#okay this is the last of the letter asks! (since i decided to also answer anon in this same post)

[ghsface]

It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay...

Bau team x bau!reader

Sumary: Sometimes I need to remind myself and others that survival doesn’t just mean being okay, it means learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?

Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, lots of blood, some dark humor at the end, cuts on arms, bathtub full of blood, no use of t/n (if you don't feel good reading this please don't read it, I also tried to approach this topic with too much care and delicacy and respect, I hope not to offend anyone)

Author's note: September is suicide prevention month. "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" is something that you always hear people say.. and it's true.

speaking from my personal experience, it's something that was on my mind many months many years ago, and I was able to put those thoughts aside thanks to people who I thought were never going to help me, it was a long and very hard process but now I can tell you that I'm completely fine, once they told me if you have people to write a farewell letter to it's because at least someone cares about you, you may have heard this before but it's true, you will always have someone to support you even if you think you have no one, also once they told me if you ever have these thoughts again or even try again ask for help it doesn't matter who just ask for help, whatever way ask for help, those words marked me almost all of my adolescence tbh and it helped me, I hope that if you are going through this alone, you can talk to me, my messages will always be open for whatever it is help or just talking, feel free to do so, if you read this up to here I really appreciate that you did<333

The BAU team was uneasy. It wasn't often that someone on their team disappeared without a trace, much less you. Emily Prentiss had been the first to notice your absence, as you never missed work without notice. Days ago, you had requested a brief leave for personal matters, but you hadn't returned to the office or answered any calls or messages since. As the days passed, worry turned to fear.

JJ, Spencer, and Emily decided to go to your house, as they could no longer ignore the fact that something wasn't right. The atmosphere in the car was tense. JJ kept his hands tightly on the wheel, while Spencer stared out the window, his mind wandering through thousands of possibilities, each one worse than the last. Emily, in the backseat, checked her phone over and over again, hoping in vain to receive some news from you.

When they arrived at your house, the silence was deathly. The windows were closed, and the door seemed intact, but there was something in the air, something that made them hold their breath. Emily pulled out her gun, and after exchanging a worried look with JJ and Spencer, they decided to go inside.

“anyone home?” JJ shouted as she walked down the hallway to the entrance. There was no response.

Spencer’s heart was pounding as they made their way into the living room. Everything was in order, not a sign of a struggle, but something wasn’t right. Every step they took, every corner they inspected, increased the feeling that something terrible had happened.

It was Emily who first noticed the bathroom door ajar. She approached it slowly, holding her breath, as a dark foreboding took hold of her. Pushing open the door, the scene she found was enough to make her stomach turn.

There you were, in the bathtub, submerged in the red-tinged water. Your arms hung at your sides, covered in deep cuts, blood still slowly flowing from the wounds.

“Oh my God!” JJ exclaimed from the doorway, her voice cracking.

Spencer walked into the room behind her, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. She’d never felt such paralyzing fear, such sharp pain in her chest. The air became thick, almost impossible to breathe.

Emily was the first to react, rushing to you, her hands shaking as she tried to pull your unconscious body out of the water. “Call an ambulance, JJ!” she screamed, trying to stay calm, though her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Spencer knelt beside you, her eyes flooding with tears. “You can’t do this... you can’t leave us like this,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

JJ tried to call 911, but the desperation in his voice made the words catch in his throat. He finally managed to give the address, but the operator informed him that the ambulance would take a while to arrive due to an accident on the main road. Without wasting any more time, JJ made a decision. “We can’t wait, we have to take her ourselves!”

Without thinking twice, the three of them carried you out of the bathroom, wrapping you in towels to stop the bleeding. Spencer held you, his hands still stained with your blood, as they rushed you to the car.

The trip to the hospital was agony. Every second that passed, every breath you took, or stopped taking, was like a stab in the heart of each of them. Emily, driving at full speed, struggled not to lose concentration while JJ, from the backseat, pressed on your wounds, trying to keep you conscious. Spencer kept talking to you, murmuring words of encouragement, pleading with you not to leave, to stay with them.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors immediately took you into surgery. The BAU team, who had been alerted, arrived soon after. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Garcia joined Emily, JJ, and Spencer in the waiting room. The hours passed slowly, each minute a silent torture as they waited for news from you.

Spencer kept staring at his hands, your words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of you, limp and lifeless in that bathtub. He felt helpless, riddled with guilt for not realizing what was happening to you. He loved you, more than he’d ever dared to admit, and the thought of losing you was too painful to bear.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. “She’s stable for now, but the blood loss was significant. We had to suture multiple wounds and are monitoring for possible nerve damage. It’s a miracle they brought her in on time.”

The relief was palpable, but so was the sadness. They knew that even though you had survived, the battle wasn’t over. They would have to face the reasons why you had gotten to that point, figure out what had happened, and most of all, be there for you, to help you heal.

Spencer walked up to the ICU door, looking at you through the glass. His eyes filled with tears, he rested a hand on the glass. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad you were,” he whispered, feeling the weight of guilt crushing him.

Emily and JJ accompanied him, each feeling a mix of relief and pain. They knew the road to your recovery would be long and difficult, but they were determined to be by your side every step of the way, no matter what it took.

When you were finally able to open your eyes days later, the first thing you saw were the tired but relieved faces of your teammates. You knew you had plunged into a darkness that seemed insurmountable, but seeing the people who loved you by your side, you knew you wouldn’t be alone on the road back to the light.

The dim glow of the hospital’s fluorescent lights welcomed you back into the conscious world. Your head hurt, and you felt the weight of the blankets on your body, but what caught your attention the most was the soft sound of someone breathing next to you. You slowly turned your head and met the tired, worried eyes of Spencer, who had been watching over you.

“Spencer…” your voice came out as a whisper, rough from lack of use and medication. You were surprised at how weak you felt, as if a large part of you had vanished.

He sat up instantly, his eyes filling with relief at seeing you awake. “You’re awake…” he said in a tone that reflected a mix of joy and pain. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... If I had known… If I had noticed something…” The weight of his guilt hit you hard. Even though every fiber of your being was exhausted, you couldn’t let Spencer carry that pain. But before you could answer, the door to the room opened, and Emily and JJ rushed in, closely followed by Hotch and Rossi.

Emily approached you, tears in her eyes, but keeping her composure. “You scared the hell out of us,” she said softly, gently taking your hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, understand? We’re here for you, always.” JJ sat on the other side of the bed, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Whatever you’re going through… you can tell us. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence, everyone waiting for you to say something, anything to help them understand what had brought you to this point. You knew they were worried, that they wanted to help you, but it wasn’t easy to put into words the storm that had been building inside you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking, feeling tears build up in your eyes. “I didn’t want them to know… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Spencer looked at you in pain, his hands shaking slightly as he took yours. “You would never be a burden to us. Never.”

Hotch, who had been watching silently, stepped forward. His voice was firm, but with a tinge of compassion that he rarely showed. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever led you to this, we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

Hotch’s words, so simple and full of promise, were what finally broke the dam. The tears you’d been holding back for so long began to flow, and with them came a wave of emotions you’d been suppressing: the despair, the loneliness, the pain that had consumed you in silence.

Emily wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a strength that anchored you in the present. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to not be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking with her own pent-up emotions.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like you could breathe, if only barely. The lump in your chest didn’t go away entirely, but the presence of your peers, your friends, gave you the strength you needed to start talking, to share what you’d been keeping to yourself.

You told them about the pressure you’d felt, the feeling that you were failing, that you couldn’t live up to expectations. You told them how each day had gotten harder to bear, until one day you just couldn’t take it anymore. The words came out in fits and starts, mixed with sobs, but they listened to each one with patience and understanding.

There was no judgment, just support. And as you spoke, little by little, you began to feel the weight that had been weighing you down begin to lighten, if only a little.

When you finally finished, the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Spencer was still holding your hand, and his gaze reflected both pain and resolve. “You’re not alone in this. You won’t be anymore,” he said firmly.

Hotch nodded. “We’ll have to work together to get through this, but we will. We’ll help you find the support you need, and we’ll be here for you, too.”

Rossi, who had been watching from the back, came over and gently patted you on the shoulder. “Remember, that’s what family is for, to be there in the worst times and the best too.”

At that moment, although you knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, you also knew that you wouldn’t walk it alone. The team weren't just your colleagues, they were your family, and with them by your side, you began to believe that, perhaps, you could find a way to heal.

And although the darkness still lurked, the light of hope, however small, began to shine again.

ONE YEAR LATER...

1 year into recovery brought with it a new version of you, a version that, while still scarred, both physically and emotionally, was fully committed to moving forward with humor and gratitude. You had rejoined the team fully and found a balance between work, your personal life, and your healing process. Your colleagues had learned to appreciate your new style of humor, even when you surprised them with your comments from time to time.

One afternoon, while you were in the office cafeteria with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, you decided to break the silence with a joke, something you had perfected over those past few months.

“Did you know I’ve developed a new skill?” you said, as you poured yourself a coffee. The three womens looked at you curiously. “Now I can say that I’m an expert in abstract art. I just need something sharp and a bad day.”

There was a moment of surprise, but then Emily was the first to laugh, shaking her head. “You know, no one handles dark humor like you.”

JJ nodded, smiling. “True, but at least now we know you do it with complete command of the situation. Although I will never stop being amazed by your ability to make jokes out of something so serious.”

“Well, my traumas, my jokes,” you said with a wink, and the group burst into laughter. They had learned to take your humor as a sign of your progress, a way to remind yourself and them that you were in control, that you wouldn’t let yourself be overcome by the darkness that once trapped you.

Garcia, who until now had been listening in silence, smiled and gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, I think you should consider writing a self-help book: ‘How to survive work and not go crazy. ’ It could be a best-seller.”

“Sure, with special chapters on how to choose something sharp and how not to use them when you have a bad day,” you joked, and everyone laughed again.

Towards the end of the day, as you were gathering your things to head home, you ran into Rossi in the hallway. He looked at you with his typical knowing expression, but with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, kid I love seeing you make those jokes. It’s a sign that you’re okay, but it’s also a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yeah, Dave, I know. Sometimes, I need to remind myself and others that surviving doesn’t just mean being okay, but learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?”

Rossi let out a soft laugh. “You know, you can always count on me to be your audience. I’m not as good an audience as Spencer, though.”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep that in mind for my next show.”

As you left, you knew you were surrounded by people who understood you, who supported you, and who accepted every part of you, even the darkest ones. But most importantly, you knew you had found a way to move forward: with a smile on your face, a joke on your lips, and a team that, no matter what, would always be by your side.

And as you walked out the door, ready to face whatever came next, you couldn’t help but make one last comment to yourself. “Well, if I survived the bathtub, I’m ready for anything. I just hope there’s more wine and less blood next time.”

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly🫧

[nerdallwritey]

Three Little Words

Summary: “Well, this has been lovely,” Astarion said, making his way to the door leading back into the inn proper. “Anything else we should know before we head off to save the day?” He was already halfway out the door, not bothering to wait for an answer, clearly trying to make a stealthy exit.  You eyed Halsin, who nodded and retrieved the rogue by his arm before he could leave, closing the door behind both of them for good measure. “Let me go, you humongous imbecile!” Astarion pounded his free arm against Halsin’s chest before Halsin released him and refused to let him move a muscle towards the door. Astarion huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up at the rest of you. “Is he okay?” Isobel asked.  “This is relatively normal behavior from him, actually,” Karlach said. OR Astarion accidentally says something nice, then acts like an idiot for the rest of the day.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ (no smut) Word count: 8.3k CW: lots of Act 2 exposition, Rolan is a drunk dick, Astarion's scars, sitcom antics, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot, and more so than usual), Halsin's tits Spoilers: Spoilers for Act 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 7 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: PART 7 IS ALIIIIIIIIIVE!!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this one, I had more planned for it but decided to cut it in half since I already yap too much as it is. I wanted this chapter to be a fresh enough take on the beginning of Act 2, and I hope you all enjoy! This one gets really sitcom-y at certain points which was a blast to write and I hope you have a blast reading! Part 8 is already in the works and I'm VERY excited to share that one with you all!! There's no smut in this chapter, and for that, I apologize. If all goes according to plan, Part 8 will have you covered! (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski, and the wonderful @arzen9 for reading!) As a reminder, last time, you fell asleep in Astarion's arms and he realized he's in love with you...

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

You awoke to an empty bed. 

Drearily and with a tired moan, your arm flung out to search blindly in the dark, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Slowly, it came back to you - you’d made it to an inn in the Shadow Cursed Lands. You’d shared a passionate night with Astarion. Perhaps the vampire whose arms you were sure you’d fallen asleep in had rolled off the bed in the night? You inched your body to the edge of the bed, hanging your head over the side and blinking rapidly to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

Nope. No trancing elf. Just a loose floorboard from the night before. 

You flopped dramatically onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. Couldn’t vampires technically hang from ceilings? Was it possible Astarion had somehow sleep… vampired? And somehow found himself snoozing upside down on the ceiling?

No, that was stupid, of course he wasn’t on the ceiling. Though you did squint and stare above you for longer than you would ever admit to anyone. 

Exhaling quietly, you sat up on your arms to scan the rest of the room before your eyes landed on a silhouette hunched in front of the drawn curtains of the room’s large window. 

Astarion was muttering quietly, his arm bent behind his back. “I… F… or is it an E? Is it even a letter?” You heard him sigh and saw his frame straighten fractionally. “What damn language is this?”

You half smiled affectionately, sitting up fully against the pillows. 

“Need some help writing a sonnet, Volo?” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and turned to face him.

Astarion jumped. “Ah!” You heard a loud crash as you saw his darkened form trip backwards over your discarded backpack.

“Astarion!” you cried, springing up from the bed and joining him on the ground. “Are you alright?” You brushed your knuckles over his cheek as he groaned lowly.

His eyes were shut tight in mild pain, but they opened after a moment to blink up at you. When he saw the concerned look on your face, he sat up quickly and backed away from you until his back made contact with your overturned backpack.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Astarion smiled awkwardly. “Oh nothing, darling.” After a second, he said your name softly. 

You narrowed your eyes and stood up, striking a match and lighting the candle on the table parallel to the bed. “I don’t believe you.”

He was staring at you in a way that gave you the sense he wasn’t listening. 

“Hello?” you asked, snapping your fingers. 

Astarion shook his head, regaining focus. “Apologies, dear, you caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

You crossed your arms and smiled. “That little spill of yours kind of gave that much away.”

Astarion rose to his feet and rubbed his backside. “Yes, well…” He held his upper arm awkwardly and avoided meeting your eye. Your brow furrowed, but he continued talking. “I’ve… been tracing the scars on my back with my fingers, trying to read them by touch, but I can’t. They may as well be written in Rashemi.” 

There was something weird about his body language. Like he was trying to hide something from you, but you decided to focus on what he was telling you. Maybe if he kept talking, you’d figure out what was wrong. 

You stepped closer, pausing when he took another step back. You spoke calmly, “Let me have a look.”

“I-” he sighed. “This isn’t your problem, you know.”

“Like hells, it isn’t,” you scoffed with a smile. “Your problems are my problems now.” You stepped forward again and took his hand. He looked you in the eye before quickly looking away. “I want to help you.” You brushed your nose against his.

A chill ran through his body, and you felt his hand tremble in yours. “Fine.”

Hesitantly, he slowly turned his back towards you. 

It was rare that Astarion would purposely show you his back. You’d run your hands along the ridges of his scars numerous times, but he was reluctant to let you look at the hacked flesh directly. You assumed it was linked to the poorly hidden shame he felt towards his past, but you never looked at the marks with anything but admiration for his bravery and a sign of his survival. 

Now, seeing the scars straight on by the light of the candle, you recognized the runes as a language you’d seen written many times in books and in school growing up; Infernal. The language of the Hells.

From what little you could make out, the language was fragmented and strange. This scar was just a piece of a larger text. 

“And?” Astarion probed, looking over his shoulder at you. “What does it say?” Embarrassment and hopeful curiosity coated his words. 

“Well, it’s certainly not a poem. In fact, from what I can tell, it might be part of a devil’s pact.”

His eyes narrowed. “Infernal pact? But not even the whole text?” He turned back to face you. “What was that bastard up to?” 

“Did you ever see Cazador write in Infernal before?”

Astarion thought for a moment. “No. I could have missed it, of course, but I doubt it. Whatever he’s carved in my flesh, it’s a mystery to me.” When he realized you didn’t have some sort of quip to add, he continued. “Cazador was only figuratively hellish - there were never any devils hanging about the crypt.” 

You snorted. “I wouldn’t think there would be. Though, can you imagine Mizora in a crypt? Or Raphael? He’d probably be repulsed.” 

Astarion stiffened visibly. “Raphael… yes…”

You attempted to get his attention back on you by squeezing his hand. “What about him?”

He looked at you briefly, a slight smirk on his lips. “If anyone’s going to know about infernal contracts, he will.”

“I mean… That makes sense, I guess.”

Astarion pointed towards you excitedly. “I knew you’d see the pragmatic side.”

You tilted your head, thinking. “But Mizora’s kind of all about infernal legalese.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Sure, but Raphael has more panache. And I doubt Wyll would appreciate us summoning his devilish pact-maker.”

“Good point.”

“Unfortunately, Raphael comes and goes on his own schedule, so we’ll just have to look out for any sulfurous odors or the sound of questionable poetry.” 

That got you to smile. He smiled back, and reached out to hold your elbows lightly. “You will help me, won’t you, darling?”

“Of course I will,” you said, bending up to kiss his cheek. You felt him flinch beneath your lips. “Are you sure everything is alright? You seem awfully on edge.” 

“Me? On edge? Of course not!” His voice pitched up uncharacteristically and broke at the end. “I don’t know why that came out all squeaky because really,” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice comically, “I’m fine.”

You smiled skeptically. “If you say so.”

“Don’t worry about me, dearest,” he released your arms and knelt to go through his own bag. He pulled out a fresh shirt and slipped it over his head. “I think I’ll spend some time this morning studying the art of infernal negotiations.” He kissed you swiftly before pulling away as if you’d shocked him. “I’ll…” you caught him look down at the ring still gracing your left pinky, “see you later.” 

With that, he quickly left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you with nothing but the sound of Harpers patrolling outside and patrons sitting by the bar.

You exhaled loudly, staring at the door after him. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

Compared to last night, when he was blissed out on your tongue, and kissing your throat with fervent passion, there was no doubt something was bothering him.

But what?

You sat back on the bed, replaying the previous night over in your head. Had you done something wrong? Had you pushed him too hard to do something he didn’t want to do?

No. No, you were fairly certain he had truly enjoyed himself with you. 

But then again, you were very new to sex. And new to Astarion, for that matter. Was it possible he could still pull one over on you, even though you felt like you could read him pretty well by now?

Regardless of whatever was going on with Astarion, it was clear that it had to do with you, based purely on his hesitancy to get close to you just now. 

Sniffing your sleep shirt and feeling suddenly self conscious, you ran a warm bath and scrubbed yourself clean of whatever grime had clung to your body since entering the Shadow Cursed Lands. 

A short time later, you found yourself exiting the bedroom, your hair damp, and fresh clothes gracing your figure. You paused in the doorway, scanning the large, open room that made up most of the first floor. Immediately, your eyes fell on the gaggle of child criminals behind the bar that you’d sicced on Astarion at the Tiefling party.

Smiling to yourself, you took a step towards the bar, only to freeze when you heard the familiarly cool tone of a tiefling wizard. 

“...There’s another bottle of Arabellan dry back there,” Rolan practically spat. “Put it on the bar, then piss off and leave me alone.”

Zaki and Meli, two of the tiefling kids, exchanged glances before Zaki upturned his nose at Rolan.

“Jaheira said we should serve drinks, but that we shouldn't serve drunks.”

Slurring his words mildly, Rolan pointed an accusatory finger at the children. “Jaheira didn’t save your ragged little tail from the cultists. I did.”

You stepped forward and made eye contact with Zaki and Meli who smirked when they recognized you. You winked at them and they nodded before turning their backs on Rolan and focusing their attentions within the bar.

“Given the constant darkness, I know it’s fairly difficult to tell the time, but I’m pretty sure it’s a little too early in the day to get this sloshed.” You took a seat beside Rolan. 

He looked over at you and rolled his eyes. “Oh. It’s you.”

You pursed your lips at his tone and rested your head on your hand. “Hi Rolan.”

“Don’t you get tired of telling people how to live their lives?” He took a big swig from his stein before scowling at you and turning away. “If you’re here to save the day again, you’re a little late this time.”

You sat up straighter, suddenly aware of the absence of Cal and Lia. “What happened? Where’s-”

“Oh, sod off,” he hissed. “I’m only here because you ‘helped’ me and my family.”

“I-”

“I was ready to cut and run back at the Grove, but you had other ideas.” Rolan gestured erratically with his mug and free hand.

You leaned in fractionally, attempting to calm him down enough to tell you what was happening. “Rolan, where-”

“Cal and Lia were taken in by your crap,” he slurred. “You convinced them to play hero, and now they’re gone.” 

You bit your lip and looked around, feeling stupid when you obviously caught no sight of the siblings. “Do you know where they are?”

Rolan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and whipped his head to look at you with a scowl. “Dead, for all I know. Or in the cult’s tower with the others who were taken.”

“Taken,” you repeated, your voice catching in your throat. You looked around frantically, taking note of the tieflings you recognized. Doing a mental headcount, it appeared that the kids were almost accounted for, minus Mol, who you knew was around here somewhere, and Arabella, who was probably with Mol, but there was a distinct lack of adults you’d met back at the Grove. You spotted Alfira sitting alone at the hearth, with Lakrissa nowhere to be seen. Zevlor was also noticeably missing. 

They must have been attacked on their way to Baldur’s Gate and taken to Moonrise. You hoped that was the worst of it, praying silently to whichever god was listening that the tieflings would be okay. 

As your eyes continued to scan the taproom, you spotted Shadowheart, Wyll, Lae’zel, and Karlach talking pointedly with Jaheira over a map spread out over her desk. Their attention was drawn away from the map for a moment when Astarion strode by them with a heavy tome from a wall of books, over to a table where Gale was reading what appeared to be a small book of poetry. It seemed as though Gale had just recently sat down without Astarion’s knowledge, because the vampire gathered up a stack of books resting on the table and rerouted to an empty one out of earshot from the wizard. 

When Astarion caught your eye, he froze momentarily and you sent him a small smile. His eyes flicked between you and Rolan, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. You shook your head minutely, causing him to turn back slowly towards his empty table and dust off the newest book you assumed was full of Infernal translations of some kind. You pretended not to notice him watching you closely.

Rolan, meanwhile, was still brooding over his ale. “Get the bottle,” he nodded at Meli, “give me the bottle - it’s not hard.”

Meli crossed his arms. “I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to give you a lashing,” Rolan slurred, “but I will, damn it.”

“Whoa,” you said, holding up both hands, “let’s not resort to threatening kids just because we’re angry.” 

You laid a gentle hand on Rolan’s arm, only for him to shake you off roughly. 

“How dare you tell me - me - how to live my life. After everything I’ve just said.”

Before you had a chance to respond, a flash of silver glinted before your eyes as Astarion slammed a dagger into the wood of the counter between you and Rolan. 

“Is there a problem here?” he asked, sidling up next to you, and helping himself to a bottle of red wine within reach. His books laid abandoned at his empty table not too far off.

“You gonna pay for that?” Zaki asked with a huff.

“Quiet, child whose name I’ve never cared to learn.” You crossed your arms and gave Astarion a look before he rolled his eyes and extended his neck towards you. “She’ll cover it.”

You rolled your eyes in return and reached into your pocket to hand the tiefling a gold piece. 

“I knew I liked you,” Zaki smirked before running off to show the other kids his loot. 

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Gold, darling? Really?”

“I think we’ll survive,” you said softly before pulling the knife out of the countertop and laying it gently on its side. 

Astarion caught sight of the blade and refocused his attention on the bitter wizard beside him. “As I said, is there a problem here?” His words came out like a growl and his hand flexed as if preparing to strike, before realizing his dagger was on the counter, and instead opted for a swig of his overpriced wine.

“No problem at all,” Rolan said in mock nonchalance. “It’s only that your partner here led my siblings to their doom.” He slammed his mug on the counter, earning a few curious and annoyed looks from other patrons and passing Harpers. 

“Okay good, so no problem then,” Astarion took another swig of his wine.

“Astarion,” you hissed before turning back to Rolan. “We’ll rescue them.”

“If they’re alive,” Astarion muttered. He nearly choked when you forcefully nudged him with your elbow.

“Bullshit,” Rolan snapped. “If they’re alive, I can save them. They’re my responsibility.” He downed the rest of his drink before boldly turning to face you and Astarion head on. He puffed out his chest, attempting to look bigger. “You go save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do.”

“Hey,” Astarion slammed down his own bottle and rose to his full height, “your useless siblings would be lucky to be saved by her.”

“How dare you,” Rolan moved closer to Astarion, but you weaved in-between them before either of them could get their hands on the other. Patrons were starting to stare. You even caught Jaheira turning to give you a curious raise of her eyebrow.

“Both of you, cut it out.” You placed a hand on Astarion’s chest to keep him at bay, and didn’t dare to touch Rolan again. Astarion, in turn, took your hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. 

“Listen here, you shoddy excuse of a wizard,” Astarion clutched your hand to his chest and refused to let it go when you attempted to pry it free, “if this woman offers her help, she means it. And based on our numbers, eight, I believe, as opposed to your, what? One?”

“Astarion-”

“I’d say you should take her up on that offer.”

Rolan scoffed. “As if your oafish party could infiltrate Moonrise unnoticed. I’ll have a much easier time sneaking in by myself.”

Astarion laughed airly. “Oh, please, darling, you set one foot outside the protective barrier on this place and the shadows will come for you. You’ll go mad and join your siblings in the great beyond.”

“Astarion, please,” you said sharply and finally pulled your hand free from his grasp.

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Rolan said flatly. He got up to leave, stumbling a bit as he headed in the direction of the entrance.

Astarion crossed his arms with a smug look of triumph on his face. He called after him with the finishing blow: “Do tell the shadows I miss their cold embrace when they swallow you whole.”

The comment made Rolan turn on his heel and march back, sidestepping you and pressing an accusatory finger into Astarion’s chest. “Why is it so important to you whether my family lives or dies? Huh? Do you get some sort of… boon? From whatever devil created a fanged freak like you?”

Your eyes darted back and forth between the tiefling and the vampire, smiling awkwardly at patrons who passed by and shrugging as if to say, “Can you believe these guys?”

Astarion laughed again. “Darling, I couldn’t care less about the fate of you, or any other refugee for that matter.”

A look of confusion passed over Rolan’s face before it morphed back into a scowl. “Then why do you care about this?”

“I don’t.”

“You do!”

You stepped forward, bringing your hands up to try and offer a showing of peace. “Come on, boys. Rolan, we’d be happy to look for your siblings and help however we can. Astarion, why don’t we leave Rolan to think about it for a bit and-”

Rolan shook his head. “Oh no, I’m going after Cal and Lia on my own, and you can’t stop me.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “A mistake.”

“Leave me to my own choices, will you?!”

“Not when your choices are objectively stupid and illogical!” He took a step forward, causing Rolan to take an indignant step back. Astarion smirked and looked down his nose at his opponent. “Which is funny, seeing as how you tote yourself around as if you’re some big wizard prodigy.” He took another step forward and lowered his voice menacingly. “Why don’t you use that brain of yours and stay here, where you can’t bother anybody else?”

This time, Rolan stood his ground and raised his voice. “Why do you care?!”

“Because she cares and I love her!” 

Time froze. 

Astarion was locked in a stare down with Rolan, as if his declaration was the most obvious thing in the world and not something that had just changed everything.

I love her. 

The words replayed your mind like the most beautiful melody you’d ever heard. 

Astarion had a way of doing that; reciting words or sounds or phrases that quickly became your new favorite songs. 

But this time, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing.

“What?” Your hand reached out and brushed his softly.

Astarion jolted and slowly turned to look at you, sudden panic flashing over his features. “What?”

“You said-”

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

“No, you said-”

He raised his voice to speak over you. “I said something devastating to this wizard, rendering him absolutely shattered, isn’t that right, wizard?” He looked to Rolan for help, but Rolan’s eyes were wide with discomfort.

“Oh, this… was that the first-? While you were yelling at me? Yikes.” He began to back away slowly. 

Astarion lunged forward to grab him, but Rolan’s tipsiness worked to his advantage and somehow allowed him to bob out of the elf’s grasp. 

“Get back here!” Astarion floundered, but you caught him by the wrist. 

“You said you loved me!” You were smiling widely, your heart the fullest it had ever been. 

“No I didn’t!” Astarion snatched his hand out of yours and turned to face you while actively backing away. 

You laughed in thrilled disbelief. “Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!” He crossed his arms in front of himself as if you were a demon coming to rip his unbeating heart out of his very ribs.

“You love me!”

“No I don’t!” He sounded almost like a child as he insisted he hadn’t just said the three little words you’d been so eager to hear. 

“Astarion, I-”

“Your move, Mol,” a sultry voice reached your ears, somehow piercing through your train of thought and what you had been about to confess. You scrunched your nose at the suddenly overpowering scent of cherries masking a fouler stench of sulfur. 

Astarion was frozen leaning away from you, but his eyes shifted towards the voice and then back to you before he darted in Raphael’s direction. 

“Astarion!” you called after him, hot on his heels.

He barely turned to respond. “Can’t hear you darling, important business must be attended to!”

“This is important business!” you countered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dearest!” He came to a halt in a smaller room connected to the large tap room. You stopped short behind him, nearly slamming into his back. 

Immediately you spied Raphael sitting elegantly in front of a game of lanceboard. Mol was sitting opposite from him, squinting at the pieces and analyzing her current position. 

“You trapped me,” she said, annoyed. “I didn’t even want to take this one.”

“Calimshan rules, dear,” Raphael explained, and Astarion groaned quietly next to you. “The first piece touched is the first piece moved.”

“Boring,” Astarion muttered.

Mol huffed. “That’s garbage! No matter where the knight goes, I’m gonna lose it.”

Raphael’s tone became more stern when he instructed, “Then make the sacrifice useful. Guard your Mystra, or come for my Cyric.” 

“We should really talk,” you murmured to Astarion, who cleared his throat and drew Raphael and Mol’s attention to you instead.

Mol’s face instantly lit up when she saw you. “Look who made it! For once I saved your butt out there with Jaheira, didn’t I?” 

You returned her smile, stepping closer and pretending to punch her upper arm playfully. “You sure did. Can’t thank you enough for that, Mol.”

She gave you a smug sideways smirk. “We’re square now, chief.”

“I guess we are,” you laughed. 

“Say,” she said, “do you play lanceboard by any chance? It’s my first time playing.” 

Judging by the mischievous glint in her eye, you immediately clocked that she was lying to throw off Raphael. 

“Oh, he’s laid a fine trap for you, Mol,” came Gale’s voice over your right shoulder. 

“Where did you come from?” Astarion yelped and clutched his chest from his spot on your left.

Gale opted to ignore Astarion’s dramatic display and continued, “But it looks to me like his Cyric could be dethroned.”

You nodded, thinking back to several lanceboard games you’d played with Gale over the course of this journey. You lowered your voice and nodded at the pieces in front of Mol. “Gale’s right. Put pressure on him. Attack the pieces in front of his Cyric.” 

Mol gave you and Gale an impish grin before following through with the move you both recommended. She looked immensely satisfied when she knocked the piece guarding Raphael’s God of Lies from the board. 

Raphael raised his eyebrows, looking both proud and surprised. “My, the Theskan Double Counter-gambit. Vicious.” He chuckled darkly. “Exactly what I would have done.” 

With another self satisfied smirk, Mol removed Raphael’s Cyric from the board completely. “How’s that for Calimshan rules?”

“Brava!” Raphael said, spreading his arms out wide. “Lovely work. I see I was right to make you the offer I did.” 

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

Raphael didn’t take his eyes off Mol. “You will consider it, won’t you?”

Without another word, Mol got up and you watched as she returned to the other tiefling kids behind the bar.

“What a lovely specimen she is,” Raphael said as your eyes followed her. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you turned to look back at him. 

He was standing now. “A blushing apple, begging to be plucked.” He mimed the action of pulling an apple from its spot on a branch, his eyebrows furrowed to accompany his conniving smile. 

You stepped to the side, attempting to block Mol from his view. “Leave her alone, Raphael.”

He ignored your warning and changed the subject. “The Theskan move suggestion was inspired. I had no idea you played.”

Gale chuckled. “I’ve been known to dabble.”

“He’s not talking to you, purple,” Astarion spat the last word as if it were an insult. 

Gale stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Purple has always suited me rather nicely, thank you.”

“Why are you here, Raphael?” you asked. “To play games?”

Raphael’s expression became almost unreadable. “To play the game. The vast lanceboard of souls.”

“Well that doesn’t sound legally sanctioned by the Lanceboard Committee of Baldur’s Gate,” Gale muttered. 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “I wish you would explode.”

Raphael continued, this time his voice was overly saccharine. “Don’t you worry about Mol. It goes without saying she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left.” 

Gale leaned over to you and whispered, “Ominous, that.”

“Quiet,” Astarion hissed, causing Raphael’s attention to turn on him. 

“Now,” Raphael said, placing a hand on his hip and pointing a lazy finger at Astarion, “let’s talk about you. I sense there’s something you want to ask me.”

“I do,” Astarion said, hunching forward as if to make himself smaller, “I have a… proposal… for you.” When you turned to glance at him with wide eyes, he corrected himself. “A proposition! A request. A… deal, I suppose, for lack of a better term.”

“A proposal,” Raphael’s eyes shifted between you two, probably knowing the exact tension that was occurring between the two of you right now. 

It wouldn’t surprise you. 

He chuckled, but didn’t press further. “If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”

“This is serious business,” Astarion tried to sound firm before adding, “devil.”

Raphael smirked at him, but inclined his head to encourage Astarion to continue. 

“My old - well… A long time ago, someone carved infernal runes into my back,” Astarion explained. “They are a fragment of a contract. I’d like to know what the full contract says.” 

“Hmmmmm…” Raphael dragged out the sound far longer than necessary. 

Astarion straightened himself, attempting to look bravely back at the devil, but you saw the way he absently tapped his finger against his thigh. The way he blinked a little more frequently than normal.

You turned to Raphael, annoyed. “Don’t play games, Raphael. Help him out.”

“Oh, such impatience,” Raphael said sarcastically. When neither you nor Astarion took the bait to squabble with him, he continued. “It’s something very important to your master. But is it a love letter?” He looked pointedly at you and you did your best to keep your expression even. “A warning, perhaps? Or a deed of ownership? I could give you all the gory details.”

“So do it,” you growled, feeling extremely protective of the man to your left who’d just bared part of his soul to this devil. And Gale.

“Ah ah ah,” Raphael tsked. “You’ll have to do something for me first. Let me think about it and get back to you.”

Astarion stammered and held his arms out dramatically. “You’ll ‘get back’ to me? This is important, devil!” After a moment, he sighed. “When?”

“Don’t worry,” Raphael said, the cunning smile refusing to leave his face, “I’m motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories - I think yours might be truly exquisite.” 

Before you could interrogate him any further, Raphael vanished in a sour smelling puff of smoke.

“Good gracious, that’s foul,” Gale plugged his nose and waved his hand in front of his face.

You coughed repeatedly, shutting your eyes tight to make sure whatever residue Raphael left behind didn’t blur your vision. When you opened them again, you saw Astarion hightailing it out of the small room and across the taproom.

“Astarion!” you called. “Get back here, you heathen!”

As Astarion went to open one of the side doors of the inn to escape speaking with you, he slammed face first into Halsin’s chest.

“Oh!” Halsin exclaimed and peeled the vampire off of his tunic. “My apologies, Astarion, I was just coming inside to check on things with Moonrise Towers.”

Astarion held a hand to his forehead. “It’s like you’re made of cement.”

You caught up with him and witnessed him slump significantly. 

“Oh, hello, darling.” His tone was jovial, but his expression was one of disappointment at having been caught so easily. 

You placed your hands on your hips. “We need to talk.”

“News of Moonrise?” Halsin asked.

“No, the others are discussing that with Jaheira over there.” You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards Jaheira’s desk, where your companions were still listening to her and hunching over a map. “No, I need to speak with Astarion in private-”

“Excellent reminder, darling,” Astarion said, straightening up and walking past you, over to Jaheira and the others. “We simply must plan out our next move!”

You turned to watch him go and stood next to Halsin, sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of your nose.

Halsin laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Everything alright? I hope nothing troubles the ever growing bond between you two?”

You began walking with him over to Jaheira’s desk. “He’s just being an idiot. He told me something very interesting and I want to talk to him about it more in depth.”

Halsin nodded. “You heard about the night he ran into me in bear form.”

“No, he-” You stopped short and looked at Halsin. “What?”

“There’s the fearless leader these cubs won’t stop talking about,” Jaheira said loudly, causing you to turn away from Halsin and finish taking the last few steps over to her desk. 

You approached Astarion, who stared blankly ahead and made no attempt at hiding the large step he took away from you. You rolled your eyes and stepped forward to stand between Karlach and Shadowheart, observing the map in front of you. 

“You all have been talking for quite a bit.” You noticed different markings on the map, suggesting different routes to take towards Moonrise. “Have you figured anything out?”

Wyll crossed his arms and blew out a breath. “Only that our opponent seems to be invincible, according to Jaheira.”

“So says she,” Lae’zel placed her hands on her hips and repositioned her feet to stand tall. “She has no idea how lethal we are.”

“Ketheric was a Sharran,” Shadowheart said quietly, lost in thought. “He was building an army of Dark Justiciars beneath this village.” She turned her head to look at you. “I knew my Lady Shar’s influence here was all consuming, but… Dark Justiciars?” Her voice took on a dreamlike quality, “Only the very finest proved themselves worthy of the title. They’ve been silent for years but… an entire army? That must have been a fearsome sight.”

“Yes…” Jaheira side-eyed Shadowheart skeptically. She looked at you and said, “To bring you up to speed, General Ketheric Thorm, the Absolutist leader at Moonrise is a formidable foe that myself, my Harpers, and local druids saw to depose - we witnessed him dead and buried. But he’s returned. Not only does he live again, it seems he is no longer mortal. He has become, as Wyll said, invincible.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel rolled her eyes.

“I don’t fancy his chances,” Gale joked as he integrated himself into the group, causing Astarion to jump again.

“So help me gods, you must stop doing that.”

“Supposedly, the Harpers met Ketheric on the road commanding an army of Absolutists, intent on destroying Baldur’s Gate.” Karlach half smiled, proud to be relaying a new Jaheira tale to you. “Jaheira here saw to putting a fucking arrow through his fucking eye, only to watch the bastard pluck it out.”

“‘Like a splinter,’ in her words,” Wyll added helpfully.

Halsin whistled lowly. “Sounds like quite the nasty rival.”

Jaheira nodded. “He healed right in front of me, and chased us into the shadows. Things looked hopeless, but experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope.”

“Damn right,” Karlach grinned. 

Jaheira smiled at the tiefling, then looked around at your entire party. “You are that hope.”

Astarion gagged and rolled his eyes, earning an elbow in the side from Karlach.

“We’ll try our best,” you said.

“I was telling your companions here that while protected by your artifact,” Jaheira went on, “you can infiltrate his forces at Moonrise Towers, posing as True Souls.”

“A risky, but clever move,” Lae’zel smirked. “I like it.”

“If we can find out what makes him invincible,” Wyll said, “perhaps we can strip him of his advantage.”

Jaheira nodded. “Together, we assault his tower and put a final end to this blight.”

Astarion sniffed pompously. “You want to make use of our infection.” He placed a hand on his hip and gestured around with his free hand, “Some of us, not necessarily me, of course, I’m rather enjoying the sun when it’s not currently being banished by the Mistress of the Night-”

“Watch it,” Shadowheart warned through gritted teeth.

“Some of us,” Astarion continued, “want to be cured of it.” 

Jaheira watched him carefully. “Any cure starts with understanding the disease. Whatever magic Ketheric’s using to control these tadpoles, it must be at Moonrise.”

“Well,” Gale clapped his hands together, “sounds like we should get a move on if we plan on finding that cure any time soon.”

Jaheira looked to you. “I’ve already shared what I believe to be the best route to the Towers with your friends here.” She nodded her head towards Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel. 

“Thank you,” you said. “Ketheric’s days are numbered - I’ll make sure of it.”

The Harper met you with a sad smile. “Without a cure for your infection, your days are numbered, yet you selflessly offer to spend them fighting alongside us. I like you.”

“Isn’t she the best?” Karlach clapped you on the shoulder, grinning, before clearing her throat. “I- I mean after you, of course.” She smiled awkwardly at Jaheira. 

Jaheira laughed, then addressed all of you: “I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you survive this.” 

Your companions offered their thanks, accompanied by a dramatic eye roll from Astarion. 

“Before you go,” Jaheira said, “there’s someone else you should meet.”

“Gods,” Astarion muttered, “we’re going to be stuck here forever if we keep yammering instead of doing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaheira raised an eyebrow, “do you wish to be consumed by shadow?”

“If we have a choice,” Wyll said, “I’d prefer not to.”

“Good man,” she smiled at the warlock before looking around at everyone again. “You’re not our only secret weapon.” She rolled up the map laid before you all and handed it off to Wyll. “Isobel - a faithful cleric of Selûne, and a light in the darkness.” 

“Selûne?” Shadowheart wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Why would a servant to the Moonmaiden be all the way out here?”

“You’re lucky she is,” Jaheira gave Shadowheart a look, as if daring her to make another comment on the matter. “She cast the moon shield around the inn. It’s the only reason we’re still alive.” She moved to her right to point at a set of stairs in the small room off the taproom where you’d been speaking to Raphael. “She’s upstairs in her chambers. Tell her I sent you and she’ll see you through the shadows safely.” 

“We already have a lantern that protects us.” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 

“And I’m sure it’s very fine,” Jaheira said. “But lanterns have a tricky habit of going out when you need them.” When Shadowheart didn’t respond, Jaheira added, “Let’s not spurn what few gifts the gods choose to give us, hm?”

You had a feeling the “gods” she was referring to wasn’t the one Shadowheart had pledged her life to. 

“Well I, for one, can’t wait to see what this Isobel has to show us!” Astarion said, suddenly cheerful, and booking it up the stairs. 

Your party watched him go.

“What’s with him?” Karlach asked. 

“Very hot and cold, no?” Gale agreed. “I mean, more so than usual.”

“He’s being an idiot about something he said,” you sighed. “And it didn’t have anything to do with bears,” you pointed at Halsin before he could say anything. 

He simply smiled and shrugged, and followed everyone up the stairs.

“Sounds about right,” Shadowheart said. 

Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. “When has Astarion ever spoken about bears?” 

“He got drunk on one once,” you laughed. “But it wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about, then?” Wyll asked. “We’ve all said silly things we regret.”

“This wasn’t some silly thing, though” you clarified. “It was kind of important.”

Astarion ran out of a room beyond the balcony looking down into the taproom. “Would you all hurry up? I think I found her.”

You approached him as quickly as you could, trying to catch him off guard and reaching for his hand, but he dodged you and slipped back into the room. 

“Astarion!” you called and sped up even more to follow after him. 

You and the rest of the party entered into a large room - sectioned off to your right was a wall with two large doorways that lead into what appeared to be a study, complete with looming bookcases, a desk, and a fireplace. The rest of the room appeared to be a bedroom, based on the large bed with its headboard resting against the back wall, and a number of wardrobes. A large door that you assumed led outside stood next to the bed.

“Fancy digs,” Karlach murmured. 

You paused when Astarion thrust open the balcony door and revealed a woman with short white hair muttering incantations under her breath, surrounded by candles and white light.

“Now there’s a cleric of Selûne if I’ve ever seen one,” Gale said.

“And just how many of those have you come across?” Shadowheart sniffed.

“Quite a lot in my studies, actually. I’ve read about this one cleric of Selûne who-”

“Stop speaking,” Lae’zel hissed as you and your party made their way onto the balcony with Isobel. 

An orb of light appeared in Isobel’s hand and she spun her hands around it, making it grow bigger and brighter with moon magic. High above your heads, a full moon somehow shown down on you, despite Shar’s curse. The eight of you remained silent as she thrust the orb upwards where it met the barrier of the moonshield and reinforced the entire thing with a burst of light. 

Isobel looked up to admire her work before coughing weakly and turning around to face you all. “I didn’t realize I had an audience.”

“Really?” Astarion crossed his arms. “I mean, with me, I can understand, but they sound like a stampede of wild gnolls.” He gestured to the rest of you. 

Isobel gave him an amused half smile. “Please,” she extended a hand back into her room, “join me inside.” 

You purposely let the others go ahead of you and grabbed Astarion’s wrist before he could slip past you again. “I have things I need to say to you,” you said quietly.

“Perhaps later,” he responded, pulling his arm from your grasp and nearly tripping back into Isobel’s chambers. 

You rolled your eyes and followed him in, only to be addressed directly by Isobel herself.

“The True Soul who’s come to save us all.” She looked you up and down and smiled. “I’m Isobel. Pleased to meet you.” She finished with a small bow.

“And you,” you returned her bow and saw Karlach mimic it out of the corner of your eye. “We’ve been told you’re the protector of this inn - the banisher of shadows.” You wiggled your fingers as if telling small children about the boogeyman.

Isobel laughed lightly. “Myself and Our Lady are doing what we can to hold the line. I hear you and your tadpole will be our offense.” 

“Show us what to slay and it shall be done,” Lae’zel offered matter-of-factly.

Isobel scanned your group thoughtfully, the black paint around her eyes making her irises look piercingly blue. “All of you… free from the Absolute’s influence, yet able to walk among cultists. It’s almost too good to be true.”

“Uh, that it is,” Halsin said. “I, myself, remain tadpole free. Though I seek to help rid this land of the shadows that dwell here.”

“Then Our Lady thanks you most graciously,” Isobel nodded towards Halsin and he looked pleased by her approval. She turned back to you. “I’d be a poor cleric indeed not to avail of a blessing when I see one.” 

“Hear that?” Karlach nudged Wyll. “We’re a blessing.”

“We’ll certainly try to earn the praise,” Wyll chuckled. 

“Let me guess,” Isobel raised her eyebrows, assessing your group again, “Jaheira sent you all to beg a protection spell off her favorite cleric.” 

“You got it,” Gale confirmed. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Karlach added.

“With pleasure,” Isobel laughed. 

She closed her eyes as a golden column of light overtook her entire being. Lifting an arm above her head, her entire body turned gold until the light concentrated into only the hand she had raised in the air. She brought it down and held it in front of you, palm facing outwards. 

Suddenly, you were all surrounded by the same column of golden light that enveloped Isobel, and a warm calmness overtook your senses. 

Suddenly you knew that the shadows would subside and that you all would be bathed in the peaceful light of the moon once again.

Suddenly, it felt like everything was going to be okay. 

“Tingly,” you remarked.

“Perfect,” Isobel smiled. “That spell will make you immune to the lesser effects of the shadow curse, which will get you closer to the towers.”

“Thank you,” you said, observing your limbs and noticing how they now vaguely glowed with moon magic. Your companions seemed to be doing the same.

“But,” Isobel continued, “there are places it won’t help - places where the curse is darker. Stronger.” 

“And we will destroy these stronger shadows,” Lae’zel lifted her head confidently. 

Isobel exhaled slowly. “The cultists are able to traverse even the deepest shadows, though. I don’t know how - the Harpers are trying to figure it out.”

Shadowheart, who seemed to be more interested in the glowing of her limbs than the rest of you, looked up at Isobel with a scowl. “Selûnite magic. Dark Lady forgive me.”

“Good nose,” Isobel said sarcastically. “Like a nasty little terrier.”

Lae’zel snorted. “She already proclaimed herself to be a follower of Selûne. Were you not listening?”

Shadowheart shot her a glare. 

“Well, this has been lovely,” Astarion said, making his way to the door leading back into the inn proper. “Anything else we should know before we head off to save the day?” He was already halfway out the door, not bothering to wait for an answer, clearly trying to make a stealthy exit. 

You eyed Halsin, who nodded and retrieved the rogue by his arm before he could leave, closing the door behind both of them for good measure.

“Let me go, you humongous imbecile!” Astarion pounded his free arm against Halsin’s chest before Halsin released him and refused to let him move a muscle towards the door. Astarion huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up at the rest of you.

“Is he okay?” Isobel asked. 

“This is relatively normal behavior from him, actually,” Karlach said. 

“But please,” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “is there anything else we should know?”

Isobel thought for a moment. “Ketheric is a frightening man. But you have something he doesn’t: allies worth having.” 

You felt a wave of pride wash over you and your companions. 

“Daw,” Karlach kicked at the floorboard under her feet. “That’s very sweet.”

Isobel gave her a small smile. “While you’re all busy at the towers, I’ll be sure to-” 

She froze. 

“Wait. Do you hear that?”

The eight of you strained to hear what she could be referring to. 

Astarion clicked his tongue loudly. “I don’t hear-”

Isobel interrupted him. “Something’s wrong.”

That’s when you finally heard it: The beating of wings followed by a man landing hard on Isobel’s balcony. He wore the uniform of a Flaming Fist, and the way his wings moved seemed new and unnatural. He stood and retracted the black, feathery abominations, before exhaling and walking into the room. 

“Hello, Isobel.”

“Marcus,” Isobel breathed, “is that you? What’s happened to you?”

Halsin leaned forward. “I take it, you know this man?”

“I’ve been blessed,” Marcus said before Isobel could answer. “You can be, too. Come with me and you can hear all about it from Ketheric himself.”

“Isobel,” you said, not taking your eyes off Marcus, “who is this man?”

“He’s a Flaming Fist!” she exclaimed. “Or was. He came with the others when we created this haven.” 

“There are more Fists here?” Wyll muttered. 

Marcus addressed Isobel, “And I thank you for your hospitality.” Then he turned towards you.

You felt the familiar squirm of your tadpole being probed. Much to your dismay, Marcus’s voice rang out inside your head. 

“True Soul, my instructions are clear: take the girl to Ketheric.”

You wrinkled your nose, hating the sensation of his unwanted presence in your brain. In an act of defiance, you needled further into his own mind. 

A haunting face swam into your mind’s eye, its instructions vivid: “nothing is more important than bringing the girl - alive.”

Isobel must have seen the sour expression on your face because she turned towards Marcus aggressively. “What’s going on? If you have something to say, say it.”

“Marcus is trying to kidnap you, Isobel” you narrowed your eyes at the Fist. You looked back at your party, all of whom were already getting into battle positions. You turned to Marcus and took one step forward, bending your knees and dropping into a fighting stance. “Looks like we’re going to have to fight our way out of this one.”

Isobel’s eyes went wide.

“Pathetic,” Marcus spat. “The Absolute sees all - your treachery will be punished!” 

“The Absolute,” Isobel repeated before scowling. “Of course.” She gave Marcus a pleading look when she said, “You can’t believe them, Marcus. Ketheric will never give you whatever it is you’ve been promised.”

Marcus chuckled darkly and spread his hideous wings. “He already has.” He looked at her dead in the eyes. “Time to go, Isobel.”

With that, he reared backwards and roared loudly, far louder than any human of his size should be able to manage. You all stood in horror as you heard screeches and roars from Winged Horrors that flew abruptly into the inn and Isobel’s room. Already, you could hear shouting and screams from down below.

Isobel lifted a hand into the air. “Moonmaiden, guide my hand!”

Before she could cast anything, Marcus let out another piercing roar, knocking you all off guard.

Gale, who’d been standing out of his range, ran forward, a spell already prepped in his hand. When his touch connected with Isobel, she vanished; invisible.

“Good thinking, Gale!” you shouted, pulling your lute off your back and strumming some inspiration in his direction. 

Karlach and Lazel were already knocking back the Winged Horrors with their weapons, while Wyll thrust his rapier towards Marcus. Halsin shifted into bear form and growled at the Fist before taking a slash at him. Shadowheart summoned a circle of Spirit Guardians and rushed into the fray.

“We need to check on the others!” you shouted above the din of the battle. “I think they’ve got it covered in here!”

Astarion twirled a dagger in his hand. “Excellent idea, my darling,” he smirked before thrusting open the doors out into the inn.

To your shock and horror, you both found Raphael standing there, nonchalantly checking his nails. 

“Ah!” he said with fake surprise when he finally acknowledged you both standing there. “Just the lovebirds I was looking for. Remember that favor I mentioned earlier?”

“Right now?!” you cried in disbelief, gesturing to the chaos around you. You witnessed Jaheira shift into a jaguar and swat a Winged Horror out of the air. 

Raphael chuckled. “Oh, I think right now is the perfect time.” He raised his hand.

You and Astarion exchanged frantic glances.

“Wait!” Astarion shouted.

Raphael snapped his fingers.

And everything went black.

[supernovafics]

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k words

warnings: explicit language, (slight) jealous!steve, brief mention of blood/injury (reader has a lil fall)

summary: in which everything has changed for steve after that night at the bar and morning in your bed, but he hasn’t admitted that to you yet. being honest is much harder than he thought it would be and no moment feels completely right, so he continues to pretend that nothing has changed. but, a day at the park playing basketball with you makes it feel a thousand times harder to keep the secret

author's note: the slow burn will end one day (eventually) (i promise) i just love dragging things out for absolutely no reason<3 (i’m sorry!)<333 anyways enjoy this very slight jealous!steve moment! he’s a bit of an asshole in this but also like not really and it’s only kinda for a second

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

It actually wasn’t all that surprising when Steve asked you to go to the park— that Saturday marked the first slightly warm day in months. 

And maybe saying that he “asked you” was a bit of a stretch because this felt more like a hostage situation; one that you technically orchestrated since, as one of his Christmas presents, you promised that you would play basketball with him one time. And today, on one of the first few days of March, he decided to drag you out of the apartment and to the park that was a quick drive away and had semi-nice basketball courts. 

You changed out of your typical Saturday attire, which simply consisted of a hoodie and shorts, and into a cream-colored t-shirt that said, “Sports Suck. And you do too” in black lettering, Steve got it for you for your birthday, and it felt almost too fitting for this moment. You also had on a pair of black athletic shorts that had been your usual attire during high school gym class.

“You’re the only person that I would ever subject myself to doing this for,” You said to Steve as you stepped out of his car and grabbed the basketball that had been sitting at your sneaker covered feet during the drive. “So, I hope you understand how huge of a deal this is.” 

Steve laughed a bit. “I know, and I feel honored that you’re risking your life by doing this for me right now.”

“You say that jokingly, but I brought a first aid kit just in case this ends badly,” You said and handed the basketball over to him. “So, what’s first? A riveting round of HORSE?”

“Before we play any games, and I beat you at all of them, let’s just shoot around for a bit so you can get used to it. Was the last time you played basketball really at my eleventh birthday party?” He asked, shooting the ball from a little bit in front of the three-point line as he spoke and making it almost too effortlessly. 

You grabbed the ball as it bounced on the court and then took a shot. You were standing much closer to the basket than Steve had been but still missed. 

“If that didn’t just answer your question, yes, your birthday party was the last time I even thought about playing. I actually think it was that day that made me realize I should stay away from all sports.”

“You hadn’t been that bad back then.”

You gave him a look. “Steve, I hit your grandma with a basketball. I missed a shot so bad that it hit her.”

It was that day that you were banned from using the basketball hoop in Steve’s backyard, rightfully so. 

“Okay, yeah, but she was fine and forgave you immediately. And even made sure you got an extra piece of cake when you started crying because of how bad you felt,” He said, tossing the ball to you so that you could try another shot. 

“Still doesn’t change the fact that I’m horrible at this,” You said before taking a breath and shooting the ball. You missed again, but it at least hit the rim that time. 

“That’s progress,” Steve said and gave you an encouraging smile.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Exactly twenty-three minutes had passed, and the only reason that you were keeping close track of the time was because when Steve had dragged you out of the apartment, you told him that you’d only be playing for an hour; unless you somehow turned into a prodigy. 

You had lost count of how many times you shot the basketball, but you knew that the number of times you successfully made a basket was four. It was an embarrassingly low number, and you definitely were not a prodigy, but each time you surprisingly made a shot, you’d gasp in shock and Steve would whoop happily and give you an enthusiastic high five while saying that the pointers he was giving you were working. You weren’t entirely sure that was true— and it wasn’t because he was a bad teacher, you were just a bad student. You were certain that each shot you made was based on pure luck and simple probability; if you kept shooting the ball, you’d eventually end up making something. 

And when you told Steve exactly that, he only shook his head at you. “No, you made those four shots because you’re good.” 

How happy and positive he was being about this entire thing was the only thing that made it bearable. 

You laughed a bit. “I love you and your encouragement, but that is such an overstatement.”

“For someone that hasn’t even touched a basketball in eight years, you are good.” 

“Thank you,” You said with an amused smile on your face instead of rebutting his statement. “I’ll make sure to try out for the local rec team when the time comes.” 

“That’s a great idea. I’ll coach you to help you prepare,” Steve said jokingly, and you only laughed in response. 

You were about to ask him to toss you the ball, but a group of guys walking past you two, probably headed to the empty hoop on the other side of the court, caught your attention for a second instead. There were four of them and one smiled at you as he passed by you and Steve and he was kind of cute so you smiled back. 

You were completely unaware, but there was something about that smile you gave the guy that made Steve have to look away from the entire nonverbal interaction and focus on the basketball in his hand instead. All too quickly he wanted to blurt it all out, everything that had hit him so abruptly that morning in your bed barely two weeks ago. 

I love you. I’m in love with you.

For the most part, that thought was the only thing that consumed his mind these days, especially when you two were together; which of course was way more often than not. 

There had probably been at least a hundred moments where he almost accidentally let it slip. Hours after it all had hit him, you two were sitting on the couch mindlessly watching some random sitcom and you leaned your head on his shoulder and he was so close to simply whispering it to you. And then when you two were in your Film and TV history class that Tuesday and writing unserious notes back and forth to one another in the margins of his notebook, he wanted to just write the five words down and slide the notebook back over to you. And just last night when you two were driving to the movie theater to see something with Robin and Eddie, he felt the urge to say it when a stupid love song that felt as if it cheesily summed up exactly how he was feeling came on the radio. 

However, he would always bite his tongue right before he told you because he was waiting for that perfect moment to be honest with you, and nothing felt entirely right just yet. And it especially didn’t feel like a good time in this moment where you were smiling at some guy that wasn’t him and a certain feeling that could only be deemed as jealousy sat in the pit of his stomach. 

Steve cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to him and then he tossed the ball to you. “Your turn.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first round of HORSE was started and finished barely fifteen minutes later, quickly ending with Steve winning. Even though you could tell that he was going very easy on you and trying to let you win, you still somehow managed to lose. 

“This loss feels so much more embarrassing knowing that you were trying to let me win,” You had said after you missed your shot and got an “E.” 

“I wasn’t,” Steve told you with a shake of his head and you only gave him a look that said you didn’t believe him. 

You reached down to grab the ball and stop it from rolling away, but you somehow tripped over nothing but your own feet and landed hard on the ground. 

You yelped as you collided with the concrete. Luckily, you thought fast enough to put your hands out so that you didn’t completely faceplant. “Ouch. Shit.” 

Steve was by your side in an instant and started helping you up. “Are you okay?”

You could only shrug in response to his question at first as you stood up with the help of his hand on your arm. 

“Okay, just kidding, that moment was a lot more embarrassing than losing the game,” You told him. When you looked down and saw the deep scrape on your knee and the blood already starting to rise from the wound, you immediately had to look away from it. “I put the first aid kit in the backseat.”

“What? You actually brought it? I thought you were joking,” Steve said, keeping an arm around you as he helped you walk over to the car and opened the passenger side door so that you could sit down. 

“Of course, I wasn’t joking. It felt inevitable that something like this would happen,” You said as you sat sideways in the passenger seat so that your feet were on the ground, and then you grabbed a couple napkins from the glove compartment to place it on your knee and help stop the bleeding. “Honestly, I’m surprised this didn’t happen in the first five minutes.”  

Steve grabbed the first aid kit before kneeling down in front of you and you looked at the four guys down at the end of the court. They were playing a two against two game and the one that smiled at you earlier just made a shot at the three-point line. 

You stopped looking at him and instead focused on the top of Steve’s head. “Ugh, I can’t believe I just fell in front of that cute guy.” 

“Maybe he didn’t even see,” Steve mumbled with a quick shrug.

“I doubt that,” You said and then sighed. “These last few weeks have been very humbling. First, things immediately going downhill with Jamie, and now this.” 

Steve didn’t know how things had ended with Jamie, you had yet to tell him the exact reasoning, but selfishly he had been glad that they did. Although he couldn’t find it in him to tell you the truth just yet, the thought of now having to see you with anyone else annoyed him. 

You tapped his shoulder so that he would look up at you. “It would be a bad idea if I went up to him and asked for his number, right?” 

“Yeah, it would,” Steve answered, pulling his eyes away from yours and focusing on grabbing something from the first aid kit instead. His words were a lie, for the most part— he personally would’ve thought it was cute if a girl did that to him. He immediately felt like shit for lying to you, but not enough to go back on what he said. 

You nodded at his response. “Okay.”

You kept your eyes away from what Steve was doing as he cleaned up your knee, looking up at the sky instead until he was done and placing the large band-aid over it. 

“Thanks,” You said and smiled at him. 

He looked up at you for a brief moment before standing up and simply giving you a small nod. He went over to grab the basketball, which had rolled into the grass, and then put it in the backseat. 

The drive back to the apartment was quiet and it felt more like Steve’s doing than yours. He suddenly seemed distant, maybe even mad at you, and the abrupt shift felt so odd.

You looked over at him. “What’s wrong?” 

He shook his head. “I’m fine.” 

It felt pretty clear that he wasn’t fine, though. You could tell that he was annoyed at you for reasons that you couldn’t decipher and that only made you annoyed as well. You didn’t even play with the radio during the drive back to the apartment, you just sat there with your arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window. 

You wondered if the prevailing silence bothered him as much as it bothered you, but then that question didn’t even matter because he was pulling into the parking lot of the apartment building and parking in the usual open spot next to your car, and you were unbuckling your seatbelt. 

“What happened with you and Jamie?” Steve asked before you could open the door and step out of his car. “You never really talked about it.” 

The abruptness of the question surprised you; and it wasn’t even the question itself that was the surprising part, it was more so the timing of it. Was that why he decided to randomly get mad at you? Because you never told him what happened on that dumb date? And why the hell would it even matter at this point? 

You weren’t even entirely sure why you hadn’t told Steve the full extent of what happened. When you came back from the date that night, you only said that things had gone badly. 

You turned to look at Steve. “He didn’t like you.” 

His eyebrows furrowed at that. “What?”

“Well, not you necessarily, but us; our friendship,” You said, looking down at your band-aid-covered knee. “When me and him went on the date, he asked about what my emergency was and why I had to cancel the date the first time, and I told him about your accidental phone call and you being drunk at the bar and me having to go get you, and he didn’t see that as much of an emergency; especially since you had wanted Eddie to pick you up. He thought it was a little weird how easily I canceled plans to go do something for you, and the whole night kind of shifted awkwardly from there.”

You remembered that entire conversation perfectly, and you honestly couldn’t even get that annoyed with Jamie when he said any of that because you didn’t think that your priorities would ever be able to change. Steve would probably always be at the top of your unwritten list, and you had come to the conclusion that whoever else wanted to be in your life would just have to deal with that. 

“Oh.”

You looked at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve shook his head. “I’m sorry.” 

Hearing him say that only confused you. “Sorry for what?”

He was quiet for a long moment before sighing. “I don’t know…” 

“Is that why you were mad at me just now? Because I didn’t tell you what happened on the date?”

“No, I don’t even know why I brought it up right now, I was just curious,” He said with a shrug before meeting your gaze. “And I’m not mad at you for anything. I promise.” 

“Okay…” You said as you found one of his hands and gave it a light squeeze. “So, what’s up with you? Clearly, something’s wrong, right? Is it something with your parents?”

“No, nothing with them,” He responded, which was an answer that only confused you more. It looked like there were a thousand things going through his head right then, and you couldn’t seem to decipher any of it, which felt foreign to you— you were so used to reading him like a book. “It’s just… it’s kind of hard to explain right now.”

If it really had nothing to do with his parents, you were unsure what else it could be and what else would be difficult to talk to you about. In your head, there wasn’t supposed to be anything that you couldn’t talk to each other about; you were best friends for a reason. It was easy to joke around and playfully banter with one another, but it had also always been easy to have the types of deep and honest conversations that neither of you would ever have with anyone else. 

You decided not to push him further in this moment, though. Whatever was going on with him, you knew that he’d tell you eventually. 

“It’s okay. Tell me whenever you want to,” You said softly and then decided to say your next words jokingly to shift the mood a bit. “But stop being weird about whatever it is, or I will think that you hate me or something.”

Steve only shook his head at your words at first. “I could never hate you.”

Maybe that was when you should’ve seen it, when you should’ve realized how he felt about you. There was something about the way he said his short statement— so certainly, so truthfully— that should’ve made you connect all of the dots. But, that was the last possible thing on your mind. You would’ve thought that he wanted to move out of the apartment for some random reason before you even considered thinking that he had any sort of romantic feelings toward you. You two had been friends for forever so that just didn’t sound like a plausible thought. 

Therefore, instead of any sort of “aha!” moment hitting you right then, you smiled playfully at Steve and said, “Good.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[spookyrea]

For Years to Come (maybe even more)

After revealing to Loki that you two are soulmates (in an admittedly less-than-ideal fashion), the two of you finally discuss your matching soulmarks.

Chapter 2 / 3 - read on AO3

A soulmate-identifying mark AU - heavy petting involved in this chapter (kinda *shrug emoji*) - epilogue will contain smut

(chapter one) -- (epilogue)

If Loki was going to avoid you, you decided that it was well within your rights to avoid him, too.

You spent the last week of December on Natasha's couch, pretending to help her knit by unwinding her skeins of yarn while watching whatever wintery drivel you could find on television. She never asked you what was wrong but you suspected that she already knew, between her super-spy attention to detail and the compromising position she had found the two of you in on Christmas Eve. There was a decidedly Loki-shaped hole in every conversation, a vacancy that she would open to you with a side-long glance. Thor and I are going to go look at the lights before they take them down, she might say. His brother will probably join, since they're attached at the hip.

You never took the bait, which she respected (if sometimes with a rolled eye). Inevitably, by virtue of there being twenty-odd people living in one designated tower, more people were folded into your menagerie of distraction, and you made it all the way to the new year without having to think about the letter burning a hole in your kitchen counter.

That wasn't to say that Loki's absence wasn't festering inside of you; you hadn't realized how large a role he played in your day-to-day until he was gone. You had been so hyper-aware of his presence every time he entered a room, and now you could only focus on the emptiness where Loki should have been. On the churning discomfort in your chest that one day he might finally enter the room and not come sauntering up to your side to try and vie for your attention. Occasionally, you would catch the low hum of his seidr in the buzz of a fluorescent light, or in the twinkling sound that preceded snowfall, and would yearn for the sweet kiss of magic against your cheek.

“You have to tell me what happened,” Wanda insisted, eventually. She laid beside you on your couch, her feet propped up at awkward angles to avoid smudging her still-wet nail polish. “Or else I’m calling Steve and then you’ll really be in for it.”

You weren't in the mood for one of his pep-talks, though, so you pulled your blanket down from your head and sighed. “Loki is my soulmate.”

That must not have been the answer she had been anticipating. You watched one foot slowly drop, then the other, and then Wanda was turning on the spot to look at you, her black-rimmed eyes blinking over at you. “You’re joking.”

“He kissed me.” It felt good to tell someone else. It made it all real, somehow. “We got into an argument because he likes me and I’m so awkward around him that I can’t look him in the eyes, and then he kissed me.”

“But you like him.”

“Yes.”

“You got in an argument because he likes you and you like him.”

“I wrote him a letter.” You scrubbed your hands over your face, trying to will the hysteria away. “It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. What a mess.”

“Was he any good?”

You laughed, watery, your eyelashes a little damp. “Yeah. Yeah, he was.”

“Okay.” There was a sincerity to her voice that was uniquely Wanda. As if she had approached the world upside-down and somehow come back with exactly the right thing to say. “Imagine if he was a bad kisser. Then he’d be nothing but a pretty face.”

“You can teach someone to be a good kisser.”

“He’s ancient. If he hasn’t learned how to kiss someone by now, it’s hopeless. And also – Loki. He would see it as a personal attack. He would kiss worse on purpose.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

The television droned in the background; two men were making intricate sugar cookies decorated to look like disco balls. They had an easy kind of camaraderie that spoke of years of work together. You watched in a companionable silence until an advertising break broke the spell. “So are you two… together now?”

“Um… no. No, I don’t think we’re going to be together.”

“You know he goes a little,” she spun a finger through the air, flashing red for extra effect, “when you’re around?”

“The seidr thing?”

“I was thinking about the ‘I'm-the-coolest-guy-in-the-room’ thing but sure, that too.”

You sighed. “Why couldn't you be my soulmate? I can talk to you.”

Wanda was a pragmatist at the end of the day. She was a little like Steve in that way -- fiercely empathetic in a practical way. “How does ‘talk to your soulmate’ sound as a resolution?”

“It sounds like a start.”

“Mine is to learn how to cross stitch.” There was a plan forming behind her eyes; she took you by the wrist and hauled the two of you off the couch before stomping off in search of her coat. “We need to go get you a new outfit.”

“We do?”

She nodded. “A dress. A pretty dress. A dress that says ’sorry I was so awkward but you’re really scary and hot and I’m only a puny mortal’.”

“You just want an excuse to go shopping.”

“I am a woman of many interests.”

You bit back a smile. Linking your fingers together, you gave her hand a long, strong squeeze and let her pick the first store on your agenda.

You were running a little late; there was a shoe malfunction, and a missing eyeliner pen, and before any of you realised it was almost ten o’clock. You took the train; in New Year’s Eve traffic, it was a tight fit – each car was full to bursting, humid and smelling of sweat and cologne – but you only had to make it three stops. You held onto the rail and Natasha, Carol and Wanda held on to you, giggling, sidled up close.

The bar Tony had rented was, mercifully, only a few feet from the subway entrance. The three of you picked your way through the snow while Natasha, ever the pinnacle of grace, somehow glided across the sidewalk in her five-inch heels.

The place was dingy in a homely kind of way. All exposed brick and wooden beams, the walls were covered in sports memorabilia and framed Playboy covers, and a net of twinkling lights was strung up along the ceiling. A low drone of chatter and jazz hung in the air, a nostalgic sound that reminded you not of winters passed, but of years from now when you would look back on this moment. Outside a snowstorm howled, blanketing the city streets in a navy haze, but for now you were warm and dry and a little lovesick.

Natasha kissed your cheek before slipping away to find Clint, who no doubt had already turned his hearing aids off and was nursing a beer in some secluded corner. Wanda clung to your elbow for support while she scanned the crowd, balanced on her tiptoes. “Do you see him?”

“No. Hey, wait–” You caught a loose bobby pin, hanging on by a thin curl, and smoothed her hair back in place. “Ok. Better. Have you found him?”

“Thanks.” She had that look in her eye, that fit-to-bursting expression she got when the whole extended family got together. It seemed the entire Avengers rota was in the room. “And yeah, there, with Thor and Steve.”

A long table – which you suspected was actually three or four pushed together, based on how haphazardly the chairs were scattered around it – sat slightly askew near the back of the bar. Your team had congregated at one end, grinning, a few clearly inebriated.

Loki was tucked away at the very opposite edge, rolling a glass between his hands. His perpetual rain cloud seemed to have given way to a veritable storm because a few of the lights overhead were sparking, glowing green around the edges. Some pretty creature hovered by his side, twirling her shiny blonde hair and batting her eyelashes. 

Her neck was exposed; her mark was a stark thing made up of sharp geometric lines, and you admired how bold she was to approach him knowing she wasn’t a match. She was leaning over the back of an empty chair, tracing a neatly manicured nail down its woodgrain. Her comment had Loki smiling, rolling his eyes good naturedly, preening a little under her attention. She tilted her head toward the dancefloor; though you couldn’t see her face, the question was obvious. 

“You look great,” Wanda whispered.

“Thanks. So do you.” 

You watched Loki consider her offer. He enjoyed company, of course; Loki was seldom alone, even if that meant hanging around crowds who weren’t very fond of him, or that he was fond of. Maybe it was survival, or loneliness, or some combination of the two, but Loki liked to be included in the joke, even at his detriment.

Yet his eyes scanned the crowd, seeking someone else’s attention. Everything felt right when they found yours.

You took your time rounding the table, lingering by Steve and Rhodey so you could watch Loki unwind to a petulant slouch. When you reached the end, Darcy leaned over to give you a kiss on the cheek, smearing her lipstick a little in the process, and pushed a drink into your hand. “Happy new year!”

It was a short distance but a long walk to the empty seat next to Loki. The closer you got, the more excited his seidr seemed to grow; it whispered sweet nothings in a language you couldn't understand, crowding up against your cheek like an affectionate cat. Ushered you close so it could kiss you so tenderly while Loki looked on with cool disinterest. He waved the girl away.

“You looked lonely,” you hummed. “All the way over here.”

“My ill mood was making our colleagues’ devices malfunction.” He tsked, taking a long pull from his glass. “I’m afraid you have the same effect. On my seidr, I mean.”

“You mean it doesn’t… play with other people?”

His expression was unreadable. “What was it you said? ‘You make me nervous because I’m attracted to you’?”

“The other you didn’t seem all that nervous. Ginger-Loki.”

“You do like him better, then.” It was meant to be a joke but the mirth didn’t quite reach Loki’s eyes; he watched you a little despondently, like a man who had spent his entire life just shy of perfection. 

“I told you before. I like this Loki.”

“He’s not very nice.”

Your right hand tiptoed across the table to lay over his wrist. Now was not the time to be shy. “I’m sorry about the letter.”

“I’ve been called worse in languages older than you.”

“Maybe so. I wasn’t done, though. It was supposed to say something like ‘You’re vile and–” Something about his expression made you pause; Loki’s gaze had gone far-off, fixated on the snow accumulating on the windows. “...It was supposed to be a love letter.”

He snorted. “Charming.”

“I’ve had a crush on you for forever. I could barely stand to look at you sometimes because I thought you would notice. I wanted to put everything down on paper but then I just… couldn’t.”

“So you attacked my character. Delightful.”

“Loki. Look at me.” It was his turn to avoid your eye, it seemed. You pressed on his cheek until he was looking levely into your eyes. “Have you been trying to hit on me?”

“‘Hit on’. No, I was not trying to ‘hit on’ you. I’m a prince. I was trying to woo you. Or at the very least, manufacture conversation.”

“How many times have you tried?”

“How many times have you run away, kitten?”

There was a great commotion across the bar. Steve called your name, hands planted on his hips. “Tell the kids they have a curfew.”

Peter, Ned and MJ began to complain all at once. They had commandeered one of the overhead TVs to play someone’s Nintendo Switch and were passing the controller back and forth to beat a boss. Morgan sat in Wanda’s lap, too young to understand the mechanics but eager enough to cheer on, and each of them wore a knitted cap that Natasha had made for them.

It came over you all at once. You were sure that Scott and Sam would join them in a few minutes to help beat the boss. That Clint would come by and take Morgan somewhere quieter when she started dozing off. That Bucky and Steve would pick people at random and swing them around to club music that didn't match the sock hop, just for the fun of it.

You had a soulmate but it didn’t really matter, at the end of the day. All the anxiety, the fear and loathing and stoicism -- none of it was necessary. You would pick these people no matter their marks, and they would pick you because love was an innate but fickle thing; there was no use trying to control it, only to appreciate it when it happened.

“Let them stay, Cap," you called back. "Until the crowds die down.”

Peter and Ned whooped. Steve smiled like he never intended to run them off, anyway.

Loki tugged on your shirt sleeve; how he loved to do that, to commandeer your attention. Like a dog not yet done playing fetch – look at me, he demanded. I’m starved of your affections already. His fingers threaded through yours.

“I’m not running away this time, I promise."

A single curl was snaking free from his short ponytail, falling across his forehead in a little crescent shape. He pushed it aside with your linked hands, like letting go was out of the question.

“Why are you here,” he blurted out. “If it’s pity, or some self-sacrificing sense of duty, then I would advise you to leave.”

You watched him watch you.

“I think… We’re finally on an even playing field. And I owe you another letter.”

“You could call me despicable this time. Egregiously egotistical.”

“I could call you ‘mine’.”

Loki’s seat was askew, not quite tucked under the table, and he turned sideways to face you, one arm dangling over the back. He finished his drink in one long pull, tilting his chin just high enough to strain the crisp collar of his shirt. “Do not pretend. I have to warn you, I’m well versed in wanting.”

It was perhaps the first time since you met Loki -- before even being hired, back when you were a street-level hero who got roped into conflicts too big to comprehend -- that neither one of you was trying to fill an awkward silence. Loki played with your hand, puppeting your fingers open and shut with the same meanness that one might pet a beloved cat, while you sipped on your drink. You found that you liked the silence; when neither one of you was anxiously prattling on, you seemed to get along quite nicely.

“What does, um… Ket– kettlina? What does it mean?”

His other hand threaded through the elastic in his hair and snapped it free, vanishing it elsewhere with a flick of his wrist. “Ketlinkr? It’s a diminutive.” He shrugged. “‘Little cat’.”

Magic hummed – maybe his, or maybe the inherent magic of love – in the air, kissing your cheek so sweetly. Loki, seeming to sense it, traced the spot with the tips of his fingers.

Every breath you drew was heavy. You wanted him to lean in so badly that it hurt, worse than a pang, worse than an ache - there was a pain inside your chest that you felt only his mouth could soothe. “Kitten.”

He smiled – shy, almost. “Yes, but affectionate. T’eta minn ketlinkr. My kitten.”

At some point, his hand had crept over the back of your chair. In the half-circle of his arms, it was as though every dream you had ever dreamt had secretly been about him. Like every moment of déja-vu, every time you heard someone call your name and found no one there, every inexplicable instance of strange magic in your mundane life - it all traced back to him, in that moment. “Ketlinkr,” you tested the word. “I never did agree to the nickname.”

He drew the pad of his thumb over the lipstick smudge on your cheek, blinking uninterestedly down where his thumb came away red. “T’eta hverr, ketlinkr. Minn minikla ketti.” 

“Why not, um… Ben…” 

“Bendr,” he hummed. “Would you like to be my mortal wound?”

He knocked at one of your chair legs, tottling you backwards, then forwards when you overcorrected. You collided inelegantly with his chest, giving him the perfect opening to slide his arm around your waist and ‘catch’ you before you tumbled out of his lap. The new proximity pressed his cheek to yours. “Terribly sorry, kitten,” he spoke against the shell of your ear. “You’ll have to excuse my manners. All the alcohol I guess. I don’t know my own strength.”

You clutched at his collar. “You did that on purpose.”

“You have no proof. It’s your word against mine and I am excellent on the stand.” He held you tightly, winding his other arm around your back like a snare. You felt his cheek tip up in a smirk against yours, your shared giddiness seeming to overwhelm.

“I thought you were going to be nice.”

“That was the red-head. This is your Loki. Loki-Loki. He’s vile. ”

“Good evening, New York!” Tony had clambered up on the stage and commandeered the microphone. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, so many buttons deep that you could just make out the lines of scar tissue around his arc reactor. “Just a reminder that you have two minutes until midnight. So if you haven't found your soulmate yet, you’d better pick the hottest person in this room and settle for second best. Or hope! You never know.”

The crowd cheered. Loki deposited you on your knees, precariously balanced on his lap. “Hottest person in the room?”

“You’re supposed to kiss someone at midnight. Something about ringing in the new year and good luck in love.”

“Oh. Well, good thing I’ve already snatched you up. It would have been a blood bath if I had to find you with a minute until midnight.”

You tipped your head back and laughed. “My blood, more like. You should see the looks people are throwing you.”

Indignation glanced off his eyes; his hand rode up the length of your back, the heel of his palm slotting just under your skull to cradle your head. “I would never let anyone hurt you.”

“It’s less about ‘letting’ and more about a dozen peoples’ personal journeys to find out what’s under your collar.”

The televisions mounted to the ceiling flickered; a thirty-second countdown began ticking down overhead. You tested your weight against Loki’s chest, curling your fingers around his shoulders.

“Well, if it’s tradition,” Loki started, his voice coy but eyes burning hot, “then who are we to deny?”

 “You’re right. Tradition to uphold. It would practically be illegal not to.”

“Exactly. And I’m a good guy now, right? A hero. I am bound by duty to respect the law to the letter.” He paused. “That sounds horribly boring. Forget I said that.”

The crowd started counting at fifteen - a few stragglers at first, snowballing until the entire room was chanting. It was infectious, so heady that you felt as though your chest was fit to burst any second; you turned your face down to meet Loki’s, hardly able to stop yourself from just leaning in and sealing your mouth to his. 

“I like it when you look at me,” Loki murmured.

You slid one hand over his cheek and traced the lines carved by his smile. “I like it when you look at me, too.”

Five, the room chanted. Loki tilted his head, his lips parting with an inaudible sigh. You moved your hand back down to his shoulder to steady yourself. Four, three– 

You didn’t make it to one; Loki closed the distance early. Time slowed to an endless stretch that consisted only of his thumb, tracing a long, slow line down your ribs; of the amorous sound of your breath catching in your chest; of the weight of his legs pressed against yours. Though it seemed impossible, he drew you even more securely against the solid wall of his chest, so that you had no choice but to unfurl, winding both of your arms behind his neck.

The room must have been alight with noise and celebration but when you pulled away, you were only aware of him. His heavy-lidded eyes tracked your lips with a liquid kind of want, something that seemed to spill from him with every shaky breath. 

He kissed you again.

“Why don’t you bring me back to your room,” he whispered, “and I’ll show you why they call me Silvertongue.”

You crammed yourselves in the backseat of a cab with the middle seat yawning a respectable distance between you. The driver greeted you with a grunt, his eyes resolutely fixed ahead; at just past midnight, you had a feeling he wasn’t in the mood to listen to drunken drivel or to sit through a peep show.

The streets were chaos; why you thought this would be easier, you couldn’t comprehend. Later, you would blame it on the dizziness, or the lovesickness.

You blinked out of your reverie when something brushed against your wrist. Loki’s hand had crossed the distance between you and lay, palm facing upwards, next to yours. He’d wiggled his index finger under your pinky.

With every block that you crossed, your giddiness was melting away to something else entirely, something hot and wanting. Something like honey, or maybe whiskey. At three-and-a-half blocks away from the tower, the two of you tumbled out of the car with a lacklustre happy new year, which the driver waved off. You paid him with too many bills, not willing to wait a second more.

The tower was deserted; even the lobby, which was usually lit up all hours of the day, was dark. The security guards had all left for the night, waved away by Tony with the insistence that FRIDAY could vet potential intruders while they enjoyed their evening. Your footsteps were painfully loud in the empty atrium.

Loki followed you up to your room like a spectre. By the time you got to your door, your hands were shaking so badly that you could hardly get your key into the lock, too distracted by the way Loki was mouthing at your jaw, breath hot and humid on your skin, his hands riding up your sides to tangle in the fabric of your dress.

“You have to stop for a second,” you gasped. “I can’t– I can’t think with you like this.”

His tongue traced a line over your pulse point. He turned you around and plucked the key from your hand before crowding you against the door, the open curve of his mouth a teasing pressure against yours. You heard the key grind against the little pins, then turn; Loki caught you at the last second when the door swung open underneath you, laughing, equal parts arrogant and aroused.

Loki leaned against the doorframe, his arms bracketing it on either side, and watched you back away. His head tilted; his eyes pulled you apart like a butcher pulled pork. You continued until the backs of your thighs met your couch, your bag and coat forgotten to the side in a sad heap. 

The deadbolt slid into place with a click. 

You beckoned him forward for a quick kiss. Hardly more than a peck.

“Oh, I think I deserve a little more than that.”

You hummed. “Careful, ben.. .”

“Bendr.” He reached up and toyed with your bottom lip, then leant down and licked where his thumb had been. “Your accent is infuriating.”

“I’m trying,” you gasped. One of his legs slotted between yours so he could lean his weight on the couch, effectively pinning you under him.

“Loki–” You were cut short by a sharp roll of his hips against yours. A truly evil grin shaded his handsome face before he tipped his head to kiss you again. You squirmed, turning your cheek; undeterred, Loki pressed his mouth to the highest point on your cheekbone. “Loki, really–”

“It’s fun. We’re just having fun, kitten.” He punctuated his sentence by working his hand over your body, palming one breast upwards with a turn of his wrist.

“Stop interrupting me.”

His mouth closed over your pulse point, dull teeth scraping over your skin with purpose. The hand not groping your chest slipped under your skirt, hiking it up so he could toy with the waistband of your underwear, drawing a featherlight path along the edge before occasionally sliding his thumb under, admiring the soft skin of your hip. Any coherent thought fizzled and stuttered until your mind was a blank well for him to pour his desire into. Don’t I make you feel good, he asked. Imagine what I can do with my hands. With my tongue.  

He cooed at you, licking a long, flat stripe up your neck. The hand around your hip slid even higher, slotting nicely under the jut of your ribcage. He pressed his face into the dip between your neck and shoulder and sighed, his chest filling then draining to a terrible, shaky emptiness. He pretended to smile. “Humour me. Use me.”

Using the hand in his hair, you twisted his head to the side and kissed him, pressing all the things you couldn’t say into his lips. How sorry you were for not speaking sooner. How you hoped there might be a future left to scrounge. "Have I ruined it?"

His mouth twisted to a funny line. You got the impression that he wanted to continue pretending, to slip into a caricature of himself where your words hadn't hurt him. Maybe it would be easier to act as if the two of you had organically fallen in love and not stumbled, face-first, into a strange, unconfident dance. But then -- Loki had made many mistakes in his lifetime. Had fought losing battles until the end of days in the name of spite, or pain. He couldn't fault you for a mistake he would have made ten-fold, had he been in the same scenario.

So he kissed your knuckles for the simple pleasure of kissing you.

“Loki." You would write him a hundred love letters after tonight. “Look at my neck.”

His hands drew away slowly, though the ghost of them lingered; his seidr smoothed up and down your sides, as if Loki was committing to memory the feel of you unconsciously.

He twisted the top button from its buttonhole, then followed the placket all the way to the top of your belly until your dress was limp and wide open. It slipped down your shoulders; you would have expected him to be ogling you, or to make some lecherous comment now that you were exposed to him, but his eyes stayed neutral, his hands shy where they traced your upper arms.

“I’m going to turn around now.” You disentangled your legs and twisted, drawing your feet up and over the back of the couch so you were seated on the back. 

He was silent for a while. “Have I developed your mortal hysteria? I must have conjured you up out of lust.”

“No, Loki. It’s just a… a cosmic prank, I guess.”

Silence yawned and stretched, a creature warmed from a long slumber. Eventually, Loki rounded the couch so he could kneel on the cushions between your knees. You wound him in by the collar of his shirt, fisting it until he was close enough to be kissed, whereafter he met you in steps – realization, that you were kissing him; elation, that he might get to kiss you; and desperation, to keep you there forever.

"What else could you call me?"

"Duva. Ljufi. Ah, ja, minn ljuflinkr."

"Ljufi?"

"Love." The stereo system under your tv picked up, crackling with static. The air grew thick with ozone and magic, which settled like humidity over the back of your neck and whispered nonsense. “Alright, my skittish kitten… What do you call me?”

“Hm... Love, maybe? Um, sweetheart? My soulmate?”

He nodded gravely, hands on either side of your face. “We have weeks to make up for. Again.”

You threaded your fingers through his belt loops, urging him to lean his weight on you. He followed gingerly, drawn by your voice like a dog on a lead. “Soulmate. My soulmate.”

He couldn’t ask you a third time. He was too busy committing to memory the curve of your mouth against his.

The picture was uploaded to Twitter on January 1st at 3:47 AM – It was terrible quality, taken in a dimly-lit bar only a minute after midnight. You and Loki were perfectly framed in a sea of lovers, so wrapped up in the other that you weren’t aware of the flash. Darcy’s lipstick was still smeared on your cheek; few stray curls hung in a curtain in front of Loki’s eyes; and his right hand was balled up in the fabric of your dress, the tension just right, so that the top few dots of your soulmark peeked out.

You were both beaming. 

[umbrellajam]

okay so I did end up last minute deciding to go to WonderCon yesterday and I'm glad I did, the panels were SO good. the whole con is so much more comics-focused than more general pop culture cons that I've been to, and it's great.

below the cut for Mark Waid, Superman, Knightfall, MFitz, Tim Sheridan, Todd MacFarlane, and Jim Lee

Mark Waid: 50 Answers in 50 Minutes

Exactly, as it sounds, a quickfire Q&A session with Mark Waid.

Lots of fun anecdotes about his long career in the industry, how he got into Superman as a depressed rural teen, who felt that no one cared whether he lived or died, after going to see the first Christopher Reeves movie, and being stricken with emotion that "Superman cares about everybody." He walked out knowing whatever he did with his life, it would have to be something to do with Superman.

New History of the DC Universe! He mentioned that this is something that DC has been wanting to do since before he even came back to DC, and then when he did, he made it clear that he would "burn the place to the ground if he wasn't allowed to do it", lol

120 pages of Barry Allen journeying from the beginning of the DC universe to the end (and beyond), and there will also be a detailed timeline at the end for anything they aren't able to cover in the fully illustrated story sections, so everyone's favorite characters/events will be able to be included

Writing the DC Universe Animated Movies

Tim Sheridan (Batman: The Long Halloween), Meghan Fitzmartin (Justice Society: World War II), Jeremy Adams (Batman: Soul of the Dragon), Jim Krieg (Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths), Ernie Altbacker (Justice League Dark: Apokolips War)

very chatty bunch, lol.

there was a fun question that got them all talking about the struggles of adapting comics; Tim Sheridan mentioned if he attempted to do a direct adaptation of The Long Halloween, with all 12 months, in the original single 72 minute movie that he'd been given, there would have to be a murder approximately every 5 minutes. so the team (I think Jim Krieg mainly?) went to DC and asked to make it a two-parter, basically doubling their budget, and fortunately they agreed!

also during the Q&A, a comics journalist slyly asked for news about the rumored upcoming Knightfall movie(s).

I'd been looking something up on my phone at the time, and as soon as I heard "Knightfall" my whole body jerked like I'd been zapped and my head came up to stare at them with the burning eyes of a hunting dog, lmao

The whole panel immediately went wooden and tight-lipped, mentioning that a particular higher-up (can't recall the name) would have their heads on a chopping block and they "can't say anything about that".

Until chatterbox Jim Krieg also immediately went something like, "YEAH, unfortunately we can neither confirm nor deny that THOSE MOVIES ARE GETTING MADE ;| (stone-faced wink)" while the other panelists face-palmed

KNIGHTFALL MOVIES. PLURAL. \o/!!!!!

DC: Superman with Mark Waid and Dan Slott

Mark Waid, Dan Slott, and DC Editor-in-Chief Marie Javins

They talked about letter columns a bit, all three had done stints answering letters back in the day.

Marie Javins mentioned that the reason they don't do letter columns anymore is because they don't get enough letters u_u but that they would want to bring them back if more letters were sent in!

Very fun look at the upcoming Summer of Superman, including Superman Unlimited (Slott), and Action Comics (Waid).

Definitely timed to be a good jumping-on point for new fans who hopefully fall in love with the new Superman movie

Waid was invited with a number of other Superman writers to tour the set of the movie, but unfortunately was booked for a con in Europe that conflicted so he had to miss it (and was super, super bummed). But everything he's seen and heard from other people indicates that we're all going to love it. (Fingers crossed!!)

Waid fell in love with Clark Kent's Superboy in particular because of shared history, rural background basically like Smallville, isolation, etc., and is very glad that they've re-established his history with the Legion and being a young Superboy trying to figure things out.

Which is what his Action Comics is also going to cover! The pitch sounded a lot like the Smallville TV show, tbh, including having a young Lex Luthor that Clark befriends because he's the only one Clark finds in Smallville who can kind of keep up with him and talk about the kind of big issues that he's wrestling with.

I tend to prefer Clark meeting Lex as adults in Metropolis, personally, but it looks like it will be a fun time.

Two Legends - Jim Lee and Todd McFarlane

This was an absolutely fantastic panel. So apparently Jim Lee and Todd McFarlane were both going to be at the con and have separate panels, but then MacFarlane looked at the schedule, saw Jim Lee, and went oh, let's just do one big panel together! It was basically just a structured chat between the two of them the whole time, going through their individual histories, then how they met, their impressions of each other as peers coming up around the same time, and then how they formed Image Comics.

MacFarlane actually didn't get into comics until relatively late, age 16-17 or so, and he was a jock so it was something he kept a secret, comics were, as we all know, a weird shameful hobby, so he kept them literally in his closet. Where his girlfriend found them and he tried to pass them off as being his brother's, lol

MacFarlane's then-girlfriend ended up being his first editor when he was 17 and drawing his first proto-Spawn comic :) and then she, as his wife, was also his editor years later when they first put out the official Spawn #1 :) she was also in the audience at the con, very sweet

MacFarlane's parents were supportive of his interest, and got him his first drafting table as a Christmas present, which he drew all of his subsequent comics on and still has to this day.

Jim Lee kept making faces and - friendly! - jibes at MacFarlane's stories, because his parents were the opposite of supportive. They intensely disliked his interest in comics, hadn't immigrated from Korea for the American Dream of their son being a starving artist, he was supposed to study, study, study, and be a doctor! They would give him issues as a child just to like keep him occupied on long drives and such, but he said there were at least two incidents when he came home and his Mom had thrown out his whole collection (including like, Action #1….) and also when their car broke down one winter his dad stuffed a bunch of his comics under the tires for visibility or something. Yikes!

He was like "I had to buy my own damn drafting table, and I also still have it, and it's covered with drawings and contacts numbers of people in the industry, etc.

He eventually had a huge blow-up fight with his parents at like 20-21, left the house and just walked away. But. It was in the middle of the suburbs at night, he didn't know where he was going, the Greyhound station was like 10 miles away, lol. Luckily his dad went after him and brought him back, and they ended up talking it over after seeing how passionate he really was about it. He'd been pre-med in college, and was basically all set to apply to medical school, but would take a year off to try and make it in comics, promising he would go back to med school and like, "save people's lives, make the world a better place or whatever 😒' if he failed, lol

Lots of other fun stuff in here as they went over their journeys getting into the industry, Jim getting his break from just showing his portfolio to a big name Marvel person at a con and just getting invited into their offices for another look, and immediately getting hired for Alpha Flight, then Punisher, then eventuall taking on the biggest title at the time, X-Men. MacFarlane was also at Marvel, but took on the much lower Amazing Spider-Man, which was down at like #28 in sales, and worked to bring it up, as opposed to Lee who had to maintain a juggernaut and push it to even greater heights.

They both eventually got sick of Marvel's shit, and first MacFarlane with Rob Liefeld and a couple of others decided to leave and form their own company, Image Comics.

MacFarlane ran into Jim Lee by happenstance at a comics art auction the day before their big meeting when they were going to quit Marvel, MacFarlane told Lee why he was there and gave him the rundown on their plans, and Lee basically went, huh. Can I come with you to the meeting?

Which was a HUGE deal because while the others already in on the plan were kind of rebellious types that Marvel might be happy to see the backs of, Jim Lee was a Golden Boy, lol.

Funniest part was that, after the meeting the next day where they told Marvel they were hitting the road, MacFarlane then dragged them both over to DC to make a big production there as well.

DC was like salivating at this point because artists/creators typically ping-ponged between the two companies, so if this whole group of superstars were ditching Marvel then holy shit, yay, huge windfall for DC to scoop them up! There were a ton of people in the meeting, assistant editors and such all excited - but no, MacFarlane called the whole thing just to give them the middle finger too and go "we're never working for you again, either!!"

Poor Jim Lee had never worked for DC or done anything for them at that point, and as mentioned before he was a Boy Scout/Golden Boy type who, uh, wanted to make a living and have a career in the industry, so he was 0_0 about this, like "what if our thing fails and I end up needing to work at DC… what if I end up running DC 😏" (big cheer from the audience). But he did end up going along with it, lol.

This was in an absolutely enormous conference room with a huge number of seats. It was about half an hour after the Superman panel so I just stayed in my seat from one to the other, and jeez, I'm glad I did, because I looked back at the end and the whole damn room was packed.

A Comics Coming Out Party

This was a kind of celebration/"coming out party" for pre-existing comics characters who had been later revealed to be LBGTQ+. Tim Sheridan (writer, Alan Scott: Green Lantern), David Booher (writer, Canto), Meghan Fitzmartin (writer, Tim Drake: Robin), Dylan Carter (cosplayer, co-host, House of X podcast)—and moderator Jack Phoenix (comics librarian)

Fun time, they gave out rainbow party hats and fans and we cheered/clapped through the slideshow.

Some things that I thought were interesting from MFitz:

She wasn't the first one to actually pitch queer Tim to DC! And she said that she thought if she had been, they wouldn't have allowed it. But because James Tynion IV had actually approached/discussed it with them before, there was kind of precedent, she had more support. I'm not sure if Tynion had a proper pitch for a story that he wanted to tell, or if these were just talks he'd had with DC, but yeah! cool stuff laying the groundwork.

MFitz literally went in with a Powerpoint of comics evidence re: all of Tim's queer subtext with her pitch, including Tim and Kon getting stuck in that closet together by Geoff Johns, Tim changing his entire costume for Kon, Tim trying to clone Kon back from death almost a hundred times…and the people she pitched to basically nodded and went, "Hm, yeah, you…may have a point", lol.

She basically went, "Look, y'all aren't doing anything with this kid, so I'm going to tell you what the story is."

It did make me laugh into my hands a bit when she went on to talk about diving into Tim's history because, rather than making up a new love interest, she wanted to include how this type of self-reflection and discovery often involves old friends, and going, "Hm," at him and Bernard and realizing "oh, what he finds when he goes looking inside himself is Bernard" - after she'd just gone on at length about how much of Tim's historical queer subtext involved Kon and how it was a huge basis for her pitch 😂

like. (jazzhands) sure. it was Bernard the whole time. totally.

(yes I know why DC wouldn't have let it be Kon. but it's still Kon lmfao)

Tim Sheridan is actually desperate to write Tim, apparently! He himself is gay, and was really into Bat comics around the time when Marv Wolfman was creating a new Robin, named "Tim"….who is now also queer….!! So yeah he wants to get his hands on Tim and explore those stories, which is fun to know

I kept waiting for an opportunity to ask whether MFitz thought Tim was currently in possession of his spleen, but never got an opening, lol.

[mission-light-if]

Mission Light - Lawyer Path Part 2 - Out Now!

Hello guys, it's me again :)

First of all, I know I said that I would try to upload the update by the 8th of April, but yeah, that didn't happen, obviously.

Before my top surgery, a lot happened, and I had no time to finish everything.

I also lost some of the things I had written because I was careless.

I was frustrated about that, and after the surgery, I needed some time to recover. I also had a few complications, and university started again.

By now, I've managed to rewrite a lot of what was lost, but not everything.

Since I finally want to put something out there, and it's been six months since I originally wanted to finish the lawyer prologue, I've decided to upload what I have so far.

Which, in itself, is also a lot—I'd estimate it to be around 170,000–180,000 words :)

Now, there are still about 3-4 things missing, but when you play the new update, you'll notice that I added a short text/info when that's the case.

I will add those sections in the future. There are also some more minor things I want to add here and there, so my work on the lawyer prologue isn't finished yet.

However, since I have worked on it so much, I’m really tired of seeing it at the moment. So maybe I'll start working on the next chapter first and then get back to what’s missing in the lawyer prologue later on to regain some motivation/fun in writing. I've been wanting to start the next chapter for so long; I finally want to write all the scenes I've been planning and more.

Honestly, it’s been an up-and-down process. Sometimes I was really motivated, sometimes I wasn't, and there were just parts I kept putting off because I had no fun writing them, but I needed them for the progression of the story. So, the quality of the writing may differ in some parts.

I also have to fix the scaling and the relationship/flirt points for some characters/parts, but that's something that only concerns me for now since they aren’t really relevant at the moment, but yeah.

Starting now, I want to do weekly updates. That means, at the end of every week, I’ll upload a new version with everything I’ve written and done during that week, so please remember that. It could be a new choice, just one new paragraph, or maybe a lot of new content.

I will always tell you what I added/changed, though.

If you find any bugs/code problems, please let me know on Tumblr :)

I also try to answer the remaining asks at some point, but it may take some time since I have an important exam coming up that I can’t fail because it's my second-to-last chance to pass.

Nonetheless, I’m really proud of what I’ve achieved.

It’s been almost a year since I started working on this project, and even though I would have liked to have published more by now, I’m really happy with what I’ve done so far.

The way it’s going right now, I’ll probably be writing this for like 5 more years, but that’s okay—art takes time, and I know I function differently than others, in the way I work, think, and how my energy levels work.

I’ve worked for at least three hours almost every day on this project, at least on the days I was home and not out, and it's the most, the longest, and the most consistent thing I’ve ever done.

Even if my writing, storytelling, progression, and choices aren't perfect, I’m happy I started this. Otherwise, it would have forever remained a dream of mine.

This is the project I always wanted to do: writing, game mechanics, my art, and my characters. So, I think this will be sort of my life project.

It's really, really far in the future, but at one point, I would love to add maybe a mini webtoon, mini-games, a better sidebar, more lore, game mechanics like a diary or letters, a timeline, some voiced lines, etc., stuff like that, and maybe even a character creator drawn by me, where you can create your own character.

That way, when I finish everything, I’ll truly have my dream work of art, incorporating all forms of art I like and everything I mentioned before.

I am grateful for every person reading and liking my story; it means so much to me.

Now for the update

This update includes:

Updated Prologue and First Part:

I changed a lot of the writing/internal struggles of the main character

I added the possibility to play matchmaker between Hongyu and Marcos/Maria

I added more depth to the main character's past with Noel and the lingering effects

I also changed a lot of the choices and their outcomes

I added a new system for Noel and the main character's dynamic (hate him, believe in good/nostalgia, afraid of him)

The New Second Part:

Meet Noel again and deal with him in different ways

Learn about your coworkers' superpowers

Pick one of two choices, leading to two entirely different fight paths

Awaken your own powers

Decide how to approach the fight with Noel (on both paths), leading to many individual fight outcomes (the two different broader paths with 4 main splits and even more choices on one, and 2-3 splits on the other)

Meet another agent, Min, in the aftermath of the fight and deal with everything that happened

Ask more questions and figure out more about what’s going on and went on behind the scenes

Prepare/start to get ready to confront Noel and his group in the next chapter to finally end things once and for all

Meet more agents (Sinan and Nayla) in the end and meet your group's pet dog, Vin :)

That’s it for now :)

Take care,

Jakob

Play here

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds, also some verbal exchange, language

We are getting closer😊

Part XV | Part XVII

Several days passed since you wrote letter to Tamlin, but no answer came. Lucien didn't appear and you didn't hear any news about him either. You were worried and nervous.

Meanwhile you decided that you were ready for more memories of the past to be revived. You asked Rhys about it during one of your bonding times, as he called it. Rhys was quite curious about you and he also wanted to share his life with you. You were glad for that and looked forward it every day.

Your brother agreed and you surprised even yourself when you spontaneously hugged him in return. His violet-blue eyes shone with happiness and he was more than pleased to have chance to embrace you so firmly that you couldn't breathe.

You went over how naturally your relationship changed, how you changed. You felt the same, yet you were different. Empty space in your chest was healed, filled with your family, with faces of those around you. A lot of new emotions you didn't recognize swirled in your heart and it felt right. You thought you were fine all those years living in the forest, but only now you understood how unsettling you felt all that time. Without realising you were looking for something, something that was amiss, something you found with Tamlin. You finally found your peace.

Walking down the hall you opened doors of Rhys' office without knocking. He was already there, waiting for you. His gaze immediately moved to you, documents in his hand forgotten. Rhysand fleshed a wide smile and standing up from his chair he welcomed you with hug.

And he wasn't alone. Azriel was here too. He was sitting on the very same sofa as before, his eyes bright, lips curled into playful smirk. He looked relaxed, wings loosely rested behind his back, the shadows lazily rolling around. A few of them flew to you, playing with your fingers. It was lovely gesture that repeated every time the two of you met.

Your chest hummed with bliss.

As before, you sat down on the sofa, Rhys seated next to you, holding your left hand, Azriel gently touching your right one. This time it was much easier than before and took just about an hour. After your first sitting there weren't many memories left.

When Rhys revived the last one, he left your mind and opened eyes.

"Now only the memories of that night remain," he announced. He was like an open book for you, relief, anticipation, horror and anger all mixing together on his face. You understood every of those emotions. He eagerly wanted to know what happened the night your mother died, how you survived, but he also wanted to protect you, to give you time to decide whether you want to know it, too. He wouldn't push you and without your permission he wouldn't touch those memories either. "How do you feel?"

You considered your answer, avoiding looking to the right. Memories Rhysand revived this time, were from your last years of living here and they exposed a rather surprising thing. "I think I'm alright. It's less confusing than before," you lied smoothly while the heat reached your cheeks.

Azriel's thumb rubbed the back of your right hand, drawing circles into your skin. The gesture that was so familiar and intimate now. You ignored it looking only on your brother. "And how do you feel?"

"It's much easier when I know what I'm looking for and where to find it," Rhysand ran fingers through his silky dark hair. He definitely looked.. normal, not so pale and tired as last time. "Also there were only few memories left, so it was like taking candy from a child."

You snorted, honestly glad he's okay. Then you excused yourself and still without looking Azriel's way you hurriedly left.

Azriel was confused, but understood as soon as Rhysand looked at him with narrowed eyes and raised brows. He was considering whether to kill him or just beat him. Fuck, he knew. Azriel hurried after you.

You really hoped that Azriel wouldn't follow you, but your hopes were short-lived. You were marching down the hall to the staircase, hoping to make it to your room, when heavy footsteps sounded behind you. Big hand gently squeezed your elbow, turning you around. You were met with eyes of colour of warm honey. You immediately averted your gaze down to the floor. His broad chest heaved with sharp breaths and the awkward silence between you stretched.

"Why?" Azriel whispered. You pressed your lips together. "Why are you running from me?"

Your heart stuttered, sharp pain pierced your chest. The heat on your cheeks grew, now whole your face and neck was burning. You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Memories Rhys revived minutes ago flashed through your mind. You couldn't look at him the same way you did before. Not after finding out. But at least now it gave sense why you felt so good in his presence, why you hoped to see him and spend some time with him.

"I was waiting."

"Please, don't.." You voice was hardly audible.

"Y/N, look at me," his fingers closed around your other hand, pulling you closer. The smell of cedar and mist filled the air, wrapped around your heart and soul, caressing it tenderly. This close you heard his racing heartbeat.

You shook your head. Something like painful groan escaped through his pressed lips. He lowered his head so that your foreheads were touching. "Please. I swear I won't hurt you. I'm not expecting anything from you.. just.. Please."

Hole in your heart opened even wider and you couldn't resist anymore. You looked up into his hazel eyes. He was so close you could count gold flecks in them. He breathed out deeply through nose, silver lined his eyes. He swallowed hard.

"I dreamed so many times about this. About you being alive. When Rhys appeared with you in his arms.. this must be some kind of sign.. from Mother," he whispered urgently. " Sign that we are meant to be together."

You'd never seen him like this, so vulnerable, emotional, broken. He was always in control of his feelings, reserved. In your memories he showed his vulnerability only to you, but he'd never been so desperate. You had to curl fingers into fists to stop them from reaching for him.

"I missed you more that you can imagine. I thought we have future. We talked about it, dreamed about it. I was looking forward to it. And when you disappeared.. when we found.." He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. Whatever they found it must have been something really bad when it shattered him so much. "I thought I would go crazy. It hurt so much. Nobody knows about this. Not even Rhys." Tears rolled down his cheeks.

You were trembling. What he said about the two of you was true, you knew it now. Feelings from those times lingered in revived memories. You felt it, but.. you were different now. You weren't the same person anymore. Your old self cried with him, longed for his closeness, but your current self only pitied him and was sad over his loss. There was difference even you didn't understand properly.

His thumbs were again drawing circles into your skin. He didn't move, just stood there close to you, eyes closed, gently touching you. You didn't push him away, there was no need for that. He was respectful, not forceful. Instead you decided to give him time to recover.

After a few minutes his tears dried and he calmed down straightening, his eyes never leaving yours. He gave you a small smile. "I'm sorry-"

"It's okay. Really," you interrupted him. Azriel helped you so many times since you came back, you could do at least this much for him.

He was about to say something, when Elain appeared as many times before. Unfortunately she came in the worst possible moment when Azriel had no patience for her. He lashed out at her without breaking the eye contact with you.

"Go away, Elain." His deep voice was so icy she winced. Her eyes filled with tears. Nobody spoke to her that way.

"I just-"

"I don't care what you wanted. Leave us alone." She didn't move. "Fuck. Off," he barked at her.

She lost it. "Why are you always with this bitch," she shouted angrily.

Azriel's head flinched her way. You'd never seen him so angry. You felt the need to dash away and that anger wasn't even directed at you.

"What did you call her?"

Elain retrieved a step back and stuck out chin defiantly. Her voice was shaking slightly when she spoke. "She always gets in the way, pushing between us-"

"Between us?! There's no 'between us'!"

She gaped in disbelief, her doe eyes watering even more. "How can you say such thing after all we did?!"

"We did nothing, Elain," Azriel growled, his hands released you, his body fully facing her.

"Nothing?! And what about the time we spent together? All secrets we shared?"

Azriel frowned in confusion. "Secrets? I've never told you a single thing that somebody else didn't already know about."

You were slowly backing from them. Whatever was between them, they needed to talk it out or rather shout it out. Whatever. You didn't want to witness it. Fortunately Azriel was so angry and focused on Elain that he hadn't noticed. You were worried that the shadows would tell him, but right now they were as busy as their master. They swirled around like serpents, hissing at daring Feyre's sister.

You breathed a sigh of relieve when the door of your room closed behind you. You heard their angry voices even up here. It took hour or so until house went silent again. Somebody most likely had to intervene to stop them because at some point there were more than just two voices.

You curled into the armchair and trying to ignore them gazed into the garden. You had a lot to think about. And also you needed to decipher how do you feel about Azriel. This task was especially tricky. You knew you didn't love him, not as you did before. But still in a certain way you loved him. You needed to clarify that.

Several days after the incident you were strolling through the garden lost in your thoughts, your fingers played with pendant. Azriel was sent on a mission right after the fight was over, as you learnt from Rhysand later that night during the dinner, and you hadn't seen Elain ever since then, too. You didn't want to be mean, but you were glad for that. It gave you time peacefully think things over. However you still wasn't sure about your feelings for Azriel.

Suddenly a male's voice whispered somewhere from your right. "Under the oak." You yelped. Thankfully you were far from the house and nobody heard you. You looked around, but you were alone.

Latest events caused you forgot about the letter. However now your thoughts once again turned to Tamlin, your pulse quickened. You hurried to the secluded corner of the garden where the oak tree grew.

Lucien was already seated on one of the roots, leaning against the trunk. He didn't look good. His skin was unusually pale, damped with sweat. His clothes were damaged and soaked with blood.

You halted. "What happened to you?"

"Ah," he smirked, but it wasn't even close to his usual grin. "Tamlin's doing." He gestured to his clothes. "He was so happy to see me that he wanted to tear off my head," he grimaced. "This time he really almost turned me into shreds when I went to deliver your letter, you know. It took me a few days to put together."

"How serious is it?" You instinctively reached for what was left of his shirt.

"Don't," he hissed, but you were faster and now even stronger. There were deep cuts along his ribs. The wound was already partly healed, but it was still bleeding. You didn't want to even imagine how bad it had to be before.

"You need to clean it up and bandage," you looked around. Thankfully there were so many herbs in this garden. You washed two stones in a clear stream that flowed through the garden and crushed the herbs to mush. "Lift your shirt, please."

Lucien grunted something you didn't understand, but he did as you asked. Carefully you applied the mixture on the wound. Lucien hissed when your finger lightly touched raw flesh and shut his eyes closed. Then you lifted your skirt and tore off a strip of fabric from the petticoat. It was the cleanest fabric you had at the moment. You used the strip to bandage the wound.

When you were done Lucien exhaled shakily, letting the shirt fall back down. "Thank you, it's much better now," he rasped.

"What happened?"

"When he saw me he.. lost it. But I managed to deliver your letter. When I went there several days later to ask about the answer, he did this. He is like some wild animal and every day it's getting worse. I wonder if he still remembers who he really is."

Your heart painfully throbbed in you chest. "Do you think..?" You couldn't finish your question, but Lucien understood anyway.

He shook his head. "I think it's too late. We are losing him."

Lucien winnowed away soon after that saying something about his friends worrying about him.

You were suffocating. You curled into yourself between massive roots, pulling knees to your chest and rocking back and forth until humming in your head stopped and your mind cleared.

Time was mercilessly running out. You felt it in your bones. Tamlin needed help, urgently. You had to do something about it.

But first you had to heal yourself properly.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia

[kasagia]

❄️️Warm my heart pt. 5❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: You're getting closer, closer, closer and closer... and noticed. Word Count: 3,2k Taglist:@aoi-targaryen @budugu @flostvs1508 ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova’s Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 4 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 6 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Something funny?" his question pulls you out of the letter. You glance at him briefly, slowly fold the letter, and put it in your pocket, still smiling.

"Nothing special. Can we return to further discussion?" you ask as he sits down in front of you and places two glasses of kvass on the table.

You didn't talk about… that night. Or previous events. There was a consensual silence between you regarding those events. A silence that was anything but peaceful. It was more like before the storm. But you both chose to ignore it. You had more important things on your mind.

"There is no need. I've already told you. Tracker and some of our people are going to haunt the stag until we won't get the bones. End of discussion."

"But it's Christmas. Is this stag that important? You don't have to send after this poor animal almost 30 of our people." you try to convince him, but he only rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"Y/N. I appreciate your opinion, but no one and nothing will change my mind. Not you, not Alina, not Zoya, not any women, do you understand?"

"Why didn't you mention Ivan or Fedyor, or any men?" you ask, crossing your arms, now as irritated as he was just a few seconds ago.

"Because they know too well to try to oppose me."

"Oppose you?" you huff, glaring at him defiantly. "With all due respect, you don't know what it's like when someone REALLY tries to oppose you. At least not in the last month." you see him take a breath to say something, but one look from him at you makes him change his mind and shake his head. He takes the glass and drinks it before deciding to answer you.

"Can we... can we just go back to read those reports and finally write the orders to units? Please." he asks. You sigh and take your pen in hand, continuing to write down on the paper, in a more logical way, notes containing some of your plans.

"If you insist." you mumble over the paper.

"No whining?" he asks in shock and you bite your lip to avoid saying something rude.

"No." you say, shaking your head and reaching for a glass of kvass.

"And you're not offended?"

"Since when do you care?" you snap at him, annoyed. Not only did he stupidly stick to his opinion, but he also made you look like an offensive brat.

"Y/N." he says it calmly, and you raise your gaze to him. He didn't seem like he was doing it maliciously, more like he was making sure everything was okay. Which only added to your irritation. You close your eyes and sigh before answering him.

"No. I'm not."

"Your tone of voice is telling me something entirely different." you narrow your eyes at him and he just shrugs his arms.

"Should I smile at you sweetly to make you sure about that?" you ask teasingly, and he nods, leaving you surprised.

"Yes, please." he says, wanting to see you smiling at him at all costs. He missed this view. You both had a lot on your minds lately, and dark circles under your eyes were starting to appear under your eyes as well as under his own. And he despised them terribly. He smiles, though, feeling a strange warmth dissipate in his chest as you giggle in amusement and give him a mischievous smile. "That's better." he mumbles, shifting his gaze to the papers.

He can't feel like this. He shouldn't want... you. Not after what he went through last time.

And after that night, where he almost gave in to his desires, he promised himself that you wouldn't be his second Luda. You'll end up better than her. He won't let anything happen to you because of him.

"You know... I got something for you." you say, snapping him from his thoughts.

"For me? On what occasion?" he asks, surprised, shifting in his chair. He dropped the papers on the desk and focused his attention on you as you nervously stroked the edges of the report, straightening the corners.

"When I was a child, we used to draw lots a few weeks before Christmas to choose a family member to give a gift to. You know, a small present before the big one. And since I spent half of December fighting for my life with a fever and swimming in frozen rivers, I didn't have time to give it to you earlier."

"Why did you..."

"We drew lots for whom we would buy a gift." you interrupt him before he has a chance to ask you a question. "Me, Fedyor, Alina, Mal, Zoya, even Ivan, and the rest. I had Mal, but since you decided to send him to hell knows where, I figured I might as well give you something."

"Whatever bribe you want to give me, tracker and others don't come back without a stag." he says, crossing his arms. You giggle softly at that.

"I'm fully aware, donkey."

"You're treading on thin ice." he says menacingly, but he can't help but tilt his lips upward slightly in kind of a small smile.

"It's good that you're close; maybe you'll save me again. Come on. Just open it. I promise, I didn't ask David to put any explosives in there." he rolls his eyes but takes the box from you that you left under his desk. He turns the small box over in his hand and shakes it gently, assessing the size and heaviness of the gift. "Are you really expecting a terrorist attack? From me?"

"You stabbed me with a letter opener."

"That was ages ago!" you shout, offended and blushing. "Besides, how was I supposed to know you'd just walk into the war room and stand behind me?!"

"Who normally throws a letter opener behind them?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. He slowly begins to unwrap the box.

"It was from my grandparents. You know how we get along. Besides, I've apologised to you a thousand times."

"And apparently my mental health has been damaged, and now I can't trust you around with any weapon or mistery presents." he teases; you whine at this, and he starts laughing. You smile at the sound and shake your head.

Suddenly, he stops laughing. He holds on to his breath as he carefully examines your gift. It's not a big thing. A simple, black pendant. What is more important is its content, which he stares at in amazement.

"I... I know you don't believe in any saints or stuff like that, but... I noticed that every time we're in the chapel for some kind of celebration, you stare at the stained glass window of Sankta Ursula of the Waves. I found it in some flea markets while we were searching for a stag. I immediately thought of you."

"I…" he has no idea what to say. He didn't know you were watching him so carefully. That you actually care. But now… you didn't even know what it meant to him. Especially since the pendant you gave him and the portrait of Sankt were an exact representation of his sister. Not like that terrible stained glass window. "Thank you." he whispers shakily, because it's all he can do.

You took away his words. More than once. He should get used to this. I want to get used to it. But he can't. He won't risk losing you for a few moments... a few moments that are a young boy's dream.

"Anytime. May I?"

He nods. You stand behind him and take the necklace from him. You roll up the collar of his kefta so you can fasten it around his neck.

Your fingers brush against the skin of his neck, and he has to bite his lip (almost to the point of bleeding) to keep from letting out any embarrassment moan at the small touch.

He despised himself. His mother would mock him so much for weakness and vulnerability like this... but all he could do was sit quietly and appreciate your every little touch.

"Do you like it?" you whisper softly, still standing behind him. Your hands on his arms burn him, despite the thick layers of clothes he's wearing.

"I love it." he answers faster than he can think. He knows you can feel his heart beating wildly. He feels himself turning even redder.

"I'm glad you like it, Aleksander."

He feels blood on his mouth as he bites his bottom lip, hearing you whisper in his ear his real name. He was alternately regretful and glad that you knew it. In moments like this... he wasn't sure which feeling prevailed. Suddenly, he realises that he is gripping the arm of the chair so tightly that his knuckles are white.

Where was the fucking control he had spent years practicing when he needed it most? Where are the walls he painstakingly built around his stupid heart?

One heartrender was enough for all his composure to go to hell. And the worst thing was that, deep in his heart, he wanted to lose himself in you.

He stands up from his chair and turns towards you, looking down at you, trying to intimidate you as his shadows dance around you. But you just came closer. He holds his breath and tries to take a step back, but realises there's no escape as he slams his hips against the desk.

"Y/N."

"Aleksander."

You exchange whispers between the two of you, staring deeply into each other's eyes.

The sudden outburst makes you both shiver. Aleksander automatically grabs your arm and pulls you behind him, covering you as he listens.

"Stay here." he whispers as he takes a step towards the window.

You grab his elbow tightly and stop him. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You shake your head, staring at him defiantly. He rolls his eyes and grabs your waist, tightening his grip as you both walk carefully towards the balcony.

You see smoke rising from the Durasts' workshop.

"Damn it, 5th time in this year." Aleksander curses under his breath, and he releases his grip on your waist.

"They're working on transportation through the fold, be gentle with them."

He sighs and rubs his hand over his eyes. The tiredness becomes clearer on his face as he realises that he's going to have a long night ahead of him.

"I'll try my best. Go to bed, milaya. One of us should be rested." before he knows what he's actually doing, he walks up to you and kisses your forehead.

You stand frozen, feeling his lips on your skin, your heart racing at his gesture more than from adrenaline at the sudden outburst. And then he walks away quickly, leaving you alone.

You can't help but smirk as you watch him disappear into the shadows.

Aleksander is pissed. Nor. He is furious. Mad. Not because of the outburst that happened last night, but because he found out that you were getting more and more letters.

And he managed to intercept one. It was from Mal fucking Ortsev. The tracker you so desperately wanted back at the palace for stupid Christmas.

Everything made sense. Every kind gesture you made this month. And now he was storming through the halls of the Little Palace, straight to the kitchen where the guards had told him you would be, holding an unopened letter from your lover in your hand. A lover who, he will make sure, will never see the gates of Os Alta again.

He storms into the kitchen, and you almost manage to cool his anger when he sees you in an apron, baking some cake. You were singing something under your breath, probably one of those annoying songs that were played in every corner of Ravka.

And he almost melted, fascinated by the sight of you so... calm. A strange fantasy played in his head. You and him together, cooking something for the damn Christmas, decorating the house. He never had a real Christmas. Baghra wasn't sentimental enough to celebrate it, and she taught him the same, but with you... he would do all those stupid things.

Seeing you in this homey atmosphere almost took him off his warpath. Almost.

Until he remembered the letter he was holding and imagined the tracker doing all those things with you. He slammed the door loudly and waited for your reaction.

You screamed, spilling some of the flour you were holding onto the floor. You looked at him, and you were ready to yell at him for scaring you when you saw the look on his face.

"What happened?" you ask, brushing your hair off your forehead and getting flour all over it in the process.

In any other circumstances, he would have laughed; he would have been completely enchanted by your state. But now he was seeing red, imagining every single love letter that you could have written to that damn tracker.

"All these gifts, sweet words—all of it was for your tracker, right? You don't know this boy, you don't know what he is like, and yet you try to undermine my authority and change my decision just for some orphan from Keramzin! What does he have, huh?! What has blinded you, MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND, that you so desperately want this rash fool, who only gets into trouble because of his own stupidity?! Is he really worth risking my wrath?!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"THIS!" he slams his hand with the letter on the table between you. He glares at you furiously as you look at him with an equally defiant attitude. You take the letter and look at it in disbelief and anger.

"Do you monitor my correspondence?!"

"I should have done this ages ago! At least you wouldn't make a fool of me! You can say goodbye to your lovely tacker; I'll make sure he never again sets his foot in Os Alta."

"SERIOUSLY?! Look at me carefully, because I'll only say this once: MAL AND I ARE NOT TOGETHER!"

"Of course." he laughs mockingly and is about to leave the kitchen. You run to him and grab his arm tightly, forcing the letter into his hands.

"Read it." you say it coldly and firmly as you control yourself enough not to scream at him in anger.

"What?" he asks dazedly at your command, looking between your furious eyes and the letter you're pushing into his hands with all your might.

"Do you want to blame me for something? Go right ahead. Read. Prove yourself right." he takes the letter from you.

Jealousy and rage were still present in him, as well as a hint of sadness and hurt. That's what it was. Proof that all of this, every kind gesture, smile, look, touch, kiss—well, not a real one—was intended to bring you closer to another man. A man whose insides he would feed to volcras.

"Here you go." he opens the letter and clears his throat dramatically as he begins to read. "Dear Y/N. Thank you for your help. Alina was overjoyed with her gift. I don't know how to thank you. I'd love to be there for her, but I'm glad that at least you can take care of my beloved while I look for some damn stag…" he falls silent while reading, looking for something more in the letter he has in his hands. He blushes with embarrassment, realising the mistake he has made.

"See?" you ask him and gently cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

"But... the other letters..." he whispers, confused.

"I exchanged them with my brother."

There is a long silence between you as he digests all the information and realises the mistake he has made. He turns even redder at the rashness of his actions. He, who boasted of his patience and the fact that he was never wrong. The slightest suspicion that your heart belonged to someone else was enough to make him want to spill some blood and commit murder. And not yours, but that damn tracker's.

"Oh... the youngest one I guess?" he asks, trying to camouflage his earlier behavior. Or at least forget about it for a moment and let his heart slow down to a normal rhythm. He already humiliated himself enough in front of you.

"Yes." you confirm, a stupid smile on your lips. He swallows, nervous.

"Umm... that's lovely."

"He asked me if I'm coming home for Christams." you tell him, and he holds his breath for a moment, looking at you in anticipation. You don't say anything further. So he clears his throat and prepares to ask the question.

"Are you?"

"No. I'm staying in the Little Palace this year." for some strange reason, these few words bring him more joy than anything else in his several hundred years of life.

"Taht's... that's good. That's good to hear." he nods, unable to look you in the eye. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze towards the kitchen for a moment.

"Do you want to join me?"

"I beg you pardon?" he asks, confused. You nodded towards the bowls and cake you were baking before he came in and… jumped to the wrong conclusions. "I haven't… I haven't cooked for a while." he admits shyly. And you smile fondly as you see him so… ordinary for the first time. Humanly.

"Well, it's the best time to do it again, don't you think?" you ask and are about to pull him towards the table and the ingredients you prepared to make a cake when you feel the urge to look up. And you see mistletoe.

He also looks up and freezes at what he sees. A shiver of excitement and anxiety runs through his body. It was late at night. No one in their right mind would come here. No one would interrupt you.

He unconsciously leans towards you. He slowly lifts his hand and brushes your hair away from your face, gently brushing the flour from your forehead with his thumb. You giggle softly.

You cup his cheeks with your hands, and Aleksander sees in slow motion how you pull him towards you. Your lips get closer... but instead of moving to his lips, you place a tender kiss on his cheek.

His beard tickles you a little, and he can't help but feel deprived and tricked when your warm lips are limited to just caressing his cheek. He almost growls, exasperated, when, as quickly as you cling to him, you pull away.

"Put an apron on. We don't want to have your black kefta covered in flour." you say and go back to the table. You smile evilly. He didn't deserve a kiss after his little act today, but next time...

You squeal as he grabs you from behind and dumps a bag of flour over your head.

"ALEKSANDER!" you shout, and he laughs loudly, not caring at all that anyone might have heard his name. He tries to get away from you when you throw eggs at him.

When you are laughing and throwing everything at each other, you don't notice that the kitchen door is slowly and silently closing. And someone's footsteps echo through the corridors of the Little Palace.

[paradlselost]

RADIO WAVES

john seed x female deputy

My first fanfic on here so apologies for anything wrong. I’ve only stalked other fics, never posted myself. Also not my favorite writing 🙏

Inspired by Adelaide’s voice line: “John Seed hunched over his map getting a hard-on by the sound of his own voice …” she’s literally me, I need him carnally. It’s been years and I think about him 24/7 (I’m supposed to be working on midterms help.)

John Seed x Fem!Deputy. CW: SMUT - dirty talk, radio sex, masturbation (m).

Night descended onto the Valley, crickets sang their sharp tune outside the concrete walls of the bunker. Peggies had long since stopped pacing the halls, preparations for the sabbath now over, a good night's rest being the last thing on their checklist.

But for one John Seed, sleep was the last thing on his mind.

Static echoed over his radio, body leaning against the table adorned with gashes and crevasses from the many times he ran a blade over the once fine wood. His fingers traced over his tattoo gun anxiously, one hand reaching to grab the handset.

“Can someone fucking answer me? Huh? You better not get a single scratch on one of my planes!” He shouted over the comms, fingers trembling with the sheer amount of anger that flowed through his veins. These were the chosen, the best pilots out of the entire congregation?

What a joke.

He slammed the hand radio back on the table at the answer of static. He had sent out three planes, none responded. There was no way she could’ve taken them all down, was there?

He didn’t turn at the sound of the door opening behind him, nor at one of his Peggie’s asking if he was okay. No, instead he stayed hunched over the table, seething. He gripped the handle of his tattoo gun now, his knuckles turning white. This was the last thing he needed, a lowly cultist practically cooing over a Herald like he was a child.

Grasping the gun, he turned and threw it at the wall beside whatever Peggie decided to have a shred of decency to check on him, shouting expletives as they hurriedly left and shut the door. The tool now lay on the ground, broken into two pieces.

A sigh fell from his lips as he stood up straight, standing there for a moment and observing what he had broken. Wrath. Joseph would be upset if he saw his little brother like this. Slicking back any strands that fell from his perfect hair, he grabbed the pieces of his precious tattoo gun.

“Holy shit, is this thing still working?”

He tensed at the sound of a familiar someone speaking over his radio. The audacity of her, did she not know she had a direct line to the youngest Seed? He wasn’t in the mood for her voice to be crooning over his comms.

“Sharky get over here, lay down a beat I’m gonna start spitting.”

He heard her laugh, almost as if she was carefree, opposite to how she had cried when he straddled her, carving her sin into her flesh for her to adorne, to show everyone what a sinner she was. Her own personalized scarlet letter. She was such a beautiful crier, if he could have bottled up her tears and kept them forever he would’ve.

He traced his fingers over the gun once more, this time not in a bid to calm himself down, but out of reminiscence. How he had held it tight as the two of them sat on the floor of that church, how he had grabbed her chin when she awoke, how she thrashed and cried and almost ruined her perfect carving. Now he had gone and broken it.

Somewhere between Henbane River’s resident pyromaniac making noises that could barely be considered beatboxing and the Deputy poorly rhyming ‘Bliss’ and ‘diss,’ he interjected.

“Ah- now that’s not very nice, is it, Deputy?”

He was met with not the deafening sound of static, but silence this time. For a moment, he thought she had run at the sound of his voice, he would’ve relished in that thought had she not been the only thing keeping him sane. Ironic.

“I save my kindness for people who deserve it, Seed.” The playfulness didn’t leave her voice as she shooed Sharky away, her companion rolling his eyes and probably leaving to go to the pizza diner. Privacy when talking to John Seed was a must, she wouldn’t have to be embarrassed over teasing him.

“I don’t deserve it? I’m a fairly good person.” He scoffed, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he moved from tracing his tattoo gun to tracing the map pinned to the table in front of him.

“Kidnapping, torture, murder, that’s all being a good person to you?”

“You call it that because you’re blind to the good intentions of Eden’s Gate. Do you take joy in misinterpreting our mission to save sinners?”

“I-unno. Is there a sin for that too? Gonna carve that into my skin and stare at my tits while you’re at it?”

He could hear the smirk in her voice, how she teased and played with him. He would carve every sin onto her skin if he had the chance, if Joseph would let him. Pride for her unwillingness to see the truth, Envy and Greed for her taking of the compounds that belong to the cult, Sloth for sending her resistance companions to do her bidding, Gluttony for the alcohol she consumed to wash away what she had seen. And Lust, for the feelings she incited in him.

“I never stared at your breasts.”

“Do you like being a fucking liar?”

Her tone was rougher, the only time he had heard her speak to him like that was when Hudson was tied to a chair in front of her, his bunker dark and dingy as it was her decision to choose between who got marked first. When she spoke to him like he was nothing but a bug underneath her boot, when he had to take Hudson out of the room and fix the problem growing in his pants.

“Fuck.”

He didn’t mean to slip, to let her know the absolute power she had over him. Ever since he saw her in the church, when she handcuffed his brother and attempted to arrest him, he knew it was over for him.

Every thought he had belonged to her, every waking moment and every dream was hers. He was pathetic, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Fuck? Use your words, John.” She was using his name now, not just resorting to his surname. She was playing into every fantasy that ran through his head, how had he gone years without her? “I’ll ask you again. Do you like being a fucking liar?”

“Mm- no- i'm not a liar-… cmon, where are you?” He whined out softly, tugging on his ‘EG’ belt buckle. His pants had grown uncomfortably tight without his permission.

“Why would I tell you? So you can send your Peggie’s after me again? I don’t think so.”

He bit his bottom lip, cursing himself mentally. He stood up straight, running his hand through his hair exasperatedly, dark blue eyes trailing down to the LUST marking he had over his lower stomach. He was reduced to nothing more than a filthy sinner now.

“It’s a day before the Sabbath, Deputy. Please don’t talk to me like this.”

“Like what? Ohh… are you getting hard at the sound of my voice?”

She was awfully perceptive, though he wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear the metallic clinking of his belt buckle as he shedded it from its loops with one hand. He needed some kind of release.

“Fucking -… cmon, don’t do this to me.” His voice was soft and pleading over the radio, something she had never heard from him. He seemed so needy, the way his breath picked up, the small pants that escaped his pretty lips. She could only imagine how he looked now.

“A day before the sabbath just means you can atone tomorrow, doesn’t it? Cmon, I know you wanna be a good boy f’me.”

God, he tensed at her words. Fingers greedily grabbing at his pants, playing with them till they pooled at his ankles, tattooed fingers massaging the fabric of his blue boxers, a small patch darker than the rest as his precum stained the polyester.

She had power over him, and she knew it too.

“Hnmm - keep ta-talking please…”

“God, you really are pathetic aren’t you? First Herald of Eden’s Gate whimpering for the resistance leader over his peggies radio.”

His head buried against the crook of his arm that rested on the beaten up table. Pretty blue eyes fluttered shut as his fingers delicately wrapped around his angry red tip. Dick gently throbbing in his hand at her words.

John Seed, deemed the most sadistic out of the entire fucking cult, reduced to a whiny, submissive mess from the Deputys harsh tone. If anyone found out about this, he’d never be able to live it down.

Soft spouts of precum dripped over his fingers as he pumped his aching cock, a small layer spread over his flesh. What a pathetic display, what a man to let lust consume him once more. He felt like he was that Lawyer again, hopped up on cocaine and whiskey just to give him a nice buzz. But now, he had the Deputy, and she was better then any substance he had had before.

“Don’t f-fucking stop.” How many times had he said that years ago? How many women had made him feel like this? His years before reuniting with Joseph were a blur, but he remembered the longing feeling he felt. Different was he now, but still pining for something out of his reach. “When I-I get you I’m going to-“

His words were cut off by a pathetic whine as his hand slicked back from his tip, starting on the base and pumping his throbbing member. How pretty she would look with her lips wrapped around him, her eyes all teary as she took him down her throat.

“Gonna what? Finish your sentence, baby.”

Gonna coat your mouth, make you cry for me like you had in that church. He wanted to say, wanted to flip it around on her, make her cover his fingers with her arousal. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. John Seed was a taker, and right now he was too caught up in his pleasure.

His cock was throbbing uncomfortably in his hand, veins flowing with blood, he felt close and he had barely started, but the sound of her voice could make him cum in his hand in an instant. He bit his bottom lip, attempting to swallow the weak whines and moans that threatened to spill from him for her, though most escaped anyways.

Soft, pathetic ‘please’s we’re all he could respond with, they fell from his lips like a prayer - one only she could hear. He was good, good for her, he deserved to cum in his hand, didn’t he?

“Hmm after all you put me through, I think a good apology would be a nice way to end this, don’t you?”

He could practically hear the delight in her voice as she noticed how close he was, she reveled in the fact she had brought him to his knees through her tone alone. He was putty in her hands, molded and contorted into a submissive shape.

“Fuck fuck fuck I’m sorry-“

He whined out, back arching from the wooden desk as his hand pumped faster around his aching cock. A soft ‘tsk’ came over the radio waves, causing another whine to fall from his lips. “Cmon - i-i said sorry-“

“You pray with that mouth? Again. Lose the swearing.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!”

“There you go, that’s a good boy.”

He moaned at her words, legs trembling slightly. One, two, three more pumps and he absolutely came undone. Ropes of cum messing his hands and the concrete floor below him, a panting and whining mess of a man as he stroked himself till he was empty.

When he lifted his head and the cool air of the bunker hit his flushed cheeks, the clarity set in. He had just fucked himself with his hand over the Deputy of all people; all on his radio. Hurriedly, he pulled up his boxers and jeans, wiping up the mess on the floor and on his hands with a towel.

The familiar sound of static from the radio setting in once more. She must’ve destroyed what was left of the plane. What a fucking mess.

A congregation was held the next morning in Joseph’s church, bells ringing above sung for the holy day, John made his way past Jacob and Faith to his seat behind the podium. Faith was giggling about something or another, probably high off bliss, and Jacob was scowling at him slightly.

“I know you were always the youngest, but I didn’t think you’d be so weak, Brother. Even Faith has more resolve then you.”

[snowdrop-ivy]

Chasing the Clouds: A Journey Back to The Beef | 1

Summary: Mikey left the restaurant to Carmen, Natalie, and you.

Trope: Second chances

T/W: Cursing, unresolved mental issues, trauma, suic!de, angst, and smut.

Word count: 4695

The sound of the alarm woke Carmy. 4:00AM. He had this dream on how things were a year ago, how he was in a different place being berated by the head chef. The time he always woke up everyday since he decided to move and leave everything behind. He waited for the alarm to finish to listen to the voice very familiar to him. He sat up on his bed and lit a cigarette before heading to sit in front of the window to look at the city lights Chicago has to offer him. There were little sounds he could hear that bothers him. The sound of the train. Kids laughing at the street. And your voice. The message you left him before cutting him off completely for bailing on you. Carmy played it one more time, as close to his ear as it can get.

Hey…

I know you're off and I know you can hear this so I'm just gonna say this one last time.

I miss you.

I miss how we used to be. How we used to be friends. How you and I would stay up and talk about everything. I know things got messed up when you left but I think what you don't know is you also left me. For no fucking reason. And the craziest thing is that I trusted myself you wouldn't do that. That you would not bail on me like your brother did to you but you did. 

But you did… You fucking did it, Carm. And I still miss you. Every fucking day and I wish I can lock our memories in letters and drown myself in ink of you. God, I can fill empty canvases with your paintings because all I fucking see is you. But then I realized that after that, life's too fucking short to dwell on it. So if you want us to stay that way, that's okay. We'll each have the chance to be happy on the things we like and the person we love. And that's what I'm gonna do also. And hey? If you don't want to. That's okay too. I'm moving on, B.

So… This is the last time I'll chase you. Not because I got tired but because chasing you is like chasing the clouds.

I hope you become the best of what you really want. 

Bye, B.

Carm clenched on the phone in his hand as he listened on the voicemail you left 5 years ago. He still gets updates of you from Rich and Sug. But that was it. You really meant what you said. And he blames himself for it. And the hole in the wall on his apartment when you left him that message. He knows what he did but also he, himself, doesn't know why he did it. Why he thought leaving you would be a great fucking idea. 

He got up from his seat and got ready for work. Mikey left the business for him, Sug, and you to take care of. He thought that after Mikey passed away he would get a glimpse of you but nada. He got to the restaurant and stayed in his office. Or what used to be Mikey’s. He took a look at the bills with red stamps that said they’re past due dates and sat down. He got out and took a look at the kitchen, the bar, and the dining area. All of it reminds him of his brother. Of you. Or what he thinks the things you redid. Carm knew that you managed the restaurant before he passed away. Mikey told him that whenever they got a chance to talk. How you convinced Mikey to switch mayos, chairs, and cutlery. The crew came in and Carm decided to close the restaurant for the day to clean it. Every fucking inch of it, they cleaned, wiped, moped, washed dishes. Carm was hanging the penalty they got from the CBH since the restaurant does not comply with the sanitary standards. He heard a knock on the window and saw Uncle Jim. They sat by the window. Unc asked him how the restaurant’s been.

“And then you know, the produce bill is due, you know,” Carm answered pointing at the window. “And the power comes in and I can’t build enough of a parachute. Even if we got this place packed, that’s only like a week of survival cash.”

Unc sighed. “Exhausting listening to this.”

Carm knitted his brows, confused. “You ask me what’s goin on.”

“No,” Unc waved his finger. “I asked you where you’ve been.”

Carm tilted his head to the back. “You’re looking at it. This is where I’ve been,” He sighed and leaned on the chair.

“Carm, this place is bullshit,” Unc told him. “Right? I mean, you’re never gonna fix it. You can’t start at fucked. You understand that, right?”

He sarcastically chuckled. “Then why’d he leave it to me? Or Natalie? Or even your daughter for God’s sake.”

Unc sighed and looked at the window. “She’s doing good, by the way.”

“Who?” He asked like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Don’t fuck with me. You know who?” 

They looked at each other before chuckling.

“She’s got a job in San Francisco as a head nurse but she still got her photography gig as a hobby. You should see her photos, Carm,” Unc amusingly said with sparks in his eyes and wide smile.

“Yeah?” He answered. “You must be proud then?”

“Of course,” He laughed. “She’s making me proud since the day she was born”

[weird-is-life]

Sirius x animagus!Reader where after not hearing from him all summer she uses her animagus form to sneak into Grimmauld Place and check up on him. Up to you if Walburga catches them or not

Hii, ty for the request! I actually had to Google who tf is Walburga🤦‍♀️🤭but I hope this is okay. Warnings: angst, fluff, use of pet names, use of y/n (1k)

Sirius hasn't been answering your letters basically since the start of the summer, so you've decided in the middle of it, that you've had enough.

You know that sneaking into Black's house is not the best idea, but you need to find out what is up with Sirius, before you go mad over it.

It is a good thing that you were around when the boys were learning how to turn into an animagus. And even better thing is that, your animagus is a dove.

So it doesn't take you long to locate the window, that you know belongs to Sirius's room. It's already late at night, so you are surprised to see some light coming from his room.

You easily slip inside, through the cracked open window.

You find Sirius laying on his bed, reading a book with his wand creating the light.

When you turn back to your normal form, Sirius almost has a heart attack, immediately sitting up.

"What the fuc-" he yelps, but as he suddenly realises that he knows who is standing in front of him, he whispers,"y...-y/n?" His voice breaks as he says your name.

You don't wait another second and throw yourself into his arms, almost knocking both of you to the ground. You feel like crying and you're not surprised to feel your cheeks getting wet.

What catches you of guard is feeling some wetness through the fabric of your shirt. To your shock, Sirius is also crying, he holds you so tight in his arms, his face buried in your neck. You just let him, you are standing between his legs as his sits on his bed, running your hands through his hair in a way, you hope is soothing.

It takes you both quite some time to let go of each other, no words being passed between you. But you don't mind one bit, you are so relieved to see him alive and okay.

"H-how did you get here?" Sirius speaks with a groggy voice after what feels like hours. His eyes are all red, but gentle as they look all over your face.

"I used the animagus," you answer and because you can't wait any longer, you ask, "Siri, what happened? We all thought, that-that you got hurt or something. The boys were about to loose their minds, so was I."

"W-what do you mean? I thought something happened to you all, you didn't respond to any of my letters," he says and he sounds just as confused as you feel.

"What? We never got any of your letters, but we wrote to you everyday," you perplex, "how did this happen, Siri?"

Sirius looks absolutely heartbroken upon learning of this information, but also angry.

"I can't fucking believe this," he mutters madly under his breath.

"What?"

"It's definitely my mother's doing," he sighs, "I suspected, that she'd learnt about you and me, and wanted to put an end to it. She hardly tolerated the boys, she couldn't accept, they aren't on the dark side. So i think, her learning about you was finaly enough for her." You want to ask why would she do such a thing, but then you remember how different his family is to yours and how unpleasant his mother is.

"And I was stupid enough to think, that you and the boys finally came to your senses and ended our relationships. I'm not exactly the person you should be with, i mean look at my family, they are horrible people. S-so i probably am the same, they tell me i am."

His last sentence makes you want to cry some more, because you can't even imagine why would he think such a thing.

"Never, Sirius. You hear me? I nor the boys would ever do that. You can't get rid us of, rid of me that easily," you poke him in the chest playfully, even though your words are serious, " you aren't like your family and that's why we love you. You are anything, but bad Siri. Yeah?"

You stroke his cheek lovingly, hoping he gets, that you are all in, in this. And that he doesn't get to just say mean and untrue things about himself. And if he does, you'll be there every time to reassure him, that he is very very wrong.

"I love you, dove. So much," he expresses instead of answering your question. And his stare is so intense, so full of love, that you almost cry (happy tears), again.

"I love you more," you profess and quickly, you kiss him. It's not a long kiss, but it is long enough to express everything you both feel. Love. Relief. Desperation. And even tiny bit of anxiety.

You put your forehead against his, a small smile on your lips filled with nerves, "Siri, y-you need to get away from here."

"I know, sweetheart, I know, b-but where would I go? This is the only place I know as a home-"

"James's said, that I should insist to drag you away from here when I find you and to tell you, that there's a room waiting for you in his house," you assure him," and if there wasn't a place for you in Potters's home, there would definitely be one in mine."

Sirius looks a bit taken aback by this and you completely understand, he's only known this place a his 'home' for most of his life and leaving like this can't be easy.

But he nods his head slowly, surely, " okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I want to leave this place and never ever come back here," he says, feeling very certain about the decision.

"Good," you give him a tight hug," the boys are waiting for us a few streets away from here, let's get out of here."

And you do. You quickly pack all the things Sirius wants to take with him, which isn't a lot, and sneak out of there.

You can see the moment, you get away from the house, Sirius's whole posture and mood change. He walks with a light breeze and a smile, that gets bigger and bigger as you get farther away from there.

Though, his smile grows the biggest when he notices his best friends waiting for him. He takes off running towards them, while dragging you along.

The reunion is all happy tears and loud laughs, which is all you hoped for.

[banzaitaka]

Thank @kokii-omii for inspiring me to make my own twst ocs of actual Disney characters

Ellison of Eaglesville

This is Ellison. He's twisted from Elsa of Arendelle.

Namesake:

For his first name I simply looked up men's names that start with the letter E and chose the one closest sounding to Elsa.

His last name is basically the translation of Arendelle, but tweaked to make it sound like a name.

Dorm:

I did take a dorm sorting test for him, trying to answer as Elsa as best as I could, but the result was Scarabia,,, and I couldn't possibly put the ice queen into the desert. That's why I ended up deciding based on aesthetics. And also, since Elsa is cursed and Pomefiore is known for their knowledge of poisons and curses, I think Pomefiore is a pretty okay fit anyway.

School:

Elsa is no Disney villain, yet I put Ellison into NRC and here is why. He is avoiding his brother (who doesn't have a name yet!!) who goes to RSA. Ellison is trying to find a way to break his curse, maybe even rid himself fully of magic during his stay at NRC.

But before he achieves that, he cannot put his brother in danger by simply being in his presence. But if they happen to cross paths, Ellison will mask his anxieties and fears with a gentle smile.

Following the movie plot...the brothers end up in an argument, eventually causing Ellison's overblot.

If you have any questions about him, PLEASE ask away!!! That way, we can shape him and his story together✨

[arach-tinilith]

Cauldron's Curse Session 3

Okay another Naady DND recap for those interested!

The last one is here!

Okay! So for background info, the noble kids that were kidnapped were from this family called the Kaylix's and I'm just now realizing i never mentioned their names lol.

Obviously the group was pretty distracted at the galaKaylizhe Kaylix's were SURROUNDED by other nobles at the time so it was impossible to warn them about the druids who had kidnapped their children and held them for ransom. So the next day, the party decided to show up to their house with the ransom note!

It went poorly.

Naadja set the tone by immediately accosting the butler for daring to look her in the eyes as he was a “slave” and it was disrespectful for a male of his place. When the nobles rushed in to see what was happening, Sevas handed them the ransom note with no other explanation.

So to them it looked like we just walked in, called their skilled worker a slave, and threatened them.

Sevas, charmer that he is, hammers it is by saying “if you ever want your kids back you'll pay them” 💀 which like. Whas never part of the plan😭

So we of course are very very close to getting arrested here, the guards have us restrained (Naadja is STILL flirting somehow) and Melody says that the Sunraes will vouch for us!!

Now, Vila's mom is obviously not a huge fan of ANYONE in the party at this point. Naadja made a huge scene embarrassing her, Melody later chewed her out for being a terrible mother, and lady Sunrae's son, Etmin (previously mentioned to have the affliction 💅) publicly flirted with Sevas. So we're all not on great terms here.

Luckily though, Vila is the one who comes through and lets the group explain what's actually going on.

The Kaylix's immediately call their guards to raid the den of the druids and the party tags along to free the mole as well (because another reward was promised for it🫶)

The Kaylix's rewards the party for telling them where their kids were and the leader of the artisans guilds gives the party a deed to a tavern for tge mole which was NOT the agreed upon reward btw and Naadja was PISSED but whatever 😒

Captain Eska also arrived to the raid and arrested the archdruid teehee. Apparently he was an ecoterrorist using shadowmagic in the name of the nature mother and was robbing people to fund his plot which still hasn't really been revealed to us!

But hey, job well done! They did save those kids which is huge and the mole and took down a shadowdruid circle!

So a local journalist pulled up to the scene and asked them to recount what happened and the group basically gave no answers, Naadja going by the name Janice again since her face was obviously going to be plastered on the news.

But afterwards the gang decides they've all got things to take care of and splits off.

Sevas says he's gotta take care of something alone and Melody wants to explore the arts guild.

So a throwback to this post where Naadja found a chalice with the insignia of house Baenre, right? In the meantime, Naadja's been doing a couple blood rituals and making this chalice into a candle for summoning at night while the others were asleep. But she really wants to know how it even got here.

Naadja finds the source of the chalice- Thalia

So Thalia, we saw in session one. She was the drow in the richest sector. Naadja seeks her out and has a conversation with her about leaving Arbella's (equivalent of Lolth) clutches and starting a new life

Naadja's hesitant about it but Thalia hands her a letter from her mother that states she commissioned a potion from Thalia to make Naadja infertile which prevented her from succeeding her graduation ceremony. At this exact moment, Naadja realizes that Thalia is a hypocrite for telling Naadja to leave Arbella when she's obviously still serving her, and that Thalia has wronged her. So she's planning to kill Thalia.

But first, she agrees to join her assassins guild to get close to her but in order to do so, she has to survive being hunted by the guild

Naadja runs to Vila, asking for her help saying she needs to go somewhere no one will find her. Vila takes her to a magic shop run by a cult called the Seekers. They agree, taking her into a pocket dimension where reality is very thin. She figures she might as well kill some time lighting that candle.

A vision of Sol'axle, her dead consort, appears. He's in the deepest pits of the hells, suffering and writhing in agony. He begs Naadja to rescue him (😬) and says Arazai, Naadja's brother murdered him by poisoning him. He said Arbella, their goddess, feeds on her followers' soul's agony while she traps them in the hells and it keeps her alive.

Then, she had a nightmare hallucination when the Seeker's cumulitive knowledge played chess with her. All I'll say about that is she had a massive breakdown that ended with her sobbing and bursting into the tavern, throwing herself on the table to throw a tantrum.

Meanwhile Melody ran into a couple drow while Naadja was losing her mind. They recognized her as she and Naadja were spotted saving the noble children together. They um. Might be notable Baenre's… you might've heard of them 👉👈

But wait! It gets worse! Naadja realizes she's up against A LOT RIGHT NOW and needs extra support so after resting, she goes back to Thalia to join the vipers and they say “good job but you didnt need to go so hard” and show a decapitated head that looks like Naadja's if you squint. She sorta shrugs it off but realizes that someone outside of the guild was trying to kill /her/ and mistook this assassin as her.

Naadja books it to Karsia, the devil she met earlier.

They make a partial pact- Naadja gets a boost in her magic and immunity to all poison and Karsia orders her to take out hits for her at the cost of a sliver of her magic if she fails

(And of course to celebrate this deal they of course fucknasty which is rudely interrupted when Karsia touches the scar on Naadja's leg. Not happy about that btw)

So anyway! Her first hit is Thalia

Lets cut to Sevas shall we? So a little background on what's been happening with Sevas, he's slowly been making his way up the organized crime circle taking jobs with crime lords. One in particular, Tsarin. She works for Karsia. And Sevas has a new job from Tsarin, protecting Thalia.

[cq-studios]

Unfinished Gravity Falls Fic

Inspired by NightDrawsThings - A Terrible Reunion This fic is an AU where, when Stan shows up after receiving Ford’s Postcard, Bill (in Ford’s body) answers the door. I might finish it at some point, might not. But it felt like a waste not to share it anywhere.

(Also please note that this is a one off thing. My blog is pretty much entirely KH, and I never really talk about GF here, so it's not worth coming to my blog looking for that. I apologize lol)

[This is copy and pasted from my doc, notes included. All notes are in square brackets]

“PLEASE COME! -FORD”

As soon as Stan read the postcard he’d packed up all his belongings (and hey, maybe one or two of the motel’s pillows or blankets… or both. Details? Who needs ‘em?) and drove.

20 hours. That’s how long it had taken. And now that he was here —in Gravity Falls, Oregon; in a white out snowstorm; less than a knock, just a door, away from his brother— he was half-tempted to turn back and head as far away from this boarded up cabin as his state bans would allow.

It’d been over 10 years since they’d last spoken. Hell, since they’d seen each other even. Since he lost him to that fancy-ass college, to that fancy-ass grant. Since he decided he didn’t need his help, that he didn’t need anyone’s help.

But this time the ‘perfect genius’ Stanford was the one that needed help.

Stan’s help.

His brother had been desperate enough to send him, the screw up, a postcard begging him to come. And unlike Stanford, he was actually going to offer a hand. Someone in this family had to have some loyalty.

(And godammit, he missed him. He missed him. He missed him. He missed him. He didn’t want to, but he missed having someone to go through hell with. He was so sick and tired of running around and away and hiding from everything alone.)

Stan took a breath in, freezing air rushing between his teeth.

C’mon Stanley. It’s not that hard. Be a man.

…

He asked you to come. He won’t bite.

Another inhale. A hesitantly raised hand. One tap, and the door swung open.

“Ah, STANLEY!” On the other side of the doorway his brother looked deranged. Eyes way too wide, a toothy smile showing way too much gum, and a voice way too loud.

Stan had seen a lot of druggies in his day (Sometimes desperate people need to go to shady places to get a bit of cash, okay?) and his brother looked like someone who just shot up a little bit of everything…

…kinda…

…not really, but he wasn’t sure how else to explain it.

It wasn’t like his brother to do drugs. The Stanford he’d known would get mad at him for so much as mentioning something as mild as pot. But the uneven shaving, the dishevelled hair, and the smell. God, the smell! (And, if even he, Stanley Pines, was bothered by it, it was bad.)

Maybe his brother had changed more than he’d thought.

“Come in, come in”

Sliding his hands into his jacket’s pockets, Stan walked through the door and past his brother. As soon as he was inside, Stanford closed the door behind him.

Three solid clunks told Stan he’d locked the door behind him as well.

Deadbolts.

Something about that set off alarm bells. A whole lot about this situation was setting off alarm bells. He was starting to wish he’d brought his bat in with him, just in case.

It was almost as cold in the cabin as it was outside (another alarm bell), but Stanford seemed used to it, so it was probably for some science-y reason he didn’t care about. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“So, uh, Poindexter, what’d you need me for?” Stan glanced over at his brother, but his gaze couldn’t help but drift around the room. The windows were boarded up and stuff was haphazardly thrown all over the place. There was also blood on the floor, he noticed. Not a lot, but enough to spark some concern.

“Ya sounded kinda frantic in the postcard. I’ve never seen you use that many capital letters in my life, and, well… I’ll be honest, you’re looking a bit, uhhhh… crazy”.

“CRAZY? I’VE NEVER FELT BETTER!” His brother said, well, yelled.

“Yeah…” Stan caught sight of a crossbow right by the door. Already loaded. Ready to grab at a moment’s notice. “Who’s after you, Ford?”

“After me? HA! No no, brother. I sent you that card so I could give you this very important message in person!” Somehow Stanford’s smile got even wider. His head tilted at an awkward, almost inhuman angle as he stepped closer.

“Alright,” Stan took a step back, eyes narrow, “what is it then?”

“Well, tomorrow I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake and I might not ever come back. I just wanted to let you know that I never loved you. That I’ve always known you were a big soul-sucking failure who would amount to nothing in life. And that I’ll always hold the fact you tried to drag me down with you against-“

Stan’s blood boiled. His hands clenched into fists so tight he swore he could feel his nails through his gloves. “You dragged me all the way out here for that!?”

How dare he. How dare Stanford make him drop everything- Drop everything. Pack up and drive. 20 hours. 20 goddamn hours. For this. Just to tell him something he already knew. Just to tell him exactly what those closed curtains told him over a decade years ago.

To give him hope just to snatch it away again.

And not only do that. Not only do that. NoNoNo. The drama queen himself had to dump a burden he couldn’t even begin process on him at the same time.

Suicide? He had to be kidding! With his giant cabin and his hoarded money and his perfect goddamn life?!

The shrill, mocking sound of laughter pierced his ears, and, before he knew it, his fist was flying at his brother’s face.

The laughter abruptly stopped.

Just as abruptly, Stanford’s whole body slumped, smile falling, eyes shutting, a bandaged hand rubbing where the punch had landed. His brother’s hand shifted upwards, under his glasses to rub his eyes.

Eyes that were alight with panic once they’d opened and landed on him. “Stanley!? Wha- When did you get here?”

[Maybe add more violence. He stops because Ford’s eye starts bleeding?]

Anyone with a brain could tell something had changed. Unfortunately, with anger still bubbling under his skin, Stan wasn’t quite ready to accept that, “[Blablabla you say that like you didn’t greet me at the damn door then call me names]”

Stanford cursed.

“What did he say to you? How long have you been here?” His brother practically lunged at him, frantically checking him over, “Did he hurt-“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! What’re you-” Stan pushed his brother away. He was acting a completely different kind of crazy now, all this third person talk. A thought popped into his head and he gave a bit of a laugh. Well, if it wasn’t Stanford then, “What? You possessed by some kind of demon or something?”

…

“Really?”

…

“Well shit-“

Stan guessed the idea wasn’t exactly as absurd as he’d meant it to be. Stanford always lead the chase after whatever cryptid, or supernatural what-have-you, of the week when they were younger. While he’d distanced himself from all the weirdness as he got older, it made sense that his brother would keep diving right into it (and pick up some straggler along the way, apparently).

It definitely made a lot more sense than drugs.

Stanford wouldn’t meet his gaze, kind of glaring off to the side with a wounded sort of look his eyes. It was a vulnerable expression. It was trying so very hard not to be, but Stan saw it. Even though he was, admittedly, a bit rusty, that didn’t erase the years of experience. He knew his brother.

“So what? You call me over to deal with it like those punks from school?” Hand on his shoulder, Stan wound his arm. He even tossed out a couple mock punches for good measure.

That got a broken, almost laugh out of Stanford, “I believe it would take a lot more than a few punches to get rid of him”.

“I believe you’re just underestimating the power of a few punches,” He cracked his knuckles and Stanford winced at the sound. “A punch got him out of you just a few minutes ago“.

“Temporarily, you woke-“ His brother grit his teeth and pressed a hand against his face. “Ugh, Stanley, I don’t have time for these games. I’ve made a grave mistake”.

“Like getting possessed by a demon”.

“Well, yes… but this is worse than even that.” Stanford grabbed a mug of, what he assumed, was old, practically frozen coffee, up off the ground and downed the whole thing.

Yeesh. Stan had been pretty damn low, but never quite that low.

His brother turned back to him (wearing an expression way too serious for someone who’d just done… that…), “I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe”.

If he didn’t have the context he did, Stan would’ve protested. He’d been around the world. He’d seen all sorts of things, but he’d never seen demonic possession, let alone something worse than that. Maybe he really wouldn’t believe it.

He held his tongue as his brother led him to a scuffed up (bloodied) door and inputted a code (top right, second down from top left, top left, third down from top left, third down from top right. A ‘C’, basically). After a quick scan of Stanford’s eye, the door opened with a hiss.

He followed his brother down the stairs behind it.

—————————

“This is what’s worse than the whole ‘demonic possession’ thing?”

Yeah, sure, Stan had lost track of what his brother was saying the moment he started using all that science jargon, but he’d got the gist of it.

Portal. Multiverse. ‘Grave danger’. Yeah, yeah.

Maybe he was crazy, but he still thought being literally possessed was worse.

“Stanley, if this portal gets activated it could destroy our entire world.” “The instructions on how to operate it are divided into my 3 Journals. I’ve hidden two already, but you’re the only person I can trust to take this one.” “Remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat? Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can!”

“You get me to come back into your life after over 10 years, I find out you’re possessed by a demon, and now you’re telling me to get as far away from you as possible!?” “what are you gonna do, huh?! If I go to the edge of the world and hide this stupid book? You’ll still be possessed. Your doomsday device will still be here. What’s your plan, Sixer!?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“What does it matter to me?!” “If you want me to hide your book across the world for you, the least you can do is tell me what your plan is!”

[Stanford gets all indignant]

“Fine. I’m going to head back over the mountains to the cave where I first summoned him. The native people had written about him all over the walls. There must be some hint on how to defeat him there.”

“Like hell you are,”

“What?”

“Listen here, wise-guy, if you think I’m gonna let you do that all on your own, you’re even crazier than you look”

“Stanley-“

“Look, I may not be a genius, but I know what fucking torture looks like, Stanford.” Stan had been through it. Stan had dealt it out. The bandages. The bloodstains. The eye bags. The haunted looks. His brother was a walking corpse. Did he think he would notice? [<- change to dialogue?]

Just let me help you, you ungrateful-

Stanford faltered.

Nono. None of this ‘one sided’ business. That’s not how this worked. When Stan pushed, his brother pushed back. That’s how they did things. That’s how they always used to do things.

But Stanford faltered and, in spite of everything, Stan felt his anger start to fizzle.

“Please, Stanley. Just take the journal and go.” “I’d rather not involve you any more than I have to”.

The words burned.

He already knew that. He did. Everything about this made that very clear. He wasn’t really wanted here.

Didn’t mean he wanted to hear it.

[Add a better transition here]

“Wait,”

“Hm?”

“Of course! How didn’t I think of this sooner?” Standford flipped through the pages of the journal, placing a hand on his chin, “if we place moonstones around the cabin… and then… all we’d need is… ugh, unicorn hair.”

“You lost me”

“Unicorn hair, combined with moonstones and some mercury, it can create a barrier that could keep Cipher out.”

[Transition again]

“There’s seriously something you can do right now, and you haven’t tried it?!” “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

“Stanley, it’s not that simple. In order for the spell to work, you need unicorn hair. And in order to get unicorn hair, you need someone pure of heart”

“[Or you could just take it by force]”

“[I’d hate to see what a unicorn would do to someone who tried to fight them head on]”

“[I have a bat in my car]”

“Despite how irritating they are- or, maybe because of it, actually, unicorns are endangered” “in fact the one I spoke to claims to be the last of her kind. At least of the North American variety.” “For that reason, and that reason alone, I must ask you to refrain from killing one.”

“Fine, we’ll stick to the ‘pure of heart’ thing.”

“C’mon, I’m doing this whether you like it or not. If you want a say you’re gonna have to come with me”

[Yippie Unicorn Hair is the solution. And it’s in journal 1 so they don’t need to break into an elementary school about it! “Can only be obtained by a Pure Good hearted person” Ford thinks Unicorns are dangerous maybe? That’s why they go on the side quest. But then at the same time he doesn’t want to involve anyone else. That’s probably why he never did this actually]

—————————

[Oops they’re a bit stranded until the snow stops. Bill possession stuff! Yay!]

“The code. I know you were paying attention, saving it for later,” “I know all about you Stan Pines. You could get in there no problem. Think about it. Opening that door (or Activating that portal) is a small price to pay to free your brother. It’s certainly a better deal for you than getting that unicorn hair” “Once he puts that spell around this cabin, he’ll never leave it. Do you really think he’ll wanna keep you around? You’ll be back at square one, won’t you? On the run. Alone.” “But if you scratch my back, I can scratch yours, Stanley. I have the power to give you anything you want. Fame! Fortune! I can even get rid of that Rico guy for ya, the whole nine yards! All you’d have to do is use those eyes of yours to get me into that room.”

—————————

“You still have the Diablo?”

Stan gave her an affectionate rap on the hood, “Hey, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it”.

Stanford gave him a skeptical look at that.

(Okay, so maybe his Diablo had broken, one, or two, or several times. And hey, maybe he had to fix her up, one, or two, or several times too. But that car had been through hell and back with him. He’d be damned if he ever got rid of her.)

(‘Til death did them part, or whatever.)

“You coming, or what?”

“If I were to, you’d expect me to sit where, exactly?”

“Oh sor-ry, when I got the sketchy post card I didn’t take the time to dump everything out of my car for my princess of a brother,” and now that he thought of it, he flipped up the sun blinders. That old picture of him and Ford after that boxing tournament was still on there. Didn’t want his brother thinking he was sentimental or something. “Just toss the stuff in the back, your highness. I’m not your servant”.

Stanford opened the door and as he did he must’ve just noticed the mess in the back because, “Dear god, Stanley. Do you keep everything you own in here?”

“Have to save up some cash, so I’m giving the whole ‘minimalist life style’ thing a shot,” “been a pretty good business strategy, profits are higher than ever!”

It wasn’t that much of a lie…

At least, not if you ignored the fact that pretty much any money he made had to go towards paying off Rico and his goons.

Stanford’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t make anymore comments on the state of Stan’s car. He just silently moved the stuff to the back and finally sat himself down in the passenger’s seat.

Once his brother shut the door, Stan turned the key, shifted gears, and started making his way out of the driveway.

On his way in, the storm had stopped him from really being able to see anything other than the road (and, well, maybe the road wasn’t the most visible either, but no harm no fowl). Point was, now that it was possible for him to be aware of his surroundings, he noticed a hell of a lot more “No Trespassing” signs.

Stan was a fan of all sorts of excessive things; excessive spending, excessive buying, excessive advertising, [a fourth thing], excessive amounts of examples. But this wasn’t a good kind of excessive. He wondered if it was because of the demon or if his brother had been so desperate to keep people away even before that.

They pulled out onto the road and Stan made sure to go the same way he had before. He had passed through the town during the storm and he figured that’d be the place to start looking.

“So, ‘someone of pure good heart’, huh?” Stan glanced over at his brother, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “You’ve been here longer than me, got any ideas?”

“Not particularly”.

“C’mon! How long have you lived here? You’re telling me you never took the time to scout out babes?”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” “There were more pressing things to focus on-”

There were always ‘more pressing things to focus on’ for Stanford when this subject came up (except at their prom, but even then, that had taken a lot of poking and prodding and coaching). [Something he’d showed interest in the idea of having a relationship, maybe bring up the kissing robot lol] but he’d never actually seemed really interested in, or hell even attracted to anyone… at least as far as Stan could tell.

It had mostly been teasing, but for whatever reason some part of him had been serious. It had been over a decade. Maybe he thought it’d be different? That he’d grown out of it? He wasn’t sure.

The indifference was almost comforting though. A familiar trait despite their years apart.

“Though, I suppose I did date a siren briefly. Her song didn’t work on me, and we both found it rather fascinating. I was able to learn quite a lot about their culture… Before she inevitably tried to eat me alive, of course.”

“Ha! Nice, Poindexter. You sure know how to pick ‘em,” Stan said, as if he had any idea. He gave his brother a good, supportive whack on the back too, and Stanford basically shrivelled at his touch.

“Keep both hands on the wheel please”.

Or, you know, maybe he’d ‘basically shrivelled’ because the car had swerved. One of life’s greatest mysteries.

[Don’t forgot that Ford is very paranoid at this point. He is not happy that Stan is trying to rope someone else in. Stan gets frustrated with Ford constantly going back and forth on involving other people. Like if he doesn’t want to involve anyone why can’t Stan can just beat the horses up like he wanted to initially? They compromise, Stan agreeing to discretely cutting the Unicorn’s hair when they’re asleep.]

“Sixer, if you don’t want to get anyone else involved why are we even doing this?” “You’re so busy worrying about that damn demon it won’t even matter if we find someone pure of heart”

“That’s it, we’re doing this my way”

“[Protest]”

“What’re you? The cops?” “Okay, okay. I won’t kill it. If we wait until it’s asleep, we can sneak in and cut its hair. Quick in and out. No one needs to know. That better?”

—————————

[A campfire scene? Bonding then Bill takes over? They’re camping out right by the unicorns waiting for them to sleep.]

Stan had heard that falling back into old patterns with someone you care about was easy, natural even. He was sure there was all sorts of things disproving that, but none of them were as obvious as the awkwardness between him and Stanford in this moment.

They’d spent the whole day together —and he’d felt pretty okay about it, all things considered— but here, sitting on a stump in the middle of nowhere, watching the fire, he didn’t know what to say.

He’d never been so aware of much time had passed. There were so many stories he could tell, so many stories he was sure Stanford could tell, and yet both of them were silent.

There was no obvious distraction to cling on to, just the two them. And where do you even begin?

…

The fire crackled between them, flickering and fluttering, slowly melting the snow around it.

Stan was able to keep himself comfortable but past the flame he could see his brother holding his coat closed, shivering.

…

“Don’t you have a warmer jacket? You’re making me cold just looking at you”.

“[I’m alright].” “[it’s easier for me to stay up this way]”

Stan could tell you from experience that was not the case.

“Some sleep might do you some good,” “hard to do a job like this when your accomplice is so tired he’s tripping over his own feet.”

“No-!” Stanford practically yelped in protest, then, sheepishly, he cleared his throat, “No, I can’t”.

“If you’re worried about [the demon… blabla I can keep watch. I have experience]”

“It’s doesn’t work like that it’s-“ “I can’t fall asleep. As soon as I do, he’ll take control.”

“So, what’s up with the whole demon thing anyway?”

Outwardly, Stanford didn’t really acknowledge the question. He just pulled his jacket tighter around himself and stared into the forest. He was going back and forth about something in that brain of his though. Stan could tell. The flitting of his eyes. The tensing and twitching of his expression.

Then, eventually, “We made a deal, him and I”.

“He’d convinced me that progress on the portal was too slow. I was already putting everything I had in, and one night, he came to me with an offer: I let him control me as I sleep, and he could keep working on the portal so we wouldn’t fall behind. It’d seemed like a no-brainer, at the time. He was a-“ Stanford cut himself off, clearly taking time to choose his next words carefully. They came out slowly, stilted, “a trusted ally”.

There was more of a story there.

[More conversation whoooo! Eventually Ford drifts off]

“Will saving him now really make up for what you did?”

[Insert Unicorn heist here]

The sun had begun to rise as Stan and Ford stumbled out of the ruins, each with a loch of unicorn hair in their hand.

“Haha! We actually did it!” Ford cheered, eyes brightest Stan had seen since he’d arrived in Gravity Falls.

“Damn right we did!” Stan held up his hand for a high-six, and his brother delivered with a satisfying smack. Giddy at their success, he tossed an arm over Ford’s shoulder and couldn’t help but call upon a chant he hadn’t uttered in years, “PINES! PINES! PINES!”

There were no words to describe the joy he felt when his brother joined in.

[Notes on Bill’s train of thought here: At first when Stanley shows up Bill is trying to make him uncomfortable, make him angry, make him want to leave and never come back. When this doesn’t work he shifts gears and tries to play on Stan’s insecurities to get him to open the portal door. This is something only Stan and an unpossessed Stanford are able to do because of the eye scanner.]

[final-script]

It's Happening! | Ruben Dias

Pairing: Ruben Dias x Reader

Sumary: Where Ruben Dias asks the big question.

Warnings: English is not my first language !!!.There are probably many mistakes (I will correct them later),

Gif: rubendiasatl

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

As the complete gentleman he was, unbeknownst to you, he had gone to your parents' house to ask for your hand.

It was not difficult for them to give the blessing, they loved him from the moment they met him.

(…)

After obtaining the blessing of your parents, he only needed to prepare the proposal, for this he received ideas and some help from family and friends, both yours and his.

There wasn't anyone who wasn't aware of Ruben's love for you.

You liked the simple, so Ruben had decided on something simple but at the same time express what he feels for you.

Although it may not seem like it, everything was quite fast and without raising suspicions around you.

First I would take you to dinner and then to walk on the beach, where I had also prepared something.

(…)

The day of the proposal I followed his plan to the letter, I invite you to dinner like any other time, trying not to seem nervous, fortunately I succeed.

He opened your door when he got to the car, before also getting on and traveling to the restaurant and for the first time at night something called your attention… They weren't filling up the way they usually do.

Y/N- honey where are we filling?

R- oh, I thought maybe we could try a new place.

I put his cloak on your thigh and kept driving.

(…)

The dinner developed normally, talking about random things as they always do and after a small dessert it was time to continue with the second part of the plan.

R- is it okay if we walk along the beach?

Y/N- there is a pleasant climate, so that's fine.

They clasped their hands and as the beach was close they walked clinging.

A few meters a decorations scattered along the beach caught your attention

Y/N- it seems that there was a party.

If only you knew what was about to happen to you.

Advantage your distraction, Ruben decided that it was his moment, with the excuse that you could better observe the "forgotten" place, I managed to put you where he wanted.

R- and if I told you that it is not a party and that it is for us. Hugging you from behind.

Y/N- what do you talk about, honey?

R- I did this because I wanted to ask you something.

He kept you in this position, because if I turned to see you I probably wouldn't say everything he really wants to tell you.

R- I know you love the simple so I will do the best I can, I know I could go straight to the point but … There are things I really want to say today.

He controlled his breathing as best he could and continued.

R- It's been almost 4 years since we are together, almost 4 years since I saw you for the first time and was arrowed by that girl who seemed lost at a party with her friends, but no matter how lost she seemed she made me work to get her name and phone number, almost 4 years since you endure my mood swings after a game, you take care of me and help me to improve, I love you even more, because you are always just you and without forgetting to mention how much my family loves you, how you are with them … For everything I've said and for what I'm still missing, I want all that to be forever, to create new memories, so I want to ask you.

He stopped his words to turn you around and make eye contact.

As he did so, he immediately knelt down and revealed before you, the ring that without your knowledge he had been with for weeks.

R- do you want to marry me? The tears accumulated in your eyes could show, but enough to see that the man in front of you, you were with whom you wanted to spend the rest of your life.

Nodding excitedly you gave an answer.

Y/N- yes, yes, of course.

I slip the ring into your ring and when it got up, you immediately circled his neck and kissed it.

Y/N- I can't wait to be your wife.

R- the last name Dias will look great,Eu te amo futura esposa (I love you future wife)

Y/N- Mrs. Dias… I love it. Seal the moment with a kiss.

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

ANOTHERS

 From The Beginning - Ruben Dias x Reader

English Classes - Julian Alvarez x Reader

[lilyinavalley]

Tropical promise 🪷

Sylus x reader Fiction for the Misty Invasion fan art contest 4,248 words [Masterlist]

Ao3

CHAPTER I

A call, a message, a letter, also a gift, Sylus used a lot of ways to lure me, usually it was for an auction, sometimes he needed a partner to rely on in tricky “deals”, or maybe, he just wanted to spend some time with me in places thousands of kilometers far from the city.

It was almost the end of summer when I finally managed to get two weeks off, being a hunter was a really fulfilling job, but as a lowly human being I really needed a pause, and also a change of air, so as soon as I decided the destination, I booked everything in advance.

When the last day of work ended I said hello to my fellow hunter colleagues and I sprinted home, excitement was literally expanding from my body, like an aura of some sort. As soon as I crossed the threshold of the house I rushed to the bedroom, opened my wardrobe and started to pull out suitable clothes for the trip. With a sundress in hand I was looking at myself in the mirror when I heard the doorbell ring.  

I wasn’t expecting anyone nor did I order anything, so I had no idea of who it could have been… or maybe I did…

I laid the dress on the bed and jogged until I was in front of the door; I asked who it was but I didn’t receive any answer, so I tried to look through the door peephole and I could only see the empty hallway and my neighbor’s closed door.

“What the hell is going on now?” I whispered in an annoyed tone.

Too curious to leave, I cautiously opened the door, only to find a long black package with a red ribbon laying on the mat, some nail scratches on the top…

“Those really look like something a certain crow would leave, is he a courier now? Hah” I sneered.

With no more hesitation I took the package and put it on the coffee table of the living room, I untied the bow, opened the lid and then I saw “... a machete?”.

The large knife blade was immaculate, shiny and sharpened to perfection, the black sturdy handle was carved with golden sinuous lines, they reminded me of climbing ivy, little rubies adorning it like flowers. As for the material, I really had no idea, I liked weapons, but I wasn’t that passionate about it.

Without wasting any more time I called the real weapon freak.

After only two rings a familiar deep voice came out of my phone.

“Good evening sweetie, I was anxiously waiting for your call”

“Yeah, of course… So Sylus, what is the meaning behind this extremely well crafted and fancy piece of knife?”

“Why do you always think I have ulterior motives? Maybe it’s just a gift, it’s not the first time I gifted you a weapon”; after a short pause he continued.

“You are not wrong this time though… Are you sure you checked all the contents of the box?”.

I furrowed my brows and immediately removed the velvet support of the machete from the box; laying on the bottom there was a handwritten sheet of paper, it just said:

<< 7.30 - Linkon city’s international airport → Manaus international airport

10 days trip - tropical weather, bring suitable clothing

I will think of the rest, we will also use our private jet

-Sylus >>

After reading that a long silence descended, the expression on my face was unreadable.

“Sylus”

“You don’t sound enthusiastic at all, is there something wrong?”. It was almost unperceivable, but you could see a hint of doubt in his words.

“I was literally packing for the trip I planned weeks ago, I have the plane tomorrow morning and I have paid everything else in advance!”

“Oh I see, it’s not a problem, I’ll refund you, give me the accommodation contacts and I’ll take care of everything…” I interrupted him immediately.

“Wait wait wait, hold your tongue, I didn’t say I was okay with this, did I? I was waiting to go and relax on the beach since summer started, you know, laying on a beach lounger with a cocktail in hand, sunbathing, swimming a bit, taking a walk on the shore when it’s not too hot… those kind of things”

“It sounds extremely boring, did you really want to spend two weeks living like a granny?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I need right now”

Sylus continued with a softer voice.

“Did you not enjoy our last outings? In ten days we can do a lot of things, the little gift I gave you will be used, of course, but I don’t want to spoil anything. The choice is yours sweetie, either way I’ll be waiting for you, you already know where to find me.” And the call ended.

I remained still for a minute.

“Who do I want to deceive, there wasn’t a day when I didn’t enjoy my time with you”.

I sighed.

“I guess I’ll have to make some calls” I finally said with a soft smile and a resigned expression.

After changing some of the clothing I already packed, I had dinner and went to sleep.

The day after, I woke up early and went to the airport with a taxi, as soon as I got out of the vehicle I saw currents of people going in and out of the building, in the middle of them there were lovers and families reuniting, it was a literal chaos, it resembled a raging river whose billows crushed against the rock surfacing from the bottom. A messy entangle of feelings.

Suitcase in hand, I went through the crowd, their emotions reached the person they longed to, mine were still in the middle of their search, eyes looking everywhere for him, heart too.

But it didn’t take long, maybe his feelings were searching for me too; in all his imposing height, he was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, his silver hair adorning his sharp features, crimson eyes scanning the crowd. The people that were passing by couldn’t help but feel intimidated, even if he wasn’t doing anything in particular, his presence emptied the area around him; if the entrance was an impetuous river, the crowd just inside the airport could be described as a compact school of fish that swam madly in a circle, them staying on the circumference and a shark in the center.

As I looked at him in the distance I tried to guess what was going on in his head, what he felt by being avoided like this, was he lonely, pained even?

Suddenly I felt my chest aching, it was like a needle slowly penetrating the tissues of my beating organ; following this new sensation, my hand reached the skin right above my heart, and it vibrated with the rhythm of its pulsations.

I sped up my pace, gaze locked on his stony face, I got closer and closer and the moment he saw me I could see the sudden change of his expression. It happened so fast that if I wasn’t staring at him so intently I would’ve missed it. The pupils of his eyes expanded, eating the red sea in which they were immersed, his eyelids softened and his lips that were previously pouting, raised and opened a little, giving a glimpse of his smile, but nothing more.

When I was just one step away from him, he moved from the pillar and stood completely straight.

With his new height I inclined my head a little higher.

“Were you so sure I would have come?”

He curved his back so that our eyes were on the same level, with his palm facing upwards he gently lifted my hand toward his lips and gave my fingers a single feather light kiss.

“I wasn’t… Sometimes the outcome overweights the risks”

Sylus said while never leaving nor my hand nor my bewitched gaze.

Escaping the trance I suddenly found myself in, I regained possession of my hand and swiftly moved my fingers that were previously embraced by his to his ear, my index finger traced its outline from the helix, then descended slowly to the lobule. Never leaving his crimson eyes I got close to his face, lips barely touching his cheek, hot steady breath tickling his skin; getting even closer, I whispered to his ear.

“Say the truth, you just can’t be without me anymore, can’t you?”

A light scoff reached one of my eardrums.

“Your presence here tells me you are in the same situation though”

My lips curved in a complacent smile and so did his.

He lifted a strand of my hair and gave it a final kiss. After that the tension was broken and our little bubble popped. He stood up.

“Follow me”.

He led me to the by then already familiar jet and we departed.

Machete kept on the bottom of my suitcase, fortunately we didn’t have to pass through the security…

CHAPTER II

The flight seemed to be endless, but I really couldn’t complain at all. In the jet we were the only passengers present, excluding the pilot and the two hostesses that attended to our every caprice.

When we arrived it was already evening, the sky was strangely clear, stars so bright they looked like diamonds; my eyes were inevitably attracted by the pure beauty of its immensity.

Apparently I stayed in a daze a little too long, because Sylus flicked me on my forehead.

“Are you planning to turn into a statue?” he said with his usual ironic tone.

Maybe because of tiredness, or maybe because I was distracted by the night sky, I spoke with sincerity.

“We are nothing but tiny spots in the immensity of the universe, it’s quite terrifying isn’t it?”

Sylus remained strangely quiet, so I continued.

“Even if it’s so scary and mysterious I can’t help but feel this attraction, I wonder why? Is it the charm of the unknown?”

After I asked the last question I moved my gaze towards Sylus and I stared intently in his crimson orbs.

His expression was very peculiar, almost indecipherable, I could distinguish only a tiny shadow of sorrow; but it lasted only for a moment, a sprout of weakness nipped in the bud.

He immediately returned to his usual demeanor.

“I don’t think it’s terrifying, it just makes you understand how little and powerless you are when you are faced by fate”

Without giving me the time to answer, he took my hand and started to walk towards a luxurious car that was parked close to the jet.

“Let’s go sweetie, or you won’t get enough rest for tomorrow”

So I got into the passenger seat and Sylus started the engine, not after long, the exhaustion and the sleepiness took over and I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up the morning after in an unfamiliar room, loud noises coming from the open window, a gentle breeze that moved the curtains reached my now well rested body, as my brain started to slowly gain its self awareness, I got up from the bed I was resting on and reached the source of the gentle morning wind.

With the hands on the window ledge I leaned a bit outside.

Right under my room there was a street bustling with life, children playing football on the corner, stalls that sold all kinds of things, from fruit to strange handicrafts, on the sides of the road I could also see many street performers, some played odd shaped guitars, others were doing magic tricks and so on. The festive atmosphere and the happiness coming from the people below enveloped my heart, finally I really felt on holiday.

The sound of a door opening startled me from that joyous bliss, I turned around and found no other than my travel companion, with sunglasses, a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts on. It was an unusual sight to behold, as he usually wore those dark and imposing clothes, kindred to the role he held in the infamous N109 zone.

With just three strides he was already in front of me.

“Good morning kitten, did you sleep well?”

With the back of his index finger he traced the outline of my face.

“Yes I did, thank you for taking me here, I blacked out as soon as I got into the car”

“No problem, get ready, today’s going to be a busy day… Oh also, bring along my little gift”

And he got out as fast as he entered.

By then I was already fully awake so I got ready really fast. After going to the bathroom and getting dressed, I packed my adventure backpack and secured in the “little gift” Sylus gave me. Fully ready I got out of the room and I found him already waiting for me.

“Took you long enough sweetie, let’s go eat something in the stalls nearby, otherwise you’re not gonna make it with an empty belly”

He said while gently pinching my tummy.

“Yeah yeah let’s go then” and I rushed out of the hotel.

All kinds of exotic smells reached my nostrils, sweet, salty, spicy even, the warmth of the sun embraced my figure, but I didn’t really know where to go; suddenly I felt something on my head, apparently Sylus put on me a white straw hat.

“Take my hand or the crowd will separate us”

So I put one hand in his and the other held the hat steady on my head, scared of losing it in the general chaos.

His large body strode forward, the only thing I could see was his broad back. Thanks to him paving the path in front of us, we arrived at the food stall in no time.

The booth had all kinds of sweets in display, cakes, biscuits and also what appeared to be muffins. Sylus exchanged some words with the smiling middle aged seller, then she put two pieces of everything in a small tray and gave it to him while waving goodbye.

“Aren’t you gonna pay for it?”

“She’s an acquaintance, I helped her with something a long time ago. She really wanted to exchange the favor, even if she didn’t need to”.

“You have connections all around the world huh”

He took a little square shaped cake and brought it to my mouth.

“Try it”

I took a bite and a delicate coconut flavor imbued my mouth. 

“It’s amazing, give me something else”

Sylus looked at me tenderly and gave me the entire tray, we sat on a bench nearby and together we finished all the food.

With the belly finally full I leaned on the backrest, the man next to me had his legs crossed and was looking at me intently with a sly smile.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Yes, actually you have a bit of sugar powder on your cheek”

Without giving me time to wipe it off, he removed the stain with his thumb, and then licked his finger clean while looking me in the eyes.

“That was smooth Sylus” With an almost invisible red tinge on my cheeks and a playful smile I looked away.

He laughed a little and I jumped up with energy.

“Soo, where are you taking me today?”

“We are going on a little adventure in the rainforest, are you up with it?”

“Well…” I put on a thoughtful expression “It would be a first for me. Is it going to be just the two of us? Don’t we need a guide?”

“I’m the only guide we need sweetie, trust me”

He stood up, put on his fancy sunglasses and started walking towards a narrow road that led off the main street, I followed him straight behind.

At the end of the dark alley there was a bright and spacious parking lot, it was really full, probably because of the high number of tourists of the period. Families and groups of friends were taking their luggage out of their cars, some kids were crying because they couldn’t wait to play in the resorts, others were silently waiting for their parents to finish. In the midst of all that, there was us.

“There are a lot of families here”

I said while taking his hand, a bit surprised by my initiative Sylus was startled for a second. He knew all about my childhood, his though, was still a mystery, the only thing I knew was that he didn’t have a good one either. Whenever I inquired about his past, a dark veil would descend on his expression, and most of the time, in the end, I wouldn’t get anything relevant out of him. 

He squeezed my hand in return.

“Yes, there’s the summer break in schools” 

A faint sense of anguish started to hover around my heart, not too strong, but also not weak enough to not reach my eyes. They say the eyes are the mirror of the soul, and that must be true, because as soon as that gloomy feeling occupied my mind he patted my head.

“Don’t worry, our future little ones won’t suffer the same fate as us”.

And every negative feeling faded away.

“What are you talking about!” I gave his arm a little nudge and laughed the tension away.

“Here we are, this is what will accompany us on our little adventure”

In front of me a brand new black cross-country vehicle, and also a proud man leaning on its hood.

I raised my eyebrows and took off my backpack to put it in the backseats.

“Let’s not waste any more time then”.

CHAPTER III

The road to the rainforest wasn’t long nor boring.

When we departed Sylus turned on the radio and we did a bit of karaoke together, so his singing alone made the trip hilarious.

After just 15 minutes every human trace disappeared from the scenery, only tropical plants and trees on the view. From the rolled down car window the wind ruffled my hair and the air that filled my lungs was cleaner than ever, the remoteness of the city could already be felt.

Not too long after, we reached our destination, Sylus parked the car in a plain grassy area and we hopped off the vehicle.

“Are we just going in?” I said while looking at the block of leaves in front of us.

“Yes, but we’re here for a reason, around this area there’s a place I want to show you”.

After saying this he swiftly removed the machete in my backpack and walked towards the tropical plants leaves.

“Wait a second!” I stopped his swing by holding his shirt. “Should I be particularly careful about certain dangerous animals? Like snakes, felines ��” I got interrupted immediately.

“You are a hunter sweetie, and I have a pretty useful long distance Evol… are you maybe  scared?” He said while sneering.

“You know what, nevermind, you’re right, let’s go”

So the man before me cleared the area in front of us with rapid machete swings, and in no time we were immersed in the rainforest.

We could hear animal sound coming from afar, and every now and then we could hear the rustling of leaves of the vegetation near us, probably little mammals or amphibians were the cause; even so, all this disturbances didn’t make Sylus hesitate for a second, he was really focused on finding the way to the place he wanted to take me. 

While going on and on the environment started to become more and more wild, the humidity seemed to rise at every step and sweat covered every inch of my body.

“Hey, how long until we arrive? You didn’t stop for a second and I’m all sweaty here”

The man stopped his movements and turned around. His face was also covered in salty droplets and his silvery strands were stuck to his forehead.

“You stopped me on time, the destination is right behind this wall of lianas, I’ll give you the honor”

And he gave me the machete.

Curiosity took the better of me and with some swings I quickly opened the path ahead.

What appeared before my eyes was in complete opposition to the landscape seen until that moment, there was a large circular body of water, a little waterfall on the far end and colorful parrots flying.

Utter awe was displayed on my face.

“How did you find this place?”

“A man has its secrets… and another pair of eyes”

Mephisto cawed from the sky and descended on Sylus’ shoulder.

After giving him a little scratch on the head, the black mechanical bird flew on one of the tree branches where the parrots were resting, the tropical animals were weirded out by him, but instead of flying away, they stayed to study him.

While I was distracted looking at the birds I heard a rustling noise extremely close to me, so I turned around and I found Sylus with only his underwear on.

“Sylus, what the hell are you doing?” I screamed, I was shocked by the sudden view.

“I’m going for a swim, I’m too sweaty and hot, strip off and come with me”

“Are you serious? Isn’t it extremely dangerous, there might be alligators on the bottom!”

I said while being genuinely worried about the possible dangers lurking in the water.

“Don’t worry, there is no longer a single harmful thing in this pond, I wiped it clean”

So I looked intently at the surface of the water, and only then I noticed the thin black fog hovering over the entire area.

“Oh, I see”

Without waiting for me the man had already soaked his legs, the water reached his knees.

“Okay, okay I’m coming, wait for me!”

I quickly removed my clothes and I remained in my underwear too. I slowly dipped my feet in the crystal clear water. Sylus said the truth, no living being could be seen, nor on the surface nor on the bottom, only rocks and algae tickled my feet soles.

Seeing the man with his back facing me a few steps ahead, suddenly gave rise to a naughty urge within my body; so after taking a little jog to give the push, I jumped on top of Sylus.

The surprise attack succeeded, and together we fell completely into the deep water.

Air bubbles and distorted colors took over my view; after the bubbles disappeared on the surface I could clearly see Sylus pouty expression in front of my face, happy to have pulled a prank on him I started to smile. Probably softened by my expression he got closer and pulled me in his arms, my hands squeezed his shoulders for stability.

And in this position we floated to the surface. 

Water dripped down from our hair to our shoulders and it returned where it belonged to. 

Our chests were glued to each other, we were at the same level, the Archimedes’ principle helping the cause.

Sylus’ hand slowly moved from my back to my under tight, leaving goosebumps all over the path they traced.

Our hearts were beating together, with every second that passed the pulses increased in frequency in a beautiful crescendo.

And at last, our eyes interlocked, his fiery rubies were burning, his flame bore into my orbs and burned every inch of my soul.

I moved one hand from his shoulder to his cheek and with my thumb I caressed his cheekbone with circular movements.

The affectionate nature of this gesture made his passion subside, now only vulnerability and tenderness transpired from his eyes.

“Sylus, I want to tell you something, but please, don’t say anything until I’m finished”

I said resolutely while still caressing him gently.

He looked at me and gave me a look of tacit consent.

“I don’t know anything about your past, but I just wanted you to know this”

The vision I had when I retrieved the aether core still vivid in my head, pain and sufferance plunged my heart, there was so much blood that I couldn’t even distinguish where the ground started; in front of me a creature similar to a demon, a sword stuck in its chest, the handle in my hand and an inhuman one holding mine in place.

“It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, the causes of the scars that lie invisible on your body…” I traced the line that divided his pectorals with the hand that was still resting on his shoulder “and what you really are”.

“Even if you say that in the past you were a monster scarier than a wanderer, I accept you. My heart always seeks yours, and I decided to trust it”. 

“Even if fate is against you?” Sylus said in a melancholic tone.

“Even if fate is against me”

The passion in his eyes reignited its flame, but this time instead of being burnt I decided to match his heat, so I took the initiative.

I captured his lips in a sweet but steady kiss, I didn’t want him to take the upper hand, not this time. This exchange was my seal to our promise. And Sylus accepted it with vigor.

The shadow of our intertwined limbs was trembling in the uneven surface of the body of water, but remained whole nonetheless. 

A lot was still unsaid between us, but for the first time, in that little paradise far from everybody, our hearts finally found each other.

End