#oh and we found 3 antlers

[tabbbbyyyy]

YALL I WAS ON A HILL WALK FOR TWO DAYS RIGHT AND IN BETWEEN WE CAMPED AT THIS SPOT THAT WAS ACROSS A RIVER FROM THIS CREEPY ASS WOOD AND YALL

LOOK AT THIS SHIT OK I KID YOU NOT 5 DEER SKULLS IN ONE SPOT AND PRETTY MUCH ENTIRE SKELETONS ARE YOU KIDDIND ME?!

It was 8ish at night and yall it was so dark I swear I was gonna get murdered there. We went through barely any of it cos we wanted to go back to the rest of the group and that forest was fucking massive dude. Welcome to Scotland at night I suppose

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike (Part 6 BONUS ROUND)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis, before falling into the arms of the demon himself. 

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, Alastor X reader, crying!reader, blood loss, antlers, erotic cannibalism, they/them pronouns used, explicit content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series links: This is now a series! Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN

Bonus content under the cut!

You lay on your back in Alastor’s bed, watching the cameras explode. “Should we stop?”

“Oh? You miss your audience?” Alastor’s eyes were half-lidded and hungry as he leaned in close, his body caging yours. “You’re more of a showman than I thought.”

“You’re enough of an audience for me,” you said, and the expression that crossed Alastor’s face could have been a genuine smile.

“Oh, you are a delicate thing, a fawn.” Alastor pressed his face against your cheek, not seeming to care when he came back with his nose and lips smeared with blood. “I had hoped to keep you until the proper time, to spare you this.” He indicated your antlers, still bleeding from the torn velvet.

“Things didn’t work out that way.”

“No,” Alastor’s eyes were downcast, briefly, his bloody smile unwavering. He admitted no fault of his own, no mention of his tantrum, or the way you had turned your deal on him to stop him in his tracks. “But to not have you now would be a waste. A travesty.”

“Have me?”

“Flesh is precious,” said Alastor. His lips brushed your damaged antler, where velvet was peeled back and bone exposed, and you shivered at the sensation. You had been half hard before, but now you were fully hard, cock straining at the confines of your clothes, cunt aching the dull ache of being unfilled. The blood loss was starting to take its toll too; a dizziness that flowed through you in waves.

Alastor’s red tongue darted out, brushing against bare bone, and the sensation was like electrical connection, a caress over the entirety of your nervous system. Alastor must have felt it too, because he lingered there, tongue gliding over exposed bone, tasting you. Your claws found his sleeves and grabbed, sharp tips piercing fabric, and you felt Alastor’s moan through your whole body, his voice thick with popping and distortion.

“Your taste,” Alastor murmured, lips still so close to your antlers that you could feel their brush as he spoke. “Incomparable.”

It was then that he fastened his lips around the strip of velvet that hung loose where you had clashed with him, sucking and pulling. It was a strange sensation; no pain but the nerve endings in the piece of flesh very much live, feeling the penetration as Alastor’s teeth pierced it, the pull of his lips as he eased it away from the bone. A fresh rivulet of blood ran down your branch, soaking into your hair and trickling down your neck, and Alastor paused to lick the exposed bone, the sensation running straight to your core again.

You whimpered, and Alastor glanced down, eyes taking in first your disheveled state, and then your painfully obvious erection. “That much blood loss, and still you manage that?” he asked.

“Can’t be helped,” you said, pretending stoicism.

“Oh, I think it can,” said Alastor, his bloodied smile twitching smug, and the tentacles he had sprouted for the benefit of the cameras a moment before crept round, tips coming to rest at your thighs, and then at your waist. With surprising dexterity, he used them to undo your fly, pulling your trousers and underwear off over your hips. “Look,” he breathed, fingers stroking between the tines of your antlers as he tossed your pants over the side of the bed with a tentacle. “No hands.”

You didn’t have the breath in your lungs to tell him that his mouth on your antlers alone was enough to make you cum; each touch quivering through the whole of you, the resonance of having him close thrumming through your spreading branches to your core, the brush of his antlers against yours electrifying.

One tentacle wrapped itself comfortably around the shaft of your cock as the other nudged your thighs apart, its tip stroking your inner thighs as it found its way to your entrance.

“So wet,” groaned Alastor, as the tentacle found your cunt, his mouth on your antler pausing as he drew a shaky breath.

“You can feel through those?” you asked.

“Like fingers,” Alastor admitted, lifting his mouth briefly from your velvet as he pushed the tentacle into you, the other squeezing your shaft. He was hard in his pants but made no move to free himself, his attention instead on his meal, his tongue a resonant signal on freshly exposed bone as he lapped at you, his breath growing uneven.

You gave a noise that was something close to a mewl, hips bucking as Alastor’s tentacle began to fuck you. Already dizzy from the blood loss, the sensation came close to overwhelming you, tears beading in the corners of your eyes.

Alastor tilted his head, catching his antlers on yours, and the sensation made your cunt twitch. “I do like those expressions of yours,” he said, his smile indulgent as he slowed the pace of the tentacles. If you’d had a little more strength in your body, you would have fucked yourself on them, wild and undignified, but you were perilously close to passing out, so you surrendered yourself to the pace he set, crying out as the tentacle curled pleasantly inside you, Alastor shifting it until it hit the places that made your screams the most fervent.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself to sensation as blood trickled over your face. Alastor’s mouth and tentacles worked in time with each other, his tongue singing across your nerves as his tentacles pumped your cock and plunged wetly into your cunt, each thrust ending at an apex of perfect sweetness. He sucked torn velvet from the tines of your branches and you found you no longer cared for decorum, your voice forming half words, almost words, begging words, Alastor’s name, broken.

Alastor kissed you, his mouth tasting of blood, of your blood, antlers clashing with yours. Not the brief touch that you’d had back in the radio tower, but true contact. Your freshly exposed bone against his ancient, steel-strong branches. You could feel his pulse in your own throat, his arousal, aching and painful. You shivered, moaning into his mouth as he remained there, antlers against yours, pinning you to the bed as the tentacle inside you hit sweetness upon sweetness, the one wound around your cock pulsating in time with the first as it jerked you off.

“Alastor-” you gasped as he broke the kiss, smiling down at you.

“Come for me,” he said simply, and you could not resist his command. You came, undignified and whimpering, making a mess of the clothing Alastor hadn’t bothered to remove as your cock twitched, your cunt pulsing round the tentacle inside you. Alastor shivered, his antlers still locked with yours, his eyes fluttering closed, pulse quickening, and you suspected he’d found his own end too.

You remained together like that for a while, blood drying, fluids cooling, and neither of you particularly caring for anything but the moment. You fought to remain conscious, blood loss making your vision swim, but you were only dimly aware of Alastor’s kiss on your forehead, his arm slipping under your back.

[vintagestarlight]

Couple's Trip

Summary: you and John take a trip for your anniversary and John has a very special question to ask

Pairing: John Price x gf!reader

Words:~ 2.0k

Warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst(?), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it folks :3), MDNI!!

A/N: so this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I finally finished it! Probably the longest fic I’ve written and I’m not sure how I feel about it(I feel like I’m better at writing fluff pieces rather than spicy ones maybe?)but let me know what yall think! I’m working on another Price fic and a Soap fic so stay tuned! :)

A/N: As always likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback of all types are welcome and my inbox is always open! Hope you guys enjoy!!

***beware of typos lol

Your mind wandered as you zipped your suitcase shut. John announced you were taking a trip for your anniversary and refused to tell you where. "You'll find out when we get there love," he said with a laugh after you pestered him to tell you. You walked downstairs and set your suitcase by the front door.

Through no fault of his own John wasn't always around for your anniversary. He always tried his best to to have his leave coincide but it didn't always happen. Usually you just had a nice dinner at home or John would surprise you with flowers; both of which you enjoyed. Needless to say you were shocked but excited when John told you he had a few weeks leave and had something big planned.

"Hey hon, remember to pack your toothbrush this time," you said, doublechecking to make sure you had everything. "You forget it every time," you mused. "I'm not going to forget my toothbrush dove. And I don't forget it every time," Price argued; he checked his suitcase and realized he forgot. He went to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush to pack it away without telling you.

"Are you ready love?" Price asked. "I want to get going," You noticed your boyfriend seemed to be acting weird. He was very fidgety and it wasn't like him at all.

"You okay?" You asked. "You seem anxious to get going,"

"Yeah I'm fine love I just want to get there before dark," Price replied, taking the luggage outside. He loaded the suitcases into the back of the car and slipped his hand in his pocket. His fingers brushed against the velvet box resting in his pocket. "Well if we want to get there before dark we should get going," you called out and shut the door behind you, locking up the house.

You noticed the scenery started to change from hilly landscapes to dense woods. You started to get excited about what was at the end of your little road trip. The car turned on to a cobblestone stone driveway that led to a beautiful cabin overlooking a private lake surrounded by trees. "Oh John this is beautiful!" You said, looking out the window. "How did you know about this?" You asked. "An old mate of mine offered to let us use it for the week," he smiled watching you try and take it all in.

"This whole place is for us?" You asked, wondering if you could possibly see everything in just a few days. Price squeezed your thigh. "Just us," he said, parking the car. "Here love," Price stated. He fished in his pocket pulling out a set of keys. "Here's the keys to the cabin. Why don't you go take a look around, while I unload the car" he suggested.

You smiled and took the keys from him walking up to the front steps. You unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The living room was decorated in a way you would expect a cabin to be decorated. A large sofa facing a tv mounted on the wall, a large red rug in the middle of the floor, an end table with a lamp beside the couch, a tv stand, large fireplace, and a chandelier made from antlers adorned the living room. There was also a full kitchen to your right when you walked in.

You made your way to the stairs and found the master bedroom. A king size bed was the centerpiece of the room with a wool blanket draped over the end. The curtains were drawn and a soft light emanated from a lamp sitting on a bedside table.

Your footsteps were hushed by the soft carpet as you walked to the bathroom. The master bathroom was beautifully decorated in finished wood and white accents with a big claw foot tub; definitely big enough for both you and John. A window that faced the lake and woods let in a nice breeze and you couldn't help smiling, the fact it was yours for a few days finally setting in.

You came down the stairs just as John set down the last of your luggage. "So? What do you think?" Price asked, smiling as you wrapped your arms around him. "It's perfect John!” you smiled. "It's so beautiful," you planted a kiss on his lips.

Over the next few days the ring Price carried around burned a hole in his pocket. He tried finding the right time to ask you but everytime he tried he got nervous. He was the Captain of the most elite special forces team in the world and he couldn't even ask you to marry him. He sat at the edge of the dock, his fishing pole in his hands. He looked at the water waiting for a fish to bite and thinking about how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. If only I could just ask her. With a frustrated sigh, he got up to stretch his legs still holding the fishing pole.

These few days seemed like a dream to you. Getting to spend this time with John was something you didn't always get to have. You noticed your boyfriend's behavior was somewhat off. He was anxious and fidgety when he's normally the calm and self-assured one in the relationship. You saw him sitting at the dock fishing and you smiled to yourself. His behavior may have changed but him fishing certainly hadn't.

You opened the front door and started walking down the cobblestone path the sweet air warming your skin. You saw little firefly's glowing in the garden flying around. "Have you caught anything yet?" You asked, siting down in a lawn chair with him standing holding his fishing pole. John glanced over and saw you wearing one of his army green t shirts and a pair of sleep shorts; he felt his heart skip a beat and his cock swell embarassingly hard despite the spirited romp in the sheets a mere few hours prior. For some strange reason, it made his thoughts drift back to the little box still tucked away in his pocket; he carried it with him everywhere since they got here. He still couldn’t believe he had trouble asking you a simple four-worded question. It was almost laughable that something so simple had the Captain racked with anxiety. The man who was feared just as much as he was respected in the field. What if you said no? What if you didn’t actually love him and this was the push you needed to leave him? He grimaced as his thoughts got more and more out of control.

“No I think I missed most of them,” he muttered and turned his attention back to the water. You furrowed your eyebrows; something was up with your boyfriend. Not much fazed the 6’2” Brit so to see him so lost in thought worried you. You got to your feet and wrapped your arms around your lover; your hands dipped underneath the shirt he was wearing and felt the dusting of wiry chest hair. You ran your fingers down the strong expanse of his chest and abdomen following the happy trail that disappears into his waistband. “What’s wrong hon?” You asked. “Nothing is wrong I’m fine love,” He grumbled. “You’ve been acting strange for the past few days and that isn’t like you,” You persisted. "I want to know what’s bothering you. You know you can tell me anything right?” You reassured him. John shifted his attention from the still water to you and tried to think of what to say.

“Do you…still love me?” He asked with uncertainty. “Would I have let you put me in those positions if I didn’t?” You teased, referencing the previous bedroom escapades. Seeing his face didn’t change, you realized he was serious. “Of course I do. Why would you think I don’t?” You asked. “Well…sometimes I can’t help but think you’ll wake up one day and come to your senses and leave me for someone who actually deserves you,” He sighed. It felt foreign to him to talk about his feelings but you made him feel safe enough that he could. You always brought out the best of him and it was one of the many reasons he wanted to marry you. “John Price, I am never going to leave you,” You told him, placing your hands on his muttonchops, framing his face. You hated it when he talked so badly about himself. “I love you so much and you deserve everything,” You said, gazing up at him. “Even if I am a grumpy old man?” He asked. “Yes even though you’re a grumpy old man,” you teased. “Hey! Easy now,” He said in mock annoyance. You placed your lips on his, capturing him in a heated kiss. You felt him kiss you back and the tension from his shoulders melted away. He groaned and pressed your bodies together, reaching down to grab a handful of your ass. He chuckled quietly when you whined as he pulled away. “In that case, there’s something I need to ask you,” He slipped his hand into his pocket while dropping down onto one knee. It’s now or never Price. He told himself. Your eyes went wide and filled with tears as you realized what was happening. “Y/N, will you marry me?” He asked, hoping, no silently begging, for you to say yes. “Yes! Yes I’ll marry you John Price,” you cried.

******

“FUCK!” You screamed. The headboard practically hit the wall with each harsh thrust from John. The room was filled with obscene yet erotic sound of panting and skin slapping against skin. “Fuck you’re taking me so well love,” John panted out, taking a glance down to where your cunt practically swallowed his cock. The sight drove him mad and he let out sounds he didn’t know he had in him. Those sounds he was making, the breathy groans and whimpers almost made you come then and there. “Fuck John!” You panted, feeling yourself get closer with every snap of John’s hips that hit perfectly inside you. John could feel you squeezing him like a vice and he knew you were close to coming. He grabbed the head board and pushed your legs to your chest to better plow into you and get as deep as he could into your pulsing cunt. “That’s it love,” He breathed out, his pace unrelenting. “Come for me love, come for me,”. John’s voice sounded strained as he focused on making you come before he did. You keened as you felt yourself go over the edge, coming on John’s cock. You squeezed him so tightly he swore he saw stars and came deep inside you, thick ropes of white staining the inside of your cunt. John rested his forehead against yours, strands of his hair sticking to the sweaty skin. You felt the sheer sheen of perspiration that had covered your own body begin to dry and cool off the longer the two of you stayed in each other’s embrace. "You okay love?” He asked, still out of breath as you both waited for your heart rates to slow. “More than okay,” you smiled lazily. Price gingerly pulled out his softened cock and walked to the bathroom, you admiring his bare ass as he walked away. John used a warm wash cloth to gently clean you up before grabbing a celebratory cigar and lighting it. You watched and admired his naked body as he poured himself a glass of scotch from the decanter sitting on the small table in the room before sliding back into bed with you.

You and John lay slightly tangled in the sheets with your head resting on his chest and his arm around you, relishing in that wonderful, hazy post sex daze. You couldn’t help but stare at the ring on your finger and smile; John was your fiancée and you could hardly believe it. “Careful now or I’ll think you love the ring more than me,” John’s deep baritone voice reverberating in his chest. “Well the ring is pretty great. And all I have is an old man,” you teased, looking up at him knowing he just proved himself to be anything but an old man. Your remark earned you a playful pinch on your ass. You squealed and laughed, swatting his chest playfully.

“Don’t worry Mr. Price I only have eyes for you my love,” You said, planting a kiss on his lips. "I love you,"

“I love you too soon-to-be Mrs. Price,”

[yuri-is-online]

hi!!! congrats on getting more followers! i was honestly so excited when i saw the masquerade prompts. you don't understand just how much i love your works ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

may i please request prompt 3 for leona, vil, and jade?

thank you so much!!!

3. You were invited to this stupid party by someone you really can't stand, but you can't find them anywhere. Thankfully you found this wonderful person to dance with who is a great time and nothing like that person at all.

And you don't know how much it means to me that I make you happy when I post (つ﹏⊂) I do write things that amuse myself yes, but seeing my regulars in my notes makes me so happy. I think about you guys when I write stuff all the time ♡

notes: they/them used for Yuu, yeah I came up with this prompt for Leona what of it, references to Ch 6 with Vil, Jade and Yuu are implied to be in the "what are we" stage of the dumpster fire situationship. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Leona

How hard could it be to find a lion- well anywhere now that you are really thinking about it? They stand out, have an incessant need for sleep, are constantly making demands of other people, and oh yeah this one has a fucking tail. You would have thought it would be extremely easy to find Leona even if everyone was wearing some sort of costume because you would have just needed to pin the tail on the asshole but no. It would seem that several of these obnoxious costumes came with tails. Yours included, it was extremely annoying to sit on and you found yourself with many uncomfortable questions about how Leona, Ruggie, and Jack functioned at NRC with those things. Do beastmen have different furniture to accommodate their tails? Just how different is a beastman's anatomy to a regular man's and would Leona just show up already so you could stop thinking about his ass?

"Hey watch where you're goin'." Your thoughts are interrupted with faux fur. Lots of it, you loose your mask in the struggle to pry yourself free of the stranger's costume and are unable to use the anonymity to hide your opinion of his costume.

It sucks. Whoever this guy is he must have really pissed off Crewel to get stuck with this weird abomination of a fur trimmed cape. It barely matches the antlers on his head, he doesn't seemed that bothered by your look, offering you back your mask with a shrug.

"I know. Ugly as shit right?"

"You said it not me." You fix your mask back into place and look at the buffet table next to you both. "Hey have you seen a lion around anywhere? I thought I might find him next to the meats but haven't had much luck so far."

"A lion hm?" This man leans back folding his arms so really know he's thinking. "Can't say I have. Why ya' lookin for him?" He bends just a little bit closer to you. "Am I not good enough company for you?"

"But sir," You fake gasp "we've only just met and this lion invited me. I need to at least let him know how annoyed I am he made me waste my evening."

"Oh do you know." The man laughs. "Well we really should go find him then." He offers you his hand and takes you towards the dance floor, tossing his heavy, ugly cloak around as he does letting the weight push other couples out of the way.

"I thought you were taking me to look for my lion, Mr. Deer." Leona knows you are teasing him, that doesn't mean his ears twitch any less at being called a deer. "Are you sure you didn't just want to dance with me?"

"Bit full of ourselves aren't we?" He dips you and relishes the way you gasp. "Since when was he your lion?" Since you stepped on his tail but you don't need to know that. He certainly didn't until Ruggie pointed out.

"Since he decided to invite me to an event I was already invited to." You have every right to sound this smug but he really is not in the mood to admit it.

"You sure seemed content to ditch him for me. Sure that's smart of you? You're pretty tiny I'd hate to see you get eaten." The grumpy part of him sort of wishes you had ditched "him" to keep looking for your lion.

"Ah well." you sound shy, he hears your heart rate quicken ever so slightly. "I sort of owe him an apology? Every time I try to talk to him I get a but tongue tied and say a bunch of stuff I don't really mean." This is not news to him, he knows the steps of your heartbeat as well as he knows his own.

"Maybe he invited you because he owes you one too." He picks you up as the song ends, arms wrapped tight around your waist pinning your arms to your side and carrying you off back towards the buffet. "Do me a favor and get rid of the mask would you? I'm tired of you acting like I'm some stupid herbivore."

"LEONA?" Oh so you really didn't know. Pity that just makes him laugh louder. He had wanted to do the gently put he drops you just a tiny bit to hear you scream as payback for not knowing it was him. People are staring but he really doesn't care so long as your eyes remain on him until the night is over and return when you wake back up.

"Now," he sets you down in the corner where you found him "I believe you were complaining about me wasting your evening? Well I am all ears, just where do you suggest we go?"

Vil

Saying something out loud really does have a way of making it sound worse. "I cursed sweets Trey sent over to prevent the spudlings from cheating on their diets." Did not sound unreasonable to Vil. When Rook added "without telling the person whose dorm I was staying in or asking for their permission" he had initially scoffed, brushed it from his mind and gone back to preparing for VDC. Why would that matter? They weren't in charge of VDC, they didn't have any say in how he ran his group.

It's just one of the things he would like to scold his past self for. That action had nothing to do with the VDC; Yuu had correctly seen it as a further alienation of them from the broader school population and stripping of their autonomy. It was not something that occurred to him because Vil was not in the habit of viewing people as throwaways, everyone regardless of circumstance had potential. All they had to do was work hard and they would flourish, and the longer he looked at Yuu the stronger he felt he was right.

You had not originally been invited to the dance. Crowley had explained that first years needed permission from their Housewarden to come, and since Ramshackle did not have one, and you apparently did not count you were not allowed. Vil had been the last person you expected to stick up for you. Sure it sucked to hear someone say inviting you was "just a formality" but you were not going to complain about someone making it easier to feed Grim. You had intended to hunt him down and make Grim say thank you, but your great mage master had somehow managed to ditch you before you had found anyone you recognized, let alone Vil. It made you feel very alone, dissociative even, which had not been helped by the figure who appeared asking if you were alright.

"Do you need to go someplace more quiet?" You shake your head, fully aware your mask likely isn't helping your argument.

"No sorry I was just looking for..." The words die in your throat, you realize you aren't quite sure what to call Vil exactly. Friend sounds presumptuous, acquaintance sounds rude, and he is certainly not your anything let alone Housewarden. "The person who invited me." It sounds lame, but it settles you enough to let you stand without feeling dizzy. "I wanted to say thank you." The man in front of you smiles hand coming up to his face as if he is trying to hold back laughter.

"I don't think the Headmage needs anymore of an ego boost. Besides, isn't it a bit too early to be looking for someone you know?" You bite your tongue to keep from digging yourself into a hole, of course this stranger thinks Crowley invited you like he technically invited everyone else. And it would sound like you were a crazed fan if you admitted you were looking for Vil now, no one was as unaware of his fame as you were.

"I- I guess." You swallow your nerves and prepare to excuse yourself.

"Are you alright?" His voice is so beautiful, his concern doesn't sound fake at all as he guides you out onto the balcony and politely looks to the side when you take off your mask to breathe in the fresh air and steady yourself.

"Sorry." You have no idea what you are apologizing for.

"There's no need to apologize. You were invited, you belong here." He says it so forcefully you really want to believe him. "When people make you feel out of place, when they do things you don't like you have every right to let them know and demand an apology."

"Hah." You let out a sharp breath, turning to face your new friend with a rueful smile. He reaches behind his head to undo the straps of his mask as you continue to speak. "That sounds nice but you have no idea who I would start talking back to-" The mask falls and you stop dead, Vil's gaze just as intense as when he caught Ace, Grim, and Deuce but this time solely aimed at you.

"Why are you stopping?" He does not close the distance between you, no matter how much Vil might want to erase it he knows the first step cannot be his. "My advice isn't going to change just because you want to scold me. If anything I encourage it, true beauty cannot be achieved without feedback."

"You scare me." You admit.

"I am aware."

"I think you hate me." You take a hesitant step forward.

"I did not expect you to make me happy." He meets you in the middle, gently taking your hand and placing it just over his heart. "But you have been an unceasing source of joy from the moment I first properly spoke to you. If I have ever done anything to tarnish your happiness... no I know I have. I have made you feel small and alone and that is never a way a want you to feel." Vil is surprisingly strong, and his heart is beating faster with each word he says despite the perfectly collected look on his face. "If there is something I can do to apologize..."

"You could dance with me." The request is still much too timid, but a palace is not built overnight.

"As you wish."

Jade

Poor tiny Yuu, all lost, alone, and confused in the middle of a sea of people. They're searching for a needle fish in an unforgiving ocean, very much aware that they are running out of time. There is fear in their actions is so palpable and fragrant he stops to take a deep, shuddering breath and tastes it, rolling it around on his tongue savoring the imagined flavor.

Jade has you right where he wants you, all he has to do now is strike.

You are annoyed. Aggravated, slightly distressed maybe but you don't want to succumb to panic. Jade had slipped a handwritten invitation to the Masquerade under your door (that was completely unnecessary as Crowley had announced that everyone was invited) you had chosen to interpret as a threat. Confronting the bastard had only gotten you some fake sniffles and an insistence he would never ever hurt you.

"I am not accusing you of hurting me." You say blank look firm upon your face. "I am stating you threatened me." Jade has the audacity to quiver his lower lip.

"We have a one drink minimum here at the Mostro Lounge." His voice certainly wavers but sometimes you wonder if Jade has ever actually been afraid before, because the shit he is trying to pull right now really doesn't make it sound like he has. "Please at least order something, I would hate to lose my job."

And now the motherfucker is nowhere to be seen. You have got to look like an idiot, a well dressed dinosaur stomping around the jungle in a way all the other dinosaurs find annoying. Not that you can tell, everyone is wearing mask yourself included. The only way you would have of knowing who was who would be if you had somehow coordinated costumes, or checked with Crewel to see what someone was assigned. Which you did not do, but Jade very likely probably-

"Oh I am so sorry, are you alright?" Someone has walked into your thoughts and directly over your person, sending you both crashing to the floor. He recovers much more quickly than you do, reaching to help but pausing just before he touches you.

"I'm alright." You don't sound quite like you are, but you don't shy away from his touch as he helps you to your feet. It's hard to get a good read on the man in front of you, the mask he wears covers his entire face, including his mouth and his costume is billowy with a cape you swear could hide you both. As if sensing your thoughts he makes sure to flourish it as he brings you up to your feet. It's cute, you really wish you could see the way he looks.

"Would you like to dance?" He asks, not immediately letting go of you after he sets you upright. "It would be a waste to spend an entire evening so lost in your thoughts." You pause, considering your options, considering your partner. Jade is a neat dresser, this man is certainly neatly dressed, but he has a decidedly Rook like hat on, complete with some truly monstrous feathers, that's obscuring his true height. You also have a distinct answer that you are being watched and that this question as a wrong answer.

"Yes." You take his hand to his surprise, dragging him not to the center but off to a secluded corner of the ballroom where the music is still loud enough to hear but quiet enough that you can talk. Not that your partner seems to intend to do that, he holds you with a strange degree of gentleness guiding you through the steps of a much more formal sort of dance than you had ever done before.

"You seem quite frightened." The man finally says as the music begins to slow. "I do hope that wasn't because of me, I am only here to help after all."

"Motherfucker." You try to step on his toes and he laughs, taking control of the dance by tightening his grip on your arms and spinning you behind one of the lengthy curtains to press you up against the window.

"Later." is all he says as he ditches his mask, letting it fall who knows where as he pulls you into a deep heated kiss, intent on robbing you of as much air as he has sanity. He bites down on your lower lip as he leaves, sucking it until it swells and letting you up for air as he tightens his embrace. "You can yell and be angry at me for as long as you like later, but for now-" He presses another quick kiss to your lips "argue with me in a different way, hmm?"

[howi99]

A story of a Knight and a Yokai (part 3)

RK: *speaking of his adventures to Reimu* -and i was lost for maybe a year or two? It's difficult to remember since the spores made me hallucinate for a while.

Reimu: A year or two!? How did you get out?!

RK: *chuckling* Well, i just built tolerance to it. Nothing magic, just the brain getting better at fighting the bad things, you know?

Reimu: *nods* I see!

Rumia: *entering the living room* Oi, the drunkard wants to see you.

Reimu and RK: *looking at one another* Me?/Which one?

Rumia: *point to Jaune* You. She's going to town and wants you to come with her.

Reimu: *excited* Can i come too?

Rumia: *shake her head with a grin* Nope! Today we got something to finish, remember? *She brings butterflies nets from behind her* I still haven't shown you the true strength of the rhinoceros beetle!

Reimu: *thinking about if she prefers to go with her mom in town or go play in the forest with Rumia* hm....

RK: *pat her head* Hey don't worry kid, i'll be back later. We are probably just getting food and supplies *turn to Rumia* Right?

Rumia: *nods* Yeah, it's just a boring show of the town. *Point to herself with her thumb* I'm far more interesting than that, right?

Reimu: ... *Nods* Yeah, you are the best!

Rumia: *grinning more* Follow me, i found a great spot while searching for you yesterday!

Both leave the room, leaving the Knight alone

RK: Kids these days, they can't be kept in place. *Look at Minako* So, what's the true reason?

Minako (wearing a power ranger mask): *entering the room* Are we so predictable?

RK: I made breakfast, and i know we are not lacking anything. *Get up* So, where are we really going?

Minako: *sigh* Someone put you in front of the temple. A Yokai i am quite familiar with. *Points to Jaune* She seems to be interested in you and i need to know why.

RK: You think i could be dangerous?

Minako: *shaking her head* Ah, maybe if you knew magic. No, I'm more interested in knowing why she brought you here... Without telling us.

RK: I see. *Take his sword with him* Should i expect confrontation?

Minako: No, i don't think so.

RK: *open the door* Then we shall- *feel a sensation of dread, as a girl with an umbrella stands in front of the door* -take another door. *Close the door as quickly as he opened it*

Minako: *surprised* Uh? What's wrong?

???: Fu fu fu~ Well, i wasn't expecting that kind of reaction.

Minako: *surprised* Remilia?

Remilia: *sigh* Indeed, i am here for your service... May i enter?

Minako: *seeing how on edge Jaune is* Mr Knight, she won't attack you in any way, may you please open the door?

RK: *Sigh, opening the door*

Remilia: *enter* I never saw you here, *turn to Minako* a new stray perhaps?

Minako: *shaking her head* Yukari brought him here yesterday. We were planning to visit her for more information.

Remilia: *looking at Jaune, scrutinising him* I see, it is not rare that she takes interest from an outsider. Even more so one capable of understanding the danger i might represent in a glance.

RK: *looking down at her* It doesn't take a genius to understand. You smell of blood and the fang doesn't help hiding who you are.

Remilia: Oh? You saw other vampire?

RK: *shaking his head* No, but i know when something isn't human.

Minako: *clapping her hands together, to get their attention* So, you said you had a problem? What's the pay?

Remilia: *turn to Minako* Ah yes. You see, a new unidentified creature has been sighted near my property. I would ask my servants to search for it but...

Minako: *sigh* The fairies are useless?

Remilia: That... Wouldn't be what i would personally say, but yes.

RK: Then why not searching for it by yourself?

Remilia: I have... Other preoccupation. I don't have the time for that.

Minako: *cracking her knuckles* You want it alive or dead?

RK: *placing a hand before her* Before answering that question, do you have any information on it? A description?

Remilia: My head-maid said she saw antlers. But i know there's no deer living near my forest. *Sigh* I wish they did.

RK: *seeming pensive* Antlers, hm...

Minako: *looking at Jaune* You know what it is?

RK: *shaking his head* Well, it's wishful thinking, but maybe i wasn't transported here alone... *Look at Remillia* Show me the way to your manor.

Remilia: Oh~? Not afraid of me anymore?

RK: Afraid? I wasn't afraid of you. I simply didn't want to fight.

Remilia: *smiling* You think you could take me in a fight?

RK: I honestly don't know. I have killed many things but i never fought a Vampire in my life.

Remilia: Oh don't worry, i wouldn't go all out against my favorite miko's guest.

Minako: *sigh* Are you both finished flirting or?

Remilia: *pouting* I am not flirting!

RK: *shaking his head* She's far too young for my taste.

Remilia: *crossing her arm* I'll have you know that i am well over 400 years old! I'm almost 500!

RK: ... *Chuckle while going outside*

Remilia: *perplexed*

Minako: *sigh* From what i heard yesterday? It's a long story.

Remilia: *taking a pensive look* Hm... Is that so?

_____________________

RK: *looking around* The Scarlett Devil manor, uh? It's... A lot less sinister then i expected.

Remilia: *looking at him* What did you take me for? I'm a vampire, not an evil witch.

RK: Can you blame me? The name alone seems sinister, i wasn't expecting a nice place beside a lake.

Remilia: Is that so?

RK: *shaking his head* In any case, that's not really important. *Scratching his now non-existent beard* You said the creature roamed during the day, right?

Remilia: Indeed. Sakuya, my head-maiden, saw it near the gardens... She also said that whatever it was, it seems to like rosebud a little too much.

RK: *nods* I see... By the way, did Minako tell you why she didn't come with us?

Remilia: She needed to go speak with Yukari, didn't she? She can teleport wherever she please in Gensokyo so they probably will get you when you are finished here.

RK: You sound like they will know when i'm finished.

Remilia: Would you be surprised if i told you yes?

RK: Not really. I knew someone like that. *Scratch his neck* Though, she was using creatures to see by their eyes.

Remilia: And you thought i was creepy?

RK: You still smell of blood... And you got some on your clothes.

Remilia: Again!? Is this why you knew i was a vampire?

RK: I mean... Yeah?

Remilia: *sigh*... Just so you know, i don't kill humans when i feed on them. My appetite is far too small.

RK: ... And you never thought about using blood bags?

Remilia: *looking at him disgusted* Have you ever drank warm water from a plastic bottle?

RK: I probably did, but it's been centuries.

Remilia: *crossing her arms* Speaking of, what's that about? How can you be sure you lived centuries?

RK: *shrug* I can't remember. I just know. *Point to his head* Most of my old memories are only figment. As my brain repairs, it loses information. I can't even remember the name of my mother or what she looked like. I just remembered what she was like. And that's the same with everyone i knew.

Remilia: *wincing* Sorry, i didn't know.

RK: *shaking his head* It's in the past. It's not like i can go back anymore.

Remilia: I... See.

RK: *sigh* Just bring me to the garden. You said you had something better to do, right.

Remilia: *realising how long she talked with him* Oh! I completely forgot! *Point to the west of the manor* the gardens are around there, and at this hour you should be able to ask Sakuya if she saw anything today. *Leave in precipitation to her manor*

RK: *sigh* I hope you are there, Juniper.

[oftenderweapons]

Natural Connection | KNJ | Ch.6

A Small Town Swoons

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Plum)

Wordcount: 6.6k

Genre: stragers to lovers, fluff, mild angst; ranger/trainer!Namjoon, Chef!reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Namjoon has some skeletons in his closet. Plums helps him bury them in a way that makes him feel almost reborn.

Warnings: discussion of mature topics: sex, emotional abuse. A painful trip down memory lane, burnout, anxiety. Also heavy flirting, making out and loads of raunchy jokes. Mentions of depression, therapy and feeling out of chances to restart

A/N: I’m posting this in some sort of a rush while barely keeping my eyes open,it’s not edited or reviewed, I just want it out there for you to read 💜 I’ll review it in the morning and add links. Love ya 💖✨🥺

Here is my Masterlist, enjoy!

Navi: Part 1 – Part 2 — Part 3 – Part 4 - Part 5

“Lone wolf. That's not a cute way to spend the night.” Jackson's words were just mildly teasing. He was mostly compassionate as he sat beside Namjoon at the counter of the bar. “What's given you the blues?” 

Namjoon shook his head and took a sip of beer. He had never been much of a drinker, and he regretted not being able to hold his liquor properly, because tonight really called for some hard spirits. “Nothing really.” 

“It's her, isn't it? Your Tinkerbell lady.” 

Namjoon grumbled and groaned, letting his head fall to his wrists, current laying crossed on top of the counter. 

“Hey, dude, we thought we'd lost you,” said Christopher as he approached the other two men at the bar. “Oh. I see,” he said as he made himself comfortable on Namjoon's other side. “We all have a vague idea of what happened the other day when you followed her to the bathroom,” Christopher hinted, then rubbed Namjoon's shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?” 

He shook his head, than took a large sip of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put down the glass, quite loudly too. 

“I did something, but I don't know what. And today she said she needed a day off. And now I'm wondering if I did something wrong, whether it's my fault she cancelled on today, whether I made her uncomfortable and am now ruining her holiday — something she hadn't had in a very long time.”

“Namjoon—” 

“Maybe I'm not as good a friend with benefit as I thought’d been. Maybe I'm not an easy hot-girl-summer kind of thing. Maybe I suck in bed—” 

“Not unlikely,” muttered Jackson, at which both Namjoon and Christopher snapped in his direction, as if throwing daggers with their gazes. 

“Oh, come on, there's a possibility to it, you've been out of the market for a long while!” 

Christopher grabbed the tray of shots and started making his way to the table where the other guys were hanging out, while Jackson convinced Namjoon to join them. 

“Dude, we've found a way to make this party less about you!” Jackson hollered at Jaebeom, currently wearing a cute set of antlers and a sash that spelled “This dancing queen is getting married”. Very cute, and Namjoon appreciated the Mamma Mia reference. 

“Namjoon is having issues with Plum.” 

He rolled his eyes at your nickname being used by them. They always called you Tinkerbell anyways, why the sudden change? That was his own nickname for you, because of your cute, round face, and soft soft lineaments. And then also because of the taste of sun-dried plums in your mouth that time he kissed you in the pond, after that first, wondrous fuck. Maybe he hadn't satisfied you. Maybe his performance in the bathroom hadn't been as stellar. Maybe you'd already grown bored of him. 

“They're not issues,” Namjoon mumbled, vaguely grumpy. 

“Well, what are they, then? You fucked her and she's ghosting you?” Wooyoung asked bluntly. 

“Woo, no need to use that kind of language,” Christopher reprimanded. “Still, could that be the reason? She's maybe… Embarrassed about something that occurred the other day in the…” 

“You did it in the restroom!?” Mingi exclaimed. 

“A bit louder, Mingi, I think the guy in the corner over there didn't hear it clearly,” said Jaebeom with an eyeroll. 

“It was strange when we parted, yes, but… I guess there would have been other uhm… uncomfortable moments before. She would have bailed after the— uhm— the restroom. Not today? Why today? Why let so much time pass by?” 

Namjoon had always been an overthinker. He'd managed to control his tendencies through meditation and therapy, but once an overthinker, always an overthinker. Sure, you can put a damper on it, but it would be like putting a hyena in a clown costume: at the end of the day, it would still be a hyena. 

And he was struggling to find the words. He did not have the lingo for this. He did not have the nerves for this. He had not been mentally, emotionally engineered for this. 

“I know I fucked up. I'm sure I fucked up. I don't know where or how but—” 

“When I met my wife, I was a mess.” Jaebeom ran a hand through his hair and gave a weak chuckle. “I couldn't do without her. I spent weeks, months pining.” 

“It's your future wife, JB,” Jackson clarified.

“Fuck off, we're getting married, she's already my wife in my mind. One could argue she’s always been,” he snapped, a certain possessiveness taking over. “Anyways, I was saying, before this cold hearted snake interrupted—” 

“You were messing around, I made a move so you could feel the bitter bite of jealousy and realise you were wasting your time and your energies!” 

“As always, thank you for the lesson, but you didn't need to shove your tongue down her throat!” Jaebeom hissed at Jackson, then rolled his eyes. “Again, I was a mess. And I didn't know it, but she was a mess too. We only managed to fix it when we dragged our heads out of the sand and finally stated what we wanted.”

“Which, again, is something we told you to do cause you were a lowly little coward,” Christopher muttered. 

“Okay, whatever, just do what these two tell you to do,” Jaebeom said, exhausted, rubbing his face and picking up a glass shot. “Cheers to my wife, or whatever.”

“Poor woman,” Jackson whispered, which earned him a stormy look from the husband-to-be. “Anyways, what’s holding you back from going there and telling her what you want?”

“The fact that maybe I don’t even know what I want?” Namjoon but back, not without some exasperation. 

“What do you mean?” Christoper’s question was direct, firm. 

“I was… I haven’t been all that… active, lately.”

“By lately he means in the past eight years.” Everybody but Jackson turned to Namjoon, eyes wide, mouth gaping, the picture of disbelief. 

“What the fuck.” Wooyoung’s face was ashen before he shook his head lightly, “And why, for the love of holy smokes, did you punish yourself so?”

Namjoon stared at a glass shot, which Jackson noticed. He grabbed one shot for himself, one for his friend, then handed it over. 

Namjoon stared at it, but Jackson was already clinking their glasses together. “For the incredible woman who brought you back to life.”

“Life is fucking terrifying,” Namjoon whispered, anxiety bleeding out of him. But Jackson was tipping the glass over, the burning tang of tequila dribbling down his throat. 

“It really is, but you loved doing her, or you wouldn’t have done that twice.”

Namjoon’s brain promptly produced a supercut of every naked inch of your body, every curve, every movement, every flop of your hair, every gasp of your mouth, every droplet of moisture that your bodies shared in those moments. He recalled the feel of your breasts in his palms, the pressure of your behind as you ground against his groin. 

“Twice?” Mingi inquired, interested. 

“I’m not going to elaborate on that.”

Christopher respected the boundary, seeing Namjoon’s pained and tired expression. “What do you want from her?”

Namjoon shook his head. “I’ve got no idea. She’s leaving in a couple days. I mean, she’s lovely. But I’m not sure there’s enough time or space to build something more.”

“But you want more?”

“I do, eventually. But I thought it would happen with someone a bit more… Rooted. Here.” He was destroyed, Jackson could tell. Namjoon’s hair was all over the place with the way he’d tortured it with his hands. “But then she happened.”

“And it changed things, right?” Jaebeom asked. 

Namjoon stared at his feet. “The sex is so good. Just so, insanely, otherworldly, unbelievably good.”

“Let’s also say your terms of comparison were scarce,” Jackson added, teasing.

Namjoon smirked, then stared at Jackson for a long, loaded instant. “Both things can be true.” Then, he shrugged, toying with his fingers, smiling at himself. 

“He’s smitten,” Jaebeom said to no one in particular. 

“I guess I am,” he finally admitted. “Maybe it’s because the sex is good. That tends to alter your perception. I also think she’s attractive, and her energy is incredible. She’s also guarded, somehow, and delicate. It really makes me want to stand tall for her.”

“Knight in shining armour,” Wooyoung said with just a pinch of sarcasm in his tone.

“Which she doesn’t need,” Namjoon commented, puffing out his chest. “She’s just… She’s tough, but I just want her to know she doesn’t need to be when she’s around me. That’s what I like, I guess. And she’s unstoppable. She’s not the kind that would lie to you or put on an act to save her ass. She takes what she wants and she weathers the consequences of her own actions. And she’s a leader, she’s got backbone, she works great in a team, people see her, see how competent and hard-working she is, and they respect her for it.”

“Dude, you really are smitten.”

Namjoon grabbed another shot, and the other men quickly joined him. “To life-changing women,” said Jaebeom. 

Namjoon could happily toast to that. 

There… Just… there. 

So close. The lights were insulting his eyes, but his vision was clear. Oh so clear. 

The alcohol had made his eyes glossy and sensitive. And there. There, your door. 

He brought himself to climb the steps, then knock at the door. 

He wondered whether you were in bed. Maybe in the shower, maybe you were already asleep. Maybe you were… like that one time… 

His ears strained, searching for signs of you. 

He knocked again. He could call your phone, right? Did he have your number?

He could— 

The door opened before him, and you were standing there, an oversized white shirt covering your body all the way down to your knees. The fabric was thin and the chill night air was making your breasts peak. The sight of Namjoon right in front of you didn’t help at all. 

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless, and surprised too. 

“Hi.” The greeting was sharp, a little rushed. “I really would like to kiss you right now. Is that okay with you?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Then nodded. 

He was upon you before you could even register him, or parse your agreement. His breath had the lightest taste of liquor, and his mouth was hot, as hot as his hands now cupping your face, gathering your face up close to his own. If he could have swallowed you, he would have. He dove for you and you soared for him and you met in between, perfectly, gentle but sure at first, and then it spiraled. 

This is what Icarus must have felt as he reached for the sun, you think, because you feel like burning and flying and falling. But isn't flying something like falling without ever hitting the ground? 

That's how you feel. 

Gravity isn't working where you and Namjoon kiss. It's not working as he wraps and links and loops his limbs through yours, legs and arms and wrists and ankles like ivy. Your thighs are around his waist, and he's holding you up by your hips, then your ass. 

“I'm coming in,” he says and you nod against his lips, waiting for him to come inside you, and you grind against him. Instead he chuckled against your throat, catching the double entendre. “I meant I'm entering your apartment.” 

You purred, heat warming your cheeks, but you were not sure whether it was embarrassment or pleasure. “But you could get inside me next.” 

“There's stuff I need to tell you,” he whispered close to your ear. 

“Can you tell me while you're inside me?” 

Namjoon's laugh was bright and glorious, perfectly rough and warm, the most tasteful combination of a scratch and a caress. “Plum, you're insatiable.” 

You looked at him with surprise, and just a pinch of innocence too. “I— Am I?” 

He closed the door with his foot, still holding you up in the entryway. “It's positively surprising. And very lovely.” 

You nodded to yourself in slow understanding. “Lovely…” you mused. “I never thought I would become something like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Insatiable. Obsessed. Weak and dependent.” 

“You're absolutely not weak. And maybe it's not too bad to depend on someone every now and then.” His nose traced the column of your neck. “And it feels nice, knowing that you're a bit hung up.” 

You cant your hips just right against his, which causes you both to moan, your frown disappearing. “‘A bit hung up’ doesn't even cover half of it, trust me.” 

Your short nails bite the nape of his neck and he gasps a little, his hips giving the lightest stroke.

“I'm a bit of all of that too,” Namjoon confesses. “Insatiable. And obsessed. And… And weak.” He shakes his head, then hides his face against the slope of your neck. “I…” 

You smiled as he lost his words again, his mouth focusing on sucking at your throat. 

Your chuckle came out lightheaded and euphoric. It stopped entirely as he fixed his grip on your hips, lifting you higher up with a little bounce, and then lowering you again, against his crotch. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on anything but the burning need at your core. 

He nibbled at your collarbone, then whispered, “Fuck, you're so wet.” There was tension in his voice, conflict. “But I've gotta tell you all of that.” 

“We can do this, and then talk,” you suggested again, your voice coming out barely patient, and strained. Oh, and imploring too. 

He shook his head, then put you down. “Talk first, then I'll do anything you want, Plum.” 

You pouted, which almost broke his resolve, but he caressed your cheek and your frown disappeared like a spring cloud. 

“First, I just want to make sure you didn't stay in today because you were avoiding me.” His eyes betrayed a sliver of insecurity before he looked away, staring at the floor. 

You’re caught off guard by his statement, and you’re not sure how to reply. Did he really think—? “Absolutely not!” You exclaimed, hooking your pointer finger beneath his chin and bringing his eyes to yours. “No, Namjoon. Sure, I’ve been…” You searched for the right word for a couple seconds, “Confused. By some of the things I felt yesterday. But I am not avoiding you at all. I just needed to be off today, and rest. And maybe think about some stuff, but none of it had to do with you,” you stated, reassuringly and firmly, then reconsidered, a coy warmth creeping to your cheeks. “Well, maybe it had the tiniest bit something to do with you. But not in a bad way. Actually in a very good, very mature, very grown-up way.”

Namjoon almost startled at your statement, his head jerking back slightly. “Oh. Wow. Okay.” 

“Oh goodness, you thought I was avoiding you?” You asked him, a smile spreading all over your face. “Really!?” 

“No,” he said, the vowel stretching, his intonation absolutely hesitant, absolutely doubtful, and very, very embarrassed. 

You threw your arms around him, gluing your body to his. “Oh god. Joon, no.” You laid a couple kisses on his chest, then added, “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” he stated. “Still, I was absolutely sure you weren’t avoiding me. So this statement is totally unnecessary and it doesn’t calm my nerves at all, because they were already one hundred percent calm.”

You roll your eyes and place your forehead and nose in a way that aligns perfectly with the valley between his pectorals. “Good, now can you calm my own? Historically, someone telling you ‘I need to tell you something’ doesn’t end in a nice way.” The nervous chuckle you emit then is a clear testament to how much he has become to you. How much you have elaborated in the last hours, corroborating your decisions. 

This is not going to be forever, you think, but I wouldn’t mind if it lasted a bit more. 

Namjoon caressed your head, kissing the crown of it. “It’s nothing big, really. Just a tiny bit of backstory that I think you should know. It sorts of explains some parts of me that could be complicated to other people. Parts I would like you to know about.”

Summertime must be approaching, or maybe the heating came on: anyways you’re feeling hotter and hotter, and you’re pretty sure it’s a flock of tropical birds that is currently storming your stomach. 

“Okay.”

”Let’s get comfy, shall we?”

You agree, then lead him through the room. It’s not the first time he sees it, after all he did sleep here with you a couple nights ago, before he left at dawn for some reason, leaving you on the verge of insanity with desire and doubt both.

He sits at the edge of the bed and you stand before him, ready to climb astride him, except he shakes his head and smiles mischievously. “No way this is happening,” he teased, then slid slightly to his right, avoiding your other leg, letting you sit at his side rather than on top of him. “You’re too dangerous sitting on my lap, Plum.”

He says it in a way that makes it sound like a compliment, and you grin, eyeing him seductively. “Thank you.”

You both turn to each other, and he starts talking. “It’s been a while since I did this, you know. Being… Being intimate with someone.”

You nodded. “You mentioned something about a relationship you used to be in.”

He grabbed your hand, toying with your fingers, looking away, as if retracting within himself. “I’ve had one very long relationship. From fifteen, all the way to twenty years old circa.”

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. “Wow.” 

“We were extremely close friends at first, then we sort of merged into the relationship until… I guess we just became too different to ever truly be one.”

You nodded encouragingly. 

“Her mom and mine were colleagues when we moved here. I was five or six.” His eyes connected to yours. “I was shy and she was very outgoing. We became friends. Or rather, she befriended me. I was one of those puffy, awkward kids, sort of a nerd too.”

He shrugged and blushed, his eyes gleaming. “In middle school she suddenly changed. She had one of those incredible glow ups. I guess puberty hit her like — I don’t know — suddenly she looked like Aphrodite’s favourite child. She was… She was like a goddess. Being attracted to her was inevitable. I liked her as a person, because she was my first friend here, and because I felt comfortable around her, and she didn’t make fun of me like other people, she didn’t act like I was weird and weak and chubby and awkward. And even though she became so beautiful, and so popular too, she was still kind to me, and treated me like a person.” Namjoon slumped, his stance turning self-protective.  

“Once we hit high school, she’d learned how to use the body genetics had gifted her. She filled it with confidence, and it rewarded her in return. Her attitude and her looks were the kind that spells trouble for a hormonal teenage boy. But despite that, I still cherished her the most as a friend, and the fact that she continued protecting me in front of popular kids making fun of me was really meaningful. I admired her for how she stood up in front of mean kids. She had the kind of influence that could make other kids respect me, or at least tolerate me.”

You held his hand fondly. “I get it.”

His eyes met yours with gratitude, and a pinch of hesitation. 

“And then I turned fifteen.”

You lick your lips, tip your head to the side and observe the smirk on his face. “In about three months, I grew taller than all the kids in my class, and though I wasn’t bulky like the football athletes, I played basketball with a friend of mine, and that kept me pretty fit, plus there was all the trekking and some climbing, and the canoeing too. I was also quite smart, and for some reason, some girls liked that. When we got back to school after summer break, I caught this girl’s eye. We were chatting, and things were getting personal and I ended up confiding in my friend, Aria.” His eyebrow quirked. “She didn’t take it well.”

You frowned, then waited for him to continue. 

“She gave me the silent treatment for three days straight. Meanwhile I was getting closer and closer to the other girl. One day I was talking to her by the lockers, and next thing I know, Aria is gripping my hand, gluing her body to my arm, and kissing my cheek. ‘Hi boyfriend,’ she said.” He shook his head. “The other girl didn’t take it well. She thought I was playing her.” He rubbed the hand across his face. “It took me years to make up for that.” He shook off the feeling, then continued, “By the end of the week, the entire school knew Aria and I were a thing. The week after that, we were making out pretty much anywhere, anytime. I guess it took us about a month before things got extremely serious, and Aria got on birth control because her mother was terrified at the thought of her getting pregnant, and teenage moms were so common back then, and she knew Aria was not really the religious type. She also had the kind of body that gets hyper sexualised because of pornography, you know. Of course any teenage boy would want to see it naked as soon as possible. And eventually do things with. Or have things done by. You get what I mean,” he concluded. 

You nodded. “Did you?” 

He laughed. “I was terrified. I wouldn’t have known where to start with it. And sure, I watched as much porn as any other dude my age, but it’s not like I was eager to reenact it in real life. It felt complicated, and loud, and dirty. So damn dirty.” He frowned and smiled at the same time. “It didn’t feel right.”

You study his face, the slight repulsion he seems to radiate from his body. 

“Then one night we were watching a movie — which actually means we were making out in my bed — and we were so damn close, and of course my body went haywire and… Let’s say she realised I was pretty interesting down there.”

You furrow your brow, trying to understand what he’s implying. “You mean…?” 

“She’d never felt me up, and that night she realised I was big.” The words didn’t come out with arrogance, but with a dry matter-of-factness. 

Your eyes widen suddenly, and he laughs a little, the sound deep and warm, and it sends tingles down your spine. “Oh.”

“That’s about what I said, too.” He smirked, blushing wildly. “Luckily I managed to hold her back that night, because I truly wasn’t ready, and I really wanted to get things right. So I bought condoms online, because I was too ashamed to buy them in person, and I kind of panicked for three days straight because I was terrified my mom or my dad would find out and get mad or make fun of me or whatever. And I did some research on… You know. The kind of stuff you have to erase from your browsing history.”

You chuckle, nodding. Hearing all of this is somehow fascinating. Knowing he was so clumsy, so embarrassed, and yet so committed to making it as safe and right and good as possible. It’s endearing somehow. Not only is he a good man now, but he was a good boy too, and it makes him shine even brighter to your eyes, this commitment to goodness.

“Still, I was not ready, emotionally. But she was impatient, and in the end I said, ‘screw it’ and I gave in. We were sixteen, we were two days into winter break, and this friend of mine has this little cottage by a small lake. He’d left me the keys to the cottage. We went there, and we had sex. I was terrified I was going to hurt her, because I’d read about first time sex being painful and all the fuss about hymens et cetera. But it went surprisingly well. I came in about fifteen seconds.”

You both laugh. “I guess I got lucky.”

He eyes you significantly. “You’ve got no idea how much.” 

“And then?” 

“And then we spend the entirety of winter break doing stuff.” He shrugs. “I could have done without, sometimes, but she was always trying to start trouble. And I wasn’t too strong about telling her no. But let’s be clear, it’s not like she was abusive or something, I was happy to have sex with her. I liked it a lot, and she had my consent, always, before doing things. But at the same time, I knew I was losing some of my connection with her. There was less talking, less quality time, less… We were having sex all the time. We didn’t watch movies, we didn’t read books, we didn’t hang out or you know, the stuff you actually share with someone. All we had was each other’s body and our own. There’s only so much a brain can feed off that. But we weathered it. And she was possessive, so it’s not like I had the chance of finding that with someone else. And the sex made me feel so lucky, knowing that I had someone who loved me so fiercely, someone so out of my league — it all made me feel like I should be grateful and I would be an idiot complaining, or looking for anything else, or trying to change the situation in any way.”

That’s when the pain starts to blossom in your chest. “So you start neglecting your emotional needs.” 

Namjoon nods slowly. “That. Precisely.” His eyes focus on your hands again, trying to avoid your face because he knows his expression might show too much now. “But we’re seventeen by this point. The sex starts to slow down, and we get some of the friendship back. I get a lot less awkward around eighteen, and my resumé is one of the brightest in my class. I’m in the debate team, and I’m in national competitions for writers. I write poetry, and short stories too; I win some prizes, I get published in a paper, then in a review.” 

“That’s impressive.” 

“I’m starting to live my dream life. I get selected in a summer programme for young writers. Aria is very proud of me. I get better at sex too, in the meanwhile.” He gives a boyish shrug. “I start planning my life with her at my side. By the time high school ends, I’ve managed to get a bit less awkward too, and Aria has fixed my haircut and my wardrobe. She gets selected by a university in California for a volleyball scholarship. It scares the shit out of me, but she accepts. She’s convinced we can make it long distance. I get into some niche writing academy on the east coast. 

It’s winter break when we see each other again.We’re all partying by the lake, me and her and some of our friends. We’re all so damn drunk, damn, I couldn’t even count the fingers of my hands. We’re all sitting by the fire when she leans against me and says, ‘You know why I’m sure we’re gonna make it?’ And I smile because I think she’s going to say something cheesy, something about the ring I bought with the money I made from the first short story I actually sold.”

You smile so bright at that, at his success, at such a huge milestone for someone who made writing his path, his vocation — and then it clicks.

Cuisine is your calling, you’ve always known, and that’s one of the first things you tell people when you introduce yourself. If he’s never mentioned writing then it means it never came true. Horror creeps in. 

“She said, ‘we’re gonna make it because I’ve fucked about twenty or so other people, but you still love me. And you’re the fucking best’.” He stops, snickers, and there’s so much self-loathing in the way he moves, the way he breathes. “I went stone cold sober in a millisecond. I asked her to repeat, to make sure I understood correctly. I laughed it off, excused myself to the bathroom, and cried my fucking eyes out. Threw up about three times or eight, then locked myself in a room. The following morning, I left before dawn, returned to my college with my mom. Returned the ring. And broke up with Aria through a text. Changed number. I detached myself from the entire world, disappeared for about a year, except for the people that truly mattered. I finished my programme in record time, mostly because Yoongi needed me back here, and well… I mostly finished school because I had to, but I never went back to writing. It’s like I’d been emptied, and to this day I’m not sure words will ever truly fill me again. I’m not sure they will ever spill from me again, or that I’ll find a way to make them flow like I used to.”

This is so wrong. You end up saying the words out loud. 

“I haven’t dated anyone since then. And I haven’t had sex with someone since the summer before I turned twenty.” 

“That’s seven years, isn’t it?” You ask, making sure you remember his age correctly. 

“It is.”

You whistle, impressed. “That’s… She really mess you up.” 

“I just changed lifestyle. No sex, no smoking, no heavy drinking. Just me, my plants, nature, my job. I love it. It fulfills me.” 

“And no writing? You don’t miss it?” 

He shrugs, and it looks like he’s trying very hard to act like he doesn’t care. But he so blatantly does care. “You can’t miss something you’ve never had.” 

“I think you had it, though. And I think it will come back for you.”

He sighs. “I won’t hold my breath.”

You shake your head. 

“She’s engaged to one of my high school classmates now.” His laugh is bitter. “He proposed last Christmas. Getting married this summer.”

You hesitate around his fingers. Is he still hung up on her?

His eyes meet yours. “And I get mad because I think a part of me still thinks it was supposed to be me. And I hate that part of me. I also hate the part of me that is still hurt over what she did. The part of me that remembers all that sex, and wonders whether it was ever real.” He bites his lip, and he looks mad, truly. “All of this means, I’ve been hurt before, ____, and that messes with my head sometimes. The day I met you, I was attracted to you almost instantly, and that made me trust myself less around you, and it made me doubt you too. I was terrified at how much I wanted you, and the way my body reacted to yours. The way I dreamt of you. And knowing you wanted me too— It terrified me and electrified me at the same time. You’ve been the first woman I’ve wanted, really wanted, in years. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed hot and cold, but I don’t know what to do with myself. You’ve been nothing but transparent with me, and I know this thing with me and you can hardly go anywhere—”

You go impossibly still next to him and he notices, also in the way your fingers get rigid and seem to retract from his touch. 

“This is all to say, I really want to thank you for being so honest with me so far. And I’m sorry for any weird behaviour I’ve had. It’s just that her betrayal messed with me more than I’d like to admit. And I don’t like people getting too close, but I couldn’t help it with you, and I’m not too happy with the idea that this is temporary.”

You try to align your thoughts correctly, trying to make them make sense. “What do you mean?” 

Namjoon inches closer. “With what?” 

“You’re not okay with this being temporary?” You paraphrase. 

Namjoon grips both your hands, then gets even closer. “You’re here on holiday, we’ve known each other for days, and I’m scared that again it’s just sex pulling me to you. Just some infatuation. I mean, you can’t start having feelings for someone in days. Or maybe you can, maybe I do feel something for you, just the roughest draft of a feeling, but it’s okay if you don’t. I’ve always been pretty sensitive and impressionable, especially with emotions.” He stares at you, really does, like he’s trying to read your mind. “I don’t know whether there’s solid evidence that this could be something more than a holiday fling. I just think it’s precious that I found you, that I got to feel this with you. I’m grateful for it, were it to end, or were it to turn into something deeper, something more structured, more lasting.” 

“Namjoon,” you whisper. Silence hoovers heavily on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I… I exaggerated. I’m too much. Too fast.” He inched away from you, closing off, already hating himself for scaring you off. 

“No,” you murmur kindly, stretching to reach his face, pulling him back closer. “I want you. Want this. Letting go will hurt, but as you said, I’m grateful too for this. This will be bittersweet, but it can teach us something.” Does it make sense, wanting to let go of everything for three very excellent fucks? This must be the sex. It must be the very excellent sex. The orgasms, and the hormones, and the dopamine, and all the stress you’ve been collecting like star stickers from your working at the restaurant. Maybe the long overdue hours of sleep and fucking you need to catch up on. 

You can’t be thinking this while sober, go figure talking about it. “I’m considering making some changes in my life. Maybe this could be the beginning of something different.” 

“It feels unsafe that both of us are truly considering this.” Namjoon speaks like he’s pulling back, except his body is caving in, molding to yours. “If you don’t pull back, I’ll go all in.” 

“You know when we finished yesterday,” and then you add, cheeks hot with shame “in the restroom.”

He hums, his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, and you refuse to resist it. “I remember some bits of it, yes.” His leg slots deliciously between yours, and you follow his lead, purring at the pressure, delicious pressure where your core throbs. 

“It felt like you were taking care of me, for a second. At the pond in the woods too. You’re so caring, and it would be so easy to let myself lean in, get attached. It terrifies me. Because this is supposed to be just a fling, right?” 

“Except we could let it mean more. Invest more in this.” Your bodies are already doing that. Your brains too, because neither of you might be showing their cards, but you both are calculating how much adjusting would need to be done in order for this to work, doing the math of meeting halfway and spending one weekend here, one weekend there, and what’s a two hours drive when you can finally start using your paid leave days, the amount of which has turned insurmountable at this point. 

“Is it worth it? Or are we just high on hormones?” You wonder, but words are starting to come difficult on you, especially with the way his hand is tracing your spine under your shirt. 

“See, that’s what I was wondering too.” Namjoon has pinned your hands above your head, and you’re on your back now, his body strong above you, his heartbeat loud, his chest glued to yours, and his thigh firm between your core, hot and pulsing and wet. “So maybe we should sweat some of these hormones off and see if we still think about this once we’re a little more… sober.”

You nod, as if stunned and hypnotised at the same time. 

“Plum, tell me what you need,” he whispered. 

“Inside. I want you inside.” You lowered your hands to his shorts, undoing the ribbon there. “I never thought I’d be a sucker for being filled to the brim. But you, you…” you shake your head, frustration all over your face. “Clenching around you, squeezing you… I could come from that alone. I wake up from dreams of what we did in the woods. We do it here. We do it in the shower. We do it by the pool. By the lake. In the woods, again, and against the wall. I think about sex with you all the time.”

Namjoon slips two fingers in his mouth as you talk, wetting them, but also using his spit to roughly, rudimentarily get rid of some bacteria. 

He slides his fingers inside you effortlessly and you gasp, then grind on him immediately. He grins like a madman at your reaction and feels himself growing harder too. 

“Does sex with me make you feel dirty, like it did with her?” You ask him, the previous conversation making its comeback on your mind.

”Oh, Plum. Sex with you is the holiest thing I’ve ever done. Sex with her felt like a sin, but this? You said sex to you was like a naked handshake. You can’t go to hell for something like that. But for this? Plum, I’d go to hell for this, and still, I’d choose this on any fucking lifetime I get.”

You slam your lips to his, and there’s nothing kind, nothing polite, nothing romantic about it. Yet, it’s the most romantic kiss you’ve ever had. It’s frantic, and desperate and needy, and his fingers scissor inside you, stretching you as best and as quick as they can. He can’t wait to be inside you either. 

“That was poetry,” you tell him. “You just spoke in poetry. We had naked handshakes. Now we get this. We get naked poetry.” He sucks at your neck and you bloom even more open for him. “I’m going to make such good love to you that you won’t help writing fucking cheesy pop ballads about it.”

He laughed against you, the sound so beautiful you swore your heart could glow golden with joy. 

“Alright, bet.”

Navi: (comìng soon)

[pickelda]

Six Song Soundtrack

tagged by @dreadfutures and @inquisimer :3 <3

If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following: 1. An event that defines your character's past 2. How your character sees themselves 3. How others view them 4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic) 5. A major fight scene 6. End credits song

For tragic girly, Nara Hawke:

Arms I Know So Well by Emma Ruth Rundle

Sorrow by the National

Putting the Dog to Sleep, The Antlers

Your Loves Whore by Wolf Alice

Funeral Bell, PHILDEL

The Ghost in Your Smile by Les Trés

tagging forward to: @star--nymph | @ammoniteflesh | @fatale-distraction | @rosieofcorona

Lyrics + descriptions under the cut.

1. Arms I Know So Well, Emma Ruth Rundle

Oh boundless life were we to gain From lost lands to the garden's gate It's fear of the frozen and unhappy skies Burnt now, burnt now, breathing only fire And deliver me From all the evil I did to myself And deliver me to arms so open Arms I know so well

[A song defining their past] Nara is haunted by a demon all her life, and she resists its call up until the very moment she doesn't. When she finally gives in to Despair, it's like falling into the arms of a dark friend.

2. Sorrow, The National

Sorrow found me when I was young Sorrow waited, sorrow won Sorrow, they put me on the pill It's in my honey, it's in my milk

[How they see themselves] This song fits nicely for her journey with the literal Despair demon as well, but in this case it speaks to how Nara views herself as intrinsically built around a deep sorrow. Everything she does is to fight it, to soothe it, to serve it. She wouldn't know how to exist without it.

3. Putting the Dog to Sleep, The Antlers

I can't prove to you you're not gonna die alone, But trust me to take you home, To clean up that blood all over your paws. You can't keep running out, Kicking yourself off the bed, Kicking yourself in the head, Because you're kicking me too.

[How others see them] The good dog that still bites. Nara is loyal and protective but places little value on her survival. She'll succeed where others fail, but the ways in which she does it can be destructive to herself and those around her.

5. Your Love's Whore, Wolf Alice

I let your love tease me Now I am your love's whore Keep me hardly breathing But I could only love you more I could only love you more I could only love you more I could only love you more I could only love you more

[For their closest relationship] To break up the Sad, have a nice one for Isabela <3 There's certainly something to be said for the ways they enable each other, but Nara never feels as free as when she's with her gal, and they never stop having fun together.

5. Funeral Bell, PHILDEL

Oh, mother, I'm scared to die Where oh where do my good deeds lie? Oh, father, I'm scared to live Takes more than I've got to give Oh, sister, my voice is weak Oh, brother, I long for sleep

[For a major fight scene] Facing the Nightmare in the Fade is the concluding battle of Nara's life. She goes out fighting but spent and broken, thinking back on all she has lost.

6. The Ghost in Your Smile, Les Trés

[For the end credits] No lyrics, just a haunting and mournful instrumental for a fallen bird :')

[tinytalkingtina]

Oath of Devotion

Infernal Light (Steddie Dnd AU)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (can be read out of order, trying non-linear story-telling)

1546 words | rating T | Ao3 Link

Tags: Fantasy DnD AU, Tiefling Steve Harrington, Half-elf Eddie Munson, Steve has bad parents, Eddie has a bad father (child abandonment), past Steve/Nancy, implied self-harm (not described graphically and took place in the past), sex/loss of virginity (discussed as events that occurred in the past but nothing happens/is described in this chapter)

Added some author's notes under the cut as well because I love talking about this AU!

Steve lay limply on top of his lover, sated. Eddie stretched out beneath him on their bedrolls, idly stroking a hand through his hair and up over his horns. This deep in the woods, only birdsong and crickets echoed through the trees. It was just the two of them completely alone in their tent, in this little bubble. Safe. For the first time in his life, he didn’t choke down a purr from rumbling out of his chest.

“You like that darling?”

“Mhm, it feels nice.” He nuzzled his face further into Eddie’s chest. “Dangerously easy to get used to this though. Those I’ve paid to be with in the past wouldn’t stick around after the deed was done.”

Eddie’s hand stilled. “Paid? But why did you have to…how did you…” Steve opened one eye.

“Well I couldn’t have bedded noble folk, that would have been too risky. But I was hardly pure the first time we—I thought that was obvious?”

“That’s not what I meant, how did you get away without someone realizing? Kind of hard to hide this when you’re close,” Eddie joked, with a gentle tug to his tail.

“Oh.” Steve smirked. “That was the easy part, I put on a different disguise.” He sat up and drew the familiar incantation into the air, fizzy sparks trailing out of his fingertips as he did so. They swirled around for a moment before settling over his body, changing his bright red skin to a pale purple, and his horns to stag-like antlers. From one blink to another, Sir Stephen Harrington, heir to the Barony of Loch Nora, replaced himself with the face of a stranger.

Steve wiggled his fingers. “So long as I went to a brothel in towns with a port, I could have come from anywhere, so I pretended to be a sailor dropping by for some companionship.” He winced a bit, thinking of the honestly awful lies about sailing he’d come up with to uncaring ears. “Safe enough wearing someone else’s face if the prostitute already expects to touch a tiefling.” 

“And for my first time,” Steve's face flushed as he dropped the spell. “My parents arranged to have her brought into my chambers blindfolded, and instructed me not to speak during. As far as she was concerned, I was some sort of important prisoner being given a pity fuck. Never got to learn her name.” 

She had been so gentle with him when she felt him tremble. Hadn’t even flinched when she found horns in his hair. He hoped she was well.

“That’s a little fucked up, sweetheart.” Steve was startled out of his thoughts. With a snort, he reached to tug Eddie closer.

“I don’t think that even scratches the surface of the ‘fucked up’ things my family has done. But I made sure to ask the servants what happened after she left. She was just paid and sent back to the village.” Steve gently tucked a stray curl behind Eddie’s ear, before stroking his claw tip carefully along the outer shell. He paused as he got to a jagged divot near where his ear came to a tapered point.

“Hey, here’s a scar you haven’t told me the story for. What was it this time, a wild unicorn taking a valiant swing at you and only just missing your pretty face?”

Eddie grabbed at his hand, pulling it away. “Nothing to tell about that one. It’s not very interesting.”

“Oh come on, you can’t just leave it at that, you silver-tongued minx.” Steve teased.

“I…really, you don’t want to hear it.”

“Uh huh, I see. Too embarrassed to admit you got caught cheating at cards or something?”

“Because I did it to myself, okay?”

The words seemed to explode out of Eddie’s mouth. Steve froze in place, all thoughts of teasing gone.

“Eddie, why?” He reached out a comforting hand but Eddie shrank back. His anger evaporated as quickly as it had come on, leaving a well worn look of grief in its place. He slumped over in a corner of the tent.

“It was stupid and I know it was stupid, but I couldn’t take looking like him for another second back then. I’m not sure why out of the whole kingdom, he picked our village, and why out of all the lovely faces he could have shared a bed with, he singled out my mother. But I guess she held his attention long enough for them to have me.”

Oh. Steve remained silent. Eddie had barely brought up the subject of his parents before, dancing around the topic.

“I was young still when she got sick. He stuck around for a little bit after she passed. But I didn’t progress fast enough or something. Too much human in me to learn what he wanted me to learn. So, he just. Left.” His lip curled in disgust as he sneered. “Haven’t heard from him since. I’m sure by now he’s picked up on something else shiny and new.”

Steve chanced moving closer. Eddie let him, shifting to clutch at one leg.

“I didn’t…I was the only person with any non-human or dwarvish blood for miles around. And so everyone just looked and saw my ears or my face and assumed.” He said brokenly, facing the floor. As if on instinct, he grabbed at his hair to hide in.

“I was only good at the lute because my elven grace gave me an advantage. Or they’d whisper, ‘Careful around that Munson boy, don’t get too close. Or else he’ll bewitch you, just like his no-good father did to his mother.’” 

Eddie reached up to grab at Steve’s hand. Steve let him, stroking his thumb soothingly over his knuckles as he continued: “They pretended like they knew everything about me. And I. I don’t know anything about that part of myself. Only know a couple words of Elvish. He didn’t stick around long enough to teach me anything. And the few Elves I’ve met while traveling haven’t given me the time of day. They don’t want to deal with someone so. So human. Can’t win with either culture.”

Steve had envied how Eddie was able to wear his emotions so freely most of the time, never shying away from what he was feeling. But curled up like this, he looked so small, so fragile. He wanted desperately to help take on some of that burden.

“As a noble heir, I was tutored in a lot of subjects,” he said slowly, as the plan stitched itself together in his mind. “For diplomacy, I had to learn a few languages. The Elvish I was taught was mostly the sun elf dialect but it could be a start, if you want to learn the basics.”

Eddie startled, his big expressive eyes opened wide. “Steve…you—“

“I mean, if you want to stick around now that we’ve lifted your curse.” Steve rambled on, flushing. “I know the Order wants me to undertake another mission immediately, but Dustin hasn’t been able to see his mother for quite some time and I know he’s missing her. If we ride to Loch Nora, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to find a teacher who is more familiar with the wood elf dialect. Now that I’m grown, my parents usually try and claim they’re busy with official duties to avoid me, so you shouldn’t have to worry about interacting with them.”

He was met with total silence. The lack of any response from Eddie unnerved him.

“You. You would do that, for me?” The question slipped out so quietly Steve nearly missed it.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because, you’re going to be a baron one day, and the Order couldn’t stop raving about all the great deeds you’re destined to do in the future. And I’m…just a bard from nowhere. I’m supposed to sing about folks like you. Or abscond with my lover to live a simple life. Not be a noble’s, be your, your—“

Steve cupped Eddie’s face between his hands. “Don’t sell yourself so short. Do you know how many people in my life have been content being kept at arm’s length? They just wanted to be in the aura of the baron’s heir. And if that didn’t satisfy then, well. You saw what happened with Nanc—with Lady Wheeler.”

“That was not really all on you Steve, she never asked for you to open up.” Eddie said flatly.

“No, she didn’t. But you, you stubbornly shoved past all of my walls so easily. You found out about this,” he gestured to his face. “And stayed in spite of it. So no, you’re not a nobody, Edward the formerly Banished. Never a nobody, not to me. Please, come back with me.”

Eddie stared into his eyes for a few moments, searching for something. Finally, he broke to place a soft kiss on his forehead and bury his face into Steve’s neck. “Okay. When do we leave?”

Steve couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Well that depends on how early you’re able to get up. How does an hour before dawn sound?”

The inelegant squawk Eddie made in response was the most wonderful sound Steve had ever heard.

Author's Notes

Still not sure how I want Robin to fit into all of this, but gunslinger Lady Nancy Wheeler, badass, will now be coming along for the Final ShowdownTM when that piece of the story gets written!

I love that purring tieflings is a tag on Ao3, since I was debating whether to keep that aspect of Steve's biology in or not.

The spell Steve casts is Disguise Self. At least in 5th edition, tieflings with heritage from Glasya or Dispater can cast this once per long rest. For the sake of the story, I'm going to pretend he can cast this several times a day, and that it lasts longer than 1 hour at a time.

Didn't really find a good place to mention him without breaking the flow, but after his mother died and his father left, Eddie was in fact raised by his Uncle Wayne! Wayne works in the mine like most of the other villagers, but he always encouraged Eddie's musical and magical talents.

While cities in this world are melting pots for various cultures and species, the small mining village Eddie grew up in was almost entirely human and dwarven. After his birth father left, he didn't encounter another elf until he left to go travel as a young adult. Loch Nora has a bigger gnomish population, as it borders the Gnomish kingdom.

Tagging a few folks who have shown interest (but please let me know if you don't want the tag/want to be added)

@augustjustice @devondespresso @kaspurrcat

Thank you to @/steddiecameraroll for the divider!

[mikathemonster]

Hi! Could you please write a dialogue prompt 4 with Thranduil? Thanks!

“the interrogation”

author’s note: of course! this prompt seems very canon as something the elf king himself would say, so i’m excited to dive into this for you <3 I'm gonna stray a little further from my normal way of writing Y/N by making them a person who somehow woke up in their favorite book, “The Hobbit”!

Pairing: Thranduil / Gender-Neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 886

summary: after waking up in the world of your comfort book, you find yourself in the midst of a terrifying power: the Elvenking.

content warnings: I mixed the lore of the book and the movies together for this

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

Anxiety rushed through your body as your heart seemed to be leaping out of your chest with each beat. You were being led through the twists and turns of some sort of extravagant castle as two elven guards held you firmly by the arms. Where they were taking you, you weren’t sure. A tiny voice in the back off your head wondered if you were dreaming, but the pain from the guards’ grips was more than enough to reassure you that this was your new reality.

How you had come to find yourself in this new world was beyond the comprehension of your mind. The last thing you remembered was being curled up on your soft, worn-down couch while reading your favorite book, "The Hobbit". It was a tale you knew well, as you had read it countless times when in need of a pick-me-up. You hadn't seen all of the movies yet, as you usually fell asleep halfway through the second one, but the book was usually enough to satiate you. It had been another cozy night of reading when you had fallen asleep in the middle of the chapter "Flies and Spiders", and the next thing you knew, you had awoken in some sort of woodland realm!

Oh, how you desperately wished you could return to your cozy couch and your soft blankets, but it seemed those pleasantries were far away from you now, and incredibly out of reach. 

More twists and turns led you to a wide room, all entirely made of tree branches and wood. In the center lied a magnificent throne of ancient antlers, its steps leading down to the space you now occupied. A cold, regal voice cut through your thoughts, and suddenly your eyes shot up to look at the person before you.

"First you have me deal with lowly dwarves, and now there's another? Who are you?" He sat proudly on his throne, and you found yourself speechless at his beauty. His long hair draped over his shoulders delicately as you met his cold gaze. He was like a star, cold and distant and icy. You couldn't believe the sight before you. Slowly, things started connecting in your mind. Dwarves, elven guards, oh no.

This was Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood. And your very life had now been placed in his beautiful hands.

"We found this one an hour ago, reports say they simply appeared in a cloud of smoke before the gates," one of the guards said, and the king's brow tensed. He wasn't happy.

"Some dark magic, then?" He stood, slowly descending the stairs as he approached you. "And yet, you come without weapons or anything other than the clothes on your back. Tell me, who are you?"

"Y/N," you said, finally finding your words. "And you must be Thranduil, King of the elves.” You spoke carefully, treading lightly with your words.

“So you know who I am,” he said. “Good, then you must know of my intolerance for outsiders. Speak quickly of your intentions and perhaps I’ll do you the mercy of imprisoning you.”

“Prison?” You said, eyes wide. Oh no, you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life in the prisons of Mirkwood.

“I’d speak quickly if I were you,” he warned. “You’re losing my interest, and that is very dangerous.”

You searched your brain for the words to speak, now panicking. “I came here from another realm!” You said, trying to re-iterate your predicament in a fashion that suggested you were much more wise than you found yourself to be. After all, you knew this story like the back of your hand, and it was the only leverage you seemed to have right now. “Another realm filled with scrolls, and I am the reader of those scrolls.”

“What scrolls do you speak of?” He raised his brow, leaning closer.

“Scrolls of the histories of this land. I know the past, I’ve read the present, and I’ve seen the future!” You had no idea where you were going with this; at the very least, you were trying to save the skin on your back. And you were hoping to god that your favorite author’s tomes could help you.

“Such as? Prove to me you’re not some petty liar.”

“You’ve imprisoned Thorin Oakenshield and his company for his refusal to pay you back that which was rightfully yours!” Please believe me, you thought. “He aims to reclaim the Lonely Mountain and defeat the dragon that lies in its depths.”

“So you’re a liar and a spy. Guards, take them away.”

“No, please!” You cried out desperately. “The gems, they were for your wife! The White Gems of Lasgalen!”

The king froze in his place as he returned to his throne. Finally, you thought. Surely you had him now! He raised a pale hand that was decorated with rings, his voice cutting through you as he issued out another order.

“Guards, unhand them.” He said, turning around to face you as he approached. You swallowed hard, your heart thrumming in your chest as everything seemed so unknown right now. Time seemed to freeze as you fell to your knees, your limbs now free.

“It seems that you would know more than I would like,” he chirped. “So enlighten me, Y/N. What else do you know?”

[the-stereo-demoness]

CHAPTER 4

TW: None?

I woke up, it was 5.30 in the morning, since I couldn't go back to sleep I decided to go and get ready for the day. After having washed, put on makeup, perfumed and dressed I went down to the hotel lobby, and to my amazement I found Alastor there, reading a book.

«You're already awake so early, my dear?» he asked me rhetorically as he put the book away.

I sit on the couch next to him, trying not to be too close or too far away.

«Excuse the question my dear, you are a wolf demoness, why do you have deer antlers?»

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should tell him or not, but he was the Radio Demon, he would find out sooner or later, right?

«These deer antlers are actually not part of my demon form....» I began, despite his smile I could see the confusion reflected in his eyes.

«I have a brother, he is a deer demon and his name is Axel, I have his antlers as punishment for an argument that still persists, I don't know how and I don't know why but until we forgive each other he won't get his antlers back and I'm forced to keep them...» I looked at him, his eyebrows were raised and his expression amazed despite his ever-present smile.

«Well, I would never have imagined it, Alaska, it's not something that happens every day...» He got up from the couch and went towards the kitchen.

«Would you like some coffee, dearest?» He looked at me, turning his neck in a superhuman way while preparing the ground coffee.

«Emh, yes please...» I said as I glanced at the book he was reading, I had never heard of a book with that title, but it looked very old. While I was trying to understand why Alastor had such a book he called me telling me that the coffee was ready.

I got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen, where Alastor was already sipping his coffee.

«So, you and Vox are enemies from what I see...» I told him as I sat down in front of him.

«Well yes my dear, I heard that you don't get along very well with him either, yet despite everything you seem to have many things in common...» Alastor says in a slightly dismissive tone, I could tell he didn't like talking about him...

It went on like this until everyone woke up, Alastor and I talked about this and that, and I must say that I was starting to take a liking to him....

• <3 •

It was now 8.00 in the morning and everyone had woken up, this morning the princess had a new trust exercise in mind.

She had arranged us in pairs, we had to let ourselves fall backwards and trust that the other would catch us before we fell. Angel was paired with Husk and I was paired with Alastor, in the meantime Niffty was trying to kill some bugs.

Angel and Husk went first, Angel dropped back and Husker caught him, struggling a bit.

«Damn, you're- heavy-» Husker complained as he helped Angel to his feet.

«It's my beauty that weighs, darling~» Angel replied flirtatiously as they moved to make room for us.

I looked at Charlie, a little unsure, but she smiled at me and told me everything would be okay...

I was the one who was supposed to let myself fall, and Alastor was supposed to catch me.

I stood in front of Alastor and closed my eyes, I let myself fall backwards, fearing he wouldn't catch me. Alastor had caught me before I could fall, so I decided to open my eyes, but it was a big mistake, his face was a few centimeters from mine, his smile was much bigger than usual.

«Is everything okay my dear?» he asked, already knowing the answer judging by my flushed cheeks.

«Yes, I'm fine...thanks for not making me fall...» I said walking away from him.

«Oh my dear, how could I ever let a beauty like you fall?» He asked getting a little too close, luckily Charlie spoke distracting him.

«Hurray! This trust exercise went great! Even Alastor and Alaska participated!!» she said happily.

Strange that that sadist didn't make me fall, maybe he doesn't hate me, I thought....

Later that day, while I was reading a book someone knocked on my door, who could it have been at this time?

Taglist:

@cumulisky @leafith @b-buzz @mydearmyshkas @leedollop @echobeezez @autisticalastortor @michaelasworlds-blog

[joannes-journal]

Smoking Gun - Entry #3

CW: Violence, Injury, Sleep Deprived MOD w/ Grammarly as Beta Reader

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I shot a kid.

No, not a kid. She's half my age, and I feel horrible. It looked eerily similar to the stranger in the park the other day. Anyway, after I knocked on the door, I heard shouting. On instinct, I seized my shotgun out of my holster and blasted the lock off the door. That was where I went wrong.

On the other side of the door was someone I would soon learn to be called Frost. She sat on the ground, and my slug hit it in the back. I didn't realize I had shot someone until a bit later.

I've been up against many monsters, from hellhounds to those cannibalistic deer-headed monsters. But I was at a loss for words.

8-foot-2 and covered in pitch-black fur, a terror stood in the living room. "GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE I BLAST YOUR ASS TO KINGDOM COME!" It didn't budge, even when I shot it. It seemed like hours; we stood there, lobbing insults at this thing. At one point, I pitched an open container of salt at it, which did nothing. I even tried jumping on it and stabbing it.

The creature threw me off, and I landed on my arm, hearing a loud pop. DAMMIT! Not again!

It was after a young girl in the group. I watched as she floated in a magical bubble and a state of near death. She almost looked peaceful, like she froze in time. They needed her to wake up. I skimmed around, looking for something that would help us. My eyes had landed on a monumental figure shrouded in white fur. Oh, my Gods. Could it be? I recognized my old friend. I knew it was them. I didn't need to think twice.

DISC0RD had been lying unconscious on the ground, missing both antlers (I later found out Frost had gotten violent and ripped one of them off). Grabbing a flashlight, I tried to wake them up. As the light flickered in its eyes, they groggily turned to me, not recognizing me. "GET IN HER HEAD. WAKE HER UP!" It passed back out, and the room turned hazy. They had projected themself out of their body and onto the plane of dreams, trying to wake the girl up. She still wouldn't budge. DISC0RD jumped back into their body, finally waking up from their unconscious state.

It saw me and knocked me over in an embrace, tight enough to almost crack a few ribs. They sobbed into my shirt, mumbling about something. After a while, it stopped. I can't recall what the smokey monster said, but DISC0RD looked at me, implying they had an idea without saying it. I watched the rabbit-like entity bounce out the front door and make a beeline to Hollow Grove. The next thing I knew, the smoke monster left.

Everything had been fine for a couple of days. DISC0RD came back, beaten and bloodied, allegedly ambushed on the way back by the same spindly fuck that separated us. It came back with new information. Information that caused the girl (who I learned to be called Xia) to become defensive. As if I didn't know enough gods already-

"XIA'S A G0D WH0 C0ULD D3L3T3 TH3 W0RLD AT ANY GIV3N M0M3NT. H3R AND RAV3N AR3 LINK3D THR0GH SM0K3." DISC0RD sat down, holding a spot on its face where blood seeped into its fur. "IT SH0ULDN'T CHANG3 H0W W3 S33 H3R."

I had gone back to Hollow Grove; my boss had called me wanting to meet me in the graveyard tomorrow. My arm was throbbing despite the painkillers…did I thank Frost for popping it back in place?

As the door opened, the smell of lasagna hit me, filling me with nostalgia. Raven apologized for the mess in the tower, but I didn't care. I explained how I needed to be walked to the graveyard in the morning to meet my boss, Bifrons.

"Oh…is he nice?"

"Well…" He did help me hide my kids from a creature almost as bad as Smoke. Which was what I told them. They seemed confused, so I explained what I could.

He shifted, "Oh, yeah, I know about it. Smoke mentioned him."

WHAT?! He explained how, the other night after DISC0RD left, Smoke said something about "something else getting DISC0RD". So, Smoke's working with that spindly fuck?

The next day, he walked me into the forest, and I met with Bifrons. He appeared as he usually did: through a mysterious door. Despite being one of the 72 demons mentioned in the Lesser Key of Solomon, Raven didn't seem startled, especially when he gave Raven a rock (classic Bifrons).

I wasn't prepared for what Bifrons told me. The faceless-fuck found my kids. I don't know how. Bifrons had been hiding them. Jackie had utilized the "Hidden Door" part of the contract with Bifrons, meaning they're hiding in a pocket dimension instead of just hiding in plain sight. So, they're safe, at least.

I had returned to Evan's place. It wasn't until Smoke came back while Xia and HABIT were out, once again demanding the kid. Jester, another who looked familiar, tried to say they were somewhere else. But Observer (Thousand-Eyes, as I've called him) and those fucking eyes gave it away.

As Smoke left the building, we chased him down, with me riding on DISC0RD's back. At the time, it was horrifying, but looking back on it, I can only imagine what it looked like to an outsider. A smokey-deer-looking monster getting chased by a woman riding a bigass rabbit, a guy with hundreds of eyes, a magical puppet guy, and someone with a camera (who I still can't believe I shot-)? I won't lie; I chuckle whenever I think about it.

I grabbed my grimoire and flipped to Bifrons' summoning page, spilling my blood on the ground. Slamming doors echoed through the trees as the sky turned the color of tar as we entered a clearing where HABIT and Xia stood.

A wooden door appeared, flying open. Bifrons stepped out, looking high and mighty, calling Smoke an...old friend? Oh no, please don't tell me-

As the beast turned to smoke and tried to leave, Bifrons lifted his hands, making a swift motion. Water evaporated from the ground and plants around us, forming a dome of holy water over everyone, including Smoke. A few months back, Bifrons mentioned this being the only way he could mess with holy water, even if his hands were stinging, like a severe sunburn. Still, it didn't deter him from his goal.

Smoke became angry, and I felt the air shift.

It contorted, shifting into its physical form and falling to the ground.

"WHATEVER YOU HAVE PLANNED, YOU BETTER HURRY. I CAN'T HOLD THE WATER TOO MUCH LONGER." Bifrons called out.

Observer tackled him, carving something into his body with a knife. Then, Xia went down, calling out in distress. What the hell? Evan broke through HABIT, hovering over Xia. Once the hundred-eyed entity backed off, I grabbed the Hellblade I had been working on. Damn, Hellhounds broke the last one I had. Luckily, Frost gave me the one she broke off of DISC0RD. With the antler weapon in my hand, I charged at Smoke, stabbing it in the torso a few times before falling off the beast and retreating.

"I CAN'T HOLD THE DOME ANY LONGER-" The water started to sprinkle down like rain. Bifrons ran towards Evan and Xia, grabbing them and teleporting away. Bifrons later told me he had gone to heal Xia, but Evan seemed terrified. DISC0RD ran after them, shifting into their goo-pile form and making a protective barrier around the trio, trying to comfort Evan.

But DISC0RD stopped. Frost and Jester had left to go after Raven, meaning if they went after Raven…and Raven and Xia are linked-

Everyone had settled back in the house; Bifrons had left for one reason or another and Observer had pushed himself pretty far. But Jester was acting strange. DISC0RD noticed and began growling. Oh fuck, did Smoke follow us? I stood between Jester and Xia, shielding the girl from him. The hellblade was sitting on the table, with Xia being closest to it.

I wouldn't be able to reach and push anyone away at the same time, "Xia, hand me the blade, you're closest to it." She was too busy talking to Evan, dammit!... Wait-...oh, right. IDOL, Jester's puppeteer, had taken over for a while. Smoke wasn't in Jester. Good...too much was going on, I couldn't think.

The smell of smoke was still strong, I suppose Smoke didn't leave us. Xia had grabbed the blade, keeping it on her for a bit before handing it back to me, not trusting herself with it. DISC0RD had left not too long after to patrol the neighborhood and look after the kids in the area.

The next day...Smoke reappeared.

I tried using Loki or Hermes' phone number to bribe him. Why mess with Xia when he could mess with Loki? Or Hermes? Evan seemed surprised. I was about to explain how I knew their numbers because of my first husband, the twins' dad, but I paused.

They shouldn't know about Abaddon. Not yet, anyway. And if Smoke knew...what if he tried to use it against me?

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[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Greensleeves Chapter Twelve: First Light

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Wordcount: 5.1k Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy Racism

The druid Halsin is rescued. Xaph sets out on a solo mission to kill one of the goblin leaders - Priestess Gut. She runs into complications that force her to share her secret with her companions. Xaph and Gale share a moment of magic

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Xaph walks alone through the goblin camp. With hope, the rest of her party have found each other and found a bolt-hole. With hope, they’ll stay put and not start a fight they can’t win. She does not doubt that if she takes too long a scout will be sent out for her. Shadowheart, probably, dauntless as she is. Or Astarion, stealth itself. Besides, without the druid looming over Xaph’s shoulder she can ask the priestess whatever she likes. Goblins direct her to their priestess’ chambers, though she refuses all offers of personal escort. There’s a halfling outside Gut’s door, trading. She bears the signature pin of the Zhentarim. Best to keep her distance. Xaph is permitted entry by the sentries that guard Gut’s door.

“About time!” the priestess crows, impatient, “You came alone. Smart. No need to share our power with those who don’t deserve it, eh?” The room is hurriedly and shoddily put together. A table, a cooking pot, a roaring fire. A rotting bookshelf next to another door. There are more bones, more antlers. More death. Gut gestures Xaph towards a chair, one of its legs bound in rope, and she obeys. This is not a safe place, but Xaph doesn’t yet feel like prey. She still feels like the hunter in this situation, luring the goblin into a trap. A trap that she must lay in her mind.

“I’m ready.” Xaph tells her, and when Priestess Gut starts to probe her thoughts again she lets her. They share vision as Gut sorts through memories for the origin of the tadpole. She sees the mindflayer holding the squirming worm up to Xaph’s eye, shares the sensation of the thing burying itself into her skull. The vision flips without warning. Gut kneels as the Chosen pushes a worm into her eye socket too. She cries the name of the Absolute. When she realises Xaph has infiltrated her thoughts, she reels back.

“Hells. We need to fish that thing out before it gets to the important parts of your brain.”

“Then get it out of me.” Xaph tells her. Does she not know she has her own tadpole? Has it taken that memory from her already, or is she in denial? What exactly is her plan?

“Don’t you worry. I’ve got everything I need to fix you,” Priestess Gut moves towards the fire she likes fire and sorts through belongings piled on the floor until she finds a tall blue bottle, “Might get a bit messy though.”

“As I told you,” Xaph says, not allowing her voice to shake, “I’m ready. What does your plan involve?”

“It involves you putting your trust in the Absolute. Simple,” she returns to the tiefling and offers her the bottle, “Being a True Soul, you know the Absolute doesn’t like to touch nothin’ unclean. So drink this. It’ll purify you.”

This is a bad idea. A bad idea. Never drink unlabelled potions. This one holds no smell, and that’s worse. Poison? She might be able to withstand poison, if it’s weak enough. She takes the bottle. Her tail lifts behind her, searching for the handle of her handaxe. She drinks the potion.

She shouldn’t have. Oh, she really shouldn’t have. Her tail flails, writhing out of her control and dropping her axe. It’s not poison, no. A sleep potion. She can feel it in her limbs, numbness overtaking them. Her legs fail and she tips backwards, her head cracking on the stone floor she hits. Before her eyes fall closed she sees the goblin priestess, a smile showing all her rotting teeth.

“Sweet dreams, ugly.”

***

Xaph is woken by a firm hand yanking at her horn. She hisses the moment her eyes open, baring her teeth and shaking he head to try and hit whoever had grabbed her. Priestess Gut stands in front of her. Level. Xaph’s on her knees and she can’t move her legs. Her ankles have been bound and her wrists have been cuffed behind her back and a chain connects the two. The priestess lunges forward and grabs a horn again and Xaph growls at her but she can hardly move. Her head is still swimming, aching, and fresh pain blooms from the horn that’s being pulled. Something has dried on the back of her neck, sticking her hair to her nape. Blood. From when she’d hit the floor. Xaph wriggles. The cuffs are too tight and they bite into her wrists.

“Don’t bother struggling. You ain’t goin’ nowhere. The Absolute wants to know all about that critter in your head, so start talking.” Gut demands. Past the cell door, Xaph can see an ogre with what looks like half a tree in her hands. Where are the others? Have they been caught? How long was Xaph out? There’s no way to tell, stuck in stone, not a single crack in the walls. Gut slams a fist down between Xaph’s horns. “Talk.”

“You’re out of luck, Gut,” Xaph manages, just, to raise her chin to make eye contact with the goblin, though her neck screams at the movement. At least there isn’t a collar tight about her throat. Xaph smiles, and her lips crack and split, too dry for the teeth-baring grin, “I don’t know any more than you do.”

“Liar!” Xaph’s punished for her smiles with a sharp slap that she refuses to react to, “We’ve both seen the monster that put it there. And I know what happens next.”

“You’re infected. It’s going to happen to you too.” Xaph tries to conjure the image the priestess had unwittingly shown her.

“Stop trying to confuse me! You’re a liar. Everything’s been clear to me since the Absolute chose me. You’re the one that’s broken,” the goblin leans in close, holding Xaph’s head still by the horns, “Do you even know who you are anymore?”

“I am Xaphania Amystacis, the Sunset Ranger. And I am in control.”

“Maybe that’s what the creature wants you think. It’s gonna eat your flesh. Changing you. An’ eventually your skull will split and you’ll cough up a mass of tentacles.” In the corner of Xaph’s eye, red sparks fly from an innocuous stone.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Xaph tells her.

“You think you’re special, do you? You’re not. I’m gonna keep you here so I can see every gory detail, and hear every whimper and scream. Wonder if you’ll keep these handles of yours. Easier to keep you in line with these.” She knocks at the horns again before she leaves. The door locks. Thick iron bars, just the same as Halsin had been kept behind. Xaph doesn’t have the strength of a bear. She strains against the chains, but they’re well-forged and strong. Her ankles and wrists are connected to each other, but more chains snake from her ankles to the walls on either side of her, from her wrists to the ceiling. They’re designed to hold a mind flayer. Xaph has no chance. She tries anyway, roaring her disgust at the grimy feeling of someone’s hands on her horns. Her tail is still asleep, and even as she struggles the potion starts to bring her down again.

She’s hit once, twice, to wake her up again, the second hit sending her reeling to the side before the chains catch her and she struggles back to an upright position. 

“Open your peepers, freak. It’s past time.” She’d fallen unconscious again. How long has she been gone? “You should be sprouting tentacles by now, but you the same kind of hells-born ugly you always were,” the slur glances off Xaph’s cheek, nothing to the ache in her jaw from the previous blows, “Disappointing not to have my own squiddie,” there they are again, those red sparks swirling into a circle. The smell of cherries punches through the stink of urine as a dwarf steps through the portal. She wears deep red robes, trimmed in gold, and holds a wicked dagger. Before Priestess Gut can finish her proposition of eating Xaph’s organs, the dagger slides cleanly across her throat. A guttural roar from behind the goblin signals the death of the ogre. Gut crumples at the hands of the dwarf, choking on air and blood. 

“Korilla. Long time no see.” Xaph tries to pull on that smile again, but she struggles.

“I wish it had been longer.”

“Me too,” Xaph shakes her limbs to bring feeling back into them, “Get me out of here?”

“The master insists.” Korilla sighs. She’d be content to leave Xaph here to rot and the tiefling knows that, but she works for Raphael and her appearance here proves that Xaph is still a valuable investment. With a twist of her fingers, the cuffs around her ankles and wrists fall loose. Xaph brings her arms back to her front and finds her wrists bleeding. She holds them out to Korilla and rather likes the disgusted look she gets in return, “I save your life, I don’t make it better.” She leaves Xaph to struggle back to her feet by herself.

“What are your orders?” Xaph asks her, wobbling on still-numb legs and struggling to balance herself out with her tail.

“To take you back to your friends. I don’t have a job for you, not yet,” Korilla tells her. With reluctance, she holds out her arm for Xaph to take. Red-and-gold sparks swirl around the two of them, transporting them. When they land, Korilla releases Xaph and lets her fall to the ground. Several voices shout and she can hear weapons being drawn. A dog barks. She knows these voices. “You’re still on a leash, Xaphania. It can always be tightened.” Korilla reminds her. She dissolves back into nothingness before Astarion can hit her, launching himself from the shadows. He lands hard on the floor next to Xaph, jarring his wrist and swearing. Sulphur and cyanide hang heavy in the air as multiple people race towards Xaph.

“Oh you are bleeding.” Astarion informs her, using her as leverage to get himself up. Did he just lick his hand?

“I’m aware.” Xaph grumbles. He doesn’t offer to help her up, leaving that to the others who have rushed to her defence. Lae’zel is still holding her sword, Shadowheart a shining flail that wobbles in time with her plait. Xaph is fixated on the movement until hands touch her. They burn holes into her skin and crawl inside her body and-

Raphael has gifted her an illusion. A hex, a curse. A punishment, no doubt conveyed through Korilla’s touch. Fucking cambion. Her companions are good-hearted enough that when a shriek splits her lips and she tries to scramble backwards with unresponsive limbs they retreat but the sensation of their hands stays, like bugs creeping over and under her skin. Wyll darts away, looking for something, but Gale stays. He’s saying her name until she looks at him, until she finds his eyes. Not honeypots, it’s too dark in here. There’s no sun. There’s no light there’s no- Xaph. Forgive me. A hand presses itself to her stomach. A brand burning into her skin. Words are said and she doesn’t know if they are blessing or curse until soft light glows before her. Icy blue, emanating from Gale’s fingers. Her skin stops boiling, sews back together. The bugs, the hands, the brand, they’re gone.

“A curse. The priestess holds more power than I thought.” Not Gale’s voice. The druid. Halsin. He’s there too. Unharmed. Scars track lines down one side of his face and swirls of red pattern the other half. Paint or tattoos?

“Not the priestess,” at least her voice is cooperating, “She’s dead.” These words ripple out amongst her companions. Shadowheart and Lae’zel lower their weapons. Halsin, the druid, the druid, they found the druid they saved him, turns to Gale for a brief moment and thanks him before looking at Xaph again. He lifts his hands and magic flows around them, light green and fresh-smelling.

“May I?” He asks. He asks. Xaph may well cry, but she doesn’t. She nods and gives herself over to the druid, then the cleric once Shadowheart’s satisfied they’re not going to be ambushed. Bits of Xaph’s body glow alternately chartreuse and turquoise as the healers mumble quiet words, Shadowheart’s brow furrowed in concentration while Halsin’s voice rumbles through Xaph’s battered ribs.

“Who was that?” Wyll asks. She has to tell them. The truth. To do otherwise would put them in danger, she sees that now. Her eyes find Gale’s and he nods. Encouraging. He knows she has to tell them.

“Korilla Hearthflame. Raphael’s favourite warlock,” Xaph lets Halsin guide her head down so he can get to the wound that is sticking her hair to her neck, “Remember when I told you I didn’t have a deal with him?”

She tells them. She tells them everything. That she’s indebted to Raphael for twenty years of work, just under ten of which are still ahead of her. How he hasn’t cashed in this year’s job and that should scare them. When she mentions Raphael interrogating her and Lae’zel asks what she means Xaph admits that she’d been kept in the House of Hope for almost two years before she managed to squeeze a deal from the cambion. Before he got bored and killed her. Wyll looks at her with ten tonnes of pity and when he takes her hand and links their fingers he might as well be holding her heart. You did what you had to do. Astarion tries to get annoyed about her discouraging them from a deal with the devil when she already had one but Wyll’s glare quiets him soon enough. When her story is done, little is said. One by one they leave her with the healers to pitch their tents and Xaph can finally look at their surroundings. An empty room, air stale, with all doors and windows but the one Shadowheart had broken through boarded up. Selune stands in stone at the centre, and their tents are being arranged in a circle around her. Wyll finds Xaph’s and makes it up for her. Scratch the dog plods over, sets his head on Xaph’s knee, and sleeps.

***

It’s decided that they should rest. Xaph has Shadowheart catch her up on what had happened over the day-and-a-half she’d been missing. None of the goblins have realised Priestess Gut is dead, believing her to be in seclusion to communicate with the Absolute. While Xaph had been gone, the party had left Halsin in the camp with the dog both to protect him and in case she should come back. Astarion had been set to sneaking around the camp to try and find her while the others had taken care of Dror Ragzlin, the hobgoblin. They’d found him trying to raise a dead mind flayer to question and sustained their own share of injuries battling his goblin-and-drow bodyguard.

Xaph casts her eyes about the chamber. It’s too quiet in here. There’s the syncopated drip of a leak, the rustling of her companions and the dog’s pattering paws, but she can’t hear the trees or the birds or see the sky. She stands and starts to walk to reassure herself that her legs are useable. Gale is realms away, standing outside his tent. She can tell that as soon as she sets eyes on him. His spatial awareness still isn’t the greatest, ridiculously easy to surprise. His back is to the rest of the camp, and Xaph is trying not to think about why her eyes pull to him instead of anyone else until she sees what’s hovering over his palm. Lilac light, sculpted into a bust. A woman’s head. Her hair flows past his fingers, and a diadem rests above her eyebrows. The face is unmarked, her nose and cheekbones and jaw perfectly rounded to give the illusion of softness. Mystra. 

“Pretty.” The word falls out unbidden, and the light winks out as Gale loses concentration. Gooseflesh pimples Xaph’s arms, a rare sensation. The scent of rosewater wafts over her, and it feels as though her lungs are clogged, bruised ribs contracting. Mystra is watching her former favoured, and she doesn’t appreciate Xaph’s interruption.

“You startled me. I…I was miles away.” Gale asks. Xaph smiles, small and friendly and safe, even as her throat dries.

“I could tell. Are you alright?”

“You’re asking me?” There it is, that exhale of a laugh, “I wasn’t drugged and imprisoned by goblins.”

“Tieflings are made of strong stuff.” Xaph tells him. The corner of his mouth twitches downwards, and those puppy-dog eyes of his fix themselves on a specific part of Xaph’s face. Gale lifts a hand and ghosts it over his jaw,

“You can’t see the bruises.” Hells, the man is made of compassion and concern and he redirects it away from himself at any given opportunity.

“I’ll be fine,” Xaph assures him, “Let me check in with you.”

“Doing the rounds, eh? I’m fine, I assure you,” he’s parroting her words back to her, “Unharmed, not locked in a dungeon-”

“I know what Mystra looks like, Gale,” Xaph interrupts. Why did she decide to speak to him when she saw the vision of his goddess floating above his hand? Why does she want to push this so much, he knows her views on the gods, “I’m sorry if I interrupted a prayer. I’ll leave you be-”

“No. No, you’re alright. Not a prayer, just an incantation. Stay.” Stay. She shouldn’t. She wants to. The bones in her abdomen ache, the after-effects of the sleep potions working itself out. Her wrists are still rubbed raw to bleeding point under her sleeves from too-tight restrains. Halsin had smoothed a healing ward around her wrists that makes them smell of pine, but every time Xaph moves her hands she feels the tight pull of upset skin. Gale has a stool, just outside his tent. She submits to pain. Her tail wraps around one of the legs so she doesn’t have to walk to it, and she drags the stool until it’s close enough to sit on. She settles, looking up at her companion with clearer thoughts, 

“Talk to me.” She wants to hear him talk. Gale has a way of explaining things that she could listen to all day, always with immense respect and feeling. She wants to hear his voice.

“What about?”

“Anything,” the sigh this word comes out on is ragged. Exhausted, “It’s too quiet.”

So he talks. Magic is a favourite subject and animates him even more than usual. Xaph’s eyes are fixed on his fingers as they move through the air, his hand working through the somatic components of several spells. Some of the movements she recognises. One is a somewhat clumsy attempt at the lasso imitation needed to conjure a thorn whip, a spell Xaph herself has been studying after seeing it used in the grove. Gale speaks of magic the same way bards speak of music, and between practice-casting his hands move as though conducting a band. From what he says, magic inspires similar feelings for him as music does for bards. Xaph makes a conscious decision not to comment on Mystra, letting him talk for as long as he needs to. Her shoulders sink slowly, the pain in her wrists fading. The very end of her tail slides back and forth across the ground while Gale talks.

“You put it beautifully.” She tells him when he pauses. And he does, her dislike for gods and Mystra aside. He could convince almost anyone to abandon their god for the Weave.

“Would you like to experience this?” Something has ignited in his eyes, bright enough to rival any flame. Xaph’s lips part in confusion, and her tongue traces her top teeth,

“Experience…magic?” Sure, she’s no sorcerer, but she’s thrown her fair share of fiery bolts, entrapped more than her fair share of adversaries in conjured vines.

“The Weave.” His teeth catch on his bottom lip. That spark in his eyes reaches the smile he gives her.

“Show me what you mean.”

“Follow my lead.”

Xaph accepts the hand Gale offers her, and she admittedly puts a little more weight on him than she normally would. He’s gentler than usual this time, which is saying something. Like she’s a lady he’s leading into a dance. Avoiding her wrist. He doesn’t take her far, just out of sight of the rest of the camp. Separate. Half-hidden by his tent. She lets him guide her, careful hands on her shoulders to put her in place. He stands in front of her for a brief moment and meets her eyes. Xaph isn’t sure if he’s assessing her placement, though that shouldn’t be important, or if some new idea has occurred to him. It’s similar to the look he gets when he has a new idea. Gale makes a point of holding her gaze as he moves to stand just behind her and Xaph twists to maintain contact. She’s not one to back down from a challenge, and she’s still trying to define exactly what his expression means. His eyes are so deep and dark they could hold anything. He stands behind her, but only just, needing only to tip his weight forward to touch his shoulder with hers. He watches her for a moment longer than necessary. She doesn’t mind. She hides in the shadows, in the leaves, in the earth. To be seen, to be watched is out of the norm. Warmth runs down her arms and collects in her fingers. It can be nice to be seen, when she wants to be.

Gale looks away, but only to watch his hands. Xaph returns to her own previous study. Gale’s hands meet, then part, and meet again, fostering a fluctuating sphere of lilac energy between his palms. It looks as though it comes as easily to him as breathing. Where Xaph must focus her magic into a sharp arrow-point and risk missing her mark, where Astarion fuels acidic attacks with anger and loses some of his grace for it, where even Shadowheart leaves herself open to attacks to try to protect a friend, Gale just seems to be. His words ring true. Magic is his life, however hindered it might be by the toxic combination of illithid tadpole and his strange magical sickness. The sphere of energy pushes forward when Gale pulls his hands apart again. It expands, growing thin and transparent and sparkling like a soap bubble before dissolving into an imitation of a nebula. This evolution happens within the span of a few seconds, but each stage is distinct. 

“Now you.” Xaph looks at her companion again. She can’t do that, and she’s about to tell him, but she’s distracted. The thin black lines that crawl up from Gale’s chest to his eye have a purple sheen to them. She’s seen this happen once or twice before, but she hasn’t learned what causes it. The sheen turns to light, and as it does she feels comfortable warmth settle on her shoulders where Gale’s hands had been. She can do it, he’s made himself a conduit, strengthening what hold she has over the Weave. Her tail lifts from the ground as she turns her attention to imitating Gale’s gestures. The same process occurs, with the bubble of energy, though the phases of its evolution are much faster, “Excellent,” it feels good, the same thrill she gets when she hits her mark with an arrow extended and calmed, “Now, repeat after me.” The words are unfamiliar, but the power of them is immense. They almost echo as they fall, effortlessly, out of Gale’s mouth, reverberating off the nearby rocks. Xaph pays close attention to how his lips move, just to get it right, of course, and does her best with the unfamiliar incantation. Mystra’s name. Ao’s. Gale is invoking ancient powers. There’s another flash of purple light, though brief, and the feeling of a rose petal stuck to Xaph’s tongue. Rosewater, more rosewater, like Mystra’s trying to drown them in it. Xaph’s nose is sensitive enough that it is not all she smells. She focuses on the smell of old books, of weavemoss. The same feeling of comfort is still sitting on her shoulders, a welcome weight. Their eyes meet again. Gale’s smile is small, but it’s warm as sunlight. Proud?

“Very good,” Xaph smiles back, enough to feel her eye teeth pushing against her lips. His words hum around her ribs, making her forget the ache. She’s never felt magic like this, as close as her clothing. He could convince almost anyone to abandon their god. “Now, I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can.” 

Xaph breathes in deeply through her nose, filling her lungs. She catches the scent of thyme. She had found some growing wild by the copse of trees they’d left behind. Gale had used it to enhance a vegetable stew according to a recipe Wyll could remember from a visit to Neverwinter. She breathes out through her mouth, closing her eyes. Her nose twitches with the return of her smile. The mountains. Everything comes back to the mountains. Sitting in the grass, watching it undulate in inscrutable patterns that every blade seemed to know and follow. Flat rocks are at her side, offering a better seat, but she preferred the soil. Tiny star-shaped pinky-purple flowers poked out between the cracks of the rocks. Thyme. Its scent carried on the breeze when Xaph rolled it between her fingers. Following the patterns of the grass. That was harmony to her. The balance of nature. The unknowable music it follows. In another life she would have been a very annoying druid.

An unidentifiable sound startles her out of her vision. A rush of wind, a tiny roll of thunder, but not quite natural enough for either of those. Xaph steps back, tail swishing apprehensively, and knocks into Gale. He doesn’t say anything, but a warm hand presses into the small of her back to steady her, retreating when his pinkie finger brushes the base of her tail and it twitches. A circle of the same purple energy they had cradled in their hands has formed around them, and though the circle’s about six feet wide it feels as though the ribbons of magic are tied around their waists. Warmth radiates from Gale, as it always does, but not the way it crackles off Xaph. No devilry in his blood. It blooms wherever contact is made, as though he’s crumbling fire amber over her skin. She can identify the pride in his laugh this time, in yet another smile that splits his face in two. He smiles so easily, so generously. Xaph’s teeth scare people.

“You did it,” he doesn’t even sound surprised, and something in Xaph’s chest swells, “You’re channelling the Weave,” he’d moved a few steps away to inspect the glowing circle around them, pulling at the invisible ribbon, but he comes back to Xaph and faces her, “How does it feel?” 

How does it feel? Gale’s voice has dropped, soft as feather-down, and it plucks at strings in that puffed-up and proud part of her chest. Her mouth is dry. She swallows while she scrambles for any coherent answer. Her tongue passes between her lips to relieve the dryness. Gale’s eyes track the movement. How does it feel? Effortless, in a way. Like she’s being held. By him, not by Mystra. Enveloped in a book. Fresh mountain air. Anticipatory. 

“You’re good at this,” for all her efforts, the words are scarcely more than a whisper. Not her practised hushed tones for hunting. Whispers, as if in a library, or contained within a crystal ball, “Teaching,”

“Oh, I know.” He tells her. Xaph laughs, a small sound in the back of her throat that leaks into her words,

“And a very humble teacher, too.”

“The paragon of modesty.” Gale plays along, and the strings in Xaph’s chest ping again, lyre-like. They’ve pulled together again, like magnets. Magic isn’t doing that, though it thrums under Xaph’s skin. They’re breathing the same air. Rosewater is a distant memory in the face of thyme, ink, lavender. Her tails curls upwards. Anticipatory. His hair is falling across his temples. She wants to smooth it back. Those lines from the orb, not always noticeable on his face, are still glowing faintly. She wants to trace the lines up his neck, over his jaw, to his cheekbone. She wants to hold his hand again, to find the pulse in his wrist. Make it jump. She lays the image of the mountains over what she’s seeing, making grass push through the cracks in the stone slabs of the floor. He fits well there, in her space. They would stand at the top of the mountain and she would hold his hands as though the wind could whisk him away, the wizard as light as his laugh. She wants to know what the Sunset Mountains would do to his eyes. Gods, she wants. Anticipatory.

“I…I didn’t think,” The mountaintop disappears. Gale’s face has fallen. The warmth is gone from Xaph’s shoulders. He’s gone. He was in her head. Between the Weave and the tadpole, they’d almost become of one mind. He’d seen her wants. She can still feel him, his emotions. Embarrassment. Well, that she understands, even as his face colours she feels heat rise in her own cheeks. Shame, for just a moment, hells. Elation. Elation. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting-”

“-I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Didn’t what? Didn’t mean it? Didn’t know he’d see it?

“-But it is a pleasant image, to be sure-”

“-it’s just-”

“-Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome.” Gale has the last word. The barest hint of a smile thinks about forming, or maybe that’s wishful thinking. His face is still flushed, and Xaph knows that her eyes are wide. Most welcome? What does that even mean? Something brushes against her hand. A single finger, hooking one of hers. A pinky-promise.

The purple band of Weave around them evaporates and cold air rushes between them. The dog barks, the yelps translating into words for Xaph and she takes the opportunity of an exit, coward,  “Astarion, if you bite the dog I will ram a tree branch so far up your arse-” She darts away to save Scratch. She can’t even look at the wizard because she doesn’t know what she’s going to say if she does but her chest is deflating and something aches when he calls good night. She doesn’t even hear the next part, too busy insulting Astarion to cover her blundering. I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you.

[twisted-tales-told]

🗝️🕯️🌻

xx

I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON U TO CARE ABT THIS ASK GAME

This ask game

3.(🗝) - what's your clothing style and what aesthetic does your room/home have?

Oh boy oh boy well I wear a lot of harem pants because they are still the only sensory friendly pants style I’ve found. Because of that I style my whole wardrobe around them. Lots of crop tops & t shirts & sometimes something a little fancier if it matches the eclectic patters harem pants tend to have.

Some perceive me as that 1 Pinterest style like “hippie” But really I’m just autistic and trying to survive.

My place is a bit of a mess right now because I live in a post-mold-removal world, but I have a lot of books & a really cozy couch area that I really wish I could have more gatherings in.

4.(🕯) - is there an entity you would like to work with someday? Who and why?

I would LOVE to work with Loki one day. I feel like it would throw my life into some fun chaos that I’m not quite ready for yet, but one day hopefully!!

11. (🌻) - post a photo of your altar or describe it if you're comfortable.

I’m not comfy sharing my deity alters and if you’re more interested in that I would LOVE to dive into my relationship with deity worship!

BUT I will show my death alter!

So this is where I keep all the antlers and bones that I work with routinely as well as the black candle that I will be lighting (she’s a replacement for my last one) every new moon as well as around the winter solstice. I love working with spirits and honouring death/the dead. I feel like a lot of the spiritual community still sees death as taboo and that makes me so sad. It is the most foundational thing to live, it is so many things, and must build a relationship with our mortality in life if we are to understand our own grief and the grief of others.

I have a whole rant about how we treat our sick and elderly in western society because of this notion of “individuality” that is very prevalent in the west. We don’t build communities, we build only on our own lives and reputations. It feels unnatural to me (like capitalism).

Also u can’t see my beetle very well there but I have a beetle (preserved obv.) and she does almost every single spellwork alongside me. 10/10 recommend getting a little beetle buddy.

[nochi-quinn]

campaign 3 episode 66: early edition

I didn't watch any of team issylra and then I missed last week bc I was traveling so let's see how fuckin lost I am this week

(tho I skipped most of Let's Be Pirates in c2 and a chunk of c1 when I went from watching the archives to livewatching so eh)

tbh someone in a chat I'm in said BH still feel like NPCs kinda and they're…not wrong? the plot is happening TO them vs BECAUSE of them kinda thing

okay I was late bc I was reading ella enchanted to my kid

stray gods ad in the corner! god I'm so hyped for stray gods

travis looks good tonight

kiki :(

matt. say. things. OUT. LOUD. FIRST.

"only hurt him"

ahh, a nice relaxing fetch quest where certainly nothing will go wrong

once upon a forest vibes

leave orym's people aloooone

"I should be the one making the trip" keyleth istg

liam trying to find out if she also saw The Boy

she saw The Boy

forever laying in the floor about vaxleth

(someone on one of my lovm text post memes said they "just want them to be happy" and I just. bless them.)

don't out her like that orym jeeze

wait the poison ate her spell slots?? that's cheating

god I love her

"twice a year"

when we watched lovm with my roommate she asked why keyleth was wearing a pelvis on her forehead. I explained that it was antlers and it belonged to her mom and she asked why she was wearing her mom's pelvis on her head. so the diadem is ruined for me now

heading off any further fantasy religion discourse with the fact that keyleth has always been like this

tbf "the ascension and the ceiling" also works

ascended until it didn't

always good to know your insane plans worked out

"did he get raptured"

lmao the note-taking arm stretch

"you hear want you wanna hear, travis willingham"

(I wasn't looking, did they subtitle it "urine")

orym mom ORYM MOM

"what if your stuff takes a while?" found liam's mom

hobbit hole but in the side of a mountain

I love liam's face when he's having Emotions about his boys

oh my best friend from when I was a kid is named Alma, I'm prepared to do a million double-takes

orym version of the time my kid climbed under the table and onto the weird recessed buffet thing in the wall; there was no way to get around or over the table so we just had to sit there and try to negotiate with a three-year-old

flashbacks to seeing teenage photos of my partner at his grandmother's house

sam

oh no he's planted the seed

WHISPERS

did you fuck my mom, santa claus?

"whitestone is for lovers, zephrah's for fuckers"

stray gods STRAY GODS

SAM

"sorry, Q"

"rocks fall, everyone dies" pay randy millholland 5 dollars

okay I have to tap out, we've got a storm system rolling in and it's playing hell with my sinuses. I know there's about to be a bunch of combat so nobody fuckin die okay

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 3: Brilliant Lights

Narrated by Momo.

Narator: It's finally audition day! I put on the finished costume and rush over to the December Troupe.

Narrator: As I wait, Nikki carefully adjusts the cape for me.

Narrator: Hold it, why is Nikki looking more nervous than I am?

Nikki: Is it too much to the left...? Wait, no, now it's too much to the right...

Momo: Calm down, Nikki. Just trust me!

Nikki: Okay. I'll be cheering you on.

Narrator: The curtain rises as I take a deep breath and stride forward with the deer walk Luming taught me.

Narrator: The lights gradually focus on me. Even the fur on the cloak is shining in gold.

Narrator: I see the Twin Queens on stage. Whether it's the quietly reading White Queen or the Red Queen holding a fan, they both greet my entrance with a look of joy and surprise.

Narrator: The White Queen reaches for me. It's not in the script. I improvise, lower my head, and rub her hand with the antlers.

Narrator: And the Red Queen dancing by me also reaches out and rubs my head.

Narrator: What's going on? Are we doing improv now?

Narrator: Fortunately, it's not a problem for one with my wit and quick thinking. I'm not about to disappoint Nikki, who's watching offstage.

Narrator: As the queens sing, I run around pulling a bulky sled behind me. The excellent performance of the cast and the twisting plot fully immerse me in the play.

Narrator: It isn't until after the lights dim after the final act that I see the audience. Nikki is busy applauding, and Loen shows up out of nowhere.

Momo: Loen, put the banner with my name away! You're embarrassing me!

Narrator: The actresses playing the queens make a point of saying goodbye to me.

White Queen Actress: You looked so cute! I couldn't help but touch you.

Red Queen Actress: A reindeer kitty... My heart's going to melt! It's a double whammy of cuteness!

Narrator: Just like that, I turn in a perfect performance. All that's left is the final confirmation.

Choose either "It's you for sure, Momo!" or "Excellent performance!"

If "you," ...

You: You did awesome! The part is definitely yours to win!

If "performance," ...

You: Great job, Momo, bravo!

--

Narrator: Humility, I must show humility! Got to say that others performed well, too.

Narrator: Oh, and if I get a chance to make a victory speech, I'll mention all of you.

Narrator: The curtain jerks again. I stand among all the candidates, holding my head high. The spotlight shines once again on me.

Host: Thank you all for coming. We have made our choice for the deer, and it's... The last one to audition, Reindeer Cane!

Momo: What the...?!

Momo: It's not me?

Judge: It's a very close race. We really love Momo's costume and performance, but...

Choose either "Is the competition just that much better?" or "But what?"

If "competition," ...

Narrator: Reindeer Cane blew them away?

If "what," ...

You: But what? What is it?

--

Narrator: I want to know why, too, and hold my breath nervously.

Judge: He didn't quite fit the requirements for the play.

Judge: Momo's costume is closer to the deer found in Cloud, whereas the queens' pet deer is actually a reindeer.

Narrator: My mind flashes back to Luming intently drawing the white dots.

Momo: ...I was the Cloud divine deer, for crying out loud!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

[mitamicah]

Looked at more (almost all of them) of your ocs, so cute. They are adorable.

So cool, love the horns/antlers? And colourful hair, sea horses are cool.

This lil one is adorable, and very fascinating :3 love the hair, look like bunny ears which is so awwwwwwww.

Now my favourite quill, I love him so much, so freaking sweet and cute, chimeras are so cool and I have to know a few things.

1. does he like dressing up?

2. if he does what about dog costumes?

3. is it offensive that I want to put him into several dog outfits since he’s a chimera?

4. here are a few suggestions if it is not offensive :3

(Yes I know the shark one is a cat😺 but the ones with a dog didn’t looked as sweet 😭)

And can we get more quill facts? :3👀👀👀👀👀👀

Like are there more? He’s the adopted son of phoenix, is there a reason? Tragic backstory or just sweet like sugar?

Thanks for listening. And I hope this wasn’t too much :3

Why, thank you Jay ^V^ glad to see my babies getting some love :3

The rest of the reply will be under the line :3

Ah, that's Skari ^V^ he's pretty cool :3 it is indeed horns like those on a seahorse ... just a lot bigger x'D

Aww, you found little Val :3 I believe he is my newest closed species character (an original species created by another online creator that has given me permission to make a character in this species ^V^) I had a fun time designing him for sure :D bunny ears and all :3

Heck yeah, more love for Quill :D!! He is not usually one who gets a lot of attention so I am glad to see he caught your eye ^V^

Why then ask away :3

Quill haven't done a lot of dress up but like most else in live he is very happy and eager to try :3

Same as before - he is a happy boy who'd be open to try anything else dog costumes

I don't think so?

Oh these are cute :3 although I hope that Phoenix are allowed to make little adjustments for their friend since otherwise I fear Quill's secondary set of arms would feel very cramped in these :'D

Is there anything specific you'd like to know ^V^?

Depending on how much you've read already these might already be something you know :'D

Quill is part fruitbat, part deer, part dog, part praying mantis, part bird (could be a parrot given his ability to learn words) and possibly part snake.

Quill hasn't learned to speak in full sentences so he communicates with single words like "hi", "road" (his way of asking to go for a walk), and "bed" (his way of saying goodnight).

Quill has learned to weave with his secondary pair of arms (I call them his mantis arms).

Quill learns new words through echolalia which in short is that he echoes a word you say to him in the same tonality back at you (it is often seen with autistic people).

While Quill can speak a few words his vocal chords are actually better suited for high pitched bird like sounds so he is often found echoing bird twitter/song.

(if you want more and/or more deep cut facts than this let me know :'D

Oh no his story isn't that tragic :'D Quill was bred in captivity to be a housepet. Phoenix found Quill at a parisian adoption center where the little guy had been given up since nobody had wanted to adopt him from the breeder. Phoenix themselves being a chimera chose to adopt Quill as a sort of son. Quill is often seen helping Phoenix carry around their arrows (Phoenix are an archer amongst other things) - actually this is how Quill got his name. :3

Thank you for the questions ^V^ I hope you can use my answers :3