#nothing gold can stay eh

[zelcii]

do u right for luke castellan? if u do can u write some fluff for himmm? thank u, love ur writing

why | luke castellan

“if you want to stay as the counsellor of your cabin, you’re going to have to work harder,” mr. d said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“i’m sorry,” you deadpanned, frustration creeping into your voice. “what?”

chiron rolled his eyes at dionysus. “it’s nothing personal,” he replied dismissively. “we appreciate your efforts—”

“we just know that you can do better,” mr. d interrupted.

luke stood just outside the door, waiting for you, when he overheard the conversation. he didn’t think much of it, except for how wrong both chiron and mr. d were.

what surprised him the most was the meek, tired “yes, sir,” that slipped from your lips on the other side of the door.

as your boyfriend, luke has had the opportunity to watch you up close as you hustle through camp, over-organising activities, making sure every camper is accounted for. you’re always on the move, practically running the place, and sometimes he wonders if you ever take a minute to breathe. your dedication is impressive, no doubt, but it hurts him to see you wear yourself down with every unnecessary list, every forced smile you give chiron, and each desperate attempt to hold everything together on your own.

today is no different, of course. the kids are out exploring, their laughter echoing in the distance, while you sit at one of the empty tables with a can of soda, sluggishly jotting down yet another mundane task for the afternoon.

“hey, camper,” you say, barely looking up from your notebook as you take a sip of your strawberry soda.

“come,” he says, but it’s not really a question.

“what?” you glance up, surprise flickering in your eyes as he gently places a hand on your arm, urging you to stand.

“you heard me.” with one hand, he closes your notebook and tucks it under his arm, then grabs your can of soda and takes a sip.

“but—the kids?” you protest, frowning.

“eh. they won’t miss you.” he flashes you a grin, and with a stifled chuckle escaping you, the two of you make your way over to the empty dock, settling down with your legs dangling over the edge.

“how are you?” luke questions, you watch the way his slim waist slumps as he stretched his hands out behind him. “and i mean really.”

“good. haven’t gotten the chance to talk to you in a while though,” you smile, watching your reflection in the water beneath you.

“why?” the boy asked. you paused. there was a look in your eye as you went over your answer, a look that luke would never forget. you never thought of why exactly you’ve been busy all summer. probably because the answer seemed obvious to you.

“i’m working, luke?” you say, though you sound unsure. “why do you ask?”

the wood is warm beneath you as you stare out into the lake. you could see a group of campers staggered around the edges of the lake, a few taking a moment to dip into the coolness of the water. luke was leaned back on his hands, a lazy smile on his face as he watches the way your lips curl up at the sight of your kids.

“mr. d wasn’t the best this morning during senior council…” luke started, carefully watching the way your face twisted for your reaction. “i don’t know, i guess i get surprised when you let things like that slide.”

“what’s this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you turn to look at him. he looks almost unreal in the warm light of the setting sun, the golden rays casting a soft glow on the side of his face, making his eyes seem to shine just for you. he was a demigod for sure.

“an intervention,” he jokes, a hint of mischief in his tone. 

you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss how the sunlight catches in your hair, turning it a soft gold. it’s a moment, a second of reluctance that tells him to think twice before he continues this conversation with you.

“look,” he says, his tone shifting slightly. he sat up straighter, his eyes never leaving yours, “i’ve noticed you’ve been working your ass off lately; more than most of us. so why’d you just take that shit from mr. d?”

for a minute, all you could do was stare at him, and all he could do was stare at you. he took note of how the meat on your bones seemed to lessen over the course of the summer, how your tired eyes sunk into your rosy cheeks, and how your lips glossed over with the same lip gloss you had since the sixth grade.

“i know… what it sounds like—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“do you even like being a counsellor?”

“of course, i do,” you say with no hesitation, your eyes hardening as you sounded slightly offended.

his expression softens, concern flickering across his face. “look, baby, i know it’s none of my business how you choose to waste your time, but you barely even sleep anymore.”

you take so much shit from chiron and mr. d and you never even once go against their orders, we haven’t had time alone since before summer, and you give so much of your time to people who don’t deserve it… i know that nobody asked you this before,” 

“but do you ever wonder why?”

the question hangs between you, and for a moment, you’re silent, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. you look down at your hands, playing with the edges of your shorts. “why what?” you knew ‘why what.’

“why are you like this?” he prompts, holding eye contact.

“because…” you sigh, searching for the right words. “i don’t know��� but chiron—”

“forget chiron,” he replies softly as he takes your hand in his. “you’re his best counsellor. he was probably just messing with you, sweetheart.”

you meet his gaze, and for the first time, you realise how much weight you’ve been holding. you sigh, looking at him; his eyes never leave yours. 

“maybe you’re right,” you say slowly.

“of course, i’m right,” he scoffs, a smirk creeping onto his face, but the warmth in his eyes makes you want to kiss the smug look right off of it.

“big talk for a hermes, castellan,” you challenge, leaning in closer with a playful grin.

luke smirks, quick to respond. “that’s not the only big thing, baby.”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound ringing out like music in the morning air. it’s the hardest you’ve laughed since before summer camp, and in that moment, you realised just how much you’ve missed this.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Ring My Bell

steddie, omegaverse, flagging/signaling culture, mdni 🔞

Based on a fun worldbuilding convo in the SHOM discord that’s still buzzing around my head. Credit to @itcanbepalped and @jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s for vibing on this one

Steve’s parents never wore rings. They said it was gauche; very new money of them.

“Why bother with jewelry on your fingers that will get banged up on your hands when you can wear a necklace,” Clarissa would say when she spotted someone at the club with a ring, or god forbid two! Her own betrothal and bonding necklaces were layered, drawing the eye to her bite.

That was the whole point of a necklace. Either it emphasized a bonding bite, or it highlighted the fact that the wearer’s bonding gland was intact.

Steve had been given a necklace after he presented, a simple gold chain with a bejeweled padlock.

Pretty fucking gauche if you ask him.

Steve wouldn’t have worn it, but it was expected. Plenty of omegas wore something similar; he’d rather have his grandmother’s old claddagh ring, but his mother said it was low class.

So he wears his necklace every day, a reminder that he belongs to his father until he is mated. Then, he’ll belong to his alpha. Legally. At least until Congress hot its act together and passed some of the proposed equity laws.

Maybe his mom was right, rings were more easily lost. They tainted the scent of your hands with harsh metal.

It’s just that he’s seen some interesting ones, shapes so far beyond the standard lock, circle, and eternity knot. Meanings far more individualized than his necklace.

Which is why when the pups start following after Eddie Munson, Steve really notices his rings.

He gets what the book means. Or, he thinks he does. Munson doesn’t wear blockers, ever. His scent is an open book.

And the skull could be one of those gothy, ‘I mate for life’ things.

But the pig makes no sense. And no scents. Pigs don’t typically have a smell worth advertising.

The ring on his right hand is so simple in comparison that Steve gets stymied there, too.

He drops it, not wanting to reveal his interest in anything to do with Eddie Munson.

Steve is perfectly ready to let it stay a mystery until the night he comes to pick Dustin up after Hellfire only for Eddie to be the only one left in the lot, hauling his stuff out to his van. 

“Sinclair got his permit; your chuckleheads all went with him so he could show off.”

“Oh,” Steve says dumbly, only for his brain to catch up and spit out, “And they’ve never heard of a phone?”

“Real butthead behavior on their part,” Eddie agrees with a smirk. “Anyway, sorry you came out here for nothing.”

“Eh, could be worse.” Steve’s thinking monsters or g-men.

Of course, Eddie doesn’t know that. He gives Steve an appraising look. Then he surprises Steve. “I could make it up to you,” Eddie says with a crooked grin.

“How?” Steve asks, swallowing back the ‘not your fault’ that almost slipped out automatically. Because it kinda is.

Steve wouldn’t be here if not for Eddie’s club and the hold it has on Steve’s merry band of twerps. So he’s open to whatever Eddie’s offering to make them square.

He shouldn’t be surprised when Eddie pulls a joint from his pocket, sets it in his mouth to light, and inhales.

He holds it towards Steve as he blows out a stream of smoke. “We can hang, take the edge off your night.”

Steve takes the joint. Eddie grins and skips over to his van, opening the back door and giving a joking bow.

Steve laughs. He didn’t expect to be charmed so easily.

But he is, and after a couple hits he feels relaxed and loose in a way that would be fine in the safety of his bedroom, not so much when he has to drive.

He’s going to say as much, tell Eddie he should clear his head, when his eye catches the shine of silver on his fingers.

It’s like his brain isn’t connected to his mouth as he asks, “Why the pig?”

Eddie looks up from the box of cassettes he’s looking through and furrows his brow. “Huh?”

Steve’s brain must be cut off from his body too, since he reaches out and snatches up Eddie’s left hand.

“The pig,” Steve says, tapping on the offending ring. “Like, the book and the skull I think I got, but I’m coming up empty on the pig.”

“I’m surprised you knew it was a book.”

“But it’s book-shaped!”

“You mean rectangular?”

“But it is a book right?”

“Yeah.”

“So that’s about your scent,” Steve feels smug as he says it.

“I don’t smell like books,” Eddie says, clearly confused. “That’d be pretty awesome, though. Old books smell nice. Unless they’ve been in a basement too long.”

Steve nods sagely. This is obvious wisdom. No one wants to jump your bones if you smell like a musty basement.

Then he remembers his point. “You don’t smell like books, you are a book. Easy to read your scent ‘cuz you don’t wear blockers.”

“Don’t like ‘em. Make my head all fuzzy, and not in a fun way.”

“And the skull is a ‘til death’ thing right?”

“It’s actually a vampire skull.” Eddie points out the elongated canines. “You know, ‘the eternal kiss’ or whatever. I think bites should mean something.”

Steve nods again, feels a weird pull low in his belly. “That’s cool. Not enough alphas I know have that opinion.” He’s seen too many broken bonds at the country club and his father’s company Christmas parties.

Seen too many couples who shouldn’t have bonded in the first place.

“So, what’s the pig?”

Eddie looks down where Steve is still holding his hand. “Ever heard of a truffle hunter?”

“Like the chocolates?”

“No, the mushrooms! You’re rich, don’t you know about fancy mushrooms!”

Steve shakes his head, feels dumb. 

But Eddie just accepts his ‘no’ and moves on, “Well, they’re these rare mushrooms, and pigs like to eat them, so they’re really good at sniffing them out. And that’s me. I fully plan to sniff out my scentmate, and until then…” He shrugs. “Plenty of hot omega pussy to smell.” 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Eddie slaps his right hand over his whole face in shame. “Shit, sorry. Not appropriate in front of an omega. Or anyone. I promise I’m not a creep trying to get in your pants.”

But Steve’s mouth has gone dry. He wears blockers still, for work, the scent neutralizing deodorants and perfumes good at covering up his scent. The only place he doesn’t apply it is his crotch, because no one should be getting close enough anyway.

Suddenly he wants Eddie to be close enough.

He’s still holding Eddie’s hand, can still smell the edge of his woody scent over the weed. “It’s okay,” he says. Turns Eddie’s palm toward him and brings it to his nose.

The metal smell is there. But also pine and herbs, deepened by dark musk. His tongue darts out for a taste.

His hand mostly tastes like skin, a little like salt and smoke, but the scent is still there. Makes him want more. He pulls back, looks at Eddie who is staring at him with awe on his face.

“Okay, Mr. Trufflehunter, how do I smell?”

“You’ve got blockers on-”

“Not everywhere.”

His movements are slow, giving Eddie every chance to back out as he slides his fingers into Eddie’s hair, gripping the side of his head, and guiding him down towards Steve’s crotch.

Towards his wet pussy.

continued in part 2

[saintmuses]

❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

Pairing:

Soft!dark!Thomas Shelby x Ada’s BSF!Reader

Summary:

What started out as a fantastic night out at Eden club in London ended tragically for her.

Warning(s): Angst. Slightly dub-con (unwanted kiss). Death. Violence. Minors, dni! Note: last part of the mini series.

Word Count: 661

She could remember it in some ways where the memories began to solidify in flashes, a montage of the massacre of one man that happened at Eden Club.

She remembered being happy while drinking gin in a fancy glass, laughing at what her husband had jest.

She was happy, with a thin gold band wrapped around her ring finger, shiny under the golden hues of the lights at the club.

They had eloped so quickly in the morning, quickly that they couldn’t stand still and take it all in that they were getting married on a piece of paper. Perhaps they should’ve stayed and taken it all in slowly if she had known this was going to be their last night together.

The music ending sounded like the death march when a mass of storm came barreling, destroying everything they had touched.

“Tommy, no!” She screamed, voices erupted around them in a frenzy, but refused to intervene.

He was cruel. Just like everything about him. His eyes, pale blue, were encrusted in ice. Crystallizing the already frozen water, but his aura felt like death. It reeked of grim reaper, desperate to ensnare a living breathing soul.

It was crystal clear when blood was being spilled across the fancy tiles on the floor, splattered all over her and all over the man whose face was covered in hues of furiousness.

If she had thought or been asked what he would’ve done to declare her husband’s death, she would’ve thought or said he would’ve used a bullet in the gun he favored in his holster.

Not his bare hands, never his bare hands.

Perhaps he felt a bullet going through the brain or the heart was too simple, too kind, an act of mercy that she knew Thomas rarely gave out unless he had a bleeding heart in that moment which was very few and very far between.

It ended with his hand gripping the cap in a death-like vice, swinging across her husband’s face and neck, severely splitting his flesh and everything underneath into a snarly mess.

Her heart stopped at the sight of death in his eyes when he finally turned his head to face her. 

Nothing gold can stay under the golden hues of light of the club she had thought was her temporary Garden of Eden, but the serpent had entered and destroyed it with death with venom of blades that could be found sewn on his cap and poison from his fists.

“That must have been a new record, a bride and a widow in one day.” He muttered bitterly, coldly. It may have been said at a normal low tone, but to her he might as well have shouted them at her because those words hurt.

“Fuck you, Thomas!” She cried out, tears dripping down her flushed cheeks. She felt sick.

She could not stand the sight of him anymore, and she turned away from him, intending to run away again.

She was jerked back by him by a vice-like grip on her arm, and she was spun around to face him.

Her lips curled into a grimace when she felt slick fingers gripping her jaw, she could feel her husband’s blood smearing into her skin.

“I warned you,” he murmured, then she flinched at the next words. “I fuckin’ warned you, didn’t I? Eh?” He shouted in her face, eyes blazing with fury. His fingers digging into her bicep, for sure there were going to be finger shaped bruises in the morning.

“You will learn, Y/N. No one fucking touches you, or speak to you, or even marry you and live.” He hissed, nearly frothing at his mouth before closing in.

Unlike before where it was a purposeful act of brushing while she was unwilling, he forced his lips onto her still unwilling ones.

She swore she could taste blood, Edward’s blood on his lips, and her heart stopped for the second time that hour.

act i | ❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣❞

act ii | ❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

act iii | ❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

[mondaymelon]

— "𝗶 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗶 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂." ♥

:feat~ xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader: 

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside,@ilyuu

XIAO has never felt… so enamored over something as foolish as a human.

But the way you smile at him, the way you laugh whenever he’s around, the absolute look of adoration that dons your face whenever you catch the very sight of him, it’s almost addicting. Your voice is like music to his ears, something that seems to revive him, and it stuns him how such few words can bring him back to life.

And it almost scares Xiao, with how loud his heartbeats have become and how the heat rising on his face has easily become familiar. It unnerves him, because he knows that you are but a mortal, and he is an adeptus, and the two should never mingle. Yet, he can’t bring himself to turn away from your warm touch and soothing words, no matter how much he wants to, or tries.

It’s a silent night, your head in his lap, him gently stroking your hair while you sleep.

And under the moonlight, his voice is barely a whisper, his eyes shimmering pools of gold:

“I…I think I might be falling in love with you." ♥

CHILDE is well versed in the ways of capturing people’s hearts, so imagine his surprise when you manage to sway his.

The fact that you seem to be completely unaware of his feelings, however, is a different topic entirely. You just have the innate ability to make his heart race, even without knowing it! Childe’s not even sure whether he should feel impressed or not.

All he really can be sure about is that he’s fallen in love. Completely, utterly, and there’s likely going to be no way out. He knows that truth, and it rings in his head whenever he can hear his heart pick up its pace as you laugh, or as you smile at him warmly, like he’s your favorite person in the world.

Is he?

If you tell him yes, he’ll stay by your side for eternity, forever and ever, and never let you go.

“Hm~ You’re always so oblivious, aren’t you?” Childe gazes longingly at your sleeping form, a half-smile forming on his lips. “It’s not fair.”

“...I think I might just be falling in love with you.” ♥

ZHONGLI is a composed man, and just about no one can refute that.

So why exactly was it that he always found himself stumbling over his own words whenever you appeared? Why was the heat that rose to his face always so passionate?

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, not again, not after what had happened to the one he loved before. He shouldn’t hold on, he couldn’t hold on to these fleeting feelings, yet his heart ached for something to fill its void, and there you were.

There… there you were.

Those eternal moments between the two of you on warm summer evenings that seemed to last forever, the way you held his hand with such a sparkle in your eyes… all of it made his heart ache for something he couldn’t decipher.

“Zhongli, what’s wrong? You keep staring off into the distance… you aren’t sick, are you?” You glance at the man, worry evident in your gaze.

“Nono, it’s nothing…” He smiles reassuringly, before standing up abruptly from where the two of you are resting off the side of the road. “I must go.”

“E-Eh? Okay…?”

As he strides away, rounding the corner, he finally falls to the ground, hand over his mouth as his face flares red. “Hah…”

“Archons… I think I might be falling in love with you.” ♥

(a/n) i have been revived

the method: listening to xiao playlists on repeat

event has around 2/3 spaces left~

[jasmemes]

pirates of the caribbean: the curse of the black pearl

all starters are taken from pirates of the caribbean: the curse of the black pearl. feel free to change pronouns as needed!

i think it’d be rather exciting to meet a pirate.

yes, that’s what worries me.

man overboard!

sir, the rocks! it’s a miracle she missed them!

can you swim?

pride of the king’s navy you are.

there seems to be some sort of high-to-do up at the fort, eh?

someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians.

there’s no real ship what can match the interceptor.

you’ve seen a ship crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out?

it’s bad luck to have a woman on board. even a miniature one.

i intend to see that every man who wears a pirate brand or sails under a pirate flag gets what he deserves: a short drop and a sudden stop.

i can’t breathe.

women in london must have learnt not to breathe.

i’m told it’s the latest fashion in london.

are you decent?

i’m watching over you, [name].

that’s all i’ve found out.

where did you get that?

clearly you’ve never been to singapore.

you’d best start believing in ghost stories, [name]. you’re in one!

you have your trinket, i’m of no further value to you.

the code is more what you’d call guidelines than actual rules.

take what you can, give nothing back.

you’re supposed to be dead!

that’s interesting. that’s very interesting.

thank you, [name].

am i not?

parley! that’s the one!

gents, take a walk!

because it was [name] who said it.

we’re all men of our word, really.

me? i’m dishonest. and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. honestly, it’s the honest ones you want to look out for, because you never know when they’re about to do something incredibly stupid.

there be the chest. inside be the gold.

now will you shoot him!?

[name], my effects, please.

not without my effects.

i make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates.

you seem somewhat familiar, have i threatened you before?

you’re the one they’re searching for.

just doing my civic duty, sir.

you threatened [name].

oh, so it is that you’ve found a girl!

that’s not good enough!

this is either madness or brilliance.

you are, without doubt, the worst pirate i’ve ever heard of.

but you have heard of me.

these are his, sir.

that’s got to be the best pirate i’ve ever seen.

not you, we named the monkey [name].

he strapped a cannon to [name]’s bootstraps.

i’m telling a story!

he plays things close to the vest now.

reason’s got nothing to do with it.

if he was telling the truth, he wouldn’t have told us.

unless, of course, he knew you wouldn’t believe the truth even if he told it to you.

i said no lies!

[sarnai4]

Butt of the Joke

Something I enjoy in stories is when you can laugh at and with a character. To me, it keeps them from seeming too "important" or flawless. We all make mistakes and being able to laugh at ourselves is nice. That's why I like when they do this with Dagur, but the method is very different from what's done to Snotlout. Something I will probably always be grateful for is that Dagur is a show character and not a movie character. Those in the movies (the rest of the Riders anyway in my opinion) had their development stunted. I'm convinced that the first movie didn't expect the franchise to get as big as it did and just needed some other people to fill out the cast. Unfortunately, they also didn't expect the shows to be super popular. So, Snotlout in HTTYD 3 is still immature enough to flirt with the widowed mom of one of his best friends when RTTE Snotlout would understand how inappropriate that is. All that's to say that the jokes for Snotlout are often at the expense of his character because he still has to end up at whatever point he's at in the movies.

I believe it's in "Shell-Shocked" that there's a joke about Snotlout suggesting they all leave the Edge and run, leaving it for the Hunters. Okay, yes, I chuckled too because it is funny to have a character be so openly fearful. Yet, this doesn't make sense for him at this point. We're on the season 4 finale of a show that happened 2 seasons after the first series. Snotlout should know by now that leaving the same Hunters who had been willing to kill them and a ship of innocent people with a disease can't be left to their own devices. Why wouldn't he want to stay and fight? Even if it's dangerous, of course the villains are going to keep coming for them. Hiccup rightfully points out that they'll just go on to Berk, but why did he have to say this? Snotlout should have known, but the joke was made without considering how much he'd grown and his own bravery and intelligence.

There seems to be a thing about Snotlout being cowardly, but I really don't think he is. In "Gold Rush," there's a wordless joke where he's just screaming his lungs out after getting captured. Not saying he hasn't shrieked when plummeting to what could be death and that's totally fine, but here? Eh, I don't think so. I feel like there would be enough bad blood between him and the Hunters by now so that he wouldn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how scared he is. It's also horribly futile. He's gone to save Fishlegs, the twins, and Astrid before. He knows the Hunters won't release them and nothing is even happening besides his cage being moved. I'm probably overthinking these moments, but they annoy me since they paint Snotlout as pathetic when we then see him enter a 21 vs 2 fight in "Something Rotten on Berserker Island" fearlessly. Is he a scaredy cat or not? I just want some consistency, then I'd accept whatever fit with the character I'd been shown.

Dagur's saved from this since all his development is in the show. He's not held back by the movies. So, when there's a joke at his expense, it doesn't contradict anything. I'll try to make the examples as similar as possible for comparability. Dagur's got a joke involving saying the wrong thing and it was in "Mi Amore Wing." He's proposing to have Hiccup be his best man. Yes, this is clearly a unique way to ask someone, but it's also not contradicting anything about Dagur. He's got 0 skills with picking up on social cues and responding to things the way other Vikings generally would. It's also very possible that he's never seen anyone be asked to become a best man before, so he's doing what he thinks is a good way to show he's sincere and would really be happy. I don't leave the scene thinking, "Now, why would he say that, though?" Because he's Dagur. That's enough of a reason.

Dagur's got a scared joke too in "Enemy of My Enemy." When he was on Toothless's saddle, he was terrified and the scream made it pretty clear. This made sense because there was something happening at that moment. It wasn't Dagur letting his enemies see his weakness. It was him being on a dragon for the first time, going very quickly, and not knowing what he was doing. He's even thrown off the saddle as soon as Toothless lands in another moment I thought was funny. It doesn't make him look bad, but we can still laugh at his incompetency in this area.

Both of these characters have several physical gags too where one of them gets hurt and I will admit that those always get me to laugh. It's just times like those I've mentioned for Snotty that disappoint me. I really like him too. I think if he were allowed to be a more respectable character, it would be great. Dagur proves the writers know how to do that. We can laugh at him without him doing anything that opposes what they've set up. On the other side of this, Snotlout will act one way, then contradict the very personality we just saw him develop. I can't think of a single time when I couldn't explain one of Dagur's actions through use of his personality. I think that's how it should be. If it's in-character, then it makes sense. If not, then maybe the scene should be worked on a bit longer for this to be fixed.

[sinfullyrosey]

TWST Lamia!Reader Thoughts

I forgot I had typed up this little idea a while back and never finished it. Not one of my better works given how it was written, but eh. Fandom could always need more fics where the Reader isn’t human.

Kalim Al-Asim X GN!Lamia!Reader X Jamil Viper (can be read as either platonic or romantic)

Warnings: Reader does eat somebody, but nothing too graphic is described (it’s not sexual in nature, more so dark tbh)

All Characters are 18+

The Scarabia dormleader hasn’t been as chipper as he usually is. He seems much more distracted, isn’t as excited during parties, and all around just doesn’t seem like himself. Some of the other Scarabia students had taken notice and became concerned, asking if maybe another party would cheer him up or if he should go on a magic carpet ride around the dorm? But any and all suggestions were sadly shot down as the young Asim sighs heavily.

Kalim laments on how he’s homesick and misses his family, but especially misses his “pet snake” that he got as a birthday gift a few years back. He hasn’t seen them since attending Night Raven and has only ever been able to talk to them through the phone. The last bit about talking to the snake confused a few students, but they just chalked it up to something Kalim would do.

So, it was suggested that the snake just be sent over to stay in the Scarabia Dorm by some of the students.

Jamil immediately objected, saying they’re too big and would require a whole dorm room to themselves, along with a strict feeding schedule and he’s already got enough on his plate to deal with and- he’s forced to relent after the Asims agree to send his snake over after Kalim commented on it in their last phone call.

After all, they’ve been rather fussy lately without Kalim around and the servants are scared tired of dealing with the Asim heir’s “pet.”

So, everybody (excluding Kalim and Jamil) was expecting some rare, exotic snake like a python or viper hybrid or other.

What they weren’t expecting was an actual, full-sized lamia nestled comfortably in a bed of pillows and fine silks, decorated in jewelry and gold, their eyes scanning the room and tongue flickering out in contentment.

While the rest of the dorm was gawking and sending questionable looks Jamil’s way, Kalim was vibrating in excitement and blabbing away next to his “pet,” asking them if they were comfortable, if they needed anything, if they were hungry perhaps?

The last comment made the others stiffen and slowly inch their way towards the exit, not wanting to be a possibly hungry lamia’s next meal.

Seizing the opportunity, Jamil grinned and commented, “If any of you cause trouble, you’ll be the next one on their plate.”

The number of incidents that typically happened around the dorm seemed to decrease that first week.

Once things had settled in and the dorm got used to the reptilian dormmate, everything basically went on as usual. Kalim was back to his old self and Jamil now had another thing to add to his daily tasks (though Kalim insisted he could do most of the lamia’s chores on his own). Plus, now Jamil had somebody he could properly vent to who’d listen and act as a second bodyguard to the young heir.

Speaking of which…

One night, Kalim begged to be allowed to have you sleep with him in his bed, just this once! He had cried about how he just really missed you and that he’d be fine considering he used to do the same thing back when they were all kids, which Jamil countered with a, “You weren’t supposed to do it back then either.” No matter the begging and pleading, Jamil said no and that was that. You’d remain in your own room, in your own bed, and Kalim will do the same.

Kalim was sad, but relented, heading off to get ready for bed, you slithering close behind to wish him a goodnight before returning to your own room for the night.

The night was particularly cold, prompting Kalim to sleep with a few extra pillows and sheets. He was curled up peacefully, snuggling a pillow close to him, completely unaware of the danger slowly creeping up and through the open balcony. The stranger, oh-so quietly and cautiously, made their way into the dormroom, scanning the room to make sure the coast was clear.

The room was dark, with only the Moon illuminating the bed where the Asim heir lied, exposed, and unprotected, his usual retainer nowhere in sight. The assassin made sure that everybody else was fast asleep, including Jamil, before making their move. They knew about past assassination attempts and studied them to see where they failed.

Everything had fallen into place and now was the perfect time to strike!

The assassin crouched as to stay stealthy and slowly began to tiptoe towards the canopy, dagger in hand. With each step, Kalim came more into view, still snoozing away. He was surrounded by pillows and blankets, wrapping around him like a warm, secure hug. Too bad it wouldn’t be enough to protect him from the dagger that was now raised and at the ready.

Sudden movement made the assassin halt for a second, shifting their attention away from the sleeping face of the Asim, and towards one of the blankets at his side. The assassin listened and waited in case it was their target that made the movement and was waking up.

Another small movement, this time from the other side of the heir, caught their attention. Something was shifting around the Asim, but the assassin didn’t know quite what it was. They didn’t recall Kalim sharing a bed with anyone or anything, not human or animal.

They tried to follow the movements, but it was hard to see in the dark and seemed to be coming from multiple points on the bed, causing the pillows and sheets to tumble and shift from the odd movements. They followed along around the sleeping boy before, eventually, their gaze stopped towards the end of the bed, a little bit away from Kalim’s position.

What they saw made them stop dead in their tracks.

Through the darkness, the figure of another human was gazing right at them, eyes gleaming at them in a soft, yet menacing glow. They didn’t look like any normal human eyes, the pupils were sharpened into thin slits, resembling some sort of unknown beastman species the assassin was not sure of.

But before the stranger could formulate a plan to off you first before moving onto their real target, more movement on the bed briefly caught their attention. And what they saw made their blood run cold.

They realized all too late it wasn’t just pillows and blankets that surrounded the still sleeping heir. It was the scaly, smooth coils of a reptile that had weaved its way around Kalim and the bed, offering a protective circle around him. Their gaze trailed back down to the other person in the bed whose watchful eyes were still trained on the intruder.

The realization was too late. The lamia had already sat up in bed and in that split second of distracted regret, they striked.

The next morning, Kalim wakes up to see you, his precious lamia friend, with a full belly.

A very full belly.

“Oh, did you get a midnight snack?”

You crack open a single eye, tongue flickering at him sleepily. He beams at your simple response and shuffles out of bed.

“That’s okay, I’ll let Jamil know that you won’t be needing breakfast! I’ll be back later to rub your belly if you want!”

And with that, the excited boy ran out of the room to get something to eat and tell all about the little “sleepover” he had with you, forgetting that Jamil had even forbade it.

Later, Jamil enters the room where you’re still sleeping off the meal and approaches you. He doesn’t say anything, just sizes you up and down before examining further by carefully pressing on your stomach, where the noticeable lump was. You didn’t mind, used to his prodding by this point.

Once he was done checking for whatever he was checking for (not like you cared all that much), Jamil looked at you with an unimpressed expression, crossing his arms.

“You weren’t supposed to be in here.”

You flick your tongue at him.

“But it looks like that was a good thing, if the body in your stomach says anything.”

You respond with another flick, stomach gurgling loudly as if confirming his suspicions.

He could only sigh at your antics.

“Fine, whatever, what’s done is done. I need to get to work before Kalim gets into trouble…”

He turns to leave, only to almost trip in place when something grabs one of his ankles. He looks down to see your tail slowly inching its way up his leg and to his waist. He was about to scold you when you pulled him towards you with your tail.

“Y/N, let go.”

You did not. Instead, curling your tail around him more and pulling him in for cuddles.

“Y/N, no. I’m not Kalim, so no cuddles.”

You nonchalantly stare back at him, readjusting both you and him on the bed to get more comfortable, softly hissing in the process.

“Y/N.”

You yawn.

Now, Jamil was still able to use his hands and magic to get free. If he really wanted to, he could use Snake Whisper to make you let go. But he knew doing so would only irritate you and lead Kalim to try and keep the peace, which would most likely end with all three of you in a cuddle pile.

He can deal with Kalim’s antics, and your antics, but not both of your antics.

The tired student let out a groan, slumping against your coils. He could afford to spend a few minutes or so humoring you until returning back to the stress that is his life. Kalim’s probably too caught up with breakfast and talking the other dorm students’ ear off to notice his absence. So, accepting his fate, Jamil shuffled in his spot to get more comfortable. You allowed him to adjust your coils, but still kept them wrapped around his waist, soaking up his heat just like you had with Kalim last night.

Once settled in, you laid your head back down on the pillow while he used the end of your tail as a makeshift one. He’d never admit it, but he appreciated the attention the lamia was giving him, knowing you were only doing it to give him a break. And besides, Jamil deserved some peace and quite for once.

Bonus

“So much for getting some alone time.”

Jamil sighed, watching as Kalim excitedly rubbed your still full stomach, both hands soothing the restlessness of your belly. It gurgled and growled under his touch. Your underbelly scales were smooth and cold, acting as a stim for Kalim who happily indulged both of you.

“You must have eaten a lot last night, huh Y/N?”

Jamil rolled his eyes at Kalim’s ignorance but wasn’t about to tell him the truth and possibly upset him. Maybe some day he’ll connect the dots on his own, but for now, you’re just his innocent little snake and it will stay that way.

“Yeah, one could say I was hungry enough to eat a whole person.“ You lazily smirked, much to the shock of Jamil and naïve confusion of Kalim.

Welp, maybe those dots will be connected much sooner than anticipated.

[sakkiichi]

BETTER THAN REVENGE.

you and your ex ended on bad terms. you want revenge. your annoying best friend might be the answer.

ft. Childe x gn! reader.

cw/genre: romance, fake dating, friends to lovers, mild angst, fluff, modern/college au, very brief mention of alcohol consumption.

word count: 2.6k.

i dreamt about this idea months ago, and i thought my first genshin crush’s birthday would be a good day to write it hehe. happy birthday ajax <3

What did you ever see in that asshole, you will never know.

You hate him. Of that, you are certain.

You really tried to put effort into your relationship, made time for him, prioritized him.

It seemed to always go unreturned.

And that much is made clear tonight, the sight of him making out with someone else at this party you don’t even know why you decided to attend, being the last straw.

“We’re done, you jerk.” Are the words you spat at him, throwing the remnants of your drink at your now ex-boyfriend.

You regret it now. Having wasted half a drink, that is.

The music blasting through the speakers is soon replaced by crickets chirping and the night wind ruffling through the trees. You spare a glance at the moon above. Full, its rays seemingly lighting up a liquid silver trail leading to you.

“Leaving so soon?” A familiar, and, might you add, annoying at times, voice questions.

Well, at least it’s better than hearing your ex, you muse to yourself, as you turn around to face your friend.

His ocean blue eyes glimmer in the summer starlight rain, matching the color of his baby blue t-shirt.

A smile makes it to your face. You always loved to steal that one when you had sleepovers.

“Nothing gold can stay, am I right, Ajax?” You retort, a mirthless grin plastered on your moonlit features.

Your friend takes a few steps forward, coming to stand next to you, shoulder playfully bumping against yours.

“I’d rather you stayed, though.” He says, a melancholy smile tugging at his lips.

You close your eyes, a sigh escaping you into the night.

“Let’s just say… I’ve had enough for tonight.” You mutter, exhaustion beginning to catch up to you.

“Anything happen?” Childe asks, ginger strands swaying around his face in the warm zephyr.

You bark a dry laugh, yet all you feel running through your veins is boiling anger.

“Well, I saw that asshole kissing someone else.” You cross your arms over your chest. “So I made it clear we’re done. I also wasted half my drink on that shithead when I spilled it on his face.” You tilt your head to the side. “Pity, that cocktail was much more worth it than him.” You add, matter of factly.

Ajax chuckles. He always liked your unapologetic remarks.

“You really did that?” He laughs. It’s nice, sincere. Then: “He didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Eh, probably not.” You shrug. “I just really want to piss him off now.”

“Oh?” Your friend’s usually dull marine eyes light up in amusement. “Any ideas?”

“Huh, not yet…” You ponder, worrying your thumbnail between your teeth.

Childe levels his gaze with yours, that impish grin meaning he was up to no good not unlike the edge of the moon above.

“Date me.” He smirks, just like that.

And at that moment, you’re too aware of the heat rising to your cheeks, of the wild pounding of your heart against your ribcage, of the constellations of freckles dotting the bridge of Ajax’s nose. “You know, just as show, to spite him.”

And perhaps it’s the sweet intoxication of your half drunk cocktail, or the way a lake of stardust seems reflected in his eyes, but you find your pinky linked with his before you have half the mind to back off.

“Deal.”

—

On hindsight, perhaps you were impulsive.

Was it really a good idea to involve your best friend in this game of spite?

Readjusting your bag on your shoulder, you walk to your first period class.

Students, some more sleepy than others mill around campus, a collage of headphones on, hands busy on screens and chit chat filling the early morning air.

“Morning, babe.” Are the first words directed at you today, followed by a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Ajax…” You whisper-shout, frowning, face warming up. “You know you just need to pretend.”

“I’m very aware of that.” He whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear, as his voice lowers a little more. “He’s looking, sweetheart.”

Despite your quickened heartbeat, a devilish grin makes it to your features, arms wrapping around your best friend temporarily turned “boyfriend”.

“Ajax!” You coo, sweetly. “I had missed you so much! Ah! How am I going to endure six hours of class without seeing you?”

The redhead embraces you, arms tightening around your waist, dangerously close to your hipbones. His face buries in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into you, lovingly.

“Good, he just stormed off.” He murmurs, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze.

You smile brightly, luminous eyes meeting his crinkled up ones.

His hand slides into yours, pressing it reassuringly, before you two part, promising to meet afterwards.

Oddly enough, when you sit at the back of the seminar, six hours feel like an eternity.

But, like all things, your classes come to an end, eventually.

Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you leave the building.

It’s weird, this sensation, though.

You’ve been close with Childe for years, you’ve hugged countless times, slept at each other’s place just as many.

So, why now? Why did you feel all jittery and giddy at his subtle touches just earlier?

Perhaps you’re still shaken from your breakup, as much as you can’t stand your ex.

“Hey there, pretty.”

You look up from your phone to be met with the colors of oceans and sunrises, Ajax’s grinning face centimeters away from yours.

“Childe.” You bluntly greet him. It’s unfair how the early evening sun kisses his skin just right, the light dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks reminding you of the stars that soon will start decorating the sky. You clear your throat, then:

“You know we just need to look like we’re dating, right? I thought I’d made myself clear.” You don’t know if your statement is more directed at him or at yourself.

“I know,” the ginger smiles, falling in step by your side. “But we need to make it look convincing, don’t we?” He winks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re insufferable, as always.” You grumble.

And yet, despite no one really being around at the moment, you make no effort to push the man away. And you definitely don’t complain when he switches to your other side, hand lingering on the small of your back, so that you take the innermost half of the sidewalk, away from the cars.

If someone were to ask, however, no, you certainly are not leaning into Ajax’s comforting hold.

—

A few more weeks go by, with most of your free time spent with your “fake boyfriend.”

And as much as you’ve always cherished him, despite his, at times, obnoxious nature, you certainly are confused right now.

What is it you feel for him? You like these newfound moments of shared tenderness between the two, so much that you wish they weren’t fabricated sometimes… What would it be like to love someone truly? To have someone love you?

What do his lips taste like? You wonder, as you have a few more sips of your iced peach juice.

You shake your head. No, you definitely did not think that. Must be the heat, messing with your head, surely.

However, willing fantasy or not, it turns out fate had indeed planned for you to indulge in your cravings.

The door of the establishment opens, the small bell above it signaling the entrance of another customer.

“[Y/n?]” Ajax calls, from the sit across you.

You tilt your head to the side, your redhead friend’s eyes focused on something behind you.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?” You almost shout, the sound dying down to a whisper the moment his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

“Do you trust me?” He smirks.

“Yes, but-“

“You said yes.” Are Childe’s words before leaning in.

To say he was a good kisser would be an understatement.

His lips on yours feel like a roaring ocean, notes of spearmint and sunshine contained in the secret message in a bottle the waves of him carry. Ajax’s calloused hands cup your jaw, ruddy locks of hair tickling you when he angles his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

You wish this was real.

But would it really be a crime to play your part right now?

Your fingers tangle in his tangerine hued strands, slightly tugging at them as you bring him closer to you.

You don’t care if this is swimming against the current, if you did drown right now, you would go happy.

But because he’d be damned before he let you drown, your best friend pulls away, allowing air back into your lungs.

That’s the very best goddamn kiss you’ve ever been given.

But, alas, sometimes you think “stupid” should be Ajax’s middle name.

When you glance his way, he keeps looking at something beyond you, that shit eating smirk plastered on the lips you want to kiss again.

When you spare a peek over your shoulder, you spot him. Your ex, sitting with some girl, his face ashen as he looks in your direction.

So that’s all this was.

You should have figured, you chide yourself as you fiddle with the straw of your juice.

If you had payed attention, however, you would have noticed a pair of starry blue eyes not leaving you.

—

And after that arrives the day you realize you are screwed.

This was all just supposed to be a make believe charade, not you actually falling for your friend.

Because you can’t deny it anymore; whatever it is Ajax is to you now, it goes way past platonic.

You can’t let these feelings be known. Ever.

But how are you supposed to ignore all of his sweet gestures? His tender touches when holding your hand; the way he remembers your favorite ice cream, smoothie and coffee orders; how he brings you lunch when he ends up cooking too much for his siblings; or the way not only are you stealing his t-shirts on nights you fall asleep at each other’s rooms, but how he now drapes his hoodie over your shoulders, the night breeze uncharacteristically chilly for this time of year.

And that kiss. That goddamn kiss.

And perhaps your last breakup scarred you more than you let on; or maybe you love Ajax too much to keep up this lie with him. But before you can think twice, the words are out of your lips, glacial shards of a broken dream on a midsummer’s night:

“Ajax? Let’s stop doing this.”

Those eyes of his that sparkled in sapphire hues dim again at your statement.

He searches for your gaze, but you won’t look at him.

“Why? Something wrong?” Childe tries for his usual carefree tone, but you know better; the hurt and strained fear in the words he doesn’t speak are clear as day to you.

“Yes! I mean no! I mean…” You sigh. “I don’t think it makes sense anymore.”

In reality, what doesn’t make sense is pretending this relationship of yours is just for show. But you can’t let him know that.

“Got cold feet?” Your friend, or whatever he is now, asks, oceanic gaze glazed over, not a single star reflected in it when he stares skyward.

‘If only you could know’. Is the sentence you don’t let out through bitten lips.

Instead you offer:

“I don’t think this makes sense anymore.” Unconsciously, you adjust his hoodie a little tighter around your figure. “I just- I think I’ve gotten the revenge I wanted. I… I don’t know, I just want to hang out with you again, but honestly, not like this, not for an audience…”

You stop walking, standing a few paces before him.

“We don’t have to do any of this for the public, you know.” Your friend, crush, partner in crime? assures, shortening the distance between you with his long strides.

“But we do.” You sadly whisper, averting your eyes to the side. You can feel wetness pooling on them. Great, just what you needed. “I… I don’t want more fabricated romantic moments, I’ve had enough of love that was never anything to begin with before.” You humorlessly add. “I just, I want the next time I kiss someone or hold their hand… I want it to be real, for it to mean something… and I can’t keep stealing moments like these from you either, Childe.”

Salty droplets start to dye the grey pavement as you keep your eyes glued to it. Everything feels so complicated, so messy…

“I know this was your idea but… I can’t keep-“

“What makes you think it wasn’t real?” Familiar calloused fingers caress your cheeks, gathering the starless wetness sliding down them. “What makes you think you were stealing these moments from me?” Strong arms envelop you, akin to the early morning rays dancing over gentle waves lapping at the seashore. “It was my idea, right? You said it yourself. Why do you think that was?”

“I don’t know!” You sob into his chest. “I guess you were looking for fun, or you wanted to help me…” You wonder, voice a breath away from becoming fragments of a shattered snowglobe.

Ajax chuckles, soft. His hold on you tightens a little. Then:

“You know, sometimes you can be so dumb, [Y/n].” He utters, tone devoid of his usual teasing. “It was my plan, on that you are right.” His hands rest on your shoulders, as he pulls away to look at you. “But I guess now would be a good time to tell you why.” He shifts his weight on his feet, an unusual dusting of pink creeping up his neck caught by the streetlights. “Truth is, I was scared to, well, ask you out normally, I was scared of you saying no. When you started dating him, I hated him, but I hated myself more, for not having been able to prevent it. You looked unhappy.” He shoves his hands in his pants’ pockets. “So I don’t know, I figured maybe if we pretended, we’d keep it up for a while, or maybe if I was lucky, you’d really fall for me… kinda dense, right?”

You sniff, a smile tugging at your lips despite your cries.

“Yeah, definitely stupid.” You laugh softly, through the tears. “But effective.” You admit, glossy eyes searching for the molten northern stars in his stare.

“Wait, so you actually fell-?”

“Ajax. Kiss me. For real this time.” You plead, clutching the front of his baby blue t-shirt, urging him closer to you.

“What makes you think it wasn’t for real the first time?” He smirks, as his lips link with yours for the second time.

Your arms loop around his neck, his hands digging on the flesh of your lower waist, his palms a searing wave under your shirt. Childe’s kiss tastes of fireworks reflected over a still ocean, the quiet of the minutes before midnight in stark contradiction to the wild drumming of your infatuated heart. You stand on your tiptoes, desperately meeting his tidal wave at its zenith, the caress of the blossoming moon above and Ajax’s tongue swiping over your swollen lips sending shivers down your spine.

The clock strikes twelve, and a beeping sound interrupts the reverie.

Grumbling, you fish your phone out of your borrowed jacket’s pocket.

“00:00

Thursday, July 20th.

Ajax’s bday !! <3”

Your lit up screen reads.

You both let out a chuckle.

“Hey, Childe?” You call him. “Make a wish.”

“I don’t need to.” Constellations are reflected in his azure gaze, lovestruck with images of you dancing amongst them, the smile on his face dopey and entranced.

“Let me give you another present, then.” You tell him, pulling him close again. “Happy birthday, Ajax.” You breathe, as his hands hook under your thighs and your lips crash together again, no onlookers but the moon and stars this time.

[pixiedustandfairypowers]

A Different Kind of Loss

It was a mildly pleasant evening as the sun steadily dipped through the trees and giant mushrooms of the kingdom’s valleys. The day was winding down, and Luigi decided to retire to his room for the evening. He should be feeling excited, and yet here he was with a somber expression on his face.

Luigi sat down at his bed and picked up a picture frame of him and Mario. It was the day they had graduated high school, their faces grinning, holding up their diplomas and holding onto each other. He set that one down and picked up another. This one was their first day at Spike’s Wrecking Crew. Luigi continued looking through the other pictures he had on his phone, in his photo albums, and so on, until he got to one of the more recent ones.

This one was different. Instead of just him and Mario, Princess Peach was in the photograph too, her smile ever so slightly different than the grins of the brothers. She was wearing a pink and gold ring on her finger, having just accepted Mario’s proposal. Luigi felt upset at himself for feeling down.

He had helped Mario come up with the plan to propose to her, just like they had done everything together. He had grown quite close to Peach, to Luigi she was already a sister to him. He should feel nothing but joy at the fact that his bro was finally getting married in two days’ time to a woman that he dearly loved and who loved him dearly in return. Luigi was going to be the best man at the wedding for goodness sake! He shouldn’t have any right to feel sad.

Looking away from the photos, Luigi started up at the ceiling, and then at the walls of his bedroom. Almost everything of Mario’s was gone, and what was remaining were just a few pieces of furniture that were going to be removed while Mario and Peach left for their honeymoon. Luigi, of course, had volunteered to do it, but Peach had also asked Toad and Toadette to help him.

Speaking of which, Luigi heard a knock on his door. He answered it, and there he was, the little mushroom man who was Mario’s self-proclaimed best friend.

“Heya!” said Toad.

“Oh. Hi, sorry, I wasn’t expecting company, well aside from Mario,” admitted Luigi. “Uh, come in, I’ll make you some tea!”

Toad happily sat down at the table. The house wasn’t very large so there wasn’t much room for extraneous furniture. Still, it was cozy enough for Mario and Luigi to sit down for meals together as well as have the occasional guest.

As Luigi heated up the water, he asked, “Hey, have you seen my brother lately?” Mario was usually home right around now, and while they had split up to run some last minute errands separately, Luigi had been under the impression that his brother wouldn’t be too long.

“Actually, yes,” said Toad. “Mario actually sent me over to let you know that he was not going to get back until late this evening. Seems like it was a last minute date night with the princess.”

“Oh.” Luigi’s expression changed to be less politely hesitant and a bit more wistful. He quietly poured two cups of tea, handed one to Toad, and then put both his hands around his mug. Instead of drinking it, Luigi just stared into it.

“But hey, I’m totally down to hang out!” Toad suggested, hoping it would improve his friend’s mood.

Luigi continued to stare at his tea, barely acknowledging Toad but still trying his best to be polite. “Oh. Yeah, yeah you can stay…” he trailed off.

“Can’t believe the wedding’s the day after to tommorow already,” grinned Toad. “Princess Peach is so lucky to have your brother, and I’m so relieved to be part of a wedding that isn’t some coercive sham. Time flies so fast! Seems like only yesterday that we dodged THAT Bullet Bill, quite literally, eh Luigi?”

Luigi shuddered. Perhaps enough time had passed that Toad felt comfortable joking about it, but a lot of things from his experience were things he tried to block out of his memory. He refused to do so completely, as he’d made good ones too, like the sheer relief at Mario saving his life, finally getting the chance to give Bowser the pummeling that he deserved, and being recognized as a hero. But he could never quite move past the fact that he had been mere inches away from death on several occasions.

“I’m so sorry,” said Toad, regretting that he had brought the subject up. “I only wish that you and Mario had arrived here under better circumstances… To be honest, I was shocked when the two of you had decided to move to the Mushroom Kingdom. After all that happened, I’d figured that you probably didn’t want to have anything to do with us…”

“It’s not your fault and never was,” Luigi reassured him. “In fact I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you and Peach, and for that I’m eternally grateful.” He finally took a sip of his tea. “Besides, while living here has taken some getting used to, the Mushroom Kingdom is quite beautiful and the neighbors are lovely. Even if we have had to deal with Bowser’s shenanigans on more than one occasion.”

Toad decided to change the subject. “So, do we have any last minute wedding prep that needs to happen? I just can’t shake the feeling that we’re forgetting something. I thought about helping you move the rest of Mario’s furniture but when I checked in with him he just said to leave it until after the wedding.”

“No, I don’t think so. The rehearsal went fairly well yesterday,” said Luigi. “I suppose I could workshop my best man’s speech a little bit more though… It can be hard to know the right thing to say when your bro…”

“That’s right!” exclaimed Toad. “Oh Luigi, you are so lucky to be the best man at the royal wedding! Do you want me to look it over for you?”

Luigi started to feel a lump in his throat. Tears were already welling up in his eyes. “Toad, I- I’m-“ he started, but not knowing how to get it out. He gulped down another sip of his tea, then blurted out “I’m scared! I feel so horrible for saying this, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to do this!”

Toad’s eyes widened in alarm. “WHAT!? Why? I thought you looking forward to this!”

Luigi rubbed his head with his hand. “I know, and I love and support my brother one hundred percent! I love Peach like a sister already, and I can’t think of a better woman for him to marry! I should feel so good about this, have nothing but pride and joy, but I’m scared that- that-“

“That what?”

“That I’m losing him!”

[piedpiperart]

Phantom of Gotham 18

Chapter 17

”I can’t believe you!” Tim exclaimed, punching Danny in the arm when he spotted him in class. 

“Ouch!” Danny laughed nervously, rubbing his arm. “You-”

“You could have told me you were leaving! Or at least talked to us about it first,”Tim said, exasperated. Danny watched him throw himself into the seat next to Danny dramatically and throw his bag down, only to dig through it for a tupperware of… oh, were those Alfred’s cookies? Danny hoped they were for him. Alfred’s cookies were awesome. “Now even Damian is bugging me about you and telling me to just take you home after school.”

“Uh, you guys did say I could leave and that you wouldn’t call CPS,”Danny reminded him, rubbing the back of his neck. Tim gave him a look, blowing some bangs out of his eyes.

“Yes. And we’ll stick to that. But you know we only said that because we’d hope to convince you to stay at the manor. Because we’re rich and we have an infinite amount of space for you to stay,”Tim stressed. “Seriously. Where are you staying now?”

“Not telling,”Danny deflected immediately. “You guys got a frickin’ vigilante working for you, I’m not a snitch.”

“That’s not-” Tim threw his hands into the air exasperatedly. “Fine! But only talkers get cookies,”Tim glared, sliding the tupperware of solid gold goodness away from Danny’s hands. Danny pouted, but didn’t relent. 

The day continued like that, with Tim trying to convince him to stay at the manor, while Danny deflected and changed  subjects like a bored teen changing channels on a tv. I was getting cumbersome for both of them by lunch though, and they’d settled for a truce. Danny ended up getting a few cookies while Steph joined them at the lunch table. She was soon cackling over the Waynes losing a potential adoptee and for Danny sneaking out. They high-fived. Tim was not amused. By the multitude of texts to Tim’s phone, the family wasn’t either. 

RobinHood

Went to the Pizzaria, kid’s stuff is gone. 

LittleJohn

Damn. I got nothing on my end. Any ideas?

RobinHood

Tail him after school

MaidMarian

You think he’ll notice?

LittleJohn

Well, he might if he’s got a ghost looking out for him Steph. We’re not sure where Phantom went the other day but we do know that Danny got out of the manor without triggering any security.

RobinHood

Plus Phantom is friends with Danny. 

MaidMarian

Eh, we can still try. Or just kidnap him as civilians (≖⌣≖)

LittleJohn

Eh… Maybe. Last resort.

RobinHood

I could just take him from school

MaidMarian

•̀ ᎑ -

LittleJohn

No!! That would be so much worse oh my god

Jason sighed at his brother’s lack of creativity. He’d thought the Pizzaria might have been cleared out but seeing it for himself still made his heart sink. If only there was some clues to where the kid had gone, he thought. No doubt he was anywhere but around Hood’s territory now. 

To be fair, he wasn’t nearly as worried about the kid now that he knew he had ghost powers that helped him survive. Still, Jason knew living on the streets wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Part of him thought that maybe the kid was scared that everyone hunting him would put the Waynes in danger. He wasn’t wrong to think that, but they could handle themselves. Sure, ghosts were a new thing for them, but they adapted. Made plans. 

Jason wasn’t sure they’d be able to keep Danny or Phantom in one place without using some kind of ghost technology like the GIW or call in a magic user. Except Jason didn’t want to think about having weapons that Danny’s parents made to hurt him. From what he could tell, ghosts weren’t as much of a problem to humans as humans were to ghosts. Jason didn’t need ghost weapons to deal with the GIW, and he sure as hell was gonna deal with them. 

The Bats had been gathering information on them like crazy. Babs was still hacking their databases and Batman was putting together a plan to inform the Justice League. They weren’t entirely sure this was something the Green Lanterns needed to take up to the OA, but if it was they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. 

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

Damian was furious. 

He’d been texting Timothy nonstop about Danny and yet- unsurprisingly- his older brother had been unable to convince the boy to come back to the manor. Frustratingly, Timothy had not even responded to any of his text messages since lunch time and hadn’t come to the manor after school. Even Todd wasn’t answering any of his messages- plans- to convince Danny to join the family. It had been two days and Danny had still been staying who knows where. The family had not even tried to follow him home out of some misguided respect for privacy and free will. He was sure Danny was somewhere abandoned, likely somewhere lacking proper water and heat. Damian was beyond frustrated that all his hard work getting Danny used to a stable meal plan was for nothing. 

It was ridiculous how dumb Danny was acting in regards to his own safety. As one of the few species of half ghost around, he had the survival instincts of a paper bag, and Damian was of the opinion that he should be trying a lot harder considering his status. Damian had no idea why Danny would think they wouldn’t be able to protect and care for him at the manor. Obviously, Danny was an asset when it came to the Ghostly dimension given his halfa status and friendship with Phantom. There was no other reason why he wanted Danny to stay. It wasn’t like he missed the boy. Even if he was better than Timothy in every way, and had intriguing powers that he trusted Damian with. Not at all.

Damian scoffed, adjusting his tie for the third time. He didn’t want to go to this infernal Gala, especially when only Grayson and his father were attending. Cass was still in Hong Kong, and Jason and Timothy had other plans. Damian hoped those plans included getting Danny to stay at the manor. He would no doubt be a good sidekick for when Damian was older, and he would not be letting Danny slip through his fingers. 

“Are you ready Baby bat?” Grayson asked, a grin on his face and despite the formal wear, he’d somehow convinced Father to let him wear a glittery monstrosity instead of a tie. “There’s gonna be a few people B wants us to keep an eye on, wanna help me with surveillance?” Damian scoffed. “Why not. It’s not as if there will be anything else of importance going on,”He added. Grayson gave him a knowing smile, as if he was recalling just how boring and overly formal these parties were. 

“I’d say you get used to it, but…”Grayson trailed off, sighing dramatically. “Never do.” He shook his head, then they made their way to the front where Alfred and Bruce were waiting with the car. 

As far as Galas go, it was certainly not the most boring, but it definitely wasn’t providing any riveting conversations. As far as surveillance, Damian was able to trade off with Grayson during the night, switching targets and gleaming information as they went. It was no surprise that Mr. Elwood was simply in an affair than any nefarious business deals. Ms. Green on the other hand was definitely collaborating with some of the shader patrons in the Gala, whom Father suspected had ties to Penguin. 

Though, there was one target that Damian couldn’t get a read on. He was tall, haughty, and self-absorbed, yet according to B, had a perfectly clean multi-million dollar business despite multiple complaints and signs to otherwise. Damian in particular hated him on principle for the way he looked down on everyone around him. He ignored how hypocritical that statement might be and chose to eye the billionaire talking with his father. 

“As I was saying, my son Daniel reminds me a lot of your sons,”Vlad was saying to Bruce. He was wearing a gray suit with a black shirt and an annoyingly green tie. Damian was certain it was some type of football paraphernalia. “He’s very headstrong and independent for one. How do you deal with your sons when they refuse to listen to reason?”

“Oh?” Brucie said with an exaggerated confused look. He ignored the concerning question for now.“I was unaware you had any children.”

Annoyance and something else flashed across Vlad’s face before he schooled his expression to exasperation. Damian sneered at the man internally. “Ah of course, Daniel is technically my godson, but he’s like a son to me. We have a lot in common,”Vlad explained, a sneer suddenly forming and taking Damian by surprise,”At least more than his father has with him. Honestly, his mother could do so much better than that bumbling idiot.”

“Where is this Daniel then?” Damian cut in, garnering the attention of both men. Vlad seemed surprised to see him, if not a bit jealous. “If you are so close, how come he didn’t join you here?”

“I would have loved to have the little badger here beside me,”Vlad’s face twisted into something like sadness, but missed the mark. “Unfortunately, Daniel’s gone missing these past few months without so much as a word.”

Damian frowned as his father offered meaningless sympathies. Daniel? Vlad had been from Wisconsin, but he recalled the man having some sort of dealings in Amity. After a moment he remembered and scowled. This man was the Mayor of Danny’s town. He was the one who’d let the GIW in in the first place, surely. Looking up at the man’s false mask, set on gaining sympathy from his father made him light up with contempt. 

“Of course,”Vlad was saying when Damian started paying attention again.”I had originally come to Gotham to find him, you see. I’d heard something about him being spotted in the area and just had to check it out for myself.”

That was bad. If he was talking about Danny, then Vlad somehow had gotten ahold of information about his whereabouts. Who else had that intel? Was the GIW or the Fentons on his tail? Was Danny in danger? He quickly excused himself from the two adults and meandered over to his elder brother to relay the information. Hopefully they could get Danny to a safe location before something bad happened. 

Chapter 19

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

his s/o (crush) has insomnia? Like, 3 days without sleeping .Can I have a link if it already asked pls

Undertale Sans - Welp, big problems call for big solutions. He puts a boring documentary on TV, then lays on you and falls asleep in seconds. Now that you're stuck, you don't really have the choice. Either you sleep or you get bored to death. You're welcome.

Undertale Papyrus - He serves you dinner with things reputed to be hard to digest so you feel sleepy and go take a nap. He will gladly watch over you and massage you to help as well.

Underswap Sans - He will scare the shit out of you as your walk outside and somehow make you run three marathons around the house until you're barely standing up. Here you go, have a good night. You sulk the rest of the week lol.

Underswap Papyrus - That's ok. He just lazes with you on the couch and pets you trying to soothe you to sleep. And if you're not tired enough, it's fine, he can just hug you until you are. He's not leaving your side.

Underfell Sans - I mean, he could knock you out if you ask him. You stare at him, quite offended. What? It's just a proposition, why are you acting like this? If you don't want his help then stop whining you're tired all the time. He crosses his arms and pouts.

Underfell Papyrus - He goes to buy sleep pills for you and watches over you to make sure nothing is waking you up once you're finally sleeping. He's standing guard, nothing can get you.

Horrortale Sans - He locks you in his hoodie, puts your head against his chest, and purrs slowly to soothe you to sleep. It's working quite well as he's very reassuring to cuddle with. He's tired too anyway so he will gladly sleep with you.

Horrortale Papyrus - He uses his green magic to force you to sleep a little while you're cuddling. You kinda don't even know he used it. You were good in his arms and poof, blackout. Willow stays close to make sure you're fine and gently pets your head until you stop moving, finally deep asleep.

Swapfell Sans - He puts these flowers you're allergic to everywhere in the room, waits for you to be so tired of sneezing and crying, then leads you to bed and wishes you a good night. Here you go. A bit extreme, but it works.

Swapfell Papyrus - He sings lullabies to you until you fall asleep in his arms. Rus is a very good singer when he wants to and he's really good at his job. He gently pets you until he's sure you're deep asleep against him, drooling on his hoodie. Yerk. But eh, it works.

Fellswap Gold Sans - The good old wood plank slammed behind the head. You never saw it coming. When you wake up several hours later, you're so confused about what just happened. You're less tired, but your head hurts so bad. Wine gives you aspirin. You wonder how he knows you have a headache. Weird. He has no idea either.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He pushes you into his plushie fort, then puts his heating blanket on top of the both of you. He then proceeds to pet you until you fall asleep. Well. Until he falls asleep rather. Coffee just passes out hugging you after ten minutes, giving up on you. You still try to sleep a bit though. It's comfy in here.

[bropunzeling]

💘 quinn/brady

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

It was one thing to play Truth or Dare when Quinn was seventeen in the Program; he still remembers all the ridiculous, stupid things he did with deadly seriousness -- ding-dong-ditching the neighbors; choking down whatever concoction Josh threw together; running around the halls of their hotel floor in his underwear while somebody watched to keep him honest.

In those days, Quinn would do nearly anything, except pick Truth.

Now, Quinn's older. A captain. More mature, he hopes. He doesn't have to text the pretty girl from English whatever garbage his drunken teammates put in his phone for him, or arm wrestle, or drink enough Fireball mixed with Keystone to want to puke, all to prove he’s game for whatever, up for anything. He'd hope that most people he knows would feel the same way.

And yet, here he is, fresh off winning Worlds -- gold, they got gold, holy fuck -- watching as Cole squints at Brady and says, "Really? Anything?"

"Yeah," Brady says earnestly. His arm is heavy around Quinn's shoulders, has been for what feels like hours, since Quinn's slapshot put the puck past Sweden's goalie and Brady came crashing into Quinn’s space. All through the ceremonies, and then through the after party, Brady hasn't strayed very far away, has kept Quinn close. Quinn likes it as much as he did when he was sixteen, which is a lot more than he wishes he did. "Like--don't you feel it? I could fucking --climb a mountain, or race McDavid, or --"

"You shouldn't," Quinn feels compelled to point out, grabbing Brady's beer out of his hand and stealing a sip. "You skate like shit."

"Hey, watch it," Brady says, jostling him slightly, then pulling him in tighter. Quinn goes. Path of least resistance. "But no, for real. Like--ask me to do something. Anything."

Cole's still squinting at Brady, peering up at him while sucking down his cocktail through a straw, obnoxiously loud even over the din of the bar. When he pauses, Quinn snorts. Cole's gaze flicks to him, and Quinn becomes immediately, horribly aware of everything he's doing right now: letting himself be plastered to Brady's side, drinking from Brady’s glass like he has a right to it, liking the way Brady’s hand rests on his chest too much.

Not that Quinn can pull away. Even if he wanted to, he doesn't know if Brady would let him.

"Nah," Cole says, finally looking away from Quinn. "I mean, I don't gotta dare you to show the team some love, right?"

Brady laughs. "True fucking that."

"Damn straight." Cole taps Brady on the arm, then Quinn. "Maybe start with this guy, eh? Game winning goal deserves something." He grins at them both, then walks away.

It's not a dare; it's not even mean, Quinn doesn't think. It's not -- it's not anything. Even if Cole suspects something, it's not like he knows for sure, not like he said his suspicions out loud. But Quinn’s stomach still lurches the way it did back in high school, constantly afraid he was on the verge of discovery. Frantically choosing to do anything, no matter how mortifying, just to avoid being asked a question he didn't want to answer honestly.

"He's right," Brady says slowly, cutting through Quinn's dulled panic. "You do deserve something."

Quinn swallows hard as he turns under Brady’s arm, tipping his head back to look at Brady’s face. "Oh yeah?" he asks. "Like a drink?"

Brady doesn't take the bait. "Nah," he says. "More than that." His hand slides to find the back of Quinn’s neck, anchoring him. Something he's done a hundred times before, something Quinn’s learned to accept as friendly and nothing more, except his heart has apparently forgotten that hard-earned lesson and started beating double time in his throat.

"Like what?" Quinn asks. He licks his lips, nervous for no reason. It's not like Brady’s going to do anything worth being nervous about.

Brady’s eyes flick down to his mouth. Stay there. His grip on Quinn’s neck grows firmer, heavy.

"Brady," Quinn says quietly. Too quiet for anyone to hear over the thump of the music and the clink of all their glasses and Jack's cackling laughter. Anyone but Brady, who's watching him so intently, his drunken enthusiasm replaced by pure focus. "What..." Quinn trails off, not even sure what he’s asking for.

That's a lie. Quinn knows what he wants to ask for. He's just too terrified to do it. Exactly the way he’s been since he was sixteen, playing Truth or Dare in road trip hotel rooms and wondering what would happen if he dared Brady to kiss him; what would happen if he picked Truth and someone asked who he liked.

Brady isn't scared, though. Brady just looks at him for one heartbeat, two, eyes narrow and jaw set; Brady just nods, a tiny little gesture, before ducking in and kissing Quinn, square on the mouth.

For a moment, Quinn is frozen, waiting for the punchline. When Brady pulls back, his stomach lurches, about ready to leap out of his mouth and onto the floor.

But Brady doesn't grin and start celebrating; Brady doesn't make some awful joke. Brady rests his forehead against Quinn’s, and says Quinn's name in a small, thready voice, like he isn’t sure what to do next.

That's when Quinn summons all of his nerve and manages to kiss Brady back.

[rancid-zinnia-onthepatio]

I don't like PS5 Mysterio.

Full disclaimer: I know some people I follow like him and will likely see this post. And I am going to say to those people that I am glad you can like a character I don't, please, don't let my nitpicks ruin that. This is my opinion, not a fact.

I want to like PS5!Mysterio, I really do, but I have too many issues with how he was depicted.

I'll start with his design, then I'll ramble about his storyline. I'll also preface and say the most I've seen of him are playthroughs and some fandom wiki excerpts. How professional of a researcher I am, I know. 😭😭 If I am wrong about anything source-wise PLEASE tell me.

Design

This portion is literally the most "this is my personal preference" thing ever btw.

I don't like his outfit, it reads to me like a hipster Mysterio cosplay. The cape erasure saddens me. The skull in the helmet is meh, I'd just prefer a vague shape or plain fog. Mysterio could have looked so cool, like I adore this franchise's Scorpion design. But Mysterio's design is just so muddled to me in this game? You get a lot of dark purples and browns. The gold(?) accents are also just too dark compared to the rest of him. There is a sliver of bright green on his top. Babes, a sliver.

I get it, if you want to modernize the classic comic supervillain's outfit and make it "cooler," it can be hard when the colors are limited.

Limited because you want to stay faithful to the original design.

Then again, Scorpion in the comics looks absolutely obnoxious (to me), but they still kept him green in the game. He was allowed to be colorful and his silly arachnid self while modernizing the suit to look more armor-like.

Mysterio's such a dramatic figure that seeing this design just saddens me. They stripped my boy of his diva.

Glad he took some inspiration from Shattered Dimensions with the clawed gloves, no comment there. <3

Side note: his regular man appearance is eh. I want to know why developers/writers are so scared of giving this man a bowl cut or a clean face. (I like beards, but Beck with a beard is so odd to me and I can't place why.)

Storyline

I will say again, I haven't played the game. Girls, I do not have the funds. I watched playthroughs, a few just to make sure I didn't miss anything.

For those who don't know, the fandom wiki states that in his History tab: "Quentin Beck was a special effects artist until he became [the] supervillain Mysterio. Beck eventually stopped being Mysterio and reformed."

So, this happened (I think) before the events of the game.

I am a sucker for a redemption arc if done well. Yes, I like my villains evil mostly, but I am open to layers in a baddie. My issue is that this is his given history, we do not see any of this arc in the game from what I know.

And that makes me sad.

What we do see is that Mysterio's identity is stolen by Beck's coworkers.

Betsy Schneider and Cole Wittman, hey, a Webspinners reference! (betsy)

Beck (from what we know) had nothing to do with this. This man was literally bound and left in a storage closet ... room ... place.

This allows him to get away with being innocent, and that makes me a little irritated. That is only because of what he tells Miles after his coworkers were exposed.

He says: "Mysterio will always be a villain. Just as Spider-Man will always be a hero. It's when you start looking at the people behind the masks that things get messy."

This would be a good quote if Beck had that messiness that he is literally talking about. Granted, he does in a way, if the wiki is to be believed. But we aren't looking at that mess of a man who is still working to free himself from villainy. He's completely free of fault for what happened. He was innocent, Betsy and Cole were guilty.

He's not trying to clean the Mysterio image and the crowd still fears him. He's not falling slightly into old habits as he tries so so hard to be better than who he was. Because people falter, all the time. I want to see that inner conflict, I love inner conflict. I want to smell, taste, hear, see, and breathe it.

The quote only holds some weight to me because I was told he has been through that mess. My issue is that we are told this, we do not see any of it. (My bestie @bluebutterflytears phrased it like "They told instead of showing 😔")

If we did, it could also be a beautiful opportunity for parallels between symbiote Peter and Beck. (This is my bias for parallels coming in.) Both are people struggling with inner demons that they need to fight against day by day lest they become the worst of themselves.

I want to see Beck snap at Miles for not taking him seriously, then apologizing as regret sets in. I just wanted a conflict that wasn't so ... flat.

(Though this questline was a side thing, so I get if the developers or whatever didn't want to go through all of that. I'm just going to say that you shouldn't throw in what could be a meaningful message if you aren't willing to show that message to us.)

[the0verboss]

WIP WHENEVER

I saw this on @flamemittens blog and thought eh why not...

So this is installment 4 of my Durgetash fics, and installment 3 is fighting me tooth and nail on being written so we might never get to this part.

***

Gortash suspects where he is even before he hears the voice. Consciousness is coming back to him slowly, but the scent of fresh blood and old decay that permeates the air is a good first indicator. By turns, sickly sweet and sour rot, with none of the chemical preservatives found in his own carrion dens. There's a stone slab at his back and even trying to wiggle a finger is impossible. A low droning chant can be heard, the sound bouncing off the walls and filling the space with a persistent hum. The quality of the tone suggests not only that the room is massive, but between that and the air moving through it Gortash also guesses that it's subterranean. Subtle echoes, a deep dripping, though nothing like bats or birds or other such vermin. Strange for a cavern, though perhaps not strange for this cave.

And then he hears her.

“Open, open, little lordling. Your savior comes.”

There's the quick swipe of moving air and a sharp sting at his eyelids before they pop open involuntarily. Above him Orin the Red dangles her dagger directly above his left eye. Gortash can feel his Netherstone quiver at the perceived hurt, Orin testing the bonds of the pact that binds them and in turn the pact that binds the brain. At least she hasn't removed it.

Now that he can see his surroundings the Chosen of Bane is certain of his location. This is the temple of Bhaal.

“Look, look, would-be-king. How splendid your knight rides in.”

Orin’s touch has always made Gortash’s skin crawl. The shadowy whirls that undulate over her skin have a notable texture. Though not quite slimy they slither, the movement perceptible even through his garments. He can feel them all the more when her corpse cold hand presses against his bare cheek, forcing his head to turn and look toward the stone staircase that descends to them.

Achaia stands at the top, a resplendent fury, every inch Bhaal's prodigal son, come home.

Oh, and a vision of the past he is, like he’d stepped out of Gortash’s own memory. Achaia’s mattes have been lengthened, braided down to the floor and decorated with gold beads and Bhaalist icons. His skirts sway with every imperious step, gold rings on his bare toes, Stillmaker at his hip. The fine red shawl, sheer, is tucked into a belt and wrapped over one half of his chest, its long tail held in the opposite hand. Head held high, ruby eye burning and focused on Orin alone, he ignores her assassins entirely. The Amulet of Bhaal he’d received from the tribunal laid proudly on his bare chest for all to see.

Behind him Gortash can see Karlach, the wizard and Ravengard’s ignominious spawn. With a wave of his hand Achaia commands them to stay back as he makes his way down. Soon enough he steps into the circle of chanting Bhaalists, ready to face his tempestuous sister. He says nothing in greeting, merely crossing his arms over his chest, glancing over the altar before returning his attention to Orin.

“Oh, sweet sibling, I saw you slip sliding, all caught up in the tyrant’s lies. Just like last time. So I've made it easier for your mincemeat of a mind.”

Achaia snorts at her and shakes his head. “I have no intention of legitimizing your claim by sacrificing Bane’s Chosen at your demand. I have not come to duel you, little sister, I have come to take what is mine by rights. Heel, or die.”

“Rights, Rights! As though you did not sacrifice every right for this wretch!”

Achaia’s brow furrows, but he makes no denial of the charge Orin brings against him. The Bhaalists of the circle have gone quiet, their chanting paused as Bhaal's own offspring are speaking. Living totems of their chosen deity, every word must be near on sacred to these lesser devotees. If he was capable, Gortash thinks he might almost pity them, caught in a family feud of this magnitude,likely to be pulped regardless of the outcome.

The moment of silence stretches, Orin waiting for an acknowledgement Achaia either can't or won't give her.

“You still don't remember, do you blood-kin?” Orin taunts after a while, a manic kind of glee in her voice. She shifts her form effortlessly, and then there are two of Achaia, staring each other down. Both haughty, both sneering, unimpressed with the other. When Orin speaks next it's with Achaia’s own haunting lilt. “How you screamed as my knife split your skull? Your brain juices, sticky and sweet. A little hole, big enough for the worm, your body a blood sack to feed it. One parasite, exchanged for another. Blasphemous womb of Bhaal strung up by the sinews and plucked by my hands!”

From where he's laid out on the altar Gortash can see the confidence that had been on Achaia’s face melt away, replaced with uncertainty. A far away look the man sometimes gets when a memory is sitting just out of reach.

“What did you say?” He whispers.

Orin laughs, the pitch right but the cadence all wrong. Her blood red blade taps against the scar on her transformed abdomen. The one bisecting Achaia’s belly, horizontally, just beneath his navel. The one Gortash knows hadn't been there before Achaia went missing.

“Did you really think I'd allow you to carry on such heresy? To use Bhaal's own flesh to propagate with such filth? It fit in the palm of my hand, you know. A putrid morsel. Murdered before it could even truly be brought to life. Father was so proud!”

And finally the other shoe drops.

Gortash thinks back to the moldering throne room of Moonrise towers. To catching Achaia in private counsel with Ketheric before everything went wrong. He'd felt betrayed then, to find the man he thought of as his partner plotting behind his back. They'd shouted at one another, all three of them. But even when he'd stormed off, he had been none the wiser to what the other two Chosen had been discussing.

Now that he thinks on it, there had been another there. A cleric of Myrkul. A former midwife if he recalls it correctly; few Mykulites had been stationed in the tower proper. He’d disregarded the man before, but now in light of this new information Gortash can see the plot for what it had really been. Not a plot at all, and he thinks about the look that had been on Achaia's face when he burst in that closed door, shock and adoration. A single hand over his bare belly.

A secret yes, but not a betrayal. His Bhaalspawn had wanted that child. His child. Sin enough that it had cost Achaia, cost them both their easy ascension. The wicked misdeed that had forced Orin’s hand into action, in Bhaal’s name.

From the slack jawed look on Achaia’s face, even though his memory is gone, he too has put the pieces together. His single flaming red and black eye settles on Gortash’s face. The man is near vibrating and whether it is grief or rage remains to be seen.

“Did you know?” He breaths out, shoulders dropping, and Gortash wishes he were not stuck naked to this damn altar. Paralyzed so he can not even shake his head. Can only hope to convey with his eyes that- No, he didn’t.

Achaia must read him right because he looks away from him and makes no advance on him. Surely if he'd thought Gortash had known and kept it from him he'd cut his throat himself. Instead his eyes have traveled back to Orin, who has shed her disguise in a flurry of dust.

Achaia can feel the Urge rising in him, ravenous hunger fueled by his rage. His vision, already clouding with the blood haze. Sarevok had made mention of his shameful lack of progeny when he’d asked after Orin’s own parentage. To think there had been one, a legacy, a future, and she’d snuffed it out. Not enough to have stolen his triumph over Toril, his memories, his place in the cult.

“You took everything from me.”

“Not everything, not yet.” Orin says, backbending and tumbling out of reach. She's put the altar between herself and Achaia. “You were to slay the tyrant and then we’d duel, but you bent your knee to him once more. You don't deserve the Murder Lord’s blessing.”

Gortash has seen the urge rise and take control of Achaia on more than one occasion, but not like this. What had been subtle enough vibrations has become a full spasm, both of Achaia's eyes alight as his head jerks. His lips pulled back in a snarl, his hands curled into claws. Gone is the dignity he’d walked in with, hacking and gagging as he fights against it, trying to hold on for just one more second of sanity.

All in vain.

When the guttural roar from deep in Achaia's belly issues forth, Gortash knows the man has lost the fight with himself. A circle of blood drops lights around him, malice filling the air with a wicked aura. Oh, it's coming. Bhaal's bloody cleaver.

Achaia's skin bursts apart, split right down the middle as his blood floods out and reforms into the nightmarish shape of the Slayer.

***

[sleeplesssmol]

Hello, I would just like to say thank you for writing your thoughts and theories because I've been enjoying reading through them and also for giving me much more to think about! (If not for you, I'd have missed a lot more details lol) (I actually have nothing to ask, I just wanted to say that)

Thank you for the kind message! My brain is always cooking 🍳 it's a blessing and a curse lol!

I know we have interesting things on the horizon so I have shelved the crazier for ones for now. Skimming through the game is always fun for me. From the background to the voicelines and the little enemy snippets. There is so much to see!

That being said I know I should be working on my recap project for my own sake (easy to misremeber things or forget little details) but I've been compiling list of crew member interactions (most from wiki) that involve dragging Vertin into their shenanigans instead...

Absolutely self-indulgent and self-inflicted brain rot. It's Vertin's fault. She plays along with them! For example:

An-an Lee:

I've got you some very horrible movies, and I promise you it's gonna be an unforgettable evening! (Horror movie night with the gang)

Hey, girl! Wanna hang out somewhere? Don't waste such a wonderful night! (Girls night!)

Sotheby:

...You're here! My experiment is almost the last step. Go find 500 grams of liquid gold and help me settle it! (Vertin walking into madness)

I just bought a rare and strong bicorn. I heard it only came out at night... A bull? Eh? Am I tricked? And... does bull have anything to do with beef? (Sotheby needs supervision when she goes shopping, preferably an adult that isn't Pavia.)

Lilya:

Go. Don't be annoying. I am going to take care of my lady Su-01ве now. You want to help? What if you break it? (this is the rare case of Vertin wanting to take part in something and being turned down. She clearly like Lilya a lot from the voicelines. Like a chaotic big sister or maybe that one drunk auntie who is always fun?)

There's still a vacancy behind me on my broomstick. Would you like to ride together? Of course, if you dare to vomit on my back, I won't spare you. (Aw, she squishy in the center.)

Poltergeist:

Hi, what did you dream about last night? You were mumbling in your dream. I could barely hear anything even though I have moved very very close to you. (if she did this to Sonetto, Vertin would need a new assistant. I like the idea of Vertin being so used to this shit she didn't flinch)

Can you stay? Can we talk, just... just for a while. Please look at me. But... not for too long. You can watch me for 3.5 seconds, and look away for... for 5 seconds. Then look back at me again. (why is this relatable?)

Vertin being a baby and Suitcase dad at the same time is my life blood. SHE CAN DO BOTH

[bohemian-nights]

It's always interesting how as soon as black women become a love interest in a straight ship 1 of 2 things will happen.

A third thing, the double standards, an example:

Laena x Rhaenyra ship- in the books we know they were close and some fans use the phrase"more than fond of"to reinforce they were a couple(nothing against this couple it's still fiction eh)

Everything normal here.

But when we learnt more about Rhaegar and Elia and their relationship, the sentence "fond" is still used to describe their relationship and now you have people saying "oh they were just friends" "oh he didn't love her" "oh Elia will be okay with Rhaegar and Lyanna being a couple"

First at all, the racism, Dorne is not okay with adultery in marraige, they don't care if if man or woman, UNMARRIED, take a paramour,UNMARRIED; it's different for them, a different mindset

•Convenient how now when their white fave needs to be paired up with a white character(nothing against Lyanna, the girl was 14 year old)when there are POC characters that show interest in them(Elia loved Rhaegar and I can dream he loved her, why? BECAUSE I LOVE ANGST)

CONVENIENCE MY DEAR FRIEND

Read about the Sophie's actress' scandal(if you called that) -just wtf.

Also Bethany's harassment.WTF.

If they are not happy with Sophie being black, then they are free to read the books or ignore it! It's not that difficult.

Bethany is gonna slay this season, so stay mad colonizers😏

Sorry for the rant, tired of this nonsense🤣

Ps: Some people are starting shipping Dettles out of spite, for the racism's nonesense so yeah, IT'S GONNA BE A LONG YEAR HERE!!All of you are doing great sweeties🥰

Don’t apologize for ranting cause everything you said is the truth👏🏽

I hate Laenyra. People mainly hype it up to move attention away from Daemon and Laena’s marriage and center their self insert into their relationship .

Yeah it’s ironic that the same people hyping up Laryngitis and saying all those who oppose it are racistare the same people who love dunk on Elia non-stop and say that she was fine with her husband sleeping with Snow Becky because she’s dornish. The same people hyping up Jon’s parents are the same people who dunk on Dettles.

I’ll be the first one to say that I don’t give a damn about Ravioli and Snow Becky, but I’ll admit that it was GRRM’s intention to make them romantic(it’s definitely not supposed to be grooming even if I find the whole situation weird). I’ll even admit that there are plenty of similarities between Dettles and that ship, but you’d have an easier time finding a leprechauns gold than getting those people to admit the same.

Don’t get me started on the Bridgerton fandom. A bunch of ungrateful bigots who keep making demands of Shonda while at the same time degrading her and saying there are “too many Black people” on the show (and then crying when people call them out for being the anti-Black morons they are).

And I get that Masali hasn’t been officially announced as Sophie, and of course she’s not the only possibility, but she’s the only one whose name that has been circulating around that fits the casting call. Her schedule was cleared last year and she’s got no upcoming projects. She’s following multiple members of the cast and multiple members are following her back.

(Nicola, Hannah Dodd, Hannah New, Victor Ali who is suspected to be playing John, as well as one of the hairdressers who does the main casts hair to name a few. Hell, there was even one of the directors following her, but he mysteriously unfollowed her for some reason).

More importantly, no one else has produced another casting call to contradict said casting call or to show that the role she was cast for is a member of the Stirling family.

(I’m not going to get into it, but if you’re “evidence” hinges on Masali and Victor Ali looking alike please go down to Lens Crafters cause they don’t look nothing alike outside of being dark and Black. It’s fucking offensive as fuck to say they do).

And as I said in a previous ask, the Bridgerton team has cast a role with a specific race in mind cause they were looking for an Indian woman to play Kate(which is how some people figured Simone Ashley was playing Kate when most of Kates fancasts were white women👏🏽).

So the fact that you have so many people running around like a chicken with its head cut off claiming it’s impossible for Sophie to be Black, that Sophie should be x race, or just being racist jackasses is disturbing asf. You shouldn’t have to see this bullshit:

You bet your ass I took screenshots cause everybody likes to lie and hide their hands after typing out the most vile shit.

And yeah I get everyone wants representation, but people keep trying to silence and speak over Black people specifically Black women and that's where we have a problem.

Because for any other group, this behavior would be absolutely unacceptable. Especially if you are making demands that an EP not cast any more people of her race on her show, but with Black women that doesn't matter. They don’t care.

We haven’t even had a fucking fully Black female love interest get her happily ever after with a man(the people saying Masali should be a gender-bent Michael need to have several seats cause you’re creating a OC just because you don’t want to see her as Sophie) like everybody else and yet they want us to step aside and cheer them on. Fuck that.

This is why I don’t believe any of you hateful bitches when you say you care about misogynoir because the moment a Black woman is cast in a role you want, even in a role that’s meant for a Black woman like with Nettles, y’all either start demanding she be cut or made into something else.

This literally happens every single time Black female characters are involved and yet you can’t even talk about it because people want to ignore and perpetuate our oppression.

I’ll leave it there cause I’m too exhausted by all of this drama(it’s making my blood boil), but these fandoms piss me off so much. They make it hell for non-white and especially Black fans to exist within them. Even in shows created by Black people.