#i don't live in the us so my impression is merely that

[poetess-trobadour]

"It's a mean world that I've known

Never got no good doin' what I'm told"

My (unpopular) take on zodiac vibes, part 6♍️✨️

[messiahzzz]

i have seen several posts around that addressed how discouraging gale from taking the crown of karsus is “keeping him from realizing his true potential.” that tara is merely upset at his choice, instead of being utterly devastated at the loss of her little love. that it’s not a bad ending per se because to get there he didn’t need to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls in the process. gale isn’t continuing the cycle of abuse either, he still appears to love tav and does come back for them to offer them ascension. he wants them to be equal, so it can’t possibly be an unhealthy dynamic, right?

but what of gale himself, his own convictions, values, and everything he holds dear? everything flawed and human that shaped him into the person he is?

player: are you saying you want to ascend? claim godhood?

gale: no, not like that. i don't want to join them. i want to better them. a god's powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart.

gale’s motivation for acquiring godhood is that he will able to aid mortals in a way no other god has ever done before. he won’t hide behind pretense nor require blind devotion of his followers. he will understand and be able to empathize. he wholeheartedly believes that he will be different - he will act.

gale: [..] the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind ao. so let us act ourselves.

gale believes that by becoming a god he will kill two birds with one stone: aid mortals and acquire enough power to quash any of his insecurities and enemies in the process. that by ridding himself of every perceived flaw he'll finally feel like he will have enough to offer - maybe, just maybe he'll even be content. his flaws are merely holding him back from becoming the best version of himself, and by ridding himself of everything fallible, he will be whole. maybe this is what all of his suffering has led up to. maybe the orb chose him. maybe the reason he had to endure all the pain, isolation, and excruciating loneliness was so that he could realize that he was meant for something even greater. after all, power feeds ambition. and what is more powerful than a god? his convictions were certainly naive, he possesses enough knowledge to know better. don't get me wrong, part of him definitely wants to spite mystra a lil. but his intentions at that time were mostly pure. a reflection of his self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy.

player: this is wrong, gale. that power will corrupt you, even if you can seize it.

gale: it won't, i swear to you. it's merely a tool - a means to an end.

once we meet gale at the party in his new godlike form, it is apparent that even with all the power at his fingertips, he has reached no greater knowledge about himself. his insecurities are still as present as before, he merely is less subtle in his compensation - repeatedly highlighting his grandeur and how dull life on faerun is compared to the wonders of elysium. it is also genuinely crushing to see how little he thinks of himself even now.

gale: i was nothing. a drifting dust mote of a wizard, abandoned by my goddess, my powers lost, my reputation destroyed. and look at me now. i'm their proof.

any perceived dismissal of his Greatness™ is met with immediate disdain.

gale: a bold decision to treat a divine being with such cold indifference.

nodecontext: aloof, annoyed you weren't impressed with him

gale: you mortals do love to live dangerously, don't you?

nodecontext: the slightest hint of a threat - you've probably made an enemy here today. or at least, you've lost a friend.

he is still desperate to impress. emphasizing what an honor it is that a new-born god chose to bless their little soiree with his presence. gaze upon all his divine glory! gale has now become the embodiment of everything he criticized about the gods. his original intentions and plans are discarded and long forgotten. he assuages his erstwhile companions by telling them to simply pray to him, in case they should ever require aid. if they're lucky and their ambition pleases him, he might even deliver.

player: what does the 'god of ambition' offer to his followers?

gale: i 'offer' them nothing. i inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves.

player: interesting, so you help mortals help themselves?

gale: precisely. though that isn't to say i'm averse to the odd bit of direct encouragement.

gale: [..] my aims are set a little higher than offering cursory blessings to just any half-decent spellcaster.

gale: regardless, ethical quandaries are more the remit of my mortal devotees. they do love to talk, and faerun is starting to listen.

aiding "any half-decent spellcaster" is unbefitting of his status. he isn't concerned with questions of ethics and morality either. deeming such matters beneath his divine capabilities.

once gale has ascended and established his domain, what remains of the gale we knew? what of his mortal heart?

minthara: your ambition is not cruel, but you fear that if you indulge it, you will lose yourself in the mysteries of the weave and unravel the world.

minthara: you are afraid of so many things, and it is that fear that keeps you true to yourself.

gale did lose himself and ultimately became one of his biggest fears. considering that his existence as a being of pure ambition leads him to constantly seek out greater heights, it isn't farfetched to believe that raphael's prediction will indeed come true.

player[astarion]: ambition? finally, a god i can get behind...

gale: i assure you, this is merely the prelude to a far grander vision. elysium's in for something of a shake-up.

all that remains of gale is a thin veneer of the person he used to be. what he presents is a hollow echo of the old gale. he does retain some of his mannerisms and quirks, but he is definitely a lot colder and more condescending. if his personality already changed that drastically after a duration of only 6 months, what will he inevitability turn into when he has eternity at his disposal?

essentially, you are aiding gale in the eradication of himself. eradicating everything about him that made him into the loveable, charismatic, awkward, kind, buoyant person he was. everything about him that he perceived as defective, flawed, and lesser-than. before, his hubris was merely an expression of his own discontentment and low self-worth, but now he is hubris incarnate. all of his worst qualities have been amplified.

gale: i am ambition incarnate. as indistinguishable from that most potent sensation as mystra herself is from the weave. and word is spreading.

nodecontext: palpable, almost unsettling excitement from him - hint of megalomania

he put his trust in tav, trusting their judgment and relying on them to nudge him in the right direction. after all, they had plenty of opportunities to show him that they are an ally worth following and confiding in. but in the end, the prospect of what he could be, the things he could give them, the enemies he could yet conquer, won over the desire to simply accept him and help him rebuild a life on solid ground. tav denied him the unconditional love he craves most out of their own selfish desires.

tara: you were looking out for him. i expected better of you.

as i've already mentioned, gale desires nothing more than to be seen, accepted, loved, and valued. having a partner who wholeheartedly supports and believes in him is enough to make him feel content. most importantly - he just wants to live. to enjoy life with everything it has to offer. his ambition can’t be quenched because he hungers still. believing that only by acquiring more power will he finally be enough and reach said acceptance.

we see in his good ending that his own contentment was even able to influence and (temporarily) sate the orb's ever-present hunger:

gale: [..] or perhaps the orb's hunger was fuelled by my own, and my contentment influences it in much the same way.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

it is devastating that he doesn't reach the same feeling of fulfillment if he chooses to pursue godhood, and is instead compelled to continuously surpass his own accomplishments. not being granted rest or reprieve.

gale: i achieved everything we hoped i would, and still i'm not good enough for you?

gale pursuing godhood isn't evidence that he "has been evil all along" or that he "just waited to be unleashed" either. we can't diminish tav's influence in this outcome, they are after all an extension of the player. able to steer every companion toward a path of redemption or to enable them in their worst traits. fandom has already established that by letting astarion ascend you are actively supporting him in becoming the very thing he despises most, putting your own ambitions and idea of what you want him to be above his healing, this is no different.

tara: the gale i knew wasn't like this. he recognised his mistakes. he was contrite. all he wanted to do was live.

tara: unfortunately, he fell into company that turned his gaze towards foolishness. yes, i mean you.

player: gale is his own man, tara.

tara: false. he was mine. though now he belongs only to his own pride.

yes, the epilogue cutscene is beautiful and there is something bittersweet and romantic about his love for tav being one of the few emotions that remained a constant throughout the past 6 months. he didn't need to come back for them, but he did cause he loves them still. no matter how warped his definition of love may be now. while it is abundantly clear that tav ranks lower on his priority list than they did before, his commitment remains.

gale fears isolation, hoping to never return to the time when he was hopeless and alone, stuck inside his tower. by heading in this direction he is once again creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

tara: [..] if i pretended you hadn't turned tail on every lesson you set out to learn, i'd have no right to call myself your friend.

morena may as well have already resigned herself to her son’s death. elminster partly blames himself. for his lapse in judgment, as well as being the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place. mourning the kind, bright-eyed boy who cried at the scorched roses in his neighbor's garden. tara won't be here anymore to care and look out for him either. he has lost his oldest and dearest friend, the one who witnessed his downfall from grace and never left his side. who believed him to be the finest mind AND the finest wizard she's ever had the pleasure to know. who was certain that he’d find a way out of any crisis no matter the circumstances. ...and if tav declines his offer to ascend with him? what does he have left?

gale: yes, i am rather radiant, aren't i?

tara: don't flatter yourself, gale. you've debased yourself in ways i could never have fathomed.

tara: goodbye gale, i hope the heavens are worth it.

gale’s godhood ending deals with the loss of humanity, the loss of oneself, and everything one holds dear. it is a devastating and bone-chilling narrative. it is a tragedy.

gale: i hope you don't think less of me. great ambition should not come at the expense of what you already hold dear. i see that now.

if gale could see himself, he would be horrified at the losses he deemed necessary to get here. he would be horrified at what he’s become.

[amarynthian-chronicles]

May I have this dance?

Sebastian Solace x Reader

"Surely, you must be joking."

"Quite the contrary."

He fiddled with the old gramophone, making a few final adjustments in order to get it to function properly once more. All the while he was casually holding his cigarette with his third hand, elegantly tapping the ash away when necessary.

Sebastian had amassed an impressive collection of vinyl records, arranging them according to his tastes. He had done so in a similar manner with his books and research files. You loved watching him sort out his inventory.

It was so unusually domestic, the mingling scents of coffee and cigarette smoke, the presence of warm blankets and pillows on the sofa he had hauled from an unspecified location in the vast facility. Undoubtedly from various loungers that the scientists would once find comfort in before the breach in security.

You cleared your throat, trying to get his attention once more.

"Seb, be realistic. We cannot dance together. I don't even know how to"

"I am certain the youth refers to this as a "skill issue" nowadays. Painter had discovered a whole thesaurus of modern slang, heaven help us all."

"I am not even going to comment this. My point still stands. Besides, you do not even have legs."

"What I do have is creative solutions to complex problems. We crush obstacles, do we not? Ah, there we go. Good as new."

He placed the needle on a record.

Music. Soft jazz, soothing yet playful, unpredictable in its rhythm, improvising, moving from whimsical and exciting tunes to the more melancholic melodies. In many ways, it conveyed Sebastian's own soul perfectly.

He offered his clawed hand, grinning and waiting for you to inevitably accept his offer. Reluctantly, you accepted.

His tail began to tap in a certain rhythm against the floor, as if setting the tempo you should follow along with the music. Confused, you saw his other two arms approach you, all three serving as if they were makeshift dance partners.

Before you knew it, he was making you move and sway as if you were a combination of a puppet on a string and a music box ballerina. He made you twirl, glide, turn, almost hypnotic.

At a certain point, he snapped his fingers, and suddenly the room was completely dark, save for the lone light of his esca.

"See? You do not need to know where to go or what to do, you are only to follow as I say. Trust me and you will never have to worry about anything ever again."

"Seb, I am tired."

"I am sure we can get a few more pirouettes out of you, pet."

"Well, at least I am getting free cardio training here."

You took deep breaths as your puppet master played with you, demanding yet gentle, firm yet rewarding you with tenderness when it was due. As you were about to collapse, he caught you, pulling you into his lap.

Soft kisses were placed on your head, cheeks and lips.

His body began to sway, akin to the ocean waves, his arms cradling you.

Sebastian was truly like the ocean itself, simultaneously a cooling haven that embraced you in your feverish nightmares and a cold unyielding tomb that one could not escape from. A devil is merely a fallen angel, after all.

You whispered, closing your eyes.

"What will become of us, Seb? We are playing in this illusion, knowing that all of this is ludicrous."

"We live on stolen time. Our old lives are forfeit and we can only move onward. We take, we scavenge, we defy probability itself."

"What are we to each other?"

He combed his fingers through your hair.

"Fleeting hope. The same type that a ghost feels in a house with new tenants, desperately wishing to be seen and heard once more. Even for a final time."

Hot tears ran down your cheeks.

"Hope is such a cruel thing, Seb."

He kissed each tear away, savouring your sorrow.

"We lie in the Abyss. This location defies physics itself, it rebels against every possible known law of water mechanics. So shall we. Doomed to fail, given to death, we shall rise once more, wearing the Reaper's cloak as our own."

[buckets-and-trees]

Talk

Characters/Pairings: Pleasure Dom!Bucky x Female!Reader Word Count: 2k Summary: He's ready to give you everything you want and things you don't even know you need yet.

Content/Concept Warnings: BDSM AU, discussion of BDSM themes, oral (female receiving), praise kink, dirty talk, overstimulation, forced orgasm

Notes: TRIPLE THREAT SUBMISSION for @buckybarnesevents WEEK TWO of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Call You?", my fourth square of @buckybarnesbingo K4 "Kink: Forced Orgasm, and my second square for Connect4 Alternate June-iverse: C2 "BDSM." Also, @biteofcherry, you totally called the BDSM vibes from that little last line tag game sentence I posted the other day - it was this, mwahaha!

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You sat sideways on the couch, your arm draped over the back, legs tucked up comfortably beneath you. He mirrored your position, though with just one leg brought lazily up onto the couch, leaving his impressively thick thighs spread wide, teasing your fantasies.

Indulging fantasy was why you were there in the first place.

And you almost felt like this was any normal kind of Saturday afternoon with the new boyfriend you were eager to crawl into the lap of and be devoured by for the first time.

The setting fit – cozy living room of a sophisticated man’s apartment with leather furniture, modern art on the walls, small but sufficient kitchen, floor to ceiling windows along one side of the room that led to a private balcony, and a door that you knew would lead to the bedroom.

But it was just a little too tasteful to be real.

And he didn’t live here.

It was all designed to make you feel comfortable, an indulgent illusion of reality.

“You’re sure you’re not thirsty?” he asked.

He hadn’t offered anything alcoholic – strictly against policy so you were both sober – but you declined again with a shake of your head.

“Okay,” he said, “but remember it’s my role to make sure you always feel safe and taken care of, and that includes the small things like getting you a drink, and you can change your mind at any point. You’re not a burden. We are here for you and what you want.”

Warmth bloomed through your core – tinged with desire, but mostly just heat that was part comfort and part reticence. You had never taken such a bold measure of self-indulgence or self-care or self-discovery or whatever this could be called. It had taken almost two months for you to get from scoffing at the suggestion to sitting in the room on this couch across from the brunette Adonis who had said to call him Bucky (a nickname – you were asked to give a nickname as well when you registered and had gone with Rio).

“The last thing we should discuss, if you’re ready to move forward, is your safe word.”

“Brazil,” you responded without hesitation.

He smirked, but it was in no way unkind. “Rio and Brazil – I’m sensing a theme.”

“Another thing on the list of dreams to finally indulge,” the words tumbled out of your mouth.

“I hope that’s another thing you’ll choose to pursue.”

You laughed. “God, it’s so weird just how normal all this conversation feels. We just spoke at length about my kinks and limits and now I’m telling you my hopes and dreams. I’ve rarely shared this much of myself to anyone, and certainly not after only knowing them for less than an hour.”

“Well, part of that is that we all feel a little safer exposing ourselves to strangers because they’re not part of our routine,” Bucky said, “but there’s some trust that’s established by the mere act of us talking about your boundaries. It’s certainly a foundational part of the process. This only works when you feel comfortable with me, if you trust me – otherwise you cannot truly submit to me as your dominant in this arrangement.”

You nodded.

“Trust, strong communication – without them, there’s no way I can expect you to reasonably let go of your inhibitions either,” he soothed, moving his hand forward to brush his fingers over yours.

“The world of BDSM and kink is vast, but it shouldn’t be overwhelming. I never want you to feel like you’re an Alice who’s fallen down a rabbit hole and exposed to and expected to navigate the wonderland on your own.”

“I appreciate that. There’s…” you hesitated, but his rapt attention helped you feel like you could continue the thought on the tip of your tongue. “There’s a lot on the internet – a lot that I thought I knew about this stuff, but even just the registration and profile of preferences I had to fill out was pretty illuminating.”

After the basic registration you had been directed to complete an Experience and Curiosity Checklist that walked you through over 250 different activities and indicate whether you had tried it before or not, your pleasure during that activity if you had, and then a ranking of if you would like to try or do it in this setting – from never to need, if each activity was something you would entertain in a consensually forced situation, and if you would give, receive, or were up for both.

“Illuminating, huh?” Bucky grinned.

You felt just a touch of heat rise in your cheeks.

“You’re incredibly smart, and I like that,” he said, his grin turning to a softer smile. “That long and thorough profile? It’s the key to all of this – it’s not only for you, but also for me. I was matched to you ahead of anyone else on our staff. I’ve been preparing for you.”

“Like studying up?” you interjected.

“Of course, and the time we’ve spent up until now talking is for both of us, as well. You have a question you want to ask, something that wasn’t fully clear to you through your own research and filling out the profile. Ask it.” He tapped gently on your fingers, another motion of reassurance, connection.

“Forced orgasms.”

“I’m not surprised you would want to know more about that particular aspect.”

“I get the general concept, but I guess I don’t understand how that translates into practice,” you admitted.

Bucky nodded. “Sex should be engaged in for intimacy and pleasure – sometimes only pleasure, but not all the partners we are involved with are people we would trust to push us beyond our limits – either because a relationship is new, it’s a one-time thing, or because we don’t know how to communicate the limits and boundaries. Just like anything else, sex is a part of our experience as humans that we learn and grow and change with. A forced orgasm is a way to explore pleasure and power dynamics, but there must be that established trust. They can be both physically and emotionally intense because it could be exploring something new or pushing you past limits – you would give up power and be subjected to my whims.”

You took a deep breath and nodded.

“You give up power, but not safety – that’s important for you to remember. You always have your safe word or tap me three times if you can’t speak, I’ll always stop immediately. Forced can also be a specific part of roleplay scenarios. We can discuss it more, but I think you ought to experience it. Do you think we’ve built enough trust for us to begin?”

“Oh, now?”

“Yes, now, or we could talk more before we begin, we could talk and do nothing more tonight, or you could leave now and go think before your next appointment.”

You bit your lip, but only out of concentration for deciding, not out of nerves.

“What do you want?” he asked patiently.

“I want to begin the physical experience.”

“That kind of specificity will be rewarded, Rio.”

You grinned.

“You didn’t mark this very high on your profile, but I think you’re going to find out you have quite the praise kink.”

You half-gasped and half-giggled, surprised that he would say something so bold and yet also not.

“Strong independent woman like you? High achiever, determined. You’re not vain, and you don’t chase it, but you like recognition outside the bedroom, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“You’ll love it here, too, doll.”

You pressed your thighs closer together. A slow undercurrent of desire had been present since the night began, but as things began to transition, your core was beginning to thrum with anticipation.

“Bucky?”

“Yes?”

“Before we get started, I – well – just – thank you for not asking me why I decided to come here.”

“You didn’t ask me why I chose this profession. It might be oversimplification to say we’re both here because we want to be, but that’s the bottom line, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Know there will never be an ounce of judgment here – not for your desires, your kinks, your fears, your motivations. Don’t worry about doing anything wrong in there – we’ll be learning what your body wants together. You need to stop, we stop. You need to pause, we pause. You want to go slow or try something again or from a different angle, you tell me. Deal?”

“Deal.” God, he made you feel like the world was at your feet even though you were surrendering to him.

He stood up and pulled you with him. “One more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“In there, you call me ‘sir,’” he said. He brought your hand up and placed a whisper of a kiss on the inside of your wrist.

Everything in you melted instantly and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

“You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smirked.

You knew he was going to ruin you.

You knew this, you knew you were ready and eager, and yet you also could tell nothing in your life had quite set you up for what you were about to experience if he had you pliant and nearly pleading for him after that mere gentle touch.

“Why don’t you head to the bedroom, I’ll give you a few minutes to get comfortable, and then I’ll come in.”

Two hours later, you were a writhing mess on the mattress, completely naked and splayed out for him while he was still fully clothed. His head was buried between your thighs, your hips firmly in place by his left arm pressing down on your pelvis. The fingers of his other hand were buried in your cunt, stroking the sensitive spot on your inner wall slowly and torturously – because every sensation down there was too much now.

He had traced his fingers over every inch of your limbs, teased your nipples, stroked your neck, ghosted his hands over your hips, teasing until you were pleading for him to touch your pussy.

He had told you once he started, he wouldn’t stop.

You knew he wasn’t lying, but you had never known an experience like this.

He had edged and denied your first orgasm until you were desperate and crying. The ultimate bliss had been blinding. He had praised you, told you your first orgasm with him had been truly beautiful, and your back had actually arched at his words, an inner keening. He’d been right about that kink.

And then he’d been nothing but relentless, bringing you to the edge and back again, then hurtling you over numerous times, with only brief moments of reprieve before torturing you with his lips, teeth, and tongue, with his hands, and with his words. Filthy promises of things he would do, dangled your fantasies in front of you, teased out admissions from you of even darker desires he as he presented new options you’d never considered, all the while pushing you into orgasm after orgasm. You keened and cried.

It was too much, and you told him so.

He disagreed, coaxing that you could give him another, and another.

“Sir,” you sobbed, “sir, stop, I can’t.”

Now the crying was continuous, and those were the only four words you seemed to be able to utter. When it devolved to only hitched breaths and sirs, Bucky slowed and stopped.

“Do you remember your safe word?” he asked.

“Yes,” you rasped.

“And?”

“I didn’t say it.”

He chuckled. “Just checking, Rio.”

“I know it’s Brazil! Break over, keep going.”

“It’s the endorphins – even though the overstimulation is there and it’s uncomfortable, the high with the endorphin release through the pain is its own trip, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, now keep your word and don’t stop until I’m utterly broken,” you whined, wiggling your hips as much as you could manage.

His low laugh made you shiver. “You’re going to be one of my favorites, I can tell.”

And then he pressed firmly on that spot inside of you and sucked hard on your clit in one sudden moment and ripped another orgasm and scream from you as you twisted one hand in the sheets and tugged his hair with the other, not ready to stop yet. He was as addictive as he was relentless, and you were not going to leave an ounce of this unexplored, and this was only the beginning.

READ THE SEQUEL: FEEL

End Notes: I feel like I knew some of the basics when it comes to BDSM and some of my fics have had BDSM elements, but I did a fair amount of research because I didn't want to do any disservice to the what a healthy relationship exploring BDSM might look like. This is one take. I found some very helpful insight at theduchy.com (specifically their BDSM Experience and Curiosity Checklist) and an article Bustle published by two sex educators that took a very straight-forward approach in discussing some of the basics. I'd go so far as to say there things that I learned or had reaffirmed or got better language/theory about by studying about BDSM that I think should just be base safe sexual practices (around consent, boundaries, exploration, trusting your partner, etc).

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[reticent-writer]

Blood demon art: Plants P1, P2, P3, P4, P5, P6(current)

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

"Ow, oooow." You whined as you rolled on your back clutching the arm. You healed almost instantly but unfortunately you don't get hurt often and don't have a tolerance for pain.

"There you are Y/n. What's seems to be the matter." He carefully picked you up and examined you.

"My arm and leg were broken. Its fine now."

Setting you on his hip he went to check on the others. The train was a complete mess. Passengers were crawling out from the reck confused as to what just happened.

The boar man and yellow guy helped the injured.

there's another demon, far off into the wood but coming fast. You could sense it.

Hanafuda was on his back barely breathing.

"You've mastered total concentration constant, that's quite impressive."

As Rengoku helped Hanafuda the demon came closer and closer. He was now close enough to be recognized.

"AKAZA!" You jumped out of Kyojuro's arms just as he sensed him too.

Rengoku pushed you behind him. Akaza went after Hanafuda, but Rengoku stopped him by slicing his arm. Behind Rengoku you were closing Hanafuda's wounds.

You knew someone was going to die now that he showed up.

"why would you go after a wounded person first over me."

"I thought he would get in the way of our little chit-chat is all."

"What is it that you would like to discuss. While this is our first-time meeting, I already dislike you." Rengoku said with a straight face. You would've laughed if not for the current situation.

"Is that right? Well, I dislike weak human beings. The mere sight of them makes my skin crawl."

"If that is the case, I do not believe that we will ever get along."

"Be that as it may let me make you an offer. Why don't you become a demon as well."

"No thanks." Rengoku said, straight forward as always.

"I can tell just by looking at you that you're strong. A Hashira Huh. So that's who's been looking after Y/n all this time. Your fighting spirit has been tempered like quality steel. Your name?"

"I'm the flame hashira, Kyujuro Rengoku."

"I am Akaza as you may already know. Kyojuro, despite being a Hashira your strength is not enough because your merely human is destined to grow old and eventually die. Become a demon Kyojuro, doing so will allow you to better yourself for a hundred maybe two hundred years." Akaza waisted his breath trying to persuade the purest human you've ever met.

"Both growing old and passing away, these are things that make being human beautiful. Those may seem like weaknesses to you, but our lives are all the more precious and honorable because of them. You see true strength does not refer to the physical body. This boy is not weak, don't insult him. Let me be clear, the two of us will never see eye to eye no matter what twisted reason you give. I will not yield."

To Akaza his speech meant nothing but to you, it opened your eyes even wider. You already knew that the human was fighting for their lives against the demons but the conversation between Akaza and Rengoku showed you the big difference between demons and humans.

Demons don't die unless they are killed, Humans die regardless, and yet they still fight to preserve whatever life they have.

Your father was once Human, is he scared to die? Is this why he's been trying so hard to find the blue spider lily. Your father may be a demon, but he is afraid of death just like a human.

"I see. Technique development: Destructive death compass needle." Akaza got into his signature fighting stance. "I guess I'll just have to kill you then."

-----

They both were so fast, you couldn't keep up with it. From the looks of it neither could Hanafuda.

'oh right hanafuda' His wound wasn't fully closed yet he was still trying to move.

"You shouldn't move yet." You warned him, he didn't listen.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"But you're not!"

He tried to get up again as the boar head was ready to fight too.

"Stay there!" Rengoku scared all three of you. "You can't reopen that wound of yours it'll kill you. Let Y/n heal you." Even midbattle he is looking after others.

"Y/n healing a human. What have you done to them, they never cared before." Akaza's attacks were relentless you wanted to go and help but what could you do.

You've never been in a fight before and you don't take pain well. You could only watch as you healed hanafuda.

You couldn't bare to watch it anymore, even when the battlefield grew quite.

"I will see my duty fulfilled. No matter what it takes no body will die here." Rengoku was tired and you could tell, that was it.

Smoke clouded your vision as Hanafuda shielded you.

The smoke started to clear and Rengoku could be seen with a pained expression.

"Ren-" Akaza punched him straight through the stomach. "No." You muttered.

Even with all his injuries he still tried to cut off Akaza's head.

Hanafuda acted quicker than you, running to grab his sword.

"What should I do?"

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

*this action will have consequences*

Tag list: @american-idiot21, @unhappy-filling, @lenasvoid, @abbylouamanda

[angel-princess-anna]

Tributes to Maggie from the Downton Cast and Crew (Part 2):

Part 1

Hugh Bonneville (in addition to his previous comment):

Elizabeth McGovern:

Joanne Froggatt: "Today we lost a true legend. It’s hard to find the words to pay tribute to the iconic Dame Maggie Smith. I shared a screen with her on very few occasions but was fortunate enough to be in her company on many. She truly was a trailblazer, with the sharpest wit, the greatest talent, the naughtiest sense of humour, she was a force to be reckoned with. She had a charisma that you felt would live for ever (in many ways it will) and underneath all of that a huge heart. Thank you Maggie, for always being supportive and kind to me, for putting many a smile on my face with that sharp wit that no one could match, and for showing the rest of us just how it’s done.

Rest in peace Dame Maggie, my thoughts are with your beautiful family. 🖤"

Lily James:

Tom Cullen: "I remember a very specific part of the conversation Maggie and I were having when this photo was taken. Maggie had been doing a big and challenging scene where she is reunited with her old flame played by Rade Serbedzija. I was stood at the back, out of frame and able to observe these incredible actors at their work. But for whatever reason Maggie felt like she wasn’t getting the scene right. Maggie took the smallest moment, came back and next take, simply, effortlessly, delivered a masterclass. She was extraordinary. The director called “cut” and we moved on. I was spellbound. During our conversation at the window, I asked Maggie what she did in order for her to so swiftly and precisely produce such an elevated performance. I remember her looking me in the eye and saying “Oh darling! I was just holding in a fart!”. I remember us both bursting out laughing. I really wished that she had been just holding in a fart but of course that wasn’t the real truth, the real truth was that she worked tirelessly her entire career to make that scene look easy.

I only worked with her for a short while, but I feel so blessed to have had that experience. She was tough, demanded the best but making Maggie laugh felt like winning the lottery.

My heart goes out to her family, friends, her Downton family and all those she touched with her sharp, agile and acerbic brilliance.

We lost an absolute giant today 💔"

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Tom Cullen (@tom_cullen)

Lesley Nicol: "It's a very close group of people so we're all devastated to think she's not around any more.' [...] "I'd never worked with someone of that calibre, and I thought, I don't know what I'll say to her, it will be really tricky, God she'll probably be really grand. She was not looking for anyone to be scared of her, or in awe of her, she just wanted to be in the gang [...] she was in with the crowd, and just very happy to be part of it all."

Jeremy Swift: "An honour to serve you Maggie."

Lady Carnarvon: "I never saw her on set with a little script, she knew it before she got here [to Highclere]. She worked so hard, to get up at silly o' clock... and to wear corsets for hours on end." [Highclere Castle's post]

Harriet Walter: "She was a true comedian, but also I've seen her playing some incredibly heartfelt, deep, sad roles, which is the huge range of an actress like her. If she was merely funny or merely tragic, she wouldn't quite have made that sort of impression."

Anna Mary Scott Robbins: "I C O N 🤍 Oh Maggie you will be missed 💔"

(special thanks to @lovelikewildness for helping to compile)

[lefaystrent]

Distractions

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: all-star cast of platonicness

Summary: The light sides are in a sad state of affairs. The dark sides are pretty good at offering distractions.

-------------------------------------------------------

Logan sits on the living room couch, head in his hands, slumped in defeat. Despair. Failure.

He's slightly jostled by someone else sitting on the couch.

"Aliens aren't real," comes Virgil's voice, definitive and assumedly directed at Logan.

Logan lifts his head enough to check. His glasses have made a mighty impression into his forehead but he doesn't move to adjust them. Virgil is very nearly glaring at him.

"Virgil, you yourself have created power point demonstrations centered around the validity of aliens. Since when has your opinion changed?"

"Since now. Fight me, nerd."

Logan leans back a little to properly look at Virgil. He could be mistaken for fuming, the way his jaw is set and the fire burning in his eyes. But no, he is merely adamant to rile Logan up. To what end though?

"Are you...challenging me to a debate?"

Virgil gives a sharp-toothed, satisfied grin. He is willing to play devil's advocate for a good cause.

***

"Hey, wanna dance?"

Roman windmills his arm in the direction of the sultry voice that whispered in his ear. The faint smell of garlic wifts in his nostrils, followed by a gleeful chuckle.

"Remus!! Get out of my room!"

Remus rolls back on his heels. He folds his arms behind his back and looks into the air, a thoughtful hum on his lips.

"Hmmm, how about no?"

"Leave! Out you pest!"

"Make me!"

"You would force the hand of your own brother?" Roman says far too seriously, and Remus gives him an unimpressed stare. "...yeah, you're right, this is very on brand for you. I don't know why I'm acting surprised."

Remus shrugs and throws his hands up in the air. "Alright, if you're done bothering me–"

"You're the one who came in my room!"

"I've got better things to do than listen to you whine, Prince Poopy Pants."

Remus goes to stride out the door. Roman watches him, arms crosses and fingers tapping impatiently on his elbow, haughty expression that says he's one push away from snapping.

Remus pauses at the door.

Roman doesn't have time to anticipate.

Remus snatches up one of Roman's Pop figures off his bookshelf and flees the scene. Roman exits stage right in pursuit, screaming.

***

"You can't stay in bed all day."

"Watch me," Patton says, a pout in his voice. He's buried under blankets with only his hair sticking out at the top.

Janus clicks his tongue and scratches at Patton's scalp. It's less effective with gloves on, but Patton allows the contact.

"Or do, I certainly won't judge you," Janus says flippantly.

Patton whines into the mattress, "That implies that someone is judging me."

"I didn't say that. Did I say that?"

"Janus!" Exasperrated, Patton tosses down his blankets enough to reveal his rumpled onsie and impressive bedhead. He stops when he sees what sits on the bedside table that wasn't there before.

"You never came down for breakfast this morning," Janus explains. "Not that I care or anything. There were just so many pancakes leftover that it would be a shame for them to go to waste."

Patton eyes the tray and the stack of syrupy pancakes. His lip wobbles a little. "You brought me breakfast in bed?"

"Don't get used to it."

Patton finds the will to smile and tucks into breakfast. It tastes freshly made and sweet.

[snapeaddict]

A teacher's trick

For @mmad-lover <3

"I must say, I was quite surprised. The level of precision was that of a third-year; and it was brewed by an average student at best, Miss Ladislaw. Clearly, the discussion we had two weeks ago made a lasting impression. The girl has potential, and it pains me to admit it as I usually have a keen nose for those students with probable skills - I shall keep a close eye on her."

Minerva smirked slightly, although her expression also had something of that motherly fondness one finds in older people's faces as they listen to naive statements from their younger counterparts. That particular smile did not last long, however. She knew Severus would not appreciate what he would qualify as a "patronising attitude" - or what was it that he had said last time? - "ageist condescension". She had not taken it well; then Albus had looked at her with the very same expression, and told her she should know better than to lecture someone who was no longer a student. His amused eyes above the half-moon glasses, the slightly raised eyebrows... yes, Severus might have had a point after all. He was 24 already...

"And what is it that you told Miss Ladislaw two weeks ago?" she asked, her tone as neutral as could be.  

The Potions Master slightly shrugged his shoulders.  

"Merely that I thought she could achieve a satisfactory grade if she applied herself, and that her needing to work harder than some of her classmates for the same results should not hinder her from trying."

Minerva smiled again, then immediately took a sip from her teacup to hide it, pursing her lips.  

"Well, it makes perfect sense." She couldn't help herself.

Severus raised an eyebrow.  

"You told the girl you believed she could do well. You might as well have given that kind of student a bottle of Felix Felicis - it yields the same results."

"We are talking about a student who successfully brewed a Wiggenweld potion, not a Draught of Living Death."

"You understand my meaning."

Severus sighed, although he bowed his head slightly.

"We cannot go about telling every student such things hoping it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I would not have said it to half of them. If I had, it would not have been more than a white lie. All I can do is make sure they pass - I am no miracle worker."

"Oh, I don't know. It seems to be exactly what those new educative methods are about... you know, from the last board meeting. I thought..." She stared at him, then looked away, lowering her eyes. "I thought I could certainly incorporate some of them into my teaching. Be a bit more mindful. I am rather old-school, I'm afraid."

Severus kept looking at her. Then he simply replied, well after she had averted her gaze:

"We cannot be parents, Professor."

Minerva wondered if his momentary defeated expression had more to do with the immensity of the task at hand - to work at Hogwarts, one had better not gauge the assignment too closely - or with his own mixed feelings towards teaching. She thought it a little paradoxical how unforgiving he was with regard to academics, while he would go out of his way to try and fix things he could never fix, like broken homes and intra-student hierarchy. He was, it had to be said, an unforgiving teacher and a surprisingly supportive Head of House; Albus would certainly provide a satisfactory analysis for such behaviour, although a little too Lacanian to her liking.  

She poured him another cup of tea, which he accepted with a slightly embarrassed nod of the head. The friendliness between them was new and ever fragile. In its present state, it was a succession of extended hands quickly taken away when glares of suspicion, or the occasional snide remark, emerged again.

But she was trying, truly. This evening, she had originally planned, was to further their mutually beneficial relationship.

"You should not be so reluctant to make use of that Pygmalion effect, you know, Severus. It did yield great results with you."

He stared at her, looking genuinely surprised.  

"With me?" he repeated, the intonation quite unlike him.  

"If you recall, you were not very fond of Transfiguration as a boy."

"I shall make no comment on the subject."

His voice was rather cold.  

"You need not justify yourself", Minerva replied gently. This time, she held his gaze. "I know you had your reasons, all of them justified."

You did not feel safe, she wanted to add, but she said nothing. As usual, another thought rushed to complete the former - does that justify anything?  

She knew he would never claim that it did; although they had never brushed the subject, Albus had made no indication that the boy made any connection at all between the bullying, and his joining You-Know-Who. No, it was her; she made a connection. She saw a pattern, some kind of single path he was made to follow, perhaps a personal failure. It was in her nature to self-scrutinise when and only when she formed a bound - empathy enabled introspection as readily as dislike blinded her to any conclusions she might have previously drawn.

She was startled when he spoke:

"Not all of them, no."

She looked at him confusedly.  

"I beg your pardon?"  

"Not all my reasons for disliking Transfiguration were sound", Severus elaborated, smirking slightly.

She stared at him for a second. It was as if he had guessed...?  

"It was too much like muggle magic", he continued, purposely ignoring her expression. "Put a poor rabbit in a black hat; it is transformed into a dove. The coin disappears and reappears. You pull out metres of tissue from the magician's pocket. It seemed to me this was all that this was - magic tricks."

This time, Minerva was fully shaken out of her daze. She looked frankly scandalised.

"Magic tricks!" she repeated, her right hand on her heart. "Tricks!"  

Severus seemed to enjoy her half-genuine, half-theatrical display of indignation. He continued, sipping his tea with exaggerated nonchalance:

"I thought it horrendously inelegant. Turning animals into glassware while we brewed potions the colour of the starry sky... While we learnt to bottle things without essence... "

"I beg your pardon, no matter how you put it, it still is soup you are making down there", she cut sharply.

The Slytherin narrowed his eyes. "Now, Professor, you do not want me as your enemy", he said slowly, putting down his cup in the middle of the English porcelain before him.  

"Oh, but I do", Minerva replied in a syrupy tone. She put down her own cup with every bit of nonchalance he had just displayed. "Potions are just large soups. That is, boiling water with things you put inside of it."

"Transfiguration is but a distraction for children at a garden birthday party."

"... While their parents bake the birthday cake by throwing ingredients into a big bowl in the right order, which is what you do, if I am not mistaken."

Severus raised his eyebrows, now looking amused and somewhat surprised. He thought of a few bitting comebacks - some that he would not have shied away from using a few years later - but hesitated for a second. This was, after all, still his former professor...  

"Well, Severus? I am sure you of all people have a witty reply to offer. You are a man of many talents."

This was enough to stimulate a formidable combination of those replies he was pondering upon - something to do with Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, its first principle, the impossibility of conjuring up food, the birthday cake, screaming children, ethical considerations about vanishing said children, and a muffling draught. He was about to speak; then, Minerva's words reached him fully. "You are a man of many talents."

He closed his mouth, smiled slightly, then nodded, all without a word.  

You are a boy of many talents, Severus. Be sure to remember this next class.  

"Pygmalion effect", Minerva said, leaning back in her seat. She clasped her fingers, smiling pensively. "You did so well that next Monday. You transformed that match into such a beautiful flower - truly the most remarkable one I had ever seen. I brought it to Pomona, I remember. She said it looked like a Lotus, Bleeding Heart, and Edelweiss had been bred together; it did not exist. It was a pure product of your imagination."

Severus frowned, although more from concentration than annoyance.  

"I barely remember".  

"You got an O. I cannot tell you how frustrated I was that you only got an E for your O.W.Ls. The only one! Nine 'Outstandings' in all other subjects!"  

Severus gave her an ironic look.  

"I am sorry to have disappointed".  

She rolled her eyes. "Do not put words into my mouth. Look", she added, getting up and circumventing her armchair, "I even took a picture."

She pulled out a drawer from the nearby buffet, then searched through its content for a few seconds, smoothly retrieving a mid-size, cardboard-like paper which she handed to him. Carefully, Severus lowered it down on his knees.

On the top right corner, in green ink, the words "Mr Snape - 1972" were written in the neat, strict handwriting that he had known since his first year, although usually in red. Somewhat clumsily this time - for whatever reason - he turned the paper over. It was, indeed, a picture: that of the flower he vaguely remembered, but now could study plainly, with its long petals and queer tear-shaped extensions right at their extremities. It looked more alien than beautiful, but that was not what his mind was occupied with. Rather, his black eyes scrutinised the background in the picture, clearly that of Minerva's personal desk, which had not changed much since then. His eyes went from the picture to the desk, dimly lit by a few candles at this time of the evening.  

"I wish it could have lasted longer", Minerva said softly, still standing by his side. She had followed his gaze. "It is one of the tragedies of transfiguration - nothing lasts forever."

For a few moments, Severus could not speak. Minerva put a hand on the back of his armchair, looking at him expectantly.

With difficulty, he gathered himself, and finally cleared his throat.  

"I was merely thinking... thinking that if you were to cast a combination of Epoximise and Orchideous spells, and I to brew an Elixir and Revigorating Draught, all of this put to use at regular intervals - it could potentially keep such a flower intact."

Minerva raised her eyebrows, her interest fully sparked. She turned around, searched through the buffet drawer once more, and placed a match in front of him. Her wand was out.

"Brilliant, Severus. What do you say I perform some tricks, and you bring over some soup, so that I can give you another O?

[vagabond-umlaut]

parterre

Lord Nanami is a knight, yes. A very esteemed one at that. But does anyone know he is an impressive gardener too? Well, he is— for he is the one, who caused these many flowers of these many hues to bloom in the landscape of your heart— so much so that you've not the slightest idea on how to manage them all well.

▸ knight!Nanami x lady-in-waiting!Reader; Historical AU; Tons of Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Crushes; Pining [is it mutual, however?]; Jealousy; Misunderstandings; Teasing; Did I already say this is so sweetly fluffy, you might end up with cavities? Oh. Okay. Cool :); Reader is so terribly down bad for Nanami, it's become a matter of mild concern; She is called a harmless little nickname by the princess here; THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN AS A LITTLE CELEBRATORY GIFT TO NANAMI NATION, AFTER THE FEAST THAT JJK 2.12 WAS FOR Y'ALL ;))

▸ Behold, the thesis I mentioned to you last night, Julie my sweetest pie. 🤭🤭🤭 Hope you'll enjoy reading this! 🫶🫶 @nanamikentoseyebags

▸ I don't own the characters or image used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. Enjoy reading! ❤️

Nanami Kento is no simple man. He is one crafted wondrously by the heavens. A veritable evidence, if there ever were any, of the existence of some greater being— powerful enough to make a man such as the knight. Merciful enough to make him live in the same time frame and place as you do.

A wistful sigh falls past your lips as you begrudgingly tear your focus away from the training grounds and direct it to the scalding coffee at hand, though it takes but two mere two seconds before you find your eyes darting to the open window yet again– skimming over the many heads out there– wanting to find only one blond head– heart beating far too many beats when you hear the name of its owner being yelled out once again—

The utterance of your title in court drags you away from your frantic search, to the mildly smiling face of the princess: Sleepy, yes– But a lot more awake than she was five minutes ago. You rush to offer her your greetings, only to stop when she lifts a finger and tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed a pinch.

"That was Kento's name being hollered, wasn't it, Petals?"

You aren't certain which infuriates you more— that the princess used your childhood nickname well into your adulthood– or that she called Knight Nanami by his first name, a privilege he is known to grant to a very select few—

Compelling your face to shift into a smile, you nod. "I'm afraid it was, Your Highness."

"And was it yet another lady cheering for his victory in a match, huh?" she queries, kicking the covers off her feet and landing onto the floor with a loud thud. Wincing lightly, you quickly shake your head 'no'.

"It wasn't, Your Highness. The voice sounded much like Lord Haibara."

A quiet hum comes in response to your observation– soon shadowed over by the off-key singing of rather... indelicate songs, you're certain no one of an upbringing as royal and guarded as your princess should know— before the lyrics pause– all of a sudden– the moment she sits down at the table and looks out the window.

At the ongoing duel between Nanami and Geto, swords clanging and their bare chests shining in the early morn sun.

The very sight making every drop of blood in your vessels to rush to your cheeks, flooding them with colour– whilst your gaze roves with no trace of shame over the well-built physique of the solemn blond– lingering in particular on the toned muscle of his arms and forearms, flexing and extending as his fingers grasp the hilt of the weapon and the muscles in his legs strain against the tight fabric of his slacks, as the knight moves in a spell-binding dance of danger and tact against his opponent.

A huff of a chuckle escapes you when the former lands a solid hit on the latter; no one can match him in his prowess at wielding a sword; making a tendril of pride unfurl in the centre of your chest, only for it to shrivel in the heat of envy the princess' chortle ignites in that very same place.

You make no efforts to stop the words tumbling out your mouth next. Nor the tense frown which nestles into your tinted lips, throwing your face into lines and ridges.

"Is Lord Nanami courting you, Your Highness?"

"What!?!?" Not even an instant elapses before the exclamation leaves your listener. You continue, pretending to be unperturbed by the way innumerable shades of shock and incredulity colour her countenance.

"I mean, you call him by his first name, and he too does the same for you. Besides, the both of you have often been spotted to be strolling in the gardens together, easily chatting and smiling... not to mention the ball held last winter solstice when you two entered the ball, side-by-side— it is not only me who me who wonders so, milady," you add when you notice her back straigthening and she returning the cup to the saucer, "The court is rife with suppositions, on the nature of your relationship with Lord Nanami."

A beat passes in tense silence in response to your expressed musings— before the hush is disrupted by a very grave-sounding query, from the lady across. "What do you look for in a future life partner, Petals?"

"Me?" you ask, index finger pointed at yourself.

The princess gives a nod. "Yes, you, Your Grace."

Your nose wrinkles at such ill-considered usage of such high-ranking titles— nevertheless, you find yourself brushing those concerns away to mull over much more important matters...

A good while passes before you form a reply. Focus zeroing on a tiny coffee stain on your dress, you begin.

"Someone who is calm and collected, stoic and serious. He should be strong too, not just in brawn but in brain and matters of heart as well. He must be strict and disciplined, but must have a gentle, caring side to him too. Won't hurt if he's a traditional romantic, giving me flowers and sweet compliments instead of the terrible comments men say to the ladies these days. And..."

You trail off, losing yourself in your mind, before resuming, in a muted murmur this time, "It might be really nice if he lets me be of those few who can call him by his name– and he becomes comfortable enough, to call me by my name. And accompany me on walks in the garden in the afternoons. And perhaps, even, ask me to the balls where we may wear matching outfits, and present ourselves as a couple before all."

A hand comes to rest over your folded ones. You look up to find a bit too wide smile resting on the princess' lips. She offers your hands an easing squeeze.

Little does she know it does little to ease your turbulent emotions— a feeling which worsens with the observations she voices to you next.

"I was terrified your beautiful mind was tainted by the disease of idle inquisitiveness, as happens to most in this world with age, you know," she hums, standing up and making you sit in her chair, "I'm very glad to conclude, that's not quite the case. However– I cannot say your so lovely mind is disease-free either, my sweet Petals."

Your brows gather together in confusion as you peer at her, eyes in a narrow stare. She continues– smile growing a touch of tenderness.

"Your mind has been afflicted with the awful ailment of lovesickness. And–" she says, putting greater emphasis on her syllables, when you attempt to protest her statement, "it is usually incurable, unless very great feats of bravery are performed by the patient themselves, or in the off-chance, the fates decide to be helpful and the person behind the mess makes the first move— but I must say, Your Grace, you are very lucky to have me as your consulting physician— for I know what will provide you interim relief until either of them happens— want to know what it is?"

You take a moment to consider before returning a slow, unsure nod.

The princess beams. "It's the knowledge of the fact, there's someone who matches every criteria you mentioned, to a T— and that– he has his eyes reserved for none, except one beautiful lady-in-waiting, who stares at the training ground from the windows of the princess' room every single morning— looking as fresh and vibrant as the nickname, the princess insists on calling her."

Your friend pauses for a beat— not that you really notice it over the thrum of your blood in your ears and your heart in your chest— she inquires, "You understood the prescription, didn't you, Petals?"

A high-pitched squeal– so unseemly, so embarrassed, so jubilant– is the only response you manage, retreating into the cushion, hiding the warmth of your face and the stretch of your smile behind your palms.

▸ masterlist

[throughgoalsandbaskets]

A Demon's Guide to Anthropology 1

It baffles me that I haven't seen any of something like this much, at least on Tumblr, so I'm making a mini 5 part series on Mammon (possibly others if someone wants me to) reacting to different human habits and such!

Please don't rush me on this series, though, I'm very busy with both school and providing for my family and will have irregular posting schedules :(

Part 1: RAIN

Word count: 636

Tags: Mammon's POV, use of 'MC' and they/them pronouns, more focused on Mammon's reaction to humans being able to smell rain, brief cursing and brief blood mention, rushed!!

★ ——— —— —

Humans were weird, it was a bit of common knowledge between the realms.

Michael was an asshole, Diavolo laughs a lot, and humans were strange. It was a fact at this rate, anyone— demon, angel, reaper, witch, or otherwise can tell you that much.

Mammon supposes he shouldn't have forgotten it, and honestly he didn't, in the beginning he just didn't care enough to take much note of it, considering MC was still settling down and that shady sorcerer didn't live under the same roof as him.

It took a week for the first thing to be noticed by him. Four days after the pact with MC was made, with not a cloud in the sky, they both were sat in the living room tying their shoes to head off to R.A.D.

Something important to note, Mammon is certain, is that demons had impressive noses.

Sure, not 'smell you from a thousand miles away' type noses, but sniffing out pheromones, blood, and a person's scent was common. Easy, natural.

Even angels were rather impressive with their noses, and honestly most creatures were. Well, he thought it was most creatures, at least. Humans didn't seem to so easily smell these types of things. Though he hadn't been around humans for far too long, that was something he could easily remember.

"C'mon," MC reminded Mammon, standing up.

"We'll be late unless you hurry up."

"Yeah, yeah, 'm comin'," Mammon merely grumbled in response, rolling his eyes and standing up and following the human out.

They make it to the door, opening it, and Mammon squirming his way past MC to step out first. MC, on the other hand, pauses once they're stepped out, eyes narrowed. Of course, Mammon doesn't notice at first as he begins walking.

"Wait," they say, causing Mammon to groan and turn around, looking at them.

"It's gonna rain soon."

Mammon raises a disbelieving eyebrow, deadpan expression turning to the clear sky, then back to the human he accompanied.

"Uh huh. What makes ya say that?"

MC's eyes narrow further.

"I smell it."

It's quiet for a moment, then another, then another, before Mammon bursts into laughter. The kind that leaves anyone heaving and clutching their stomach, knees bent and tears filling your eyes.

"I'm serious!" MC's voice is a little closer, and Mammon looks up to see them holding an umbrella, enchanted to withstand most kinds of dangerous Devildom weather.

Mammon laughs again when he sees them with the umbrella, reminded of the absurdity of such a situation.

A human smelling the weather? Smelling the rain? He couldn't help the cackling that he devolved into, howling away at the humor of such an outlandish claim.

MC whacked him over the head with the umbrella, and though it didn't hurt, he still jokingly replied with an 'ow' before standing on shaking knees. He glared playfully, and the mortal stuck their tongue out with a glare in response.

Heading to R.A.D., the topic of MC supposedly smelling rain was dropped, the two parting to their separate classes, and Mammon eventually forgetting all about it thanks to being entangled with his brothers, witches demanding debts be paid, and complaints being had about his kleptomania.

When he met up with MC for lunch, he noticed them shooting a knowing glance towards Solomon, the other human exchange student, who also coincidentally had an umbrella. It was bizarre, and the way that the occasional student glanced at them made it clear nobody else understood why the humans needed umbrellas.

Until school ended and many people were burdened with the troubles of rain, both humans having predicted the occurrence.

Mammon couldn't wrap his head around it, but after three more instances of this occurring, made sure not to underestimate the humans and their weather-predicting snouts.

[666writingcafe]

Conspiracy

Simeon

This is wrong. How is any of this deemed acceptable?

Ever since my and Luke's return to the Celestial Realm following the announcement of an indefinite postponement of the opening ceremony for Diavolo's school, these thoughts have been constant in my head.

You see, Father feels like the brothers haven't been punished sufficiently enough for defying Him. It's not enough for them to merely be cast down to the Devildom. In His eyes, they don't deserve the opportunity to live a happy life down there. He'd much prefer to personally torture them for the next millennia or so before casting their souls down in Cocytus for all of eternity.

So, He gave Michael permission to do whatever it takes to get the brothers back up here. Michael decided that the easiest way to convince them to leave the Devildom would be by telling them that we're willing to pardon them for their digressions. And since Michael's presence down there would make the brothers highly suspicious, he's planning on taking on the form of Raphael during his trip. After all, most of the brothers are scared of Raphael, so they'd do anything to avoid his wrath.

And guess whose responsibility is it to make sure that Michael's impression of Raphael is pretty much perfect?

Fucking Raphael. How dare he put this on my plate?

I've been disgusted with myself this entire time. Father is literally having us break one of His commandments for what? Petty revenge? What happened to "love thy neighbor"? Did Lucifer wound His pride so severely that He's forgotten how to act?

And the worst thing about all this is that I am powerless to stop it. As it is, if anyone found out I was questioning His will, I might as well be joining the brothers in Cocytus. I'm already on thin ice as it is due to me keeping vital information about the brothers from Him before and during the war.

And somebody has to take care of Luke. I don't trust the others to keep him from harm's way. They'd exploit his innocence for their own selfish needs, and I won't allow that to happen.

So I've kept my objections to myself. Through Michael's training, through my return to the Devildom to deliver the message to Diavolo about "Raphael's" arrival, and through this stupid meeting in the prince's home office. In His eyes, I'm behaving like the perfect angel, blindly doing what I'm told.

And then I made the mistake of making eye contact with Zephyr. It's only momentary, and yet time seems to slow down to a crawl.

I can't have them disappointed in me. We didn't talk a whole lot during my initial visit, but I know that they have a strong moral compass. They'd reject me if they found out that I kept this from them.

Before I can question my emotions too much, the meeting ends, and the six of us--Michael, Lucifer, Diavolo, Barbatos, Zephyr, and myself--walk out of the office and make our way down the hallway. Zephyr and I trail behind the others.

I have to move quickly. Before I change my mind and before anyone notices.

There's a nearby door that's slightly ajar. Perfect.

I quickly grab Zephyr and drag them inside the room, making sure to reposition the door back to where it was as to not cause suspicion. The second they make noise, I cover their mouth with my hand. Their eyes widen as I begin listening for returning footsteps.

Thankfully, no one comes to investigate.

"Will you remain quiet if I remove my hand?" I whisper urgently. Zephyr nods their head. Sure enough, they don't begin screaming for help when I let go.

"Good sheep," I murmur, mentally smacking myself when I fully register what left my mouth. Zephyr remains silent. This room is rather small. Did I shove the two of us in a closet?

Oh, this isn't good. I can already feel myself begin heating up, and I'm pretty sure it's not just due to the cramped space we're in.

"Listen carefully, because I'm only going to be able to say this once," I quietly tell them. Another nod. "It's a trap. They're not getting pardoned. You have to do everything in your power to convince them to stay here." Zephyr tilts their head and looks contemplatively at me. Are they questioning my intentions?

A moment later, they softly smile at me.

"Don't doubt yourself," they whisper softly. "You're doing the right thing." They gently push the door open again, allowing me to leave the room first.

I needed to hear that.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Hi there! I wanted to say your art is absolutely incredible and always brings me back to Elden Ring when I forget just how amazing the game is. I live for your depictions of Marika.🥹

I was partly just curious after you posted the recent family tree, is there a reaspn Ranni and Radahn don't make as much of an appearance in your drawings? What is your thoughts on their questline/storyline in general?

Thanks for all the cool art, you're getting better with every piece!!

tbh... i think draw Ranni a lot, she's literally the cover of my first fromsoft fanbook 🥲🥲

though most of my art of her is from 2 years ago, i wouldn't say i don't draw her often at all 😭 i've drawn Radahn 4-5 times too. i understand because i draw too much, it's easy to have an impression that i draw some specific characters less, but compared to, say, the Omen Twins or Rykard or Melina (who i keep meaning to draw but haven't got around to do so yet), Radahn and Ranni are two Carian characters i draw the most of that side of the family (well, Rellana is looking to dethrone them soon but you get what i mean aksfkjdfkj)

Radahn dudebro fans keep pointing fingers saying i hate him but i actually like him. as a guyfailure that is so obsessed with these symbols of a Lord in his father and Godfrey, yet failed to live up to any of them (*stare at that scene of Morgott whooping his ass*). his involvement in the DLC is an interesting spin on things to me, and make a lot of sense in the grand scheme of things (when i saw that we found like... 11 Miquella's Lily in places most personal to Radahn like Carian Manor and Sellia. hoo boy).

lately, i lowkey think Radagon specifically picked him for Miquella and encouraged his obsession with being a Lord. to me at least Radagon is really bitter that Godfrey is the First Lord and not him (her actual other's half! sentenced to live away from her while another man got to be her first in everything! the injustice!), so him not only discrediting Godfrey's descendants (whole thing with Hunters of TWLiD) but also preparing a whole new pair of Lord and God that should have been how he and Marika could have been from the start sounds like the kind of overcompensation he'd be doing (look honey that could be us but you tripping).

so in a way i do feel for Radahan and Miquella falling victims to Radagon's list of issues (though it's only one reason in many other reasons for them to turn out that way ofc. Radagon merely nudges the pieces into certain direction, they go barreling head first down on their own). and i actually like that i could come up with all that thanks to the DLC. imo it actually adds a lot more to Radahn and Miquella's character (depends on how you view the story though whoops).

you can say i like him (and Miq) the way one likes AC6 Iguazu... or Genichiro. the kind of hater characters that are doomed to fail from the start, but they are stubborn and will run head first into the wall again and again. and it's fun to put them in a jar and shake them.

Ranni... after the DLC my feeling for her is a bit more complicated. before i get why she did all those things and i like her story enough, but after the DLC as you see i come to really like Godwyn and links him closely to Marika. so now it's kinda awkward for me to insert Ranni in all the scenarios im drawing lately?

it's not that i stop liking her, it's simply that the scenario doesn't line up for me to add her in that's all. and it goes to other characters i haven't drawn tbh. not because i don't like them, i simply don't have anything in my brain about them to draw out. i don't think there's any characters in Elden Ring i hate tbh (yes i do like even the Hornsents. i find the stories in the scorpion stew and dried flower talisman really somber and give them a lot of humanity too, fucked up rituals aside).

and thank you for your kind words! my editor has been on my ass for a whole year about my art and it does help me improve a lot, im glad to know it shows in the quality of my fanarts as well!

[loveysloveclub]

meeting the freshmen - the man! au

in which, mark and ethan ruin molly's chance of making a good first impression with the new freshmen.

"god! i am so excited!" molly explained as she dropped onto the couch of her new home for her sophomore year of college. the group of sophomores had been back at school for about a week now, and were finally going to be able to meet the new freshmen that would be joining their hockey team.

"why?" ethan scoffed from beside her, engrossed in a game he was playing on his phone. the boys had yet to set up the new television in the sophomore house, so, instead of playing play station like they usually would, they had all downloaded a variety of games on their phone.

"because we get to meet the new freshies." molly stated in a 'duh' tone. mark chuckled at her from across the room, also engrossed on a game on his phone. "you're like the same age as them."

"you're like the same age as them." molly mocked the boy, pulling her own phone out of her pocket to text dylan about how annoying their friends were. "i do not sound like that!" mark exclaimed, offence dripping from his tone.

molly opened her mouth to rebut his claim, but was cut off by ethan. "and stop talking shit about us to duker." ethan butted in, his eyes not leaving his phone screen. "i'm not talking shit about you to duker." molly's phone pinged, the reply from dylan agreeing with her making her laugh loudly.

"yes, you are. you guys always do it." ethan rebutted, rolling his eyes before switching off his phone and sliding it into his pocket.

"can we go? we're gonna be late for bowling." mackie asked, slightly annoyed by his unreliable new roommates. "god forbid we're late for bowling!" molly exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest in faux horror.

mackie raised his eyebrows at the girl. and she suddenly felt as if she was a child being scolded by her parents. "i can't find my shoes." molly told the boy, holding her socked feet up in the air.

"we're going bowling, you don't need shoes." dylan explained as he also walked into the living room, also shoeless. "that's the dumbest thing i've ever heard you say." mark laughed, earning a confused face in return.

"is it though?" ethan asked aloud.

"i'm right here, you know?" dylan threw his arms up. "text molly about it." ethan shot back, a small grin tugging at his lips as he watched the smaller boy begin to get agitated. dylan simply shrugged before grabbing his phone and tapping his fingers against his screen aggressively. mere seconds later, molly's phone pinged with another message.

"dylan wants you to know that your on his shit list and he won't be speaking to you for the rest of the day." she read aloud, eyes flickering over to ethan who was reading the message from over her shoulder.

"molly." luke said, walking into the room with her shoes in his hand before throwing at them, to which molly barely caught without elbowing ethan in the face.

"okay, let's go!" mackie exlciamed, ushering everyone up from their spot on the couch. molly walked at the back of the group, laughing as she watched dylan get a scolding from mackie whilst luke laughed from beside him.

the girl didn't even flinch when an arm wrapped around her shoulder. "omg! i'm so excited to meet the new freshies!" mark squealed in her ear. "they're gonna be sooo cute!" ethan exclaimed from the other side of her.

"i'm gonna glue your dick to your forehead, estapa."

"what about ethan?" mark was offended that he was the only one who was being threatened. "i have much worse things in store." molly huffed before stabbing her now shoed heel into ethan's toes before walking faster to catch up with the rest of her friends.

it was no surprise to any of their former teammates that the group of sophomores were the last ones to arrive to the annual hockey bowling day. the group of six usually spent more time arguing then getting ready and were often late to just about everything.

it was also no surprise that dylan and molly had both gasped upon arrival, talking hurriedly about the bowling place selling slushies and running off hand in hand. the rest of the sophomores didn't even bat an eye as they continued to greet the rest of their teammates.

"you must be luca." ethan stated before doing what molly liked to call 'the douchebag' handshake. all guys did it, she thought it was funny. it was as if it was their love language towards one another. "yeah, and this is my brother adam and rutger and nick." the boys all went down the line doing their weird little 'douche' handshake. if molly wasn't currently overfilling her cup and spilling slushy all over the floor, she would have dropped dead with laughter right in that moment.

"i thought there was six of you?" rutger questioned aloud, his eyes raking the rest of the team for anyone he might have not met. "there is." ethan replied, a devious smirk on his face as he pointed over to the slushy machine where dylan was currently hunched under while molly over filled his mouth with blue ice.

"that's dylan drinking from the machine and the one trying to drown him in blue raspberry slushy is molly." mark told the group, the four freshmen holding back laughs of their own as they watched the duo get in trouble by the worker.

"i wouldn't be laughing if i was you, dylan's nice and all, but molly?" ethan began, a small grin on his lips as he spoke before blowing out a breath of air. the four already nervous freshmen tore their eyes away from dylan and molly to look at the edwards boy. mackie rolled his eyes, not even bothering to attempt to fix the mess they were creating before stalking off some place else.

"what do you mean?" adam asked, his eyes flickering back and forth between the blonde girl and the three boys who stood in front of her. luke had a confused expression on his face whilst mark seemed to understand the game that ethan was playing.

"yeah, molly's real mean until she thinks you're good enough to be friends with her."

"no she's-" luke was cut off when ethan elbowed him in his stomach.

"shit she's coming over. she so knows we were talking about her." mark exclaims. "yeah, she looks pissed." ethan laughed slightly before dragging a still confused luke away from the crime scene, mark following behind the two.

molly had since lost duker, who decided he needed to get something hot to eat since he could no longer feel his tongue. but she couldn't wait to meet her new teammates any longer, so she opted to leaving the numb mouthed boy in the line for food.

she watched with furrowed eyebrows as mark and ethan laughed at something with the new freshmen before stalking off, and dragging luke with them. approaching the four new faces, all of them turned to her with looks she could only describe as concerned.

they looked at her as if they had seen a ghost.

"hello?" her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips were turned upwards. but none of the boys spoke. molly chalked it up to them being nervous.

"slushy?" she asked as she held out the multi coloured liquid. all four boys glanced down at the slushy, "is it poisoned?" one of them asked, eliciting a laugh from the girl. "yeah, i put the rat poison i carry around in my pockets in it when no one was looking. no, you weirdos, it isn't poisoned. why would it be poisoned?"

"mark and ethan said you weren't very friendly." one of them spoke cautiously, earning an elbow into the stomach from his friend beside him. "mark and ethan are also going to wake up with missing limbs." molly grumbled before stomping away from the group of four, leaving them in a state of confusion.

she approached the two laughing sophomores, who were currently talking to their new captain, nolan moyle.

nolan took one look at molly and stood up from his seat. "i don't know what you two did, but i'm not saving your asses again."

mark and ethan's smiling faces dropped when they saw the sour face their friend was pulling. "it was ethan's idea!" mark immediately said when molly stood in front of them. "dude!" ethan shot back, shooting his friend an incredulous glance.

"you told them i wasn't a nice person?" molly exclaimed, her voice hushed to a whisper type of yell to avoid any of their nosy teammates eavesdropping. "we were just joking around. c'mon maxxy, everyone knows you're a nice person." ethan told the girl.

"they don't! they've never met me, and now they think i'm going to poison them." molly had had enough, and opted to saving her breath and not yelling at the two boys in the middle of what was supposed to be a fun day. instead, she stomped over to luke and flopped down on the couch beside him.

"you good, maxxy?"

"i'm calling ethan's mother and telling her he got someone pregnant." molly announced, angrily snatching her phone out of her pocket, only for luke to snatch it out of her hand and shove it in his own pocket.

"the freshmen will figure out you aren't a horrible person, and are only mean 70% of the time." luke shrugged, the statement earning him a slap upside the head.

"i'm never mean."

"yes, you are. but we love that about you, they will too. trust me on this, maxxy." and with that, luke stood up and travelled to the other side of the room, taking molly's phone with him and leaving her to sit there in a state of boredom.

usually, she would be messing around with mark and ethan but they were both on her hit list and it would be a successful day if neither of them went home with a broken foot in the shape of a bowling ball.

"why are you sitting here alone?" her eyes snapped up to truscott, who eyed her suspiciously. "am i a mean person?"

"do you want me to answer that honestly?" he replied, a humorous smile on his face. "you're meant to say, 'no you're perfect molly. we all love you, molly'. not whatever you just said."

"i'm not getting involved." he shook his head before stalking off to ask someone else what had happened.

molly released a huff of frustration, glancing down at her shoes as she clicked the tops of them together. upon hearing multiple pairs of feet approach her, molly lifted her head, expecting to see some of her teammates tell her that it was time to start bowling. she hoped not, she had no faith that her pink bowling ball wouldn't end up flying in the direction of where mark and ethan were sitting, both boys sending her apologetic pouts from across the room. what she didn't expect was to see all four new freshmen towering over here.

the one in the middle, who had long blonde hair and a backwards cap on his head, smiled shyly before holding out a cup full of blue ice. "slushy?"

molly smiled before taking the cup. "i'm luca, this is my brother adam, rutger and nick."

"it's nice to meet you."

"we wanted to let you know that we don't believe what ethan and mark told us." rutger nodded his head in agreement to what nick was saying.

"thanks ladies, i appreciate the gesture." molly smiled up at the group. "even though i have been informed that i can be quite mean, i promise never to be mean to any of you because you're all children."

"aren't we the same age?" adam asked, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "hush now, child." molly held up a finger, silencing the boy.

"yo! freshies, it's your turn!" nolan yelled from across the bowling alley.

"but seriously, thank you." molly repeated, smiling softly at the group of freshmen, who all nodded their heads whilst adorning shared smiles before walking off.

molly released a sigh of relief at the fact that the freshmen were no longer scared that she was going to poison them, leaning back in her seat.

her moment of relaxation was cut off when a body jumped into the spot beside her and a pair of arms wrapped loosely around her neck.

"we would like to formally apologise." ethan began from beside her, pulling on a piece of her blonde hair lightly to get her attention. molly's eyes narrowed, but she made no effort in moving away from the boy or pushing mark off of her.

"continue."

"we shouldn't of did what we did, we thought we were being funny." mark told the girl, his hands fiddling together in front of her face. molly smiled at the nervous action. "and if the freshmen thought we were being serious and do anything to offend you, we'll sort them out. we promise." ethan continued, holding up his pinky finger.

molly slapped his hand away. "you can't do that."

"why not?"

"because i've adopted them all and taken them under my wing. so, that means they're my children and you're not even allowed to look at them wrong."

"is this why you were so excited to meet them?" mark asked as the trio watched from afar as luca and rutger celebrated one of them getting a strike. molly hummed in confirmation, "i didn't have anyone to look out for me my first year, i didn't want them to feel the same." her voice was quiet now as she shrugged her shoulders in an attempt of brushing her feelings off.

"well, now you've got someone. two someones to be exact." ethan cheesed from beside her.

"you guys are still going to wake up with missing limbs and angry phone calls from your mothers."

[r4d1c4lw31rd0]

Unseen Grave (Yandere!Venture x Reader)

My first post and it's about Venture LOLZ- I've never used tumblr before, I kinda just skim through here on occasion for cool art, writing for some of my favorite characters, and headcanons- Sorry if this is bad- This is also on AO3! I don't mind any requests either, can't promise to get to them quickly though-

CW: Minor Character death, implied/referenced past non/con, dead dove kinda, stalking, non graphic violence, skippable NSFW (This isn't non-con), a kinda abrupt ending, OOC Mauga, No use of Y/N, Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Your POV

Where did all of this go wrong? You only ever wanted to live a normal and happy life. Forced into a world of crime, you made it your mission to get yourself and your comrades out of this hell hole. This slimy, sludgy pit you all had seemed perpetually stuck in, but you knew there was better out there. You could all live that lavish and carefree life you always dreamed of, you just had to claw your way to it. So when Mauga approached you, you saw it as an opportunity. Talon spotted your talent, your knack for creating poisons and toxins capable of killing or simple paralysis. Why they sent this big brute you’d never understand.

He held his hand out to you, that devious smirk on his dashing features captivating you like no other, drawing you in like a fly to a honeypot. You couldn’t see the web just inches from it though, nor could you see the spider eyeing you and waiting patiently for you to get stuck in its home. He gave you an offer you simply couldn’t ignore. A whole new identity and payment beyond what you could fathom, more than petty pocket change for simple side hustles, no you’d be playing in the big leagues. If you impressed Doomfist himself enough that is. All you had to do was complete a rather simple task and the position was all yours.

Despite what you’d heard about Mauga, he was quite tricky and conniving with his words. The smartest? Not by a long shot. He couldn’t quite comprehend the big words you used, but he could read you like an open book, and that was enough for him. The smallest twitch or glance was all he needed to know almost exactly what you were thinking and just how much more persuasion you were going to need. A true predator cornering its prey.

If you knew then what you know now, you never would’ve agreed. Then again, Talon may not have let you off the hook so easily. It may have cost you your life. You agreed to the simple mission, poisoning an important political figure and rendering him desperate enough to turn to Talon for a cure. Your unique little toxins could only be cured by you, considering they were abominations to medical science and were something entirely new and original all together. The mere fact that you only had to change one component to make it cause different effects was something you were proud of.

You didn’t doubt yourself in the slightest, so when word of your success was all over the news you felt your pride and ego swell. Doomfist had introduced you into a new world, one where the pay was greater and the tasks were challenging enough for a brilliant mind like yours. Working alongside Dr. O’deorain was fascinating, considering it was she who had inspired you to push the boundaries of the medical world. At the time, Talon seemed like it would give you everything you needed, but blinded by that desire for more and where it could take you you didn’t see it for what it truly was. Just as much of a hell hole as the rest of the world had been.

They squashed your hopes of getting somewhere, of having peace and calm rather than the hustle and bustle of the streets. No, working for them you never knew any kind of peace. A sense of hate began to form inside of you, alongside resentment. Watching them turn your brilliance into mush and treat it as if it was the common whore was devastating. They had the audacity to demand better from you. Working with Talon, you began to develop the belief that a life of crime and hate was your only option, that staying in this pit was the only option for you. The heinous acts you committed just to gain a lick of fortune was the only thing you’d ever be good for. Of course, you blamed Mauga for all of it. He had gotten you into Talon after all with his stupid face and smug words. 

 You had found yourself in some kind of relationship with him. He never said you two were together but he surely acted like it, getting irritable when others flirted with you or tried to ask you out. The relationship hadn't been the best nor the healthiest, but at the time you were just happy someone wanted you and didn't view you as a monster because of things you couldn't control. He called you so many sweet names, complimented you when Doomfist tried to put you down and offered you a place to run to in any time of need. It was all for his own advantage of course, but you didn’t know that. You just knew you could be vulnerable with him. You were unaware that you’d finally crept too close to the spider's web. No, he wasn’t a spider, he was a wolf. And you were a lamb, strayed too far from the safety of the herd and right into the wolf’s den.

Needless to say, he took advantage of you and your trust in him. The whole time you two were entangled in your complex relationship, he was almost always borderline violent with you and was very hot and cold with you, treating you as if you were some kind of dog that needed to be trained. You complied with almost everything he asked of you, and even when you didn't he forced you to anyway. Countless nights you lay next to him feeling used like some cheap toy for a rabid animal, and yet you stayed. Because Talon was all you had. Because he was all you had. No one was coming to save a monster, especially not one as sneaky and atrocious as you.

In the end, when you finally had enough, Mauga broke you down and ripped your heart to shreds. He called you so many awful names, told you how much he despised you and watched you crumble with disgusting glee. It hurt. Even though  he had treated you so poorly, you were still so distraught by his words and callous behavior. The fact that you were readily available for him was the only reason he kept you around, to be a punching bag and plaything when he felt like it. His betrayal fueled a kind of rage you didn’t know you were capable of feeling, and made you realize for the first time that this world was cruel no matter where you looked at it from and you were stuck in an echo chamber of miserable people. Maybe that's why they let you spiral. Used that rage and hurt against you, and made you numb to everything because it was just easier that way. It kept them from picking at your vulnerability any longer, from seeing you as weak..

You weren’t cared for in the slightest at Talon and you were just fine with that. You didn’t need to be babied or coddled anymore than you had when you were first introduced to this raunchy life, especially not by people who were as disingenuous and callous as your “co-workers”. The only one who showed a hint of sympathy or empathy was Dr. Kuiper and Sombra, probably some of the only people in that place capable of expressing such a thing.You couldn’t complain. You  still made money so long as you did what was asked of you and didn’t retaliate when you were degraded for your progress or your work. You were pretty sure things took a turn when you met Sloane, who at the time was “Venture” to you.

Pesky, annoying, and constantly getting in the way of your mission to find some artifact for Doomfist from some kind of ancient gravesite. The two of you were naturally enemies, being on opposite sides and all. And yet they intrigued you. Their happy-go-lucky manner and their quippy remarks as they effortlessly kicked the asses of your useless “assistants” you didn’t understand why Doomfist bothered sending. Truthfully, you could’ve accomplished the mission just as well on your own. You probably would’ve killed them too if Overwatch hadn’t shown up. Just as annoying as ever, they helped finish off the rest of your shitty squad, leaving you running off to hide like a dog with its tail between its legs. That mission you had been left behind, abandoned like an injured pup and left to fend for yourself. Badly injured, you would have cared less if you died. Sitting and stewing in your own misery had made you indifferent to life or death.

Doomfist didn’t want to lose you as an asset, but your location didn’t provide him any opportunity to send you an escape route, so you were stuck slinking about the Petra ruins, avoiding the ever-watchful eyes of Overwatch and the Wayfinders as you waited for your wounds to take you out. You’d only been caught because that insufferable archaeologist found you. You were dehydrated with infected wounds, and even then you still bared your teeth at their approach. They had been on guard at first, but seeing you in such a pathetic state had made them take pity on you, something you hadn’t been gracious enough to receive since you were a child.

Taken to the on-site medical facility, you were put under watch but nonetheless you were cared for. You were unfit to go to jail and serve for your crimes right away, so you were stuck there with the Wayfinders, under their care until you could be sent off. For whatever reason, Venture had stuck with you whenever they could, offering short conversation that was mostly one-sided. You didn’t talk much and only glared, uncomfortable with the hospitality. You would’ve preferred if they were rude to you. It was what you were used to. Three days was all it took for you to finally crack. Three days of consistent visits and kind words. Naturally, you were hesitant. Last time you had opened yourself up you were burnt terribly, and had been several times before. Kindness was a poison to you, and yet they made it so desirable. Their genuinity with it and the way they handed it out so easily had you craving it.

After about a month you had completely recovered, well enough to finally go serve for your crimes. The last day you and Venture spent together, you had taken their hand, feeling its warmth as you pressed a small kiss to the back of it. Their flustered reaction made you laugh for the first time since becoming what you were, and it was warm and joyous.

“Thank you, Sloane.” You whispered, refusing to look at them. You didn’t want them to see you cry. “You’ve been so kind to me, even though I’m so undeserving of it. I wish things were different. I wish we’d met before . . . everything.”

“Not everyone deserves a second chance.” Their words stung, making you shrink in on yourself slightly. “But, you’re . . . different. I don’t think you ever really wanted to do the things you did.”

You looked up at them. They saw you, truly saw you, what you were beneath the muck that had clung to you and thickly coated your skin. Something about the way they looked at you gently made you want to melt and embrace them, but you didn’t, still too timid to trust completely.

“You’re not a bad guy, you were just forced into a shitty situation. Try not to be so hard on yourself.” Their smile wasn’t as wide as it usually was, but it was still filled with just as much charisma and warmth.

Looking back on it, you believe it was this small interaction that led to the actions after. That simple and innocent act of gratitude. If not that, then you weren’t sure what, but you could recall that new glint in their eyes when they watched you get taken away. The way their gaze lingered far longer than it ever had. The way they subtly caressed the hand you kissed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Your time in jail wasn’t bad, made better by the fact that you received letters and small gifts and pictures from Sloane. The letters were innocent to you at the time, but thinking back on it the signs were there. You wrote back, sent small handmade gifts of your own, and kept every picture and ecstatic letter they sent you from each of their journeys that they shared with you. Unfamiliar with the whole concept of having someone truly care about you, you didn’t notice anything weird. You fought a bit with the other inmates who tried their hand at intimidating the newbie, especially with how widespread your reputation had become working with Talon. You had believed yourself doomed to rot there, considering you had attacked several political figures, harmed many innocents, and stolen that much more. You’d also broken Hippocratic Oath and used your research for worse.

 But like some unwanted blessing, you found yourself hightailing it out of there early. Talon had come back for you, after abandoning you for months, and before you would’ve run back to them with open arms. Things were different now though, you had changed for the better and knew going back promised nothing but misery. You ran the second you could, barely escaping but escaping nonetheless. Hiding in a sewer wasn’t ideal but it helped you get away from that prison and away from Talon. The one good thing they could’ve done for you, and probably the last. You knew now though that they would be looking for you. Doomfist would be pissed, knowing he wasted valuable time and resources trying to get you out of prison just for you to run off, but that was his own problem. You never asked for his help, perfectly content with rotting in a cell but now gifted a chance of freedom. With nowhere to go though, you turned to the only person you felt you could trust. The one person who made you feel some sense of normalcy.

Going to Sloane was a huge gamble, considering that you were still a wanted criminal and they were pretty much some kind of vigilante hero type. It took you forever to get to Petra, but you managed, lying in wait until you could talk to Sloane again. In the dead of night, you startled them awake, covering their mouth to prevent them from shouting.

“Shhhh. It’s just me.” You whispered, letting their sleepy eyes adjust to the dark, watching them widen at the sight of you. “Follow.”

The simple command was all they needed as they trailed after you, the two of you finding a quiet little spot away from the dig site to speak freely. Sloane was dressed in a form fitting tank top, allowing you to see the various tattoos that decorated their muscular arms, but you tried not to oogle too much.

“W-What are you doing here? I thought you were in prison? . . .” Sloane spoke slowly, voice still laced with the smallest inklings of sleep as they yawned, pushing stray strands of hair from their face.

“Talon came for me.” You saw them tense, scrambling to finish explaining. “I ran though. They don’t know I’m here, but they are searching for me, and I-” your voice caught in your throat as you swallowed thickly. “I can’t go back.”

You never told Venture the full story of your time at Talon, just that it was awful. They didn’t know about Mauga, didn’t know what was said to you, or any of what you had experienced. It was difficult to bring up. What they did know was that you weren’t treated kindly, and that was enough for them.

“I just need somewhere to hide so I can create a new identity for myself. I just want to live a normal life. That’s all I want.” You stumbled forward, taking a hold of their hands, steady in your trembling ones. “I can’t trust anyone else to keep me hidden. Please, I promise you’ll never have to hear from me, I won’t cause anyone any harm, I just-”

Your desperate ranting was cut off as they pulled you into a tight hug. Their scent was calming, earthy and refreshing. They held you gently, a solid rock amidst the swirling storm of emotion you felt. You weren’t sure how to react, arms shaking as you cautiously hugged them back. You felt safe. Accepted. Warm. You began to hitch as your legs buckled and gave out, taking both of you to the ground as you buried your face into their shoulder. How long has it been since you allowed yourself to cry like this? Ugly sobs wrench their way free from your body as they hold you, rubbing slow and calming circles between your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re safe with me, I promise.” They spoke in a hushed tone, accepting you as you were. “You don’t gotta explain anything to me right now, all that can come later.”

They shifted so that they could hold you more comfortably, letting you cry into them without complaint. When you calmed down, you leaned back, their arms slowly falling from you as you stared down at your lap, furiously wiping away tears. You sniffled slightly, before their hands came into view, holding yours.

“You’ll rub your face raw if you keep doing that, it’s okay to be not okay, camarada.” They were gentle with you, scooting closer to you. “I’d be happy to help you out, especially if it’ll bring you some peace. You deserve at least that much, and you’ve more than proven that you deserve it. Apologies won’t make up for much though, there’s only so far words will take you. You gotta make an effort to do better.”

You looked up to meet their gaze, warm brown eyes scanning your face. You didn’t feel judged, and instead could feel that love and care you always so desperately searched for. You did have a long way to go if you even wanted to atone for a fraction of what you had done, but you were aware no amount of repenting would fix anything. You still did what you did, and there was nothing you could do to fix it. And yet, here in Venture’s arms, you felt so sure that things would get better, especially with them at your side. So distracted by your thoughts and their comfort, you barely registered the way they looked at you with a burning possession and the way their smile slightly faltered when you removed yourself from their hold.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Venture POV

Six months. For six, sweet months Venture had you all to themself. It was a miracle of some kind, it had to be. When the two of you had been separated they could hardly stand it, they wanted to go to you and take you from that prison themself. Hide you away from the world where only they could find you. But they had a reputation to uphold, and they wouldn’t be doing anyone much good if they were in prison with you. When you had first arrived all that time ago, Sloane had thought of you as a bad guy working for talon and nothing more, but when they talked to you in the infirmary, they could tell you were different. When you kissed their hand so sweetly, holding back tears, they felt their heart nearly explode.

At first they were scared and confused. These feelings were new and foreign, they’d never felt this way about anyone else before. But you . . . you lit a new fire in them they didn’t know existed, and they wanted more. They wanted you, but you were gone, so they made do with letters and sending you gifts. They remembered when you finally started writing back they could hardly contain themself, not to mention when you sent the little gifts you made by hand. Countless nights Sloane had spent thinking about you, depressed by the thought that they’d never get to touch or hold you. They tossed and turned dreaming about what it would be like to have you next to them instead, but it did nothing to soothe the growing flames of their obsession with you.

And then right out of thin air you appeared, needing them. It had to be fate, the way you came back to them like a lost dog, dependent upon them and their helping hand. Talon had finally done a good thing for them, and that was bringing you two together again. They had been more than willing to do anything for you, but you were so shy and timid. They had to be careful, or else you’d run off and never come back. They had to put on a facade, but was it really a facade when it felt so genuine with you? Because they did care about you, they’d go so far as to say that they loved you. However, they knew you were fragile, knew that this pillar of trust they had built up could be snapped in an instant if you caught a whiff of how they truly felt, because no matter how right this felt to Venture, they knew it was wrong . They had to do this the right way, and that meant keeping their feelings for you a secret.

At first, there wasn’t much to worry about. They had you all to themself by default, considering if anyone saw you they’d send you right back to prison. As they had promised, they kept you hidden away from the prying eyes of everyone at the dig site, whisked away where they wouldn’t find you while they helped you rebuild. They helped you change your appearance, making you look different than what you were before but still vaguely the same. They gave you a place to rest your head, and provided you with food and water. They took care of you, like any good partner would. You probably didn’t see it that way, but Sloane had convinced themself you would with due time. You’d recognize their effort and fall into their arms. You’d let them touch you more, and you’d open up to them and share all your secrets like good partners did. But you didn’t.

No matter what they did, you always seemed to be so far from their reach, withdrawing from their attempts to touch or soothe you when you clearly needed it, and each time they respected that boundary, though patience was wearing thin. You were so close, how could they not want to touch you? They always made due with taking things of yours. Articles of clothing in particular that smelled strongly of you. They loved your smell. It was a unique scent, and they always felt so perverted sniffing your shirts in private. The shame fueled their hunger though, and occasionally they’d get bold enough to take your underwear. Not often, but when they really wanted to.

When you finally cultivated a new identity, they helped you get a job at the Petra site, if only to keep you closer to them. You may have been part of the bio-archaeology team, but you were still theirs. They had been concerned at first, afraid that someone there might catch your eye and take you away from them, but you did wonders in keeping people away. The others might have called you ‘rude’ and ‘scary’, but Venture knew the true you, them and them alone. You kept the rest of the world at bay, and kept them close.

If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. The two of you were clearly meant for each other, and everyday that passed that you still treated them as a simple friend pained them more and more. Why couldn’t you see what the two of you had? You still tortured them, tempting them to get closer, close enough to touch. Sloane was content playing a well-behaved best friend, but they couldn’t explain that aching desire for more that coiled in their gut as time ticked by.

Despite their own turmoil, you were happy and that was all that mattered. As upsetting as it was seeing you start to open up with others, they couldn’t deny that the look on your face was worth it. Nothing compared to what they could make you feel, but it satisfied them knowing that you were getting what you wanted and what they had promised you’d have. Peace. And they planned on keeping it that way. You believed that Talon couldn’t find you. But the truth was they had, and tried several times to take you away and back into their nasty clutches. But every time, Sloane was there to stop them, dispatching them all with ease. Every time they rammed their drill into a talon goons body, piercing and mangling their flesh, they always thought of you. How this was all for you and only you.

Every bone broken, scream muffled, and skull cracked beneath a boot was all done in your name. These guys wanted to take you back to a place that hurt you, wipe that sweet precious smile off your face forever and undo all of Sloane’s progress. Sloane didn’t feel bad watching their blood stain their clothes because they deserved it, and if they could they would’ve killed every single person working for Talon, but they needed to stay here with you to keep a watchful eye and keep you blissfully unaware. These disgusting bastards wouldn’t ruin you again, not if Venture had anything to say about it.

Tonight was no different as they carelessly tossed more mangled bodies into a ravine, a small smirk of satisfaction evident on their features. How many more would they send before they stopped trying? Then again, it always gave them a rush when they took out these idiots, thinking about how grateful you’d be to them if you knew. Sometimes, when you pulled away they wanted to drag you closer, shake you and confess everything. Confess their love, the things they’d done to those Talon goons who were trying to snag you, maybe then you’d appreciate them. Perhaps you’d even reciprocate their love.

It was becoming too much for them to bear, and as ashamed as they were of the action, they had tried to get closer to you while you were sleeping. They always wanted to consider that it would be the perfect moment to get close to you. They underestimated how light of a sleeper you were though, panicking when you opened your eyes and caught them right in the act. They had to come up with an excuse, one that you surprisingly believed before they excused themself. It wasn’t their proudest moment, but at least they knew not to try it again. You were sleeping now, tired from the day's events, but Sloane lay wide awake in their bed, twitching with anticipation. They hadn’t seen you most of the day, with both of you being busy. As much as they loved what they did, Sloane loved you more.

They wanted to visit you now more than ever, feeling hot and bothered after dispatching those goons, but knowing damn well you wouldn’t allow it. They thought about it several times, coming to you after finishing them off, covered in their blood and giving you a kiss. Your hands roaming them as you praised them for their work. They huffed softly, hands grabbing at their shirt as they flipped over.

~NSFW START~

They were feeling particularly needy tonight, pulling out a shirt of yours they had recently taken. They pressed it to their nose, inhaling deeply and taking in your delectable scent. It still smelled so strongly of you, and it brought them inexplicable joy. They practically salivated over it, breath coming out in whiny gasps. They sat up slightly, taking their pillow and pushing it beneath their body. They let out a soft growl as their hips grinded against the pillow, imagining it to be you instead as they closed their eyes and sniffed again. They shuddered as they let out a breath, whimpering as they continued to grind some more against the pillow.

They thought about how vocal you could be, imaging your hands roaming over their muscles, massaging them as you went. Your legs wrapping around them as they provided you with pleasure, your face contorting in ways they could only cause. The praise you’d give as they followed your every command. Sloane moaned softly as they humped the pillow faster, rougher, free hand curling into the sheets as they pressed their face further into your shirt.

“Joder querido por favor~ I need you~” They whispered the words in a hushed tone, slowing their pace for a moment. “ He sido tan bueno, lo prometo~”

Gods, they could imagine how you would feel, body pressed against theirs, flesh touching flesh as the sound of your love would reverberate through the room. The two of you could care less who would hear, it would just be the both of you in the moment. The marks they would leave on you, nipping at as much exposed flesh as they could, marking you up and claiming you as theirs. You’d beg them for more and they’d happily oblige, giving you what you wanted. They could be gentle, or they could be rough. They could pin your hands and make you squirm and beg for their touch, or perhaps you’d like to be on top, having them worship every inch of you and beg to touch you. Beg you for relief.

“Dios ya no puedo más, te necesito mucho mi amor por favor~” Their voice was high pitched and whiny, desperation laced in their tone. “Tell me how good I’ve been for you~ Fuck ~ You feel so good mi amor~ Tell me how good I make you feel~”

Their moans gradually got louder the deeper into the fantasies they sank, desperately wishing for the real thing. They could only think about how soon enough it could be you, you just needed a little more coaxing and to realize your feelings that you undoubtedly had for them. They could see it in the way you looked at them, feel it when you touched them. Your words were so gentle with them, and you were so sweet. God they couldn’t wait to have you. They’d take it as slow as you needed if only it meant you’d be closer to them. How would your lips finally feel once you let them get close enough? How would you taste?

“Mine, mine, mine. All mine. Only mine.” Their words were muffled, coming out in short growls, matching the pace they had set for themself. “Eres toda mía, mi amor, toda mía~” The words came out in a chant, laying some unknown claim on you for their own sake and sanity.

Sloane slowed their movement against the pillow, thinking about how whiny you’d get when they went slower than you liked, and then picked up again in the same beat to keep you on your toes. Their thrusts got rougher as they groaned, panting desperately as they approached their climax, their last few thrusts desperate as they let out one last cry, sweat dripping from their body as they relaxed, nuzzling their face into your shirt.

~NSFW END~

Sloane instantly felt much more relaxed, feeling the tension leave their body. Such a mess they’d made. They thought about laying next to you, giving you soft kisses and praise as they cleaned you up and snuggled close to go to bed. Unfortunately, they weren’t with you and couldn’t sleep while being such a mess. They lifted themself from their bed, tucking your shirt away again for a later date. For now, they needed to clean themself up, grabbing a towel as they headed for the showers. In due time the two of you would be together. You’d recognize your love for them, and they’d be waiting for you with open arms, no matter how long it took. Until then, they were content just being near you, protecting you from afar.

[thatlovinfeelin]

He Don't Like The Lights |Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Actor AU| Two

“Here’s another beer.”

“Can I ask you something?” Bradley questioned. 

“Sure, don’t see why not.”

“Why are you working here?” He questioned.

You laughed and took a step towards him, “This seemed as good a place as any. The pay isn’t horrible when you factor in the tips I usually make. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“But if you could go anywhere else, where would you go?” He asked, seeming serious. 

You merely shrugged, “A city. Like a big city. Somewhere new, I’ve only ever been in Virginia.”

He nodded and took a swig of beer, “The rest of the country isn’t as impressive as you’d think. But I understand wanting to be somewhere other than here.”

“‘Well, you can say that. You’ve been everywhere,” You laughed, “All over the world.” 

He nodded, and shoveled another forkful of mac into his mouth. He let out a moan, which caused your cheeks to turn pink. You liked that sound, and truthfully you wanted to hear more of it. It made you wonder what other sounds he could make. 

“This shit is amazing,” He groaned, “I think this beats what my mom used to make for me.” 

“Well now, let’s not diss a mama’s cooking,” You joked, “Just holler if you need anything okay? I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal.”

“Hey wait!” He called, reaching for your arm, “I have a….favor to ask you.”

“Okayy….”

“This is going to sound strange, but I get the feeling that you aren’t a total psycho,” He stated, “I was supposed to bring my girlfriend home to meet my parents. But I broke up with her, and I haven’t told them yet. Could I convince you to join me?”

“I’m sorry, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend and meet your parents?” You questioned. 

“Yeah, pretty much. I know it sounds crazy.”

“Crazy? Try insane! I could be anyone, I’m literally just some random waitress and you want me to come home with you and play house?”

“You could say no.”

“And yet, I don’t want to say no,” You shrugged.

“So you’ll do it?” He smirked, like he knew he was getting his way. 

“Meh, why not,” You shrugged, “I’ve been looking for ways to spice up my life a little. Playing girlfriend to a world famous actor seems like a good way to do it.”

He let out a laugh and snagged a pen from your apron, “Here’s my number, try to resist giving it to everyone? Why don’t you shoot me a text so I have yours too.”” 

“Oh don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The following day, you were running around your bathroom trying to get ready. Celeste was on the couch in the living room, pigging out on three day old pizza while watching old reruns of Nashville. She looked like a slob, like she often did when you had days off together, but you couldn’t not when Bradley was coming to get you. 

“Hey so I need you not to freak out,” You told Celeste as you fluffed your hair again. 

“What’s going on?”

“So that single table from last night?” She nodded as you chewed on your lip, “That was sort of Bradley Bradshaw, and he’s on his way here now to pick me up for a….date.”

Celeste sputtered, “Sounded like you said a date.”

“I did.”

“You’re lying. This is some cruel joke.” 

“I wish I was C.” 

The knock on your door caused you to panic slightly. You turned around and looked in the mirror again, deciding your lipstick was the wrong color. Panicking even more, you turned around and ran back into your bathroom, yelling at Celeste as you did. 

“Can you get that? Please?” 

You could hear Celeste sigh and get up from the couch before unlocking the door. You wished Bradley would’ve waited outside like you originally told him to. You didn’t want him to see your shit apartment, but he insisted on coming up to the door and getting you. 

You heard the second she opened the door and realized who was on the other side. Because the door slammed shut followed by a scream. 

“HOLY FUCK!” She yelled, “HOOOLLLY SHIT!”

You ran out of the bathroom again, sliding in a fresh pair of earrings, “Open the damned door, C!” You hiss at her. 

“That’s Bradley fucking BRADSHAW!” She hissed back, “I just slammed the door in Bradley Bradshaw’s face. Oh my god. Holy fucking shit. He’s outside.”

“Yes, which is why we need to open the door!” You groaned, pushing past her, “Hey, I’m sorry about her,” You said, swinging the door back open. 

“No harm done,” He laughed, “I take it that was Celeste?” 

You sigh and nod, “Yeah that was her.”

“Oh my god he knows my name,” Celeste seemed to be hyperventilating behind you. 

“Is she okay?” He asked you, pointing to C. 

You shook your head, “No, she won’t recover from this one, I’m afraid.” 

“Anything I can do?”

“Just get me out of here,” You laughed, “She’ll come to again once we leave.”

He laughed and held out his hand for you. You took it and smiled at him, feeling a zap of energy as you did so. You needed to keep your head on straight, this was just a one time deal. You were going to help him out with his parents and he’d go back to LA and forget all about this. You would get the ability to say you met Bradley Bradshaw, maybe get a picture or two with him and it would be something to tell the kids one day. 

He walked you out to his rental car, which was more nondescript than you expected. You thought he would be driving something like a Porsche or a Corvette but instead he was driving a slightly beat up pickup truck, which looked like it was going to be retired from the fleet soon enough. 

But he seemed to be at home in the car. He knew his way around it, didn’t seem to miss a beat as he started driving down the road. His parents lived in Virginia Beach, not far from the base. Bradley said that’s where they lived from the time he was born, aside from a few short years in California. Which was where Bradley fell in love with acting. 

You learned a lot about him during that short drive. Like he was giving you a crash course, so you could keep up and act like you were madly in love with him. You gave him details about your life too, how you’d grown up in Norfolk, the daughter of shipyard workers. How you went to college but haven’t used your degree. You were an only child, but always had animals growing up, including a bunny. Bradley laughed at that. He could somehow imagine you as a little girl snuggling with a bunny. 

“My mom is a little much,” He warned as he pulled in the driveway of a quaint little house, “Dad is chill, you’ll probably love them.”

“How much is a little much?” You questioned. 

“She’s just protective, and energetic,” he explained, “You’ll survive though. I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse at the bar.” 

He helps you out of the car, and walks you to the door with his hand on the small of your back. It feels like how a relationship should be. You felt nervous as you walked up to the door. He winked at you before knocking. It took all of two seconds before the door swung open to reveal a small woman with graying blonde hair.

“Bradley!” She cheered, grabbing him and hugging him tightly, “And you must be the girlfriend we know nothing about.” 

“Um.”

“Ignore her,” An older man said, stepping into view, “She’s in mom mode.” 

“This is Y/N,” Bradley said, wrapping his arms around you. 

“I’m Carole, this is Nick but everyone calls him Goose,” The woman stated, kissing the man’s cheek. 

“I take it that’s from your days in the Navy?” You questioned. 

“Ah, so he did tell you a few things,” Goose laughed, “We used to call Bradley here, Rooster when he was a kid. His hair would always stick up like a rooster’s tail.”

“Aww, Rooster, that’s cute,” You coo, hugging Bradley a little tighter. 

You couldn’t tell if it was too much or not. You’d never fake dated anyone before, but you figured laying it on thick couldn’t hurt. Bradley just smiled and kissed the top of your head.You had to be playing the part right, because he squeezed your side affectionately. Which made Mrs.Bradshaw smile as she ushered you both into the house. 

She started talking about how she cooked Bradley’s favorite for dinner, and she hoped you were hungry because she made extra, as always. She made a joke about how much Bradley could eat when he actually let himself and wasn’t on a diet for some sort of movie. Adding that you had to know all about that. 

You laughed and told her that you took him to your favorite restaurant on the boardwalk and got him hooked on Pulled Pork Mac N Cheese. She just said that sounded like her boy. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Bradshaw and Bradley seemed to be doing their own sort of catching up. They clapped each other on the shoulder and disappeared into the side room, leaving you alone with Carole. You swallowed thickly and tried your best to keep up. But you felt like you were in over your head. You knew next to nothing about Bradley, save for what you read on the internet and what he told you on the way here and last night over text. But even still you knew nothing that a real girlfriend would know. 

It made you panic slightly. Because you felt like she would find out. Like she would see right through you in a heartbeat. Like it was only a matter of time. 

“Rude of him to leave you alone like that,” She shook her head, “I thought I raised him better than that. But whenever he sees his dad…well we almost lost Goose when Bradley was younger. The two of them have a bond I could never understand. So it’s always special when they’re able to spend time together.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” You’re stunned with the way she said it so casually. 

“Brad doesn’t like to talk about it. Goose was in a training accident, it was a real scare for all of us.”

“Well I’m glad he’s okay.”

“So am I, I don’t know what I would do without him,” Carole sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter, “So do you want to tell me where he found you? Because honey, you seem very sweet, but I know you aren’t dating my son.”

Well….you were fucked.

[futurecorps3]

okay but imagine meeting nikolai at a masquerade ball :00

𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: A pleasant surprise in the masquerade's ball. Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x fem!reader Warnings: None I think!! Word Count: 1.4K Requested: Yes

A/N: THE ROMANCE THAT MASQUERADES CARRY HAS ME ON A CHOKEHOLD SINCE I SAW THIS REQUEST TYSM NONNIE! hope u like it and don't mind it's a bit short. <3

˚ · • . ° .

The corset was far too tight. She didn't get to wear her favorite color. The heels were killing her. More than two men had already approached her with terrible openers and she just wanted to go home. Y/N was really trying not to be selfish. She truly was; this night was very special for her father, as the masquerade ball was the first royal event her family could attend.

After years of bad luck with her parents' work, somehow, with savings and a recent escalade of people needing construction materials from all over the continent, they developed a small fortune into a big family-owned business that produced lots of money, meaning they went from being a middle-class family in Os Alta to making business with nobles on behalf of the king.

Word got around, and long-story short, his youngest daughter was forced to attend this ball with her parents. Looking around the room, there was no way they fit in here, but it was a dream of her father's, so she opted to get a tad tipsy with champagne and dance a little before she could go home. The room smelt like booze, expensive perfume, and laughter could be heard from every corner.

What did they find so amusing? From her point of view, the things she now had to get used to were pointless, boring and merely there to make positive appearances with the royal family, who wouldn't bat an eye at them, scarcely noticing their attempts. The girl sighed, watching some other boy in a fancy suit and golden mask approach her from the front, ready to reject him "nicely" as her father had suggested.

Then, a voice.

"This is all incredibly stupid." Simple.

Y/N turned around, finding a blonde head of hair with a blue mask staring at her. He was sporting a uniform like jacket with some medals over it and golden details all over... a general's son, surely. She wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or just wondering out loud since he was sweaty and short of breath, probably from dancing. However, he seemed to have read her mind, and that was enough to start a conversation.

"It is, people trying to impress people who won't even look at them directly in the eye." She chuckled, sinking into her glass of champagne, to which the boy gave a surprised stare. "You seem to have it against the royal family". Oh no. This was in no way a good start, or the setting to voice her complaints about the general injustice lived in her country.

"No! Not at all! I just-" "It's okay. I get it. They think they're too good for anyone, even though all these people are the backbone of their country, not the institution they represent. Ravka would be nothing without its people". A sigh of relief. Did this mystery man get it? He surely wasn't poor or looked like he could care less about social injustice and unfair judgments.

"How would you know?" She questioned, and he was amused, very amused. "Well, let's say I've done my own research over this land, contrary to my family's wishes". His family's wishes? Military men and women came from usually underprivileged areas. Maybe he was the son of some snobbish general who didn't want his precious boy to hang around peasants, but he decided against it.

Suddenly, he enveloped her hand in his, kissing the back of it while looking into her eyes. "Nikolai Lantsov", he introduced himself, lowering it back next to a seemingly limp body.

Oh.

People said he'd show up, but no one really believed it after many failed reunions who promised the prince's attendance. She should bow, her mom told her that she should if she ran into some member of the royal family. Her body reacted to her thoughts, grabbing a fistful of fabric around her and bending her knees in a polite bow. "Moi tsarevich... I'm so sorry, you must know I don't think sorely of our king and queen, it was merely an observation. Apologies".

Nikolai was awfully quiet. Y/N's head was down and all she could see were his shoes and people passing by. Then he laughed. He laughed. "Come on, dear, get up" he offered her his hand and stood straight once again, red in her cheeks. "First of all, call me Nikolai-" "Y/N" "-call me Nikolai, Y/N. Second, no need to apologize as I do think sorely of my family's ruling over the country. And third, that's not how I wanted to make you blush so please calm down, it's okay".

How could that ever be okay? Yes, the younger prince was greatly known for having major discrepancies with his parents and the model of government that was being followed, but it was only okay if HE said it. Not some random girl who just showed up and ran her mouth over the literal king and queen of her nation. She always found a way of fucking up.

"I always talk too much, I'm really sorry moi tsa-" "Nikolai". It felt wrong in her mouth, to be on first-name terms with such an important figure. She said it anyway, that charming smile of his making her weak on the knees and forgetting any kind of stupid hierarchy she was supposed to follow. "Nikolai".

"Why do you assume that's a bad thing?" he said, taking two glasses of whiskey from a waiter who was passing by, downing one and giving her the other "Hm?". She didn't quite hear the question, too focused on how his hands looked with so many pretty rings to the way his eyebrows furrowed briefly at the burning liquid. "Why do you assume talking too much is a bad thing?"

Well, that was new. This entire exchange was, really.

"Well I-" no words. She didn't know. He laughed. "You've been told it is, and I think it to be awfully human, therefore awfully lovely. We like being heard, and there is no reason why we shouldn't be". Another blush crept up her cheeks. Was he always like this? Y/N found, years later, that he had a certain fixation on questioning anything and everything around him.

He questioned limits, pre-impossed ideas, authority, words and virtually anything those beautiful blue eyes laid. Nikolai was that kind of special you find once in your life. "Do you uhm... want to get out of here?" she spat, not really thinking anymore. She wanted more of that. Whatever spell his charm casted upon her was doing wonders. "To where, exactly, darling?" he said, raising his left eyebrow slightly.

Teasingly.

"No, no! By no means am I suggesting something of such nature... I just want to talk to you" "We already are, love" "I'm aware, love. I mean, away from the noise and all these creepily masked people". Silence for a tiny moment. Then he offered his arm out to her, placing the glass he was holding previously on a table and directing his new acquaintance to the back exit.

When they got to the garden, the moon was up and she was the only witness to such an enchanting night for the young prince and the girl. At the time, their lifes didn't fit at all. Two opposites. But oh did their souls knew how to dance. Nikolai found himself at peace, away from the facade he kept around and the appearances to be kept long forgotten as he laughed with Y/N.

"You talk like a book," he said, smiling as they sat near one of the many fountains. You could hear the water streaming down cobblestones and some noises coming from the bushes, the noise from the party becoming merely a background behind their chat. Y/n couldn't help but laugh. "What is that supposed to mean?". Their thighs were touching and she could feel Nikolai tense up a little.

"You do! There are some... things you say that seem taken out of a poetry book." "Like what?" Her cheeks warmed at that, waiting eagerly for an answer to one of the most creative observations someone had made about her. "You said that if love isn't passionate and extraordinary, then it's a waste of time because there are too many mediocre things in life and love shouldn't be one of them" "It's just what I think" she shyly replied, fidgeting with her mask, long gone since they started their walk.

"Then that pretty little mind of yours must be a thrill to discover" "Would you?" "What?" "Like to discover it" "I'd love to, dear" Nikolai smiled sweetly, blue orbs swimming in hers. It was the night the fox found shelter. The night they fell in love.