#i have begun a journey that i will most likely regret

[jaythes1mp]

5070 words, 29086 characters, 239 sentences, 116 paragraphs, 20.3 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Please send me requests. I love writing but I can only do it with actual ideas to motivate me🙏

On your late-night journey home, you're cornered by one of the numerous street criminals prowling the streets of this cursed city. Getting mugged in Gotham isn't anything out of the ordinary, but even still, you can't help but feel surprised. It seemed that strangely enough, the past four years, thugs had begun to avoid you like the plague.

This was a situation you hadn't found yourself in since you were just a fifteen-year-old kid, still struggling to find your footing in the grimy underbelly of Gotham.

The street thug pinned you against the wall, holding you in place while her accomplice jabbed the cold barrel of a gun against your head.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, fear and panic clawing their way up your spine. Your breath hitched in your throat, a cold sweat pricking at your skin as you instinctively raised your hands in surrender.

As the cold metal of the gun was pressed harshly against your temple, you fought to tamp down the tremors shaking your body. You knew that any wrong move could spell disaster, so you forced yourself to remain still, praying that the thugs would be merciful enough to let you free.

Your mind raced as thoughts of the worst-case scenarios flickered through your mind. The thug with the gun pressed against your head sneered, her grip on your shoulder growing tighter as she spat out a threat.

The sheer terror you felt in that moment was overwhelming, threatening to swallow you whole. The harsh reality of the situation settled on your shoulders like a crushing weight. You were all too aware that you had no experience in dealing with situations like this, leaving you feeling vulnerable and powerless. Your eyes squeezed closed, a lump forming in your throat.

The rough brick of the wall dug into your chest, the cool air of the night doing nothing to soothe the panicked frenzy of your heart. The thug's hand on your shoulder was a vice-like grip, their fingers digging deep into your flesh.

In times like these, you regretted ever turning down the self-defense classes that your old employer had offered. The weight of that decision settled heavily on your shoulders as you longed to have the skills to protect yourself from the imminent danger.

You silently berated yourself for your naivety and carelessness. It had been foolish to believe that just because the villains had avoided you for the past few years, you would be safe from any harm. Yet, here you were, pressed against a wall, a gun held to your head by street thugs.

As your thoughts ran wild, your mind spiraled into a whirlpool of grim possibilities. The thought of your friends' reactions to your potential death played through your mind - the pain and grief they would feel upon losing you. You wondered if Damian would be upset about his sketchbook, the most constant connection you had to him. If Jason would be filled with anger at the inconvenience of tidying up your belongings, if your... no. She’d probably find relief in your absence... You wondered if Tim would shed tears in sadness. The image of him crying, tears streaming down his face, left a bitter taste in your mouth. Then you thought of Bruce. Would he be disappointed you never got to accept his offer? Your thoughts spiralled as you got increasingly more upset. Who was going to feed your pet turtle...? Would she think you abandoned her?

The weight of those unanswered questions gnawed at your thoughts, the possible reactions of your friends, pet, and the people who had offered you a place to call home. Your mind latched onto the image of them crying, the thought of any of their tears causing a pang of anguish to settle deep within your chest. You didn't want to imagine your friends' pain upon your loss, but the what-ifs haunted your mind like a relentless ghost.

The rough bricks of the wall dug into your chest, the sharp edges of the broken and uneven surface biting into your vulnerable flesh. The cold, unforgiving metal of the gun against your skull pressed further against your skin, an imminent threat hanging in the air. You clenched your teeth together, fighting to hold back a whimper that threatened to escape from the back of your throat.

Damian's heart raced in his chest, thumping out a rapid rhythm against his ribcage. Disbelief and anger twisted his features into a fierce scowl. From his stealthy perch on a nearby rooftop, he had silently tracked your movements throughout the night, his gaze never straying far from your form. But now, as he watched intently as you were cornered by a bunch of worthless thugs, his protective instincts surged through his veins. How dare these lowly criminals think they had the right to touch you?! Especially after all the efforts he had expended to ensure your safety. You were his sibling.

The sight of you in danger ignited a fire within him, burning hot with both rage and protectiveness. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. How could he have let this happen? He had been so careful, making sure to keep watch over you from a distance, and yet here you were, at the mercy of criminals who were nothing but scum. His fingers dug into the edge of the rooftop, the urge to leap down and intervene overpowering his self-control. He didn’t have to think twice before swinging into action.

Damian swiftly made his way toward you, propelled by the rooftops with practiced ease. The cool night air kissed his face as he bounded between buildings, his agility and precision a testament to his years of training. He remained hidden from view, his black, yellow and grey costume blending into the shadows, allowing him to quietly approach the scene unnoticed.

As he drew nearer, he could hear the thug's threats, the cold barrel of the gun pressing closer to your head. His temper flared, a dangerous heat building in his chest. These worthless lowlifes were going to pay for putting you in danger.

Robin, perched high above, kept a vigilant eye on the unfolding scene. Every word from the thug's mouth only fueled his anger. He assessed the area, taking in every detail with a cold, calculated gaze. The street was eerily silent, devoid of any other souls. No potential witnesses or interruptions to hinder his intervention. This moment was perfect. A chance to make these pathetic thugs pay for their audacity. They dared to touch what was his.

Each breath Damian took was measured and steady, his heart drumming steadily in his chest. He knew he had to act swiftly and with precision. He couldn't afford any mistakes. You were his responsibility – his blood. No one was allowed to touch you. No one.

Robin’s muscles coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. His eyes flickered between the thugs and their guns, mentally calculating the best course of action. His instincts were on high alert, every fibre of his being focused on the mission: protecting you.

He’ll make a mental note to have you under tighter security starting in the immediate future.

With a final, calculated assessment, Robin silently prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation. He would protect you at all costs. The thought of you getting hurt, because of his carelessness, was unacceptable. He would eliminate these fools before they could even think to touch you again.

The woman holding you, pinned your arms behind your back in a rough and painful grip. Their hold was unyielding, causing your arms to bend in an unnatural and uncomfortable position. You couldn't help but let out a small, pained whimper, the sharpness of the maneuver making you wince.

Your eyes pinched shut, and you forced yourself to take deep, measured breaths. It was your attempt to steady yourself, to hold back the wave of panic and fear that was overtaking you.

Your chest heaved with the force of each breath, trying to regulate your racing heart. A small shiver ran through your body, the fear and helplessness of the situation gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pressure of the woman's grip on your arms made you want to squirm and struggle, but you steeled yourself against the natural inclination.

Robin, like a silent wraith, leaped into action. His katanas moved in a blur, swiping the gun away from the goons' grasps before they could even register the movement. His presence was both dangerous and deadly, every muscle tensed and coiled like a predator ready to pounce. His sharp, grey eyes fixated on the thugs, a silent warning in their depths.

A sharp gasp slipped past your lips as the cold metal of the gun abruptly lifted away from your head. The sound of it banging loudly against the gritty, dirtied concrete ground echoed through the air, the sudden absence releasing a tiny bit of the tension that had been coiling painfully in your chest.

You stayed still, barely breathing, your body locked in the woman's tight and cruel grasp. Her hold on you was unrelenting, an indication that any wrong move would result in snapped bones. You couldn't turn your head to see what was happening, fear and pain keeping you rooted in place.

The woman's grip on your arms tightened, a painful reminder of the danger of any movement. You were trapped, unable to see what was happening behind you. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to struggle and get away, but the fear of severe injury made you hold yourself perfectly still. The only thing you could do was remain in this terrifying, vulnerable position.

Robin's mouth curled into a snarl, his anger flaring as he saw you trapped in the woman's grasp. Your small gasp of relief at the gun being removed from your face only fueled his rage. How dare these pathetic humans touch you, his sibling, his family, without any regard for your safety and wellbeing. The thought alone filled him with anger he had trouble controlling. He had failed you.

As Robin stood before the thugs, his katanas held at the ready, he locked his gaze with the woman holding you in her iron grip. His eyes darkened with a fierce intensity, a silent challenge in their depths.

Robin's gaze, burning with righteous anger, fixated on the woman who held you captive. The air around him crackled with a dangerous aura, his muscles coiled tensely as he held himself back from pouncing on the pitiful excuse for a human being in front of him.

The woman holding you in an iron grip was clearly an amateur, her sloppy and harsh moves betraying her lack of experience. She seemed to rely on brute strength, rather than skill, to overpower her victims.

Her careless and overly aggressive approach was a stark contrast to Robin's years of training and discipline. He took in every detail, every movement and expression, noting the flaws in her techniques. She was like a novice facing a seasoned warrior. It was downright pitiful.

To Robin, the woman's every move stank of amateurishness. Her clumsy and brute force tactics were as subtle as a bull in a china shop. It was clear that she had never received any formal combat training; relying solely on the ability to intimidate and overpower her victims. In comparison, Robin was a paragon of discipline, control, and skill. The difference in their approaches could not be more stark. She was insulting you for even thinking someone like her could ever be in your presence.

The woman's lack of finesse and skill made Robin's blood boil. She was like a pathetic child playing at being a thug, an insult to the name of criminals everywhere. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut with restrained anger. He could see her flaws from a mile away, her amateur tactics screaming for correction. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, his mind racing with possible ways to take her down without harming you further.

Robin's intense gaze continued to pierce through the woman holding you. He was like a coiled spring, his muscles tense and taut, ready to pounce at the very next moment. He couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion as he observed her sloppy moves. This is the type of amateur who would get themselves killed in Gotham in the blink of an eye. His anger flared further as he saw how carelessly she was handling you, her fingers digging into your flesh in a painfully tight grip.

For a brief moment, he considered just knocking the woman unconscious and freeing you from her grip. But then, with a cruel and calculated grin, a different thought occurred to him. He wanted to teach her a lesson. Maybe if she was truly frightened, she might actually learn something.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Robin tossed one of his throwing stars at the ground, the sharp and sudden movement drawing the woman's attention. Startled by the sound, she turned her head to look at the star, her grip on you loosening just a fraction.

Robin seized the opportunity, and in the blink of an eye, he moved behind her, his footsteps so silent that they made no sound.

The woman's eyes widened as she realized Robin's presence behind her, but before she could turn to face him, he had her by the throat, his hand encircling her airway in a firm grip.

As Robin observed your trembling form, your eyes still squeezed tightly closed, his heart clenched in his chest. He could see the fear and helplessness your body was radiating and it infuriated him. You looked like a terrified animal caught in a trap, desperately trying to hide from your captor. The thought of how scared you must be only served to fuel his obsession. You needed their protection.

Robin's grip on the woman's throat tightened as he drew her closer to him, his face inches from her ear. His voice was low and filled with a dangerous edge as he snarled, "You dare lay a hand on MY family and think you'll get away with it? You're a pathetic excuse for a thug."

The ringing in your ears and the shortness of your breath is all you can focus on, having not heard the boy’s words. Luckily for him.

Seeing that you were still too scared to open your eyes or listen, Robin tightened his grip even further on the woman, his eyes narrowing as he leaned his head closer to her ear. "You thought you could get away with this? Pathetic."

As the woman began to struggle in his grip, her eyes widened as she realized the severity of the situation. Fear and panic filled her gaze, and her chest began to heave with labored breaths. Robin took a sadistic pleasure in seeing her fearful reaction. He smirked, his grip unwavering.

He was enjoying this. Teaching this low-life a lesson was like music to his ears. He wanted her to be terrified, to feel the same fear she had inflicted on you. You were his family. His.

As the woman gasped for air, her attempts to break free growing more frantic, Robin leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching her ear. The smirk on his face only grew wider. "Not so strong now, are you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with mockery.

As the woman's grip on you suddenly loosened in panic, it caused you to lose your balance and fall unceremoniously onto your knees with a thump. The sudden movement startled you, freezing you in fright. Your limbs locked up in response to the sudden movement, leaving you vulnerable and exposed as you knelt on the dirtied ground.

Robin's heart stopped as he saw you fall to the ground with a thump. His eyes widened briefly, his grip on the woman loosening slightly in shock. He watched as you knelt on the ground, frozen in fear and vulnerability.

His protective instincts flared up, and he had to suppress the urge to immediately rush to your side. Instead, he forced himself to remain focused, keeping the woman pinned in his grip.

Robin's sharp gaze snapped from the woman to you as he heard the thud of you falling to your knees. Concern immediately replaced his previous satisfaction. He could see the terror freezing up your body, rendering you frozen and vulnerable.

He gritted his teeth, feeling a mixture of anger and worry. He needed to get you out of this situation, preferably without causing you further stress or harm. His grip on the woman tightened again, cutting off her panicked gasps as he held her at bay.

With a quick, sharp jerk, he slammed her against the wall, the force knocking the breath out of her lungs. "Stay still," he commanded, his voice harsh and authoritative.

He then turned his attention to you, quickly crossing the distance between you. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes flicking over your form, assessing for any signs of injury.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his voice a stark contrast to the harshness of moments ago. He reached out a hand, gently touching your shoulder as he tried to coax you out of your frozen state.

You looked up, your eyes wide with surprise and wonder, as you took in the sight of the young vigilante towering above you. Your throat closed up for a brief moment, your mind struggling to fully believe that it was indeed Robin, the Robin, standing before you.

You managed to force out a meek whisper, the word barely audible. "Robin...?"

In your current frightened and bewildered state, there are a million questions and thoughts running through your mind. In a normally clear state of mind, you would have jumped at the chance to ask the Boy Wonder for an interview. In this moment, however, the only thing you manage to let out is a hesitant whisper, his name. Your mind trying to piece together the reality of the situation.

Robin knelt down in front of you, watching as realisation flooded your eyes. He could almost see the thoughts spinning through your mind like a whirlwind. For a brief moment, he was thankful for your stunned silence. It gave him a chance to assess the situation without being bombarded by a thousand questions.

He watched you take in his presence, your gaze wide and filled with wonder and disbelief. The word 'Robin' escapes your lips in a barely audible whisper.

He nods slowly, acknowledging your tentative recognition, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He could see the questions brimming behind your lips, but to his surprise, you remain silent. It seemed your fear had rendered you speechless, and for a moment, he found himself relieved. It gave him a few precious seconds to focus on the task at hand: getting you out of danger safely. He gave your shoulder a firm, gentle squeeze, his voice remaining hushed as to not startle you further.

"I'm here, you're safe." He tried to keep his tone calm.

Robin swiftly scooped you up, pulling you against his chest in an easy movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to pause, relishing the feeling of having you so close to him. His heart beat fast and loud in his chest, an undercurrent of fierce protectiveness and possessiveness rushing through him. The thugs already forgotten, as he now focused solely on getting you to safety.

As he quickly leaped from one roof to the next, never slowing his pace, he spoke, his voice low and even. "Where do you live?" He’s already running in the direction.

He kept a firm but gentle grip on you, making sure that you were held safe and secure in his arms as he ran. The wind whipped around you, cool and exhilarating, as Robin navigated the Gotham rooftops with practiced ease. He repeated his question, his tone now slightly more demanding, as he continued traversing through the city.

You tried your best to gather yourself, blinking against the cool night air buffeting your face as Robin held you against his chest. Your voice was soft and slightly shaky as you spoke, the wind attempting to carry your words away.

"Just... just around the corner.."

Robin nodded, accepting the information without question. His strides didn't slow as he continued moving, the muscles in his legs propelling him forward with trained speed.

The city lights flashed by as Robin swiftly carried you through the maze-like labyrinth of Gotham's rooftops. His strides were long and purposeful, his movements fluid and precise. His arms held you firmly, one hand tucked under your legs and the other looped around your back.

Despite the circumstances and the speed at which you were moving, he took great care not to jostle you any more than necessary. It was clear that you were in pain and scared, and he wanted to minimize any further distress.

“... thank you.”

As you murmured your thanks, Robin's heart clenched in his chest. The pure gratitude in your voice was a stark contrast to the vulnerability and fear he could feel in your trembling form. He wanted so badly to respond, to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he was willing to do to protect you, but he remained quiet. He had to stick to their plan. Right now, he was solely focused on getting you home, where you would be safe from harm. His arms wrap tighter around you. He gives a simple nod in response.

You lifted your hand slightly, carefully pointing in the direction of your apartment balcony. The gesture was small, but it was enough for Robin to understand your meaning.

Without a word, he altered his course, angling his body to head towards the balcony you had indicated. Each leap and bound over the city skyline brought him closer to your apartment, the destination in sight.

Despite his casual demeanor, Robin was fully aware of the path they were taking. Years of patrol and countless hours of study had etched the city's layout into his memory, a map constantly present in the recesses of his mind.

He could flawlessly navigate the maze of Gotham's buildings, his muscles and movements guided solely by pure instinct. Every twist and turn was memorized, a testament to his extensive knowledge and dedication.

As they approached your apartment, he adjusted his hold on you, preparing to make the final leap onto the balcony.

With a final powerful bound, Robin lands on the balcony gently, steadying you against his chest. He carefully lowers you to the ground, his hands lingering on your body for a moment longer than necessary, as if ensuring you were truly safe and sound.

He takes a moment to glance around the vicinity, his eyes scanning the area for any potential threats. The Gotham night is relatively quiet, the sounds of the city reduced to a hushed hum in the background.

Once satisfied that the area is clear, he turns his attention back to you. He takes a step back, giving you a moment of space. His eyes watch you closely, searching for any signs of distress or injury.

He lifts a hand, reaching out to gently touch your cheek. His touch is gentle, but his voice is firm. Emerald eyes searching your form. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

Despite his mask concealing his face, the concern in his voice is palpable. He takes a step closer to you, his hands moving to your shoulders as he steadies you against him. His gaze remains fixed on you.

You gently shook your head, a small, reassuring grin playing at your lips. Despite your earlier fear, you were clearly feeling somewhat better. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through you, or the simple fact that you were safe now.

Robin noticed the shift in your expression, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows as he looked down at you. He could feel the tension slowly draining out of your body.

Robin observed the small smile on your face, his eyes studying you closely. The brief moment of relief he felt at your reassurance was quickly replaced by a sense of caution. He could see the adrenaline still coursing through you, but he knew from experience that it was a temporary high. The fear would return sooner or later.

He nodded, accepting your answer but still feeling a small pang of unease. "Are you sure you’re okay?" he repeated, his hands still on your shoulders.

Your brows raise in slight disheveled amusement. This was the infamous arrogant vigilante? You call bull.

“Yeah, I’m alright now. Thank you.”

Robin's eyes narrow slightly at the amusement in your tone. Despite your gratitude, he can sense your slightly disbelieving and slightly amused. For a moment, he wonders if you are treating him like a kid playing dress-up.

He straightens up, his grip on your shoulders tightening ever so slightly. He cocks his head to the side, his voice a mix of annoyance and determination.

"What's so funny?" he asks, the slightest hint of defensiveness in his tone.

Despite the irritation in his voice, there's a hint of vulnerability. He's not used to being questioned, especially not by someone he feels responsible for. He wants to be taken seriously, to be seen as more than just a young boy playing at being a hero.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "I'm serious. You could’ve been seriously hurt," he says, his voice stern. He's not used to expressing his emotions openly, but the thought of you in danger is making his typically controlled facade start to crumble.

You bite your tongue, holding back the sarcastic remarks and jokes that usually come so easily to you. You were well aware of how close you had come to serious danger, and the severity of the situation.

Robin can see the restrained smirk, the flicker of a joke on your lips, and it irks him more than the actual sarcasm. He's used to dealing with sarcastic criminals and sarcastic bats, but the thought of you making light of your own safety is frustrating. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his annoyance under control.

"This is no joke," he finally says, his voice firm. "What you did was stupid. Walking alone in Gotham at night."

Robin's eyes held a mixture of emotions, anger and frustration and worry and protectiveness. But beneath it all, he was most angry and frustrated with himself. He should have been there sooner, he should have been able to stop those thugs before they even got close to you. This event was only proving to him what he already knew - you were not safe in the city, not without someone to protect you. They needed to speed up with their plan before he goes insane.

He withdrew his hand from your cheek, the loss of his touch leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. He fidgeted with his utility belt, a nervous habit.

"I have to go." He murmured, his voice low and laced with a hint of reluctance. His eyes scanned over you one more time, mentally committing your features to memory. It was as if he were trying to memorize every detail, every curve and contour of your face.

"Be sure not to walk alone at night. Or ever." The last words came out as more of a command than a warning, a hint of desperation laced in his tone.

Before you could even think of a response or express your gratitude, Robin had already vanished into the night, leaving you standing alone on your balcony.

Despite the circumstances, a soft, almost wistful grin crept across your lips as you replayed the events of the night in your mind. Despite the danger and the near brush with violence, you couldn't shake the thrill of meeting the young vigilante, the Batman’s associate himself.

Even though you didn't get to ask all the questions you wanted, the encounter was still something exciting.

You silently crept into your room, taking care to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Jason who was probably asleep in his room down the hall. You shrugged off your bag and jacket, discarding them to the side before crawling into the safety and warmth of your bed. You bring your hand out to tap softly against the glass of your turtles enclosure as a silent good night, cuddling further under the blankets.

Feeling the comfortable weight of the sheets surrounding you, you let out a soft sigh, already feeling the exhaustion starting to pull at your eyelids. Unaware of the chaos that was brewing at Wayne Manor, nor the many sets of watchful eyes observing you through the carefully placed cameras that dotted the room.

The cameras strategically placed throughout your room recorded every subtle movement as you got yourself settled into bed. Every blink and every shift was captured in sharp, high-definition video, the images streaming directly to the computer screens at Wayne Manor.

In the depths of the batcave, the video feeds played on several large screens, each one displaying a different angle of your room.

Multiple figures looking over the room full of monitors, displaying your every breath, every toss and turn as you drifted off to sleep. Watching each and every twitch, each flutter of your eyelashes.

The silence in the batcave was heavy, only disrupted by the soft hum of the computer equipment and the occasional murmur between the group of figures huddled in front of the bank of monitors.

Each screen showed a different angle of your room, the camera feeds streaming smoothly, giving an intimate view of your every movement. Every breath, every twitch, was recorded, observed and analyzed by the watchful eyes monitoring you. Every inch of your room was on display, the cameras capturing even the tiniest detail.

Even in your sleep, you were still being watched.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for reader, no mention of gender.

Does anyone have any ideas for the name of your pet turtle?

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Somethin' Stupid - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Tav/Reader (Bard)

Warnings: BG3 Act 3 Spoilers! Fluff! Use of Frank Sinatra’s “Somethin’ Stupid” lyrics, Tav gives off Disney Princess Energy, Astarion is stuck in a rut but you help him out, Insecure!Astarion, Spawn!Astarion

Wordcount: 1,182

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on Astarion for a while, but lately he seems distant. You take it upon yourself to brighten his day, with the use of what you know and love. Music. And of course, a goofy smile.

A/N: Thank you @ditzdreamweaver for this prompt for Y/N serenading Astarion! I think it was an absolutely adorable idea, I definitely went a bit angstier with it but there's still a bunch of fluff/cuteness.

Ever since the party had defeated Cazador, Astarion seemed down. He chose to free the thousands of spawn that were kept in captivity into the Underdark. And yet, he struggled. He slightly regretted his decision not to ascend. He felt that he could have been a much more powerful asset to the team. In short, his insecurities were eating at him, and he couldn’t stand being around the rest of the group. Not for long, anyways. He could only uphold his confident aura for so long. Especially with you. You would never judge him, you had seen him covered in blood after stabbing Cazador, and you were the one who took a damp towel to wipe off the blood he should see or reach.

You and Astarion had grown fairly close, even with the heartache everyone in the party suffered. But lately, he felt distant. Typically, he would spend most nights chatting with the party, then you two would continue conversing into the late hours of the night. Astarion, was of course, a vampire elf, and you were a bard who was a natural night owl from the late nights playing in the taverns. Despite this, and the pull he felt to continue those late nights with you, something within him inhibited him from doing so.

“I’m heading to bed” Astarion muttered, before puttering off towards his tent. It was merely a few moments following your return to camp, and the sun had not yet set. Gale had begun to prepare a meal for the rest of the group, the glistening fire flickering below a large pot, which he intended to fill with a stew of sorts.

As Astarion’s tent completely secluded him from the rest of the group, you finally decided you had had enough. You would not let him suffer alone. You trotted over to your own tent happily, grabbing your lute from the corner. It had been a while since you played for an audience, but you needn’t worry about your abilities.

“I know I stand in line” You sang. “until you think you have the time”  Astarion listened intently to your melodic voice, which easily had the capacity to draw him in. He hadn’t heard it since the very beginning of your journey together, but the strength of your voice hadn’t faltered. In fact, it sounded even more powerful than before. “to spend an evening with me…” You continued singing, dancing around the camp, with your typical goofball smile along your lips. The others reciprocated your happiness. Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, and even Lae’zel danced along the perimeter of the camp with you, Scratch and the owlbear cub clearly enjoying the music as well. Gale swayed as he was cooking, his feet pitter-pattering to the sound of the beat coming from your lute.

“Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two” you sang, dancing towards Astarion’s tent. Your voice radiated outside of the tent, steadily ushering him towards you. He wondered if you were a siren in your past life. “And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like” with that, Astarion approached the edge of the tent, his fingers pulling the flap of his tent so he could view you just as you sang “I love you.” He watched as your pupils dilated as he came into your visibility, and he felt like you truly meant the words you were singing. The goofy smile plastered on your face was enhanced even more, and Astarion was able to smile for the first time in several weeks.

“I love you too, darling.” In all honesty, Astarion couldn’t remember the last time he spoke those words truthfully. You continued strumming as you ushered him to follow you over to sit on a log with you under the shade, a little further from camp. The rest of the group had disbanded to allow you your time together. As you began to slow the song down, some of Astarion’s insecurities began to plague him once more, but you tugged him past them. “Talk to me, Star” you prompted, pulling your lute off of your lap and opting to place it up against the tree next to you.

You turned towards Astarion, granting him your full attention. He looked at you with saddened eyes but couldn’t bring himself to look away. “I should have done it, Y/N.” He stated simply. A puzzled look came upon your face, and you reached for his hands to place in yours. He granted you them, then shuttered with pleasure as you softly ran your thumbs up and down the back of his hands. “What should you have done, Astarion?”

“I should have ascended.” Instead of acting flabbergasted, you remained calm, looking at him with gentle eyes. “Why do you say that my love?”

Gods, Astarion could barely take when you spoke those words to him. You were so gentle with him, which he was grateful for, but on the other hand it made him feel weak. He didn’t want to need to be taken care of.

“I want to be stronger for you. To protect you. To protect the party. To have the power to ensure that none of you ever get hurt again.” He spoke, and you felt your heart palpate against your chest. “Star…” You spoke, gentle eyes looking at him yet again.

“Do you realize how strong you are?” You questioned, with little response from him, merely a glance from his glossy eyes. “You have traveled far and wide for all of us here. You defeated your sadistic master, you helped us through the Gauntlet of Shar, through the Creche, through Grymforge, through Moonrise Tower! You learned how to stand up for yourself and what you wanted! We’ve saved people, and brought others to their demise, deservingly so!” You exclaimed, nearly standing up and lecturing him. “You’ve learned more about yourself in these past few months than you have in the rest of your lifetime, Astarion. Do you know how much you have to be proud of? I’m glad you didn’t ascend, Astarion. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. Ascending would have been the easy choice. The easy way out. A way for you to continue Cazador’s pattern of torture. But you decided to do better for yourself! You are one hundred percent the strongest man I’ve ever met, Astarion. And I’m not going to sit here, and let you tell yourself other-” with that, Astarion placed the gentlest kiss upon your soft lips.

Your eyes widened upon impact, surprised by the pale elf’s action. After a moment, you pulled away, simply stating “uhm- wow. That was really nice.” Next, you felt Astarion’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling into your neck. You allowed one of your hands to trace on his back, while the other played in his hair. “Thank you, darling.” He mumbled into your skin. “Of course” you responded, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to just be there with him for a while. It was what he needed, after all.

[darkdemeter]

HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE’S WILL II: AFTERMATH

◤✘WANDA MAXIMOFF SERIES/AU'S | CATALOGUE Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader, (Platonic) Avengers x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader ISSUE NO.#2.1

WARNINGS! ↳ Fluff ending after a hard journey — slightly sad but it's comforting — brief mention of passed relatives — implied sex (fade to black style) — minor alcohol consumption — slight profanity slip. SUMMARY ↳ The battle was won and so begins the time to heal. You return to Alaska to have some time away, to take in the home you had once lost and you've come to your decision. When Wanda shows up with the team, you finally reveal to Wanda the special bond you both share. you will tell her that she is your mate. And of course, someone had to bring the red ball along...

✎ 4.5k

@alexawynters

↳ WANDA MAXIMOFF TAGLISTS

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ONE MONTH LATER

Fury had informed you that the Hydra resurgence operatives were apprehended during your recovery. The base was destroyed along with any weaponised supplies and what remained of the pack was unknown for the most part. Most likely moved on when they saw the state of their former alpha. A second warning wasn’t needed. 

True leadership was the betterment for the pack. You did for the pack as they did for you. It was not a matter of power dynamics, but respect. Packs were built through blood and loyalty: you were bound as family. 

You would do anything for family for one reason: love. You never understood your father’s lessons back then but now you finally did. You sat atop one of the taller hillsides that overlooked the valley; your territory. The evening wind blew gusts of white across the snowy peaks in the far distance. Half the lake had begun to splinter, the dark water softly lapped at the still frozen half, the orange hue painting the sky reflected off its surface. 

Your hair was swept by the oncoming breeze from behind. This was home. This was sanctuary. A place of peace and which, from the ashes, would arise with renewed strength. New memories. You’d recovered quite a bit from your wounds but a little more time was required before your next assessment and your go-ahead into the field. No one was risking putting you on the front lines anytime before then. 

Your hand fiddled with the little trinket you’d found in the locked room when you began to clear it out, and put things back where they belong. Deep in your thoughts, the wind howled a low and long note. 

Your head lifted slightly as your ears strained to hear something behind you. Footsteps crunching in the snow. You turned to look but saw nothing and your brows furrowed hard. The world suddenly slowed around you and any outside sound became muffled.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” you sighed in defeat, shoulders sagged as the burden was slowly lifted. “No,” your father said as he sat beside you, “I’m the one who should be sorry. It wasn’t right what I said. I never meant what I said.” 

Your breath froze in your lungs when his hand pressed against your wounded shoulder. Tears pricked in your vision. “I was scared you were going down that wrong path again, Y/N. I wanted to make sure you would pull through it - that you would be safe - before I passed on. I should have been more… understanding.”

You finally exhaled the iced over air caged in your chest. Your father - the former alpha - so instilled in the ways Mother Nature made him out to be, sniffled and broke into a sob. It was the first time you saw that headstrong demeanour crack. 

Who knew ghosts could weep and mourn the sorrows of their regrets after they were gone?

“But I was wrong about you.” His hand patted your shoulder. You looked at him and he gave you that nod of approval you’d spent years chasing. “You learnt what it truly means to be part of a pack. And I was wrong to think that bloodline was the only source such loyalty - such love - could be born from.”

“I learnt from the best,” you said, voice crackling slightly under the pressure of your own tears. He smiled with a shake of his head.

“But you’re far better than I. Braver than I ever could be. You surrendered yourself without fear to protect them. You always have. Mistaken for recklessness; you’ve a heart of pure wolf. You define Mother Nature’s intended protector. A leader.”

He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours. The familiar scent of pine blended together with his signature musk, but you could smell one more thing. 

The one rare scent a wolf could ever smell. It was often said that a werewolf would only smell it during three points in their life. It was like when people said that water has no taste. But when blindfolded, they would know it was water because they could taste it.

That was what spirit smelt like.

Your father stood up from your side. “I’m proud of you, Y/N. I’m proud of the person you’ve come to be. To embrace who you are, no matter how else anyone perceives you.”

“Thank you, Father,” you said with a bow of your head. You watched him wander back to the treeline, your mother and siblings waiting for him there. “Oh,” he mused as he shot you a wink, “don’t shy out on her this time.”

You smirked. “I won’t.”

You found yourself waving at the barren treeline as the world resumed around you, eyes red from the tears that streamed down your cheeks but you weren’t stricken by grief or guilt any longer. You were smiling. You were done running. 

“Home. A wolf calls this home.”

The sun had fallen over Alaska’s horizon and the orange curtain with it. The inkling of Northern lights danced across the blue and black sky, but the moon was bright and full. Your eyes were radiant in their excited glow as the Quinjet flew over the top of you, heading straight for the landing pad. 

With a flick of your thumb, the trinket rolled in the air before gravity pulled it back down, you snatched it into the palm of your hand. Your gaze never wavered as the Quinjet’s ramp lowered with a hiss. 

“Are you sure you want to go alone? You don’t want me to come with you?” Wanda asked from her spot, sitting cross legged on your bed as she helped pack some clothes for you. 

You threw a smirk over your shoulder. “You just want to get into my pants.” She gasped and slapped a hand to her chest, mouth agape to feign shock. “Y/N M/N L/N, the scandal!” she laughed, “I dare say, it makes me wonder what else goes on in that mind of yours.”

You raised a brow as you looked back at her, that amber hue bright as ever. 

‘You damn well know, Velvet Cupcake.’

‘Oh, do I ever.’

You both chuckled together and you grabbed a few pairs of pants from your drawers and brought them back to the bed. Wanda stood and placed a hand to your chest, halting you from packing. Your eyes moved from the delicate way her hand rested against your front, up her arm to her face. Her eyes didn’t meet yours, however, as you thought they would. “I’m going to miss you, Wolfie.” Her voice had lowered into a whisper, a sigh of disappointment not too far behind her words. Your good hand - as it could be - raised to tilt her fallen chin until her eyes found yours again. 

“It’ll only be for a short while. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” Her arms looped around your neck as your arm circled her waist and held her firm to your front. She took care to not lean her weight on you, afraid she would agitate your wounds. 

You didn’t really care much. You’d pull stitches fetching a stick she threw across New York’s busiest street during peak hour. 

“And you’ll finally tell me what it is you keep avoiding to tell me? Because I’m not letting you off the hook, Wolfie.” Your lips stretch into a toothy grin, a silent chuckle laced in your throat. You nodded in assurance.“Yeah, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Promise?” she purred with dangerously pursed lips and a sharpened glare. 

You nodded again slowly as you began to gently sway her side to side. “Meet me on the next full moon.”

She scoffed at this and rolled her eyes. “Where?”

You lean forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Trust me… you’ll know.”

Wanda pulled her arms to cover her chest as a particular chill ran down her spine, herself and the team exiting the Quinjet. She couldn’t help herself as her eyes coasted over the landscape in search of one thing. 

You were all she could think about during the last month. Time was far too slow for her liking and she counted the days even the hours until she’d see you again. 

“Looking for someone, Wanda?” Natasha asked with an all too knowing smirk as she walked down the ramp to join her. Wanda didn’t need to answer her, her chin tilted to the ground was answer enough for the ex-widow. “Funny to say this, but it feels good to be back,” said Clint with a small grin, carrying his and Natasha’s bags down the trail towards the lodge. 

“Y/N said it was a beautiful place,” Steve added with a shrug. Wanda stared up on the vacant hillside, gaze pulled there by a force unknown to her. She just knew you’d been there at some point recently. 

“Come on, Wanda. Let’s get settled in.” Sam curled an arm around her shoulders and led her after the others. The walk felt peaceful down to the house. No looming threats of an attack, no distant howls that haunted the valley like a dark cloud. 

The lights were on when the team arrived in anticipation for their arrival. They wandered up the porch and entered, Wanda however, paused before she could fully commit to the first step. Her eyes turned towards the thicket of woods around them.

You were waiting for her. Her eyes shimmered with a scarlet hue. “I’ll meet you guys inside,” she said to the others. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Gonna go and find the pup?” Tony asked, his eyes flickered up when he heard something rustle in the bushes somewhere in between the cluster of pines. She nodded, the act all too eager, as her fingers laced together. “They wanted to meet with me. They… want to tell me something.”

Natasha waved her off, encouraging her to do what she felt she needed to with a smile. “Just be back in time for dinner, alright?” Wanda nodded again and when the team walked inside, she turned and made for the pier. Something was pulling her there.

The lake was beautiful from where she stood at the end of the pier. She understood your love for the spot. How comforted you looked when she saw you standing watch, arms folded over your chest and leaned against one of the posts. 

Anxiously, she waited for some form of sign of you as she stood there, silently. She wouldn’t allow doubt to intrude on your promise to her. 

‘I told you you’d know.’

Wanda turned fast on her heel. Her relief in her anxious smile pulled her lips into a toothy grin, the corners of her eyes glistened at the sight of you. Your fur gently swept along with the wind as you stood proudly on the other end of the pier. Your head lifted a little higher until the radiant colour of scarlet in your wolfish eyes was visible. Slowly, you advanced towards her. She admired you for your strength to carry yourself despite the scars that marked your body and would for years to come. 

They were part of your legacy; a battle hard fought to protect your pack. A trophy that outranked any hunter’s prized quarry. Nothing could ever garner more admiration and respect than bearing the marks of war. Because it showed they had the strength to keep fighting even when their body was so close to giving in.

Wanda felt the pull of that ethereal thread tug her closer. She advanced towards you, her mouth agape as her eyes misted over. You stood on your hind legs and your body shifted back, your arms spread wide open as Wanda pushed herself into a jog. She practically threw herself into your embrace as her arms looped around your torso. “Wolfie,” she sniffled, “I missed you so much.”

You ran a hand along her back as a way of comforting her, your other cradled her jaw with a tenderness reserved only for her. You leaned your forehead against hers with a sigh as her rose scent filled your nose, you failed to subtly nuzzle your nose into her hair. “I missed you too,” you drawled quietly against her head. 

She pulled her chin away that had been tucked against your chest to gaze up at you. Your own met her there already, the same vibrant red glowed in your eyes. She’d admit you looked mesmerising - intimidating - with those coloured eyes. But nothing could conceal the hint of amber behind them; flaming coals that burnt with such passion and fire. Unbridled and unmatched ferocity. 

You took her face in your grasp and your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. “You’re my mate, Wanda.”

“W-what?” she asked with knitted brows and the adorable scrunch of her nose. You huffed faintly in amusement. “You’ve felt the bond yourself. You’ve felt it - even just an inkling of it - since the last full moon. When I fell into the ruins, the thread of our tie were under threat of severing…”

Your voice quivered as it fell silent. The realisation dawned on you both again that your strength had almost given in. The soulmate tie almost plucked loose with your very close demise. It was why Wanda had shrieked your name with such anguish, such vigour it compelled you to keep fighting. “Even now, you knew to meet me on the pier.” You let a hand drop from her face to grab hold of one of her wrists. You brought her hand to rest over your heartbeat. Like waves, something pulsed beneath the steady rate of your heart. 

“The dread that I had the entire time you weren’t awake, while Helen and Bruce worked to bring you back, I… I felt like I was drowning. Suffocating and when you awoke I broke free from that. I felt like I could breathe again.”

You nodded. An accurate description many mated couples expressed in stories of their own experience. “You and I, Mother Nature intended us to be for each other. But… I-I’ll understand if you don’t–”

She pressed a finger to your lips and silenced you completely with a small whimper. She swore if you were in your other form, your ears would be folded back so far they would be lost to the thickness of your winter coat. She shook her head with a smile. 

“I know what it is like to feel alone. To feel rejected. And I promise you that I want this bond. I want you; both the wolf and the human. Every part of you Mother Nature intended to be mine. I want it.”

The wolf retreated back into the depths of your very soul to make way for you. Two different sides, but still very much intertwined. It was a balancing act but each of you shared the common interest; the betterment and safety of your pack and your mate.

“You accept?” you asked, you tried to fight the growth of anxiety and excitement. She giggled. “I accept it with all that I am.”

You pulled her lips to yours without another moment to spare. Her body flush against yours as you held her to you by her waist. Your thumbs danced over the fabric of her coat. Her nails scratched along your scalp to deepen the kiss. You bit down on her lip and she moaned. Your tongue met hers in the intimate entanglement you shared under the silver full moon, bathing the two of you in her light. 

When air became thin and nearly nonexistent in your lungs were you forced to withdraw from each other's heated kiss. “Getting wild again?” you chuckled with a click of your tongue. She had a mind not to shove you off the pier. “Unlike someone else,” she cooed with a hot breath beating against your neck. You whined at her insinuation. 

‘Touché.’

She stepped around you with her hands in yours, she began to drag you back towards the house. “The others are excited to see you, and Natasha wants us in for dinner.”

You didn’t budge, however, and Wanda was forced to stop when she realised you weren’t going to follow. Her brows furrowed as a ghost of a frown made itself present. “Wait a moment, I… I have something for you.” 

Damn it, you were going shy on her. You reached a hand to scratch behind your neck. Wanda’s body slowly moved back towards you to bridge the gap between you both. She tilted her head and damn it all, if she wasn’t so adorable. She had that effect on you. “What is it, Wolfie?”

“I…” Your sentence trailed off on the single word as courage deflated. You shook your head and stepped forward. “I’ll save it for later.” Her eyes were pressing you with that quizzical glare. “I promise. Come on, let’s head inside the den.”

After dinner, the cluster of you all gathered around in the lounge room. Familiar faces from the mission and those who stayed behind at the compound finally took the venture to see the beautiful snowy slopes of Alaska. 

“Come on, I never got to see them! Please, just one? Just one and I’ll stop asking, I swear,” Peter pleaded with his best attempt at puppy eyes, he was jeered at by the others, each of them told him to leave you be. They didn’t want you to get your back up because of peer pressure. Though you couldn’t miss the curiosity that some of the others themselves were guilty of. They just wouldn’t ask while it was still all a fresh ordeal. 

You raised a hand up to bring order to the argumentative group. “It’s alright,” you assured them. Wanda shifted beside you as you moved to pull the neck of your shirt down to reveal the marred flesh of your shoulder. Peter’s face was beyond priceless, eyes wider than any full moon you’d seen and jaw practically hitting the floor.

“Holy sh–”

Steve pointed at the teenager accusingly with a firm raise of his brow. “Language.”

Peter, after regaining his composure, looked back to you. “That alpha did that to you?” 

“Yep,” you answered with a nod, “All the way down my back too. Didn’t feel particularly nice either.” Wanda’s fingers soothingly ran through the length of your hair. She wasn’t shy about showing a strong level of affection, the matter of relationship between you both was silent but in the air. Where exactly you were with each other wasn’t spoken and known by account on the others, but there was no argument about it. It just felt natural, especially now that you’d told her the truth. 

You knew what you were to each other and that’s all that mattered. Natasha couldn’t help but pull Wanda aside during dinner to speak with her privately when she saw you both enter the house, your arm wrapped around her waist and pulled into your side. And the look she’d given you both after that was all the more evident Wanda confided in her the new foundation of your relationship together. 

“It’s good to see what you’ve done with the place, Y/N,” Steve said from his spot on the couch. His blue eyes scanned the walls that were once bare of anything besides the odd abstract canvas of art, now a host to frames of people he never knew personally; but through you he could pinpoint what trait belonged to either your father and mother’s side. 

“Thanks, Cap.” Your head turned up to view the sill of the lit hearth. The most treasured frames adorned their space once more. However the wall above the fireplace was bare. It needed something to fill that space. You knew exactly what. “It means a lot to me to have you all here. I want you guys to consider this place as a sanctuary, if you ever need to get away for a while. This is as much your home as it is mine.” 

Slowly, one by one, your packmates nodded in gratitude. In your first few months with the Avengers, you had a bit of a reputation of being unable to share space without getting territorial. A minor and nasty habit at that. But you worked hard to break out of it. You wanted to share your space with those you saw as your family. “Thank you, Y/N.” Natasha smiled at you and raised her beer. The same brand you couldn’t drink without getting an upset stomach. “To Wolfie,” she announced and the rest of them joined in raising their bottles and glasses alike. “To Wolfie!” 

You gave a bow of your head with a wave to fend off their antics. You looked to Wanda but you were pulled away from her by that one, single and very familiar thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

First your eyes and then your head followed suit. Up and down. 

‘Ball.’

“Oh boy,” a few of your teammates chuckled, all amused by the sight of your fixation on the red ball Tony bounced. He looked up as if he didn’t recognise he’d caused the commotion. “Oh yeah, this,” he held the ball up, “I thought we could finally put that theory to the test.”

The ball flew towards you, pulled from Tony’s hand by Wanda’s magic tinged fingertips. She caught it easily and smirked, her eyes found yours. “But first, I think we’re owed a game of fetch.”

“I get the first throw!” barked Sam immediately as he darted up from his seat, racing to the front door, his beer discarded without a second thought. He really was dedicated to getting that throw you denied him. Everyone followed after the enthusiastic bird boy and promptly dressed themselves for the cold. Tony held a manner of professionalism as he swaggered by, his hand snatched his coat off the rack and pulled it over his shoulders. 

“Come on, Mate.” Wanda cooed playfully, the singular word made your spine tingle from the way her accent tinted voice said to lowly in your ear. 

Your paws crunched through the snow with great ease as you bounded after the ball, your movements fluent and natural in this environment. Sam had a very good throwing hand. 

Cheers and applause came from behind you as you bit down on the ball tucked between your hot, panting jaws. Your tail wagged madly and your front bowed slightly. 

“Bring it here! Come on!” You sprinted back towards Sam, eager for another throw that would have you halfway across the half frozen lake. You dropped the ball into his awaiting hand with a rasped, high pitched growl and your jaws snapped together as he feigned to make the throw; obviously teasing you. 

“Go get it!” He shouted as he put all momentum behind his throw. You bolted after it in the blink of an eye. Indeed, the wolf could travel faster than red. 

When you returned, Wanda was next to retrieve the ball. Your breath came in hot, ragged and fast puffs. “We should head inside, it’s getting late.” 

Although there was a chorus of disappointed groans and pouts, Wanda assured them all that tomorrow they could play fetch all day long, if you were up for it of course. Your head bowed a few times with a snort, the team understood that you were in agreement with that idea.

Organising the sleeping arrangements was quite the carnival, but ultimately you and Wanda shared the master bedroom again. She changed into a similar style as she did the last time, an oversized shirt - one she had stolen from your stash - and a pair of panties. 

You now had free reign to let your eyes take in her form from head to toe, but a deep flush still bled into your neck and cheeks, your fluster made Wanda chuckle. The adorable and yet frightening alpha, her wolf and her mate. 

You pressed your forehead to her stomach when she stood before you, her hand found purchase in your hair again to massage your scalp. She knew your weak spot for head rubs was the small dip right near the juncture where your skull and neck met. 

You grumbled deeply when her fingers found that spot. “You’re too sweet on me,” you mumbled, not intentionally meaning for her to hear, but she lifted your chin so your eyes could meet. 

“Because you deserve it.” Her hands slipped down past your neck until they rested on your shoulders. Her body slightly arched forward as she tilted her chin down. Her state penetrated through the barrier of your mind.

‘And because I love you.’

Your brows raised and she saw your pupils shrink in response. Did you hear her correctly? What were you thinking, you’d never been bad for hearing. She confessed that she loved you.

Your hands ran up the back of her thighs and gripped her by her hips. “And I love you, Wanda Maximoff.”

She hummed and leaned down, her plump and soft lips ghosted over yours. She teasingly let the pink tip of her tongue press against your top lip. Your grip on her hips tightened a little.

“Don’t tease,” you rasped lowly, that dangerous glow marked the wolf’s return. She continued to ignore the warning. She was testing the big wolf before her, how much she could get away with, as your mate. 

“Or what?”

You flipped her over, your legs on either side of her and your hands pinned her wrists above her head. Your canines were longer now as you growled.

“Or the beast comes out,” you answered and Wanda shimmied her hips playfully from beneath you. Purposefully. She had you right where she wanted you from your first night together.

“And maybe I want that.” With a roll of her hips, Wanda Maximoff sealed her fate with Mother Nature’s finest killer when she pulled her stolen, oversized shirt up and over her head. 

Sunlight beamed in through the glass panel of the window, the idea to draw the curtains to block out the invasive light completely forgotten after last night. Wanda took the liberty of using you as her bed, her hair a little razzled and the scent of your climaxes only faint in the morning air. 

The blanket was pooled at the middle of her back, the rest of her body had you to keep her warm. Your hand absentmindedly ran up and down the column of her spine, your breaths even and slow. You heard her mumble softly beneath an exhale, her face calm and untroubled. She had everything she could want in that moment as did you. Seven years on the run had put you in a state that shut you off from everything and left you bitter because of the fear that one day Hydra would find you again.

Had you followed orders… you didn’t want to think about where you would be now. But that didn’t matter anymore. No one was ever going to tear you away from your mate or your pack. You were with them to the end of the line. 

Your other hand securely held the small trinket you’d saved, elegantly sliding along the golden chain. You decided to let Wanda sleep for a little while longer before you presented to her your most promising gift. Your everlasting vow that you would forever be by her side; come what may. 

THE END.

NOTES ↳ And there you have it, the finale of Habits of Mother Nature's Will. We've reached the end! Thank you to everyone who has shown their love and interest in this "trilogy". Truly, I appreciate it. More stuff to come, Babbies! Okay I'm just gonna... go back up to my treehouse now... bayy.

[skywalker1dream]

bound together by destiny

note: ehh don't know what to say...hope you have good day or night, drink water and eat healthy, loves :3

Jenson Button x reader, childhood friends to lovers

warning: fluff

In the small town, where the rolling hills kissed the sky and the rivers whispered secrets to the wind, Jenson Button and You were inseparable. From the moment you two met on the playground, your friendship ignited like a spark in the darkness, illuminating your lives with laughter and shared adventures.

As you two grew older, your bond only deepened, weaving through the fabric of your existence like an unbreakable thread. Jenson, with his passion for speed and adrenaline, found solace in your steady presence, a beacon of light in a world of uncertainty.

It was on a warm summer evening, with the scent of wildflowers lingering in the air and the distant chirping of crickets serenading the night, that everything changed. Jenson and you found yourselves sitting by the riverbank, the waters reflecting the myriad hues of the setting sun like a kaleidoscope of dreams.

As Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" played softly on the radio, Jenson turned to you, his eyes shimmering with a vulnerability he had never dared to reveal before. "Do you ever wonder what might have been?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you felt their heart skip a beat, the weight of Jenson's words hanging heavy in the air. "Sometimes," you admitted, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and regret.

In that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, Jenson reached out, his hand seeking yours in the dwindling light. "I've spent my whole life chasing after dreams," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "But the one thing I've always wanted has been right here beside me all along."

your breath caught in your throat, the realisation dawning upon you like the first light of dawn. Could it be that the feelings you harboured for Jenson ran deeper than friendship?

With trembling hands and hearts laid bare, you two leaned in, your lips meeting in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of years of unspoken longing. In that moment, as the world faded away and you two were left with nothing but the beating of your hearts and the rush of the river beside you, Jenson and you knew that your bond was stronger than any force on earth.

For in each other's arms, they found not only love but also the courage to chase after the most precious dream of all: the dream of a future together. And as they watched the stars twinkle overhead, they knew that no matter where life took them, their love would always burn bright, like a guiding light in the darkness.

As the moon ascended in the indigo sky, casting its gentle glow upon the world below, Jenson and you sat in quiet reverence, your fingers intertwined, your hearts entwined in the delicate dance of love.

"I never want to let this moment go," Jenson murmured, his voice a soft caress against your ear.

"Nor I," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "For in this moment, I have found everything I've ever longed for."

Their words hung in the air like a vow, sealing their hearts together in an unbreakable bond. In that sacred space by the riverbank, they shared dreams and aspirations, fears and insecurities, laying bare their souls to one another with a vulnerability that transcended words.

As the night wore on and the stars danced in the heavens above, Jenson and you found yourselves lost in a world of your own making, where time stood still and the worries of tomorrow faded into insignificance. It was a moment of pure magic, a symphony of love played out beneath the vast expanse of the night sky.

And as the first light of dawn painted the horizon in shades of pink and gold, Jenson and you knew that journey together had only just begun.

For in each other's arms, they had found not only solace but also the courage to embrace the unknown, hand in hand, hearts beating as one.

With the promise of a new day dawning on the horizon, they rose from their secluded spot by the riverbank, ready to face whatever the future held, knowing that as long as they had each other, they could overcome any obstacle that dared stand in their way.

And as they walked hand in hand into the sunrise, their hearts brimming with love and hope, they knew that theirs was a story written in the stars, a tale of two souls bound together by destiny, destined to journey through life as partners, lovers, and friends, forevermore.

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 2/?

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version).

PROLOGUE (He remembers) HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights) Updating irregularly. This is a SLOW BURN

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

2001

                He walks across the stage at his graduation and he feels buoyed up as he hears the cheers, can hear Mav absolutely losing it, egged on by the high pitched squeals of Tamsin and Petra and when he’s engulfed in the warm embrace of his family he does his best to ignore the fact that he might not get this when he graduates from the USNA. And he will graduate, that’s not in question in his mind. But whether he will allow both Mav and Ice to attend, whether they will even be in the country. It’s all unknown with it being so far away.

                That said they’ve decided that Sarah and the girls will drop him off at USNA, they’re still his family and no-one will look sideways at them being there. He knows Mav could technically drop him off, that no one going into Plebe summer would know who he was, at least not yet. But he doesn’t want there to be talk about him having connections, even if it’s true multiple times over. If he’s going to make friends he wants them to be people who genuinely like him, rather than the potential benefits of being his friend. Not that he thinks there are any. Not yet.

                Ice and Mav have been riding him hard the last few months, training with him and running, swimming, weights and he hadn’t wanted to let guys over twenty years his senior put him to shame. But they had the first couple of weeks, their endurance just out-stripping him. Not anymore though, he’s improved remarkably, the routine becoming almost comfortable and Ice had begun slapping him on the back and telling him that he maybe might have a chance of enjoying Plebe Summer rather than wishing for a swift and painless death on a daily basis.

                The most exciting thing he gets is an almost new Audi, which Ice then promptly tells him he can’t take to USNA anyway. But its highly safety rated and he gives Mav a raised eyebrow at that, because Mav still rides his bike around with no helmet and probably always will. But he’s going to insist Bradley drive a car that is rated for maximum safety for front and passenger side crashes. Apparently, he trusts Bradley, but not everyone else on the road. Bradley doesn’t point out that Mav himself is one of the other people on the road.

                They say goodbye at the airport, none of them in uniform yet with the fact that they’re going a couple of days early. Tamsin and Petra are just as excited about the flight as Bradley, although they’re running circles around them and he occasionally reaches out to throw one or the other up into the air, their delighted giggles making him grin. He wants to start this journey already, wants to make Mav and Ice proud. But he’s going to miss seeing Tamsin and Petra grow up and if he’s going to have regrets about anything, it’s that.

                “We would like a short phone call every Saturday. Doesn’t need to be longer than a couple of minutes, but we do want to talk to you. Obviously only works when I’m in the country.”

                “Of course. And I’ll write letters as well. When I have time,” Bradley offers, because Ice has reiterated over and over how exhausting the first year is. “Can I call you as well?” Bradley asks, turning to Sarah, and his anxiousness must show on his face.

                “Oh honey, of course you can. We’d all love to talk to you. You won’t get a word in edgeways if it’s one of these two hellions you wanted to talk to though…”

                “That’s okay, I might not be much of a conversationalist anyway…”

                The call for their flight comes and he hugs Mav and Ice tightly, throat tight with emotion as he realizes it’s going to be months before he sees them again.

                “I’m proud of you. Keep your nose clean okay?” Ice says.

                “Of course. Always.”

                “Don’t forget to have fun,” Mav says.

                “Not too much fun,” Ice instantly adds and Mav is rolling his eyes, throws him a wink and god he’s going to miss them so much.

                The flight is exhausting, keeping Petra and Tamsin entertained a fulltime task and he’s glad the flight isn’t any longer. They got a couple of rooms booked at a Motel and he falls into his bed, determined to enjoy a solid night’s sleep. Over the next couple of days they do some touristy things, although the number of playgrounds and parks they visit is probably higher, what with Tamsin and Petra getting bored quickly with anything that requires even a small modicum of reading. It’s fine though, he’ll have liberty leave and can come to the museums and stuff if he wants to.

                When they drop him off for his first day, his bags all packed and dressed in his uniform Tamsin has made the connection that he’s not coming home with them and is inconsolable, tears streaming down her face and he finds it heartbreaking that she’s so upset to say goodbye to him. He promises to draw her some pictures and post them, that they’ll talk on the phone and he has to trust Sarah when she says she’ll be fine. He waves good bye and goes to start the rest of his life.

…             …             …

                As the days fly past he’s so glad he was forced into the training regime that Ice and Mav planned out, because while he’s still pushed past his personal limits his recovery time is much shorter, he knows how much food he needs to eat and how to deal with the yelling and sleep depravation exercises. God, Ice really didn’t exaggerate when he said it was going to be hard. He knows the orders inside out, when asked about his family he doesn’t hesitate to say his father was a naval aviator, a RIO who died in a training exercise in 1986. It does generally stop follow-up questions, but he suspects that some of the teachers know who he is, know that Maverick is listed as his emergency contact. He doesn’t ever bring it up.

                He writes more letters than he thought he would, the phones difficult to use except for the brief few minutes he makes a concerted effort every Saturday. However the time he doesn’t have to use memorizing orders coming in handy and he draws pictures for Tamsin and Petra and writes letters, addressing them to where Mav is deployed. Bradley doesn’t make close friends, he does make friends though, lots and lots of friends. Remembers their birthdays, makes little notes of things they tell him, asks follow up questions about their families and helps them out where and when he can.

                He doesn’t share much information about himself though, keeps it close to his chest. It’s maybe a little paranoid but it’s not just him on the line, but Mav and Ice. When pressed he mentions his step-father Pete, how he married his mom after his dad died. When he mentions his mom dying is usually when people either start to look like they seriously regret asking, or they look like they pity him and he doesn’t know which he dislikes the most. He is asked about the photo he keeps by his bed, of Tamsin and Petra and he simply explains that they’re his step-siblings. It all makes sense in his head, knows he can keep all of that straight in his head as none of it is a lie. He knows people are probably making assumption about Pete marrying Sarah, but he’s never said anything about that.

                The seven weeks of Plebe Summer come to an end and then he’s preparing for his plebe year, picking the academic classes which he will undertake alongside the physical activities required at the Academy. He’s flying home for a short break of one week, Maverick is on deployment, so he expects Ice or Sarah at the airport to pick him up. The fact that they’re all there makes his hurt from smiling so much and he goes home with Ice, squishes himself into the backseat because Tamsin won’t let go of his hand.

                He goes back to USNA feeling revitalized after spending time with them, and of course there’s one upper classman who seems to have it out for him, and Bradley is careful to remain respectful, but he also won’t let himself be a doormat. He knows his own worth, even if this one guy is constantly trying to find fault with him and snipe him. He does his best to ignore it, knows that a little of this is part and parcel of the entire experience, but it doesn’t mean he likes it.

                Then September 11th happens and his immediate thought goes to Mav, somewhere on deployment somewhere near the Middle East, and he feels awful, immediately thinking of his own family before the hundreds or thousands of innocent people who are now dead. They’re given very little information, however he does receive an envelope with the mail two days later, no stamp or postmark and it’s simply They’re both alive and well. Uncle Sli. He breathes out and the tension in his shoulders lessens immediately. Slider isn’t someone he sees a lot of, but he’d recognize him and is so grateful for the message.

                He’s not stupid, knows that they’re all now in the military, that there are plenty of risks day-to-day associated with that. However looking at the potential start of World War Three is different when he knows Mav is one of the best fighter pilots that the Navy currently has. He’s just going to have to learn to compartmentalize now and ignore his feelings, the worry about where he is and when he will next see him. Plebe Year continues, and there is a shift in the intensity of some of the people, knowing that active combat suddenly feels much closer to home.

                He chooses to stay on campus through the holiday break, along with a handful of others. He’s thankful all his family are alive and well, but going home to houses devoid of both Maverick and Ice makes him want to stay where he is, because he’s used to not seeing them around here. Word has gotten around that both his parents are dead, so no one asks him awkward questions about why he’s not going home. He’s the only Plebe who has stayed.

                His New Year’s Eve is vastly different than the previous year, when he’d been celebrating with his high school friends, or even the year before sitting on the sofa with Ice as they watched the ball drop. This year he lies in his dorm bed and listens to the fireworks outside, rolls over and simply tries to sleep. He’d had liberty leave, but he’s underage, clearly military and the risks far outweigh any rewards from doing something, anything, for New Year’s Eve. So staying in and sleeping it is. This is only one year of the many ahead of him.

…             …             …

                Spring semester starts up and it’s routine. The academic classes along with the exercises and naval classes. He continues writing letters, making Saturday afternoon phone calls and hangs out with the other Plebes, some of them he’d even class as friends, and damned Ice, he was right about him making friends despite trying to be stand offish and taciturn about his background. They don’t seem to care that he doesn’t talk about his family much, which he guesses is nice, and when a couple of them invite him to their place for summer he mention going home to his step-father and he gets a couple of raised eyebrows.

                “I love my step-father. And my step-siblings. I’ll spend the few weeks of summer with them.”

                “But you didn’t go at Christmas.”

                “Pete was out of the country for work and Sarah is Jewish, so I just, stayed here,” Bradley offers and once again he ignores the slightly pitying looks from the others in the wider circle who are listening in, but the two different Plebes that had invited him to their homes for summer nod with more understanding and he wonders if he’s now going to get invites for every time they have liberty leave or parent-weekends, or fuck, even their next Christmas break.

                So his first year comes to an end and he finishes in the top two-percent of the class. He watches the Firsts graduate and knows that’s going to be him in another three years. Then Uncle Slider is there, along with Wolfman and Hollywood and he knows it’s a compromise of sorts, Ice and Maverick staying away. How he’s going to explain these three talking to him he had no idea, but finds he doesn’t need to.

                “They flew with your old man huh?”

                “What?”

                “Those guys that were talking to you, they all looked proud of you, but also a little sad.”

                “Yeah. Yeah they flew with my dad. They were in the same Top Gun class as him. And I guess they wish my dad was here to see me…” Bradley says, realizing the truth of it, because not only is his dad not able to be here, but neither Maverick or Ice are here either. None of the men he considers father figures, and he knows that Slider at least knows about Ice and Mav’s relationship.

                They had seemed a little melancholic when they’d been talking to him, unlike Ice and Mav who have probably worked through the fact that his parents will miss all his milestones the people who see him less often probably focus on it a lot more. He’s grateful suddenly that Mav doesn’t seem to dwell on it, is gleefully proud of him from a distance and Bradley is left in no doubt of that fact. The same for Ice. God he’s looking forward to seeing them both in person though, doesn’t want to go an entire year again without seeing them, but also knows it’s been a good test, for future deployments when he has to be even further away from them all.

…             …             …

                ��God I want to be there so badly…”

                “We’ll be there for his final year graduation, even if it’s purely formal. He’s not alone…”

                “I know, I know, it just… I’ve missed him so much. Coming home and him not being here. God Ice, it’s like I’m missing a piece of myself.”

                “He was going to grow up and move out eventually…”

                “I know. God. I know. I just feel like it’s gone by so fast. I still remember him being this little toddler who could barely walk…”

                “If you couldn’t remember it I’d be worried about you.”

                “Shut up, you know what I mean. It’s the fact that this toddler is now on the other side of the country attending boat school and I can’t even visit him…”

                “We’ll make it work better next year, figure out some visits, because I don’t think Sarah and the girls have coped overly well either. I do think it was probably for the best though, think he will feel incredibly settled going forward. He’s done very well, he’s got people watching him already, and not all of them know about his connections or background.”

                “He’s impressive all on his own, he doesn’t fucking need any connections!”

                “Mav, you’re preaching to the converted. He’s gotten through his first year and I’m hoping he’ll let us visit a little incognito for next year’s parent weekend. I could visit formally, although I’d prefer not to.”

                “Well, at least we get him home for a few weeks this summer.”

                Tom hums, because he’s pulled a few strings to ensure that they all have leave overlapping for the weeks Bradley is back home, and he may have used his eldest daughter’s last summer before she starts school as an excuse and he has no shame in admitting it.

…             …             …

                It’s absolute chaos, Petra’s fourth birthday and his welcome home party all squished into a terrifying combination of a bouncy castle and a group of kids from Petra’s daycare, along with a mom of one of the other kids doing face-painting, which has resulted in him with a rainbow on one cheek and a butterfly on the other. The birthday party is meant to finish around three, early enough that the kids who need naps can still have them.

                Petra is not one of them, looking wide awake, apparently impossible to keep shoes on or her long dark hair braided, or even tied back. She’s swinging on the backyard playset, yelling for higher and faster with excited giggles and… She could be Mav’s kid. As much as Tamsin is the spitting image of Ice, Petra looks like Maverick. He looks to Sarah, her hair is brown, eyes also brown, so it’s not impossible that Petra just looks like her more than Ice but…

                “Papa! Higher!”

                Holy shit.

                “She calls Mav papa?” Bradley mutters under his breath, because that’s a new development no-one bothered to mention to him. Mav is already there, pushing her and laughing with her and god, why didn’t they say anything? Maybe he has it wrong? Does he need to know? He wants to know, but he doesn’t need to know.

                “Did you just realize?”

                Ice has stepped beside him, is nursing a beer and is also watching Petra and Maverick.

                “Hmm? Realize what?” Bradley asks, wondering if playing dumb is going to even work right now. Looks from his kid-sisters-slash-cousins back to Ice, and now that he’s looking properly it’s even more obvious that Tamsin is very clearly his daughter through and through just as much as Petra isn’t.

                “Did you just realize that Petra is the spitting image of Maverick.”

                “I… I’m not imagining it?”

                “Nope. They’re even named after each of us. Your Aunt Sarah is a very generous woman, and obviously it’s my name on the birth certificates. But we all know the truth. And now you do too.”

                “Holy shit… Tamsin and Petra. That’s really obvious when you know.”

                “Hiding in plain sight…” Ice says quietly, taking another sip of his beer.

                “Yeah…” Bradley says on an exhale and wonders how old Tamsin and Petra will be when they figure it out.

CHAPTER THREE - 2002

[hbyrde36]

Updated 08/29/2024

It's Only Forever

Teaser & snippet

“Goblins” Promo

"Helping Hands" Promo

Coming October 2nd

Labyrinth AU | 45K | Mature

Midsummer Nights

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This summer they were eighteen, part of the graduating class of 1999, on the brink of college, and finally old enough to be hired as full fledged counselors with paychecks and days off and everything. Not that it paid much, but Steve wasn’t in it for the money. He was in it for the love of the place. Sunset Lake Camp had become a second home to him over the last decade of his life, his real home, and the people there like family. Robin was mainly in it for Steve, excited at the prospect of getting to spend the entire Summer with him for once instead of the single session, two short weeks, she was used to—all her folks had been able to afford each year growing up. It was poised to be the best summer of Steve’s life. Then he met Eddie.

Caught in the Undertow

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Against all odds, Steve Harrington saved Eddie Munson from certain death. And Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive him for it.

Canon divergence - Eddie lives, suicidal ideation, sad with a happy ending, angst with happy ending, POV alternating, good uncle Wayne Munson

No Vacancy

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When Eddie Munson arrived at the Buckingham Beach Motel to spend the summer with his best friend Chrissy and her business partner Robin, the absolute last person he expected to see hanging around in the lobby was former King of Hawkins High and renowned jock asshole, Steve fucking Harrington. To make matters worse, Eddie found that Steve's presence was just the tip of the iceberg—long story short? Mistakes were made and it turned out the motel was a little overbooked...

Who even goes on blind dates anymore?

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After several failed long-term relationships with fuckboys that weren’t worth his time and heartache, who ran the second things got real, he joined the apps—quickly realizing that most of the guys he found on there were only looking for sex. Which was fun and all, but Eddie wanted more. He was looking for romance, a spark, someone he could see spending his life with, who was also looking for a partner. Someone who wasn’t allergic to commitment. So, he’d quit the apps. And when Chrissy told him she had a guy she wanted him to meet he figured, fuck it, he’d tried everything else.

Times Like These

Anniversary Post

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When Eddie finds himself back in his living room, staring down a very alive Chrissy Cunningham, after just having bled to death himself in the middle of a nightmare world, he was rightfully very, very fucking confused. -Or- What happens when the new guy, who only just got inducted into the fucked up world of monsters and mayhem, gets stuck in a time loop and finds himself responsible for saving everyone?

I Don't Think We're In Hawkins Anymore, Big Boy

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After being run off the road in a freak accident during a terrible storm, Steve and Eddie find that not only have they committed vehicular manslaughter, but they’ve also somehow been whisked away to a strange land. The journey is rough and they are being hunted for revenge, but through it all Steve and Eddie grow closer than ever as they try and find their way home with the help of some new friends with familiar faces. -Or- Steddie Wizard of Oz

Hellfire Ink

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Written for the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang 2023/2024

Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, a new client at that. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hook-ups had begun losing its appeal lately. But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather be getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten their girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse. Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever.

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

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For years Eddie has been playing D&D with his cousin Dustin and his friends. It’s a crazy home brew campaign of his own design that plays fast and loose with the lore, weaving in heavily embellished events from their real lives. They play themselves, filling out a full cast of NPC’s with the likenesses of friends, family, and strangers. It’s been a wild ride. The game is set in Hawkins, but not quite their Hawkins. This manifestation of their hometown is full of dark secrets, including a shady government agency, evil scientists, and another dimension full of dangerous creatures hiding on the other side of reality. They’ve just wrapped their most recent session before spring break 1986. It was a bittersweet end to an epic part of the story. A blast to play through, but they didn’t beat the bad guy, and the party has been left in ruins. Eddie’s character is dead, one of their favorite NPC’s is in a coma, and the world has literally split apart at the seams. Honestly, Eddie’s not sure how they come back from this. - In 1983 Steve Harrington joined the search for a missing boy and found something he never bargained for. In 1984 Steve Harrington disappeared.

Honey, You're Familiar

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Written for the Stranger Things Writer's Guild Hozier Project, a collection of one-shots inspired by songs from Hozier's self titled album. The word count limit was 3,000 and I chose the song From Eden

🖤The Crawl

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Inspired by the VERY little information we have about the Stranger Things writer's plans for season 5 Time travel stories love to play with the idea that one small act can have an incredible impact on the future. What if, in a crazy twist of fate, Will Byers was rescued from the Upside Down a day early and with just a little knowledge of what was to come. Would it be enough to change everything?

POV Will Byers, POV Eddie Munson, POV Steve Harrington, time shenanigans, fix-it of sorts, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, falling in love, confessions, first kiss, character death, HAPPY ENDING

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

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Steve Harrington is an animator. It’s a job that involves raising the dead; sometimes as a service for mourning relatives looking for closure, often as a tool for the courts to settle disputes. He is also a licensed vampire hunter. Two years ago, vampirism became legal in the United States, granting its undead population citizenship. With this new legal status comes a complication for Steve, as he finds himself tasked with helping the very creatures he is accustomed to killing. Speaking of complications, Steve struggles in more ways than one when he finds himself working closely with none other than Eddie Munson, an undeniably sexy several-hundred-years old master vampire. Or, The Anita Blake/Steddie mashup that nobody asked for but I’m having far too much fun with.

Modern AU, Vampire AU (Anita Blake AU/mashup),  aged up characters, enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, dream sex, vampires, wereanimals, zombies, other supernatural things eventually

Shelter In Place

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Written for Lex’s Spicy Six Summer Challenge! My prompt was : Hurricane

When a major Hurricane is projected to hit Hawkins (technically it’s more like the remnants of a hurricane, but the residents of Hawkins don’t really know the difference or care), Dustin is worried about his new friend and DM, Eddie Munson, who lives in a trailer, a structure not known for its resilience against severe weather. He invites the older boy to ride the storm out with him and his mom at home, unaware that she has made arrangements for them to stay with family that live far away from the storm's trajectory. Dustin doesn’t want to leave his friend high and dry, enter everyone’s favorite babysitter: Steve Harrington.

[sunatoru]

bottom of the deep blue. (epilogue)

⇒ mermaid!suna x siren!reader

summary : sirens, creatures of unmatched beauty and cunning charm, they lure men in with their voices and grace, taking advantage of all the gullible fishermen and pirates. mermaids, the peacekeepers of the deep blue sea, naive and kind to a fault at times. a fated encounter between the two underwater dwellers leads to a difficult situation and a love that shouldn’t be.

warnings : mentions of past trauma, phantom pains, saying goodbye.

genre : mermaid au, pirate au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, betrayal

a/n : the conclusion of ‘botdb’ this feels so bittersweet. my first ever series, finally coming to an end. thank you so much to everyone who read it, and to everyone who had shown any interest whether it be through comments, reblog a or asks. AND TO THE PEOPLE IN THE TAGLIST 🥹 but i think the person who deserves my thanks the most, is my best friend and long time tumblr moot, mimi 😭 my 4lyfer fr, if she didn’t laugh at my spelling mistakes, you guys would have instead. sihsjshsk jokes jokes !! but everyone say thank you mimi, if it wasn’t for her, half my fics wouldn’t exist ( she fr helps me brainstorm and plan everything )

w/c : 1.4k

after rintarou’s banishment, life went on, over the years the relationships between sirens and mermaids had slowly begun healing, the hatred turning into a tolerance for one another, and soon a friendliness flourished under the deep waters waves.

you’d spend hours looking up at the surface on the water, never getting close enough to break it, you’d never had a reason to go back up there, not even your curiosity for rintarou could make you face the world that almost harmed you beyond repair.

you were content under the blanket, in the life you lived, with the friends you had made, the surface no longer had meaning, your life was more than just killing sailors and pirates. you could freely explore the vast ocean, knowing you’d be safer even in the darkest depths, than you had been even a foot above the water.

though you regretted many things after your traumatic experience with rin, you couldn’t regret loving him. the raw emotions he had evoked from you in the short while of knowing him, the love he made you feel. you were thankful you learnt what that could feel like. more thankful that you could experience it again.

it seemed like the merman from rintarou’s kingdom were quite the charmers.

shinsuke had met you exactly a year after your return home, a year after the banishment of one of his best friends, and a year after you had closed yourself off. the first twelve months after the events had been the hardest, getting used to working with a tail that would never be as good as it used to be, and a mind constantly clouded by thoughts and the loop of the pain you had gone through. even years after the events, your scars would ache from phantom pains. yet shin stayed by your side.

a reminder that good things came with time, you regained your strength, your passion, your soft touch. life was better with someone to love, someone who fulfils your silly little fantasies. sure, he wouldn’t bring you treasures from above, but he’d bring back different rocks he’d found on his journeys and always had a story to tell. he’d teach you about the other kingdoms’ customs and would take you with him to the places he knew were safe.

his love for you was pure, the softest and sweetest love you could have ever wished for. shinsuke loved you hopelessly and endlessly.

so, when you suggested visiting the surface after decades of avoiding it, with the intention of finally checking in on rintarou, shinsuke asked to come with you. he vowed to keep you safe, to protect you from harm, and though it was to visit his old friend, after knowing the pain he caused you, shinsuke exercised extreme caution.

-

the trip to the surface was a nerve-wracking experience, though it was short and quiet, you could feel the heavy pounding of your heart, and when you finally reached the top, you took a second, clutching shinsuke’s hand tightly before breaking past the barrier of water.

sucking in a deep breath, you gazed at the same rocks you had been taken from, the rocks where it all began, the rocks where you decided you loved rintarou.

your eyes moved past the rocks to the buildings that now surrounded the shore, it was quiet— empty, however, it was different. it was nothing like the shacks and villages you saw all those decades ago. these had more structure, it looked sturdier, more detailed than before.

shinsuke squeezed your hand, silently asking if you were okay. with a slight nod, you pulled the both of you towards the ledge, letting him pull you out of the water after his tail had dried into human legs. your arms still felt weak despite the anxiety leaving you.

within a couple of minutes, the two of you were running down to where you remembered helen’s shack being, mermaids and sirens had no awareness to the modesty of humans, but from what you had remembered, your nude forms would be heavily looked down upon, so the both of you ran as fast as you possibly could down to the rundown little shack of the woman who had first greeted you into the human world.

-

with deep breaths you pushed the shack door open, thankful that it was still here. your eyes gazed around the room, landing on a blanket that you could use to wrap around yourself, and a discarded towel shinsuke could wrap around his own body.

after calming down, you fully took in your surroundings, lips pursing at the sight of fresh mermaid scales drying out on the counter. a bucket of water below it, and a pair of boots haphazardly thrown off on the floor.

the feel of the shack had changed, it no longer felt like the working space of a woman who held an unusual amount of knowledge of the world beneath the sea. it had a more homey feel to it, more like a shelter.

your thoughts were broken by the shack’s door swinging open, letting the light in to illuminate the figure standing by the doorway. a figure you were hoping to see.

“…rintarou?” your breath hitches. he hasn’t changed.

rin looks equally as shocked, not expecting to see you in front of him after years of no contact. he lets out a shaky exhale, taking a slow step forward, and then another, and then a few more before he makes it in front of you. a hand moving up to cup your cheek.

“yn?” his eyes soften, his body relaxes, his other hand aches to cup your other cheek. to hold you, to hug you.

a smile slowly spreads across his features as he examines your face, you hadn’t changed, you still looked as soft and sweet as the day he had met you. with a love-filled exhale, he looks past you, gaze locking onto shinsuke’s who had already been staring at him.

“s-shin?!”

“hello, rintarou.” the two continued the mutual eye contact, before shinsuke broke it, eyes trailing down to the hand that was still cupping your face so gently. rin’s gaze trailed down to his own hand, quickly lurching it away from you, breaking you out of the emotional trance you were locked in.

the tension was high, the pain was sinking in. rintarou was alive, he was alive and he still loved you. and that fact hurt you more than a stab from any pirate ever could.

he loves you, but you couldn’t love him. not when you had shinsuke, not when everything you had ever wanted to feel was felt because of a man who had loved you so passionately without breaking your trust, without placing his selfishness above your own safety. shinsuke was worth the hardships and mistakes you had lived through.

rintarou was not.

“what are you two doing here?”

shinsuke speaks up for you, walking up close enough to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. you sink into his warmth. “we wanted to see how you were. see if you were still alive. i’m glad you’re doing well, we should leave now.”

“shin—“

“i’m glad i could see you two again. even briefly. yn… i have the rest of eternity to apologise for what i did, please let me. i will spend every hour of the sunlight and every second under the night sky atoning for my mistakes, so long as you don’t hate me for what i did to you.”

you were shocked, and from the sharp inhale from shinsuke, you could tell he was too.

“rin… i— i don’t hate you. i forgive you, i forgave you long ago. when the pain stopped hurting and became a memory that i could lock away. live your life without the guilt of what has happened. eternity is a lot less bearable when you have regrets.”

you move to hold shin’s hand, squeezing it tightly before pushing past rintarou, your heartbeat quickened and your breathing stuttered. you needed to leave, to get back below the surface, back into the comfort of the cave you had found so many years ago.

the surface wasn’t a place you would willingly come to often, if ever at all. but, you’re glad you could say what you needed to say, and leave rin with a final goodbye before you both went your separate ways for the rest of forever.

what you had gone through was hard, but saying goodbye was harder.

tags : @lomlsuna @akaashiwife @plixy @on-crows-wings @1-800-s1ya @sabztov @keiji-in-a-can @tamak00 @erintaro @bertqut1 @usermins @yanihatesu @rntrsuna ( bolded, could not tag!! )

[mandalorianchronicles]

Bo-Katan's Journey and The Road Ahead

The latest episode of The Mandalorian has begun to shed a bit of light on the beginning of Bo’s journey (as well as raising yet more questions about the timeline).

Adonai Kryze, Bo-Katan and Satine’s father - and the warlord of House Kryze - fought and died in the The Great Clan Wars (approx. 41BBY-39BBY). He witnessed Bo recite the creed in front of the Living Waters. Bo says that he was proud of her because she “didn’t embarrass him in front of everyone”. When Din said he sounded like an interesting man and commented he would have liked to meet him, Bo says that he was a “great man”, before sharing that he died defending Mandalore.  

This is our first big clue in canon as to who influenced her most in her younger years. We know that Adonai sent Satine away to Coruscant to keep her safe, and it is presumably while she is there that she begins to change her affiliation to that of the New Mandalorians, since her father was obviously not a pacifist. Bo’s narrative suggests that she sought to make her father proud, so she probably did all she could to align her allegiances with his. Since Satine is the older of the two, it makes sense that the second-born would be even more desperate to please the father to gain more favor and attention. Depending on when Adonai died, he may not have known that his eldest daughter and heir decided to switch her affiliation to the New Mandalorians. But if he was alive when Satine made her choice, Bo would have gotten a front row seat to her father’s feelings, which were most likely those of disappointment and betrayal, just before his death at the hands of the faction that Satine now served. One can easily see how Bo might have come to hate her sister and want revenge.

Dave Filoni has stated that he had a back story in mind where Bo-katan and Satine were twins. Initially, I had dismissed this as a mothballed idea when Katee Sackhoff was chosen to play Bo in the live-action series, since she is now 42 years old and nowhere near the right age to play Satine’s twin. If Satine is the same age as Obi-Wan, they would be 66 in 9 ABY, plus however many years have passed since season 1 began (which is “many years” according Favreau). But, if it is true that Bo recited the creed in front of her father before his death during the Great Clan Wars, he might not have given up on that idea after all. Even if she recited the creed at 12 years old in the last year of the war (39 BBY), she would still be 60 years old in 9 ABY. Maybe she was in carbon freeze for a couple decades, maybe she has an excellent skin care regimen. In any case, Bo is definitely FAR older than she looks. But her advanced age fuels the idea that there could have been a much deeper animosity between the sisters than if there was a significant age gap. 

I assume Bo was not exiled with the Old Mandalorians to Concordia, since she was still too young to fight in the war, but at some point, she joined Pre Vizsla and gave her allegiance to Death Watch and began actively seeking her sister’s demise. Later, when Pre’s bid for power led him to join forces with the former Sith Lord, Maul, Bo-katan vehemently objects to the alliance. She knows Maul will double cross Pre, and she feared he would not win the confrontation. Her instincts proved to be right on the credits. Maul murders her sister and takes over Mandalore. We don’t yet know if Bo’s motivations for turning on Maul were simply because he was an outsider, or if his murder of Satine made her regret the path of vengeance she had chosen - but in either case, Bo organizes her Nite Owls into a resistance to oust Maul from power. Palpatine does her work for her, killing Savage and imprisoning Maul, and Bo seems to lie low for a short time. But when Saxon and the other super commandos loyal to Maul spring him from prison and he regains a foothold on Mandalore, she asks the Republic for aide. We know the rest. The Siege of Mandalore is a success, Maul is captured, and Bo is made regent. But when she refuses to bend the knee to Palpatine, she is replaced by Saxon.

Seventeen years later, Bo is still actively resisting the Empire’s hold on Mandalore, seeking freedom for her people. When Sabine Wren offers her the reclaimed Darksaber, she refuses it, claiming she failed as regent to protect her people. In the conflict that follows, Fenn Rau and Bo-katan agree that Sabine shows much leadership potential, despite her young age. After the insurgents come together and finally oust Gar Saxon and his brother, gaining a major victory, Sabine once more offers the Darksaber to Bo, saying that she has proven herself to be a worthy leader. Bo reluctantly accepts the heirloom, gaining the support of the remaining Kryze clan, House Vizsla, Clan Wren, Clan Rook, Clan Eldar, and Fenn Rau, the last Protector (but not The Children of the Watch, who were residing on Concordia). Ultimately, their rebellion prompts the Empire to strike back by utterly destroying the entire surface of the planet in the Great Purge. 

Over a decade later, we find her still fighting the good fight against the remnants of the Empire and trying to regain the Darksaber to once more unite her people and restore Mandalore. But because of one blunder by the unsuspecting Din, she could not lay claim to the sword, and refused to accept it as a gift once more (nor fight him for it). In the The Mines of Mandalore, we see Bo refuse to lay claim to it again, even though Din had lost it in his struggle against the cyborg crab. Though she obviously has no trouble wielding the blade - the same of which can not be said of either Din or Paz Vizsla - she still returned the precious weapon to him. Though she had the *perfect* opportunity to take the saber from Din (and technically creed compliant), she did the honorable thing and saved his life, returning the weapon without a word of argument. Time will tell if she continues to act as honorably, but I see no reason to doubt her, especially now that she has clearly begun to take a liking to Din.

There is a wide range of feelings concerning Bo-Katan in the Star Wars fan base, and understandably so. Personally, she was redeemed in my eyes when she changed course at the end of The Clone Wars. She appeared genuinely remorseful of her sister's death when she spoke to Obi-Wan (though ultimately, she had not been the one responsible). She has spent upwards of 35 years atoning for the choices of her youth. Let's be honest, it's not as though she's the first Star Wars character who set themselves on a path of evil in the name of vengeance and then turn away from it later. She isn't perfect, but she has acted honorably and with humility in regards to the Darksaber since it was first offered to her.

Bo has been raised to believe that the myths and legends of her people are just that - stories. She believed, like many others, that the mythosaurs had gone extinct generations ago. They were once real, but the stories about her people's encounters with them have been reduced to legend, like many of the fables that we have in the real world (ex: Excalibur and its ability to choose a worthy king; St. George and the dragon, magic-wielding wizards, etc.). It's as strange for her to believe in Din's myths as it would be for someone living in the 21st century to believe Excalibur really did choose King Arthur. Jedi and lightsabers are real to be certain, but no other lightsaber chooses who is worthy to wield it (of which Bo-Katan is fully aware).

Now that a mythosaur has apparently been residing in the depths, perhaps she'll begin to believe. Or maybe she'll just accept that they obviously didn't go extinct and the timing is just very convenient to herald in the restoration of Mandalore. Perhaps it was a Force sensitive individual who first had the vision to begin with, seeing the destruction of Mandalore and catching a glimpse of a new leader rising alongside the great beast. Their future is uncertain, but I believe that this season will show that the ideal future for Mandalore is somewhere in the middle of their extremes. Bo will be able to experience some spirituality (or the will of Force) permeating her strictly realist belief system. Hopefully, Din will discover that he can still be a Mandalorian without following all the fundamentalist restrictions of the cult in which he was raised. They both need to accept that fighting isn't the only application for Mandalorians.

I also suspect that Din will discover that The Armorer is not the most trustworthy of historians, but she'll have her reasons. One thing is certain: Mandalore can have no future as long as their individual beliefs are exclusive to others. Like Bo said, it is painful to see her people fighting each other for generations for reasons too complicated to explain. It has to stop, and I believe balance will only be achieved with Bo-Katan and Din working together.

[jongbross]

ok so lilith and chanyeol??? if you think another song would be easier for u to write choose whatever song you want <3

100 celebration

demon!park chanyeol x reader (mentions of dark themes, swearing)

"i've been corrupted and by now i don't need no help to be destructive" (lilith - halsey feat. suga)

being so mistaken all your life took a toll on you, so of course you became someone people didn't want around.

the only one you found comfort in, the only one that stood beside you through it all after you two met, was chanyeol - except he wasn't exactly a person.

chanyeol was sent to make you succumb to your darkest desires and needs, to corrupt your soul - but by the time he got to you, you were already corrupted, destroyed, heart in pieces and soul as stained and lost as chanyeol's once was.

the demon sympathized with you. he knew you were hurt your whole life, being put aside and left out since the day your journey in this world had begun. he was on this road for too long, so he knew people like you (he took way too many down with him), but it surprised him the way you dealt with everything.

"there's gonna be a day where you're gonna take me down to hell with you", you've told him, in one of the many nights you two spend together. "i'm not gonna fight against it, i know my place. i know i'm too far gone now."

"and you're just fucking fine with it?"

you shrugged, looking up to the sky and seeing a sea of stars - each one represented a sin you've made without regret.

"i just fuck things up, in case you haven't noticed by now. i don't think i stand a chance in heaven, they would be disgusted by me", you laughed. "besides... they don't have you there."

chanyeol smirked, red eyes shining at you. "you're the sweetest soul i ever took."

you smiled, even though you knew the twisted meaning behind that statement.

"you're the most pathetic demon i ever gave my soul to."

chanyeol laughed. he couldn't wait to return to hell with you.

[ask-the-edge-of-evolution]

Prologue - Introduction

The journey through the depths of the dark forest have brought a wave of disquietude and regret. Taking a form of realization that it wasn't the most pleasant of ideas to simply wonder through the mysterious woods without a sort of map. Albeit, the conscious of understanding came by rather late. Alas, the only bright side to this circumstance is the moon's shimmering light, seeping through the bustling leaves. As its moonlight decently assists on providing enough, to be able to see through the trees and take sight of the surroundings. Well… It is sorta something good. It is at least better than to be stranded in complete darkness.

Unfortunately, there is still no sign of a clearing, nor a path that would aide to leaving from this vexatious of an area. Before you could sigh in sheer defeat, a voice ahead could be heard. Or, moreso to speak, the tone of a multitude of voices can be heard nearby. It sounded as if a group of Pokémon were up ahead.  Mayhaps a search party? After all, it has been long since one has departed into the forest. One could assume that the group could be campers. But… Why would anyone choose to pitch a camp so deep into the forest? It isn't ideally safe.

Curious… Without a second thought, you've begun walking down the grassy path, scattered with twisted twigs and bundled leaves. Each step leading to a sort of 'CRUNCH' sound. While it may not be the most difficult to avoid these little "obstacles", it does provide such inconveniences when needing to take slower steps. After all, it may be best to not cause any sort of noise that would bring a sudden alarm to whomever is speaking up ahead.

As you have journeyed furthered in, it was then you were able to hear the voices more clearly. Not only that, but finally you could see who these group of Pokémon may be. It was then you've decided to inch closer in. Yet, also creating a sort of distance, as one does not wish to intrude into the group's conversation. In a way, someone may assume that you could be hiding, simply to eavesdrop onto whatever topic is being spoken about. Whether this may be true or not, it simply depends.

"Grrrrr… I am sick of these dud forests!", The Flareon growled in sheer frustration, seemingly having enough with whatever circumstance he may be in. The emerald blades from beneath the creature's paws would spark into trickle of flames. "This is the SEVENTH-- I repeat SEVENTH fucking forest we've been to! There is not a damn sight of them!".

Then, a four-tailed Espeon had made an approach to the clearly enraged Flareon. Calmly and gently, they would softly nudge the Flareon's paw away from the ignited grass. Then, they would stomp onto it, to cease the flames. This is to prevent the fire from spreading and potentially causing the forest from going into a blazing mess. "Oh dearest younger brother. There is no need to let such anger consume you.", The Espeon grant a faint smile, as their tone spoke with serenity. The Espeon hummed, letting their head brush against the Flareon's mane. Although they quickly recoil, after feeling the intense heat emitting from the fur. Unfortunate that an embrace couldn't be an option, as the flare of the Flareon's anger had cause his body to increase in heat. "--We wouldn't want such incident to happen again, Susu~."

It was then the Flareon would snap their neck, full attention set to the Espeon. He didn't seem the utmost please with that last sentence. "That is NOT my name!". He says as he huff out a puff of smoke through his nostrils. "And you fucking know this, Shinichiro! So quit acting like you are mightier than the rest, asshole.".

The Espeon would have their ears flick up in shock. A paw would be lifted up, setting it near their mouth as they release an exasperated gasp. "Ah, but I hold no ill-intent, dearest little brother! I only wish to ice your flames, as you needeth to know that neither of us wish to temper the residents! Must I bring mention to last time?". Their brow would furrow, undelighted at the memory. They hope to avoid such similar situation from happening again."I only ask that, for once, you quail your anger for a change."

The Flareon sigh, both in defeat and annoyance. He would open his mouth to speak, unsuccessfully so, as a darken Vaporeon would grumpily utter these words. "Yaketsuku, just shut up and piss off already. Some of us just want to sleep and not hear your raging rants for the billionth time.". His words was rather bold and venomous in tone. Seeming to have quite enough with this Flareon's outburst. Mayhaps not the first instance of such reaction. "I've grown sick of the shit you spew all the time. For once just shut up."

Seems like it wasn't the right choice words for this Vaporeon, as it set off a fuse at the Flareon. Already grabbing his full attention and being barked at with quite a plentiful of choice words. Much to the annoyance of the Vaporeon, as all he wanted was for the yelling to be brought to an immediate halt. But alas, the Vaporeon now has to argue back with a screaming bomb.

Amidst through the chaos of back and forth arguing, the Eevee would slowly approach their way towards the Leafeon and Glaceon duo. Both of which are doing their darnest to ignore the bickering. The monochromic Eevee would raise up a paw and tap on the Glaceon's shoulder, as if trying to catch their attention. "Hey, um…"

As the Glaceon's attention would face towards the Eevee, the Leafeon would follow suit. Neither of which spoke. The Leafeon seem to quiver a bit in fright, while the other would stare at the Eevee with a questionable look. There would be a nod and then an ear would twitched from the Glaceon, as if giving a sign that they have heard. And yet, choose not to grant a respond via vocal communication. 

Without hesitation, his scarlet orbs would adjust themselves to gaze at your direction. To even make it more apparent, the Eevee would point a paw towards you. "There is someone there… They're--"…

As nosy as they appear, the Jolteon would sprung from behind the Eevee. "Friend? Friend!", He borked in flourishing excitement. Without a moment to lose, the Jolteon would bolt towards your direction, all thanks to the Eevee directing their paw to your location. Without a moment to lose, the Jolteon would pounce onto you, beaming in the most joyous of manner! As nosy as they appear, the Jolteon would sprung from behind the Eevee. "Friend? Friend!", He borked in flourishing excitement. Without a moment to lose, the Jolteon would bolt towards your direction, all thanks to the Eevee directing their paw to your location. Without a moment to lose, the Jolteon would pounce onto you, beaming in the most joyous of manner!

And, well… Thanks to the Jolteon's loud and very sudden outburst, it had managed to attract the attention of the rest. Almost all seem to have their eyes set onto you. A few staring with neutrality, a couple annoyed with your presence, two who have not spoken seem to not be intrigued with you being here, and one seemingly interested yet also curious of your existence.

< Now that you have been noticed, what will you do? >

[rashomonss]

hi!! i've followed around since ch4 of a humans wrath and i am so proud of you for coming this far in your journey!!! your writing is so heart wrenching and it's so comforting in a way that it's such a good material to come to if i want a good cry!!!

so i've come forward to please request "You can't even look me in the eyes, can you?" with beel and it's like trauma of ch16 with them being twins and all.

it's fine if you don't accept it!! i just want to show my appreciation for your writing as it's rlly rlly good!!!

omg you’ve followed me for a good while, i feel so honored that you still enjoy my work!! ♡

I’m so glad you think that honestly, it just makes me so happy, I’m crying rn anon, if I knew who you were I’d follow you back rn bc you’re so sweet (╥﹏╥)

ily sm and I just want you to know I’m so thankful for your support, truly, I hope you continue to enjoy my work as well as a humans wrath! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡

also you meant lesson 16 in nightbringer right?? because i was a bit confused for a second, bc im a bit dumb, but anyways i did enjoy writing this quite a bit so i hope you do enjoy! (also I was being feeling nice so this one ended with comfort)

love ya! ♡

warnings: possible nightbringer lesson 16 spoilers

“please don’t blame yourself”

You had canceled the summoning spell in Lucifer’s office and thankfully the banshee was nowhere to be found. However the trouble didn’t end there, in fact it had only just begun.

Belphie rushed over to his twin and asked profusely if he was okay, due to him looking as if he was going to fall over from sheer stress.

Beel nodded and stayed silent as Satan explained to the rest of his brothers the two different circumstances in which you hear a banshee cry. This caused an uproar and Belphie began to question his brother with a concerned expression.

Beel answered every question his twin had, but not once did he dare to look at him. And as he finished the story of what had happened, he could feel Belphie’s eyes burn a hole in his head due to how much he was staring at him.

“So you’ve heard one cry before…you’ve never mentioned anything about that…” Belphie said, stepping closer to his twin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I don’t want you to be upset”

“Beel, you misunderstand! I’m not mad at you at all, none of this was your fau-“

“If I had known what that was then I could’ve told Lucifer and maybe we wouldn’t have lost Lilith…” Beel had said.

You heard the strain in his voice as he spoke to his twin, each word that left his mouth was laced with regret and guilt…but why was that? It wasn’t his fault.

“Beel it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have know-“ Belphie pleaded.

Beel cut his twin off mid sentence and raised his voice slightly. “But I should’ve. It’s all my fault Belphie, I could’ve prevented this.”

“No you couldn’t have!”

“Yes I could’ve! Maybe then we all wouldn’t be down here, maybe then we’d still be happily up in the Celestial Realm with Lilith. If I had known we all could’ve seen her smile again. She’d be here with us now, instead of facing a cruel death”

Beel’s voice echoed through Lucifer’s study as all his brothers looked at him with mixed reactions. None of them had ever heard him raise his voice in such a way, and it shocked most of them into silence, including his twin.

Asmo, Mammon, and Levi looked to you for assistance after his outburst, while Satan looked at Beel with an expression that held a mixture of hurt and resentment.

Belphie finally looked at Beel with a sad expression and furrowed his eyebrows slightly. “Beel, you need to understand that none of this was your fault. It was never your fault to begin with.”

“You don’t understand. I had the chance to change things but I didn’t. I didn’t come through for you when you needed me, now because of that all of you have to suffer because I never said anything. I caused this Belphie”

“Beel..” his twin said with such sorrow.

You’ve heard the twins talk about things and slightly argue with each other before, but they always end up getting over it or solving the situation before it gets worse. This time you're not so sure.

The dejected atmosphere that engulfed Lucifer’s study was so thick you began to feel suffocated. And you could tell you weren’t the only one; as the rest of the brothers watched the twins speak, each began to slowly back away towards you for reassurance.

“Ever since the night of the dinner party and what Lucifer said, I keep thinking about what happened…and I wish I could go back and change things, so that this never happened in the first place.”

“Beel..!”

“We wouldn’t have lost Lilith, Belphie…and you wouldn’t have had to suffer so much.”

“What do you mean..?” Belphie asked softly as he looked at his twin with an uneasy expression.

“I know you feel guilty because you survived and she didn’t…”

At this point Belphie stood there in silence as he looked at the ground for an answer, but nothing came to mind. This throat ran dry.

“Beel please look at me…” Belphie asked, stepping closer to his twin. He realized that during their whole conversation Beel hadn’t looked him in the eyes once.

Beel however took a few weary steps back as Belphie approached him. His gaze continued to be locked on the floor as he stood there silently avoiding his twin.

“Beel, please just look at me, that’s all I’m asking right now. Please.” Belphie pleaded.

Beel shook his head as his gaze reminded on the floor. You swore you could see tears begin form in his eyes.

You watched the youngest demon brother completely break down in front of you when his twin continued to ignore his pleads. You had never seen Belphie like that…ever. This was a new side of him you were now experiencing, but you can’t say you exactly like the broken expression he was currently wearing.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes can you?”

“I’m sorry Belphie…it should have been me, not Lilith-“

“Shut up! Don’t you dare say that again. Don’t you dare think that ever, you hear me, Lilith decided to fight that day because she wanted to, just like all of us. So don’t you ever give me that crap you hear!” Belphie screamed.

Beel’s eyes widened slightly and he finally looked up to see his twin with an upset expression as tears streamed down his face.

“Belphie-“

“Enough Beel…all that matters as of right now is that you’re here with all of us okay?”

After Belphie spoke, you then added to his statement and reassured the Avatar of Gluttony, as tears streamed down his face when you spoke to him softly.

The rest of his brothers, including Satan, assured him that what happened was meant to happen, and that all that matters right now in the “present” is that they all have each other. Belphie smiled and hugged Beel, claiming he wouldn’t trade anything in the world for him as Beel tightly hugged him back while a few stray tears fell down his cheeks.

Soon all of you joined the group hug and smiled happily as Beel wiped the tears from his eyes and thanked everyone.

[zutraeumen]

The Final Course

Chef Julian Slowik didn't know what to do with himself. 

He didn't know how to feel about his ruined Menu, and about the two guests who made it so.

There was no time to waste on unnecessary thoughts other than salvage what was left and finish it. Although looking at the corpses of his avid followers, he regretted that not all made it to the journey with him. They deserved to feel liberated too.

Alas, death was nothing. He was the Chef, the Man. He worked with death every day. Death was his business. How could he call himself a chef if he didn't experience death? Two cooks tip the barrel on its side. A vicious liquid poured out across the floor. 

Resigned to their fate, the diners didn't even bother lifting their feet. By now some even felt as if they deserved it. 

Servers have begun draping thick sheets of marshmallow strung together with candy floss over the diners. 

The staff continued to hustle, creating elaborate, Jackson Pollock splatters and swirls of melted chocolate and graham crackers crumbled atop the tables. 

Slowik stood still as an owl and thought. He looked around his restaurant. The ferocious beauty of his food. The havoc he had caused. The totality of his life. And somehow he knew this wasn't the perfect ending to his menu. He shook his head, dismayed.

It was time for him to be done with it, "So. Before our final course, there is the matter of the bill." 

Servers placed checks on the tables, along with little Hawthorn gift bags. 

"We're on a no-tip system, so gratuity is included. Please enjoy your gift bags. A few goodies in there -- a booklet of our local suppliers, some house-made granola, one of Doug Verrek's fingers, and a copy of tonight's menu.

Lillian Bloom reached for her wallet until Ted stopped her, "No, this is on the magazine," He noticed that Lillian was almost about to cry, "I know."

"No, it's just - I just realized I'll never get to write about this."

Richard reached for his wallet with his one good hand and gave it to Anne.

"Can you take out my Amex?" He looked at her, "Anne?"

"I don't want an apology, Richard."

The man looked at his wife solemnly, glowing with shame and subsequent regret, "Happy Anniversary."

Each tech bro tossed in a credit card -- they're going Dutch.

The movie star put down his card.

"I am your friend," Felicity reacted with a sniff.

The movie star smiled at his only friend, "Told you you weren't leaving." 

"Again, thank you all for dining with us tonight. You represent the ruin of my art, and my life, but now you get to be a part of it. A part of what I hope is my masterpiece." 

With Chef's prompting, the guests slowly begin to clap. The movie star couldn't help but give it up sincerely for himself and for a fellow artist. The cooks applauded as well.

"And now, our final dessert course is a playful twist on a comfort food classic..."

"The S'more: the most offensive assault on the human palate ever contrived. Unethically sourced chocolate and gelatinized sugar water imprisoned by industrial-grade graham cracker. It's everything wrong with us and yet we associate it with innocence. Childhood. Mom and Dad.

Chef looked at his mother, who was passed out at her table. 

"But what transforms this fucking monstrosity is fire. The purifying flame. It nourishes us, warms us, re-invents us, forges and destroys us. We must embrace the flame." 

There were tears gathering in the eyes of our diners. They know what's happening and some even began praying. Slowik grabbed a handful of hot coal straight from the grill, not even registering how it burned his palm, and slowly made his way into the centre of the dining room.  

"Please --" Anne begged shakingly.

But was she pleading for him to stop... or to continue?

"We must be cleansed. Made clean. Like martyrs or heretics, we can be subsumed and made anew."

Tears well in Chef Slowik's eyes. He paused, taking a deep breath. He had somehow found... release.

The chef tossed it in the flammable pool. A watery curtain of blue flame billowed across the floor. A warm, metamorphic glow illuminated the faces of our diners. Despite everything that had gone wrong, Chef Slowik was prepared to perish from this world that had grown so inhospitable to him, smiling face in the firelight.

There were screams of torture around him but it was as if the man ascended to Heaven already. 

That was until the Devil came knocking on the door.

And dragged him hastily out of the restaurant.

[mushroompoisoning]

copy and paste of the ultrakill section of a school assignment I did today. because I yapped about the game for over 1000 words and apparently its coherent so. this is all addressed to my history teacher who knows nothing about the game thats why its so vague

The two media I’m picking are pretty opposite, but bear with me. The first one is an indie video game called ULTRAKILL. It’s a retro style first person shooter where you play as a blood-powered war machine descending into Dante's Inferno with the goal of killing everything there. I know it sounds like those gorey games that adults hate because they’re violent for violences sake, but again, bear with me. I find it hard to explain exactly the fascinating way that the game tells both its main story and the small, self-contained stories hidden around. Of course, you, as the player, are involved in the main story, but not as the protagonist like most stories have. If anything, you aren't a character in the story at all. To explain, I’ll have to jump into the heavy anti-war themes of the game. 

      The game takes place after humanity’s extinction and an era they called the “New Peace,” which came after the “Final War.” During the Final War, humanity had begun to build machines powered by blood. The player - a robot only known as v1 - was the final machine built during the war, and never used in combat. Humanity’s creations had destroyed the planet, and all the surviving humans of the New Peace lived atop city-destroying monoliths they had built and called Earthmovers. These massive robots - despite being large enough to hold cities on their backs - were also powered primarily by blood; the insides of them covered in meat like a living thing. All the robot enemies you encounter in the game bleed and explode into meat, as if they were biological. This is all a lot of exposition, but I swear it’s important.

      Themes of anti-war are present throughout the entire game, but it only truly becomes impossible to avoid when you reach the layer of Violence. In the second level, you encounter an enemy called the Gutterman. It’s the first real war machine aside from yourself that you’ve met on your journey - equipped with a shield and gatling gun. Reading about it in the terminals tells you that they were one of the first blood power machines built during the war, and that humanity hadn't found a way to keep blood fresh. Their solution was to weld an involuntary, nearly comatose person inside a coffin on the machine’s back, supplying it with constant fuel. Morbid, I know. But the real tragedy of the Gutterman comes from a poem hidden in the same level you first meet them. The poem is written by one of these war machines, and addressed to the person fueling it. It refers to that person as its mother, and laments about its regret and the hatred it feels for itself for how it's hurting them, and how they must hate it just as much. The poem ends with the machine confessing that it killed its own fuel source out of guilt. This isn't the only show of emotion from the robots you meet in the game. For some examples: a machine that builds itself a humanoid body for no reason other than its own joy, and would rather destroy itself entirely than let someone break it; a robot that bows to you and holds a grudge against you after you beat it and take its arm, but always remains sportsmanlike; a machine with an obsessive hoarding issue, you get the idea. Every enemy in the game has some sort of characterization, something that makes them all seem human. The only person with no characterization - aside from a single line of text not spoken aloud, which will be relevant - is v1; the player.

      The player has no character, no role in this story beyond dishing out bloodshed. No matter what it is faced with, it kills and keeps moving. As I mentioned before, v1’s only dialogue is simply “You’re not getting away this time.” to a boss enemy which got away the first time you fought it. Despite everything, it remains solely dedicated to its task. In another level in Violence you find a poem directed from hell itself to v1, and I think I should give that poem in full. I swear all this is going somewhere. The poem reads:

      “This is the only way it could have ended. War no longer needed its ultimate practitioner. It had become a self-sustaining system. Man was crushed under the wheels of a machine created to create the machine created to crush the machine. Samara of cut sinew and crushed bone. Death without life. Null uroboros. All that remained is war without reason.

      A magnum opus, a cold tower of steel. A machine built to end war is always a machine built to continue war. You were beautiful, outstretched like antennas to heaven. You were beyond your creators. You reached for God, and you fell. None were left to speak your eulogy. No final words. No concluding statement. No point. Perfect closure.

      This is the only way it should have ended.”

      You find the book on the back of the Earthmover, minutes before you destroy it. Hell speaks to the player as it seems to condemn you for how far you’ve made it, how much destruction you’ve caused and how much more you will cause. Yet, whether you read this book or not, you continue on. This is the part where I get to my point. The player doesn't have a character role in the story, but instead is a thematic element, a living allegory. You play as a representation of cruel, uncaring war, with all individual humanity removed. You play as the ultimate enemy, the final boss as everything tries to stop you, but, as you are repeatedly told: it's too late for that.

      Part of the tagline for the game is “blood is fuel,” a very literal statement, as blood is the healing system in the game. This line appears in the opening scene after you adjust your settings, right after you’re given the objective “find a weapon” and before you get to move for the first time, as if it's a motto to live by. In contrast to this statement you are meant to hold as a belief, another character, the actual protagonist of this story, declares that “We all bleed the same blood” while he fights to free the citizens of heaven from their council. On one hand, we have the embodiment of war seeing life as nothing but fuel for its eternal pursuit of destruction. On the other, we have an angel declaring that all life is of equal value, and that we shouldn't let anyone control us, no matter the rank they’ve given themselves. 

      I have to make a conclusion because I got a bit into rambling territory there. ULTRAKILL is a game which talks about the horrors of war and its direct relation to humanity, but also how it transcends us. It portrays war as a sentient machine which we created and nothing could not stop, not even the forces of heaven or hell. It shows the tragedies that war leaves in its path, the pain and grief and suffering. I could go so much further, but this is already 1000 words, and you’re probably confused enough. I’ll just go on about how this game appeals to my romantic personality.

      It’s largely the environment for me and the little things found in them. A pair of headless skeletons embracing in a random bed; another headless skeleton praying; a blinding white landscape covered in scattered crosses, called a garden and the first thing you see in a layer called Violence; towering creatures, massive beyond comparison that you know you have to kill. Nothing compares to the feeling of stepping out into the last level of Violence and being greeted with the towering structure of the Earthmover as it looks down on you, a health bar appearing immediately, pushing you to go and kill this thing. The feeling of being so small and yet so powerful that you could destroy the very thing that ended humanity. The extensive poetics of a single, wordless scene. Does this make any sense at all? I’m not going to edit this, it’s not for a grade I don't think. Back on topic now. Something I adore is being able to think extensively about a static moment; deriving a million meanings and messages and emotions from it. A picture speaks a thousand words, as they say, and as I believe wholeheartedly.

[tlcartist]

I finished reading SBR AND I HAVE THOUGHTS

Going to focus on my favorite moment, how it ended up being the overall theme for part 7, and how it came back for the ending. Long read, spoilers ahead.

The initial moment I'm talking about is in Vol 12. This was the moment that REALLY got me invested in Johnny and Gyro's story and it was also the turning point in their relationship. Up until this point you could view their alliance as something mostly rooted in convenience. They both had goals that were adjacent to each other, but they also had an understanding that if their goals were no longer aligned then they'd go their separate ways without a second thought. It was transactional. Don't get in my way and I'll lend you a hand as long as it doesn't slow me down. They had common enemies but really couldn't be described as friends per se. At least not until this moment.

Johnny, whose entire disability was brought about by his own hubris and a moment of selfishness, the boy who has only recently begun to understand his stand abilities and feel hope over his condition improving, is given a choice. Does he sacrifice Gyro to keep the corpse parts which he fought so hard to collect in the first place? Or does he let the corpse parts go to save the life of someone who he's not even that close to? Does he choose himself or someone else?

And this is a huge turning point for Johnny's character as a whole. This leads to him making an incredibly selfless decision, one which goes against his instincts and which even Gyro seems surprised by.

This is it. This is the moment when Gyro realizes that Johnny is more than just a traveling companion. He knows exactly how much those corpse parts meant to Johnny. He can see the despair that he's fallen into and yet it's clear that Johnny doesn't regret his decision or hold any resentment towards him, and it's in that moment that Gyro realizes he would have done the exact same thing for him.

Imagine my surprise when Johnny has to make a similar decision at the end of SBR, but in the opposite direction.

Valentine, in a desperate attempt to save his own hide, offers the one thing that Johnny can't refuse. The chance for him to see Gyro again and let him live. He bends over backwards and swears up and down that he has good intentions and that no harm will befall either of them and Johnny wants to believe it more than anything. He is once again given a choice. Does he make the selfish choice to give Valentine the corpse in exchange for his friend or does he make the selfless choice and let him go?

It's a fascinating exchange because as Johnny is questioning Valentine and asking him to prove his good intentions, it feels more like he's trying to convince himself that Valentine is trustworthy than the other way around.

He's trying to convince himself that saving Gyro is the better option even though, as painful as it is, he knows deep down that it isn't. He knows that the Gyro who would be brought to his universe wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be his Gyro. He knows that Valentine is a smooth talker who can't be trusted. He knows that no matter what justification Valentine gives for his actions, that they were always motivated by a desire for power and personal gain.

And so he makes what is, most likely, the most difficult decision of his life. He tests Valentine one more time.

Valentine, being the bastard that he is, can't resist the opportunity to kill Johnny. And with that, Gyro is lost forever. It's just a really powerful moment and ties back to vol. 12 beautifully.

This is the overall theme of SBR. The idea of self sacrifice and letting things go for the greater good.

I'm just so proud of these characters and how they grew over time both in their relationship and as people overall. It was an honor to go on this journey with you boys.

Cheers, and to the next part and the goal.

[anunkindncss]

Plots I am actively wanting thanks to my Spotify playlist.

Back To December: Muse A has commitment issues, that much has been obvious since they left Muse B in the background. But sometimes, we all have to take a look back and wonder what if we'd made the wrong decision? So Muse A comes back to town to sit down with Muse B and try to have a conversation, a real one. But Muse B isn't letting go that easily, and has a chain on the door of their heart. Angst. Pain. Makeup? Move on? Who knows.

Johnny Can't Decide: Muse A feels like they are on the absolute brink of success (actor/musician/songwriter/etc.) but Muse B is ready for real life to begin. Muse A has some tough calls to make because what Muse B has planned doesn't involve late nights, little money, and the starving artist image. The way it stands, Muse A can either keep fighting for their passions, which may have them lose Muse B entirely, or walk away from these big dreams and decide that maybe, just maybe the life Muse B has in their mind is a future too hard to walk away from.

I'm Still Here: Muse A has always been invisible, in their own mind. They have lived nearly the entirety of their life struggling to find their place in the world when one day they bump into Muse B who doesn't just glance over them. Wanting to know more, to understand Muse A, Muse B begins trying to step into their world. For once, Muse A allows the doors to fall down and finds that with company, you can do just about anything. Support is the foundation for dreams coming true. (Can be platonic/romantic).

Help (tw: addiction, suicidal ideation, PTSD): Due to Muse A having an addiction (alcohol, drugs, gambling, etc.) from a secondary reasoning (domestic abuse, Post War PTSD, Traumatic PTSD, etc.) Muse A has begun to finally hit bottom... And realizes they don't want to do this anymore. Muse B (former friend/lover/family member) gets a call one night from a number they don't know hearing Muse A sob on the other end. Sometimes bottom is the only way up.

Small Bump (tw: miscarriage, death): Muse A and Muse B are the most excited to be parents. Muse A works dutifully to ensure that Muse B's pregnancy will be happy, healthy, and most of all, safe. But life comes with 0 guarantees as one day Muse B wakes up to no movement, no kicking, no fuss. Worried, they see the doctor and some of the worst news in the world is presented. Miscarriages can often make or break the strongest of relationships. Muse A and Muse B have to figure out how to navigate this tidal wave of grief. The real question? Can they do it together? Or apart?

Traveling Soldier: Muse A has readily enlisted in the Army/Navy/Marines/Air Force. The day before he is to be deployed, on a leave, he finds himself wandering this small town. In a diner, getting his last good meal in before the long journey ahead, he meets Muse B, a diner waiter/waitress just trying to make enough money to get to college while busting their tail to make great tips. Muse A starts small talk before revealing what they've planned and Muse B, floored because they'd never even thought of that route and knowing what they've read in the news, promises Muse A a night to remember (can be platonic/romantic). Morning comes and Muse A finds themselves regretting their choice to serve, but honoring it under one condition. That Muse B allows them to write letters. They agree, and Muse A ships off, sending letters home to the one person they can't wait to get back to.

Swing Life Away: Muse A and Muse B ran off from home very young, knowing little about one another outside of the fact that they both left tough situations. They'd met at the bus stop and just started spilling everything over a warm cup of coffee shared by someone who could recognize another exhausted soul. As they begin to figure out where they want to land, they decide to do it together. They find a beat up old house with one promising feature. A porch swing. It's not a perfect life, but it's the start of something that pushed them past the past that left them with scars.

You're Too Close: Muse A has never been great at expressing how they feel. Especially when it comes to Muse B, who just looks at Muse A as a good friend. Until their college graduation night when Muse A drunkenly confesses everything. How they've been feeling, how much they care. Drunk, themselves, Muse B takes the confession as a green light to drunkenly begin to hook up, when Muse A stops them and tells them they will... but only once they sober up. The following morning, they're laying in bed looking at one another and Muse B wonders why Muse A never said anything. Whether this leads to something beginning or an awkward air? Time will tell.

[gurlcrazytfa]

For what it's worth...

I hadn't set out, whatsoever, on becoming attracted to trans women. I've always and only adored cis-women. Then, just as unexpectedly as the Spanish Inquisition, it happened. While patronizing a local strip club, a very cute dancer came over and sat with me. She was a real sweetheart, and the chemistry came naturally, particularly back in the VIP room. I was absolutely and utterly smitten. She could have asked anything of me, and likely gotten it. I hadn't a clue she was remotely trans until during this one visit, when I overheard another dancer snidely remarking about her biology. Wait, what!?! True.

While some might say that my "gaydar" had seriously malfunctioned, in my experience she was quintessentially feminine, and every bit as much so as either of my ex-wives (2nd one a near "10"). She had it all – looks, style, intelligence, poise, sensuality – ticking pretty much every box on my wish list for the perfect female companion. Long story short, although it took me a while to do, I've come around to realize, "So what if she has a penis? If such a trans gurl (nothing derogatory meant by use of the term) has sparked the hottest flames of all my carnal desires, what use is being in denial?”

Now, don't get me wrong. I still have a strong desire for cis-women. But, having since spent a fair amount of time getting quite cozy with several gorgeous trans women - strictly in the name of science - I’ve become hopelessly enchanted ("transfixed", if you will), especially by those with their original equipment intact. Who knew? Turns out, I’m most evidently and undeniably gynesexual/GAMP (attracted to those who identify as women, female, or feminine regardless of biology, anatomy, or the sex assigned at birth), which apparently places me under that "+" in the alphabet soup. So much for conservatives necessarily hating on everything trans, huh?

Well, as one might guess, this has all come as a considerable shock with regards to my long-held notions on physical attraction and sexuality. I'm 100% NOT into dudes (gynesexuality/GAMP most certainly does NOT equate with being gay), but never in a million years would I have imagined the heights of arousal, intimacy and ecstasy, heretofore undiscovered, that I've experienced having become "turned on" to M2F trans women. (If that's somewhat of a poor reflection on the modern cis-woman, such as they are, I submit the blame should be placed squarely on them.) That said, even as I embrace this realization, you’ll have to forgive me if I don't up and abandon my entire socio-political belief system. Sorry, I'll never be so woke as to give radical leftist ideology a foothold among the conservative values to which I cling.

No, the only real dilemma here is finding the gurl of my dreams. And, as for that one dancer who started the dominos falling... Rusty, if you're out there, I so regret having not pursued you to the ends of the earth. You were perfect, and I was too stupid to notice. Unfortunately, I had only begun my gynesexual/GAMP journey at the time, but I know beyond a shadow of doubt that I missed out on something very, very special. Coulda, shoulda, so wish I woulda...

P.S. Check out by other blogs @thefinerarts & @wordstfa