#let this be a reminder RAH

[romaritimeharbor]

also on a completely different note. me when i see that someone reblogged my writing but it's just an empty reblog </3 HAHSHD like guys pls,,,,, if you liked the post say something pspspsps (/lh)

EMPTY REBLOGS ARE LITERALLY THE WORST AUGHHHH it's like, you were halfway there!!! Please Please Please leave a silly little note on your way out!!!!!!!! even a silly little "AUGJFNEKDHDKBSNHZ" is okay (though do not be shy to leave little essays in the tags too......)!!!!!!

[desiredcrescent]

@thedragonagelesbian replied to your post “saw your tags on the 'inflexible honor code' post...”:

the only thing i love more than a paladin (and i love paladins a LOT) is a paladin constantly struggling with their nature-- daeris seems like an incredible character!!! the all-consuming nature of the oath, blazing with fury & justice & ILMATER MY BELOVED. also yes i can definitely see him & cyrus trying to out-martyr each other opiajsdfasf and if you want to share i'd be soooo curious to here more about the planned bard multiclass? esp with what happened w alfira...

​AAAAAAAaaa thank you thank you!!

Ok so sin #1 - Until i got highkey invested in Cyrus i didnt really get paladins- I've definitely not enjoyed playing them before in dnd, so its been soooooo much fun trying to explore the implications in bg3! SO with me not getting the paladin thing, i was thinking of a bard multiclass more for the narrative potential- someone growing beyond their oath and being ok with it. Something something, the fighter becomes a supporter and realises they are more than a knight in shining armour. (Not that Daeris sees himself as a knight per say but this was what I was building off!!)

ANYWAY. for Daeris this is super on the tables, especially after Alfira!!! if its ok its time for MEGA rambles but the situation made me feel things.

Daeris lets Alfira join camp happily, knowing he cannot shepherd all the tieflings to Baldur's Gate, but this sweet girl who bared her heart and made it into song, while sharing a new skill with Daeris but a day earlier? he could make room for one more.

only hours later she's dead on the floor, pooling with blood, in a ritualistic killing of pure brutality, and his hands are stained with her blood. His only memory he could conjure up being how scared she was.

He washes his hands first,scrubbing his skin raw trying to think of how this happened. He barely sleeps, her fear haunting him, but that's not the only thing. His oath, holding fast despite the depravity, but Ilmater's prayers have gone quiet. There is no guidance, with his oath feeling hollow as it still holds. She wasn't who he was hunting, she wasn't the face of his vengeance. So why does the divine still course through?

He confesses to the killing, before swiftly making an effort to give her a send off, a burial with the hopes that any of his divine powers will help her journey. The scrutiny of his companions only making his holy oath feel more fraudulent.

Daeris finally remembers the song Alfira was writing, in memory of Lihala. He remembers how the spare lute played effortlessly in his hands, despite having no recollection of ever holding a lute before. He thinks it to be a coincidence, but then a stray thought... why not, alongside a burial, give the charming young bard a proper bardic remembrance through song? It's the least she deserves. Anything to replace the fear she felt as the lasting memory in his head.

And so, with his faith in his oath beginning to wobble and a lute, Daeris begins to write a song, forcing himself to remember her as purely as he can. to his surprise, it comes as easily as the urge to kill, and feels just as holy as suffering should.

[a-dorin]

“When you laugh like that, it just — you’re so beautiful, you know that?” is so anakin x reader coded

~🍯

this one definitely pulls at my heartstrings because i can actually hear him saying this line.

here you go my honey <3

"rex, there's no way he did that," you can't help but let the laughter flow from your lips, warmth seeping in all throughout your face.

seventy-nines was packed to the brim tonight, bustling with clone troopers, twi'leks, togrutas, even a few jedi were in the mix. it was a night to celebrate, as the republic had just claimed victory over an intense battle with a heavily armed separatist fleet.

you were crammed into a corner booth with the boys of the 501st, their voices only growing in volume after every round. of course, you participated in a few shots yourself, probably a little too tipsy for your own good.

"yes, he did," rex nodded, "we all heard it."

"calling obi-wan daddy was not part of the plan but it worked," since anakin was to your right, you felt him shrug slightly, "it was a last minute decision."

once again, you felt the laughter taking over, nearly suffocating you as tears welled up in your eyes. the mere thought of anakin referring to obi-wan as "daddy" was enough to send you spiraling in your state. but thinking about obi-wan's reaction? gods, that really got you.

bringing a hand to your mouth, you covered the giggles that nearly consumed you, a stinging sensation clawing along your sides. your cheeks were burning now, the temperature around you only elevated.

"make sure to breathe," rex chuckled, "we need ya alive, general. we have more stories to share!"

"yeah," anakin leaned in, his lips nearly brushing your ear. the action sent a shiver down your spine, "i need you, general."

"anakin," you squeaked as you felt fingers massage your thigh, "you need to--"

"and i need to remind you of something. when you laugh like that -- you're so beautiful, you know that?"

his voice was low, just low enough for you to hear it. just as he finished his sentiment, his fingers massaged your thigh once more, almost to give you an indication that he meant every word.

"thank you," you murmured, "i hate my laugh."

"and i love it," the corners of his lips were curled into a meek grin. a tiny, boyish grin.

almost as if his statement was a confession. a secret not meant to be shared. at least, with you.

"do we need to separate you two?" a voice interrupted the moment, calling from across the table, "no attachments in the order! rah, rah, rah!"

"oh stop it," you couldn't help but giggle once more as you notice a faint pink hue tinging anakin's cheeks, "i was just giving her a compliment!"

"we know what compliments are," rex countered, a smug smirk painting his lips as he folded his arms across his chest.

"and what's that?" anakin arched a brow.

"words of affection, which means one thing. either you two are already deeply intimate with one another, or you're about to be."

[nerdallwritey]

About to Strike (Part 1)

***IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: ONCE AGAIN I've yapped too much and this chapter became longer than tumblr likes, so I've split it into two posts. It's the same drill as Cheeks All Flushed: The smut is in the other part if you'd rather skip shenanigans and Get To Business. And that's valid! Part 2 is here and also linked down below. Apologies! It IS all in one place on AO3 if you'd prefer that!

Summary: Before Astarion could protest more, you took a sip of the drink.  He gasped. “Darling, what do you think you’re doing?” “Building trust,” you said, smiling at Jaheira. Her features echoed your own and she took a sip as well.  “Ah, what the hells,” Karlach said. “Bottoms up!” She downed her own goblet. “You’re all idiots and I hope you die,” Astarion crossed his arms.  OR The gang finally makes their way into the Shadow Cursed Lands.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 21.3k (This particular part is 10.7k) CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, oral (male receiving), hand job, vaginal fingering, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, protective Astarion, soft Astarion, whimpering Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), lots of party banter, AND JAHEIRA!! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 and 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 6 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: SURPRISE! Part 6 is COMPLETE and she's A LOT. The back half is mainly smut and feelings and Astarion processing emotions a little which we LOVE to see. I hope to the gods that you guys find this to be a good followup to Worth the Peril, but I'm excited to FINALLY be in Act 2 and get into the big romantic scenes that happen there. Thank you all so much for sticking around and loving this goofy version of Astarion and his favorite bard :) You guys are the best and I adore and appreciate every single one of you! Please enjoy these silly little vignettes from the end of Act 1 and the start of Act 2! (Thank you as always to my beta @kermitwazowski for reading!) As a reminder, last time you got Mega Hurt in a fight and Astarion kind of took that personally.

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

“Would you relax?” you whispered sharply to the vampire currently brooding to your right.

“How can I be when this… ancient woman just tried to murder you?” Astarion threw a dramatic hand forward, gesturing to Jaheira, who was walking in front of you towards the Last Light Inn. You all had just arrived at the well lit sanctuary in the Shadow Cursed Lands, only to be interrogated by the High Harper, and vouched for by Mol, who’d managed to find her way here as well.

“I handled it,” you hissed. “It’s going to be okay.”

“While I admire your optimism, darling, I still don’t trust her.”

Karlach buzzed behind you, clearly in disbelief. “Mate, you must be joking. That’s the Jaheira!”

Astarion slowed his pace a bit to meet Karlach’s eye. “And, I take it, you know the old crone?”

“Astarion!” Wyll sounded surprised. “You’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate longer than I have! And you don’t know the tales they tell of Jaheira and her party of adventurers?”

Your crew of seven came to a halt in front of a moss covered fountain to gawk at the elf.

He clicked his tongue. “Mmm… that’d be a no.”

“He’s lying,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes.

“I am not!”

Gale lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Come now, Astarion, surely you’ve heard passing tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate? Or perhaps read a book of their exploits?”

Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. “I do not know of this ‘Jah-hee-rah’ person. Her heroics must not be that impressive if I have never heard of her.”

“Nor I,” Halsin cut in.

“Yes, well, being freakish outsiders from the Astral Plane and the middle of the forest will deprive you of basic history lessons.” Astarion crossed his arms.

You snorted. “So what’s your excuse?” The others snickered. 

Astarion placed an annoyed hand on his hip. “Did you all forget that I was kept as a slave for two hundred years of pure misery and torture?”

The group remained silent for a moment before you stepped forward to kiss his cheek. “You’re still not over that?” 

He smirked. “Would you believe it’s taking me a little longer than one might expect?”

“Shame,” you pouted. Then you looked at Karlach who was angling her head around the fountain to track where Jaheira had gone. “You want to enlighten these three, Karlach?”

Karlach looked back at you all and her eyes lit up with glee. “Oh, yes please!” She rolled her shoulders and bounced on her feet as if she were preparing for battle, rather than recounting basic Baldur’s Gate history. She cleared her throat before she spoke. “Years ago - over a century-”

You turned to Astarion and caught his eye. A century! your expression seemed to say.

Astarion shrugged his shoulders up to his ears and unwrapped one of his crossed arms to hold dramatically in front of himself. So what?

You rolled your eyes. So you should have been there!

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. I don’t know what to tell you.

You huffed some hair out of your eyes and tuned back in to what Karlach was saying.

“-Jaheira was part of a group that saved Baldur’s Gate from Seravok - a Bhaalspawn trying to plunge the city into war.”

Once again, you caught Astarion’s eye. “And you don’t recall any of this?”

He pursed his lips as the others turned to look at him. “Now that you mention it, I vaguely recall tensions being rather high around the city all those years ago.”

“Liar,” Shadowheart accused again. “It had to be more apparent than that. Why don’t you just admit you know who Jaheira is?”

Astarion’s response was venomous: “I was kept on a very tight leash, thank you, so apologies for not getting the names of the heroes who ‘saved’ the city that kept me enslaved for another hundred years.” 

You approached him quietly and took his hand. He scowled at Shadowheart but wrenched his gaze away to look at you. His expression softened mildly.

“It’s okay,” you said gently. “I’m sure she would have come for you and your siblings had she known.”

“Yes, probably come to kill us for being abominations,” he muttered, but squeezed your hand anyway.

“Ah, don’t be like that, Astarion,” Wyll said cheerfully. “I’m sure she would have helped you! You’re quite fun once you get past all the prickly bits.”

“Gee, thanks,” Astarion said flatly. 

Karlach took the awkward silence that followed as an opportunity to keep fangirling. “My mum used to tell us stories all about them - the legends who protected the city from evil. She said Jaheira was a powerful druid. Adamant. Tough.”

“Probably a good ally to have on our side,” you said. Your companions nodded in agreement.

“I’ve told myself those stories thousands of times since,” Karlach continued. “I never thought I’d meet Jaheira. She’s a hero, and I was always… some Outer City kid.”

“Well, excellent news, Karlach,” Gale said. “Given our circumstances and the path we currently find ourselves on, it’s quite possible that we might be considered heroes one day.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel scoffed. “We don’t even know what we’re up against yet. It is likely some of you will perish before we are able to slay this unknown enemy.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “Charming as always, Lae’zel.”

“I am not charming. I am merely stating fact.”

Halsin cleared his throat. “Another druid you say, Karlach?” Karlach grinned and nodded. “She’s the best! Can’t believe she wants to talk to us about working together. What a day!”

And what a day it had been. 

Or, tenday, more like.

~~~~~

The day after you’d told Astarion’s sleeping form that you loved him, he’d been nothing but clingy. 

You awoke to find him still curled tightly into your side, but now he was fully awake, his eyes wide and unblinking. It was unnerving.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

He blinked rapidly before an easy grin rested on his lips. “Just making sure you still have a pulse, darling.”

You snorted. “Checking on your food supply, I see.”

Astarion angled his head to nuzzle his nose along your throat before kissing your pulse point. “What can I say,” he murmured against your skin, “we vampires have two instincts, as we learned from that book yesterday: ‘feed and make little vampires.’” He scrunched his face into a silent roar, baring his fangs and forming one of his hands into a claw. He slashed it through the air playfully.

“Yes well, the latter probably won’t be happening for a little while,” you said, shifting to sit up, but wincing in pain over the wound in your torso. 

Astarion was rolling off the pillows within seconds and coming around to help you sit up. His eyes were concerned, but he pouted and his voice was teasingly whiny when he said, “Pity.” He rested his forehead against your temple. “I do so miss being inside of you.”

You nearly choked on your own spit, which had him pulling away from you and laughing. 

“Whatever,” you muttered, watching as Astarion pulled his shirt over his head. 

“Hungry, my sweet?” he asked, still smiling.

“You’re really freaking me out,” you said, giving him a sideways look, “with how nice you’re being.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Fine. Starve.” With that, he exited your tent with a theatrical swoosh of the flaps that acted as a door.

You exhaled a disbelieving laugh, watching as the flaps swished back and forth before settling back into their closed position.

“SHE’S WHAT?!” you heard Karlach shriek, followed by loud, bounding footsteps approaching your tent. 

Astarion called after her in annoyance, “Don’t bother her!”

“Soldier!” Karlach’s head and shoulders popped their way into your tent. “So happy you’re awake!”

“Hi Karlach,” you laughed. “I’d get up but-”

Karlach shook her head. “Don’t move a muscle. I’m sure Shadowheart and Halsin will want to change your bandages and pump you full of potions but… I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you said. “Thank you for helping while I was unconscious.”

“You’d do the same for any of us,” she said earnestly, still on her hands and knees in the entrance of your tent. 

You heard a dull thump outside that had Karlach yelping in surprise. 

“Out,” came Astarion’s sour tone, his tongue putting extra emphasis on the “t.”

Karlach looked back over her shoulder and then over to you. “He kicked my boot, the bastard! Proper hard, too!”

“I’d do a lot worse if you weren’t a walking furnace.” Another thump informed you that he kicked Karlach’s boot again.

Rather than retreat, however, Karlach settled her elbows into the dirt and rested her head in her hands. “Ask nicely.” She met your eye with a mischievous grin. 

You heard Astarion squawk incredulously. “Darling, tell her to move!”

Clearing your throat to keep from laughing, you said firmly, “Astarion. Be nice. That’s my dear friend, Karlach, you’re kicking.”

He muttered something you couldn’t make out, followed by a loud groan. 

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Dear, sweet, Karlach-” 

“Liking the sound of this,” Karlach nodded.

“-would you be so kind as to remove your humongous form from the entrance of my lovely bard’s tent?” It sounded as if the words were causing him physical pain.

Karlach looked back at you. “What do you think, Soldier?”

“He could probably do better,” you said with a smirk. But it was then that your stomach decided to growl loudly. 

“Woof,” Karlach said.

You could practically hear Astarion’s eye roll. “You know, if you let me in, I could remedy that little problem you’re experiencing.”

Karlach slanted her mouth to the side. “He’s probably right, Gale left behind a bunch of-” she waggled her fingers, “-magic-y warm food for you before he, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, and Wyll headed out this morning.”

You cocked your head to the side. “And you didn’t go with them?”

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “And miss you possibly waking up?”

You smiled at her fondly. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Besides, I don’t trust myself around all the explodey mushrooms down here.”

Astarion cleared his throat loudly.

“Alright, Fangs, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Karlach looked over her shoulder at him before looking back at you once more. “Let me know if you need anything. You know where to find me.” She pointed to her temple, referring to the tadpole connection, and winked. She crawled backwards on her hands and knees, purposely taking her time, before she fully exited the tent. 

Astarion took her place instantly, crawling into the space with a plate of steaming scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, bread, and a pair of healing potions. He placed the entire thing on your lap, along with a fork, before settling onto the ground next to you. 

You blinked at him. “Breakfast in bed?” 

He scoffed. “It isn’t as if you can join us at the breakfast table.”

Smiling softly, you reached out a hand to cup his cheek. “Thank you, my love. This is very kind of you.”

He still scowled, but his face softened when he took your hand from his cheek and kissed your palm. “I expect the same kind of pampering in return if I’m ever to practically die as foolishly as you.”

You laughed before picking up the fork and stabbing some egg. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

~~~~~

And for the first few days, it did feel like pampering: Astarion staying by your side at all times - reading to you, laying with you, changing your bandages… He only ever left to feed himself. He refused your blood, citing that you needed it more than him, even though your bleeding had slowed to a halt by the third day. 

It all felt very nice.

Until you felt well enough to get back on your feet.

The others had dutifully been wrapping things up in the Underdark; defeating monsters, freeing deep gnomes from their drow and duergar slavers, rescuing the halfling woman’s husband, and exploring an abandoned wizard’s tower and the temple to Shar, to name a few. Lae’zel had even gifted you a new longsword she’d found, Phalar Aluve - a sword with the ability to sing or shriek - claiming that this weapon would not have allowed you to be wounded as fatally, had you had it during the duergar battle in the decrepit village.

On the day they raided the Zhentarim cache Astarion had mentioned all those days ago, he’d remained dutifully by your side, much to your dismay and protests that you’d be fine without him for a few hours.

“Absolutely not,” he’d said, looking down his nose at you. “As if Halsin or Shadowheart could care for you as properly as I have.”

“You forget,” you’d responded, mildly annoyed, “that they’re the ones who taught you how to care for me.”

“And I’m the one who shall continue to care for you,” he huffed, finishing changing your bandages once again. By this time, you could sit up on your own with mild to no pain at all. You were perfectly capable of changing your own bandages, but Astarion had insisted on continuing to help you. 

You supposed it was nice that he wanted to take care of you, given how much he usually hated being responsible for anything, but he was taking the job a bit too seriously.

Luckily, Karlach and Lae’zel had lugged some chests they’d been unable to open at the Zhentarim storeroom back to camp, allowing your beloved rogue to take part in the raid, despite not attending himself, and thus allowing you a moment of peace to roll off your pillows and put on fresh clothes without his help.

You emerged from your tent to look at the spoils from the storeroom, standing up straight and walking on your own. Astarion hadn’t noticed at first, too busy fiddling with the lock of a particularly large chest, but the commotion created by your companions forced him to look in your direction. 

“You’re up!” Wyll exclaimed.

“Do you need any help?” Gale snapped the book he was reading closed.

“Give her some space,” Shadowheart said, assessing you with her eyes from a few feet away.

Astarion got up and hurried over to you. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You smiled at him reassuringly. “I promise I feel well enough to be out here. I just wanted some fresh, Underdark air.” You looked over his shoulder at one of the open chests. “Find anything good?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Nothing worth you getting out of bed for.” He looked you up and down and noticed your change of clothes. He sighed. “I could have helped-”

“I’m fine,” you maintained, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking him directly in the eyes.

Halsin approached the two of you and nodded approvingly. “It is good for her to be up and moving around. It’ll stretch the healing muscles and allow her to join the fray again much more quickly than if she stays in bed all day.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Oh, what do you know?”

“Astarion,” Shadowheart said in warning. “If she says she’s okay, let’s believe her. I’m sure she’ll tell you if something’s wrong this time around, right?” She made pointed eye contact with you. 

You held up your hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise.”

He watched you closely, narrowing his eyes and sniffing pompously. “Fine.” 

He made no move to leave your side.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to the chest he’d been working on, the thieves’ tools still stuck inside the lock. You patted the top of the chest and said, “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

Astarion watched you carefully before he made his way back to the chest and sunk to his knees. 

Not far off, Lae’zel was polishing her greatsword. “Does this mean you are well enough to accompany us to the crèche?”

“Well, I-”

“No,” said every other person at camp at once.

“Chk,” Lae’zel thrust her greatsword into the dirt in front of her. “Heal faster.”

“Trying my best,” you said with a shrug. 

Lae’zel rolled her eyes and returned to assessing her greatsword.

“If you’re going to be up and about,” Shadowheart said, “you should probably start packing up your belongings for when we need to enter the Mountain Pass.”

“Augh!” you exclaimed loudly, clutching your side. Astarion was up immediately and you leaned your weight on him, throwing your arms around his neck for support. “So sorry, Shadowheart,” you said in a fake strained tone, “my wound… it prevents me… from hard labor…” You flopped fully into Astarion’s side, closing your eyes and sticking out your tongue as if you’d just perished on the spot.

“Oh good,” Astarion said blandly, “she’s finally dead and I can get on with my life.”

You kicked him.

“Uh huh,” Shadowheart crossed her arms. “Such a shame she’ll never be able to annoy us again.”

“I’ll haunt you forever…” you murmured, wobbling your voice like a ghost.

 Shadowheart stepped forward and patted your arm. “I’ll ask for blessings from Lady Shar on behalf of your passing.”

“Thank you…” you murmured again.

Astarion bumped his hip into yours forcefully. “Would you get off of me?”

You pulled back and smiled at him. “See? I’m fine.”

He humphed and returned to unlocking the big chest, only to find it full of more thieves' tools. He sighed heavily and rested his forehead on the edge of the chest. You peered inside and laughed.

“Aw,” you said sympathetically and patted his shoulder. “I’m going to get some food.”

“Let me-” 

“No,” you said firmly. “Keep going through your useless chests, my love. I’ll be right over here.” You walked over to the makeshift kitchen area Gale had set up. 

Astarion watched you go, and you felt his protective eyes remain on you for the remainder of the night. 

~~~~~

It was like that now: Astarion trying to do things for you while you insisted you could do them on your own. 

It had bewildered you when he actually helped you pack for your trip back to the surface. He had little to pack of his own, given that he’d more or less lived in your tent throughout your stay in the Underdark. He was relentlessly cautious with you, insisting that Gale cast Fly on you so that you didn’t have to ascend the impossibly long ladder back up into the Goblin camp. And he rarely let you out of his sight, even when safely surrounded by your other companions. 

The Mountain Pass was beautiful: bathed in what seemed like permanently golden light that had Astarion blooming in the sun’s glow once again. When your group accidentally stumbled into a hostile party of undead while looking for a place to camp, Astarion had taken your hand and pulled you behind him to shield you with his body. 

“I can help!” you’d pleaded, watching your friends sling spells and swords at the skeletons.

“Let us handle this,” Astarion had growled, slashing his daggers through a ghoul that came a little too close to you for comfort. He kept you both to the outskirts of the fight.

Try as you might to help, Astarion held you back, glaring at you for drawing the attention of a ghast when you cast Thunder Wave in its direction. You gave him an apologetic smile before he fatally stabbed the ghast in the chest. 

Bloodied and burnt out, you and your companions finally found a decent place to camp, close to the monastery that Lae’zel was sure housed the crèche. She took the lead on making a plan to enter the building and find the cure that had been promised to her all her life. You sat by the fire, listening idly to her plans, knowing full well that no one - except maybe Lae’zel herself - wanted you fighting so soon after your injury. You also knew that, should the cure be legitimate, your friends would happily accompany you back into the crèche where you could have the tadpole removed. You chose not to linger on the thought of your adventure possibly coming to an end so soon.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion sat by your side, mending a pair of pants. His knee was pressed lightly into your upper thigh as he hunched over the fabric to see his thread better. 

“You could be doing that in my tent, you know,” you said quietly, watching his fingers nimbly weave the fabric back together with needle and thread. “It’s probably easier to see what you’re doing surrounded by candles from all sides than just this fire. I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

“I’m quite skilled at seeing in darkness, thank you,” he said, not looking over at you.

You exhaled softly and leaned your head on his shoulder, effectively stretching your right side, which housed your wound. He paused momentarily, then kept going. 

“I’m okay,” you said softly, barely audible above the roaring fire and the heated discussion of possible battle strategy amongst your companions a few feet away. “I’m not going to get hurt like that again.”

Astarion sighed and halted his work on the pants. “You can’t promise that,” he said, sounding annoyed. He spoke his next words quickly, equal parts irritated and vulnerable: “You have no idea what’s coming and neither do I or any of us and I know you’re capable of protecting yourself but the least I can do right now is make sure you heal properly and don’t get hurt again because if I lost you… I wouldn’t know what to do.” He cleared his throat and looked back down at the fabric in his lap. “Or… whatever.” 

You smiled softly and lifted your head from his shoulder to kiss his cheek. “I adore you.”

He exhaled an amused breath through his nose. “You’re fine, too.” 

“Thank you for looking out for me.”

He sighed dramatically. “It’s been dreadful.”

You laughed. “I can’t even begin to imagine the sacrifices you’ve made.”

He brought his hands up to count on his fingers. “I’ve barely slept, I’ve been drinking animal plonk as opposed to your delicious vintage, I’ve hardly killed anything in the last few days, and I haven’t been able to sleep with you for just as long, if not longer.”

You were glad he wasn’t looking right at you, otherwise he’d surely see the flush on your cheeks. “You’ve been sleeping with me nearly every night.”

He nudged your unwounded side with his elbow. “You know what I mean.”

You smirked. “I miss you too,” you said. “And I’m sorry. You don’t need to be giving up all of that for me.”

He leaned his head on top of yours which had found its way back to his shoulder. “Just… heal, would you? You wretched thing.”

You reached your hand to rest on top of his knee. “You must be starving.”

“In more ways than one,” he growled teasingly in your ear. 

“I’m serious.”

“As am I. But your blood stays off limits until I’m sure you’re done bleeding.”

You made a frustrated noise. “I haven’t bled in days, you stubborn leech. And you nearly killed me the first time you drank from me, so really, what’s the difference?”

“Yes, but we weren’t us back then. You were just some bard that I crash landed on a horrid beach with.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed through pursed lips.

Now Astarion bent to kiss your cheek. “I’m just being extra careful, my sweet.” He moved his mouth to your ear. “And… it’ll be all the more exquisite when I finally taste you again.”

“Ah,” you said. “So you’re edging yourself.”

Astarion sputtered, “That’s not-” Then he smirked. “And what would you know about edging?”

You swallowed thickly. “Enough.”

He chuckled darkly. “Noted.”

It was quieter now, as your companions had dispersed to their own tents to prepare for tomorrow’s journey to the crèche. 

Still, Astarion kept his voice down. “I have an important question for you though, my darling.”

“And what would that be?”

“Whose belongings should we peruse first tomorrow while everyone’s gone?”

~~~~~

The only interesting items you’d found while snooping around camp the next day were cheap erotic novels hidden among both Shadowheart’s and Wyll’s possessions. 

Everyone, minus Halsin, who was sticking around the edge of camp planning a way through the Shadow Cursed Lands, had made their way to the crèche only a few hours before. 

“‘The Salty Mermaid,’” you’d said, waggling your eyebrows at Astarion who was rifling through Wyll’s tent. 

“You’ll never believe this, darling.” He turned to show you the same book, its illustrated cover even more worn than the copy you’d found in one of Shadowheart’s bags. 

“Shut up,” you said, leaning forward to snatch the book from his hand and holding the copies side by side. Both depicted a shirtless man gazing into the eyes of a beautiful, topless mermaid, her torso turned tastefully away from view. Their mouths were parted slightly in anticipation of a steaming kiss, ocean mist spraying over them and the rock they were perched on in the middle of the ocean. Wyll’s copy looked as though it had been read dozens of times over the span of many years, while Shadowheart’s was newer and gave the impression that it had been opened frequently, given the way the cover refused to rest against the first page.

“This is outrageous,” Astarion said, sitting behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder to look at both books. 

You turned your head to look at him. “Didn’t take those two for naughty book lovers?”

“What? Oh, no, everyone in this camp is a deeply sad, depraved creature, that’s not it.”

You snorted. “Okay, so what-”

“It’s that they didn’t think to include us in their little book club!” His hand gestured wildly between the covers. “You and I read all the time!”

“We don’t know they’re reading them together,” you pointed out. “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

Astarion looked at you skeptically. “Do you really believe that?”

You thought for a moment. Honestly, you weren’t sure. Your nights had been occupied spending time with the man currently wrapped delicately around your midsection. You couldn’t be sure that your companions hadn’t started a book club without you. It brought a small smile to your face, imagining your friends bonding with each other without your help.

Astarion didn’t wait for you to answer. “Let’s at least see what all the fuss is about.” He leaned forward slightly, careful not to jostle your right side and took Wyll’s book from your hand. He flipped open to a random page as you set Shadowheart’s book on your lap. You leaned your head against his, which was still resting on your shoulder, and read along with him. He tilted his head slightly to read slowly and seductively in your ear. 

“Fabian ran his calloused fingers along Allura’s scales. Her tail quivered in response.” He held out the “s,” as if hissing, and nipped at your ear.

You flinched in surprise and smacked him gently on the side of the head. 

He chuckled and continued. “‘Taste me,’ Allura pleaded. Fabian smashed his lips against hers and their tongues twisted together like two eels in the Sword Sea.”

You barely withheld a laugh. “Trying to seduce me with eels again, I see.” 

Astarion narrowed his eyes, rereading the passage in disbelief. “Oh, gods dammit.”

You nuzzled the side of his head with your own. “It’s working better this time,” you admitted.

“Oh?” Astarion pulled back and met you with a wicked grin. 

You nodded and watched his mouth as he leaned in to kiss you before pulling back just out of his reach. He opened his eyes and gave you a puzzled expression. 

“I didn’t say it worked completely.” You pushed his nose lightly to turn his face away from yours and back to the book in his hands. 

“Why you-” He dropped the book unceremoniously and brought both his hands to your cheeks to kiss you firmly. You laughed against his mouth before giving in and opening up for him.

“Astarion,” came Halsin’s voice from a few yards away. 

Astarion immediately disconnected the kiss and shot a deadly glare at the bear. 

Halsin hadn’t been looking. Instead he’d been focusing down at what he was holding - a half carved piece of wood, something that was beginning to look like a rabbit. When he finally looked up, he halted in his tracks. 

“My apologies,” he said, holding his hands up in a showing of peace, “I merely wanted to ask Astarion for a better knife. It appears my proper carving tools are lost somewhere within our wares.”

“Hi Halsin,” you said nonchalantly. 

Halsin chuckled. “I didn’t mean to disturb your fun.”

“Fun? What fun? We never have fun.” You nudged Astarion who was still staring daggers at Halsin. 

Astarion sighed and settled his chin back on your shoulder. “Relax, darling, I’m sure Halsin knows all about the kind of fun we have together.” 

Halsin nodded. “Far be it from me to interrupt a spry couple preparing to partake in one of nature’s greatest gifts.”

“Ugh,” Astarion groaned in disgust and you felt your cheeks go red. “You make it sound awful.”

“It’s only natural-”

“Did you check our Traveler’s Chest for your carving tools?” you desperately tried to change the subject. “It’s possible one of us packed them in there by mistake.”

Halsin snapped his fingers. “Of course! And the Traveler’s Chest would be…”

You pointed in the direction of the chest, which was thankfully on the other side of camp. 

Halsin followed your gaze and nodded again. “I shall investigate the chest. Sorry once again.” He started to leave the two of you but turned back around.  “Remember to be careful of your wound.” He gestured to your right side and you absently held your hand to the tender area. “Nothing worse than an injury worsened in the throes of passion.”

“Goodbye, Halsin,” Astarion waved him off. 

Halsin chuckled once more, then left the area. You and Astarion remained silent for a moment, watching him go. 

You looked over at him. “Moment over?”

“So incredibly over,” Astarion lifted his chin from your shoulder and crawled around to sit next to you. “But the druid’s right. You’re still hurt.”

You huffed some hair out of your face. “And you’re still a drama queen.”

Astarion gasped and held a hand to his chest dramatically. “How dare you.”

“I’m fine!” you insisted. “Watch this!” 

You stood and leaned your body to the left, stretching your right side and lifting your right arm over your head.

“See?”

Astarion cocked his head to the side. “Impressive. Now stretch the other way.”

You remained upright and ramrod straight. “I don’t want to.”

“Because…?”

“Because…” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck you! You know why.”

“Because you’re still sore-”

“Yes, because I’m still sore.” You sat beside him again and muttered, “killjoy.”

Astarion stood and reached for your hands, holding them in both of his own. “Call me whatever names you like, it won’t change my mind.” He leaned forward and kissed you softly. 

You frowned at him. “Asshole.”

Kiss. “Darling.” 

“Bat brain.”

Kiss. “Beautiful.” 

“Priss.”

Kiss. “My- hey.” He pulled himself back to look down his nose at you. “I’m not a priss,  I’m simply surrounded by frumps. And Shadowheart.”

You scoffed and reached up to brush your hand through his curls, mussing them ever so slightly. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, pushing you away and reaching up to fix his hair. 

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him. 

He glared back and rolled his eyes. “Did I not just call you ‘beautiful?’”

“One of your frequent pet names,” you waved him off playfully and went to pick up Shadowheart and Wyll’s discarded books. “It means next to nothing.” Astarion turned to watch you. “That’s not true.”

You laughed. “You call everyone ‘darling.’” 

“That’s different.” 

“How so?”

If he were still alive, you’d be able to feel his body heat as he stepped closer to you. He looked up towards the sky and moved his hands around as if searching for the correct words. 

“‘Darling’ has always been a lovely blanket term of endearment for victims whose names I didn’t bother to learn but needed to entice.”

You stiffened, thrown off by his honest answer. “Oh.” He met your eye. “People like feeling seen, and ‘darling’ does the job quite nicely. Call it a habit now, I suppose.”

You smirked at him. “You know my name, right?”

He smiled sideways in return. “Who are you again?”

“Good answer.”

“Honestly though, darling,” he said, before shaking his head and saying your name instead. “‘Darling’ isn’t anything special to me, that’s true,” he placed his hands firmly on your upper arms, just below your shoulders, “but you are.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, trying but failing not to shrink under his intense gaze. “Another good answer.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. “Look at me, please.” 

You met his eye again and saw his features soften. 

“I’ve never called someone ‘beautiful’ and not meant it.”

You raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really. In all the times you had to seduce people, you never called someone you weren’t attracted to ‘beautiful’ just to make things go faster?”

Astarion rubbed absent minded circles into your arms with his thumbs. “In those instances, I preferred referring to them as, ‘striking.’”

You snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

“I could say ‘dead serious,’ but that would be atrocious, so I won’t.”

“‘Striking,’” you repeated, laughing a little at the vagueness of it. “I guess that could mean anything.”

Astarion nodded. “Exactly.” He shifted his hands up to your shoulders. “But you, my sweet, are exquisite.” 

You smiled shyly. “I could say ‘aw shucks,’ but then you’d kill me, so I won’t.”

He pushed himself away from you again. “You are infuriating.”

Dropping the books once more, you reached for his wrist as he backed away. “No, no, I’m sorry,” you said as you brought his hand to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Tell me more about how beautiful I am.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically before his features settled into a seductive grin. He reached forward and pulled you closer by the waist. His voice was low and flirtatious when he said, “I told you on that first night I had my way with you that you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” He shifted his head to nip at your ear, “I meant that.”

A shiver went through your body and you closed your eyes. “Really?”

Astarion scoffed. “I wouldn’t willingly attach myself to just anyone, darling.” He kissed your neck. “For one thing, there’s this gorgeous neck of yours.”

You let out an amused sigh. “Go on…”

“Your eyes,” he said, shifting up to bear his crimson gaze into yours, “they sparkle like anything. I can’t say I’ve ever seen eyes more lovely.” You blinked at him, unsure of what to say. He continued, “Especially when you’re laughing. Preferably at something clever I’ve said.”

That made you laugh. “You’re not always as clever as you think.”

He smiled back at you. “So long as I keep seeing that dazzling smile, I shall make a fool of myself.” After a beat, he clarified, “But only for you.”

If you weren’t careful, you might cry. “You sweet, stupid man.”

“Speaking of that smile; that mouth of yours. I could eat you right up.” 

He bent to kiss you deeply but you pulled away to giggle. “And you have!”

“And I have,” he agreed, succeeding in kissing you this time. 

Your mouth moved against his slowly, keeping in time with him, and you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck. As the kiss became more intense, his tongue licking into your mouth, your heart picked up speed, which sent Astarion groaning against your lips.

“That delicious heartbeat,” he said dreamily, breaking the kiss. “It’s as sweet as any song you’ve ever played, my love.”

Your eyes shot open as he brought his face down to your throat again to kiss your pulse point. Based on his body language and the sensual way he continually kissed your neck, you had a feeling he didn’t realize what he’d said. He kept talking.

“Your heartbeat means you're alive,” he placed a kiss on your collarbone. “And that you’re here,” a kiss to your chest. “With me,” a kiss atop your clothed left breast, above your pounding heart. “Not to mention it’s the source of my favorite meal,” he pulled back to look at you with a goofy grin that he quickly morphed into one of seduction. When he saw your bewildered expression, his face fell into one of concern. “What is it?”

You shook your head and blinked rapidly, attempting to keep your composure. “Astarion,” you said, your voice full of adoration, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What’s wrong?” His tone was instantly serious and stern. “Did something happen?” He inspected your right side as if you may have started bleeding again. 

Laughter bubbled out of your chest at his sudden shift in demeanor. This man cared for you so deeply it almost hurt. And it was so blatantly obvious to everyone but himself.

“There’s nothing wrong, dummy,” you said, tapping the tip of his nose to bring his attention back to you. 

He looked at you questioningly and saw nothing but affection in your eyes. “Then…” he leaned in closer, drawn in by the softness of your features, “what is it?”

You leaned in as well, watching his mouth and subconsciously wetting your lips in preparation for what you were about to say. “I…” you eyes began to close, “lo-”

“Tsk'va!”

You and Astarion froze, your mouths inches apart. 

“That wasn’t you, was it?” he muttered. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, swatting his cheek lightly and pulling away.

Lae’zel was standing not too far off, covered in blood, staring at the two of you with an intense ire that had you both nearly jumping away from each other. “You feeble wretches are delighting in intercourse whilst the Lich Queen lies to her kin about purification and I nearly lose my life as a result.” Astarion straightened and looked at his nails, bored. “Oh, is that all?”

You gave him a look before stepping forward to offer comfort. “What happened?”

Lae’zel looked between you and Astarion before furrowing her brows and marching off to her tent. “She may yet purify me!” she called angrily, sounding like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone.

The rest of your party stumbled into camp not far behind. They, too, were drenched in blood and looking worse for wear. You approached them immediately, Astarion reluctantly on your heels. 

“Is everyone okay?” you quickly looked over everyone and didn’t note any major injuries.

“We’re alright,” Wyll assured and nodded to Shadowheart, “no thanks to Shadowheart.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she groaned. “Let’s see if we survive the night.” She gestured towards Lae’zel who was angrily shedding her armor and shrieking frustratedly with each discarded piece.

You looked back at the others and repeated, “What happened?”

“Our little dream visitor had some rather enlightening news for our githyanki friend,” Gale sighed, wiping his brow. 

“Well hang on now,” Karlach said. “Her people, or rather, some random lady doctor, tried to kill her first!”

Wyll nodded solemnly. “Not to mention that fearsome god of hers threatened our lives.”

You inhaled sharply. Even Astarion looked surprised. “What?”

“Why do the gods favor you people?” Astarion crossed his arms. “They never answered me when I called.”

“Now, now, Astarion,” Gale said, “this was not a meeting on the most benevolent of terms.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “So were you able to kill her or something? Is that why you’re all drenched in what smells like an absurd amount of gith blood?”

“Kill a god?” Wyll laughed lightly. “Be serious, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugged. “I don’t know what you lot are capable of, we just met.”

“‘Just met?!’” Shadowheart scoffed incredulously. “And you think you could have taken on a god? You and what? Those sharp teeth of yours?”

“If you’d like to see what they’re capable of, darling, you need only ask.” He flashed her a malicious grin. 

“Astarion,” you caught his eye and shook your head slightly. 

“If killing that overgrown creep were an option, I gladly would have taken it,” Karlach punched at her open palm. “I can’t stand bullies.”

Halsin now entered the fray. “Peace,” he said calmly. “Everyone should get cleaned up and inspected for injuries, then we can discuss the events of the créche.”

You turned to look for Lae’zel, but her tent was empty. You assumed she’d gotten a jumpstart on the cleaning process. 

“Why is my book in the dirt?!” Shadowheart exclaimed. “Astarion!”

“I think it’s time I go for a hunt,” Astarion kissed you swiftly. “You can handle this, can’t you darling?” Then he took off at a brisk pace down the side of the mountain. 

~~~~~

After Lae’zel and the others had cleaned themselves up and bandaged their shallow wounds, you’d all sat around the fire to discuss what had occurred at the crèche and what the dream visitor had told Lae’zel of Vlaakith’s deception towards the purification process.

That night, Kith’rak Voss and his group of rebel githyanki warriors had visited you and your companions, telling you all that the Astral Prism held the key to Vlaakith’s undoing. He’d also promised to explain more and provide help once you reached Baldur’s Gate. 

“Why must they always be so cryptic,” Astarion had muttered to you from where you stood behind Lae’zel, allowing her to take the lead on this. “If the Prism is a source of unnamed power, then I think we have a right to know about it.” He pouted and you elbowed him lightly. 

As you were preparing to leave for the Shadow Cursed Lands the next day, Elminster appeared, bearing a message for Gale from Mystra. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you’d steamed after the old wizard left, “you’re not blowing yourself up, Gale. I won’t let you.”

“She’s right,” Astarion agreed. You turned and gave him a surprised look. He shrugged. “Sacrificing Gale to the Absolute is a waste of a perfectly good cult we could be controlling.” When you rolled your eyes, he amended, “And a waste of a perfectly good Gale, I suppose.”

“I am touched, Astarion,” Gale said before turning his attention back on you. “Let’s save such certainty about my fate for the moment such a decision is upon us. You may feel differently, once we know what we’re truly up against.” 

Thus your party kept packing up in preparation to leave for the Shadow Cursed Lands, which Halsin had discovered an entrance to, not far from your camp. 

Upon entering, the suffocating nature of the dark hit you instantly, and you felt a shift in your party the more you shuffled into the area. 

Astarion held out an arm to stop you from going any further, away from the lit fire you’d found near the entrance. “Can you feel that?” 

“You mean the impending sense of doom?” Karlach asked. “Yeah, I feel it.”

Astarion ignored her. “The dark, it’s… hungry. Best watch the shadows.”

Lae’zel scoffed. “How can darkness feel anything, let alone require sustenance?”

“That’s not-” Astarion sighed. “Oh, nevermind. Just… stay close to the light.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Wyll said, grabbing a torch from the lit fire near the entrance. 

Shadowheart gazed into the distance, straining her eyes to see into the dark. “This place… there’s power in these shadows, I can sense it.”

Astarion snorted. “Shadowheart feeling one with the shadows. A little on the nose there, darling.”

Shadowheart shot him a deathly glare that had him look over at you for protection. You patted his shoulder in response.

“She’s right, though,” Gale agreed. “I’ve never seen such a concentration of shadow magic. We must forge on, but carefully. It will corrupt any who lack the power to control it.”

“Best get a move on, then,” Halsin siad, grabbing a torch in one hand and your party’s ox cart with the other. 

Wyll took the lead with his torch, while the rest of you grabbed your own. You and Astarion brought up the rear as you all made your way through the darkness. He was uncharacteristically quiet as you went. 

“Everything okay?” you asked him quietly, making sure the others wouldn’t be able to hear you. 

Astarion’s eyes were darting around, on high alert, but he looked over at you when you reached for his free hand with your own. “It feels like we’re being watched,” he said, returning his eyes to scanning your surroundings. “Hunted, even. But there’s nothing out there,” he looked in your direction but was focusing on the darkness behind you, “only more darkness.”

You nodded, and joined him in scanning the surrounding area. 

“I much prefer it when I’m the one prowling in the shadows, about to strike.”

“Ooh,” you said, shaking your voice as if telling a scary story, “scaaaary.”

Astarion looked at you with a scowl that you could see was concealing a laugh. “Sorry, did you want something?” He stepped closer to you, bringing his face inches away from yours. “Or just looking for a distraction?” He looked down at your lips. 

“I-” you looked at his lips as well and watched as his mouth formed into a grin. 

“Look alive, lovebirds,” Karlach turned back to face you two. “Movement up ahead.”

Instinctively, Astarion pulled you to him, shielding your right side with his body from possible attacks.

It was then that your party came across a group of Absolute worshippers, seeking passage across the Shadow Cursed Lands to Moonrise Towers with the help of a drider named Kar’niss, who brandished a magical lantern of some kind. You all played along, brandishing your True Soul statuses in order to gain favor and join the cultists on their journey deeper into the shadows. You even offered to play the Spider's Lyre, which Wyll had found and given to you in the Underdark, in order to summon the drider. 

Astarion made it a point of keeping you close, despite the cultists giving you no trouble.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, bumping his hip with your own.

He scoffed. “Oh, so you trust the arachnid is totally sane and won’t turn on us at any given moment?”

“Well-” He made a good point. While Kar’niss had done nothing to prove he was an imminent danger to you, his words were erratic and he’d snapped at you earlier for offering to carry his lantern.

“Wait…” Kar’niss hissed suddenly, holding his lantern aloft in front of what appeared to be a long abandoned house. “Something’s wrong, Majesty.”

“He’s right,” Astarion said quietly, drawing his daggers, “I can sense blood pumping in that building.”

“Should we do something?” Wyll asked.

“Shhh,” Shadowheart hushed. “We don’t know where they are, exactly. Do you want them to spring out at us while they still have the element of surprise?”

“Not particularly,” said Wyll, just as Lae’zel said “Yes,” and drew her greatsword from her back.

“Who’s there?” Kar’niss called. “Show yourself!”

From within the house came a male voice, shouting, “Harpers, attack!” 

“Harpers?” Karlach repeated.

The man continued yelling orders. “Kill the cultists… and get that lantern!”

“HERETICS!” Kar’niss shrieked. “VILLAINS IN THE DARK!”

“Soldier,” Karlach turned to you, a frantic look in her eyes, “Those are Harpers!”

Your own eyes widened. Harpers were known for protecting the innocent from evils across the realms. It made sense why they would want to attack cultists of the Absolute. 

“Wait!” you shouted and ran forward as Astarion called your name, trying to stop you. “We can help!” You spoke to the man leading this gang of Harpers.

The man looked you up and down as Astarion approached you with his knives still drawn, ready to pounce. “Hurt her, and you die,” he growled, dropping into a low stance.

You exhaled. “Sorry about the guard dog.”

“Careful,” Astarion said lowly, “I bite.” He gnashed his teeth at the group of Harpers surveying you closely. 

A woman with long curly hair stepped forward. “Prove we can trust you.”

You nodded and took your lute off your back,strumming a quick tune that had the deep purple magic of Shatter sparking at your fingertips. You turned back towards the cultists, who were now sandwiched between the Harpers and your party. You friends took the hint and drew their own weapons. 

“What are they doing?” Kar’niss eclaimed. “We thought they were True Souls! Traitors! Heathens!”

“Darling, are you sure about this?” Astarion asked, watching you carefully, checking for any signs that you weren’t ready to fight. 

You looked over at him and winked, casting a powerful Shatter that sent the cultists flying in every direction. 

The battle that followed was thankfully not as bad as it could have been, thanks to the help from the Harpers. Astarion had remained by your side the whole time, maneuvering the two of you out of the way whenever an attack landed closeby. He dutifully shielded your right side, stabbing the hobgoblin rather brutally when he lunged at you. 

When the battle ended and it was clear that no one had been injured too severely, you approached Kar’niss’ lantern and picked it up. Its chilly glow appeared to protect you all far better from the Shadow Curse than your long since discarded torches. 

The male Harper who you’d pleaded to at the start of the battle now approached you. “Incredible magic,” he said, indicating the lantern. “I can feel the light lifting the shadows - even those within me.”

Astarion laughed quietly at his remark, and you kicked the vampire in the shin. 

“Find us at the Last Light Inn,” the Harper said, pulling out a map and pointing to a small building by the river. 

“Thank you,” you said, marking the location on your own map.

“Be safe,” he said with a nod. “And be brave. We expect no less. Thank you for your help.” With that, he and his other Harpers made their way deeper into the shadows, accompanied by their own torches. 

“Could we not have gone with them?” Karlach asked.

“Probably had other Harperly duties to take care of,” Gale reasoned. 

“We should probably start heading that way anyway,” you said. “My magic’s depleted and I could use some sleep.”

“Agreed,” Halsin said, stretching his arms above his head and grabbing the ox cart once again. “It will be a relief to rest these weary bones upon a mattress for once.”

“Hmm,” Shadowheart mused, “is grass not cutting it for you anymore?”

“Far from it,” Halsin said. “But even I can appreciate the pleasures of a warm bed every once in a while.”

~~~~~

“Unfortunately, there is only one room available,” Jaheira said flatly when you all entered the inn and approached her at her desk.

Astarion scoffed. “Didn’t you just say outside that there were beds, plural, if we needed rest?” 

“It would seem I lied,” she said, looking through a book that you assumed showed current room assignments. “Oops.” She didn’t sound remorseful. “Looks like you’ll have to decide amongst yourselves who gets the room. The rest of you can make camp in the back. There’s plenty of room under Isobel’s light to keep you sheltered from the Curse.”

“Thank you, Jaheira!” Karlach said excitedly.

Jaheira smiled at Karlach’s enthusiasm and held out a goblet of wine to her. “Please,” she said, her tone suddenly very kind, “be welcome.” She handed a goblet to you as well. “Have a drink.”

“Oh my gods,” Karlach muttered, sharing an excited look with you. 

“To your very good health,” Jaheira said, raising her own cup towards all of you. 

Karlach was practically vibrating with excitement next to you. 

“You’ll have to excuse my friend, Karlach,” you said with a smile. “She’s very excited to meet you.”

She giggled, embarrassed. “Tsh. Yeah.” Her face fell just then, as if realizing she wasn’t being formal enough with her hero. She stooped into a low bow. “I mean… It's an honor. M’lady.”

“I will gladly drink to your health as well, Karlach.” Jaheira’s eyes sparkled with amusement. 

You raised your goblet to mimic Jaheira’s and went to take a sip, but were instead met with the back of Astarion’s hand. Your mouth crushed against his skin.

“You did not seriously just take a sip from a drink given to you by a stranger,” he said in horrified disbelief. 

“I was trying to,” you offered Jaheira an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t expecting to kiss the back of your hand,” you said through clenched teeth. 

Astarion took the goblet from you. “Give me that.”

Karlach had been just about to take a sip, but thought better of it and watched Astarion. 

He sniffed the contents of the goblet. “Klauthgrass,” he said with a wrinkle of his nose. 

“It doesn’t spoil the taste,” Jaheira offered, “if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and shoved the goblet back into your hand, training his own hands above his sheathed daggers. “She’s trying to feed you a truth serum.”

“Astarion,” you said calmly, as if soothing a startled animal, “it’s okay.” You set the goblet down and reached for both of his hands, pulling them away from his daggers. “She just wants to protect her people. You can respect that, can’t you, my love?”

“Ah,” Jaheira nodded. “‘My love.’ It is admirable that the cub wants to protect his mate.” 

“She’s not-” Astarion sputtered. “We’re just-” He groaned loudly. “I don’t trust you,” he pointed an accusatory finger at the Harper. 

“Oh no,” her tone was flat again. “How ever shall I sleep tonight.”

Before Astarion could protest more, you took a sip of the drink. 

He gasped. “Darling, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Building trust,” you said, smiling at Jaheira.

Her features echoed your own and she took a sip as well. 

“Ah, what the hells,” Karlach said. “Bottoms up!” She downed her own goblet.

“You’re all idiots and I hope you die,” Astarion crossed his arms. 

Shadowheart laughed. “Isn’t the whole reason you’re being so dramatic because your mate almost died?”

“Watch yourself, cleric,” his words were icy, but Shadowheart couldn’t contain her snort.

Jaheira took another sip. “Well over a century old and yet it hasn’t lost a hint of its flavor.”

“Let’s have a taste, then,” Wyll pushed his way forward and took the goblet from you.

“I must see for myself if Astarion’s suspicions are warranted,” Lae’zel took Karlach’s goblet, “and if the wine is as good as this woman says.”

“No, no,” Astarion said sarcastically, “let’s all partake in the poison! Shadowheart? Gale? Halsin? What’s stopping you?”

Shadowheart crossed her arms. “I’ve packed my own wine that I don’t plan on sharing with you all, thank you very much.”

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be reading a book he’d found discarded somewhere in the bar. “Pardon? Is something the matter?”

Astarion rolled his eyes and turned to Halsin who held up his hands in surrender.

“I rarely imbibe, the stuff goes right to my head. I doubt anyone wants to see that.”

“Mmm, yes, save it.” Astarion turned back to you and the others. “So we’re all going to tell the truth now, that’s great. Go ahead, Jaheira, ask away.”

“There’s an air about you,” she said, addressing you instead of the seething vampire to your right. “Something… alien.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Astarion muttered.

“Answer me true and do not lie,” she didn’t flinch when Astarion scoffed, and pressed on. “The parasite is changing you, isn’t it?”

You could feel the effects of the serum willing your mouth to form a truthful answer. You let it. “It’s trying to change me. To win me over. But I’m resisting its temptations.”

Jaheira looked you up and down. “And you’re certain you will continue to resist?” 

You nodded. “Yes.” The truth.

“Good,” you saw Jaheira’s shoulders relax. “I will take your word for it. And hold you to it, too.”

You looked over at Astarion, whose arms were still crossed. He scowled at Jaheira who turned to address him this time.

“I have every reason to be cautious.” She exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I’ve traced people like you.”

“Oh, have you.” Astarion rolled his eyes for what was likely the tenth time this evening.

Jaheira tilted her head. “People with parasites in their brains. All the way here from Baldur’s Gate.”

“A long journey, indeed,” Gale said.

Astarion laughed humorlessly. “Good of you to finally join us, Gale.”

Wyll cleared his throat. “And what of the city?” 

Jaheira turned to him this time. “The cult of the Absolute is spreading through the Gate. Quietly, quickly, and with unsettling deliberation.” 

“Gods…” Wyll breathed. “My father…” Gale patted his arm reassuringly.

“We tracked them to this ancient village,” Jaheira looked down at a map in front of her displaying the entirety of the Shadow Cursed Lands, and pointed to a village not far off, “only to be faced with a man we killed and buried over a century ago.” 

“Who was - is - he?” you asked, furrowing your brow. 

Jaheira paused briefly when she saw Karlach yawn. “General Ketheric Thorm. Remember that name. He’s the leader of the Absolutists.”

“How can we help?” you stepped forward, determined.

“Ugh,” Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really, my sweet, is now the time to be playing hero?”

“The vampire is right,” said Jaheira. “We can save this discussion for the morning.”

“Vampire?” Astarion repeated, laughing lightly. “What do you- I’m not-” he slumped. “What gave it away?”

She smirked. “Nearly everything about you. And I have experience with your kind.”

You and your companions snickered, and Astarion shot you all death glares. 

“Yes well… it’s been such a delight chatting with you, Jaheira, but I think now’s the time to discuss the room situation.” Astarion turned around so that his back faced Jaheira, effectively cutting her out of the conversation. 

She laughed. “When you decide who gets the room, it’s next to the bar, on the right.” Just as she was about to leave and take care of other matters, she turned back. “Do keep it down if it’s you two who get the room,” she gestured to you and Astarion. “The walls aren’t as thick here as you think they are. Those sitting around the bar will hear you and tell me all about it and I’d… prefer to remain in the dark if it’s all the same to you.”

“Jaheira!” Astarion scoffed. “What do you think of me?”

“Prove me wrong, vampling,” she winked at you and went on her way.

Shadowheart placed her hands on her hips. “Go on, Astarion. Make a case for why the two of you are in desperate need of the room.”

Astarion looked at his nails. “Well, darling, it’s just that we’ve had such little time to ourselves-”

Halsin interrupted. “I’m… going to set up camp outside. I yield my claim to the room and will gladly sleep under the stars. Or… I suppose there are no stars here. Regardless-” he turned on his heel and walked out the front door to reunite with your ox cart full of camp supplies.

“I’ll join him,” said Wyll.

“Right behind you,” Karlach agreed.

“Okay,” Gale looked around at those remaining. “That leaves four of us, considering you two as a unit.” He pointed between you and Astarion, the latter of which looked offended, but you grabbed his hand and squeezed it before he had a chance to argue.

Lae’zel adjusted her greatsword in her arms. “It is tradition among githyanki that those who performed best in battle should have the most comfortable sleeping chambers.”

Gale furrowed his brow. “Is that true? I’ve yet to read anything about that in my extended research on the githyanki people.”

Lae’zel shrugged.

Shadowheart spoke next. “It’s just that I drained so much of my magic healing everyone on the battlefield today. I think I deserve to sleep in comfort to replenish my power since we have no clue what tomorrow brings.” Then she quickly added, “Since we’re in her domain, I’d say it’s as if Lady Shar herself wills it.”

Astarion snorted. “Like hells she does.” He turned to Gale. “And what’s your excuse?”

“The knees,” Gale said, bending his knees for you all to hear an audible crack. “Too many nights on the ground will do no favors for one’s aching joints.”

You could see where this was going. There would be a constant back and forth until a loud argument inevitably broke out in the middle of the inn. You knew it was a bit devious, but you decided to get the jumpstart on ending the argument. 

You took Astarion’s hand. “Come on, Astarion,” you said with a sigh, “we can rough it outside for another night.”

He didn’t budge. “You can’t be serious, darling.”

“I am serious- Oh.” you paused in trying to get Astarion to follow you and reached for your right side. “Ow,” you said slowly.

Astarion said your name, his voice laced with worry.

“Oh gods,” you blinked your eyes several times, tears filling your vision.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Astarion brushed hair out of your face and placed his hands on your cheeks. 

“I don’t know,” you said shakily. “I suddenly got a sharp pain in my side. I think my wound may have opened again.” 

“Oh for gods’ sakes,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes and held out her hand to scan you for injuries with her magic. “You know what, if it’s that important to you, you can have it.” With that, she left after the others.

“Are you alright?” Gale asked. 

“I know what would make her feel better,” Astarion said, catching on to your ruse. 

“Do not say the room,” Lae’zel glowered at him.

“The room,” Astarion said anyway. 

“Chk,” she spat. “Fine. Have your precious alone time. But when they kick you out for pleasuring each other too loudly, I get the room in your stead.”

“Uh… if that’s the case, she can have it after you two.” Gale smiled painfully. “I shall concede as well. If only so I can grab some shut eye without your loud-”

“Ooowww,” you moaned.

“Good gods, man!” Astarion exclaimed, clutching you to his chest as if you were made of glass. “How can you think of sex at a time like this! My precious treasure is wounded!”

“I mean, Lae’zel alluded to it first-” Gale pointed to where Lae’zel had been standing, only to see that she had already left. “Ah. I guess I’ll take my leave as well.”

“Ow! Gods, it hurts!” you wailed. “Get out of here!” Astarion practically yelled at the wizard.

Gale sighed. “Goodnight you two.”

“Goodnight Gale!” you called after him sweetly.

When he turned back to look at you, you were limp in Astarion’s arms, one of your own arms thrown dramatically over your eyes.

“Now look what you’ve done!” It was Astarion’s turn to wail. 

“Alright!” Gale turned and held up his hands in frustration. “I’m going!”

When he was finally gone, Astarion pulled you into him for a long, passionate kiss. “You are the perfect woman,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I’ll have to remind you of that the next time I annoy you,” you laughed and took his hand, leading him to the room.

Jaheira’s voice sounded from the second floor, “I would appreciate it if you did not yell while my Harpers and our guests are trying to sleep.” Despite her stern tone, her expression revealed mild amusement. 

“Sorry, Jaheira,” you whispered loud enough for her to hear you from the railing she bent over. 

“Good night, cubs.” She waved her hand and left you and Astarion to settle into your room.

~~~~~

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Unfortunately tumblr thought this piece was too long (WHOOPS!) so I had to split it into two parts. The second part can be found here.

[unholyhelbig]

werewolf kate RAH i love your fics

Title: What? I've Seen Twilight [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: It's been six years since reader has been out on her own, but now that she and Kate have an apartment in the city together, the last thing they're expecting is old company.

Trigger warnings: Sadness, angst, burns (Physical), general emotional distress, therapy,very brief mentions of assult, and spelling mistakes.

A/n: I went a little wild with this one. It's way longer than I intended, but jesus, did I have fun.

Read the Full Series:

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six, Part Seven]

Kate Bishop’s height advantage killed most situations. She could ride every rollercoaster, and one could spot her in a crowd of people as they bustled in and out of the New York Subway system. She could easily lead you, just the same, her large hand engulfing yours and making sure that you’d be able to stick together.

Kate hated her height sometimes. When she was a child, she was approached by her high school gym teacher that begged her to be on the basketball team. She was lanky and awkward, sitting on a whisp of a bench.

She’d wanted to join the team, but her father was vehemently against sports. He said that it worked her up too much and she’d be a danger to society if her adrenaline became too high for her to manage, as it often was. It was just one of those rules that were accompanied by breathing exercises and the occasional sedative.

You’d never made Kate feel an aversion to her height, in fact, you utilized it to your advantage. You’d curl up in her arms, slotted against her body. Her height could nearly swallow you whole. It was no trouble for you to ask for her to reach for certain things that were out of your grasp.

She had a horrible advantage when it came to hanging things, however. Everything was crooked, including the painting she was frustratingly trying to level over a crisping water stain. She’d worked up a sweat, blowing strands that had fallen from her ponytail from her face.

You came up behind her, wrapping your arms around her toned stomach. You were too short to rest your chin on her shoulder, so you settled for nuzzling into her back instead, breathing in the lemon scent of her. Kate let a smile spread across her face, sighing into your warmth. “Remind me why we decided to move out of the compound again?”

“Because we’re engaged and wanted some form of privacy.” You mumbled into her spine.

She beamed and turned in your arms. You much preferred this side of her. You were able to tuck your head under her chin. The painting took a hard left and slid into a diamond shape on the wall. A rumbling growl moved through her chest, vibrating against your ear.

“Was that your stomach or your frustration?”

“I think maybe it was both. Where’d you put the takeout menus?”

“Drawer by the fridge, we can’t make a habit of ordering out though.”

Kate detached herself from you and crossed the mostly bare living room to the kitchen. She rifled through them until she found her prize, a menu from the Tex-Mex place that had opened up down the street. They had massive portions, and that always worked in both your favors with the appetites you carried.

“We’re not going to make a habit. I just think we deserve a little treat after moving everything up six flights of stairs. Don’t you?”

The motivation to cook had left your body between floor three and four. You were determined to prove to Steve and Natasha that you were both more than capable of being on your own. It took months of convincing, and you’d even considered making a power point to demonstrate how responsible you’d be.

It didn’t’ come to that, just a promise (and then a pinky-swear) that the two of you would return back to the compound the week of the full moon. It was an easy compromise. In fact, it even made you feel safer. There was infinite space, and it was the only place you’d ever gone through a transition. Dozens, at this point, possibly hundreds.

“Fine, just this once, and only if you get extra nachos.”

“Okay, bossy. You can brave the copious number of stairs and pick up the order, then.”

That seemed like a fair enough deal. You dawned your coat, the sound of thunder a few miles away having reached your ears. Most things, you’d learned to tune out; the sound of traffic, voices from the multiple families that lived around you. But you would actively seek thunder, enjoying the rain and the dryness you could secure.

Kate pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving your arm a squeeze, a silent plea to be careful. You always were, both at the compound and here during your trips to the city. The apartment building the both of you had rented from was far from swanky. The hallways were lined with polished wood and a fresh paint-job made it look semi-presentable.

It was the quintessential first apartment experience that you’d been craving. It made you feel normal. Living here with your fiancé. A small smile worked its way onto your lips. This was a big step, possibly the biggest you’d taken since you’d followed Kate to the compound in the first place. To your family.

You shoved your hands in your pockets as you walked down the hallway, nearly brushing shoulders with a woman who had her head turned down, struggling to find her keys. She grunted, struggling to keep a paper bag filled with produce righted.

“Jesus Christ,” her muted growl alerted you more.

Not even a full day in the city and you decided to break one of Natasha’s rules. Don’t involve yourself. Which you thought was overkill. She became strict in that way, the insinuation that you shouldn’t talk to strangers on the tip of her tongue. But you weren’t moving here to be a recluse. A simple favor wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Here,” you scooped the bag gently from her hands, saving a particularly ripe orange “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you. I know that paper bags are great for the environment, but they turn to mush when it rains. It makes everything ten times harder.”

Her words died in her throat when her eyes met yours. You took a defensive step back, your mouth suddenly dry and muddy. Those eyes. You cursed yourself for not knowing sooner. She’d straightened her hair, wore a suit that was wrinkled from almost an hour of transit.

She looked older, tired around the eyes. It had been six years.

MJ was at a loss for words, just as you were. Her groceries were still in your hand, the bag finally giving way and spilling oranges, apples, and two soft peaches onto the floor. Neither of you made a move to gather them.

“Let me help you pick these up.”

“I think you’ve done enough.”

The two of you remained frozen. You’d moved in three doors down from someone you’d shared your first three years of college with. The last you’d seen her, she’d been wolfing down mac and cheese, looking queasy as you’d left your key on the coffee table.

A crack of thunder snapped you both out of your staring match. Kate could hear you, you knew she could. It wasn’t that she pried but she did keep an ear out for the cadence of your voice. You didn’t want to worry her, and you certainly didn’t want MJ to see her. Not yet, maybe not ever.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” She turned away and struggled to stick her key in the lock. Her hands were trembling. She worried her lip between her teeth, a nervous habit that reminded you of when she held her tongue. She often failed.

“Okay, alright.” You threw your hands up in an act of surrender, scooting past her, careful to avoid the fallen fruit. “I’m sorry… about your groceries.”

You made it three more steps before her voice rang out again.

“About my groceries?” Her voice was harsh, you winced, stopping in your tracks. “You’re apologizing for ruined produce after what you did?”

At this, you turned, a small bit of anger in your stare. Maybe Natasha was right, as she usually always is. You should just keep your nose down, stay away from other people at least while you got settled. You’d been plunged into ice water, the realization that this city may be gigantic, but so incredibly small.

MJ closed the distance between you, her breath hot on your collarbone. It was startling, but your wolf reacted as it typically did, without fear and with a heir of competition. It figured you threatened, your nails curling into your palm hard enough to draw blood.

“You know, the police didn’t take us seriously. We went to them a week after you left, and they wouldn’t let us file a missing persons report because you left willingly. America, god, she wasn’t convinced. She spent months putting up posters around campus, at train stations. And people called, but not about you. Just to be needlessly cruel.”

The sting of her words made you tremble, your eyes downcast and your hands shoved back in your pocket. Each breath you took felt like needles being shoved forcefully into your throat and twisted until it touched your esophagus. You were going to vomit.  

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone, y/n. We never stopped searching. Anyone who looked like you, smelled like you… just reminded us that you’d run off with some stranger after being an absolute psycho for the week. I mean, for fucks sake! Your mother was devastated!”

“My mother?” Your eyes finally found purchase in her own.

“Yeah,” MJ breathed out, shoulders slumping. “Or did you forget her as well?”

“I didn’t…” You took a step back. Tears threatened to spill over, so you averted your stare back to the ground, quickly wiping them away with your fingers. “I could never forget about any of you. I left to protect you.”

“From what?” She’d gotten quieter, her voice breaking. She looked like she wanted to reach out and embrace you, but stopped herself. “Because America is going to be here any minute, and god help me, y/n, if you don’t have a better answer than that, you can’t let her see you. You can’t put her through that again.”

You took another step towards your apartment. You’d lost your appetite, your sureness in each step that you took. There was a roiling pit in your stomach that threatened to make your breakfast reappear. MJ watched you for a few moments. You were retreating again, and the sadness in her eyes cut into you like a finely sharpened knife.

She let out another breath and knelt down to collect the fruit that had splayed across the floor. She averted her gaze and you let her. There was no explanation that you could muster up without risking everything you’d worked so hard for, every moment of pain that ripped through you once a month. Years spent learning control.

The anxiety had fully built up in your chest by the time you made it the two doors down to your apartment. You shut it as softly as you could, pressing your back against the wooden door slathered in a deep forest green that reminded you of home. Your home.

The two of you had fought so diligently to get out of the compound and now all you wanted to do was retreat back into solitude, away from the world and the people you had wronged long ago. They were easy to push to the back of your mind when you didn’t see them every single day.

Of course, you never forgot them, you couldn’t. But there was a clear separation between your life before that night in the woods, and your life after. You had long ago admitted that you much preferred this one. Even if you did have dreams of finding your mother when you had the chance. Finding America and MJ. This was certainly not on your terms.

Kate was in front of you instantly, cupping both your cheeks and running her thumbs over the dampness. She didn’t’ say a word, and you were suddenly thankful for her inhuman hearing capabilities. You wouldn’t be able to explain, to tell her what made your throat so incredibly tight with grief.

Her height made it easy to tuck yourself against her, quivering as you cries were muffled against your chest. She radiated a warmth that calmed you like no other. Part of your nature, the connection the two of you carried. She could take your pain away, just as you could do the same. It evened your rapid breaths, her hand cupping your head.

She shocked you, her voice a low whisper. “I think you should tell them the truth.”

“What?”

Your voice was nasally and marred with snot. Kate gave you a sympathetic smile, moving her hand through your hair. She’d seen you at your absolute worst, and you weren’t exactly a beautiful crier. Her statement was jarring enough, though disarming.

“All those years ago, I told you that you’d be able to come back once you gained control of your wolf. And you’ve done that, you put in the work, you’ve embraced what we are. The reason for going to the compound in the first place was to protect the ones you love, and you can still do that.”

She dipped her head and your forehead pressed against hers. You stared into her startlingly blue eyes. They were genuine and so full of love.

“I mean it, sweetie. They deserve answers, I think we both know that.”

“Yeah… they do.”

It was easy enough to slip a note under MJ’s door. You figured she went to work early and returned late. There was a solid window of time for you to act. The letter contained your phone number, and an offer to talk, if she was willing.

It took three agonizing days of pacing the small length of the apartment, painting and repainting the bathroom, and busying yourself with little tasks. Kate had mastered hanging artwork and the two of you had finally made a trip to the grocery store instead of ordering from pizza places and diners that did take-out.

Kate was laying on her back on the second-hand sofa that the two of you had purchased and dragged up the stairs with little to no difficulty. She was skimming through a book she had to read for one of her classes, and the slow rhythm of her heartbeat had lulled you into a less than peaceful sleep.

Your cell phone was clenched in one hand, hanging off the side of the couch, full body weight snuggled up close to Kate, a blanket spread across you both. When your phone buzzed you shot up, knocking your forehead against Kate’s chin, she let out a startled grunt.

“Sorry, baby” You soothed your hand over the slowly growing red spot on her skin, simultaneously staring at your phone.

Unknown [3:00pm]: I’ll consent to dinner tonight. America may or may not be there.

Unknown [3:02pm]: 6:00, don’t be late.  

“I thought you said MJ was the nice one.” Kate set her book aside, peering at the messages you had received.

“She is… was. I don’t know anymore.”

Your antsy energy seemed to work in your favor when it came to preparing a dinner that was actually edible. Wanda had been teaching you to cook for the last few years, and it had been a difficult skill for you to pick up. She’d helped you master a dish from her birthplace that had quickly become one of Kate’s favorites.

She leaned against the counter and watched you cook as she always did, stretching up to retrieve the spices that were a little far past your reach. She handed you the paprika, kissing the back of your neck as you placed the chicken in the pan. You worked nervously, and methodically.

Despite Kate’s constant reassurances that they would love it, you weren’t much concerned about the food choices. Of course, you wanted it to be edible. But it could have been pizza all the same. There wouldn’t be much eating, you were sure. Even your appetite had been spoiled.

You panned the chicken onto a plate of rice and left it on the counter for Kate. She glanced down at it with confusion and then back up at you. “I’m not going, am I?”

“Darling, I would love nothing more. But, I’m certain that you being there will exacerbate things.”

Kate frowned, her lip jutting out in a borderline pout. You scoffed, gripping both of her arms. “They don’t know you like I do, Katie. They don’t know you at all.”

“Yeah,” She sighed “I know you’re right. This is just a hard thing to do and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone. You’ll be listening the whole time.

It was a comforting fact, but did nothing to quell the swirling in your stomach when you stood in front of MJ’s door. It was much too late to turn back, though everything in your body screamed at you to do so.

Before you could knock, she opened the door. She dawned an oversized flannel and a t-shirt for a band that you didn’t recognize. Her hair was damp, the scent of mint from her bodywash enveloping you. You’d missed the smell, missed her, but didn’t make a move to advance. She sniffed the air herself, raising an eyebrow. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was impressed by the meal you’d shoved in Tupperware.

 “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I almost didn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes at you but opened the door wider and gestured to the living room vaguely. You took in the deep blue walls, and the multitude of thrifted artwork that made it feel homey as opposed to cluttered. There was a warmth to her apartment that you and Kate hadn’t yet cultivated.

In a midcentury modern chair next to a large record player, was America. Your grip tightened against the dish, careful not to shatter it, something easily done with your strength. Spilling chicken paprikas all over the carpets would not a good impression make.

America’s rural eyes scanned from your boots to the collar of your shirt, stopping just shy of your own stare. She’d aged, but it was less noticeable through her fierce scowl. A black t-shirt hugged her frame, her hair curly and flowing across her shoulders. Tattoos stretched evenly over her biceps and forearms, ones you didn’t’ dare move to get a better look at.

She stood, setting her glass of wine down on the coffee table. MJ worked the Tupperware from your hands. She moved silently towards the kitchen. You could feel the tension in the air. It made your wolf nervous. You swallowed back a whine.

Her eyes flashed in anger. “It really is you. When MJ told me that she’d run into you, I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t, because if you’ve been alive this entire time, and just chose to keep us in a constant hell of wondering, then I’d never be able to forgive you.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“Maldita derecha, I do!” She shoved you back. You were startled by her strength, but still caught yourself with a small step back.

“Hey, relax. She’s here to explain, right?”

MJ stood behind the kitchen island, her fingers drumming on the countertop. Maybe she’d been given a chance to cool off, though there was still trepidation in her stare. You let out a small breath, throat suddenly tight.

“What?” America shoved your shoulder again, you could smell the alcohol in her breath “Does this bother you? Are you going to tuck your tail and vanish for another six years?”

Again, she pushed you back, this time with more force. You stood strong, letting her show her rage, her hatred towards you. Hell, you hated you in this moment. Your skin prickled, seeing her as a threat. You were sure that Kate, down the hall, was pacing with the same pent-up worry.

MJ urged “Meri, come one, let her be. We’ll eat dinner, and she’ll tell us what happened.”

“And what if we don’t like the answer?” She turned her venomous stare on the other woman. “What if we prefer that she had died and spared us all the pain?”

A brittle silence fell over the room. You were trapped within the walls of the apartment, ears ringing. Even if you could focus your mind hard enough to hear past it’s confinement, you didn’t want to. Your blood was rushing hard enough to create a ringing in your ears.

MJ had dropped the fork she was using to shovel food onto respective plates. America’s shoulders dropped. She opened her mouth and closed it again like a fish deprived of water. Her voice came out in a sand-paper whisper. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No, you did, and that’s okay.”

“It’s not.” MJ had abandoned her task and instead flopped down on one end of the sofa. She moved a throw pillow and gestured for you both to sit. “Both of you, we need to talk about this. It’s defined us for too long and we won’t get anywhere by hurling horrible words at one another.”

Cautiously, America returned back to her chair and you sat stiffly on the other end of the sofa. It would be better for them to both hate you. But, MJ’s usual rationale had kicked in and that scared the hell out of you. You ran your hands over your jeans, trying to find purchase in them.

America’s sharpness was back. “Well?”

“Okay, alright. Just… I need you both to keep an open mind before I get into this. I’ve never had to explain what happened before and, well shit, it’s going to be a lot to take in.”

You pleaded silently with them, flitting your eyes from one to the other. MJ nodded first and eventually America gave you a course gesture that you interpreted as agreeance. You could hear both of their hearts beating, perhaps harder than your own.

“The night before that stupid frat party, I didn’t fall asleep in the library. Something happened.”

“lo sabia.”

“I know you did, which is why I did everything in my power to avoid the both of you until I left. I didn’t know what was happening and the last thing I wanted to do was throw you into something that I couldn’t even begin to understand. I was feeling weird, and overwhelmed. Confused. You’ve always been too good at reading me. You’d both know in an instant that I’d been attacked if I was truthful with you.”

“Attacked?” MJ rasped, “You could have come to us, y/n. I’ve been fighting every single day of my career to make sure that Universities are a safe and forthcoming place. Even with campus police being absolute garbage, we would have found some way to help.”

You looked at her with soft admiration, guilt soaking your voice. “It wasn’t like that. I was walking home from the library and knew that I was being followed. I thought it was a person at first, but it wasn’t. The faster I moved, the faster she did. It didn’t matter how quick I was, is the point. Because it wasn’t a human that attacked me, it was a wolf.”

“A wolf You’re expecting us to sit here and believe that a wolf somehow escaped a zoo and miraculously hunted you down? I’m sorry, baby, but that’s the most bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard.” She laughed humorlessly and moved to stand.

“I told you to keep an open mind.” You pleaded, “I’m begging you, please. Just let me finish. And if you want me to leave after that. If you both want me to leave, then I will. You’ll never hear from me again.”

It would be easy to return to the compound, shield yourself from the world and make sure that neither of them had to live with the turmoil you’d caused all those years ago. You could feel sweat at the back of your neck, mouth dry in comparison.

She leveled you with a skeptical stare but sat back down, this time swiping her wine from the counter. She took a long gulp, the red staining her lips with a pink tint. The quiet urged you forward and your stomach clenched in nausea.

“It had bitten me, right through the shoulder and it was some of the most intense pain that I had ever experienced. I was certain that I was going to die there, alone and no one would find me for weeks, maybe even months. I have never been more terrified.”

Your hand moved up to rub the pulsing scar just below your t-shirt. You could feel the hardened tissue, the indents that Kate’s teeth made before they tore through tendons and ground your bones to a shattered powder.

You pulled the fabric away, shivering from the suddenly cold air against your skin. MJ gasped, closing the gap between the two of you on the sofa. She was gentle, running her own fingers over the scar, the large-mouthed pockmarks that could only be that of an animal.

“Jesus Christ, y/n. Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore. It just serves a reminder, is all.” America was looking at you in disbelief, her confidence in your falsehood wavering. “When you called the next morning, I was just thankful to wake up, and rushed back to the apartment so I didn’t worry you anymore than I already had.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” America asked.

You shook your head “I couldn’t understand what had happened. Just like you, I didn’t think there were wolves in New York. If I was having some type of break due to stress, I didn’t want to drag the two of you down either.”

“You can’t just decide how we’d react to things, y/n. If you had asked for help, explained what had happened, we would have been there for you.”

“I know that… and I was going to tell you both, I was. But by the second day, the bite was just gone. There was no evidence that anything had happened, and I was starting to doubt myself. At least I was, until Kate.”

That fury returned to America’s eyes. If you didn’t’ clock it in her stare, you would have in the way she smelled. The metallic edge overtook any other scent in the room, including the boisterous spices on the Paprikash. “Oh? Is that her name? I figured we were chasing a ghost for all those years.”

“We know who she is. Your mother… she was insistent that your father hire a private investigator. She knew that your behavior was out of the ordinary, but he wasn’t convinced, so she fought him tooth and nail. They had a name, and a last known address. But that was it. Her trail went cold too. It was like the two of you just vanished into thin air.”

Your heart seized at the admission, but you swallowed it back, locked it away for something to deal with later. It was one person at a time, and your mother was untouchable, something you refused to acknowledge until you were standing on her doorstep with your apologies and your broken sobs.

You cleared your throat, making a point to shove your hand with the simple golden band on it into your pocket. That was another conversation you weren’t willing to have at this point.

“Right, yes. Kate. She’s helped me tremendously over the years.” You drew in a breath, bracing yourself for the next statement. “In fact, she caused it.”

“She… caused it? Please, y/n. I may not like the girl but what you’re insinuating…”

“You’re saying she’s the one that bit you?” MJ let out a nervous chuckle “That, or unlatched the cage at the zoo.”

Another silence fell over the room. You gave them a nervous smile. God- this was absolutely harder than you expected. They didn’t’ say anything, they just stared at you blankly, and then at each other. Then, it was back to you. There was something akin to pity in their stares that you didn’t appreciate.

They thought you were insane and suddenly, it was like the glass coffee table had shattered and they were afraid that if they stepped too hard, it would cut the soles of their feet. MJ even reached her hand out and placed it on your knee. You shivered at the touch.

“Listen, I know neither of you believe me, but it’s why I had to leave.” Your voice broke. “I was so afraid that I was going to hurt you. I-I mean what if I lost control? Back then, I didn’t have a handle on any of this, so I went to a place that was safe. A place that taught me how to control it.”

“It being… Lycanthropy?” America stood up now, started pacing from the edge of her chair to the front door and then back again. “You know, we worked a case ages ago and the fifteen-year-old son of a wealthy couple believed that he was a werewolf.”

“Meri, please. Don’t psychoanalyze her.”

“Shouldn’t we? Y/n, this is an actual thing. It’s called Lycomania. It’s a form of psychosis, and with the right medications, the right therapies-“

“It’s not psychosis!” You stood from the couch, suddenly feeling frantic, like a caged animal. She was a social worker, or at least, that’s what she was studying to be. From her wording, you figured she’d gotten there just fine. “I’m not making any of this up.”

“It’s a little hard to believe, is all.”

MJ had reached up from the couch and took your hand, soothed it over your knuckles. It was like a horrible game of good cop, bad cop, and you wanted no part of it. You knew that there would be some disbelief, but the way America’s fingers inched towards her cell phone worried you.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. It’s impossible to believe, but you both deserve the truth. I need you to believe me.”

“I believe that you believe.” America said softly, “Please, y/n/n, just come get checked out with us. If you’re a… werewolf, then what’s the harm?”

You took a deep breath, glancing down at MJ who hugged a throw pillow flush against her chest. She was pleading with her stare, begging you to agree. And America, God, she looked like she was about to bolt or throttle you. But there was a kindness behind her eyes that you missed dearly.

“This was a mistake. Look, I just wanted to come here and apologize for everything I put you through. I want you to know that I mean it, and you both are very important to me.” You took a step towards the door, rolling your eyes when America stepped in front of it, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously?”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“If you’re a werewolf, and this isn’t some type of mental break, then prove it. Show us what you’ve got.”

A dry laugh escaped you, one of disbelief. You glanced back at MJ, she looked nervous, but didn’t’ object to the demand. You’d grown so used to living in a home with ten other people who never doubted what you were, because they were the exact same.

Your ‘wolfy’ attributes were mostly limited to the night of the full moon. By all accounts, you were normal the rest of the month, and things that weren’t normal often were disguisable. Sometimes, if you roughhoused with Peter or even Clint, your eyes would catch the color of the sunset, glowing in response to their own. But there were no sudden outbursts of sharpened teeth and extended claws- not anymore. You’d fought so hard to contain it.

If you let the curtain slip, even this once, would you be able to get it back up? It was another two weeks until the next full moon, and by then, you were sure they’d grow tired of waiting for you to prove yourself.

With a groan, you walked over to the kitchen. MJ practically threw herself over the back of the couch as you started to rummage through drawers, not finding anything but plastic forks, and a butter knife that certainly wouldn’t do the trick. “Jesus dude, this is not cutlery.”

“I’m not home often,”

You turned the closest knob on the stove and watched as the electric cooktop started to glow an angry red. This was going to fucking suck. Just because you could heal, didn’t mean you enjoyed utilizing the perk. It came in handy when you’d broken two fingers sparring with Natasha, and again when Tony had taken you on a long-winded hike and you’d lost your footing.  Both still held the same amount of pain that was expected.

With a deep breath you splayed your hand on the burner before MJ or America could object. They both made distressed noises in the back of their throat, the sound of your skin against the intense heat sizzled with a popping fierceness.

“What the fuck!” America clawed at your wrist, struggling to pull your hand away. With your strength, she didn’t’ get it to budge “Y/n, stop!”

When you were satisfied enough with the heat eating away at your skin, you released your hold. Your palm was angry, already blistering. Some spots bloomed a darker red, wounds close to the base of your ring finger where the gold band had heated up enough to cause some stinging damage.

“Oh my god, I’m going to vomit.” MJ moved her forearm over her mouth, swallowing heavily. “I’m calling an ambulance. Do we run it under cold water?”

“Relax, just watch.”

“Relax! You want me to relax?”

Her jaw snapped shut, head lilting to the side. America still gripped your wrist, watching as the redness quickly faded away to the smoothness of your palm. The blisters seemed to vanish, and the bleeding split by the edge of your ring sealed back together. You could still feel your hand throbbing, but flexed your fingers to prove your point.  

“You wanted me to prove it, and I didn’t much feel like ripping your throw pillows to shreds.” You snatched your hand back from America, twisted the ring around in a nervous habit. “Can we take the psyche unit off speed dial, please?”

“No, no, keep it up for me.” MJ leaned her back against the island, trying to steady herself. “That just… your hand was… did you see that?”

America whispered, her stare suddenly fuzzy. “Yeah, I saw it.”

You flicked the stove off and crossed your arms over her chest, letting them take a few moments to relish the quiet. You were feeling a bit too self-satisfied considering the circumstances, but enjoyed the fact that you had stunned them into silence.

“So, you left with this Kate chick because she turned you into a werewolf and then you’ve what? Been hiding these last six years? It’s hard to vanish in the 21st century. Nearly impossible.” America said, voice quivering.

“I went to a place where there were others like me. They taught me how to live with this, how to control it. They’re my family.”

“Your pack?” MJ asked. “What? I’ve seen Twilight!”

You laughed “Yeah, my pack. Kate included.”

“no confío en ella.” America growled.

You let out a sigh of relief. You’d take it. For now, you’d take it. The tension in the apartment had lowered a few notches, enough for your stomach to clench in hunger. It made an audible growl. You hadn’t been able to eat for the last few days, worry enveloping you.

America pulled her jacket from the back of the sofa. “You two eat. I’ve got a few case files I have to finish. Y/n, it was good to see you. I hope… take care of yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” The word came out as a breathless whisper. Even if your objections weren’t trapped in the netting of your throat, you wouldn’t’ have had a chance to say them. She was slamming the door behind her, shaking the photos on the wall.

“She’ll come around,” MJ squeezed your shoulder, giving you a wavering smile before she started to divide the food with her plastic fork. “In the meantime, I have so many questions.”

[sokkastyles]

This is something I've turning around in my mind due to the general discourse around Katara "hating" Zuko, and obviously she doesn't hate him at all after TSR, but do you think she truly even /hated/ him after Ba Sing Se? She was absolutely within her right to be hurt and angry about his choice, and I'm glad the show actually let her hold onto that for awhile b/c so often K has to be the bigger person and manage everyone else's emotions, but being hurt and angry at someone, even lashing out at them b/c of that, isn't the same thing as hating them imo. Like tbh their entire vibe to me from the moment Zuko turns up at the Western Air Temple until TSR is exes after a bad breakup but there's still unresolved feelings there, which was certainly an interesting writing choice for them to go with (only made more so by the textbook romance writing grovelling in TSR.)

Yeah, she isn't mad at him because she hates him, she's mad at him because she cares about him, because she wanted to care about him, and because she thought he cared about her. Even when she tells the gaang that Zuko was "pretending to be a human being" in the catacombs, it gives the impression that she is trying to convince herself that what she's saying is true, that the moment they shared and the vulnerability Zuko showed in that moment wasn't real.

The other thing that gives the lie to the idea that Katara hates Zuko or just sees him as an enemy is that when she confronts him when they are alone, and threatens him, she doesn't react to him like she thinks he's lying about wanting to do the right thing, she confronts him about how "you and I both know you've struggled with doing the right thing in the past." In front of everyone else, she makes it seem like she thinks Zuko is just evil, but when she's alone with him, she makes it clear that she knows he isn't, and that this is really about how she can't trust him, how he broke her trust. It's personal, not just about him being fire nation.

And the fact that she waited to tell him this in private, while denying her feelings in public, is absolutely romantic coded. I've also pointed out before that the framing of the confrontation mirrors the final scene between Zuko and Mai (or rather, that the Zuko and Mai scene, which is explicitly romantically coded, mirrors this one), Katara standing in the doorway to interrupt Zuko's triumphant moment with a reminder that his past isn't so easily moved past, and a reminder of who he's hurt. It absolutely gives vibes of an ex who you still have feelings for.

Which is why it's hilarious that Bryke made that comment about zutara being a relationship you experience before realizing what you really need (with the implication that Katara really needs Aang and Zuko really needs Mai), because what it actually feels like is two people who were immediately drawn to each other, ended up hurting each other, broke it off, but then still had feelings for each other and ended the series closer than they were before. If Bryke really wanted us to think zutara were not good for each other, then there could have been a moment where, when Zuko and Katara get their closure with each other, there's also the G-rated equivalent of "let's just be friends." Maybe have Katara say something like, "I forgive you, but I can't make the choice you want me to make." This is also in an alternate universe where Zuko more explicitly encourages Katara to kill Yon Rah. But none of that happens. The episode does not tell us that Zuko is not good for Katara or vice versa. It has Katara end the episode by explicitly disagreeing with Aang and enthusiastically embracing Zuko without any hesitation at all.

That hug is so meaningful because it's the release of tension that the narrative has been building up since that moment in the catacombs. It's not that Katara hated Zuko but now cares about him, it's that she wanted to care about him way back in the catacombs and now she's able to express that without being afraid that he'll break her trust.

[teainthesnow]

@cupcakeslushie s latest feral!leo comic has completely taken over my thoughts so here, have a written version:

.

..

Just keep walking, he tells himself as he struggles forward.

His legs are weak and each step is painful but he pushes on regardless, despite not really knowing why he should. He’s tired, hungry, and in so much pain that he’s almost numb.

But something tells him to keep going.

Voices, so familiar yet completely unknown, whisper to him in an otherwise silent world, saying:

You can do it.

You can do it.

You can do it.

So, he does.

He marches onwards through the hours, weeks, months – he doesn’t even know anymore – letting blurry memories and indistinct voices guide him through the darkest moments.

His tattered clothes provide little warmth in the freezing air and he grasps them tightly, trying to give himself even just a tiny bit more warmth. He shivers almost violently, but some part of him is relieved that he’s still doing at least that much in this cold.

Each step is an effort.

Each one harder than the last.

Just keep walking, he reminds himself.

Just keep walking, the voices echo.

And then there’s a fierce pain in his toe and he trips. He lands on the dusty ground with a hard thump, sending dust and rocks into the air. There’s a loud clatter as almost the entire contents of his makeshift bag go careening across the floor.

He growls in frustration and pain, blinking back tears.

(He can’t afford to lose more water, after all.)

He lies where he landed, exhausted, hurt, and completely unwilling to get back up again.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been laying there when he sees a flash of red in the corner of his blurred vision.

‘Come on, Leo.’ A voice says, gentle yet encouraging. ‘You gotta get up.’

But the words that should inspire him feel empty and meaningless. He cannot gain even a spark of motivation from them.

“No...” He manages to whine, voice raspy with disuse. “Tired...”

He presses his face into the ground, letting the darkness take over, and attempts to block it all out. Maybe it will all go away if he can’t see it.

But the voice persists.

‘Get up.’ He says, harsher but still kind.

He snarls, the last threads of his patience snaps. He pushes himself up, claws digging into the dirt, so he can stare his brother in the face.

“Shut up!” He spits out, words dripping with anger and pent-up frustration. He clutches his head in his hands, pressing down with so much force that his nails dig into his skin.

“Shut up! That’s all you ever say!” He yells. “Get up. Get up. Get up.” His voice his sore from lack of use but the frustration is too overwhelming to stop. He allows himself to let go of his restraint. To let the anger consume him.

“I just want some peace and quiet R-R-R-” He chokes on the word, anger dissolving almost instantly into horror. The name that should be so easy to say slips through his grasp like sand.

He looks up and realises that he can’t really recognise the face that stares back at him.

And can’t think of the name that belongs to it.

He panics.

He desperately searches through his bag, reaching desperately for the one thing he’s had since this all began.

His only flicker of hope in an otherwise hopeless situation.

His treasure.

All the while he frantically tries to remember his brothers name. But he can only get as far as the first letter, the first syllable, before he falters.

He pulls out the old and torn photograph, running a finger gently across it despite his panic.

He stares, wide-eyed at the red and green form of the turtle who he knows is his brother.

But who now stares, nameless, back at him.

“Nonononono.” He cries. “R- Rah-”

But no matter what he does, or how hard he stares, he cannot force himself through the fog that fills his brain in order to remember just one simple name.

The face in the photograph smiles at him.

‘It’s okay little brother.’

The voice, his brother, speaks again.

There is no hatred in his tone. No anger that he has been forgotten and he clings to that. To the feeling of warmth and safety.

Of home.

He closes his eyes.

He hugs desperately at himself.

His body is so numb that he can almost pretend that he isn’t alone. That he’s back where he really belongs with his family.

Safe and unharmed.

Enveloped within the warm embrace of his older brother.

“Ra-h will always be here.”

And he holds on to those words with every ounce of strength he has left.

You can do it; he tells himself once again, trying desperately to convince himself that he isn’t lying.

[eponastory]

ZUTARA...

Okay, so my thoughts...

Look, I'm an OG fan. I was a teenager when the animated show came out and boy oh boy...

Okay, so yes, I am a Zutara shipper. I have been since the show aired, and the way the show ended with Aang and Katara left an icky taste in my mouth. I'm not anti Kataang either. It just gives me... eew. Especially now that I'm an adult and I know relationships are messy to begin with. I don't agree that the show creators think that Zutara would be toxic... that is not necessarily true as Zuko's character doesn't support such a thing and neither does Katara's. Aang is still a child mentally and he doesn't seem to understand that people are going to do what they are going to do. Case and point, The Southern Raiders. Aang confronts Katara telling her that she should let it go and forgive Yon Rah... the only problem with this is that Katara needs to deal with her own closer. Forgiveness does not mean closure. Take it from me, a person who has difficulty letting go of hurts from the past. Some things I can forgive, while other things I can't because they are still a problem for me today, which is why I'm in therapy. It is not up to Aang to decide what Katara needs to do in that moment. If anything, he is showing his complete misunderstanding of her resolve. She is angry, hurt, and compulsive. She is feeling these things because her past has been thrown in her face by Zuko's presence. Because he is there, all that hurt is like a thousand daggers in her back. Zuko is letting her do. He is letting her feel, and for those who say he is encouraging her to murder someone, that isn't what is going on. He is basically letting her do what she needs to do. When someone is feeling that way, you wither let them feel it and support them or you get out of the way. People are going to do what they want. It's a hard lesson to learn.

Aang has his world view of peace and compassion, which is not a bad thing, but he lacks understanding. Probably because he is still a child and still learning the ways of people. People are cruel and sometimes unforgiving, but we can also be kind, loving, and filled with hope. Aang sees the good in everyone, except Ozai, which I'm pretty sure the only thing good about Ozai is the fact that Mark Hamil is behind his voice. But anyway, I like Aang. He's a good character that transforms everyone he interacts with. That is the best quality about him. The absolute worst of his qualities is that he tends to push his beliefs into the open without taking a moment to think about how others feel. And that isn't even that bad. It's a disregard of those emotions that leave a little bit of bitterness in my mouth. But that is something everyone struggles with at one point. That is just being human.

But yeah, this is just my humble opinion. Relationships are messy and they need work. They arent always going to be perfect, which is why neither ship is going to be better than the other. Does Aang and Katara have a happy marriage? Well, I can't say that they do because there isn't much to go on other than they have children. I'd like to think they have their ups and downs like most relationships do.

Would Zuko and Katara have a good relationship? Going off of their character I'd say they would balance each other out. It won't be toxic because they do fine when they are together in the show. They work well as a team and have each other's backs. So yeah, that is there in the show.

I'd also like to point out that Zuko and Mai don't tick the boxes for outstanding relationship. Those two have been on and off and I honestly don't think they will get back together. Kinda reminds me of the guy I was on and off with for five years... now that was toxic.

But yeah. I've done the shipping thing for so long it doesn't matter if it's Canon or not. Like I seriously shipped Sesshomaru and Kagome for years even though I knew she and Inuyasha were going to be together. Didn't care too much for Sess/Rin because again... eew. You ship who you want and what you feel makes sense. Does this mean people have to berate others about it? No. There should never be any condescension or degrading because we are all fans.

But for real... I think Azula and Sokka should get together. And I'm not on the Taang ship either.

Fight me... I dare you.

[ekwolfwriter-blog]

WIP Zutara Month Challenge: Brightest in the Dark

So this will be a moment to share a bit of a moment I hinted at in my Ghost of a Waterbender fic but I have a cute head cannon for Katara and Zuko and maybe write a snippet later.

But as for this, this is a little head canon that Zuko likes to call Katara his firecracker. Mostly because Katara reminds him of one when they were traveling to find Yon Rah. A firework that snaps and pops, but also produces the most beautiful lights in the darkest of nights. And you can only see them in the dark, so that is why she is the brightest to him. And since then Katara has not minded when he calls her firecracker.

Also, this HC came from this amazing song by Cami Cat of the same name: Firecracker also a bit of a coincidence that the characters look like Katara and Zuko. I know it was not intentional, but still, it helped a lot.

That being said, here is the snippet of what I had in mind when Zuko calls her it the first time:

"We are only here to get some provisions," she said as she was serious. "We can't get caught up in the fun. And don't try to tell me we can wait for the show. We will not." She snapped a little, but Zuko could tell there was a bit of sadness that they could not stay for long.

He nodded as he agreed, following her into the village festival time to look for food. It looked like they were celebrating something from the excessive amount of fire works being sold around the village and fire sticks and fire crackers. All to light the night up. Katara was determined to keep going but she could not help but stare ever now and then smiled at it.

Zuko was watching her as he was amazed she finally let a smile slip since she has been scowling and upset most of their trip. And rightfully so. But he could see her change from this hard exterior before shinning brighter than any star in the sky.

Katara looked at him and then it turned sour again, but Zuko was still smiling as she asked. "What are you smiling about?"

Zuko chuckled. "I think I know what makes you interesting," he said. "And in a good way, mind you." He affirmed before getting smacked in the arm by her.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You are like a firecracker," he said.

Katara raised an eyebrow as she was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Firecrackers are very much like the name suggest: fast, resilient, a bit quick tempered when mad, but they shine the brightest in the dark."

Katara was not sure what to think of it. It felt like he was trying to compliment her but not saying it out right. "So... is that good or bad?"

"You tell me, miss firecracker."

Katara blushed as she did not expect his teasing to hit her like that. And her heart skipping a beat. He was so lucky they were in a Fire Nation village, otherwise she would soak him. But to hide her face, she turned away. "Come on, we need to go."

"As you wish," he said and dropped it for now. But Zuko found a new name he was more than happy to call this fiery waterbender that has fire to his own heart.

One more, but it will be a bit. But I promise, it will be a good one.

[azrielsshadows42]

A Court of Scales and Fire III

Eris Vanserra x Female oc

A/n: so, chapter 3, uhhh, not much to say except there is not alot of Eris in this one, but more of the friendship between Cassian and Y/n, not alot of Everest either.

Note: I couldn't think of a way to integrate this naturally in the story so, Imma just say it here: Everest can increase and decrease in size. By how much? idk yet, we'll figure it out together.

Pronunciations: Eletheria-> El-leh-th-air-ree-ah, Remiel-> Reh-meal, Rajani-> Rah-jah-n-eye, Penitent-> Pen-ni-tint, Amari-> a-maar-ree

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of utm

Word Count: 2.8k Chapter 2 Character Moodboards

Bold + Italics = Mind speak (colour will change depending on who is speaking)

Bold = Ancient language

---Y/n's Pov---

Cassian held me in his arms as he flew us across the forest of the middle. It had been about ten minutes since we'd first lifted off and we hadn't covered much ground. "So, you are from the Night Court, right? And that's where we're going?" I asked looking at him, he looked to be in deep thought, but my question brought him out of his head. "Yes, is that a problem?" Cassian questioned, sincerely wanting to know if that would work for me. For being my almost would be capturer, he's really nice. "No, just, remind me where that is, and perhaps an estimate of how long it will take us to get there, my mission is kinda time sensitive"

He nodded in understanding, then looked up in thought. "Well, the Night Court is the northern most territory of Prythian, so... a while?" I turned the information over in my head for a bit, if memory serves me right, he was telling the truth, but wasn't there this teleportation thing fae people could do here? What was it called? Willowing? Maybe not everyone could do it, or maybe you can only do it for yourself, like you can't take other people with you.

"So, what is this mission of yours anyway? "Cassian quizzed, more to pass the time then for actual interrogation, if his casual tone was anything to judge by. "Just, tracking some fae who made questionable life choices" I sort of side-stepped the question, more so I wouldn't have to repeat myself when we got to our destination. He chuckled at my answer. "Were you sent on this mission alone or-" "Yep" I interrupted him, and I almost winced, I said that way too fast. There was a long stretch of awkward silence between us, only his wing beats and the air whipping around us filled the void.

It started to become downright unpleasant, I needed to say something. "What are you?" I blurted out, Cauldrons what is wrong with me? "I'm an Illyrian" Cassian responds a little confusedly "No, no I meant like, what's your occupation, what do you do for a living?" He stays quiet for a bit, probably thinking how much he should reveal, understandable. "I'm the night court's general" I laughed, man that's funny. He just stared at me, not saying anything "I- What? ...Oh, you're serious? damn" He then laughs as well "Why is that so surprising?" he says with a smile "I think I'm quite intimidating"

"Well...." I trailed off in a high-pitched tone, he gasped in mock offence. "How dare you, I am very intimidating, and I embody the position of General, thank you very much" I stifled my laughter. "You've definitely got the build of a general, it's just, the authoritative tone that strikes fear into the soldiers that hear it is lacking" He huffed and turned his head away with a slight pout. At least he could take a joke, I was starting to like him more and more.

He opened his mouth, about to say some sort of light-hearted retort when he suddenly stopped and looked ahead again. "What's wrong?" what had happened in the three seconds between playful banter and rigid shoulders? Cassian doesn't answer, I go on high alert, if he drops me, I know Everest will be there waiting, she won't let me fall, but then he'd know of her existence, and I don't trust him enough for that.

He glances at me, like I'm something that's going to get him in trouble, and quickly looks ahead again. What the hell? after a few more seconds of silence, he speaks, "That was Rhysand checking in, he says he'll send Mor to come pick us up, get us to the Night Court a lot faster." I do not know who either of those people are, but the name Rhysand sounds familiar, like I definitely should remember it. "How?"

"Mor can winnow" Huh? she's a widow? How is that supposed to help us? He must have read the confusion on my face because he then clarified: "She's going to teleport us there" Ohhhh, she can Willow, that makes much more sense than her being a widow.

He slowly descends into the forest, though we seem to be on the outskirts seeing as the trees had thinned out significantly. Once we landed, Cassian gently put me down. Dark mist appeared in front of us for a split second, then they were gone, and in their place stood an absolutely gorgeous high fae in a maroon dress and red lipstick, gold jewellery adorned her wrists and pointed ears. This female is so beautiful, I might just change my sexuality. Gold hair ran over her shoulders in waves. I am certain her hair is what mating bonds are made of.

"Rhysand told me we'd have a guest" she says, directed to Cassian, I knew I was staring, and it's rude, and I should definitely stop but holy shit, I wish I could pull that kind of dress off, the kind that hugs your curves with a slit up to your thigh. She then turns to me "Hi, I'm Morrigan, but just call me Mor, everyone does." I realise that now is the perfect time to break out of my staring "I'm Y/n" She smiles at me. "Well, Y/n, are you ready to see the Night Court" her eyes shone with pride at the mention of her home "Not in the slightest, lead the way!" I respond which earns a small giggle from her. "Cassian, c'mon, or we're leaving you" He makes his way toward us. "Fair warning, there's going to be a long drop" Cassian says to me. "I can handle it" They both look at each other with raised eyebrows but don't comment. "If you're sure"

---Cassian's Pov---Before landing---

"You've definitely got the build of a general, it's just, the authoritative tone that strikes fear into the soldiers that hear it is lacking" I incredulously huffed and turned my head away from her with a fake pout. I'm about to inform her that my voice most definitely does strike fear into any disrespectful soldiers when Rhysand's mental claws scraped down my shields.

It has been more than half an hour since you last checked in Cassian His voice invades my head, sounding a little peeved.

Aww, did you miss me? I could feel the mental eyeroll he sent to me, clearly annoyed by my lack of guilt for not updating him.

Have you found anything? I heard Y/n ask me something, but I didn't catch what, focusing on making sure Rhysand didn't get too frustrated with the results.

You could say that I replied, glancing at the female in my arms because yes, I had found something, it just was not what he was expecting.

Cassian, I don't like the sound of that, what are you trying to say? I could feel her body tense as I continued to ignore her questioning.

I'm saying you should expect some extra company. He sighed deeply.

I'm sending Mor to winnow you, and our new guest here, then I expect an explanation. His voice left my mind, and I turned towards Y/n, her jaw tense, eyes scanning my expression. "That was Rhysand checking in" I explained "He says he'll send Mor to come pick us up, get us to the Night Court a lot faster" I searched for a place to land, which was much easier to find now that we weren't in the heart of a forest. "How?" She inquired, her body relaxing slightly. "Mor can winnow" Y/n looked confused by that. "She's going to teleport us there" She nodded in understanding.

When I landed, Mor was already waiting for us, Y/n was gawking at her, quite obviously, and it took all my self-control to resist laughing. Mor's eyes fixed on me, a hint of amusement shone in them. "Rhysand told me we'd have a guest" I smiled at her a little guiltily and shrugged. They exchanged introductions, then prepared to winnow to the house of wind. "Cassian, c'mon, or we're leaving you" Mor waves me over, just as I get to them, I remember something. "Fair warning, there's going to be a long drop"

Y/n shrugs one shoulder, casually responding "I can handle it". Mor and I regard each other sceptically before facing her again, eventually, Mor relents. "If you're sure"

She places a hand on both of our shoulders, then the world warped, and the stomach-turning sensation of winnowing overcame us. Quick flashes of the territories zoomed by as we went, reaching the house in a matter of seconds. I instinctively caught Mor before she fell, my wings flaring out to catch the wind and slow our descent. Y/n plummeted straight down, but she spread out her arms and legs, increasing her surface area, then transferred the gravitational energy to momentum once she hit the ground, seamlessly falling into a forward roll and standing up again like nothing happened. She turned on her heels toward us, a smile on her face, I had to say, I was impressed, not many could pull off something like that, especially not that smoothly, come to think of it, she also had no problems while we were flying despite how far she could have fallen, she must be used to hights.

Once Mor and I had joined her on the roof, we went inside. Everyone was right there waiting for us, Feyre sitting on the couch, Rhysand standing behind her, Nesta was on the other side, leg crossed over the other, her latest smut novel in hand, nose buried deep, and Azriel stood in the corner, shadows perched on his shoulders. Amren sat on the love seat, so short her head didn't even reach the top of the back rest

Feyre stood from her seat, Rhysand followed, only stopping once he was beside his mate. "Welcome to the Night Court, I am Rhysand, and this is my mate, Feyre" Feyre smiled kindly at Y/n. "That's Amren, my second in command, Azriel, my spymaster and Nesta, Cassian's mate" Rhysand introduced the rest of the inner circle, gesturing to each of them as he said their names. "Who are you?"

"I am Y/n, Y/n L/n"

"Well, Y/n, please follow me"

--- Time Skip ---

Rhysand brought us to the dining room, all of us took a seat, She sat at the edge of the table, I placed myself next to Y/n while Mor sat opposite of her. There was some food placed on the table, light snacks to pick on, everyone else picked off of the plates occasionally, but after what happened I was starving, eating almost two entire platters by myself. Light conversation had been passed around the table, Y/n mostly stayed quiet, just listening. Rhysand interlocked his fingers in front of him, leaning his fore arms on the table. The questioning was about to begin.

"Y/n, where are you from?" A nice easy question to start, nothing harsh, but will also tell us if she's from Hybern or one of their allies. "I'm from Eletheria" We all looked around at each other, none of us, not even Az or Amren, knew where that was. "It is a sub-territory of Rask" The atmosphere became tense, every one of us knew that well Rask hadn't joined Hybern in the war, they were inclined to do so. "Rumour of Hybern planning a war to gain humans as slaves again had been floating around for over a century, it created a divide within the population of Rask. Some believed that Hybern was right, and we should ally ourselves with him, others, including King Rajani's brother, disagreed.

Decades of debates and small bouts of civil war resulted in the land being divided, Eletheria gained full independence just over six years ago, with his brother, Remiel, as King." She explained.

The entire inner circle let out a discrete collective sigh of relief, they had not invited an enemy into their home. "If it gained independence over six years ago, why have we not heard of it?" Mor asked with nothing but curiosity, it seemed I'm not the only one who thinks we can trust her. "The King of Rask was not particularly pleased with having to give up some of his power and land, so he has kept quiet about it. More and more refugees are crossing the border, so King Remiel has been occupied with increasing good infrastructure for people to live in. He has not had time to concern himself with putting us on the official map, which is probably a good thing, as to not make Eletheria a target."

Rhysand nodded, agreeing with her statement. "Why are you here, in Prythian?" All eyes fixed upon Y/n, what he really wanted to ask was 'why were you under the mountain?' but this question was safer, in the event that she didn't know what had happened with Amarantha, we would have to explain the fifty years of chaos, and nobody wanted to do that. "I am on a mission for the King"

"What kind of mission?" Az asked, the first words he'd said since we'd arrived. "One of the most abundant gemstones in Eletheria is Opals, recently we have discovered a new vein of them, though these are no regular stones. They have properties, similar to that of the Illyrian siphons, they can store magic. Upon further research, two different types have been found, Amari, and Penitent. It has been revealed that Penitent opals become unstable once imbued, and after one took out half the research facility it was in, an order was sent out to collect them, so no more damage could be done. Most fae gave them over willingly. However, a group of illegal weapon smugglers found out about the opals, about what they could do.

They began hoarding and stealing any stock they could find. An informant told us that a shipment of opals was sent here. It's my job to find them and return all of the stolen opals back to the crown for safe keeping"

I guess that would explain why this was time sensitive. "Two days ago, in the south, between summer and autumn, there was a power surge, would you know anything about that?" Amren interrogated, piercing eyes locked on her like predator and prey. Her words were accusing, I almost wanted to wince at the tone.

Y/n, to her credit showed no signs of discomfort, she looked up thoughtfully, pondering the question. "When I first got here, I found one of the temporary camps I suspect they used, there was only one fae present left to cover their tracks. In his attempt to get rid of me, he set of one of the opals, that might have caused the short power surge you speak of" Amren did not look convinced but refrained from pushing the matter any further.

It was Feyre who spoke next "Mor will show you to your room for the night, feel free to make yourself at home, and don't be afraid to ask for anything" Mor and Y/n stood from the table "Thank you, High Lady" She dipped her head in respect. "Please, call me Feyre" She nodded, then followed Mor down the hall to the guest bedrooms. Once they were out of earshot, I asked "So, how are we gonna help?"

"I'm not sure we should" Azriel admitted, looking toward Cassian. "What do you mean? Of course we should help her!" My voice was filled with incredulity. It just makes sense to help her, so why wouldn't we? "I'm with Cassian on this this one, this could affect us to, dangerous weapons in the wrong hands is not something we need to deal with, we have enough on our plate, better to stop it now before it gets out of hand" Feyre added. She studied Rhysands face to see if he agreed with her statement.

Rhysand considered this for a moment. "Her story makes sense, and if she is telling the truth, then Feyre's right, but she could be lying, especially if she is from a place that's just gained independence, she might be here as a spy to find weaknesses should they ever need it."

I hated to admit that he had a point, but I just feel like we can trust her. I sighed "So what are we going to do?" My eyes fell on Rhysand's violet ones, but he didn't meet my gaze. "We keep an eye on her until we know for certain she is telling the truth, for now, be aware of what you say around her, try not to talk about anything that could be used against us." We dispersed to our respective places, Rhysand, Feyre and Amren returning to their homes, while Az and I went to our rooms, Nesta made her way from the table to the couch and continued reading.

A/n: So, this chapter was supposed to be twice as long as it is, but I need to post an update so, here you go.

Chapter 4

Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms , @rcarbo1

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

[strwbnnie]

Y’all I know I said I wasn’t posting anything else until I revised some older fics buttttt I just couldn’t get this series out of my head 🥲 let’s call it the Tokyo Rev. Occupation Series where I’ll be writing a series of nsfw blurbs about these sleazy professionals & their favorite clients 🫶🏾

First up we have :

Dentist!Smiley

 Lmaoooo this one is so obvious but Smiley is one of the best dentists there is. His office is a serene environment, even with the rap music playing, mainly Youngboy cus that’s who he claims he resonates with and it reminds him of his adolescence 😭 Souya thinks it’s unprofessional but regardless, it’s what he likes and his clients never complain, except you.

Smiley’s known for enhancements. Says a person’s smile is their best asset and has dedicated his life to helping people achieve their perfect smile. Porcelain veneers are his specialty—he focuses on aesthetic and functionality. His prices are a bit steep but his work speaks for itself. 

At only 27 years old he owns his own private practice and has made a name for himself in such little time. A lot of people are skeptics, claiming he’s far too young to know what the hell he’s doing, and that he’s overrated. He used to get so many comments about him being a scammer, ripping off clients, and a whole bunch of other bullshit on the daily.

It was infuriating but he’s not the person he used to be. Plus he can’t fight thousands of strangers on the internet. So he addressed it one time and one time only on ig live. 

“I don’t do promo like y’all’s favorite dentists, and I don’t fancy putting big white cinderblocks in people’s mouths for a couple thousand dollars like y’all’s favorite dentists.”

“If you don’t wanna work with me, that’s cool, but don’t disrespect me or my craft. My work is immaculate so pay my fucking price, or don’t, but somebody will and you’ll know the difference.” 

Of course it went viral, probably cus he said the whole thing with a smile on his face. Had the internet in an uproar—he was cool, calm and a little stern with just the right amount of sassy and of course you ate it up. Booked your consultation at Kawata Dentistry a few weeks later, paid almost 23 bands for your perfect smile, and you couldn’t be happier. He was much cuter in person, and yes, his teeth are just as straight and white in person. What intrigued you the most was the way the smile on his face never wavered, even when he was a bit annoyed at his receptionist for double booking his appointments.

That was nearly a year ago and he’s been your dentist since, and in the span of that year he’s come to like you a lot—enough to say you’re his favorite client. It makes him so fucking happy that you’ve started to smile for him more, no longer self-conscious about your imperfect smile, now you give him real smiles showing damn near all thirty two of your teeth.

He thinks you’re pretty as fuck too, never wearing any makeup, just your mink lashes and that Dior lip stuff you like. Smiley loves the way you keep yourself up—hair and nails always done and you always smell good as fuck, it’s obvious you’re a high maintenance, luxury bitch. But when you walk through his threshold, when you enter his domain, you’re nothing more than a slut for him to play with and he loves it.

He’s sitting on his stool, wheels locked while you’re on your knees between his legs with his fat cock stuffed in your mouth. The stretch makes your jaw ache but neither of you regard that. You swallow around his cock and it sends shivers up his spine. “Oh fuck, you’re so good at that.”

He calls it a ‘stress test’ and how he got you to agree to this the first time, you’ll never know, it must’ve been his way with words, since that’s what drew you to him in the first place.

Brent Faiyaz is playing, cus you hate that ‘rah-rah rap shit’ and you made it your business to tell him every time you enter his office, once you got comfortable enough.

He’s got your hair fisted into a makeshift ponytail, loves the raw Indian tape-ins you have in this time.

Smiley’s yanking at your hair, bobbing your head up and down, occasionally pushing you down far enough for his peachy pubes to tickle your nose. He’s spewing praise after praise as you please him. Going on and on about how you’re so pretty, especially when you’re on your knees letting him use your mouth like this. Thank goodness for the music, the gyuck sounds are so loud, so obscene as his thrusts get faster and sloppier.

The shaft of his cock is jutting against your teeth every single time the tip of him kisses the back of your throat, makes him shudder every time. He lets out a deep sigh, holding your head still and jerking his hips up.

“Holy shit, you’re so perfect.”

This lasts until he cums, which is never long, you are the client with the perfect mouth after all. He pops his cock out of your mouth, pressing kisses to your lips again and again until he’s satisfied.

You’re still on your knees and he’s still gripping your jaw, you already know what he wants so you crack a wide smile for him. You’re sure you look crazy—spit and cum (you’re dentist’s cum) running down your chin, just smiling like an idiot. He turns your head side to side, using his other hand to run his finger over the tips of your teeth. 

“No loosies or chipping.” He smiles at his own handiwork. “Lemme clean you up and get a picture.” It’s sweet, the way he wipes your face so gently and helps you up. He walks away for a second, washes his hands and returns with a tiny paper cup full of mouthwash, remembers alcohol free is your preference.

The goal is a minute but he lets you slide with the forty-five second swish. He hugs you tight, and he doesn’t let go. Neither do you, your arms perched against his shoulders as you stare up at him.

“When imma see you again? Every four months ain’t cutting it nomore.”

“You can see me whenever, you know where I be, what time I take lunch. Unless you trying to take me on a date outside of work hours.”

You nod, and when you do he’s pulling out his phone, handing it to you with a light chuckle. “Alright, gimme your number. We’ll set something up.”

Later that day, you see he posted you on his personal page. Your teeth looks amazing but you hope the hearts in your eyes and the way you press yourself against him isn’t too obvious.

@/smiley_orthodontist : Another satisfied client back for routine maintenance! I love making pretty girls prettier 🥺🫶🏻

I guess it’s safe to say you really like your dentist & he really likes you too!

[fallenclan]

Pebblefreeze & Human Drabble

by Dragon Anon

"Another newcomer, ey?" Human jolted at the sound of a gravelly voice. He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the grey she-cat approach. Well, mostly grey. Her tail was a brilliant reddish color, standing out starkly against her pelt. 

"Ah, hello," Human murmured uncertainly. The she-cat grinned, as if delighted only to be acknowledged. 

"I'm Pebblefreeze," she mrrowed.

"How'd you get a name like that?" Human tilted his head, gaze sweeping over the cotton-pelted 'Pebblefreeze' once more. 

"It's a warrior name."

"Oh, I know about that. Thistleskip taught me. I just mean... you look more like a 'Pebbleflame' to me."

Human flinched back when the she-cat let out a growl, only to realize she was laughing a few seconds later. "Pebbleflame! Ha! If only Maplestar had thought of that one."

"Maplestar?" 

"He was our clan's leader back when I was a 'paw." 

"Ah."

"..."

"What?"

"You never told me your name, silly."

"Oh, uh! I'm Human."

"...and how'd you get a name like that?"

...

"This is my dad, Evie," Pebblefreeze purred. "And the cat cuddling with him is Crowflame."

"We are not cuddling, Pebblefreeeze," Crowflame hissed. "It's drafty in this den. Maybe if the apprentices had actually done their job and brought back those goose feathers..."

"I seem to remember a certain apprentice getting bit by a goose once..." Evie hummed thoughtfully. "Who was that again?"

"Be quiet, Evie."

"Blizzardfang always had delightful stories about your apprentice days..."

"Evie," Crowflame growled.

"Stop teasing him, dad." Pebblefreeze sat down, shaking her head solemnly. "You're only reminding him of a traumatic childhood event. Truly, quite insensitive of you."

Crowflame snorted, rolling to his paws and stomping out of the elders' den, although Human thought he heard the tom mutter something along the lines of "I'm too old for this."

"Anyway," Evie yawned, shifting to his paws. "Who's this?"

"I'm Human," Human replied quickly. It still felt surreal to him that so many clan cats actually knew their parents. Had grown up with them. Human could barely remember his own mother's face, let alone her name. Idly, he wondered if Pebblefreeze had siblings too. 

"Hi, Human. I'm dad," Evie replied nonchalantly.

"Pebblefreeze already introduced you," a tawny-spotted cat rasped, slinking forward from the back of the den. Human started. There were so many cats in FallenClan, he could hardly keep track of them. "I'm Mothspots."

"Hi." Human ducked his head, feeling a bit timid. 

"My sister's around here somewhere too..." Pebblefreeze murmured thoughtfully, glancing around the den. "I think."

"Willowsplash and Bub went out on a walk, actually. You're welcome to wait for them in here, if you want. I'm sure I could tell Human plenty of stories about your kittenhood..."

"Oh, please do!" Pebblefreeze chortled. "Sit down, Human. You'll love this."

...

"What happened to Hopethistle?"

"What?"

"Sorry. I mean, your dad mentioned her being Cherrystar's sister. I, uh, know about Cherrystar's sudden death, given how it happened pretty recently before I joined the clan. I haven't heard anything about Hopethistle, though."

"She died a long time ago." Pebblefreeze shrugged, gaze growing distant for a few moments before refocusing on Human. "We don't actually know what happened. Just... found her dead one day."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Human grimaced, feeling suddenly ashamed for asking.

"Don't be. Like I said, it was a long time ago. I was a lot more troublesome back then."

"More so than you are now?" The words were out of Human's mouth before he could stop them, and he felt a pang of alarm. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Ha ha! So you do have some fire in you after all! C'mon, why don't I show you where Hopethistle and I used to sneak off to together? We used to drive our mentors crazy."

" . . . all right."

...

"Rah! I'm the strongest warrior ever!" Frozenkit yowled, bounding across camp in a few long strides. "Surrender or die!"

"Guess I'll have to surrender then," Pebblefreeze grinned, dramatically falling to her side. "Please, be merciful!"

"Nuh uh! I'll protect you, momma," Tempestkit yowled, tackling Frozenkit. Human took a worried step forward, but Pebblefreeze shot him an amused glance. He sat down again. 

A few pawsteps away, Tinykit looked up from a snail he had been observing all morning with Palekit. "Watch it! You could break his shell if you fall on him," Palekit hissed. 

"What shell--hey! Frozenkit, you hit my eye!" 

Human shot an imploring gaze at Pebblefreeze, and this time she nodded in confirmation. Stepping forward, the tom gently detangled his kits. "Are you all right, Tempestkit?

"Mhm," she sniffled slightly. "I'm tough."

"Sorry, Tempest," Frozenkit peered at her sister. "It was an accident."

"It's okay."

"Why don't we all go find a nice spot and curl up, and I can tell you kits a story about the twolegplace?" Human rumbled. 

"Can I stay out here with Palekit?" Tinykit asked.

"I can stay out here and watch him," Pebblefreeze hummed casually. 

"Thank you. You really don't mind-?"

"I don't," Pebblefreeze chuckled. "Go on, but make sure it's an exciting story or they'll be demanding I tell them a different one later."

"Of course," Human purred. With a contented sigh, the tom swept up Frozenkit and Tempestkit with his tail, letting his daughters ride on his back as he padded towards the nursery.

Pebblefreeze rested her chin on her paws, hoping that Bluefern and Newtscar were watching, wherever they might be.

-🐉 (pebblefreeze & human drabble.)

(beetle note: YOU NEVER MISSSSSS THIS IS SO GOOD!!! i love the exploration of pebblefreeze and human's friendship,,,, theyre the silliest)

[whosthere54]

Prison duo playlist analysis day 4 - The Bird Song by Noah Floersch

Rah rah rah the bird songgggggg

I need you to know after I saw this song the first time I had a reminder set for when it came out so I could add it to my prison duo playlist /lh

So- I’m just gonna go through the three ideas I have. We’re doing it from Icarus’s perspective, but if I did it from Centross’s perspective it would be the same events just in a proper order lol

So for the first piece- until the next “I was a bird”

This one is the Season 2 Prison arc. Personally.

“When it went through, that’s when I knew. I’m a killer and a killer is a bad bad thing to be, she’s a giver and a givers even worse for folks like me. ‘Cause I never really wanna be the one to hurt somebody, but it just keeps happening. Yeah, it just keeps happening.”

Me when this is Coded.

They’re a killer- a villain. That’s all they can be isn’t it? He’s a giver- he stayed in that prison for them because he knew they needed him there.

They keep repeating this over and over again- keep hurting people over and over. It just keeps happening. Self explanatory I think.

The next part is until “Falling”

This is the Season 1 prison arc. Again, these could be lots of different things but my first thoughts were the prison arcs because the lyrics mirrored each other so I could do both- lol.

“I was a bird, he was an arrow. I was allured by the straight and the narrow. What could I do? His aim was true. Straight to the heart, I let it happen. I couldn’t hardly have ever imagined that when he went through me he’d hate what he’s doin’ and make me feel stupid for choosin’ him too.”

Mmm. Oh season 1 prison arc my beloved.

He knew exactly what he said- he knew they were insecure at this point. I think all of them did- they didn’t hide it that well. He knew what he said would hit them like it did- he knew what he said would get under their skin.

They thought he hated them after that- if they didn’t before. They didn’t know he felt bad, they didn’t know he was struggling at all to say that when it was really directed at himself. “I couldn’t hardly have ever imagined that when he went through me he’d hate what he’s doin’ and make me feel stupid for choosin’ him too.”

“Cause I’m a giver and a giver is a bad, bad thing to be. He’s a killer and a Killer’s even worse for folks like me. ‘Cause I never really wanna feel the hurt from anybody, but it just keeps happening. Yeah it just keeps happening.”

They were doing it for approval- from Enderian and from Centross. They were giving all they could for that cause to try and get Enderian to talk to them and for Centross to- like isn’t the right word. Approve? See them as an equal? See them as someone worth while to work with? He at the time did not care about any of that- focused on himself and Enderian’s goals for him that he didn’t pay any mind to anything Icarus was doing then.

“‘Cause I never really wanna feel the hurt from anybody, but it just keeps happening. Yeah it just keeps happening.”

I think about their time in the prison and everyone who came to talk with them. Specifically their conversations with Will and with Athena- because their words ended up hurting them the most of those meetings I think. I’m pretty sure if I’m remembering correctly- sometime after those two conversations is when they wrote the two pieces in the book. It just keeps happening- even when they got out people’s words hurt, And they understood why. They knew they did *something* bad they didn’t exactly know what at the time but they did and they understood people’s anger.

That is- until it persists into season 2.

The next part- from “Falling” to the end.

So- this is see as sort of Centross’s death, and the effect on Icarus.

“Falling, never to fly again. Darling, together when everything’s fadin’. The shade of the trees in the dark. I’m in love with the idea of dyin’ with you in my arms- but not like this.”

Mmm. First off- “Falling, Never to fly again” wow. Mhm. Icarus coded. /lh

“I’m in love with the idea of dyin’ with you in my arms- but not like this.” See this is what made me go yeah it’s the Centross death scene. They were supposed to die- they knew that- but he came in instead and saved them. The sword fell to their feet- they could’ve grabbed it, they could’ve saved him- and that haunts them from that day on. Instead of them, Centross died that day. There was an option for them to die in his arms- it could have happened- but instead he died and took a part of Icarus with him.

“We can’t really help who we are”

They’re a killer- they didn’t save him. In their eyes it might as well be their fault he died. The could have- (they couldn’t, they were just nearly killed. The wound in their chest had just started changing and they weren’t *used* to that feeing yet.)

They continue the path they’re on now- if they couldn’t save him why save themself? If they’re just going to hurt people, if they’re just going to be the villain. The *Failure*. Why try to do anything different if that’s all they are regardless?

“Damned to the end from the start”

Now this line I think could go two ways- one being Centross and one being Icarus. I like the Centross take, though, so I’m gonna say that one.

He didn’t necessarily choose this path- he tried to get away from it but Enderian carved it out for him from the start. He didn’t make himself the Violet Reaper, she did.

“We can’t really help who we are.”

Now this repeats, and then I just imagine each time Icarus hurt someone and then quixis and Centross being a god. Them both having to sit and watch and not be there for a while before interacting again, Centross being able to be there in person but Icarixis being able to change small things after a while.

They change- but there’s still pieces of them that stay the same. That makes them… them. You can’t get rid of all of that, no matter how hard you try.

So that’s the songgggg The Bird Song my beloved <3 it’s a banger Frfr

The image chosen from my prison duo Pinterest board today is-

Anyways- hope you enjoyed lol. I have fun here /lh

You are loved! Go take any meds if you need to and Go eat and drink water if you haven’t already today <3

Have a good rest of your day/night :]

[quintessencewrites]

Finally ShuRiri x black!fem!reader

“Remember that promise I made you?”

Riri nods, hands running through Shuri’s curls, lips tucked between her teeth in excitement. 

“I’m ready to act on it.”

Warnings: Angst, happy ending, fluff, explicit language, mention of death, character death (yours)

Word Count: 2.9k+

Tags: @percsane @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thv @fetchyourlife @mbakuetshurisprincess @sinsikoxo @honey-teaaaaaaaa @rxcently @pinkcorns @takeyaki @yamsthoughts @thethickerside @0hshoot1tsl4ni @shurisbathwater @shurismainbxtch @luvrzhearts @sadfreakx @shuri-my-love @justariellove @heartsforjojo @blackgirlfariy @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @taiiunknown @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson @verachii @taiiunknown @beautybyfire @soearthquakequeen @remwritess @pinkwright @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir @kya-rose @saintwrld @someshuriposts @jessiap @ilikegecos @iiluvl4n @katymae12344 @shurismainbxtch @crookedsaladlover @motheroffae

A/N: this was requested forever ago and I finally got to it lol

Nothingness. It was a beautifully twisted paradox. Chaotic and serene. You could feel your chest retract each time Shuri pushed down on it. Her lips each time they touched yours. Never would you have imagined this would be your first kiss. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

Shuri was no psychic, though her thoughts mirrored yours. 

Your first kiss. Except it shouldn’t be on the floor of the Royal Talon Fighter. She shouldn’t be screaming. You shouldn’t be bleeding; unconscious. She shouldn’t be performing CPR through each kiss. Your heart should be beating.

It wasn’t. It hadn’t been for a minute now. A full minute. 60 fucking seconds. Shuri was counting them in her head and the higher the number got, the harder she pumped. The beads that lay on your chest glowed red through each shock they administered to your nervous system. 

Okoye sat back, heart-shattering because yours wouldn’t start. Ayo piloted, shaken from the sudden change in the day’s events.  Shuri hadn’t even retracted her panther mask before she began her life-saving attempts. 

Her tears were streaming, gasps raging. “Come on, y/n.”

Aneka couldn’t move from her spot on the floor, covered in blood that had begun to dry. She didn’t know how much of it was yours. Too much was all she could determine. 

Shuri was livid. How could you? How fucking dare you? You were trained, you were experienced. In terms of skill, wit, fucking stealth, you were better than even Okoye herself.

You weren’t even supposed to be on this mission. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. A simple trip to the States, there and back. Steal the vibranium that they extracted from the Wakandan artifacts in their museums, and get back, undetected. Okoye and a handful of Dora could handle it. Hell, Shuri didn’t even need to be there. 

You were supposed to be retired. Or on the path to retiring. “One last ‘hoo-rah’”. That’s what you promised. One more mission and then you were done. You’d settle down and stay in Wakanda, maybe even find love. 

“Absolutely not. Y/n, it’s not even a real mission. I don’t need to send Okoye, let alone you.” Shuri wasn’t having it. You were going to go over there and never return; she was sure of it. The States was home for you. This was your ticket back.

Except it wasn’t. You’d left home long ago and you always reminded Shuri that you left for a reason. Your parents always crushed you under a mountain of pressure. The military did the same, expecting things from you that you were unable to continue to deliver. But they trained you until you were training yourself. The U.S. government never expected to build a super soldier, minus the serum. They used you, ran you dry, wringing out every last drop. 

“Bring us the college student. The one who built the Vibranium detector.” That was your last mission. Collecting a kid not much older than yourself. You were expected to do what an entire task force couldn’t. 

“Dead or alive?”

“You choose.”

You would’ve done it. You had done it, so many times before, without batting an eye. 

So why the hell did this college kid have another effect on you? Why couldn’t you bring yourself to snatch her the same way you had with prime ministers and dictators? 

Why did her smile flood your stomach with butterflies? Why did her presence fill you with joy? Why did you find yourself enjoying portraying a college student? With her?

And why, oh why, did you not come to your senses when the Wakandans came for her? 

Instead, you planted your feet in front of her, fighting stance ready, when Okoye emerged from the bathroom, spear drawn. 

That’s when you realized.

The alliance you once had with your country had dissipated. 

So no one was surprised when you stayed in Wakanda after playing a big part in defeating the Talokan. No, you didn’t have a suit made of iron or an ensemble decked out in Vibranium, but, with armor crafted by the Princess Queen herself, your fight and drive made many Wakandans proud. 

No one was surprised when you and the Iron Heart and the Black Panther grew close. It felt like feelings had developed all around. You knew how you felt about Riri; it was the same way you’d felt since the beginning. And you were sure, so sure, that they felt the same about you. 

You, however, were surprised when the two of them became official… Without you.

“Griot, page me into the lab. Ayo! Faster!”

Her biceps burned and underneath the mask, sweat and tears mixed. The exhaustion in her muscles goes ignored. She had to get you back.

“At once, Your Majesty.”

“Clear the lab! Riri, you in there?”

Ri is shocked to hear Shuri’s voice ringing out in the big space. The tools that were in her hands are discarded on the table instead. The young royal failed miserably at hiding her panic and it consumed Riri like a virus. “Y’all heard her! Get out! Y-yeah, ma. I’m here. What’s up?”

Shuri’s voice strained each time she pumped your sternum. “I need my space set up. I don’t know the extent of the injuries yet, but she took a hard blow to the chest. Deep laceration to the upper left bicep. Deep enough to see bone; it’ll need stitches for sure. Unconscious and unresponsive. Been performing CPR for-” She breaks away to retrace the seconds in her head. How long had it been? “-three minutes now. Mouth-to-mouth in between sets. Griot, how long before we arrive?”

“About 30 seconds, Your Majesty.”

“Too long, that’s too long,” Shuri muttered under her breath through gritted teeth. 

Riri jumped into action, grabbing tools from here and there, mimicking the setup a surgeon would have. “Wh-who got hurt? Shuri?”

The Queen almost can’t bring herself to say your name. You used to introduce yourself so proudly. You should be the one saying it now; what if she never heard you say it again?

“Y/n,” it came out stuttered and whispered. She half hoped that you’d hear her call you and wake up.

“Y/n? Our y/n?” Riri found herself frozen. It couldn’t be. Must’ve been a different y/n. Her y/n, their y/n, wasn’t careless enough to get hurt. She’d be on her toes and come back in here cocky with a big head and tales to tell. So for you to not even be breathing…

The Royal Fighter landed and Shuri emerged, your body laying in her arms bridal style. She’d dreamt of carrying you this way, but not like this.

She could barely lay you on the table before Riri was by your side. “Our y/n?”

“She isn’t ours, Riri.”

Tears swam in the smaller girl’s gaze. “She might as fucking well be, Shuri! Wh-what the hell happened? Why is she hurt, why isn’t she-” Sobs broke off the end of her sentence. 

Okoye’s gaze was on the ground as she approached. Aneka and Ayo followed closely behind and when Riri caught sight of Aneka’s blood-stained attire, she lost her mind a little more. “Aneka! Are you okay?”

Aneka’s head hung. How was she to tell Riri that this wasn’t her blood?

She didn’t have to. Riri looked at Aneka avoiding her eyes and slowly turned back to you. “No,” her beautiful face formed such a frown. Her eyebrows were set deep, her tears streaming now. “No, no,” her steps staggered as she walked back to you.

You could hear them all. You felt every touch, every grab, every sting. You wanted to grab Riri, hold and console her. You screamed at your limbs to move, but they wouldn’t. You wanted to kiss Shuri, a real kiss. You wanted to plant kisses all across her marble-etched face. 

Riri was hysterical and Shuri was growing close. The kimoyo bracelet on your chest administered one more shock. They glowed a deep red and Riri screamed. “Griot, what are her vitals?”

The AI stayed silent.  

“Get her out,” Shuri instructed, turning her back to a weeping Riri and reaching for the tools beside her.  

“Shuri, no! No! I’m staying.”

A shaky deep breath filled Shuri’s lungs as she turned to grab Riri’s face. “I need you to go.”

“That’s our girl, Shuri! I’m not going anywhere.”

“She isn’t ours, Riri!” Shuri’s voice finally broke. “Sh-she’s not ours-”

“But we want her to be! We waited, we hesitated, Shuri, and now we might not get the chance-”

In the background, the beads on your bare chest shocked you again. Everyone turned, expecting the red glow to return. Instead, it was a faint green. 

“Y/n’s heart rate is 6 bpm. Oxygen levels are 67%. Her blood pressure is 64/40,” Griot finally rings out at your signs of life. 

You’re begging your eyes to open. Every ache you couldn’t feel before makes itself known now. You’re able to groan in pain, but nothing more. 

Shuri and Riri freeze. “Did she just-” Riri gets ready to step to you, unsure if the noise you just made was true or in her head. 

Shuri pulls Riri close, unable to pull her eyes away from you. “Ri, please. I need you to go.”

If Riri were to see the intensity of the wound on your arm, Shuri was sure she’d be inconsolable. 

“Shuri, I’m not-”

“Please,” Shuri grabs Riri’s face harder, forcing their gazes together. “I’m going to save her. I promise you. Then we’ll make her ours, okay? But I need you to go. I don’t want you to see her like this, sthandwa sam.”

Hesitation wraps Riri in a too-tight hug, but she trusts Shuri. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.” She heads toward the exit, mind still racing. Shuri uses her eyes to dismiss Okoye and the couple before turning back to you with a deep breath. 

“Alright, y/n. Come back to me, my love.”

You take your sweet time finally coming to. Riri’s tears lull her to sleep and Shuri stands on the balcony of the throne room, thoughts consuming her. She did everything she could and still, it didn’t feel like enough. 

She jumps at the feel of a light touch on her lower back. She turns around, expecting Riri, but is met with your eyes instead. So many emotions overtake her. “Y/n!” She wants to hug you hard, euphoria swimming through her. You’re up, standing, walking, giving her a sheepish grin.  

She wants to hit you because you’re standing and walking. Because you inserted yourself in a dangerous situation and got careless. 

“Why are you up? Let’s get back to the lab, sthandwa. You should be laying down!”

A deep chuckle rings from you and Shuri blushes a deep, dark red at the sound. “Shuri, I’m fine. I had the best doctor in the country.”

Her smile mirrors yours. “Where’s Ri?” You continue, leaning on the balcony, soaking in the Wakandan sunset. 

“She’s asleep. She’ll be very excited to see you conscious, though you should probably sit down before she makes you.”

Mm, you hum with a small laugh. Shuri steps closer to you, her arm brushing against your uninjured one. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay. Got a lot of thoughts swimming around in this big ass head of mine.”

“Clearly not enough. What the hell, y/n?”

Your head hung and Shuri’s question goes unanswered, though you were sure it was rhetorical anyway. 

She grabs your hand and forces you to look at her. “You died, y/n.”

“I know.”

“You stopped breathing.”

“I know.”

“You had me terrified; had Riri hysterical.”

“I know, Shuri.”

“I had to pump your heart back to life and I thought it wasn’t working-”

“I know, Shuri. I know. I’m done, okay? I’m giving it up.”

“That’s what you said before you wanted to joyride along on this mission.”

“I mean it this time,” You couldn’t ignore the tears in her eyes. “I’ve come close to death before, Shuri. But I’ve never died. I’m done with the game.”

“You’re retiring?” Shuri looked hopeful. She could keep you safe if you stopped running around like a damn vigilante. 

“I’m retiring.”

You were so fucking bored. How many times were you going to trek around the lab and through the palace before it became routine?  

“Ri, can we go to the market today?”

Riri sat beside you in the big bed, playing with your hands absentmindedly. “Nah, ma. You need to heal before you start trying to walk that far in that heat.”

The sound your lips made when they sucked your teeth was audible. “Imma go ask Shuri then.”

“She gonna tell you the same thing I just did,” she responded. She stood to follow you, though. She’d become your shadow, tracing every step you took. 

“We’ll see.”

“Y/n and Princess Riri are entering the lab,” Griot announced upon your arrival. 

“Why don’t I get to be Princess too?”

Riri laughs at your question and Shuri’s voice rings out. “Hi, sthandwas,” she greets Riri with a kiss on her cheek. Her lips meet your forehead and your cheeks warm up at an action that you should be used to by now. 

“Would you like to join us in the market, My Queen?” Your voice is sickly sweet and Shuri isn’t stupid. The use of her royal title just oozes with your want. 

“Did Riri tell you that you couldn’t go?” Shuri chuckles, pulling her eyes away from you and placing them back on her work.

“She might’ve-” Riri’s brows raise at your half-truth.

“We can go. Go get dressed, sthandwa.”

You almost jump with excitement but the pain in your shoulder reminds you not to. While you rush back to the guest room you’d taken up, Riri turns to Shuri in disbelief. 

“Shuri, what the hell?”

She pulls Riri to her, wrapping her arms around the girl’s legs and resting her head on her stomach before looking up.

“Remember that promise I made you?”

Riri nods, hands running through Shuri’s curls, lips tucked between her teeth in excitement. 

“I’m ready to act on it.”

The market isn’t nearly as crowded as it usually is. Riri’s hand intertwines with yours, swinging with your steps while Shuri stands to your opposite side, careful not to graze your still-healing arm. Several steps behind, Ayo and Aneka act as guards whilst enjoying their own stroll.

The walk is quiet and your steps are slow. Every table you come across, you head to with wide, excited eyes. Every trinket brushes your fingertips as you take in the Wakandan day that you’ve grown to enjoy so much. 

“Y/n,” Shuri calls out to you, drawing your attention away from the merchant you’d struck up in conversation. 

You turn and her hand is reached out to you. “Tell me something, sthandwa.” Riri’s still got your other hand tight in her grasp as Shuri takes hold of the other one. “What’s up, Shuri?”

“While you were unconscious, how much were you aware of?”

“What do you mean?”

Shuri takes a deep breath. It’s as if going back to that day is harder for her than it is for you. “What did you feel? What’d you hear?”

“I could feel you doing those chest compressions. I heard you screaming; I think I heard everyone screaming.”

Shuri nods and Riri squeezes your hand tighter. “What else?” Shuri already knew. If you’d heard that much, you’d heard the rest. 

“I felt you gave me mouth-to-mouth. I tried to wake up, but I couldn’t. I just felt everything hurting bad.”

Mhm, Shuri hums. Her hand releases yours and grazes your cheek. “Mouth-to-mouth isn’t a true kiss, y/n. I’d like to give you a real kiss if that’s okay.”

Your breathing gets stuck in your chest. Riri laughs at your mouth gaping, like a fish out of water. “You gonna answer, y/n, baby?”

Your nod is enough of a yes for the Queen and she closes the gap between you two with a tender kiss to your lips that doesn’t last nearly as long as you want. 

“You died y/n,” she whispers when she pulls away. “You died and I lost you. And I never want to lose you again. Or almost lose you, or anything in between.”

“Ri kept calling you ours that day and I kept denying her. I didn’t think you were. I was too afraid to put myself out there or put my feelings into the open.”

She has you hypnotized, unable to pull away from her gaze, from her words. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to keep correcting Ri. In fact, I’d like for her to be right. I’d like for you to be ours.”

Words have escaped you. Shuri awaits your answer, resting her forehead against yours. Her perfectly sculpted brow arches into a question mark. “Well?” 

Again, a nod is the only thing that you can give in response. A big, stupid grin spreads across Shuri’s face and she pulls you in for another kiss, a longer kiss. 

Riri is giddy, bouncing next to you, squeezing the feeling out of your hand. “Finally,” her laughter is music to your ears. “My turn,” she pulls your face free from Shuri’s lips and replaces them with her own. 

“Fucking finally,” you whisper as you melt into her touch. 

Fucking finally.

[holdmeandhauntme]

she’s a silver lining (climbing on my desire)

word count: 2.1K

summary: the tale of shauna’s complex relationship with knives and jackie taylor

CW: hallucinations, self harm, suggestive content

authors notes: RAH, alrighty so this is my first fic, so i hope y’all enjoy and please let me know if you’d like more content!! this is an idea i’m super keen on and i’d like to explore more :) ALSO BIG BIG THANK YOU TO @lottieshauna for helping to beta read and edit this for me, you are amazing and i love youuuu <3

1996

The soft crunch of freshly fallen snow mocks Shauna as she hastily makes her way towards the meat shed, each step bringing her that much closer to Jackie, prompting her with a constant reminder of what she’d done.

She remembers all the winters from before the wilderness, trying to desperately cling to them and engrave them deep into her mind. Memories of the way the snow would delicately catch in Jackie’s hair and shimmer in the light, as if she were covered in diamonds. Part of Shauna always thought maybe Jackie resembled a diamond too much. All that pressure that weighed on her shoulders moulded her into the perfect spectacle, how she would dazzle crowds in a way that seemed so effortless as the spotlight hit her. Shauna knew better, though, knew it was nothing more than how light would refract through a diamond. Taking these traits that people surged forward onto her and letting them pass through her hollow body to create something beautiful, something valuable.

Jackie had never been a fan of winter, anyways; it was far too cold and the amount of things you had to take into consideration at that time of year just doubled. She would rather spend her time curled up on Shauna’s lap next to the fireplace with a hot chocolate in hand, sipping happily. Shauna always imagined the hot chocolate tasting sweeter from Jackie’s lips than from the mug, but she’d always settled on sipping from Jackie’s cup instead of ruining a friendship over poorly controlled fantasies

The exception to hating winter was ice skating, which Jackie absolutely adored. She remembers the first time she saw Jackie on the ice and how her eyes traced the long stretch of her toned legs, the effortless look on Jackie’s face as she leapt and skated across the rink and towards her. She used to watch in awe as the blade effortlessly glided across the ice underneath Jackie’s command, leaving delicate cuts in its wake.

She wonders if Jackie was in awe now of the blade Shauna brandished, of the way she meticulously butchered their dinners, how her hands guided the blade to glide across the fur clad carcass of whatever Nat and Travis had managed to hunt down for them. Recalling how her once clumsy hands had crudely hacked at the meat and tendons, she thinks that maybe Jackie wasn’t perfect. Perhaps before her body became one with the ice beneath them, she had something she butchered, too. Did her legs tremble as she took a shaky breath and, with the close of her eyes, learned to trust herself?

It all seems like a lifetime ago, a time before she knew the feeling of how the bone would pop from the socket of a shoulder as she dislocated it with her own bare hands, before she knew the taste of Jackie and how she lingered in her mouth and settled down into her stomach, bringing the pair closer than either could have imagined. Before the snowstorm came and left, penetrating her heart with frostbite. Before the wilderness turned her into an animal. But in some sick, twisted way, maybe Shauna was always like this.

She casts a quick glance over her shoulder before entering the meat shed, shaking the snow off her clothes as she closes the door behind her. She’s met with Jackie, arms crossed, eyeing her up and down. “Wowza shipman, way to be courteous to a girl.“

She rolls her eyes, glaring at Jackie in response, though she can’t help the pang of guilt that bubbles in her chest. “Whatever…” Trudging over to take a seat across from Jackie, who’s giving her a playful smile with a raised eyebrow. Shauna lets out a huff, eyes narrowing in on Jackie. “What?” She all but barks.

“I bet you were just dying to see me." Her lips curl up enough to flourish her sharp canines as she snickers at Shauna.

She can feel a surge of heat wash over her as her body tenses at those words. Whipping her head towards Jackie, a low growl echoes through the room as she speaks, “Can’t you just shut up for once?” She’s almost certain that if they were any closer, the other girls would have heard them. Her chest is heaving as she takes deep breaths, which are illuminated by the frigid cold that surrounds them.

Jackie’s eyes soften for a moment, her lips forming a pout. Shauna despises how she feels her guard drop immediately, how she has to beg her body not to move so close that she would fall into the gravitational pull that is Jackie Taylor. Nails dig into the splintered wooden boards below them as her eyes lock onto Jackie’s lips far longer than just a friend’s would. But hasn’t it always been like that? They’ve always precariously walked the line between friends and something more. It was written as a fundamental part of who they were.

It was ingrained in everything, intertwined in the way that Jackie would always find purchase on Shauna’s lap and in her arms rather than Jeff’s. When Shauna got her license, she’d always been the one to pick Jackie up, only fueled by Jackie’s insistence to Jeff that it made sense for Shauna to drive her since she lived closer. And then, of course, the inevitable time of the night they always ran into during Lottie’s parties, both of them are far too intoxicated to care about anything but the other. Jackie would pull Shauna to the dance floor, weaving through the crowds until they were pressed so close that Shauna could feel Jackie grinding into her, head thrown back onto Shauna’s shoulders. She would relish in the soft gasps Jackie would make when Shauna’s grip on her waist would tighten as Jackie pressed back into her. The two girls, trapped in the waltz of forbidden lovers, always doomed from the start. Always destined for one to desperately follow the other with every step they took, mimicking each other, parallel lines never meant to touch.

Jackie had led their dance; she always did, not that she ever meant to. The hold she had over Shauna simply always had her taking the lead. But with that unwanted power came the uncertainty, the faltering, and with such an unpredictable nature, Shauna always found herself struggling to follow the steps, to know what moves to make.Because of it, she learned to overcompensate at times, letting her emotions get the best of her, trying desperately to wrestle the lead off of Jackie and take control into her own hands for once. Jackie would have happily given it to her if she could, but that wasn’t the reality they lived in. Shauna was always destined to step on Jackie’s foot, sending her tumbling backwards into her cruel fate.

Jackie reaches over, planting her hand inches away from Shauna’s, leaning forward to close the gap between them. Before she even processes it herself, Shauna feels her body tugging itself forward to meet Jackie halfway, her eyes still trained on her lips. “If you really wanted me to shut up, then you could. You know what you want, don’t you, Shauna?”

She swallows back the thick saliva that coats her mouth, completely hypnotized, her chest restricting as Jackie speaks, her voice silky and filled with a desire Shauna isn’t quite sure she wants to hear right now. The lack of visible breath coming from Jackie is what grips Shauna, sending her tumbling backwards into reality. She can feel the bile working its way up her throat and threatening to spill out of her mouth. Closing her eyes tightly and shaking her head, she tries to rid herself of the ghost, pleads and prays to be free of the constant reminder of the guilt and disgust that she fills Shauna with. “No! That’s… That’s so fucked up Jackie, I can’t, I won’t, I’m not like that-“

She can feel a shift in her lap, prompting her to open her eyes, only to be greeted by Jackie straddling her. A cold finger hooks its way around the necklace that adorns Shauna, tugging it forward and pulling her with it. She can feel the ghost of cold breath down her neck as Jackie moves to her ear, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh Shauna, don’t flatter yourself. You’re exactly like that. I mean, you must be really sick to be thinking about this, huh?”

Shauna freezes as Jackie’s grip on the necklace tightens, tugging her impossibly close. Her breathing ragged, she stares blankly at the wall behind them in horror. “Cut it out, Jackie." Splinters of wood embed themselves into her fingertips as she claws at the floorboards.

“What’s wrong, Shauna? Don’t you want me? Or are you too hung up over that little parasite that Jeff put in you?” A cold touch grazes over Shauna’s stomach and under her shirt as Jackie speaks, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Shauna’s hips jolt in retaliation to the touch on sensitive skin, bucking Jackie away to give them enough space for Shauna to push her off her lap. Jackie lands on her back, her hair spread out below her, letting out a whine as she collides with the hard floor. In another lifetime, this would be something that would leave Shauna breathless, something that would play in her mind for the next several months. Now, all it feels like to her is some perverse dream, cruel and twisted.

Jackie giggles before looking up at her, her face contorting into something more sensual as she lets out a breathy moan. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me, Shauna?” Her voice is airy and pleading, only serving to mock Shauna. She watches as Jackie’s eyes darken, a sadistic smile working its way onto her face.

“I said stop it! This is sick!” Shauna’s hand dips into her pocket, fishing around for the familiar feeling of cold steel. She pulls it from her jacket, her knuckles clenching tightly around the handle of the knife. Jackie’s eyes flick down to the knife, then back up to Shauna and scoff.

“Do you really think you have the balls, Shauna? Aren’t you already guilt-ridden, or are you just a masochist?” She can feel the familiar heat that rushes through her body, her teeth grinding as her jaw clenches. There’s a force that drags Shauna’s knife down, down, down, closer to Jackie. She takes this moment to hook one of her legs around Shauna, sending her tumbling down into Jackie’s lap, effectively swapping their positions from mere moments ago.

“Don’t.” Shauna grits out. Jackie’s hand reaches up to hook her finger in Shauna's shirt, pulling her down closer to her.

“What? You don’t like being my lap dog, Shauna? Are you finally going to be your own person?"

“I said shut the fuck UP!”

She feels the knife sink down and meets resistance as her hand slashes across skin. The ghostly laugh that echoes through the room and haunts Shauna only fuels the blind rage that’s starting to consume her whole. Her mind goes blank as her body is set ablaze, only conscious of the sound of Jackie’s voice that rings in her ear as she watches the blade slice repeatedly through skin.

She’s not sure how much time passes once she finishes, chest heaving from the exertion. Only when the anger quells does she realize it’s her own clothes and body that are torn to shreds and covered in an addictive shade of crimson. She could have sworn it was Jackie’s arms dripping in blood. Her breath comes out ragged as her heart rate spikes again and she's vaguely aware of the dull burn that’s covering her body, now littered with cuts.

“Oh Shippy… I knew you had shit self esteem, but I didn’t know it was that bad. Must be all that guilt that eats at you, huh?” She can’t help the shudder in her breath as she feels a cold touch delicately graze up her spine, spreading chills across her body. She closes her eyes and pretends that maybe this is how Jackie felt that night, that maybe it was a feeling she welcomed with open arms.

It’s the touch that sends her shivering and panting as she keels over into Jackie’s lap. Shauna whimpers as she feels the grip of a familiar cold hand curl around her throat, fingers digging in intently. Jackie’s hand fits so perfectly around her throat that it’s as if that’s where it belonged. Shauna can feel her head begin to spin as her vision blurs and the corners of her peripherals darken. The last thing she remembers is the echo of Jackie’s voice. “Let’s hope they find you in time. It would be such a shame to only do this once.”

[nineherbscharm]

🐇 narnhlessi Follow

honestly sometimes i think about what my life would be like in the old efrafa....it was so safe from elil and everybody had a place, id probably have a couple litters of kittens by now with an owsla captain and a cute little near hind mark......but now everybody silflays whenever and there's no owslafa and the owsla are woke and let anybody get away with anything. it wouldnt be like this under woundwort.

🌼 g0ldenr0d Follow

they literally didn't let you pass hraka when you needed to what are you on about

🍂 cabbagestealer Follow

traddoes are wild

1013 notes

☘️ morningsilflay Follow

i found a secret spot with a bunch of flayrah and told my friend about it and he went to the owsla because he thought he'd get promoted for it but instead the owsla just took over the spot. it would be funny if i hadn't lost my secret clover spot!!!!!!!!

🌑 inledoe Follow

wheres the spot

☘️ morningsilflay Follow

no!!!!!!

🌾mousesfriend Follow

tell us the flayrah spot op

65 notes

🐰 fud0eshi Follow

omg you guys did you know there are a bunch of secret stories about el-ahrairah and rabscuttle? and in these secret stories they're in love with each other? like there's literally one where prince rainbow tries to trick el-ahrairah with a doe but he chooses rabscuttle instead <3 <3 but oooof course nobody tells these stories, i wonder why

🥬 robinhain Follow

Hi! El-ahrairah expert here. While there are cases of queer lapine history being suppressed, these stories probably are either specific to one or two warrens (and therefore unlikely to be true), or outright fabrications. We have to remember that many stories about more recent heroic rabbits are told as El-ahrairah stories, and that rabbits, even the ones you might agree with, are prone to using El-ahrairah to make a particular point. Generally, we know if a story is really about El-ahrairah based on how widespread it is---the doe story above isn't even connected to a warren, but a hutch. If you're interested in a cool queer rabbit from history, might I suggest Anemone-rah?

26732 notes

🌅 springclover Follow

okay we're settling this. lettuce or cabbage?

lettuce 🟦🟦🟦🟦⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ 50%

cabbage 🟦🟦🟦🟦⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ 50%

🐇 thetthuthlay Follow

#cabbagesweep

🌱 alderroo Follow

what about garlic????????

🌅 springclover Follow

poll cancelled because what the fuck.

5454 notes

🌾mousesfriend Follow

reminder!!! all hutch rabbits are valid!!! if you choose to keep living in a hutch because your family and friends are there that's awesome!!! if you choose to stay in the hutch because it's safer and you get garden food you rock!!! if you like being pet by humans you're so cool!! and if you leave the hutch to join a warren or be a hlessi that's so valid and i'm proud of you for making such a big choice!! hutch rabbits ilu never let somebody get you down for it <3

🐇 narnhlessi Follow

see this is how far we've fallen. living in a hutch is unnatural and completely degrades all of your instincts. have you ever heard a hutch rabbit speaking proper lapine? no, you haven't, they're better at talking to cats. they stink like humans, too, and all the cabbage in the world wouldn't make me live in a hutch. but hutch rabbits that leave to join warrens are so much worse, and drag the entire warren down with them. all your "hutch rabbit positivity" posts don't mean hraka when they bring us dogs and white blindness.

🌾mousesfriend Follow

oh so now the woundwort defender is going to preach to us about why living in a hutch is bad

2234 notes