#mighty monday tag

[redrawthecolorlessworld]

sparkle on it's amazing mightyyyy mondayyyy!!!! idk im lazy for this one soz

[teganc]

Interview Confessions

Rhea Ripley x reader

A/N: This is my First ever Fic. I hope you like it. I would like to thank @rheas-ripley for this request. Go check out her page. She's great.

Monday Night Raw

Y/n POV

Y/n is walking around Backstage in catering grabbing a few snacks walking around before bumping into her ex Tag team partner and girlfriend Rhea Bloody Ripley. " Y/n watch where your going why don't ya, don't want your little fairy wings to get damaged " She starts laughing as Y/n shakes her head rolling her eyes. " Oh we wouldn't want that Mrs all mighty eradicator who's ego is bigger than Texas " Y/n walks away before being stopped by Cathy Kelly. " Y/n How are ya? " Y/n smiles giggling. " I'm ok what's up Cathy " She smiles giggling. " So The questions on everyone's mind is...What is going on Between you and the Women's World Champion Rhea Bloody Ripley " Y/n sighs shaking her head " Nothing tbh i have nothing but the up most respect for her even with everything that happened...she's doing awesome for herself and I couldn't be prouder " Y/n smiles at the memory of her winning the championship off of Charlotte Flair as Cathy clears her throat bringing Y/n out of her daze as Rhea Walks up " Y/n we need to talk " Y/n scoffs looking at her " what about?...cause after 2 years of absolute silence..I don't think there's anything to talk about " Y/n starts walking away as Rhea grabs her hand. " Roo Please..." Y/n stops looking down tearing up having not hearing that Nickname since the betrayal 2 and a half years ago. " Don't call me that ". Rhea looks at her with tears in her eyes as well. " I'm so sorry that I did what I did and how I ended things..if I can go back in time I would...please Sweet Girl...." Y/n looks at her as Rhea smiles softly. " Let me make things right between us ok? " Y/n looks at Cathy who was smiling and giving her the thumbs up before looking at Rhea and smiling. " Ok...." Rhea smiles picking her up and spinning her around looking into her eyes. " Ready to come home pretty girl ? " Y/n nods kissing her softly. " Let's go home " Cathy and everyone who was backstage started cheering and smiling happy to see " Skies Brutality " Back together off screen and on screen

Thee End

A/N: I would love some feedback. Thanks 😊

[jungkwok]

saturday | movie night | jjk fluff

masterlist | SEVEN

monday | tuesday | wednesday | thursday | friday | saturday | sunday

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pairing: jungkook x y/n tags: husband!jungkook x wife!reader, domestic, fluff <;3 word count: 566 words

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇

“Nothing seems good, I’m not really in the mood for…’ you squint at the TV glaring back at you, “My Mafia half-Werewolf half-Vampire CEO is secretly in love with me?”

“Jesus, even hearing the title makes me shiver.” Jungkook replies, holding a bucket of warm popcorn as he snuggles next to you. “Okay, what about one of those Disney movies you keep gushing about? Like Tangled.”

“Really?” Your eyes light up, surprised that your usually stoic, romance-hating Jungkook would actually bend to your will. “Babe, the only reason why I don’t, well didn’t, like romance movies was because I would just get jealous of the couple on-screen. But now…” Jungkook whispers, leaning closer to your ear as he swings his arm around you, “I’ve got you, don’t I? And we can do whatever the couple does on screen, just better.”

All those days watching from the windows;

All those years outside looking in.

All that time never even knowing

Just how blind I've been…

As Rapunzel and Eugene share a hauntingly beautiful duet, all you can do is look at your husband. As you admire the soft curves of his jaw, and how perfectly his dark curls framed his angelic face, you barely notice that he too, was staring at the love of his life.

“What?” You mumble softly, completely mesmerised by how even the dreamy lights from the TV seemed to put him in the spotlight. “Nothing, princess.” He replies, wearing his signature smile. But this wasn’t the smile that he used in front of flashing lights or cameras– this was the smile of a man, entirely in love with the woman sitting in front of him.

Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight.

Now I'm here, suddenly I see;

Standing here, it's all so clear

I'm where I'm meant to be…

“I guess romance movies aren’t that bad after all.” Jungkook says, turning his attention back to the TV. “Now, why would the stubborn, all-mighty, Jeon Jungkook say that?” You smirk, slightly pleased that for once in your life, you’ve changed your husband’s mind about something.

“Well, they’ve made me realise that you’re the only one for me.” He chuckles, then continues: “Because I can never imagine doing stuff like this,” he gestures to the scene, “with anyone else but you.”

And at last I see the light,

And it's like the fog has lifted…

Your face flushes, thinking just how much redder your face would be if your husband was serenading you on a boat, surrounded by lanterns.

“Guess you really are a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” Jungkook comments, as if he can read your mind and feel your embarrassment.

“Well,” he says, pulling you even closer to him. “We might have to try this someday”, he whispers, planting the softest of kisses on your temple.

And at last I see the light

And it's like the sky is new

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted…

The duet continues, and for the first time in Jungkook’s life, he wasn’t jealous of the pair in front of him– for his own princess was right next to him, safe and sound in his arms.

All at once everything looks different…

“I love you, my Jungkook.” You say, leaning onto his shoulder, perfectly carved to hold your head.

Now that I see you.

“I love you too, my darling.”

[stanathanxoox]

Listen To Them

gif not mine

"don't listen to me, listen to them" - Sebastian Smythe x reader

You and Sebastian were on your way to the coffee shop, you were listening intently to what he was telling you about his new favourite song, when you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. You spin on your heels and turn, seeing your friends from McKinley and Glee club.

“We were headed to the cafe and then headed to the corn maze. Did you want to come and join us?” Marley asks and you look over at Sebastian. This was the first time that you’d gotten to spend with your boyfriend in the last two weeks because of rehearsals for competitions. Mr Schuester and Finn were in the middle of a rut and so that was kind of affecting your progress but you were hoping that today would just be about the two of you.

“Um, I think Sebastian and I-” but Kitty cuts you off 

“Seriously Y/N, how do we know you're a team player if you're choosing your boyfriend from the opposition, might I add, over us?” she’s standing in your personal space now and you feel intimidated.

“I am a team player but I’m allowed to spend time with Sebas-”

“She’s allowed to spend time with whoever she wan-” but you and Sebastian are both cut off by Ryder saying

“Come on Y/N/N, it would be a lot of fun if we were all there together”. You look at your team mates and then over at your boyfriend in time to hear him mutter

“Don’t listen to me, listen to them. Go enjoy yourself” you shake your head and entwine your fingers with his

“I’m sorry guys, but today is my date with Sebastian. Plans that we’ve had booked for a while. You’ll have to tell me about the corn maze on Monday” you say dragging Sebastian with you towards the cafe. When the others are out of ear shot Sebastian says

“You didn’t have to do that Y/N, you could’ve spent time with them if you wanted” he says and you shake your head. 

“What I want is to spend time with you, and to not think or talk about glee club for the time we have together” you tell him, raising an eyebrow and he nods, squeezing your hand as the two of you resume your walk again.

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi​, @jimmybpride​, @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​, @nikkiwierden​, @samchelforever007​, @kirkspockbones​, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox​, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love​, @haliannej​, @brooklyn-99-amyxjake​​, @mizzezm​, @genius2050​, @twilight-twihard​, @cullencoven2019​, @wxlfgirlx​, @luciferxchloeislove​, @drethanramsey-ismybabe​, @sawyer-oakley-is-mighty-fine​, @loverofoneshots​, @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen​​ @kmc1989

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: A grumpy Papa Solomons (yes, that is a warning) and a whole lot of tooth-rotting domestic fluff

Summary:

Mornings aren’t always easy. For example, it’s terribly difficult to not be caught making breakfast for your fiancé, a workaholic who always takes the task upon himself.

However, what makes it harder today is the fact he loathes food made with recipes found online. Fortunately for you, though, Alfie isn’t the only one who’s good at playing games when he wants to push his own agenda.

Especially those that concern a sweet reward.

Author’s note: I've kept Alfie's adherence to his Jewish heritage quite loose. Nevertheless, I hope that the aspects I did incorporate in this work have been done so properly. If not, let me know and please don't hesitate to educate me (in a polite and respectful manner) because I love learning about different cultures and religions.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @zablife @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @vir-tual @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @mollybegger-blog @solomons-finest-rum @hecatemoon87 @babaohhhriley

TH Masterlist

Mornings like this are rare, these quiet moments unbroken by the usual ruckus in the kitchen. Now, it’s solely my bare feet on the wooden floor and the waves crashing onto the shore. No clanging of metal, no muttered curses in Yiddish or Russian, nor the scent of freshly brewed coffee. 

In the living room, Cyril lays in front of the hearth. The first rays of sunshine fall over him like a warm natural blanket, highlighting the ginger undertone in his fur. One of the many features he shares with his owner. 

As soon as I pass by, he lifts his head, tilts it in wonder, and lets out a low bark. After all, it’s Alfie who’s more often than not the first one to wander around the house at the crack of dawn. That is, if he’s slept at all. However, recently he’s started properly adhering to the Shabbat. Although, as much as he allows himself to because if Alfie Solomons is one thing, it’s mighty stubborn. Moreover, he’s an incurable workaholic. As hard as he works at The Old Rum House Bakery to let the business flourish and maintain his position as the fearsome Mad Baker of Camden, just as much effort does he put into our relationship. In fact, it’s not only towards Cyril and I his attention goes, but also to the house.

Our home.

Alfie has become a lot more domestic since we started dating, shortly after meeting one another on a train to London. Disregarding his tendency to walk around naked, he cooks and cleans, assuring me time and again I don’t have to help. When we go out for our weekly grocery trip, no matter how tired he is, he carries the bags to the car so that I don’t have to. Neither do I have to put away what we got, more often than not shipped off to the luxurious red sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee or tea to pair with whatever he’s baked at night. 

Nevertheless, regardless of the otherwise very loose relationship with his heritage, Ollie and I are glad he’s at least taking a day off in the week to rest up. The bakery has recently started taking its toll thanks to an influx in customers, which means extra stock as well as staff is needed. In turn, this means more part-timers to train and more admin work. In other words, everyone has to pick up the pace to meet the current demand. Such is the power of marketing, especially on social media. Alfie is loath to admit it, but Ollie and I can tell he’s secretly grateful we managed to convince him to let us handle the bakery’s socials.

We don’t get cinnamon buns on Monday anymore, though.

I stop in my tracks, turn to Cyril, and put a finger to my lips. “I know, love, but Papa is still sleeping. It’s finally Mama’s turn to make breakfast again.”

Seldom do I get the chance to experiment in the kitchen, let alone try a recipe I’ve found online. Or worse, via Youtube or Instagram. Now, that’s usually enough to make Alfie bristle. Nevertheless, mention the word ‘viral’ and a scowl will twist his lips.

Sometimes I wonder whether or not Alfie and Cyril are the same person because he lowers his head onto his paws and lets out a deep sigh that sounds like sarcastic resignation.

Thanks for the faith, buddy.

“It’s gonna be okay. No fire in the pan this time, I promise. How about we go stretch our legs after brekkie, hm? That sound good?”

Cyril huffs in agreement and closes his eyes, back to enjoying his luxurious pillow. 

We bought it for him when we went antique shop hopping in London last week. Although, perhaps it’s better to say I bought it after convincing my grumpy companion we should occasionally pamper our adopted four-legged child and I couldn’t fix his old pillow anymore. Of course I could, but I was more than done with constantly needing to fix the seams and re-stuff the thing.

Borough Market has become a regular stop on our weekly grocery trip, mostly because I used the splendidly efficient strategy of batting my lashes and pouting. Artisan goods and fresh produce can be luxuries, something to only occasionally splurge on. After all, why spend a fortune when there is a cheaper alternative that’s just as good? 

Nonetheless, Alfie developed a taste for supporting local businesses soon after our first visit. To some he has proposed contracts, offering them a position as a supplier to his bakery. Granted their goods are kosher, of course.

Yesterday, we got some wonderful fresh bright yellow bananas, eggs from a local farm, and oat flour from a mill a little ways away from London. Alfie thought little of it when I plonked them triumphantly in our grocery bag, having occupied himself with the fresh stock one of the florists was setting out. I glance at the colourful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and for a moment I’m back to him holding out to me, face full of the warm tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the stern and unpredictable persona he portrays when I’m not there. 

Right then and there, he wasn’t The Mad Baker of Camden, the fearsome King who rules the borough.

He was a sweet and caring gentleman.

Simply Alfie Solomons.

Nevertheless, in spite of these small moments of tenderness, he can still be awfully grumpy.

Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.

“Mornin’, dove.” Two big warm hands glide over my hips towards my lower stomach. Those very same palms pull me flush against a naked chest grown soft with neglected muscle, slightly clammy with the remainder of last night’s late summer heat. Alfie presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums, tightening the embrace as he does so. The sonorous trill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and rekindles a familiar heat. Nonetheless, the way he leans on me betrays he isn’t entirely awake yet. The slight slur in his words serve to confirm the lingering drowsiness, sounding like they’ve been pulled out of bed only moments before too. “That shirt looks good on you.”

“I’m glad you think so because you’re not getting it back any time soon.” I briefly stop mixing the batter to scratch his beard. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch as a content sigh escapes him. “You slept in.”

“Still woke up to an empty spot, though. If you want me to sleep more, yeah, which you know I find a terrible waste of time, I’ll need my wife to ‘old.”

I pat his hands to placate him. The thin gold band inlaid with a modest diamond around my ring finger matches his. I had thought Alfie would pick something elaborate for himself, but instead he chose a simple thick gold ring and got it engraved. It says: Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li; I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. “Don’t get hasty. We aren’t married yet.”

“Let’s just go to the courthouse today.’’ He slips his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him, letting them rest on my stomach after a brief caress. It’s a gesture he often makes nowadays. ‘‘Sign the paper, right, and be done with it so the desk eaters are ‘appy. We can always celebrate it later. Throw a party as big as the whole of bloody Camden, like a proper coronation ceremony to celebrate our union.”

“Tempting as it is, I’ll have to refuse. Besides, it's Shabbat today and you need to take a break. I promise I can wait a little while longer to officially become Mrs Solomons.”

“You ‘ave been from the start, Y/N. I don’t need a ring to call you my wife. ‘Sides, you well know ‘ow I am. Which reminds me, breakfast is my job, innit?” A wary tone creeps into his voice as he leans away to check what’s in the mixing bowl. “Is that edible?”

“It will be,” I say, continuing to mix the ingredients until they’re well combined.

“I’m not eatin’ that goo. Looks fucking awful, that stuff.”

“It’s healthy goo! Uses the bananas, eggs, and flour we got yesterday.”

Nose scrunched, Alfie peers at me. “Oh, so yesterday was all a little scam to get me to eat whatever this is?”

“You aren’t the only one who can lie. Although, it’s not really a lie, is it? More like a half-truth.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I simply never told you my plan. Would ruin the surprise.”

“Which is?”

“Baked oats that taste like cake. They just haven’t been baked yet.”

“Where’d you get the recipe?”

“YouTube…”

He groans, wide awake now that the conversation has taken a turn towards a point of absolute irritation. “Fucking ‘ell, dove, ‘ow many times ‘aven’t I told you not every recipe on social media-’’

“Don’t judge before you’ve tried it.” I put the spatula down, turn around in his embrace and steal a kiss off of his lips. “Said so yourself, didn’t you?”

“Don’t use my words against me.”

“Oh, I will. If only to keep things fair. Have a little faith in me. It’ll be fine.”

I hope.

A warning finger raised and pointed at me, he leans in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Fine. But I’m gonna make us coffee, right, so we’ll at least ‘ave something to get us fucking started.”

I can’t suppress a chuckle at the grumpy gesture. “Sure.”

The threat turns into tenderness when he cups my cheek. His palm has grown rough with the hours spent at the bakery, proof of his hard work. Tenderly, he presses his lips to mine. “Ikh hab dir lib.”

“I know.” To show I accept his usual indirect apology for his bad mood and avoid coming across as being cross with me, I run my fingers along his jaw. “I love you too.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he nudges my nose with his. “Mhm.”

“Why don’t you take Cyril for a brief walk, eh? The oats have to bake for twenty-five minutes anyway.”

“We can take ‘im on a walk later together. I’ll go set the table.”

“First put on a pair of knickers.”

“No.”

“You know the rules, Alfie. No buns on the chairs during summer.”

“I ain’t sweating.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”

I cock an eyebrow, fighting the smug smirk threatening to break out. “That so?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, “first we’ll ‘ave coffee, right, ‘cause otherwise neither of us functions. Now, ‘ow about after we’ve started the day proper I’ll fuck you like last night, hm?”

Until I black out. 

The prospect of it mixes with memories of last night. Sea blue eyes, usually so steady and full of hidden temperaments, barely able to refrain from going cross-eyed. The fight with the stutter in his hips, gradually growing closer to the edge of pleasure but also exhaustion. Big hands reminiscent of wolf paws gripping the headboard for support while I was already lost in a satisfied delirium. The absent-minded glance to the bruises on my thighs adds to the steadily growing heat between my legs, perversely longing for more.

For him.

Nevertheless, the haze clears in an instant with a single sharp thought. I take a step back, crossing my arms as I search his expression for confirmation. However, as usually is the case, Alfie keeps his true motifs to himself. And this time, behind a mask he tends to put on when he wants something from me in particular. “So you can make breakfast. That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”

“No,” he purrs, stealing a kiss as soon as he has bridged the distance between us, “not at all, dove. I just want my wife. I wanna make love to you.” We softly start to sway, slowly making our way out of the kitchen. “Let me make love to you.”

We come to a halt on the threshold. “Later. After you put on a pair of knickers and we’ve eaten.”

He blinks, the cheeky smile grown stiff. I can feel his muscles tense, unconsciously causing him to grip me a bit tighter than before. “But-’’

“Knickers, Alfie.”

“One round.”

“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”

The use of his full name provokes a menacing snarl, the kind which is usually preserved for those who cross him. “Those oats better be fucking worth it, yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’re payin’ for lunch.”

I trace his cock, the skin hot and hardening beneath my fingertips with every sharp intake of breath. Perhaps this game won’t go on for as long as it usually does before he loses control. “Somehow I don’t think I will.”

He roughly grips my face, the thrill of every low-voiced word against my lips travelling throughout my body. “I ought to do somethin’ ‘bout that attitude of yours. Big fucks small, Y/N, always.”

Game over.

Except for the one card I have left to play.

“I know,” I wrap my hand around him, barely able to grip him properly, “but first some knickers. Please, Papa?”

“Clever bird, ain’t ya?” He growls into the kiss when I lightly squeeze him and let go. “Maybe I should carry out my own personal form of stigmata later. Add to those pretty bruises.”

Like snow in the spring sun, his attitude melts and changes. Alfie gently nudges my cheek and makes for the bedroom. A few moments later, he returns and starts setting the table while I pour the batter in the ramekins and plop them in the oven.

Despite the promise to make coffee, I reach for the cupboard to grab a mug. After all, old habits die hard.

Nevertheless, I find myself cut off by a hand that gently lowers mine, away from the handle.

“I said I’ll make us coffee,” Alfie grumbles. “Let Papa Solomons do ‘is job, yeah. Go sit in the livin’ room. I’ll be there shortly.”

I nod at the baking aftermath in the sink. “I got some washing up to do.”

“Nah, that can wait. Coffee and, ‘opefully, food first.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kindly coerces me out of the kitchen. “Go on.”

I let him guide me, feigning defiance by pouting. Yet, the act quickly falls apart with a lighthearted giggle. I suppose I still have a lot to learn from him concerning the art of masks. “Alright.”

Soon after he joins me on the porch, where I’ve settled down with Cyril to enjoy the salt air. The beach across the street is still empty, devoid of the plethora of towels. The breeze is silent, not yet filled with the chatter of tourists and locals alike.

These hours are ours.

This is our Margate.

“'Ere you go, love.” Alfie hands me a steaming mug of cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, the milk soft and foamy, before he sits down next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as I take a sip. “Nice, innit?”

“Mhm.”

Thus we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and each other’s company. Cyril has started to doze off, although he tries in vain to keep his eyes open. One glance to the side tells of Alfie fighting the same battle. Occasionally he pulls a face or lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It’s strangely funny to watch him continue to take a sip afterwards, a small gesture of hope. Surely he should be readily awake before his cup is empty.

Because sleeping isn’t an option.

He’s tired of the nightmares.

The faint sound of the oven going off disturbs the domestic bliss.

Alfie groans as struggles to get up, glad to have my arm to use as support while he pulls himself to his feet. I say nothing, knowing full well how his sciatica influences his mood.

And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.

As Alfie washes his hands, I get the baked oats out of the oven and place them on the plates. Meanwhile, Alfie warms up a few slices of babka and the challah bread we made together yesterday. “Just so we ‘ave somethin’.”

He sits down while I wash my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see him poke the oats with his fork. “It’s kosher?”

“It is,” I say, drying my hands before I sit down across from him. “Shall I go first?”

“Very funny.” He scoops a bit of the oats onto his fork and puts it in his mouth. His brows knit together, contemplating the taste.

“And? Do you like it?” 

Remaining silent and gaze fixed on the ramekin, he pokes his oats again. 

I swallow hard, my excitement crushed under the stones of dread. A nagging voice in the back of my head feeds into the fear of his judgement. Funny how one connects their self worth to food. Then again, it was that which started our relationship. A cup of coffee, a slice of babka, and a slice of plant-based carrot cake. Back then, though, my stomach didn’t quiver this badly nor did my ribs feel like they were caged in a very tight-strung corset. “You don’t.”

“Dove,” he begins, but doesn’t continue. 

Not until after he’s had another bite. “It’s good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or simply trying to appease me.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

“I am,’’ he says, raising his voice ever so slightly in spite of the effort to keep it even. Alfie finally meets my gaze and I can tell he’s being sincere regardless of the way he accusingly waves his fork at me. ‘‘But I still don’t like 'ow you got this off of the internet. ‘Ow many times ‘aven’t I told you, hm? You should know better by now.”

I chuckle as I at last taste the baked oats myself. They’re chocolatey with a subtle banana undertone, which is warmed by the cinnamon. “I gotta find new recipes somehow.”

“There are cookbooks.”

“Too limited and they take up too much space.” While nibbling on a piece of challah bread, I take a sip of coffee. “Can I make this more often?”

“It does taste like cake,” he reluctantly admits, spooning up another bite. “Yes, you can.”

“Why do you make it sound like there’s a condition?”

“You can make these oats, yeah, if I get to serve you something sweet in return.”

Something not to be had in the kitchen.

‘‘Deal,’’ I lean in, biting my lip as I play my final card, ‘‘Papa.’’

Alfie clenches his fork upon hearing his favourite nickname, the title he is secretly proud of. A dark haze clouds his eyes, the gloss in them highlighted by the morning sun. The smirk on his lips has evened out, his jaw tightened with the effort to practise self-restraint. 

Game over.

I won.

And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday & WIP Tuesday

Tagging @voidika @raresvtm @josephseedismyfather @noodlecupcakes @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @derelictheretic @davrinsgriffons @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who'd like to join.

Got three Hellaverse songs for my The UnTitledverse and Life, Despair & Monsters series and one FC5 WIP for The Silver Chronicles, and since we're coming up on "No John January", I thought to might as well show off one final snippet of John right on this post before never mentioning him for a whole-ass month (instead the only Seed siblings to get that honor would be the rest of them, mostly his brothers, right up until "Only Faith February", where she's the only Seed to talk about).

Listen and read below the cut:

First song is for The UnTitled Ventures saga of The UnTitledverse, where I imagine Joaquin Lockwood would be singing this lullaby as an assurance to both Eveline and Elise that if anything were to happen to him, he'll make sure they will be fine. His daughters are pretty much his driving motivation in his decisions throughout this saga. Listen below:

"It always seems more quiet in the dark It always feels so stark How silence grows under the moon Constellations gone so soon

I used to think that I was bold I used to think love would be fun Now all my stories have been told except for one

As the stars start to align I hope you take it as a sign That you'll be okay Everything will be okay."

The next song is for my Hellaverse WIP Smile Tunes. Now in the scene this song takes place in, Krunk and Samuel are on a date at Ozzie's, but when Blitzø and Stolas are outed by Asmodeus and Fizzarolli, neither stand up for the IMP boss nor the Goetia Prince, in order to not be outed as dating, which a dramatic point for Krunk and his boss (as well as Krunk and the Morningstar's Royal Advisor he's dating). This sets up an arc that eventually pays off in this WIP's version of "Mastermind". [CW: This song involves references to sexual references]

"Is that Blitzo? So you're showin' your face? Hey, everybody, this guy's a total disgrace! Some nerve you've got to comment on a relationship Last I checked, your love life is a pile of shit!"

"Oh, Blitzo? I used to date him." ("Date him, date him!")

"Oh, Verosika, you're here."

"I'd stroke him, I'd fellate him ("Fellate him, fellate him!") Yeah, but when it was my turn ("My turn, my turn!") He did no reciprocatin' ("What a dick-bag!") A selfish imp in the sheets, and just as bad in the streets A reckless, heartbreaking freak!"

"Who's that at your table? Is your date a demon prince? Stolas, is that you?"

"Are you sleepin' with an imp?"

"Woo! My dark lord, how the mighty do fall You used to have a smokin' wife, a kid, you had it all I hope you didn't give it up so you and him could get it up!"

And lastly, this song is a singing simplification of how Icarus manages to resolve the gap between him and Hatter, managing to reach a resolution where avatar and parasite can finally communicate with one another in their original WIP from my Life, Despair & Monsters series. And yes... it involved Icarus drinking a spiked tea that one of his alters, Xavier, left out for him in order to get both him and Hatter to speak to each other through their weird-ass dimension breaking connection. Since Moxxie's the only person singing in this song while Blitzø's part only involves dialogue, I though it was only necessary for Icarus/Hatter to since Moxxie's part:

[CW: References to recreational drug use and sexual references]

"Hatter*? I can't see you God, this smells awful! What's that music? Is that you? Is this a prank? Because I swear to-"**

"It is no prank, bitch!"

"Hey! Why do you sound like that?"

"Because you, my precious little bitch boy-"

"Stop it, Hatter*!"

"-are tripping balls!"

"No! What? How could this be? I've never tried acid, shrooms or DMT It's a bad trip, oy gevalt! Of course, Hatter*, this would be your fault!

My lungs are full of honesty Would you promise me That you won't judge?"

"Yes, bitch!"

"Not trying to divulge too much But I'm in too deep, so first of all

Fuck you!"

"What?!"

"This is just typical Well, two can play at this game of dismay 'Cause if I'm here where you're causing frustration*** Xavier and Hinode must be experiencing their own hallucinations!****

Why do you hurt me so?"*****

"I know!"

"Why must you push our friends away?"***** "I push my friends away!"

"Why does it seem like a recurring theme That you alienate with your toxic routine?"

"I don't know, eventually everyone goes!"

"'Cause you're thoughtless and cruel and you'll end up alone!"

"Why, Icarus*, why Have you held your true feelings inside?"

"I am scared of rejection!"

"Why, Icarus, why Do you reach so close for the sun?"******

"Because I'm an arrogant perfectioni- Wait a minute!"*******

"No need to hide We accept your true feelings, so promise me!"

"That I can do..." "...to be true!"

"The world is your anus so peg it with honesty!"

"Ugh..."

"I've been a jackass, it's true!"

"I've been a jackass, it's true!"

"But as soon as we're back to our normal selves."

"I will be a better friend than I was before!"

"Be better at speaking my mind!"

"And together, we can begin To become fine!"

[*Changed names to Icarus and Hatter since that's the focus. **Their not in Hell, so Satan's name wouldn't make sense. ***Since Icarus is only speaking to Hatter due to their shared connection being high enough, it wouldn't make sense for Hatter to be experiencing his own hallucinations when he's sharing it with Icarus, so just changed it to the reason below. ****Changed for the reasons above to Icarus noticing that Hatsukami and Xavier aren't with him and Hatter and makes the safe assumption that they're elsewhere in the recesses of his tripping mind. *****Changed it to collective pronouns (us/our) since Hatter's actions isn't just affecting Icarus. ******Icarus doesn't have a partner yet and also sex-averting so just changed it to a inside joke of his name. *******Icarus does not enjoy the joke that much despite being self-aware of the similarities between him and his famous namesake. >< Also Icarus saying "Ugh" towards Hatter's words is more an annoyed groan towards Hatter's lack of filter (where Icarus just finally gives up on trying to get Hatter to speak in a less vulgar manner) rather than the description of the action itself.]

Here's a WIP snippet for You're Almost Like Family where John finishes conversing with Silva at the gas station... before his loop restarts once more: [CW: Character death and minor description of gore]

The Deputy regarded him with a stoic mask, clearly processing the information he revealed to her.

It reminded John of Jacob in a way, but also of Faith, although the latter had a knack for copying qualities of the former.

The Deputy was quite a paranoid woman, as he's come to discover in these loops. She was, for the most part, closed-off to her allies, and held distrust towards strangers, even more so towards those she perceived as her enemies. She lacked belief in the Father and the Project long before she came to arrest his brother.

He was aware he had a hand in that, even if he doesn't know how. Although he wondered if this distrust went further back before even her arrival in the county.

The Deputy tapped her fingers against the belt around her hips, chewing against her cheek, before exhaling through her nose.

Moment of truth; did she believe him, or was he going to die a brutal death again? Though John was no longer a stranger to death, how the Deputy kills him was always a gamble of how much it was going to hurt.

Especially since she had no weapons, and there was a smashed plate nearby.

When her grey eyes gazed to him, she responded, "And I suppose since that directly goes against your family's whole mission of converting me to your cult, you'd want to inform me of this as soon as possible. Yeah, that weirdly makes too much sense."

John felt relief wash over him once more, his grin even more excited now that he's made actual progress. Though he wasn't finished yet, it was a step closer to his goal of saving her soul now that she believed him.

"Exactly," John told her, though toned his excitement down when she eyed him as if he was the strange one, "Now that we're on the same page, I want to propose a temporary truce between you and the Resistance in Holland Valley. Until this threat is successfully dealt with."

The Deputy raised a brow, inquiring, "And what makes you think this mystery killer is going to stick to Holland Valley?"

John didn't actually know. He's just been going off of what he's witnessed from previous loops. He doesn't actually have evidence to suggest most of her deaths were deliberate assassinations or sabotage.

However, what he did know is that wherever the Deputy was, her killer would likely be somewhere nearby.

He of course couldn't tell the Deputy any of this; the first time he told her, she called him a horrendous liar, and the last time he tried again, she outright told him she didn't believe him before attempting to escort him to the judgement of Fall's End... only to enter a truck that he could only guess had been planted with an explosion.

That... had been amongst his least pleasant memories in these loops.

And it wasn't like he could prove it to her. No matter what, the circumstances kept changing, too many factors were always shifting and it was rare for the Deputy to do or say the same thing twice as a result.

So instead John spoke as close to the truth as possible, if only to ease the Deputy's uncertainty, "Call it a hunch, dear. I've prosecuted and defended many in my time as an attorney, and if there's something I've learned about killers, they like to remain at a distance that isn't too far from their prey."

The Deputy did that curious little hum that he's always found endearing; it was short, too short for his liking, but he liked the sound of it. Made her seem beyond the remorseless killer full of wrath that his faithful had fallen to.

Thankfully, she didn't argue against his words.

"So a truce until we can dispatch whoever is after me?" she repeated his conditions, looking to him for confirmation, "That's it, right?"

While John was tempted into trying to push the Deputy into a deal that would benefit his family, he didn't want to fuck up this chance of gaining her cooperation in dealing with this threat.

Though John knew she'd be tempted in utilizing this in trying to gain her own conditions to her agreement, he decided to add.

"Yes, that's all I offer. Neither your rebellion nor my faithful will shed blood in this Valley. I'm unwilling to negotiate anything else until this threat is dealt with."

It'd do wonders for him if she'd stopped dying altogether.

She seemed displeased by that, and opened her mouth to argue.

Instead he retorted, "Besides, wouldn't you rather be alive if wanted to get Deputy Hudson back? I think it'd be counterintuitive if you wasted precious time better spent on hunting down your assassin."

She glared at him, but conceded in silence.

"Alright," she replied, reluctantly adding, "I'll agree to this truce. But I'm not sure how likely the Resistance will believe you. Do you have evidence on hand that could help better help us in convincing them?"

...Evidence?

John's previous joy was replaced by frustration at himself. How could I not have thought of that?!

"Uh, not on me, no," he admitted sheepishly, cringing at overlooking such an important detail, "But I'll gather it up back at the Ranch and Gate."

In other words, he was gonna have to quickly find something that would convince those sinner's to not disagree with his offer.

"I guess we'll rendezvous again when we do," the Deputy stated, and for that John could almost feel himself relax until she added, "But if it turns out to be an elaborate trap-"

John cut her off, "Yes, I understand, Deputy. I'm not going to deceive you into an ambush. You have my word."

The Deputy didn't seem completely convinced, and he suspected his word didn't mean much to her, but she was going to have to be satisfied with it.

"If that's all, I'm going to head back to Fall's End," the Deputy said, turning to leave. While John didn't believe Fall's End was the safest option for her, he knew he really can't do much about that.

He did think about using Bliss to incapacitate and bring her back to his Gate, but he ultimately decided against it; not only would he have a pissed-off Deputy who'd be even more resistant going after him, which could lead to Hudson's escape as well, but the assassin has proven to have an unfair expertise in infiltrating his family's troops.

It'd be a redundant effort on his part. At least with the Sinner's home base, the Deputy would be surrounded by her allies, and if she believes anything he's said thus far, would be on guard.

Though before she left, he couldn't help but ask one last question.

"You know, Deputy," John said, earning her attention, "I know neither of us are on the best of terms, but since it shouldn't be such a big deal to you, I'd appreciate it if you told me what your name is?"

Her brows furrowed as her expression shifted from confused to surprised realization, "You don't know what my name is?"

John blinked, cocking his head before shaking it, "No?"

"Hadn't Nancy, I don't know, given you my files beforehand?"

Ah, so she's assumed we knew she'd joined the force, John mused. Obviously she believed the arrest was an orchestrated ambush, and not God connecting their fates together. He'd clear up that misconception then.

"Nancy wasn't in a position to have access of such documents, I'm afraid. And given her role, she wouldn't have been able to inform us about your addition on the Marshal's taskforce," he informed her.

The Deputy hummed, looking to the side before her grey eyes returned to his blue, "And if I don't tell you?"

John just shrugged, "Then there's not much I can do then, is there, Deputy? Although, I have to ask, do you really want me to keep calling you Deputy for the remainder of the Reaping?"

She snorted, "I wouldn't have cared much until you kept pronouncing it that way."

He found offense to that, but refrained from making a comment as the Deputy looked down in contemplation, her stoic face giving away nothing.

When she looked back to him, his excitement was short-lived when he noticed a shadow enter through the station's door.

"It's-"

No words were quick enough to escape out of his throat when the back and front of the Deputy's skull exploded into chunks of flesh, brain and blood that sprayed onto him, with the bullet propelling through towards its next target.

John could see how it slowly made its way towards the bridge of his nose, the Deputy's fresh corpse limply falling forwards towards him at much the same pace.

He forced his eyes to gaze towards the assassin's figure, feeling the agonizing effects of the loop preparing his next restart.

He wondered if the assassin had followed him or the Deputy here, or if they had just been passing by.

Regardless, they had just nullified all his efforts to get to this point.

Desperate to not waste the remaining seconds left before either the bullet or the loop take him, he stared hard at the figure afar, their weapon drawn, so effortlessly quick, faster than he'd seen Silva draw her own.

He noticed the assassin was heavily draped in the Sinners usual clothing. And although difficult, John could also notice the unshaven stubble across the culprit's unfamiliar face.

John's eyes tried to capture more of what he saw of the assassin but the pounding ache once more resonated into his head as he-

The chapel's door's closed, indicating the Deputy and Joseph's departure, and all John could do to avoid falling off the podium behind his brother and sister again was reach for the wood behind him to steady his shaking legs.

He felt nauseous from being that close to such gore, but soon it was replaced with jubilation as he now learned of a new detail about the Deputy's killer.

But even that feeling didn't last when he realized where and when he was.

With no way to better process his raging frustration at his efforts being reduced to nothing, he articulated all of anger through one single word.

"FUCK!" he shouted, alarming Jacob and spooking Faith.

[tavs-tressym]

Delicious Denial - Chapter Two

(AO3 Link) | Master List | Ko-Fi

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You).

Word Count: 3240 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT), violence description.

WARNING: Contains violence description.

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A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Happy Monday!

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Chapter Two - Six

The ground shakes beneath you as the boom of a war horn ravages the forest. You stand behind Minthara on a large boulder. There’s a small gathering of tieflings above the ivy-covered gate, and they don’t seem like powerful druids. Your heart plummets in guilt.

What have I done? These people… Gods, they’re barely even armoured… They’re all going to die…

Your mind continues swimming in panic. You scan the crowd of goblins, it’s clear to see that they’re outnumbered. They don’t stand a chance. A singular arrow darts towards you, Minthara swipes it to the side with effortless magical ability. “Blow that gate open! Now!” She commands. The goblins release their warcries. Some, carrying barrels of explosives, rush to the gate. Arrows rain from the sky and puncture as many foes as they can but it’s not enough. Through smoke and floating gunpowder, you can see the destruction of the gate. The grove is compromised. But before Minthara can give further command, you spot silhouettes amongst the wreckage. 

Six silhouettes, all different in stature and weight. A very odd-looking alliance, indeed. Minthara holds her tongue, waiting for them to reveal themselves so as to gauge this new enemy’s abilities. 

Weighted thumps on soil grow faster and louder as two of the silhouettes reveal themselves. A powerful, red tiefling, brandishing a greataxe with what looks to be living fire escaping her chest leaps forward, burning rage in her eyes. Then a skilled, female, githyanki warrior slicing through goblins with no hesitation and shaking off hits like they’re nothing. They make quick work of their foes, pushing the army back.

Behind them, a black-haired half-elf can be seen healing the injured with one hand and casting radiating destruction spells with the other.

Just as they’re beginning to feel overwhelmed by enemies, a ray of devastating lighting scorches the earth, electrocuting all goblins in it’s path. Your eyes follow it to the source, a human in a humble, purple robe, his eyes filled with determination and pride at his own magic.

The scorched goblins begin to twitch and spasm. You flick your gaze back to them, realising that they are dead no longer and are now fighting for the opposite side. By the gate, another human with a darker complexion, noble attire and a rapier in hand stands proudly, leading his new, undead army into battle.

That’s one, two, three, four, five… There were six… Weren’t there?

Minthara snarls and leaps into the centre of battle. Surrounded by these new, mighty enemies, she calls upon Lolth to aid her before attacking each foe with excellent precision and strength. You look around, frantically trying to keep up before realising… This is it. Your chance to escape. Your breath shudders as you slowly back away and once out of Minthara’s field of view, you run.

The makeshift shoes you were given start to rip and come apart beneath you with each desperate collision with the floor. You look back to ensure that you aren’t being followed, then you… Stop? The wind in your lungs is forced out of you as your back hits something solid. But that can’t be, there was nothing there, right? You feel a cold, hard, sharp sensation against your neck, your breath hitches. You try to wriggle free from whatever this is, but something strong holds you in place. In confusion and panic you go to let out a shriek before, yet again, you are stopped. A soft, smooth, cold texture contains the sound within your mouth. “Shh…” Suddenly the force around your mouth becomes opaque: a hand. The sensation on your neck: a dagger. The solid pressed firmly up against your back: A person.

Number six…

“If I move my hand, are you going to scream?” A male voice hums into your ear. You shake your head in response, there are no tears in your eyes, only fury.

You. Were. So. Close.

“Are you sure? I’d hate to ruin such a pretty neck…” His threats are theatrical, but you hear his earnesty and feel his eyes burning into your exposed skin. He allows the dagger to make a small, irritating cut on your neck to emphasise his point. Breathing comfortably would surely deepen the wound and seeing no way out, you give in and douse the fire inside of you, for now. You nod. He slowly removes his hand and you catch your first glimpse of him. His hand is pale and his nails are manicured. There is little hair and through his almost translucent skin, you see hints of dark veins. You feel his breath on your ear, it’s surprisingly warm for someone so cold.

His now free hand grips the plush skin of your arm and he moves the dagger to allow you to breathe as normal, but ensures that the threat remains. He guides you back to the, now quieter, battlefield. Minthara is on her knees, clutching her stomach, blood slipping through the gaps between her fingers. She coughs and gasps, lifting her head to see you, captured again. “T-true… S-soul…” Her words aren’t of sorrow, but of pride that you are still standing. She knows death will soon claim her, but you? You can finish her quest and bring glory to The Absolute. She grins. A greatsword’s blade, coated in thick red, is held beside Minthara’s neck. “Any last words, istik?” The githyanki sneers.

Minthara does not break her eye contact with you. “F-for… The Abso-” The sword traps her words in her throat forever, as it severs her head in one fell swoop. It rolls towards you, her now limp grin of devotion still smeared across her face.

You begin to breathe deeply… Heavily… You can’t breathe… You need air, now. You try to escape your captor’s grasp, you’re going to die, you’re sure of it. “Let her go!” The tiefling’s command frees your body and you feel your legs give out from underneath you. No matter how much air you suck into your lungs, you can only suffocate.

A warm, delicate hand rests on your back and rubs it in firm circles. “Breathe properly now. With me. In… And out…” A gentle, yet guarded voice attempts to guide you back to reality, but it isn’t working. The half-elf shrugs and looks to her companions for assistance, to which the githyanki scoffs and rolls her eyes. You rake your fingers through the soil, desperately trying to ground yourself when - Black. __________________________________________

How long has it been? Is this… Death? No, it feels too familiar. Sleep? It could be. It’s certainly peaceful… But it can’t be, mine doesn’t feel like this anymore. Mine is more… Restless… I haven’t felt like this in… Well, too long anyway…

No… Please don’t go…  Just a little longer… Please… __________________________________________

The world is fuzzy when seeing it through barely open eyes. Green sways above you, sheltering you from sharp lines of yellow light. Your eyes open further. It’s midday, same as before, as though no time has passed. How much time has passed? You begin to sit up to get your bearings. “Woah there soldier, take it easy.” You flinch at the voice and search, eyes wide for danger. It’s the tiefling from earlier. “It’s okay! It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” You huddle yourself into a ball, keeping your eyes on hers and shuffle away. She smiles with such warmth you almost feel tempted to let your guard down, almost. “The name’s Karlach, and you are?”

“What makes you think I’d tell you? Your friend held a dagger to my throat!” You force anger through your fear and surprisingly, Karlach seems to understand. She sighs and nods, rubbing her face. “I know, I’m sorry. I wish there was no need for it, but you have to understand, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Before we can trust you and let you go, we need to know who you are.” You know better than to trust promises of freedom, but then you look around. 

You seem to have found yourself in a humble camp, surrounded by one-person tents, hardly a prison. An unlit campfire stands in the centre and your captors are idly going about their business. All of them you recognise, all except one. A lean, pale elf with white, well kept curls meticulously arranged on his head. He stands, reading a book amongst neighbouring silk cushions that are scattered around the entrance of his tent. There’s even a stool right next to him, but he chose to stand. Weird. Watching him turn the page, you notice his familiar hands. You grit your teeth and furrow your brow. That’s the fucker that caught you.

Flicking your eyes back to Karlach, you can see how desperately she wants you to cooperate. You check your ankles and wrists, there are no restraints. “How long was I out for?” You ask in a dull, numb voice.

“A day.”

You nod, realising how energised you feel, a rare occurrence for you. “And… How?” Although you’re grateful for the rest, the last thing you remember was clawing at the ground, not exactly a bedtime routine. 

“Oh… Ha ha… Well…” She gestures to her head sheepishly, you place your hand on yours and jolt at the sudden pain, a bandage covers a gnarly bump on the right side of your head, then the headache hits you. “Ugh… Gods…” You rub your eyes but doing so only produces stars, you lay back down.

“Yeah, sorry about that too, soldier.” You hear approaching footsteps, but moving to protect yourself right now would be too painful.

“So, she’s awake at last… What now?” Asks a gentle, male voice. You try to peer through the stars to see which companion it is. You see… Purple. This must be the wizard.

“Yes, what now, indeed? Shall I get my tools and see what information I can get out of her?” You recognise this as the familiar voice of the half-elf.

“With all due respect, Shadowheart, I think she’s a bit… Out of it. Maybe adding more pain into the mix isn’t such a good idea.”

“Alright, what do you suggest?” She asks, clearly disappointed and irritated.

“You could start by sparing some magic and healing that wound on her head. She can’t even speak.” Shadowheart sighs and reluctantly casts Cure Wounds, your vision clears and the pain subsides.

Thank the Gods…

Finding your strength, you sit up once again and your eyes meet the wizard’s. His features are soft, kind, though you suppose looks can always be deceiving. “Welcome back. Now, let’s cut to the chase. You don’t trust us, we don’t trust you, that much is clear. But, we can help each other. And I’ll get into the ‘how’ of it all soon enough, but for now, I’ll settle for your name. I’m Gale, of Waterdeep.” He reaches his hand out to shake yours. You inspect it, searching for trickery, then you look at his face. He has a friendly, inviting smile and you sense no ulterior motive. You take his hand and shake it gently. “Tav.”

“Tav! Excellent.” Once you let go, he claps his hands and turns to his companions. “This is Shadowheart, our fierce cleric.” He gestures towards her, she forces a smile but unsuccessfully hides her distaste for the introduction. “And you’ve met Karlach.” She waves at you excitedly, seeming proud of you for opening up, just a little. She emanates friendliness, you can’t help but smile back. “Let’s see… That’s Lae’Zel, our resident githyanki.” He points her out, upon hearing her name, she looks over, sees you and immediately scoffs before returning to her task. “Over here we have Wyll, ‘The Blade of…” 

“The Blade of the Frontiers, at your service.” The one who bent the dead to his will approaches and performs a grand bow. “My lady.” You raise an eyebrow.

Is this guy for real?

You smile and nod politely. You take in his features as he raises his head. Brown skin, facial scars and one eye seemingly made of stone. Intriguing…

“And last but… Eh… not least, Astarion. The stealthiest of the bunch.” He doesn’t look up from his book, he just makes a vague, waving, hand gesture. You raise an eyebrow again, but this time you make no effort to conceal your judgement.

“Yes, I remember.” Just as you’re about to look away, you spot a smirk on his face. The prick.

“So, now that we’re all well acquainted, maybe now you could tell us everything you know about this ‘Absolute’, yes?” Gale looks at you expectantly.

“Hold on, you said we could help each other. What am I getting out of this?” The companions exchange worried glances before Karlach takes over.

“Well that all depends on your answers to our questions, soldier.” She looks at you apologetically.

“Seriously? You want me to give you all this information for the mere chance that you could give me something in return? Yeah, no thanks.” A moment of tension passes.

“We know what’s in your head and we have them too!” The words practically burst out of Karlach’s mouth, to everyone’s disapproval. Gale brings his hands to his head, eyes wide in disbelief at Karlach’s lack of control, Shadowheart essentially slaps her hand into her face, holding it there in disappointment, and Wyll just pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply, shaking his head. You get the slight feeling that you weren’t supposed to know that.

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes, that little worm in your skull. We all have one.” Shadowheart admits in defeat.

“How did you…?”

“Minthara, she called you True Soul. That seems to be the name for people like us.” Gale explains. “However, none of us have succumbed to ceremorphosis yet, nor are we under this ‘Absolute’s’ control. We want to understand why. Any information you can give us would be greatly appreciated.” You listen intently, his explanation that only fills your mind with further questions. You ask about ‘ceremorphosis’ and process the definition.

“I’m sorry, what now? You’re-… I’m-… We’re turning into MIND-FLAYERS?!”

“No- well, maybe? We aren’t quite sure. All we know is that our infection has been highly irregular thus far.”

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! Interesting how Minthara left that fucking detail out!

“In any case, we’re searching for a cure. Please, if you know anything, anything at all, we need all the help we can get.” Gale pleads.

“And soldier, you do too.” You look up at Karlach who’s smile alone brings you down from another episode. You take a deep breath.

“A-alright…” You go on to describe your experience in the goblin camp and repeat all the information that Minthara shared with you during your time there. As you reach the point in the story of the ‘interrogation’, you are… selective with the details. Choosing to describe your actions through the eyes of a mere, horrified spectator rather than the confused, active participant you truly were. Astarion’s mouth twitches at your story as he cocks his head to the side. He seems intrigued. Too intrigued. The others listen and nod thoughtfully as you speak.

Once finished, they stand there in silence, processing. You search their faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of what their judgement of you will be. Gale breaks the silence: “Just a moment.” He gathers all companions, including Astarion and Lae’zel around the campfire, just out of earshot from you. You watch as each one has a turn to speak, occasionally glancing at you before returning to the conversation. It’s a passionate discussion between very strong personalities, it’s a wonder how they’ve remained allies for longer than a day. Eventually, you see nods of agreement, some begrudging and some pleased as they all turn and walk towards you.

Gale steps forward and attempts a formal speech pattern: “So… Tav, was it? We… we cannot, in good conscience, leave you to the, er- aforementioned fate. And so, we would like to extend an invitation to accompany us on our journey, as we search for a cure. What do you think?” You think for a moment, feeling all six pairs of eyes on you.

You sigh as you come to the realisation that you don’t have much choice. It’s either this, or ceremorphosis. You nod, yet still feel their unsure gaze. You give in and say the words: “Yes, alright. I’ll join you.”

You feel your companions relax… mostly. Lae’zel isn’t hiding how displeased she is with the arrangement before she leaves to tend to her collection of weaponry. Your stomach growls, no, roars. Loudly. It’s been over twenty-four hours and you haven’t had a single bite to eat. Karlach chuckles “You know what, mate? Me too. Gale, dinner time!” She taps her tummy as she follows Gale to the makeshift food station. Shadowheart leaves to light the campfire and Wyll smiles at you before helping her.

That’s one, two, three, four, five… and six.

Astarion stood, resting his weight on one hip, watching you. You look up at him, making eye contact. The slight warmth you feel towards your newfound companions grows colder once he is in your view. A brief look becomes a fight for dominance, neither party willing to lose. “Can I help you?” Your voice is laced with contempt, yet the only effect you have on him is widening his insufferable grin. He holds you in suspense for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t like me.” His tone is playful, flirty even.

“Hard to. First impressions are everything.” You slide yourself off the stone slab you used as a bed to face him properly, trying to regain control.

“Oh darling, you know I only did that because I had to.” He laughs and tilts his head down, intensifying his gaze, effortlessly. He steals a glance at the small cut on your neck, the corner of his mouth twitches in the thrill of knowing that he put it there. “But enough about the past. You’re one of us now, we should be… Acquainted. Don’t you agree?” You fold your arms and allow him to continue under the weight of your suspicious stare. “Well, I don’t know about you, but the idea of waking up to a dagger lodged in my chest doesn’t sound particularly appealing.”

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” You smirk back at him, unfolding your arms and finding your wide hips before resting on them with your hands. He steps closer and speaks softer.

“No, not scared. I just don’t trust those who withhold the truth.” Your smirk drops and your mind races.

What does he know? How could he know? No, this is stupid, there’s no way…

“Oh don’t worry darling, I would have trusted you even less if you had laid, whatever it is, bare for us all to see. That’s why I voted to let you stay.” You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “And just so you know, I didn’t tell the others.”

“Why not? What loyalty do you have to me?”

“Oh, absolutely none, my dear… But, you never know when an ally might be useful.” He chuckles to himself, tucking his hair behind his pointed ear.

“You’re a smug one, aren’t you?”

“Hmm… Some say smug, some say charming, it’s all the same really when you get what you want. So… Allies?” He leans in, expecting an agreeable reply. You scoff at his audacity before rolling your eyes and giving him what he wants.

“Allies.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter

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[wikiangela]

music monday

tagged by @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @dangerpronebuddie @your-catfish-friend

Rules: Choose a few fics you wrote that were inspired by a song not just with song lyrics in title and share the tune and the link to the fics.

well, this is more than I expected lmao most of my fics are named after a song so it wasn't easy to remember which ones were inspired by songs but I think I got it haha (all buddie here btw)

I could get lost in the feelings (just say that you belong to me)

what a mighty good man

I can't love you any more (than I do now)

we got time (but we're only human)

I'd marry you with paper rings (technically this was initially inspired by a post but half of it was inspired by a song so)

got a girl at home (but I love the way you taste) aka the cheating fic that's still a wip

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13

[steddieunderdogfics]

Hey for challenge monday fics with playlists, I think Metal Church by 19_empty_vacancies is a fun read. It's a quick read and even got a sequel a couple months ago

Metal Church by 19_empty_vacancies

Listen to the official playlists here and here!

@vacantwatchers

Rating: Mature

2,557 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Vecna (Stranger Things), Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Getting Together, Steve 'Audio Porn' Harrington, Praise Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Masturbation, Overuse of italics, Swearing, Eddie wants to worship Steve, Religious Imagery & Symbolism

Summary:

Eddie would start a religion if it meant he could worship at the foot of his altar. His benevolent and mighty god to whom he would dedicate hymns of lust and wanting and worship, divine love in the sins and secrets he’d keep. - Eddie has a crush.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Fics with playlists.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[nocompromise-noregrets]

Tag game: people I'd like to get to know better

Thank you so much to @dancerinthestorm for the tag! <33333333

Last Song: Trastevere by Måneskin. No surprises there, I'm still listening to their entire discography on repeat.

Fave Color: Purple - specifically the blue-toned royal Cadbury purple. I'm not so keen on the pinker shades.

Last Book: Still working my way through Sami Yaffa's autobiography, The Road Bends. It's an easy and engaging read, I'm just not very good at putting the muses down and picking up a book, especially at the moment

Last Movie: We were working our way through the MCU in chronological order over Christmas but I can't remember where we got up to.

Last TV Show: Currently rewatching Vera, and watching Grantchester for the first time.

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: All three! I don't actually care very much about food, but I like all three.

Relationship Status: Very very married to the missus. 23 years last September.

Last Thing I Googled: I've been running some comments on the RPF through Google Translate as I have a very lovely Spanish commenter who doesn't do English and I don't do Spanish (yet).

Looking Forward To: Going out with my best work friends on 1 February to mark my 25th anniversary at job number one; my 50th birthday in March; seeing Soul Asylum a week on Monday; seeing Michael Monroe at the end of May and beginning of June; seeing Damiano David at the end of September. More gigs to be booked, including potentially Von Hertzen Brothers, Bloodywood and the mighty Chesney Hawkes all in March!

Current Obsession: Still absolutely losing the plot about Måneskin. :D :D :D I don't see that changing any time soon.

Tagging anyone who fancies doing this one! <33333333

[redrawthecolorlessworld]

Hey,

It's Monday

It's tim to draw Mighty again

ah, yes. how could i ever forget?

SPARKLE ON IT'S AMAZING MIGHTYYYY MONDAYYYY!!!! DON'T FORGET TO SUFFER THROUGH SCHOOL IF YOU ARE A STUDENT SUCH AS I!!!! LET US SUFFER TOGETHER!!!!

[kalmiaphlox]

SNIPPET SUNDAY (monday)

Tagged by @bardic-inspo Thank you!! 🥰

Just a snippet from the batstarion shortfic coming up. He's an angry little beastie!

++++

“My, oh my, irthiski, seems I'm not the only shape changer around.” She rubs at his fuzzy head with a finger, and in typical Astarion-fashion, he bares teensy fangs that shimmer like pearls. “What a cutiepie! I could eat you right up!”

That raises another teeny squeak from him, though she can hear the rage burning behind it. How mighty it is, but a dragon does not cower from such things.

“You should be able to speak normally, come on, use your words.” Kalmia nudges him a bit too hard, knocking him over on the sheets. “Oops, sorry!”

There's little grumbling noises that sound suspiciously like speaking, he must be getting a grasp of this new body, it'll take time. Astarion is wobbling around best he can, using his wings as crutches to stand up, the little hook at the end catching on the bedding so he gets stuck, letting out more angry squeaks.

++++

Tagging: @busy-baker, @spacebarbarianweird, @micropoe10, @tadpoleatemybrain and anyone else who'd like to post something 😘

[critter-genfic-events]

Epistolary or Diegetic Fics!

This week we have eight fics that feature text that the characters could read themselves! Letters, abstracts, texts, and the occasional sending, they're all featured under the cut!

like coloured indigo inscribed with my name by KmacKatie (kmackatie) (30,648, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss, Shadowgast

Mighty Nein Group texts and Shadowgast slowburn

Reccer says: What I like about it: The formatting is so good, and the chat messages capture the different character voices so good. It has very cozy found family vibes with the usual M9 shenenigans. A feelgood read! Best read on a computer for the full experience of the format.

You'll Hear When I Do by Beauteousmajesty (1,273, General) Warnings: None Pairings: Mentions of Yeza/Veth

Felderwin residents gossip about alleged sightings of Veth Brenatto in town, years after she was supposed to have died.

Reccer says: This fic feels just like you'd expect small town gossip to feel. It's fun to see how the Nein's antics would look from the perspective of random townspeople who only see them from afar.

From the Mixed-Up Files of The J. Lavorre Catalogue Raisonné by renquise (2328, General) Warnings: none Pairings: none

A selection of commentary on Jester Lavorre's art

Reccer says: I love thinking about how the Mighty Nein would be remembered, hundreds of years on, and this is an amazing fic exploring what the art history world would make of Jester.

a book of light by vietbluecoeur (vietbluefic) (1558, Teen) Warnings: Pairings: Deirta Thelyss & Essek Thelyss

Snippets into the private writings of a saint, following the death of a heretic

Reccer says: I like delving into the complications of Essek and Deirta's relationship, especially from Deirta's point of view! This fic does so well

From the Case Files of the Corrington Scandal Investigation by Professor_Rye (2594, Mature) Warnings: SA/Rape (implied) Pairings: The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss, Ludinus Da'leth/Essek Thelyss

A case file about the kidnapping and subsequent rescue of a certain drow. Modern AU.

Reccer says: The attention to detail and wonderful execution of the epistolary format, the way the narrative slowly unravels, and of course, the angst.

last letter by bittersnake (1373,General) Warnings: None Pairings:

Irme's letter to Nydas Okiro, right before everything happened.

Reccer says: I liked it

The Number You Have Reached Is Not In Service by Killbothtwins (225,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Orym & Dorian Storm

Attempted sendings between Orym and Dorian after the Apogee Solstice

Reccer says: It's lovely and in character and I want to know how the other half of the Crownkeepers are doing, too

Descriptions of a River Flowing by Operafloozy (6427,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: None

Five known aliases of Essek Thelyss, and one that (perhaps) will be forgotten.

Reccer says: It's funny and snarky, and then gets contemplative

If you liked this rec list, follow along for more! We'll be posting a new list with a new theme each Monday. Want to make your own recs? Check out the rules, and then use the form to submit!

Next week, the theme is featuring neurodivergent characters! A number of different headcanons and canon readings are welcome.

If you're looking for some more, there's some good stuff in the critter genfic bingo tag! We added a new one this week! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[tathrin]

Multiple Words Monday

Thank you very much @sallysavestheday for the tag! I spent this past weekend working on some original fiction (I know! gasp! but don't worry, it's an elf/dwarf romantasy so it's not that original lol) so here, have the opening paragraphs of that:

Up in the green bluffs above the old walls of Rohnn, the ever-present sounds of lapping waves and creaking ropes and flapping sailcloth that defined the small town faded, replaced by the soft songs of unseen birds and squirrels, and the whispering rustle of leaves moving gently in the wind.

Those were not, by their nature, sounds that were soothing to a dwarven heart; but then, as evinced by his unbraided beard and weaponless belt, Drōvin was no longer considered to be a dwarf.

He stomped through the woods, bearded head low, paying little mind to the sounds or sights of dappled leaves and chattering songbirds. He wouldn't have known what sort of trees he was walking past, or what types of birds he heard, even if he had looked. He had not sought the woods for their sake. He merely craved some distance from the waves, and the bustle of the town, and the curious eyes of friends and strangers alike: some time to be alone with his sorrows and his shame, where no one could see his loose beard or his axeless belt. The wooded heights were a better place for a dwarf to seek that solitude than the sandy shore, but he knew there was no more balm for his soul to be found in this green forest than there was in the seaside town where he now made his home.

There was no balm for a dwarf anywhere without his mountain, without his clan.

But Drōvin could not go home—as his unbraided beard made clear to all with eyes, he no longer had a home—and so he sought for what comfort he could find in places strange to dwarven spirits, because such places were all that were left to him now, exile that he was.

Tired in a way that had nothing to do with the burn in his calves from the long climb up the bluffs and his meandering walk through the trees, he settled down upon a broad fallen log and let his shoulders slump forward so low that his beard dangled down past his knees. The loose topaz-brown strands stirred in the light wind, as a dwarf's heavy braids would never do, and he heaved a mighty sigh. That sent his hair dancing even more, and Drōvin closed his eyes to escape the bitter sight.

Thus he did not see the leatherback jackal until it leapt upon him with a roar.

Since I spent the weekend trying to be productive I haven't been on tumblr at all to see who's already been tagged, so ignore me if this is redundant, but: @babybat98 @bifuriouswaterbender @roselightfairy @thescrapwitch @aroace-moron

[eleneressea]

many sentence monday

Tagged by @grey-gazania to share a snippet, so have some peggy sue maedhros:

“Father,” Nelyafinwë said, closing the door behind him, and bit his lip. That was even more worrying. He had lost the nervous habit decades ago. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. “You’re working on something big, aren’t you?”

“These jewels will be my greatest works,” he said.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Nelyafinwë said. “They will be the target of envy, I fear, even from the highest.”

“Good! Let all desire them.” Pride swelled in his breast at the thought. Even the mighty Valar would have to acknowledge that the greatest of the Elda were rivals to their skill, that Fëanáro was indeed the greatest of the Eldar. And none would ever whisper Marred where they thought he might not hear them.

“And if they should demand them, and lay claim?”

Fëanáro laughed. “What claim could they lay on the works of my hands? They may as well demand you and your brothers.”

tagging @leucisticpuffin, @swanhild, @thescrapwitch, @potatoobsessed999, @istaricelebelasse and anyone else who wants to join in!

[worldenough-and-time]

Monday Snippit

Thanks @lynxindisguise for the tag!

A little bit of Jily from the next True Blue chapter for y’all, as a treat.

———

“Evans? Are you alright?”

Of all the bloody people in the entire bloody school to find her in this state, it had to be James Potter. James Potter, her sworn enemy turned ally for Remy’s benefit. James Potter, even more high and mighty since he was crowned Quidditch Vice Captain at the start of the year. Not that she payed much attention to those things. James Potter, who at the end of last term had announced to the whole of Gryffindor House his undying love for her. Of course it would be him. He had a habit of finding her in her most humiliating moments, if he wasn’t first the cause of them.

Lily tried to tell him that she was fine, actually, to ward him off as he came closer with an increasingly concerned expression, but instead what came out was another squirming slug, right onto his shoes.

“Gross,” James said, kicking the slug aside nonchalantly, wiping his expensive white trainers on the dying grass. He knelt beside her. “Who got you? Was it Mulciber? I’ll kick his ass into next century.”

———

No pressure tags for @capacity-for-wonder @spindrifters @strezzlecki @sommerregenjuniluft @kaleidoscopexsighs and open tag for whomever wants it!