#it feels like my weapon has been with me all along in the sound though

[gonzodangerfeels]

I need to remember the pimps come from the slums and shouldn't be looked at directly.

[tittiesnhrtz]

hi hiiii idk if you’re still doing reqs 😭 if sooooo can you write ab eating ellie out while she’s on the phone 😞🙏

my apologies if this doesn't hit 😻

warnings: oral, public sex

ellie was on her iphone ten again, the poor thing adorned with spiderweb like patterns, having endured more tough days then you’ve ever seen. the light bouncing from it illuminated her face, highlighting the freckles dotted across her cheeks like the cherry blossoms scattered on the streets of the foreign city you both were meandering through.

this was supposed to be a family trip but of course your parents had to wind up in a work related meeting, leaving you with unused plane tickets and hotel reservations. you couldn’t let their money go to waste, so you asked your girlfriend to tag along. if you knew she’d be on that device ever since you both arrived this morning, you’d have cancelled the trip altogether. “just tendin to a niche game, babe. give me ten minutes.” ten minutes stretched into an excruciating five hours and thirty four minutes. not that you were keeping track. not that you were borderline desperate for her attention. not at all.

you cling onto her like a koala, encircling your arms around her torso, seeking for any sort of attention she can offer, even if it’s something as meagre as the faint sound of her heartbeat responding to your touch. “ellie.” you whine out her name, a pout painting itself on your face. in any other situation, she’d be a horny mess, yearning for more of those pretty sounds falling off your lips, but there was a seasonal event going on and she needed to collect all the weapons. “yeah?” she looks up for three milliseconds, “i’m kinda hungry, let’s go eat.” she intertwines your hand with her calloused one, the coldness radiating from her skin blending with your warmth, making you satisfied for now.

“whaddya wanna eat?” your eyes dart around at the cafés and restaurants passing by, lingering on a certain cat themed cafe. “ellie, look.” you beam, nudging her to shift her gaze at the cafe. “eh.” is all that leaves her mouth. “but you love cats.” your eyebrows furrow. “cause you love em.” you know that’s not true. she’d literally adopted a cat with sleek ginger fur from a sordid alleyway even though you’d warned her about the diseases it could carry. she ended up naming him ‘bricked up monstertruck pussy’ or ‘bump’ when she got tired of calling him by his full name. just when your mouth parts open to speak again, she pockets her phone with her other hand, her thumb caressing the back of your hand. fucking finally. you almost break out into a wide grin, biting on your lip to conceal the desperation that previously resided in you.

“babe, we have to go there.” she starts leading you to a sci-fi cafe, her battered converse moving with enthusiasm. a sound mimicking an airlock opening echoes when ellie steps inside with you in tow. “that’s so cool.” she giggles. the cafe is dimly lit with metallic blue lights, the high ceiling painted with an array of alien stars and galaxies. you slip into a booth at the far end, taking a seat opposite of ellie.

the waiter takes your orders; ellie gets a drink with syllables you can’t even decipher and a burger. you decide on a strawberry milkshake, something basic, and the same burger she chose. “that’s so you.” her face splits into a lopsided grin. “what does that mean?” you play with your bracelet, relishing the feeling of her eyes on you. “dunno…like, you’re sweet..like strawberries.” a smile lingers on your lips, nearly making you forget how she’d been technically ignoring you, until you hear the faint buzz of her phone— a fatuous theme song from a movie blaring as her ringtone.

she has the audacity to hum to the rhythm before picking it up to answer jesse. she rambles on about how she’d managed to beat six levels in just twenty minutes, an obvious lie. you know better, you’d been the one suffering all day. five minutes slip by, fleeting like the rocket in the hologram video flickering on the wall. you’ve had enough, you decide.

you sneak under the table, the tablecloth shiny with neon green glitter concealing you almost completely. she’s manspreading on the couch, giving you easy access to settle between her legs. she doesn’t notice you’ve moved until she feels two hands resting on both of her thighs. you let out a small giggle as she looks down at your head peering through the tablecloth, surprise etching on her face. her breath hitches at the sensation of your cheek resting against her thigh, the rasp of denim against flesh. she secures your chin in the palm of her calloused hand to make you look up at her dilated pupils, green eyes taking on an inky darkness. it feels sinful to be looking at you in this angle. even in the dim light, she can make out your doe eyed expression, and her boxers suddenly feel uncomfortable.

jesse’s voice fades away into the background, his words ringing through the other line but not quite making it into her ear. swiftly, you unbuckle her belt and tug on her jeans, the denim whispering down her thighs. you don’t care that you’re in public, the lighting, the very few people and the fact that you’re in the far end of the cafe should obscure whatever you’re about to do. her grasp on your chin releases and her fingers tangle in your locks as she leans back against the couch. with bated breath, she watches your head settle in between her thighs, stifling a moan when you kitten lick at the damp cotton. her hand clenches at your roots, “atta girl.” she mumbles incoherently.

“el, you there?” you pull back, hearing the faint sound of jesse’s voice. you pat her thigh, “answer him.” your fingers hook into the waistband of her boxers, pulling them down to join her jeans. the cool air dances along her warm exposed skin, as the plush of your lips pucker around her throbbing, swollen clit.

“mngh..y-yeah, yeah.” she grunts, pushing your face further, making you bask in her nectar. your fingers glide against her thighs languidly, as your whimpers get muffled against her core. this feels like an atonement of some sort, the attention you’ve been craving so badly, now all yours. you look up at her through your eyelashes, taking in how she’s biting on the palm of the hand that’s holding her phone to hold back the noises threatening to cascade.

“uhm, ellie..you okay?” she barely registers his confused voice over the feeling of your tongue sliding up and down her folds, making her eyes flutter shut. her juices flow down your chin and onto the leather couch below, as you close your eyes too, messily swirling your tongue in circles around her clit now. jesse repeats his question and she brings the phone closer to her again, “dude, i’ll call you lat- fuck.” her words get cut off by a moan at the sudden intrusion of your warm muscle thrusting inside her weeping cunt.

the phone falls from her grasp, landing somewhere on the ground with a soft thud, probably adding a new crack amongst the ones already marring the screen. she doesn’t even care, her mind clouded with pure bliss. both of her hands card through your hair, feeling the softness of it against her roughness. her forehead rests against the table, back hunching as she quietly whimpers, her thighs closing around your head. the moan you let out reverberates through her body, teetering her to the edge. you spread her pussy lips wider with your fingers, gliding your tongue up and down again.

“gonna…fuck..i’m gonna..” she mumbles against the fabric of the tablecloth, tugging on your hair gently. one of her hand moves to rest on the nape of your neck when she comes, seeing the whole of orion belt as her eyes roll to the back of her head. she lets out a throaty breath as she no longer feels your mouth on her core. lifting her head up from the table, she pulls her boxers up the first thing. she tilts your head up and lets out a moan at the sight of your chin glistening with her juices, not even bothering to lower her voice. the pad of her thumb runs along your slightly parted lips before lingering on the bottom one. she leans down to plant a velvety kiss on your forehead, clamping your cheeks together. “you’re so fucking paying for this when we get back to the hotel room.”

[aperrywilliams]

Under the Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader is waiting for Spencer in a restaurant to celebrate their 2nd anniversary. What happens when Spencer doesn't show up?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Spencer fucked up but Reader loves him.

A/N: It's winter on this side of the world, and the rain makes me kind of sad.

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Is there anything worse than your boyfriend standing you up in a fancy restaurant on your 2nd anniversary? Yes, being stood up by your boyfriend in a fancy restaurant on your 2nd anniversary day while outside it’s raining cats and dogs.

That's worse. And pathetic.

You feel pathetic, sitting in that chair, all dolled up and waiting. You arrived at 19:30, and now your watch reads 20:45. No sight of Spencer.

What the fuck?

He was the one who suggested a romantic dinner in this very restaurant. He was the one who told you to make reservations. How could he forget it? You knew there wasn’t an active case. The very Penelope told you it was paperwork day when you texted her in the afternoon.

In the past hour, you dialed his number several times. You were worried at some point: what if something terrible happened to him? But you know bad news travels fast, so you assumed he didn’t show up just because he forgot. Deep down, you wanted there to be another explanation because if he only forgot, that would strengthen the idea of how little you mean to him.

Sensing the pitiful looks the hostess and the waitress sent you occasionally, you only wanted to dig a hole and disappear.

When the clock marked 21:00, you gave up. You asked the hostess for your coat and left the place completely silent.

The rain pouring outside was the perfect scenario for your current mood. You thought about calling a cab in front of the restaurant, but you only wanted to be far from that place as soon as possible, so you started to walk in the rain.

Goodbye to the stylish hairstyle that took you hours to achieve. Goodbye to the makeup you put so much effort into doing.

Striding along the sidewalk, you made sure to step on each water puddle you found along the way as you recalled every moment in the past months you felt Spencer away from you. And not only physically as when he was in a case. It was more than that. It was each morning he didn’t say I love you before leaving your shared apartment. It was each text he didn’t send telling you he was coming home or leaving for a case. It was each coffee you didn't share in the morning. It was each animated chat in the middle of the night you didn't have.

Were you being dramatic? You knew Spencer’s tendency to distract and engage in whatever his job could present him. In any other circumstances, you could have understood. Not tonight, though. Not when it was supposed to be your night together celebrating this milestone. The two years of love you thought were strengthening your relationship. How blind you have been. How naive.

You kept wandering on the streets with no destination. You didn’t want to come back to the apartment. You didn’t know where else to go either. So you kept walking.

-

Spencer Reid is a man with an eidetic memory. Everybody knows that. He can remember every piece of information people usually wouldn’t recall. He knows almost everything about anything. But even with his big brain, he sometimes has trouble keeping track of his own life. Like today.

Engrossed in a pile of manila folders from old cases, he lost time. A task meant to take just an hour or so kept him occupied and entertained for almost four hours. Emily’s voice was the only thing that brought him back from those files to reality.

“You still here?” Emily asked with a frown. Spencer looked at her oddly.

“Yeah. I was looking for patterns in our last cases in the northwest. What Tara said about the mixed murder weapons sounded familiar to me,” he explained before rubbing his eyes. He didn't notice how tired he felt until Emily interrupted him.

“Spencer, it’s almost 10 pm. And there is no active case. You can resume this tomorrow. I even thought you had plans today?”

‘10 pm’ and ‘plans today’ was enough to bring Spencer to realization.

“Fuck!” He yelped, jumping from his seat and freezing immediately, not knowing what to do.

“What?” Emily asked, seeing the panic in Spencer’s eyes.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he repeated over and over as he reached for his phone in his satchel.

“What is it, Reid?”

“Emily. I was supposed to be in a restaurant with (Y/N) tonight! It’s - uh - it’s our second anniversary,” he, visibly embarrassed, finished the sentence.

Emily shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Reid? How on earth do you forget something like that?”

“I don’t know! I - I don’t really know. Fuck. I’m an asshole!” He checked the phone: twenty missing calls. Why he left it on mute?

“Stop complaining and do something! Come on! Move your ass out of here if you want a chance of not being precisely kicked in the ass by her,” Emily instructed. She knew Spencer needed directions when he was freaking out.

Spencer rechecked his watch. It read 10:05 pm.

Swearing under his breath, he dialed your number, which went straight to voicemail. Putting his coat on, he tried again while rushing to the elevator. Maybe you were still at the restaurant? Getting in the first cab he found, Spencer headed there.

Once he arrived, he asked the hostess about you. The girl told him you left after 9 pm.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He called you again with no success. This time you turned off your phone. Spencer’s stomach was a knot, and his heart hurt imagining you sitting alone, waiting for him.

Were you at home? Spencer guessed you wouldn't want to see him, so it was less probable. Should he go there anyway and wait for you? No. You deserved better than that. He would look for you even if it could take all night. Taking a cab, he decided to check the apartment - just in case - and grab his car keys.

As expected, you weren’t in the apartment. Spencer faced the darkness and coldness of the place, and a chill ran down his spine—the fear of losing you forever.

In the car, he thought, where you could be. It was still raining, and Spencer feared you were getting soaked and frozen, God knows where.

It was at this kind of moment Spencer wanted his eidetic memory, and all the knowledge in his brain could help to compensate for the dose of common sense he lacked.

‘Come on, Spencer. Think. For once in your life, do it for what is really important for you.’

-

Spencer parked and rushed out of the car, hoping his hunch was correct. He was in a park. Not any park, though. It was where he met you three years ago—where his life changed forever and for the better for once.

You were in a swing, moving softly back and forth, your feet touching the ground. Your eyes focused on the rain collecting in the nook you created with your feet in the mud.

“(Y/N)!” Spencer called once he spotted you. The rain muffled the sound of his voice.

Your eyes didn’t leave the ground. At first, you thought you were imagining things. It could have been wishful thinking that your boyfriend really cared about you. He called again, and now your brain obliged your eyes to look toward the voice’s source.

Spencer was in a corner where the park's playground began. He was looking at you and wanted to run to you, but the fear you could run away made him stay there, as the rain dampened him.

The sight of you broke him. You were utterly soaked. Your coat and lovely black dress were ruined, and your face with traces of smeared makeup. He could even spot your bloodshot eyes, swollen from crying.

He caused that. And Spencer hated himself for it.

Seeing you didn't say anything, barely acknowledging his presence, Spencer dared to take some steps forward. Your numb body didn't even flinch.

“(Y/N). I’m sorry,” were his first words. Expectable but useless for you. “I fucked it up. I’m sorry. I should have been there. I wanted to be there with you,” he apologized, giving a few steps closer to you. Not looking at him, you mumbled.

“But you weren’t. And if you really wanted to have been there, you would have.” Your voice was low and husky. You sounded tired and defeated. It was worse for Spencer. For him, you should be yelling. Telling him how hurting you were. How an asshole he was.

“Baby, there is no excuse for what I did. The last thing I want in my life is to hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Spencer’s voice broke with each word.

What had he done? Why? How can he be so stupid? He loves you. You’re the most important person in his life, so why did he do that to you? How can he fix it?

Still not looking at him, you spoke again.

“I can’t understand, Spencer. It was our anniversary. You were the one who suggested doing it,” you remind him. He nodded, kneeling in front of you. It didn’t matter the mud, and it didn’t matter the rain still falling. Spencer needed to look at your eyes to explain himself.

“I’m an idiot. I lost track of time and forgot,” he mumbled. You held up your head and finally looked at him.

“You forgot? So it's true I’m not that important to you,” you concluded sadly. Spencer’s eyes widened.

“No! Don’t say that!” he pleaded.

“Am I wrong? I don’t think so.” Your chin wobbled, but you needed to say it. “I know your job is important, Spencer. I do. And I never wanted to compete with that because I thought I didn’t have to. But after these past months, I think I need to get used to the idea I lost you already,” you acknowledged with a pained sob betraying you. It was the pang of the meaning behind your own words.

The memories of the past months flashed before Spencer's eyes. And there he saw it. The kisses he didn't give you, the 'I love you' he didn't tell you. The nights he didn't sleep by your side—all the things he has been missing.

He realized that although he never doubted his love for you, he stopped nurturing it and took it for granted.

Crying, he took your hands, and by divine grace, you didn't push him away.

No words he could say would be enough to convey how sorry he was. But he needed to try because he didn’t want to lose you. You needed to know he loved you and that you owned his heart. You needed to know he just realized he made a mistake, and he wants to fix it.

“The first time I saw you in this very place, you were slowly swaying in this exact spot with your eyes focused on the book in your hands. I was so mesmerized that I never thought I would get the nerve to talk to you, you know? But I did. And when I saw the warm look you gave me when I asked you if you had read the author's biography, I felt my heart warming as never before. And when I heard your laugh after I clumsily tried to flirt with you? I swear it was the sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life,” Spencer confessed, eyes sparkling at the memory. You fondly recalled it too. You never liked to talk with strangers all of a sudden, but with Spencer? It felt natural and right.

“You let me in in your life. You opened your heart to me and taught me how to do that too. You realized I’m not the best student in those matters, though,” he chuckled, seeing your nod.

“Despite that, you believed in me. You gave me a chance to love you, and I swear loving you has been the most natural thing that has ever happened to me. You have made me so happy (Y/N). You have no idea. And that is the problem. I have not known how to love you the way you deserve. I hadn't realized what I was doing. I'm sorry. I spent much of my life fending alone, not walking with anyone by my side. And I know that does not excuse my behavior. Even so, I dare to ask for an opportunity to prove you do not have to compete with my job. Give me a chance to prove to you I can be better. I can be the man who deserves your love. Please let me gain back your love and the privilege to hear you laugh again."

Spencer was almost out of breath when he was done speaking. You mulled in his words as his hands enveloped yours, patiently awaiting your response. Would you give him a chance?

As the rain continued pouring down, your eyes focused on him, still kneeling before you with hopeful eyes.

You know he loves you. Even if he needs to be better at proving it to you. And you love him even if you feel hurt for what he did. You both would have to work to make it work. You both deserved the chance, though.

The answer to his question was clear then.

You hopped off the swing and kneeled, not releasing his hands grasp and pulling him to catch his lips with yours. He kissed you back with everything he had. When both parted, you smiled at him, and Spencer was trying to figure out what that meant. You spoke to make it clear.

“Please, just don't make me regret being in this same place three years ago.”

Spencer earnestly shook his head.

“I won’t. I promise,” he told you before kissing you again under the rain.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

[uglypastels]

Logan idea- reader has very similar traumas I.e trained as a weapon, memories wiped, has bad nightmares, slower aging, modified healing.

They find healing with the X-men and get close with Logan because of their similarities the reader is more sunshine to Logan’s I don’t know if pessimism is the right word. They go on a mission, goes missing for a period, and when they show back up they’ve been brain washed and are fighting the X-men but Logan recognizes them instantly. And does the whole this isn’t you sweetheart while taking a beating cause they can both kick ass and that’s one of the things Logan loves about them. He gets the mask off of them cause he realizes that’s part of the issue for them not recognizing everyone and then it’s hurt/comfort them feeling horrible for getting caught and Logan feeling horrible for letting them get caught. And even though they hadn’t been together before just very close friends/testing the waters this brings them together cause they realize they want to be with each other after some healing and Logan be soft with the reader while they heal from the brainwashing fiasco.

I dunno I love the idea of Logan feeling horrible about not being able to rescue the reader and then recognizing them fighting his allies and helps bring them back from the void. I’m a sucker for two people relating to eachother having a friendship that a hard time brings out their true feelings with lots of fluff and healing cause Logan understands that.

this made me think of some of my favourite wolverine scenes from different media so it's all inspired by that i guess. hope you like it :3

warnings: angst. mind control. reader presumed dead. swearing. violence. hospital-setting. guilt.

Masterlist ~ X-Men Requests are Open

‘What the hell are you doing? We have to go back!’ Logan started yelling as soon as he realised you hadn’t made it back to the jet. 

‘It’s too late,’ Scott shouted back at him from the pilot seat. ‘We won’t make it.’ 

‘She won’t make it,’ Logan retorted, already lunging at the cockpit, claws itching to come out. And they would have if it wasn’t for the cold hand touching his skin. He looked up to meet Rogue’s eyes. They were filled with sadness–pity– as she held his hand. He tried to pull out of her hold, but the longer it went on, the more frail he felt. Everything around him began to spin, his vision blurred until it all turned black, and his head hit the steel flooring of the plane.

⮿

Rogue had held on for too long. That much she had realised as soon as Logan had passed out.

It took a whole day for him to come by, but not even her powerful narcosis had suppressed his rage. As soon as Logan had woken up and his senses had felt Scott’s presence, he was on his feet, grabbing the team leader by the collar of his shirt, pushing him against 

‘You proud of yourself, punk?’ he spat in Scott’s face. ‘Got your sorry ass out all safe and sound, huh?’

‘There was no other way. We would have all died if we had stayed, Logan,’ Storm clawed at his shoulders to pull him back, but none of her methods sufficed. ‘This was the only way.’

‘No the fuck, it wasn’t!’ He saw red with anger. ‘We could have saved her.’ He had pulled out of saying that one word at the last minute. I could have saved her. That was the only thing on his mind for weeks. How you still would have been there if it wasn’t for him. 

The plan had been simple; that much had been clear in your face as you suggested it the last time he saw you. But he never should have gone along with it. He never should have let you go on your own. If he had just stayed— ran after you— maybe…

A pitiful portion of him still kept up hope. That one day, the heavy doors to the mansion would open, and you would stand in the middle. Perhaps a bit bruised up and tired, but all there. And he would pull you into his arms like he had wanted to all those times before.

But you never did show up. Days turned into weeks turned into months, and there had been no news, no sightings. Even the Professor had stopped seeking Cerebro’s help as nothing turned up anyway, no matter how hard he looked.

⮿

His heart was in his chest as he raced through the dark corridors of the bunker complex. Logan looked around him for the way out with the least henchmen as chances of there being none were slim. He had already left a trail of bodies behind him and was ready for the next wave of men to beat into a pulp.

He turned the corner, but what he saw was the last thing he had expected.

For a second, he thought he was dreaming; perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by some chemicals they pumped into the air to get to him. It wasn’t possible. His mouth had already fallen open, ready to call out your name, but as you got into a stance of attack, eyes blank except for a fury deep inside them, Logan realised it wasn’t a dream at all. It was a bloody terror. 

It was the hardest fight he had ever been in, trying to block all of your attacks while pulling himself back. He couldn’t het himself to hurt you. All he found himself doing was calling your name, but it was useless. It was you, but it wasn’t. Nothing he said seemed to matter, seemed to take any effect on you. You lunged at him, punching and kicking. 

It was futile to try and argue with you, and so, against every muscle and nerve in his body screaming against it, Logan started to place his movements harder, fighting against you until you went limp in his arms. He cursed himself out as he looked down at your unconscious body, pushing some of your loose hair out of your face. But as he looked at you, he also saw that it really was you still in there. And so he didn’t waste a second thinking about it as he picked you up in his arms and ran as fast as his body could take him. Out of the tortuous underground maze and back to that godforsaken jet that had been the scene of the dreams that had plagued his mind for the past months.

⮿

Everyone had practically stopped in their tracks at the sight of you in Logan’s arms. He stumbled into the jet, nearly falling over, having had, as predicted, to deal with a number more nameless jackasses, but with you in his arms, it made beating them up a bit more challenging.

‘What—’ Storm’s eyes were nearly as pale of shock as they would have been of her powers. 

‘She’s been brainwashed,’ Logan explained before anything else, ‘or controlled. I don’t know, but he’s hostile. We need to keep her down.’ He laid you down on the ground, sitting right beside you, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a deep heave, and only then he noticed the looks of everyone around him. ‘What?’

No one said a thing, but he knew what they were all thinking. For he was thinking it, too. Was it safe to bring you back home? Could whatever they had done to you be reversed, or was he just putting everyone at the school in danger by taking you back? 

‘Is everyone back?’ He just said after no one had dared to say another word.

⮿

Logan didn’t know what had possessed him. Why he had suddenly grown so protective over you, but he could not stand the idea of you being alone in the hospital wing. It took nearly half a week just for Jean and the Professor to understand what had happened to you, and the treatment itself took far longer than Logan would have liked. 

He didn’t know why he came to visit you every night, far outside the regular visiting hours, past when anyone would be awake to see him sneak in and sit by your side, holding your hand, hoping you could feel and hear him as the apologies spilt out of him.

‘I’m so sorry, bub.’ He kissed your knuckles. ‘I should have gone back for you. I should have–’ He stilled as you stirred in your bed. 

‘Logan?’ You croaked out, throat dry and hoarse. In slight shock, Logan said nothing. You blinked and tried to find him in the darkness of the room. ‘Logan? Is that you?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’ He chuckled softly to himself, squeezing your hand.

‘What happened?’ You tried to sit up, orientating yourself to where exactly it was that you were, but he quickly pushed at your shoulder to stay put. 

‘It’s a long story, kid.’ Never before was Logan happy to be sitting in the dark as the tears he had subdued for months finally fell down his cheeks in extreme relief. ‘You uh– you’d been gone for a while.’ 

‘I was?’ you tried to remember, ‘I can’t recall anything. It’s all—’

‘I know.’ He kept your hand in his, rubbing your skin with his thumb. Logan knew to call for someone as soon as he saw you stir awake, but he needed this moment alone with you. Make sure you are doing alright himself. Besides, the professor was probably already on his way. 

‘It’s okay. You’re alright now.’ He continued, happy you had finally come back home.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[tragedybunny]

Helloooooooooo! I saw that you were taking Astarion requests, and I’ve had something living rent free in my head for awhile nowwwww.

Basically, how would Astarion do with an s/o who is able to handle him well because of their own traumatic past? Maybe s/o came from a controlling/abusive household, so they already had to teach themself what a stable relationship looks like, and can now apply that here.

Essentially, I keep thinking about Astarion talking about how “patient” tab is with him when romantically involved, and I just keep thinking of s/o responding by saying “someone had to be patient with me too, Astarion. I learned the importance of it from that”

This has been awhile, I hope I put something together that works. Apologies for the wait. 💖

Until the World Falls Down - Astarion x F!Reader -

Love isn't always easy, but Astarion is worth having patience for.

You weren’t sure exactly where the argument came from or how it reached a boiling point at such speed. Astarion had been complaining that your house, the little house in the lower city that you loved so much because it belonged to the two of you, didn’t feel terribly secure. True, it was left empty while you traveled, looking for a way he could walk in the sunlight again, but Dammon was stone’s throw away, along with a number of the other tieflings from the Grove. When you’d been asked by the city’s rulers what you wanted in return for your heroics, a place you and him could call home was all you could think of. 

“I’m just saying we could look for something else,” he snips, pushing things further.  

There’s a rising pounding in your head, he’s giving into the paranoia. This was the inheritance passed down from Cazador, an endless fountain of ill that also included outbursts of anger, fits of melancholy, and more guilt than you could have ever imagined he was capable of. “Love,” you try your best to diffuse it, something you’ve grown well practiced with, “this is our home, I don’t want to change it.” 

He snorts, “I don’t know why I expected you to understand, you had all the safety and security in the world and ran from it.”

The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, it’s not the first time he’s lashed out at you, but he’s never weaponized your past before. “Astarion, that…that hurts.” 

“What? It’s the truth, a pampered little noble girl who fled her sheltered life, because it was what, boring? Do you know what I would’ve given to be in your place?” 

You stare at him wide-eyed, gasping at what feels like a ruptured wound in your chest. There’s only been bits and snatches of your past he’s been able to learn, the Warlock pact making it impossible to reveal all. But it’s shattering to have that little bit he knows turned on you. Fingernails curling into the palms of your hand, you try to steady your breathing, reminding yourself he really doesn’t know everything, he can’t tell how deeply those words cut. But you’re no saint, sometimes the pain is too much. “Gods, you really don’t care if you hurt me, do you?” All you’ve ever asked of him is love, and you die a little inside when he can’t seem to give it, even if you know why. “I need some air,” turning you stalk away from him and your little kitchen you adore, where tea sits now growing cold, towards your front door, tears blossoming that you fight, and memories you've locked away pushing to the front of your mind. 

Maybe it’s your words, maybe it’s the hard reality of your hand pulling the door open, but behind you, Astarion quietly exclaims,“no.” He sounds far away though, sounds and shapes from another time clouding your senses. 

Beyond your threshold, Baldur's Gate bustles in the early dawn light, but you only see bleak halls, filled with looming dread, and hear the whispers of the House of Air and Darkness. Push past it, you tell yourself, one foot crossing into the warm light. You're running, maybe that's what you're good at, maybe he's right, you run when you shouldn’t. Another breath, you're standing just outside the door. The noise of the city starts to pull you out of the past. 

A hand grabs at your’s. “Don’t leave m-” his words end in a hiss of pain.

Shaking your head, you finish pushing back at the past to find Astarion’s hand clutching yours, starting to smolder in the sun. “Astarion, stop.” 

“No, what if you don’t come back?” He’s frantic, tugging you back toward the shelter of the darkness inside the door. The scent of his flesh starting to singe fills your nostrils. The churning maelstrom of emotions hasn’t calmed enough, leaving you rooted where you stand. “Damn it,” grimacing, he takes a step forward, towards you, towards the light. 

As though you’d been under a slow spell that finally releases you, there’s understanding, and you lunge toward him, pushing him back into the safety of your home, door slamming in your wake. Arms wrap around him as he clings to you, he’s quivering. Sinking to the floor, the sounds of rough sobbing start to escape from him. “I’m sorry Love,” you whisper, trying your best to soothe him, while your own mind recovers.  

Words tumble out between fits of crying. “Not your…sorry…don’t know why…didn’t mean that…don’t leave me.” 

“Hush, Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” It aches inside, you didn’t mean to frighten him. 

With gentle words and touches, you try to calm him until he finally stills in your arms. “Why?” 

“What?”

“Why aren’t you leaving? Why do you stay? I’m a monster, no better than Cazador, turning your words back on you to torture you.” There’s no tears, but you realize it’s only because he’s too tired to keep crying. 

“You are not a monster Astarion, your emotions get the better of you sometimes.” Leaning down, you kiss the crown of his head, his forehead, his cheek, anywhere you can get. “I know you’re trying.” 

“How can you be so patient with me?” His hand searches out yours. 

Once, you lived in a world where only power mattered, where your parents would’ve given you to a monster to secure their place. But you were shown a better way. “Someone was patient with me too once. She showed me how to love, I think she saved my life.” You stop there, knowing the price for saying more. 

Astarion doesn’t ask either, understanding you can’t. “I can do better,” he promises earnestly.

“I know you will, but you’re still healing. And I’m sorry I let it get to me.” 

“No,” quickly, he sits, eyes locked onto yours, “you have feelings too, and it’s not fair for me to hurt you just because I hurt. I will do better, you deserve better from me, after everything you’ve done.”

You look at him, a teary wreck, and realizing you’re probably not much better yourself, lose yourself to an unexpected giggle. "Gods, we're a mess. I love you." 

"Speak for yourself, I'm perfection." he laughs, laying his head back on your shoulder. "I love you too, more than anything."

[auraisereigh]

"For the love of... whatever lord you pray to"

Chapter 6

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: Now that the assembly has been made, the first meeting awaits wc: 4.7k ��� SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Chaos, it's an assembling meeting, says enough. Star still struggling with the aftermath of the rebellion, that's still gonna be like that for a while. Flashback. Let me know if i missed something. Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.

Star's masterlist main masterlist

Who would know that people who all stand for the same thing could argue this much.

Apparently some have very hard feelings against each other.

I look over to where Felix and Aethan stand at the end of the table, once me and Felix lock eyes I give him a subtle glare.

"For the love of... Whatever lord you pray to, shut up. All of you." My voice bites through the room and suddenly it's quiet. "Thank you." I say but it's far from a polite thank you.

"I made a list of things I wanted to discuss for this meeting." I say sliding the paper to the middle of the table. "But first, I wrote down the ranks for each member of the assembly. Feel free to object but I really don't care. Take it or leave it."

No one says anything. Good I wasn't feeling on discussing that sentence either. Ulices leans forward, intrigued.

"I've assigned Ulices and Suri to be in command of the remaining army that we have and over time hopefully rebuild our army. Any disagreements?" They better don't, I spent so much time on these. Aethan raises his hand. Lord. "No." I say before he can. "But I just-" he starts. "No." I cut him off.

I smile as he lowers his hand. "Perfect. Any other disagreements? No? Good." I say sarcastic.

I sigh as I look at the small paper I wrote all the ranks on. "I've decided that Felix and Trissa will be the head of writing and sending letters to possible allies. Though I will not object to personal letters being that are sent to allies being written by that person. Just, they," I say pointing at Trissa and Felix. "Are the ones that choose what goes out, what gets written and so on." I finish. Nobody disagrees. Trissa even looks slightly pleased.

"Kylynn, you're responsible for the weaponary. Yes we partly lost our forge. But from what Felix told me they are rebuilding that first so I expect you be responsible that our army has their weapons and that the forge keeps running." She nods sharply.

Now the most difficult part will come. Or in my words the 'this will end in a long discussion moment'. "I've chosen Felix as my aide." All heads turn sharply to where I stand at the head of the table. "I know and trust him the best. Though in this assembly most decisions will be made in a voting with the entire assembly, which includes my brother, Xaden, by the way. He will be part of the assembly once we can get him back here." I finish. "Now, for where that leaves me... I will be lieutenant colonel, head of this place. That doesn't need a reason. This is my house, my city and most important, my throne." I say pointing at my father's throne. My voice leaves no room for another opinion.

"Now, I'm new to this and doing it alone is not something I intend to do. Aethan will also be lieutenant colonel along side me-" I don't even get time to finish as they all Burst out in chaos, clearly not liking it.

I walk backwards and sit on the throne. In the corner of my eye I see Aethan walk towards me, that stupid sheepish smile on his face, I almost regret giving him that rank.

I hold my hand up so he doesn't say anything. All these adults are on fire with each other, I don't need someone else giving me a worse headache than I already have.

Ever since I came back I find myself being more irritable and short tempered than I used to be.

"Enough." Aethan says loud enough for everyone to hear. Suddenly it's quiet.

The ones that stood up sit down again.

"I have a few topics picked out for today as a first assembly meeting, though I'm pretty sure we won't come to an agreement today, it's a good start." I say, the headache pounding.

"What have you chosen for the first meeting, your highness?" Trissa asks, her voice soft as she seems to sense the headache going on.

Highness. That's true, if dads rebellion succeeded, I would be in line to become Queen, not just Duchess.

The thought has me closing my eyes for a moment, my hands leaning on the table.

"Rebuilding Aretia." I picked safe. It was that or let's see how to get my brother back but Felix hasn't heard back from Lewellen so it would be useless.

What If they tell Navarre we're still here? What if they choose Navarre? Loyal to them?

"It's in my understanding that almost all the civilians that survived the scorching have been taken in either here or somewhere else?" I ask

"Yes," Ulices starts. "About half of the people have been given shelter, here, at Riorson house. Others have been put in the stone houses that didn't burn. We're working on giving them food and medical care." I nod. "Is there a chance that we can start rebuilding?" I ask Ulices. The idea of being able to rebuild my home is a flicker of hope but it's the one I need right now.

"With what people?" Ulices asks with a raised brow. I hadn't thought about that. I don't even know how many people we still have.

Felix chimes in. "Though we may not have many people, we have some. And what is left of the army can also help the rebuild. It's not a lot, and it will go slow," he looks me in directly in the eye. "It is possible. We don't have a lot we can do right now so the start of rebuilding is smart. No one will suspect a thing, everyone thinks this land is cursed anyway." He finishes.

Kylynn looks at me. "As our forge is not running now I will overlook the rebuilding, where to start and who to use. We should prioritize what we will build first." She says, a hint of argument in het tone.

I nod grateful at her. Rebuilding Aretia could be the start of... whatever this is.

Suri seems to think the same thing as she scans the list of subjects I'd written down for this meeting. "And where do you plan on going with this?" She motions with her finger towards all of us.

"I wanna continue what my father started." I explain with a hint of insecurity.

Insecurity.

☆

"Now, remember that when you go in this meeting you don't show weakness." Dad explains as we start walking to the meeting room.

"No weakness or insecurity. It will only show that you don't know what you're talking about. Or that you care what they think, you don't." He says firm.

"Don't care about what they think because even though I sit in that throne now, one day it will be yours. And you will rule this city, this kingdom."

☆

After the meeting only me, Aethan and Felix remain in the room. The Assembly had agreed to slowly start a new Rebellion but call it a Revolution as we don't plan to attack. We just want to help innocent, defenseless people.

"Any news on Xaden?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Felix looks at me before shoving a letter to me. "House Lindell has received both Liam and Xaden." Felix confirms. "They still swear alliance to Aretia and your father's idea." A hope sparks in my chest.

"So he can come back here?" I ask trying to keep the hope out of my voice. "House Lindell has offered to bring both Xaden and Liam back to Aretia but not now. Too much has just happened and if someone comes to check if Xaden is at House Lindell and he isn't..." Felix explains as I scan over the letter. "They could execute him." I finish for him.

He nods. "House Lindell has proposed to let things calm down for now. That perhaps it would be better to bring them back in a month or two." He speaks so carefully like the wrong words might shatter the pieces I still have of myself.

"Okay." I whisper. "Hey, it's not all bad." Aethan Chimes in. "Now you can slowly prepare for your brother's arrival, you've always enjoyed these things, right?" He walks closer so we're almost touching. I nod.

He will come back. Soon. He has to, it's the last thread of hope that I have. The last light that shines through.

☆

That night, I spend almost the whole afternoon there. Aethan and Felix thought it would be a good idea to come up with a few other topics for the Assembly meetings.

We'd decided that for now meetings would occur every morning, seeing as there was so much to do but over time we Would only do it when it was necessary. At the end of the day, everybody got their jobs so there would be no need to make a meeting about the littlest of things.

After I read through all of the letters Viscount Tecarus of Cordyn had sent to my dad in past, seeing as that was another topic I wanted to bring up, I pack it all up in a small notebook for tomorrow and head to my room.

It's when I open the door that I see a plate filled with food on it that I become suspicious, no one comes in here and those who would are dead.

I drop my notebook next to the plate. Theres a small piece of paper next to it, I put two fingers on it so it stays in place.

Figured you would be hungry seeing that it was probably a long day.

- B.s

Brennan.

His handwriting is that typical of a scribe, slightly messy but readable. Like he makes a lot of scribbles.

Like he's the son of a scribe, not a rider.

☆

Taglist: @honethatty12 @smashee0789 @awkardnerd @randomperson1234sblog

[ashdreams2023]

Hi this may sound weird but can I request something where the reader and Loki haven’t yk in a couple days and Loki tries to initiate something but reader confesses she’s on her period and doesn’t really feel horny during that time? 😭 so it ends in them doing something cute and fluffy??

Sure and not weird at all!

Loki x fem reader

Not in the mood

Loki sighed, this past month has been quite eventful, he’s been going between earth and Asgard along side Thor for a while, aside from helping around the avengers.

His mother was starting to taunt him about meeting you but even that felt like a damn chore at this point, plus he hasn’t been able to spend much time with you either.

"Hey my prince" well at least not until now.

You looked radiant as ever in his eyes, you just came back from your work in the lap and finally took off your lap coat, he can now see your dark purple turtle neck and black trousers.

Your hair fell nicely on your face after being tied up for hours "want some tea?" You said pouring yourself a cup.

"Not quite but something else would be nice" He stood up and walked behind you, warping his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to your ears "I missed your sweet voice and soft skin against mine you know, I almost forgot how you tasted…care to reminder?" He could feel something was off though, usually you’ll melt into his embrace and get all flushed but your current reaction wasn’t exactly that.

You didn’t lean your body onto him and instead of looking aroused you were kinda looking to the side "Is something the matter? Have I said something unappealing?" You looked fine just now and when you were upset with him you showed it.

You shook your head and looked up at him "it’s nothing you did, I’m just not in the mood because of…you know, it’s that time of the month" Loki opened his mouth then closed it, he looked down at your feet, covered by thick knitted socks.

Now it made sense.

He loosened his grip around your waist and laid his chin on the top of your head "care for some other delightful offers?"

You smirked a little "such as?"

"I’ve got a few ideas"

The two of you ended up cuddled up on the sofa rewatching a favorite of yours, occasionally snorting at each other’s commentary and ending ordering too much food that would be consumed by you the next day as a snack.

"You know, I really missed us" you mumbled laying your head on his chest.

"Me more dove, now tell me what you’ve been cooking in that crazy lab of yours"

A chuckle escaped your lips "Nothing special, just creating the weapon that would make the queen of the world" Loki kissed your forehead, you could feel his lips forming a smile against your skin.

"That’s my girl"

[selineram3421]

📹

You're Off-key

Part 5

Part 4

Reader X Gravity Falls

Warning ⚠

⚠ everyone is aged up, Italics= thoughts, food mention-breakfast food and spaghetti, weapons, blood mention, interrogation-polygraph test ⚠

"I wouldn't have a serious conversation before breakfast but this is a topic that must be discussed.", Ford says as you and Dipper follow behind him to the kitchen.

You were freaking out, pulling out a chair to sit down at the table and then getting a breakfast plate.

At the moment it felt like the walls were closing in on you. The room was shrinking, the light over the kitchen table started to make the room feel more like an interrogation room. Maybe it was because you were freaking out but Stan began to stare at you down, as if you robbed him of all of his money.

"It seems that our guest here has had a run in with Bill.", the older nerd twin says. "We need to check the statue in the woods and make sure to set up barriers around the shack."

What do I do? WHAT DO I DO!? You try to pick up a utensil but with your hand shaking so much, you end up dropping it.

All the talking around you sounds muddled, like its underwater.

"You ok?", Mabel asks and places a hand on your shoulder.

"To be honest? No.", you laugh and rub your hand over your face, only to clutch the side of your head. "I've been trying to keep it together this whole time but I have no idea what to do. Ever since getting here, I've been worrying about my best friend."

Dipper gets into your view. "Your best friend?"

You sigh and rest your hands on the table.

"I'll tell you guys everything that happened.", you frown as you glare down at the yellow table top. "And where I actually come from."

The room was quiet for a few seconds.

"Is it bad that I'm excited for their story time?", Mabel suddenly whispers to her brother.

"Mabel! Now is not the time!", he whisper shouts.

You laugh at that and feel yourself calm down a little. Steeling up your nerves, you turn to look at the older set of twins.

"Brass knuckles and some kind of ray gun, on the table.", you say with a stern face. "I'm not asking again."

The two look at you in surprise, a little unsure as they place the weapons on the table. "How did you know we had these on our person?", Ford asks as he lets go of the ray gun.

"The way I know Mabel has a grappling hook.", you say and point to the said twin. "She'll at least apologize to me before shooting at my head.", you shrug.

"Are you psychic?", she asks with sparkling eyes.

"No, I'm not.", you wave off that idea. "Golf club.", you point at Dipper.

The said twin slowly lowers the golf club and it clatters onto the floor.

"But it would be really cool if I was. You know how many lotteries I could win? There was one time that I almost won the lotto with just guessing.", you say.

Stan sits a little closer at that. "Go on.."

"We're getting off topic.", Ford says and crosses his arms. "Tell us everything."

"Right.", you sit up a bit straighter and clasp your hands together. "What do you all know about the multiverse or different dimensions?"

You can see the two nerdy twins get interested.

"I've traveled multiple dimensions.", Ford says.

"How many more are there?", Dipper asks you and pulls out his personal journal, clicking a pen.

"A bunch.", is all you say on that. "The one I come from is..more secluded. I'm able to see into worlds of different dimensions but can't interact with them. It's kind of like watching t.v. in a way.", you explain.

Dipper is writing away in his journal and nodding along.

"Your universe is a cartoon show. It came out around 2012 and well, I watched how the twins spent their summer in Gravity Falls."

"WHAT!?", Mabel screeches and slams her hands on the kitchen table. "You saw everything!?"

"NO! No.", you wave your hands. "Though I did want to see that race with the space lizard, the one in the snow I think.", you look up in thought before looking back to the family. "Still really curious about that one."

"Why keep quiet about it? Why not tell us?", Dipper suddenly asks.

You raise an eye brow with a "really?' face.

"Imagine if I walked in here, bloody faced and all, suddenly treating everyone like best friends and talking about Bill?", you say and point at all of them. "You'd for sure hit me over the head first and ask questions later."

"What do you think is stopping us right now?", Stan leans over to say.

"Nothing.", you respond. "I'm here with a mild concussion, hoping you guys don't harm me, and honestly wanting to finish breakfast.", you gesture to the plates of food on the table. "I'll let you know everything that you ask for, and.."

You sigh and look down at the table again.

"Tell you about my dream last night."

"Dream? What happened?", Ford asks. "Did Bill visit you?"

Before you could respond, Mabel puts a fork in your hand.

"Let's eat, yeah?", she smiles. "I'm in the mood for pancakes."

⯅

You're hooked up to a lie detector machine on the game table, curtsy of the two older twins, and Dipper holds the camcorder.

It kinda felt like it was too much, but with the triangle being Ford's evil crazy ex, you could understand why they would go to such lengths. Mabel even took out the tape recorder and pressed the record button.

"Today is June-", the twin in the cassette sweater starts with a chipper voice. "As you know, we got a new friend we met in the woods but turns out they have some secrets and they decided to share with the whole family today!", she then goes on about what happened earlier.

"Mabel, we need to record them talking. Not you.", her twin says.

"Oh, right.", she says and puts the recorder on the table.

Dipper starts recording and asks you basic interrogation questions. Like your name, birthday, and today's date.

"I have agreed to do this for the safety of myself and well..everyone here.", you say. "Ahem.", you clear your throat. "I'm from a different dimension and Gravity Falls is a cartoon show back in my universe. The show ended a while ago but recently the fandom has been active due to a book put out by the creator called: The Book of Bill."

"Didn't we lock that up?", Mabel asks.

"I was one of many who got the book and read through its pages. After reading it and checking out the website, my best friend and I set out on a road trip that inspired the show. We went to multiple tourist locations and to the original "Mystery Shack" areas.", you said. "Of course, there's Confusion Hill and The Oregon Vortex, not entirely sure which one is the original, original. Ya know?", you shrug. "The last location was to Bill's statue."

"Bill's statue is in your universe?", Dipper asks.

"Oh, yeah. A bunch of fans went to find it once the creator showed a picture of it on the internet.", you explained. "It's in California now.", then you continued. "Anyway, I bought spaghetti before we stopped at the statue because I read somewhere in the book that it was a way to summon Bill, I did it as a joke."

"Was the spaghetti good?", Mabel asks.

"We are talking to someone from a different dimension, and you ask if the spaghetti was good?", Dipper says.

"What? I'm curious!", his twin defends herself.

"The spaghetti was really good.", you confirm. "I set up the spaghetti like the book instructed and my best friend tried to take a picture of me shaking hands with Bill and well..the crazy triangle showed up and said he had been waiting for an eternity to meet me.", you gesture to everything. "Then after he dropped me into a hole, I ended up here in Gravity Falls, with a concussion."

"How long were you in the woods for?", Ford asks, reading the scribbles on the paper from the lie detector.

"I'm honestly not sure?", you confess. "I kept waking up and passing out. I think I showed up around noon or a little after. And then I think one of the twins bumped into me and I passed out again."

"That's true. It was Dipper's fault.", Mabel says.

"I wasn't looking where I was going, ok!?", he defends.

"No hard feelings.", you say. "I was too zoned out to pay attention to what was in front of me."

"How do we know that you're not working with the triangle right now?", Stan asks.

"Oh, good question.", you say. "Last night I had a dream in my mind space and Bill showed up asking how you, the Pines family, were doing.", you say and try to remember everything in the dream. "He tried to make a deal with me, I laughed in his face and told him no, then he got mad at me cuz I said..something."

The family glanced at each other before looking back at you to continue.

"And then he tried to tear me apart but I woke up before he could.", you finished. "The end."

"Wow, that was interesting.", Mabel says and stops the tape recorder.

"Were they telling the truth Ford?", Stan asks.

The two nerdy twins look over the polygraph test.

Being somewhat of a nerd yourself, you look at the papers as well. "Sometimes these tests can be wrong since it mostly measures heart rate, blood pressure, and other little stuff.", you explain. "The trick is to stay calm."

"If you knew how to pass the test, how do we know you weren't lying?", Dipper questions.

"Well, I could have lied about anything but I didn't. I already kinda lied earlier when I asked who Bill was.", you say. "Remember? Twenty percent lie rate."

"Hmm...", Mabel hums and then smiles. "You know what this means? Another quiz!", she cheers. "We can quiz them about ourselves! If they know stuff from the "show" like they said, then we'll know if they are lying!"

"Mabel, I don't know how we feel about confirming secrets about ourselves to some random person.", Dipper says. "No offense? I think?"

"No worries, I would also feel weird about sharing things about myself to a random person.", you nod.

Ford and Stan step away to talk about everything that happened within the last hour, while Mabel starts her questionnaire.

The older twins come back and nod.

"Mabel, do your worst.", Stan says.

"Way ahead of you!", she says and rushes off to get, what you assume, is glitter.

You sit there and then remember that you could just re-tell the episodes.

"I could just, you know, tell you what I know about the show?", you say.

"We'll do both.", Dipper says and stops the camcorder.

This might take a while...

*slurps spaghetti pasta* Oh, yeah. It's all coming together.

~Seline, the person.

Part 6

Taglist@

@diffidentphantom @sleep-7372 @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mspurpl3 @gxstiess @lynkolnevans @fries11 @paastaboi @the-monochrome-jester @staygold162 @geckodarla @klwrites @alias-sam @eddwardtheseventhspacewizard @agreatcheesecakestudentstuff @dinsfire24 @+?

GF List🏞 | YO-🎹

[kaialone]

Official Guilty Gear Anthology- Short Story "Night at the May Ship" (English Translation)

This will be a full English translation of the short story "Night at the May Ship", written by KOHカピバラ (KOH Capybara)

It’s the fourth out of five short stories included in the "Official Guilty Gear Anthology", which was available online for a limited time only from April 1st to April 8th 2024, as part of April Fools’ Day celebrations.

--

Night at the May Ship

"…And then, the legless warrior said to me…"

I put on an ominous voice. May and April held their breath.

"…Give me…

Give me your sword!!"

"Eeeeeek!!!!"

They both screamed and clung onto each other.

Haha, if it scared them that much, telling that story was worth it.

Today, May invited me and Delilah over to her ship.

Really, I meant to send Delilah off by herself, but she begged me to come along.

If I do anything that upsets her when she gives me that look, it takes forever for her to quit sulking.

When that happens, I get stuck with laundry duty for a week. And I do not want that.

I was planning on going home by myself after dinner, but then May insisted that I stay the night.

"Alright, story time's over. I'm going to bed. You girls oughta sleep, too."

Smiling, May and April went "Okay~" before heading to their beds.

I scanned the room for Delilah. Seems like she dozed off during my story. She was sound asleep on the guest bed.

After I told the three of them goodnight and heard May and April's replies, I slowly closed the door.

Then, I sat by myself in the ship's dining room. Drinking the rest of my sake, smoking my pipe, waiting until I'd feel sleepy.

Around half an hour later, I heard a noise coming from the hallway.

pitter

At first I thought it was just one of the pirates walking around, so I didn't pay it any mind.

It sounded like someone was randomly stumbling around the hallway in front of the dining room.

pitter, patter

The sound kept going on like this with no clear pattern.

I got a bit curious and stuck my head out of the door, to ask what was happening in the hallway.

It was as dimly lit as before. The temperature had gotten a bit colder compared to the dining room, though. Perhaps someone turned up the air conditioning?

But I didn't see anybody around. The ship's air made my lips feel dry.

Finding it suspicious, I went to sit down on the couch in the dining room, gave the stem of my pipe a good smack, and let the leaves fall into the ashtray.

Just then, the sound came from the hallway again.

pitter, patter

"Is there anything you're scared of?"

I remembered that the pirate Octy had asked this while we were having dessert after dinner.

Because of that, we all started talking about ghosts, and along the way I somehow ended up telling that ghost story.

In truth, I've never thought of ghosts or spirits as scary.

Now that the Theory of Magical Science has been developed as much as it has, most things can be explained just by saying "it's magic."

Still…

pitter, patter

pitter, patter

pat

The sound seemed to have stopped right in front of the dining room.

It wasn't even summer, yet I felt sweat run down my neck.

I didn't… have my sword.

When we boarded the ship, I left all my weapons with July and Augus.

I braced myself and stood up, deliberately stomping my feet as I approached the door.

After taking a deep breath, I grabbed it by the knob and swung it open without further hesitation.

There was nothing there but the dim hallway.

I sighed with relief.

"Big Sis."

"D'aaargh!!"

The source of the voice was none other than Delilah, standing in the hallway, off to the side.

She was right in my blind spot, so I didn't notice her.

"…O-Oh, it's you, Delilah. What's wrong, I thought you were asleep."

I might've been flustered and started talking a little too fast.

Delilah looked down as she muttered her answer.

Apparently, she was wandering around because she didn't know where the bathroom was.

"…"

I let out a long sigh and took Delilah to the bathroom.

She was still looking down after she was done, and so I sent her back to bed.

Just before she entered the room, I heard her mumble "good night."

As for me, I went to a guest room they had prepared.

I fell into bed as soon as I'd untied my hair.

Slowly, the tension left my body.

…Actually, the bathroom was diagonally across from the room that Delilah and the others were sleeping in. It was just a few steps away.

As a courtesy, it even had a sign by it that clearly read "TOILET", illuminated with a night light, so one should be able to see it in the dark.

In other words…

"She was just pretending to be asleep, huh."

So, she did listen to my ghost story.

She must have feigned sleep, so no one would see that she was scared.

That's why she missed her chance to use the bathroom earlier, I bet.

And then she was wandering around in the dark, probably contemplating whether she should call out to me or not.

My lips curled into a faint smile. Now I was starting to relax.

Maybe I'll tease her a bit about it tomorrow. It'll probably drive her up the wall. It might even earn me two weeks of laundry duty. Though maybe that won't be so bad…

Savoring the feeling of satisfaction that softly spread within me, I let myself slip into a pleasant slumber.

End.

--

[navia3000]

a l l t o o w e l l

Includes : Bellamy Blake

Genre : Angst, very little fluff

Warnings : Minimal use of Y/N, first person pov, mentions of fighting, mentions of praimfaya, not proofread

Based on : All Too Well by Taylor Swift

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

Y/N and Bellamy Blake had a complicated relationship from the start. From the moment the drop ship landed on Earth and Blake asserted his dominance over the 100, she despised him. He was arrogant, cocky, and rude.

However, Clarke Griffin, a close friend of hers, insisted on an “alliance” of sorts, claiming it was necessary for survival. And now, the girl has to bite her tongue as Clarke and Blake have become the leaders of the 100, the king and queen.

The 100 were currently working on building a wall around the campsite to help defend from the grounders. She had been helping put the walls up for hours, and was in desperate need of a break.

Even though she knew both Clarke and Bellamy would scorn her if they saw her, she snuck outside the camp and walked to a quiet meadow away from the chaos in the drop ship.

She sat on a log among the grass and flowers, breathing in the floral and earthy scents. She couldn’t help but look back on her time on the Ark and its stale, metallic scent. She was glad that she was among the few people to come back to Earth. She used to dream of feeling the blades of grass tickle the palms of her hands, the flower petals caressing her nose and cheeks, the scent of dirt and trees and leaves and greenery blessing her scent buds.

The snap of a twig brought her out of her nostalgic thoughts, defenses coming up immediately in fear of a Grounder. She didn’t think to bring a weapon with her, being in desperate need of a break.

She turned to find not a Grounder, but Bellamy Blake stalking towards her, a stern look on his face. “What are you doing out here?” He sounded angry.

It was her turn to scowl. “I’m taking a break, what are you doing?”

“I saw you sneak off. Are you insane? There are Grounders out here, and you didn’t even tell anyone you were leaving.”

“Jeez, Blake, I’m only a couple minutes away from camp. Plus, what do you care if a Grounder gets me?”

He seemed taken aback by her question. After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke. “Of course I care. Keeping you guys safe is my responsibility.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” They stared at each other for what felt like eons, until she patted the space next to her, inviting him to sit. Maybe it was the serene atmosphere that made her extend an invitation, or maybe it was the fact that she was tired of the constant battle between her and Bellamy. They were like ice and liquor, like water and vinegar.

He hesitated for a moment before moving to sit with her. The pair sat in silence, taking in the view in front of them. Maybe being in each other’s company wasn’t so bad.

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

“Where is he?” She was frantic, eyes scanning the drop ship for Bellamy. Murphy had come back from being tortured by the Grounders, bringing an infectious illness along with him. They had spent hours taking care of the sick delinquents, when the girl had been told about Bellamy getting sick. Her and Bellamy had reached a sort of stalemate after their “moment” in the meadow. They didn’t hate each other, but they didn’t like each other.

She lies to herself, because, she does like him. More than she wants to. And now, hearing he’s sick with this deadly disease made her regret all the times she had argued with him.

“He’s here,” Clarke pointed to a secluded corner in the ship, where she saw Octavia leaning over her brother, a wet rag to his forehead. “You shouldn’t be in here,” Clarke warned, but the girl didn’t listen. She rushed to Bellamy’s side, and her heart broke seeing his face contorted in pain.

She took the rag from Octavia’s hands, “go rest.” She watched as Octavia smiled appreciatively, and walked away.

As she put the rag to Bellamy’s forehead, she saw Bellamy’s eyes open and focus on her, his chocolate irises burning with concern. “What- what are you doing?” Bellamy choked out. “You’ll get sick.”

She shushed him, smiling sweetly, hoping to bring some sort of comfort to the sick man. “It’s okay. Just close your eyes.” He stared at her a little longer, before deciding to close his eyes, knowing she would stay by his side the whole night.

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

“She did it,” Octavia whispered. Clarke had finally pulled the lever, destroying the City of Light along with A.L.I.E. Bellamy and Octavia watch as their friends and the citizens of Polis snap out of their trance, being relieved from A.L.I.E’s hold.

Bellamy, however, was focused on one person. Y/N. The girl he hated and grew to love. His girl.

After their experience in Mount Weather, Bellamy and her’s relationship evolved, growing closer together.

Unfortunately for Bellamy, she was forced to take the Key, making her forget her happy memories with Bellamy, and turning her into A.L.I.E’s most trusted soldier.

She had been fighting Bellamy and Octavia, using the skills she learnt from Octavia and the Grounders. Bellamy didn’t want to fight her. He hated the thought of hurting her. But her pursuit against him was relentless, her punches hurting more and more.

They were close to killing each other, until Clarke ended it all.

He watched as she snapped out of whatever trance she was in. Her eyes were glazed over with confusion, but they cleared once they landed on his. At once, she launched herself into his arms. He held tightly onto her, relief flooding his body.

She pulled back to look him in the eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Bell,” she whispered. She pushed her lips onto his, letting the kiss speak the words she couldn’t say.

Bellamy kissed back with as much passion, feeling his crumpled heart straighten itself out again.

He was never going to let her go again.

It was rare, you remember it all too well

Bellamy watched down from the window of the ship, memories playing in his head like a film on a movie screen. However, this film wasn’t a happy one. This film was one of sadness, tragedy, betrayal. Bellamy regrets that moment every day of his life. He regrets the moment he had to leave his lover along with his best friend on Earth, abandoning them to radiation that would kill them.

If only things didn’t turn out this way. Bellamy lives every day in space plagued with dreams of what his life could’ve been. Of him being with her, hugging her, kissing her. Living a normal life. A life without Grounders, radiation, killer AI. A life where him and her could be happy. If only things were different.

If only the weren’t doomed from the start.

[urfavbooblover]

Letter with lipstick || Ada Wong x female reader

Warnings: none

(remind me if I missed any)

- Resident evil 4 masterlist link -

Y/N’s pov:

Earlier:

Sitting on my bed, i stared down at the letter in my hands. Her handwriting was beautiful, less of the words she wrote to me. She’s on a mission again, all the way in spain and couldn’t tell me one thing about it, neither why she was there. “It’s important”, she committed to the paper i was holding.

She just ended the letter with “Love, Ada”, as my eyes landed on the kiss she placed right next to it, with the lipstick she always wore. The kinda red i love seeing on her and she knew all about it. I let out a sigh, “The woman that you are, Ada.”, i said, folding it together again.

Ada and I are close, too close just to be partners. We ‘slipped’ one time and in the next moment you saw our lips all up on each others.

I missed her. I couldn’t stand the thought of now not seeing her again for who knows how long. She’s good at what she’s doing, fulfilling her job just for everyone to be more than satisfied and i was feeling proud of her, for how far she has come. But the thought of losing her, especially when she’s so far away, has taken over my brain.

I informed myself about the situation, asking everybody for detailed answers. Anybody needs to know where she’s at, no? They weren’t down right away to tell me, but eventually gave in. Who were they to stop her from going there? Exactly, she did her own thing, going after what’s happening in rural spain.

“I need you to take me there.”, i commanded, standing tall against them. There was nothing they could do about this either. I’m not easily giving up, someone must have the trust to let me ‘surprise’ my woman. At least that’s what i liked to call it. I know Ada will be more than caught off to see me, however she wouldn’t mind. Quite the opposite. I can’t expect much different than a nice welcome.

Present:

Now here i am. I’ve been dropped off by the helicopter and one of my kind co workers who brought me to this place. I can thank him a lot for this, i guess i owe him something but that’s not my worry yet. I have to find her. So i didn’t think much, i rather started looking at the area around me.

It looks like a farm, the area is completely destroyed. I walked over dead bodies, scrunching up my face in confusion. Nothing i’ve never seen before, but someone must’ve been the cause of this. Was it Ada?

I was informed about a little story, so i went careful into this. I was here for only one thing actually. Ada. Whatever comes in my way isn’t as much as important as her, nothing is. No one else. I was ready to be confronted by her pretty self and sped up my walking through the paths and winding ways.

I was prepared for everything. I had my weapons and all that i could possibly need. I’d do anything to bring us both out of here. Anything for us. She surely knows i don’t give up easily and most definitely wouldn’t on her. No one even compares to her and the way she makes me feel. There’s no one quite like Ada.

I needed answers though. Am i really on the right track? I guess i was answering my own questions and thoughts when i came across a giant creature laying eliminated on the ground. Who else could’ve defeated it? She was here, i was more than convinced.

I jogged along the stony and muddy path, when i suddenly heard something. I slowly moved forwards to where those sounds came from, confirming myself that i’m hearing voices. It was all blurry and i didn’t know whose it might be. Till i made out the statute of a familiar woman. My eyes landed on her, my woman.

“No way..”, i whispered to myself, taking one more step towards her. “Ada!”, i shouted, catching her attention. Her body turned around, slightly facing me. I felt something in my stomach, when i saw her face. She immediately recognized me, her gaze softening but then again with confusion written all over her. She was completely stunned and couldn’t seem to move.

“Y/N?”, she said in a questioning tone, as i moved over to where she was standing. I was about to open my mouth, before i glanced down. A man stood there, his eyebrows were furried together as my face expression could be read as jealous. Who the fuck is he?

“Y/N. Look at me.”, i heard her soothing voice close to my face, interrupting my staring interaction with that guy. I slowly turned my head, seeing the slight worry on her. “What are you doing here? How did you get here in the first place? Are you hurt?”, she placed her hand on my arm, only ever showing so much weakness around me.

“I’m okay, Ada. I came here just for one reason, it was a pretty long flight.”, i explained, looking into her eyes that always shined so beautiful. “What about you?”, i asked as she moved her hand down to grab my own. “I’m on this mission, i was doing fine till i saw you. Now i’m feeling even better.”, she gave me a small wink before that strange man interrupted us.

“Uhm? I’m still here.”, he said in a nervous tone, letting out a playful chuckle. “Who is-“, “I have a deal with him.”, Ada interrupted my question, knowing what i was about to ask. She knew how protective i can be of her. Not in a controlling way though, most things i do are out of worry, making sure she’s doing as okay as she always claims.

“I got a name too, lady.”, “I’m Luis. You must be that girlfriend Ada kept mentioning and talking about.”, he continued. Ada’s eyes widened in response as a smirk formed on my face. So she called me her girlfriend behind my back? “Well yes i am.”, i confirmed very proudly, as i could see a rose color appear on her cheeks.

I placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, taking her hand in mine. “I missed you, Ada.”, i whispered and watched her nervous state. “I missed you even more, Y/N.” I smiled at her, before looking down at Luis once more. “You surely don’t mind.”, i said, pulling Ada with me as we walked away from that scene.

“Hey! How am i supposed to get up here though?!”, Luis yelled after us, all desperate. We both chuckled to ourselves and i took Ada to a quiet place. I moved close to her body, our face just a few inches apart. “I came here just for you.”, i whispered, tilting my head a little to the side.

“Oh what would i do without you, Y/N.”, Ada responded in her typical flirty voice. “Be glad you have me.”, i muttered, closing the gap between us. It’s been way too long since the last time i felt her soft lips against mine. They tasted just like cherries.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 4

Here's your next part of the Ghost!Robin fic for WIP Wednesday. I'm gonna start putting fic designation in the title field rather than WIP Wednesday because I think it makes it easier to read.

Also, everyone came out in numbers for last week's segment! Damn! Thank you and I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this little fic of mine. We'll probably get one more week of this before I go back to Bring Me Home, but it'll depend what I feel like. I want to rework some of what I have written next.

First, Previous

1.1k words + a 464 word Omake (cut scene)

----------

Tim asked more details on the specs of the PDA which Danny happily answered. The things he built with Tucker were always his favorite inventions.

“So are you in school to become an engineer or something?” asked Dick who’d gotten Damian calmed down and sitting. The boy had gotten his knife back and was spinning it in his hands. Bruce seemed to be fondly exacerbated by the scene. Robin had pulled out a ghostly weapon and was trying to copy Damian’s movements, though he wasn’t quite as adept.

Danny shook his head to Dick’s question. “Nah. Hard to get into engineering school when you fail high school.” Danny narrowed his eyes as Damian’s mouth opened, but Dick whispered in his ear again and the boy didn’t say anything.

“I ended up dropping out of high school and getting a GED,” said Tim. “It can work just as well.”

Robin was nodding along and pointing at himself, too. Had he died before he could complete his schooling, too?

“I’m sure. It’s just not a priority for me right now. I don’t need one for my job and I can’t become an astronaut because of my accident when I was fourteen.”

Dick was nodding, but Tim looked confused and asked, “Fourteen? I thought you had your accident when you were older?”

“Why would you think that?” Had he or Jazz made any reference to when his accident was? “No, it happened when I was fourteen. A few weeks before I started my freshman year of high school.

Before Tim could ask anything else, Steph called out from the other side of the room. “Did you say you wanted to be an astronaut? Totally awesome. What made you pick that?”

“I honestly don’t know why everyone doesn’t want to be astronauts! Space is so cool. We can learn so much about the universe by studying it in closer detail. And with how many aliens are now living at least part time on Earth, it only makes sense to explore and see what else might be out there.”

Bruce nodded at him. “I am sorry you aren’t able to become one.”

Danny just waved a hand in the air. “I came to terms with it a long time ago. And my current job is fine. Might not be what I would’ve chosen, but I’ve made it work for me.” Deciding he should change the subject before someone had the brilliant idea to ask more about his accident or job, he asked, “So what is for dinner, anyway? You’ve all talked about how amazing the food is, but what are we having?”

Someone tried to speak up, but Jason held up a hand. “I’m the one who helped Alfie cook. Demon-brat is vegetarian so we have a vegetarian curry. If you like meat, there’s a prime rib roast. Then a half dozen different sides—vegetables, rice, potatoes. Huge salad with all the fixings and a dozen different dressings to choose from. And dessert after.”

“Damn, that sounds amazing. I haven’t had a good home cooked meal in ages, so I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Has your Grandpa been keeping you that busy?” asked Jazz.

“That, but also getting things in order to take this evening off. There’s just been a lot. I’m spending the night at yours, by the way.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Danny knew he could rely on Jazz.

“Ooh, do you have any good stories about Jazz as a kid?” asked Jason.

Laughing, Danny said, “So many! But I don’t think we’ll be able to get to those tonight. I’ve a feeling you’ll be interested in other things by that point.” At his words, Robin grinned and pointed at himself. Danny gave him a slight nod to confirm that yes, they’d be talking about him.

Before Jason could ask for clarification, Alfred came in to announce dinner was ready.

Robin cheered and flew over to sit on Alfred’s shoulders, hand extended, to lead the way to the dinning room. Danny couldn’t hold back the chuckle and Jazz shot him a look which he ignored.

“There better be a place setting for you, Alfie!” called Jason as they followed.

“You made your opinion quite clear, Master Jason. And as I wish to meet your young lady and her brother as well, I have set myself a plate at the main table.”

Tim leaned over to whisper to Danny. “Alfred considers his role as butler very important. He rarely eats with the rest of us unless we join him in the kitchen.”

Danny nodded to show he understood, but had no idea how to actually reply to that. It seemed needlessly complicated.

Once they made it to the dining room, Danny grinned as Robin did a flip off of Alfred’s shoulders and landed sitting down on one of the place settings facing the associated chair. He bit his cheek to keep from laughing as Jason sat down at that same place. Jazz took a seat next to him and Danny sat to her other side. Dick ended up sitting next to him.

The scents of all the food wafting off the table made his mouth water and he closed his eyes just to breathe it in. “This smells amazing. Thanks Alfred. And Jason.”

Even Robin had moved to look over every dish, reaching out a hand to try and take something and sighing when he just phased through it.

Even Jazz looked a bit overwhelmed at the quantity of food. “This is so much effort. You didn’t have to do all this just for Danny and me.”

Bruce smiled at her. “It is so rare for all of us to be together for dinner so we make a spectacle of it any time it happens. And this is the first time Jason has ever brought anyone with him which makes it an even bigger event.”

Danny nudged her. “So, Jazz, what’s it like living with someone who can cook?”

Jason laughed. “Jazz isn’t allowed in the kitchen. You know, I caught her grabbing my chef’s knife before going into the fridge the other day!”

Danny furrowed his brow. “Of course she did. It’s a fridge.”

“Wait, is that a family trait? Why do you grab a knife to open the fridge? There’s gotta be a good story behind that.”

Before Danny could make the obvious statement regarding attacking food, Jazz elbowed him. “We’ll tell you later. It has to do with our parents and that’s a large topic and not one we should get into now.”

Before Danny could ask any questions about what the big deal was, Dick nudged him. “Which do you want—curry or beef?”

---------

Omake

Ignoring all of it, Danny shook his head and answered Dick. “Nah. Hard to get into college when you fail high school and are legally dead.”

Multiple people, including Jason, exclaimed at that statement and he looked to Jazz.

“Did Jazz not tell you about that? Our parents swear they saw my ghost and had me declared legally dead. I was missing at the time so the coroner agreed. Sighting the ghost of a missing person is all you need to confirm death in Amity.”

Under her breath, Jazz added, “You were only missing because they had you.”

Danny elbowed her and quietly chirped a Safe now.

Bruce was no longer smiling and was looking at Danny with narrowed eyes. “Your parents had you declared dead.”

“Yeah. It’s fine, though. I’ve an amazing doctor if I get into trouble. My grandfather is watching out for me. I’m financially stable. My partners are able to rent an apartment large enough for all three of us. I have other places to stay when I’m traveling. Honestly, it doesn’t impact my life all that much. Just means I’m not gonna go to college. And only reason I wanted to go to college was to be an astronaut, but my health makes that impossible.”

“Hn…” Bruce hummed.

And Danny had no idea what that meant, but Robin was now laughing, and Dick was exchanging grins with Tim, and Steph and Cass were whispering together. Damian was glaring at him even harder, blade hilt gripped in his hand. These people were strange.

Danny looked over at Jazz who shrugged. Jason was glaring at Bruce and said, “Don’t you dare.”

“Look, it’s really not a big deal. I know it’s kinda a messed up situation, but ghosts are generally treated really well in Amity. As well as any living human, at least. So long as you avoid the Guys in White and my parents that is. So outside of interactions with them, nothing has changed.”

“If you are ever in need of a place to stay or a meal or anything, you’ll have a room here,” offered Bruce.

Robin landed on Danny’s shoulders and was sending out happy-celebrate feelings. Steph handed Cass a few bills. Tim and Dick mimed giving each other fist bumps. Jason put his head in his hands and groaned. Duke was grinning at them all.

Damian half stood and said, “Father—!”

But Dick was at his side and pulling him back down to the couch with an arm around his shoulders, hand over his mouth, and whispering into his ear before he could do more than say the one word.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” Trying to think of anyway to change the subject, he asked, “So what’s for dinner, anyway?”

And for the Tag List! (Which absolutely exploded this week. Holy shit.)

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Next

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @emeraldcorpral

The celebration post for 100 followers will be going out in another day or two! I've just had a really busy few weeks and didn't do as much writing as I was hoping for. But I hope to finish writing today and then I'll just take a few hours to edit.

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing XII

Master list here (includes chapter links, character bios, and summary)

Warnings: scars, referenced near death experience, angst

Halle had never felt so stupid in all her life. Dylan never loved her. Was Dylan even capable of love? He had been alive for over a hundred years of course life had become boring. Dylan needed a source of entertainment and Halle cursed herself for falling for it.

But even as Halle thought that, she couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. Even if none of it had been real. It had felt real. And it had been real for her.

She made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t stoop to Dylan’s level and be so cruel. She would be professional. She would still take care of Dylan to the best of her abilities, even if Dylan was essentially scum of the earth.

“No better than Owen,” Halle muttered to herself as she made her way to the briefing room. She walked slowly to be sure she wasn’t going to run in anyone. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Dylan in two days and she was going to have to see him now.

“Ah, Halle, thanks for joining,” Thomas said as Halle shouldered open the door to the briefing room.

“Sorry I was late, I was checking our supply inventory.” Halle quickly hurried in and took a seat at the table.

She tried to not let her eyes find Dylan. But her traitorous heart couldn’t help but look. Dylan stood in the corner, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes were red rimmed and his lean face was puffy—unusual for Dylan. He looked as though he hadn’t slept since Halle left his room days ago. He didn’t look at Halle or any of the team assembled at the table. Was this all that were going to be allowed to go after Owen?

“Now that we are all here,” Thomas began, “I’m going to actually turn this over to Dylan. He has experience with Owen. It’s one of our advantages right now. So please, listen carefully. All our lives depend on it.”

Dylan didn’t move from his corner. Had Dylan even been paying attention? Halle could see the rest of the team get restless. Finally, Dylan spoke. “Owen is unlike any enemy you’ve faced before.”

“I’ve been on plenty of missions where we faced off against weapons. We did just fine,” Helena sneered.

Dylan turned and gave Helena his full gaze. “Owen isn’t like them. He’s much, much more powerful.”

“How do we know that you won’t join his side?” Another teammate—Benjamin—called out. It was a fair question. But Halle knew the answer without Dylan having to say. Dylan had no choice. And Owen didn’t want Dylan any more than Halle did.

Dylan didn’t respond. He surveyed the team gathered at the table, his eyes not resting any longer on a team member than necessary. He stared when he finally reached Halle. Halle refused to be the one who looked away first. If Dylan could toy with her heart like that, she could show Dylan how unbothered she was.

With a sigh, Dylan spoke again. “I have no desire to work with Owen ever again. Not after everything he has done—to the world and to me.” Dylan raised his shirt so that his scarred abdomen and chest showed. “Some of these are from other missions. But this one,” his fingers ghosted along a sickle shaped scar that stretched from his mid sternum to his left shoulder, “is from when Owen escaped and I tried to stop him. So no, I won’t be joining Owen in this lifetime.” Dylan let his shirt drop.

Dylan had said a mission went sideways years ago. That many people had died. He hadn’t lied. But he hadn’t been completely honest with her. He lied. Always. He had always been lying to her.

“Just listen to Dylan, he is our expert on Owen. Listen. All our lives and quite honestly the fate of the world are depending on this. So don’t fuck it up.” Thomas’s voice was biting and full of frustration.

“Thank you, Thomas,” Dylan said and sounded genuinely grateful. He ignored the angry whispers that whipped around the table. “As I was saying, Owen is unlike any enemy you have face. He’s….he’s like me. My powers are more similar to his than any enemy you have ever faced for against.”

“Then we’re sure to win because you’re always getting hurt,” Benjamin snickered.

Dylan ignored the comment and continued. “Owen has two distinct advantages over our team. The first is that we are going to try and take the fight to him, so we will be fighting Owen in his own home. And the second is that he is insane. Like really insane. And that makes him more unpredictable than any other enemy. It is going to take all of us cooperating completely to be able to take him down.”

Halle lost track of everything that was said in the meeting. It didn’t really matter to her. She wasn’t going to be actively pursuing Owen. She would be where she always was: behind everyone in the relative safety of the base camp the team had set up. She would only deploy to front lines if Dylan couldn’t be brought to her. And she was perfectly fine with that. She wouldn’t have to follow Dylan into battle. Wouldn’t have to watch him use his monstrous powers.

And she wouldn’t have to worry. Dylan didn’t love her, didn’t care for her. And so she didn’t have to feel that way any longer. Halle repeated the mantra over and over throughout the lengthy meeting. Thomas spoke often and Halle paid more attention during those parts than when Dylan spoke.

By the time everyone was dismissed with the order to be ready to move out in six hours, Halle realized she still wasn’t sure of her role. Perhaps she should have paid more attention.

“Dylan,” Halle said gruffly as she approached the weapon. Dylan never left his corner. He coolly surveyed Halle with his icy gaze. “What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Dylan’s voice was cold.

“It didn’t seem relevant to what I would be doing, so no. I won’t be joining you on the battle line. My job is to keep you alive. And I will do my job.”

“Will you?”

Halle could have sworn she saw something besides cruelty in Dylan’s gaze. But the moment passed and Dylan looked as cold and flat as ever. “Of course. I will do my job. I always do my job.”

“See that you do, Halle, because this all hinges on me. And I can’t take out Owen if you don’t do your fucking job.”

“I always do my job,” Halle said angrily. She stepped in very close to Dylan, craning her neck so she could make eye contact with Dylan. She hated Dylan with every fiber of their being, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t do their job. She was a professional. “And you better remember that, Dylan, because I am the reason why you are still alive. Never forget that.”

Before Dylan could reply, Halle spun on her heel and left. She would ask Thomas exactly what she would need to be sure was in her med kit. She didn’t need Dylan giving her orders. He was just a weapon. Halle would only ever take orders from her fellow humans. As she left the room she could have sworn she heard Dylan’s murmured response, “I never will,” but couldn’t be sure because the words sounded so soft and miserable, sounded like the Dylan she had fallen in love with. The fictional Dylan. Not at all like the Dylan she knew to be real.

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[pondermyorb]

The Evil Sorceress

(Inspired by an ask game question, thank you Miss Swan)

It’s only been 4 months since the great Sorceress began her evil plot, but it feels like it’s been years that I’ve been planning, preparing, readying myself for this moment. The day has finally come, the day me and my 6 companions set out to confront her.

We move at night, following the path we knew by heart, the movements practiced hundreds of times, before reaching the blind spot in their security, the north side of the tallest tower, where no patrol ever reached. We scaled the walls, going slowly, carefully, so as not to draw attention to ourselves.

We manage to climb into a window halfway up, and from there follow the castle map. We use servants passages, secret hallways, and side passages to avoid being seen. After two hours of this, we finally stand before the large oak doors that mark the throne room. As silent as can be, we open the doors, the rest of my party filing in while I take up the rear.

I smile to myself as I close the door, my destiny is close at hand~ I look at my six companions, in perfect formation just like I taught them, and walk to the front, taking my place at the head. As quiet as it is, the soft carpet beneath our feet hides the soft thuds that land behind them.

The room is filled with light, before us seated on the throne is none other than the evil Sorceress. My companions shout in alarm, drawn weapons pointed at her, then pause as I begin to kneel.

“My Mistress” I breathe out, voice filled with lust and longing. My companions begin to mutter to each other, wondering if I had been charmed somehow, even as the Sorceress raises her eye in a questioning manner

“I have avoided your thralls, avoided your control thus far, and for that I apologize~ I’ve always known it was my purpose to serve you, but not as some forgotten soldier patrolling a hallway. It is my purpose to wait on your every whim, every desire, to be your personal thrall ready to please you in any way you can imagine”

A soft chuckle escapes her lips, even as my companions shout in outrage. As one they jump forward to attack me, just as I taught them. And as one they’re restrained by the traps I dropped behind them, 6 individually wrapped people struggling against their bonds as I continue to look upon my Mistress.

“I have brought these 6 as offerings. They along with myself are the leaders of the survivors. Display them and you will break the spirits of those who remain~ The entire population will finally be where it belongs, under your perfect heel”

I bow my head as I hear the sorceress rise and walk over to me, heels clacking on stone before reaching the carpet where my companions lay struggling. I watch as, one by one, she lays her hand on the head of a struggling figure, before the figure goes still, a monotone “I serve my Mistress” in a voice I once knew sends chills down my spine.

As the last one is converted, I notice their bonds have all been undone, and they stand at attention, their eyes swirling with her power, glowing shades of red that mark an obedient drone. Her hand on my chin pulls my attention completely to her, a warm smile on her crimson lips.

“You will do perfectly” She whispers, her voice washing over me, the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. I feel her power swirling at her fingers, and obliterate my mind, leaving only thoughts of her; serving her, obeying her, pleasing her, worshiping her. No other thoughts remain, though even as my eyes take on the brilliant purple glow of a personal thrall, I can’t help but notice that my thoughts have hardly changed at all…

[verbenaa]

to eden | chapter seven

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: If there was ever a moment that Rin regretted drinking all of that wine it would be now as Astarion peers at her with thinly veiled interest, baiting her. All it takes is those few words for the mood of their conversation to change, Astarion twisting it to something darker and more seductive.

She absolutely hates the way her body reacts at the sound of his voice nearer to her, a familiar fire kindling deep in her belly and her heart skipping a beat.

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F!Tav

𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 5,814

𝒶/𝓃: hey let's just pretend it hasn't taken me 5 weeks to write this, ok? but for real, I'm so happy to be back on my regular grind and posting again! I hope you all like this chapter, and I'm excited to keep writing for these two idiots 🫡 let me know your thoughts in the comments and thank you to every single one of you who take the time to read, like, comment, reblog etc. you all mean the world to me!!!!! love you all byeeeeee

ao3 here

masterlist

Something in the air is wrong.

Whatever that something is, though, Rin can’t quite place her finger on. 

But there’s something off in smell of the air, the cloying scent of rotting leaves and decay sickening her, souring her stomach as they creep along the narrow pathway. 

Or perhaps it is the dead breeze that rattles bare branches as it carries the memory of death on its ghostly wind, the feeling of it making her shudder and turn in on herself with every brush of it against her skin.

All of it just wrong, wrong, wrong.

Rin bites her lip as she moves down the narrow path carefully on their trek further and further into this cursed world, fingers aching to grab at the blade she keeps strapped to her back if only to make herself feel a little bit better lest anything decide to surprise her by launching itself into stabbing range. 

Her chest is uncomfortably tight here, a subtle fear she will never admit out loud curling around her ribs, squeezing itself around her lungs with every breath she takes. 

Even Astarion has been left on edge, his hand gripping tight around a knife as he walks on Rin’s left, ever silent as he steps with care and his eyes rove back and forth along the darkness.

Perhaps the most wrong thing, though, is the one that they follow. The one who she had summoned with that lyre she had pilfered off of the corpse of that drow weeks and weeks ago in the depths of the goblin’s lair; plucking at its strings to play a haunting melody befitting of the horror that skitters on eight legs ahead of them along the trodden path towards Moonrise Towers.

Kar’niss, with his too many eyes and lips pulled into an eerie grin that the light from the moon lantern he carries does nothing to soften the lines of, sharp claws curled around the long post.

The Absolute really did pull a certain type, didn’t it? 

Rin sighs softly as her steps quicken, abhorring the idea of being any closer to Kar’niss than necessary but her fear of whatever it is lurking out in the darkness far surpasses her distrust of the drider.

But as they round a corner, she sees a movement in the shadows of a ruined building just beyond the path—subtle, barely recognizable in the darkness. Another a sweep of her eyes and she notices that there are people—real, living people—hiding all around them with weapons drawn and at the ready.

She’s not the only one who notices either, Astarion already adjusting his grip on the dagger as he readies it to throw and Shadowheart brandishing her glaive as she calls upon her dark Lady. 

And as Kar’niss calls for battle against the so-called heretics hiding in shadows, one thing becomes crystal clear: the Harpers’ mean to kill.  

It’s a split second decision, one she communicates through the rarely used tadpole that sits idle in her brain.

Kill the drider, he’s not the only ticket into Moonrise. 

They’ll manage without him.

Rin shares a brief, sweeping glance among her companions, all of them meeting her gaze in resolute agreement, and whether that agreement is for the sake of morality or for violence she doesn’t care, as long as they’ll fight along her side against whatever horrors await on the path ahead.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

The tightness in her chest doesn’t go away inside the warmth of the Last Light Inn but it loosens the smallest bit, no longer strangling around her insides as a candlelit glow washes over them and the Harpers mill about on all sides.

The goblet of wine she holds in her hand certainly doesn’t hurt, either. 

Jaheira—the one and only fabled hero of many a tale—looks at her from across the wide table, the strange upwards tick of her lips and carefully blank look in her eyes decidedly suspicious.

Rin takes a delicate sniff of the goblet in her hand, scenting a slight medicinal bitterness that doesn’t quite belong swirling amongst the red liquid. “Jaheira, I have to ask. Did you poison my wine?”

“This vintage is over a century old, you know. I’m sure a few drops of truth serum won’t affect the taste. Much.” The druid’s smile widens as she regards Rin with an appraising look, tawny eyes narrowing with interest as she waits for her next move.

“Well, in that case, even more reason to drink. Have you poisoned many people or am I one of the first?” Rin takes a dainty sip of the burgundy liquid, eyebrows raised pointedly towards the other woman as she swallows down the wine, the taste of it just a touch too bitter as she refrains from pulling a face at the acidity. “It’s an honor, either way.”

She doesn’t see but hears Astarion sputter behind her, face contorted into what she can only imagine as an expression of pure disbelief, positively aghast at her impulsivity as he scoffs.

Astarion’s apparent annoyance at her drinking the wine only serves to strengthen her resolve—a lovely, if unexpected, bonus that makes her smile.

With a shrug, she downs the rest of the goblet, another aggravated noise escaping the vampire from where he stands alongside Shadowheart, who releases a deep, weary sigh. “Still better than what the tieflings gave us back at the Grove.”

The wine goes down easily despite the taste of the truth serum, the flame of the taper wavering slightly as she sets her now empty goblet down onto the table between them. “So, what sort of burning questions do you need to ask me so badly that you decided to spike my drink in order to get the answers?”

“I had to know if you could be trusted. One can never be too careful when dealing with the Absolute. So I decided to add a few drops of a truth serum to your wine to speed up the process.” Jaheira finally takes a drink of her own wine, her eyes darting down to the now empty goblet resting innocuously between them. “Though I didn’t quite expect you to drink all of it.”

“One must live beyond expectation, don’t you agree?” An ungentlemanly snort sounds from behind her that Rin ignores, her most winning smile plastered on her face as she eyes the druid in front of her. 

The truth serum feels…strange as it begins to work its way through her body and up into her head; a certain weightlessness taking hold of her mind, as though she had drank one glass too many of wine, though with all of her thoughts and inhibitions still perfectly in place—not a one muddled or confusing or unnecessarily scandalous.

There is a certain inclination that rises up over all the others, a peculiar feeling that begs to break free of her lips with every question Jaheira asks, no lies able to be told under the potion’s spell.

And thus, the truth spills free from Rin’s lips.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

Rin slouches inelegantly against the back wall of the great room, eyes bouncing from person to person as she surveys the space. Such lodgings were more than they could have asked for, really. 

At least, in terms of what she expected to find on their little jaunt to these lands.

It certainly beats camping out at Moonrise, or she assumes as much. Rin doubts that whoever’s in charge over there would have the hospitality to serve her wine upon arrival much like Jaheira had, even if it was technically poisoned.

And so, under the famed druid’s blessing they had successfully made their camp and put away their armor—exchanging hard leather and heavy metal for worn-in linen and thin spun cotton, blissfuly free from the pressing darkness of the shadow curse and the menace of the Absolute, if only for the night.

Really, Rin’s only problem was the fact that her ankle still smarts somewhat from where Jaheira’s vines had held her a bit too tight for her liking earlier, leaving behind a small twinge of pain that she should probably have Shadowheart heal, if only she could be bothered to go find the cleric wherever she was busy sulking.

That, and, maybe the truth serum she had drank a little while ago that was still swirling around happily in her brain, though she can feel the power it holds over her weakening as the minutes go by. 

It was perhaps not her brightest idea to drink the wine. Her companions were quite vocal of their disapproval of such a decision afterwards. But it had earned them Jaheira’s tentative trust, and what good was it to make allies if they weren’t going to be heroes of legend? 

An evening spent with a little bit of klauthgrass in her system was a small price to pay for such a boon.

Or so she hoped.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rin sees a familiar figure making their way towards where she lurks at the back of the room, clearly intent on ruining her peace if the look of discontent Astarion levels at her as he stalks over is anything to go by.

Oh Gods, must it be him? She would gladly take anyone else’s conversation on a night like tonight, where truths threaten to break free when faced with nothing more than a mere question. She had already put in hard work of avoiding him earlier as they built their camp, finding reason after reason to skirt away elsewhere anytime he seemed to near her.

With a bracing breath, she takes a long drink from her cup to mentally prepare herself for whatever scolding it is that will fall from those beautiful lips with razor-sharp accuracy. 

He’s had the time to prepare it, thanks to all of her efforts to stave him away so far that evening.

Astarion sidles over to her, somehow managing to look more elegant than usual when he leans back against the wall next to her—perfectly casual and the picture of charm as he props a leg up, knee bent and arms crossed in front of his broad chest. He looks almost mesmerizing in the warmth of the inn, dancing candlelight reflecting off his snowy hair and illuminating his pale skin to near perfection. 

It’s a pity that the illusion of it all will be ruined by that poor attitude of his.

“Do tell, darling, was the wine worth it?” Irritation sparks on the edge of the words as they slice through the air, the level of judgment so easily revealed by such a simple sentence almost impressive.

She readies herself for the now familiar pull of the klauthgrass in her mind as it loosens her lips, any number of truths ready to slip free at his urging of her, and she has no doubt that Astarion is intending to waste such an opportunity.

Rin sends him a cursory glance as she takes another sip from her goblet, painting an easy smile on her lips. “I would say so, yes. It’s not everyday a girl like me from the Lower City gets to drink from such an expensive bottle.”

“Next time you want a nice bottle of wine, let me steal it for you instead of doing something utterly stupid that could have ruined our entire plan,” Astarion speaks through gritted teeth, voice kept low as he growls at her. 

“I thought you liked a little chaos in your day.” Rin can’t help the snicker that sneaks into the words, hiding it behind the cup that she raises to her lips.

“There’s sowing a bit of chaos and outright idiocy. You, my dear, are straddling the line a bit too close.”

“Why, Astarion, I didn’t know you cared.” The words are simpering in the way she knows Astarion will just hate, daring a glance up at the vampire beside her just in time to see his eyes roll.

“I don’t,” Astarion says cooly. “but I’ve been forced to go along with all of your awful little ideas so far and I would hate to see all my efforts wasted when I could have been enjoying myself in a tavern somewhere else instead.”

“Oh, please,” Rin huffs as she rolls her eyes, taking another drink. “You know perfectly well that you’re welcome to walk away whenever you feel like it.”

She shifts her weight as she attempts to ignore the imperious look Astarion sends her, wincing slightly as her ankle protests the movement.

Astarion gives a questioning look to the leg in question, his gaze assessing her for any weakness that he can exploit, much to her eternal chagrin. “Problem with your ankle, darling?”

She should have known that he would have noticed, eventually. He had been watching her all night, after all; a scowl etched onto his pretty features as he followed her every move with narrowed eyes as she talked to everyone else but him, no doubt preparing his every complaint for her. 

“Mm, yes,” Rin hums in confirmation, the word sneaking out without her consent thanks to the truth serum. She glares down at her dusty boots and the well-treaded rug covering the floor, its pattern long faded. “Jaheira’s vines were a bit tight for my liking. Not my preferred way to be restrained, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Oh?” Astarion’s voice drops an octave as he leans in further towards her, almost conspiratorial as his eyes gleam at the opportunity he hears in her words. “Do tell, what is your preferred way to be restrained, then?”

If there was ever a moment that Rin regretted drinking all of that wine it would be now as Astarion peers at her with thinly veiled interest, baiting her. All it takes is those few words for the mood of their conversation to change, Astarion twisting it to something darker and more seductive.

She absolutely hates the way her body reacts at the sound of his voice nearer to her, a familiar fire kindling deep in her belly as her heart skips a beat.

“With ribbons, obviously. Or maybe silk.” Her cheeks flush. Damn the klauthgrass.

She’s never been tied up, at least not like that; though the image is one that’s hard to brush away. She can see it far too easily in her imagination: Astarion between her legs, a lovely length of ribbon tied around her wrists, an actual bed— 

Rin brushes the thought away with a cough, taking a long drink from her wine in hopes of distraction.

“Oh, so is that the way you like it? Who knew that our little leader wants the nicest bottles of wine to drink from and the prettiest of ribbons to be wrapped all around her.” He’s teasing her and Rin wishes she could be angry with him but the image he paints is one that’s far too tempting for her to simply ignore.

“I do.” The truth pulls free from her once more, and she bites her lip in an effort to avoid saying anything else incriminating as a smirk slides across plush lips that she would like nothing more than to press her own against.

“And tell me, sweet thing, what else do you like?” Astarion leans in further, his lips practically brushing against the shell of her ear. She still can’t help the blush that has stolen its way across her face though she’s more than willing to blame it on the alcohol or the truth serum rather than his effect on her.

Rin stands perfectly still, resisting the urge to turn towards him as she sips from her wine, eyes looking at anything but him. She knows he expects her to reply with some sort of temptation that he can file away to tease her with later, at a moment when it’s most inopportune. 

But instead, another sort of answer comes to her mind first. One that she can barely stand to admit to herself, let alone speak aloud to him or anyone else.

She won’t allow the words to come out, working as hard as she can against the truth serum as it works its way deep into her mind, speaking to her with whispered words to let it out, let the truth set you free, tell him, tell him. 

“I like lots of things, Astarion. I love a good book, some well-aged cheese, winning a game of cards…I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

It’s a blessing, at first, that Astarion doesn’t answer her, the silence between them dragging as she mentally releases a sigh of relief that he abandoned that particular line of questioning and accepted the string of truths she managed to utter instead of the one that is bursting to be let free.

But when another beat of silence goes by unfilled with his honeyed words and she finally turns to look his way, her head snapping to the side, she finds his gaze on someone else.

Rin’s brow furrows as she follows Astarion’s line of sight only for her frown to deepen when she sees exactly who it is that has captured his attention. 

There, on the far side of the room sitting at one of the lanceboard tables that line the wall lurks an unfortunately familiar face. One that she had rather hoped to not have to see again after their last meeting outside of the Blighted Village.

Rin breaths out a noise of disbelief as all of the ease and relief she had been feeling earlier disappear into the ether. “Does he have no one else to bother?” 

Astarion deigns to leave her question unanswered, simply shooting her a look with a brow perfectly raised that stirs suspicion deep in her stomach, whatever idea it is brewing in that brain of his one Rin has distinct feeling she will not approve of.

Grim determination settles along his features as he pushes off the wall and strides forward, stepping confidently across the worn floorboard and threadbare rugs without waiting to see if she will follow.

Rin hastily sets her goblet down on the bar several steps away, the wine sloshing over the side of the silver cup in ruby red drops and onto the stained wood below. One of the tieflings from the Grove, Rolan if she remembered correctly, briefly looks up from where he is buried in his own drink to send her a glare as he broods pitifully in his seat.

She barely manages to catch up, arriving just in time to hear Raphael’s low drawl, swallowing down the grimace that threatens to break free and instead settling for a placid smile that gives nothing away to the cambion now in front of her.

“Well, well, well. And what is it we have here?”

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

The smell of brimstone is still thick in the air after Raphael’s little disappearing act, cinders drifting down to dust the worn herringbone floors where he had been standing. 

Fucking Raphael and his fucking deals.

“He really has some nerve, doesn’t he?” Rin’s arms are crossed in front of her chest as she hmphs, turning to Astarion to hear what she assumes will be his agreement.

But instead, her vampiric friend is mysteriously absent from his place next to her; and with a turn of her head she sees Astarion stalking out of the large doors of the inn, pace clipped as he weaves through a sea of Harpers.

“Astarion!” Rin spins around, calling after his retreating figure once before following after him.

An unwelcome frustration bubbles in her chest alongside the beginnings of distress and she quickens her pace, his lithe form no doubt clinging to whatever shadows he can find outside. She’ll be lucky if she’s able to spot him at all with all the darkness that exists here, even with the incandescent glow of Selûne’s blessing reflecting off of everything it touches.

“Astarion, wait!” Rin’s voice caries across the yard as her feet patter across the patchy grass, dodging the armored bodies of the Harpers as she goes. Wherever Astarion is, he either doesn’t hear her or refuses to hear her as she moves closer and closer towards the outer edge of the protective circle of magic. 

Her steps slow as she enters their campsite and the liveliness of the inn seems worlds away here in the silence. There are no animals here—no birds chirping or bees buzzing, only an otherworldly quiet that has her ears buzzing.

With a turn of her head, she finally sees Astarion exactly where she thought he’d be, standing tense at the edge of the riverbank as he faces the bleak landscape across the black water.

“Was it necessary to walk so fast?” They’re all alone as she nears him, her footsteps painfully loud in the otherwise quiet of the night.

He whirls around to her, agitation rippling off of him in waves as he glares at her. “Do you not know how to take a hint, or are you really that dim?”

Rin rolls her eyes, breathing out a sigh of agitation. “I’m the dim one? What are you even thinking to consider making a deal with Raphael?” 

“What am I thinking? I am thinking that there is more to whatever the thing is that Cazador carved into back. I am thinking that I have to figure out what it is. I am thinking that Raphael is my best chance to get the information that I need.”

His voice echoes off the bare branches of the trees as he yells, bitterness coloring his tone as he glares at her, the precise shade of his eyes—an angry incarnadine, she thinks—cementing itself into her memory.

“I understand, Astarion. I do. But I don’t think you should make a deal with him. Not with Raphael.” Rin wrinkles her nose in distaste at the mere thought of the cambion being able to hold anything over any of their heads, but especially over Astarion’s.

“You do not understand a thing.” He seethes at her. “I have one chance, and one chance only, to get this information. You will not stop me.”

“I’m not stopping you,” She stands strong in the face of his anger, fingers curling as she balls them into fists, nails biting crescents in the flesh of her palms. “But do you really think Raphael can be trusted? What if he makes you sign your life away for it?"

“And do tell, dearest Rin, why do you care so much about what I do with my life?” He spits out the words as though they burn, eyes glinting with the knowledge that he can ask her whatever he wants and she’s powerless to do anything but answer.

With a start, she realizes it’s the first time he’s ever said her name aloud, at least to her own ears. The revelation settles over her with a hazy sort of wonder that has no place in their fight as she replays the sound of her name formed by lips in her mind, turning it over again and again.

And it’s suddenly so perfect—so Astarion—that the first time he ever utters her name out loud isn’t when he tries to charm her with cheap pick up lines or in the midst of pleasure as he takes her to bed, but instead practically shouted at her in anger during an argument. 

Frustration eddies out of her like the tide rolling back out to sea and an aching, unfamiliar tenderness for the man standing in front of her fills in the space that it leaves as her expression softens.

“Because I don’t want to see something bad happen to you, you idiot. Is that really so difficult to understand? Do you need me to spell it out for you word by word?” Rin’s hands reach out to grab at his shoulders, as though she could shake some sense into him.

It’s a truth she doesn’t mind speaking, not when Astarion just stands there staring at her in vague disbelief as the cogs in his brain work to solve the puzzle of her words and the ire that had burned so readily in his gaze extinguishes, somehow giving way to everything and nothing all at once—confusion, distrust, vulnerability. 

“I’ll make you a deal, instead. I may not be a devil but—”

“You’re devil enough, I assure you,” Astarion cuts in with a lukewarm murmur.

“As I was saying,” Rin glares up at him halfheartedly as her grip loosens on his shoulders. “let me make you a deal. I swear, upon my grave, that we can and will find another way. Without using Raphael’s help.”

Astarion looks at her curiously, arms held straight by his sides as he stands perfectly still underneath the warmth from her palms. “At the rate we’re going, your grave is likely to be on an unmarked hillside somewhere between here and Rivington, darling. Pick something better to promise me with,”

Her fingers move to absently run over the line of his shoulders as she shifts her attention to his collar and the ostentatious ruffles that decorate the front of his shirt, slightly rumpled and not at all put together the way Astarion likes to pretend himself to be.

“Is swearing on my grave not devilish enough?” Her fingers run lightly over the ruffles of his shirt, the linen softened by time as she fluffs them back to rights. “How about my soul then?”

“It’s a step in the right direction, at least.” He’s infinitely haughty as he huffs, glancing away to look instead at one of the nearby trees that surround their campsite.

“You’re impossible.” Rin lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, then. I swear to you, on my soul,” she waves a hand through the air to add embellishment to her words. “that we will find a way without Raphael’s help. We can figure it out, I have faith.”

Rin knows her words have no actual binding, no infernal magic present to swirl around them and make her words true. She knows that it’s not even a real promise she can make, and certainly not a good enough one to ever tempt him. 

But it’s all she has to offer him, and she can only hope it will be enough.

Astarion’s eyes snap back to hers, narrowing as he raises an elegant brow. “Faith in what? I hardly think the Gods are listening. Or care, for that matter.”

“Well,” Rin’s fingers stop, biting her lip in consideration at his question as she waits for an answer, the true answer, to come to her unbidden with the help of the truth serum that still lingers. “faith in us, I suppose.”

It’s maybe the worst thing she’s ever said, the words coming out far too soft and—ugh, gods—sweet. But the most terrible thing about it is that she doesn’t hate the way that the truth feels slipping free from her lips nearly as much as she knows she should.

She needs to stop talking before she digs herself into an even deeper hole. Perhaps she should start taking off her clothes in hopes to distract him.

Her hands return to action in the wake of her honesty, smoothing them over his collar once, twice, before averting her eyes from his to glance at where her fingers begin to twine around the ties at his throat.

“That’s a terrible plan, you know.” 

Rin pulls at one of the strings perhaps a tad harder than necessary as she looks up once more with a glare at the ready. Any retort she has dies on her lips as she meets his eyes; wholly unprepared for the sheer intensity simmering there in the depths of his gaze.

Her hold softens on the laces, fingers going slack as she swallows. She’s unsure exactly of what name to put to look she sees—not lust, or anger; but something else—as those familiar dark crimson eyes flit down to her lips and she suddenly finds it much harder to breathe.

“Well, it’s better than anything you could ever come up with, that’s for sure.” She speaks in barely a whisper, Astarion watching every single word fall from her lips before his eyes trail their way up and over her features as if memorizing every detail before finding her own gaze.

A new kind of anticipation, one that she’s never felt before, curls in her stomach as Astarion releases a vexing sigh. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what you could mean. My plans are always excellent.” 

The words are pompous, irritating; and a part of her wishes desperately that she could hate him for all his arrogance and put-on charm, but instead something in her chest swells as she huffs out a short laugh.

With an impossible slowness, Astarion dips his head towards her, lashes half lowered over darkened eyes that still stare at her own, no doubt a fever-bright green as her freckled cheeks flush under the fullness of his attention. 

A breath catches in Rin’s throat as she angles her face up to meet him, the tips of their noses brushing as his lips close in on her own. She’s eager for the feeling of his kiss, has been wishing for it all evening—a fact she’s only willing to admit with the help of the truth serum.

And as her lashes flutter shut against her cheeks and her palms press flat against the planes of his chest, heart jumping against her breast as his lips are nothing but a hairsbreadth away; a familiar voice booms out from some distance behind them.

“Oi, Rin, Fangs!” The moment shatters as Karlach’s voice fills the camp, carrying far as it breaks through the silence surrounding them.

Rin’s eyes blink open wide just as Astarion takes two hasty steps backwards, surprise flashing over his features before he covers it masterfully, an impenetrable wall back in place within mere seconds.

Her hand raises to her still untouched lips, mourning the loss of his closeness as she stands bewildered by their almost kiss.

Astarion straightens his shirt, brushing out an imaginary wrinkle as he looses a breath, refusing to meet her eyes. “I will keep your…offer in mind, darling, but no promises.”

“It’s your choice in the end Astarion, but…I don’t like it.” Rin fights to keep the minute disappointment she feels from crossing over her features. She knew it was nothing more than a fools’ errand to try and sway him, but she doesn’t regret it. 

Not yet, at least.

“Well, it’s a good thing it’s not your decision to make, isn’t it?”

A frown settles between her brows as Astarion finishes his assessment of himself and finally looks at her again, any figment of emotion that had been there mere moments ago effectively washed away as he dons the mask of a charlatan once more.

“Right. Well, goodnight. Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.” Astarion sends her one of his trademark smirks as he rolls his shoulders back, standing up straight as he looks down his nose at her. “Unless, of course, you want to be thinking of me. In that case, feel free to worry over me to your heart’s content.” 

With one last, maddening little wave he retreats to his tent without sparing her a single glance, leaving Rin to stand there alone in the middle of camp, a hand still poised over her lips and discontent coiling in her chest.

Karlach finally emerges from between two tents, a frothy pint in hand that she uses to gesture towards Rin, ale threatening to spill over the edge as she inclines her horned head in greeting. “Hey, Solider! Want to come join for a game of cards or some shit like that?”

With nothing else to do, Rin turns towards Karlach with a smile and a nod before she heads back towards the wavering light of the inn in the distance with the intent to drink herself into absolute oblivion.

It’s easy to follow Karlach and fall back into the familiar routine of indulgence—to drink more wine and lie to herself that the blush that stains her cheeks the rest of the evening is from the klauthgrass, or the alcohol, or the laughter she shares with her friends and not at all because of the fact that Astarion had almost kissed her. 

It didn’t matter that they had shared far more than kisses already, bypassing the standard order of things and jumping straight into sleeping with one other. 

That was what they had both wanted, wasn’t it? 

And it was what Astarion’s silly little game has always been about, had it not? She still hadn’t been able to figure out the rules, but she was sure it had to do with her as his conquest—his prize—though for what reason she’s yet to glean. 

It was one thing to be friends who slept together. 

But it was another thing entirely to be friends who simply kiss, and the thought consumes her for the rest of night no matter how many more glasses she downs in hopes to chase it away.

It’s late when Rin finally lays down in her bedroll that night, the klauthgrass blissfully absent from her body yet her mind still swirling with the revelation that she is perhaps far more fucked than she would like to admit. 

She’s signed, sealed, and delivered her fate just as surely as she’s sealed another letter to him with a cheap wax seal, written when the last of that terrible, evil truth serum still poisoned her mind along with a few cups of wine too many. 

That stupid letter, one that is never to be delivered; the contents of which contain the answer to that damned question he asked her earlier.

And tell me, sweet thing, what else do you like?

And so she did the next best thing she could think of to rid herself of words that still begged to be spoken aloud; grabbing a piece of parchment and her quill and ink before sitting down to write the answer, hoping that she could seal the feelings into the ink on the page and leave them there to dry, freeing herself of them forever.

If she had any mind at all, she would march out of her tent and throw the letter into the roaring fire at the center of camp so that the words it contains could burn to cinders, never to be read.

Because Astarion could never, ever know that what she really liked—more than his body, his clever words, his awful sense of humor, or how lovely he looks when he focuses on his sewing next to her by the fire at night—was him.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

hi! I'm new to the beatles lore and I've been trying to catch up on an insane level of information for weeks. it's been fun but also heartbreaking 💔💔 anyways, I wanted to ask a couple of questions if that's ok? for example, I keep seeing this narrative that john was using yoko as some sort of weapon against paul... what was john trying to achieve by that I mean where does this idea even come from? according to this, john was hurting paul on purpose while he was singing him love songs in the studio asking him to be partners again (as in songwriting creative partners) WHAT WOULD JOHN ACHIEVE DOING THAT? also it sounds very one sided like paul is the most innocent in the break up eventho he was the one who came up with a secret album and a lawsuit. I don't know what to think. before knowing them I used to think lennon was in love and on drugs so he got so annoying to the point that he broke up the band but now...

Hi there! Welcome to the fandom! don't worry about feeling overwhelmed at first there is a LOT to take in.

I want to say, I do get the feeling you are somewhat mixing things up here, though I don't particularly blame you for being confused. (if not then sorry! just want to clarify as much as I can)

Tedious as it sounds, I find keeping a timeline in my mind (ideally, accurate to the month) helpful to provide some clarity regarding the breakup era specifically, so the period of 1968-1971. John's studio taunting you're referring to would have happened between mid '68 and mid '69, but Paul worked on his solo album (what I presume you meant by "his secret album", though it wasn't all that secret – John had already released solo music of his own by that point*) in late '69 and early '70. He filed a lawsuit against the others in late '70.

*I think you're conflating the album itself with the fact that, along with the release of McCartney (said album), Paul "surprise revealed" he had quit the band to the public, which the other band members, especially John, were not impressed with.

That being said, the events of the breakup are still convoluted at best, even to "seasoned" fans, I'd say. One of my main pieces of advice I can provide as someone who's been doing this for more than 3 years is get comfortable with not knowing things and with some of the actors involved doing something fundamentally irrational sometimes. They're humans, they don't always make sense and they won't always be forthcoming about why they behaved the way they did.

Which brings me to the narratives you mention: I say this as nicely as possible, but sometimes people want to tell themselves the best story rather than the most truthful one. It's more important to some that John is taunting Paul out of some twisted form of love than why specifically.

To answer your question regarding where this particular idea comes from, I would say: Paul has indicated that he felt John replaced him with Yoko (in whatever way he meant by that – some think it's sexual, some it's about creative partnership, or simply as a best friend); John's behaviour clearly and drastically shifted for the worse in mid '68, which is around the time he got together with Yoko, left his family, and started doing heroin; footage from Get Back shows John both all over Yoko and trying to reach out to Paul periodically.

There's probably more, but I don't know if there's much point in getting into the weeds of it right now. My point is: it's not the only valid theory, IMO, and probably not the whole truth if it is true, but it's not unfounded.

I think it may be a misstep to dismiss a theory because "what would John achieve by that?" Again, people are not always acting in a way that strictly makes sense, especially not people with the issues John struggled with. Some people might say John was testing Paul, trying to make him fight for him. Some might say John had an outright sadistic streak. Others that he was too out of it to notice the pain he was inflicting on others. I think it could very easily be a mix of all three. When dealing with human emotions, I personally think it's a mistake to assume things are simple and straightforward, which is why a lot of tinhattery turns me off. It very often feels like a blanket-statement self-confirming axiom, rather than a truly thoughtful and multifaceted argument.

My most condensed version of events would be: John became incredibly difficult to work with in multiple ways (including but not limited to bringing Yoko to the studio) by mid '68; Paul, for the most part, tried to accomodate him, to diminishing returns, while having his own longterm relationship fall apart and being completely in over his head running a brandnew business; Paul deals with distress by burying himself in work, the other three do not – this leads to further conflict, along with issues over creative control; the band decide they need a new manager type to help them out with their new business and provide the guidance they haven't had since Brian died; cue John wanting Klein and only Klein and massively distrusting Paul's "nepo" choice of Eastman + apparently not trusting Paul's belief that Klein was bad news; extreme resentment over money issues which are incredibly underrated by the fandom because at their core they are boring, emotionally, ensue; John decides he's "over" the band and tells the others he's out; Paul is destroyed over this (and everything that led up to it), spends months spiraling and recording his album; wanting to get this all out of the way, Paul finally breaks down and admits he's leaving the Beatles to the world and to the band itself, even though he had asked John to stay quiet about his own quitting the band months earlier; John (understandably, IMO, though I don't blame Paul exactly – this is what I mean by not everything makes perfect sense) assumes Paul is using the band breakup for PR and gets a hell of a lot angrier than he already is about the money stuff; John undergoes primal therapy which opens up about 43273289635298 wounds; John does an interview in which he spills his guts and tears down almost everyone in his life except Yoko; meanwhile more financial issues. I cannot overstate that those matter too, tumblr is just not a place where finance peeps hang out; Paul is getting more and more fed up with all of this and he, as a last resort, files a lawsuit to no longer be legally tied to the others.

I for the most part left out George and Ringo here* and I'm writing off memory here without re-checking sources, so take what I say with a massive grain of salt. My main point is that this shit is complicated and don't let people tell you it isn't.

*I'm of the opinion that John and Paul are at the center of the breakup, but they also aren't the be-all, end-all of it. But because in the end George and Ringo fell "in line" with John and you didn't ask about them, I decided to mostly leave them out.