend to be very aggressive and mean to you for everything and assume things about you and not explain things to you etc etc... so I was a little anxious after making my post, afraid something like this might happen, but from everything I'm seeing, people on Tumblr seem so nice and kind in general. So I want to thank you again for being so kind and actually explaining the whole thing to me :)

Eddy is a character who's very easy to be wronged and misunderstood because he has great depth, several layers, insecurities and traumas that he covers with his false confidence and "jerky" attitude that he tries to copy from his brother. Obviously not justifying people treating him like a monster, just explaining that unfortunately we live in a world full of superficial people who aren't concerned with paying attention to details and stopping to really interpret and analyze things carefully and attentively, and understand that people are complex, characters are complex, and Eddy is a highly complex character. To these people, it ends up being more comfortable and convenient to just be content and cling to the character who, if seen superficially, is the "perfect little angel" who "suffers at the hands" of the "evil Eddy". I love analyzing and reflecting on things deeply, and it really irritates and frustrates me that people don't make the effort to do the same, and that happens in real life too. People quickly judge and have difficulty understanding that people are not simple and have different reasons for acting the way they do. I know it's hard to deal with people who act like jerks, I have a hard time myself, but I just wish there was a little more empathy in the world. That's one of the things Big Picture Show teaches us, right? Don't judge people because sometimes the jerk person is actually a very broken, insecure and frustrated person who just wants and needs to feel loved and accepted and doesn't really understand that. I think it's so important to learn this because it's true, sometimes people act mean not because they're actually mean, but because of so many other reasons that they themselves don't comprehend or don't want to show, and the "mean" disguise is just the way they found to defend themselves and survive.

I think (at least I hope?) it's noticeable in some of my posts that I also love Eddy (as a Double D kinnie I think it makes sense to be in love with him xD just an EddEddy joke to lighten up, but honestly I think people like Eddy are my type), I love analyzing and reading other people's analyses of his character and story, but my sympathy for him just grew in the last 5 months in fact, when I became hyperfixated on EEnE much more intensely than before and finally started to get to know about the whole story and characters. I even made a post once talking about thinking that he was my least favorite Ed, because before he actually was, but after rewatching the entire show now as an adult (the last time I watched I was a kid who didn't even understand a lot of the things that happened) and starting to analyze and read about it, now I'm very obsessed with him, I think his character is so interesting and deep, that he has the most interesting backstory and the best character development, and I even make more edits with him than with Double D (I think I tend to be obsessed with controversial and complex characters who are full of content to analyze from a psychological point of view like Eddy. A good example is Jinx from Arcane, I just love her character so much). I also recently realized that he's a lot like my brother, no wonder our mother often misunderstands him. But I get it, they (Eddy and my brother) are just people who are very hard to deal with because they carry several issues that you need to have good maturity and emotional structure to deal with, but it's so good when you can get to know a little more about them and help them get through these things when they open up and allow themselves to be discovered and helped.

Today I came across a post (which was honestly the trigger that made me make my post) from @eddfumo saying that they think Double D wants to be like Eddy in some way, and you know what? This is so true! I'll use my own experience to relate to him and explain him again, but anyway, I'm so envious of people/characters like Eddy. Even though they tend to irritate me and I even disapprove of many of their actions and decisions, they also have this determination, confidence (even if it's false, they're still able to act like confident people), attitude, audacity, strong personality, rebelliousness, extroversion and "not giving a shit" energy that I so wish I had too. I really admire these traits and I think Double D deep down does too (I like to headcanon him doing the same as I do and secretly fantasizing imaginary and hypothetical situations and discussions in which he acts more like Eddy, and he feels so good about himself afterwards, but feels frustrated that he doesn't have the nerve to do this outside of his imagination in real-life situations). Even though they have questionable morals, this type of person is so inspiring and you can still learn so much from them. It's no wonder Double D grows so much and becomes a more confident and less people-pleasing person because of Eddy's influence.

So yeah, it sucks when people simplify characters and see them as black and white, good and bad. The EEnE fandom is unfortunately not very big, but luckily here on Tumblr, at least currently, it's full of people who do in-depth analyses and that makes me very happy!

EDIT (I'm editing to add one more thing because I forgot to mention another topic that complements what you said about the other kids acting badly too and not receiving any punishment): One of the many things I plan to do after rewatching the show a few more times to properly absorb everything (I need to rewatch things at least twice to really take it all. Plus, I rewatched it the first time with the Brazilian dub because nostalgia and now I want to rewatch it with the original lines) is count how many times the Eds do real scams. Because honestly, there are a lot of episodes where we can't really call what they're doing "scams" because they're not actually scamming anyone, they're just selling something honestly and without harming anyone, but things always go wrong even when they're not doing anything wrong (often because of the Kankers, for example) and this is frustrating as hell to Eddy.

Since I haven't rewatched everything twice yet (because I'm still in the process of subtitling the entire remastered version of the show to rewatch it properly because English isn't my first language), I don't remember all the episodes accurately and clearly. But the last one I subtitled was "In Like Ed" (season 2, episode 9), so it's the example I have freshest in mind, even if it's not the best one. I know, the Eds were inconvenient in this episode crashing Jimmy's party (even though I think it's so lame that they rarely get invited to anything because the kids exclude them), opening his presents and everything, but one thing that stuck in my mind was the fact that when Eddy opened the present in front of them and revealed the sewing machine, Jimmy just said: "I'm so misunderstood. I wanted a pony!". He didn't say anything about them ruining the surprise or anything, he just started crying and ran away because he didn't get a goddamn pony. He just complained about someone's present, despised the present right in front of the person, and all Kevin said was "There goes the birthday boy. You dorks wrecked another party!". Like?? Jimmy cried because he didn't get the present he wanted, and not because of the Eds. I could even consider the possibility of them giving him "preferential treatment" and ignoring him because he's younger, but there are times when Kevin doesn't give a shit about Jimmy being younger, like in "Know it All Ed" (season 2, episode 1) when he uses the squirt gun on him, mock him and call him "twerp". Anyway, regardless of being younger, he was so rude and no one gave a shit, and not only that but they even acted as if it was the Eds' fault that Jimmy cried and ran away.

So yeah! The kids (especially Kevin) always blame the Eds (especially Eddy) for everything that goes wrong, even when it's not really their fault. And as you said, they also act badly, but nothing happens to them.

#ed edd n eddy #ededdneddy #ed edd and eddy #EEnE #double d #eene double d #edd #eene edd #double dee #eene double dee #eddy #eene eddy #eene analysis #my analysis #my headcanons

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doodlegirl1998 · 3 months

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ngl im a mineta defender until the end, now before you jump me let me explain

his behavior is obvi disgusting (lets also not ignore the fact that hori has said hes his self insert) BUT IT IS EXTREMELY EASY TO FIX!

a lot of kids and teens who have similar behaviors often have parents with the same beliefs. not to say that this is always the case but it’s more common than not

which means that they’re raised not knowing that their behavior is wrong. they see it as acceptable, and not only that, but *expected* of them

it is an extremely easy thing to rectify. of course sometimes it’s harder depending on how much the behavior has been ingrained into them, but at the end of the day it is *fixable*

he was failed by his parents for encouraging his behavior and he was failed by other adults/teachers for letting it continue

also it’s not that much of a stretch to say that he was probably heavily bullied. he has a very prominent lisp, he’s a heteromorph, and he’s extremely short. i’ve seen several ppl who hc that he has dwarfism and i definitely agree with that

aizawa doesn’t seem to give a shit because he never takes any action to try and discipline him for how he acts

also im sick of the shinso replacing mineta fics. the only good thing abt shinso replacing aoyama is that ppl don’t have an excuse to replace him.

like for the love of god it’s not that hard to simply change his character. it annoys me to no end. bc i like mineta a lot! his quirk is interesting and he has a lot of potential as a character but he’s reduced to a creepy pervert bc every shonen anime needs to have at least one 🙄

tl;dr stop bashing mineta and start bashing hori

Hi @the-jello-bowl 👋

Stop bashing Mineta and start bashing Hori... hmm. You know what? That's a sentiment I could get behind.

After all, the ultimate problem with Mineta lies in his writing.

At the start of the series, Hori wrote him too perverted with too little of any other redeeming or sympathetic quality. That impression stuck - so a lot of fans want him out of heroism and out of 1A.

This is fair because Mineta's behaviour is triggering for many people, and he could make a dangerous figure as a hero and an adult if left unchecked and if his perversions worsen.

While I understand why, Shinsou replacing Mineta is a lazy way to do take Mineta out of 1A, since Shinsou canonically hasn't shown he deserves to be in the hero class nor shown to have good interactions with 1A as a collective.

While it doesn't make his behaviour excusable, you are right when you say Mineta was failed by the adults around him. Especially his parents and Aizawa, as you pointed out, they were the ones prime positioned to fix this behaviour, yet they did not. We don't know what his parents are like for certain, but I believe his dad was likely a verbally and emotionally abusive misogynist who Mineta idolised. And we know that Aizawa fluctuates between negligence and using his hero grade weapon on Mineta as discipline... so there is no consistent messaging there. Yikes.

Instead, Hori implied Mina had to clockwork orange Mineta to stop him being a pervert which... took away Mineta's whole agency in his decision to stop being perverted. (Did his character even get better at all by his own freewill really if Mina had to do this? Will that 'brainwashing' break one day? Here is another reason to hate Hori's writing.)

Hori also doesn't expand on the things that could make Mineta sympathetic, the lisp, the possibly being bullied in the past, the likely self-confidence issues. He doesn't expand on Mineta's backstory or expand on why he wants to be a hero, really (if it was just girls, he would have quit by now, let's be real).

It is a failure in Hori's writing that he doesnt give Mineta (as a HERO student) a redemption arc where he realises just how awful he's been to the girls and vows to make up for it. This moment could have even begun because Mineta stops his perversions due to wanting to be more well-liked and like Midoriya (who he looks up to). The building blocks are there - Hori neglects them.

TLDR: Mineta is a character that could have had potential, and his quirk is interesting. He had potential for a character redemption arc, potential for an interesting backstory, too.

The reason why Mineta is hated is because Hori wastes all his potential to have a lazily written creepy pervert throughout the majority of the story.

Good traits such as Mineta's bravery only make a large appearance later, and the perversions disappear too late in the story to really salvage his popularity.

Not only that, but being a hero is a privilege, not a right. Mineta has got to show through the story as a member of 1A why he deserves to be there and why he has the character for Heroism - unfortunately Hori fails to do this for him because of the reasons I mentioned above.

A lazily written cowardly perverted character could have worked in a minor villain character, but this is instead in a member of 1A, who we are meant to root for adding to the cognitive dissonance of his character.

#mha critical #bnha critical #mineta minoru #mineta minoru critical #kind of?#wasted potential

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hederasgarden · 2 months

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Can I request Sharing is Caring with Bob from your WIP list? You haven't written for him in a while the girlies are parched!

Ok, I'll be honest....this story is just PWP where Bob shares his girlfriend with Nat, Brad and Jake. It has zero redeeming qualities.

Maybe it's a quiet fantasy he keeps close to his chest until he's established in his relationship with you or maybe it is something you discover you both like when you're tangled up in bed sharing what gets you hot under the collar.

It starts with inviting Phoenix into your bed. The trust she and Bob share makes it an easy choice and you can't deny that you find her attractive. It's fun and freeing and you love exploring that side of yourself with someone as capable and confident as Phoenix.

Then comes Brad and Jake.

The thought of Bob giving them commands has me feeling some type of way.

Very NSFW thoughts below the cut. 18+ only. Oral sex (m receiving), fingering and Bob's dirty mouth.

The night you all get together you see another side of your sweet, shy boyfriend. He's seated in a chair in the corner of the room with a good view of the bed and you. When he speaks to Brad there's only the barest tremble in his voice.

“Put her on her knees.”

Brad nods and presses gently on your shoulder until you’re kneeling before him. He smiles and caresses your chin before returning his attention to Bob, waiting for the next command.

"Fuck her mouth."

The profanity is enough to startle you, Bob isn’t one to swear casually and certainly not one to be so crud. It’s his voice that surprises you the most, low and smooth. Confident.

Brad, for perhaps the first time in his life, doesn't hesitate to follow orders, urging your head back as he places his half-hard cock between your parted lips. He’s fully hard and fucking into your mouth with the sort of wet, filthy sound you love within minutes. You grasp his thighs, wanting to put on a good show for Bob and get more of Brad's warm, salty taste.

At one point in the evening, Jake would get a little huffy about Bob not inviting him to join because all of you think it's fun to watch him squirm and get a little needy.

“Maybe if you played nice with others, you’d be knuckle deep in this pretty little cunt,” Phoenix teases, her thumb caressing your bundle of nerves and making you moan around Brad’s thick cock. “But you’re a dick Hangman, so that’s what you’re stuck with,” she adds, looking pointedly at the way he strokes himself.

Ask Me About My WIPs!

#ask game #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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literallyjusttoa · 1 year

Note

SUUUNNYYYY

I was reblogging some posts of yours on my sideblog (@apollosgiftofprophecy) and!!!! found!!!!! your art of the Delphic Family!!!!!

YOU SAID YOU HAVE IDEAS AND THOUGHTS ABOUT THEM👀👀👀

ABOUT MY FAV KOIOS AND PHOEBE???? ASTERIA PERSES HECATE LELANTOS AND AURA???

I LUB THEM SO MUCH. PLEASE. PLEASE INDULGE ME. I AM BEGGING YOU. I WILL WRITE FANFICS - I HAVE WROTE FANFICS ABOUT THEM AND I HAVE MORE FANFICS ABOUT THEM

LITERALLY BEGGING YOU TO SPILL THE TEA

OK OK I DON’T KNOW IF I’M AS WELL VERSED IN THIS SIDE OF THE FAMILY AS YOU ARE BUT HERE ARE SOME OF MY LITTLE HC’S

All the cousins are besties, but Artemis is closer to Aura and Apollo is closer to Hecate. Artemis and Aura hunt together all the time, and Apollo researches magic practices a lot (God of knowledge and all that) so the two of them have fun experimenting with mystic stuff.

Asteria, Lelantos, and Leto were very close growing up, but the titanomachy put them all on different paths. They all still care for each other deeply, but scars from the past hold them back from being truly close. Recently, Asteria and Leto have been reconnecting, but Lelantos is still reluctant.

Also because of the Titanomachy, the three siblings have various levels of strained relationships with their parents. Asteria sees her parents most favorably, and she and Leto are still regularly in contact with their mother. Leto holds a grudge against their father, and Lelantos doesn't speak with either of them.

All of the third generation (Hecate, Aura, Apollo, Artemis) love their parents so fucking much (minus Zeus, of course) And not only that, they love each other’s parents too!! Hecate thinks Leto is the most kickass coolest aunt she could ever have! Artemis looks up to Perses like nobody's business! If Lelantos didn’t exist, Aura would ask Asteria to adopt her! And of course I have my little post-toa hc that Apollo and Lelantos become v close and wholesome and I love this family.

Phoibe loves to brag on her kids and grandkids. Specifically, she loves to brag on the twins. See, Phoibe is not a fan of Olympus, or gods, in general. So to her, Apollo and Artemis are the only redeeming qualities of the immortal world today. So whenever something good comes out of Olympus, Phoibe is like “Well of course that was 100% because of my grandchildren. They get it all from their mother you know, nothing from that nasty child of Kronos. Oh how glorious, and you don’t see any of the godly children becoming the rulers of the sun and moon hmmm? Exactly.”

Also according to her Apollo and Artemis are honorary titans.

Koios hasn’t been able to interact with his grandchildren much, but he’s just as proud of them as Phoibe is, just in a … less wholesome way. Mans is certain he can convince his grandkids to retake Olympus for titan glory, which is never gonna happen. Whenever he brings it up the rest of the family just smile and nod awkwardly.

Bonus: A little blurb about Leto I wrote about a month ago

During the titanomachy, Leto stayed on Hyperborea with her mother. She shored the defenses and kept the other titans alive. Leto had no exceptional healing or magical abilities, but she worked tirelessly and kept her heart open. She cared easily and earnestly. She fought to get her brother out of trouble with the gods after the fight ended, though she could not do the same for her parents. For years, it was just the two of them, until Leto met Zeus.

Zeus was everything Leto wanted to be. He was confident and assured, and so kind with her. They sang and danced and spoke about everything, and Leto did what she could to soothe his fears. When she get pregnant, Zeus was overjoyed. However, after the twins were born, he became colder and distant.

Leto was basically abandoned, her children taken to Olympus and her lover rebuffing any attempts at being close. She resolved to make a place for her family to return to, but they came less and less. Now Leto keeps her hearth steady, as she has for her whole life, wishing desperately that someone would stop drifting away, and come back to her. In her solitude and grief, she doesn't even realize that the earth itself will set down roots if she only asked, just as it had before.

#they make me feel things #big big things #trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #delphic family #I love that name for them #sunny speaks #ask #long post

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dissociation-station123 · 7 months

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Random Suguru Smut One Shot

Reader discovers their switch trait-Dominant Reader

“Baby…” His low voice had an unfamiliar whine to it, “Look at me.” You scoff and walk away. Heading to the small bar near the kitchen. You hear him follow on your heels. You watch him reach out but pull away, cautiously.

You grab a glass and the clink of the ice was the only sound heard. The tension was heavy throughout the room. You grab the bottle of whiskey and pour. Taking your time you lift the drink to your lips and sigh.

“Please…” The begging man was now lowering himself to you. His large frame is less intimidating as he kneels. “It’s not what you think.”

“Suguru…” You glare down at him, authority clear in your tone. Those dark eyes lower, a pretty pout on his lips. “You know I always take your shit. I never get mad or upset. Let me be upset.”

He nods solemnly and you lift his chin with your finger, your manicured nail digging into his flesh just a bit. He hisses and his jaw clenches. “Yes baby… But…”

You squeeze and he winces. “What Suguru? What the hell kind of excuse do I get now?” You lean down your lips inches from his. “You reek of alcohol and forget about our plans.” You take a longer sip shaking your head in disappointment.

Suguru doesn’t speak again, letting you scowl at him. You let out an exasperated groan and release your hold. “I always have to look for the redeemable qualities in everyone I meet!” You cackle and finish off your drink, you slam the glass back down on the bar.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask, crossing your arms. Suguru lets out a breath he was holding. “We’ll speak…” You order frustration building.

“No, it was business related. You know how Satoru is.” Suguru says this time taking hold of your wrist. “He doesn’t know how to not mix business and casual. I should have warned you.”

You roll your eyes. “I sat at the restaurant for over an hour. I texted and called but it went straight to voicemail. Maybe if this was the first time but Suguru it’s not.” Your voice does shake a bit as your emotions begin to surface. You yank back your arm from his grip.

“I know… fuck baby I know…” Suguru looks defeated. But you refuse to give him any reprieve. You were back to refusing to speak and you could tell it was killing him. “Just smack me… I deserve it…” You clench your fist tightly, you feel anger bubbling to the surface. “I’ll take any punishment.”

You glare into those dark eyes seething, the soft vulnerability in his gaze was hard to ignore. The soft sad expression was so desperate for forgiveness. Your anger sizzled out but another dark impulse replaced it.

“You want me to punish you…” You say a sadistic smirk spread across your face. Your hand wraps around his throat and his eyes widen. “Put your hands on the ground, all fours like the dog you are.” You whisper harshly and feel him swallow, a soft whimper escapes his lips.

Your stomach flutters at the image before you as he crawls to the position requested. This man who was always so confident and arrogant now looks up at you waiting for your command. Willing to do anything for your forgiveness. Groveling at your feet. He was the one always in control but look at him right now. Something clicks in your brain, like a switch.

“Please…” he pleads and you frown. You step on his fingers and he practically snarls. He does not get defensive, he merely looks at you, what an expression it was. You see his brow scrunches in pain but he licks his bottom lip seductively. “I’ll do anything. You can do anything. Just don’t leave…”

You tilt your body forward grabbing a fistful of long black hair and pull his head back. Suguru groans, his eyes rolling back. “How pathetic…” You watch as a dark look shadows his features but he bites his cheek to cause it to disappear. “You should make yourself useful. Prove to me why I shouldn’t walk out that door right now.”

“What do I need to do… I’ll do it.” Suguru says without any regret. You stand up straight and look down at him with a sneer.

“Stay.” You order as you walk towards the dining room table. You move the chair away and casually jump up on the table's surface. You glance over, still on all fours he waits for your next command. Your stomach flutters at the sight. “Crawl to me then. Tell me you're sorry like you mean it.”

Those dark eyes lower, he looks a bit too pleased as he tries not to smile. He crawls over trying his best to conceal his excitement. As he reaches you, there is no way to avoid seeing his imprint struggling against his dress pants. You lift your foot and add pressure to the bulge, the groan that escapes his lips is heavenly.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I am a horrible boyfriend. The worst. You deserve better….” He begins speaking, his low voice tinged with emotion. “I take you for granted.” You nod along and he lets out a breath. “But when we are together. You are my calm. You are my peace. You make getting up in the morning worth it.”

“How sweet…” you mutter with an eye roll. “Then why do you keep me waiting? Why am I always the one to worry? What if I stayed out late and returned home smelling like a brewery. Then my excuse is the meeting ran late. What images pop into that little brain of yours?”

His gaze darkens and you get a glimpse of his possessive streak. You laugh knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Do you imagine another man… hmm maybe Gojo… he is pretty…” You know you were being cruel by the way he clenches his jaw.

“I’d fucking kill him…” Suguru growls unprompted and you slap him across the face. He looks up at you surprised. You were always so gentle and took him so well, so obedient. He practically bites his tongue to keep his instinct to stand up, pin you down, and kiss you breathless. Touch you so that you admit your his.

“That’s your bestie though. How could you say such a thing?” You say in mock shock, you enjoy him fighting so hard against himself. “I forget why I put up with you. Why don’t you remind me?” You remove your skirt and panties kicking them to the side, he watches them fall to the ground. Then you spread your legs as he turns back to face you. “Show me what you're good for…”

You watch as his anger quickly fizzles to hunger. He slowly moves forward, pausing to lean back. You watch as he takes off the ponytail holder he always wears as a bracelet. You suck on your lower lip, always enjoying the moment where his large arms raise to pull his long black hair into a half bun. Those dark eyes never leave your own.

Your body no matter what you two were doing would react to the image, instantly reminiscing the memories you had when you were alone.

“So pretty…” You coo, seeing him now moving to kneel again between your legs. You pat his head affectionately, you could tell he was itching to devour you whole but his expression softens. He looks up at you almost lovesick. You lift your thighs to rest on his broad shoulders.

“Make me cum and I’ll think about forgiving you.” You whisper aggressively. You did not realize how turned on you would be being the one ordering Suguru around. The sound of your arousal when his thumb slowly begins to circle your clit was clear proof.

“So wet already…” Suguru groans, shoving his long finger inside, gliding against your slick walls. Slowly thrusting a few times, you bite your cheek attempting to keep your moans at bay. A deep groan manages to escape as he removes his fingers completely with a grin. You watch as he sucks your juices from the digits.

“Fuck… your practically gushing for me already…” His deep voice suddenly became a bit too confident again. You squeeze his neck with your large thighs and he looks at you mischievously.

“Stop fucking teasing me. Use your damn tongue and make me cum asshole.” You hiss with a cold glare and you feel him swallow.

“Yes ma’am…” He mutters, his dark eyes now lowing. He licks his canine and takes hold of your hips, pulling you forward. Without any more hesitation, you feel him begin to suck your clit greedily. Your back arching at the sweet pleasure.

His tongue now moves in persistent circles and you grab onto his arm, nails digging into the flesh. You let out a shaky breath, still holding back your cries, stubbornly. You hear him chuckle as his tongue drags across your folds.

You scowl and fight the slow haze of your mind. Your fingers grip roughly into his hair and your thighs tighten around him even more. You ride his tongue almost angrily, fueled by his laughter. You hear him gasp for air but a sexy whimper is heard right after.

He meets your pace and you finally moan loudly as his tongue is buried in your cunt. You feel his body tense up and muscles strain as he thrust with your movements. “That’s it… mmm…” You grind against his face lost in the sensation.

“You’re so good at this… being a filthy whore for me.” You shout your head falling back as you feel yourself reaching your peak. Suguru groans against you and the vibration is enough to send your mind into a blank state. He struggles a bit to reach up and stimulate your clit with the vice grip around his neck. You feel him rutting his own hips against nothing. Your legs begin to quiver and you cry out, “cumming… that’s a good boy…”

Your legs fall limp and you call out his name as he laps up the mix of your cum and slick. When you glance down he looks so possessed, his cheeks flushed as he pants for breath. Those dark pupils dilated with pure lust. “Give me another sweetheart…” He growls and you push him away, your foot on his chest. “Please…” Suguru begs, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’m satisfied.” You sit up and stretch your body, you feel his gaze take it in. “Finish yourself off. Sleep on the couch.” You say hopping down from the table. You know if he joined you in bed you would give onto his pleas.

“Baby…” Suguru calls out again and takes hold of your wrist. You glare back at him and he looks away. “Okay…” He says and you turn back. You cup his face and kiss him sweetly. You watch as his hand twitches craving to grab onto you.

“Night Suguru.” You whisper against his lips and he sighs.

“Tell me you still love me… at least give me that…” Suguru looks a bit defeated and you kiss him again.

“I love you very much. No one else has even ever crossed my mind.” You say gently and he gives you a bright smile nodding.

#getou suguru x reader #smut #spicy fic #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #rough smut #fanfiction #oneshot #geto suguru #suguru geto smut

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marina-the-witch · 4 months

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Elden Ring Boss Ranking

Hi everyone!

With Elden Ring being my most replayed and almost most played game over all, I think my opinions on the bosses have definitely solidified enough for me to rank them individually. I will do so in this post.

Seeing as I can only attach 30 images and Elden Ring has a plethora of mini-bosses, I'll only be ranking bosses that reward you with achievements for beating them and ones necessary for story progression. Seeing as Godskin Noble and Duo fall under those criteria, I'll also include the Apostle as I would feel weird leaving it out.

Additionally, I won't be ranking the illusion/nerfed version of bosses and instead just lump them in with the real deal. This applies to Margit, Sewer Mohg, Siofra Ancestor Spirit, Godfrey and Carian Knight Loretta.

Remember that these are only my opinions and you're allowed to agree or disagree however much you want.

Bosses will also be put into a bit of a tiering system through colors. Blue means a boss is almost if not entirely perfect in my opinion and is one of Fromsoft's greatest to date. Purple means I do really enjoy a boss but have a handful of gripes with it that drag it down. Pink means i don't feel strongly about a boss one way or the other, either due to them not really being particularly noteworthy or having both really good and really bad aspects. Green means I don't really enjoy a boss but they have enough redeeming qualities for me to still like them a little bit. Orange means I do genuinely dislike a boss but can't bring myself to hate them. Red means they should be nuked from orbit.

With all that said, let's begin.

#1: God-Devouring Serpent/Rykard, Lord of Blasphemy

Rykard and Radahn fluctuate as my number 1 fairly consistently. While I definitely think Radahn has a better fight, I find the comparison a bit unfair seeing as Rykard is designed to be a gimmick fight. Unlike his predecessors like Storm Lord and Yhorm however, Rykard actually manages to stay challenging despite the game granting you the weapon specifically designed to kill him right away. What really makes Rykard so special for me is everything else. He is by far the most disgusting entity fromsoftware has ever produced in my opinion and I could go on about how much I love his design, lore and presentation for hours. I love everything about this fight, from the insanely memorable voice acting and reveal in phase 2, to the demonic rollercoaster of a theme and the symbolism of the chandeliers in his arena, with this grotesque monstrosity still framing itself a noble king. With a spectacular legacy dungeon to boot, Rykard, for me at least, is easily my favorite boss in Elden Ring.

#2: Starscourge Radahn

While I prefer his siblings in almost every other regard, Radahn for me is easily the most fun boss in the entire game and very consistently switches places with Rykard in my overall ranking like I said. With an immaculate battle theme that really emphasises the spectacle of taking down this fierce demigod, Radahn is a challenging and thrilling fight. While far from the hardest fight in Elden Ring, he can still throw me for a loop, especially as I tend to fight him without summons and a purposefully unupgraded weapon. His attacks are imposing and beautiful to look at while never feeling unfair and no boss better captures the feeling of giving a noble warrior a heroic end.

#3: Mohg, Lord of Blood/Mohg, the Omen

Far more controversial than my previous 2 picks, I can definitely understand why people don't really gel with Mohg. Even I used to not really like him, with Mohg the Omen actually making me almost cry out of frustration the very first time I fought him, as I had not yet gotten used to Elden Ring's delayed attack patterns. However, after fighting the real deal at the end of the game and being perfectly trained to evade his wide sweeps, I knew this boss was something special. Mohg is a thrilling, challenging fight, with an absolutely stunning battle theme that I would confidently call my favorite piece of music in Elden Ring and I could not be happier they made the last minute decision of adding him to the main boss line-up.

#4: Morgott, the Omen King/Margit, the Fell Omen

Much like his brother, Morgott is also an extremely thrilling and exciting fight. What makes him a little inferior to me, is that he's not quite as challenging as I think he should be and a few of his longer combos can feel a bit tacky and excessive. While I definitely see a lot of praise for Morgott as a character, I sometimes feel as though his fight and especially theme aren't really talked about enough though. Morgott is a perfect capper for the midgame of Elden Ring, just like how Margit is a perfect beginning, providing an extremely challenging but learnable fight that prepares the player for what's ahead. He, much like Radahn, is a boss worth nerfing myself for.

#5: Malenia,Blade of Miquella/Goddess of Rot

I feel like my placement of Malenia would be controversial no matter what. Understandably, seeing as she is maybe the single hardest boss in Fromsoftware's catalogue, Malenia is quite divisive and it even took me a couple attempts to finally start liking her. But this latest attempt, where I finally managed to best her without summons, was the one. While I do think Malenia can be really unfair at times, I can't deny that the duel with this master swordstress is a one-of-a-kind encounter. With an absolutely gorgeous theme, Malenia has wormed her way into my heart, despite all the trouble I've gone through while fighting her. My only, and obvious, gripe is that I feel as though her heal-on-hit-ability is a bit excessive and could have been substitued with a larger health pool, as I often found myself having a hard time hitting her when she was only a few hits away from death, when a simple mistake quickly undid a lot of my progress.

#6: Dragonlord Placidusax

Every Souls game needs it secret dragon, and more often then not, these fights end up being some of my favorites in the game and Placidusax is no exception. While I do prefer Midir overall, Placidusax is nothing if not a jaw-dropping spectacle with moves like the thundercloud form and lightning stake nuke. While not particularly hard, Placidusax manages to be fun and challenging regardless due to his robust defenses and high damage output. The only issue I've encountered is that the fight can drag on for a bit, and especially when her health is low, he will start teleporting all over the place, which can be a little annoying. Regardless, Placidusax is an absolute marvel of a boss and fits right in in a game so in love with making its fights cinematic spectacles without the use of cutscenes.

#7: Radagon of the Golden Order

For the purposes of this list, I'll be ranking Radagon and Elden Beast separately, as my opinions on them differ quite a bit. Radagon is an excellent final boss in my opinion, perfectly making use of the core fundamentals of every bosse's kit with a mix of heavy physical hits and ranged incantations. Him being quite challenging is a huge positive for me to, as I often feel as though the final bosses of souls games end up being needlessly easy and almost pathetic for narrative purposes. Additionally, genuinely no final bosse's theme, in any game I've played, has encapsulated the feeling of finality more than his, to the point of literally being called "The Final Battle." Radagon can be a bit unfair at times, but he is the perfect conclusion to your journey as Elden Lord.

#8: Godfrey, First Elden Lord/Hoarah Loux/Lord's Apparition

Godfrey is so effortlessly awesome. With a well telegraphed moveset, kickass presentation in the form of his cutscene and a gorgeous piece of music to accompany his fight, he is one of the most memorable encounters in the game and definitely the most popular boss overall for a good reason. However, I find myself having quite a hard time with him fairly consistently for some reason, which, while not his fault, does obviously impact my enjoyment of his fight overall. That's not too say I dislike it though, as I feel Godfrey's moveset is extremely satisfying to dodge and counter. Hoarah Loux on the other hand.... I don't know really. The fight against Hoarah Loux is too stressful for me to enjoy it long term and I mostly just try to reduce his health as much as I can before this phase triggers. That's not to say it's bad, I just don't enjoy the amount of grabbing going on as a result of Hoarah's very limited moveset. Overall, it doesn't stop me from loving Godfrey though, as Hoarah Loux rarely last very long anyway, and can be quite fun in small doses.

#9: Godrick the Grafted

Godrick is a really entertaining fight. His cutscenes, voice acting and presentation are on point and his mechanics definitely fit for the first shardbearer you'll be fighting on most playthroughs. I, however, often find myself struggling with dodging his moveset and often feel as though my victory is more a result of his fairly weak attack power and health pool. That doesn't mean I don't enjoy Godrick though, as I definitely do. Not only is he a fantastic first boss but I also find it quite fun from a narrative perspective that he's nowhere near as challenging as his.... great uncle? who's guarding his castle. I can't confidently rank him higher unfortunately, since Convergence and Godefroy have taught me that a tanky, high damage Godrick can be quite the piece of work.

#10: Beast Clergyman/Maliketh, the Black Blade

Oh boy, Maliketh. Quite the story with this one. I actually only properly started Elden Ring quite a long while after most of my friends had already beaten it and as such they were all EXTREMELY excited to see my reaction to this guy, especially seeing as his cutscene is a blatant reference to not only my favorite boss in bloodborne, but any game I've ever played, Ludwig. However, their expecations were met with harsh disappointment as Maliketh frustrated me to the point of actual tears and I had to resort to a cheese strategy using the Redmane Flames Ash of War. After giving the game a try or two more though, I've warmed up to Maliketh quite a bit. I do think he can be a little annoying with how mobile he is and don't really like how his fight will often just end up with him stalling and only surviving as long as he does due to you not being able to hit him, especially regarding his tiny health pool. Additionally, I also find Beast Clergyman quite annoying and wish the threshhold for phase 2 was moved up to 90 or 80% max rather than the 70 to 50% it's at currently. However, overall, I do still enjoy Maliketh and think his lore and presentation make up for my many gripes with his fight.

#11: Lichdragon Fortissax

The other major dragon fight of Elden Ring, Fortissax, doesn't hit quite as hard as Placidusax for me unfortunately. Undeniably awesome with his presentation and placed in a real scary arena, Fortissax ends up being quite overwhelming with his combination of deathblight clouds and red lightning. The latter definitely drags the fight down for me quite a bit, as I much prefer Placi's 4 timed strikes with much greater range and damage over Fortissax's constant shower of them. However, while I do have many gripes with this fight, I can't deny the concept of a death-riddled dragon protecting his former best friend is one of the coolest presented by Elden Ring and, lightning aside, Fortissax does show that the ancient dragons are actually really good, whereas every other encounter with them ends up being quite messy due to elevations really messing up their movesets in my eyes.

#12: Loretta, Knight of the Haligtree/Loretta, Carian Knight

In my opinion the MOST underrated boss in the game. Loretta is awesome, with a gorgeous armor set and a super fun take on the already pretty enjoyable Tree Sentinel moveset. Her greatbow spell drops are some of my favorites in the game to boot. Unfortunately, she does blend in a bit with all the other horse bosses (I blame the five-hundred Night's Cavalry) and ends up never being very challenging, but on paper, her moveset is well telegraphed and fun to dodge. My only gripe is that the Carian Phalanx and Glintstone Stars she begins casting when you move away can be a little bit annoying, but overall, Loretta is easily the best miniboss in the game in my opinion.

#13: Dragonkin Soldier of Nokstella

Another boss that I don't really feel gets a good amount of appreciation is the Dragonkin Soldier of Nokstella. Ignoring the one in the Lake of Rot, Dragonkin Soldiers are just really cool to me, both in lore and design, as well as their fight. Not only do you fight this one in what might be my favorite arena in the game visually, it also has a surprising and unique phase transition not seen in any of the other soldiers, with the Nokstella soldier sprouting wings and beginning to cast frozen lightning, which is one of the coolest magic concepts Elden Ring provides in my opinion. My only wish is that the second phase would trigger a lot sooner, as the boss is not very hard and often ends up dying before it gets time to shine.

#14: Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon

While I would agree Rennala is the best sorceror fight Fromsoft has provided thus far, I would not say that's a very difficult title to claim, nor is Rennala anything to write home about. Her first phase is quite simple but it is kind of fun to mow down rows upon rows of the juvenile scholars with a big weapon every now and then. Her second phase is fairly alright too, with Rennala not dishing out a ludicrous amount of damage and having a nice variety of sorceries to cast. A bit like Placidusax, I do sometimes find the fight drags on a bit as she stalls and relies on her summons rather than actually fighting you, but considering how easy she is, it's really no big deal. Of course I can't not mention her gorgeous arena, as it immediately made me think back to Bloodborne's Moonside lake, and anything that reminds me of Bloodborne gets a plus in my book.

#15: Commander Niall

Out of the 2 commander bosses, Niall is definitely the more standout one. Banished Knights suck and I hate them, so I'll try to look at Niall on his own, and I gotta say, I quite like him. His hitboxes can feel a bit over the top but that aside I think he's genuinely a really fun fight, and definitely the hardest miniboss the game has to offer in my opinion. His weapon, while absurd, is quite cool and definitely worth a try for those who want to focus on physical stats but still have the benefits of lightning damage, especially seeing as it scales with dexterity anyway. Niall definitely feels like a good pick to be guarding the last thing you need to enter the Haligtree.

#16: Magmawyrm Makar

While I often find myself annoyed with the other Magma Wyrms and their tendency to do little else besides their magma charge, Makar is quite a fun little miniboss in my opinion. The ruin-strewn precipice is a fairly cool little side area and Makar is a very good capper for it and an even better guardian for the Altus Plateau. His reveal is quite funny, but overall, I can't really say much about this boss, as his fight is just okay across the board. Nothing particularly annoying nor amazing to note, really.

#17: Regal Ancestor Spirit/Ancestor Spirit

The Ancestor Spirits are, in my opinion, mostly noteworthy for their gorgeous music and presentation, but their fights end up being quite lacklustre unfortunately due to a fairly limited movepool. They're not hard at all, with the Regal Spirit's only "challenge" coming from the hard to dodge roll it attains after absorbing a boar's soul and the health regen move it pulls out every now and then. Much like Makar, I can't really say I love, nor hate these two, but the Regal Spirit's aformentioned health regen does make it a bit more bothersome than Makar on occasion. Overall, their beautiful design and music do make them worth experiencing even despite their medicore fight.

#18: Godskin Noble

I found myself actually quite enjoying the Godskin Noble as of late, to the point I'd actually say they're a little overhated. The thrusting attacks feel nice to dodge but even better to block and counter but obviously it's far from perfect. Obviously his roll has gained infamy ever since the game came out and understandably so, but other moves such as its powerful thrust can also be a bit tough to work with. Other than that, Godskin Noble is a perfect example of a boss that is so perfectly alright that i don't have much else to praise it for nor complain about.

#19: Elden Beast

While also being kind of undeserving of all the hatred it receives, Elden Beast is very far from being a fun boss in my opinion. For starters, it is WAY too tanky, with half of its fight feeling like a sisyphean effort of slapping its chest until something finally happens. Additionally, its moveset feels very limited, especially for a final boss. Lastly, and most importantly, it does really bother me that in order to even be able to fight this extremely tanky boss, you have to beat another fairly difficult one beforehand every time, so it becomes a kind of unbearable endurance run in hopes of having enough ressources left to beat this fairly underwhelming boss. Its one redeeming feature comes in form of its truly breathtaking design, but otherwise, I can't say I'm a big fan.

#20: Astel, Naturalborn of the Void

Astel used to be in my Top 5 but he quickly fell out of favor after the Honeymoon phase of "Wow, they added a Bloodborne Great One to the end of my favorite character's quest line" wore off. Astel is, for lack of a better word, annoying. His wide range and tendency to fly above a lot of moves with his thin gangly body make him bothersome to approach and a lot of his attacks, such as waves of darkness, meteorite shower and the gravity ring just feel bad to dodge or get hit by. Astel is another boss whose main merit comes from presentation and design, but unfortunately, his fight is quite weak with very few redeeming qualities in my opinion.

#21: Godskin Apostle

This may be a bit of a hot take, but I've found myself struggling with Godskin Apostle a lot more than Noble, to the point I like it a fair bit less. His twinblade combos can be quite a hassle and he feels much more prolific with his usage of blackflame than the Noble. His blackflame tornado and weapon helicopter are also pretty annoying. Overall, I don't really enjoy the Godskin Apostle's fight, but it feels like more of a personal struggle than the boss actually being bad, hence its ranking.

#22: Mimic Tear

I really don't have much to say about this boss. It's hard to consistently judge as how fun or annoying it is entirely depends on how you approach it. Overall though, I do like the concept and it can be quite funny. Due to its inconsistency and me not really caring for NPC invaders in general though, I'll just put it as the cut-off point for bosses I just genuinely dislike.

#23: Godskin Duo

Godskin Duo isn't good, but it's not as bad as people say either in my opinion. Being made up of two pretty average bosses and especially after the balance patch to duo bosses, the Duo ends up just being a kind of whatever fight that can be a bit annoying sometimes. I really don't have much to say other than that. Guess I will use this spot to say how much I love the Godskin theme though.

#24: Draconic Tree Sentinel

I don't like this guy he looks like burnt chicken and waffles. I don't really have much to say about this guy either. His AoEs and Hitboxes can be real weird and annoying and I hate the horse fireball spam you will be subjected to if you even dare try to heal. He's just kind of a necessary evil, not really worth complaining about.

#25: Fire Giant

By far my least favorite remembrance boss, Fire Giant is everything people say is wrong with fromsoft's plethora of giant bosses. Not only do you just spend the entire time slapping its ankles, Fire Giant also has an absurdly massive health pool, and a boss that wastes your time will always annoy me more than one that gets you with cheap bullshit. While having a fantastic and underrated theme and really cool lore, I really don't enjoy fighting Fire Giant at all due to his large health pool and wide range AoEs.

#26: Elemer of the Briar

I can't stand this guy and I can't stand that there's like 8 of him. I really don't see where this "Elemer is the most underrated boss" idea came from, because I personally think Elmo deserves every bit of hate he gets. My girlfriend put it perfectly when she said "Elemer has a punish for you existing", because it really does feel like he can counter everything you do, no matter if you're healing, jumping, casting or attacking. While it's cool that his sleek sword is the reward for fighting him, I really don't enjoy the battle with Elemer at all.

#27: Leonine Misbegotten

Genuinely how do you make Gael, Dark Souls' greatest boss in my opinion, so fucking unbearable. With a non stop barrage of overly staggering sword swings, Leonine Misbegotten is without fail an insanely annoying fight for me. Its arena is really cool but that is about the only positive I can give it. I already don't like Castle Morne, nor the Grafted Blade and Leonine Misbegotten really doesn't help either of their cases.

#28: Valiant Gargoyles

Like I said before, Godskin Duo isn't as bad as actually say. Valiant Gargoyles, on the other hand, might somehow be worse, despite nobody being able to stand them anyway. I really don't have anything of note to add to the conversation about this god awful fight and writing about these bosses I hate is already draining enough, so I'll just move on.

#29: Red Wolf of Radagon

While I do think from a game design perspective, Valiant Gargoyles and Gideon are worse, Red Wolf frustrates me more than anything else. Not only is it a cheap attempt at making Dark Souls fans rejoice by reusing scrapped content from 3 that's obviously reminiscent of one of the most memorable fights in the first game, Red Wolf is also just really annoying, with its overy long combos and tendency to avoid attacks by jumping around aimlessly. The only saving grace is it's tiny health pool, but that still requires you hit it to begin with, which, unfortunately, isn't always a given. Red Wolf just pisses me off in a way I can't really properly describe but at least it's over quick most of the time.

#30: Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing

Not only is Gideon a massive cunt, his boss fight also sucks. Being everything wrong with both NPC invaders and sorceror bosses, Gideon is one unbearable spam sandwich of spells that more than likely will kill you in 2 shots. Gideon has genuinely no redeeming qualities that affect his fight and there is a very good reason everyone uses his admittedly pretty cool monologue to instantly bumrush him the second they pass the fog gate. Gideon's fight really is a huge letdown considering how much of a despicable cunt he is, but I suppose there wasn't really a better way to do it. Regardless, I hate fighting Gideon. It's cheap, annoying, unfair and rewards you with a subpar weapon. If he wasn't mandatory nobody would be fighting this guy.

#elden ring #elden ring bosses #ranking #fromsoftware #fromsoft games

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donotnomi · 5 months

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"River is a failure even at ending his life" - fanfiction trilogy

Bear | Shoot an Arrow | River by the River

TW - suicidal attempts, suicidal thoughts, suicidal dark humour

It all began with a dark joke in a Discord chat: "River is so good at failing tasks, he'd probably fail at his own suicide too." The idea was so compelling, so quintessentially River, that all the participants wrote their own variations of this prompt.

BEAR by SuperLizard - When River runs out of energy to muddle through, the last option seems obvious. Jackson Lamb reckons with his own toxicity. The slow horses hunt one of their own.

The wind pulled him to his feet. Everything else was silent. The night was deep and the city had gone to sleep. The river was carrying all the tears of the heavens out to the sea. It would carry him too.

SHOOT AN ARROW by LurrAntsanot - So here he was. Not an Olympian. On a bridge. Staring down. (Did you know there are thirty-five bridges over the Thames in London?)

The only redeeming quality River could name when asked by a discerning judge of character was his heart. And that very heart was exactly why he'd never get what it wanted.

RIVER BY THE RIVER by donotNomi (aka me) - River is determined to end his life, but navigating the logistics of his departure from the world proves unexpectedly challenging.

River's final week of life passed without incident. During breaks, he slipped away, strolling along the banks of the Thames while nibbling on his sandwich, scouting for the perfect location to end his life. A dead spot, he chuckled to himself. When he found himself making dark jokes about his impending suicide, River knew he was mentally prepared.

I'm confident that the one I wrote is the silliest of the three, but Super Lizard and LurrAntsanot argue that it's the most terrifying one. If you read these fics, please let me know your opinion on this matter.

#slow horses #slow horses fanfiction #river cartwright #River cartwrong's wrongdoings #Expanding Slow Horses fandom one silly joke at the expece of poor River a time

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dalgursbate · 3 months

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let me be your friend(ly fire)

Summary: Tav’s encounter with Abdirak proves that, for Astarion and Shadowheart, there’s no better team building than a little team bondage.

Rating: Explicit WC: 13,135 Pairings: F/F/M and M/F, Astarion/Shadowheart, Shadowheart/Tav, Astarion/Tav, Shadowheart/Tav/Astarion

If she’s honest, Shadowheart has never much cared for Astarion, even before his grand vampiric debut. And she’s pretty confident he returns the sentiment.

He’s not exactly made the best impression so far, has he, what with pulling a knife on Tav and then assaulting her in the middle of the night. Doesn’t help that he’s a bit of a pompous twat, either.

Of course, her distaste for the man has nothing to do with him propositioning Tav only a few nights after Shadowheart’s date with her. Why should she care? She and Tav shared one kiss. Alright, so it might have been a kiss that made her feel kind of odd and tingly, like the muscles in her stomach were spasming in a nice way—but that doesn’t mean anything, really. Shadowheart would never be so idiotic as to develop a twee little crush on their party’s leader while they’re all busy trying not to die.

She’s much too dignified for that.

Well, her internal monologue deadpans as she sips Blackstaff straight from the bottle. Here’s hoping self-delusion isn’t a symptom of ceremorphosis.

The thing is, Shadowheart is not normally a jealous person. And it would’ve been fine had it been any of the others, she thinks. Wait, no. It could’ve been Lae’zel, and at that point Shadowheart might have begged Gale to hurry up and explode already. It would be a speedier end to her misery than the alternative, which would presumably be Faerûn’s first ever case of death by sheer mortification.

So she’s glad it’s not Lae’zel, at least.

But it absolutely could’ve been, say, Karlach. She would’ve been so understanding about that. Karlach is kind, strong, and dashing. She has redeeming qualities, plural(!), which is more than Shadowheart can say for Astarion.

What she means is that this isn't something that would typically rattle her so much. And it wouldn’t now, either, if not for how Astarion seems to always have a trick up his sleeve; she's worried that his intentions here might not be pure. Not to mention that his and Tav's tryst has, impossibly, made him even more unbearably smug.

Shadowheart takes another long drink. There’s nothing for it, she supposes. Tav hasn’t made any commitment to her, so she has no right to be upset about it.

Sighing in resignation, she checks how much wine she has left. The liquid looks black inside the dark green bottle, sloshing violently against the sides for a while before settling into a placid line.

There’s not nearly enough, in her opinion.

Making it to the goblin camp the next morning is a minor production. First, there’s the matter of getting past the sentinel, which Tav handles with a slick bluff about being a hired sword. No sweat, that; at this point baldfaced deception is standard fare for them.

But then, before they can properly cross the threshold to the rest of the camp, they’re assaulted with a vision of the Absolute and its Chosen. Shadowheart instinctively reaches for the artifact she pilfered in her Lady’s name and, by some ineffable miracle, it shields them from the entity’s influence. Which is frankly a lot to process. On the one hand, they’ve gained some modicum of insight into the forces responsible for their plight; on the other, the ordeal raises far more questions than it answers, and Shadowheart can tell that they’re all a tad shaken by it.

Which is what makes it so aggravating that Astarion insists on poisoning the goblins’ booze tub with wyvern toxin—as if they need any more excitement. She wants to protest the suggestion on the grounds that it’s basically guaranteed to backfire, in any one of a number of uniquely insipid ways, but she opts to say nothing when she sees the mischievous glint in Tav’s eye.

Harder to call it stupid when she’s on board.

Naturally, it does go spectacularly wrong. Because, despite how unintelligent they typically are, the goblins are clever enough to connect the dots between a troop of strangers proposing a toast and a mounting pile of drunk corpses. Which isn’t surprising, given that it’s conceivably the least covert assassination ever. If only someone could have foreseen this complication ahead of time, she thinks sarcastically.

And because Shadowheart was born to suffer, the booyahg that accuses them of the crime is exceptionally screechy even by goblin standards, making her fervently regret drinking so much last night. Admittedly, that one’s her own fault, and a lesson she by all rights ought to have learned by now. It’s pure, uncanny luck that Tav’s gift for bullshitting ekes out an escape for them without any further bloodshed. She feeds the goblins some lie or another that Shadowheart barely hears over the irritation (hangover) pounding in her skull.

Taking a healing potion to rid herself of the headache improves her mood a little; entertaining idle fantasies of throttling Astarion improves it more. The bastard doesn’t even have the good grace to act sorry for the trouble. No, he’s visibly having the time of his unlife, not at all concealing his demented glee at the carnage.

But, praise be to the Dark Goddess, they’ve finally completed the quest of walking into the building. It only took two hours and several years off Shadowheart's life.

Tav determines that they ought to investigate the entire base prior to engaging with any of the leaders. Shadowheart thinks that it might be the first decent plan any of them have had all day, and is curious to see how they'll manage to screw it up. When she expresses this aloud, Tav chuckles and claps her on the back affectionately; she tries not to preen too much at the attention, but she catches Astarion’s exaggerated eye roll. She generously ignores it.

They begin exploring the sanctum, and most of the rooms they encounter are full of nothing besides dusty storage shelves and goblins, exemplifying its purpose as a makeshift base. That is, until Tav wanders into an unassuming nook off the main entryway, initially indistinguishable from every other one they’ve seen. The rest of them dutifully follow her, and they wind up in a small alcove that seems wholly divorced from the military operation. For one thing, there are no goblins to be found in the chamber, which automatically earns it the title of ‘most tolerable place they’ve been thus far.’

The absence of cultists isn’t the only thing notable about it, though; flickering candles cover the floor, casting a warm, delicate glow that climbs up the walls. It would nearly be romantic, if not for the table piled high with flails, maces, and other implements of pain. Dark smudges of what must be dried gore cling to the grout of the masonry, a few splatters of fresher blood glistening in the dim candlelight. The abnormal quantity of viscera in this room, as opposed to elsewhere in the sanctum, indicates that it is ritualistic, sacrificial in nature.

As a Sharran, Shadowheart instantly identifies the den as a shrine to Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain quite familiar to her due to the affinity between the two goddesses. She sees a similar spark of recognition in Tav's eyes as she scans the room; understandable, with her being a paladin.

Which probably means that the man knelt facing the wall is one of her devotees. He’s not wearing much clothing, save for ornate leather pauldrons and a matching skirt that are connected by decorative straps. It sends a very specific message, and Shadowheart suspects there’s truth in the advertising.

Ever the fearless leader, Tav approaches the acolyte. As the rest of them fall into step behind her, it becomes impossible to miss the evidence of his self-flagellation. His skin is marred with patterns of red and purple bruising, and Shadowheart catalogs each mark with reliable knowledge of how it likely hurt to receive them. She can imagine the sharp hiss of the whip that gave him those whisper-thin welts on his back and thighs; contrastingly, the fist-sized contusion that peeks out over his hip would have been left by the deeper, more solid impact of a blunt instrument. Her own muscles throb with a phantom ache at the sight of them, her heartbeat quickening at the brazen display of depravity.

The man stands, turning to face Tav. “Greetings, child. I am Abdirak.”

“Tav.”

“I’ve met few aside from goblins here.” He gives her a once over, smiling faintly. “Ah, are you also here to assist with the prisoner?”

“I’m only passing through,” she answers slyly, offering no more information than necessary.

“Your tastes must turn to the exotic, if you would stop here by choice,” Abdirak says, not a lick of subtlety in the way he rubs his palms together.

Shadowheart doesn’t really follow their exchange after that, focused instead on tracking the movement of Tav’s tongue as it darts out to wet her bottom lip. Her favorite traveling companion is clearly not ignorant of the suggestiveness in Abdirak’s tone, and Shadowheart swears she sees Tav's breath catch, sees her lashes flutter coquettishly as they chat.

Not only does it seem that Tav is aware of what Abdirak’s faith entails, then, but she seems unambiguously excited by it.

There’s a peculiar sensation in Shadowheart’s gut, vaguely reminiscent of how she felt after being catapulted off the roof of the Tyrran hideout but before she hit the ground, all weightless and swoopy. It almost makes up for the day she’s been having.

She wouldn’t have guessed it, is all—that their team’s ever-righteous commander would be enthralled by such a gruesome spectacle. Maybe that’s part of the charm; maybe how wrong it is makes it enticing.

Whatever the reason, Tav seems thoroughly captivated. Shadowheart is itching to ask if this is a fledgling curiosity for her, or if she’s flirted with these sorts of fetishes in the past. And also if she would be receptive to further experimentation.

Unbidden, a series of images flit through her psyche: Tav stripped of all clothing and bent over her knee, squirming in anticipation as Shadowheart teases the sensitive flesh of her ass with her fingertips. Or Tav sitting perfectly still, so good and patient for her, as Shadowheart uses one of the bundles of rope they’ve collected to weave an intricate design across her chest and back. She finds she rather likes the mental image of her like that, hands bound behind her and the taut rope scratching her lightly with every minute movement.

Shadowheart gets lost in that reverie for longer than she cares to admit, being that she’s ostensibly in public. When she comes out of it, Abdirak is speaking to Tav in a tone of hushed reverence, “–we worship her through pain. Often our own. But it is an intimate and loving thing, this sort of ritual, and one we are always… eager to share.”

Tav nods, completely engrossed. She thankfully appears oblivious to Shadowheart’s degenerate flights of fancy, preoccupied with asking Abdirak about the ceremony.

Unfortunately, not everyone is so inattentive. For his part, Gale is—mercifully—too disturbed by Abdirak to notice anything amiss with Shadowheart. But Astarion is watching her closely, a knowing smirk playing at his lips, obviously able to deduce what she was thinking about.

Great, that’s precisely what she needs: for her kinks to be peer reviewed by a smarmy vampire. She can totally trust him to be considerate and respectful about the matter, and he definitely isn’t already plotting a myriad of different schemes whereby he can use this to embarrass her.

Maybe it’s not too late for her to join the cultists; she should ask the goblins if they have any devotional literature she could browse.

Although, the more she thinks about it, it seems unlikely any of them know how to read. Probably theirs is more an evangelism by fire.

Regrettably, the reality is that, if she wants the best chance of preventing herself from becoming a mind flayer, Shadowheart is simply going to have to suck it up and live with whatever torment Astarion subjects her to over this. Her mouth wrenches into a displeased line as she reluctantly accepts that fate. She's reserving the right to be a brat about it, though.

Almost as if on cue, Astarion decides now would be a good time to use their parasites to connect his consciousness to hers. Shadowheart knows this because she hears his amused chuckle in her mind, without any warning or even a cursory attempt to ask her permission, as distinctly as if it were aloud.

Forget what she said about sucking it up, actually. Her new, better plan is to cause him a great deal of bodily harm. Perhaps by spiking all his potions with holy water, but she’ll workshop more options later as a treat to herself. She deserves it for not immediately striking him with a bolt of radiant energy at this massive breach of her privacy.

Shadowheart tenses in trepidation of him trying to pry into her psyche, hastily constructing mental barriers to inhibit that potential trespass. Shockingly, though, Astarion makes no effort to dig into her subconscious. In fact, it rather appears to be the reverse: the vampire using the link to broadcast his thoughts and emotions to Shadowheart, communicating telepathically without compelling her reciprocation.

This is an intriguing development, he says casually. Like this is the type of thing they do all the time; a friendly, normal thing for them to do together that isn't immensely disquieting. Our dear paladin seems rather taken with that deviant.

At that, a low hum of desire filters across the bond, and even though it doesn’t belong to her, it nevertheless sends pinpricks of pleasant heat to Shadowheart’s abdomen. The sensation is similar but different to that of her own lust, which is something refuses to examine any further. Evidently, though, Astarion is just as affected by Tav’s blatant interest in sadomasochism as she is. And for reasons entirely inscrutable to her, he’s determined that Shadowheart—a person who can hardly stand him on a good day—needs to not only know this information but experience it firsthand.

Truly, hers is a charmed life.

Astarion is either painfully unaware of, or merely unsympathetic to, her vexation. He speaks to her slowly, as though savoring every syllable, And here I was, worried this excursion would be utterly dull. But if our dutiful captain revels in such twisted diversions, then I dare say we could have some fun, cleric.

He hesitates a moment before adding, thick with intent, Should you be so inclined, that is.

Lady of fucking Sorrows, he cannot be serious. Her wound flares in response to the blasphemy and Shadowheart hisses, vowing to find time to be penitent later when the universe starts making sense again. Because this? This is absurd—Astarion can’t actually be trying to, what, trade some friendly banter about their mutual sexual attraction to Tav? Delight in the joys of cooperative voyeurism? Or possibly something too aberrant to even contemplate, based on how laden with innuendo his tone is.

She’s about to unequivocally rebuff him, to use the link to tell him to piss off and go be horny literally anywhere other than inside her head. But she stays her (metaphorical) tongue as it occurs to her that if she does, then the chances are pretty high that he’ll do exactly that. And mostly likely, he'll choose to do that with Tav. Which would leave Shadowheart equally horny about the whole thing, except with no one but her own hand for company.

Damn it, she really doesn’t want to have to entertain his dumb proposal, but she doesn’t like the other option either. She’s grateful, suddenly, that their connection is one-sided; at least Astarion paid her that courtesy, so she can assess the circumstances with some degree of privacy. Kudos to him for accomplishing the bare minimum amount of civility, she supposes.

Alright, Shadowheart thinks, the facts as she understands them are as such: Tav is romantically pursuing both her and Astarion, but her endgame is woefully unclear. She trusts that Tav was sincere about cherishing their night together, but that doesn’t invalidate whatever misguided affection she harbors for Astarion. And if it comes down to choosing one of them…she hates to admit it, but the vampire currently has a significant advantage, having already slept with Tav while Shadowheart has foolishly been attempting a slow burn.

Now, Astarion is offering…well, he’s not being especially forthcoming about the specifics. But unless this is part of some needlessly complex setup to humiliate and/or kill her (which she isn’t ruling out), then he’s making a gesture to involve Shadowheart in his relationship with Tav to some degree. If it were anyone else, she might find that considerate; he’s acknowledging that they’re interested in the same woman and, rather than trying to edge her out, he’s broaching a compromise. A situation where no one has to lose. With how insecure she’s been about this lately, the concept indisputably has some appeal.

Has the cat got your tadpole? Astarion mocks, more impish than outright callous.

Shut up, Shadowheart answers testily, I’m thinking. Projecting the sentence to him is easier than she would have assumed, as though there’s a tether adjoining them and she’s skipping the words across it like pebbles on a lake. It’s too intimate by half, however, and a peculiar sort of disquiet takes root in her.

Ah, Astarion says. Do try not to hurt yourself, darling.

She graciously elects to move past that.

Shadowheart glances back to the tableau of erotic tension currently unfolding between Abdirak and their leader. As the priest regales her with details of his worship, Tav's lids are half-closed, and she swallows like there’s something big and unwieldy lodged in her throat. Her weight restlessly shifts from foot to foot, like she is actively trying not to squeeze her thighs together. Shadowheart would be willing to bet the artifact that her underwear are already drenched.

Tav is so responsive, so obviously greedy for attention. She would go wild, Shadowheart thinks, at having the undivided focus of both of Astarion and herself at the same time.

…As far as arguments go, Shadowheart finds that one very compelling. If nothing else, this presents a golden opportunity for her to suss out Astarion’s true ambitions vis a vis Tav. Keeping her enemy closer, as it were.

Screw it; if she can't beat him, then she might as well join him as he beats Tav.

Having made her decision, she cautiously reaches out to Astarion again, Perhaps we could take up a common cause, just this once.

Excellent, he purrs. The poor thing’s been through so much; it’s high time she got a bit of satisfaction.

Agreed, Shadowheart says easily, unable to keep the smirk from her lips. Seeing as I doubt she’s finding it elsewhere.

Their nascent alliance aside, she’s immensely gratified when a muscle above his mouth twitches slightly, as though he’s suppressing a scowl. By the time Shadowheart blinks, however, his features slip back into a mask of magnanimity.

Yes, well, I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you? he asks cooly. Shadowheart is about to volley back with something devastatingly clever, but Astarion continues speaking before she can think of anything. Hmm, would you look at that. Seems our entertainment is about to begin.

“If you would permit it,” Abdirak says, and at some point over the course of their conversation he has stepped awfully close to Tav, “I can show you firsthand.”

There’s a pregnant pause where all of them are holding the same charged breath (though Gale’s is less lascivious and more apprehensive). Tav looks back at her party, like she's only just remembering their presence, nervousness flitting over her features as she presumably fears losing their esteem.

Astarion shatters that tension by grinning wolfishly, “I must see this. Don’t you dare say no.”

The anxiety in her expression melts away, her lips stretching into a smile so full of naked hunger that Shadowheart immediately determines that she made the right call. There is nothing she wouldn't do to see Tav like this as much as possible, a flush high in her cheeks and her pupils are blown, all flustered and pretty. When Tav turns to meet her eyes, Shadowheart allows her gaze to trail leisurely down the paladin’s figure. She hopes her expression adequately conveys what she’s thinking, which is something along the lines of: I want to devour all the sounds you’re about to make. It must do, because when her eyes return to Tav’s face, the other woman is staring at her mouth like she's imagining it all over her.

Gale clears his throat awkwardly. “Erm. Your hide, your choice, I suppose. Not quite my cup of tea, though.”

Tav spares him an apologetic glance, but whatever concern she may have for his unease is not enough to prevent her from whispering, “Well, I guess I am curious.”

“Oh,” Abdirak sighs, the single syllable made weighty and significant by the near-tremble in his voice. “I have something exquisite in mind.”

As he lays out the ceremony Tav is about to participate in, Shadowheart’s pulse pounds in her ears like a war drum.

“Simply face the wall and we can begin,” Abdirak instructs, gesturing with a nod as he begins to run his fingertips over the instruments on the table.

Tav hesitates for long enough that Shadowheart worries she’s not going to go through with it after all (which would be fine, of course, albeit disappointing). But she then begins doffing her armor, starting with her boots.

“It'll be a pretty shit offering if I can’t feel it through the plating,” she explains, as though the decision is solely a pragmatic one. It’s not terribly convincing when it comes out that soft and breathless.

Tav carefully discards each piece of her chain mail, setting them neatly on the stone floor. The chamber is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as she finishes removing it, standing before them in her plainclothes.

Then, after a pause, she unbuttons her trousers and pushes them down her thighs.

Tav doesn’t bother attempting to justify why that's necessary, but no one is about to complain.

Soon enough, her bottoms have joined the pile on the floor and her hands are tugging at the hem of her shirt. Abdirak’s stare implies that he’s about three seconds away from lunging at Tav and trying to eat her. Shadowheart would disapprove of it but she can't, really, sitting as she is in her own glass house.

Once more, she senses the press of Astarion’s consciousness sliding against hers before his arousal floods her synapses, potent and heady.

Shadowheart has the impulse to shove him out; she might be begrudgingly willing to work with him, but she would really prefer to focus their efforts on Tav and limit their involvement with one another. But loathe as she is to admit it, it feels good, his desire thrumming in time with her own, compounding and amplifying it. And she’s been kind of lacking in the good feelings department lately, on account of her having a terminal case of brainworm. So despite herself, she relaxes to the phenomenon, lowering her mental defenses enough to return the favor (and it’s uncanny, isn’t it, to know how delighted he is that she does). Despite her misgivings, she's immediately glad to have relented when searing hot want travels back and forth between them in a feedback loop, building in fervor until Shadowheart is barely suppressing a shudder.

Tav finishes stripping off her clothes, now wearing nothing but a set of lacy underwear. It does not leave much to the imagination, and Shadowheart has spent weeks doing more than her fair share of imagining. She inhales through her nose sharply, not finding the capacity within herself to care about how flagrantly she’s ogling Tav’s ass.

Astarion laughs inside her head again, and a heaping dose of self-satisfaction trickles through their connection. Because, to Shadowheart’s endless chagrin, he’s already seen Tav like this.

Prick, Shadowheart says simply, but it’s difficult to be too upset when Tav is striding over to the wall on slightly shaky legs. She leans forward and presses her hands to the stone, her stance wide so that her back, bottom, and thighs are all poised to be struck.

Abdirak doesn’t move at first, merely taking in the sight of her. Eventually, he wraps his fingers around the handle of a mace and hums appreciatively. “Yes,” he murmurs. “This will do nicely.”

He stalks toward Tav, placing a hand on her lower back. She startles at the contact, hyper-reflexive, then centers herself back into stillness with a wobbly exhale. Abdirak waits for her to settle before guiding Tav to bend over further, her weight shifting until it’s her forearms, not her palms, that are braced against the stone. This new position forces her to arch her spine, forces her ass on display.

Ah, so Abdirak has abandoned any pretense of decorum as well. Hard to quibble about it, though, when the result is such an enchanting visual. Their leader is so delectably exposed that Shadowheart has to literally bite her tongue to smother the noise she almost makes. She can’t help it; Tav looks absolutely obscene like this. Like she’s begging to be ravished..

She anticipates a surge in Astarion’s passion to mirror her own, but it doesn’t come. If anything, he’s growing increasingly impatient, keen for the ritual to begin already. She’s taken aback by this apparent lack of interest, because she knows he’s turned on. Shadowheart is viscerally, intimately aware of that, so prominent and exhilarating that she’s tempted to stop thinking and melt into it. But as she examines the sensation more closely, she can tell that it’s primarily the promise of sadism stoking those flames; incomprehensibly, Astarion seems largely indifferent to Tav’s nearly-naked body. Which is baffling for a lot of reasons, chief among them that he’s already had sex with her.

So…why did he do that, then? Because Shadowheart doubts it was mainly to spite her. Was Tav just a convenient lay for him? Is he trying to get something from her? It would support her theory regarding his ulterior motives, but would beg a lot of questions about why he chose to rope Shadowheart into it. She must be missing context here, the disparate pieces not adding up into a cogent whole.

There’s a beat where she considers delving further into his intellect for answers, but she restrains herself. Given her own tendencies toward secrecy, it would be hypocritical. Instead, she says: Curious, that you aren’t thinking of bedding her right now.

I figure you’re doing that enough for the both of us, Astarion replies dismissively, hardly acknowledging her. It’s not a denial, and Shadowheart makes note of that. But there are more pressing matters at hand, as Abdirak raises his mace at last.

He swings the weapon in a viciously swift arc, landing a solid blow to the meat of Tav’s right buttock.

“The pain you suffer will cleanse you – do not fight it,” he orders, and Tav obeys. She cries out, a pitiful mix between a moan and a whimper. Little shivery spikes of pleasure shoot up Shadowheart’s spine at the sound, and she can’t tell whether they originate from Astarion or herself.

She resolves to put aside her suspicions for the time being; she may not know what his long-term goals are, here, but for right now their purposes are thoroughly aligned.

In the calm before Abdirak’s next strike, Shadowheart asks, “Would you have joined up with her if you’d known she’d be indulging in this sort of thing, Astarion?” Her tone is demure and deliberately casual. It makes Tav quiver, unable to conceal her perverse elation at this small act of exhibitionism.

“I mean, I had my hopes,” Astarion responds without missing a beat. Tav buries her face in her bicep, then, endeavoring to muffle her involuntary whine at their flirting.

(And if this is how she reacts to it, flirting with Astarion has just become exponentially more appealing.)

Abdirak takes advantage of her distraction to crack the mace down once more, and Tav throws her head back and howls at the impact.

“Pain is proof that we live! Revel in it,” Abdirak bellows, so incredibly reverent. Shadowheart can't say she blames him for perceiving divinity in Tav’s pain. Judging by the phantasm of something clenching in deep her core, nerve endings singing in body parts she does not have, Astarion agrees.

“Come on,” the paladin manages to taunt in spite of her labored panting, “a child can hit harder than that.”

Fuck, Shadowheart is so thoroughly obsessed with her.

“Hah! You want more? As you wish, dear one,” Abdirak says sweetly, returning that steadying palm to her back as he swings the mace again, slamming it into the underside of Tav’s ass. She yelps, her hands balling into such tight fists that her nails must be digging into them.

Shadowheart can already see premonitions of bruises forming on Tav’s behind, the ruddy, irregular imprints of Abdirak’s weapon. Gods, she can’t stop thinking about touching them; she knows how hot under her fingers they’d be, all the blood pulsing just under the skin from the broken capillaries. As she fantasizes about it, she broadcasts the image to Astarion, sighing when another wave of reciprocal pleasure crashes over their connection.

In answer, Astarion envisions Tav’s thighs, as yet unblemished. He thinks about spreading them, about lavishing them with a flogger until they’re as marked up as her ass. About drinking from her femoral artery while the abrasions are fresh—feeling that same blistering heat under his mouth, making her twitch and spasm when his teeth puncture the still-tender flesh. Shadowheart would normally be opposed to him feeding on Tav, but it’s different when their emotions are entwined like this, when Astarion finds it so electrifying that it makes her dizzy.

Shadowheart bets Tav would let him do that. Unexpectedly, she realizes she would very much like to watch it happen, ideally with Tav's head resting on her lap so she can stroke the paladin's hair. She tries not to picture what might come after that, but can't quite help it.

Dear me, Astarion replies, faux-scandalized in a way that does nothing to hide his glee. Who would have known you were amenable to sharing her so intimately?

Shadowheart realizes that she must have projected that thought to him inadvertently, and she would probably be stressed out about that if she weren’t so turned on.

And of course Astarion is obnoxiously pretending this wasn't always what he was angling for, having retained just enough plausible deniability to act like this is her idea; she'd never expect anything less of him.

In the interest of not ruining the potential for a good thing, though, Shadowheart lets it slide. Which is something she's done enough times to day that she deserves some sort of medal, or possibly sainthood.

Not me, I assure you, she tells him, because it's the truth. It’s been a very enlightening day.

Let’s discuss this fascinating proposal of yours at camp this evening, then.

Must we? she asks archly. You’re so much more charming when you’re silent.

As far as comments go, it's on the border between insulting and flirtatious. Under normal circumstances, she'd have stuck strictly to the former category but, well, Tav clearly got off on their flirting earlier.

Darling cleric mine, he replies, his mirth palpable, you’ve no idea how charming I can be.

With that, Astarion severs the link between them, and the tether dissipates as quickly as it was formed. The loss of him is almost more disorienting than the intrusion itself; now that she’s alone in it again, her brain feels bizarrely empty. Shadowheart will never, ever cop to it, but a part of her mourns the absence.

That said, it does make it easier to focus on what’s happening in front of her, as Abdirak straightens and takes a step back.

“Sweet child,” Abdirak murmurs, “you bear the pain like a true believer.” His right hand flutters in an aborted movement, as though longing to hit her again.

Shadowheart notices him considering it, and while she doesn’t really want to put an end to the affair, she has aims of her own to account for. “Now, now,” she says coyly. “Don’t wear her out entirely, priest—I might have use for her later.”

Abdirak’s eyes are sparkling with licentious joy. “Then far be it from me to interfere with a private benediction.” He turns to Tav. “You may stand now.”

She does so gingerly, her expression unreadable as she faces the party. Or, mostly unreadable; the arousal is still very conspicuous, but it’s difficult to tell what she’s thinking aside from that.

Abdirak drops into a deep bow and tells her, “I am proud to have served you this penance.”

“Thank you. I enjoyed myself.” The response spills from Tav’s mouth filthily with her speech so gravelly from her cries. It does funny things to Shadowheart’s insides.

Abdirak’s too, she presumes, given how he straight-up groans, “As did I, dear one.”

He bestows her with a blessing from Loviatar, and Tav redresses, looking significantly worse for the wear.

Gale coughs, voice high pitched and strained as he asks, “So did we still want to talk to Priestess Gut, then?”

It catches Shadowheart by surprise; she’d completely forgotten he was there.

They don’t end up talking to Priestess Gut, as it turns out. Tav seems keen to set up camp for the evening, and Shadowheart can’t blame her for that. Although she’d healed her as much as she could, Shadowheart knows personally how draining that type of 'ritual' can be.

She’s secretly kind of glad about their early departure, because she’s been struggling to think about anything other than what just happened and her tentative detente with Astarion. Tav had asked her a couple of questions during their trip back and she’d floundered uselessly at them, unable to believably act like she was paying attention. If Astarion’s snickering was any indication, he’d found her predicament hilarious.

But thankfully, they’ve made it home now. Gale has started preparing another meal that smells improbably good for the ingredients involved, and if he still feels awkward about today then he's hiding it well. Tav disappears into her tent, citing fatigue, and asks them to wake her up when dinner is ready.

In the meantime, Shadowheart lounges in front of her tent, endeavoring to focus on the book she’s reading and losing the battle. Her mind keeps wandering to her forthcoming conversation with the vampire. She wishes their plans had been less vague, but it does give her time to organize her thoughts.

Frankly, she isn’t sure how to proceed, or even precisely what it is that she’s feeling. Shadowheart doesn’t like Astarion; she honestly finds him sort of repellent, personality-wise, but she can’t pretend their little escapade wasn’t enticing. She found it weirdly fun, them sniping at each other telepathically and sharing dirty daydreams. And in a way she can’t imagine doing with anyone else, either—she couldn’t be that catty or that deviantly horny with Wyll, for gods’ sake. There’s a distinctive charm to her antagonism with Astarion she hadn’t noticed before, but that she suspects was always there.

The thought that her relationship with him offers her something unique and valuable is utterly intolerable, so she chooses to pretend it never occurred to her and rapidly turns her thoughts to other topics. Namely, that she still has a few concerns about his intentions toward Tav, and about what he wants out of this more generally; it’s probably her biggest reservation about allowing this…thing…to progress any further.

Mulling all of this over in her head makes her antsy to just get it over with; her body vibrates with excess energy, still keyed up and jittery from the encounter with Abdirak, and she’s tired of waiting around. She decides that if he wants to talk, he can do so on her terms, and her terms are that they should do it right now or not at all.

Shadowheart reaches out with the tadpole briefly to instruct him to meet her down by the river, then starts walking.

Belatedly, she realizes it would have been easy to relay that message verbally, and wonders whether it might be dangerous to get too comfortable using the parasite like this. It could be for a number of potential reasons, but she figures worrying about it is a problem for a future version of Shadowheart whose capactiy to worry isn't monopolized by the thought of arranging a polyamorous partnership.

The trip to the river is a short one, and before long she arrives at its rocky shore, sitting down near the water. She studies the ripples on its surface while she waits for the vampire to arrive. It feels more real, now that they’re only minutes away from actually discussing it. A sick, sudden panic squeezes her chest as she questions whether indulging in this is the worst idea she’s ever had, actually.

Shadowheart doesn’t have much time to contemplate it, however, because Astarion arrives only a few minutes after her. She’s amazed, having fully presumed he would make her wait; absentmindedly, it occurs to her that he must be about as anxious as she is to talk.

Despite the day’s adventures, he looks perfectly put together, hair coiffed and remarkably free of grime. She despises him for that, envious of his body’s inability to sweat.

“Hello, pet,” he greets, sauntering toward her with effortless confidence. Her nose scrunches up at the term of endearment.

“Absolutely not,” she says. “Try again.”

Astarion grins wickedly. “How do you feel about ‘kitten’?”

“Differently than you do, I suspect, having never had one for a light snack,” she replies, unimpressed. “Perhaps your third attempt will be the charm.”

A pause follows, during which Shadowheart dreads the inevitable.

“Lover?”

So predictable.

“If you’re feeling suicidal, Astarion, we can talk about that,” she says with feigned benevolence. “I’d be honored to help you plan it.”

“Fine, if you insist on being tedious,” he sighs, as though Shadowheart is being terribly unreasonable. “Hello, darling.”

She closes her eyes for a long moment, exhaling slowly as she tries to combat her increasingly violent urges.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart nods once she opens them again, finally returning his greeting. His eyes are bright with mischief, so very thrilled with himself. “I believe we have a common objective.”

“So it seems.” The vampire quirks an eyebrow at her bluntness. “What do you propose we do about that?”

“Well,” Shadowheart says slyly. “I have a few thoughts.”

“Do you now,” Astarion murmurs, not really a question. He leans down until his nose almost brushing hers, his voice full of salacious promise as he asks, “Why don’t you tell me them?”

It’s such a brazenly tactless ploy that it’s insulting. Worse, Astarion looking at her like that is twisting up her insides unpleasantly. She needs it to cease immediately. Actually, she needs it to cease thirty seconds ago, before it happened.

“Ugh, quit that,” Shadowheart cringes, putting some distance between them. “I’ve been inside your head, remember? I know that you're not attracted to me.” She pauses, then adds: “And for what it’s worth, the disinterest is mutual.”

Shadowheart is annoyed that she even has to say it, having been nothing but straightforward about her distaste for him. That’s probably why her rejection comes out sounding just on the other side of ‘too belligerent': because it’s frustrating that Astarion would ignore her blatant signals and come on to her anyway.

He straightens to his full height again, recoiling from her as though slapped. “Is that so?”

“I’m not opposed to…collaborating with you,” Shadowheart continues, “in service of our collective inerest in making Tav come—so long as you know that she’s the only reason I’m willing to touch you. But by all means, you’re welcome to continue trying to seduce me, if being humiliated is what gets you off.”

Astarion puts his hands in his pockets, regarding her.

“How foolish of me,” he says in a monotone. “Somewhere between all the wanton lust and fantasies of group sex, I must have gotten the wrong impression.”

Shadowheart opens her mouth to protest, but Astarion pretends not to notice.

“An easy mistake to make, you must admit,” he continues nonchalantly. “Given that you took such unabashed pleasure in sharing your innermost desires with me. Your commitment to the cause is admirable, to do all that for Tav’s benefit. Especially since she had no way of knowing it was happening.” Astarion locks eyes with her, then, his stare derisive, “But by all means, you’re welcome to continue pretending this is only about her, if it makes it easier for you to justify sleeping with me.”

Indignation charges through her like a minotaur, so fast that it makes her lightheaded. She smothers it, shoves it down, refusing to let him see her facade break. Refusing to feed into his pathetic delusions of her being attracted to him by giving him any sort of reaction.

Fortunately, repression is second nature to her.

“Speaking of Tav,” she says affably, like this is a normal conversation between friends. As far as deflections go, she is excruciatingly aware it is not the most artful. “I wanted to ask about your intentions with her.”

Astarion blinks, unprepared for the abrupt change in topic. “What of them?”

“She’s not stupid, Astarion. She’s going to notice if you don’t want her.” The words tumble from her mouth, harsher and more accusatory than she intends. It's possible his audacity is getting to her still, which is shameful in its own right. “And while normally I’d be more than happy to reap the benefits of that, I’d prefer if she doesn’t get hurt. In the unfun way, at least.”

The shift in Astarion’s demeanor is palpable; he looks away from her, the muscles in his jaw tensing and releasing as though he’s grinding his teeth. He reminds her somewhat of a cornered animal, hackles raised and unsure whether to fight or flee. Except the only threat here is Shadowheart, and she thinks it should be gratifying that he considers her dangerous. Instead it makes her feel itchy and gross, like she's akin any common beast that's covered in fleas and foaming at the mouth.

Eventually, he throws his hands up, a noise of exasperation tearing from his vocal chords. “You are impossible, do you know that?” He glares at her, then, demanding, “Who says I don’t want her?”

Shadowheart is in too deep to back down, now, unable to take her words back even though he tries to give them to her. “You seemed apathetic about her earlier, aside from the sadistic bits. I happened to notice it, when I was in your head.”

“Oh, yes,” Astarion replies, dripping with sarcasm. “Very good, cleric. You’ve caught me: this has all been a cruel, elaborate joke I’ve chosen to play on a woman who could split me in twain if the whim struck her. How incredibly astute of you—whatever enclave of antisocial misfits you hail from is no doubt rejoicing at your perceptiveness as we speak.”

Shadowheart doesn’t know what to say to that, caught off guard by how contemptuously he spits the rant at her. She needn’t say anything, though, because Astarion fills the silence for her.

“Clearly, your brief sojourn inside my mind has made you the foremost expert on what I do and do not want,” he scoffs, affronted, which is an irritatingly reasonable point.

With the benefit of hindsight, Shadowheart can maybe see how, under a certain light, she’s been a bit unfairly presumptuous. The idea of having to admit fault to him makes her skin crawl.

Astarion’s gaze drops to her mouth for a split second before finding her eyes again. “Which, incidentally, is rich coming from someone insistent on languishing in denial of her own desires; I’d appreciate the irony more if it weren’t so aggravating.”

An oppressive, fiery blush rises to her cheeks at the insinuation, and she curses everything because there’s no amount of compartmentalizing she can do to prevent an autonomic reaction.

He’s missing the point though, because this isn’t supposed to be about Shadowheart. It’s meant to be about Tav. She’s not going to let him distract from that, so she asks, “So you do want her, then?”

“Oh for the love of…” Astarion makes another frustrated sound low in his throat, and she gets the distinct impression that he wants to break something. Possibly her. Provocative thought, that. “Just—look, will you?”

He leans down, placing his hands on either side of her head, and there’s a now-familiar pressure in her skull as he reaches out with the tadpole. This time, though, he hesitates, waiting for her permission.

Shadowheart acquiesces, and she hates how natural it is to do, now, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it as her own thoughts are rapidly subsumed by his. He’s projecting more than just sensations, overwhelming her with an avalanche of different memories all at once. She winces at the onslaught, instinctively trying to shrink away from how bright and loud and vivid it is. Astarion holds her firmly in place, though, and soon she is experiencing life through his eyes.

She watches his sire coerce him into exploiting his body, forcing Astarion to lure in victim after unsuspecting victim, so many of them that they all blur together into a sickening, vulgar slurry. For one horrid instant, Shadowheart suffers the same revulsion, the same disgust, the same aching hollowness as he did for centuries. Astonishingly, the memories where he fails to fulfill that task are equally harrowing. With lurid clarity, she feels the flesh being flayed from his body as though it were her own; can feel his mind turn brittle and crack under the weight of Cazador’s psychological torture.

He shows her more recent memories, too—recollections of their time traveling together, of his first taste of freedom in so many years that he stopped counting them. There’s a desperation to cling to it as tightly as he can, so viscerally terrified of it slipping through his fingers. He’s reluctant to let himself hope it could last, knowing what it would do to him if he lost it again.

And then there’s Tav.

When he thinks about her, Shadowheart learns that tempting her into bed was strategic on his part, and something he’d always aimed to do. The Astarion in the present doesn’t shy away from that fact, letting her witness the unflattering reality of the situation. He does it, she now knows, because he thinks it will make him indispensable to Tav, that she’ll be easier to manipulate and more likely to protect him. Using his body as a means to an end like that is distasteful, but familiar, as easy to him as breathing is to her. His own satisfaction doesn’t matter; his survival does.

He has no expectation of enjoying it.

But then he does. He enjoys himself. That alone concerns him, and then the concern evolves into fear as the paladin continuously defies his assumptions. She’s impressively tenacious, strong, and unusually entertaining to talk to. She’s nothing but understanding of Astarion's affliction, allowing him to feed without judgment and miraculously taking joy in the act. She knows exactly what he is, and yet, when she looks at him she doesn’t seem to see a monster.

(The bond between them stutters, somewhat, as Astarion swiftly moves past that thought and onto the next. It makes Shadowheart speculate about whether Tav’s acceptance of him matters more than he’s willing to confess, how dearly he craves it more precious than every other secret he’s divulging to her.)

The more Astarion shows her, the more it becomes unmistakable that—entirely by accident and against his own will—the vampire sincerely likes Tav. He would very much prefer not to, but he doesn’t exactly have a say in the matter; even an unbeating heart wants what it wants.

Which brings them to today. Reliving such recent events from his perspective is disorienting enough that Shadowheart begins to grow nauseated, but she wills herself to remain present. When Tav submits so readily, so earnestly, to Abdirak’s sadistic whims, it makes Astarion long to be the one hurting her. He can see that she needs it, her gasps at each hit sounding far more like catharsis than pain to his ears. The idea of being the one to give that to her is electrifying.

It means something to him, too, to see the techniques used to torture him for so unbearably long reclaimed into something euphoric, beautiful. Sex itself is not a prospect he finds especially motivating; it can’t be, after everything. But much to his own disgust, his affection for Tav and his saccharine impulse to make her feel good has awakened Astarion's long-dead libido. The massive amount of faith it takes for him to even desire that kind of interaction is not something he is capable of feeling with a total stranger in the room, though, no matter how titillating it is to watch Tav writhe and scream.

(The memory he shows her of today is conspicuously choppy, as though he’s carefully presenting her only a fraction of the truth. Shadowheart suspects he’s purposefully editing her out of it, safeguarding his opinion of her. It's a valid move; she’d do the same were their positions reversed. Nevertheless, she wonders whether he’s hiding it because it’s bad, or if he’s hiding it because it isn’t.)

Astarion releases her temples, then, and Shadowheart brutally slams back into herself. It’s not unlike being engulfed in light after hours spent in darkness, harsh and unforgiving while she readjusts to reality. She feels wetness on her cheeks and realizes that she’s crying, and she has no clue when that happened. For his part, Astarion appears equally exhausted, hands braced on his knees as his body heaves with gulping breaths he need not actually take.

“Happy now?” he asks bitterly, once he collects himself.

“Don’t know if that’s the word I’d use,” Shadowheart answers, still processing everything he’s shown her. There’s a rising tide of guilt in her chest, which is severely uncomfortable. She’s so bad at this, at admitting when she’s wrong. It’s like she’s a kid again, being reprimanded by the Mother Superior and feeling so small and shitty and insignificant.

It helps that she knows he wouldn’t have shown her that just to make her realize she’s been uncharitable to him, although she definitely has. Giving her that many pieces of himself, rendering himself so vulnerable (especially to someone like her, someone who has spent her life learning how to exploit weakness), all to win an argument would be certifiably insane. And if there’s one quality Astarion has in spades, it’s self-preservation.

The only thing that makes sense is that, for some reason, it’s important to him that she understands. That she trusts him. Because he obviously trusts her, to confide in her like that.

It unsettles her, a little. A lot. But she thinks she owes it to him to at least try, so she sighs and tells him, “I’m sorry I doubted you.” It’s the best she can do, because she knows she can’t express sympathy for him having gone through all of it, certain he would mistake it for unwelcome pity.

“It’s a touch late for apologies, isn’t it?” he grumbles, but he plops down gracelessly beside her anyway.

“Oh, lovely,” Shadowheart deadpans. “Because I’ve never been particularly good at them.”

“It’s fine,” Astarion says, though it’s ambiguous which one of them he’s trying to reassure. Then, atonally cheerful, he adds, “Besides, we’ve bared so much of our souls already! Why bother showing restraint now?”

Shadowheart snorts, appreciative of the gallows humor to cut the tension somewhat. Neither of them speaks again for a moment, both staring out at the water in front of them.

“I don’t want to see yours, for the record,” Astarion says after a minute, still not meeting her eyes. “Whatever happened in that messed up little head to make you like that kind of thing, I mean.”

“Not everyone’s fetishes have a tragic backstory,” Shadowheart points out.

“Of course,” he agrees amiably. “But yours do.”

“Fair play.”

They fall back into stillness, and it’s almost companionable. Shadowheart doesn't know when or why that happened, but it's comforting. She isn’t sure how much time passes like that, with the only sounds being the flow of the river and the distant chirping of birds.

Eventually, she looks at him and says, “It’s weird, you not talking. Really putting the ‘dead’ in ‘dead-quiet.’”

“I shudder to think how long you’ve been sitting on that one,” Astarion replies. “And I seem to recall you finding me prettier when silent.”

“Is that what it was?” Shadowheart asks, bemused. “Could’ve sworn I said charming.”

He shrugs agreeably. “Who’s to say?”

Their eyes meet, then, and when Shadowheart smiles at him, he returns it. She knocks her shoulder against his. “You know, if you wanted to make it less complicated for us to negotiate a threesome, I feel I should say you chose a spectacularly bad tactic.”

Astarion laughs loudly, surprised. “Perhaps,” he agrees cheekily, “but look how endeared you are to me now.”

“So that was your grand design, was it?”

“A bit,” he admits, and it makes her heart thump considerably faster, how it sounds almost sincere. Odd. “Has it worked?”

“I don’t know,” Shadowheart murmurs thoughtfully. “You still slept with the girl I like.”

“I did,” he concedes. “And I think I’d rather like to do it again. Care to join?”

She grins. “I could be persuaded.”

“How convenient,” Astarion says, turning to face her. Shadowheart mirrors the position reflexively, without thinking, and then feels her stomach bottom out when his hand reaches up to gently grasp her chin between his thumb and index finger. He leans in close, until there’s only a whisper of space separating their mouths. “Because I can be very persuasive.”

There are a lot of supremely confusing chemical signals happening in Shadowheart’s brain right now, preventing her from thinking straight. She reminds herself that she doesn’t want this, not with Astarion. Because he is rude, and a dick, and also she hates him. It would be a really good idea to pull away from him, before she misses her chance to and he does something they can't take back.

Any second now, she’s going to move.

Astarion must notice her internal conflict, because the look in his eyes is devilish when he taunts, “You can leave, if you’d like; I won’t stop you.” With how close his mouth is, she can feel the words as he speaks them, ghosting delicately over her lips, and a distressing shiver runs from her toes to the base of her skull.

“We despise each other,” she tries to protest, only it comes out instead as a mortifyingly petulant whine.

“I know,” he murmurs, sounding positively delighted about it. “Isn’t it fantastic?”

And Shadowheart doesn’t know how to argue with that, because if she's being honest with herself it kind of is. If she's being more honest with herself, she hasn't even done a particularly good job of pretending she doesn't think so. And Astarion clearly already knows that she wants this, so the only thing denying it accomplishes is denying herself something she can apparently have.

That's so fucking irritating, she thinks, but she rolls her eyes and closes the distance between them anyway.

At first, it’s nothing more than the soft brush of his lips against hers, intentional and slow like he wants to savor it. His hand slips over her jaw and onto her neck, holding her to him with an uncharacteristic amount of care. It’s astonishingly sweet, almost tender, the way they move together. Until it isn’t, suddenly, so many things happening all at once that they blur together into a gauzy, surreal lace: Shadowheart making a noise of frustration and threading her fingers into his hair, Astarion’s cool tongue probing at the seam of her lips and slipping into her mouth, a flurry of movement that culminates in her straddling him.

It feels like his hands are everywhere, pulling her closer and stroking her back and massaging the skin of her hips. She makes a needy little noise into his mouth, and he swallows it then gives it back to her in a different octave. How his tongue slides against hers is nothing short of filthy, and she thinks she ought to be put off by the temperature difference, by the fact that there’s no way to pretend he’s alive, but she isn’t. It’s novel and intoxicating, sending chills running through her. He kisses her like he’s trying to prove something, and Shadowheart doesn’t even care; she will gladly tell him how right he was later and put up with his obnoxious, inflated ego if it means he’ll keep touching her.

He maneuvers her until she’s firmly seated in his lap, and she gasps as she feels the hard length of him through his trousers. Her hips twitch of their own accord in a desperate plea for friction, instinctually rubbing him against where she's already throbbing and hungry. Astarion groans, bucking against her as much as he can in this position. Using his grasp on her waist, he drives her body down to meet his shallow thrusts, and Shadowheart takes the hint and starts grinding against him. Each time she rocks her hips, it sends white-hot bursts of pleasure straight to the core of her. And gods, she’s so fucking easy, because she thinks she could probably get off like this.

Something about the way that idea spins around in her head feels off, and it takes her a second to realize why: she might begrudgingly accept now that she wants this, but given what he’d shown her she doesn’t understand why he would. Once again, it feels like she’s missing something, or like even if she has all the pieces she’s still putting them together wrong. Then it hits her that she knows how badly he wants to make Tav happy, that maybe he initiated this whole arrangement so she wouldn't be forced to choose. It adds up too well for Shadowheart to be comfortable dismissing it without knowing for sure, so she stills the movement of her hips. The thought of him doing this for any reason other than out of sincere desire makes her feel ill, makes her feel like she just sank to the icy bottom of the Chionthar.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Shadowheart mutters against his mouth. Immediately, he does, allowing her to put some distance between them. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Noted,” Astarion says, too cavalier, and his eyes are half-lidded as he stares at her mouth. “Is that all, then? Can we get back to dry humping?”

“Astarion, I’m serious,” she insists, annoyed at him for being deliberately obtuse about something so important. It’s good to be reminded, she supposes, of why she didn’t want to admit to liking him.

“So am I,” he says, and before she can say anything or try to climb off his lap, Shadowheart senses the intimate pulse of the tadpole connecting them. He doesn’t show her anything specific, merely allows his feelings to bleed through to her. Which is an excellent strategy, she thinks, because what he’s feeling is a frankly devastating amount of lust.

Astarion doesn’t say anything about it, but Shadowheart can draw her own conclusions about what this means he must feel about her. Well, theoretically she can; at the moment she’s too preoccupied with sating her bone-deep hunger to think about anything else.

“Happy now?” he asks, parroting his question from earlier.

“Yeah,” Shadowheart replies breathlessly. She thinks back to how intense it was earlier, with their emotions echoing in a loop across the connection. They hadn’t even been touching, then—how much better could it get, now that they are?

There’s only one way to find out, and she really, really wants to find out. So she lets Astarion into her mind, grabbing his face in both hands and crashing their mouths together, hot and messy.

Oh, she thinks as her tongue teases his soft palate and she feels the tickle of it in her own mouth, we might be geniuses for this.

The only way Shadowheart can think to describe the sensation is that it's utterly all-consuming. She can taste the mania in how Astarion clutches her to him, needing her as close as possible and then closer still, because every point of contact between their bodies is so electric, so alive. There’s a phantom tingle in her scalp as she gets her hands in his stupid, perfect hair and tugs; a similar dull sting when she nips his bottom lip. It’s not one-for-one, more like the shadow of a feeling, but it’s enough to spur them both into a frenzy within a matter of seconds. One of his hands slips under the hem of her top, his cool fingers a welcome reprieve against the feverish skin of her waist, contrasting with her awareness of how warm she feels to him, the paradox of feeling both simultaneously wracking her frame with a shudder.

Gods, they must look like animals right now. Probably sound like them, too, the moans falling from their mouths obscene and much too loud. They’re not that far away from camp, she thinks. It's not impossible that someone will catch them in the act.

Shadowheart doesn’t care—couldn’t conceivably care—when rutting against Astarion is fucking rapturous like this, the sort of phenomenon that poets could spend their whole lives trying to capture in pretty words and nonetheless come up short. There’s a rhapsodic harmony in the way their bodies writhe, weaving together in effortless synchronicity. She moves atop him like she’s honing a knife, practiced and precise, sharpening herself into a savage edge. Little white pinpricks of light dance behind her eyes with every thrust, and she’s worried they're going to exhaust themselves before he’s even inside her. That can’t happen, she thinks, with so many wicked deeds for them to explore like this.

Astarion seems to agree, guiding her to lie on the ground and pulling his shirt over his head in a smooth motion. Shadowheart very much approves of this plan, and she scrambles to disrobe as fast as she is physically able and watches him do the same. They manage the task impressively quickly, and the second they're both naked she tries to pull him on top of her, needing contact, needing to feel his skin against hers. Astarion doesn’t let her, halting once he’s hovering a scant distance above her, because he’s evil, because he’s a miserable excuse for a man. Shadowheart hates him so much and abhors him and also detests him, because she lets out a whine so thin and treble at his denial that hearing it makes her want to die.

Patience must not be a virtue the Sharran church teaches, hmm? Astarion smirks, so infuriatingly arrogant, and then travels down her body to nestle between her thighs.

Shadowheart intends to respond with something caustic and incisive, but all that comes out is slurred jumble of her repeating IhateyouIhateyouIhateyouIhateyouIhateyouIhateyou, which is more than a bit degrading.

Flatterer, Astarion responds, and she can sense how pleased he is, though whether it’s at her or himself is unclear. He spreads her thighs and brings his face close enough that she can feel his breath on her sensitive flesh, knowing he must be doing it to tease her because he has no need for oxygen. She doesn't mind, because it’s strange and wonderful that it’s slightly colder than the air around them. She squirms at the novel feeling, biting her lip to try to smother the sound she makes. You’ll have to forgive me for doing you the great disservice of going down on you first, but I’d rather like to see what this feels like. His tongue is on her before the thought is even finished, and Shadowheart blesses the efficiency of telepathy for not having to wait a second longer than necessary for this.

Because, hells, this is so good, so blindingly good, and it’s not even because of the bond. It’s seductive that there’s the ghost of her own taste in her mouth, and Shadowheart loves feeling how much he gets off on doing this to her. But the way he sets her nerves alight, until she feels like she’s burning alive, her whole body engulfed in scorching hot bliss, is entirely down to how skillfully he caresses her clit with his tongue.

She’s whimpering and wracked with feeble tremors, her hands fisted in his hair too roughly, and Astarion growls into her cunt like he’s starving for her. The closer she gets, the more noises he makes, his hands shaking where they hold her thighs apart. Shadowheart grinds against his face, chasing her release, and she’s reminded again of being on the Tyrrans’ roof, of standing on a precipice and the weightlessness of freefall. Back then, the brutal impact had knocked her unconscious so fast she barely felt it. Now, though, Shadowheart surmises how intense it must have been, every single piece of her splintering apart at his touch as she’s sent crashing gloriously over the edge.

When she comes back to her senses, shuddery aftershocks still pulsing in her core, Astarion’s hand is covering her mouth. Shadowheart very much does not want to imagine how loud she must have been for him to feel the need. His eyes are wild as he looks at her for a moment before slotting his mouth to hers, all teeth and tongue like a feral, rabid thing. Shadowheart moans as she tastes herself on him for real, so deliriously erotic. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she digs her heels into his ass to force their bodies together, and quivers at the sensation of him pulsing thick and hard against her hip.

Now might be a good time to fuck me, Shadowheart goads, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and biting it. If you keep taking your sweet time, the ceremorphosis will come before you do.

Intriguing proposition, Astarion responds, though her mind being flooded with his desire belies the pretense of nonchalance. Even without the bond, the way he kisses her so ferociously, like he’s trying to devour her whole, would tell Shadowheart how badly he craves her. If we’re enterprising, we might be able to find a use for the tentacles.

Seems doubtful, Shadowheart says, and her thighs cradle his hips as she rubs herself against him, spreading sticky-hot wetness between them and making him groan. If you were enterprising you would already be inside me.

An excellent point, he concedes, and smoothly lines himself up with her entrance. Even just the slide of the head of his cock against her is phenomenal; she’s still oversensitive from her orgasm, and every time he nudges her clit it sends sparks shooting low in her belly. Then he’s burying himself inside her, ruthless and rough like he can’t help himself, and she's so extremely grateful for that because it's exactly what she needs from him, what she aches for.

It’s such a singular feat of pleasure—the delicious stretch of him splitting her in half and the empathic echo of her tight, wet heat squeezing Astarion’s cock, fucking and being fucked at the same time—that Shadowheart comes again, voice hoarse as she cries out. Once he’s seated inside her, he doesn’t move for a long while, trembling and struggling to hold himself up against the sheer, overwhelming ecstasy.

They stay suspended like that until Astarion collects himself again, overcome with a profound depth of feeling and staring into each other’s eyes like this is something other than what it is. It terrifies her, or maybe it terrifies him, or maybe they’re just both the exact same type of coward. Then Astarion shifts, dragging his cock out of her so slowly that it’s torturous, but then he’s fucking her for real, like he means it, until she can’t remember what it is to fear anything.

Shadowheart wonders how it would feel if he bit her now. She’s suddenly desperate to know, desperate to taste her own blood in his mouth, desperate to finally see what it’s like to be full. Astarion’s eyes widen and his movement inside her stutters as he senses it, unable to suppress the immediate, suffocating rush of hope he feels at the prospect.

In a parallel universe where they weren’t connected, where they weren’t both so strung out and shaking, she’d make him beg for it. Maybe someday she will. As it stands, she can’t imagine hearing him say it would come anywhere close to the rush of enveloping his agonizing need in her psyche, hiding it somewhere secret and safe inside her so she never forgets how this feels.

It's not a decision, really, when Shadowheart bares her throat to Astarion. It's mostly just inevitable.

His teeth pierce the skin of her neck and she’s cold, numb, helpless; but her mouth is searing hot, warmed by the borrowed sensation of her blood beginning to coat his tongue. She feels lightheaded, her vision swimmy as he drinks from her; it’s also invigorating, like she could do anything, like she is never going to die.

She remembers overhearing the conversation where he speculated about how their party members would taste, remembers that the suggestions were more abstract and metaphorical than she'd have thought, but it doesn't prepare her for the reality of it. Because to Astarion, Shadowheart tastes like the night sky when it’s full of stars, the vast emptiness of space as well as all that it contains within it. The gravity of it astounds her, and maybe this is why he so badly wants to drink from thinking creatures now that he has the option, because the way it explodes over her is like entire galaxies being created and destroyed on her tongue.

Shadowheart wonders if this is how she'd taste to any vampire, or if it's unique to Astarion. She hopes it's the latter, hopes this experience is theirs and theirs alone.

The way they rut together now is utterly graceless, lacking in any sort of rhythm or finesse, both of them too far gone for it to be anything but. It doesn’t matter, because every thrust hits her like a suckerpunch. The cacophony of sentiments and sensations is constantly intensifying, eclipsing everything except the points where their bodies collide. Another orgasm violently tears out of her—through her intestines and ripped straight from her throat in the form of a broken sob. The sensation of it pushes Astarion over the edge, too, and the two of them are twitching and convulsing in one another’s arms through the staggering, sublime euphoria of it. For a moment she’s not sure if they’re coming or if the world is just shattering underneath them, the impending apocalypse already upon them. It feels like the world must be ending. It feels like she finally understands entropy.

Unable to support himself any longer, Astarion collapses on top of her. Wordlessly, Shadowheart wraps her arms around him, and he threads one of his legs between hers, the two of them entwining their bodies like a braid of limbs as they shiver and bask in the afterglow. She strokes his back absentmindedly while they regain their composure (and she’ll need to get a better look, later, at the raised scars she feels all over it). It’s the least she can do, she thinks; this was easily the best sex Shadowheart has ever had, nothing else even approaching the experience. Which she can never, ever tell him, because the effect of that on his ego would be catastrophic.

“Too late,” Astarion says aloud, muffled and amused against her chest, “and you’re welcome.”

Instantly, Shadowheart severs the bond between them. Astarion huffs out a breathless laugh at her expense.

“So that’s a no on telepathic pillow talk, then?”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, though she doesn’t stop petting his back. “I already regret this.”

He doesn’t need to be in her head to know that’s a lie.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, cleric,” Astarion says, and she hates how much gleeful mischief she hears in his voice. “It was very selfless of you, doing all this for Tav.”

Shadowheart groans in vexation and contemplates whether a murder suicide would doom the rest of their party to calamari-dom. “I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, like he’s humoring a small child.

“When we get back I’m going to tell everyone you attacked me,” she says, the threat audibly hollow, especially as she’s made no move to get out from under him. “I’ll use the bite mark as proof.”

“Be my guest,” Astarion teases. “But if you do, I’ll have no choice but to exonerate myself. How fortunate that I have a means of showing them precisely what happened.”

“I hate you.”

“Though I can’t imagine them not figuring it out anyway, with your lovely braid all tousled and coming undone,” he continues, sighing wistfully. “Not to mention how we positively reek of sex.”

Oh, gods, she hadn’t thought about that. Everyone is going to know. Tav is going to know.

“Well, Astarion, this has been fun,” Shadowheart says, “but if it’s all the same to you, I think I am going to let the river take me now.”

“Your prerogative, I suppose,” Astarion says, then lifts up his head to look at her, his eyes dark and intent. “Though if you’re looking to be taken, I think there are better options than the river on the table.”

“Oh?” she mutters, and it’s embarrassing how quickly heat starts gathering in her belly again.

He grins roguishly at her. “You’re an inquisitive sort, cleric; aren’t you even a little bit curious what it’s like without the tadpole?”

“Not really,” Shadowheart says, waiting just enough of a beat for Astarion to look dejected before she smirks, “but perhaps I could be persuaded.”

“That was mean,” he chastises. He smiles at her, though, small but genuine. Her chest hurts, looking at it.

“It was,” she agrees. “You like it when I’m mean.”

“I do,” Astarion says. “Of course, it wouldn’t kill you to appreciate me a bit more. After all, I just gave you the best sex of your life—”

“Shut up, Astarion,” Shadowheart interrupts, bringing her face near his until they’re naught but centimeters apart. “You’re prettier when you’re silent.”

And Astarion can’t really argue with that, so he kisses her instead.

When they arrive back at camp, having smoothed their hair and straightened their clothes, Tav is chatting with Karlach by the fire. It seems most everyone else has already gone to bed, which makes Shadowheart wonder how long they were gone for.

Karlach notices their approach and bids Tav a cheerful goodnight, whistling innocently on the walk back to her own tent.

Disgraceful, really, that the rogue and the trickery cleric failed so abysmally at subtlety. In her defense, though, she doesn’t think Astarion was really trying; her effort was doomed from the start.

“Welcome back,” Tav smiles kindly at them, gesturing for them to sit. She shifts over to make room for them, grimacing a bit as she does, presumably aggravating one of her bruises. The thought of them underneath her clothes, still in the process of darkening, fills Shadowheart with startling heat.

She genuinely doesn’t know how she still has it in her to get turned on at this point.

“Seems like you two have sorted out your issues,” Tav says wryly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Astarion sighs, sounding terribly put upon. “Shadowheart has so very many of them; I don’t think we can solve them all overnight.” She wants to be annoyed at him for the cheek, but she’s too preoccupied with him actually calling her by her name for once. It’s nice, she thinks. It feels nice.

(Although, by the end of their lengthy encounter, she’d relented to being called ‘pet.’ A tiny, private part of her enjoyed how it made her feel cared for and cherished, and Shadowheart intends to take that to the grave. Even if Astarion probably already knows, the bastard.)

“Good thing we have more nights ahead of us, then,” Tav grins. “Maybe not a lot of them, though, so we should really get started on unloading that baggage.”

“Actually, I've found she prefers her baggage with the load inside, as it were,” Astarion says, as though unaware that Shadowheart can hurt him with necrotic magic at any moment.

“If we’re going to use my emotional issues as a euphemism for sex, can we at least—you know what, no, just please immediately stop doing that,” Shadowheart says with no small degree of exasperation. “You’re going to give me a complex.”

Tav breaks into peals of throaty laughter, the sound of it warming her from the inside like good firewine.

Shadowheart has so much affection for her that she aches with it. The fond glint in Astarion’s eye as he watches her giggle into her palms suggests he feels much the same.

“So you’re alright with this?” she asks softly, pretty sure but needing to be certain. “Whatever ‘this’ is, I mean.”

“Overjoyed, more like,” Tav corrects, looking up from her hands to smirk at Shadowheart. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to propose a threesome for days now. I had charts and schemes and everything.”

“Glad that’s settled, then,” Astarion says cheerfully. “A pity all that hard work was wasted, though—I’ve always wanted to be the subject of a good scheme.”

“The charts are obsolete, yeah,” Tav concedes, “but most of the schemes could be repurposed, on account of how they were just elaborate sexual fantasies.”

“My favorite kind of scheme,” he smiles.

Something giddy and content blooms in Shadowheart’s chest as she says, “Why, isn't that a strange coincidence. It happens to be mine as well.”

“What are the odds,” Tav says, breathy and sweet. “You know, I have them written down; if you’d like, we can all go back to my tent and look them over together.”

Shadowheart, for one, thinks it’s a spectacular plan.

#bg3 shadowheart #bg3 astarion #astarion/shadowheart #shadowheart/tav #astarion/tav #shadowheart/astarion/tav #abdirak/tav #my fic #let me be your friend(ly fire)

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