#maybe it changes but so far no dice

[yappacadaver]

broooooooooooo i really really REALLY prefer a non-MW rook + emmrich i just really do T_T

[shrimpybbq]

you gotta believe me, baby

synopsis: when a stray bag of coke is found in rafe’s drawer, rafe’s fiancée grapples with its implications

The young woman trifled through Rafe’s desk, the pen he requested lost deep amongst his amalgamation of items. Frustratingly, she kept searching until her gaze landed on a small item strewn under a notebook, the clear bag reflecting in the light. Her heart felt as if it stopped beating. The small bag and its contents were instantly recognisable to the woman, her having seen her fiancé with it many a time. Except instead of keeping it hidden under a book, he would have the white powder diced and sorted into hefty lines on a table, a rolled up $50 set aside ready to help him snort it.

She remained still for a moment before tentatively reaching for the bag, as if it would suddenly change its contents if she waited long enough. And yet, as she picked the bag up it felt like a long forgotten truth was slapping her in the face. Of course it was coke. The woman pondered the situation for a moment for she was sure Rafe was clean - but then again, he had been under an increasing amount of stress lately. Cameron Development had been taking up all of his time, as had the move, so would it really be that far-fetched for him to start using again?

Soon, she began pacing around the room, her mind beginning to catastrophise the situation. It had been so hard to get through each day when Rafe was high, his constantly shifting mood and irritable personality making him intolerable to be around. Her mind flashed to the moments alone, trying to soothe a colicky baby that cried and cried alone in the guest room while Rafe spent his evenings getting high with Barry. She'd never felt so alone and isolated. She had no-one: Her parent's were a no-go, Ward and Rose could only help so much, and Sarah was busy being a teenager. Sometimes, it was as if Wheezie was her only friend, always loving to play with her nephew even if only for a moment. In those moments, she had wondered if any of it was worth it - maybe everyone would be better off if she left to the mainland to live with her aunt, removing her presence from Kildare completely. Rafe hadn’t wanted Charlie in the beginning, not really, and as she cried alone in tandem with her son, she felt it.

Rafe had called out his fiancée’s name three times by now, only to receive nothing in response. Initially assuming she had been sidetracked, it was only once he finally ambled over to his study did he realise the true cause of her silence. Rafe froze at the sight of the bag of white powder flung haphazardly atop his papers, his heart racing as a chill spread across his body. Shit shit shit.

Rafe’s panicked gaze met hers suddenly, each expressing a multitude of worries. Rafe watched as his sweet girl looked at him, so defeated and dejected, her shoulders slumped as she faced him. Initial words began to leave her mouth, only to be swiftly cut off by her partner,

“Baby, please, you gotta let me explain, ok?” Rafe was pleading with her, a tone he rarely utilised unless in the most dire of situations, “it’s not mine.”

Her eyes, once shifted towards the window, snapped back to his frame. “It’s in your desk Rafe! Whose else would it be?”

“Fuck, uh- fuck ok, well it is mine, but it’s not like I bought it last week. Shit, that sounds bad, I didn’t-” Rafe sputtered, his logical explanation getting muddled up as his anxiety grew. He could tell his fiancée didn’t believe it if the tears beginning to escape were any indication.

“Rafe, please, just tell me the truth. You owe me that much,” she pleaded. Rafe felt his heart shatter at the desperation she could not hold back.

“I had this desk moved from my dad’s office, ok? Whenever he used to catch me doing coke, he would lock my supply up in his desk in his attempt to get me clean - not that that ever fuckin’ worked,” he began to explain, “I never even properly cleaned out his desk, baby. I figured he would have something written down that would provide some of his infinite wisdom bullshit that would help me in the future, so I just didn’t touch anything.”

The young woman stared at the Cameron opposite her, feeling rooted to her spot as he answered her questions. Truthfully, she remembered Rafe’s occasional complaining about his dad’s attempts to control his drug habit. She could never truly comfort him properly when she silently thanked Ward, but his statement rang true in her mind. It was plausible that Rafe really hadn’t touched his dad’s things.

“Come on baby, you have to believe me! You really think I would throw all of this,” Rafe gestured, arms outstretched, “us, our family - away for a few fuckin’ ounces of coke? I got better and that’s because of you, because of you being there for me and the kids and - baby please, I’m telling the truth.”

As Rafe begged and pleaded, he had made his way to stand in front of her, taking her hands in his as his fingers gripped hers tightly. She looked up at him, tears still spilling down her cheeks. He had gotten better - ever since they arrived in Guadeloupe, she hadn’t seen him touch cocaine. Alcohol, sure, but even Topper offering him coke at a party had seemingly rolled off his back.

“You’re not lying to me? You swear it? On the kids lives?” She begged, needing to hear him say it again. She wanted to believe him so badly.

“I promise baby, I swear to god. I swear that I haven’t touched that shit in a year. Please, I’m telling the truth baby.”

With his final plea, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow, its return to normal allowing her to breathe properly once more. A large exhale left her body before she flung herself against Rafe, her arms wrapping around his torso. His arms immediately returned the gesture, comfortingly rubbing up and down her back.

“I can’t do that shit again, Rafe. Ok?” She muttered, her voice muffled against his shirt. He leaned down to gently stroke her hair before placing a tender kiss in her hair.

“You don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’m different now, for you and for our family. You can rely on me, ok? I’m always gonna be here for you,” Rafe stated firmly, his words filled with conviction. He felt a small smile tug at his lips as his fiancée nodded into his chest, her arms tightening around him further.

“I love you, Rafe. More than anything.”

“I love you too, baby. It’s you and me ‘till the end.”

As the pair stood in their embrace for a moment longer, they felt the tension seep away slowly and be replaced with tenderness. For such a rocky start to a relationship, the pair had watched each other grow and mature. Neither of them were perfect, but they would never give up on each other. Rafe didn’t believe in soulmates, but if he did, he was certain that the woman in his arms was his.

[jessica-problems]

Seeing @thydungeongal constantly wrestling with people interpreting her posts about D&D in ways that seem completely alien to me has convinced me that there are actually multiple completely distinct activities both being referred to as "playing D&D" Before we begin, I want to stress that I'm not saying one of these groups is Playing The Game Wrong or anything, but there seems to be a lot of confusion and conflict caused by people not being aware of the distinction. In fact, either one works just fine if everyone's on the same page. So far, I think I've identified at least two main groups. And nobody seems to realize the distinction between these groups even exists. The first group of people think of "Playing D&D" as, well, more or less like any other board game. Players read the whole rulebook all the way through, all the players follow the instructions, and the gameplay experience is determined by what the rules tell each player to do. This group thinks of the mechanics as, not exactly the *whole* game, but certainly the fundamental skeleton that everything else is built on top of. People in the second group think of "Playing D&D" as referring to, hanging out with their friends, collaboratively telling a story inspired by some of the elements in the rulebooks, maybe rolling some dice to see what happens when they can't decide. This group thinks of the mechanics of the game as, like... a spice to sprinkle on top of the story to mix things up. (if you belong to this second group, and think I'm explaining it poorly, please let me know, because I'm kind of piecing things together from other people saying things I don't understand and trying to reverse engineer how they seem to be approaching things.) I think this confusion is exacerbated by the fact that Wizards of the Coast markets D&D as if these are the same thing. They emphatically are not. the specific rules laid out of the D&D rulebooks actually direct players to tell a very specific kind of story. You can tell other stories if you ignore those rules (which still counts as "playing D&D" under the second definition, but doesn't under the first)And I think people in both groups are getting mad because they assume that everyone is also using their definition. For example, there's a common argument that I've seen play out many times that goes something like this:

A: "How do I mod D&D to do [insert theme here]?" B: "D&D is really not built for that, you should play [other TTRPG] that's designed for it instead" A: "But I don't want to learn a whole new game system!" B: "It will be easier to just learn a whole new system than mod D&D to do that." A: "whatever, I'll just mod D&D on my own" And I think where this argument comes from is the two groups described above completely talking past each other. No one understands what the other person is trying to say. From A's perspective, as a person in the second group, it sounds like A: "Anyone have some fun inspirations for telling stories about [insert theme here]?" B: "You can't sit around a table with your friends and tell a story about that theme! That's illegal." A: "But we want to tell a story about this theme!" B: "It's literally impossible to do that and you're a dumb idiot baby for even thinking about it." A: "whatever, jerk, I'll figure it out on my own."

--- Whereas, from B's perspective, the conversation sounds like A: "How do I change the rules of poker to be chess, and not be poker?" B: "uhhh, just play chess?" A: "But I already know how to player poker! I want to play poker, but also have it be chess!" B: "what the hell are you talking about? What does that even mean. They're completely different games." A: "I'm going to frankenstein these rules together into some kind of unplayably complex monster and you can't stop me!" ---

So both people end up coming away from the conversation thinking the other person is an idiot. And really, depending on how you concieve of what it means to "play D&D" what is being asked changes considerably. If you're only planning to look through the books for cool story inspiration, maybe borrow a cool little self contained sub-system here or there, then yeah, it's very possible to steal inspiration for your collaborative story from basically anywhere. Maybe some genres are kind of an awkward fit together, but you can make anything work with a little creativity.

If, however, you are thinking of the question in terms of frankensteining two entire board games together, then it becomes a massively difficult or even outright nonsensical idea. For example, for skill checks, the game Shadowrun has players roll a pool of several d6 at once, then count up how many rolled above a target value to see how well a character succeeded at a task. The whole game is full of specific rules about adding or removing dice from the pool, effects happening if you roll doubles, rerolling only some of the dice, and all sorts of other things that simply do not translate to rolling a single d20 for skill checks. On a basic level, the rules of the games work very differently. Trying to make them compatible would be much harder than just learning a new game from scratch. Now, neither of these approaches is exactly *wrong*, I guess, but personally, I find the rules of TTRPGs to be fascinating and worth taking the time to engage with all the weird little nuances and seeing what shakes out. Also, the first group, "TTRPG as fancy board game" is definitely the older and more widespread one. I kind of get the impression that the second group largely got into D&D through actual play podcasts, but I don't have any actual data to back that up. So, if you're in the second group, who thinks of D&D as basically a context for collaborative storytelling first and a game second, please let me know if I'm wildly misunderstanding how you approach D&D. Because I'm pretty sure it would save us a whole lot of stupid misunderstandings.

[hairmetal666]

Never in a million years did Steve Harrington think he'd be standing in the drama club room in front of Eddie the Freak--who's sitting on a goddamn throne with his full lips pulled into a smug grin--asking to be taught how to play Dorks and Goblins. Yet, here he is, face a burning shade of crimson, as he explains for the sixth time what, exactly, he needs.

"Munson, it's not that hard. Henderson wants me to play in the--the game thingy they're doing when Will is home for a visit."

"Yeah, Harrington, and I stop listening every time you call it a game thingy. You obviously don't care about this at all, so why should I waste my time helping you?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "What if I pay you?"

Munson's face goes through a complicated series of changes before falling into a neutral mask, no smirk or teasing smile to be found. "You'll pay me to teach you dnd? Are you fucking kidding?"

"No?' Steve draws a hand through his hair, watches as Munson's dark eyes track the movement. "I thought you might help me out cause those kids never shut-up about you, but I'm willing to put money on it."

"Huh," Eddie says. He steeples his fingers under his chin. "Maybe I misjudged you, Harrington."

Steve lets himself smile at this. "I don't think you did. I don't give a shit about this game."

"Didn't take you for one to have a bunch of nerdy child friends."

"I'm their babysitter," he says, realizes immediately it was a mistake.

Eddie cackles until it turns into a full-bodied laugh, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "You are something else, Harrington," he manages.

For his part, Steve hopes Munson hasn't noticed how bright red his face is. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I guess," he rolls his eyes. "But if you're just screwing around, I'm out."

"No, yeah, totally," Steve nods too hard, sends his hair cascading into his face. "Sounds good. How much?"

"Huh?" Eddie tilts his face up, giving Steve a perfect view of the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"I said I'd pay you. What's the going rate for dnd lessons?"

"Oh, nah, free of charge, Harrington. Henderson would eat me alive if he knew I made you pay."

The smile they share is soft, tentative, and Steve doesn't notice the swathes of pink decorating Eddie's pale cheekbones.

---

They meet up in the drama room after the last bell. Eddie is waiting on the throne with his feet propped on the table, sipping a Mt. Dew. His eyes widen when Steve walks into the room.

"You're on time," he says.

Steve scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Eddie shrugs, sets his feet on the floor. "Just wasn't aware that the King put a lot of stock in punctuality."

"C'mon, man, I'm trying not to be that guy, and I'm definitely not king of anything. Unless maybe it's Family Video, but even then, that's Robin."

"You're kind of weird, Harrington, you know that?" Eddie's dimples bracket his smile. The sight does weird things in Steve's chest.

"I've been told, yeah." Steve smiles back. "Where do we start?"

They start with dice, with a character sheet.

"Chaotic-good human Paladin?" Eddie asks.

He shrugs. "That's what Dustin keeps screaming at me. I got no idea what any of it means."

"That's not entirely true," Eddie says. "You've kept up with me so far."

"Yeah, that's you. Dustin rambles and then accuses me of not listening when it's over my head. When he goes on long enough, I start to get a headache right here," Steve rubs the spot between his eyes.

"That kid," Eddie says with the right combination of affection and frustration. "I don't know, you seem to have picked up on some of the stuff he said. You have a solid idea on gameplay, at least. I'd say you're doing pretty good."

"Thanks," Steve laughs. "No migraine yet, so that's a point in your favor."

"Migraines?"

"Head trauma."

"Byers?"

"And Hargrove."

"That was Hargrove?" Eddie asks.

"Hit me in the head with a plate."

"What the fuck."

"He was pissed that Max was friends with Lucas. He came after them. I couldn't just let him--I think he would've killed Lucas."

Eddie nods, hands fiddling with a die. "No wonder those kids love you," he says.

"We've been through some shit together."

"Guess it makes more sense why you wanted to learn dnd."

"As much as it pains me to admit," Steve rolls his eyes. "I love to make those little shitheads happy."

"Well, based on the way they talk about you, you succeed."

"You too, you know?" Steve offers. "All I've heard about the last three months is 'Eddie's so cool,' 'Hellfire's so fun.'"

"Jealous?" Eddie laughs.

"Completely," Steve admits.

"Don't worry, Harrington, I'll make a nerd out of you yet."

---

They meetup after school every day they can over the next two weeks. At first, Steve is surprised that he doesn't really mind spending so much time with Munson, that he actually, kind of, has fun. And the more time they spend together, the more Eddie infiltrates his space. Leans into Steve's side as they sit next to each other, brushes their hands together, hovers over his shoulder, faces nearly touching, as he checks stuff on Steve's character sheet.

It makes Steve feel--well, it makes him think of what it would be like to run his fingers through the soft gloss of Eddie's curls; wonders what that plump mouth would be like pressed against his own; can't stop thinking about if Eddie is as vocal in bed as he is everywhere else. He knows he also likes guys, has for a while, but he's never in his life wanted someone this viscerally; so much he can feel the ache of it in his teeth.

It's the last day before the campaign for Will, and Steve is fucking sad. He thinks maybe Eddie is too. He's at least quieter than normal, explanations not at their usual fever pitch. An hour before they usually call it quits, he claps his hands together (too gently, too unlike himself), says, "That's it, Harrington. You're not going to be more ready than this."

"Right," Steve says. Can't help his eyes from darting over Eddie's face, aching to know what he's thinking. "You'll be there tomorrow?"

Eddie bends his head over his notebooks. "Nah, I don't need to intrude."

"But--"

"It's okay, Stevie. I get that it's family only." He looks like he really means it, but his eyes are sad, don't shine like they should.

Steve doesn't know what to say to that, just nods, and then there's nothing else. They stare at each other for a few very long, quiet seconds, before Eddie says, "I'll see you around, Harrington."

"Right, yeah. You too." And he walks out of the drama room with the heaviest heart he thinks he's ever had.

---

Steve thinks he won't miss Eddie. That if he doesn't dwell on those hours spent with Eddie, learning dnd, that the missing will go away.

It doesn't.

Which is how he finds himself back at the high school on Wednesday, standing in front of the drama room door, willing himself to go inside. Eddie's on the throne, the typical notebooks and binders and Mt. Dew cans clustered around him, but he's not engrossed in imagining up a new campaign for Hellfire. No, his head is in his hands, knees drawn up to his chest.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

His head pops up, and even in the low light, Steve notices the silvery tracks of tears down his cheeks.

"Steve! What are you--" he hastily wipes at his face with his shirt sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

Steve's acting only on instinct, crossing the room and dropping to his knees, taking Eddie's jaw between his palms, thumbing away the wetness on his cheeks.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asks.

Eddie's laugh is wet. "Nah, Harrington. I only have myself to blame for this one."

"Can I do anything?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry?"

"You, Steve Harrington, kind and compassionate? Learn dnd to make your little nerd friends happy? Who are you?"

"I'm just me, man," Steve blushes. "But, uh, I came to thank you." He's still holding Eddie's face in his hands, can't help but notice the way he flushes, how his dark eyes dart away from Steve's.

"I really liked hanging out with you," Steve says. This close to Eddie, his mind doesn't quite feel like his own. All he can think of is big eyes, soft curls, full lips.

"Yo--you did?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He doesn't quite remember moving, but now their foreheads are pressed together, warm breath mingling, lips almost, almost touching.

"I liked it too," Eddie breathes. After a few seconds, he laughs. "Knew I'd make a nerd out of you, Harrington."

"Shut-up," Steve laughs.

"Make me," Eddie says, and it's just that easy. Steve crosses the space still separating them, presses his mouth against Eddie's.

The kiss is slow, exploratory, the gentle discovery of how they fit together, the promise of all the things they can do in the future, all the pleasure they can bring.

"I'm not a nerd," Steve says when they part.

"No, you're right. You're like a nerd by marriage. Nerd-in-law," Eddie giggles. His eyes are bright, face pink, the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.

"Shut-up," Steve giggles right back.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, the dare obvious, and Steve doesn't hesitate to kiss him again.

"You wanna get out of here?" Steve asks when they part, significantly more breathless, jeans significantly tighter, than when he arrived.

"You're gonna have to role persuasion for that, Stevie," Eddie smirks.

[jarofstyles]

Flower 2

Okay so I really love these babies so I think I'm gonna do 3-5 parts! I'm loving the tension hehe. Let me know your thoughts!

Flower Masterlist

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WC-4.6k

Warnings- mention of age gap romance, mention of bdsm, mention of bad sexual experiences, loads of sexual tension, low-key sugar daddy h, trust me

Sleep didn’t come too easily for her, but she felt absolutely wired when she woke up. Her coffee only made it worse as she wrapped herself up in the dark wash denim jacket she’d borrowed from Harry when he drove her home a few weeks back. His truck pulled into the driveway and she was grabbing her tote bag and phone, making sure to lock up before turning to face him. 

There was a weird expression on his face- something she couldn’t place. It wasn’t quite angry or mad, but it was a little darker as his eyes ran over her face and then body. He remained quiet until she got down her porch steps. “S’that… my jacket?” He asked lowly. The tone was strange to her as he stepped closer, tugging on the collar of it. 

“Yeah, it’s really cute and I figured I could wear it around today and give it back to you at the end. Is that… is that okay?” She worried her brows. “I can take it off now if you want to wear-“

“No.” He cut her off. “No, it’s totally fine. It just… it looks really good on you, is all.” He mumbled, squeezing her shoulder. “You look beautiful, as always.” His compliment was genuine, feeling his finger tap her nose, making her crinkle it. “Put the shiny stuff on it again? Your fairy sparkle?” 

Y/N laughed out loud at his nickname for her highlight on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “Mhm. I got a new pink one, think it suits me.” And maybe she’d been a lot more meticulous about her makeup now that she had a feeling this may be a more-than-friends situation. “I really like this look.” It was a tease, considering he wore the same thing off duty. Jeans and some sort of tee shirt with a quirky phrase or obscure musician on them. Today’s was relatively tame with a bee surrounded by some words about honey and health. Cute. “I actually like the tee today. A bit muscle-y.” His arms looked real fucking nice in this one. Of course he would have some considering he worked with his hands and was a pretty physical person but… damn. She allowed herself to admire it, respectfully. 

It wasn’t something she’d caught before but a slight pink brushed his cheeks at her compliment. “Thanks, petal.” He smiled. “I… I got us some coffee, got your favorite. It’s only half an hour away but I figured….”

“You know I love coffee. You’re the best, as usual.” She sighed, leaning into him to have a hug. It wasn’t usual for her to do it first but he reacted quickly, pulling her close as he rubbed her back, content to keep her there forever. He was never the first to pull back from a hug, but Y/N would happily stay like this for hours  if the option was there. He smelled good, was so warm and sturdy and he knew exactly how to play with hair. Unfortunately she did have to pull back, shooting him a shy smile as he took her by the shoulder to the car. 

Of course he opened the door for her, made she she was in properly before jogging to his own side. He ever did the whole hand on the back of the seat while backing out move, which… wow. It never missed. The weirdest turn on, but something about it just elevated a man. 

His car smelled ridiculously good, and judging by the little clips on his air vents, he had just changed them. He had a few lanyards for access to work yards and membership cards to certain stores, but no fun little fuzzy dice, or a air freshener with a kitty on it like she had. There and then, she took a mental note to get him one. Maybe a puppy one, though. His German shepherd was his best friend.

“Are you getting any books?” She asked him after a little time passed. The chatter had been casual so far, easy. The tension she felt since last night wasn’t bad in the car if she continued topic switching and slight gossip. 

“Mm, I dunno. I haven’t done much reading lately. What are you gonna get?” He questioned, sneaking a peek at her as they stopped at a red light. 

“Probably romance. I’ve been most interested in that. I’ve seen some good book recommendations online and the girls sent me some, Gia and I wanted to do a book club thing for one of the books by our favorite author. It’s a bad boy romance but it’s called Reaper.” She figured he’d have no idea what that was, but she watched his brow raise as he gave her a look. 

“Well… you do have a naughty side, don’t you?” He snickered, watching her eyes widen. “Think m’clueless? Just because I don’t read a lot doesn’t mean my ears don’t work. Tony told me his wife was reading that and it’s full of sex. Basically erotica.” He licked his lip, looking her over. 

“Oh- well, yes there’s sex but there’s plot to! Just because a book has sex doesn’t mean it isn’t good!”’she crossed her arms, huffing at him. It was a bit to rile him up a bit considering he was doing it to her and it worked. She watched his mouth open and close before rushing out an explanation. 

“No! No, m’not saying that. It’s not bad at all. It’s empowering, but uh, I was just saying I didn’t expect you to read books like that.” He had to pull away as the light turned green but he looked a little stressed that he offended her. 

“I’m joking, H. I know you didn’t mean it like that.” She snickered, watching his face turn to a bit to a scowl. “What, you thought I’m a nun or something? Just cause I’m not spilling all my stories at the table doesn’t mean I don’t have them.” She knew a lot of the group was very open about their sexual experience which was more than fine with her. Y/N was nosy and loved knowing other people's business, But in her life she didn’t share sex related things. It was private, for her and her partners. She didn’t want to betray their trust either, regardless of the terms they were on. 

“I….” His face was more pink now, hands flexing around the wheel as he cleared his throat. “I just thought maybe you didn’t care as much about it. Which is fine, by the way! It’s cool. I just wasn’t sure you cared too much. You never talk about it when we have our confession nights so I… I was being a bit presumptuous. I’m sorry. It just shocked me a little.” 

It was funny to make him squirm a bit but he didn’t need to feel bad. “It’s fine. Promise. No one really asks anyway, so I don’t offer it up first. I’m usually private about it because some of our friends are loud mouths but you can ask me stuff if you want. Maybe after we get our books you can ask me whatever questions come up.” She knew there would be plenty based on his face alone. 

“Really?” He seemed surprised. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m not trying to be weird or anything but you know about the time I called someone by the wrong name and the girl who put her tongue in my ear so….” He shrugged one shoulder. 

“Oh, god.” Her giggle was muffled by her hand. He had shared some of his horror stories and she’d found out he was a bit of a bondage fan and dabbled in kinky stuff but until now that info had been locked away in her brain under padlock and key. Suddenly someone had taken nippers to the lock and it was spilling out again, staining the floor. “Yeah… I suppose that is fair.” Angling her knees towards her, she stirred her coffee with the straw. “I think the worst thing that’s happened to me… hm. Probably the time I went home with a guy after a few dates in college and his place was really gross, but he was even more so. Like…” her nose scrunched. “Took his pants off and there was a smell coming from them. I couldn’t do it.” 

“Oh, fuck.” He hissed, wincing at the thought. That was pretty much a nightmare situation. Harry always smelled good and never seemed to be anything but hygienic so she knew he gave a shit about it but still. No one wanted to think of that. “That’s… unfortunate for both of you. Was he embarrassed? How did you get out of it?” 

“He wasn’t, is the thing. Said ‘girls should like a natural musk’ and I told him that it wasn’t a musk, it was a stench. He wasn’t happy with that so he didn’t refuse when I left. I had to take a long shower after that.” Shuddering in disgust, she hated recalling that. “At first I felt really guilty too, cause that’s such a hard thing… but he ended up being such a dick. It was surprising considering he had been sweet on the dates but apparently men change a lot in the bedroom.” That was an understatement. 

“I can agree with that, but I’d hope it’s a positive change.” He shook his head at the thought. “Like, sweet in the streets and freak in the sheets or whatever the saying is.” 

A laugh peeled from her throat, leaning her head against the headrest with her face turned towards him. “Yeah, close enough. But ideally they would be. I dunno, you don’t have to be crazy to be good in the bedroom but I’d hope for the same level of respect. Some men have no idea how to actually handle women so it’s partly why I stopped dating.” And why she had stayed up looking at his Instagram last night and thinking about how she’d look inserted in his life. Harry seemed like a man who could potentially handle her. 

“I wish I could disagree but I can’t. I’ve heard many horror stories from girls, way more traumatizing than men. It’s why…” he stopped himself. “Sorry, was gonna overshare. But I can only imagine how it is and if it’s any consolation, I’m sorry for all the men.” 

God, he was cute.  But… wait. 

“No no, you can definitely  overshare.” She perked up. “If you want to, anyway. I don’t mind.” Blinking at him, he cut a look at her and let out a laugh as he lifted a hand to run it over his chin, the slight sound of skin scratching stubble audible in the cab of his truck. 

“Well, I was gonna say it’s why I try t’be aware of that when I’m with someone that their comfort is first. If there’s anything they don’t like they can say it, that m’not gonna be mad. I don’t want someone to walk away from something with me and feel uncomfortable.” Seeing him a little shy was really fucking adorable. “I don’t really do hookups anymore. They’re not fulfilling, at least not to me. Lost their appeal a few years ago but, the few relationships I’ve been in the whole goal was to make them feel good. I think there’s a lot of selfishness that’s mainly revolved around men and sex, which I noticed a lot. The fact that a lot of women aren’t getting off at all is fucking ridiculous.” He scoffed, looking truly bothered by it. 

Another point added to his growing list. 

“Yeah, it is. It was rare I could because for me, and I think a good amount of women, there needs to be the foreplay aspect of it. Mentally, I need to be stimulated. Y’know, like teasing or not so clean talking.”

It was her turn to feel a little shy but she powered through. “And men can dive right in. It’s where we differ a lot of the time. I think part of it is biological too, I guess. I tried hooking up for a while but it never did anything for me either. I prefer someone with a connection so it’s easier to get to that point.” Now she was the one oversharing. 

“I understand that. I like those things too. A bit of cat and mouse can be fun…” he pushed his hair back before returning his hands to the wheel, squeezing it. “It’s laziness and selfishness. I’d say for me personally, M’more of a giver. Not saying it to praise myself or anything but it’s just… it’s what I like.” There was a pause. “Sorry if that’s a bit much.”

No, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to know more. Her neglected cunt was more than interested in how he was in bed and if he’d like to be a giver for her, but she had to at least try to behave. 

“It’s not. We’re just being honest, right?” She placed a hand on his knee, giving a daring squeeze and let it linger for a few moments before peeling it away. Again, testing the waters of initiating touch. Once she’d realized last night that she hadn’t shown her own interest much she had vowed to at least try today to see how he'd respond.

In this instance his smile grew and he couldn’t look right at her, but he nodded at what she’d said. “Yeah. I jus’ don’t want to seem like some creep. But uh, what other sort of books do you like? Romance, yeah, but what sort of tropes?” He did know some of those. 

“Oh, I’m pretty adventurous.” A double meaning. “I like the grumpy and sunshine ones, the billionaire romances, mafia is a guilty pleasure. Meet cute is something else I enjoy for a light read. I dunno, I think I mainly go for what the summary calls to me for. I do read some darker stuff but it’s nice to have a little fantasy world to escape to. And the fantasy men know how to find a clit.” Throwing the joke in there was meant to diffuse some of tension but somehow it seemed to make it grow. 

Not in a bad way, per say, but he looked at her curiously. “Don’t tell me that all of them couldn’t….”

“No, no. Some of them did, but majority no. They rub the side and think they’re doing something. But I’ve never faked it, I refuse to give a man an ego boost for something he didn’t do.”

“Good on ya, petal. S’bullshit that they get off and you don’t.” He genuinely seemed bothered by it. “Buncha pricks is what they are.” 

“They are.” She snickered. “But I’ll let you read some of the blurbs for the books I pick out today, you can get a read on what sorta books I like.” It was yet again, another way to experiment. 

“I’m very intrigued to see what you’re into.” 

Y/N hopes that held a double meaning too. 

—-

Harry was hovering a bit. 

Normally that would annoy her. She’d huff and tell him to sit in the cafe, or go look at his own books- but she hoped that it was because he was paying attention to what she picked up. 

Plus, he was holding the basket for her. 

The store was earthy and rustic, exposed wooden beams running along the ceilings. There was a little cafe that served teas and coffees which she definitely planned on getting after her shopping, and from her nosy look over when Harry greeted the owner she had seen a blueberry scone. That would be coming home with her too. 

The shelves were high and they had multiple different sections. It was far bigger than any indie bookstore she had been to in the past , and that lead her to quickly realize quickly she was going to make a monthly trek out here. Maybe Harry would be interested in joining her in them. 

Maybe he’d be interested in doing a lot more with her. 

“I’m almost done.” She promised, plopping a used copy of a vacation town romance into the basket. It had to be a little heavy but Harry didn’t complain. It didn’t even look like the weight bothered him, the basket hanging off his arm. They’d stuck mostly to the used section considering they were far cheaper, but she was ready to go for the new ones now. 

So what if she took a little bit out of her savings for this? She deserved a little treat for once. 

“There’s no rush, Flower.” He assured her, following closely behind her as she moved towards the new books. “I was wondering if….” There was a pause as she looked up at him. It seemed to make his brain buffer for a moment, his eyes looking over her face before he blinked out of the stare. “Uh, it you wanted to have lunch or something after?”

Why was he so cute, and why did he look so nervous? Maybe Y/N wasn’t giving the signals she needed to. That would be her own fault, but it was hard to flirt when she was as serious as she was about her books. 

“On the condition that the iced mocha with a pump of caramel and the blueberry scone I get for the car ride doesn’t count as lunch, yes. I would very much enjoy that.” She chirped, watching the nerves melt off of his face. It was mind boggling that her of all people could cause him to be nervous in the slightest but you learned something new every day. 

“I’ll agree, because that’s more suitable for a dessert.” He drawled. Harry did like to tease her about her sweet tooth which always made her roll her eyes. So what if a girl liked to have a brownie with each meal? Life is nothing but spinning on an orb in space. You may as well enjoy the creature comforts. 

“If that’s your dessert I don’t think you’ve had a true one in a while.” The flirtation was light, testing the waters as she looked over the book covers. His eyes could be felt on the side of her face as he was quiet for a moment before letting out a little laugh. 

“Suppose I haven’t. You’re right. Maybe I’ll need to try yours and see what you mean.”

And oh. Oh. She did everything in her power not to react besides a little smirk, though she could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks. Harry could most defintely try her dessert whenever the fuck he wanted. 

“Should you be so lucky.” Was her slightly snarky reply, but he followed it up quite quickly. 

“One could only hope, Petal.” 

And yeah, maybe she felt her new heartbeat between her thighs as the newly heavier silence settled on them like oil in water, but it wasn’t necessarily bad. The anticipation was in her stomach as he got a bit closer, looking over her shoulder at the book she had picked up and was currently reading the back of. 

“What’s this one?” He asked, so close that she could feel the heat of his body against her back. 

“It’s called The Highest Bidder. It’s about… a girl who goes on an auction block at a BDSM club, he is one of the owners? Well he’s one of the richest. Anyways, I saw someone recommend it saying it has sugar daddy vibes and there’s some juicy stuff in it.” Y/N explained, taking the moment to lean back into him as she held the back cover for him to read. 

If he was surprised he didn’t show it. Instead, his hand came up to rest on her shoulder, pinky finger nearly grazing the side of her neck as he looked over to read. Such a casual touch of affection, but he seemed to like it. “And you’re gonna get this one?” It was a bit weirdly arousing feeling the vibrations of his words through his chest and onto her back. 

“I think so. I haven’t read an age gap for a while. Just hope the sex scenes aren’t shit. It’s hard to tell with books sometimes, even if they’re more kinky oddly enough. I’ve seen books that have the best summaries and seem super steamy have a two pump sex scene- or fade to black. Which, you know, is fine. Not all books need to have that, but what’s the point of making the book seem like it then?” She muttered. Clearly she had been victim to it a time or two.  “Then the authors get mad about low goodreads reviews. It’s like, cmon! Don’t mislead the readers about the book then.” 

It was something the woman did get passionate about when provoked, but Harry had opened that can of worms in the car when he had given his go ahead that he didn’t mind discussing things like this with her. 

“Mm. I see.” He nodded and she swore she could hear the smile in his voice. “Show me the others you want to get.” 

Y/N felt increasingly more comfortable as she went through the next five books, letting him read the back covers and giving him the low-down about what she had heard about them. Each time they moved their position would go back to where it was, with his hand on her shoulder and her back leaned into him, only he had gotten a little braver with running his smallest finger back and forth over the side of her neck. 

It nearly made her choke when she first felt it. She definitely stuttered when he did it, but she didn’t comment on how the little action felt incredibly intimate and soft, yet charged with an unspoken sexual energy that would probably kill her if she thought about it too long. Harry was being casual about it, but he always had been. He’d been the first to initiate most touches with her that Gia said were abnormal. Of course he didn’t start off their friendship by being super grabby and touchy but it had morphed into that, and it definitely did take him by surprise when she had initiated last night and again today. Kind of like she was reinforcing that it was more than okay to touch. 

“Are you sure you’re done?” He asked after placing her final book in the basket. Y/N felt like if she didn’t stop this weird, hot position of him asking questions about the books earnestly and his chaste-yet-sexy touches she may bend over the book table and get inappropriate really fucking fast. 

“Mhm.” She assured him. “Please, I’m gonna have to dip into the rainy day fund to afford all the stuff from today but it’ll be so worth it.” The sun shone through the windows and highlighted his features which, god, had her testing her own willpower. Of course she was far too shy to be super direct with him verbally, but she didn’t hide the fact that she was admiring him. 

Considering she had already been successful in her little experiments today, she saw the lock of hair that had flopped over his forehead and decided to push it back. Letting her fingers card through his hair, she pushed the strands out of his face and back into place. If she hadn’t been looking so intently she wouldn’t have seen the shiver he had from the action. His hair was so soft and obvious that Harry took care of it, and she had never really touched it all that much but the temptation had been too much. “Sorry, it was bothering me so it must have been bothering you.” She said simply, giving him a small smile. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom quickly and then we can check out. Okay?”

“Course.” He cleared his throat, nodding his head as if the question had taken a moment to load in his head. “I’ll be by the cafe then.”

Y/N really hated that bookstores made her have to go in there but it was a right of passage. Taking care of her business took only a few minutes, but when she came out she didn’t see him at first. 

He wouldn’t just leave her, so it took her a second to realize he was leaving the counter, two bags of books hanging off his arms and two coffees in the little tray. A brown paper bag clutched crumbled in the hand he used to balance the drink tray, making her eyes widen.

“Hey! I was gonna pay for our coffees and stuff.” She pouted as he approached. “You’ll have to let me get lunch then.” Her eyes went down to the two tote bags with the store logo on them. “Ooo, that’s so nice that they gave you these to hold them in. Let me just grab my wallet and we can go to the till to-“

“Don’t worry about it.” He cut her off, shrugging a shoulder. There was a pregnant pause, her eyes blinking rapidly before her eyebrows crinkled. 

“What do you mean? I have to pay.”

“They’re paid for.” The reply was simple and matter of fact. Again, words escaped her as she looked between him and the books. 

“Did you-“

“I paid. It’s fine, Flower.”

“Uh, what?” Her eyebrows shot up as her stomach dropped. It did the weird thing that had her feeling a little lightheaded as he stood there, like he didn’t just spend probably close to two hundred on books. “No way I can accept that.”

“If I told you I got a discount for building this place will it help?”

“Harry.” She said quietly. “You…. Why?” 

“Because I’m happy you agreed t’spend the day with me.” The reply was so to the point, not hiding anything at all that it almost felt unreal. Hell, it did feel unreal because who the fuck spent two hundred on books for a friend? Granted, she had a feeling-or a hope- there was a crush in there, but it felt like a huge gesture. 

“You already do so much for me.” She swallowed the lump down her throat. “You help me at my place and you drive me home from get togethers and you buy me drinks when we go out and… I feel like it’s a lot. I surely don’t do as much for you.”

“I’d do even more if you let me.” He stared honestly, nothing but truth on his face. “So jus’ let me do this for you. I want to. It makes me happy.” 

Y/N didn’t know how to argue with that. Instead, she nodded, and reached to take the bag and coffee tray from him since he had the much heavier books. “Thank you. I could cry, probably.” That wasn’t a joke. Her eyes felt like they were stinging. 

“None of that, Petal.” He shook his head. “C’mon. I’ve got plenty of questions and you’ve got answers you promised me on the way here.” Without thinking twice, he grabbed her free hand with his own, tangling their fingers before leading her to the truck. 

Y/N had no idea how so much had changed in 24 hours,

But she had a feeling it was about to change a whole lot more.

[kechiwrites]

choking hazard

simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

synopsis: you have a very special request for simon. he thinks you're insane.

wc: 1.3k

cw: afab!reader, choking, grinding, hotdogging, haphazard kink negotiation, thigh riding, playful name-calling, no use of y/n ever.

an: a quick little bite of simon and medic reader for this challenge, which i technically failed cause this is way over 100 words. happy thanksgiving

“What?” He asks, but really, it lacks the traditional inflection of a question. Instead, the single word manages to hold deep exhaustion and a healthy helping of ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’. 

Which, rude.

You stomp your foot, the moue of your lips more than a little petulant. “Oh, come on, don’t make it weird. Just...a little. Enough to pass out.” you raise your hand and pinch the air for emphasis.

“What?” Oh! The inflection was back, and he’d shifted weight onto his other foot. His cotton mask allows for you to see the top half of his face today, and you’re grateful, because the furrow in his brow exposes that while he really wants to just up and leave this conversation, he’s far too curious, or maybe perplexed? Disturbed?

“I want you to choke me out, Simon.” You grin, shrugging, “preferably with your cock in me but...” You mutter to yourself, pressing your lips together and widening your eyes in mock innocence when he glares at you in response, obviously hearing you. 

“No.” He turns away from you, pushing around the ceramic skull you placed in your office. A paperweight, whose presence had absolutely no hidden, romantic meaning whatsoever, you’d simply seen it in a home goods display off base and snatched it up. 

It had been on sale. Or something.

“I’m a doctor.” You tap your name tag insistently, “I know my limits, Si.” Now you’re just trying to rile him up, as if he’d ever lay a hand on you in anger you didn’t expressly beg for. Still, he hates when you shorten his name, used to hate it when you said it at all. 

Thankfully, things change.

“Fucking quack.” He mutters and you make a loud, dramatic, wounded noise you’d heard in a K-Drama you had watched once before flipping back to your favourite period drama you’d watched a million times over. You flatten your hand against your chest and rear back, more for your own gratification than to impress your offence upon Simon. 

“I’m serious! I’m curious and I know it won’t cause any real, lasting damage.” You approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches, not from surprise, you guess, but from sensation, before his body relaxes. You push your face between his shoulder blades, rubbing your nose against his shirt. 

“I’ll suck you off after.” You murmur, and the lieutenant snorts derisively. 

No dice.

“Then I’ll ask Soap to do it!” You release him, and circle around your desk, feigning a grab towards your cell phone.

He doesn’t rise to the bait initially, turning back to face you and crossing his inked, scarred arms. You ogle them shamelessly, eyes greedily tracing every bit of knicked skin, every prominent, tempting vein. Thing of beauty, his arms were. “Go on, then.” He shrugs and consternation makes you furrow your brow in defeat. Unfortunately, the closer the two of you become, the more bags of candy and suggestive texts and lingering glances you exchange, the easier it is to read the other’s intent, your bluffs. 

You pout, and kick at the corner of your own desk, shifting it slightly. “Fine. I wouldn’t ask him.” You tilt your head, pinning him with a needy look you hope is suitably enticing, “I’m asking you cause I trust you, Simon. Please?” 

Apparently, bald, earnest honesty is the ticket because your not-boyfriend heaves a sigh and uncrosses his arms, raising one to rub at the back of his neck, the black t-shirt he dons stretched tantalizingly tight over the curve of his muscled bicep.

Oh, this was going to be so good.

“Fine. Just don’t piss yourself.” 

“Do people do that?” You wrinkle your nose, and Simon levels you with a look, dark brown eyes broadcasting a stark “Do I fucking look like I’m joking?” 

Regardless, you clap your hands in celebration, locking the door to your office and sprinting back to stand in front of him, the framed photo of your commanding officer, your mother, and you looking on judgmentally. You try to ignore it but end up putting the photo down on its face, no need for dear mum and your boss to witness your fantasy come to life.

Simon turns you to face away from him, the heat of his hands seeping into your shoulders. He is always so warm. It had been a boon to your freezing feet the few times you’d shared a bed for actual sleeping. (He’d cursed at you for maybe a minute before hiking your legs up to bracket his hips, so you could fall asleep wrapped around him like a koala.)

“Double tap, you understand?” He barks, and you can’t help but shimmy in excitement. 

“Yup!” 

Simon wraps a burly arm around your neck, not exerting any pressure yet. He hooks his other arm around his wrist so it sits in his elbow, and places that palm on the crown of your head, securing you snugly in a standard choke-hold. 

“Good?” He mutters low, his chest blankets your back, and you're enveloped in the clean, sharp scent he usually carries with him.

You laugh, “Yeah-huh-huh-huh.” and you know you sound a little stupid, but you’re getting what you wanted and even without Simon utilizing force, you can feel yourself getting wet, forcing you to rub your thighs together in anticipation.

He begins to constrict your airway and it feels as though your head is ballooning, building up pressure as breathing slowly becomes more and more difficult. Your eyelids flutter closed and your lips part in shock. It doesn’t feel good, necessarily, but it certainly doesn’t feel bad. It’s obvious Simon’s holding back a lot. It probably should hurt but the lack of air makes your mind stutter to a stop, and all you can feel is Simon’s heat along your back and his strength holding you in place and his scent where it’s stalled in your lungs, unable to escape. When he shifts a bit behind you, your eyes pop back open in surprise at what you feel.

“You’re hard!” You wheeze incredulously, using the very last bit of air you had to call him out.

“And you’re a fucking lunatic.” He bites back, jerking his hips forward to rub his clothed erection against the swell of your ass. And he’s been doing that a lot lately, pushing up against your back, grinding along the fat of your thighs. Just last week, he’d spent a whole night hot-dogging (“Dumb fucking name, huh?”) the aching length of his dick between the cheeks of your ass, fucking against your flesh until he spilled hot and thick over your lower back.

You think he may be developing a thing.

He keeps rocking against you, branding his shape into your backside. “God.” He mutters, pulling you up and sliding his knee between your thighs. You can’t speak, what with your brain rapidly losing function, but if you could you’d hiss your assent, maybe scream when the muscles of his thigh nudge against your clit. 

Your lungs and cunt burn in unison, and the edges of your vision fade, but you want to keep going, want to come just like this, completely under his control, dry humping his massive thigh, unable to breathe.

Finally, you raise a shaky hand to tap at his forearm, and Simon immediately releases you, letting you stumble forward, off his leg and towards your desk. Your palms make contact with the polished wood and you hunch forward panting loud and hard. The room is fucking spinning, but all you can bring yourself to do is laugh like a fucking maniac.

“You good?” The soldier speaks, the sound of his footsteps just barely piercing through the sound of your rushing blood. Your voice is practically non-existent and you have to clear your throat three times, but when you do eventually croak out a response, your chest heaves with your desperate breaths in between your words. 

“Yeah, fuck yes.” Your chest slowly loses that frantic, mounting pressure and when you turn your head to look at Simon over your shoulder, his eyes are unfathomably dark and narrowed, running laps over your legs, thighs and ass.

“Good. Take your scrubs off. Right now.”

[paceprompting]

cinnamon buns

written for ‘christmas’ | wc: 736 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: post season four, pre-relationship, fluff, steve has a crush on eddie, and vice versa, christmas together

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Wayne always managed to get Christmas off. Every year.

Eddie didn’t know what exactly he promised in return to manage it, but ever since little eight-year-old Eddie Munson shuffled into the trailer to live with his uncle, every Christmas had been theirs.

Wayne always woke up first, setting out the presents collected throughout the year and hidden under his bed—and Eddie hadn’t peeked since that first year—nursing his first cup of coffee while in his pajamas until Eddie emerged.

When he was still little, he’d bum-rush the tree and tear open the presents, but soon the little traditions emerged.

Playing Rudolph and Year Without a Santa Claus on VCR tapes that survived years of rewatches, but no interdimensional portals.

Cinnamon buns from tins for breakfast, always burnt around the edges and covered in icing—but they split the best one from the middle.

And the last present was always, always Wayne’s. It took several years for Eddie’s wrapping skills to actually look like the box he was wrapping, but Wayne never said a word.

It was one of those Christmases that Eddie got his first set of dice.

Government hush money bought a decent house for them, with real insulation and top-of-the-line boiler. Just in time for Christmas. Wayne actually had a real hiding place for the presents this time, and no matter how hard Eddie had looked, he’d have to wait until next year to find it.

They could get real lights, too. Not just the couple of strings that wouldn’t overload the trailer’s generator.

They also had to, since those lights were carted off to some Area 51 with the rest of the things the government wanted to pretend had never happened until maybe they could use it to their own benefit.

One other thing had changed this Christmas, too.

There were three of them this year.

Eddie heard the crunch of tires on asphalt from the kitchen. He was supposed to be setting up the ham to go in the oven—which he’d never done in his life, yet he’d volunteered—and he’d only gotten as far as preheating the oven.

So, he headed straight for the front door, sans any sort of jacket or shoes.

Eddie had hated the cold most of his life.

When you lived in a metal box with shitty heating on a good day, the cold months meant shivering through showers, mainlining coffee just to be warm for a couple minutes and layering blankets because sweating was better than losing a toe.

But there was something about Steve Harrington in the cold.

Or, more specifically, in the snow.

He eased out of the driver’s side of the Beemer, running a hand through his hair. His shoulders filled out the blue denim of his jacket, which matched his jeans—which stretched over his pert butt.

Not that Eddie was looking. For too long.

Maybe Eddie liked the cold a little bit more now.

But the whole reason Steve had bent over in the first place was to bring out a few things from his backseat. He held them behind his back as he straightened, and Eddie pouted as he trudged through the snow onto the porch.

His cheeks were pink when joined Eddie by the front door, ducking his head as he offered a hello.

“Hey, Eds,” he said.

Eddie leaned over to try and peer at what Steve had behind his back, eyes widening when Steve brought out a Tupperware that looked like it had several stacks of cookies, warm enough to steam up the inside.

“For me?” he asked, raising his brows.

Steve let him take the cookies with no comment.

“No, I thought it’d be rude not to bring something.” He shrugged, and it took Eddie a moment to realize that his other arm was still bent behind him. Eddie stared pointedly, and Steve smiled before revealing a more Christmas-y gift—in red and green plaid wrapping paper and white ribbon. “This is, though.”

Eddie immediately swapped cookies for the present, holding it close with a wide grin.

Steve cocked his head, sliding his hands (probably cold) into his pockets. “You’re not going to open it?”

He propped his present on his hip and reached forward to grab onto Steve’s wrist. With probably wild eyes, Eddie met Steve’s gaze, waited until Steve leaned forward just a bit and said, with every bit of seriousness, “We haven’t had the cinnamon buns, yet.”

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 13 - Daddy

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : hey guys ! Here is the 2nd prompt for Kinktober Day 13. This time it’s « Daddy ». I only recently got done with it without realizing I would be posting it on the day of his birthday 🙊. I could have made something birthday related but… oh well. Another time, maybe 🙈. I hope you enjoy it. I made it cute & fluffy.

CW : Daddy kink - Pregnancy announcement - Fluff

Marshall Mathers doesn’t have a daddy kink. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite. Maybe it’s a parent thing, but as far as he’s concerned, there are only three persons in the world allowed to call him Daddy : his children. Any woman he is dating g trying to call him that immediately gives him the ick. You sort of learned it the hard way. Being younger than him, you playfully and somewhat threw in the nickname on one occasion when he was being directive. It wasn’t even in bed and, in hindsight, thank God it wasn’t because it would have been that much more awkward. It was one night, you were in his kitchen, making dinner, telling him about your day while you were slicing and dicing some vegetable for the meal you were cooking. « Careful with the knife, babe. Look at what you’re doing or you’re going to cut yourself.  » he gently warned, ever so caring. « Ok Daddy » you chuckled with a grin.

His mood immediately changed and the soft smile on his face was quickly replaced by a frown and an air of disgust. « What did you call me ? » he asked. « Daddy » you repeated « come on, it’s not that deep » you don’t added with a shrug. « Just… don’t » he said. You stopped what you were doing and put the knife aside. « You don’t like it ? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. To you, it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t have a daddy kink but you were guilty of calling some of your exes « Daddy » in bed. No daddy issues on your part, just some appreciation for someone who could be a little authoritarian in bed. So, to you, playfully using the nickname didn’t sound like anything weird at all. Him, on the other hand, seemed to find it creepy. « Like it ? It’s fucking weird » he scoffed. « you really want to call me Daddy ?! ».

He genuinely seemed disturbed by the thought. Horrified, almost. You giggled and cupped his face. « It was just for fun. Chill, babe. » you said softly. « No but while thinks about their dad when they’re with their man ? » he continued. You couldn’t help but laugh and shook your head. « First of all… I like it when you refer to yourself as my man » you said seductively. « And second of all… it’s not about actual fathers. It’s a vibe, you know ? » you tentatively explained. He hummed but still didn’t seem convinced. « Yeah, well, feel free to come up with any other nickname but… not this one. The only people who are allowed to call me that are my daughters. » he said as he rolled his eyes. You chuckled and agreed before giving him a peck on the cheek.

In the following years, you didn’t fall short when it came to finding cute names to refer to him, some of them being more ridiculous than others. Most of the time, you used classics such as « my love » or « babe » but, every so often, you spiced things up with something ridiculous like « sunshine » or « honeybun ». He often laughed at your antics and, honestly, he didn’t mind the cheesy pet names. If anything, he thought it was kind of funny and cute. As long as you steered clear of « Daddy », he could put up with anything. On the days where you wanted to use a nickname that highlighted his authoritative nature, you tried to find options such as « Boss » or « Top Dog », which never failed to make him chortle.

However, one evening, you just had to go back to using « Daddy ».

You went to find him in his home office, where he was reviewing some visuals for his upcoming album. As the drop date was approaching, he was putting in more and more hours. When you entered the room, you found him with his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. You stood behind him and placed a kiss on his cheek, prompting him to look up. He gave you an exhausted smile, one that showed your intrusion was most welcome. You knew that, as much as he loved the writing/producing/recording part of making an album, the rest sometimes felt like a pain in his ass. And these days, it seemed like it was all about photoshoots, picking visuals, anticipating promo. All the things he didn’t really care for, really.

« So… What’s up, Daddy ? » you asked softly and innocently.

He turned to you and you immediately saw him cringe. You could see the instinctive reaction, as if he had just eaten something sour. His eyebrows shot up, arching sharply in disbelief, while his eyes went wide with a mix of shock and confusion. A slight twitch pulled at the corner of his left eye, as if his brain was desperately trying to process and reject what he'd just heard. His lips pressed together into a thin, tight line, then curled downward in the most uncomfortable grimace imaginable. His jaw clenched visibly, and his nostrils flared as if he was physically trying to hold back whatever retort was forming in his head. For a moment, he looked utterly frozen in place, caught between laughter and utter discomfort, before he finally broke the silence with a sharp shake of his head. “Nah, nah, nah,” he muttered, his voice a mix of strained disbelief and unease, his whole face still scrunched up like he was trying to physically repel the word. The look in his eyes was pleading, practically begging you not to ever do that again.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. It had been at least a couple of years since the « Daddy » incident but his reaction said it all, he still found it insanely cringy. Too bad, though, because he’d had to get used to it. Marshall’s face shifted from that initial cringe into something more serious, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head, setting his laptop aside with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to you, his lips pressing together tightly, clearly trying to rein in his frustration, but there was no hiding the exasperation in his voice.

« Babe, we’ve been over this already, » he said, gesturing with his hands like he was trying to lay out something obvious. « I told you, no calling me ‘Daddy.’ That’s for my kids. I can’t- »He paused, searching for the right words, but all that came out was a mix of disbelief and irritation. « I don’t even know how to explain it, but it just feels… wrong, alright? ». His tone was firm, but not angry—more like someone who’d had this conversation one too many times and couldn’t believe they were having it again. « You think it’s funny, but no. It’s weird. We’re not doing that, » he added, his brows furrowing in a way that made it clear he was serious. He looked at you, waiting for some sign that you got the message this time, his expression softening just a little as he ran a hand through his hair. « Just… stop, » he finished with a sigh, giving you a look that said he hoped this would be the last time he had to talk about it. Twice was enough already.

« I don’t think I can stop » you said with a grin, waiting for him to connect the dots. « In fact… I think you’re going to get used to it… Daddy» you continued as you placed a hand where, soon enough, a bump would be visible. At first, your man didn’t seem to fully register it. He sat there, still caught in the loop of his usual reaction to your teasing, eyes narrowing in confusion.

But then, slowly, the meaning of your words and the gesture sank in. His expression shifted, eyebrows furrowing as his head tilted slightly, like he was trying to replay your sentence in his mind to make sure he’d heard it right. « Wait... what? » His voice was softer now, disbelief lacing every word. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were still joking, but instead, he saw the familiar glow in your eyes and the warm, expectant smile that told him this was different. His whole body seemed to freeze for a beat, and then his face changed entirely. His eyes widened first, and his mouth dropped open just a little, like he had to catch his breath. His brow furrowed, but not in confusion anymore—it was the weight of emotion hitting him, the realization dawning in full. « You’re... for real? ». His voice cracked slightly, like he didn’t trust himself to fully believe it yet, but his eyes were already glistening with the first hint of something deeper.

When you nodded, his lips parted into a stunned smile, a slow, almost incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a hand running over his head as if trying to make sense of the moment. « You… you’re pregnant? ». The words came out softer this time, almost in awe, his eyes never leaving yours. After months of hoping for a positive test that never seemed to come, this was it, finally.

There was a long pause, where all he could do was stare at you, a mixture of joy and disbelief playing across his face, before a laugh finally broke free, a genuine, almost disbelieving laugh, as if he couldn’t wrap his head around it. « I’m gonna be a dad again? ». His voice was filled with wonder now, his hand reaching out to touch your stomach gently, like the reality of it was finally hitting him in waves. His whole face softened, his eyes shining with that rare, unguarded emotion he kept hidden from most. He pulled you into a tight embrace, pulling you to his lap and burying his face in your neck for a moment as he let the weight of it all sink in. « Finally, » he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again, a wide, almost boyish grin breaking across his face. « We’re having a baby. ». You nodded with an emotional smile and wrapped your arms around his neck before kissing him.

As the reality of the moment settled in and the initial wave of emotion began to subside, you couldn’t help but tease him, that familiar playful glint dancing in your eyes. You leaned back slightly, still smiling as you ran a hand over your belly, letting your words hang in the air for just a second before speaking. « So, hum, does this mean I finally get a pass to call you ‘Daddy’ now? » you asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin, clearly enjoying how the tables had turned on the long-running joke.

Marshall’s reaction was instant. His face immediately scrunched up, that familiar look of playful disgust returning for a moment. He groaned, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still going there, especially now. « Oh, come on, » he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked at you with mock exasperation, but he couldn’t deny that this time, it felt different. He let out a deep breath, his hand running over his face as if to brace himself. « Alright, alright… » he started, but then his expression became more serious, his eyes locking with yours. « Only when you’re talking to the baby, though, » he added, pointing at you with emphasis. « Like, when you’re telling her something about me, sure, you can say ‘Daddy.’ But otherwise, no. That’s still fucking weird. ». He laughed, shaking his head again, and gently placed his hand over your stomach, the playful moment shifting into something more meaningful. « But yeah, » he added quietly, a softer smile forming. « You can say it… for them. »

His gaze lingered on your belly for a moment longer, the weight of what that word meant now sinking in fully. « I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it, huh? » he said, looking back up at you with that familiar mix of humor and tenderness in his eyes.

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Astarion stumbles upon a new skill and the legend of Two Hand 'Starion is born!

Tags: Humour, fluff, crack, violence, dirty jokes, slight Astarion x Reader.

This fic has been inspired by the amazing @radish-breath , whose late night BG3 conversations with me (on how re-spec of characters changes the whole party dynamic) have fuelled this madness. Merry Christmas, Radish! 🎄🎊

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Faerun was a land of contrasts, if your adventures were anything to go by. On the one hand, new and varied wonders unfolded before your eyes each day, while on the other, those same wonders sometimes sprouted a few too many teeth, claws (and in some cases, tentacles) for anyone's liking. 

Today was that kind of day; today the dice rolled against luck, and you and Astarion were its unfortunate victims.

Ogres, of all things.

After that rather daunting meeting with three of the aesthetically-impaired species in the Blighted Village, you'd fancied yourself a bit more careful going forward. One would think that after such a mistake, you might have recognised the signs.

And Gods, were the signs noticeable. Maybe if Astarion hadn't started an argument about Scratch slobbering all over his tunic while he slept, you wouldn't have been quite so distracted and may have picked up on the smell (like a latrine frequented by fifty oxen with the flux) or maybe the bones (femurs the size of your torso scored by the marks of large teeth) or perhaps the smell of roasted dwarf on a spit over a campfire (with its remarkably unique bouquet).

The hunter's stash that you'd found the co-ordinates for, and marked on your map, had yielded disappointing results. Someone had got to it first, evidently, only leaving behind some weaponry and a few alchemical ingredients.

Among them were two finely crafted hand crossbows which Astarion had regarded with barely concealed disdain. He'd been on the lookout for something that dealt more damage. Temperament soured, he'd started bemoaning the state of the camp with that 'flea-ridden bag of blood' prancing around.

And so it was that you'd strolled, rather nonchalantly, right into the middle of an ogre dinner. You'd stopped dead, all arguments for the healing powers of Scratch's saliva promptly forgotten. Beside you, Astarion opened his mouth to counter you, spotted the ogres and slowly cranked his jaw shut again.

Silence reigned in the clearing. One of the ogres wiped sheep fat off his lips politely, presumably waiting for you to introduce yourself. Collecting your wits, you stepped forward, far more boldly than you felt.

"Well met. We're just passing through."

The ogre grunted, amusement clear in his eyes.

"Nah."

"You see, I - "

"You lookin' tasty, little piggy."

Another ogre, with an alarming growth of fungus along the side of its face turned his full attention to you, picking gristle from between his teeth with a pike.

"I mean, that one looks tasty. The other un' be lookin' runty. No flavourin'".

Astarion raised an eyebrow.

"I assure you, good sirs, my flavour is just sublime."

"Oo you lyin' to, wormy?"

You cut in before any further damage could be done. It was time to bring out the charisma. And a flash of inspiration had struck you, that daredevil little spark that seemed to emerge whenever the odds were stacked against you.

"Oh, his flavour is nothing to be laughed at. Don't you know who he is?"

Beside you, Astarion tensed. His voice was a hiss, audible only to you.

"What do you think you're - "

But now you have the ogres' full attention, and you're not about to waste this window of opportunity. Stepping forward, you pulled off your hood, gesturing to Astarion with a flourish.

"Have you never heard of 'Two Hand 'Starion'?"

Fungus Face belched loudly, eyes sliding inwards to the bridge of his squashed-pudding nose as he gave this question the consideration it deserved.

"Nah?"

"Oo in the seven 'ells izzat?"

Your hands spread wide, inviting them into the weave of your tale.

"Oh, he's known by many different names across the realms. I've only been his travel companion for a fraction of his long journey. He also goes by Starblazer, or Boltazar, the fastest draw in Avernus."

Astarion's glare was now eating into the back of your head like an acid-spill, but you were in too deep to retreat. Skipping lightly forward, you mimed the action of drawing and firing two crossbows.

"He's unmatched in speed, graceful as a panther, his hands nothing more than a blur as he rains bolts of flame and ice down upon his foes."

You spun on your heel and the third ogre, who had been quietly occupied with stuffing his face, hoping that nobody else would notice the food disappearing down his gullet, dropped a dwarf leg in surprise.

"He stalks the astral realm, beyond where even a seasoned traveler like myself dares to roam, and braves the wrath of the fiercest githyanki warriors. Even they cannot pin him down, because his draw is faster still."

Fungus Face scowled.

"What if I eat one o' them arms? Then he'll just be One Hand 'Starion."

Sheep Fat seemed to be the smarter one among them, because he was beginning to look a trifle nervous. He made a shushing gesture at Fungus Face.

"This sounds awful f'miliar. What if she's telling the truth? About this Starblazer? Swear I 'eard the name before."

You're not sure which of the many embellished tales this ogre has heard and confused with your own hastily-spun fantasy, but that's hardly your concern. Clearing your throat, you take a few more steps towards safety, gesturing expansively at Astarion. He looks singularly unimpressed.

"But you must have heard the tales, or at least some form of them!"

You raise a hand, expression turning suddenly sombre.

"Please, in your best interests, friends. Don't impede our journey. I see you're all enjoying a good meal, around a roaring campfire. Don't let our intrusion cause an unnecessary skirmish. I only say this with your lives and safety in mind."

You jerked your head subtly at your companion. If this ruse was to work, it needed one final demonstration from him. Granted, you weren't expecting a lot, just enough to sell the story to a bunch of gormless (if rather terrifying) ogres who the two of you would definitely struggle to take in open combat.

What you weren't anticipating was the entirely separate persona that seemed to inhabit Astarion's body the moment your signal was given. As disgruntled as he'd seemed at your initial ploy, he was certainly playing along beautifully now.

Kicking lazily off the tree he'd been leaning against, he sauntered into the firelight, bringing with him the sure-footed elegance of a seasoned bounty hunter. The two crossbows you'd discovered in the stash earlier appeared in his hands as if by magic, a deft twirl of the wrist settling them in firing position. His eyes gleamed scarlet in the gloom, dangerous and calculating.

"Now, I don't see the point of revealing my identity unless truly necessary."

Even something about his accent had changed, the timbre of his voice lower, deeper, edged with malice.

"I do recognise, however, that you three are worthy of being called strong. I'd hate for your lives to end here. After all, when you've wandered as long as I have, strong opponents are hard to come by."

The ogres were now silent,  uncertain. Or at least, two of them were. Fungus Face was slowly reaching for his club. Before you had a chance to shout a warning, Astarion's hand came up, a soft 'zing' sounding through the clearing before the club spun from the ogre's grasp, flying a few feet away. Another bolt had been loaded and strung before anyone could react, the vampire's jaunty posture a direct challenge.

What in the - Had Astarion always been that good of a marksman?

You hastily adjust your expression. Whatever the outcome, you couldn't be goggling at him in the same manner as the ogres. You had a performance to complete. Astarion's drawl cut through the tension pervading the camp.

"Dont make me riddle you with holes, there's a dear."

Fungus Face, finally convinced, sat down heavily. You nodded, cautious.

"Let's ... be on our way then. No use in troubling these fine ogres any longer."

As soon as you were out of the ogres' perception, you broke into a sprint. Only when the clearing had been well and truly left in the dust, did you slow down, panting heavily, hands resting on your knees. You turned, one finger stabbing at the pale elf who jogged up beside you.

"What in the hell was that?"

He sneered.

"I should be asking you the same question. 'Two Hand 'Starion'? Was that the best you could do?"

You waved aside his naming concerns, struggling to catch your breath.

"No, not that. I mean ... when did you get so skilled with a crossbow?"

As much as you'd only been traveling together for a month, you knew enough about Astarion to pick up on his little tells. While he seemed to be trying to hide the fact, he was also somewhat confused by the convincing nature of his own charade.

Glancing down at the crossbows, he gave a graceful shrug. 

"Well, I've had many years to practice with missiles of all kinds. I suppose my skill with other bows must have carried over."

"So what you're saying is ... that you're actually a natural? And this is really your first time dabbling in this particular skill?"

He cleared his throat and your eyes narrowed. Were the tips of his ears turning ... pink? Since when had praise of any kind unsettled him? Astarion was quick to change the subject.

"Can we please get back to camp now? You've had me traipsing through this damn forest for hours and my fingernails are in an absolute state."

On the way back to your base, you eyed him surreptitiously. He seemed deep in thought, fingers occasionally drifting down to trace over the crossbows which now had place of honour on his belt.

"All right. Out with it. What's going on with him?"

It was Gale who posed the question while preparing dinner a few weeks later. You were helping him slice vegetables into the large cast-iron cook pot. On your left, Karlach, who'd been peeling potatoes, leaned in conspiratorially.

"Yeah, it's not like him at all. What happened, that day in the forest?"

Sighing, you vented your frustrations on a hapless carrot.

"Look, it's exactly what I told you. We ran into those ogres, he improvised with the crossbows and now he bloody well won't let them out of his sight."

Gale's brow was knitted in thought.

"He does favour them, yes. And then he keeps disappearing into the forest - "

Karlach gasped.

"Wait, you don't think he - "

You shook your head vehemently.

"He wouldn't. And besides, if he really was wandering into the forest to kill creatures left and right, we'd be seeing the bodies, yes?"

Karlach gave you both a blank stare.

"Oh. No, I was imagining more along the lines of him wanking off to them."

Gale choked on air and you almost sliced off a finger.

"Karlach - "

"Elaborate?"

She waved a hand, the potato within it dwarfed by the size of her palm.

"Dont ask me about the logistics, mate. Astarion is creative when it comes to those things, right?"

Gale massaged at the growing furrow between his brows.

"As skilled as I have no doubt he is, I think even Astarion would find it difficult to - "

"To what, my darlings?"

All three of you froze in position.

When had he arrived? Astarion had always been stealthy, but not like this.

Gale glanced up at him, eyeing the crossbows that had now been holstered in a special harness across the shoulders that Astarion had fashioned for himself.

"Ah. Astarion. We were just - "

"Talking - "

"About stuff and ... you ... and - "

"About ... you know... your crossbows and - "

"Wanking," concluded Karlach, solemnly.

Astarion raised an eyebrow before sashaying over to the campfire and draping himself over a nearby tree trunk.

"As much as I love the idea of all three of you tickling your little pearls in longing for me - "

Gale grimaced.

"Never happened, I assure you."

" - I've got a more ... immediate issue."

"Oh?"

You stare at him curiously. Since the ogre incident, Astarion has been particularly reticent, and him seeking out your help was an unusual, if welcome change.

Karlach, ever eager to assist, perks up immediately.

"Well, out with it then."

Astarion's eyes dropped to the ground and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he looked slightly bashful. He unsheathed his crossbows and placed them carefully within the circle of firelight, where you can all see them clearly.

"I - I need ... "

His words come out in a rush.

"I need some help naming them."

Gale promptly dropped the ladle he was holding.

"Naming?"

Astarion rose, looking slightly agitated, and began to pace before you.

"Look, I know how it sounds. I know how unlike me it is to become attached to something, even if an inanimate object. I know, all too well, the impermanence of the material, but ..."

He turned to you, and the earnest appeal in his eyes surprised you to no end.

"I like how the crossbows make me feel. It's the first time something has come this ... naturally to me. It's effortless. Not something I have to elaborately craft. Just - Just help me with this. Please."

Karlach made her way over and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You can rely on us, Astarion. We'll help with anything you request."

You felt a little misty-eyed yourself and even Gale cleared his throat and dabbed at his eye suspiciously. Karlach clapped her hands, taking charge of the situation.

"Right. So, good people, Astarion needs help finding names for his trusty weapons. I'm partial to a little naming myself. I had a Blood Drinker and a Kidney Shredder, once upon a time."

Gale waved his hands hurriedly, as Astarion's nose abruptly wrinkled.

"Lovely names, to be sure, but maybe Astarion is looking for something a tad less on the nose."

You hummed thoughtfully, taking in the strong, delicate lines of the crossbows.

"Hmm. How about, Sting and Strike?"

Your vampire companion moved closer into the firelight, eyes gleaming, stroking his chin.

"Direct, yes, but ... too pedestrian."

Gale stood, the cook pot forgotten.

"Warp and Weft."

"More suitable for a wizard, I think."

Karlach slammed a fist into her palm.

"Growl and Thunder."

"My crossbows are not of the canine persuasion."

Slowly, the whole camp gets drawn into the naming exercise, their enthusiasm growing. Wyll, Shadowheart and Halsin were next in line to provide their suggestions.

"Valour and Honour."

"Wax and Wane."

"Briar and Nettle."

To his credit, Astarion gave each of their ideas due consideration before rejecting them. Nice of him, considering how outlandish some of the names brought forward were.

"Bulette and Shroom!"

"I'd rather not have memories of that place."

"Rough and Tumble."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Frank and Furter!"

"... what?"

You shrug.

"Sounded appropriate."

It is, surprisingly, Withers who steps in to save the day. Quite suddenly, he is among you, pale eyes calmly taking in the crossbows while the fire flickers along the gold tracery adorning his face. His voice, soft as it is, immediately silences the good-natured bickering around you.

"There are many instruments of death, some reliable, primitive. Others speak of ingenuity, the kind directed at dealing pain. Strange they are, the subjects that stimulate human creativity."

He turns to Astarion, expression distant, as always.

"For one whose name has already been recorded, pain must be your constant companion. You must be a disciple of chaos and mayhem. If these weapons must be yours, let them have fitting names. Be the death that comes swiftly, and leave sorrow in your wake."

So saying, Withers made his calm exit. Astarion was nodding to himself, eyes kindling with ... something you couldn't quite be certain of.

"Swift and Sorrow. Hmm. Yes. I think that'll do nicely."

Soon enough, you realise what Astarions's lengthy disappearances into the forest had been in aid of. He had been ... practicing.

You're not quite sure what kind of regimen he had put himself through, but the results were quite astounding.

The first time you saw it in action was during a raid on a bandit camp that your party has been planning for a while. You'd received intelligence of an medical text in a vault, stored deep within the mountain, that might give some insight into how your parasite might be removed.

The trouble began with the discovery that a group of bandits had settled right outside the entrance, completely unaware of the significance of the chambers beneath them. Their camp was well-fortified and guarded, almost impregnable by anyone's standards. The sheer cliffs surrounding it saw to that.

You had no choice but to approach from the lower ground, which gave you a distinct disadvantage, in both numbers and position. Nonetheless, the text within the vault was important. You had to get hold of it to give yourself every opportunity available.

On the morning of the raid, Astarion caused a bit of a stir when he emerged from his tent.

Gone was the light leather armour he favoured, the lace-edged collars and sleeves jutting rakishly out at neck and wrist. He was now dressed in Drow armour, lithe form encased fully in the dark leather. Some enchantment had been placed upon the ensemble, shadows gathering about him like a shroud.

By the time you'd reached the enemy encampment, it was late evening. The crudely drawn symbols on ragged red pennants flapped vigorously in the wind, a warning of what was to come should you venture further up the winding mountain pass.

Just as you were all moving into your respective positions, Astarion's hand came down lightly on your shoulder.

"Would you be so kind, my pretty dove, as to allow me to go in first this time?"

In the growing gloom, his form was even less distinct. The hood that came with the new armour had been pulled up, his glossy, pale curls completely concealed. You'd never noticed before quite how predatory his eyes seemed in the darkess, polished garnets lit from within with unholy fire.

Nodding slowly, you agreed.

"All right. We'll be right behind you. Be careful."

Slowly, cautiously, you ascended the rocky path, Shadowheart and Lae'zel in tow. The githyanki warrior was unusually quiet. Under regular circumstances, she'd have passed some biting quip on others' lack of strength or fighting ability, but tonight she looked ... almost anticipatory. Excited.

Soon, you're in a fairly favourable position, crouched in some bushes on the outskirts of the camp. You have a clear view of the sentries and the bandits milling about at the centre. However you looked at it, it would be a difficult battle, what with that palisade barrier and those -

"Oi. Where's Marcus got to?"

"Said he was brushing down the horses. Why?"

The blonde bandit who had asked the question shrugged, looking slightly puzzled.

"Well, that's where I saw him last. Can't find him now. Oh well."

You exchanged glances with Shadowheart, but held your position. Shortly afterward, another bandit, a halfling with a long dagger strapped to his back, wandered past, looking confused.

"Hey, did anyone see those powder satchels I left on the casket?"

"Be more careful, idiot! Look around. It'll turn up."

An aggravated shout came from across the camp.

"Marcus, you lout! I've been looking for you high and low, where have you - Wait. Wait. Marcus? What in the hells are you - "

"That's - that's not Marcus!"

"Run!"

Narrowing your eyes, you made out the figure of a man, presumably Marcus, shambling into the firelight. It was obvious that he was no longer among the living, but his limbs carried him with jerky, spasmodic movements towards the blaze. Strapped around his form were the missing powder satchels.

From beside you, Shadowheart gave an approving hum as the bandits swarmed in panic, diving out of the way as 'Marcus' made a beeline for the fire, leaping right into the midst of it. An explosion rent the air, a cloud of acrid smoke pouring from the centre of the camp, accompanied by a rain of what appeared to be the remnants of Marcus.

Floundering within the cloud of smoke, the bandits soon realised that their number was being cut even further. First one, then two, then four, each brought down with a gurgling yell, dark tendrils lacing their skin where the fine bolts pierced their flesh.

"Who is it? Where is it coming from?"

The leader of the bandits, a hefty man in plate armour, wielding an enormous axe, brandished his weapon, eyes streaming from the smoke.

"To me! To me!"

His rallying cry brought a stumbling group to his side, their weapons held at the ready.

"Show yourself, you stinking coward!"

A voice came coiling through the night, mocking, sultry, full of dark delight.

"My, my. We are fierce aren't we? Pity your ... large, stiff swords won't be of much use here."

Another bolt, shot with unerring precision, through the smoke, straight through the heart of one of the bandits.

"Behind the wagons! Now! Take cover!"

Lae'zel grunted, her nostrils flaring. The scent of blood was making her itch for battle, but you still didn't give the signal to break cover.

"There's the bastard!"

From behind the fire, a sleek shape stepped into visibility. One of the men crouching behind the wagon slung a smoking vial of acid his way. He sidestepped neatly, tutting like a school marm at a rowdy bunch of youngsters.

"Where are your manners? You haven't even allowed me to introduce myself."

"Who the fuck cares! Fire his way! Don't stop!"

Astarion dodged another arrow, then danced around a volley of bolts laden with an ice enchantment.

Was he -

Yes. Yes, he was giggling.

"Gentlemen, not all at once! Please. My sore little body can't take any more."

In spite of herself, Shadowheart's mouth was twitching. You groaned internally. If you used a spell to speak to the dead that littered the camp, you swore that they'd all sit upright screaming about sexual harassment.

The leader of the bandits seemed to be growing more and more enraged with every one of the insouciant vampire's taunts.

"Who in the fucking blazes are you?"

Astarion came to a dramatic halt, arms spread wide, eyes positively shining.

"Oh darling, I'm so glad you asked. They call me Two Hand 'Starion, and these lovely ladies are Swift and Sorrow."

The crossbows appeared like lightning in his hands, twirling, dropping, leveling. His voice lowered an octave, suddenly lethal.

"Now watch closely, or you'll miss the show entirely."

So saying, he vanished once again. And that was your cue.

"Now!"

Lae'zel leapt from the bushes with a roar that startled the bandits so badly that one of them promptly wet himself. Her sword carved a swathe through your hapless opponents, brushing off cuts and blows as if they were mere insect bites.

From the shadows, Astarion's gleeful shriek of laughter sounded.

"Mother, scold her! She isn't leaving any for me!"

Bolts carrying necrotic blasts and purple flame speared from every angle, miraculously bypassing your party to pierce the flesh of the bandits. One of them made a run for it, towards the entrance of the vault, only to have two explosive bolts fired directly into his buttocks.

"Naughty! No dine and dash allowed!"

Clutching at his backside, the unfortunate man screamed in agony as - well, imagination can fill in a fair few blanks.

The leader chose this moment to launch himself at Astarion, where he was now visible on a small incline above the camp.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

The greataxe came down on a shimmering illusion and Shadowheart smirked, waving away the remnants with a flat motion of her palm. The brawny man spun on his heel, eyes bulging, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Where are you?"

"Right here, sweetcheeks."

The words were a venomous hiss, the blades punching upwards, through the leader's ribcage with the speed of a striking cobra. Astarion slid away across the scorched earth, and came to a halt at Lae'zel's side, watching with dark satisfaction as the drow poison with which he'd coated his swords went to work.

Axe clattering to the ground, the captain of the bandits fell. 

The stragglers who'd managed to survive this far either made a break for it, or surrendered in abject terror. You sheathed your blade. Honestly speaking, you'd barely had cause to use it.

Beside the fire, Lae'zel turned to Astarion with a sharp smile and slapped him rather hard across the shoulders.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Elf. I may just allow you to lick the sweat of battle from my skin after all."

"Oh, how delightful. I can hardly wait."

In spite of his grimace, you could see that Astarion was secretly pleased. He preened as Shadowheart complimented him on his crossbow skills and then his eyes turned hesitantly in your direction.

You cleared your throat.

"Well. Looks like Starblazer's made a name for himself."

"Oh Gods, you know I never agreed to be called that."

A smile curves your cheek, warm and genuine. Well, as much as it could be surrounded by present carnage.

"I think that we should leave the monikers up to the bards. After all, they'll be singing your story far and wide for years to come."

Astarion looked flustered, patting at his hair. The action seemed a little incongruous, considering that he'd almost single-handedly leveled an entire bandit base.

"You think so?"

"Yes. Now let's get back to camp. The vault can wait. We need to celebrate your ... considerable skills."

And thus the dark legend of Two Hand 'Starion, Master of Swift Death and Silent Sorrow, The Poison Tempest, Harbinger of the Sore Bottom, (and in some circles, Nasty Asty) was born.

Your own role in his much needed healing and self-discovery was not often spoken of, but that was something you didn't mind in the slightest. He remained at your side by his own choice, and that was all you really wanted.

The evolution of his skill was something you embraced fully. After all, change often comes like a bolt from the blue, or, in this case, with the roll of the dice in the hand of an unknown God.

[batsplat]

February 2014 (text from Mat Oxley's The Valentino Rossi Files: Everything I've ever written about VR: From 2008 to now):

During the winter the nine-time champ spent more time than usual thrashing round his dirt track ranch, keeping himself mentally and physically sharp and getting used to a motorcycle moving around beneath him. He knows that Marc Marquez’s ability to ride on the ragged edge with a more muscular, more sideways style is changing MotoGP, so he needs to change with it. Rossi may never look as spectacular as Marquez on a dirt bike or a MotoGP bike, but both his former and current crew chiefs believe he can do better than he did last year, when Marquez made him look rather second rate.

Rossi on inviting Marquez to the ranch:

"Yeah, for sure, a lot of time. But I think that Emilio [Alzamora, Marquez's manager] is not very happy that Marc come because he said that after we make a race and maybe it's dangerous." (x)

A Sideways Glance at Misano 2014, including pre-event karting on Wednesday night where Marquez reportedly struggled:

Misano 2014 (text from Mat Oxley's Valentino Rossi: All His Races):

^ Márquez won the first ten races of 2014 and this was the first time all year he was beaten in a straight duel. He couldn't handle Rossi's pace at Misano, so he ended up losing the front and falling.

Valentino was fast throughout practice and secured his first front-row start of 2014. [Rossi was asked after qualifying about the threat posed by Marquez and Lorenzo, identifying Lorenzo as the favourite before adding, "But you never know with Marc. He's a bastard."] In the race he rode better than in years, hanging his upper body inside the motorcycle more than ever before to increase turning. He snatched the lead from Lorenzo and then fended off Márquez, who struggled to find enough grip to match Vale. At one-third distance the world champion pushed it too far and slid off, so Vale cruised home 1.6 second ahead of Lorenzo. His crew had done a great job of creating maximum grip via adjustment to chassis balance and electronics set-up. His 107th GP victory showed he was once again as fast as anyone, because when he won at Assen 2013 he didn't have to beat Márquez, Lorenzo or Pedrosa, who were all injured. "It's fantastic to come back to victory again," he beamed after his first win with [new crew chief Silvano] Galbusera. "I knew we could fight and I pushed from the start. I always work hard and never give up and trust that days like this can happen."

^ The breakthrough win at Misano. For the first time since his return to Yamaha he had gone head-to-head with Jorge Lorenzo and Marc Márquez and beaten them both. From this moment another world title was a possibility.

(x for more details)

Aragon 2014 press conference:

Rossi: Revenge at the ranch! No, first of all, we enjoy a lot, because have a lot of riders and also from superbike and a lot of bike on the track and was a good day, yeah. Marc was very fast, already fast like me at the first time, as always, and I think he did the best lap time but I won the race so is 1-1, so is... come si dice, pareggio pareggio [tied]. Marquez: Yeah, yeah, was really nice, you know, I was really [impressed] to see his circuit, his home, because in the future I would like to have, because was impressive and riding there was all the riders was really nice and... like Valentino says, we were there fighting together like in Misano race more or less, but yeah... the important thing is that we enjoy it and was really nice to ride there with him and also with the other riders.

Valentino Rossi, Marc Marquez and the Ranch

[affricative-collective]

January 9th.

You slept unusually well today. That's a good sign, right?

"Good morning, love! Your breakfast's already done, don't worry! I wouldn't want you to get tired before going to work…"

The food's good too. How nice of them.

…

"So, mx. Thompson, about your promotion… The higher-ups must really like you, because you've got it!"

You can't believe what you're hearing, this might be the best day of your life so far!

…

Tired yet happy, you come back home. As you fall asleep, you can't help but wonder what more the future holds for you…

January… 9th?

"Good morning, love! Your breakfast's already done, don't worry! I wouldn't want you to get tired before going to work…"

Odd. You feel like you've heard them say it before.

…

"So, mx. Thompson, about your promotion…"

Oh, yeah! You were really lucky to get it, weren't you?

"You… already knew? I told Sam to keep it a secret!"

Something is definitely wrong.

…January 9th.

"Good morning, love! Your breakfast's already done, don't worry! I wouldn't want you to get tired before going to work…"

You've definitely heard this before. Is someone messing with you?

…

"So, mx. Thompson, about your promotion…"

Okay, no. This has to be a prank. Where are the cameras?

"Cameras…? What are you talking about?"

She's recording you, isn't she? This isn't funny anymore.

"Is- is everything okay? …Here, just go home. I'll tell the boss."

January 9th.

Okay. Deep breaths. How do you exit the loop?

January 9th.

It didn't work.

January 9th.

It didn't WORK.

January 9th.

WHY ISN'T IT WORKING?

January 9th.

…fine. let's see if it stops by itself, then.

January 9th. January 9th. January 9th. January 9th.

It won't work. But there has to be SOME way to exit, right?

January 9th. January 9th. January 9th. January 9th.

Maybe there is no exit. Maybe… maybe the only way out is…

"WHAT THE FUCK‽"

"DID THEY JUST JUMP OUT? WHAT DO WE DO?"

January 9th.

That wasn't it either. Of course it wasn't.

"Good morning, love! Your—"

Breakfast. Right.

January 9th.

"How did you know?"

January 9th.

"Why did you do that?"

January 9th.

"Good morning, love!"

January 9th.

Interesting, isn't it?

January 9th.

Every time you roll a dice, the same numbers come up.

January 9th.

Every time someone talks to you, they say the same thing.

January 9th.

Like computer programs. You put in an input, and get out an output.

January 9th.

You just gotta figure out what the right output is.

January 9th… January 9th… January 9th… January 9th…

"Good morning, love!"

Your breakfast's already done, don't worry. They wouldn't want you to get tired before you go to work.

January 9th… January 9th… January 9th… January 9th…

"So, mx. Thompson, about your promotion…"

The higher ups must really like you, because you've got it.

January 9th.

How much time would it have been? Years, decades?

It doesn't really matter.

January 9th.

Why are you doing this again…? Just to see what will happen?

January 9th.

No. It's to find an exit.

January 9th.

But there is no exit.

January 9th.

There are only loops, after loops, after loops…

January 9th, January 9th, January 9th, January 9th.

January 9th, January 9th, January 9th, January 9th.

January 9th, January 9th, January 9th, January 9th.

January 9th, January 9th, January 9th, January 9th.

January 9th, January 9th, January 9th, January 9th.

…something changed.

January 10th 9TH.

"Honey… Why were you acting like that yesterday?"

"Good morning, love! Your breakfast's already done, don't worry!"

"Hey, are you listening to me? Don't walk away like that!"

"I wouldn't want you to get tired before going to work…"

January 13th 9TH!

"I'm just… really worried about them."

"Good morning, love! Your breakfast's already done, don't worry!"

January 16th 9TH!!

…This loop is a lost cause. You should skip to the next one.

Good thing the window's open. All it takes is one jump…

January 17th.

there is no next one.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Eleven

Parings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 2,728

Rating; 18+ for mature content and swearing

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Notes; It's finally ToF weekend!! I'm posting this a little later than usual since I posted a one-shot today as well. Also, I think I'm going to try and cap out my chapters well before the 7k mark. If I go higher than that, I worried Tumblr will get too laggy and I won't be able to edit the chapter with italics and bold like I usually do. I'll also be making a main masterlist soon once I've written some more one-shots. I'll try to work on them in-between ToF and maybe post them during the week, I just got a little too excited today and posted my one-shot instead of waiting until the week 😭 but I have a three day weekend so I'll be able to probably write more in ToF and push past chapter 20!

Now anyways, here's one of my fav chapters

Prev || Next

Masterlist

The little girl leads you to a quaint seeming casino, graffiti covering the buildings next to it and its name shone in multicolour neon lights, “Elysium”. Once you step inside, you notice its lavishly decorated from the red leather chairs that surround a poker table to the fancy lamps and expensive looking art that adorn the walls. “Auntie, an outsider- I mean, a really nice lady is here to buy something!” The kid eagerly skips toward a young woman who was hunched over behind the bar. Under the dim, yellow light, you notice she was fiddling with some cards.

“What do you want?” The woman asks, not even bothering to look up at you. Seems like she didn’t believe you were worth her attention so far. “A list of people who are attending Onychinus’ protocore auction and a map of the venue. How much?” You ask as you walk toward the counter, ruffling the little girl’s head as you step past her. This finally makes the woman face you, and she looks you up and down with interest, then makes a gesture with her hand, “Fifty thousand.” Yeesh. Expensive much? “Just for two pieces of intel?” You question with a raised brow as you sit down at the bar. She wags her finger as she tilts her head to the side, “Fifty thousand per word.”

“I..” You trail off, unsure if it's even worth it at this point. “Since you’re new and pretty, I’ll give you a 5% discount. What do you think?” The lady offers before the little girl speaks up, “Make it 10%.” When the lady looks at her in confusion, the little girl smiles up at her, “She bought a flower for five more than I asked for. Please, auntie?” “Thanks, sweetie.” You look back down at the little girl, petting her head once more, “She’s really sweet. Is she your…?” The woman sighs and shakes her head, “An orphan we’re watching over. Any other questions will require a payment.” “Even if it’s your names?” You know fraternizing won’t be enough to get an even bigger deal, but you’d still like to know their names. They don’t seem like bad people. “Just call me Violet and her Lily.” She says and you assume its code names. Or maybe not. More flowers though. You wonder what the N109 Zone’s obsession with flowers is. Violet meant watchfulness, and Lily meant innocent and pure.

After this, Violet glances over at the door to her right, sighing before she pushes it open. You could hear chatter mixed with the sound of rolling dice, spinning roulettes, and card shufflers. “You also going to Solon Hotel tomorrow? Do you have an auction invitation?” You can hear a female customer say, and then you hear a male customer reply, “Doesn’t matter if I get one or not. For something as big as this, you gotta try and get a piece of the pie, right? I heard there’s going to be a treasure. If you manage to get it, you could easily sell it for hundreds of thousands!” “Do you want to go? Then ask Sylus! I heard if you give him what he wants-” “Only if I can find Sylus in Onychinus. Haven’t you heard? While he was away, big changes happened in their ranks…” You’re unsure if you should be hearing this since you’re not exactly paying for it, but that does explain why it seemed like no one lived in that house you were in for a really long time. You strain your ears to listen to more of their conversation, but that’s when Violet closes the door.

“Did you hear them? Now, you should understand why “these two pieces of intel” are so expensive. I’m sorry, kid. I can’t just give this kind of information away for dirt cheap, especially when it’s about one of the N109 Zone’s big shots.” “What if I want information about Onychinus?” You ask nonchalantly and she freezes for a moment before leaning in the whisper in your ear, “Missy, don’t pry into things you shouldn’t know. I still got business to take care of .” You let out a sigh and nod your head, “Alright, I understand. Thanks for letting me know, Violet.” It makes sense. If she tells you something too secret, then it could lead to her losing her job or even her life. You can’t fault her for trying to be careful. You turn back to Lily, playing around with her for a bit as you listen in on the other customers' conversations.

“...Sylus hasn’t been around for a long time. Do you think he really went missing?” One man asks and the other shrugs, “Maybe he’s dead. Didn’t you see how arrogant Sherman’s punks have been lately? If Sylus was with Onychinus, they wouldn’t even dare to be so bold.”

You rest your chin on your palm, listening to the rumble of the spinning roulette and then the sound of cheers and screams. Someone must’ve won big, it seems. You sip on the drink you got from Violet at the bar, trying to appear like a normal patron as you eavesdrop on the conversations happening all around you. It seems Onychinus has been having some internal issues lately…and if Sylus hasn’t been seen around lately, how come you’ve seen so much of him? Recalling his pompous and contemptuous face has you chuckling to yourself. You can’t believe you almost miss him. If he had died, he would’ve dragged the entire N109 Zone down to hell with him. That’s just how he is.

“Miss, I have another flower. It’s for you!” You hear Lily’s voice before you see her. “Oh sweetie…” You hold back a pout of endearment as you notice how she’s on her tiptoes, trying to lean against the bar to reach you. She holds a black flower in both of her tiny hands, a black Calla lily, which was a symbol of rebirth and the beginning of a transformative journey. A fitting flower indeed. You take the flower from her, putting it behind your other ear, and smile at her, “Do I need to pay you for this one too?” “Nope! I gave it to you just because I wanted to.” She giggles before you decide to ask a few questions, “Did you grow up here? Does everyone know Sylus?” “Oh yeah! He’s a monster with huge wings that never dies. And- And, he has horns! If I don’t listen to Auntie, Sylus will find me and feed me to his man eating birdie.” The way Lily spoke was so animated, it was almost cute. She seems like just a regular child despite growing up in the N109 Zone.

It seems like everyone is afraid of Sylus and yet, they keep trying to make deals with him. Kind of like how people are afraid of demons but still try to make deals with them in movies…Though, Sylus did take the initiative to propose a deal with you. Maybe your evol can be used as a valuable tool against him- at least to guarantee your survival. You’re suddenly ripped from your thoughts as the familiar sound of gunfire fills the once cheery, lively room. You flinch, immediately moving your hands to cover Lily’s ears rather than your own. You quickly turn your head toward the entrance of the casino. “We got a party tonight.” One of the men rasps out, gun muzzle billowing out smoke. The door, which they kicked down, falls to the ground with a loud thud, the bolts on it useless and broken as a pair of leather boots steps on top of the wooden door. “Don’t be nervous. Onychinus’ important guest got lost. I’d like to ask everyone to cooperate with our search.” You can quickly notice that this man isn’t working with Sylus- even if this man is from Onychinus. He seems much like a snake, his voice dripping with venom.

Another person with a pair of sunglasses walks in. He’s flanked by half a dozen gun-toting men dressed in black. The sound of guns being loaded with bullets can be heard before you hear the guns being cocked as if threatening the patrons to try anything stupid. “Block the door and search the room. Everyone’s about to be entertained.” The same man, let's call him Snake for the sake of telling them all apart, says.

Gunfire and the sound of tables and chairs getting knocked over intermingle with N109 Zone slang that you don’t understand. In the hidden utility room, you hug Lily tightly as you look out the secret window that’s facing the lobby. “Ooh, there’s so many people. Today’s a good day for bus- mmph!” You quickly cover Lily’s mouth with a panicked whisper, “Do you have a death wish? Hide and don’t speak.” You add a “please” shortly after that, feeling like you’re being a tad bit harsh but it seems like she doesn’t even realize the danger you’re both in at the moment. The lobby floor is soaked in blood, and the mice hiding under the floorboards scamper away in fear. How you wished you were a mouse right now. Whistling, Snake casually strolls over to the bar, rings the bell, and then shoves a photo in front of Violet.

“I suggest you bring out our guest. Mr. Sherman’s not going to sit around and leave her unattended.” He says to her and one of your hands clenches into a fist, wanting to just give yourself up to protect the two people you had just met but you pause for a moment to think logically. Sylus is the leader of Onychinus, so why were these people acting as if Mr. Sherman was the leader instead? This Sherman guy doesn’t seem like shit, considering he didn’t even come out to get his ‘guest’, unlike how Sylus came to personally get you. “I’m sorry, she’s not here. I’d remember a pretty face if she actually showed up.” You can see Violet shrug from the secret window and now you’re starting to feel really bad. Even if she’s protecting you with a motive in mind, you still wanted to keep her and Lily safe. “Gonna keep your mouth shut? Fine.” Snake scoffs and turns to face his comrades. His broken, wire-bound jaw opens as he lets out a hoarse cackle, “Pry open their mouths one at a time. Someone will spill the beans sooner or later.”

“Missy, they’re looking for you, right?” Violet whispers, knowing that you and Lily were hiding in the secret room. “Are you going to hand me over to them?” You ask with baited breath, really hoping she wouldn’t just give you up. You tried to sound calm but inside, your thoughts were racing. All of this had almost made you completely forget that you were in a game; well, this was your life now, apparently, and you were in danger from here on out. Your free hand tightly clutches the tranquilizer in your sleeve, ready to stab Snake with it and pretend that it was a poison and you had the antidote for it as long as they let you go. That being said, you haven’t tested this thing that Xavier claimed could “paralyze an elephant” since there were no zoos in the N109 Zone…”Anyone who’s Onychinus’ target is valuable. I can get a better price if I find the right person,” Violet finally responds to you with a small shrug. A smile tugs at your lips as you shake your head, unsure if she was saying this as a front or if that was her true feelings.”Stay where you are. I don’t want to hand you over like this.” Violet says, firm on her decision to not give you up. Either way, even if she sold you to someone else, you wouldn’t be upset with her. You realize this is how people survive in the N109 Zone.

Suddenly, a crow soars in and dives toward the search party’s leader, its razor-sharp wings aimed at him. “What is that!?” You hear Snake yell out and you take this as your chance to escape- be it a dumb idea but still, it’s worth a shot. You roll and crawl out of the utility room. As you try to sneak away quietly, someone yanks you by the collar of your shirt. You panic, trying to scramble away from the person and you turn around to aim your gun.

Though you pause, noticing a familiar face in the shadows, his chin slightly raised. “So when someone saves you, do you always point your gun at them to express your gratitude?” Sylus. Several bullets grazed him only to dissipate into dust. The people who fired the shots are promptly strangled by something and they slump to the ground, dead. “Your underlings aren’t exactly obedient..” You comment, suddenly being reminded of the fact that this Mr. Sherman guy thinks he’s the leader of Onychinus for some reason. Sylu’s mouth twitches at your mockery as if he wants to say something but in the end, he just purses his lips, “Focus on yourself first.” At the sound of Sylus’ voice, Snake suddenly begins to panic and tries to leave, but a cloud of energy particles gathers around him…Several wanderers quickly materialize. Roaring, they rush straight for us.

“Are they calling for backup because they can’t win? How is this not cheating?” You scoff, brows knitted together in annoyance before Sylus grabs your wrist and holds you in his arms. “What-” He slides his finger over the trigger of your gun, aiming the weapon at the figure in the center of the room. “Do you expect people from the N109 Zone to be nice and polite?” Actually…Yes, yes you do. Violet and Lily were nice enough. “I see you made a few friends while I was gone,” Sylus comments, noticing the two different flowers tucked behind either of your ears and plucks the forget-me-not, rolling the stem between his two fingers. He tucks the flower behind his ear with a small murmur under his breath, “A fitting flower..” But before you can have a chance to ask what he means, Sylus swings your body around, taking shots at every wanderer charging toward you both.

The room is a complete mess with broken objects and overturned tables and chairs strewn about. Wanderers keep appearing one after another and you fall back to the window, thinking about how likely you both could make a run for it. “We can’t wipe them out…Our only option is to retreat,” You say between breaths as you try to get your breathing under control. “Do you really believe “retreat” is a word in my dictionary?” Sylus asks with a raised brow. While you’re anxious and tired, Sylus is infuriatingly calm and smug. “Ohhh, so you like being a freeloader, Mr. Sylus?” You raise a brow, waving your gun around with an annoyed sigh, “Didn’t you see me fighting for my life earlier?”

“Since when was I required to investigate the files the Hunters Association had on you?” The white haired man looks down at his hand to pick at imaginary dust under his nails before continuing, “Consider this training practice. Get ready.” Sylus ignores your protests and grabs your hand to aim your gun at the switch box on the wall. “You won’t get any help.”

A gun is fired and the lights go out. Then, Sylus quickly vanishes. You stand there for a moment in silence, blinking a few times before you realize you’ve been left behind again. Curses spill from your lips and you run a hand through your hair. “Are you fucking serious?” You groan under your breath and suddenly you hear Sylus’ voice once more. “Let’s make a deal.” You suddenly turn around and notice he’s behind you once more. “Aren’t you going to leave? I can’t resonate with you.” You were getting more annoyed by the second, but Sylus continues, “If you’d like to attend the auction tomorrow, stand your ground for five minutes.” He steps closer to you, leaning his head down to whisper in your head, “And should you have the audacity to die on me-” He lifts his hand and puts a communicator in your ear. Then he speaks in a surprisingly gentle tone, “You actually will meet your end.”

It's really short today, especially considering I just wrote 12k for a one-shot, but what can ya do 🤷🏻‍♀️ I'll more than likely post chapter twelve way later on today or even tomorrow...and I also might post chapter thirteen. I'm not very good at keeping a strict schedule. I like to be spontaneous 😎 ...sometimes. but yeah, more flower language. The black Calla Lilly was a big game changer since it's meaning actually fits mc in every way, shape, and form. It's honestly insane.

I also gave the shopkeeper and her charge names since I didn't want to write "she" and it get confusing. That's also why I specifically named Snake. But also! I named the two after flowers, because I read a manwha where there was a group of sex workers all named after flowers and they had a little girl with them who was also named after a flower. Their village was being raided and they all protected the little girl until they died, and the little girl was taken in the be a fake crown princess– but yeah, basically I thought flower code names and run-down, shady areas go well together!

Taglist: @orphicmeliora, @yoongi-tunes, @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[riacte]

subjective + critical (NOT CRITICISM) wild life thoughts (no spoilers for winner, spoilers for finale gimmick)

Sorry for being back again. Anyways after watching Wild Life, I came to the conclusion that it's very... Grian. THIS IS NOT A BAD THING. In a way, it's always been very Grian (understandably so because it's his server and he picks the cast)— server wide event that gives everyone an opportunity to be involved, mechanics that toss you around haphazardly, random factor for funsies— I've watched Grian's minigames since HC6 Tag, Demise, etc, and there's a Grian-ness that I can't explain but I feel and recognise with my soul. This isn't Grian crit, I respect him massively for coming up with engaging gimmicks, I loved Demise 1, he definitely changed the scene of Hermitcraft 6, etc.

I previously talked about the experimental nature of Life series and how the emotional investment in Third Life was somewhat unintended. Wild Life is an experiment that's giving the expected results of Third Life— Grian-esque experimental gameshow about hanging out with friends and reacting to insane shit flung at you. The finale gimmick is all of the wild cards (seemingly individually chosen because of fun factor, no wider theme that connects them) together at the same time. It's fun! It's dramatic! It... doesn't have to have a deeper meaning!

Then comes the fandom's Swiftie tendency to connect everything (it's me, I'm the Swiftie), which is an inevitable and fun part of engaging with media. Famously, the LimLife winner symbolism debate. Coincidentally, the first three winners fit into celestial symbols, but it starts to fall apart with Martyn. But we love connecting stuff and making up symbols/blessings/curses, so we stuff Martyn and the following winners in anyway to honour them.

But there comes a point in which hyperanalysing everything sometimes feels like a stretch. This is a natural part of the life cycle I suppose. You can't recatch the lightning of 3L in a bottle, much like how All Stars Blue Bats doesn't hit the same as MCC9 Blue Bats. Wild Life is perfectly entertaining on its own, but to me it feels weird that it's tacked onto the Life series, like it's an afterthought. It has all of the cast so far, we get a lot of nostalgia bait, existing duos, but... it personally, subjectively doesn't feel like The Life Series TM. Like, it sure is A Sequel and Continuation of the plot but it feels like a Beach Episode. It's fun to watch! And... yeah!

And then you start to think. So maybe it's us who've been assigning a lot of Meaning to the first generations of Life series and now with Wild Life, it's finally reached its intended vibe of Fun Experimental Grian Gameshow. I remember someone said "what you're missing in the OG Life series was never there in the first place" and I see that viewpoint, it was like a collective hallucination. I'm gonna spitball if Wild Life was written by the fandom with attempts to "script coherent themes":

Fixed six sessions, first five gimmicks refer to previous five seasons, sixth sessions is every gimmick all at once

Clear "wild life" theme, which would keep the snails and superpowers probably, add possibly Origins, and cast members are encouraged to play into the theme (like BigB this season)

Dice theme, something about rolling 1-6, ties in with people starting with 6 lives

And we got the Gameshow. Individual gimmicks are quirky but don't seem really tied to each other. And there's nothing wrong with that. Sometimes you just have a bunch of fun ideas and throw them into a pot. But the fandom expects to have something to work with due to the meta starting from 3L. Even if it doesn't fit perfectly, it's fun to make it fit! That's why we do analyses and symbolism! It's the bread and butter of fandom!

This is where I bring up the Life Seriesification of Hermitcraft, which is probably related in ways I cannot fully explain. The Life series isn't just a fun gameshow, it's a JOB. It brings you clout and views and fandom relevance and fandom propaganda which brings you views and income. The Life hermits have generally become a closed circle, with exceptions like Ren who hangs out the most with non-Lifers. The fandom's desire to connect Life series meta becomes so overwhelming that it seeps into non-Life series stuff, prominently HC, and the non-Life hermits start to get sidelined. Okay, it's more like Life series meta is interesting, so your Lifers become more interesting, so you care about them more, so you care about their HC POVs more. It's a weird reinforcing circle. And if you step out of it for a while (Ren), your clout decreases (Ren), and even when you come back, you kind of.... don't get the same level of mainstream attention anymore even though your personal fanbase is going insane (Ren). (BigB also gets sidelined, although that is a different discussion.)

Anyways it Isn't That Deep and the main reason is probably The Novelty/Interest Is Gone. That and the segmentation of the HC fandom, which I am absolutely guilty of. I don't "need" to post or watch popular POVs because I get to know about them through osmosis anyway. So I end up only "caring" about a few POVs.

I am aware this doesn't make a good deal of sense and I'm sorry for being a party pooper of sorts. This is not criticism, just trying to analyse it through a critical lens.

Life series can keep on being a gameshow. It can be whatever it likes at this point. I'm just sick of it invading Hermitcraft fandom and tilting the balance overwhelmingly in favour of the Life hermits. It's suffocating.

Final reminder to myself, but replace "yourselves" with "Life series fandom":

[sixthwater]

Hello! I will be doing some short pick a card's to help see if I'm the reader for you! Today we'll be doing a personality reading with my astrology oracle cards. Let's go!

Left → Right / Pile 1 → Pile 4)

Decks Used: The Arcana or Astrology, Astrological Oracle Cards, claves astrologicae, astrological dice

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Pile One

Cards: Pallas Athena, Eighth House, Eleventh House, Fourth House, Cancer, Pluto Rx, Sun, First House, Solar Eclipse, Virgo, Capricorn, Eighth, Saturn

So far I’m not really getting *you*, I feel nothing. Not in a bad way, but everything is about other people. Which is funny because I have a video I haven’t started yet about how a character’s transformation throughout a series is through his relationships, which I think is what you offer to others. It’s not a subconscious thing, it feels as if you actively seek to help people or point out issues within relationships or people so they can fix them. You value bonds and community and you like things to be even. However this isn’t just you so let’s dig a bit deeper.

Ah I was just thinking ‘they probably really need to feel comfortable’ just as Cancer flew out. Mmm you might have fourth house placements not necessarily Cancer ones, but it’s just more about being easily...frazzled? Oh you’re difficult to explain lol. It’s not that you’re easily frazzled because you can confront/spot these issues within others and it’s not simple things like ‘oh well did you talk to them’, it’s usually deep wounds that long conversations unearth. However at the same time you’re very simple and a bit introverted? This introversion is mainly because you feel more comfortable around people you know or in places you’re familiar with, but you also make people around you feel comfortable enough to be that vulnerable. I’m doing it again- did you. Pick Pile 2 from my pac fooreeeveerr ago when I couldn’t even focus on you - for what makes you attractive. A lot of your personality is like a guiding light, which is a bit annoying because that’s not really describing you it’s about your effect on others you know. So what I can get from that is...you might hold a lot of stuff in. With Pluto coming out in reverse, because I always take my oracles upright, it feels like struggling to deal with that energy on your own. However you have all of this glowing energy to welcome others so that they can be loved and comforted even though you can’t do that for yourself.

Solar! Oh, are you one of my cardinal siblings?! I would guess signs but whenever I pull this section they never match hehe, but I did guess maybe a Cancer Rising, however that doesn’t add up — I’m rambling. Understanding why I took Perfectionist, you sometimes present yourself as someone who needs to always seem okay. I don’t think it’s physically? It’s more like that Virgo cringe of being wrong or making mistakes or like. Existing, let’s be real lmao. However you are very open to new phases in your thinking or view of the world — which does remind me of when people do room makeovers. Changing their aesthetic for something else? It’s like you sometimes do that with who you are (forgiving of your core values). As I said, this section tends to be people’s view which can sometimes conflict with the first pull, but in this case it can match up because the Eleventh can speak to group integration and the Eighth can be constant transformation, just not in the way people seem to think.

Okay with your last roll you have to have some Cardinal dominance with Eighth house placements lmao, happy Solar Eclipse! Really the only thing to add is that you might be a bit restrictive with how you express/present yourself? As in you overthink or you feel like you’re not allowed to do certain things because you didn’t suffer enough for it? Unfortunately problems and emotions will always present themselves regardless of your status, you don’t have to be at a certain level to be frustrated, it’s okay. Also you feel a bit goofy, I hope you’re allowed to let that side out enough.

Songs: Friends – Flight of the Conchords, Girls & Boys – Good Charlotte, Perfectionist – Flash Forward, Drew Barrymore – SZA

Pile Two

Cards: Twelfth House, Hygeia, Last Quarter Moon, Sixth House, Sun, Venus, Jupiter, First Quarter, Seventh House, Uranus, Aries, Eleventh, North Node

Oh? Well, as a side note the cards came out without issue, so there’s a feeling that you know yourself quite well. More than you might realize because I feel like you...there’s a feeling of you making adjustments for yourself without realizing. There’s a house opposition but it feels like it’s working well so far here. In tune with your body and soul, so when something feels off or you’re feeling sluggish, you make adjustments to one portion of your life and you’ll be feeling a bit better the next week. There’s also a pretty forward quality here about you, you don’t pretend to be anything you’re not and you’re down to earth. This first pull can also point to a healing quality about you — the dynamic of the 6th & 12th can usually have someone who ends up working for charities or having a natural ability to help others in some form underneath their daily routine.

I already had a feeling this pile was something else. I don’t know there is a very relaxed energy about your. Even while listening to your first song, it still felt more calm despite the meaning of the song? Considering these are Benefics and The Sun, it’s like you do your best to always look on the bright side of things. I mean yes this can point to overindulging and running away from issues, especially since we got the Twelfth, but I’m feeling more tranquil and like...happy. I’m not getting negativity. So it’s just minding your business and trying to live a peaceful life. Also lowkey spiritual/philosophical, always looking for more.

Not surprised by these cards. Due to your actual energy, you seem very harmonious and pleasant to be around. However looking at these songs I’m getting it’s clear that you’ve experienced connections/situations that weren’t so pleasant. As I mentioned before, you’re someone who prefers to live a happy life, you don’t want to stay in negative places. It’s reflected in these cards that you’re very determined to move on and live the life that you want. From the perspective that you might’ve just had the worst thing happen to you and you’ve moved on next week, it can seem a bit perplexing to others haha.

Oh! That’s interesting. There is that peaceful energy to you, but due to what you experienced you want to protect others. Not in a sacrificial way, but you want to implement change. You’re not someone who wants to sit around and wait to protect after the incident has occurred. Very passionate, possible leader material, and so much care to those around you and the community that you could foster. I absolutely love your energy.

Songs: Best of You – Foo Fighters, When the Day Met the Night – Panic! At the Disco, Demons – Imagine Dragons, Awake and Alive – Skillet

Pile Three

Cards: Virgo, Sun, Taurus, Hygeia, Sagittarius, Pisces, Cancer Rx

I keep being drawn into the hole on the Sun card. I’m getting nothing else, so I think right now there is some healing that needs to be done to the ego — or identity. To piece this together, it’s like someone is being too self-critical of who they are, and to solve this they need to implement self care because I also got that. That could just be parts of the personality but I’m getting. Nothing. Let me see.

Oh my god I can’t read any of this literally. Sag-Pisces makes me think of Jupiter influence, and could point to avoidance for this particular reason. It feels like being asked what to drink, not knowing what to choose so asking to try everything. Everything feels very flimsy, so either I have a lot of people within this pile or we just need to work on who we are at our core a bit longer which is just what happens in life. Cancer being in reversed is also important, because I never take my oracles that way unless they fly out as such. This signifies a lack of nurturing in some sort. Or the emotions are being pushed to the side. Ego can’t survive without emotion — it’s just a paper bag at that point. It feels more like trying to fit into another archetype or be someone that you’re not? Like following trends as an example. I’m pulling advice for you, one second.

Energy to Embrace: Whale, Oyster, Peacock

Yeah, you have to embrace your own qualities and put them back out into the world. All of these cards show that there has been some damage done, so I can understand that there is some insecurity or fear in doing that, but masking as someone else is not the answer and it’s causing more internal confusion/damage. You have gifts that the world should see. Everyone does. We each have something that no one else can offer, which is why we’re here. Don’t water yourself down just because someone else believes you deserve to be. Work on yourself bit by bit and I hope next time I can see this pile glowing.

**As I was finishing up I realized the first song could be from another point of view towards you and you're the second song, but that might only resonate for a few people**

Songs: Oogie Boogie's Song — Ed Ivory and Ken Page, Read Your Mind – Tayla Parx

Pile Four

Cards: Venus, First Quarter Moon, Cancer, Eros, Libra, Gemini, Cancer, Third House, Seventh House, Virgo, Second, Sagittarius, Uranus

Enjoying the finer things in life and all of it’s pleasures. I’m not really feeling an intense energy besides you starting off with a Britney song but it feels more like...hidden intensity. When pushed you’ll bite back. Besides that pretty calm? You know your worth and you’ve very giving to others. Can be a bit infatuated with the idea of love, but I don’t think it’s too unrealistic or imbalanced. You’re very peaceful but also determined to achieve your goals.

Not all my favorite signs??? So you definitely enjoy interacting with others, definitely flirting with and annoying people as well. I’m still getting a really chill energy despite having these signs hit the table haha. I think you’re pretty sweet, enjoy giving your time to others and would appreciate the same back *most* of the time. You can be sensitive to the energy around you considering we got both Venus and Eros before. I can see the messiness from here but I will look away because it’s funny.

Yeah, relationships are pretty important to you. Doesn’t have to be romantic, just making the connection with others puts a smile on your face. You could also be seen as someone who is really easy to get along with. Another thing is you might be known in your community? Like local, not a big name. I’m not sure why it shot out with that, but 3rd is giving me that your parents talk a lot or they’re very involved, therefore people end up knowing you. You could also be very dedicated to what you do? Maybe not a perfectionist but you take your job or craft seriously? So you could be seen as very intelligent or very gifted due to your ‘spotless’ record haha.

Okay also maybe a bit of a smart-ass because the second I said ‘what the hell is this’ I got the last song — which is basically ‘I do whatever I want’. I don’t think that’s your dominant personality, but as I said before there are times where people test you or think lowly of you and that’s when it comes out. Like ‘ah they’re too spineless to do that’ and then you do it to prove them wrong or just piss them off honestly. With the second house I don’t think it’s money that’s a concern, but more like that items that you have, or the clothes. It’s like how you’re seen and present yourself, which can be counted as valuables because they reflect you. Sagittarius and Uranus are both outspoken and well, you want to make sure you’re noticed sometimes.

Songs: Piece of Me – Britney Spears, OT – John K, Speak — DBMK, ^_^ – CHANMINA

[morlock-holmes]

On Autism and Masking

So, for I want to do an exercise for those who aren’t on the autism spectrum:

I want you to think about a subject in school that you didn’t understand very well, it could be math, it could be history, could be a foreign language, just any subject where you struggled and had a hard time grasping the basics, where it took a little more work than usual to actually figure things out.

Imagine that you are learning this subject in school, and the teacher, well, let’s say he isn’t a very nice person.

Let’s say that when he calls on you to give the answer, he relentlessly mocks you in front of the whole class when you get it wrong. In fact, he doesn’t just do this when you get an answer wrong, sometimes he’ll hold up your homework and mock your wrong answers in front of the whole class.

Not only that, but sometimes he’s physically abusive, sometimes when you get an answer wrong he’ll throw an eraser at your head or hit your knuckles with a ruler.

And, occasionally, just to mix things up, he’ll sometimes just correct your mistakes in a matter of fact way and move on.

You can’t really tell which mistakes cause him to fly into a physically violent rage and which ones merit gentle correction; if there’s a pattern there you can’t figure it out, it seems completely random.

Maybe, unfortunately, this isn’t too far from how some of you were actually taught.

How might you react to this? Perhaps by keeping your head down, sitting in the back of the class, and desperately hoping not to get noticed? Or maybe erratic and sudden acts of physical and verbal defiance? Keep in mind all the other school officials are quite certain that this teacher isn’t doing anything unexpected or unusual, and really, if you aren’t applying yourself to learning the material, you can’t really expect anything different.

How do you think you’d feel about this subject as an adult? Perhaps you might sort of put it out of your mind as much as possible, avoid that subject as an adult and sort of put on a mask of placid ignorance whenever the subject comes up in conversation?

This is how a tremendous number of us autistic people had to learn social interaction as children.

People on the autism spectrum are often at their most rigid and inflexible as children, which is also the time at which the rules of social engagement are simultaneously at their most fluid and most strictly enforced.

For one thing, children are much more prone to enforcing the social order through outright mockery and even physical violence. Sometimes when you talk about your interests it’s fine; I used to talk about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with the other boys and that was just fine. But then they started making fun of me because I also like My Little Pony. I had trouble understanding that, because, like, they’re both cartoons, right?

Exactly because you have a disability in social pattern recognition, it is very hard for you to distinguish between actions which are acceptable, actions which will result in overt mockery, actions which will result in days or months of overt mockery, and actions which will result in physical violence.

It begins to feel like every time you say something spontaneous, you’re rolling the dice, maybe saying this makes it okay to hit me, maybe it doesn’t, won’t know until the person is actually hitting me!

Even worse, when you’re a kid, socially acceptable behavior changes very quickly. One school year everybody is playing with dolls, the next only a dumb baby would ever play with dolls.

So you can’t even take refuge in doing what worked last year or last month; even doing exactly the same behavior that was okay last year might promote mockery or violence if you try it again this year.

In the face of this, it often becomes easier to withdraw from society; the way to keep safe is avoidance and the projection of a kind of placid anonymity.

To this day, despite being subjected to very little violence in the grand scheme of things, there is still a part of me that feels like admitting something openly about how I feel is putting me at risk of violence, and that the people around me will likely think of that violence as justified.

I have seen surprisingly little which focuses explicitly on this aspect of the autistic learning process; often we are not so much taught social interaction as we are, essentially, bullied into it.

I was looking up some definitions of “masking” on autism advocacy web sites and they tend to define it as various ways that autistic people attempt to mimic the actions of allistic people, but I don’t think that’s exactly the case. 

I think in particular that autistic people often develop a variety of strategies aimed at preventing people from noticing or reacting to them.

Again, this is because your formative years often teach you that it is extremely dangerous for people to react to something you have done; you simply don’t know whether or not they will react with mockery or violence; the only safe strategy becomes a kind of withdrawal, an attempt to minimize the amount to which others are reacting to your behavior at all. 

I don’t think that this is really the same process as allistic people use to conform to social expectations, indeed I think it is less an attempt to conform to an understood expectation and more an attempt to avoid doing anything that conceivably could be scrutinized or subject to expectation.

[utilitycaster]

#reblogging for the “see: girlfailure” tag#caus I have opinions on the insular fandom memeification of characters but I don't - as this post highlights - have the words for it#but I keep those to dms caus anytime I or a friend has challenged it in a public space it gets shot down#it reeks of my troubles with the general fear of using the word woman these days and how it's girldinner this girlmath that#also what do you call as intentional character traits vs a flopped dice roll

(via @distant--shadow)

so I agree and this is interesting to me because what always frustrated me about "girlfailure" outside the more general issue of "um, coquette/bimbo/girl dinner/uwu soft divine feminine cottagecore domesticity don't you mean u want to braid her hair is actually TRUER feminism than being the surly woman who loves math and sword fights and hates sewing" and the fact that, as you said, it mostly came from bungled dice rolls and no real intent, is that the same people who call her a girlfailure insist that Imogen is the main character. And like, she kind of is! And yet - and I've said this about Imogen and Laudna in the context of their relationship but I'm going to not include that because I actually don't think that's even relevant, it's about them as individual characters as well - people want them to simultaneously be The Main Character or at least heavily in focus and also never, ever have any agency. Like, they want "capable" to mean that everyone likes you, and not that you are a person who makes hard choices for the better.

Maybe it's because I'm playing Baby's First RPG right now, but the deal with RPGs and I think(?) especially this one, is you must make every choice and it is laden with consequences (not that I as a D&D player, or, you know, a human woman, am unfamiliar with that already) but what drives me nuts about the just a silly guy! girlfailure! she chooses to be good and therefore is good narrative for Imogen, and the "stripped of choice" (another highly repeated turn of phrase) for both her and Laudna is that it's untrue and it means nothing. For all my criticism of What Doesn't Break, Laudna makes choices. I frequently dislike them and wish they had more gravity, but she does make them. She doesn't make every choice - notably, her death and Delilah's presence are huge things that happen to her without her input - but even while barely herself she frequently brushes off Delilah. You can imagine the dialogue trees and the paths she takes, to intervene or not. She decides to renew her pact; she decides to run into the desert. Imogen decides to attack the villagers with lightning to defend Laudna. She decides to leave, she decides to keep burning their rivals in the Twilight Mirror Museum, she decides to tell her mother that she won't join her, she decides not to help assassinate her mother.

Fearne has a wonderful line when she's talking with Chetney after shardgate, in which she explains that she's terrified of making bad choices. Not of being a bad person, but of making the bad choices. And that's the thing. You cannot choose to be good. You cannot choose to be bad. At least not in any general sense. You can, however, make choices that harm people or help them. You constantly must do this. You can stray, or change the type of choices you've made, but they do accumulate to a point, eventually, where it becomes harder and harder to stray. However, the premise of D&D is very much that your character hasn't become locked in, yet. Is Imogen making choices that will be better for other people? If the world rests on her shoulders, is she making better choices for the world?

This is perhaps the core theme of this campaign, dating as far back as Downfall. Aeor made their choice - many, many choices. The gods made theirs. Ludinus kept making his, over, and over. It's particularly resonant among the women of the campaign. Obviously there's Fearne, and I've covered Imogen and Laudna, but going over to the Crown Keepers, Morrigan becomes a paladin in a few short weeks - an immense choice. Fy'ra advises others on what they are going to do. And Opal is where she is now because in one moment she put the crown on her head - and in doing so, ceded further choice in the long run. The deities of both fate and free will in this world are given considerable presence in this story, and both use female pronouns.

Maybe I'm making a mountain of a molehill, but I don't think I am. I really do think people cling to "girlfailure" and act like we're just being meanie haters who don't believe Imogen is good because she can be the central character who has power to change the world and the narrative; or she can be pure and innocent of all wrongdoing. she cannot be both. No one can. And deep down I think the "girlfailure" proponents prefer a useless innocent girl to a powerful woman who sometimes makes choices or does things that hurt other people. So I don't think that one's just harmless meme-ing, and if you want to see Imogen as an exceptionally important part of this narrative I think you have to reject the girlfailure, and anyone saying "oh it's just a joke" is either unthinkingly repeating or is pushing a story where Imogen is just a MacGuffin without agency, and neither is worth, in my opinion, listening to. Someone "stripped of choice" in real life is worth our pity and deserves our assistance but they make for a pretty terrible fantasy protagonist, and it's maddening to see a woman in the center of the story and then to be attacked if you want her to be treated like a person who, as a result of being a key protagonist, holds particular power and isn't just a girlfailure.