#i just think it’s insane she had THIS weaving of them

[maddiesbookbag]

do you ever think about the tapestry of percy and annabeth sitting in arcane’s cavern for almost a year waiting for annabeth to arrive? more specifically, do you ever think about how out of all the moments from annabeth’s life that aracne could’ve woven she chose to depict her at one of the happiest moments of her life—finally together with a living percy post-war? do you ever think about arachne, basically alone in this cavern for decades, cursed into monstrosity for daring to best a goddess, weaving this image of pure love? of a connection so strong that it would send the pair depicted through the crumbling floor to tartarus together rather than be separated ever again? even as that tapestry, that image of devotion, crumbled with them?

no? just me?

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[mapiforpresident]

I’m here DONT FEAR. That’s was so cringy oml but here is a Mapi x Ingrid x reader req. so after the championship Mapi and Ingrid run to the barriers to help reader get over them and they start hugging and kissing (they are public) and it’s just very cute and soft. ‘Maybe some smutty talk with them saying how hot you look in your jean shorts or Jersey👀’

Time to Celebrate

Mapi x reader x Ingrid

warnings: drinking, alcohol

~~~

The stadium was filled with energy, and the crowd was deafening as the final whistle blew. You leaned forward in your seat, disbelief washing over you as Barcelona celebrated their third Champions League title. From the stands, you watched Mapi embrace Alexia while Ingrid hugged Frido, pure joy radiating from both of their faces.

They were both grinning from ear to ear, their jerseys clinging to their bodies, drenched in sweat. They had played the entire match, and the exhaustion showed in their tired smiles, but you’d never seen them happier. The pride swelling within you was overwhelming as you watched them receive their medals, and then taking turns lifting the trophy. It felt surreal, yet utterly deserved.

Your life as a lawyer often kept you tied up with meetings, court dates, and endless paperwork, leaving little room to witness your girlfriends’ games in person. But being here today, watching them celebrate, made every late night in the office worthwhile.

As Mapi and Ingrid made their way toward the barriers after the trophy ceremony, you stood up, waving enthusiastically. They spotted you, and they began sprinting toward the edge of the stands.

“Y/N!” Mapi shouted, her voice cutting through the crowd.

Ingrid climbed over the barrier with ease, her eyes shining with adrenaline. “Did you see Mapi's tackle? It was insane!”

You nodded, leaning in to kiss her. “You were both incredible! I’m so proud of you!”

Ingrid helped you back over the barrier, and the moment you landed, Mapi wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, nearly knocking the breath out of you. “Thanks for being here! It means so much to us,” she said, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

Ingrid joined in, pulling both of you into an embrace. “I couldn’t imagine celebrating without you,” she added, squeezing you tighter.

“Your jersey we had made for you looks so good,” Mapi whispered, her breath warm against your ear. “I don’t think I will ever get over seeing my name and Ingrid’s number on your back.” Your cheeks heated up at her words, a mix of pride and embarrassment flooding through you.

Before you could respond, Ingrid yelled over the noise of the stadium, “Let’s go take photos with the trophy!” She broke away, you and Mapi following behind her.

You all made your way across the field, weaving through players celebrating with their families. You reached Ona and Lucy, hugging them both and saying congratulations as they handed the trophy over to Ingrid, who held it like it was the most precious treasure in the world.

“Look at this beauty!” Ingrid beamed as Mapi leaned in to kiss it a couple times.

The three of you gathered close for pictures, the trophy proudly displayed in front of you. You felt grateful to be part of this moment, a feeling that only deepened as Mapi slipped her hand into yours, squeezing it gently.

~~~

After the celebrations on the field, you rode with Mapi and Ingrid's families to the after-party at the hotel where the players were staying. You were sad that you had to part with your girls for a while as they went back to the locker room, where you knew they were continuing their celebration with some drinks and then they would take the team bus and meet back up with you at the hotel a little later.

Once inside the hotel you mingled with all the players families for a while before you and Olga, Alexia's girlfriend, found a quiet corner to sit in and wait for your girlfriends.

You and Olga chatted about the game, and how proud you were of your girlfriends. After a while, your anticipation grew, knowing that Mapi and Ingrid would soon join you.

Soon after the players arrived and Mapi and Ingrid came straight over to you. “Did you miss us?” Ingrid teased, her breath warm against your ear.

“Of course! I can’t wait to celebrate with you both,” you replied, pulling back to give her a quick kiss before turning and giving Mapi a kiss before she started pouting.

“Drinks! We need drinks!” Mapi declared, leading you both to the bar. Mapi was started ordering shots, and you couldn’t help but laugh as she tried to get Alexia to take one with her ultimately failing. Pina instead took the shot right out of Mapi's hand downing it before Mapi could snatch it back.

The night continued with drinks flowing freely as the three of you danced together, surrounded by the joyful chaos of teammates celebrating their victory. Mapi was a clingy, affectionate drunk, wrapping her arms around you and Ingrid and showering you both with compliments.

“You two are the best!” she exclaimed, swaying slightly. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Seriously, Y/N, you’re like my lucky charm!”

As the hours passed, players and families started to trickle out. While Mapi continued to drink and dance with Pina and Patri, Ingrid’s eyelids grew heavier. You watched as she leaned against the wall, trying to keep her focus.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, concern in your voice.

“I’m just... so tired,” she admitted, stifling a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”

“Maybe we should call it a night?” you suggested, glancing at Mapi, who was busy doing another shot with Cata.

Ingrid nodded, but as you moved to grab Mapi, she squealed, throwing her arms around you both. “No, no! We have to keep celebrating!”

“Mapi, it’s 4 AM!” you laughed, gently pushing her away. “We need to get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

She pouted but eventually relented, her eyelids fluttering as she leaned on you for support. You and Ingrid exchanged knowing glances, and with a little coaxing, you managed to get Mapi to follow you both back to the hotel room.

Once inside, you helped Mapi out of her jersey and into a comfortable oversized t-shirt of yours, chuckling at how she kept insisting on “more hugs and kisses” as you did. You turned to Ingrid, who was stifling a yawn, and helped her into her pajamas as well.

“Alright, you two sleepyheads,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Mapi’s face. “Time for bed.”

You settled onto the bed, pulling the covers over all of you. Mapi and Ingrid nestled close as possible, their heads resting on your chest. You kissed each of their foreheads gently, feeling a wave of affection wash over you as they both sighed contentedly, their breathing slowly evening out.

As you drifted into sleep, you couldn’t help but smile at how lucky you felt to share this moment with them.

~~~

Morning light streamed through the hotel window, piercing through your dreams as you began to stir. You blinked against the brightness, glancing down to see both Mapi sprawled out and hair everywhere and Ingrid looking adorable curled into you.

“Morning, sleepyheads,” you said softly, gently shaking them.

Ingrid groaned, rolling over, her face scrunching up as she tried to shield her eyes from the light. “Ugh, what time is it?”

“Time to wake up and face the world,” you teased, but as you took a good look at Mapi, you felt a surge of sympathy. Her hair was tousled, and she looked a bit pale.

“Feeling okay?” you asked, running a hand through her hair.

“Not really,” she admitted, her voice thick with sleep. “What happened last night?”

“You celebrated a Champions League title, that’s what!” you laughed lightly, but then you quickly got up to grab some Advil from your bag and two bottles of water you had set out last night.

“Here,” you said, handing them both the pills. “This should help.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Ingrid murmured, a sleepy smile creeping onto her face. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” you replied with a grin. “Now, get ready. You both have to meet back up with the team soon.”

When they were both ready, looking a little more put together but still a bit groggy, Mapi stepped closer, a smile breaking through. “Before we leave, I need to give you something,” she said, her voice slightly raspy.

Before you could respond, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours for a soft kiss. You leaned into the kiss and savored it before resting your forehead against hers and kissing her cheek.

“We wish you could come back to Barcelona with us,” Ingrid said with a slight pout.

“Me too but I will wave to you at the celebration and then we have all weekend together,” you replied.

With one last hug, they made their way to the door. You were so proud of them and were so excited to see them in a couple hours, hopefully a little less hungover.

~~~

let me know if there are any mistakes, I didn't proof read it.

[absfawn]

masterlist ♰ series masterlist

dealer!abby who enjoys sitting on the couch, with you perched happily on her lap with your fingers weaving through her soft hair. one hand resting on the plush of your thigh, while her other holds a joint between her fingers loosely. abby’s eyes are red and hooded, looking up at you with a lazy grin. “you’re so pretty,” she murmurs, a slight rasp to her voice and she chuckles when you’re squirming in her lap, looking down at her shyly. “getting shy on me?” abby teases, can’t ever hold herself back from doing so when it’s so easy to tease you. “didn’t get shy when you had my fingers in your greedy cunt last night, but when i call you pretty, you’re shy?” she tuts, squeezing your thigh just enough to have you gasping. she hears you suck in a deep breath once her fingers leave your thigh, reaching up and lightly brushing the bed shirt— her shirt, away from your shoulder and grins up at you. “can’t say anything?” abby presses again, your hands gripping her shoulder tightly as one of her cups the back of your neck. “no? made you really shy, hm?”

“abs.” you softly sighed, pupils blown.

“dunno what you want, baby,” abby mumbled and cocked her head to the side, still looking at you. “or are you just thinking about last night? last night was so good that it’s all you can think about? cock drunk already and i’ve not even touched you today.”

if you weren’t thinking about it— you’d never admit that to her and boost her already big ego, you sure as hell were thinking about it now. she only had to touch you in certain places, whisper things to you, look at you with that look and the only thoughts in your head are of what happened last night. the feeling of her hands still all over you linger in the back of your mind, the feeling of her lips against the shell of your ear has shivers running down your spine and her condescending laugh has you biting back a whine.

you never forget the way abby touches you. even if it’s been a few days, you never forget. you certainly don’t forget the way she had your body beneath hers, hand lightly wrapped around your throat— squeezing just enough to pull whimpers from between your lips, and her long thick fingers buried deep in your cunt, curling them your walls and growling each time you clenched around her. the small whimpered “please” you would whine out, hips grinding up and trying to get more from her. abby always enjoyed the way your body melted at her touch, needing to touch her whenever she was close.

your body ached for her. even when she was giving you whatever you wanted, you ached for her, ached for her touch, her words, even her relentless teasing. you needed it all. you can still feel the way she manhandled you on your stomach, pinning your arms behind your back in one of her hands, face mushed into the soft silk pillows and grinding into your ass. “yeah, still so needy, hm?” comes her raspy voice against your ear, the sound makes your clit throb. “made you cum, and yet, you still need me to make a mess of you. you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” 

the only sound that came from you was a whine. maybe it was pathetic, maybe it was slutty, but it always drove abby insane. every sound she deliciously pulled from you, had her cunt throbbing, boxers soaked, breath ragged and head dizzy. you were her drug. day or night, she wanted— needed you like she’s never wanted something more. 

abby loved to make you a complete mess.

her favorite will always be having you riding her cock once she’s made you cum a few times that night, hands guiding your hips up and down, whispering praises into your neck as you grabbed her shoulders, nails sinking into her skin and softly panting against her head. there’s nothing she loves more than letting herself go with you, always wanting to have you close. on the outside abby can be mean sometimes, having you squirming and crying from how good she’s treating you, but on the inside, she never wants to see you hurt or upset. taking care of you is something that is highly important to you, and if she ever hurt you, she would never forgive herself. which is why when the nights come to an end, her heart melts and she smiles when you’re lazily riding her cock, mumbling how much you love her, taking everything you deserve.

she’d give you everything. that’s always a promise. 

abby’s laugh pulled you from your sudden intrusive thoughts, that you spend too long thinking about, and had you looking down at her with an involuntry pout on your lips when her hand gripped your chin between her fingers, testing you silentely. joint still between her other fingers, “let’s finish this, and then i’ll show you how cock drunk i can make you, yeah?”

[rainychaoloveshack]

AAAAA—

I’ve been searching for Sonic x reader req’s…

can I ask for a Shadow x reader where both were experiments for Maria’s cure? Where Shadow had a slight hatred and annoyance towards them because at times Maria would give time for them to hang out. Then blah blah blah after her death and the fall of the ark. He sees them again where they have a flower shop now, then finally after years Shadow gives in to apologize as he realizes he’s not the only one who mourns for Maria.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

it’s been years since you saw his face, and even longer since you’ve seen hers.

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, angst, so so so many mentiona of the word “flower” (it’ll drive you insane) warning. brief mentions of vomit.

☂︎ wc. 1.8k ☂︎ a/n. huehehe flowers go brrrrr. i got kinddd of experimental with this one and tried to branch out more emotionally. i hope you like it ^^ wouldve wrote in some more but i didnt want it to be too long… my fault :( i just love angst lol

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

“[Name], ah, this is really, really cool!” Her fingers weave the stems together like a beautiful melody, overlapping with one another to form a gorgeous pattern in her palms. “When you were learning this at first, you should’ve told me! I could’ve learned it with you!” She gives you a fake little pout, soon to be replaced by her ever-shining smile. “Now I can make you and Grandpa flower crowns all the time! Though, I don't think he’ll wear them…”

And you can’t wait for the moment that she hands you one of her own, one made on her own time, with no assistance from your end. A true testament of her love for you; one you would never doubt, gift or not.

Paired with your hydrangeas and carnations, roses and daffodils. Every little flower at your fingertips; ones you thought she would adore. Put and grown with love right on the Ark, with the help of Professor Gerald. The fact that you had decided to cultivate life on the Ark caught his attention, and it might’ve not been possible without his assistance with your little hobby. Your garden wasn’t just that, though. It wasn’t a simple piece of eye candy for passersbys; they weren’t allowed to take a single step in it.

It was for flower crowns; something you had learned just to impress her. A secret hobby, just for the two of you to play around with. No one else.

Not even Shadow.

“Oh, and I can make some for Shadow too!” Her fingers graze over the petals on her newly made crown, a mixture of light blue flowers and red ones, along with your favorite color. Three colors mingled into one beautiful piece.

Shadow… You haven’t seen him for a while.

Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you two had always been competing for her attention, her love, but she had managed to share it between the two of you. Was it greedy of both of you to ask that from her? Her saccharine self? It’s not like you’ll ever know the answer now.

You’ve never gotten along with Shadow, despite you two coming from the same origin. Natural competitors. But neither of you had ever engaged in any sort of conflict directly, maybe a snide remark or two from him but that would be all. Most of the hatred was from him. Deep down, you know you wouldn’t be opposed to being his friend.

So why does he look at you so harshly?

… It doesn’t matter. As long as you can act as her medicine, her cure, helping her heal from both her illness and what bothers her, that's good enough for you.

It’s been fifty years. Fifty years. You don’t want to remember the specifics, but it’s been more than that now. A couple of years of change, you’re sure.

Your left hand clasps over your right, your fingertips rubbing over your knuckles slowly. Everywhere you look, it’s her. Every flower in your shop; it’s almost like you can see a glimpse of her figure and face through the petals.

Hydrangeas. Carnations. Roses. Daffodils. Every little flower at your fingertips; ones you knew she adored. Grown with your everlasting love for that girl clad in blue; remembering the click of her heels as she would run over to you with a new crown in hand. You wish you could’ve kept each one she gave you, even if they would’ve all wilted by now. Wilted flowers have their own kind of beauty in a way, but maybe it’s only you who sees it.

Remembrance is an aching feeling. Swirling around in your stomach, at times even threatening to spill out of your mouth in the form of vomit and puke. Pouring itself out of your body through tears and bile. And no matter how hard you try, it seems to stay present. Even after all these years.

Before that emotion fills your mouth again, the sound of the bell rips you from your thoughts, the door swinging open. You swirl your body around, putting on a smile to greet your new customer. It’ll be another day, just like the last one.

… What?

“It’s you.” He says, clearly in disbelief at the person he’s seeing, just over the counter. “Hmph. So that idiot was right.”

Is… Is that him? Him?

Shadow?

“Are you in shock that I’m still alive?” Not at all, no. But the words don’t pour out of your mouth, instead letting out shaky breaths as he looks around your humble flower shop; similar to how one would gaze at a picture frame of an old family member. Solemn. Melancholic. 

“I’m not here for some stupid greeting. I came for… A bouquet.” He almost seems uncertain about his reasoning. Even after seeing you, he doesn’t look angry. Not even surprised. Curious? You had heard his name throughout the years, but to meet him not anywhere else, but here, now.

Remembrance is an aching feeling.

“Those.” He points to a bunch of delphinium together, a light, bright blue. “And these.” His fingers graze over a dark red bunch of roses, his ear twitching at the sound of your immediate shuffling, going for the delphinium first. Something’s telling you in your heart to not get so close to him. It’s the aching; you’re sure of it.

Naturally you would question why he would need such a bouquet, but it’s not your place to wonder in that manner, especially now. Just do your job and go.

Shadow stares at a certain flower you keep away from the door, away from prying eyes, but still on sale for people to take.

You keep it away on purpose.; those kinds of flowers are your favorite ones. Sometimes if work is slow for a peculiar day, you’ll get lost within the petals, tracing over every groove of the plant, and even the stem itself, taking note of the way they feel under your fingertips.

“These too.” His footsteps almost echo through the store; or is it your imagination weighing heavy on you? Your head turns to see he’s going up to your favorite flower, picking one up by its stem to twirl it over between his fingertips, before dropping it back down. As you make your way over, he seems to notice and backs away from you, retreating to the counter. So even he doesn’t want to chat.

Fine with you. If he hadn’t bothered to come by all of these years, why did you expect him to care? But there’s a back thought in your head, telling you you’re lying about those statements of yours.

No matter.

As you pick up your favorites from its spot, settling a couple into the growing bouquet, you finally notice the mixture of flowers. How important they all are.

Delphinium. Roses. Your favorite.

These are the ones Maria always made flower crowns with.

You hesitate on looking his way, already noticing his gaze stuck on your back, so you keep picking the flowers up, settling them snugly into the bouquet in a sort of pattern.

“I’d like some bits of chrysanthemums in there too.” He suddenly mutters, and you comply with his request, making your way back over to the counter afterward.

The chrysanthemums are a bright yellow, reminding you of the way her blonde hair flowed, mingled with the colors of whatever crown you had made her at the time. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had begged Professor Gerald for a way to preserve them. Thinking about such a thing is so melancholic.

 You take the time to wrap a red ribbon around the neck of the bouquet, securing it with a bow to make it more presentable, but knowing Shadow, if he’s any bit of the man he used to be all those years ago, you assume that these blossoms would be going into a vase anyway. He’s not the type of person to leave a bouquet out, is he?

While you mutter the price under your breath, Shadow slips out the exact amount onto the counter, his motions swift. He outstretches his hands, not a single change in expression as he accepts the flowers, then settles them into his arm, hugging it close to his torso. He wants to get this over with; you can tell.

The silence between you two is unbearable. Would it cause that much harm to ask about his flower choices? Why the ones she-

“Yes, Maria liked these ones.” Shadow utters, his fingers brushing across the delphinium. His brows furrow, remembering bits and pieces of both of your pasts together. “She always made those flower crowns with you.”

Of course, he will mention her; how could you be so stupid? 

“She made some with me a handful of times.” Shadow says plainly, clearly not enjoying looking back on those memories. Not that he would mind if it was just him and Maria, but that activity was plagued with you. His own thoughts of you. After all of these years. “I think she preferred to make them with you.” He scoffs. “Said it was your special hobby together. I never cared for your hobby.”

You bite your tongue but decide not to say anything as the seconds pass with silence. Suddenly, a deep sigh leaves his lips, your little flower shop falling still with his sudden change in demeanor. The way his shoulders fall, with his head hung low, not daring to look you in the eyes with a small flick of his ear in your direction.

“I’m sorry.” Shadow murmurs. “For all this time I thought of you as just a nuisance.” He shakes his head, pushing up against the counter with his free hand. “But she wouldn’t want me to think of you that way… I don’t want that for myself either.” 

Shadow tosses a crisp fifty on the counter along with his still-present payment; clearly overspending for his single bouquet. “Goodbye.”

Your fingers press nervously into the table, nails scratching at wood, eyes plastered onto his distancing figure as he walks away, bouquet in his arm.

Say something. Anything.

His footsteps slowly die out, turning around slightly to meet your eye. “What was that?” Shadow cocks his head to the side, eyes widened slightly, clearly in shock at your goodbye. 

It’s customary for business owners to want their customers to come back. Repeated business means more profit. More money to tend to your shop. More happy customers. More smiles. More flowers. Her flowers. A way to remember her by.

Maria.

So it’s as simple as that.

Please come again.

A small grumble rises from his throat as he turns away from you. “I’m gonna ask for the same thing next time, okay? Remember it.” Shadow doesn’t let you get another word out, as the bell chimes above him, pushing open the door to leave you standing there in awe.

That remembrance doesn’t ache as bad anymore.

[meazalykov]

halloween costume

laura freigang x actress!reader

summary: while going to a party with your fiancee, she starts to tease you about a reoccurring event

the sound of laughter and chatter fills the air as you step out of the car, hand in hand with laura. 

the crisp october air nips at your skin, but the warmth from your fiancée’s presence makes it bearable. you squeeze laura’s hand, flashing her a grin as the two of you approach the house where one of her teammates is hosting the huge halloween party.

"are you ready?" laura asks, her german accent smooth as ever, a playful smile tugging at her lips. 

she's dressed as a pirate, a leather vest hugging her athletic frame, a bandana tied around her dark blonde hair.

you’re dressed as a pirate as well, nearly identical to laura. 

"i think the real question is if you are," you tease, tugging at the collar of her vest. "after all, you’re frankfurt’s football star here. i’m just here for the snacks."

laura chuckles, eyes sparkling as she leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple. "you’re way more than that," she whispers, and you can’t help but blush a little. 

the party is packed, as expected. frankfurt players, local celebrities, and plenty of people from town crowd the house and yard, all dressed up in elaborate costumes. 

the energy is infectious, and you can’t help but feel excited. it’s been a while since you had time to just relax and enjoy yourself. with filming starting again in january, this time with laura is precious.

"look at all these costumes," you say, scanning the room as you walk inside. "everyone really went all out."

laura hums in agreement, her eyes also darting around the room. "there’s a lot of ghost faces too, huh?"

you snicker at her observation. it’s only been eight months since your portrayal of ghost face in the newest scream movie hit theaters, and clearly, the character has made quite an impression.

“maybe they’re trying to pay homage to me,” you joke, though there’s a proud twinkle in your eye. laura just smirks at your playful confidence.

as you weave through the crowd, you suddenly spot someone wearing a ghost face robe, a wig matching your hair color, and sfx makeup that looks eerily familiar to the scene where your character was killed.

"laura, look at that," you nudge her with your elbow, pointing at the person. "they look just like drew in the movie!"

drew was the name of your character.

laura glances over and bursts into laughter, clutching her side. "oh my god, they really do!"

you can’t help but join her, your laughter mixing with hers. it’s surreal and flattering all at once. 

you played ghost face in that movie, but it wasn’t just the mask — it was you underneath, with the same hair, the same body language. and now, here someone is, practically a carbon copy.

"that’s insane," you shake your head, amused. "guess i’m more popular than i thought."

"you’re the actress the world loves, babe," laura says with a wink. 

"germany might adore me, but you’re on a whole other level."

"oh, stop it," you say, lightly swatting at her arm. "you know this crowd loves you just as much, if not more."

you aren’t lying. the attention you receive in germany isn’t as much as laura gets. most of your fans are english or american.

as the night goes on, the two of you bump into some of laura’s teammates, including nicole, who’s wearing a nice indiana fever costume.

"y/n!" nicole calls, waving as she approaches you with a bright smile. 

"i see there’s no shortage of ghost faces here tonight. i think everyone’s obsessed with your character!"

"honestly, it’s insane," you laugh. 

"i’ve seen at least five already. not sure how i feel about it."

nicole grins, her eyes scanning the room. "oh, speaking of, one’s coming your way right now."

you turn your head just in time to see another ghost face making their way toward you, the familiar black robe swaying with each step. 

this one’s holding their phone out in front of them, clearly looking a bit nervous but determined.

"hi y/n, i’m so sorry to interrupt, but i’m a huge fan," they say, their voice muffled under the mask. 

"can i get a picture with you? your portrayal of ghost face was amazing."

a soft smile tugs at your lips. "of course," you reply, always happy to meet fans who appreciate your work. 

"thank you so much for the kind words."

you stand beside them as they pull out their phone and take off their mask, posing for a quick picture. 

laura watches the whole exchange with a playful glint in her eyes. as soon as the fan walks away, she can’t resist.

“oh my god, y/n, i’m such a big fan! can i get, like, ten pictures with you please?” laura dramatically gasps, pretending to fawn over you as she pulls out her film camera, taking on the role of an exaggerated fan.

you burst out laughing, rolling your eyes at her theatrics. "laura, calm down," you giggle, trying to wave her off, but she’s already snapped a few shots of you.

"no, no, seriously, i’m your biggest fan!" she continues, mock gasping and throwing her hands up. 

"i’ll even frame them in the apartment! please, just a few more!"

"okay, okay, that’s enough," you laugh, swatting at her camera. "you’re going to run out of film if you keep this up."

but laura’s grinning, clearly having way too much fun with her impromptu photoshoot. 

"oh come on, y/n, you know i’m your biggest supporter. it’s not every day i get to party with a horror icon."

you roll your eyes affectionately. "i swear, you’re worse than my fans."

“it’s just ‘cause i’m marrying a horror icon,” she teases, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. 

“and don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

you smile, leaning into her touch. "okay, maybe i do love it. just a little."

"thought so," laura smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

"you’re stuck with me and my endless teasing." she whispers against your lips.

"i wouldn’t have it any other way," you admit softly, feeling the warmth of her embrace as the night continues around you. 

masterlist

happy halloween 🎃

[toomuchracket]

under the full moon (d word matty x reader fluff)

calling it fluff is misleading they are 3 seconds away from raw sex at all times in this fic. promptober, pre-dating, charli just cockblocked them (well, interrupted an almost-kiss) at new year... enjoy <3

“oi - why haven't you got a drink?”

you look up from your conversation with someone famous whose name you've already forgotten. george is frowning at you, usually-sharp eyes hazy with tipsiness; you're quite impressed at his commitment to his hosting duties in the midst of such inebriation, to be honest. “your missus dragged me in here and into a convo before i could get one, that's why.”

“that girl,” he shakes his head. suddenly, you're on your feet, being tugged towards the kitchen before you can even apologise to the actress - rachel? - you were chatting to. “come on. can't have you dehydrating.”

“there's no risk of that, george,” you grumble, stumbling along in an effort to keep up with him and his giraffe legs. christ, how does charli manage? “was out already, remember?”

“yeah, i know. matty wouldn't stop fucking moping about you not being here earlier.”

you beam.

“actually,” george continues. “he keeps moping whenever you're not around, to be honest,” he stops abruptly; only once you've bounced back from him do you notice his mischievous grin. “i think he fancies you.”

you beam even wider.

as if it's news to you, though - you did nearly just snog matty outside.

“don't tell him i told you that, though,” he's walking again. “he's battered me for doing that before.”

“tried to batter you, i assume.”

“exactly,” george pulls you into the kitchen, weaving through people and conversations and what you think is a drinking game, stopping when he reaches the fridge. “alright. what you drinking?”

you don't answer, too preoccupied with staring at matty across the room. a spike of jealousy spears you as you watch him talk to a charli and a girl you don't recognise, long dark hair trailing down her back, but you're appeased when he catches sight of you and smiles; you copy his expression, and neither of you break eye contact. that is, until george waves his hand in front of your face. “hellooooooo? anybody home?”

“fuck off, i was thinking.”

“making eyes at my best friend is what you were doing, actually.”

“you're seeing things, george. maybe you're going insane.”

“what d'you mean going?” matty's arm finds its way around your waist. “he's been insane as long as i've known him, darling.”

you rest your head on his shoulder. “well, i didn't want to be impolite.”

“sweet girl,” he presses a gentle kiss to your temple; you do your best not to swoon, and he turns to his best friend. “i'll sort her with a drink, mate, s'alright.”

“but thank you for bringing me through for one, george,” you squeeze his hand, and he smiles as he bids you goodbye and speedwalks off to god knows where. biting back a cheeser of a smile, you turn to matty, loosely slinging your arms around his neck. “hello again, gorgeous.”

“hi,” he replies softly, cheeks tinting pink under the spotlights in the ceiling - your body fizzes with excitement about the fact that you can elicit such a reaction from him. matty's hands move to rest on your hips, and it's your turn to blush. he smiles. “missed you after we came inside. where did you end up?”

“charli got me talking to a couple of people, s'all.”

“yeah, me too.”

“i saw,” you raise your eyebrows, playfully. “she trying to set you up?”

“dunno. wasn't paying attention,” his thumbs gently rub little circles into the satin of your dress. “was a bit preoccupied thinking about someone else.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he smirks. “what about you, pretty girl? she have you talking to boys she thinks you'd want?”

“nah, just a girl she thought i'd find cool. which she was right about,” you stretch, deliberately arching your body further into his and savouring the way his breathing changes. “but she would've been wrong if she'd had me chatting to boys like that,” your eyes flick to matty's slightly-parted lips, then back up to meet his gaze again. “you see… i want a man.”

matty exhales shakily. “god,” he half-laughs. “you're really fucking hot, you know. and,” he adds hurriedly. “you're beautiful. really. i mean, you're just… wow,” he grins. “gonna be thinking about this dress for a long time, trust me.”

“i hoped you'd like it. s'why i bought it.”

“babe,” matty rests his head on your shoulder, sighing happily (you hope so, at least) when you softly caress the back of his neck. he slowly lifts it up, whispering in your ear and making you shiver in the best possible way. “and i know this is forward, but… shall we go outside and finish what we started earlier?”

fuck.

“yeah,” you breathe, smiling as matty pulls away from you to take your hand. “oh, wait - i still don't have a drink.”

“i have wine,” there's a hint of desperation in matty's voice; he seems to realise this, clearing his throat and smiling bashfully. yeah, you're done for. “promised i'd have it, didn't i?”

nodding, you tap the handbag still hanging from your shoulder. “and i have cigs.”

“the perfect woman. shall we?”

you nod, and matty gently leads you towards the back door of the house (with a detour to the wine rack to grab a bottle of red), ushering you through throngs of people with a feather-light touch to your lower back; as soft as it is, the contact has butterflies emerging from cocoons in your stomach that you didn't know were there, and you're actually quite sad when he removes his hand to open the door for you. carefully watching your step in your heels, you exit into the garden, look up, and grumble. behind you, matty follows suit. “well, fuck.”

the garden is almost as packed as the house, cigarette and vape and joint smoke rising from the people below and disappearing in the moonlit sky - not quite the secluded romantic setting either you or matty had evidently imagined. scanning for any sort of uninhabited spot, you notice a slightly-hidden section of low garden wall, shielded from the rest of the outdoor space by an unkempt patch of hedge, and quickly tug matty towards it. he speeds ahead of you when he sees where you're headed, shucking off his suit jacket and laying it on the mossy wall. “there you go, sweetheart.”

“matty,” your eyes widen. “you can't lay your jacket there! that thing costs more than my rent!”

“first of all, you live in kentish town, so no it doesn't. second of all,” he sits, patting the fabric as a sign for you to join him. “the wall's fucking freezing, and you're wearing the shortest dress of all time and no tights. you need some sort of barrier, darling.”

huffing, you sit on the jacket. “s'not the shortest dress of all time.”

“i personally have no issue with the length. quite the opposite, actually,” matty winks, unscrewing the top of the wine and passing you the bottle. “sorry, i should've grabbed glasses.”

you shrug, taking a swig. “well, if i must share germs with someone here, you're the best choice,” giggling, you pass the bottle back to matty, and dig in your bag for your marlboros and lighter. “shall we?”

he nods, smiling; you love the way his eyes look, illuminated by the flame. “you do know how to make a man feel special, darling.”

you aren't sure how long you stay like that with matty, drinking and smoking and chatting and laughing. time moves differently when you're with him, the only way you can measure it being in disappearances - firstly of the wine in the bottle, then the four cigarettes you had left in that particular pack, and of the people leaving the garden in dribs and drabs. despite the ever-dwindling crowd nearby, neither you nor matty try to reenact the almost-kiss from earlier; both of you seem to sense something other than your bic lighter sparking here, and you're more than happy to keep kindling it through conversation than risking a wild blaze, or worse, a complete extinguishing. only when the early morning becomes too cold to bear do you go back inside, hand in hand and animated as you yap away.

matty's incredulous. “this is the classiest new year's event you've ever been to? this? look, darling - actually, don't,” he covers your eyes with his hand until you get back into the hallway. “someone clearly went too hard on the midori there.”

you wince. “awful stuff.”

“i'm with you on that one. you know i agreed to do body shots off ross after drinking it at a party once?”

“no.”

“oh, yeah,” he shudders. “far better in theory than in execution.”

“the shots as a concept? or the fact it was ross you were doing them with?” you tilt your head, smiling shyly when you catch yourself. “sorry. i've just never done body shots.”

matty stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you in complete bewilderment. “are you serious?”

you nod.

“but… but you look like that!” he splutters, gesturing wildly to you. “nobody ever propositioned you to let them lick salt from you? really?”

“they did not,” you pause, face twisting into a smirk. “are you propositioning me for that, matthew?”

his jaw drops. it stays that way for a good few seconds, actually, before he blinks and gives a smirk of his own. “would you like it if i did?”

oh, the bastard. still - what's the use in lying? “i would. and,” you move to whisper in his ear. “i wanna get my tongue on you, too.”

he moans. actually moans. and while you're still reeling from that, he leans back, and shouts at the top of his voice. “george!”

the man in question comes skidding through. “what? what's wrong?”

matty grins. “have you got any tequila?”

***

“i cannot believe you're doing this with him.”

ross's wife - pregnant, therefore sober, therefore the only person who can be trusted with the components of the shot - carefully pours a little trail of salt onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder. you smile, hyper-aware of not moving and knocking the full shot glass tucked between your boobs or the lime wedge resting on the swell of the right one. “why?”

she hums. “i thought you had good taste.”

“don't make me laugh, i'll spill the shot!”

“sorry,” she smiles. “maybe we should get matty over here before that happens, yeah?”

“s'pose,” you take as deep a breath as your new accessories allow, as your friend steps to the side. “oi, healy!”

he turns away from his conversation with george and ross, pretty eyes lighting up when he sees you sat ready on the kitchen counter. four strides, and he's in front of you. “hi, darling. still wanna do this?”

you smirk. “wouldn't have a shot glass in my tits if i didn't,” your smile widens as his pupils do the same. “whenever you're ready, gorgeous.”

so quickly you don't have time to react, matty kisses your nose. “this, genuinely, is one of the greatest privileges of my life. thank you,” he leans back, breathing deeply as if to prepare himself, then slots himself between your legs. “right, here goes.”

time starts to move weirdly again, the second matty gets his tongue on you. at the first touch, your eyes close, something within you urging you to let your other senses take over for the experience; initially, you do, inhaling the heady mix of cologne and cigarette smoke that's just so characteristically matty, and getting goosebumps at the slow movement of his flat tongue against your neck. but then he moves, and you feel hot breath on your chest, and your eyes fly open to watch him duck down and take the shot glass between his lips. he's blushing, obvious from the heat of his cheeks against your tits, but the flirty confidence is there as always in his eyes when he leans back up to take the shot itself - by the time he leans back down to bite the lime on your tit, teeth grazing the soft skin, you think your cheeks must be even warmer than his. it isn't out of embarrassment, despite the fact that you're colleagues, or your entire friend group seems to be watching, but rather out of passion, a unique form of desire your body only reserves for matty and matty alone.

yeah, you're fucked.

your friends cheer as matty pulls the lime rind from his lips, setting it down with a smile and moving to look at you properly again. “how was that?”

“very, very fun. thank you, angel,” you pull him in for a hug, fighting the urge to press a soft kiss to his neck. “you're good with your mouth, matty,” leaning back, you look up at him with the biggest doe eyes you can muster. “can i show you how good i am with mine, now?”

surprisingly, he doesn't cave at that like you thought he might; instead, it's you who caves, heat bursting in your stomach when matty slides his thumb across your lips. he smiles. “let's do it.”

he's gone before you can respond, moving things off the kitchen table while you breathe shakily at the counter. of course, that isn't helped at all when matty unbuttons his shirt, throwing the fabric to ross (who grimaces) before draping himself on the table in a very delectable way. “salt!”

ross's wife rolls her eyes, but moves to help prepare matty the same way she did with you. charli staggers over to you, swigging champagne directly from the bottle - you take a swig of your own when she holds it to you, and she giggles. “what even the fuck is going on?”

“shots, babe.”

“yeah, i know,” she rolls her eyes. “but i mean, like, you and matty,” blinking, she looks over at the table. “you're about to lick salt off his stomach. s'a bit of a sexy thing to do with your friend.”

“well, he is my best friend.”

“you know what i mean!” she wails. “you're telling me you'd straddle your best friend, and lick him?”

you smirk, sneaky. “i'd straddle and lick matty, yeah.”

“jesus,” charli's head turns at the sound of both your names, and she shoves you towards the table. “well, now's the time.”

doing your best not to smile too widely, you wander over to stand beside the table matty's lying on. he really does look incredible like this, shirtless under the spotlights, salt dotted in little piles from his hip tattoo (slightly underhanded of him, you think) all the way up to the one adorning his chest, shot glass between his lips with a lime wedge balanced on top. incapable of resisting the urge to touch him, you stroke his hair. “hi, gorgeous. you ready?”

matty winks, humming out a laugh when you return the motion; the noise fades into something that could be a moan when you manage to pull yourself onto the table, crawling up just enough to be able to lean down and flatten your tongue against his hip, just like you've dreamt about for months. beside you, his hands clench and then clutch the table, and that sign that you've affected him spurs you on, has you deciding to crawl slowly up his body and collect all the salt in one continuous lick. you can't stop the little moan of satisfaction that leaves your lips, and it sends matty into overdrive - his chest heaves, moans of his own reverberating through it, and you actually hear your friends gasp (and shriek, in charli's case) and someone murmur something like “oh my god, i feel like i'm intruding” and several pairs of footsteps leaving the room; when the salt is gone, and you manage to detach your tongue from the delectable man below you, it becomes evident that you and matty are alone. alone, for the first time since your interrupted almost-kiss earlier.

fuck it. might as well take advantage of that.

with as saccharine a smile as you can muster, you “readjust” yourself on matty's lap, smile widening at the combination of the way matty's hands move to clutch at your hips and the feeling of him hardening beneath your (definitely wet) panties. placing a hand on either side of his head, you lean forward, slowly, grinning once again at the way his eyes flick between your chest and face; you hover over his lips for a moment, then take the glass from his with your own, throwing your head back (and grinding down on matty for good measure) as you swallow the tequila and bite the lime before laying the glass and rind down.

matty laughs, eyes sparkling. “you're a pro, darling,” his hands squeeze your hips, rubbing up across your waist and back down. “you're also a fucking minx, you know that?”

you shrug. “well, you had me sit on your lap. what else was i to do, really, babe?”

“m'glad you did all that, sweetheart. makes this next bit easier for me, knowing how much you want me,” he smiles, warm and sweet. “what are you doing this friday night?”

“oh, that's easy,” you take his hands. “i'm going on a date with you.”

matty beams. “too fucking right you are.”

[kingkunigami]

This is entirely Ari and Jaspers fault. I’m actually insane for this man.

Pairing: Oliver Aiku x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, cunnilingus.

There’s something about the way Oliver Aiku’s stubble tickles your ear when he leans down to whisper against it that has your cunt throbbing with desire. It’s the salaicious implication behind it as his warm breath fans against your skin and you feel him pressed against your hip, a subtle indication that he might actually be good at it.

But he’s pathetic really, especially paired with the sheer audacity he holds that thought he could get away with asking you such a crude question. It’s enough having to deal with him on and off the pitch as one of the team administrators, but this? You weren’t drunk enough for this—

“Do you wanna suck my cock?”

It had been the last thing you’d expected to hear when he’d pressed his lips to your ear, and you should’ve walked away at that alone. There were more than enough men in this dirty dive bar that would at least have better small talk at bare fucking minimum.

“No.” You scrunched your nose in irritation, already intent on walking away.

“Aw come on,” He grins, taking a sip of his beer, “Don’t be like that, sweetheart.”

The pet name should’ve been his second strike, so why were you still here?

“I’m not your sweetheart,” You shot him a smile back, full of faux sincerity.

“But you could be,” He grinned.

“Nah, I don’t think I could.”

“You always act like you hate me.” He pouts, and you have to stop your heart from squeezing at how adorable he looks— you have to stay strong.

“Yeah, it’s an act.” You reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you down the rest of your drink.

That’s why you hate yourself for where you are now, legs spread while Oliver looks at you like the cat that got the cream. Licking his lips as he peels your sticky panties to the side, eyes sparkling in delight as he notices the wet patch that stains the fabric.

“Knew you were lying,” He scoffs, “Were you this wet when you were talking to me, huh?”

“Shut up,” You sneer, scrunching your nose in frustration.

“That’s not very nice, is it?” He presses a wet, sloppy kiss to your inner thigh.

And the moment you feel the rough stubble graze your thighs, it’s game over. Legs lock around his head to cage him in, chasing the sensation as you shamelessly wiggle your inner thighs against the side of his face.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, sweetheart.” He grins, large palms dipping into the plush of your thighs as he prizes them open like a cherished gift.

He licks his lips in anticipation as he ogles your sex, revealing just how wet and ready you are for him— strings of your slick glisten against you invitingly and it only boosts his ego knowing that it’s all for him.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” He speaks, and you’re unsure whether it’s to you or him, but it doesn’t stop your clit from pulsing in response. The swollen nub desperate for attention as you writhe beneath his grip, Oliver’s warm breath that fans against it not nearly enough as you feel pleas sitting on the tip of your tongue.

But you’re determined not to stoop so low, to give his ego even more of a boost. He’s shameless enough as it is, with the cocky curl of his lip as he deliberately hovers inches from your slit.

“At least this pussy’s fucking honest,” He chuckles, “Look how much she wants me.” And it’s enough to have you weaving a hand through his messy mop of hair as your nails drag against his scalp. Twisting at the root to hold him steady as you buck your hips, pushing his face into your eager cunt.

His lips smash against your clit, giving it some needed relief as you whine in satisfaction. Your body convulsing as your eyes roll back into your skull, pleasure shoots through your veins like he’s an addictive drug and you’re certain you won’t recover.

But it’s the way his rough stubble grazes the sensitive skin that has you crumbling, your toes curl as you turn into the needy, desperate slut he’d said you were—

“Fuck,” He groans, muffled by your cunt as he slurps and guzzles your slick like he’s picked the ripest peach, “You’re such a mess.”

It’s debauched, and borderline depraved as you feel a mixture of his spit and your slick drool between the curve of your ass. Slurping it into his mouth before spitting it back down against your messy slit, positive there’s a puddle beneath you as Oliver continues to ruin you.

You’re certain you won’t survive— the flat of his tongue swipes from your tight rim as he works the length of you, all the way to the top as you feel the rough stubble on his chin tickle your clit. Oliver repeats the motion, as though he knows it’s exactly what you want. And perhaps it is— the sensation has you crying out for him as you shamelessly fuck his face. Chasing the sensation of his beard against your slit as you let the friction catch your clit, feeling the familiar throb swirl in your abdomen as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss.

And he knows from the telltale way your thighs begin to shudder and your hole begins to pulse as he weaves a hand around your thighs to press down on your pelvis. Increasing the pressure and pulling the hood of your clit back as he nuzzles your cunt, bristling against you as you find yourself crying out for him. Reduced to a pathetic, debauched mess as he stares up at you from between your clenching thighs.

Oliver works you through your climax, his tongue prods your leaking hole greedily after as though to taste his victory. Pressing a final, lingering kiss to your over sensitive clit as he pulls back with a cocky grin. The mess of your climax now threaded through the fuzz on his chin as he shamelessly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Still gonna act like you hate me, sweetheart?”

[unpickled-olive]

Realizing that, while I like Destiny lore, what I love is Seth Dickinson's writing.

The Final Shape was a lovely story and the characters' archs were all emotional and satisfying. Maybe a nostalgic tear was shed for Cayde bonding with his reformed, resurrected killer.

But the things that have kept me coming back for 9 years were missing. I thought there'd be concrete answers about the Traveler, or some more thorough insights into the Witness, or even good lore on the Dread. I was hoping for another great lore book to join the ranks of Books of Sorrow, Unveiling, Mysterious Logbook, Marasenna, Last Days of Kraken Mare, etc. Some philosophy and horror, a genesis or exegesis or thorough backstory on a yet unexamined character/species.

Sadly, I didn't find those. The Dread's origin is that the Witness made them. Do they think and feel? TBD. The Traveler's conclusion was something like "you just have to have faith <3." Fine for the characters, but not for the readers/players of a 10-year-old mystery.

There's some nice things. The Micah-10 Traveler interpretations are cool, as is her origin story. And the foreshadowing still has me excited for the Dreadnaught, a yet unseen Disciple, etc. But I think key parts of what made Destiny lore so alluring for me are diminished.

Maybe it's the layoffs at Bungie. Maybe it's new writers going in a different direction. Either way, the aspects of sci-fi/space fantasy—ancient mysteries, metaphysical warfare, _____—have taken the back seat to personal drama that frankly isn't that interesting or fleshed out.

Maya could be an interesting antagonist, but she needed more backstory than "this simulation was evil or something" and more nuance than "the Vanguard are coercive, so I will coerce all of humanity." Why not explore what her presence means for the Vex, or the other simulations helping Praedyth escape the Vault?

The Witness trying to sway various characters was fine, but that has been covered so many times, especially in Beyond Light.

All that said, back to Seth: their absence in TFS made me realize how huge their presence in the lore was for my love of Destiny. I finally went and read their original works. What an incredible writer.

First, I read Exordia, the first/only entry into a dark mindfuck of a space opera. Its horrific in abstract ways: mysterious alien monoliths that poison reality around them. It's horrific in grounded ways, too: the alien invasion plays off of parallels with the Anfal campaign and the US involvement in Iraq. It's campy at times (with a villain who shouts "I love genocide!") but also profound. There's souls and date, but also math. There's also my favorite trope: mysterious, ancient architects.

After that, I read Baru Cormorant—all three books in a month. It's tragic and inspiring and genius. Originally I couldn't get through the first chapter because of the "fantasy" label. I've already read Earthsea and wasn't in the mood for wizards on boats. But I had the wrong impression. Understandable, because there is just no succinct way to label it.

Is it even fantasy? Honestly, I still don't know.

What it is is its own world. One that the inhabitants haven't fully mapped. One whose past is a must and whose future is uncertain. It's about hegemony. It's about purpose, obsession, and revenge. It's about revolution and community.

The colonizer culture is a kaleidoscope of different influences. Seafaring. Peri-industrial. Eugenic. It strikes me as something like 17th century Britain with a 20th century grasp of science. They don't have guns, but they do have both Greek fire and lobotomies. The story plays with different cultural views on indigenous rights, race, sexuality, and gender in ways that commentary real life while serving as interesting world building.

This story also weaves an insane amount of intellectual concepts into it. But rather than bog it down, they lift it up. The fate of the republic hinges on a myriad of different questions: is evolution Lamarckian or Darwinian? Can mathematical proofs usurp cultural hegemony? How do economics influence history? Most importantly, can you destroy the enemy from within before it destroys you?

It is not just cerebral, but tragic and heartbreaking. I saw the end of the first book coming, and yet I was devastated by the last chapter. Crushed like no ending has ever really crushed me. I didn't want it to happen.

There will likely be some time before the final book comes out, which is understandable. So much research goes into these. So many plot threads need to be woven together. So many mysteries not yet confronted.

This is all to say: if you like what I like about Destiny–thorough examinations of ancient mysteries, sci-fi takes on souls and magic, fantasy takes on science and technology, obsessive characters and vividly fucked up monsters, cancer and math as motifs, metaphors manifesting, and genius characters written by genius authors–give Seth Dickinson a chance.

[daintyys]

Situationship with James? would love to see reader wearing a jersey that isn’t james’ cause they had an argument about wanting to be together or not, so she does that to tease him and see if he gets jealous (you can make it magical or non magical)

fem!reader x james potter, 1k words, angst and swearing

a/n: JUMPING at this ask because it gives me the opportunity to write james as a footballer ehehe. tysm to @gravelyordinary for helping me w this 😭😭

"Come on, James..." You mumbled to yourself, clenching your fists nervously. The game was becoming intense, both teams completely stuck in, aggressive and ready to win. You watched as James weaved in and out between other players. Unsurprisingly, he was refusing to pass the ball. Classic show-off James Potter. It was nearing the end of the second half, and James' team had to get this last goal in order to win.

James looked determined to be the reason for the victory. He knew you were there, and even though your last interaction had been a fight, he still wanted to look cool for you. He was approaching the goal. You saw him flash a grin at the opposing team's goalie- his best friend's brother. "JUST FUCKING SHOOT IT, POTTER!" Someone screamed behind you. You laughed, and your hands flew over your mouth as you watched James raise his leg to kick the ball. "Yes, yes, YES!" You screeched as the ball flew into the net, much to the dismay of the goalie.

You cheered, your ears ringing from the sheer amount of screaming surrounding you. You couldn't wait to see the expression on James' face when he saw you. You grabbed your purse and left the stands, heading towards the private lounge where the players and their families hung out after games.

You had free admission to the lounge, and everybody knew better than to question it. You had been going out with James for almost a year now, but had still yet to put a label on your relationship. James was convinced you two should be dating by now, because of course "you could end up pregnant". Sure, that could be true, but in your opinion that was no reason to be in a committed relationship.

You pulled open the door to the lounge, and James' teammates cheered when they saw you. They loved you, but admittedly also thought you were insane for not being James' girlfriend. You smiled, but quickly asked them to please "ignore the shirt". Setting down your purse at the bar, you took your jacket off. The silence in response was unbearable.

The last name "Black" was written across the back of the shirt you were wearing. Yes, Regulus Black was James' best friend's brother, but it was still disappointing to the boys for you to wear the opposing goalie's jersey. "Don't take it personal, guys." You laughed, turning to them. You were instead met by one set of eyes you weren't exactly excited to see. James was staring at you, ears practically shooting steam, as his mates stared at his reaction.

He scoffed, sipping his drink and turning toward the lounge. He walked away, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. You turned quickly to the bartender. "Passionfruit Martini, please." You sighed.

Drink in-hand, you made your way over to James. He was sitting alone, looking almost sickly. He looked up at you, rolling his eyes. You sat next to him, putting your hand on his knee. "Was embarrassing me like that worth it?" He asked, staring at the ground. You stayed silent, regretting your decision. "I- I wanted to see if you really cared all that much..." You stuttered, taking a sip of your drink.

James grinned sarcastically, facing you. "Of course I fucking care that much. Are you mad?" It was hard to believe it, but you could see tears in his eyes. "Shit. I'm so sorry, James. I didn't think you were actually serious about that!" He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink. "Why did you think I fought so hard with you the other night then? Just for the sake of it?"

You looked down at the floor, guilt taking over your body. "I'll take off the jersey if you'd like." You mumbled. "Well I can't make you do anything, Y/N. I'm not your boyfriend, afterall." James huffed. Your mouth opened in disbelief. "Don't be like that! It's not that I don't want to date you, it's just that I'm not sure I'm ready! It would be hard for me dating a footballer, you know!" James nodded, adjusting his glasses.

"I get that. You could have just said that, sweetheart." He placed his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. You sat up again and rested your head on him. "I like you. I really do. I just need time." You whispered. You felt James sigh. "Please just tell me. I don't want to lose you." You smiled at him, softening. "I promise."

"Can we get out of here?" James asked quietly, resting his hand on top of yours. "I actually really hate seeing you wear that, would rather you wear nothing at all than be in that shirt..." He trailed off, reaching out to feel the fabric on your body. You gasped, smacking his hand away. "We're in public!" You exclaimed. James laughed, putting his hand back on your waist. "Exactly why I'm suggesting we leave, Y/N."

Agreeing, you were soon in the back of a cab, James with his arm tightly around your shoulder. "I'm so so sorry." You repeated over and over. James laughed, assuring you it was okay. You peppered his face with kisses, much to the dismay of your driver.

Arriving at James' flat, the two of you dashed upstairs, fingers interlaced. "James!" You giggled as he pulled you onto his bed. He wasted no time in getting the jersey off of you, and he threw it to the floor. "Gotta give that back to him." He laughed. "I actually stole it from Sirius when he came to visit." You grinned, straddling James' hips.

Waking up the next morning, you smiled at the feeling of James' heartbeat under your head. You kissed his neck gently, trying to wake him up. He groaned and shifted under you, sitting up. "Good morning my handsome boyfriend." You giggled, moving his hair from in front of his eyes. James' eyes shot open, shocked. "Boyfriend?!" He gasped, a grin forming on his lips. "Yes, James. Boyfriend."

[aoxizu]

i have another 2.1 character dynamic post in the recesses of my brain but i need to get this out first

star rail's 2.1 update main plotline leans a lot more into existentialism and absurdism than i thought it would which is a really nice surprise

like i thought before 2.0 that at most it was just going to be some "oh no capitalism bad ipc bad cults also bad" thing but honestly what we got is so much more interesting. the spoilers start now

also massive disclaimer i am not a philosophist and actually i really don't like philosophy because it makes my brain hurt and i would much rather just look at logical nice things like math and plants so. if i get anything wrong please correct me

acheron's past and how she became an emanator of nihility reminds me somewhat of the absurdist theme of how people always look for meaning when there isn't any, until they finally realize that the universe is meaningless

and the entire path of nihility basically is a road towards that realization that people tread on, and the difference between the real world and star rail is that in the real world here we have people who will see that and then go write a book about a guy not crying at his mother's funeral, whereas in star rail it seems that just accepting that the universe is meaningless turns you into a pathstrider or even emanator of the nihility (not sure if i remember the details, correct me if i'm wrong)

and then aventurine's whole motivation is trying to understand why the universe is so cruel to him, and to find meaning when you have everything except freedom, both of which are absurdist themes

the leap of faith argument often attributed to søren kierkegaard claims that even though there is no rational logic for believing in god, you should do it anyway because the alternatives are madness, suicide, and ignorance. this was one solution to the problem of confronting the universe's meaninglessness: choosing to believe in a higher being regardless

later world wars i and ii both contributed heavily to the rise of absurdism as people returned from the war, having seen so many others die around them, and then just going back to a normal society with none of what they as individual soldiers had contributed seemingly doing anything. and then it happened again, but on a much greater scale with even more deaths. both wars and the destruction they brought led many people to start questioning why a supposedly moral god could allow this suffering, and this is where camus comes in and says that actually religion and nationalism both aren't good solutions, and instead we should just accept meaninglessness and keep living despite the absurdity

and i think dr ratio's scroll thing kind of relates to that

he tells aventurine to open it when he's about to die, or when he's completely out of answers for the question of how to confront absurdity

and dr ratio's answer for aventurine is to just tell him to keep living, good luck

which is. yeah

it's the argument that there are more answers to nihilism than just 1) going insane, 2) pretending like it doesn't exist, and 3) dying

it's the bold claim that despite everything, you can still choose to live

sure nothing makes sense but that does not detract from your life. it doesn't need to make sense at all

and with the understanding that things do not need to fit our human definition of meaning, we can continue on knowing our true place in the universe

and with that aventurine walks into the very big black hole like look at that thing you cannot tell me there is no symbolism there

let's go back to acheron.

in the part where you get a snippet of acheron's conversation with some guy just before this cutscene, the other party states that "[IX] leave[s] woven strands of fate for humans to walk, and together THEY weave a great shadow...And this shadow silently envelops them."

which to me sounds like a statement on how people across time and space have again and again come to the same question, what is the meaning of life?

and acheron's whole color thing seems to mean that she is one of the few who, after walking so far on the path of nihility, somehow have not died yet, be it from madness or something else

like it seems implied that many many more have seen the meaninglessness of the universe and have not reacted as well as acheron has

ok i have more to say about the elation and how it in turn relates to the nihility but that will have to come later but there is. a lot of interesting things there to explore

once again disclaimer: I Am Not A Philosophist And Do Not Know What The Correct Definitions Of These Words I'm Throwing Around Are. thank you for coming to my ted talk that was more of a longwinded ramble

[writerslittlelibrary]

I'm your mother now, chapter 8

masterlist series masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8

summary: you’ve finally accepted Natasha as your mother, and because of that she has decided to have a nice Christmas with your new family

pairing: Dark!Natasha x teen reader, Dark!Yelena x teen reader, Dark!Melina x teen reader, Dark!Alexei x teen reader

warnings: dark themes, kinda evil Natasha, translated Russian, Stockholm syndrome

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2168

a/n: well guys, here it is, the final chapter of the ‘I’m your mother now’ series. I hope you enjoy:) (I apologise for the delay. like I mentioned before, I’m sick) thank you all for the messages I got, I appreciate all of you 🫶

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You didn’t know what changed, but Natasha was so much more comfortable to be around. You weren’t sure if something changed about you, or something changed about her, but you knew something did. 

She was more flexible. Less strict with following routines and more caring. You were having the time of your life, and when Natasha asked you to join her with going to town, you didn’t even hesitate to say yes.

You had no clue what date or month it was, but when you got to the town, there were Christmas decorations everywhere. 

Lights were hung up in every tree, and the stores were filled with trees, ornaments and lights.

Natasha smiled as she pulled you over to the trees, telling you you could pick one. You smiled and held Natasha’s hand tightly as you weaved through the many Christmas trees, looking for the best one. 

“You can pick one as large as you like, Malyshka,” Natasha told you as you stared at the bigger trees. 

You gave her another large smile and nodded, dragging her to the larger trees. 

“What about that one?” you asked as you pointed at a large, full tree. It was absolutely beautiful, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile from the excitement on your face.

“Of course we can get that one,” she told you, signalling to a worker that was there to pack the Christmas trees. 

“We’d like this one,” Natasha said as she motioned to the tree.

The worked nodded, putting a number on it and asking for an address. You should’ve known it would be delivered. There’s no way any Christmas tree would fit in that expensive car that Natasha owned. 

After giving the man an address, he nodded and wrote it down. 

You weren’t particularly sure Natasha gave a real address though. She had done so well with hiding your location, picking out a house far into the woods. You were certain Natasha would never give away that location, but you didn’t really find it in yourself to care, or even to really think about it. You trusted Natasha, and you were sure she knew what she was doing.

“You picked a nice one,” the worker suddenly said, pulling you from your thoughts. 

He had a strong Russian accent, yet his English was flawless and very understandable. You nodded, giving him a small smile as he gave Natasha a card, probably confirmation of buying the tree.

Natasha thanked him before dragging you towards the mall, claiming you two needed to get Christmas decorations, as Natasha didn’t have any of those in the house yet.

Of course, your shopping spree ended with ice-cream. No matter how cold or snowy the weather got, Natasha claimed ice-cream was always appropriate, and who were you to disagree?

After coming home, Natasha told you to help her put out all the Christmas decorations. The tree would be coming tomorrow, so now you could just help her put some decorations up around the house.

Natasha had bought an insane amount of nice lights, hanging them up everywhere, giving the room and pleasant and cosy feeling. 

That day was over pretty fast, and because you still weren’t quite over the whole police ordeal, you still requested Natasha to stay in your room every night. 

Of course, Natasha happy obliged each time, being more than happy that you finally admitted you needed her. You were absolutely drained from the day, so you slept in, and to your surprise, Natasha didn’t come to wake you. You slept peacefully until your clock had more than two numbers before the dots. 

It was about 10.30 when Natasha came to wake you up, and you groaned and stretched as she pulled you out of bed, trying to get you exited with the idea that the tree was coming today. 

You were out of bed in no time when you remembered that, happy to follow Natasha’s whole morning routine as you played with the bubbles in the bath.

You were happy, content. Why had you resisted so much when you first arrived? 

You loved Natasha, and she loved you. She took care of you, taught you how to take proper care of yourself, too. She bathed you, made you food, helped you get ready for bed and helped you with everything you could ever need or want help with.

Natasha loved you, right?

Yes. Yes she did. Natasha loved you.

It was about three in the afternoon when the doorbell rang. Natasha went to open it while you happily ate your lunch.

When the door opened, you heard a familiar voice entering the house, and it didn’t take long before you jumped up, running to the front door and greeting the person. 

It was auntie Yelena, and she had brought the Christmas tree. 

Yelena was here! Was she gonna celebrate Christmas with you as well?

Yelena smiled as she opened her arms, allowing you to hug her tightly. Natasha smiled lovingly at the sight, happy you two got along so well. After a few second, Yelena let go, saying she needed some help unloading the Christmas tree. 

You nodded, and turned to Natasha to silently ask for permission.

When Natasha gave you a nod, you smiled widely, grabbing Yelena’s hand as she led you to her much larger car. The tree could easily fit in it, and you figured Natasha must’ve had it delivered to Yelena’s place.

After helping Yelena get the tree inside, Natasha walked in with the big box you bought yesterday. It had all the decorations you’d need for a Christmas tree. 

You were more than happy when you, Yelena, and Natasha decorated the tree. They mostly let you decided where what would go, wanting the tree to look perfect in your vision. They wanted Christmas to be perfect for you, knowing you never had a proper one. 

And so, Natasha and Yelena followed your every command as you told them where and how to put the ornaments, smiling and laughing at your little bossy attitude. 

Natasha playfully scolded you for it, and when she noticed you didn’t even flinch, but rather just laughed with her and joked about it, she looked at Yelena, eyes filled with hope.

You were happy. You were home.

Yelena stayed with you that entire week, and on Christmas Eve, the doorbell rung again. You and Yelena stayed at the table, playing a board game you found in the closet as Natasha went to open the door. 

You heard two voices coming from the hallway, and you heard multiple greetings in Russian. 

One voice was heavy and sounded like it belonged to a man, while the other was a little softer, yet still sounded a bit stern. 

You had no idea who these two people could possible be, yet when they walked into the house, seeing you sitting at the kitchen counter with Yelena, the woman walked over to you, engulfing you in a tight hug. 

You were surprised, to say the least, but you didn’t hesitate or pull away. 

When the woman finally pulled away, she cupped your cheeks in her hands, studying your face.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Malyshka,” the woman spoke with a heavy Russian accent. You figured these must be Natasha and Yelena’s parents. 

The woman smiled as she gently rubbed her slightly rough thumbs across your cheek. “You are so beautiful,” she said as she placed a kiss on your forehead. You smiled slightly at her, still rather confused about the sudden presence of the two new people.

“Mama, dayte yey nemnogo mesta,” (mama, give her some space) Yelena spoke, and the woman let her hands drops from your face. 

“I apologise. I am Melina,” the woman introduced herself, and you smiled as you raised your hand for her to shake. “I’m y/n,” you told her as she chuckled, shaking your hand firmly. 

“And I am Alexei,” a voice from behind Melina boomed. 

Alexei stepped forward, giving you a pleasant smile. “I too, am very happy to meet you. You look even prettier than pictures,” he stated, and you frowned slightly before you let the train of thought go, not wanting to concern yourself with such things any longer. 

You smiled at him, and invited both of them to sit down and play the game with you. 

The smiled and agreed, and soon all five of you were playing the game. When it was about ten o'clock, Natasha stated you should go to bed, as you had an exciting day tomorrow. 

You frowned at that, not sure what would be so exciting about tomorrow, yet you didn’t protest when Natasha grabbed your hand, making you say goodnight to everyone before leading you up to your room. 

After you were all done and settled in bed, you looked at Natasha with the best puppy dog eyes you could possible muster. 

“Will you still stay with me tonight, mama?” you asked her innocently, and she smiled as she sat down on the bed. She stroked your hair, letting her hand follow it all the way to your back before she started at the top of your head again. 

You were sleepy, it was undeniable, and the way you clutched your stuffed animals was melting Natasha’s heart. 

“How about this,” Natasha started, leaning a bit closer. “I will stay with you until you fall asleep, and then I’ll go downstairs to talk with the other for a while, and when we’ll all go to bed, I’ll come and sleep here, okay?” Natasha suggested, and you nodded as you closed your eyes. 

“Nighty night, Malyshka. Sweet dreams,” she told you, giving you a kiss on your forehead, continuing to stroke your back until you were fully asleep. 

Natasha kept her promise, and when she went to bed herself, she joined you in your bed, revelling in the fact you unconsciously reached out for her to cuddle. 

On Christmas morning, Natasha gently woke you up, placing kisses all over your face until your groaned and opened your eyes. Natasha smiled sweetly at you as she saw you wake up, placing some more kisses on your face until you were giggling, pushing her head away to get away from the tickly sensation. 

Natasha smiled and gave you a moment to fully wake up, before she helped you out of bed, and as always, bathed you and helped you brush your teeth. 

Once your were clean and dressed, Natasha took you downstairs, where Yelena, Melina, and Alexei were already sitting at the kitchen counter. You smiled at them, returning their good mornings as you went to sit down. 

Natasha smirked slightly and gave Yelena a small nudge, who understood the hint and spoke up. 

“Don’t you wanna look at the Christmas tree, Malysh?” Yelena asked, and you looked at her a bit confused. 

“Why? Did something change?” you asked her with confusion, while the others just smiled at you. “Just go and look,” Natasha then stated, making you stand up from you chair and walk into the living room. 

It took only mere seconds before you noticed the countless present under the Christmas tree.

“Presents!?” you exclaimed, and you swear you could hear Natasha chuckle at your surprise. “Why are there so many presents?!” you asked in excitement, and Natasha smiled as she walked up to you. 

“It’s Christmas, Malyshla,” she started, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Everyone gets presents during Christmas,” she explained. 

“I’ve never had presents on Christmas!” you exclaimed excitedly, turning to Natasha, seeing the amused look she carried on her face. “You do now,” she simply stated, wiping some stray hairs from your face. 

“Do you want to go open some?” she asked, and you nodded happily, walking over to the tree and sitting on the ground, close to the presents. 

Apparently, Melina, Alexei, Yelena, and Natasha had all bought you presents, making the tree overflow. Of course, there were presents for them as well, probably bought by eachother, but most of the presents were for you. 

You happily opened present after present, appreciating and thanking everyone for each and every gift.

The others sat on the couch, leaving the present dealing all up to you. You could decided who would get what present and when. 

You had the best time ever, and after all the presents were opened, you didn’t even hesitate to drag everyone to play a board game you got as one of your presents. Everyone was happy, and everyone enjoyed themselves immensely. 

All your previous thoughts and concerns were gone. All you knew was Natasha. All you wanted to know was Natasha. You were happy, you were safe, and you would never have to worry about anything ever again. 

You were happy. 

It kept repeating in your head, but it wasn’t an uncertainty as it had been all those weeks ago. 

You were safe. 

Nothing was uncertain anymore. Everything was clear. Natasha saved you. Natasha loved you, and you loved her.

Forever.

(phew, that was it. that was the whole series. I hope you guys enjoyed and I hope you were happy with the ending I wrote! hopefully I’ll see you in future fics!:))

tag list: @carol-romanoff @natsxwife @simp-erformarvelwomen @clintsbigtoe @olsenmyolsen @leenasayeed @naslt @dvrkhcld @nova-kyle @wandanatsbaby @alphalesbianwolffoxdragontribrid @cherlenovix @mrsromanovaa @wandanatsgirl @screechcat @a-spes @xanthreee

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @slut4johansson

[kirain]

what do you think of this post about Gale? I saw it today and idk how to feel about it. h t t p s : // www. tumblr. com / galahadwilder / 741497332636467200

I couldn't disagree with it more, to be honest.

First of all, and I can't stress this enough, Mystra doesn't care about her followers. She cares about the state of the Weave and nothing more. If her followers don't worship her, if they're not useful to her, if they don't serve her purpose, they mean nothing to her. After she abandoned Gale, she had no interest in him until she realised she could use him to stop the Absolute—and she only wanted to stop the Absolute because it threatened the Weave. In general, Mystra doesn't care what people use magic for either, be it the most admirable heroics or the most depraved insanity you can imagine.

Case and point: Lorroakan. He is an arrogant wizard, far worse than Gale could ever hope to be, who uses magic for pure evil. When he beat Rolan, he undoubtedly used magic to do it. Do you think Mystra cared? Nope. You can help that nutjob achieve his goals, kill a demigod, turn him immortal, and give him free reign to abuse magic any way he wishes, but do you think Mystra cares? Nope. She doesn't. She doesn't care about people unless they benefit her. In fact, all three iterations of Mystra have a vast history of grooming, flat out 🍇, and the forced impregnation of unsuspecting mortal women. Despite being neutral good, Mystra is and has always been extremely vain, selfish, jealous, and problematic.

With that in mind, I'd like to break this post down piece by piece. Also, please be aware that when I use the word "you", I don't mean you specifically, anon. I'm more so addressing anyone who might be reading.

PS: Please no one harass this person's post. Their opinion is their own, and it's very respectful. At the end of the day, we're just talking about a video game.

Mystra didn't tell Gale not to juggle the torches. She didn't even tell him it was a torch. She let him go on believing it was a part of her missing Weave. Had she told him the truth, he would've stayed away. That's why he's so shocked in Act 3, when she finally reveals it's the Karsite Weave. He had no idea, and she likely never intended to tell him. She didn't before he went off in search of it, and she didn't the entire time he was locked away in his tower, scared and suffering. I can't for the life of me figure out why she wouldn't warn him, but I can only assume it's because she expected absolute obedience, or because she was getting bored of him and wanted him to mess up.

Whatever her reasons, she didn't tell Gale to leave the orb alone because he was "worthy" already. He clearly wasn't in her eyes, because he wanted her to see him as an equal. He wanted her to share her knowledge with him, which is perfectly fair in a healthy relationship. If you're dating a god and they treat you like a worshipper—that's all you are to them. A worshipper. A plaything. You're beneath them. You're unworthy. She told Gale to leave the orb alone because she wanted him to be complacent. She wanted to keep him in servitude. That's what she wants from all of her followers, though it's even worse when it's her lover.

In almost every story where a mortal loves a god, the mortal is either ascended into the heavens or the god gives up their divinity. And this isn't even specific to gods, but also vampires, werewolves, elves, and so on. Arwen, for example, gives up her immortality to be with Aragorn. Bella becomes a vampire to be with Edward. Hercules gives up his divinity to be with Meg. Elisa Esposito becomes aquatic to be with the creature. These are common tropes because it makes the couples equal.

Mystra contradicts herself by saying Gale was "always worthy", because her actions don't reflect it. He was a worthy distraction from her job, sure, but not worthy enough for her to treat him like an equal. So in order to prove it to her, to prove his love and devotion, he went after the one thing he knew she wanted—her missing Weave. Yes, she told him not to, and I agree he should've respected that, but this is on par with a woman telling her husband not to buy a bracelet she really, really wants because it's too expensive. If your husband worked extra hours and saved up enough to buy you that bracelet, would you divorce him?

Gale was completely unaware of the danger. He basically thought he was getting Mystra a bracelet. Had she taken the time to explain it to him, the whole catastrophe could have been avoided. He was just a hopeless romantic who wanted to surprise his girlfriend and prove he belonged at her side. The same girlfriend who very well could have made him her equal and shared her knowledge, but chose not to. Why? Because she's selfish. She didn't want an equal, she wanted a servant. We know this because, if you romance and ascend Gale, he will ascend you alongside him and give you your own domain! Mystra had the power to do this, or at least the ability to slowly ease him into it, but she refused. No matter how much he pleaded and proved his devotion to her, she refused.

Mystra did not save Gale when the orb embedded itself in his chest. He survived only because it fed on his gifts. He says as much, and so does she when you go to see her at the Temple. That's why, when we first meet him, he admits he used to be better at magic. He was once exceedingly powerful, but the orb basically knocked him down to level one. Mystra was perfectly happy to let him scramble to find items to absorb, knowing that he would inevitably run out and erupt. When we give him his third item in Act 1, the orb is becoming quenchless, and he knows his time is nigh. Mystra has nothing to do with satiating the orb until Act 2 and 3, and only because he becomes her wild card.

Gale: Mystra will consider forgiveness?

Elminster: She will consider ... what she considers to be forgiveness.

Even Elminster, her most faithful Chosen, knows her "forgiveness" isn't really forgiveness. It's an ultimatum. Do this for me and be welcomed into my hall, or die and literally go to hell. Why would Mystra make this offer? Well, because why else would Gale agree to kill himself only to end up in the Wall of the Faithless? How would that motivate him? Mystra didn't make this offer out of the kindness of her heart, she made it because she was desperate. Had the opportunity never presented itself, she would've let him die and suffer for all eternity, and possibly take hundreds of innocent people with him in the blast. She. Doesn't. Care. 🤷‍♀️

Now, one could argue Gale was asking for too much, but I'm going to have to call bullshit on that. First of all, Mystra showed him things no mortal has ever seen. It's only fair he'd want to share her world and learn as much as possible. Imagine if the Doctor from Doctor Who picked up some random people and took them on breathtaking adventures, but the audience got mad at them for wanting to see as much as they could. Amy, Clara, Rose, etc.—none of them could live a normal life after meeting him, and they wanted to learn as much about the universe as possible. But everyone loves those characters. They don't get mad. There's even several episodes where the companions call the Doctor out for not treating them as equals, and he admits he's wrong for doing that and adjusts his way of thinking.

I would argue that the only real divide between Mystra and Shar/Vlaakith is that Mystra doesn't inflict physical pain ... most of the time. That's it. Vlaakith and Shar only care about themselves and the effectiveness of their followers, but the exact same applies to Mystra. She is the Weave, and she only cares about the Weave; therefore, she only cares about herself. She had ample opportunity to help Gale or tell him the truth, but she didn't until it was convenient for her. The gods of D&D are basically the Greek Pantheon gods—a bunch of assholes toying with mortals, regardless of their alignment. The odd one is decent, but most are only out for themselves and their rule. Now, I will concur that Mystra is hardly the worst deity (in fact, she's unfortunately one of the better ones), but she's still not great and Gale is her victim.

To get a little controversial, I think the writers made a mistake. I know what they were going for, but I think they lost it along the way. At first, I was ready to stand with everyone and admit he belonged in the quintessential "overreaching wizard full of hubris" category, but upon researching the lore, getting to know Gale better, and doing several different playthroughs, I've come to vehemently disagree. First of all, before 5E (the current D&D edition), becoming a god was the ultimate goal for a lot of players, and that was perfectly acceptable, with many DMs providing celestial paths to make it possible. Moreover, many of the current gods were once human themselves, including Mystra!

Second, it's only hubris if you fail. Gale can ascend. He can succeed. Although it's not the canon outcome I would choose for him, he is right about the crown. He does his research and figures out how to reforge it. And he doesn't seek godhood to be worshipped, he seeks it to either free himself (and all mortals) from Mystra's chains, or for her to acknowledge and love him as an equal. His arrogance stems from insecurity; an insecurity Mystra herself planted and cultivated, and in the end he's not really arrogant atfter all. Does him wanting to be Mystra's equal make him selfish? Well, I suppose that depends on how you answer these questions:

Is your partner equal to you? If you don't think so, why are you leading them on? Why wouldn't you take steps to help them become your equal? Why are you holding them back instead of propping them up? If they show interest in your life, in your world, in the things you can do, why would you keep it to yourself, especially when you have the time and resources to share it?

Just some ambrosia for thought. 😉

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

Chapter 33: The Game finishing snippet

as celebration for hitting 500+ reblogs here is the super rough snippet of the game section! It's still in it's rough stages, and there's still a lot left to go- I was really trying to recapture the vibe from the library chapter while still staying new/fresh I guess! (this will probably be very different from the finished product!)

“Asha?” Cepheus’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife as she halted. Now both ‘dragon’ and knights were staring at her as she stood there, frozen.

“H-hello Cepheus,” she smiled, giving him a small wave.

“Hi Asha!” he smiled as Corvias stared at her.

“...Bye Cepheus.”

“Bye Asha!” he called as Corvias incredulously looked from him to her before fervently hopping. “Oh….OH- WAIT A MINUTE- PRINCESS GET BACK HERE!” Cepheus yelled as he took off after her.

“HELP!” She screamed once again as the star continued to chase after her. “THIS WAS A MISTAKE AAAHHHH-,”

“After them!” cried the children who followed in pursuit.

“No, you silly kids don’t follow me! How am I supposed to get to you if you’re behind him?!” She cried watching as they charged after the star. “Nooo!” she groaned.

“Keep running Asha!” Mrs. Zahira called.

“Circle around! Do a backflip!” Mr. Armin called. 

“I can’t do a backflip!” She wailed as she continued sprinting around the market, watching as the star grew closer and closer.

“He’s gaining on you!” Mrs. Akinemi laughed as she tore past her.

No kidding. 

Her headstart had done her little good as he quickly gained ground, somehow managing to nearly close the distance as she ran both through the crowd and around the stalls. No wonder the king had found stars terrifying. For someone who’d claimed to be so weak amongst his own kind, Cepheus’s strength and speed were insane!

“SOMEBODY SAVE ME!” she screamed, taking a sharp turn around another stall as the star continued following. “PLEASE!” 

She shrieked as the audience roared with laughter and cheers as she continued running, silently cursing at the fact that she hadn’t worn better shoes.

“That’s what we’re trying to do!” Edda called in between pants as Aelar said something in Ischanian.

“Bob and weave Asha!” Phoebe advised as the children trailed behind.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?!” she called, running past Mr. Armin’s stall, where he was currently talking to Mr. Kurkaus and Mr. Leitus.

“I’m telling you, Armin, you give it a day or two and I bet you hot chocolate will take off in Rosas!”

“In this weather? Hmm, not likely,” Mr. Armin shook his head as Asha dashed past Mrs. Kurkaus’s stall. 

“What?! But we’re drinking tea right now!!” Mr. Kurkaus exclaimed as he incredulously gestured to the tea set on Mr. Armin’s stall. “ How is hot chocolate any different?!”

“Asha he’s hiding behind Bellerose’s stall waiting to ambush you!” Mr. Leitus called as he poured himself a cup of tea.

“Traitor!” the star indignantly called to Mr. Leitus as he reappeared a few yards in front of Asha. “I’ll remember this! You’ll see!”

“Thank you, sir!” Asha yelled as she took off in the opposite direction as the star continued giving chase.

“Asha,” the star sang sounding too close for comfort. Oh God, she wasn’t going to make it, was she?

“No- PLEASE-,” she screeched. 

“Scream louder Asha, I don’t think all of Rosas has heard you yet,” the star called, sounding far closer than she wanted.

She didn’t know where she was going, just that she needed to get back to the children. The children who were now behind- “AAAAHHHH!” She screamed as she felt arms wrap around her, pulling her to a stop. 

“Yep. There we go!” The star called, his voice filling her ears as she began to struggle against his grasp.

There was no way she was going down fighting, not after she’d put in this much effort into escaping! 

Shifting her arms and legs around his, she’d kneeled down. Then she’d turned herself around quickly wrapping her arms around his neck, as she slowly began to squeeze. Her legs wrapped around his sides, nearly straddling him as she used every ounce of strength to tighten her hold.

Somewhere behind her, she could hear the children’s footsteps come to a halt behind her just as the star released a strangled grasp.

A choir of groans and gasps greeted her from her surrounding audience as she continued tightening the choke hold. The adults winced as Aelar and the other children jumped in excitement.

“Cool!” Diego called as they struggled against one another. The star was holding back, but that wouldn’t stop Asha from 

“That’s a nasty chokehold,” Mr. Armin grimaced as Mrs. Akinemi whistled. 

“There goes the windpipe,” Mrs. Zahra winced before playing a small tune on her fiddle.

“No wonder Sabino didn’t bother with him! He knew she’d put him down herself!” Mr. Leitus called.

“I think he’s still conscious!” Mrs. Bellerose cried. “Poor kid!”

“Go easy on him Asha!” Mr. Bjorn commented. 

“If you insist,” Asha replied, quickly removing her legs from the star’s waist before firmly planting them back on the ground. She still hadn’t released her hold on his neck, nor had she planned to as she’d carefully regained her balance before tightening it even further.

The star’s body nearly slackened for a moment before she’d felt him move, this time far more vigorously as he’d tried to tear himself away from her hold, hurriedly grumbling something in Cosmelathian.

“Fight princess! Fight!” Edda screamed as the star had placed a hand on her side. Fear had engulfed her as for a moment she’d wondered if he’d scratch her with his nails. But He’d offered no further resistance as the crowd continued to grow, shouting and cheering.

‘Fight princess! Fight!’ They’d sang as she grunted trying to secure her chokehold. 

Oh, she was fighting all right. 

A raspy sound had escaped the star as he’d staggered forward once more, moving his head as she’d nearly wrestled him to the ground. 

He was trying to prevent her from locking it in. 

A wise decision on his part as she’d continue to struggle to secure it. he definitely knew his way around combative maneuvers, confirming to her this his counter in the library had been anything but coincidental. He’d only feigned ignorance, probably to hide the fact that he was a far better combatant than he’d purposefully misled both her and her grandfather to believe. 

Combining technique with his strength was a monstrous combination, but she hadn’t gained the reputation for being one of the best wrestlers in a tavern full of warriors and criminals for working strictly under ideal conditions. She’d dealt with worse just like she was going to deal with him.

“Cepheus!” She called over the sounds of their struggle and the crowd’s growing excitement as they’d taken sides cheering either her or the star on. “You thought this was going to be easy? Didn’t you?” she’d whispered to the star as she’d refused to let go.

The star laughed, moving in a near blur as she felt him suddenly slip and vanish from her hold. He’d moved so fast that she’d barely seen how he escaped, but it didn’t matter as the now freed star stood mere inches in front of her with his smile noticeably absent.

What was he-?!

She’d screamed as he stepped forward, his arms wrapping around her and lifting her.

 First, she saw the sky. She’d nearly thought she was flying until she’d felt the pull of gravity again as she’d felt herself being hoisted down as the star hummed.

He hadn’t- he couldn’t!!!

She gasped as she saw the children’s shocked faces staring at her as his hold had tightened around her knees.

Oh no.

She had no idea what sort of move he’d used against her. But she doubted it mattered when she’d now found herself firmly planted on top of the star’s shoulders.

“What the-?!” She’d cried incredulously, as she helplessly flailed her arms. Oh no, no, no, no!

“That was amazing…” Diego whispered.

“What kind of move was that?!” Phoebe cried as the crowd watched on in awe, a few even cheering for the star as he held her victoriously.

“He lifted her like she was a bag of feathers!” Kelsey exclaimed. 

“Just another wonderful day in Rosas!” The star victoriously sang as he’d shifted her on his shoulder. His arm gently rested behind her knees.

Oh, the grin she’d pictured on his face was too much as she’d struggled in vain against his iron grip once more. 

This wasn’t supposed to be how it went! She was supposed to be free! Not captured- like- like this! 

She paused, looking at the faces of the children who looked as if they couldn’t decide on whether or not to laugh or to cry. “Not one word,” she threatened.

“Can we negotiate?” Phoebe asked as Asha felt the last bit of sanity leave her. The children had begun following after the star as he’d headed back towards the fountain.

“Please!” Phoebe begged as the star paused in front of Mrs. Kurkaus’s stall. Her snow cloud from the previous day was still there, releasing a rather heavy snowfall as the star shifted Asha once more on his shoulder.

“Reverting to diplomacy now?” Cepheus looked unimpressed as the children shrugged.

“It’s worth a shot,” Diego spoke. 

Now Asha was desperate, and desperate times always called for desperate measures. That’s why she’d reached out, collecting the flurries and snowflakes that had accumulated between her fingers.

This was her last chance. Her last chance.

If this didn’t work then nothing would.

 “Hmm unless it’s food, I don’t think there’s much you all could- ACK!” he yelled, as the snowball collided with the side of his face. The whole market fell silent as he immediately released Asha who more than happily scrambled away from him.

It had only been when she’d put a few yards between them had the reality of her situation truly hit her.

She, Asha, mild manner peasant of Rosas, had just hit a reality-bending supernatural being who possibly wanted to destroy Rosas, in the face, with a ball of snow.

…What had she done?!

There was no way she’d just willingly pelted Cepheus, of all people, with a snowball!!! 

“Uhh,” she started as the star slowly turned towards her. Snow fell from his face as he stared at her. 

Was it too late to say sorry?

The answer to her question had come when a snowball had suddenly appeared in the star’s hand. His claw-like fingers tightly gripped it as he took one step towards her. Then another.

Uh oh.

“Cepheus- I,” oh he was coming now. 

“Asha,” he sang.

“Cepheus no!” She squealed, narrowly dodging as something white and small raced past her before colliding with a surprised Mr. Leiutus.

“Oops,” the star murmured watching as the man blinked in shock. Mr. Kurkaus cackled with laughter as Mr. Leiutus glared. “Let me try that again,” he sighed reaching for more snow. 

Wait again?! “No!” Asha wailed as she ducked behind Mr. Armin’s stall. “I repent! Please!”

“Oh no you don’t,” Mr. Leitus interjected as he ran to Mrs. Kurkaus’s stall and created his own snowball. “Thought you could pull a fast one on me did you?!” he yelled to the star who pointed to himself in confusion. “Take this!” He yelled, hurling the ball at the star who promptly ducked as the ball instead hit Mr. Kurkaus.

“AUGH!” Mr. Kurkaus cried, wiping the snow from his face. “You did that on purpose!”

“Partially!” Mr. Leitus confessed. “I was aiming for him!”

“How were you aiming for him when he’s to your right but I’m to your left?! That makes no sense Alaric!”

“I don’t know, I just threw a ball! If you don’t like it do something!”

“Alright then!” Mr. Kurkaus replied, racing towards his wife's stall as Mr. Leitus tensed.

“Uh oh,” he panicked before hobbling away. “No! I can’t run! Please!” he yelled as Mr. Kurkaus reappeared, now holding several snowballs of his own.

“HA!” he yelled, hurling four snowballs toward the screaming Mr. Leitus. 

But instead of hitting his target, the first one hit Mrs.Zahra and her violin, abruptly ending her tune. “Ack!” she’d cried, lowering her violin as her husband snickered, before promptly being hit as well.

“Aah!” cried Thatcher as the third snowball hit him in the shoulder, an impressive feat considering that he’d never been remotely close to Mr. Leitus to begin with.

“What in the-,” Maria started, narrowly ducking the snowball as it instead hit Moireach.

“Hey!” Moireach yelled. “What the heck-?!”

“Sorry!” Mr. Kurkaus called. “I don’t know how that happened. I’m usually pretty good at snowball throwing…”

“Pretty good? Aldo, you’re worse than me!” Mr. Leitus teased as both Mrs. Zahra, Moireach and Thatcher raced towards the stall, quickly making their own snowballs as Mr. Kurkaus began to back away.

“Hey now…it was a mistake! I didn’t mean to hit you! What are you doing?! Stop! Ah!” He screamed as the trio began to chase him, all hurling snowballs in his direction.

“Don’t worry love!” Mrs. Kurkaus called, leaving her stall’s size to grab a snowball of her own. “I’ll save you!”

“Oh no, you won’t! Not on my watch!” Mr. Armin replied as he joined the fray.

Soon the market was complete and total chaos as snowballs soared overhead. The sounds of laughter and screams filled the air as people raced to and fro trying to pummel each other with the ever-growing snow cloud that had begun to spread over the market square. 

“Okay, knights!” Edda called to the children who’d huddled behind the fountain, and away from the flying snowballs. “Our distractions don’t get better than this! Operation save princess attempt 3 is ready!”

“Just attempt 3? I could’ve sworn it was at least attempt 5-,” Thatcher started.

“Look it doesn’t matter okay? We just need to save Asha! Does anyone have any ideas!” 

“I think….I might have an idea,” Aelar said softly as everyone turned to him. “But we are going to need help.”

Now Was this Asha’s fault? She wondered as she’d taken shelter behind an overturned table, safely away from the heart of the now snowy chaos.

Probably.

Was she going to take responsibility for this? Absolutely not! 

But as she’d looked over the tabletop and took in the sight of the laughing people, playing with each other, she could scarcely believe that just a few days ago, so many of them had been sad and bored, wishing for a change. A change, that despite its terrible catalyst had now made life in the once very quiet city of Hamlet…exciting.

It was just like the star had said, wasn’t it? Their wishes had been granted, and for the time being, they’d all seemed happier because of it. Had there been some truth to his words? None of this would’ve been possible without him or his power and yet, no, she shook her head, promptly dismissing the thought and the dangerous implication it carried. Right now she had bigger problems to worry about, like the crazy star that she had lost sight of in the crowd. Where were her knights?

“Asha-,”

They better not have given up on her!

“Hey, Asha!” came a harsh whisper, snapping her out of her thoughts as Edda suddenly appeared at her side, startling her.

“Edda?!” she exclaimed before the girl hushed her.

“Not so loud! You don’t want the dragon finding you!”

“Right,” she nodded, somewhat annoyed that she’d forgotten his super hearing. “What are you doing here?”

“Aelar has a plan.”

“He does?”

Edda nodded, reaching into her pocket,  “he does. But if you wanna be rescued, we’re gonna need your help.” 

“Isn’t that cheating?” Asha asked.

“Do you wanna stay with him for eternity?”

“Fair point,” she conceded as Edda anxiously looked around the clearing once more. Then when she was certain they were alone, she held one of their wooden swords forward. 

“Are you in?”

It had been five minutes since Edda had told her the plan, and five minutes without any sign of the star. Now she was worried, if not for the game, then for the possibility that the star had possibly used the game as a distraction to sneak off to somewhere she wouldn’t want him to be. But he wouldn’t do that, right? At least she hoped not.

Her eyes scanned the still chaotic marketplace, watching as Abigail had thrown one snowball only to be immediately pelted by three incoming ones. Her shrieks filled the air as her friends laughed, dragging their friend back behind their makeshift shelter as more snowballs were exchanged and thrown.

Where was the star?  Better yet where was Lady Allard?! Surely the hour had been up and the food was ready!

Her last question had been answered as she’d heard Lady Allard’s ill-fated voice. She’d peaked over the tabletop, as the crowd of officials and arrivals came into view.

She’d meant to warn her. She did. She wasn’t sure how she was going to, but she never got the chance as Lady Allard stepped forward gesturing to the market. “And as you can see this is the market-  the quietest place in to-,” her voice came to a halt as a snowball collided with the side of her face.

Now the once chaotic market had gone quiet. 

All watched with bated breath as the noblewoman slowly wiped the snow from her face. 

“Who….threw that ball?” She started as she trembled. “Out with it!” She screamed. “Which one of you hit me with that snowball!”

No one said anything as they exchanged glances.

“It wasn’t me-,”

“I didn’t have a snowball in my hand-,”

“Keeping your comrade’s silence, huh? Fine then!  I’ll just have to destroy all of you!” She cried, storming towards the nearest pile of snow as she took a handful of snow. She halted, looking towards her officials angrily as she yelled, “Don’t just stand there! Avenge me you fools!”

“Oh…OH RIGHT! Yes!” They’d nodded in agreement, nearly stumbling over each other as they reached her pile of snow before charging after her toward a group of people.

They’d all screamed and scattered as the chaos resumed. 

“Oh gosh, what have I gotten myself into,” Asha groaned as she huddled behind the fallen table. She couldn’t see the star anywhere…. Should she attempt another escape? Ugh, she hoped the ground wasn’t icy, but come to think of it, despite the amount of snow that had been accumulating, the weather hadn’t felt colder than normal, which should’ve been impossible given Rosas’s geographical position.

She shook her head, grumbling,  “It’s literally snowing in Rosas. It never snows in Rosas. Of course, it wouldn’t we’re way too close to the equator for this. how is it snowing?!”

“Take an educated guess princess,” the star answered as he pulled the table away from her. A fairly sized snowball sat in his right hand as he looked at her thoughtfully. 

“Cepheus!” she screamed, doing her best to scramble away from the star as far as she could. Of course, she hadn’t gotten far, she knew she couldn’t, not when she’d felt that familiar telekinetic hold on her, purposefully slowing her down as he calmly walked towards her.

 Now she began to understand how Safi’s mice had felt whenever they’d been cornered by 

Charo, who’d been all too willing to drag the process out. 

But she needed to stall. She’d deduced that much as she’d caught sight of Phoebe’s figure sneaking closer, her eyes pleading with her to give them time. Fine. 

It was time to get unethical again.. 

“N-now let’s not get too hasty here Cepheus!” ” she started with an uneasy smile. “Surely we can resolve this without resorting to violence!”

“Says the woman who threw me in a chokehold,” the star murmured as he neared.

“Which was admittedly not the best decision I’ve made today, but I’ve now seen the error of my ways!” She grinned nervously.

“Have you, princess?” he was still coming closer. She’d contemplated begging him to accept defeat, but knowing those children, there was no way they’d be satisfied with a simple victory over the star.

She nodded, “Yes I have! And you know! I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately-,”

“Mmhm.” Think Asha! Think! The moment he grabs you, it’s over! But what could she say to make him stop? 

Nothing seemed to work, nothing save for- “ her eyes landed on Mrs. Bellerose’s abandoned flower stall behind him as an idea hit her. 

“Vincas!” she screamed, pointing to the flower stall.

He stopped, looking at her as if she’d grown two heads before repeating, “Vincas?”

She nodded, thanking God that he’d actually come to a stop. “yeah you know, I was trying to think of which flowers reminded me of you and I settled for vincas.”

The star stopped, looking back at the beautiful flower stall. He wasn’t smiling anymore as he examined the flowers in question, completely missing when Asha had quietly pulled out the wooden sword that Edda had given her. “Little red flowers remind you of…me?”

She couldn’t tell if he was shocked or disgusted. Knowing how he’d felt about red stars, maybe both. She nodded, holding his attention as the surrounding children continued to creep closer amidst the chaos. “Of course they do. You know, here on earth they have a really good meaning.”

“Protection, friendship, and happiness.” she’d shrugged as she slowly eased herself to her knees and back onto her feet. “You know, things that those flowers reminded you of me.” oh she was nearly shaking now as she neared him. 

She hadn’t missed the frown on his face as she’d said the word ‘love’ but it had given her enough strength, or rather spite to charge forward. 

Immediately his arm flew forward, catching her hand with the wooden sword in it, just like she’d anticipated.  shifting herself around as she’d pushed herself downwards, using her momentum to trip the star. She’d been shocked when he’d actually gone down with her, wrestling and rolling around in the snow as she’d pinned him beneath her.

He’d blinked in surprise, looking at her and the wooden tip that had hovered a few inches over her chest as his hand still held her wrist. “Hmm, call me crazy, but I think I’m getting a sense of deja vu here. A rather pleasant one, really.”

“Deja vu, huh?” she spat, trying to push against the star’s strength. “You know cepheus…” she grunted. Why was he so strong?! “If you think I look beautiful in defeat, you should see how I look in victory-,”

“Victory?” he asked, looking shocked as the sound of the children’s screams cut through the air. They’d flung themselves all over his limbs, as she’d held him down.

“Now!” thatcher cried as Aelar appeared with his wooden sword, tapping it against his chest before he firmly planted it beneath the star’s arm.

“AAAAAHHHHH!” the star screamed, as the surrounding snow fight ceased. Asha and the children quickly crawled off of him as he sat up, clutching his chest. 

All eyes watching as his trembling hand reached for the wooden sword, unable to pull it out before he wailed “BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!!” He wailed, falling over dramatically as he reached towards Asha, imitating the movement of what she guessed was…a dying dragon? She didn’t know. She studied stars, not dragons. “AND DEATH!” he’d finished before going completely still as the market broke out into cheers.

“WE DID IT!” thatcher screamed.

“We saved the princess!” Phoebe cried, excitedly hugging her doll.

“Aelar your plan was genius!” Edda exclaimed as the other children nodded in agreement.

“Thank you,” he began, smiling shyly. Before turning to Asha, “Thank you for playing with us miss.”

“It was no problem,” she said with a small curtsy, before kicking the star’s foot with hers. “I knew I could count on you all to put the wicked dragon down.”

“Free cheers for the knights of Rosas!” Mr. Leitus exclaimed, “Hip-hip!”

“Hooray!” yelled the crowd as they lifted the knights into the air. She couldn't quite stop the smile that came to her face as she watched Aelar excitedly talk to the kids who’d eagerly nodded. Maybe it had been too early to decide, but she had a feeling that he would fit right in with the other children of Rosas. 

Sensing that the crowd was now distracted, Asha leaned down towards the star, “Hey are you okay?”

He smugly grinned, removing the sword from his side, “never been better. That was a pretty convincing performance wasn’t it? Hmm maybe I should take up theatre.” he took her hand as she helped him up. “I would be amazing in theatre. I can see it now!”

“Eh, I wouldn't quit my night job if I were you,” she joked, earning herself a string of 

Cosmelathian words as the pair followed after the crowd into her grandfather’s bakery. 

[mikavlcs]

Young Blood

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x gn!reader

Summary: You’re new and Gwen’s forced to show you around. It doesn’t end up being as tedious as she was expecting.

Warnings: mild astv spoilers, my writing lol

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: listen, i know this will get like 20 notes, but i needed to do this okay. i love her sm. this also my first time writing anything marvel related...as i’m sure you can tell.

Masterlist

Gwen dug the heels of her palms into her eyes as she walked up the wall, unsuccessfully fighting off another exasperated groan.

She shouldn’t have been doing this. She should be off in another dimension fixing anomalies and fighting bad guys, not this. Anyone could greet new recruits, so why Miguel insisted on making her do it was an eternal mystery. She was honestly starting to think that he just liked annoying her.

Jessica offered her a sympathetic smile when delivering the news, but Gwen didn’t want sympathy, she wanted a mission.

Still, she followed orders, knowing that disobeying would only put her further down the mission list. Plus, with Pavitr and Hobie busy, what else was there to do?

She stepped up to the entrance and her eyes found you immediately. You were easy to spot. All newbies were. They all had the same awe-struck reaction to the compound which Gwen couldn’t blame them for, considering she had been there once herself.

Your mask was off, hanging limp in your hand while your eyes roamed the vast space with a wonder she felt only months prior. It brought a smile to her face.

“Insane right?” she prompted gently as she approached, drawing your eyes to her. “I had the same reaction. It’s not every day you get to see so many spider-people in one place.”

“I didn’t know there was this many. I thought I was the only one,” you admitted, astonishment clear in your voice.

Gwen chuckled. She knew the feeling well. “We all did, but there’s more of us than you can imagine.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Gwen, by the way. I’m your appointed tour guide.”

You took her hand, gave it a firm shake. “I know, Jessica told me. Nice to meet you, Gwen.”

“Likewise. What Earth are you from?”

“Uh,” you trailed off briefly, tapping at your watch. “Earth-69.”

A snort escaped her before she could stop it. You looked up at her, wide-eyed, while she fought to contain herself.

“I’m sorry, I’m—it’s nothing. I’m actually from Earth-65. Never met anyone from the same sector.”

Brows raised, you remarked, “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She took a look at your suit and, seeing the abundance of white expertly weaved in with the mixture of red and black, couldn’t help asking, “So, why white? Most of us use some combination of red and blue. Besides me, obviously.”

“I want my enemies to see me coming,” you replied, sending her a slightly off-kilter grin that made her unsure whether you were joking. She smirked.

“Foreboding. I like it.” She turned, signaling you to follow. “Now, come on. As you can see, we have a lot of ground to cover, and Miguel will want to brief you as soon as possible.”

You obeyed, following her as she led you around headquarters, showing you the ins and outs of every winding, overlapping corridor while informing you of the group’s purpose. Well, as much as she could without ruining Miguel’s big presentation.  

About a third of the way in, she said, “I should probably start introducing you to the others.” Gwen looked around, spotting a few vaguely recognizable masked faces. She pointed to one with a large white spider on his chest.

“That’s Peter.”

He gave you a polite salute which you returned, giving him a compliment about his suit as well. A familiar plastic Lego figure came ambling down the way. Gwen pointed to him.

“That’s Peter.”

The Lego twisted his hooked handpiece in your direction. You gave him a startled wave in response, looking thoroughly perplexed. Next, a car came cruising along and she pointed at it.

“That’s also Peter.”

The car honked as it sped by. You didn’t even react this time. Up ahead, Gwen spotted Ben, sitting off to the side with his tightly curled up to his chest. She sighed, halfheartedly pointed in his direction.

“That’s—”

“—let me guess, Peter?” you cut in, shooting her an unimpressed look.

She laughed. “No, that’s Ben.”

You let out a quiet oh and gave him a concerned look. Ben roused at the sound of his name, looking at the both of you with an absolutely pitiful expression.

“I would greet you guys, but I’m in the middle of a very traumatic flashback,” he moaned, overblown sorrow tinging his words.

Your eyebrows knitted together, and you started to say something, but Gwen pushed you forward by your shoulders, throwing a bye, Ben! over her shoulder. “Trust me, it isn’t worth it,” she mumbled at the confused look you gave her.

She continued guiding you by your shoulders, ignoring the odd looks from passing spiders, until you stopped short suddenly, making her crash into your back.

You were frozen, mouth agape, and eyes locked on something across the way. “Is that a t-rex?”

Following your gaze, Gwen beamed and nodded. “Yep. That’s Spider-Rex.” You gaped.

“Hey Pter!” she yelled with a wave. A ground-shaking roar echoed through the compound in response, scaring more than a few spiders and making Gwen chuckle. After a few more moments of gawking, you unfroze and continued following her, though your eyes still trailed the dinosaur in the distance.

The rest of the tour went without a hitch, the only small stops being a break to pet Spider-Cat and a short introduction to Margo. Soon enough, she was leading you down the long, dark hall to Miguel’s sanctuary.

Miguel, seemingly sensing your guys’ incoming presence, activated his platform and let it start making its way down. Very, very slowly. He wasn’t even halfway down by the time you guys made it into the heart of his den. Gwen barely resisted facepalming. He did this with every newbie, and it got more embarrassing each time. She leaned over to you, suppressing a grimace at the bewildered look on your face.

“I know, it’s slow. He just really likes his dramatic entrances,” she explained away, watching Miguel’s platform descend from above ever so slowly.

You both stood there for minutes, until finally, the platform stopped, and Miguel turned to peer down on you with a look that would have made Gwen cower a few months ago, but now just made her want to heave a deep sigh.

“Miguel, this is the new recruit from Earth-69,” she announced, voice rising at the end with the remnants of a poorly contained laugh. You didn’t seem to catch it, but Miguel did. He gave her a look that told her to knock it off and she did. Hesitantly.

He stepped off the platform and approached, eyes solely on you. “I see. Welcome. We’re glad to have you, but unfortunately, your briefing will have to wait as something has come up.” He turned his gaze to Gwen then, and her posture straightened as she realized what he was about to say.

“Gwen, I’ve got a mission for you.”

“Yes! Finally,” Gwen replied. But he was giving her that look. Her excitement wavered, realization setting in. “Please, don’t say tha—”

“You’ll be needing a partner for this mission.”

Gwen groaned. She hated partner missions. Even when she got the opportunity to pair up with people she liked, she much preferred to go solo. She just worked better alone—always had and always would. She tried to plead with Miguel, “C’mon, Miguel, you know I’m—"

“This is non-negotiable, Gwen,” he cut her off with that annoyingly authoritative tone that she couldn’t stand. “Pick a partner and get going ASAP. I want this done as quickly as possible.”

He walked off then, likely to find Jessica, leaving Gwen to sulk. And she did for about thirty seconds before pulling herself together. When Miguel wanted something done, it needed to get done. She could sulk more later. For now, she shifted her focus to finding an apt partner.

Her go-to’s were off the table. Pavitr was off on his own solo mission and Hobie was off doing lord knew what. Probably something anarchy related. She would have to find someone else.

Jessica was always busy these days, and she was taking less and less missions as her due date neared anyway, so she was off the table. She wasn’t asking Ben because she valued her remaining sanity. Peter B was an option, but he’d want to bring his baby along and Gwen was not equipped to deal with that. But maybe Web-Slinger would work. Or one of the various Peters. Or…maybe someone new.

Her eyes drifted over to you, still at her side despite the tour being technically over. She sized you up, once, twice, then one more time for good measure. You could work, but she knew nothing about how you operated in the field. The entire time, you watched her with a raised brow, unafraid of her judgment.

She crossed her arms, leveled you with a careful look. “On a scale from 1-10, how would you rate your combat ability?”

“10/10, but I may be a bit biased,” you responded immediately, still maintaining eye contact.

Her chin jerked up, eyes narrowing. “Confident, okay. How about web-slinging ability?”

“9.5/10.”

“9.5?”

“I might’ve hit a bird last time,” you said with a small grimace, “but everything else was flawless. Promise.”

That was good enough for Gwen. She uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, giving you a sly smile.

“Well then, newbie, how would you like to go on your first mission?”

You were pulling on your mask before she could even finish, red fabric veiling your wide smirk. “Let’s do it.”

With a nod, she inputted the coordinates Miguel sent her and watched as a corresponding portal spawned with a brilliant burst of light and color. The sight never got old, no matter how many times she saw it. You stepped up to her side and she sent you a sideways glance, a smile creeping onto her face.

Partner missions sucked, but she had a feeling this one wouldn’t be so bad.

[kaiijo]

SUGARY SWEET — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader content: pining, confessions, mentions of eating notes: highly unedited, this has been in my drafts for ages so

you really couldn’t understand why gojo was staring at you (well, is it staring when he wears his blindfold?), slack-jawed and obviously scandalized. “what?” you ask him. “all i said was that i never really had sweets growing up.”

it’s true; you grew up in one of the lesser clans, one that bowed to the whims of the great zen’in, kamo, and — of course — gojo clans. your parents had been pretty strict about what you did, including what you ate, with your mother always going on and on about how the artificial sugars were unhealthy and would rot your teeth so most of your desserts consisted of fruits in season. you didn’t really mind, but gojo’s making you think that you’re mildly insane for that. 

“so you’ve never tried raindrop cake?”

“no.”

“taiyaki?”

“no.”

gojo pauses and takes a deep breath. “what about mochi?”

“nope,” you say with a shrug. “i’ve already told you, gojo, i wasn’t allowed to eat sweets. my mother always said it would have messed with my cursed technique or something like that.”

gojo frowns. “well, that’s just bullshit. clear your schedule, we’ve got a field trip!”

you reply, “we have classes to teach.”

in an instant, gojo whips out his phone and taps out a message with lightning-fast fingers. when he ceremoniously thumbs at the screen one last time, he flips his phone around to show you a text blast he sent to all your students. 

YOUR FAVORITE SENSEI [8:23 AM]: classes canceled today! don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!

you give him an unimpressed look and say, “yaga’s never going to let that fly.”

gojo leans closer with a conspiratorial smirk. at this distance, you can smell the mint gum he had been chewing earlier on his breath. he lifts his blindfold off with one finger, showcasing those bright blue eyes and says, “who said anything about telling him?” gojo grins when you feel your cheeks start to heat and continues, “change into something cute and meet me at the front gates!” 

with a pat on the head, he turned on his heel and went whistling out of the school building. you obey gojo’s instructions, changing out of your sorcerer’s uniform and into something more casual. gojo’s already at the gates when you arrive, leaning against the structure. he swapped his blindfold for his signature black sunglasses, the frames sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks you up and down. 

you feel suddenly self-conscious as you surreptitiously glance down at your clothes. “something wrong with my outfit?”

he shakes his head. “no, no. i just don’t think i’ve ever seen you out of your uniform.”

“ah.”

he straightens up and bows in a grand gesture. “onwards to the city!”

you walk past him and towards the train station that would take you to tokyo’s metro area. as you trudge ahead, you completely miss the redness to gojo’s ears and the extra bounce in his step. 

you buy your tickets at the station and when you board, gojo sits across from you, long legs bumping into yours as he stretches. you swat them away and ask, “couldn’t you have just teleported us to tokyo? why’re we on the train?”

gojo replies, “what’s the fun in that? it’s the journey, not the destination. besides, train travel’s romantic, don’t you think?” he looks over his frames at you and you try to calm your quickening heart.

the train pulls into tokyo metro station and gojo practically drags you out, weaving through the tourists and tired salarymen (“hey,” he says, pointing at one that looks particularly fed up, “doesn’t that guy look like nanamin?”) until you reach a storefront that’s a pale, bubblegum pink. the chalkboard outside has a cutely drawn manga cat girl and boasts “japan’s best treats!” in bubble letters. 

gojo throws the door open and stands in front of the hostess. you definitely don’t miss the way her eyes light up, practically vibrating with excitement as she eyes him unabashedly. something sour courses through your body as she chirps, “haven’t seen you here in a while, sir.”

you make a face. sir? gojo offers her a charming smile, tilting his head and letting his sunglasses slip down his nose again. “i’ve been busy,” he says, throwing an arm around your shoulder. she startles a little when her eyes land on you, like it’s the first time she’s realizing there’s another person here. 

her smile tightens when gojo asks, “would you mind finding us a table?”

you can feel the animosity radiating off of her as she gives a much less cheery, “sure. right this way,” and brings you two to a table at the wide window that looks out onto the cherry-blossom lined streets. she practically slams your menu down while passing gojo one politely, bowing woodenly and scurrying back to the hostess podium. 

gojo doesn’t even bother looking at the menus when the waiter comes over to the table. before he can even say anything, gojo declares, “we’ll take one of everything, please!”

you gawk at him. there had to be at least twenty items… there’s no way— “coming right up!” chimes the waiter as he goes off to place your orders before you could stop him. 

“why would you do that?” 

gojo answers, “we have to make up for years of a sugarless childhood!”

“but this is twenty-seven—”

“just trust me on this, okay?”

“fine.”

the desserts all come out together — plates and plates of pastel-colored sweets and clear jellies injected with vibrant colors — and you’re a little embarrassed as the rest of the establishment watches your waiter pull over another table to fit everything. 

gojo claps his hands together, grinning like a kid in the candy story (technically, he is). “which one do you want to try first?”

your eyes take in all the items and you want to be excited to try them, but it just looks like a pastel color wheel threw up on your frilly tablecloth. instead, you tell gojo, “you choose. you know better than me.”

stroking his chin thoughtfully, gojo points at a pink mochi shaped like a cat. “these are limited-edition! try these!”

you gingerly pinch the little rice cake between your fingertips, examining it from paw to whisker before you (savagely) bite off half the cat-mochi’s face. the taste of strawberries bursts across your tongue and spreads through your mouth, paired with the undeniable sweetness of way too much sugar. 

you can’t stop the pleased hum that leaves your lips and you pointedly ignore gojo’s proud simper as you chomp away at the second half of the cat. he practically pushes a raindrop cake at you next, a refreshing coolness from the cloyingly sweet mochi and the following bitterness of the melting matcha ice cream. 

you don’t know how much time has passed until you and gojo have eaten through the twenty-something sweet treats he ordered. (it’s twenty-nine, but who’s counting). you feel like your teeth might just fall off from the sheer amount of sucrose you consumed — maybe your mother hadn’t simply been trying to scare you off when she mentioned your teeth rotting from sugar… 

still, you as you two make your way back to the train station, you concede: “okay, i’ll admit the sweets were pretty good, but i think my mouth needs a month to recover.”

you mentally applaud gojo’s restraint in not making a ‘that’s what she said’ joke, a habit he passed to yuuji recently that you’ve made a mental note to break. instead, he replies, “guess you’ll have to start that recovery a little later because…” gojo pauses for dramatic effect before he reaches behind him and produces a small white cake box wrapped in blue string. “i’ve still got one more thing for you to try!”

“gojo, i think we tried all their cakes there.”

“no, no, no! this one’s special! open it!” he shoves it into your chest. 

cautiously, you let the strings fall away and you crack the lid open to see a neatly frosted blue cake with white lettering that asks: “go on a date with me please?” and beside it is a chibi-headed version of gojo, rendered in blue frosting, with a pleading look on its face. 

you glance up at him from the cake in suspicion. “are you joking?”

he raises an eyebrow. “no. these are my feelings. i really mean it. i want to take you out on a date.”

you blink at him and then the cake and back at him and the train in pulling into the station. you both wordlessly step on and it’s a surprisingly silent ride back, boring without gojo’s constant commentary about the going-ons around him. you don’t particularly mind the quiet, save for the whooshing of the train, as you mull over gojo’s proposal.

it’s… flattering. really, really flattering.

you bite back a smile, still staring down at the cake box. 

it’s only when you return to the schoolgrounds that you say, “i’d love to go on a date with you, gojo.”

he snorts, “it took you that long to consider?”

“on second thought…”

“no, wait! there are no take-backs!”