#it's supposed to be fun but i feel like i'm on the brink of an art block/burnout :(

[honeyixi]

another year, another neopets character

[leclerc-hs]

broken lamps - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: anon request 'Charles flying to see his lover in another country but getting so needy he ends up fucking her in the hallway of her apartment on the floor.' Warnings: smut, 18+, spitting, unprotected sex Word Count: 1,239 Author's Note: please comment any thoughts!!! I love hearing feedback. I had fun writing this!! Hopefully it's up to your standards. I'm still new at this whole writing thing. BUT ANYWAYS CHARLES P2!!! BITTERSWEET END TO THE SEASON. CAN'T BELIEVE ITS OVER. TIME TO TOSS THE SF-23 IN THE TRASH!!!!!! French edits made by @shewantsvengeance!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

CHARLES WAS NOT a particularly needy person. In fact, one would say that he tended to be self-sufficient and independent. But when he was needy, he was needy. And quite demanding too.

He wasn’t supposed to be home for another two days, but he couldn’t bear the idea of having to wait longer.

For three long weeks, the absence of your touch weighed heavily on him. Your inability to attend the races due to work in the past few weeks had taken a toll, unraveled his composure and pushed him to the brink of madness.

Which is how he found himself standing in front of your door in the middle of the night, urgently pounding his knuckles into it. A suitcase at his side, and his hair disheveled. He was already hard. He hasn’t even seen you yet, and he could already feel the blood rushing to his cock.

You could barely unlock the door before feeling him push it open and slamming it shut, leaving his suitcase abandoned in the hallway of the apartment building – long forgotten in the heat of the moment. 

He was so needy. He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t even wait to go down the hallway to the bedroom.

His lips immediately pressing into yours as he pulled you into him.

“Bébé, I need to feel you,” He groaned in between kisses, pushing you up on top of the table in the entry way of your apartment. His hands exploring every inch they could find, kissing and biting into your skin with intense desire. He repeatedly brushed himself up against your lace covered core, letting you feel just how hard he was. How much he wanted you. How much he needed you.

It was almost too easy. You were only in a silk robe, with lace underwear and a thin tank top.

“Charles,” you moaned, feeling the pads of his fingers slip past the lace to rub your clit in soft circles. You gazed up at him as he hastily pulled down your spaghetti strap tank top, allowing your breasts to spill over the fabric. His other hand immediately pinching your nipple in between his thumb and forefinger.

The attack of his hands on your nipples and your clit was enough to send you over the edge quickly. He knew your body like the back of his hand. Like it was his. Because it is.

“So fucking hot,” Charles groaned as he watched the lace of your lace underwear dampen from your orgasm. “Missed you so much baby,” he leans over to press his lips to yours amidst your moans.

Your hands roamed his body, which was still mostly clothed, aside from his sweats half shoved down. Too impatient to fully get undressed. You glanced down at his cock; it was smooth, and you could see the precum dripping from it. Poor baby, you thought.

“I need you,” you squeezed his biceps as Charles stood up straighter and looked down at you.

His gaze darkened, and you could feel it penetrating your soul. It carried a possessive intensity. His left hand firmly gripped your hip, anchoring you to the small entryway table. He stood between your legs, leaving them spread completely.

“Gonna take all of me like a good girl, right?” He mocked as he aligned himself with your entrance. He didn’t push in right away, just held it there as he stared down at you pressed against the table. Like you were his own personal feast. 

You couldn’t find the words. All you could do was nod your head eagerly.

“Look at you,” his fingers rolled one of your nipples between them slowly, “my sweet little girl just waiting to be fucked hard until you cum all over my cock.”

“Please,” you begged. You were not against begging. Especially if it meant you could finally feel him. You couldn’t slip out another beg before he pushed himself right into you. The burning stretch eliciting moans from both of you.

“Merde,” he hissed. The squeeze of you on his cock was heavenly. “So warm, ma chérie” He was ravaging you now. There was something different with Charles tonight, not by much – but a slight difference. He was more urgent and eager than normal. Like you would disappear into thin air if he didn’t grip your hips so tightly. 

His gaze never faltered from yours as his hips rocked into yours aggressively. The room was full of breathy moans and the entry level table banging into the wall along with each thrust of Charles hips into you. 

The force of his hips sent the small white lamp tumbling to the floor, shattering it no doubt. Neither of you bothered to glance at it. Too unraveled in each other. It was as if you didn’t even hear the lamp break.

One of your hands grasped your knee closer to your chest, while the other gripped onto Charles bicep of the arm that pressed into your neck. His hand squeezing your neck ever so slightly with just the right amount of pressure.  

“Charles, I’m going to,” you didn’t even finish your sentence before he cut you off.

“Yeah? Again? That quick?” He was so fucking cocky. “Open up for me, baby.” 

You didn’t even have to question what he meant. Instantly opening your mouth, he spit a string of his saliva into your mouth. His eyes burning into your soul. You felt your pussy clench around his cock at the feeling of his saliva hit your tongue.

“Fuck. Your tight pussy can barely fit me, huh?” It was so tight. Charles could feel himself shuttering at the feeling. “Need to stretch you out. Three weeks was too long?” His hips were faltering with each thrust as he felt himself edging closer to his orgasm.

A sound similar to a sob claws out your throat as his cock perfectly hits your g-spot. Over and over and over. 

“Please, I need to,” you were a whimpering mess. Charles found it so endearing how hard you would try to wait for his permission. 

“Not yet,” You thought you could cry on the spot. Until he yanked you off the table and onto the floor. You now straddling him.

“Rub that pretty pussy all over me baby,” He was leaned up on his two arms, looking at you with an eyebrow cocked and smirk. “Get yourself there.”

You felt yourself immediately working yourself over his cock. His eyes were all over the place. Looking at your face, the bounce of your breasts, and the way he disappears into you. The position driving him much deeper than before and the feeling of your clit brushing against him was too much.

It was like he knew. Knew all the signs that you were there. “Oui, mon amour,” he replied, “let me feel you.”

It was only a few more strokes before you felt yourself cumming all over Charles. The sound of your moans getting choked up as you pulled Charles up closer and pulled his lips to yours. 

He quickly rolled over you, pulling out and releasing all over your tank top, some hitting your breasts. 

You were exhausted, a limp pile of bones, as you felt him collapse down onto you. Not even caring that his cum was all over you both now. He just wanted to be close to you. 

You were smiling hard up at him. Soft laughs were now leaving your mouth, “Guess I should buy a new lamp.”

He scooped you up and carried you to the bed. The bed he couldn’t make it to earlier.

“Unless you want another lamp to break, let’s not bother.” 

[wanders-in-wonderland]

A Game

My arms are tied behind my back and I'm sitting on a bench with my legs straddling it. I'm blindfolded and gagged, with no idea what to expect.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of footsteps and a deep, silky voice calls out, "Darling, how are we feeling?" I whimper into the gag as I feel him come closer. I flinch when his fingers dance lightly across my skin as he cups my tits before flicking my nipples.

"I want to play a game," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "You see, I invested in a lovely little something that's supposed to make little toys like you so desperate and so horny that you can only focus on cumming. But I want to see if that's true, and if so, how powerful it can be."

I can hear him rustling around and the metal clinking of different things makes me even further on edge. I whimper and flinch when I feel him rub something cold against my arm and the smell of rubbing alcohol hits my nose. Before I can process what is going on, I feel the sting of a needle going into my arm. He'd injected me.

It doesn't take long for me to figure out that he'd injected me with an aphrodisiac, the "investment" he'd mentioned. I can feel my whole body heating up, my nipples harden into peaks, my clit pulses, and I feel my pussy clench rhythmically. I'm panting slightly as I feel my body completely overwhelmed with need and I know that if he were to take my gag out, I'd be begging him to touch me, fuck me, please make me cum.

I can feel my pussy leaking onto the bench, creating a puddle. He laughs softly from behind me and suddenly, I feel his hand wrap around my throat. He tightens his grip slightly, restricting my airway just enough to make breathing a little more difficult and the lack of oxygen makes me even dizzier with need.

"I want to see if you'll pick your needy little cunt over your need to breathe," he murmurs darkly. I'm too delirious to fully comprehend what that means as my hips start to thrust slightly, desperately trying to create some kind of friction on my clit to relieve the pressure.

He lets go of my throat and I gasp as much as I can over the gag. I feel him walk away for a brief moment before he's back. He brushes something lightly over my neck and I realize it's rope. He loops the rope over my head and wraps it around my neck, tying it loosely. Then, I feel him walk away again and I hear the sound of more rustling and I start feeling slight tugs on the rope. The tugs become more insistent and I have to stand up from the bench I'm straddling just to keep it from choking me.

Eventually, I feel the tugs stop, but now I realize that he'd tied the other end of the rope so high up that I can't sit back down without restricting my own breathing by essentially hanging myself. I hear him laugh as he watches me, "Have you figured it out yet, honey? Maybe this will help."

I hear the buzzing of a vibrator break the silence and then I feel it. He presses the bulb of the toy against my clit and I moan deeply as my hips start to move. He pushes the vibrator hard against my clit and I'm whimpering from the pleasure. The aphrodisiac has made me so sensitive and needy that the few seconds of the vibrator has pushed me to the brink of an orgasm. But before I can fully enjoy it, he pulls it away. I whine into my gag and beg as best as I can.

"Now, here comes the fun part," he says, "I'm going to put this vibrator right here on the bench. Right where your little clitty would be if you were sitting. Now the only problem is, if you want to sit, you're going to have to choke yourself with that rope. And that is the game." He laughs darkly as the realization of my predicament hits me.

I desperately try to rub my thighs together to relieve some of the burning need but it doesn't help. My clit is throbbing at the idea of the vibrator, and I'm so, so needy that I can feel my pussy clenching.

I tentatively try to lower myself down a little bit. I can barely feel the vibrator brushing my clit before I reach the limit of the rope. I whimper when the severity of my predicament hits me. The slight sensation of the vibrator is making my eyes roll but it doesn't help to relieve any of the need that's been building up inside of me.

I can feel my body begging my mind to rearrange its priorities. I'm so desperate to cum that I'm willing to deprive my body of oxygen just so I can make this need go away. If I were more coherent, I would be humiliated by myself, but right now, I'm too far gone to care.

The desperate part of my brain takes over and I let myself sit down fully onto the vibrator. A choked gasp leaves me, both from the relentless pleasure that overwhelms me and from the tight rope around my neck that restricts my airway. The rope isn't tight enough that I can't breathe at all, but it's enough to make my head spin.

I vaguely hear him laugh but all I can focus on is the pleasure rushing through me. I can feel myself barreling towards an orgasm and if I had more air, I'm sure I would be screaming and moaning from all the sensation. I feel my face redden from the lack of oxygen and I'm becoming lightheaded. I'm so close to cumming but before I can push myself over that edge, I feel my body lift up from the vibrator as my instinct to breathe kicks in. Air floods my lungs as the rope loosens and I feel tears well up in my eyes. My own body betrayed me, picking oxygen over my orgasm.

He laughs in delight, "Oh poor honey, looks like you don't want to cum that badly yet."

I'm panting and shaking slightly, my legs barely having enough strength to keep my body up. I want to sob at how unfair it all is but I'm too focused on drawing in as much air as possible.

"Hm, let's tip the balance honey," he says and I feel him wipe my arm again with an alcohol wipe. I whine when I feel the second injection. He dosed me again. Immediately, I feel the effects of the aphrodisiac grow exponentially. My pussy flutters and my clit pulses even harder. The need multiplies inside of me, pushing me towards the brink of my sanity.

I'm so desperate that I don't hesitate this time when I sit down onto the vibrator. I feel my eyes roll up into my head as the sensation on my clit pushes me toward the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced. The lack of oxygen makes everything more sensitive, and I let out a gurgled scream when my orgasm hits, my pussy spraying my release all over the bench and the vibrator. I let myself ride out the orgasm before I get my feet back under me, standing to let myself breathe and to let my clit recover a little from the onslaught of stimulation.

I'm panting from the rope and the orgasm as I shake slightly. But as my orgasm fades, the need rebuilds. "Oh honey, you're going to need more orgasms than just one to burn through all the drugs in your system." His voice barely breaks through the haze in my mind, and I briefly wonder what I must look like right now, tied up and strung out.

My body drops back onto the bench and I let the vibrator ravage my clit, relieving some of the torturous need inside of me while I gasp for air that just won't go into my lungs. I chase every orgasm like this, pressing myself to the vibrator for as long as I can before the need for air forces me to leave it behind. I cum three more times but still, the drug-induced need doesn't fade, despite the overstimulation that makes me want to stop.

I'm crying after my fourth orgasm, face permanently pink from the stimulation and air restriction. Suddenly, I feel his hands on my shoulders, gently massaging my neck. I whimper when I feel him step closer to me and I let myself lean into him.

"Are you enjoying the game, honey?" He murmurs into my ear before kissing the side of my neck softly. I whine in response and before I can even get my bearings, he shoves me down onto the vibrator. I'm not prepared this time and I lose what little air I have in a scream. He doesn't seem to care as he pushes my body down onto the vibrator, keeping me from coming up for air. I'm writhing, the vibrator pushing me toward another orgasm as I gasp uselessly.

He's too strong for me and I can't do anything but accept the overwhelming pleasure and lack of oxygen. The lightheadedness makes my head spin when my body clenches as I cum. My cunt flutters around nothing and my clit burns with overstimulation. He doesn't let up, forcing me to ride out this orgasm as another builds quickly. I don't even know if it's a separate orgasm or a continuation of the earlier one when my pussy gushes again and squirts all over the bench. I'm shaking as my vision goes white and the overwhelming pleasure and lack of oxygen breaks me. I feel myself fade out of consciousness as my body goes limp under his hands.

I wake up to my body burning from soreness. I'm cradled in his arms in bed and he smiles at me when he sees I'm awake. His lips meet mine and I press myself closer against him, ignoring my groaning muscles. "Did you like our game, honey?" He whispers to me. "I loved it."

[mommynott]

Just thinking of being enemies with benefits with Theo-

Oh my god, yes. Enemies with benefits with Theo makes me droooooool. The way he would taunt you. Mess with you. Just to fuck your brains out later. I had this idea of reader working at the three broomsticks….👀

TW: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, CHARS 18+, Uni AU, enemy!theo, dom!theo, rough sex, choking, slight brat taming, dom&sub, semi-public fuck, degrading, dirty talk, edging, PIV

“Funny…you think your actions don’t have consequences, hm?” Theodore growled through his rough thrusts. One hand wrapped around your throat while the other held you up against the wooden wall. Gasps, whimpers, hissing. That’s all that could free from your now swollen lips.

It wasn’t unlike Theo to come visit while you worked at the pub, but given the track record between you two, you never expected him to be balls deep inside of you in one of the rooms above the three broomsticks…but here you were.

“Such a fucking little brat-fuck…telling your friend to serve me instead of you, huh?”

He husked right along the apple of your cheek, his strong hand tightening around your neck while he pounded into you. You see…Theodore wasn’t too thrilled when he showed up to the pub only for you to have your coworker switch tables with you.

You weren’t friends. Dating. Lovers. No. You were enemies who….occasionally liked to have some ‘fun’ together. As confusing as it was you couldn’t deny the attraction you had for Theo. God, you hated him. Loathed him. But when he fucked your brains out it’s as if that all slipped away.

“I-I….I just thought-“

Theo cut you off, his darkened eyes shooting up to yours as he thrusted into you even harder. His jaw clenched while his gaze flickered between your own.

“Thought what? Huh? Didn’t want to serve me but wanted to be fucked by me? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Fuck. His domineering and assertive tone was driving you mad. It would only fuel your arousal more so. Your dainty hand went over his own as you nodded your head to him.

“Yes! Fuck- I'm sorry! P-please…”

Whimpering out as you tried oh so hard to bite back your moans, Theo couldn’t help but smugly smirk. Knowing what you wanted, but of course, he'd tease you about it beforehand. “Hm? The brats begging?…. Please what, ragazza?”

He asked in a taunting tone, his pumps seemingly only going faster. You were on the brink of climax. But you knew Theo and he surely wouldn’t let you finish until you begged him to.

“Cum…please-fuck please let me cum, baby”

You whined, squirming under his touch. Practically feeling your legs start to shake already. You couldn’t hold back much longer at this point. And Theo? Fuck he loved bringing you to this electric state. Knowing he had that control….that power over you.

“Beg for it, brat. Fucking. Beg. For. It.” Theodore grunted through each hard thrust, his teeth gritted together while his hand moved up from your throat, squeezing your cheeks together.

“P-please, gods- please let me cum, baby…fucking, please! I-I’m begging- please!” You cried out, feeling tears prick your eyes as you fought back the intense orgasm that wanted to hit. Your juices already starting to leak from your aching cunt.

Theo’s cock was throbbing between your clenched walls, giving you a slight head nod of approval before cursing in Italian under his breath.

“I suppose you’re deserving to cum now….finish for me, Cara.”

His voice came out in a hushed groan, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin heard all around. You didn’t even hesitate, finally being able to breathe, you let your pleasurable climax hit. The wetness from your pussy flowed freely down his cock. But he wasn’t done with you, not in the least.

Just a small little blurb for now but I can’t wait write more for this👀👀👀

Divider pinned in my master list 🌙

Requests and asks open my smut sluts 💋

[gojos-version]

Best friends?

Pairings- Y/N x Satoru Gojo

Summary- You and Satoru are best friends and got into a very interesting (and lewd) activity! Endings soft.

Warnings- Smut, mating press, pet names (sweetheart, baby, princess), kissing, tummy bulge, porn without plot (kinda)

Word count- 525

Proof read ✅

a/n- HIIIII I had alot of fun writing this, i was thinking of doing smut with plot but decided not to and yes i made this at 4am 🥺🥺anyways this is my 2nd fic! Feel free to drop any requests <33 my inbox is open :)

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

Friends weren't supposed to fuck each other. They weren't supposed to enjoy it this much. 

But it's hard not to enjoy it when Satoru's hips are ramming into yours with a lewd plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! Your eyes unfocused and bleary as he continued his merciless thrusts. "F-fuck! S-so good- shit!" Satoru whimpers into your neck, one hand holding your hip to stabilise it and the other on top of your tummy right where you can feel him deep inside of you. The tummy bulge making itself prominent with each thrust he slams into you. Your legs burn as you hold them to your chest to feel him oh so deep inside of you. You feel your eyes roll back into your head and your back arching, "S-satoru- s-slow down- a-ah!" You almost scream out. "S-shit she's so loud, listen to her" Satoru grunts, listening to your wet pussy making the most pornographic sounds you'd find in a fake video. But oh it was so real. Your slick covers both of your thighs and drips on the mattress under where you're both connected.

"C-cant! A-ah!" You moan out, your body feels like jelly all you can do is just sit there and take it. "N-no baby, please hold on- please- f-fuck!" Satoru cries out into your neck. Heat feels both of your bodies as you get closer and closer. Something snaps making Satorus thrusts somehow even faster. "I-im g-gonna! S-satoru-!" You scream out gripping his shoulders. "Yeahhhhh atta girl, come for me..let go you can do it- shit!" He hisses feeling himself on the brink. And oh it feels so good. So right but so wrong. But at this moment you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Your body feels like it's on fire, like electricity shooting throughout your body as pleasure overtakes all your senses. "I-i'm! O-oh! S-satoru-" you gasp out, clenching around him as you feel yourself give into the white pleasure taking over. Your eyes roll back and shut seeing white, as you start shaking. You don't even feel Satoru finish inside of you for the nth time tonight.

"S-shit baby are you okay?" Satoru whimpers out, holding you close to him. You open your eyes and blink foggily at him, he kisses your forehead chastely. You wince as he pulls out softly feeling his cum drip out of you. There was so much of it, it was almost like a pool. "Let me get you cleaned up, sweetheart." You feel his body leaves yours but he's back before you know it, cleaning you off. "I'll run a bath for you, alright princess? Then we can rest." Satoru says, looking up at you for confirmation and you nodded your head softly. After he runs the bath, he picks you up bride style and slowly puts you in the bath, sitting behind you and massaging your hair. It feels too good. He was your best friend but right now it feels like you're more than that. You probably are after having sex, right? You feel your eyelids close as you hum softly. Maybe being more than best friends wouldn't be so bad.

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Masterlist <3

[exilethegame]

if The Exile were a party system rpg-style video game, what would some of the characters voice lines in battle be? Like, if they won, or a companion went down, or a romanced Commander went down, or they got healed or something?

:))))) I had fun doing this.

For MC being down it's: platonic /romantic, and for healing it's: in need of healing/after being healed.

Vethna: MC's Down: "Ma Vysna! Hold on!" / "Tyrat'ri-- hold on, damn it! We've made it this far, haven't we?" In need of healing: "I need to heal!" / "Thank... you..." Victory: "And I thought Vygrand was violent."

Nikke: MC's Down: "Shit--! MC's down..." / "Hell no. Get back up, MC! You're not dying on me today." In need of healing: "Hey, uh, I don't think I'm supposed to be bleedin' from there. Am I supposed to be bleedin' from there?" / "Ah, yes-- the sweet satisfaction of cheating death... again." Victory: "You'd think they'd get the memo to stop trying to kill us by now, huh?"

Jost: MC's Down: "You're not supposed to take 'break a leg' literally, you know!" / "MC! You're okay-- you are okay, alright-- ? Just... stay there!" In need of healing: "I know you can see I need healing right now..." (said in the most passive aggressive manner ever) / "Ah, that feels good..." Victory: "F*ckers."

Amilia: MC's Down: "No! Stay there, MC, I'm coming!" / "No! MC!" (But it sounds like she's about to burst into tears) In need of healing: "In need of some help here. Now!" Followed by silence and then, a much quieter and polite: "... please?" / "Thanks..." (said with exhaustion) Victory: "I just love restoring harmony into the world." (Said very cheekily) OR, if the enemy is an animal: "I wish we didn't have to do that..."

Sabir: MC's Down: "MC! Get back up, damn it!" / "I'm coming, beloved. Hold on!" In need of healing: "Not to cause alarm, but I do have reason to believe I am on the brink of death." / "Ah, thank you. I'm a few steps from the precipice now, at least!" Victory: "... does anyone know how to get blood out of silk... ? ... no?"

Syfyn: MC's Down: "Stay down, MC-- I'll see it's done." / "NO!" (but screamed in the most utterly gut wrenching way ever in a mix of pure rage and utter terror) In need of healing: "We're taking too many hits here!" / "Thanks." Victory: "..." (She's cool and strong and silent. Maybe just like a small "humph" occasionally?)

Freedom: I feel like Freedom would be an RO that isn't a companion, ya know? Like you can't go out on missions with them but they're still part of the "main crew," and maybe they have a couple of special missions you tag along for. MC's Down: "That is... an inconvenience." / "Breathe, beloved. I will not let you fall so easily." In need of healing: "My body feels... weak...?" / "... odd." Victory: "Eugh-- their corpses already stink. Can we go now?"

[theanxiousbookdevourer]

I'm finally starting to get the love for Jean—but I still think he's a jerk.

After playing Disco Elysium for the first time, I was pretty baffled as to why people seemed to like Jean so much. In my experience, he had only ever made fun of us when we radioed in. He was constantly critical of us and basically seemed to hate our guts.

Then I played again. And again. And again. And I think I get it now.

(Disco Elysium spoilers. Also, "ridiculously long post" warning.)

Jean is supposed to be our partner. Lt. Kim Kitsuragi can put up with us because he's a saint, but imagine how hard it is to try to keep someone afloat when you're always on the brink of drowning yourself.

If you have high Esprit de Corps while on the radio, you can learn Jean actively tries to protect us, despite making fun of us beforehand.

He's upset about what we said, though. He's upset about what we did. He's upset about the fact that he's spent so much of his life worrying about us, and then we went and told him we didn't need him.

So he decides to have fun for once. He shows up in a blond wig and sunglasses to look like Guillaume Bevy, thinking we'll catch on.

But we don't.

He also specifically references the fact that we told him to leave (except in a much less pleasant way than that).

Even when we almost get it, we don't, really.

We say we can't imagine working with him anymore, hypothetically speaking.

He says the same thing. But it isn't so hypothetically.

We may not recognize him, but somewhere deep down, we recognize the feeling he gives us. We may have forgotten almost everything else, but we haven't forgotten what it was like to be partners.

And despite his best attempts, he can't forget either.

If Cuno's there to defend us at the end, Jean claims he's only letting us return because of the kid. But that's not the only reason.

And if we end up alone, he still can't help but feel sad.

He leaves the door open for us...

... but things will really have to change. And based on the text from Shivers, it seems pretty unlikely.

So do I think Jean is perfect? No. He can be a jerk. He makes fun of us and doesn't understand the depths of our struggles. This post by palms-upturned explains that really well.

But Jean is also tired of drowning. In some ways, I think he feels exactly like that Coupris we crashed. If he had stayed on with us, he would have drowned too. And there would have been no bringing him back.

So I don't know. Do I love Jean? No. Not really. I still have my reservations. But I think anyone who has ever held onto someone so tightly, especially one who says they don't want to get better (and can say it twice)...

... can understand how Jean feels. If only for a moment.

Maybe if we do go back, we find a way to make amends. Maybe Jean will learn more about us and realize there is something wrong, and he shouldn't beat us up for it. Maybe he can let go of the bitterness. It is as Miss Oranje Disco Dancer herself said:

The world can change. People can change. We can change. And I really hope we will.

[abigails-gf]

abby anderson x f!reader.

a/n: hi! (i couldn't find the original ask in my inbox so here's a screenshot!^^) it's been so long since i last wrote something. so i apologize if this isn't as good as my other work! <33 (also hope it's ok i made it an f!reader !!) since anon didn't specify what reader might be insecure about, i went with things i've been insecure of lately: my body and all of my friends making progress (having jobs, going back to school) etc. while i struggle to get a job, haha. so, ehm... sorry if this isn't so good. i hope you like it though !! please don't be shy, send me requests! i seriously need to get back into writing !! and any feedback is welcomed!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻 mwaah ! 💌

how you can help palestine, israeli themes in tlou, more ressources !

"baby, hurry. we're gonna be late." abby said, coming out of the bathroom. you were standing in front of your shared closet, staring at it.

abby looked at you and sighed. "what's wrong?"

you two had been invited to dine out with a few friends, to celebrate one of your closest friends' getting the job they wanted.

you shook your head. "i have nothing to wear." you answered. she chuckled. "kiddin' me? half of our closet is yours." she walked towards you while buttoning her shirt. "c'mon, what's wrong?" she asked once more.

you looked down at the clothes scattered on the floor. "nothing fits me the way i want it to fit. nothing. i look awful in all my clothes! i don't even fit in some of them!" you finally let out, frustrated, on the brink of tears.

abby hugged you. you hugged her back tightly. "i'm ugly, my clothes don't fit me anymore. i don't fucking know what to wear!" you cried. abby hugged you and rubbed your back. "shh, s'alright. don't be so mean to my girl." she whispered.

you both stayed in silence for a moment before you pulled away, looking down at your body. "what am i supposed to do? go out naked?" you sat down on the bed. "what now? i'm supposed to go and celebrate my friend getting a new job while i've been struggling to find one for years? supposed to pretend i'm doing okay, feeling good?" you scoffed, tears falling down your cheeks.

abby sat down next to you.

"hey, hey. look at me." abby spoke softly. you looked into her eyes and took a deep breath. "we don't have to go if all of this overwhelms you, okay? i can just call them and say one of us is sick." you shook your head.

"we all go at our own pace. s'not your fault it's harder for you to find a job. it's not your fault people don't answer your applications or reject you. okay? you're doin' your best, sweetheart. i've seen you overwork yourself, trying to perfect your CV, rehearsing for interviews. you're doing the best you can. i promise." she smiled softly, taking your hand in hers. "as for your clothes not fitting you..." she looked at the floor filled with clothes. "it's not your fault either." she looked back into your eyes. "clothes are meant to fit you, not the other way around. okay?" you calmed down a little. "if these clothes don't make you feel pretty, we can go and get you some new ones. new ones that will fit you, and make you feel as pretty are you are." you nodded.

"you're the most beautiful woman i know, sweetheart. prettiest girl." she said to you. "and you work so hard. it's not your fault if people can't see that, it's not your fault if people can't see your potential. you're doing your best and that's what matters most. alright?" you smiled a little, her words cheering you up a little.

"now, we're gonna pick out some clothes from your closet. some you feel comfortable in, and then we'll go out and have some fun. and tomorrow we can sort out the clothes that don't fit you anymore. how's that sound?"

abby always knew how to calm you down, to reassure you. she always knew what to say.

"sounds good." you said. you kissed abby's cheek. "thank you for always putting up with me." she chuckled and kissed your forehead. "no, thank you for trusting me, baby."

she helped you pick an outfit, helped you do your hair. she made sure you felt comfortable in how you looked, made sure you felt somewhat pretty. she held your hand at dinner, encouraged you to tell your friends about the interviews you did and how they went.

they told you the same thing she had told you earlier "it's their loss if they can't see the potential you have."

you all spent a nice evening, around a nice dinner, talking about your lives. abby was glad to see her girlfriend feeling better, talking proudly about her progress.

abby knew how hard it was for you, to speak positively about yourself. she was proud that you managed to do so tonight.

[yakuzabrainrotlive]

SO? Where have I been?

Moving. Just. Moving. God, I hate moving SO much. My stuff is everywhere, I don't know where anything is, there's dust, there's trash, there's paperwork... END ME.

ANYWAY KDJQJQJ main plot has been happening across these weeks, I got to the. the separation :))

I'm getting a "character who's SUPPOSED TO betray us but gets too attached to us to actually do it" vibes here. Please don't betray Ichi, he's lost enough people already :(

I don't feel like they've made Kiryu more silly, it's just that... he's silly more OPENLY. A lot of fun stuff like this that he'd usually just keep in his head, he's saying out loud, and the team actually gets to respond to it. And I adore how split everyone is on if he's being playful or serious.

When they first met in the game, I thought Yamai and Kiryu had had a messy divorce arc somewhere before this game, what with how Yamai was reacting. Him having been a past admirer is a less interesting but more logical situation.

THEY PUT HIM IN THE SUIT?? RGG STUDIOS I'M GOING TO SUE YOU. How dare you make him even hotter??? This is just unreasonable at this point 😩

I'll have to check my list, but this is a strong contender for a spot in my TOP3 dynamic intros.

KSKDKERKDJWJQKJR 🥺🥺 the Haruka parallels got me teared up fr😭 He loves her so much and it WOUNDS me whenever I remember that he'll never see her or the others from Morning Glory again.

It seems like Kiryu's is dead set on pushing himself to the brink with this one and I... hshdhdhdjw. I always love to see his passion for helping people going strong, and it's totally understandable because this case is so similar to Haruka's but... I just want to strap him to a hospital bed and wheel him away to rest 😭

I'll forgive you for knocking Kiryu out because you're insanely funny. And relatable (currently fully clothed under a two blankets and still cold...).

"BUT HE'S BURNING DOWN A FOREST AND TRYING TO KILL A MAN!" he's cold?? what else is he supposed to do?

It's here!! The classic self-sacrifice move!! I hate it here!! okay I get where Kiryu was coming from this time around, but PLEASE STOP PULLING THIS SHIT KIRYU I SWEAR TO GOD-

(ignore me ignoring the whole coughing up blood thing, I do not. I do not see it. I do not acknowledge it.)

He just said he's scared of relying on people and here he is... I know it's by necessity, but I still see GROWTH in this. Kiryu seems so vulnerable here, holding out his hand... I HATEEEE IT HERE (I LOVE IT HERE) 😭😭😭

Also this blog is now officially a Nanba stan blog!! He was so excited to go on another journey with Kiryu, but he knew he was needed elsewhere. WHY ARE ALL THESE CHARACTERS SO GOOD 😭😭😭

[fefesoutsiderstuff]

More Autistic Cherry Stuff

Started masking around the age of five when she noticed her classmates didn't seem to like her as much as they did her other classmates, connected it to behaviors that were perceived as odd/abnormal.

"Kids my age don't like me because I'm weird" eventually led to: "How much interest, as an average, would you say your peers have in Medieval European geopolitics?" "I don't know what that is." "Oh." *frantically writes in little notebook: delete all evidence of interest in/knowledge of the Middle Ages, Europe, and geopolitics* "Why?" "I just heard those words on the TV last night." "And you decided to... do that?" "...Yes."

Perpetually struggles to copy others while not being super obvious and maintaining enough honesty that she seems interesting

Tries to be more outgoing -> joining random conversations she has nothing to do with

"Should I answer this homework question wrong intentionally so I don't seem like a dork?"

Gets overstimulated at a party and tells the host her mom called and wants her home so she has an excuse to leave

Also lied about what time the party would end so she wouldn't be questioned as to why she was home early

Party ends at 12, tell mom it ends at 10 because she knows she won't be able to function past then and her weekend bedtime is 11, starts goodbye procedures at 9:30

All this effort goes out the window once she's tired/burnt out. School is a horror show for her because it's simultaneously a bunch of loud noises and social conventions. The infamous drive-in double date happened after school. It was also very loud and she was already stressed about getting in a fight with Bob.

Literally just wanted a hand squeeze and felt safe taking the mask off with Ponyboy and only Ponyboy. There was nothing but friendship. She was on the brink of a panic attack.

This, on top of yet another fight with Bob, which ended in a breakup, and then finding out he died, and then getting blamed/yelled at lead to the events of the fic I submitted for Soc September: a complete lack of ability to maintain any semblance of the mask.

Cited John Locke when she dumped Bob. "I'm done." "Did you just break up with me? You can't do that!" "John Locke said that if the government isn't protecting the rights and welfare of the governed, the governed have a right to revolt. When you agreed to be my boyfriend, you agreed to love, respect, and remain loyal to me. You agreed to make me feel safe and comfortable. I agreed to do the same. You are scaring me. I heard the "I got my best girl and some others too" line. Therefore, I have the right to leave." "Cherry, what the fuck?"

Anyway...

Marcia was her biggest cheerleader for demasking once Cherry could finally communicate what was happening.

Cherry did a bit of thinking after the events of the story and sort of started suspecting that she was autistic.

Her cousin was diagnosed with autism and had much higher support needs, but very similar traits to Cherry, just, for lack of better term, on higher levels.

"Hold on. Autism affects the brain. Your sex doesn't determine whether or not you have a brain. So that means girls can be autistic too. But I'm not... wait, what if there are different amounts?"

I'm aware that there's no such thing as less/more autistic. I just didn't know how else to word it and this is Cherry's thought process. This is how she connected the dots.

Her routines are so specific. She always knows what she's supposed to be doing based on the time and date. Things that mess up her routine such as dates/football games stress her out, but she does them anyway.

Does barrel racing and cheer for fun, actually not that good at it, has the proprioception of a box of crayons.

When I say she doesn't want to be a flyer, I mean her internal reaction is to ask the coach how big the curve on their IQ test was when they suggest it, but she sucks it up and does it anyway.

Gets caught, back to ground level, starts crying, they never threw her again.

[12timetraveler]

if you're still looking for random requests/inspo ♥️ how do you think it would go down if Arthur tried teaching Albert to hunt??

Shot

Content: Arthur Morgan & Albert Mason, hunting, bromance, romance?, 2AM if you squint, cowboys having feelings.

Authors note: Hello Hello! It's been a minute since I've posted anything. I've been dealing with burnout for the last few months and typing words has been like pulling teeth. Even the joys of Black Hills Redemption couldn't pull me out of my slump. But this ask was sent in to me and it sparked an Idea™ so here we are! Hope y'all enjoy.

I really liked this prompt a lot and I had a ton of fun writing it!

I left their relationship a little more open. Y'all know I ship it like FedEx but I didn't really feel like going into the romantic aspects of the relationship so this could be a romance or a bromance. Readers choice.

As always this was written on my phone so if you see any typos or weird autocorrect things, no you don't.

Also just a shout-out to Matt if you're reading this! You sparked some Albert content in my brain which has been very helpful for overcoming the writer's block so thank you! 💙

The full story can be read below or on AO3 (Must be logged in to view on AO3. Blame AI bots for that.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

“If you're going to be out in the wilderness, you need to know how to survive,” Arthur had explained to Albert over some drinks at the Valentine saloon. “What if your horse spooks and runs off with all your supplies?”

Arthur bumped into Albert on the road into town; Arthur looking for a drink to celebrate a job well done, and Albert riding in to rent out a hotel room for the night. After some friendly chatter on the ride in the two had gone to the saloon together for a drink.

“I know I'm not the adventurous type, but I do know how to make a fire.” Albert huffed good naturedly.

“But do you know how to find water, shelter? Do you know good water from bad? Can you hunt?”

“Mr. Morgan, you know I'm not terribly fond of the sport.” Albert cut in.

“Ain't a sport when it's survival on the line,” Arthur countered. “I'm not talking about shooting an animal just for fun, or to show off. I'm talking about finding a rabbit to eat when you're on the brink of starvation.”

“Well…”

“Listen, I understand why you hate trophy hunters. Killing an animal and leaving most of it out to rot is a damn waste. If I hunt something, I use as much as I can. I eat the meat, turn the pelt into something useful, use any part of it I can. Even if it's just a little trinket on my belt. That's the kind of hunting I'm talking about.”

“I suppose I don't have much experience there,” he admitted. “My father took me duck hunting once but it was just sport. He was usually busy drinking with his business partners. I never really paid much attention.”

“Well, now's as good a time as any. ‘Specially if you're gonna be wandering the wilds taking photos of animals.”

~~~~~~

“I-I’m not so sure about this, Mr. Morgan,” Albert stammered as the two men dismounted their horses just east of Twin Stack pass, in the fields south of the oil field. “I really don't think it's necessary.”

“You're the one wandering the backcountry taking photographs of wild animals. You need some survival experience.” Arthur replied. “Shooting bottles out behind the saloon can only get you so far. You need to try on something real.”

"Mr. Morgan I…” Albert stopped walking, nervously rubbing his hands together. Arthur turned to face him. “I don't know if I can do it.”

Arthur softened slightly. He understood Albert, to a point. He remembered vividly when Hosea had taken him hunting for the first time when he was 15. The thought of killing an animal had turned his stomach. He actually threw up after his first downed deer. He had always had a soft spot for animals, and never wanted to see them suffer. Any time he went hunting, even now, he'd kick himself for hours if it wasn't a clean shot, and the animal suffered at his hands.

“First off, please call me Arthur,” he began, stepping toward the man.

“Then please, call me Albert.”

“Alright, Albert,” Arthur chuckled. “I know it ain't easy. You don't want to see the poor animal suffer. You don't want to become like those poachers who waste everything for a trophy.”

“Exactly,” Albert sighed, openly relieved that Arthur understood his hesitancy.

“But we ain't talking about that kind of hunting. We're talking about survival. Catching a rabbit to feed yourself for the night. That's it. It's no different than eating beef or pork. Just more work.”

“I guess I see your point,” Albert relented.

“With any luck you'll never have to hunt for food. But if your horse spooks or you get stranded or for any reason you need to survive, you need to know how to hunt.”

“Alright,” Albert straightened up, steeling himself for the lesson at hand. “Let's go.”

“Good,” Arthur said, patting Albert’s shoulder. “Now you might want to invest in a little varmint rifle, or even just a standard rifle for protection, seeing as you're out trying to photograph predators. But for today, you can use mine.” Arthur pulled out his varmint rifle and handed it to Albert.

The gun looked a little awkward in the photographer’s hands, like he wasn't entirely comfortable holding it. But he and Arthur had done some practice shots before heading out here, so he at least had some familiarity with the weapon.

“Check that it's loaded,” Arthur instructed, and Albert paused, following Arthur's earlier lesson on loading the gun. Knowing he'd emptied it before putting it on his horse, Arthur handed him some ammo to load the gun before Albert could even ask.

“Thank you,” Albert chirped, nodding politely to Arthur as he began loading the gun. “Would you bring something as well?” Albert glanced over at Arthur as he slid the bullets into their place. “In case my shot is bad, will you bring a gun to finish it off so it doesn't suffer?”

“Sure,” Arthur agreed. “I think that's a fine idea.” Arthur slipped his bow and arrow from the saddle. “No point in bringing in another gun and ruining the meat.” He explained.

“Right,” Albert hummed. “If we're going to hunt the animal, we should make sure it's usable.”

“Follow me,” Arthur said, guiding Albert up the hill a little way.

“See these little holes in the hillside?” Arthur asked, pointing to a few small caves in the dirt as they climbed “Entrances to the warren.”

“How do you know they're not badger holes?”

“Too many to be a badger den. Besides the tracks around are rabbit, not badger.” Arthur shrugged. “Come on. We'll get up here on the rocks overlooking the warren and wait.”

Carefully the two men positioned themselves up on the rocks near the top of the hill, looking down over the slope. Arthur crouched down with a sigh, and Albert moved to do the same.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait,” Arthur grunted. “It's cooling off so they'll likely come out to feed as the shadows grow longer. Just need a little patience.”

“Right,” Albert breathed, settling in on the rock on one knee, varmint rifle gripped loosely in one hand.

The two men waited about twenty minutes, neither saying a word. Albert’s knees had grown sore, then moved beyond, to that painful numbness. Despite this he kept still and did his best not to make a sound. Finally his patience was rewarded.

“Oh, look! A rabbit,” Albert whispered. “What a beautiful shot. I should get a picture–”

“That ain't the kind of shooting we're doing today, Albert,” Arthur chuckled in a low whisper, reminding the photographer why they were there. He knocked an arrow in his bow, ready just in case Albert needed the assist.

“Oh. Right, of course.” Albert whispered. He took a deep breath and raised the gun.

“Good, good,” Arthur soothed. “Get it's head right in your sights for a clean kill, wait for it to stop to eat for a moment.” Arthur could feel the man trembling a little beside him, but Albert was focused on the task at hand. “Take a deep breath in, and out. Always shoot on empty lungs.”

Albert took a couple deep breaths to steady his trembling hands. Everything else seemed to go quiet, and as he finished an exhale, he pulled the trigger.

The shot was good, but the rabbit turned it's head at the last second, and the kill wasn't as clean as either men hoped. Arthur quickly followed it with an arrow, ending the animals suffering.

“Damn,” Albert sighed, defeated.

“Don't beat yourself up. It would have been a good shot if it hadn't moved. Unfortunately sometimes that happens. They ain't prone to just sitting still and letting you get the shot,” Arthur assured him, patting his shoulder. “Even if I hadn't been here, you could have ended it's suffering with another shot, or a twist to the neck.”

Albert shuddered at the thought. But deep down he knew Arthur was right. “I never got a shot like that when my father took me hunting,” he noted.

“Well, the kind of hunting your father was doing sounded a lot more like an excuse to get out of the house and go drinking, instead of actually hunting,” Arthur grunted, swinging his bow over his shoulder. “Now let's go get our catch and clean it.” Arthur offered Albert a hand up.

“Oh,” Albert’s face paled. “We're going to skin and butcher it too?”

“Would be a waste to just leave it here,” Arthur pointed out. “It's death should mean something, even if it's only filling the bellies of two fools like us.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“Come on let's set up a camp further up the hill and we'll have some supper.”

~~~~~~

Albert looked rather squeamish as Arthur showed him how to skin and butcher the rabbit. But he watched with rapt attention, following Arthurs every move with his eyes.

“And that's about it for cleaning it,” Arthur said, holding up the skinned and cleaned rabbit by its back legs. “Then all that's left to do is cook it. Could just throw it over the fire, but if you've got some herbs, it makes it a little more palatable. Lucky for us,” Arthur reached into his satchel and pulled out some thyme. “I've got some seasoning.”

“A gourmet campfire meal,” Albert chirped, much to Arthur's amusement. Using some rendered animal fat he rubbed the herbs into the meat before placing it on a crudely constructed spit over the fire.

“Thank you for teaching me,” Albert continued, giving Arthur a small smile. “I know I've been, shall we say, a reluctant student. But I know that it's good for me to know how to do this.”

“Just don't want to hear about you starving in the wilderness,” Arthur grunted as he sat down by the fire. “By dumb luck you've somehow survived enough trouble with the animals you're photographing. I'd like to keep it that way.”

“It wasn't dumb luck, it was with your help.” Albert settled in the dirt across the fire from him.

“I've only helped a couple of times,” Arthur shrugged, pulling out his journal.

“Maybe, but you've helped more than I can say,” Albert mirrored Arthur, retrieving his own notebook and pen to begin scrawling notes from the day.

“Whatever you say,” Arthur shook his head, turning his attention to his journal.

As the rabbit cooked the men spent the time in silence, each writing down the events of the day. Albert noted the animals he saw, the animals he photographed and where he was when he did so. He also notated the spots he visited that had resulted in no wildlife.

Arthur journaled about the job he worked, totalling up the earnings and doing the math of what to provide to the gang. He also tidied up a quick sketch he'd done of the burnt town below Horseshoe Overlook, as well as a chipmunk he drew.

Both men finished up their writing by noting the coincidence of meeting up with the other, and the events that led them to be sharing a campfire out in the Heartlands. Not that either man would know he was included in the other man's writing.

“Rabbit should be about done,” Arthur said, closing his journal and tucking it away.

“Marvelous,” Albert set his notebook aside and pulled out a pair of tin camping plates and forks. “I have a pair of these we can use.”

Arthur took the plates with a grunted thanks, using his knife to carve the meat off the rabbit until the plates had an even helping of rabbit. He handed one plate back to Albert before settling in with his plate, digging in immediately.

Albert picked at the rabbit slowly, seemingly lost in thought as he stared at the sparse meat on his plate. He took a bite or two, slowly, as if tasting it for the first time.

“You ever eaten rabbit before, Albert?” Arthur asked, studying the man.

“Yes,” Albert flashed Arthur a sheepish smile. “Many times. I suppose it's just different when you see the entire process. See it going from a living animal to a meal on your plate is a bit… jarring. Usually I see it already carved at the butchers, or fully cooked on my plate in front of me.”

“I suppose it would be jarring,” Arthur hummed, scratching his chin. “But after all it's just nature. If we didn't eat it, a fox or coyote probably would have.”

“Very true,” Albert sighed. The two men were quiet for a moment, Arthur taking another bite of rabbit while Albert was lost in thought. “I admire you, Arthur.”

Arthur nearly choked on his food, pounding on his chest a few times to correct it's passage to his stomach. He also had to push aside the way his heart skipped a beat. He'd spent too long living the life of the delinquent outlaw cowboy. There's no way Albert meant it like that.

“Why d’you say a fool thing like that?” Arthur huffed.

“Because I do. You have such a high regard for nature. A trait most hunters I've met are sorely lacking. A respect for life that others just don't have.”

Arthur’s face fell slightly. “I really don't.” He huffed, attempting to lighten the mood with a chuckle.

When he braved to look at Albert once more he only saw a knowing half-smile. Did he know who Arthur was? Well, to be fair he hadn't exactly used a cover name. All Albert would have to do is read the paper and he'd know who Arthur was. But if he knew, why hadn't he turned Arthur in?

Albert just shook his head, as if reading Arthur's thoughts. “Respect for animal life, then,” he countered.

Arthur didn't know what to say. Albert was such a gentle, polite man. How could he be sitting here, talking to a known killer, and calling him admirable?

“Guess I got enough blood on my hands,” Arthur shrugged, deflecting the compliment, as usual. “Seen enough suffering without adding any more to it.”

“I think there are too many people in the world who don't care how much blood they spill, human or animal,” Albert remarked. “They lose their humanity.”

“Most days mine is hanging by a thread,” Arthur grumbled, voice full of self loathing.

“I think you've got a stronger grip on your humanity than you think,” Albert set his food aside, attention all on Arthur.

“You… you understand what I do.” Arthur waved his hand, not really wanting to say it. Albert nodded a confirmation. “You've probably seen my name in papers, or on bounty posters. You know I ain't a good man. Battery, robbery… murder. I don't think I could get much worse. I ain't got much humanity left.”

“It's true those are some… high crimes,” Albert relented. “And yet, in talking to you, I see more humanity than I do in the high society crowd. The leaders of the nation are soulless. They're only out for themselves. Wouldn't help an old lady cross the street, let alone random fools they find in the wilderness.”

“You sure you're not an outlaw?” Arthur huffed. “Sound a lot like my mentor. He loves to ramble on about how crooked society is.”

“We both know if never cut it as an outlaw,” Albert snickered. “I'd die on day one. And it wouldn't be to a gun. I'd sooner trip and get trampled.” The two men laughed at that before Albert continued.

“Whatever your reasons for doing the things you do, I don't think you're the monster the papers make you out to be,” Albert explained. “Every time I've met you, you've been nothing but helpful and kind, if a little gruff. You may be a sinner, but aren't we all?”

“I think my sins may be a little greater than yours,” Arthur scoffed.

Albert only shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe the greatness of our sins varies by the hands we're dealt. The life we live. It's easy to be good when you're born with a silver spoon. It's harder to be good when you're fighting every day just to survive.”

“You a philosopher now?” Arthur chuckled.

“I've had a lot of time to ponder life's intricacies of late. Seeing nature in all her beauty will do that.” Albert shrugged. “But my point is, I've met you a handful of times now. You've never given me any reason to doubt you. The papers say you're a monster but I consider you… a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yes,” Albert affirmed. “A friend, if you'll have me.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment, staring at Albert, trying to decide how to respond. He clearly couldn't respond with his true thoughts on the matter. He wasn't any good at the sappy emotional side of friendship. His friendships usually considered of having each other's backs and teasing each other relentlessly. Maybe the occasional fishing trip.

“You shouldn't have left your food unattended,” Arthur noted, nodding to the tin plate Albert had set down. It was now empty, the bushy tail of a fox disappearing into the bushes behind him. The fox let out it's laughing call as it darted away with what was left of Alberts dinner.

“God damnit all,” Albert huffed, grabbing his plate and glaring after the fox.

“Here. You can have some of mine.”

“No, you eat, I'll be fine.” Albert tried to protest, but Arthur had already halved the meat on his plate and plopped it onto Albert’s.

“That's what friends are for,” Arthur shrugged. It was the best way for him to confirm Albert's statement. They were friends, as odd of a pair as they may have been. Albert grinned, bobbing his head in thank you before digging in to the small amount of rabbit that remained.

“So, what else have you gotten pictures of since I last saw you with the horses?” Arthur asked.

“Oh let's see. Well I did finally get a picture of a coyote after our first encounter,” he hummed. “And then the wolves. But I showed you that one. The horses, um… oh I caught a beautiful shot of some bison rutting in the dirt. And a loon on the river.”

The rest of the evening consisted of the two men swapping stories of their adventures. Albert detailed all the many trials he'd faced trying to complete his project. Arthur in turn told him if the strange things he'd seen on his adventures. The glowing green light over a cabin in the heartlands. The cauldron of grey liquid up in the hills of Ambarino. The strange bones he'd found in, on and around Mount Shann. Just little things, talking long after the moon rose in the sky, until neither man could keep from yawning.

An unlikely friendship, but one that made a huge difference in both men's lives.

[lunart-06]

Good day, I have a request to make regarding your current ao3 that you wrote.

Ok imma stop with the fancy English. I read your ao3 titled "there was nothing left for me" and absolutely adored it so I want to ask if you could write a good ending.

Like when izuru was outside talking about how unpredictable the ocean is and no amount of luck will ever bring makoto back, immediately he said that, up in the sky, is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! Its a heavily damaged helicopter hurdling towards him at mach 4. The helicopter crashes right next to him with rubble from the helicopter flying everywhere without hitting him. His curiosity gets the best of him and you'll never guess what he finds inside. A very beaten up and bloody scars makoto who looks like his on the brink of death.

That was the idea I've been brainstorming ever since I finished ur fic. So thanks for reading and incase u actually take this into consideration (I'll be very glad if u do) please take your time I don't mind waiting

(Ur fic has done crazy stuff to me like once in every 10 scenario sessions I have it's based on this fanfic Thank you so much for writing it)

ARCK TY SM!!!! That fic was the only thing that made me feel like I can't possibly write anything close to that quality anymore and needed to get more deeply into my zone but I'm glad you liked it!!!

And for the ending, it was extremely inte ded for me to make a very open-like kinda ending to ensure something like these! You can imagine ANY scenarios regarding of what happened and with the kind of ending I go for COULD lead to tons of possibilities!

It could be Kamukura destroying the foundation and still feeling empty inside, or who knows maybe he find Makoto's coffin while at it? Or maybe Makoto is *still* alive yet just wandering aimlessly after escaping and tricking everyone of his death? Who knows who knows, that's what fun about them!

And to indulged in your one of many scenarios of ending for this fic.

Kamukura wouldn't pay attention to anything else, as said, the agonizing turmoil crashing on everything he had build up for. But he *does* aware of the sound above him, and just like that his ultimate talents switched without command and stood aside a few good feet away, in a certain spot, as a vehicle crash down next to him.

I don't believe Makoto could even still be standing after surviving an execution from *Munakata* of all things, that man won't let him breath. So in this case, some of his other friends and sister had helped him out of the dire situation. Judging from Byakuya's scowl towards Hagakure it seems that it was the teller's responsibility in controlling the helicopter, but knowing Byakuya's distrust over something so life-threatening to someone like Hagakure, it seem he was suppose to be temporarily held control over it until some *bad luck* happened.

Toko was there, Komaru was there, Byakuya left his knot tying rushed to go over to Hagakure, leaving the body—

The body that was still moving. *breathing*. Though shallow and slow, definitely in pain, slightly trembles perhaps from the large injuries and the shock from literally falling from the sky. The sight of it managed to make Kamujura's skin pricked, muscles tightening, and eyes frozen to one sight of one subject. Komaru calling onto the body she held is when Kamukura can feel the freezing water washed over him and wiped the toxins in every parts of his molecules.

"Makoto please hang on—"

Makoto. He can see it clearly now, the messy hair of brown with strands sticking out in multiple places, damped with sweat, paler than necessary to be consider healthy, the while shirt soaked with red, his whole figure is writhing as if cold and taking shallow breath as if drowning, he couldn't see the calming olive eyes when the lids clenched shut, eyebrows pinching together closely that the skin wrinkles, his teeth grits and released from pain and to breath, holding onto the major blow of the injuriy that could have really taken his life dearly.

"Kamukura?" The sister called out, and for once, he paid attention, "please— please, help him– help my brother please, h-he's—"

He doesn't let her finished before his whole body moved in instinct, swiftly picking the deathly cold body that's far more than Kamukura's own, and as he made contact with Makoto, he can feel multiple talents surge through him all at once; ultimate hunter checking any possible threat on his surroundings, ultimate bodybuilder to properly hold Makoto without shaking too much of his injuries, ultimate medic to check anymore major wound aside from the one Makoto covered.

And when Makoto finally squint an eye opened to stare directly on Kamukura's clouded crimson ones, smiling in a shaky manner with a relief undertone (for once, Kamukura *understood* that. Instead of *knowing*), he spoke, in an exhale, his voice whispered; "I..... tol' you.. that I'll–.... be......back..—"

And ultimate runner to quickly take Makoto back to the base of the island.

[verbenaa]

to eden | chapter four

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “Another compliment? Why, I’m going to have to start keeping count.” She’s pinned by his gaze like a butterfly on a board, unable to look away from him even if she wanted to, Astarion’s thumb brushing against her skin where he holds her chin.

“Feel free to write them down so you don’t forget.”

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F! Tav

𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 6.6k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: mentions of previous sexual scenarios (minor descriptions), sexual tension, frottage? (kind of).

𝒶/𝓃: hello! I'm back with chapter 4! this chapter turned out way longer than I had initially planned, but I think it turned out well. hopefully it's a fun and enjoyable read, if nothing else! please let me know if i forgot any warnings, I'm posting this so much later than I normally do and my brain is not computing. I hope you enjoy reading and please let me know what you think <3!

ao3 here

masterlist

Waukeen’s Rest was, to put it lightly, a fucking mess.

Rin knew there was to be a first time for everything, however she would gladly pass on a second experience of running through a burning building in search of a certain Grand Duke by the name of Ulder Ravengard, who then had the gall to not be inside and instead have been kidnapped by a group of Drow and spirited away to…well, no one was quite sure yet.

She did manage to come out on top with the rescuing of one Counsellor Florrick, who it would seem was the next best thing to said Duke himself.

With a long suffering sigh, Rin couldn’t help but wonder how it always just so happened that everywhere they seemed to set foot, trouble somehow managed to appear as if summoned by some all-knowing, omnipotent force set on inconveniencing them. 

Counsellor Florrick, all pointy ears and high slit robe with nary a hair out of place on her head, finishes her speech with little flourish, despite her begging of them to continue the search for the Grand Duke in a way that seemed quite no nonsense for a woman who had just been stuck inside of a fiery building on the brink of collapse.

“Well, Counsellor, I suppose we can add rescuing the Duke to our little to-do list. What’s one more task?” Rin gives Counsellor Florrick her most charming smile, hoping it will cover the latent sarcasm of the words. The last thing she wanted was one more task on their ever-expanding list, but alas, it would seem that their current path had other plans.

“Thank you. And should your courage falter, remember the Duke’s generosity.” And with that, Counsellor Florrick dismisses them with a turn towards her legion of Fists, doling out orders with enviable authority.

While Rin had little to do with the politics of Baldur’s Gate (or much of anything, really, unless it involved the frequenting of taverns or petty criminal activity) she wasn’t quite so dim as to have not heard the name Ravengard before and know of the weight it carried.  

Rin’s mind briefly drifts under the weight of their growing responsibilities, and it’s the stench of burning hair that drags her back to reality—it wasn’t hers, was it?—as she grabs a lock of hair, bringing it to her face to inspect the ends for any singed pieces.

“I know he’s a Duke and all, but must we really rescue him?” 

Rin shoots Astarion a pointed look as she drops the hair in her hands and turns, eyebrow arched quizzically. “Would you want to have been kidnapped by a group of angry Drow and taken off to Gods-know-where?”

The scowl on Astarion’s face is answer enough as he huffs, attention moving instead to flick at the tiny bits of ash clinging to his dark leather armor as he mutters under his breath something along the lines of ‘they better pay us for this’.

“I agree, it is the right thing to do. Perhaps if we are able to rescue Ravengard, he may be able to assist us in some way or another. Having the Council and the Fists on our side could prove useful.” Gale’s hand comes up to his mouth and his eyes narrow in consideration, the picture of a scholarly wizard deep in thought.

“Those tin buckets aren’t useful for much of anything, Gale,” Rin looks at one of the many members of the Flaming Fist wandering around the yard amidst the chaos. “But I do find the allure of the Grand Duke’s numerous connections and apparently deep pockets to be worth the trouble.”

Gale heaves a sigh at that but says nothing in defiance to Rin’s quite salient point, at least in her own opinion.

“Oi. Not to spoil the fun, but this thing on my back is getting heavy. Let’s get a move on and find the hideout, yeah?” Despite her complaint, Karlach looks at ease with the extra weight and it certainly wasn’t stopping her from running around and bashing through flaming walls and doors only moments ago.

And to think that they merely ended up here on the behest of a member of the Zhentarim, of all organizations, in search for their hideout to return a quite cumbersome chest currently in Karlach’s possession.

“You heard the woman. We can argue all about the merits of saving the Duke back at camp.” Rin gestures towards the grounds around them, tufts of grass still burning here and there. “Let’s get on with it, I’m sure the hideout will be full of delights.”

And with that, they search. 

The entrance to the basement is embarrassingly easy to find once they actually begin to look, stepping over the charred wooden boards and still smoldering piles of ash strewn about the yard only to come across several too perfectly placed crates in front of a door, laughable in its utter simplicity. 

“Karlach, would you like to do the honors?” Rin turns towards the Tiefling, who seems all too eager for the chance at more bashing, picking up the crates one by one before throwing them off to the side, bits of wood splintering as they collide with the ground. 

Karlach wrenches the door open once the path is clear and Rin steps inside what seems to be a perfectly normal store room, eyes scanning the periphery before noticing the man crouching low behind a supply shelf, a summoned flame dancing as he cups it in a gloved palm. 

Rin looks at the man expectantly as she gauges the threat he poses, not yet pulling the rapier from its place on her back, her eyes darting swiftly from the fireball blazing to life to the surprisingly shocked expression he wears. 

Behind her, she recognizes the now familiar sounds of her companions—the quiet slide of one of Astarion’s blades being freed from a sheathe barely a whisper in the silence, the beginnings of an incantation waiting to be spoken into existence by Gale, Karlach’s fist tightening around her great axe as she readies a swing.

“Well, that’s not any way to treat a friend, now is it?” She eyes the fiery orb with a nod, the man’s own eyes flicking to it as if he had forgotten it was there.

“Th-that’s not the password!” The man seems ill-suited to such a job, as jumpy as he was, the fireball only growing larger in time with his apparent fear.

“Not one for conversation, I see. Fine then, have it your way: Little serpent, long shadow.” 

The man seems instantly relieved the minute he hears the passphrase, flame sputtering out of existence as he stands upright. “Oh, Helm’s orbs. I thought you were the Flaming Fist.” 

“We most certainly are not, I can assure you.” Astarion is quick to answer, his dislike at being remotely likened to a member the Fist palpable as he sheathes his dagger.

“Ah, well, anyway. The entrance is behind the wardrobe—here’s the key.” Rin accepts it quickly, eager to be done with this errand and wash her hands of it as soon as possible as they walk towards the wardrobe on the far wall.

Rin inserts the key and turns it, the lock clicking open audibly as the door swings towards her, creaking on its hinges. She peeks her head in, noting the ladder leading down into the depths much to her displeasure.

“A bloody wardrobe? What in the hells do they think is this, a book for children?” 

Astarion isn’t exactly wrong, it was quite ridiculous.

“It’s a bit on the nose, I agree,” Gale adds in, anchoring his staff back to his back in preparation to go down.

“At least it’s more creative than a hatch in the floor.” Rin steps inside the wardrobe first, turning around to begin her descent as she steps onto the first rung, lowering herself down.

Karlach audibly moans, shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of both the chest and her axe. “Aw hells, don’t tell me we have to go down another ladder?”

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

The Zhentarim hideout left little to be desired with its dusty floors and cavernous ceilings and beady-eyed members watching their every move. While they may have been coined “Friends of the Zhentarim” by Zarys herself, Rin found the  hospitality to be decidedly lacking in quality.

“Is it—“ Gale starts, eyes shifting side to side as he looks at their surroundings and the Zhentarim nearby, voice a whisper of trepidation. “is it wise to be stealing from thieves?”

“It’s rather unwise, I should think. But thank the Gods that we have such a powerful mage on our side should the worst happen.” Rin gives Gale a friendly pat on the back, hoping the flattery with soothe over any errant nerves he may have. “Besides, the danger is half of the fun. Isn’t it, Astarion?”

She turns to glance at where Astarion stands unbothered next to a small table, pocketing something small and shiny before looking up to meet Gale’s eyes with a wide smile that has the wizard loosing a breath of exasperation. “Oh, undoubtedly.”

“Alright let’s split up and search this place. Astarion, you’re with me. I want to see if there’s anything fun hiding around here.” Rin keeps her voice low. While they may technically be around ‘friends’, she didn’t trust a one of them. “Gale, Karlach: you two can do…well, whatever you want but try your best to not be suspicious, Astarion is good enough at that for all of us. I trust you’ll know if we get ourselves into trouble?”

“Don’t worry soldier, we’ll follow the directions of the screams when we hear them.” Karlach’s voice bellows out, drawing several sets of narrowed eyes their way.

With a last little wave in their direction Rin turns away to look around the hideout, eyes perusing the hustle and bustle around them before choosing a direction at random, not waiting for Astarion to follow as she sets forth.

“So, are we looking for anything in particular or are you just taking me on a little pleasure stroll?” She had only taken a few steps before Astarion’s voice reaches her, the vampire clearly not waiting more than a moment before trailing after.

Rin glances over her shoulder, amusement written over her features as Astarion catches up with light, graceful steps, easily matching her pace and he settles in next to her on the narrow pathway, linking their arms together as if they were a pair of lovers breezing through Bloomridge Park on a sunny afternoon.

Her feet catch on a rock and she barely manages to save herself from tripping over it in her surprise, eyes darting down to where Astarion’s arm loops through her own as he strolls casually next to her, perfectly at ease as his eyes drift around the basement in boredom.

She rights herself, ignoring the little smile of victory Astarion wears at her little stumble. “Do you take many of them down in the depths of the earth in dusty criminal hideouts with terrible security measures, Astarion?”

“I’m not picky if it means getting to spend a little more time with you, darling.” His words are far too smooth to be spoken in such a place, and Rin immediately lets out a soft laugh at the ridiculousness of them.

“Do you use that line on every Half-Elf bard you meet, or did you save it just for me?”

“Why, I would never reuse a line, darling. How dare you.” Mock outrage colors his tone, the arm not linked with hers dramatically crossing his chest to rest over the place where his heart used to beat.

“Such protest is a little much, don’t you think?” Rin glances at him out of the corner of her eye, his dramatics endlessly amusing as she tugs at the arm wrapped around her own. The closeness of his body is more pleasant than she would like to admit, the weight of his arm through hers easy and strangely comforting.

“It’s the perfect amount, I assure you. You’re insulting my art.”

Arm in arm they amble, dust blooming around their feet with every step as they wind through the basement, everything thoroughly unremarkable until they round a corner and come upon a rather large set of doors at the end of the chamber, several agents and a pair of fearsome wolves stationed in front of it with weapons at the ready.

“Well, well. I think we found the fun, don’t you?” Astarion looks to Rin as he waits for her answer, eyebrows raised in interest as he calculates whether the four of them could take the guards ahead.

“So it would seem.” 

She spots a little enclave off to the side of the pathway, unguarded and perfectly placed for her to hatch a plan and poke around a little, the room just out of eyesight of the guards. It was unlikely anything of real importance was inside, but it what was the harm in checking when they happened to already be there?

With a slight pull, she leads Astarion to the room he had no doubt already taken note of and he follows easily, their heads held high with imaginary authority on show for anyone who happened to be looking their way.

The room is admittedly not much, Rin notes, as their eyes take stock of the several jars and baskets hiding away in the corners of the room and dilapidated shelves lining the walls. 

“Plan?” Astarion looks to Rin, his deference to her opinion still a strange thing she wasn’t sure how to feel about quite yet.

“Give me a minute and I’ll think of one. Let’s look around in the meantime.”

Astarion’s arm drops away from hers with little preamble and Rin starts at the sudden absence of it—of him—as he saunters away towards the far corner of the room, beginning to rummage through a set of old, mouldering baskets sitting lopsided on the ground. 

She shakes the feeling away as she walks towards a rickety table situated in the far corner underneath a set of the shelves, the warped wooden top covered with objects of little value—several letters, a copper ring long tarnished with spots of green and white, and a chipped knife with an ordinary wooden handle. 

Rin lifts one of the letters off the tabletop, fingers quick to break the thin, waxy seal before scanning the contents. With a huff she tosses the parchment aside, gossip of who was sleeping with who the only information to be found inside.

With a glance towards the ceiling she rises up on the toes of her worn leather boots, an arm outstretched high above as she reaches for the precariously hung shelf above, a gleaming iron bottle sitting just out of reach of her fingertips as they disrupt old dust with every brush against the shelf.

“Oh, come on.” Rin’s feet leave the ground as she gives a little leap into the air to no avail, hand returning with a perfect coating of dust on each fingertip. She swipes her fingers across the table, leaving streaks of dingy white against the greying wood.

Astarion barely makes a sound as he crosses the dirt floor, and it’s not until Rin smells the now familiar scent of rosemary and bergamot fill the air that she realizes Astarion is behind her. 

Before she can turn her head to look his way Astarion leans in towards her, the thick leather of his chest pressing her rapier into the space between her shoulder blades. Gauntleted hands find their way to her hips, settling on the soft swell of them as he runs his lips along the shell of a pointed ear, her breath catching in her throat at the feeling of his cool lips on her skin.

“Need some help, darling?” 

He speaks in a dulcet tone that has a shiver running down Rin’s spine, irrepressible after visions from their shared escapade run across her thoughts, memories of that voice whispering far more scandalous things into her ear and those hands mapping every inch of her naked body.

Oh, how she had worried about this—that she had made some terrible, horrible miscalculation in sleeping with Astarion those nights ago.

And it seems that she may have been right.

It was already becoming almost impossible to look at him without vivid memories of their night together jumping out at her when she least expected it, a fact Astarion was all too pleased to make worse with every knowingly flirtatious look he sends her over his shoulder as he saunters about disarming traps and picking locks and aiming his bow; every subtle flick of his nimble fingers nothing but a reminder of how they felt gliding across her skin and pressing deep inside her cunt, every sardonic quirk of his lips sending images flooding into her mind of how exactly that mouth of his looked glistening with her essence as it busied itself between her legs.

She had thought—hoped—that scratching the proverbial itch would clear her mind and cleanse her soul of him, but instead it had only made her crave him more. 

His words, his attention, all of it.

Rin swallows down a breath, her back held straight despite her traitorous body whispering its want to lean her weight into him and melt into his embrace. “I can figure it out on my own, I think.” 

“You know, it’s an utter shame there’s so many layers between us.” His lips map the line of her jaw as he leans in further, the words fluttering across her skin as she revels in the feeling of his lips. 

“So you could do what, exactly?” Rin doesn’t give him time to answer, spinning in his arms so that they could stand face to face, on equal ground. She leans her weight back against the table, Astarion’s hands still gripping around her waist as she raises her brow despite the blush she knows has already begun to spread across her cheeks.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you, darling?” Astarion’s mouth twists into an amused smile, eyes heating with the barest beginnings of lust as they flick down to watch as her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

His insinuation has the flush on Rin’s cheeks darkening, heat beginning to pool low in her stomach as she runs her gloved fingers over his chest and up, the touch so light she doubts whether he can even feel it through the thick leather he wears before wrapping them around his neck. “Maybe I’d just rather hear you say it.”

She tilts her head as her gaze flicks up to his own, her loosely tied hair swaying with the movement. 

The motion captures Astarion’s attention, a hand coming up from her waist to run through the thick waves, the strands flowing around his fingers like liquid gold. With a frown, he gently tugs a tendril away from the rest, examining the locks before running his thumb over a soot-darkened smudge, expression unreadable as he wipes the darkness away with an uncharacteristic care that has her breath catching in her chest.

“I—thank you.” Rin watches him curiously, the heat Astarion had set aflame inside her changing, softening, as her mind works to put together the puzzle of the sudden tenderness of the action.

With a last, final brush Astarion lets the strands slip through his fingers, falling like water as join back with the rest of her sinuous waves. He brushes the soot staining his hand along the collar of his armor to clean them before moving them underneath Rin’s chin, lifting her face towards his own.

“I hate to see such pretty hair sullied.” The words have her heart skipping a beat in a way that has nothing to do with their earlier flirtations.

“Another compliment? Why, I’m going to have to start keeping count.” She’s pinned by his gaze like a butterfly on a board, unable to look away from him even if she wanted to, Astarion’s thumb brushing against her skin where he holds her chin.

“Feel free to write them down so you don’t forget.” Astarion lowers his head to her own, capturing her lips in an unexpected kiss.

His lips soft as her lashes flutter shut, Rin leaning into Astarion as he kisses her. She tightens her arms around his neck, bringing herself closer to him as she luxuriates in the simple feeling of his lips on hers.

This kiss is different than the others they’d shared, all desperation and urgency and hunger absent. It was a feeling that was all too easy for Rin to lose herself in, the lightness of his kiss and the strange affection she feels rushing into her chest as the outside world fades away to nothing as she focuses solely on him.

She feels his tongue brush against her lips, asking for entry which she is quick to grant, parting her lips for him eagerly. He tastes her leisurely as his tongue brushes against her own, a small noise escaping her throat at the feeling.

It ends all too soon, Astarion breaking away first as he leaves Rin panting, catching her breath as he drags his mouth away from hers to kiss a line up and over her cheek instead, working his way back towards her ear.

“Do you really want to know what I would do?” Any hint of lingering softness dissipates from his voice, replaced instead with that seductive tone perfected for one purpose and one purpose only. 

Astarion abandons his earlier tenderness as ardent hands run down from her waist and over the curve of her behind, cupping her bottom in his hands as he pulls her hips closer to his own, slipping a thigh in between her own.

“Yes.” A terrible and familiar want pulses through her body as she whispers it, and in that moment Rin is quite sure she would let him fuck her here, however he wanted, if he so desired. She had left her dignity discarded next to her ruined underwear on the forest floor when she had let him do whatever he wanted then, too.

And it was a good thing she never had much dignity to begin with, she thinks, as Astarion draws a quiet gasp from her throat as his thigh presses hard enough for her to feel, even through all the layers of leather and metal.

“Well, that’s too bad,” He speaks low against her skin and Rin can feel the sensual smirk that he presses against her temple. “I think I’ll make you wait to find out instead, darling.” 

Astarion’s hands squeeze her ass through her armor once before traveling back up to rest at her waist once more, the leg wedged between her own retreating back to join his other as he stands upright once more.

It feels akin to something like whiplash as Rin withholds a small noise at the loss of his very intentionally placed leg and from the pleased smile on his face she knows that he knows, Astarion no doubt reveling in her frazzled state and the blush that still sits high on her cheeks.

“You’re impossible, you know that, right?” She swallows before letting out a breath, forcing the want that pulses deep in her body to melt into nothing as she shoots him a look. 

“Darling, I count on it.”

She needed to get this back on track before he find other ways to tease her, and Rin had no doubt that if given the opportunity Astarion would find other ways. 

“Astarion, what do you think it is they’re hiding behind that suspiciously large door over there?” Rin looks over his shoulder, fingers carding through the curling locks at his nape as she shifts the focus with as much grace as she can manage, still feeling the residual heat that Astarion had left simmering. He’s still so close to her, his body pressed up against her own as his arms rest comfortably around her waist.

His smile turns vicious at the thought, body suddenly humming with an anticipation that she can feel in the lines of his neck. “Do we go in with blades out or no? It’s been awhile since we’ve killed anything and I’m getting antsy. It’s your call, darling.” 

“Oh, keep it in your pants, Astarion. It’s unbecoming.” She hazards a glance down, his armor hiding anything he may have on display much to her disappointment.

“How strange, I don’t remember you saying that the last time I had my arms around you.” 

He was far too amused by his own cleverness judging by the delight evident in his eyes, Rin’s own rolling in response. “I was talking about your knives, obviously. Now, shall we go see if there’s anything for you to kill?”

“By all means. We should get going then, yes?” Astarion keeps his eyes locked on Rin’s as he reaches up above her, effortlessly grabbing the potion she had been reaching for all along off the shelf with quick fingers. 

He dangles the bottle above her head just out of her reach, the opaque crimson liquid inside swishing from side to side as he takes a graceful step backwards out of the circle of her arms, taking the potion with him with a victorious smirk.

“Astarion, don’t you dare!” Indignation alights along Rin’s face as her mouth opens in disbelief, arms propping themselves on her hips as he deposits the potion into his pouch before gesturing towards the doorway with an outstretched hand.

“Lead the way, dearest.”

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

It had turned out, in fact, that the Underdarkis what lay in wait behind those overlarge doors fitted into the stone of the wall—a giant, wooden lift ready to take them down, down, down into a world of darkness and luminous grace Rin had only ever heard stories of.

Gruesome stories.

Rin suppresses a shiver as she makes her way out of her tent in wonderfully fresh clothes, every smudge of soot cleaned away by a nearby stream, the smell of ash and burning wood rinsed and replaced instead with scented oils of jasmine and honey diligently rubbed into her sun-warmed skin.

The moon rises above camp, a whisper thin crescent half covered by hazy clouds drifting slowly across the sky as Rin steps out of her tent in search of her dearest companions and even dearer bottles of wine.

But as she takes a step towards the roaring fire a small flash of silver catches the corner of her eye, her head turning at the brightness of something like quicksilver as she pauses mid-step to take stock of what exactly it is she sees. 

There in front of his tent stands Astarion, hand held aloft as he turns an ornately decorated hand mirror to and fro, staring into the mirrored glass with an expression that can only be characterized as troubled.

The sight of such a look of distress on his face has Rin padding over the ground towards him, feet moving across the softly trodden grass before her mind allows as her inquisitive nature gets the better of her once again. 

Her own image grows larger in the mirror as she nears, though something very obvious is missing from the scene, the space where his features should be next to her own in the glazed oval empty.

His reflection was missing. The realization dawns on Rin as she comes up behind him, her mind turning with the knowledge.

“Looking at something?” He calls out to her before she has time to think any further on it, Astarion angling the mirror towards her as he waits for her answer.

“I’m looking at you. What exactly is it that you’re doing, Astarion?” Rin smiles at the mirror, the curving of her lips perfectly captured as she tucks an errant curl behind a pointed ear.  

“I’m looking too, but not seeing very much.” Astarion heaves a heavy sigh that has her taking another step towards him as he turns to face her, Rin’s own smile faltering at the sound of it. “Another quirk of my…affliction.”

Ah. She had often wondered where the line between fact and fiction regarding vampires was, the stories and myths numerous and often incongruent between one another.

“Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?” The words are out before she can hold them back, the honesty of them less finessed than she would prefer as she winces at her own curiosity. 

“Preening in a looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.” His mouth downturns in upset, bitterness coloring the words as he spits them out and his eyes narrow in obvious dismay. The sight of it has her heart constricting in her chest, the thought of what was yet another thing taken from him one she does not relish adding to the list of the ones she already knows of.

Rin was still unable to fully reconcile the many horrors he had faced, the things he had confided to her of on their evenings sitting together under darkened skies in the moments when peace was unwilling to allow either of them a reprieve from reality—he with his endless mending and she with her scrawling words on paper, a bottle of wine shared between them by the warmth of the fire.

And then there were those scars she had seen on his back that morning, his arms outstretched towards the sun as warming rays of light beamed down onto his marble-pale skin, face upturned towards the light, expression a lesson in misery for the mere moment she was able to glimpse it before he realized she had awoken and put his ever-present mask back in place.

Rin was thoroughly unsure of how exactly to categorize Astarion—a companion, certainly. Maybe a lover? Perhaps even a…friend? 

But one thing she did know was that seeing such open distraught on his face, that bitter discontent taking hold of him, has her heart aching more and more with every piece of his misery she collected.

Rin didn’t have terribly many skills, but if anything she was talented at two particular things: amusing people and angering them.

She’ll just have to hope that amusement wins over anger.

It was, at the very least, one surefire way to take his mind off of his plight. 

“I suppose you would be the type to have lovingly gazed at your own reflection.” She gives an overdramatic sigh, mimicking him as best as she can with a sly smile. “Though it may be for the best. I hate to say it, but you’re not exactly aging, well…gracefully.”

It gets Astarion’s attention, if nothing else.

“Aging?! What do you mean ‘aging’? I’m a vampire—forever young. And an Elf, for that matter!” Outrage blooms across his face as he stares at her, open mouthed and horrified, a hand coming up to touch the skin in question as he searches for evidence of wrinkles. 

Rin should have known that anger would triumph over amusement, but thankfully this is a hurt she can soothe with words that come far too easily for her own comfort.

"I’m teasing, Astarion. You look great. You always do, I promise.” She laughs as Astarion blinks once, twice; his building anger rapidly disappearing as he puts her words together and lowers his hand.  

“Oh, really? Anything in particular?” Astarion turns around a slow, dramatic circle with the mirror still in hand as he eyes her, a small smirk already back in place as he shamelessly fishes for a compliment.

Rin leans in towards him, letting her eyes run slowly over the features she never allows herself to look at so openly and without reservation, her gaze flitting from his soft curls to his expressive eyes before moving down along the bridge of his strong nose to rest upon expectant lips waiting for her reply.

“I am quite partial to that dangerous smile of yours, I must admit.” Her eyes drag back up his face to meet his eyes once more before adding mischievously, “Your eyes aren’t half-bad either, I guess.” 

“My eyes aren’t half-bad? Gods, I would have thought you’d be better at this.” Astarion huffs out a breath of annoyance despite the curling of his lips upwards with something like enjoyment as he gives Rin a dismissive wave perfectly punctuated with a roll of his eyes. “Now, just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day” 

“Oh? Is it just shallow praise that you want, then? No poetic metaphors for your hair or long-reaching similes to describe the exact shade of your eyes?” Rin could easily list them, all the things about him she finds beautiful from the elegance of his features to the quirks that had been growing on her each day she spends in his presence, but she doesn’t. 

It would be too much to lay her cards out on the table so readily like that for him to devour right in front of her.

“Hardly. There’s also gold, sex, revenge—quite the list, really. But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.” He counts them out on long fingers, that clever little smile of his still perfectly in place on his lips.

“Well, I think I can facilitate at least two of those things for you.” It’s an easy offer for Rin to make, the flirtation obvious.

“Not all four? Where’s your vision, darling?” The sound of him teasing her is music to her ears, the morose words of minutes ago long gone.

“I could have said your skin was wrinkled like an old woman or that you had an unsightly mole, you know. Be glad I was at least truthful.”

Astarion crosses his arms in front of his chest as he looks at Rin with reproach.  “You’re a little menace, you know, what with your teasing.”

Rin preens at him, her smile wide as she flutters her lashes prettily. “You know, I came across a wonderful vintage earlier today, I’ll give you a little taste. Think of it as…a reparation.”

She slowly backs away, taking step by step towards the roaring fire behind them as she beckons Astarion to follow her.

“Such charity from our fearless leader.” He sighs but smiles nonetheless as he trails after her for a second time that day. “Fine. But I want more than just a little taste. Give me half, at least.”

“I’m sure we can come to an understanding, Astarion.” With that, Rin twirls around to face forward, golden hair illuminated by the growing fire against the darkness of the night.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

It took only half a bottle of the wine she had promised Astarion for the idea to come to her, growing from nothing more than an inkling of a thought to a full-fledged plan in mere minutes, not even bothering to finish her portion before momentarily excusing herself from the center of camp to breeze back to the privacy of her own tent.

Rin sits on her bedroll with legs crossed, leather bound journal balanced precariously on a knee as a bottle of dark ink sits on the dusty ground next to her. Her quill scribbles the words onto the bound parchment as her lips move around silent words left unsaid earlier in the evening. 

Dearest Astarion,

I feel as though apologize for my teasing, though I am somewhat unsure as to why (perhaps it is that wine, I told you it was a good vintage).

But if you insist on knowing what the world sees when they gaze upon you, I suppose you should hear it from me. I will be your mirror, and you may preen all you wish at your reflection within the looking glass of my eyes.

Shall I bore you with poetics? I did promise you metaphors and similes, after all.

I do wonder what you would actually want to hear about first. Would it be your eyes, with their pomegranate glow that alights in the darkness? Or would it be your mouth, the way your plush lips curve while those ever elegant hands of yours twist your blade right before you throw it. 

Or maybe I should tell you about the way your hair curls perfectly into the loveliest little wisps around your ears, the color of the freshest snow.  

Rampant poeticism aside, I think you’re beautiful. 

It wouldn’t become you to forget such a thing, so I guess I will have to be the one to remind you then, won’t I?

- Rin

She blows at the glossy ink, careful to not disturb the still-wet letters. With hasty fingers she rips the page from the journal, folding it thrice before using the wax from a nearby candle to seal the letter.

The thought wouldn’t leave her alone—maybe she should have told him of all the things she finds beautiful about him because maybe he deserves to know them after all he’s been through. Her letter can be her small kindness to him in a world where he has not had much.

Maybe Astarion wouldn’t even read it, choosing to burn it to cinders instead. But it was worth a try. She had already written the words, anyway. 

Holding it between two quick fingers, she exits, using every bit of the stealth she possesses to work her way around the edge of camp towards Astarion’s tent, the subject of her little mission blessedly still sitting on the outskirts of the fire as Wyll regales the group with colorful tales befitting of the Blade of Frontiers.

Rin places the letter on top of the same silver mirror sitting face down on his side table, its shine reflected in the moonlight. She has no doubt that Astarion and his ever-observant eyes will notice it the moment he returns to his tent for the evening.

Satisfied, Rin wanders back over to the warmth of the fire, picking up a new bottle of wine and bringing it to her lips with a pleasant smile as she sits next to Shadowheart, falling back into the conversation with an easy grace.

The moon is low on the horizon when she finally makes the walk back to her tent for the evening, her companions all long since retired; the impeding trek down into the depths of the Underdark looming above her despite the wine that swims in her head. 

With a yawn she shoulders past the flap, stripping off her pants and not bothering to change her tunic as she plops onto her bedroll, stretching her arms high over her head. As she turns to reach for the glass decanter of water next to her bedroll she spies it: a small, rectangular piece of paper wedged underneath the chipped ceramic mug, the fresh flowers leaning slightly to one side.

Rin carefully removes it from its hidden spot, fingers brushing over the smooth vellum as she unfolds it to read.

The response contains only a few words, written in a scrolling script indicative of one person and one person only, though he leaves no signature. Her eyes scan the letters, piecing them together as a smile alights her lips, a tiny noise of joy leaving her mouth as she reads.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweet thing. I have 200 years of my reflection to catch up on, after all.

[soartfullydone]

Did you ever read ACOSF? What did you think of the twilight baby plot?

Everything I know about ACOSF I've learned against my will lol. One of my best friends kept a play-by-play of each chapter in a Google Doc, so she could spare me the reading experience but also so we could make fun of it mercilessly.

In all seriousness, I knew I was never going to subject my eyes to it directly because I hate Nessian with a burning passion. I one-hundred percent believe that Nesta deserves better than everything she got, and she should've been meaner actually. Even when I somewhat liked ACOMAF, I felt utterly indifferent to Cassian. Who is this bland rice cake taking up the space where Lucien should be? No good dialogue or anything out of that guy. And then SJM wrote Nessian into MAF with all the subtlety of a clown show, and it was over. Nesta hates him! Keep him away from her! If she doesn't kill him, I will!

Most baby plots are horrendous in fiction, and I hate them deeply also. They often reduce women to being pure idiots (why do I have morning sickness after unprotected sex? a mystery!) or they reinforce this false idea that women can only achieve ultimate happiness by having their One True Love's baby. Ah, the number of women I know who are stuck in unhappy marriages, their sense of self completely lost because being a Wife and Mother comes first! Can those things be fulfilling? Absolutely. But a lot of folks are selling a romanticized idea of both, and SJM is no exception here.

Because look at what the Twilight baby plot does. It takes away all of Nesta's power, asserts her feelings of worthlessness, and encourages her to be a breeder for Cassian, who never even told her he loved her in their romance book. It puts her firmly and forever under Rhysand's and the Night Court's boot. It confirms that Feyre has also lost all her agency, that the High Lady title is meaningless, that her found family and Court do not respect her, that Rhysand will lie to her and trap her if it serves him to do so. That, ultimately, her body does not belong to her and she doesn't have a choice.

What really gets to me, too, is that these two women have to change their bodies to accommodate their love interests, their supposed fated mates. Methinks if it was fated, if they really were perfect for each other, this kind of change wouldn’t have been necessary 🤔. But also if this really were a fantasy story with all-powerful magical beings, there’s no reason why Feyre’s pregnancy should’ve been so risky to begin with. Barring that, there’s no reason why a C-section couldn’t have been an option. It was drama for the sake of drama, pain for the sake of pain. All filler, no substance.

Everything surrounding the baby plot and Nesta's forced captivity prove ACOMAF for the lie it is, a romanticized idea about overwritten trauma and choosing the Perfect Guy because he can read your mind and tell you the things you want to hear. I mean, how else do we go from Feyre earnestly believing she wants time with her new love, that a child can wait, to a Feyre who can't think of a single gift to give Rhys besides the news of her pregnancy? (Cue him cumming to the sight of their unborn child. I will never forget, and neither will you, dear anon, I'm sorry. But I didn't write it!)

And idk, given how much pregnancy in general squicks me out despite being a woman myself, how much medical care for women generally sucks, how many people are going through such pain with miscarriages, unviable pregnancies, and unclear yet strict abortion laws... This ain't it, fam! If SJM wants to talk real-life application with her trauma bullshit, then let's talk real-life application! Because no one, not a single person, has an I Am Become Death magic sister who can pull a dying mother and their dying baby back from the brink where medicine and the law have failed them. No one can have their premie who can't survive on its own suddenly turned into a healthy six-month-old. Who does this plot serve? Neither the reader nor the characters benefited.

I genuinely can't understand how SJM, as a mother herself, could write something so tone deaf, without even being brave enough to explore this kind of fear and pain with any care whatsoever. If she wanted Feyre and Nesta to actually bond over something... Feyre's pregnancy and what that means as a human-turned-fae and a mother could have been it. That could have been something the sisters discussed and helped each other with, where they could have learned more about each other and their deeper fears as young women in a society that does not truly respect them. Both of them share in family trauma, for fuck's sake! Now here Feyre is starting a new family at great risk while Nesta is still guiltily mourning the one she lost! The dots are there!

But no. Instead, not even Feyre is allowed to learn the truth about her pregnancy until Nesta tells her, and then Nesta is painted as a villain for doing so. Feyre isn't allowed to have any real opinion or lingering fears or doubts about her fate whatsoever. Because none of this stuff really matters, especially not the trauma. It's about the fucking, rutting, animal sex. It's about the smirking males, their dripping seed, and their inability to be anything besides horny at any given moment. It's about the washboard abs. Hey, a sexy story would be just fine with me! I just wish SJM would fully embrace that (and also write it better lmao) and get off her "I'm God's gift to feminism" soap box. Maybe take off the girlboss shades, too, because ain't none of her female characters even living up to the shallowness of a girlboss. The narrative undermines and undervalues them too much.

Actually, I have to clap my hands to SJM for this baby plot. I've never seen one that destroys two main female characters in a single stroke before. That's how powerful Rhysand's dick is.

[starshine555]

Metal Vocalist Indicators in Astrology

I decided to do something a little different to practice reading natal charts so I had the idea to look at metal vocalists' natal charts. Unfortunately, for many of them I couldn't find any birth times so these will mostly be aspects and planet placements. I was specifically aiming for metal vocalists that actually "scream" and not just sing, even if the music they make is more like rock rather than metal to see if there's any significant indicators. So i'll start this list with the placements I saw the most.

Water Mars

This is the placement that appeared the most. I was actually very surprised at first to see this placement pop up A LOT. But the more I thought about it, the more things added up, because of how much water mars bottle up how the feel. I think water mars channel the energy of metal music very well. I was expecting to see a lot of fire mars, but I only saw a sprinkle of leo mars and aries mars here and there.

Examples:

Scorpio mars: Serj Tankian (System of a Down), Jonathan Davis (Korn), Marilyn Manson (Marilyn Manson), Angela Gossow(Arch Enemy), Joe Duplantier (Gojira), Franz (Attila), Kadeem France(Loathe), Winston McCall (Parkway Drive).

Cancer mars: Phil Anselmo (Pantera), Chester Bennington (Linkin Park), Caleb Shomo (Beartooth), George Fisher (Cannibal Corpse), Chris Roetter (Like Moths to Flames), CJ McMahon(Thy Art is Murder), Alex Koehler (Chelsea Grin), Ben Burnley (Breaking Benjamin).

Pisces mars: Chino Moreno (Deftones), Zach de la Rocha (Rage against the machine- yes, i know, he raps, but he does in fact scream in his music), Frank Mullen (Suffocation), Jake Luhrs(August Burns Red).

Mercury-Uranus

This placement makes a lot of sense, because this placement is a huge indicator of having a unique voice in general. I mostly saw a mix of harsh aspects(conjunction, oppositions and squares.), but there were some harmonious placements also.

Most of the people on this list above had this placement, but here are some without water mars:

Ex:

James Hetfeild-conj.(Metallica), Tatiana Shamayluk-sextile(Jinjer), Maynard James Keenan-trine(Tool/ A Perfect Circle), Morgan Landers-sextile(Kittie).

Mars-Uranus

People with this placement have a desire to express themselves through ways that are considered 'out there', hence, this is a good placement for metal vocalists(screaming).

Ex:

Tom Araya -conj.(Slayer), Corey Taylor -opp.(Slipknot), Maria Brink -square(In This Moment), Lacey Sturm -Trine (Flyleaf), David Draiman -square(Disturbed), Chad Grey -Trine(Mudvayne).

Extra Indicators:

These placements weren't as common but I saw some synchronicities to them, so here are some extras.

Mercury-pluto/lilith/saturn- I suppose these placements could sort of an edge to how people communicate, but it wasn't super abundant.

Sun-Mars - this was fairly common, and ofc it makes sense that people with this aspect would do something as bold as scream in music.

Moon-mars - This one wasn't super common but I could definitely see how people with this placement could be potential metal vocalists.

Leo Mars- after all the water mars this is the other more common mars placement. Roar, Leo, roar!!

Taurus Mars- Yet another placement I was not expecting, but I did see it in a lot of people's charts.

Possibly Virgo moon- okay, to be fair, again, most of the natal charts I looked at didn't have birth times so this could be inaccurate. If it wasnt for that I would've put this placement at the top of the list with water mars, but from what I saw a-hell-lot of vocalists had this moon sign.

Conclusion

I'm going to be honest, I was expecting to see a lot of aquarius or aries, but to my suprise that wasn't the case. But the point of this post isn't to say that you MUST have these placements to be a vocalist or whatever, but just to see what kind of energy is most likely to be suited for metal screaming. I put a lot of time into researching this stuff, but it was fun anyways😁.

Photo credit to:Trev Earl

[thisisjustmefangirling]

Merlin rewatch, 2x10 : Sweet dreams.

Episode rewatched on the 16th of april 2024

Summary :

Dignitaries from rival kingdoms descend on Camelot for peace talks, but what King Alined really wants is war and he'll do everything in his power to stir up hostilities, even if it means using magic. 

Alined's jester Trickler puts a spell on Arthur to make him fall madly in love with rival King Olaf's daughter Vivian. Chaos reigns in the palace and Camelot is once more poised on the brink of war. 

Can Merlin free Arthur's heart before the prince loses his head in battle?

Sounds like a crucial piece of information for Arthur's future, as he is supposedly destined to unite Albion.

Alined looks as amiable as a prison door. Funny to see how he treats his servant and compare it to how Arthur treats Merlin. I wish we'd see how Uther treats his own servant but it seems like this character doesn't exist.

That knight handshake cracks me up all the time. Supposing that we don't sneeze or cough into our elbow, this is a very Covid-era like way of saying hello.

Oh hi Georgia Tennant ! <3

Arthur, you can be such a gentleman sometimes !

Oh wait THIS IS THE "Destiny and chicken" episode !!!!! Aaaaah I'm excited ! I love this line.

Why does the servant's face looks so familiar to me ? He must have acted in something else I've watched.

Vivian quickly revealing herself to be a brat like one of those Upper East side nepo babies from Gossip girl... That's gonna be fun ! I wonder what Georgia remembers from shooting this episode.

Arthur praising Guinevere <3

"She is one of Camelot's finest". "Then I fear for Camelot".

Milady. You're getting Lady Morgana's private maid. This is special treatment. Be graceful about it.

The disbelief on Arthur's face !

"Good luck with that one".

And then they laugh. How cute !

I think Vivian is an incredibly interesting character because she serves as a contrast for several character : Guinevere, and Arthur.

Let's not forget that she is acting like a spoiled brat, just like Arthur was when he first met Merlin. He's made some progress since then, and we see that in how he reacts to Vivian's behaviour.

Then, Vivian is a contrast to Guinevere : one is spoilt, demanding and arrogant, the other is hardworking, sweet, humble and kind. Two kinds of woman, two kinds of love interest.

"You should have heard what she said to Gwen".

I love these scenes between Arthur and Merlin when they're going about their daily routine, especially when they're in Arthur's bedroom being all domestic. Here, Arthur is dressing for the feast.

He had a hole in his first shirt, created by moths ! It's pretty weird that Merlin doesn't seem to care it would leave a bad impression on the five kings present at the feast. I like to think Merlin is both a bad and an extremely competent servant in his own way. He'll mess with unimportant stuff but will be extremely careful with Arthur's armor and making him look good to other people, especially foreign dignitaries. Well, that's my headcanon.

Merlin truly has no fear, he can just bring up Arthur's love for Gwen like that, out of the blue, when Arthur doesn't want to talk about it and is denying it (even after admitting his feelings about her to Merlin a few episodes ago when they were on their way to rescue Gwen from those bandits).

Arthur's threats can't make Merlin back down. He knows deep down, Arthur won't hurt him. He can keep on teasing him and laugh a bit about it.

"You're blushing !" "No I'm not."

Morgana should always be surrounded with pretty women. This should have been her destiny.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ? BLUE BUTTERFLIES ? MERLIN'S FAVOURITE MAGIC SPELL ?

How can Alined treat his servant like a total buffoon when he knows he has magic ?

Also while sometimes love potions can make people act stupid and in funny ways on tv, I think we'd laugh way less if this was GHB.

Are the CROWN PRINCE'S CHAMBERS never properly guarded ? I swear ! Fuck ! No wonder prisoners keep escaping, the security in this castle is a vast mess ! And why is Arthur not waking up ? You're a soldier for fuck's sake. The way the guy pops up and down like he came from under the mattress and is going back there... Comical but illogical. Get up and leave, maybe ?

"You're dressed".

Everytime Merlin shows up to Arthur's room in the morning and Arthur is awake, up and dressed, Merlin is surprised.

"Indeed, you are very skilled... at getting people to do things for you." "That is your job".

Merlin is not afraid to spit the truth hahaha.

"I wish to make a proclamation of love".

Arthur you never speak of your feelings so openly. Ever.

Aww I love when Merlin is arranging Arthur's clothes and basically touching him as part of his job.

"Right. What will you tell your father?" "What does my father matter?" "Well, that's one way of approaching things."

"Of course" Merlin replies, and Merlin rolls his eyes, because of course even in love Merlin has to do Arthur's job for him.

Arthur you are clumsy with your feelings and how to express them even under a lovespell, but you still look extremely cute <3

You know what, this is the kind of scene that make me doubt that Merlin is bi and think he might actually be gay, and his short lived affair with Freya was more about compassion and the feeling of finally be with kin, people who understand him, that about attraction and romantic love.

"Flowers ?" "Excellent. Find some. Perhaps you should also send a note". "Brilliant idea". "Something moving. Something... from the heart. Something... You'll think of something".

Arthur relies so much on Merlin omg. I would say that this is because he's enchanted but I think I remember him making Merlin pick flowers to give Gwen in season 5.

OHMYGOD MERLIN THIS IS WHAT YOU WROTE TO GWEN ? You have strong Cyrano powers ! It never ends well. Gosh. And the flowers are in the colours of Gwen's favourite outfits : cream and light purple. Merlin, were you ever to court someone, you would have a VERY strong game. Anyone you would woo would fall under your charm instantly.

Intricate ritual : manhandle your servant as you talk about what you made him do to court the woman you are enchanted to be in love with. Touch him, grab him. And then talk about how beautiful that woman is.

Merlin you're finally picking up on something.

This is the face of someone who realised that :

A) There's something wrong happening with Arthur

B) He fucked up.

Two things to know about Merlin :

He never knocks.

He always has the lamest excuses for being somewhere and they usually involve vermin : moths, woodworms, and now rats.

I love seeing Gwen smile... Her life probably isn't easy, and it shows a nice attention like a bouquet of flowers can change someone's day for the better <3

Haha Merlin trying to get Gaius to help but he can't tell him the specifics because he can't reveal Arthur is actually in love with Gwen ! He's being a good friend.

One of my favourite lines ever from the show.

Help he's so insistent and into the food x)

He's so lucky Merlin arrived when he did! Poor Arthur, his feelings are hurt...

There is no straight explanation for this, Alined.

Arthur, you're cute. You need a hug.

"It might be worthwhile returning to your old love."

You know what, this is actually the first time I hear Merlin expressing doubts about Arthur's feelings for Gwen and their relationship.

Part 2 in another post, I can't add more pictures to this one.