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shinestarhwaa · 1 year ago

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RUBY PT2 || CHOI SAN

Read part 1 here

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Rockstar!San x Fan!Fem reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Tags/warnings: sex drugs & rock n roll life, alcohol, unprotected sex, smoking (joints), dacryphilia, oral sex, fingering, namecalling (whore,slut), squirting, rough sex, Loud sex, overstimulation, breeding kink, cum eating, masturbation (kind of??), split second of a handjob, doggy style, bit of biting, bit of fingersucking cuz San loves it

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @lemonhongjoong @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @1-800-shedevil @glintneon123

ENJOY!

You wandered the streets of Paris late at night. You had just landed in the city and taken a cab to Le Marais, where your hotel was located. You checked into your room first, but decided to go out for the night.

Tomorrow was the night of King Ruby's concert in Paris and San had asked you to be there. You couldn't help but wonder if he would remember you or would've moved on immediately. Knowing his lifestyle he might've fucked ten other people in the meantime.

You remembered the way his fingertips grazed your thigh, the way you licked across his chest, the way he pumped you full of his seeds. You couldn't remember everything as you had gotten so drunk on champagne you must've blacked out.

The past two weeks had been awful, you couldn't possibly get him out of your head. You had been so horny but you couldn't statisfy yourself the way he had. Even now you were finally in your beautiful hotel bed, ready to play with yourself again. It wasn't good enough. It wasn't San. You were kind of worried he ruined your sexlife forever.

At the night of the concert you were filled with joy, worry and a raging libido. You didn't have tickets, but you got dolled up anyway, planning on staying near the concert hall to spot your one-time-lover.

Your eyes were smokey and glittery, black dress short and revealing. Daring. You wore high leather boots with high heels on them, making you look even more desirable than ever.

You waited near the venue for a while, trying to find San after the show but no luck. You ordered a cab back to your hotel as it was too far to walk. You paid the driver and got out of the car, noticing a man standing in front of the hotel.

San.

You got closer as you watched him turn around, a huge smirk plastered on his face. He took off his beanie, revealing his bright red hair. You had seen his new coupe online, but he looked even better in real life. "Missed me, star-girl?" He asked as he got close, running his fingers through your hair, his other hand holding a joint.

"How... How did you find me?" You asked as your hands ran over his chest. "You posted a picture on your socials... You know you really should not post that stuff, someone could see it and come up to you to do really bad things to you..."

"Well, maybe you should protect me then, or... did you come to do bad things to me?" You teased. "After I've smoked this big boy, I plan on ravishing you, my pretty Ruby," San smirked, taking another puff of his joint.

"So you remembered?" You asked. "How could I forget?" San answered, hand grazing your hip slightly, feeling the fabric of your dress on his skin. "You kinda ruined my lipstick with writing on the mirror," you grinned. "I bought you new ones," San said as he grabbed a little bag from the pocket of his jacket.

He handed it over to you, making you curious to see if he got the right one. To your surprise there was the exact same one in there, but also two similar ones. "Three?" You asked, raising your eyebrow. "Well I found the one you used but I thought the others might look nice on those lovely lips of yours. But don't use it tonight, it'd get so ruined. Or maybe... Put it on so I can see how messy you get."

A blush striked your cheeks as you remembered the mess on your face in Amsterdam, two weeks ago. You were certain you'd have black tears running down your cheeks tonight and it made you wet in anticipation.

You took a little handmirror from your purse and put the darkred lipstick on. "How does it look?" You asked. San smiled, admiring your face as he gently cupped your cheek. "Like a perfect doll, my Ruby."

"This one doesn't really smudge though," you said, looking at the packaging. "It will if I'm rough enough." Your heart and pussy seemed to flutter at the same time. San finally finished his joint and threw it away. "Let's go inside then, shall we?"

You entered your hotelroom, still feeling the handprint of the bandmember on your ass. He couldn't get his hands off you all the time you were trying to get to your room. San pushed you down on the bed, landing on top of you himself.

San's hand slid under your dress, pushing your panties to the side and slipping his fingertips through your wet folds. His lips attacked your neck as he toyed with your clit, making you arch your back.

"O-oppa~" you moaned out, sounds muffled by San's tongue entering your mouth. The kiss was wet, messy and sloppy, lipstick smearing everywhere. He grunted as he looked at you. "My pretty little doll, for me to ruin."

San slipped off your panties as you lifted your dress over your head, dropping it to the floor. His mouth grazed over your breasts, tongue circling your nipples. "Fuck, San, I've missed your mouth so much," you whined softly.

"Yeah, babydoll? Missed me?" "Yeah... Nothing and no one makes me feel as good as you." San smirked as his fingers slid through your folds again, spreading your wetness. "Please," you begged him.

''Okay, sweetie, it's okay, I'll make you cum so many times you'll forget your name,'' he grunted as his clothed crotch rutted against your thigh, trying to get some friction. San pushed two of his thick fingers into your throbbing cunt. You cried out his name when he pumped them inside you, curling them slightly to find your g-spot.

''My precious Ruby, you're so gorgeous like this, my little whore,'' he smirked, fucking his fingers into your sopping cunt, ''So ready, everytime.'' ''So fucking ready for you, always, for you,'' you whined as he repeatedly hit your g-spot.

''Fuck, yes!'' You moaned out, body squirming beneath him. ''Feeling good, babygirl? You love my fingers in your cunt, don't you?'' "Oh god I love your fingers so much, San!"

Your moans grew louder gradually until you could barely breathe, the stimulation of San's fingers becoming too much, causing an mind-shattering orgasm. Your loud pants must've been heard throughout the entire hotel as you squirted on his hand. San only worked harder, overstimulating your precious, sensitive cunt.

"Please, San, i-it's too much, Please!" You begged and begged as you felt sweat collect on your forehead and the valley between your breasts, where you felt his hot tongue on your skin.

San didn't listen for a single second as he continued to pump his thick fingers into your cunt, his thumb still playing with your clit, making your body shake.

It didn't take long before you felt the familiar tightness in your abdomen again and yet again you came hard, juices flowing out of you. "Good gracious baby you're so fucking slutty for me, look at that, coming all over my fucking hand? My slut...," he grunted as he finally rode out your orgasms.

Tears formed in your eyes as your hips moved against his hand. "Oh? I thought you were begging me to stop, princess," he smirked, rubbing your clit between his index-finger and thumb.

"I-I- Yes, please," you whined. "Hmm, your body is moving on it's own baby, it's definitely disagreeing with your words." "C-cock, g-give me...your cock," you breathed out as he licked your nipples.

Three of his fingers found their way back into your cunt, the squelching noise making his length hard as a rock. "S-San, San, San!"

Tears flowed from your eyes as his fingers pumped inside you. Your back arched and your legs trembled as he pleasured your sensitive pussy. "San, please, it's too much!" You cried. Your arousal gushed out of you as you squirted again, your orgasm making you moan louder than ever.

He really stopped this time, wiping your tears away from your face. "Such a messy baby," he cooed. "Open up," The rockstar said as he undressed and positioned himself above you. Your mouth opened and San slid his big cock in.

San fucked your throat and enjoyed all the gagging sounds coming from your throat. His balls were in your face but it couldn't even bother you, because it was San. It was San. He used you like a fucktoy and you didn't want it any other way.

You had trouble breathing through your nose but you didn't want it to end, loving the way San was moaning and grunting because of you.

"Yes, baby, my beautiful fucking Ruby," he grunted as he pulled his cock out, hovering his balls over your mouth now. You sucked and licked at them as San jerked his cock off.

Soon enough San's dick was pulsating, twitching as he came loudly, squirting his sperm all over your tits and stomach. He panted out and got off you, admiring your cum-stained body.

San was dragging his tongue all over your torso, licking every drop of sweat and cum off your body. He kissed you passionately and you tasted the salty mixture on his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as he groped your breasts, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples.

You broke off the kiss and panted, "Please fuck me now, I cannot wait any longer." Your hand reached for his cock, pumping it slowly so he'd be fully hard again for you.

"Yeah baby, I'm gonna fuck you so hard, so full," he groaned. He flipped you over and you propped yourself up on your knees and elbows, ass up in the air. San smirked as he watched you prepare yourself for him. He reached in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out another joint and a lighter.

He positioned himself behind you as he lighted up his joint. The male pushed his dick into your awaiting hole, filling it all the way, balls deep. You let out a long moan as you felt your body heaten up.

The strokes of San's hips were long and slow, making you yearn for it more and more. "Please, harder, harder," you whined. San smirked as he smoked his joint, the smoke clouding his brain. His hips moved faster and harder, pounding his cock into you.

You whined as he repeatedly hit your g-spot. The way his cock twitched inside you every now and then made your eyes roll back. You feel your elbows get weaker as San's thrusts get more aggressive. His body leans over yours and the smoke of the joint intrudes your nostrils. You take the joint from between his fingers and take a few puffs yourself.

San smirked as he bit the sensitive skin in your neck as he held you in his embrace. You moaned loudly as you felt him pound you in a way you never felt before.

"Yes! God, yes," you moaned as you passed the joint back to the male. He finished smoking it as he kept pounding you. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, your breath picking up. "Yes! Gonna cum!" You cried out as his hands groped your ass. "Good girl, cum on my cock, fucking clench on it, beautiful Ruby," he moaned.

You moaned loudly and came hard, you swore you nearly saw stars - How ironic. San kept pistoning his cock in and out of you at an inhumane speed, chasing his own orgasm. You were crying out his name over and over, feeling so sensitive after your orgasm.

"Gonna fill you up baby, you're gonna take it, right? My precious Ruby's gonna take my fucking cum, fucking all of it," he moaned, speech somewhat slurred. "Yes! Pump me full San, breed me, put it all in me!"

"That's right baby, take it, yeah, fucking take it," he grunted as his thrusts got sloppier, which told you he was about to cum. You felt two of his fingers in your mouth and you sucked on them as he came hard, deep inside you, letting out an animalistic groan.

He pulled out of you, admiring your cunt stuffed with his cum. He laid next to you and panted. The two of you looked at each other but didn't have to say a thing. Right when you wanted to say something you noticed him drift off to sleep. You grinned and grabbed your polaroid camera, taking a few pictures for him to take on tour, so he could admire the mess you were when he was away.

Just in case you wouldn't see him again.

#kpop #ateez #smut #san #choi san #san x reader #shinestarhwaa #rockstar!san

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tunastime · 6 months ago

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Recovery One

Washington undergoes experimental surgery: installing Project Freelancer's AI program into his head. Epsilon tries to break his way out of Washington's skull. Washington deals with the symptoms of a thing that wants nothing but to escape.

aeuhmmm so I got a little silly with the freelancers again and decided to write something about what wash and epsilon might've gone through before it was extracted for obvious reasons. this is chapter one! tagged this pretty heavily on ao3 but tw for blood, injury, medical procedures, emotional hurt/comfort, and trauma. (3238 words) (read it on ao3!)

The walls of the Mother of Invention seem colder tonight. It's like Washington's body is a heat source, and the hard beds of Recovery One are the sink, drawing every last shred of warmth from where his flimsy surgical clothes meet cloth. He can feel the handful of sensors stuck to his skin, along the inside of his left wrist, keeping careful track of his heart rate, his oxygen, and his blood pressure. The base of his skull is still aching, a thrum that settles equally in the channel of his spine.

Cold, shivering, curled pathetically on that hard mattress, Washington is trying to sleep. He's twitchy, stomach twisted into rough knots, and every time he shuts his eyes the spinning of the world only gets worse. The gravity on Invention is generated by a massive column of constantly pulsing electricity, but if Wash were to step foot onto the ground below him, he's certain he'd float upward far too quickly. Or fall face down. One of those would definitely happen.

He tries to breathe through the wave of nausea that passes. It's all a byproduct of the chip in his skull. The voice is quiet for now. They're fighting to use the same body—his body, with all its human joints and mostly untorn muscles and surficial bruises and just a handful of really broken bones. It hurts like something electric shudders just under the first few layers of skin, or like someone took his nerves and ran them through the shredder. He kind of feels like the paper in the shredder, or the shredder itself. Or maybe the paper when it’s half in the shredder and half out. When's the last time he held a piece of paper? Did people still shred paper? He breathes again.

He's under a 24 hour watch. Twenty four hours of this. He screws his eyes shut and the ship around him swings back and forth on a pendulum. He digs his fingers into the muscles of his shoulders and tries to breathe through it. The stars start to fade after a moment of breaths through his teeth. North used to joke about how anxious Theta made him—that swing of artificial fear through his nervous system, how he had to breathe through the waves of adrenaline to keep himself level. Little spikes happened now and then, making a purely perfunctory condition ten times worse, but North seemed to nurture himself until the feeling gave way to something productive.

Wash isn’t having that much luck.

It wasn’t something easy to pin down. He wasn’t just anxious, or sad, or angry. He wasn’t happy, or disgusted, or a middle combination of the emotions he knew how to regulate. It felt like a swirl of everything, of nothing, completely out of his grasp. The AI—Epsilon—was having a field day as he tore open the synapses of Wash’s standing memory and tried to make room. And Wash was fighting back. The lines had already begun to blur and Wash could only assume the after-effects were due to that unalignment, that unmeshed surface. Epsilon needed a blank slate. It was the only thing Wash wasn’t able to offer.

When he breathes again, his stomach turns violently. He lurches, hands grasping at the cool bedside, swallowing hard. His hands shake as they hold onto the smooth surface below him. Okay, fine—eyes open. Another breath out of his teeth. He can taste sour in the back of his mouth.

The world is foggy when he opens his eyes again. He drags himself up slowly as his head continues to spin like a wobbly top. The top sheet comes with him, wrapped over his shoulders as he drags himself into the bathroom. There’s a moment where he wobbles, stepping forward for the first time, socked foot firmly set on the floor. He can’t even think—the quiet that was there seems to settle into a background of whispers he can’t make out. He speaks out loud to himself, trying to get a word into his crowded brain, or to force himself to step forward.

“I need a drink, that’s it,” he says, in a voice he’s not sure is entirely his own anymore. He swallows again. Anything to get the taste out of his mouth. He can hear that echo of a voice bounce around inside his skull as he drags himself forward uneasily.

“Please,” Wash manages to garble out. “I can’t… I can’t help you.”

He manages to stumble to the doorway of the bathroom, sheet left crumpled at his feet as he braces hard on the edge of the sink. His breaths come fast and hard as he stands upright, fingers white-knuckled where they grip the countertop. The world tilts, and he feels his body slump into the wall beside him. The white light of the room does little to obscure the sheen of sweat on his face, or the way his hands shake as he tries to turn on the faucet. He cups his hands. The water is cold on his flushed and feverish skin. He presses his cool, damp palms to his eyes and drinks from his hands. Washington breathes. The world seems to settle as the cool air hits his skin. He’s not seeing double for now.

The moment of reprieve is short-lived. His stomach folds over itself, rolling a cold, then hot wave across his skin as he doubles over the sink. The voice inside his head is slamming against the walls of his skull like it could break through. He can’t understand the words, how they crush and morph together against the new spike of pain behind his eyes, but it sounds like screaming. Something scared, and horrified, and desperate, pleading. But maybe that’s him.

He gags. The rest of his dinner comes up in the sink. He coughs, trying to swallow it back down, nose stinging. He heaves in a breath. His eyes water and he doesn’t stop them from dripping off his cheeks.

Breathing heavily, Wash drags his hand over his face. It comes back damp, still shaking. He can taste iron in the back of his throat. When he looks in the mirror, eyes dark and sunken, it’s like he can barely recognize the face looking back at him. Wash shuts his eyes tightly. He holds to the edges of the sink, breath shuddering and whistling as he inhales. More tears fall; fear, grief, nothing actually his.

“I can’t—” he says, he sobs, as the voice—Epsilon—pleads. Pleads for him to make space, to be something other than he is, to let him out, to let him go. “They won’t—”

Across the room, there’s a quiet knock on the door. He jolts, eyes darting to the closed door. Another knock. Wash brings up a shaky hand, wiping the tears from his chin. He rinses off what he can from his hands, pulling tissues to dry his face. He can still taste the film of bile in the back of his mouth. Washington steadies, blinking his eyes fully open.

“Wash, it’s North. Came to check up on you.”

North. Oh. Wash shudders as he laughs, just a little. Sure. He leans back from the sink, lowering himself gingerly to the floor to grab the sheet. As he steps carefully to the bedside, he replaces the sheet and begs that he finds his sense of composure before he opens the door.

“Coming,” he manages, voice wavering.

He makes his way around the bed, hand braced slightly on the wall as he steps over. The door slides open as he stand in the doorway.

North is standing in his pajamas, a concerned sort of pull to his face. He smiles a little when Wash opens the door, but Wash is too busy staring at his own socked feet and North’s boots to really notice. North’s voice is soft when he speaks. It reminds Wash of the one time South blacked out during dive training and North wouldn’t leave her side.

“How’s it goin’, buddy?” North says gently.

“Best day of my life,” Wash jokes, laughing weakly. North huffs out a laugh, folding his arms.

“I know they’ve got you under watch, so you’re in good hands,” he says, inclining his head. “How’s the headache? The tingling? Anything blurry?”

Wash takes a second, sighing and shutting his eyes. It’s funny that North would say that, isn’t it. He gets the shuddering feeling of something not his own as he stands propped against the wall, trying to hold himself up.

“Still painful,” he manages, pressing his hands to his eyes. “Everything’s blurry.”

“Yeesh—” North says, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “You’re taking it slow though, right?”

Wash nods.

“I’m trying to,” he says. “Best I can given the circumstances. It’s hard to sleep with all the…” He waves his hand around listlessly around his head, as if trying to get his point across. The voice. The emotions. Whatever chugged through his memory and forced itself in. It was an almost-physical, painful sensation. North nods knowingly. Wash doubts that he knows much at all.

“I’m sorry, Wash,” North says, his concern sincere. “It’ll get better with time, though. You’ll have a few days to settle in before the Director sends you out on missions, I’m sure.”

Wash nods again. It’s the most he can really do. His head feels like it’s full of soup gone sour.

“Right,” he says slowly, the words thickening in his mouth to a paste. “Right, I hope so.”

North smiles. He can tell, all of a sudden, as he does every time North summons Theta to the front, how right he was for his AI, how much the nurturing nature he so eagerly kept hidden blossomed when it was needed, when it would be properly appreciated. That smile alone settles a warm swirl through Wash’s chest, trickling into his lungs and his heart. The same happens when North reaches out, cupping his shoulder with his broad palm and squeezing, just enough to feel the heat of his hand. He jostles Washington slightly as he does. Wash manages a smile, huffing out through his nose, his eyes falling shut again as he lets the comfort of touch sink in for just a moment. As North draws his hand away and Wash straightens, North says:

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to resting, okay Wash?”

Wash hums in response.

“You let me know if you need anything. We’re all just down a floor—I’m sure York and I wouldn’t mind stopping in.”

Wash sighs, finally pushing himself to a stand, away from the wall. He doesn’t say anything, but a creeping realization settles in the pit of his stomach, right next to the warmth that used to pervade his joints. He swallows. Instead of feeling nothing, he feels burning in the back of his throat, up his nose. He nods regardless.

“Good deal, buddy,” North smiles. He nods, just a curt bob of his head. “Alright, I’ll be seein’ you.”

“I—” And all of a sudden, the feelings pervading, the ones not his own, rear their head. He swallows roughly, trying to make out a sentence. He mumbles out his next words, vision blurring. “Please don’t—”

“Wash?” North asks, startling, the twinge of concern now laid thick in his words. Wash startles too, blinking hard. What was happening to him? He shakes his head, turning it from North for a moment as he wills himself back to the present. He isn’t leaving, North lives here. He won’t just abandon him. But he can still feel the weight of the word goodbye. The weight of see you soon.

“Sorry, I’m just…” Wash shudders out a sigh, trying to find a viable excuse. “I’m on edge I guess. Don’t worry about it.”

North’s eyes widen.

“Wash, your nose—” he says, moving forward to help him. Wash takes an instinctive step back, cupping his hand around his chin. He can feel the warm dribble of blood now, the taste of iron in the back of his mouth. He shakes his head as he keeps North at arm’s length, turning to fetch tissue from the bathroom.

“It’s fine,” he croaks out, fumbling for the sink. He runs his hands under the warming water, tipping his head forward. Blood drips into the sink but his eyes are screwed shut too tight to see it. Wash can barely hear North’s voice above the running water, but he hears the door to his room slide shut. Reaching for the tissue, Wash swabs gingerly at his nose, still tasting the metallic tang on his teeth. As he turns back to the room, North is hovering at his bedside, concern written across his whole face. Wash watches his jaw work, his upturned eyes wide and searching Wash’s expression. Washington shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he says again, barely a sound at all. He jams part of the tissue up his nose, swallowing back whatever was left in his mouth. North gestures to the glass of water still half empty at Wash’s bedside. Wash sits, his legs giving out beneath him, and he drinks.

North takes his time getting to the space in front of him, circling the end of the Recovery Bay bed like Wash were an injured animal about to bite him. Luckily for him, Washington feels far too heavy to move any of his limbs, as if all the energy had been siphoned out of him and into the air, leaving it charged and staticky. He couldn’t find the strength to bite even if he tried. He smooths his hand over the pant leg of his hospital clothes in calculated movements. The scratchy fabric is so thin he can almost feel his body heat through it. Or lack thereof.

“I don’t know how fine it is, Wash,” North says, folding his arms. He leans against the arm of the chair across from Wash, not exactly sitting, but not really standing. “I certainly wasn’t getting nosebleeds like that with Theta.”

“Well,” Wash manages hoarsely, shutting his eyes tight again. “With all due respect, Theta was a little more… stable.”

“Epsilon’s unstable?” North asks. Wash flinches. He can feel that paper shredder sensation again as he shrinks back. “Wash?”

“It’s okay,” Wash mumbles. “It’s just—side effects.”

North’s face grows taut and stern. When Wash flicks his eyes up to read his face he’s met with a strong set to North’s jaw. North shakes his head, sounding unconvinced.

“It’s not supposed to be this bad,” he says. He drums his fingers against his arm.

Wash sighs. The sound is curt when it leaves his chest. It’s all the energy he has left to expel before it dissolves into an empty hollow in his chest.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

“Washington,” North starts, leaning off the chair and moving toward the bedside. Wash curls further over his lap, as if trying to move away from whatever suggestion North could have for him. It’s not something so easy to fix. It’s just. It’s just—

“It—” Wash takes a long, laborious breath in. He feels something very small break inside his chest as he breathes out, his exhale shuddering. His vision goes blurry in the few feet in front of him, from knees to floor, that he can see. “I don’t—”

“Hey…” North soothes. He lowers himself to Washington’s side, hand coming to cup his shoulder. Wash leans, half intentional and half not, into the touch as North squeezes his arm.

“The memories aren’t mine,” Washington babbles, unintelligible to anyone but himself. “I don’t want them in my head.”

“I know,” North placates regardless. And for a moment, it feels like he means it. It doesn’t really matter if he does or doesn’t. The arms that come around him are strong and warm and solid and friendly as Wash makes contact with the hollow of North’s shoulder. He doesn’t mean to collide and fall so easily, but the arms around him hold on, and hold firm, and he begins to think through the haze of memories not his own that he really didn’t have much say in the matter. North draws him in regardless and Wash sinks himself into his side. He cries and no sound escapes him. He squeezes his eyes shut. Faintly, he can hear North whistle out a breath, through the shff of fabric as he slowly and gently drags his palm over the line of Washington’s shoulders.

“I just need it to stop,” Washington chokes out. It doesn’t matter who’s speaking. The relentless tug of war continues on in his head, even if he can’t hear it, even if it won’t really surface. It doesn’t matter who wants their memories back. It just matters that his body feels like he’s been electrically shocked: drained, shaken out, and hurting.

“Breathe, Wash,” North soothes. Washington does as he’s told, the air scratchy in his throat. He shudders out the breath, trying to keep each stable and even. North doesn’t say anything for a while. He lets Wash breathe and lean into his shoulder, and the silence gives Wash a moment of reprieve as his mind goes quiet. He just focuses on breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth. North leans just slightly back into him, cheek resting on the top of his head.

Wash blinks his eyes open. He stares into the middle distance with his vision still blurry, and North’s weight against him keeps him, rather than whatever threatens to invade his memory further, grounded. Wash makes an unintelligible sound as North sighs.

“Great, Wash,” North says lightly. “Doing great.”

“Well, I feel like shit,” Wash manages, almost amused.

North hums softly in agreement, but doesn’t really respond. His hold around Wash grows a little tighter, though, firmer around his shoulder and forearm as Wash sags. His eyes shut again as his breaths remain even, face pressed to North’s shoulder. He’s a bit too large for them to properly fit together, even as they sit side by side on the bed. He lets go of a long breath as the rush of previous anxiety, the new bubbling fear, and exhaustion slip out all at once. In their wake is a pit of nothing, absent of emotion, in his stomach. Tired lingers instead in the same space, around that nothing. He can feel his body grow heavy against North and he has half the mind to mention how tired he actually is. But North hasn’t moved, regardless if he’s noticed or not, and the hand on his shoulderblade, and the head resting against his, remains. The world goes blissfully soft for a moment, his body heavy and his mind quiet. It’s only when he blinks his eyes open again that he realizes he’s lying down. North is gone.

He squints at the room around him, lifting his head slightly. He’s on his back with the sheet draped over him, comfortable against the pillows. For once, his body and head don’t ache, and whatever voice that might be screaming is silent. When he lifts himself further, the room spins, tipping violently this way and that. Wash lets himself back down. For now, he decides that the comfort he has is better taken than lost, and he shuts his eyes.

The world goes muted and grey around him. His body sinks to the mattress.

He has a feeling he won’t wake again for some time.

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maylilithreign · 4 months ago

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I saw some people doing the ten year challenge so I decided to jump in ❤️

I might've been a little thinner and had less grey hair in 2014, but I'd say I've done pretty damn well. Bestie's face blurred to protect her from my tumblr nonsense 😆

I won't tag anyone but maybe others will join in!

#then vs now #ten year difference #selfie #me #my face #my smile #maylilithreign #grey hair don't care

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massiveladycat · 6 months ago

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can i please say just how creepy t*marry is EVEN when they don't adjust their age. 1. illegal so illegal it's not even funny 2. both have attempted to kill each other 3. even if both of those facts (above) didn't exist, it'd be abusive and toxic because it's literally the young version of voldemort 4. im all for enemies to lovers... but wtf do you think youre doing with this ship??? this isnt enemies to lovers its murderer x near-victim??? then again im okay with it if they like make harry born in tom's time (gets rid of the age issue, but still toxic imo) or whatevr just i don't personally ship it. if you do then i don't really mind at all DISCLAIMER: not a hate post, just wanted to post about something harry potter like and i've seen t*marry increasing while scrolling tumblr for tom riddle headcanons and unfortunately i saw a LOT of shit that did not adjust harry's age or their behavior to each other which if you made those you terrify me EDIT #1: apparently people think i'm trying to say i ship t*marry.. no i DONT!!! i HATE IT!!! i would not touch t*marry with a ten foot pole!! but please dont let this post become apart of the harry potter shipping wars keep me out of that shit bro 😭😭😭. "i dont really mind" means okay sure ill think youre a little weird 4 that ngl but im not finna say that to you and i'm going to be fine with it if you just got rid of a lot of the issues (massive age gap, multiple attempts to kill each other, turning murderer x near-victim to enemies to lover) EDIT #2: changed "how creepy t*marry is when" to "how creepy tomarry is EVEN when" because that might've made me sound like i would still like it if they ONLY fixed the age gap!! DISCLAIMER #2: friendly reminder this post was just made for fun and to see if any people agreed with me, if you like t*marry then okay ignore this post you don't have to read it or reblog it EDIT #3: took advice from shamelessnerdtheorist and censored t*marry in both tags and post

#harry potter #draco malfoy #hermione granger #ron weasley #tom riddle #voldemort #i hate t*marry

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acquired-stardust · 2 months ago

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ahman i'm glad you came up on my recommended blogs feed!

i had a bout of nostalgia the instant i saw your url and i'm super happy to see titles here i thought had reached lost media status ages ago. how many people remember the LSD Dream Simulator anymore?

thank you for being here, instant follow!

Hi there, thanks for reaching out and thanks for the follow. Ash here replying to you. Very cool to see people recognize the little details like our URL. Long live Legend of Dragoon, long live LSD Dream Emulator - they're personal favorites here on the blog for sure.

Messages like this (as well as lots of little comments in tags for reblogs on our post) are incredibly gratifying to receive. A big goal we had with starting this blog a little over a year ago was to help people remember and celebrate the pieces of media that were worth keeping in their lives through gifs and virtual photography as well as written articles (written personally with great care and without the use of AI). Sometimes that means something more recent and mainstream, sometimes it's a real deep cut, but the goal is always to make you feel something whether it's deep nostalgia or looking at something in a way you hadn't before.

Seeing the visual and textual content we make really resonate with people is, again, incredibly gratifying and we don't take it for granted. We see you guys in the notes and remember you. Genuinely one of the most exciting parts of Larsa and I's day is when we discuss what content we'll be dropping (generally 3 posts around 4-5 AM PST every day, rare drops outside of that) that you'll hopefully love for one reason or another. When we started this blog we never thought we'd break ten notes total, and needless to say it's wildly shattered expectations in the short time since then.

Thank you all for enjoying what we do. There's plenty more to come, and we hope you'll love it. We hope you come away from any of this with a renewed love of the things that were/are important to you and even find some new things to love that you might've never heard of.

-- Ash

#Written Posts #Answered #SchwarzwaldCR #Thank you

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endlessburningdarkness · 1 month ago

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It's weird to pretend that SQQ superficially (it's minor enough that MF doesn't express pain or fear, just shock and confusion) cutting MF one time is equivalent to years of excessive physical punishment. SQQ wouldn't have done even that much if not for the OOC lock! Not to mention that SQQ doesn't dislike MF! This is one of his first thoughts about MF:

“Knowing that this child’s fate in the original work wasn’t much better than his own, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but look at him with the pitying gaze of a fellow victim."

Also, where are you getting that SQQ wants to kill MF? I couldn't find any passage like that. SQQ even complains that MF's mistreatment of Binghe is going to get *Ming Fan* killed. While SQQ certainly doesn't care about MF as much as LBH, he neither dislikes MF nor is he ambivalent to his fate.

While there's nothing wrong with disliking a character, but in the future, please don't put this kind of baseless hate in the Shen Yuan tag.

"superficially" shen yuan himself thinks for a second he's killed Ming Fan. why would he think that if it's superficial?

and it doesn't matter if its superficial. assaulting children is child abuse no matter how you try to twist it. this hypocrisy is what is pissing me off. child abuse is child abuse whether its a one off incident or years and years of it.

also where the fuck did i say these two are equivalent? i'm just saying child abuse is child abuse, whether its one incident or many. incredible how you've moved the goal posts on what really counts as child abuse so you can pretend shen yuan didn't literally assault kids.

i'm sorry, they were bleeding, how the fuck is that superficial? is lbh getting beaten up also superficial to you bc it didn't leave any scars? is it only really child abuse if it happens for many years? what the fuck is wrong with you?

here you are justifying child abuse in my inbox bc your fave is doing it. how sad and pathetic is that?

and you honestly think sy likes ming fan from that quote? bc he looks at him with the pitying eyes of a fellow victim? do you think pitying someone is the same as liking them? sy later on literally says this in his head lol. please look up the meaning of the word pity for me.

And moreover, as a fellow victim, Shen Qingqiu always felt a kind of pity for this cannon fodder disciple who, in the end, Luo Binghe would throw into an ant pit so that he would be bitten to death by tens of thousands of ants…

also sy thinks ming fan is a good disciple bc he's obedient and worships him like a god. not bc he actually, you know, likes him as a person. now onto the actual incident.

first sy literally says he wants to beat up ming fan

As a bystander, Shen Qingqiu desperately wanted to reach out, beat up Ming Fan, snatch back the jade pendant, and toss it to Luo Binghe. Also, if he did that, maybe Ming Fan wouldn’t thoroughly offend Luo Binghe? Then, later on, he could keep his paltry little life.

his paltry little life. that's how he thinks of ming fan's life. also i think sy nearly killed ming fan bc sy literally fucking thinks it himself. i didn't say sy wants to kill him. i said he didn't care if he did. please learn to read.

The leaf shot toward Ming Fan like an airborne knife. As Ming Fan’s long and horrible scream split the air, Shen Qingqiu shook out his hand and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. No wonder they said that to an expert, even a flower or tree could be used to hurt people! But he hadn’t killed Ming Fan just now, right…?

which part of that sounds fucking superficial? it's literally likened to a knife. a long and horrible scream. sy literally thinks he might've killed ming fan. can you like? read?

“Did you see clearly? Was he holding a knife?” Ming Fan interrogated the other disciples as blood seeped out of his back—like he’d been cut with the edge of a sword.

out of his back too. like he'd been cut with a sword. wow sounds really superficial to me. he also attacks the other disciples after this.

yes there is the ooc lock but he could've done any number of other things, like shouting his head off. he chose to start throwing knife like, sword like, spiritually enhanced leaves at kids. he does regret it, but only for a second. he certainly doesn't go to make sure those kids are okay or anything decent like that.

sy's primary motivation is to save himself not others. this is how he reacts to qin wanrong dying. this is after the ooc lock has been lifted btw.

Five or six disciples had been washing their feet and playing in the creek. Now two of them had disappeared, and one of the missing was Qin Wanrong. You see! Told you that you should have gone earlier! Wonderful, a perfectly good wife is now gone, just like that! Shen Qingqiu thought, frustrated and disappointed. Now you can’t complete the Qin Sisters bouquet for that grand threesome scene in the future. Now what?!

honestly i love how he doesn't give a shit. why would he? he doesn't care about anyone but his blorbo and that's what makes him so entertaining! idk why you want to pretend like he's some bleeding heart maiden when he literally fucking isn't.

my opinions are based on the text. you know the actual fucking novel? not the fanfic version of sy you people think is real. it isn't baseless hate. it's literally what happens in the text. in the future don't inbox me your hypocritical double standards. if sy "fans" want me to stop pointing out his flaws, they should talk about the actual fucking character and not the mary sue primary school teacher you made up in your head.

#svsss #shen yuan #pro shen yuan #the real fucking shen yuan #not the self insert you think is the character

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dropthedemiurge · 11 months ago

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Got prompted by @pinkkop but also partially this might end up as the controversial Thai BL post because the range of characters I'd defend with the passion is very wide for me:D

8 BL BOYS I WILL THROW HANDS FOR

Uea (Bed Friend)

This show isn't jokingly called 'A Tale of 1000 Traumas' for no reason, I mean – there is only so much one young adult can go through, and Uea has been through... well, almost everything. Tagging hurt/comfort fics on AO3 will result into red triggers all around. What fascinates me in this character is his resilience, too. He managed to go through everything with the sheer will power and knowing his own worth, what he deserves and what he does not. I am so glad the show made an active choice to send him to therapy and give him a considerate and loving boyfriend! He really needs both.

Sky (Love in the Air)

Again, no surprise that everyone would want to protect Sky. The acting was also chef's kiss in this show, I know I shouldn't be but I absolutely enjoyed seeing Sky getting triggered and sent to the red-lit room in his mind because this was pure cinematography, but irl I would just hug Sky with consent and never let him go. And kick Gun until he never rises up again too. I think Rain should've been given full freedom to avenge for his best friend. But this is also why I'm writing all these skyrain fics – because they are safe space for each other and I want to keep seeing it.

Rain (Love in the Air)

Ehem, like I said– the show has not declared it loudly but he's one of the most ADHD characters in Thai BLs if I ever saw one. He does not deserve to be mocked for his struggles and airheadness. I wish we saw more of him playing into his strengths beside taming a dom, instead of being infantilized by the show sometimes. Don't ask me to dive into full analysis though, I only could watch the PayuRain half of the show once so I'm going off vibes I remember, but I absolutely adore Rain and love reading fics that focus on his ADHD headcanon and how others understand and help him. And also those platonic BDSM tendencies he has with his best friend Sky.

Kawi (Be My Favorite)

For this guy, I would not fight the show or narration because they treated both characters and viewers with care, gentleness, wise teaching and love (Max is a harsh brat but that's his personality). I would actually fight the fandom: from people who hate-watched this show and refused to acknowledge it was amazingly done further than 'i might've liked it but ew screw this actor and novel the show was inspired by amiright don't judge me for liking it jk lol' to some individuals who missed the beautifully developed and portrayed close bond (aspec on at that, I'll stay firm) that spread across >10 years and different timelines and reduced Kawi to immature whiny weirdo who's scared to fuck Pisaeng ten times a day instead of one, idk. This show is a gem with many life-lessons and Kawi has one of the strongest and fascinating character development in Thai BLs that I've seen. Hands are being thrown.

Boston (Only Friends)

The creators of the show said the series didn't have any intentional message, but considering how many long discussions and poured out frustrations we had with some people, Only Friends definitely did Boston wrong. So what if he's a proud slut, should the show punish him for it while praising 'righteous' characters high on their horses? I don't think so. My guy was constantly filmed illegally and threatened by his hookups and friends, he's very hesitant about falling in love but he tried his best with clearly spoken offers, poly views and limits. I also see Boston kinda neurodivergent and/or demiromantic based on many lines he said about himself and his own view of people and relationships in the series. Nick might not be fully compatible with him, and I would throw hands for both of them, but if those two would communicate better, there would be no need for the OOC "twist" at the end. Their story could be beautiful, sad and realistic, instead Boston being kicked down in the street dirt by everyone after opening up about his heart and fears made me angry.

Akk (The Eclipse)

These descriptions just keep getting longer and longer? Oops... I don't think I need to explain the desire to protect Akk – this guy has not stopped crying since a mischievous and passionate newbie managed to break through his 100m thick wall of composure, pokerface and sheer will to survive. And also through all the manipulation Akk faced from the people he looked up to. Akk and everything that he went through managed to rip my heart out, and I'm not kidding. If you're repressed, oppressed and/or struggling with money, desire to make your parents proud and can't help but feel 'disapproved' feelings for someone – meet Akk, he's very relatable. I'd protect him and you too.

Thua (The Eclipse)

*clears throat* I did say this post would get controversial. I can and I will consider 90% of the people who hate Thua as lacking media literacy :D But without getting into useless fandom discussions, Thua is a poor teenager that needs love and support to be able to find himself and his own voice. He's stressed out by a harsh step-father, constantly facing homophobia and mocking in school, has suicidal intentions and the only good friend who opposed homophobic students and teachers, who showed him safe space and helped reach out to his mother, encouraged him to speak out loudly... went behind everyone's back, started dating the main "bully" of the school who threatened every queer for months and decided to support him while silencing students' and Thua's voices. At least that's what Thua experienced from his POV. Would you throw hands? Thua did, and while I may not agree with how he handled the situation, I can't hate him. He finally stood up for himself and his own, tried to change the system, and I'd fight Suppalo school for him too.

Black (Not Me)

There's someone who doesn't need my protection at all! A second before turning into bloody merciless activist-fighter who doesn't shy away from murdering capitalists and cops, I would still want Black not to think he's better off alone. While antagonistic sexually-tense exchange of comas with his ex-best friend can count as one of the most delicious type of romance that happened in subtext not text, he still deserved to seek solace in his ex-girlfriend and (ex? they were so close, why Gram does not care about him at all when he returns? we'll never know) other activist friend's company. Also, fighting with his life to change something in how the country works and hearing 'nah, your twin is better, he knows how to fight with social media so we achieved more with him than with you' from his mentor and Black deciding that he should again ditch everyone he cares about...noo:( I need spin-off about him where he gets everything he really deserves.

#I think I could've picked up 2 more but I can't think of anyone else right now #writing these 8 has already filled me with fire xD #thai series #thai bl #gmmtv #let's say pat and pran are the 2 left and i won't need to explain anything #dropthemeta

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forabeatofadrum · 10 months ago

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Happy Sunday and thanks @artsyunderstudy , @nightimedreamersworld and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for the tag.

As the banner suggests, I have no writing done myself but I have read other people's writing. Not a lot though. God, I have so much fic to catch up on. But I have read 2 fics this month.

(I originally planned to do a Fic Rec Friday, but my Friday got super busy and hey, I didn't have anything to show and I also had this banner from last year so it all works out.)

People who follow @klainepolls might've followed along to @kurtsascot's unexpected, a Choose Your Own Adventure-esque kind of fic. Every day, Genevieve would look at the result of the poll to see where the story would go and I voted in almost every one of them and it was honestly a lot of fun, and I applaud Genevieve for coming up with a chapter on such a short notice without being able to plan ahead.

I also read One December Night by @artsyunderstudy and my initial reaction (and AO3 comment) is "Ashton holy fuck" cause Ashton, holy fuck, you've done it again. I am a sucker for reunion/second chances fics, although Simon and Baz never got together beforehand. They meet again, ten years after Simon took down the Mage. I always love how emotional Ashton's fics are.

So yeah, fics!

And now, the weather: @quizasvivamos @blurglesmurfklaine @coffeegleek @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @captain-aralias @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @that-disabled-princess @1908jmd @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @cutestkilla @wellbelesbian @martsonmars @facewithoutheart @shrekgogurt @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites @blackberrysummer @whatevertheweather @theotherhufflepuff @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @kurtsascot @esilher

#my exams are almost done but i don't have a lot of free time before classes start again #like i really miss writing #but i am just so tired #so i just play viddy games #writing is too much effort lol #tagged in #six sentence sunday

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terrence-silver · 1 year ago

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What would happen if beloved unexpectedly goes into labour when Terry is halfway across the world…

Staff.

Realistically, there's staff --- a whole enterprise of people running his mansions.

His affairs, if we will.

Now, I always enjoyed this idea that someone as rich and as powerful as Terry Silver has a network of carefully vetted and very meticulously picked staff around him that all function like well-oiled gear wheels in their own right; like, the man seems like he'd be extremely particular who he keeps around and everyone, I do mean everyone has their uses --- from the secretary assistant alerting him on upcoming trials, to the butler opening the front door, for example. Even the slightly rag-tag likes of Snake and Dennis who might've seem a bit baffling companionship to keep for a Billionaire; but hey, I envision they entertained him more than anything. You'd be shocked how hard it is to find someone who's just plain funny (and who can bring in news and observations from the streets of LA like a pair of mischievous imps when they don't serve as his sparring partners). And as such, I don't think a beloved of Terry's would ever truly be alone (that is just inconceivable and not an option), because Terry Silver's staff --- all of them; chauffeurs, Michelin star chefs, assistants, security detour members, the gardeners, the maids and on stand by private nurses and doctors for all we know --- function like an extension of his will and his presence from the other side of the world --- they're his eyes, his ears, his hands and his mouthpieces (and his Fist imported from Korea, as seen in Cobra Kai), if need be. It is Terry's way to almost be in multiple places all at once, because if he has to be away from beloved or the unprecedented thing like labor occurs, he has all fields covered and under control because his people will ensure everything goes immaculately and that they report back to him and keep him up to speed --- so, really, if beloved started giving birth while Terry's away...well, nothing would happen. Because Terry was ten steps ahead and thought it all through.

And since Terry himself is obsessive, I personally like to envision the staff he pays also has (covertly and not so covertly) obsessive tendencies too, simply because they're heftily paid and instructed to be by their Boss. Makes sense. If you're employed to ensure Boss' beloved and their baby is perfectly fine, you'll ensure Boss' beloved and their baby is perfectly fine by any means necessary.

#yandere staff?#yes yandere staff #i mean for example weren't snake and dennis pretty much mike barnes' handlers? yes they were #so we know for a fact terry likes varying degrees of crazed behavior from the people he pays #terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #tw; going into labour #tw; pregnancy #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #the fist

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crowclubkaz · 10 months ago

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8 People To Know Better

I was tagged by @passivetimber and you KNOW I love doing tag games <3

List 3 Ships You Like: I'm gonna go with my current hyperfixation ships, so BlitzFizz, Kazper, and Zosan

First Ship Ever: Genuinely think it might've been Christine/Erik oof

Last Song You Heard: You Didn't Know from the Hazbin soundtrack. I've had that shit on repeat all week. and now I'm making it all of ur problems

Favourite Childhood Book: The Spiderwick Chronicles by Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi

Currently Reading: Dark Rise by C.S. Pacat

Currently Watching: Bob's Burgers (currently s5e5)

Currently Consuming: Apple pie scone my beloved

Currently Craving: Surprisingly nothing?? Ask me again in ten minutes

Tagging anyone who wants to do this! + @whatarepeople @please-help-this-little-lesbian @uf-oh @xxqueenofdragonsxx @symph0ny0fdestructi0n @bandobsessed-welldressed-spork @humanshark @rowanspn if any of y'all are interested!

#tag games

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mysticstarlightduck · 1 year ago

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Find the Word Tag!

I was tagged by @tabswrites for this one! Thanks for the tag!

My words were: gently, fold, near, and glow

Snippets from Tales of Wilted Flowers.

Gently -

[...] His hand gently brushed against hers as they walked into the ballroom, a touch soft like a feather, trembling, almost unnoticed. She noticed. Eiralis held his hand in hers, turning to face him.

"What happened? Is everything alright?" She asked. It was most unlike him to seek comfort like this, and while not unwelcome, it was clear from how his pallor turned paper white that he was not okay - even though Rylisan was desperately trying to look the part.

He looked torn for a moment as if battling between telling her something and regretting his decision. Rylisan shook his head ever so slightly and gestured with it across the room, holding her hand a tad tighter than he intended to. His once soft eyes looked filled to the brim with hatred.

"No. They're here.... she's here."

Eiralis whirled around, looking in the direction he'd pointed to. And sure enough, there they were. Maeve Deinyra and Kallas Verehn - the worst wretched excuses for nobility on this side of the land, and the people who had gotten her love exiled. They certainly had mastered this game, and had she not known the full extent of their cruelty, she might've mistaken them for any common noble. Her narrowed eyes focused on the former.

The woman clad in crimson silk strutted into the room with more confidence than the princesses themselves, and there was something decidedly wolfish about the way she smiled as the elite gathered to shake hands with her gold-covered ones. Gold stolen by her scheming-bethothed, wandering hands Eiralis wanted nothing more than to break. Knowing what she did, Eiralis was glad to not be holding a glass, or she might've thrown it at Maeve herself.

"Don't worry, love," Eiralis said, forcing herself to look away from the vile couple. She'd never been more sure of something in her life. "We're going to kill them." [...]

Near -

[...] Faellyn frowned, half cringing as she realized how majorly screwed she was as those hurried footsteps echoed down the wooden staircase and a familiar face appeared shortly after, fuming with worry and anger. She opened her mouth to explain, but time had run out.

“What were you thinking?!” Her guardian demands. “You were nearly caught. Do you realize that, if that King gets his hands on you, he will have you executed by sundown? How many times do I have to tell you: we will be clever about this. But no, you have to be just like your Father, don’t you? Is stupid heroics in your blood, or are you just trying to get us all killed?”

Faellyn sighs. Ahren’s paranoia was truly something else since she was little. Shadows on the wall turned to phantoms ready to suck their souls out, and doing what is right was just another way to die. This was no way to live and she was tired of running away every day. So she stepped up - even if stepping up meant undermining the treasonous fool who called himself king.

This wasn't really about her getting caught, Faellyn suspected. This was about Ahren's delusions of power - the plan that he had so carefully crafted for ten years to achieve a greatness that, for all his sacrifices, he wasn't so worthy of.

"You talk about my blood. My father was your uncle, you know. Do you forget that, cousin?"

Ahren paused, seemingly thinking about it, before continuing his rant with the same stubborn fury as he had moments prior.

“Not by blood, most certainly not," Ahren said, scoffing with an angry smile. He looked slightly childish. "I was his ward, I made a vow. I do what I have to do. And I’m not breaking that vow because you and the bunch of weirdos you call friends want to be the hero to save everyone. I don't care about everyone. That never did him any good, and it certainly won’t do to us. I won’t throw away my only chance to get what I want for once, just because you insist on following his doomed footsteps.” [...]

Fold -

Caladin folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the inn's stony wall, amused.

"So what do you suggest?" He asked, leisurely, stretching his legs so that they rest upon the table before them. Micah and Lorelai looked at each other, mischief written in their smiles, as they moved to explain their plan.

"If the journal is correct, and it has been so far, Lord Eldryc is tracing the location of those strange jewels. From what I am guessing, they used to be an ancient artifact. He wants something, and if the monsters we saw down those woods are any indication, it's nothing good." Lorelai explained, laying down the journal on the table and pointing to the scattered notes that matched her suspicion. Caladin shuddered at a specific drawing of what looked like a living corpse, nodding swiftly for her to carry on.

"The last time an artifact like that was seen it was in the hands of Meridian Grimshail's navy, also known as the Scourge of Lydean Seas. We find where the artifact came from, we may - emphasis on that - find out what the High Sorcerer is up to."

Caladin scrambled into a straightened position, interrupting her explanation with a doubtful look. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on, how can you be so sure? Meridian disappeared from the map years ago, and most of what is left is pure myth. I'm not risking my neck if our best plan is based on a storybook tale. Do we even know if that guy even had that thing?"

Lorelai smirked, gesturing towards Micah, who started rifling through his bag. He pulled out a small pouch and pulled out a handful of the contents. A small, broken shard shimmered like starlight on his tan skin. He quickly pocketed it before anyone else saw it.

"...I'll be damned." That was all Caladin could say. [...]

Glow -

Something glowed in the woods above like two bright golden eyes floating in the darkness. The forests went silent. No bird sang, no leaf fell. The living trees stopped whispering, and that was even more terrifying. Holding up their flickering lantern, Lorelai saw Xarian pull out his daggers. Behind them, Eiralis piped up.

"No, you shouldn't do tha - "

Vines shot up from the ground, as large as tree trunks, as fast as striking snakes. The earth beneath them crumpled as roots turned sharp and braided themselves onto more vines, wrapping around their boots and legs, immobilizing them. Except for Eiralis, around whom the attacking vines never wrapped, leaving a clearing beneath her. She bit her lip, awkwardly.

Then it all stopped. There was a gush of wind, and something blocked what dim light streaked from the trees above. Whatever or whoever it was seemed to have wings, like a hawk or an eagle, but much, much larger. She saw figures move on the corner of her eyes, from all directions. By the way the vines were constricting her, and how the thorns poked dangerously at her skin, she decided to stay still.

A second barely passed by, and the next time she blinked, someone was standing right in front of them. Someone who looked like a faery, but not quite - more wild, more bird-like. A dryad, she recognized them from the stories. Human-killers, defenders of forests. A pair of glowing golden eyes scrutinized her and the party behind her with ruthless precision, as the other figures - more dryads - disarmed them all.

Lorelai noted that one of his horns was broken.

"You shouldn't have brought them here, Eira. You know the rules about their kind, about this. They're monsters, assassins - disgusting filth that should not step foot on these grounds. Why would you put yourself in such company?"

He spoke in a language Lorelai couldn't understand. It wasn't Elvish and certainly wasn't common Faetongue. But from the way they spoke and looked at them all with such disdain, she knew it was nothing good. It felt like the words they were saying had a venom they needed to spit out.

Behind her, Lorelai saw Eiralis move, walking up to the figure. It was clear, somehow, that they knew each other. This exchange felt oddly familiar, in a way. Her suspicions were confirmed when her friend answered in the same sharp, unknown language.

"Let them go, Kaellel. There's a dangerous human approaching, a dark Sorcerer. He'll come back and this time he'll burn down our lands if we don't stop him. He'll kill you. He'll kill our clan. Please, let them help. Lord Eldryc is the one you should hunt down - you know him. Let them go."

The young man glared, silent. For a moment, Lorelai feared he would order his soldiers to kill them right then and there. But he didn't. The vines slithered away, back into the earth where they came from, called by him. Without saying a word, his soldiers disappeared back into the forest.

"You must prove what you say is true. For now, I'll let them go, and they stand an audience with the Elders. But they are your responsibility." For the first time, he spoke in their language, very fluently despite a sharp accent. Clearly, he intended for them to understand, but did not address them.

"The humans have their chance, sister. Don't prove me right, or I will slit their throats."

With that, he flew off into the darkness, leaving them in stunned silence. The party turned to Eiralis in unison, trying to make sense of all they'd just witnessed and heard. She rubbed the back of her neck, awkwardly twirling her hair in her fingers.

"... Um," She started, tentatively, with a soft, out-of-place laugh. "At least you're meeting my family?" [...]

Tagging: @oh-no-another-idea , @gummybugg, @sm-writes-chaos, @unstablewifiaccess, @lassiesandiego, @cabbojage , @the-mindless , @clairelsonao3 , @rickie-the-storyteller , @writernopal @thewardenofwinter, @lassiesandiego and @elshells

(Your words are: screech, treat, fight and loath)

#writeblr #writers #writerblr #writing #my wips #character writing #my characters #my writing #writers on tumblr #tag games #find the word tag #wip - tales of wilted flowers

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