#more messed up marvel family trees

[theatrical-penguin]

And they follow-up the exploration of the Lenscherr/Maximoff family with the revelation of Mystique’s status as worst mother in the story. At least Kurt and Rogue each get one good sibling out of it.

Creed and Sabretooth deserve each other.

[catpriciousmarjara]

Okay so there's this dp x dc tumblr post about the JL finding the Ghost King's family tree or something and lots of misunderstandings happening but I can't find it anymore and would be grateful if someone would send it to me... Anyhow I was inspired by it and this is the result!

Also on ao3 if you wanna check it out there!

The Family Tree

"So you're telling me this is just a family tree?", Green Lantern asked with a frown on his face.

Bruce could see Constantine's eyes twitching at that question. As always, leave it to Hal Jordan to annoy people.

"This isn't just anything", the sorcerer said with narrowed eyes. "It's a Class-X magical artifact. If this thing is used as a focus for a ritual, the magnitude of magical energy would rise by at least 80 factors. For those of you non-magical or unfamiliar with magic, that's fucking huge."

Beside him Zatanna nodded, her gaze still fixed on the ancient manuscript. She hadn't taken her eyes off the scroll for more than a minute since she got to the Watch Tower and first saw it spread out on the containment room table. Constantine was the same. Captain Marvel was not present, working along with Superman, Hawkgirl, and Aquaman on a case, but his reactions have always been dissimilar from his magical colleagues, so his case might be anywhere between staying the hell away from it to trying to inhale it.

It was clear to Bruce that Zatanna coveted it, but was sensible and cautious enough to stay away from it. Constantine had no sense so he was a tossup. From where he was standing between Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter, the Gotham vigilante resolved to keep an eye on the two magicians. They most likely won't try to steal the artifact, considering the heavy dose of 'not messing with that thing' overshadowing the desire to possess it, but the scroll itself might be enchanted to encourage covetous feelings on those nearby. It wouldn't be the first time. Better safe than sorry.

It was Diana that stepped up towards the two JL Dark members to seek more clarification. As both a Demigod and as someone familiar with magic, she was usually the one taking point on such issues.

She gestured to the scroll innocently sitting inside the runic circle the two mages had constructed around it. "You have told us that the artifact is not destructive, that it is merely a record, and that the information it contains is not a spell, or a runic arrangement, or a magic circle. You have also told us that the strange energy readings coming from it are mostly due to the material it's made out of than any catastrophic sorcery enchanted into it. You have at last decoded it as a record of a family tree. Yet it is dangerous, a Class-X relic as you've said. Given all this information, I suppose the correct question to ask here is this: why is a family tree capable of raising magical energy output by 80 factors?"

The two magicians looked at each other. Zatanna finally pried her eyes away from the scroll and faced the room.

"Magic is a force that simultaneously has laws but at the same time adheres to none. It's confusing to explain but for the time being just keep that in mind."

She walked to the center of the room, followed by Constantine, visibly trying to collect her words. Bruce prepared himself for a complicated explanation and activated another one of the batsuit's recorders. He felt the urge to sigh, for a supposed unchained force, Magic was needlessly complex at times, and practically incomprehensible to non-magicals.

At the front, Zatanna took a deep breath and began.

"As you know there are multiple dimensions. But magical dimensions come under a different category. Depending on the overall magical potential of a particular magical dimension, we call it the World State Stable Thaumaturgical Output Capacity, we can classify these dimensions in grades and levels, as either higher or lower, with relation to each other. These levels are dependent on a multitude of variables like space, time, gravity, Events, Proximity, etc and as such are non-linear, and unfixed. That's the first thing."

Bruce could practically see the capitals on the last two. Looks like they would need to hold another meeting to clarify a lot of these concepts. Seeing the dawning of lost expressions on some of the members however, Bruce mentally amended that to many future meetings.

Zatanna continued. "Magical objects from higher dimensions become stronger in lower ones. The inverse is also true. This is all in relation to the Overture and the same polarity orientation of course but we don't need to get into that now-"

On the contrary Bruce thought they really needed more explanation on all of that.

"-In simple terms, a child's toy from a higher dimension could become the focus for an apocalyptic ritual in a much lower dimension, while an apocalyptic artifact from a lower dimension might as well be paperweight in a sufficiently higher one. There are ways around it, but if those methods are not implemented, then this is how it generally goes. The larger the level difference, the higher the power."

Now that wasn't concerning at all. Bruce really needed to update his contingency plans regarding magic.

Constantine continued from where Zatanna left off, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"The second thing is that when it comes to magic, things that are indefinable or unquantifiable become definable and quantifiable. Stuff like love, hate, happiness, despair, fate, necessity, authority? All measurable. Not always needed of course, But definitely possible and frequently used in a variety of magical fields."

The sorcerer leaned against a nearby chair. "One such thing is Significance. The magic contained in true names for instance is mostly based on significance. A true name is significant to you, its a doorway to your soul, and therefore it holds power. Significance is also what we call a positive, additive factor in magic. In the absence of interfering variables, significance as a quantity is directly proportional to magical output. In other words-"

"-the more significant an object or an event, the higher the magical energy output, and consequently higher the magical power", J'onn finished. He looked towards the scroll. "The information recorded on it, the family tree as you've said, valuable in significance, most likely in terms of whose family it's a record of. In addition, the artifact is from a higher dimension with relation to ours, and that has a cumulative effect."

"Yeah exactly", said Constantine with a raised eyebrow. "Which means that if that hypothetical toy Zatanna mentioned? If that happened to be important enough, like a first toy, or a cherished gift or something like that, its significance increases, its potential increases, and in the right hands, or in the wrong hands really, that potential could be harnessed at a lower level."

There was a bout of thoughtful silence as they absorbed all of the information.

But Bruce felt as if he had been quiet enough and took the chance to ask a question of his own. "You mentioned something called the Overture, and polarity orientation. What do they mean?"

Constantine just sighed. "For fuck's sake Batsy those things aren't really important to the discussion..."

Bruce just stared.

..."Fine", the mage said in defeat. "There are many names for it, the Overture, Exordium, Legerdomain, Nascence...but the most accepted two are the Beforebirth, and the Womb. It's not a something as much as it's a someplace, but then again it's not really a place either. Simply put it's the birthplace of Magic, where it all began and all that. It can't be accessed without the Key and that's been lost for a long time. It's actually a mission for many magicals to find it you know? A holy quest for a lot of them. Some of them are straight up crazy though."

Bruce field that information safely away. Figure out a plan to combat fanatic magicians trying to find the birthplace of magic for sinister reasons. "And polarity?"

"Well", Zatanna began, "its how magic is classified according to the nature of...magic? Or rather the essence? It's hard to put in mundane terms...Anyhow broadly speaking there are two main polarities, the Obverse, and the Reverse."

For a moment, she struggled with the explanation before brightening, seemingly having found an idea.

"Picture a number line, but like on the y-axis! Zero is the Overture, Obverse dimensions are the positive number side, and Reverse dimensions are the negative numbers! The higher up the obverse dimension, the larger its magical output! Similarly, the lower down the reverse dimension, the higher its magical output."

Bruce had hardly parsed through that when their resident speedster spoke up.

"Guys", the red clad hero said, "I feel like we missed the obvious follow up question after Ollie over here...like I feel like this is important, but where exactly is the scroll from?"

As one everyone turned towards the artifact.

Constantine grimaced and Zatanna winced. They looked at each other as if asking who wanted to bite the bullet. Finally it looked as if Constantine lost. The sorcerer cursed under his breath.

"Well which dimension is the scroll from?", asked Wonder Woman.

Constantine took what looked like a fortifying breath.

"It's from the Infinite Realms."

Silence.

"What?", the Green Lantern asked intelligently.

"It's from the Infinite Realms. As in Infinite. As in end of the figurative fucking line, number line whatever!"

Everyone stared at the magicians as understanding slowly dawned.

There was what was essentially a magical nuke in the Watch Tower.

"Now", began Martian Manhunter, "this is unfortunate".

[an-otterly-adorable-being]

Could I request some Rocky Rickaby headcanons with a very easily flustered reader who just MELTS when given any and all affection from him? Even just a smile from him and just IMMEDIATE blushing mess!^^

Hope this is good enough for ya, I wrote it in between helping family with stuff.

Rocky Rickaby x EasilyFlustered!Reader Headcanons

Rocky Rickaby in his crazy arc, as usual. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

• Who knew you'd end up finding someone absolutely amazing at a speakeasy of all places?

• You certainly didn't, that's for sure.

• Y'know, it was supposed to be your last time at the Lackadaisy, your chance to say goodbye, in a way.

• You were there when the place was on the up and up, but now it was declining, and you had grown up.

• The occasional drink was nice, but you couldn't spend your years wasting away down there, hoping for some impossible romance to happen.

• It never happened, aside from the occasional longing glances with one of the band members.

• One final drink, and you were off.

• A walk in the woods sounded nice to you.

• You don't know why, it just felt right.

• The cool night fur felt good as it brushed your fur, the sounds of the forest relaxing you, and the...sound of a gun?

• Holy shit was that an explosion?!

• You should've booked it in the other direction, going home for the night and not getting caught up in whatever the hell was happening.

• But no, you had to go play hero.

• Or, you were going to play hero, until you found yourself in the middle of a shootout.

• Yeah, you weren't exactly sure what to do, especially when someone landed next to you, laughing maniacally.

• It took him a minute to recognize you were there, but when he did he just gave you a smile the size of the moon in the sky.

• It was that guy from the band of the Lackadaisy, which made things less confusing, but only by a little bit.

• Then he took your hand, and, you aren't sure if it was the adrenaline, his touch, or the heat from the fire burning nearby, but you blushed hard.

• He started leading you to a car and it almost felt like he was dancing with you.

• You swore he was humming some melody too, but the sound of a vehicle approaching you drowned it out.

• And then he picked you up, and you weren't sure what he was going to do.

• Who knew being thrown into a moving car could be so graceful?

• You, miraculously, landed perfectly in a seat, and he hopped in after.

• There were two other cats in the car, but you were more focused on the man sitting next to you, laughing maniacally.

• After a moment he turned his head to you, staring at you.

• "You...you are as beautiful as the stars setting over the autumn trees."

• You didn't know this about yourself, but it turns out you can be easily won over with compliments.

• Oh, and look at that, after the drive you're right back at the Lackadaisy, and, after a bit of flirting and impromptu date at 3:00 AM, an insane boyfriend.

• You learned very quick how easy it was for you to fall apart because of Rocky.

• His marvelous melodies, his wondrous words, they shattered you every time.

• Even that insane smile of his made you weak in the knees.

• You've become a regular at the Lackadaisy once more, and almost everyone there teases you for it.

• Even Rocky does, because he may be crazy, but he does have eyes.

• Oh by the way, he loves making you all flustered.

• He adores when you get all blushy, and it makes him feel somewhat good too.

• Rocky isn't exactly used to that positive reaction to his, well, everything, so even though you'd probably have to force a confession out of him, you are very good for him.

• Granted, you are unable to stop him from doing dangerous stuff, usually because a peck on the cheek will make your mind go blank, but at least his sense of humor and his honeyed words always remain intact.

• Except for when he stayed quiet all day as a joke. That was... a weird day.

• But atleast he's as normal as he can be now!

[writinandcrying]

TMNT ONE SHOT - Holiday Season - A Special gift

Christmas was not your favorite holiday, at least you had a mutant turtle to help out in this trying times (GN READER, Tw: dysfunctional family, arguments and bickering related to food, crying mentioned)

Fluff - makeout / first kiss with *insert turtle you like* after a shitty xmas (English isn’t my first language and I didn’t proof read this 😗✌️, pls don’t hesitante to correct me if you see something off putting, I hope you guys still like it!)

You climb up the last steps of the fire scape connecting the roof top of your building, dragging your feet as you groan one last time, it’s impressive you can hear your relatives arguing several stores bellow, you have lost count how many times people can pick on each other on their free will. You drag your hands along your face and sigh, you want nothing more but to distance yourself from that.

You didn’t get to feel much of The “Christmas spirit” everyone seem to love and cherish since you left your childhood years, and it seems that every year you learn to dislike December a little bit more. As much as The Grinch was deeply relatable for you lately, you didn’t want it to be, having a dysfunctional family in such a tender Holiday was kinda like receiving punch in the gut every day until 25th of December died out. After the first 10, the warm smiles and happy wishes over a great season seem to constantly mock your misery, leaving you bitter and resentful.

Leaning over the edge of your building, you check the many light up windows and different narratives playing along on your neighborhood, a family all gathered up taking a picture by their decorated tree on the left, you let a chuckle out by thrilled parents filming a rather young child by your right, to what it seems taking their first steps by their excitement.

it was nice seeing different kind of life’s playing along the fairy lights on the streets bellow, secretly wishing yours would be a little bit like theirs, reality seems distant as you accidentally disassociate, thinking how -your- family would be seen compared to those merry ones, your parents resentment growing against each other every minute, barking mean comments left and right to you messing apparently everything up. The perfect picture of a broken home. Awful to see, awful to be part of.

You sigh as you recall what drove you to the edge moments ago, a silly comment really, it was so small compared to the constant bickering around the whole month of December, but picking on you eating a single cookie? That you made? You spent the whole day cooking. The whole day trying to have a good Christmas, you can feel yourself fuming as you remember how much you have worked your ass off the whole month for their presents, for a good Christmas dinner, as they wouldnt even buy a single pair of sock for you. Give you a single “thank you” for all of your efforts, You tried, you really did, Despite all the odds against your favor, you still tried, when you finally decide you give yourself a taste of your hard work, your family dares to give you shit about your eating habits? No. Nuh uh.

That was the last drop. You marched to your room as you heard someone giving you shit one last time after harshly dropping the plate on the dining table. knew you would be screwed when they found out you were gone, no amount of locks would keep them at bay for longer than 2 to 3 hours. But god, you needed a time out. Yes, you would rather freeze your butt on a dirty and frozen roof top than to listen to another passive aggressive bullshit comment.

“you have been hiding here all this time?” A familiar voice fills out of the foggyness of your thoughts, your head turns around slightly, watching a well known silhouette marvelously shining through the moonlight “nobody’s seen you in days” his tone isn’t harsh or accusative, you can almost hear a incredulous chuckle out of him, he speaks lightly, curious to your whereabouts, you can also hear him landing near the regular rooftop entrance, you stare once again to the uncountable windows and buildings in front of you.

He waits for you to retaliate, reply with witty comeback, flash him an apologetic smile, anything, but silence wins you over. He knew something was up when you were this quiet, your family would be the main topic when you vanished like that, he also knew you needed space to deal with such matter, in due time, you would ask for comfort, you would seek for his presence, just like when he comes to you, yet this time it never came, you never came. The ninja turtle slowly leans over, trailing his eyes ahead as you do.

A sniff catches him off guard, he knows it shouldnt, but it does, he glances at you to finally see your glossy eyes staring ahead, a blush covering your cheeks and nose; You look adorable, sad, disappointed, frustrated, but still can’t help but to find you adorable, his hearts stings as you rapidly catch a sneaky tear roll down your cheek, turning your back at him before he can catch you in this arms.

“Didn’t want to bother.” your voice comes out more shaky than you would like, a bit hoarse due to the current season, you rub your hands together, if he questioned about your well being, you could just blame it on the cold weather,on the perfect snowflakes falling above you two.

“You could never bother” he trails along slowly, weary as if you were a scared cat, afraid that any hasty movement could make you dash “how about we go to the lair? Everyone misses you.” he gently places a hand on your back, “I miss you” he ponders, moving slowly to be by your side, your eyes don’t meet his, he wants to lean down, he wants your eyes locked on his, he wants you to trust him as much as he trusts you, he wants nothing more but to hold you close and kiss your sorrows and tears away.

he stays put instead, waiting on your call.

You instinctively turns towards him, his warmth drawing you in, you want to smile, to tell him over and over that eveything is fine, you were just busy, he doesn’t have to worry.

Instead your mouth is pressed in a tight line, you can feel your lips trembling when you try to speak, you know words will come out wobbly, and for the first time, you won’t be able to hold back tears in front of him. This is pathetic. You think, you want to be at the lair. You want to be near them, but how can you explain you can’t bare to see their love, brotherhood and companionship tonight? You can’t feel part of it? This night isn’t about you, it has never been and it will never will be, you just get used to it.

You look up; your thoughts swimming through your eyes, you open and close your mouth, how do you explain you crave affection, but can’t seem to bear it?

The turtle holds you in a swift movement, carrying you with ease, gently but still firmly holding you against his plastron in princess style, the familiar adrenaline rushes trough you as you can feel him jumping from roof top to roof top, you don’t have words to question him, astoundingly admiring him as you stare at his focused face facing the horizon ahead.

You close your eyes for a moment, learning your face over the valley of his neck and collarbone, in a blink of an eye, songs, chatter and laughter fills the air and you remember you are in New York , the most magical city to be this time of year. Yes, you had probably the crappiest month of your life, but for a moment, you let yourself drift away in bliss, focusing on sounds and passing colorful lights.

He settles both you on a empty office balcony, everything is dark inside accept for the faint lights on a very worn out tree looking back at you, you check your own reflection, your eyes are red and puffy, your hair is uneven, and there are millions of colors shining behind you.

The Rockefeller was the most iconic place all over New York during Christmas time, slowly turning around, the tree and it’s surroundings leaving you both speechless, you loved Christmas lights, it was impressive to say the least how the decorations were absolutely ethereal. ever so slowly, you both sit down and admire the virw quietly.

“You don’t have to deal with everything on your own” is the first line he graces you, you wanna laugh with that alone, look who’s talking you think over, but you can’t say it, you know he is right, he chuckles as if he could read your mind, he gently tilts your head upwards “next time, call me. Text me. Reach out, for goddess sake.” He smiles at you, you let out a huff, smiling shyly “you have so much on your plate already, I just, I didn’t-“

“You deserve so much better” he shakes his head, lips pressed in a thin line. Over many years of his life, he has thought he had too little and humans had absolutely everything on top side, it was unfair and left a sour taste over his mouth. you have shown him that kind of thought was childish, he had a family, he had people he could count on, that’s alone is a lot more than what many people have, He can’t take that fact for granted anymore.

He also knew your biggest wish was to be part of something like that, his biggest wish was to make you feel part of it, maybe even something more.

You shyly lace your pinky with one of his fingers, ducking away as you felt your face burning under his deep gaze, you were so appreciative of his family, of him, of his patience and dedication, to say you have a crush on the turtle was an understatement, everything the he did made your heart skip a beat, the way he would always seek out for you during hangouts, how he cared for your preferences and well being, you found yourself unable to look away when he was training, when he would laughs so care freely, when he gets lost on his interests and everything seems to slow down around the both of you. You rest your head gently over his shoulder, you know you can get lost in his eyes quickly, you bite your lip when you think of his, and how heavenly it would feel against yours.

“It’s alright..” that what you manage to come up with, it’s cheap and it’s empty, but you don’t know what else to say. “No it’s not.” He says it firmly, interlocking your fingers tightly to prove his point.

Sometimes, you swear he feels the same as you do, you swear you can catch a soft longing from him across the dinging table, across the dojo over self defense training, short glances that are filled with unspoken words, that the innocent touches are not so innocent anymore. but life has taught you not to hang on those wishes, not to have hope. It was hurtful to do so.

“why do you care?” you let a frustrated sigh out, you hate how you just asked that the moment the words left your mouth, you aren’t frustrated at him per say, more towards your feelings, at how clammy your hands feel around his, how fast your heart is beating, how you secretly hope he knows that you didn’t mean to let that question out, how much of a chicken you were, how you fought annoying daydreaming scenarios with him on daily basis and yet just wish he kissed you already.

“Because I do.” he makes you look at him again, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, and for the first time tonight, you look at him, you really look at him, how he is breathing fast, how dilated his pupils are when he looks at you, how his thumb drags temptingly over the bottom of your lips, letting out a shaky breath as he squeezes your hand one last time.

“because I just do.” His gaze is locked in yours, pleading, full of what you have denied yourself for years, telling eveything you have ever wanted without any words. He was yours, and you are his.

you finally tell yourself fuck it and kiss him.

It’s desperate, it’s passionate, it’s eveything you want and more, you drag your nails on the nape of his neck and draws him into your space, your chest hits is plastron as he grips your hips as he pins you down against the ground, the way you hook one of your leg on top of his shell drives out a moan out of him, making you arch your back, you nibble his bottom lip as you swear you gonna lose your mind.

You don’t know how long has passed, your grip on him is as strong as his as you lay beneath him, you makeout until you are both out of breath, until the anger and frustration has been worn out and you two slowly melt together, once fervent kisses turns into soft, gentle ones, until you are both looking at each other, smiling and giving pecks between giggles, translating eveything you have both been feeling towards each other

“Goddamn.” he draws a hearty laugh out of both you, the turtle rests is forehead against yours, sighing dreamily, giving you feather light kisses on your cheeks as you pull him closer.

“I care a lot about you too.” you drunkly smile to him, caressing his cheeks tenderly, “I sure hope so.” you hook your arms around his neck, laughing at his antics.

“I gotta tell you something tho.” you tilt your head curiously, he looks down at your lips, licking instinctively as you bite yours.

“you surprisingly taste like gingerbread cookies”

That makes you giggle once more.

——————————————————————————

It’s 3 am and Idk how to finish so hopefully the end it’s not too abrupt *confetti sounds* 🎉 let me know if you guys liked it!

[tinkerbelle05]

You Are Enough Pt. 1

Characters: Jake x son!reader, Neytiri x son!reader, Lo’ak x brother!reader, Neteyam x brother!reader

Genre: Angst Hurt/Comfort (Comfort coming in Pt.2)

Summary: Avatar!Adopted son of Jake and Neytiri will be the next Olo’eyktan since he’s the eldest son, however, some people in the clan take issue with this. Because of this, the reader feels inadequate in his place within his own clan. Set before ATWOW

Word count: 3K

Warnings: Self-hatred, body issues, low self-esteem, self-destructive tendencies, low-key neglectful parenting

Translation: Olo’eyktan = clan leader, Sempul = Father, Sa’nok = Mother, Sa’nu = mom, Tsumkan = Brother, Tsmuke = Sister, Tsmuk = Sibling, Skxawng = idiot

Taglist & Masterlist

You stared at your reflection in the clear blue pond, and you hated what you saw. The small eyes, the hair on your eyebrow bone, the five fingers. The familiar pang of hatred filled your chest and spread all over your body like a forest fire, burning you. You hated the Sky people's features your Avatar body had. You hated how you looked so different from your clan, your people.

“Bro, you coming? Or are you too obsessed with yourself?” Lo’ak jokes from his place on a tree branch and Neyetam laughs at it. Right now you're tracking your Sa’nok for hunting practice with your Sempu and tsumkans.

“Hey,” Jake scolds them, “stop messing around and get over here.” He continues further into the forest, light on his feet and not leaving a trail.

“You heard the sergeant. Let’s go.” Lo’ak says mockingly and follows their Sempu’s path with Neteyam.

So you do what you do best and pretend that these feelings do not exist. Like they don’t keep you up at night or creep into your mind when you're at peace. You pretend to be okay. You pick up your bow and arrows and slowly walk into the forest.

By now, there are not any signs of your family but you see the slight messing up of rocks that weren’t there earlier. Even though you’re supposed to be tracking, you can’t help but marvel at the beauty of Pandora’s rainforest. The big lush green plants and canopy of towering trees surrounded them, the animals scurrying around them.

According to your birth parents, scientists turned warriors, back on Earth, tight spaces and skyscrapers were all that there was and most rainforests were either man-made or photos. Your parents…you missed them a lot. Every time you crossed a milestone, your mind wanders to them. What it would’ve been like, should've been like.

You heard something, instantly snapping you out of your thoughts. Muscle memory makes you grab your bow and arrow, and silences your heart to better your hearing. You hear the crunching and rustling of leaves from two different directions.

You slowly walk to a vantage spot where you can see both of the animals. Or ambushers. You ready your bow and take aim at the spot. You speak with a clear and loud voice, “Whoever you are here, come out right now.” In case it wasn’t an animal.

You waited but silence greeted you, and it stretches to the point where you wondered if you was imagining it from being on edge. But the sound of soft snickers hit your ears and you tried to not growl in annoyance. It wasn’t the deep voice of your Sempu nor the soft one of your Sa’nok.

“Lo’ak, I know that it is you,” you grumble and put your arrows back into the satchel. Lo and behold your tsumkan pop out from the bushes along with your Sempu, surprisingly.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion, “I expected this from Lo’ak, but you Sempu?”

Your Sempu gives you a teasing smirk and shrugs, “Made for a good test on your reflects.” He comes closer and put his warm hands on your shoulders. “You passed, good job ma ‘itan. Now let’s go back, your Sa’nok and Neteyam are already there.”

You walk back to High Camp. It was more a fortress than a village since the Sky people came back with their war and destruction. Led to a massive forest fire, many older Na’vi said it was reminiscent of the destruction of Hometree. That’s when the side eyes and comments began.

“It was totally so he can sneak up on you, dude. Shoulda saw the pout he had when you called our buff.” Lo’ak informs you, slinging an arm on your shoulder as the both of you stroll back to camp.

The walk was mostly silent, each lost in their own world. But you could feel something was off with your tsmukan. He kept biting his lips and not so sneaky glancing his way before hastily avoiding eye contact whenever your eyes met.

Fed up with this, you abruptly stopped the walk and asked, “Okay, what’s with the looks you keep giving me?”

“The better question, is what’s with you?” He asked accusingly with his arms crossed around his torso. If your heart wasn’t thundering inside of your chest from nervousness, you would’ve commented on how much he resembles your Sempu.

“With me? Lo-” You tried to deflect but Lo’ak wasn’t fooled.

“Don't give me that bullshit, dude. It may work with our parents but not with me.” He pressed on, backing you into a corner, literally and metaphorically.

“I’m fine, okay. Just drop it, you won’t understand,” you say in irritation, fed up with your tsmukan usual pesky persistence.

Maybe Lo’ak would understand. The accusing stares whenever they walked around the camp. People became bolder when you weren't with your parents about their distaste for your existence. But maybe at the same time, he wouldn't.

He was Na’vi, more than you ever would be, and his hairy eyebrows and five fingers will never take that away. No one can ever take that away. With you it was different, you was like Jake, an Avatar, a sky person, a demon. And unlike Jake, you did not prove yourself worthy of being there, your parents did.

You were allowed to stay because your parents, brilliant and brave scientists, gave their lives to protect the Na’vi. And Jake is the Toruk Makto, they can’t deny him.

But they can deny you.

“Dude, hello?” Lo’ak shakes you out of your thoughts. “You’ve been really in your head lately. So something must be wrong. C’mon, you can talk to me.”

“Please, Lo’ak, just drop it.” You hang your head in shame.

How can you be a good chief if you can’t even reassure your own little tsumkan? Bet Neteyam never has to do that.

Thankfully, Lo’ak does drop his questions and you make it back to dinner just in time. Sa’nok and Sempu were setting the plates on the table while Tuk was talking Kiri’s ears off again.

“That was a long walk,” Kiri notes, looking them up and down with suspicion in her eyes.

“At least they are back before Eclipse. Sa’nok and Sempu would’ve had you guys’ heads”, Neteyam jokes.

“Yea,” Tuk, ever the annoying little sister peers up at the two, “what were you two doing?”

You made note of your parents' ears tilting in their direction, yet they made no move to ask either of their sons. He had to be careful in his answer.

“Why are you guys so nosy?! It’s bad enough we gotta share a room,” Lo’ak huffs in bitterness. Made sense, he was a frequent victim of Tuk’s “jumping on you for my enjoyment” attacks.

Sitting down next to your Sempu, you answer, “We were just talking about guy stuff.”

Instantly, Kiri and Tuk became disinterested and began eating their food. Neteyam was only half-listening to the conversation. Too hungry to care or tease his tsmukes. This however got the attention of your parents though.

“What exactly was said?” Jake presses on, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes. You could see a slight smirk forming on Netyiri’s face as she chewed her food.

“Sempu,” you looked tiredly at him after realizing that this was just a joke for their suffering. Sometimes parents can be so cruel.

After dinner, you headed out to practice your aim some more. It wasn’t really practiced but more of a way to keep your mind from wandering to those thoughts. Those ugly thoughts drowned you and took away your air.

“Are you going out again?” Your Sa’nok questioned looking at your bow and arrows in hand. When you nod, she shakes her head and tsk. “You have been practicing too much lately. Go take a break, now.”

“But Sa’nok-”

“No.” She takes the weapons from your hands. “You can go out on your ikran but no training.”

“Oh, you’re going out,” Lo’ak comes out, looking suspicious. Almost like this was planned. “Mind if I go with?”

This was clearly a setup with Lo’ak’s terrible acting. Despite this, you nod and mount your ikran.

You remembered when you made the bond with (ikran/name), there were many times when you felt like you would die. But you made the bond and took off with your ikran. For a whole month, your Sempu bragged about how his amazing son broke his record. The Toruk Matko’s record.

The memory warmed your but immediately grew cold. You can’t help but recount some of the looks of the older Na’vi. They did not look proud or delighted, more like with irritation and disbelief. The same Na’vi, however, wore a look of pride when Neteyam got his ikran. When Sempu bragged about Neteyam.

It was then you saw the differences in how you, Kiri, and Lo’ak were treated when compared to Neteyam and Tuk. And it was clear as day as to why.

“Rioe is such a bitch,” Lo’ak groaned. He flew his ikran closer to mine and gestured widely with his hands.

Your brother goes on to vibrantly describe what Rioe Te Rewui Rärä'ite said to him and how they got into their daily arguments. This Rioe girl has been bothering Kiri for a while about her non-Na’vi features and then when Kiri, in true Kiri fashion, didn’t give her the satisfaction, Rioe turned her eyes on Lo’ak. Who would gladly return the fire, with zero hesitation.

You give your tsmukan the same advice you’ve always given him. Go tell your parents to clear this whole thing up. But like always he refuses the advice with pride. So much like Sempu would’ve done.

“Really? You're not gonna ask for help because of your pride? Talk about shallow.”

Lo’ak gives you a side-eye that can rival Neteyam’s. “You're a real hypocrite. I hope you know that.” He flew his ikran higher into the sky with annoyance. The sky was cool against your face and the stars were beautiful tonight. Clouds were sparse.

You guide your ikran to follow after him, so close that the creatures nearly touch and give soft growls in response. Clearly sensing the growing irritation of both their owners. “We are talking about you, not me.”

“Well, maybe we should talk about you. You seem...to be y’know,” he falters a bit and doesn’t finish his sentence. Clearly at loss on how to say whatever he wants to.

You both fall into an uncomfortable silence that doesn’t often happen with you guys. Mostly because there was never silence, always talking or laughing, frequently both.

Lo’ak was the first to break the silence, his voice soft but verging on breaking, “We used to tell each other everything. And now, you tell me nothing.”

You sit with that information. Replaying it in your head, latching on to each word, and dissecting it. He was right. You don’t tell him much or anything anymore. You didn’t even notice it, you can’t even pinpoint when you stopped telling him.

And like a coward, you couldn’t even raise your head to tell him you were sorry for it.

“Lots has been on my mind, Lo’. I am sorry though,” you deflect instead. “Eywa, the sky is-“

“Don’t”, his voice is low and agitated. “You are suffering. And you won’t let anyone in. Why?” He demanded of you.

“This…this is just different, Lo’ak. I don’t know, but it feels different, and I don’t think you’ll get it.” You said all of this without even the courtesy of looking into his eyes.

You heard him scoff at your flimsy excuse and heard the flapping of wings. You looked up to see his figure getting smaller and smaller as he headed back home.

You slowly exhaled and inhaled to calm your nerves. You knew that this was a setup to get you to talk, and you knew that it would end badly. But you didn’t think it’ll end this badly. When it comes to Lo’ak, if he walks, or flies away in this case, you and he are not on speaking terms. Just what you needed.

The tension between you and Lo’ak was present even though you tried your hardest to be normal about it. But it was hard to when he would stubbornly refuse to interact with you, for even the smallest of things.

Like you would ask him to pass your knife and he’d tell Tuk to do it and leave. It was rather aggravating but two can play this game.

“Okay, so now you take the knife and slice it through here, slowly, Lo’ak,” Sa’nok instructed.

Right now, Neytiri was teaching them to cut the meat they just caught from their hunt. The game was in the middle and all of us were in a circle surrounding it.

Lo’ak was cutting into the side of a Yerik, and he was obviously struggling. The cut wasn’t clean straight down, instead, there were jagged lines from his continuous stopping and starting. It was a sad sight to see, honestly.

“Oh, Eywa, how could he be this bad?” Kiri whispered to you, causing you to snicker. He really was horrendous at it.

“Come hold this done for your tsmukan,” Sa’nok ordered you. From the way her eyes were fixated on yours, this was something you could not refuse.

So you got up and slowly walked towards Lo’ak. His displeasure with what was happening was evident in the way his jaw tensed and the increased gripe on the hunting knife. But he didn't verbalize it, fearing the wrath of Neytiri.

You both worked together, you holding down the animal and Lo’ak cutting it. The silence was uneasy and made the time drag slowly like a snail.

“Y’know, if you would just tell me-” Lo’ak began to whisper. You cut him off with a deadly look, you were tired of having this same endless conversation with him.

“No, and acting like a child because I won’t tell you will not get me to tell you.” You growled at him.

He huffed and kept quiet after that. You caught Sa’nok looking at you both in the corner of your eye, and you had no doubt that she saw and heard that entire exchange. Just great, another person on your case.

After the lesson, Sa’nok pulled you both aside for a “chat”. There you sat in front of her, it was terrifying, I mean who wouldn’t be terrified at being stared down by their Sa’nok? But this was Neytiri we were talking about here. A fierce warrior in her own right and the dead silence with prolonged eye contact made you unnerved.

“Well?” She asked, leaning against a tree. We were a far way from our home, in the jungle. Little creatures ran across the ground and the wind flowing provided some breeze to cool you down. Unfortunately, it couldn’t calm your heart. You felt trapped, and it’s funny because all of the walls you built to keep your family out are coming down. And you feel trapped because of it. Isn’t that ironic?

“We just had a disagreement, Sa’nu,” Lo’ak lied through his teeth easily. Maintained eye contact and didn’t think too hard about his answer, but that wouldn’t fool Neytiri.

“Try again, Lo’ak,” she replied, “and try to not lie to me this time. You two are close and now suddenly, you treat each other like strangers. Something is wrong and you refuse to talk about it. So talk, now.” She got up from her spot and climbed the tree with expertise. She went up far so that she wouldn’t us but not too far so she could see if we tried to run.

“Have I done something wrong?” Lo’ak asked. It was..it was unlike his previous questions, full of accusations of mistrust. “We used to go to each other for anything, everything. And now you shut me out. You shut everyone out, (Y/N).”

“But, Lo’ak you wouldn’t get it…”, you protest weakly, you don’t even believe the words coming out of your mouth. At least you don’t fully believe them, you just say them hoping they’ll work. They never do.

He scoffs at this and narrows his eyes at you, “You keep saying that. I won’t understand this, I won’t understand that. But you never tell me what I’m not understanding so just tell me. Tell me so I can understand and help you, tsumkan.”

“You can’t, Lo’ak! You can’t help me with this, no one can help me with this but myself. It’s like you said, ‘If go to our parents then what does say about me?’ And I know what your gonna say, hypocrite, and your right I am one. But this issue...it’s…it’s more than just bullying or alienating. It’s different, and I don’t think anyone can fix it but me. Besides, how can I lead our people if I cannot handle this on my own?” You argued against him, frustration swells into your chest. This argument is going nowhere at all.

“Gah, you skxawng! Why do you act like being the Olo’eyktan means that you would be alone with all of the clan duties on your back! Sempu gets a lot of help, he’s never alone. So why do you assume you would be? That makes no freaking sense and we both know it!” He screams at you, becoming louder and louder with every word.

You didn't realize either of you weas moving until your back came against the tree. Just great, you were trapped yet again.

Lo’ak’s face crumbles and the anger he exhibited earlier is gone. “I just want to help my tsmukan, that is all I want to do. I see that you are hurting, and it might not be exactly the same way, but the reason is the same, right? Because we are not full Na’vi.” He chuckles dryly looking at his hands, his five-finger hands. “Because we are part Demon, right?”

Your head hangs low in shame, “Yea, it is. But like I said, Lo’ak, I got this. You don't gotta worry, okay.”

But despite the smile you plastered onto your face, you didn't believe a word you said. And honestly, you got the feeling neither did Lo’ak.

Like, reblog, or comment if you wish. See ya in the next one, friends.

Reminder: My asks, suggestions, and requests are all open so don't be afraid to pop in.

Taglist: @theycallmesia, @cupcaykes, @adrunkskeletonsduck, @iwaslikeblah, @nyababymao, @dontknowwhatmynameshouldbe2

[fatuismooches]

just thinking abt giving Zandy his good first Christmas after you woke up

like he had never experinced a loving family or any of that kind, and certainly not holidays. Zandik hadn't too, you remember that clearly, you dragged him out to get this and get that, made him watch you bake cookies and such because you didn't want him to somehow mess them up.

so... you tried to do that again but with Zandy instead, ofc you couldn´t tell him about 'Santa Claus' and stuff like that, he'll just tell you many reasons why that would be impossible and so on. but you did make an effort to make him gifts, several for each segment infact. now you might say that would be unreasonable bc they could just go and buy it instead, but you made everything yourself, and they wouldn't even try to complain or get a replacement anyway.

(you also asked threatened the other segments and even prime to get him(Zandy) a present as well, or you might just give them on less than everyone else. they, of course, easily obeyed not wanting the others getting more affection than them.)

-Luv ya

SOBBING MAKING ZANDY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS ONE TO REMEMBER... 😭 Ahh so cute,, you just want to make the precious bb happy!! You know very well how Zandik never had anything nice during his childhood, you know you can't do anything to go back fix that, you can only make him feel loved now... letting him wrap his arms around you securely as he watches your every move very carefully (and has the gall to dictate you on the decisions. "You've used too much of that frosting. I want a different flavor." Also tries to eat them before they're done, the expression on his face when you first physically slapped his hand away was priceless. At least he gets to lick the spoon clean.)

But... maybe Zandy can live out the happy experiences a child should have anyway? (Making Zandy happy and also healing Zandik's inner child at the same time... </3) Of course, he gets the baking experience with you, he gets to decorate the tree with you too, you lifted him up and let him put the star at the top! Maybe if your health is good, he can make snow angels with you and have snowball fights! And the gifts, yes the gifts, you want Zandy to have the experience of excitedly ripping them open and marveling at the gift. Doesn't matter what it is either, Zandy is the type of bb who would appreciate anything. (Maybe you even get Pantalone, Childe, and Bina on the case!! They're fond of the child segment as well :3)

Haha, I imagine Zandy being a bit confused about why the segments are being so nice to him but the feeling is overwhelmed by the joy of all the gifts and attention... maybe this is the Christmas magic you told him about!

The other segments definitely brag about their gifts to each other... they make it a competition even though it's not supposed to be.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Show Me How ❞

Deucalion x werewolf!male!reader | nsfw, smut, the beginnings are a bit more horror-themed (body horror for r! turning into a werewolf) | sub. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 6k | not proofread

warnings: r! gets a panic attack, short description of vomiting, piquerism, handjobs, impact play, s*xual rewards, s*xual punishments, degradation, overstimulation, edging

req: Just hear me out on Deucalion the man's a whole dilf like cmon okay okay like y/n (amab pls) is a new werewolf like he just recently got bitten, and he was a complete dumbass, like he was freaked out the whole time n Deucalion ended up finding him in some random cave covered in blood (not his own though) he decided to help him out with learning how to control things and stuff being all strict and stuff, Deucalion would give him like rewards when he does things right, like maybe a good hand job or something n when he would mess up he would like punish him like omg what if he hits him with his cane or sum or the little blade he has on the end of it oh and like a bit of degrading maybe or overstim or edging.

part 2

A freshly turned wolf was a beast not many could take down. Many hunters, from mighty families such as the Argents, had lost a barrage of their kin to these wild beasts.

Fuelled with the Moon’s anguish and shame; these ' puppies ' cut down any who dares assault their senses with their scent or heartbeat. That being said, Deucalion wasn't surprised when news of a group of hunters decimated by a newly turned wolf reached his ears. The hunters weren't even a worthy threat to him, he had half a mind to let Ennis deal with it with as much glee as he wished. He was, however, intrigued at the prowess and potential this rogue wolf showed. Kali's claws ticked against the cracked linoleum and dirt floor whilst Ennis' nose took a lungful of the scent of fear and desperation. "He was alone, completely alone," Ennis sounded impressed.

"These hunters were young, cocky," Kali retorts with no natural edge in her voice.

"It isn't much to marvel at". Deucalion huffs through his nose and taps his cane. He emerges from the shadows of the abandoned warehouse.

"Kali, don't be so critical, it's not every day you turn into a werewolf". He tilts his head as the metallic tang of blood further invades his nostrils.

Deucalion could taste the viscous liquid in his mouth.

"He took out 14 trained hunters. Young or not, it's not often a puppy so vicious is placed on our laps. There is potential," Deucalion's nose points to the still-hot-edged hole in the corrugated tin wall. Blood stained the razor edges with pieces of what used to be a sweater danced listlessly in the night breeze. "Let's give the poor boy our thanks," Deucalion says. Ennis grins with his bottom canine and pokes his upper lip. Kali makes her way out from the clawed-out hole-in-the-wall and towards the forest it frames. A growl rumbles in Ennis' throat but as quick as it came it was gone and he bounds towards the woods as well.

Deucalion wraps his hands around the top of his cane, shoulders adjusting themselves as he feels the bones in his face shift to make way for a more monstrous visage. That was of less importance, the way his neck thickens with muscles was what he had aimed for.

The beast of an alpha unhinges his jaw and throws his head back to release a bloodcurdling song and his generals turn it into a symphony of horror.

The wood creatures scurry. Those without wings find themselves burrowing into the ground or hiding in the hollows of trees. One, however, stayed frozen in his stone fortress.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your legs and your head between your knees, you stayed rigid despite the howling that reaches your pointed ears. Your mouth was agape and drool was dripping down but your fangs were uncomfortably piercing your upper lips every time you attempted to close them.

It was a pathetic sight but no one was here to see your shame except for that dead coyote that lay inches away from your feet and — Oh, god, you were going to throw up.

The sound continues to echo and you clasp your hands over your ears. Your claws dig into your scalp as you squeeze your eyes tightly. Somewhere inside of you, something thrashes violently at the rope you call self-restraint.

It’s compelled to follow the call. It knows there’s safety in numbers but it's so primal you feel as though it’s something akin to a caveman more than anything poetic.

A moronic impulse just to survive. To find more like you but that was just the blood lust talking to you, of that you were certain.

You were a danger to people. You could never rejoin society. You were a monster.

‘They deserved it,’ something growls into your ear. You swear you can feel its breath and the stench of gore and blood that burns your cheek. The claws dig deeper into your head as your heartbeat quickens.

‘They wanted to hurt us, kill us, we returned the favour’. You think you're ultimately losing it at this point. Perhaps in some feeble attempt to grasp this batshit insane scenario of you gaining some supernatural ability to kill 14 people — and a coyote — your brain has fragmented to cope.

Beads of red soak your hair and traverse the slopes and planes of your head to your neck. It further soaks your ripped sweater, and the weight of it makes your skin crawl. The tip of your curved claws floats just inches from your skull. Then, bile rises to your throat and your body swings forward in a tumultuous motion. Knees banging onto the floor and palms ripping open on the jagged earth; your mouth burns as lunch reintroduces itself.

Your chin was already soaked from saliva and hastily wiped away gore so, at this point, the coyote was looking better than you and it was mauled to death. The howling reaches your ears again. Your head hangs, eyes burning viciously as the beast within you digs its teeth into your shoulder. Its mouth fills with blood as it laughs. It's a sickening sound that muffles your hearing. It was far too proud to admit it's drowning in your blood as it cackled. A reflection of you, yes? That's Kali's initial thoughts when she finds you. Too lost in your own world to even notice her shadow as it casts over you. This was the "beast" that ripped apart those hunters? On his hands and knees with his own vomit inches away. She wasn't convinced. Then, a shadow consumes hers. She turns her shoulders away and her ruby eyes veil themselves as Deucalion passes her. Ennis is further away from the mouth of the cave, senses sharpening to ensure that they are uninterrupted. Deucalion's shoes come into your peripheral. Your eyes zero in on the scratches on the leather, the creases where he'd bend them. They smell worn but not old enough to indicate he was someone who took care of his things so meticulously. He wasn't careless or crass though he was no gentleman either. The tip of his cane is capped with red. The plastic itches your skin as it trails up the bulging veins of your neck. The sting of metal causes your nose to twitch but the man before you, his presence is so heavy your thighs give out.

A sense of mirth fills him as you settle on your calves, head so obediently balancing on his cane as if entranced by the sight of him. The truth is, it's his scent that makes your heart calm. His and the other two Alphas but mostly his. That hindbrain personality of yours wants nothing more than to show off your stomach.

It knows the safety these alphas can provide and the dangers if they choose to reject you. "Rough night?" He jests with no expectations of laughter. Deucalion's cane meets the ground and your head lolls forward. "I must say, you don’t look like someone who's capable of such carnage. A lot to, stomach in?”

Your brows furrow and you lick your lips for a moment to open your mouth but freeze as you realise your teeth are no longer so sharp it cuts your tongue or gums. Running your tongue over your teeth, however, elicits a more visceral disgust as you find bits of fur and blood so no answer comes from you.

The Alpha — how you know his title is a mystery to yourself — tilts his head in the direction of the coyote.

“Such brutality. Surely, it didn’t mean to offend you,” Kali fails to suppress the tugs of a smile. She’s quite an intimidating figure as she stands at the mouth of the cave with her red eyes and dark hair.

“. . .It. . .” Deucalion faces you, silent.

A gulp, a breath, then an answer from your dyed lips: “It growled. . .at me”.

There’s a beat of silence, the forest does not extend its courtesy to fill it with ambience. Deucalion breathes sharply through his nose, a huff of laughter that makes Kali’s unimpressed gaze turn indignant.

“It challenged you and you rose to the occasion.”

You would argue it was just scared of a monster trying to crawl into its cave but this man flashes his teeth in a smile and the words die in your throat.

“Deucalion,” Kali whispers urgently.

“He’s an Omega. A Rouge — He didn’t raise to any occasion,” Deucalion squares his shoulders and the way the black shirt hugs him calls for your attention.

His shoulders are broad, chest firm and studiously presented with his perfect posture. Everything about his torso seemed unjustly perfect and your fingers twitch to feel every curve and bulge of muscles he is clearly packing.

“He has potential. Any newly turned wolf can maul a coyote, perhaps a camper or two, but to successfully decimate an entire group of hunters? That takes more than luck, dearest Kali, that? That takes talent”.

Your breath hitches as the shoes within your peripheral crease. Deucalion’s crouching, you wonder if he has a short Achilles tendon but all thoughts fly out of your brain as he grabs a fistful of your hair.

He pulls and pulls until your neck and shoulders are arched, teeth-gritting and eyes stinging at the strength he is casually displaying.

“Some new blood will do wonders for our pack. I have plans for this”

He leans in and you hold your breath as his breath spreads over your throat. Something in his chest rumbles, the display is forced but he knows you would have just as easily obeyed if asked. This was an excuse to show you his prowess — and to touch you.

“. . .precious puppy".

It seemed a mystery to you. One moment you were kneeling at his feet in a cave and now you were watching him folding his jacket over the chair. It had been exactly 3 months since they found you and took you in as the only Beta of the pack. Deucalion whispers that he has a plan for you but Kali seems unconvinced at the entire plot. Though, as unwilling as she was, Kali trained you with Ennis without fail. "Deucalion's orders", Ennis answered after you had completed a particularly gruelling endurance test. You force your arms to wipe the sweat off your brow, stretching out your legs in front of you as Ennis tosses a towel your way. "But. . .what am I training for?" Kali rolls her eyes, her pin-straight hair impeccably swaying with every shake of her head. Seriously, she looked like she belonged in a shampoo commercial.

"A test. Deucalion will test you, he says. Don't ask why", Kali wonders about it herself. What happened to the ' All Alpha ' pack that Deucalion boasted about? Weakening the link now seemed unreasonable. There was nothing special about you, Kali's eyes convey those very words despite her mouth not once parting. Judging by Ennis' shrug when you gave him a questioning look, it seemed as though this was something even his generals of pain had no inkling of. That conversation was 2-days ago. Today, a random breezy Wednesday of all days, he had called for you into his office. His room was dark. Ennis' lessons about using your newfound heightened senses came in handy. The icy blues of your eyes dart here and there in an attempt to spot Deucalion. How strange, where could he hide? There was a desk across the door and a few shelving cabinets behind that. A few rugs and some office chairs where office chairs are usually found.

Seriously, a man of his stature should not be able to hide so well. A whizzing sound reaches your ears too late and then a sharp sting is felt on your leg. Hissing, you turn frantically to find the source. Your cut was already healing but the surprise of it left you more startled than you'd like to be. "Even with eyes, people can still be so blind", Deucalion's voice calls from behind you. Spinning, you try to put him in your sights but he's already moving into the darker shadows. "(Y/N), I expected better from you." He's observing the edge of his blade. The scent of you fills invades his senses and Deucalion turns his back towards you to gently place his cane atop his desk. "I . . . I need to work on it, I know", your words lack conviction. Like you're unsure of what you're saying. You are. Did it have to be so obvious though? Deucalion motions you forward with a curl of his finger. The sound of your footsteps pauses a few paces from him. So he turns and he can see the rush of blood to your face, the way your heart picks up its pace just fuels his ego and fills his cock. Even with his eyes, the world had never bared more to him than before.

He could no longer gaze at the light dancing on water, watch the sunset paint the skies with its final bow to the world or even gaze at anything people could consider beautiful. But he was stronger for it. A demon wolf like himself; what right did he have gazing at anything remotely beautiful?

Meanwhile, in your corner of the world, the sight of the low v-line cut of his shirt has you gulping thickly. The venom enhanced your biology, that was a given. Ennis tells you about your heightened senses along with your endurance, durability and all that. He even tells you about a wolf's metabolism. How gaining muscles comes easy to werewolves but surely, even without being born as a wolf, Deucalion would still be a goddamn underwear model. His strong arms brace themselves on the edge of the desk and his hips lean backwards. His shoulders raising causes the flesh of his tits to squeeze together. 'Oh Christ', you thought as you avert your eyes. They were right there, practically looking at you first! The jump of your heartbeat prods him to ask; "Is this the reason you struggle to learn your lessons, (Y/N)?"

He can taste your arousal on his tongue. It burns as his lips part into a toothy smile. It's far too charming. Once again, he'd make such a good underwear model it's quite frankly ridiculous.

"Do you what would've happened if my blade was coated with wolfsbane?" Your mouth opens but all that comes out are pathetic ' uhms ' and ' uhs '. Deucalion's smile sours and he pushes himself from the table to instead circle you. Despite his presence being very tangible right now, your stomach twists every time he slinks out of view. He's a true wolf; a hunter in every sense of the word.

Realistically, every footfall should make a noise despite the rug muffling it. Your sensitive ears should hear the gentle crush of fibres below his soles. Nothing. His gait is so eerily ghostlike your ears try to pick up on anything else. A shadow slips on your right and your eyes chase him but that was reprimanded with another stinging. Your yelp makes him reply with a condescending tutting noise. So incredibly British it would be comical if it wasn't so degrading and hot.

The sleeve of your shirt soaks up the blood that manages to thread out from the now-healed cut. "That's twice now you've been cut with wolfsbane", his voice echoes from everywhere and each time you turn to chase another cut forms on your body. It's humiliating. Painful. Tear-inducing. You were being punished like a bad dog. Pain dished out in tiny but venomous lashes that couldn't really hurt you but the aftershocks make your breath turn ragged.

"You killed 14 trained killers that were blooded into their families by the time they were 15 years old. You were enrolled in university" You scoff, twisting your neck and hissing as you were swiped at. The back of your shirt is decorated by the slices just like the back of your jeans and thighs and sides and neck. . .

"I dropped out", you should bite your tongue. Deucalion's dark chuckle earns shivers up your spine but no lashing. "You've the energy to be quip but can't answer a simple question every werewolf knows", your jaw clenches, "I'm new to this!" His cane makes contact with your thighs, the flexible metal meeting flesh and your hand moves faster than your brain can respond. The cane strains between your hand and Deucalion's, a wrench from you and suddenly he steps closer. It seemed as though you were intent on suffocating him with you. The carpet is stained with splatters of your blood and now, your claws dig into your palm as it holds his cane. Defiantly, you meet his gaze. Those pretty lashes that frame your eyes are now buried by your furrowed brows. He can tell your eyes are glowing. The grinding of your fangs as they tear through your gums makes him flash his teeth in a warning.

Those pillowy lips shield that brash display but you still hold your gaze. So defiant, annoyed, humiliated? Deucalion has killed far more talented werewolves for less disrespect. None have ever faced him so crassly. "Is this what they were greeted with?" Your silence lights a fire within him. Pathetic enough you don't even know what wolfsbane does to your kind, but now you dare halt his lessons to stare him down? "A silent killer. A puppy who massacred trained killers by himself left nothing but torn limbs and innards. Is that who is in front of me now? A monster, who doesn't even know what can kill him and what can't. Do you know what people call that?"

Deucalion pulls his cane free from your grasp and in a swift motion points the blade under your jaw. Gasping, your feet pace backwards but Deucalion simply marches forward. Tiny as the blade is, with an arm rippling with supernatural strength even a sharpened stick can be deadly. Perhaps you'd really crossed a line. Ennis and Kali had been ' nice ' to you out of obligation. Deucalion, so far, had simply watched from afar as you trained. You were still so human despite the weeks that have passed. Perhaps the pack hadn't been clear enough with the pecking order. That had to be fixed. If Deucalion's plans were to work, he'd need you to fully understand the gravity of your change.

The edge of his desk digs into your ass and you've half a mind to turn and crawl over it to put more distance. Something tells you turning your back on Deucalion was a death sentence. So you don't. You freeze as the tip of his blade digs into the underside of your chin. "An idiot. A moron. A beast that only functions on impulse. The only thing that separates us from common wolves is the fact that we're smart, eliminating that element means you're nothing more than a common bitch on the side of the streets". His hand slams next to you. You're so close to him that you can see his red eyes through the dark lenses that balance so studiously on his nose bridge. "My pack has no room for mindless, moronic, mutts", Deucalion twists the cane and the grimace on your face does little to soften the snarl that threatens to contort his visage. He can feel the way your flesh desperately tries to heal the wound. Trying to close around his knife and stop the stuttering stream of red that wets his fingers. His nostrils flare. All he can smell is you. On the carpet, on the microscopic canyons of his skin that flood with your crimson. God, the sweat that teases him as it slips down your chest has him feeling as though he is basking under the summer sun. His insides were burning and he retaliated by hitching the blade deeper into you. " Ah! " His knee forces your legs apart and jerks upwards. The feeble attempts at pushing it away are cut short as he forces your neck to stretch further and further away, back bowing and arching into him as your hands scramble to balance yourself. "This gets you hard?"

There was no way to hide. His knee digs into your crotch and you've no way to even muffle the noise that slips out. It's high and whiny, and the stretching of your neck does little to help. Deucalion scoffs at the lack of denial. "Unbelievable", he pretends to sound mad but Deucalion can barely fight back a grin. "Don't tell me the reason you fail to even answer a simple question is because Ennis and Kali don't rub your slutty cock enough?" He doesn't wait to hear a response. Deucalion simply places a hand on your waist and begins moving your hips. It's a bumpy ride and your hips move so mechanically it reminds you of embarrassingly grinding on a pillow to "practice" riding.

It makes you less heated and more reclusive. Deucalion doesn't give in to the resistance you give him and simply applies more strength to move those impressive hips on his leg. "Fuck", you wish the ground would swallow you whole. This was anything but sexy, actually, everything so far has NOT been sexy but fuck why was your dick filling up? Your transformation must have heightened your penchant for pain too because this is ridiculous. Is it because your fear has lessened? Now, a cut won't get infected or need to be tended to thanks to your supernatural healing. Even so, fear was still very much in the equation. Deucalion was one intimidating man and a frightening werewolf. Gazing up at the ceiling you stiffen your hips but Deucalion digs his nails into your skin and you gasp. "Shit!" Deucalion relishes the way your entire body seemed to jerk and twitch. He's especially keen on the way the tent in your jeans strains further.

"Poor puppy, all trapped in those constricting jeans". The breath of relief comes after your head limply hangs as your chin is finally free. Deucalion makes a show of placing his cane right next to you, right within reach if you dared to disrespect him again.

You let your gaze linger on it though something else calls for your attention and somehow, it's not the raging hard-on you have being grinded on. Deucalion's lips crash into yours, and the prickling sensation of his beard has you whimpering. With both hands on you he all but manhandles you down until you're laid on the desk. He bites down on your lower lip meanly, making you gasp and moan as he palms your crotch. "Fuck, fuck", you're more than confused but a part of you is so pleased with this turn of events. Not just because your throat wasn't ripped apart by Deucalion or the fact that you're getting action from a man worthy of being plastered on a Calvin Klein billboard. It's the scent of satisfaction that's coming off of him in waves. The barely there rumbling in his chest sounds like a purr. The big hands that move and puppeteer you. The body that eclipses the ceiling from you. Deucalion is your alpha. The strongest. The deadliest. Fuck, even a devoted priest would drop to their knees in your position. "Wolfsbane is poison", Deucalion might as well give this a go. Even a slut deserves a fair chance at education. Your eyes are fuzzy, barely there, but they sharpen into focus as he undoes your pants. There's no grace in the way he pulls your cock into the open. He grasps your length firmly, bordering on pain judging from your hiss.

"You do know what poison does to someone, yes?" You nod frantically. Those rigid hips suddenly began canting upwards, thrusting up into his fists as Deucalion bared his teeth to your throat. Instinctually, you moan and turn your head to the side. Submitting to your alpha with no verbal command. Seems as though you knew hierarchy after all. "Good boy", his voice dropped octaves and you're desperate in your need for release. There's something heavy in the air, burning delicious of bergamot and pine. Curls of wood shavings appear as your claws dig into the desk. "Aconit Napel Bleu Nordique, it's a favourite of hunters", Deucalion's voice silences the noises around you. He's effectively made so you only see, hear, smell and feel him. His thumb presses on your wet slit and you curse, unable to move as he continues to mottle your neck with his fangs. "Focus, you're obviously in need of extra help in the learning department, don't make me go back to before", your eyes split open and the cane next to you seems to mock you as it shimmers wetly with your blood. "Puh - poison, bad, mfh! Wolfs, wolfsbane", Deucalion would coo but you haven't deserved that just yet. "Tell me the name of it", your confusion is palpable. "Wolfsbane", he pulls away from you. His hands leave your cock twitching on your stomach as he sighs. "The scientific name, puppy. I just said it", he takes his shades off and neatly places it next to his cane. Fuck. You get on your elbows, reeling from the too much pleasure transitioning to not enough pleasure. He's patient as he adjusts his sleeves and spreads your legs. You mistake it as him simply being kind. Big mistake.

A claw traces the underside of your cock. "Name?" "Wuh - Wait! I -", he frowns. The claw is now just under the mushroom head and your heart triples in speed. "(Y/N)". "A - Accut - No, uhm, Accunit Napal Blue Nordic?"

God, Deucalion thinks. He better be glad he's as endearing as he is stupid.

He wraps his fingers around your dick and pumps nice and slow. The sagging of your body on his desk almost makes him feel pity. "Now I know you know the answer to this next question", dread fills you once again but Deucalion rub his palm across your tip and your toes curl. "I heard Kali teach you a lesson on it. The types of wolfsbane. You did wonderfully then and you'll do the same now". That lesson had been damn near 3 weeks ago! It wasn't like they provided lecture slides for you in this pack. You chew on the insides of your cheeks, chest heaving as you try to push the pleasure away to think. Fuck, how could think right now!? How the hell does Deucalion know how to give hand jobs this good!? He squeezes and you squeak at his reminder. "Purple", that was easy and so Deucalion simply loosens his grip. "Blue?" He cocks a brow. "Are you asking me or telling me, puppy?" You take a breath, " M'tellin".

Deucalion begins stroking you at a steady pace. Your precum wets his palm enough but he spits on your dick (with insane accuracy) and the sloppy sensation makes you groan in ecstasy. "Fuck, another one - Nghah! Fuck! Yellow!" "Gooood boy". Deucalion rewards you. His hand must've been crafted by some sort of sex god because the way he has you writhing and moaning is not normal. Deucalion says nothing, simply looking down at you as you let out wanton moans. He's suddenly struck with the want to see you in every detail. His vision is warped and bloodied. More like a tactile vision, beauty is no longer at the forefront. He thought he had accepted it. But now he wants to see it all. The fading bruise on your hips that is shaped like his hands. The hickeys on your neck, the bitemarks, the scratches — even if the only thing left is the shredded threads. He wonders how handsome you look with your face all screwed up in pleasure. Deucalion decides to distract his thoughts with your taste instead. He leans over you, claiming your lips and swallowing the sinful noises. When you cum, it's no surprise that you cum hard. You swear you saw nothing but white and separate from the kiss to call out for him. Deucalion continues jerking you off despite you cringing and attempting to twist away from him. "Uh-ah, you were so good, puppy. You should be rewarded for every correct answer, don't you think so?" "I - I need a second to breathe — !" "Nonsense, I can't possibly be that cruel to you, puppy".

[clazberryk]

The Threads that Bind Us.

Oh my days guys, this just flowed out of my brain and onto the page. I have been perculating this for a while, and it is something that I cannot get enough of. Envisioning our Taveleigha as a Redeemed Dark Urge.

Please let me know what you think, if you like it at all. I just yea this thought which jsut started as a thought of how i did not like the reactions of the campanions in the game when you redeem yourself and it kinda grew from there.

The Threads that Bind Us.

The group precariously trudged through the undercity of Baldur’s Gate, the sewers. The smell alone was enough to make anyone grimace and bring up their mornings breakfast food. Astarion was hot, irritated and wanted this day finished. The sooner they finished the better for them.

Last night they had gone against the Bhaal Tribunal, and with a strength that even Astarion had not have guessed Taveleigha possessed, they had destroyed the three sisters and Saverok himself. It was no easy feat him, Karlach, Shadowheart and Taveleigha had suffered several wounds that could not be fully recovered by Shadowheart, not that she always healed everyone fully, throughout their months of travels Shadowheart was getting better with her healing, but still it was never completely full.

Astarion watched as their sorcerer leader walked forward, not needing to look at the map they had gathered from Jaheria, when they rescued the ridiculously large Rashemi Ranger, something was clearly leading Taveleigha, and ever since Figaro’s she had been unusually quiet. He knew she was tackling her memories and her past head on, and he admired it, still marvelled at how that after everything that their group needed, she put her needs to the very last. Fighting the urge, fighting the nightmares, fighting the constant war inside her mind, so that himself, Shadowheart, Wyll, Halsin, Gale and even Jaheria’s issues were tackled and sorted first. He felt a sharp stab of guilt in his chest, whilst he and everyone else had been sorting out their complications in Lower Gate Taveleigha had been steadfast and dealing with her own issues, and yet she still put everyone before her. If only she was a little bit more selfish, they could have dealt with this before Yenna was kidnapped by the changeling, which was Taveleigha’s sister, in a weird blood family situation, a broken and messed up family tree that even Astarion still did not understand. Nevertheless, if Taveleigha was a bit more selfish it would not have mattered because she would not have been the Taveleigha he had fallen in love with. The one that he would sacrifice and burn the world to the ground for.

Just last week they had rescued Wyll’s father from The Iron Throne, a day he would not like to repeat, nearly losing her to a sinking prison, she had barely made it back in time for the nautical submarine had to leave.

“We do not leave until Tavi is back” Astarion growled at the pilot of the submersible.

“If we do not leave now, we all will perish” The dwarf snapped back, and Astarion growled showcasing all his teeth, fangs included, he was unsure if it was the sheer desperation and fear in his eyes, or the growl and his teeth combined but the Dwarf had stumbled back in his seat and looked at Karlach and Wyll who just shrugged their shoulders. Astarion reached out with the tadpole, Taveleigha’s was always the easiest to find, due to the number of times they had communicated that way when words failed them. They were intertwined even through their predicament. He felt her, felt her worry, her fear, and her resolve. She would get Duke Ravenguard on this submersible even if she perished. She would not allow Wyll to lose his father regardless of how tumultuous their relationship was. At the last minute, as Astarion watched as the room below filled with more and more water, quickly gaining at the entrance of the submarine, he saw two figures, desperately swimming to the entrance, the flash of red hair told him who it was, and she they broke the surface of the rapidly approaching water, gasping for air, Taveleigha still pushed the Duke up the ladder before her as they quickly ascended. They collapsed into the submersible and Astarion slammed the airtight door shut, before grabbing Taveleigha in his arms and hugging her, even as she was soaked and gasping for much needed air, her lungs deprived for too long. Her sheer stubbornness, keeping her alive, and pushing her forward long after she had lost all breath in her lungs.

“This way” Taveleigha mumbled, her voice quiet and they turned more confusing twists and turns, eventually walking over a broken bridge and through some wooden doors.

After several hours of miles and walking under their feet, they came across a door with no lock nothing, that communicated with Taveleigha. She sighed, and moved her hand to produce the Bhaal amulet, before she could fully remove it from her pack, Astarion stopped her with a hand to her wrist.

“My love, maybe we rest and continue in the morning. You want to be fresh, as we are unsure what waits for us beyond that door” He gently squeezed her wrist, and she looked like she was questioning him, before glancing over to Shadowheart and Karlach, and then back to him, her ever expressive eyes, showcasing her worry and concern over everyone, including him.

“Okay” She whispered stepping away from the door and coming further into the central area of the room. She wrapped her arms around herself her right hand rubbing her left upper arm, in comfort, it was a sign he had quickly learnt that she did when she was trying to self soothe. It was what she did when she was feeling unsure and vulnerable and did not want the others to see.

Astarion started setting up their tent further away from the others, and deeper into the room, opposite the lockless door, with their friends in between her and that door. It was a tactical decision on his part as he was worried that she may disappear in the night, and if she had to sneak past him and the other members of the party, she was more than likely awaken someone in the rare instance he did not wake up when she was not near him. Her selflessness and altruism of ensuring the others would not get hurt by her past and her inevitable choices which lead them directly to this point in their travels. He had recognised the spark of guilt he saw in her eyes, and he also knew he could not lessen that guilt, but just be a constant for her. He himself was unsure if what he was doing was right, the novelty of their relationship taking him by surprise all over again. He was doing what he thought felt right and natural, following her lead when she was by his side when he confronted Cazador, his old tormentor. It was a no brainer, to support her as well, there was no hesitation when she mentioned that she was going after Orin, the shapeshifter, he would be by her side no matter what tomorrow morning brought.

Astarion watched as she wandered around the room, not standing still for more than five seconds, he had never seen her so lost, so set adrift. He was used to seeing her unflappable, she was able to push everything aside for her friends, her companions but when it came to her difficulties she was just as scared and as confused as everyone else. More so, he knew of her lost memories, knew she craved for them back but was also scared of those memories. What would they bring? Taveleigha was smart enough to know that she had not been a good person in the past, and had murdered multiple people, hundreds of people more. He was not sure if he wanted her to remember. That trauma and damage could irrevocably break her mind. He was aware that she had a tenuous grasp on her mind as it was, forcing herself to deal with tasks and missions she could control, or see a clear picture but this. This was something she could not see passed her own nose, which scared even him. Who had been blinded by his confrontation with his master, but in the moment, he had chosen the right path, managing to see a spark of hope for his future, which consisted of multicoloured eyes and red curly hair. He could not force her down a specific road, but he could support and guide her to her own conclusion.

The fight had been brutal, it had been painful, scary at some points especially when Taveleigha was thrown to the floor by Orin, and she shredded Taveleigha’s robes, leaving them in tatters, however eventually they managed to subdue Orin in Slayer form, and Astarion watched from behind Taveleigha’s heaving shoulders as Orin started slithering across the floor to the sorcerers feet, the slayer form melting away until nothing of Orin was left but a pile of bones and a puddle of blood and viscera. Astarion was barely aware of Karlach and Shadowheart finishing the rest of the Bhaalists, he was solely focused on his partner, she had not moved her head from staring at the puddle of blood.

“Master, you are the chosen one” Astarion looked over to The Butler, Sceleritias Fel, he was unsure of what being The Butler was, but he truly did not like the way he said Master, it caused a shiver to run up his spine. Sceleritias was stood over Yenna on the dais in the middle of the platform, the fight between Orin and his love had taken place. Sceleritias looked at Taveleigha with a reverence, with an undeniable feeling of love. The Butler was made to serve, Taveleigha and he did it with a song in his heart. That unnerved Astarion, what unnerved him more was Taveleigha still had not said anything since the beginning of the fight. She turned to face Sceleritias Fel, an unreadable expression on her bloodied and beautiful face.

“Tavi” He reached out to her, and she looked up at him, her eyes looking so very lost. Astarion was taken aback by how much she resembled a lost little child, a lost lamb, looking for guidance, for love. That is when he realised, she genuinely thought she was alone in this. She did not see a future past this room. He gripped her hand “I’ve got you” She shuddered and dragged air into her lungs.

That is when he felt it, a stillness fell through the temple of Bhaal, he knew the others had felt it as well, as they stopped mid action. They all looked to The Butler

“He is here…. He comes for you” Sceleritias was almost giddy, finally he was going to watch his master ascend and he was going to be The Chosen Butler to Bhaal’s Chosen. He bent his body leaning up towards the ceiling, arms spread wide, as if accepting an unseeing embrace.

Astarion and Tavi stepped back as Sceleritias started floating into the air, unseen blades pierced The Butler, several times.

Once through the heart from behind the force lifting him further into the air.

Another through his right lower stomach, through the kidney, from behind again, Taveleigha felt Astarion pull her back, but a macabre sense pulled her forward, she watched as Sceleritias’ blood made a distinctive splatter against the stone floor, she was mesmerised as the blood formed a large puddle underneath The Butler’s floating broken, dying body.

A third thrust of an unseeing blade, a fourth, a five, a sixth all in quick succession,

Then finally a seventh, straight through Sceleritias neck, taking The Butler’s life with it.

The blood continued pooling, Taveleigha barely acknowledged the glowing red eyes in the large skull opposite them, she was too focused on the reflection in the blood, which was still dripping into the pool on the platform. The reflection of Sceleritias’ body bent unnaturally to a standing position, however Sceleritias physical body remained suspended in air. She could not pull away from the avatar.

“I expected the other one” Sceleritias voice came through gravelly and low, it demanded attention and attention it got. Taveleigha could not pull away even if she wanted, she did not feel Astarion or her companions move closer to her, she was held in position staring into the bottomless pool of red.

“Nonetheless, you live, and her blood is returned to me. You are my chosen.” Taveleigha viscerally reacted to the title Chosen, her whole body reacting and refusing the title, she felt sick to her stomach, how could she refuse a god? She was a mere mortal, a lost little elf girl. With a broken mind. She could not go against Bhaal, she whimpered, pure terror coursing through her veins. “I have a gift for you, Child. You will use it to lacerate this world” Bhaal’s avatar continued either choosing to ignore her physical reaction or not seeing it. In the far reaches of her terror, she thought she felt a cool hand grasp hers, but she was not sure. She thought she felt a thumb rubbing against her palm, trying to soothe her but she could not pull away from the avatar. What was real? And what was not?

A gift from your father, an offering and confirmation of his ownership of you. Are you more than what your father made you? Were you worthy of being more? Could you deny your father? His blood runs through your veins. But surely these past several months proved that you were more than your father, more than the Dark Urge that used to fuel you, more than what your father wanted from you. But Alfira…. Taveleigha shuddered again, feeling the tug of her blood, the pull of her father demanding conform. Demanding the bend. The transformation, the change. Taveleigha saw the vision of Alfira on that fateful night so many months ago, the pure terror of what she had done.

She then saw vision of Karlach hugging Dammon after her second upgrade, visions of Shadowheart turning her back on Lady Shar, freeing Dame Aylin, destroying Ketheric. Demanding the Emperor to protect Minsc, the joy on Jaheria’s face when she was reunited with her longtime friend, and then finally on The Pale Elf, she had grown to love these past six months. Vision of him smiling at her, the two of them walking down a dirt path sniping at each other, her wit finally matched with someone else. Her defending him against that vile Drow Abaj. Astarion’s confession. Astarion holding her hand. Astarion gently kissing her. Astarion passionately kissing her, pulling her flush against his body. Astarion smiling up at the sun. Astarion stabbing Cazador over and repeatedly. His grave, his marker of the new life he chose to take. Astarion taking her hand and then guiding her threw the throes of passion. She could be better. She did not have to choose this. Her birth did not mean she was inherently bad. NO! Taveleigha screamed in her head, the word ripping through her throat and out of her mouth reverberating through the temple. She stepped back, finally fully aware of her surroundings, of her companions, of Bhaal’s avatar. Of Astarion’s hand in her hers.

Taveleigha looked to the skull and back down to the puddle of blood.

“I refuse. I will be free of you!” She snapped her voice was hoarse either through lack of use or overuse she was unsure, either way she felt herself tittering on a precipice.

“You refuse me?” Everyone heard this now, Karlach, Shadowheart and Astarion looked around the chamber back at Taveleigha “Your veins course with my unholy blood. Your life is mine accept your inheritance, or I will reclaim it.”

Astarion felt a sharp tug in his chest, it was painful, and he recognised it as fear. He had felt it for himself over the past two hundred years and this was not the first time he had felt it for Taveleigha this time. Nonetheless that pain was not alone, for alongside it there was a warmth, a fluttering Taveleigha was choosing the path he always knew she would take, he was proud of her. However, what was the cost? He reached out with the tadpole, there was a delicate fluttering of her tadpole accepting his connection and all he felt was unadulterated fear. Taveleigha was terrified, of her past, of this Avatar that he could now clearly see what she was seeing, however there was no regret of her choice. Just pure fear. It was choking, consuming, all encompassing. He felt his hand squeeze hers. Reassurance. He forced all his love for her to flow through the connection, but it did not make a dent in her fear coursing through her veins. She truly did not know what was going to happen to her and she was terrified. She still however found her voice.

“I would rather die” Astarion felt his heart rip in two, Taveleigha’s beautiful defiant voice rang clear, her tadpole shuttered the connection, and he was just staring at her face. She was not showing any outward displays of fear, but he had learnt to read her body well, she was leant forward, curling slightly in on herself, but her jaw was set, her mind was made up. She had accepted whatever her decision and her fate be.

“Then it will be so” Bhaal’s voice screamed in all their heads, Astarion gripped the sides of his head the pain too much, as if the very essence of Bhaal was too much for the room in his skull “You were made to conquer. Made to Devour” Astarion glanced at Taveleigha who was grasping her head as well, he noticed that her nose had started bleeding, she glanced at him and he was rocked by the pure terror, even though she had made her decision it did not mean she wanted to die, and it was in that moment both knew. She was not coming out of this temple alive. He tried to fight against the pain tried to reach for her, but he could only watch, broken, frozen, as if compelled to watch, and not intervene, like all his other companions.

Astarion watched unable to stop what was happening,  as Taveleigha started to convulse, her gasps and whimpers slammed into his chest, causing his heart to break at every convulsion, every whimper, every gasp. He watched frozen, as she fell to her knees, her ears, nose, and eyes bleeding.

“You reject my blood. So, I will reclaim it” Bhaal’s voice echoed throughout the chamber, but he hardly reacted he was too consumed on Taveleigha’s convulsing form.Watching in horror, as she started to bend backwards, her body contorting in an unnatural form, lifting into the air, her arms and legs falling limp as a ragdoll. He watched in horror as her chest pulled up as if connected to a string to a puppeteer, like a marionette. He screamed her name, but she did not react, to lost in the throes of pain. His Tadpole slammed against hers and he felt her life essence being syphoned away, he felt her heart stutter, and race desperately trying to stop the blood from seeping out of ever pour of her body. Desperately trying to keep her on this mortal coil. However, he knew that fight was futile her body had taken a severe battering from Orin, she was too weak to fight for long, too tired, too broken, her words of herself echoing and mirroring what was happenign in front of him. 

“I will make another who is worthy” Bhaal’s final words, where also Taveleigha’s final breath.

Silence fell over the temple, Taveleigha was suspended in the air as if a mockery of her pain, it was contorted on her face, she fell to the floor with a sickening crunch of her bones and spine. Astarion was frozen, he numbly watched as Shadowheart ran over to Taveleigha and cast revivify, but it did not work. He knew it would not. He started crying, tears streaming down his face, he crawled to Taveleigha’s body, and cradled her in his arms. She was limp so very limp. Too limp. She was starting to cool.

“No, no, no, no” He whimpered. This was not supposed to happen, this was not supposed to be the outcome. The good guys always won. They were the good guys!

“Astarion...” Shadowheart whispered, and placed a hand on his shoulder,

“NO!” He screamed.

“Astarion, please” Shadowheart tried again, he moved Taveleigha’s body away from the cleric, he had to protect her. He had to save her.

“She made her choice. She was supposed to live” His voice cracked; he did not understand. This was not supposed to happen.

The good guys always won.

Didn't they?

Several things happened at once, Karlach started crying so did Shadowheart, Astarion pulled Taveleigha’s body closer to him, not letting anyone near her, hot salty tears streaming down his face and into her chest as he screamed, not unsimilar to when he killed Cazador into the temple.

“Thou hast defied Bhaal, thy liege and father and in doing so has earned a place amongst champions and heroes” Withers walked past the adventuring group, past Astarion who was on the ground Taveleigha protectively circled in his arms, and they all looked at the older than time mage, skeleton, person? No one still was not sure what or who Withers was, but they could not deny that he exuded old, ancient power, and even showcased it a handful times during their travels reviving, Shadowheart at one point as well as Wyll and Karlach, usually when the party does not have access to Revivify scrolls or when Shadowheart has been drained of her divine magic. But what was he doing here?

Withers stood opposite Taveleigha and Astarion, ignoring everyone else and only looking at Taveleigha, reminiscent of the way Taveleigha had only focused on the pool of blood moments ago, when she was communicating with Bhaal’s avatar. It was as if nobody else existed in the temple.

“But, alas, thy courage was in opposition to the divine cosmology that bound thee to the Lord of Murder” Withers continued the conversation, as though Taveleigha was communicating back and not a corpse. Astarion shuddered a breath, what did this mean? Was Taveleigha supposed to live as the Chosen of Bhaal? Surely not this was Tavi, she was kind, caring, courteous, selfless. She was the kindest person he knew.

He really found himself cursing all the gods, did the divine see all mortals as puppets, as toys they could play with and discard at moment’s notice. Taveleigha did not deserve that. She deserved to be acknowledged and protected her for monumental decision, a decision if he were given, he would be unsure he could do. She had defied her father and had died because of it. She however met that death with grace, only he knew how terrified she was, but she never showed it. She had paid that ultimate price because she wanted to the world to be better. Seeing that the world was better without a Bhaal chosen in it. Astarion hated and loved her for that moment decision, his heart wrenching again.

“Thou art now faithless, godless, and doomed to wander the Fuge Plane for eternity” Withers droned on. Astarion gasped, no she could not. Not his Tavi, no please not purgatory, a lost wandering soul for all of eternity, which was not her end. She should be in the heavens for her sacrifice.

“Do, some…” Astarion was cut of with a raised hand from Withers, the ancient being did not use magic on him, just the raise of the hand, held enough authority, and hidden meaning that Astarion realised that Withers was here for a reason.

I am always at the time of where fate is at a crossroads. Where fate is eternally changed.

Withers started circling them, he thought he heard Karlach say something, but he was unsure he was solely focused on Withers and Taveleigha weight in his arms.

“I will not permit that” Withers voice did not raise however there was a defiance to him, one would argue that he was impressed by Taveleigha decision, although he would not mention it.

What?! How many times had Withers droned on about keeping the balance and he was going to defy that balance. Could Astarion begin to hope again.

“Though all the powers of life and death dictate that it should be so” Withers’ voice took on an ethereal presence, highlighting to everyone in the temple he still held power, that he too was a significant individual in the weave, and strings in the tapestry that was the universe. “I, too, still hold some power, and I invest a portion of it in thee, who hath challenged the gods and now liveth to tell it” Withers raised his right hand glowing a greenish blue colour, Withers continued speaking the Taveleigha, Astarion wondered if maybe Taveleigha, wandering in Purgatory, could hear what Withers was saying. “Thy fight is not yet over, and it is thy fight, for one who can look upon Bhaal and oppose him can survive any crisis” Withers glanced at the skull across the temple, the carving of Bhaal into the stone wall, a look of glee? Defiance? Smugness? Astarion was unsure. “So, rise, Challenger of the Gods, and prepare for battle once more. Death will not claim thee whilst I endure” Withers pointed to Taveleigha’s chest, hand glowing with the divine power, and Astarion felt Taveleigha’s body shudder and convulse, as she took a gasping breath. Her heartbeat thundered in his ears, her blood song sang a beautiful melody, as she took one breath, two, three, four and continued. She is alive!

Taveleigha sat up, shooting out of Astarion’s arms, gasping, pulling in large lungful’s of breath, gasping as if she had been drowning.

“Wh…. What are you?” Taveleigha looked at Withers with awe.

“A scribe, a seneschal, a keeper of records. And now, thine advocate, both here and in the city of the Dead.” Withers bowed his head, recognising Taveleigha worth. Taveleigha was confused, she was just a lost little elf girl. A Nobody, unworthy.

“I deserve to die for all the things I have done” Taveleigha’s voice was small and dripped in guilt, Astarion’s heart gripped again. Please do not take her away again? Please?

“The sole way to atone for thine actions is to do better, in a new dawn. That dawn has come” Withers disagreed. “Bhaal tried to extinguish thee, but his wrath was imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew. The urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his” Astarion could only agree with what Withers was saying.

Taveleigha had grown so much in their travels, from an amnesiac to a fearless leader. Someone who took their challenges and threw them back into the enemies faces, tenfold. She had grown in power and in person. She was more than her urge, more than her lost memories, or impulses. More than her past. Astarion smirked the two of them really were remarkably similar, two sides of the same coin. Both striving to be better than their past deeds.

“There is a new part of you that has grown during thy travels” Withers continued, putting into words what Astarion was thinking and clearly what Withers had witnessed. “That part Bhaal, could not extinguish. As so instead of destroying thee, he has made thee anew.”

“He’s right” Astarion spoke up, interrupting, please believe us! His eyes pleaded for Taveleigha to believe what everyone was thinking and what Withers was putting into words. “You are no monster. You have saved me more times than I can count. My little sorcerer. My strong, immoveable, passionate sorcerer. My love. My heart” he implored, his feelings seeping into his words, and he saw the tears spring into Taveleigha’s eyes, still unbelieving that she was worthy. Gods this maddening woman. Astarion placed his hands on her cheeks and chose to let his eyes tell Taveleigha the love that he felt for her. The passion, the pride. Everything. He titled her head so that he could place his lips on her temple. The universal sign of love.

“The heart of a saviour has overshadowed the mind of a murderer” Withers continued, letting Astarion speak “thou have vanquished thine Urge” Withers looked, happy? Enamoured? In awe? It took someone of great strength to be able to succeed in what Taveleigha had accomplished today. Her body was showing the fight, Astarion could feel her energy waning the longer they were knelt on this cold stone platform, and he was starting to wish they could return to The Elfsong now that this fight was over. The outcome what he expected ALL of them walking out of this temple alive. However, the path not what he had envisioned.

“This intervention, the reclamation of thy soul, is beyond mine ordinary remit. But thou art extraordinary, and so are these times” Withers declared. What did this mean for Taveleigha? “Today thou are born anew” Taveleigha saw the unsaid in Withers words, she was reborn, she had a new path ahead of her and one that she could see, many futures birthed again, because of a decision she made.

Taveleigha staggered to her feet, strengthened by what Withers and Astarion had said, their friends smiling, grateful for Withers but also happy to see Taveleigha alive again. She stumbled under her own weight and Astarion caught her, with an unrelenting arm around her waist, and her gripping his armour.

“Greet the bloodless dawn child of none” Withers gestured to the temple entrance and Taveleigha nodded imperceptibly. “For you life has just begun” And with that Withers disappeared, slowly turning incorporeal and then with a greenish blue flash was gone. Astarion had a feeling he would be at The Elfsong, like normal stood next the Dumbbell, near an unused bed.

Taveleigha glanced around the temple, she was feeling incredibly delicate, like blown glass that would shatter at any moment. She was still unsure what this meant, but she was sure she understood Withers hidden meaning, the power interweaved in his words. Death will not reclaim thee whilst I endure. There was more to those words that what she was sure the others thought. She had a feeling her life truly had just begun, and her old life as the daughter of Bhaal, had died when she herself succumbed to the endless stretch of black, of nothingness a void of no vision, no feeling, just sporadic sounds here and there. No concept of time, she had a feeling that concept of time, those weaves and threads that bound her to the mortal coil did not interweave with her as they previously had. She was sure, her long elven life had just become significantly longer. Whilst I endure.

Challenger of the Gods.

What had Withers seen, what was required of her. Was this beyond the present crisis. Either way she felt her life certainly had just changed dramatically, and she was scared, but determined. She felt like a newborn, but a new adult all rolled into one. There was one thing she was sure of though; she would face it head on.

I, too, still hold some power, and I invest a portion of it in thee.

Taveleigha was irrevocably changed. She was unsure if this was a gift or a burden right now, but she knew she was grateful to be able to walk out of this temple and never look back.

She stepped forward, with the help of Astarion.

Into her new path.

No pressure tagging (I ahve tagged the people who loved my taster tuesday as this is the finished product from that taster): @shewhowas39 @roguishcat @beepersteeper @fleetstreet78 @ouchiemyeyeballs @slothquisitor @eldathsgrove

[clueless-fan-critic]

Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur: Now That’s Moon Girl Magic!!!

 One 

In my opinion, Marvel’s Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur is one of the best new Disney shows in the 2020s and I’ll calmly make an argument for anyone who thinks otherwise. It has popping color, even poppier music, excellent characters, and strong storytelling all wrapped up in this fun, groundbreaking Disney show. With Season 2 coming out, I thought it was time to share what I got to say about its revolutionary ways and how it may even set the bar for future Marvel projects and even MCU ideas.

The Characters

Lunella Lafayette, played by former X-Factor contestant Diamond White, is one of the most bombastic but relatable super-genius black girls at the time I write this. I love how her intelligence isn’t just her sole personality trait as she’s confident, sassy, and optimistic. Lunella is still a young teen who worries about fitting in, cares about her family, and tries to be the best person she can be.

I liked that they don’t make her into a bullied nerd like Peter Parker, which would contradict the whole message about protecting her community. She’s still pretty social around her fellow students but doesn’t have that social finesse which makes her have a lot of friends.

She’s a flawed character: she’s over-competitive and obsessed to the point of disregarding her work and other people. She does overcome and learn from those issues in order to become a better person in the end.

Devil Dinosaur is more than a pet sidekick meant to be cute or the comic-relief. He does get his time to shine from his insecurities of being too big to a fear of jellyfish. With basically growls and snarls made by Fred Tatasciore, Devil conveys a huge range of emotion from joy to sadness to anger.

Casey Calderon is the best friend and manager of Lunella whose savvy with fashion and social media. She’s pretty much what you expect from the girl who’s into social media as exuberant and charismatic, but never shallow or vain. She genuinely wants to use her skills to help Lunella’s message spread. She’s the support to the superheroics of Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur in making the heroes more human in the eyes of the LES.

Many other characters have not only impacted the story but also the main cast itself with the Lafayette family and various members of the LES.

The Lafayettes have their times to shine in their own ways whether as shoulders for Lunella to get support from or voices of reason that plays into the lesson that she must face. Adria Lafayette acts as a strong moral compass for Lunella to follow like protecting the LES from gentrification. Both James Jr. and Pops aren’t as big as the Lafayette women, but they do get there times to shine throughout the show.

In the finales “O.M.G. Issue 1 and 2”, we get the reveal of Lunella’s grandmother Mimi, played by MCU alum Alfre Woodard, is the Original Moon Girl or O.M.G. who helped build the portal generator that Lunella rebuilt years later. It gives us a deep look into how the super-genius doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The Beyonder, voiced by the famous Laurence Fishburne, is a fun and interesting character that acts more of a reality warping nuisance to Lunella than an actual villain. Combined with Fishburne’s comedic delivery and stylish  animation, the Beyonder is a hilarious trickster learning about humanity the best way he knows: messing with superheroes.

The Villains do create a dynamic with Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur by creating various conflicts both externally, internally, even symbolically. The first villain of the show Aftershock was an electrical villain who literally stole power from the LES, putting businesses at risk of closing, which can be interpreted as someone taking away others’ autonomy from their homes. Another set of villains were the Muzzlers, basically high-powered tech giants wanting to gentrify the LES and take away anything unique from the people. They even “silenced” the people with their tech and rendered them voiceless, but the people prevailed together.

The show not only showcases obscure Marvel characters in new, refreshing ways, but also creates their own stellar ones that put together what it can showcase.

The Animation Style

The most eye-popping way it stands out is the animation. The colors and style beautifully blends with the music. Every time a fight scene happens, the colors become much more vibrant with heart-pumping music from various artists. You can really tell that the animators put a lot of love and passion into making something both familiar but also standout with its fight scenes.

One of my favorite scenes is in Episode 3 “Run the Rink” with Moon Girl fighting Gravitas to a Childish Gambino song. A Childish Gambino Song! You know that you got a hit when you get a hit song from a famous rapper.

All the musical scenes play into the story in an entertaining way while fueling the animation on a higher level.

The Stories

Almost every story plays into Lunella’s development throughout the first season from self-love and self-acceptance to fighting for one’s community. One of my favorite episodes is “Hair Today Gone Tomorrow” that perfectly addresses various issues about one’s hair. I think a lot of people, especially black women, can understand how we can get insecure about themselves. “O.M.G. Issue 1 and 2″ highlights how people of color, especially those in STEM fields, were essentially erased from the work they did and all credit was taken from them by the higher-ups. The main villain of the finales Maris Morlak is both a terrifying and relatable person whose motivations are sympathetic in how his work was taken from him and was erased.

What’s Next For Moon Girl?

With Season 2 coming out of woodworks, I’m hoping to see more adventures, heart, and fly music that elevates Moon Girl to a different level and even set more bars in terms of storytelling and animation for both Marvel projects and even the MCU itself.

[ilyasorokinn]

(day eight) perfect time , artturi lehkonen

note, this fic is part of my christmas series called taylor's very merry christmas series. check out this masterlist for the rest of the series. pair, artturi lehkonen x reader summary, artturi had been planning on proposing for months, but could never find the right time. that perfect time finally presents itself when they're both covered in snow. warnings, none word count, 1493 words

gif credit to @gabelandeskog

Artturi had been trying to find the perfect time for months. During Valentine's day? No, that was to cliche. Your birthday? Nah, he didn't like that idea. Your anniversary? Also to cliche. After winning the cup? He tried to do it then, but you were either pulled away or were both too drunk to remember.

Artturi had been waiting for literally a year.

He couldn't wait another year, so he knew he had to do it soon. When he was gonna do it was up to fate.

You were decorating your house for Christmas. Due to the break being so short, you weren't able to visit Artturi's family, so it was just the two of you this year.

"Where does this one go?" Artturi asked, holding up one of the ornaments.

"There." When it came to the Christmas tree, everything had to be perfect, and Artturi was there to help. You took a step back to marvel at your work.

"It looks good." He complimented.

"It's missing something." He raised a brow, but unfurrowed it when he noticed the item in your hands, "The star."

"How're we gonna get it up there?"

"I'm gonna go on your shoulders."

"Yeah, no." He shook his head, "That sounds like a one-way ticket to the emergency room."

"Come on, you aren't tall enough even when you're standing on a chair..."

"Debatable, and rude." He butts in.

"... But if I'm you're shoulders, then we'll be tall enough." You told him as if you were explaining it to a toddler.

"Y/N now isn't really the time to be injured." He pointed out.

"Oh, come on. I'll be quick." You pleaded, "If it really bothers you, we can always call Mikko or Dermy. I think he might be the tallest guy on the team." You pulled out your phone, ready to call.

"No," He let out a defeated sigh, "Fine. We'll do it."

"Yay!" You grabbed a chair from the kitchen and stood on top of it, star in hand. Artturi bent down so you could climb onto his shoulders. When you were sure you were secure, he stood up carefully.

He held onto your legs so tight, you could barely move, but you could practically feel the panic and nervousness radiating off his body. He walked you both over to the tree, and you could definitely reach it, but you wanted to mess with Artturi.

"I can't quite reach it."

"You know what? We have a ladder." He reminded you, stepping back towards the chair.

"No, I got it. I just need to go a little higher." You told him, holding onto a branch of the tree so he couldn't go too far.

"Fine." He let go of your legs a little, giving you some space to push up a little. You let out a groan when you couldn't quite reach it.

"I can't get it." You kept going, "Do you think you could go a little higher? Maybe on your tippy-toes?"

"If I go that high, not only are we gonna go toppling over, the tree is going down with us."

"Just a little more." You begged.

He relented, and you felt all his muscles straining as he held both himself and you on the tops of his ties, "I can't reach it." You told him.

"That's it!" He shouted, planting his feet on the ground, "I'm done. We're done. I'll get the ladder or we'll call someone, but I'm done."

"Wait, wait, no, I'm kidding!" You exclaimed with a laugh, right before he bent down to set you back on the chair, "I can reach it. Go back."

He let out a groan but walked over to the tree, letting you reach up easily and slip the star onto the top of the tree, "See? That was easy."

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say." He rolled his eyes as he made his way over to the chair and set you down. When you were finally off his shoulders, he dropped to the ground.

"Oh, I'm not that heavy." You softly kicked him.

-

You went to sleep with a yard full of grass and woke up with a yard full of snow. You woke up before Artturi, so you woke up and did your regular morning routine, and headed to the kitchen to make coffee, but when you looked out the window, you were met with a field of snow instead of grass.

Your eyes practically bulged out of your skull as you looked at the snow. You set your mug down and ran back into your room where Artturi was still peacefully sleeping.

"Wake up!" You shouted, hopping onto the bed and jumping, startling him awake.

"What the heck?!" He shouted.

"It snowed." You told him, jumping into a sitting position in the middle of the bed, "Come on, we have to make a snowman and snow angels and maybe even a snow village."

"Yeah, you have fun with that." He grabbed the comforter and shoved it over his head.

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun." You grabbed the comforters off his body, "I'll make hot cocoa and we can do nothing for the rest of the day."

"Nothing?" He raised an eyebrow.

"We'll be so boring, paint drying will be more entertaining." He thought about it before throwing the covers off his body and heading into the closet to get warmer clothes, "That's the spirit!" You followed after him.

You soon found yourselves shin-deep in snow. Artturi was very busy making his snowman while you plotted a plan of attack. Attack of what?

Snowballs.

"I'm gonna go get a carrot." He headed back inside but stopped when you pelted him in the back with a snowball. He turned around and narrowed his eyes at you playfully, "That's just cold. A backshot? Come on."

You balled up another snowball and threw it at him, hitting him in the chest. You laughed when he gaped at you, looking similar to a fish out of water.

"Come on, Lehky!"

"Game on!" He balled up a snowball of his own and threw it at you, but you dodged it just in time. Sadly, the second time around, you weren't so lucky.

Eventually, you both ended up in the snow, laying next to each other, a laughing mess, "See? Wasn't this better than laying in bed?"

"Sort of." You propped yourself up on your elbows as you stared at him, "Well, at least in bed, I could feel my fingers."

"Not my fault you didn't wear gloves."

"'Cause I gave you mine!"

"And they thank you very much." You laughed, laying back down next to him. You stared up at the sky that was nothing but white, but Artturi wasn't looking at the sky, he was looking at you.

He felt a tightening in his gut, and he knew what it meant, "I need to get something. I'll be right back." He got up and ran inside. You watched him, a perplexed look on his face.

He came back less than a minute later, looking more nervous than he was when he ran inside, "You okay?"

"Yeah." His voice was all high-pitched and you could hear the anxiety.

"What's wrong?" You asked, taking off his glove and reaching up, placing your hand on his cheek.

"I've been trying to find the perfect time to do this, but could never and I think this is the perfect time." He pulled the ring box out from behind his pocket and you felt yourself stop breathing.

"I had a speech prepared in February, but it doesn't feel right now. This is all very spontaneous, so I don't have one prepared. I'll make it quick and simple." He got down on one knee next to you.

"You are the very best thing in the world. Even more than hockey or porridge." You both laughed tearfully, "You mean so much to me. You moved to another country for me, and that..." He let out a breath, "I don't even have any words to explain how much that means to me." You smiled.

"There aren't enough words in the world to express how much I love you." He finally opened the box, revealing the ring. It shimmered and shined in the sun as his hands shook.

"Will you marry me?" He asked, the look on his face tells you he's unsure if you'll say yes.

You laughed, "God, of course, I will, you goof!" You threw your arms around his neck. He let out a breath in relief and you felt his entire body intense, "What? Did you think I would say no?"

"I honestly didn't know what you'd say."

"Then you don't know me very well." You joked, pulling away so he could slip the ring don't your finger.

"Well, now we have a lifetime to figure each other out."

"You're so cheesy." You scrunched your nose.

"You're stuck with me now." He smiled.

-

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[whiskey-bumblebee]

12 days of winter: day two

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Word Count: 626

Prompt: Decorating

A/N: Fluff. Tree decorating- I tried to keep it general (i.e. not for a specific religion), but let me know if it’s not inclusive!

Hotch’s hand is all but attached to your thigh as he drives you home, a freshly cut tree strapped to the roof of his car. He’s humming along absentmindedly to the radio, committing your visit to the tree farm to memory. The way you looked, wandering down the paths, looking for the perfect tree to fill your shared living room. Aaron’s high ceilings meant you could get something like a 10 foot tree, and you’d already picked out a spot in the living room, close to the fireplace, but not so close that it could get singed.

You’d already gone out to buy some baubles and lights, a more cohesive collection of decorations than you and Hotch had as individuals, before you moved in together. His decorations were mostly souvenirs from his college days: a bauble with the Space Needle in it, a tiny bear that one of his friends had given him, one or two sentimental ones from his childhood that he’d taken out of the box in the attic before he moved away. Yours were the same, an odd collection of family heirlooms, gifts from friends, homemade decorations... You couldn’t wait to decorate the tree with Aaron, leaving little monuments of both of your lives tucked between the green branches. But the store bought ones would fill the tree, make everything work together a little more neatly.

Besides, it was fun in and of itself to watch Aaron stalking the aisles, picking up each box of baubles or string of lights, watching his reactions to each one. Gold? Too gaudy. Glitter? Sure to make a mess. Glass icicles? Perfect, delicate, classic. You had nodded in approval when he picked up the warm-toned lights. There was already so much white light reflecting off the snow, and besides, the warm tone would compliment the firelight on the nights you had the fire going.

Before you knew it, you were turning into the driveway and unloading the tree. Aaron had (wisely) laid out a tarpaulin through the house, so you could fold it up with all of the loose needles inside, and shake it out outside. You filled a jug with water while he screwed the tree into its base, your movements around each other intuitive, like the paths of the planets.

Since the tree was going in a corner, you used a tip Penelope had passed on to you, draping the lights vertically up and down the tree, rather than around the circumference. You and Aaron took turns unpacking the decorations and carefully unwrapping the fragile ones from their tissue paper. You marveled at the artefacts of his life before you were a part of it, taking in the photos of him that for some reason ended up in this box. You could tell they’d been taken on a film camera: stills of him studying at his desk, pulling a face at the camera, his arm slung casually around a friend, a cigarette between his lips, at a concert, raising his fist, mouth open, shouting the lyrics.

He wrapped his hand around yours, the gesture tender even if it was utilitarian as he helped you up onto a chair from the dining room, passing you the star for the top of the tree. He helped you down again after you’d adjusted it to perfection, and you nodded at him to flick the switch.

The tree lit up like something out of a movie, looking dazzling, with hundreds of lights peeking through the pine needles, glass baubles catching the low light of the living room, reflecting the lights from the tree itself. Icicles glistened, looking almost wet from the way they’d been arranged in the tree. And most beautiful of all, yours and his ornaments between them.    

[indigo-corvus]

Banana Splits Christmas Headcanons, GO! Spew em’ out! Even if it’s the eve of christmas- but oh well- I’ll reblog your respose with my silly ol’ headcanons in return in the tags.

*CRACKS KNUCKLES* Here we go!

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

- The Splits always decorate the clubhouse a day or two after Thanksgiving (depending on how full they are)

-Fleegle, (naturally) takes the lead in decorating, deciding where and when things should be hung.

-Fleegle and Snorky make sure no corner goes undecorated! There's tinsel and garlands everywhere, bows above every window, etc.

-Snorky loves all of the lights, and will sometimes sleep in the main room of the clubhouse to watch them blink as he drifts off to sleep.

-Bingo on the other hand, loves the decorations, but Hates being the one to put them up. He just likes putting the star up on the tree and then marveling at "all his hard work".

-The caroling begins literally the second the star lights up, and doesn't stop until January.

-It's mostly Snorky, Drooper, and Fleegle that do it All Day Every Day, but if he is in the room, Bingo will often be persuaded to join in. Their harmony is amazing, since they're so used to singing/recording together!

-Fleegle likes to read The Night Before Christmas to everyone on the 24th. He sits in the armchair and they all gather 'round.

-Bingo watches The Nightmare Before Christmas every year, even though Fleegle INSISTS it's a Halloween movie only. This "fight" happens Every Year. (It's more like a silly back and forth)

-Snorky goes Full Baking Mode, and pumps out 2 dozen cookies every other day. (He knows that the gang can't resist his famous snickerdoodles and decorated sugar cookies)

- Sometimes the boys help him out with the cookie decorating and turn it into a party! (It's always a good time with the Splits around!)

-Drooper is always extra careful with his tail this time of year! He doesn't want it to be confused for a garland, or to mess up any of the decorations they worked so hard on.

-Bingo makes The Best eggnog ever! (Family recipe!) It's spiced and creamy, and it's always gone the same day he makes it. (Sometimes he adds a little bit of rum to his nog when nobody's looking!)

-Drooper loves the old school Rankin Bass Christmas specials! His favorite is the Rudolph and he likes the Burl Ives snowman.

-Snorky loves hosting ugly Christmas sweater parties! He makes his own sweater every year. :)

-Fleegle is a very practical gift giver! He will gift something he knows will be useful, that is related to the gang's interests. (Paintbrush sets, cameras, etc)

-Snorky is a sentimental gifter! He will give a picture of everyone hanging out in a really pretty frame, a scrapbook, or something else that has a lot of meaning behind it, with a very heartfelt letter of friendship.

-Bingo is a silly gift giver, and will often get gag gifts followed by an actual gift. Snakes in a fake peanut brittle can with a nice quality sweater, 6 individually wrapped copies of Space Jam with a movie that one of them actually wants to see, one soap that smells like buttered popcorn and one that smells like honey or whatever.

-Drooper is all about the music, and will gift an instrument that the other hasn't tried to play yet. (Hard to do, since they are all fabulous musicians and try new instruments all the time!)

-Snorky and Drooper are the gift wrappers. Fleegle and Bingo are just terrible at it lol. Fleegle over complicates the wrapping, and Bingo is a very messy present wrapper lol.

-Every year they leave out a plate of milk and cookies, and every year, Ogre sneaks out and eats them. The gang always thinks it's Santa.

Happy holidays everyone! Happy Yule, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, etc!

May your next year be merry and bright!

[lamemaster]

And the Time Stopped (Caranthir x Male Reader)

An: I wrote this as Caranthir x OC for ao3. I changed OC into the reader for Tumblr. I think it is cute and if you would like to read more of it in Caranthir x male reader format let me know.

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: He exhaled a sigh of relief when the gardens remained quiet as ever. An unnoticed smile crept on the face of the broodiest Feanorian. If anyone were to witness the scene of Morifinwe crouched in a random bush smiling at the ground, they would probably knock on the doors of the nearest healer.

One step and he would lose all the progress. A distant sane part of Carnistir’s mind wondered what the hell was he doing. Telperion’s bloom was halfway through. Sleepy elflings loitering in the streets had been long tucked in their bed by their parents. It was a mellow evening.

Yet, for the fourth son of crown prince Feanor, it was a night of adventure he never remembered asking for. He was hanging from the second highest branch of the tree right next to the window of his room that too without making the wood creak. He was sure that his face was probably flushed red by now. 

Somehow, Carnistir had snuck out without alerting the other 6 menaces that resided in the same house as him. He was particularly proud of escaping from Turco, the famed hunter of Oromë. 

Praying for the last time Carnistir swung his legs and let go of his hands holding the branch. He aimed to land farthest from the wall of his house to avoid alerting anyone of his plan. The Illuvatar listened to his pleas as he landed lightly on his feet closer to the other end of their garden. As soon as his feet touched the ground Carnistir rolled his body towards a bush and waited for any sign of disturbance.

He exhaled a sigh of relief when the gardens remained quiet as ever. An unnoticed smile crept on the face of the broodiest Feanorian. If anyone were to witness the scene of Morifinwe crouched in a random bush smiling at the ground, they would probably knock on the doors of the nearest healer.

His strategy had been way too good for anyone to even suspect him. Unknown to the crouching ellon, his smile turned into a frightening smirk similar to that of a dark lord marveling at their work. Ignorant of his facial expressions Carnistir reminisced about the evening when he started to work on his scheme.

“BAM!” He had slammed the front door of their house. His hair was messed up in a fashion that reassembled a bird’s nesting preference. His face was bright red with evident rage, which unknown to anyone was not really rage but the succession of quick laps he had run in the unfrequented woods. 

“Carn—” Nerdanel, who was in the process of forcing Pityo into his chair to eat, stopped mid-sentence when she saw him. Carnistir felt guilt creep up his gut, but he continued his power walk to his room. This had to be flawless. This would be the building block of ensuring everything ran smoothly for the night. Mentally he apologized to his mother, if it were to be another day, he would’ve helped her with the twins but not today.

As he reached his door, he could hear Ambarussa chattering and Nerdanel shushing them. “No, you cannot go to Moryo today.” The statement was followed by collective whining to which he heard his mother replying in hushed tones.

Not known to many, there was an unchallenged rule in the Feanorian household. It was a rule respected by all the members of the family, even the rowdy Ambarussar had to uphold it, albeit reluctantly. 

In a house full of artisans, it was not uncommon for one-third of the house to have a temper tantrum on a particular day. His father’s frustration with metals, Makalaure’s writer’s block, or his mother’s pilling commissions. It was bound to create tensions. So, the household of Feanor made it a rule to respect an artist’s justifiable irritation and stay out of the person’s way. After several family meetings, it was decided that in case of a rough day the person would be left alone. No one would interrupt the internal war of the fuming member.

It wasn’t surprising that Feanor, Curvo, and Carnistir were the leading participants in this exercise, which was the reason that it came to him like second nature. Thus, it was arranged that no one would be troubling him tonight.

Breaking away from his reverie Carnistir dusted his robes. He had made sure to dress in something darker for the night. After contemplating for an hour, he had settled for a dark-brown velvet tunic. He had himself embroidered its seams with gold thread. As a precautionary measure, he patted his braids, making sure nothing had come undone. 

As if remembering on cue he patted his inner pockets. It would be all for nothing if he forgot the book. Much to his relief, he could feel the minute outlines of the book. 

After looking around for a pair of redheads sneaking around for the last time Carnistir huffed and started making his way toward Tirion’s public library. 

As he walked the relatively quiet roads of Tirion, he couldn’t help but notice the slight rustle of leaves as the wind tussled with them. He marveled at the limestone sidewalk that seemed to be painted silver with the light of Telperion. He spotted a few stubborn weeds growing in-between the paved sidewalk.

Carnistir never cared much for the poetic beauty in everything around him. He had left that to Makalaure. He much preferred to wield a needle to weave colorful threads into a scenery. His grandmother’s art had appealed the most to him and his father had been immensely proud. Feanor admired every single one of his creations and would stand looking at them for hours.

However, these days Carnistir found himself humming a familiar jolly tune, Makalaure had almost tripped when he found his younger brother mindlessly humming a love song. Carnistir found joy in helping his mother with twins, easing Maitimo’s duties. On random occasions, he would catch himself admiring the light of trees, and the chirping of the birds, Huan seemed to get extra pets from him. He even found himself laughing at the Ambarussar’s antics.

All this he had woven in a tapestry. It felt as if the world that felt like an annoyance was suddenly livelier. Something had breathed life into everything around him. The realization made the book in his coat feel so much heavier.

He had been frowning at the same fabric for the past hour. The vendor who was earlier glad that the prince had come to his shop was now exasperated. “My lord, my prince…” Carnistir ignored his whining with immaculate talent. 

Had it been a normal piece he would not have cared that much but this was supposed to be a present for his father. His father, who never celebrated his begetting for the longest time. Carnistir knew it was the lingering grief of Miriel’s loss that still saddened his father. 

“I’ll take this one.” Carnistir flinched at the sudden voice right next to him. He had not heard anyone approaching. Even the shopkeeper seemed stunned at the unexpected interruption.

The next moment the shopkeeper recovered and with a brilliant smile turned to the new customer. Carnistir was indignant at the interruption. He had yet to ask if the fabric was dyed with the specific dye he preferred.

Had this stranger made no sense? How could he just look at a piece of fabric from that far away and buy it? One needs to feel the cloth, inspect the dye, and look at the consistency of the threadwork in the least.

This was atrocious. Ready to educate the fool who was still standing quite a distance away Carnistir turned. “Excuse me, but ho—” and the time stopped to exist.

Out of all the children of Feanor, Carnistir was the least impulsive. He had always planned and weighed his options. Yet, one look at you, who he was about to give an earful, he felt the world turn upside down. 

It was one moment that made him swoon, yearn, and forget whatever he had been doing before this. The stranger with hair of Laurelin’s color and eyes of the color of a lake on a bright day looked back at him equally surprised.

Carnistir, the harshest and quickest to anger out of all his brothers, fell in love at first sight. Almost quicker than the red that instantly colored his face.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Deliciously dark! Aemond x oc (Snow falls, chapter 20: Lessons in the bedroom

You are Willa Wyldewoods, lady of Wyldecrest. After being denied your hand in marriage, Aemond murders your family and makes himself Lord of WyldeCrest, out-powering you. He claims you as his wife and spoils, He commands and goes over your home now and as you will learn right now: No one is safe under his reign. Not even you.

WARNINGS: Painplay, smut, rough sex, himulation, aemond being an asshole to his wife, dom/sub themes, cussing, torture, pleasure control and denial and other dark smuttish things but its consentual, spankings, choking, aemond getting off on willa/oc's pain and being a sadist, oc being a sub. NECROMANY AND MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH as well as other messed up thingies.

You barely understand what you are doing later that day. The king has made sure that you can not back out of the plan. He took you under his wing and is walking you through his own rooms. "Aemond was a shy child when growing up. The only breasts he'd ever seen were his mother when she fed him. I dare say my brother was once...Kind."

You freeze. Aemond is many things but kind? He is not kind. You were taught by your husband that life isn't as easy as Kind and Mean. You have no kind people and no mean people. It isn't as black and white as Aegon describes it to be. You have allies and enemies and who is what changes as swiftly as a leaf on a tree.

You try to picture your husband, perhaps smaller and yet as fierce with a toy sword and a dragon. He must have been quite the force. You fight a smile.

‘’When his name day came, mother begged me to take him with me to the street of silk.’’ You do not know what a street of silk is, but it does not sound pleasant. There is a chuckle in Aegon’s sharp voice, that betrays that it's not somewhere you want to be found yourself.

Aegon chuckles. He remembers you are not native to King's Landing. You do not understand what the street of silk is. Yet you recall that he took Aemond to see a whore. ‘’Is that the name of the brothel?’’ You ask. Once talk of intimacy and whores scared you. After being fucked in the fields of nowhere by Aemond Taegaryen, nothing scares you anymore.

The king walks you inside his chambers and gestures for you to sit down, in a red velvet lavish chair by the window.  You obey, but only because it would be ill mannered for you to refuse his command. You will scream and claw his eyes out if he tries anything funny. ‘’That is the name of the street full of brothels.’’ Your smile fades from your lips. A whole street of brothels? You know King’s Landing is enormous compared to WyldeCrest but you hoped that Aemond limited himself to one whorehouse. You aren’t sure if your heart can handle more than that.

He did warn you, once. When he cheated on you. ‘’Many girls come to me.’’ And you can easily see why. Aemond is a prince, yes, but it is more than that. Aemond is a beacon. A flame that draws in desperate Moths from near and afar who want nothing more but to set alight by his flame. Even it burns them alive. You are no different.

You feel uneasy in Aegon’s chambers. They are far more luxurious than Aemond’s, but then again Aegon is the king. You do not see any books open on Aegon’s desk. You only see scrolls of parchment and a quill. Aegon continues to tell you what happened that day when he took Aemond out for his name day. ‘’I entered, put Aemond in a chair and told him to behave himself. The little twat never saw a cunt before until a whore passed. He was fascinated.’’ You do not like it that he speaks that way about your husband. ‘’I was off, gathering a nice whore for both of us, when I had turned away just a moment.’’ He snaps his fingers, and from behind a curtain leading to the bedroom, a woman emerges.

She wears a simple green silk robe with a collar holding it up to her neck. Her hair is done neatly and is braided into a simple knot on top of her head. She has marvellous brown locks and a cheeky smile. ‘’Aemond was always a bit of a curious one. He liked experiments and he loved learning and reading. All the boring stuff I personally piss on. So, of course the little brat was exploring.’’ Aegon leans in, close enough for you to taste the wine he had on his breath. His hands slowly travel over your legs, to your hips. He smiles.

‘’There, in the back of the room there were two girls kissing each other, tasting each other, fucking each other. I had to drag Aemond away from them. He kept watching, glued to the two girls who slowly undressed themselves.’’ You try to keep from gasping. You wonder if the girls loved each other, or if it was part of the show.

You feel stupid for even thinking the first. it is the latter. You just know it.

‘’Aemond requested both girls later that night. He attempted to fuck them, which was pathetic of course. He never fucked a woman in his life.’’ He sighs, wistfully as if yearning to be back to that time. "He thanked me. The weasel. He thought I was taking him out of the goodness of my heart. As if." You understand that Aegon has plans with you and the girl he just summoned. You fear she is not a free woman. The black collar tells you enough.

You give the woman a sympathetic smile but all she does is scowl at your sympathies. She pushes Aegon aside, who accepts this with a cheekish smirk, falling back on the bed as if she wanted him there. He spreads his legs and unbuttons the first few pins of his vest, causing you to flush and to turn your head far away from him.

The girl has an accent, you can’t place it. But she is not from Westeros  ‘’This is what he married? This, this…snowflake?’’ Snowflakes are special and one of a kind. Yet she says it as if it's an insult. She looks at your humble breasts and your raven dark hair. She brings her hands to your face and slowly caresses it, looking into your eyes. Searching for any imperfection. For any reason to insult you.

Aegon’s tongue makes a little disapproving sound. ‘’Aurelia, my little special golden flower. Do not tell me you are jealous of Aemond’s pet.’’ You are hurt by that word. You nearly snap your own neck, that is how fast your head turns to look at Aegon. When you see where his hands are you quickly look back at your feet. His hand is in his pants and you understand that Aegon is touching himself. You flush.

Aurelia smiles sweet as a jar of honey but her eyes are stinging like a viper’s teeth. ‘’I am not, my king. Once a woman has had you, they never even glance at your pathetic little brother.’’ That pleases Aegon. Of course it does. He loves hearing that he is the better brother. He’ll never tire of hearing it. He wants to hear it now, tomorrow, for the rest of his days. But it pleases Aegon more that she moves his fingers around his own cock, pleasuring him with his own hand. You watch, intrigued by this strange unfamiliar power. He is giving her the freedom to do as she wishes. And he seems to like it.

He moans. ‘’Mhm.’’ The power of seduction fascinates you. You watch as the king of the Seven kingdoms is pleasured by his whore.

Aurelia uses her fingers to pleasure him. You usually use your whole body for Aemond. ‘’Your grace. Who is that little pathetic snowflake?’’ That would be you.

Aegon speaks, ignoring your sigh. ‘’That would be Willa WyldeWoods of WyldeCoven.’’ He ordered the death of your parents and brother and he does not even know the name of the keep that he took. He does not know the name of the keep.

‘’WyldeCrest.’’ You weakly mutter the name of your home town.

Aurelia leaves Aegon and sharply turns her head to you. Taking you in once more.

She has a catlike smirk on her lips, befitting a predator who is used to getting what she wants. You also notice a slight hint of jealousy. ‘’A lady. Of course he’d marry a lady. Aemond prefers his cunts tight. Did you know that?’’ Vaguely, in the back of your head you recall him telling the man he executed that you were never ‘’sacked’’ before and that he found it quite satisfying.

You aren’t sure what to do with that information. You rather she hadn’t told you at all. You were a maiden, once. Aemond has taken you dozens of times by now, and you worry he is sick of you. ‘’I…’’ You try to stutter a response but nothing comes to mind. The king finds it hilarious.

Aurelia comes even closer to you, backing you against the wall when her intense eyes stare into your soul. She slightly tilts her head looking at you.‘’Was your maidenhead not enough for him? Did he took your tongue and balls too?’’ You helplessly turn to Aegon. He only smirks, betraying he won’t save you.

You tell yourself to calm down. You are a lady. You have things she does not have. Things she can only dream off. ‘’I-I don’t have..’’ You find trouble getting the word over your lips.

She does not let you finish. She growls.

‘’Clearly. You are a weak little bitch. I bet you let Aemond do all the fucked up things his rotten brain can think of. You are a little slave bitch, aren’t you?’' You blush, avoiding her gaze. You were a loyal sweet wife to your husband. You obeyed his wishes in the bedroom, as you always assumed that was how it works. A wife's duty is to obey her husband in the bedroom.

Perhaps you did grant Aemond more freedom with your body than you should have allowed. Perhaps you need to take charge. Is that what he likes? "Tell me, little snowflake? Does your owner like to fuck you? I bet he fucks you rough, doesn't he?" You nod absently.

"He does." You admit, only a soft whisper.

She suddenly touches your hips bringing your bodies closer. Aegon sits up straight and watches with his breath hold. She slowly fingers your nippels through your gown, before gently kissing your mouth. "You are as a corpse, little snowflake. You need to loosen up." She tells you. You feel offended.

You do what she wants but only because the king is watching. She smirks."Good girl. You crave approval, don't you? You just love for that one-eyed monster to fuck you bloody when whispering how pleased he is with you. Empty sweet words that lose all meaning the moment he has squirted his seed down your cunny."

"You see how swollen and beautiful red it is? It arches for a Woman's mouth. A woman's hands. Woman's cunt." She brings her lips to his cock and instead of sucking him as you do with Aemond she teases him with soft little licks. You gasp and don't even notice your hands travelling over your body.

You picture yourself on Aemond, your tongue giving him soft gentle licks when he groans en curses, calling you dirty names for teasing him so badly. You feel the soft cum build in your mouth, and you beg for him to inject himself into your face.

On the bed, Aegon is pushed down and she rolls on top. She trusts her hips to his front and you watch as Aegon enters her cunny. You watch fascinated as the two of them start a soft rhythm that increases every moment. Your hands touch you between your legs now and you feel wet.

You imagine it is you with Aemond. You need him. More than you ever needed anyone else.

The whore is done with the king after he comes and you two take off to Aemonds chambers.

[1d1195]

ohhhh myyyy goodnesssssss!!!!! why are you literally the sweetest person ever!!!!! i was 🎀 anon BUTTTTT i never saw that you got back to me until now when i pressed the tag and it made me kind of upset cause i never replied🥺 i’m so sorry i don’t know how i missed it you’re literally like one of the only blogs i keep up with everytime im on here BUT im so glad i saw it now

also cold/mess ALSO REMINDED ME OF ZIPPER HARRY OMGGG (i’m so in love with him you have no idea i NEED him) AND IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT

i do tend to gravitate towards the more soothing and dreamy piano pieces to play as background music cause it makes me feel soft and comfortable and a little bit like the main character in a small romcom HAHA

one last thing, abt the split season I FEEL YOU OMGGG I HATE WHEN THEY DO THAT WHY IS IT SUCH A POPULAR THING NOW???? but i just finished the show i was watching (gossip girl, i gave in to the hype abt it online and it was alright) and i was wondering if you have any show recommendations for me? i totally trust your opinion haha and im open to anything rlly so just any shows you enjoyed watching i’d love to hear abt them!

LOVE YOU SOOOO VERY MUCH ~🎶+🎀 (IM NOT SURE WHICH ONE TO USE NOW HAHAHA)

You can totally use one or the other, or both! I don't mind at all! Don't worry about it, this website is different every time I look at it, so it's all good! I'm glad you saw it and I'm so happy to know you've been around this whole time! I'm so honored you check on my blog so frequently 😭

I def have said it before, but Zipper probably fights with my other stories for top three spots. hehehehehe, I did LOVE it! Thank you for suggesting it!

I totally get the romcom thing! I very much romanticize EVERYTHING I do. I romanticized getting gas today hahahaha.

I've never watched Gossip Girl but the "I gave into the hype and it was alright" is how I felt about One Tree Hill. I didn't love it but i think if I watched it back when it came out I would have enjoyed it more. I found it lowkey cringy. Let's see, I'm a pretty bad TV watcher hahaha I'll just list a whole bunch of shows I really enjoy:

Bridgerton

You

How I Met Your Mother (my favorite show ever)

Stranger Things

Umbrella Academy

Modern Family

Bob's Burgers

The Bear (one of my new favorites for SURE)

Wanda Vision (if you're not a marvel fan then this is a bit of stretch but it's one of my favorites of the marvel shows--very Don't Worry Darling coded, but this would probably be the most difficult one)

Schitt's Creek

Let me know if one of those jumps out at you because I do have more but I know that's a lot. I also know they're pretty popular overall but I do have other ones potentially.

Thanks for chatting with me it's so nice! 💕

xoxo

[spinningintheshadows]

You’re Invited!

I’ve decided to host a “Christmas Party” or, a writing challenge. You can join now through December 31st, but entries must be posted by January 5th.

All pieces will be reblog under the tag “#RTN XMAS PARTY 🎄”

Below the cut is more information including:

• Who I am accepting pieces about.

• Prompts

How to enter:

Look through the prompts, look through the people, and pick a couple prompts and a person. Send me an ask, so I can put you down. That simple.

Then when you post your fic, tag me (or tag with the RTN XMAS PARTY 🎄 tag) and I will reblog it here :)

Scenarios

Decorating the tree

Dancing in the snow

Present shopping

Gift giving

Wrapping gifts

Making a gingerbread house

Building a snowman

Snowball fight

Sledding

Mistletoe

Christmas cookies

Christmas market

Watching Christmas movies

Christmas Party

Going ice skating

Dancing to Christmas music

Fake dating for Christmas

Secret Santa

New Years Kiss

Meeting the family for the first time

Found family Christmas

Looking at Christmas lights

Messing up gift tags

Christmas cards!!

Snowed in

Unique traditions

Holiday Traffic

Holiday marriage proposal

Dialogue:

“Stop trying to get me to walk under the mistletoe”

“That should be our Christmas card this year”

“Why’d you turn the music off?”

“I know we said no presents this year but”

“I hate Christmas shopping” - “I love Christmas shopping!”

“Do you want to put the star on top of the tree?”

“What do you think? Like the tree?”

“Open your stocking!”

“It’s snowing!”

“What are you doing?” - “making a snow angel”

“Do people still even believe in Santa?”

“You’d make a cute elf”

“Is that supposed to be a snowman?”

“This is the best gift you could have given me”

“Please don’t make wear this, I look ridiculous”

“I thought you were going home for Christmas?” “Well I couldn’t leave you alone.”

“Hey, if we don’t find someone by midnight…you and me…maybe?” - “Ask me properly and I might consider it.”

“You look beautiful in the snow”

“It’s bold of you to assume I haven’t eaten my entire advent calendar.”

“Christmas hot chocolate is not normal hot chocolate. Where are the marshmallows?”

“You’re my Christmas angel.” - “Wow that was…intense.” - “Just take the compliment.”

“Will you make me a hot chocolate?” - “Name all the reindeer and I will.”

“You're being awfully sarcastic for someone dangling upside down in a mess of tinsel."

“So, you’ve never been kissed under mistletoe?” “Actually, I’ve never been kissed at all.”

“Have you ever wrapped a present before?” “…Why do you ask?”

“You know it’s an ugly Christmas sweater contest, not a ‘Medusa turning people to stone’ hideous Christmas sweater contest, right?”

“Wait, is every piece of Christmas decor you own Nightmare Before Christmas themed?” “…maybe”

“You knit me a sweater for christmas and i realized I’m in love with you”

Who you can write about

(Outer Banks)

• Rafe Cameron

• JJ Maybank

• Topper Thornton

• John B Routledge

(9-1-1)

• Eddie Diaz

• Evan “Buck” Buckley

• Howie “Chimney” Han

• Henrietta “Hen” Wilson

(note: Buddie, Henren, Maddie/Chimney, and FireFam are also acceptable)

(Stranger Things)

• Eddie Munson

• Steve Harrington

(Marvel)

• Bucky Barnes

• Steve Rogers

• Sam Wilson

• Peter Parker

(Actors)

• Chase Stokes

• Rudy Pankow

• Tom Holland

• Sebastian Stan

• Chris Evans

• Drew Starkey

• Austin North

Tagging people who might be interested or can spread it around: @teelagurl558 @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection @mackenzielovee @kraekat29 @wannabestarkeysgirl @paradisehamilton @fiction-is-life