#on the set of the ninth gate

[romanbymarta]

Roman Polanski & Johnny Depp on the set of The Ninth Gate. Photo by Peter Mountain

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo for Think Big Picture:

We’re all still grieving the electoral loss and feeling queasy about the prospect of Trump returning to the White House in January. But in response to the giddy pronouncements from the GOP and the Trump campaign, some have already begun to think about an effective political resistance to Trump and Trumpism. 

Democrats need to make these plans knowing full well that Trump will be backed by a sycophantic GOP Congress and blank check-writing SCOTUS. And this time around, there won’t be any adults in the room, including White House counsel who during his first term would quietly shelve Trump’s most outrageous requests, or chiefs of staff like John Kelly who would struggle to moderate, educate and soften his most extreme positions. No, this time around Trump will be surrounded by people even further to the right of him. They will seek to implement the most dangerous and destructive of policies, many drawn from the Project 2025 blueprint. And they will encourage Trump to issue Executive Orders that could reshape American democracy, insert our armed forces deeply into civil affairs, hurtle our economy into an abyss, and upend the lives of millions of minorities.

This is a thought piece, an early stab (and work in progress) about how Democrats (and the lawyers who are aligned with them) can ready themselves to resist Trump. We’re in very new territory here, but the ideas are based on what we’ve learned about Trump from both his first term and the four years he’s been more or less idle when he wasn’t sitting in courtrooms or stumping on the campaign trail. They play into both his ego and the worst aspects of his character and leadership style. I hope you find this early exploration a good starting point for how the next four years could go if Democrats play their cards smartly, even if the strategy seems highly unorthodox. Note that I won’t be discussing what average citizens might consider doing. This, for now, is the beginning of a political and legal strategy. Others involved in grassroots organizing may have ideas for direct resistance by citizens, but that is for another discussion.

[...]

Hit ‘em with lawfare

One of the most effective weapons against Trump’s policies during his first term was the slew of lawsuits that his executive orders met when they were first announced. Remember the Muslim ban? That bounced up and down the courts for years before it could finally go into effect in a watered-down form. 

Lawyers from every non-profit walk of life should be readying civil complaints today, just as people like Russ Vought are already preparing horrific executive orders for Trump to sign. The minute Trump announces his Day One policy to deport millions of undocumented migrants, for example, lawyers everywhere should file suit. It shouldn’t just be one suit; it should be several. Tie up the White House lawyers and the Trump Justice Department with as many cognizable claims as they can think of. More than the sheer number, they should file these cases before judges in jurisdictions where the appellate courts will be more friendly, such as in the Ninth Circuit. This is the inverse of what MAGA and Christian Nationalist legal counsel have been doing now for years by picking a single court near Amarillo, Texas to ensure their cases are heard before radical judge Matthew Kacsmaryk.

Once those cases are filed, judges (and their clerks) should slow-walk them. Act like the nun in The Sound Of Music, opening the gate as slowly as she can so the Nazis are delayed. Then, after issuing temporary restraining orders, set the hearings out as far as possible. Have the lawyers demand extensions. File motions that could receive interlocutory appeals, to further gum things up. In short, drag things out as long as possible to prevent his policies from going into effect. Governors in blue border states could also get involved. California and Arizona both have Democratic governors, after all. And they also have Democratic state attorneys general. These states could move to intervene in suits or file them on their own, just as the red states have done to block Biden’s policies like student debt relief. Sure, this will eventually get up to the Supreme Court and get overturned, but the point is delay. Run out the clock, run out the clock, run out the clock. Trump only gets four years, two before the midterms. [...]

These are but a few broad-stroke ideas, but it’s time everyone who will be part of the resistance start thinking about how they can play a vital part in pushing back. Some of these tactics are admittedly unorthodox, others quite petty. Still others are variations on what has worked well before. Together, they could bog down or distract Trump and the White House just long enough for the midterms to give Democrats a chance to regain control of one or both chambers and really turn up the heat.

It may make many quite uncomfortable to consider deploying these kinds of strategies. They make Democrats into obstructionists, even political saboteurs, much as the GOP has been for the few cycles when Democrats have been in charge.  But here there is a difference, though it’s one MAGA Republicans will never acknowledge: When actual fascists have taken control of the government and are trying to destroy democracy, patriotic opponents must use every peaceful means at their disposal to prevent them. Indeed, it is a moral imperative, because millions of lives are on the line. We cannot act as if the world has not changed, and Democrats must grow far more accustomed to acting outside the box and getting creative in their approaches.

It’s time for Democrats to play rough by delaying and gumming up Donald Trump’s tyrannical proposals to run the clock down.

[dancingtotuyo]

8. a cry of my heart to see

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Tragedy strikes Jackson

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: blood, medical care (probably bad I'm not a doctor tried to keep it brief and vague), Character Death, loss, grief, funeral, smut, P I V, cream pie, Oral sex (F receiving)

Notes: Shout out to my girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for the beta read!

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3273

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR READERS 18 YEARS AND OLDER. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT OR READ.

One Year Later 

He’s been out on patrol for days. They’re widening the perimeter and he’s on the initial team to do so. It’s nerve-wracking. You’re losing sleep. 

Maria tries to assure you they’re fine. No news is good news, but it falls on deaf ears. Her husband isn’t out there in unexplored areas. Joel is. Tommy tries to hide his worry. Despite both their assurances, you know they’re concerned. It’s risky.

For the most part, life goes on. Ellie has been staying in your guest room since Joel left. You thought she would look forward to having the house to herself, not that Joel doesn’t already spend the majority of nights at your house. You wonder if she fears the same thing you do. 

They’re supposed to be back in a week, but day 8 passes without sign of them. 

On the ninth day, one of the gate watchmen barrels into the clinic, causing you to knock over an entire bin of instruments you had just boiled. His eyes are wide, skin pale causing your stomach to drop. 

“What is it?”

“We just spotted them about a mile out. They’re down a rider. Another looks pretty banged up, can barely sit up in the saddle.” 

"Who?” You fight the urge to vomit. 

“We don’t know.”

“Go get Pooley.” The panic is setting in. You can’t do this. You can’t go into concerned girlfriend mode. Is that what you are? It doesn’t sound quite right. No, you need to be the medical professional you were taught to be. Calm, cool, collected like the professional you were on the UT Trauma team.

The man nods, rushing out of the clinic. You look around, pulling out everything you might need for easy access. You don’t know if he was mulled or shot or something else. This is hardly the first time something like this happened, but it’s the first time you haven’t been able to focus. 

It’s silly in hindsight, but you never worried quite like this over Gabe. He always promised to come back. He seemed so confident that he would that you’d bought into his confidence, and he always did until he didn’t. 

Once you’re convinced you’re set up enough to take care of the incoming injured, your feet carry you out toward the gate. It’s beautiful out today. The sun shines. Birds chirp and bees buzz. The kids play tag in the apple orchard, but it all feels like a bad dream like the world is moving in slow motion. There’s a ringing in your ears. 

The gate is just opening as the group draws closer. A small crowd has already formed, mostly the families of those sent out. You’re too far away to see out of the gate so you have to wait for them to file in. 

The first rider comes in. It’s not Joel. You can feel your grip on reality fading. You’re trying to stay. You have a job to do. Maria appears next to you as the second rider crosses in. She tugs you closer to the chaos, through the families waiting with bated breath. Two more. Not Joel. She brings you next to Dr. Pooley who waits ready to spring into action. People make room around you so you can tend to the injured as soon as they come in. 

Another pair cross into safety. John Lacy holds the reins of Adam Perkin’s horse as Adam hunches over in the saddle looking closer to death than life. John has them next to you within seconds, spewing the story of his injury to you and the doctor. You can’t pay attention, going on your tiptoes to catch sight of the last rider, but the horses block your view. The gate is closing now.

“Maria?” You look at her in desperation, pulled between the need to help and get status on Joel. 

She gives you a nod and dashes off to investigate further. 

Adam half rolls out of the saddle, in and out of consciousness before several strong sets of arms aid him to the ground. 

“Someone get the gurney!” A voice calls out as you fall to your knees beside the man. It’s your voice. Your body is taking over, but your brain is still elsewhere. The ringing in your ears grows louder. “Someone tell me what we’re looking at!” Your shaking hands rip the stained flannel and undershirt. They're already rags anyway. 

“Took a knife to the gut two days ago. Closed it up but it got infected and reopened on the way back,” John reports. 

“And you didn’t stop to close it back up?” You yell. 

“We had to drop the med bag.”

You groan in frustration. Dr. Pooley takes vital signs. Even in the haze you notice the signs that he’s over concentrating. His lips move to count Adams BPM and then he stops and starts over. 

“What do you have for me, Doc?” You’re desperate for help. Desperate for the old man to be able to do his job, but you see it in his face. He’s about to admit what you’ve assumed for months. 

“I don’t know,” he looks as lost as you feel right now, drowning in the panic of his own mortality. His own brain ceasing to work. You’ve seen the signs of dementia for months, and now the moment you need his help the most, he can’t think straight. You need his brain. You need to talk through this. 

“Gurney!” Someone yells, pushing toward you with the homemade gurney. It’s more of a litter you’d find in a medieval era movie, but it does the trick. 

They slam it to the ground, you don’t even have to let out the instructions before someone is counting and Adam is moved onto the stretcher. “Carefully!” You keep pressure on his wound, it’s definitely bleeding again. They must’ve missed something or it’s been bleeding internally all this time. Damnit! 

You’re almost to the clinic when you hear it, a life preserver in the raging ocean, Ellie’s voice. “JOEL!”

You turn to see her arms wrapped around his midsection, holding her as tight as she does to him. His eyes flicker to yours, and it’s like you snap back into your body with a thud, your mind crisp and clear. He smiles weakly your way and you can breathe again. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you. You’re pretty sure you’ve technically just performed a surgery you were in the room for once as a nurse 22 years ago. You probably missed most of the steps, but you know it was Adam’s only hope. Joyce Dobbins comes in with a poultice that’s supposed to help fight infection and “doctors him right up” as she likes to say. You don’t know enough to have an opinion. She’s the herbalist. 

You shower at the clinic, bones weary and eyelids drooping. Joyce knows enough to monitor him over night as does Rachel, Adam’s wife. 

You stumble home, the days events replaying on repeat in your head. The multiple times you thought you were going to lose Adam yet he somehow never faded. Lindsey’s never ending sobs from the backroom as she mourned Paul, you delivered their baby three years ago. Joel standing there giving you exactly what you needed so you could save a friend. 

Most of the time, it’s easy to ignore the dangers of the outside world while tucked within the walls of Jackson, your slice of normal in the world. Tonight is not one of them. 

You stumble up the porch stairs, anything but graceful as you cross the threshold. The house is quiet- no, peaceful. It’s an odd feeling compared to your raging mind. The house is clean, spotless. The orange glow of your living room lamp and the kitchen light warm you. Rumours spins in the corner, halfway through Songbird. You catch Joel in the kitchen wiping down the countertops. Your tea kettle whistles softly as he turns off the gas stove. 

“Joel…” your voice is hoarse. He spins around. He doesn’t smile, only walks toward you, pulling your limp frame into his as soon as he can. “I missed you,” you whisper. 

“I missed you too, Sweetheart.” His face burrows into the crook of your neck. 

“I thought…” you can’t finish the sentence without tears falling down your cheeks. He rocks you both softly. 

“Shhh, I know. I know.”

He kisses your head softly and then your lips. As much as you want to fall into bed, he forces you to eat something, drink the tea he’s brewed for you. You can barely sit upright, but you eat and drink and finally, he guides you upstairs, tucks you into bed, and curls up behind you. You fall asleep before he starts whispering sweet reassurances in your ear. 

You pull yourself out of bed earlier than you should. You have to go check in on Adam at the clinic. No news is good news. Anytime you’re not dragged out of bed after a day like yesterday, it’s a good thing. 

He’s not conscious but his fever is lower than it was when you left and that eases your worries some. Rachel doesn’t leave his bedside. 

Lindsey is in the backroom as they re- wrap Paul’s body. They’ll bury him today. He’s already been dead for three days. You take Lindsey’s hand without a word, standing solemn next to her. 

A hot tear marks your cheek as you watch Maria and Joyce diligently work. You were never awarded this luxury, could never gaze upon Gabe’s face one last time. Didn’t get to say goodbye. 

He has a tombstone in the cemetery. You don’t visit it often. He’s not there, his ashes spread to the wind now, rolling over the earth like invisible tumbleweeds. He probably likes that better anyway. 

The funeral is short, but all of Jackson crowds around for the service, to bury their fallen friend. Joel holds you close, arm wrapped around your waist. You lean heavy against him, gaining all your support from his frame. Carter and Ellie sit on the ground in front of you. 

When it’s time to lower Paul into the ground, Joel makes sure you’re steady on your feet before joining the rest of the patrol group. Adam is still unconscious in the clinic. They lower his body to the ground with precision that is too practiced. You wonder if he’s thinking of her, how he had to leave her body behind. He calls out her name at night sometimes. You know he’s reliving the night Sarah died. 

Lindsey’s cries start to pick up again. You slide onto the bench beside her, squeezing her hand tightly. Grace sits opposite you and Elaine stands behind. You don’t know Lindsey that well, but she’s joined your ranks now. Other women who have lost spouses close in around the grieving woman, a moment of solidarity. It’s a group that’s too large for your liking, too many lives taken. 

Joel holds your hand on the walk home. You keep walking, taking your path earlier than normal. You don’t speak, too many memories in your mind, too many emotions flooding your heart. 

You stop in at the clinic. Adam is in and out of consciousness. Joyce is giving him something for the pain. 

You cut your walk short, just one lap tonight. There’s a note on the door. Carter is at Maria and Tommy’s for a sleepover. You sigh in relief, thankful to not have to worry about another human being tonight.

Joel helps you out of your shoes. He helps you upstairs. His hands move slowly over you, half roaming, half massaging your weary muscles. He follows your collarbone and shucks the cardigan from your shoulders, frees you from your jeans leaving you in nothing but a tank top. It’s one of the few times his eyes don’t immediately land on your exposed crotch. He can’t help but chuckle at your commitment to not wearing underwear. 

Fingers delve into your tight calves. You let out a soft moan as you fall back into the mattress, sheets cool against your skin. 

Your eyes close, relishing in the feeling of him. This is the first real chance you’ve had to spend together since he got back. There’s nothing inherently sensual to his movements and the way he touches you, but your body heats in response, craving the connection, the assurance. 

The air shifts as your breath hitches. His fingers crawl up your legs leaving tiny trails of fire as he presses a kiss to each of your calves. Desire begins to burn in your body, slow and hot. “Joel…” You moan, legs falling open. 

“I know, Sweetheart,” He feels it too, voice low and thick as his eyes darken. “I know.”

Your hands tangle in his curls as he takes his time covering your thighs in kisses, swiping his tongue over your skin from time to time. “I’m here,” he says again. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

There’s no rush to the finish line, neither of you have the energy for that tonight. It’s slow, languid like a hike up a steep cliff as his mouth slowly greets your slick cunt, his tongue runs through your folds at a steady pace over and over and over and over. He’s pulling you closer to the edge, taking his time until finally, you cry out arching into his mouth, spilling more of yourself onto his tongue. 

He pulls away, chin glistening in your soft bedroom light, proud smile on his lips. “That’s my girl.” 

You whimper in response, hands traveling up his forearms. His calloused palms roam over your thighs and hip, fingers drawing soft patterns across your skin. 

Leading with his lips, he makes his way up your sternum. Not a drop of urgency in his body, he eases up your tank top. It’s like he has all the time in the world. You wish for all the time in the world as long as you get to spend it with him. 

Finally, his lips meet yours. You taste yourself on his lips as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hands wander his shoulder and neck, your fingers glide through his hair again. Nails rake down his back. At some point he shed his shirt and pants, leaving him bare against you. 

“Lay on your back,” you say.

He pulls back slowly, eyebrows raised. “What are you thinking about?”

“Having you on your back.”

He chuckles, warm arms wrapping around your middle as he rolls over. You brace yourself on your knees. His hard cock presses against your thigh. You run it through your folds. Joel lets out a soft moan as his eyes glaze with lust. “Fuck, Sweetheart. Let me in there.”

“Patience,” you chide, but have no intention of keeping him waiting for long. 

You nudge his dick against your clit, sending sparks through your veins until you center your opening over him. He holds your hips as you slowly sink onto him. You stretch around him, filling you so completely. Once you’ve taken him to the hilt, you sit there, eyes focused on each other exchanging soft pants. 

Your cunt clenches around him, pulling moans from both of you, but you don’t move, hands finding purchase against his soft stomach, thumb running through his dark happy trail. The two of you bask in the feeling of your skin against the other’s, desperate for the certainty that you’re alive and breathing, that the blur you’re living in is reality and you still have each other. 

He cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your teeth scrape against it. Then you lift up just a little bit, keeping him mostly inside you before you sink back down. You keep the slow pace as you ease up and down, increasing the distance a little more each time.

 Joel’s eyes never move from you, sometimes meeting yours and other times appreciating your naked form above him. His hand trails down your torso, finding the wet heat of your core. He finds your clit with the precision only granted by his familiarity with your body. He has you memorized, every single inch of you. 

You let out a sharp gasp when he touches you. He holds his thumb steady against you, letting your movements drag his thumb across your clit. You clench around him and he groans. Up and down, your hands perched on his hairy chest, nails biting into his pecs.

 As you draw nearer to the peak, Joel starts to meet you, hitting a different angle inside of you. You let out a long moan, head tipping backward. Then you reach the crest, cunt milking his cock, coming undone on top of him. 

Sweat beads along Joel's forehead as your dripping pussy flutters around him. He’s not far behind you, filling you with his spend. The feel of him inside you, coating you, causes another breathy moan to leave your lips. 

“Fuck, Sweetheart.” He pants, pulling you down beside him, sweaty skin flush against his. 

You smile softly at him, brushing the curl in front of his forehead back. He kisses your palm. You should feel guilty for enjoying Joel’s comforts, his warm skin against yours when Lindsey lays in an empty bed across the way, but all you feel is relief. You’re grateful to be spared heartache for once. 

Eventually, Joel rolls out of bed, returning with a warm washcloth to clean up the mess he left behind. You’ve pulled on his white tshirt. You don’t say a word, just stare at him in the lamp light. He’s beautiful, a gentle giant, and he’s yours. 

When he crawls back beside you, he looks at you like he reads every thought in your mind, kisses your forehead, and turns out the lamp. You turn on your side. He spoons you, arm thrown over your waist. 

His soft snores start to play in your ears. The crease in his forehead is nonexistent with sleep as you look over your shoulder. Then, it hits you. You’re happy here with him despite the last 48 hours. It feels wrong, like you cheated death. You just hope it doesn’t come back to collect double, but you’re so damn happy. Joel Miller has permeated every single fiber of your being. 

You’ve known this, but now, you accept it. Your muscles tense with it. It’s not enough to send you spiraling by any means, but you fought it for so long, you’re not sure how to proceed. You could tell him now, wake him up and finally let the words slip off your tongue. More tension gathers between your shoulders. 

Joel mumbles, tightening his grip around you as he pulls you flush against him. He kisses your shoulder. 

“Don’t start with that.” Sleep coats his voice. You wonder how he’s so in tune with you even in sleep he can feel the tension. 

“Don’t think it works like that.”

He hums, squeezing you again. His lips press between your shoulder blades, beard brushing against your skin sweeping the tension away, pulling the thoughts from your head. 

He chuckles as you sink into him. “You sure about that.”

You reach behind you. Your nails rake over his thigh, just above his knee until you find your target. You pluck one of his leg hairs with a practiced precision. 

“Ow! Not nice!”

You laugh, burrowing into your pillow. ��Go to sleep, old man.”

“Goodnight, Sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek, holding you so close your brain can’t think of anything but his solid frame at your back. 

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter seventy two

close to home | chapter seventy two

plot: winter passes and the reader hits her ninth month of pregnancy

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,736 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, childbirth A/N: thank you for reading lovelies. Any guesses on baby Dixon's name?

The blizzard kept you and twenty other people inside Aaron’s house for two nights. You made Judith and RJ pile into one sleeping bag, and then you slept beside them both nights—which the baby spent kicking you. You took it as a sign that she didn’t care for the cold weather either. 

You woke up the second morning to the sun shining through the windows and the digital clock on. You nearly wept at the sight of it, and the first thing you did was go out the front door. 

There was at least three feet of snow. But the sun was shining bright, and it was a bit warmer. And other members of the community were out, and already at work. 

The people you were with joined in soon, and streets were being shoveled while the kids were out to play. You, Rosita, and Gabriel walked along the community for any damage from the storm, but thankfully there wasn’t any. 

It was nearing lunch when you got word that the Kingdom escort party was close. So you gathered up Judith and RJ and walked with them to wait at the gate. 

Finally, they pulled open, and you couldn’t stop running toward Daryl when you saw him. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, and his shawl was speckled in snow. 

“I missed you,” You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I was so worried about you.” 

“Nothin’ we couldn’ handle, baby girl.” Daryl said, kissing your forehead. “How was everythin’ here? Baby okay?”

“She’s good,” You said before kissing him. When you stepped back, he set his hands on your belly. 

“Kickin’ up a storm.” He said with a smile. 

You glanced behind him as you saw Carol approaching. You hadn’t seen her in months, not since the fair and everything after. Despite how broken she looked, she smiled when she saw you. 

“Daryl said you were getting big. I just didn’t expect this,” She said as she gave you a hug. 

You closed your eyes at her familiarness for a moment. “I didn’t expect you. I’m so happy to see you here.” You saw Lydia hesitating behind you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “How was the trip?”

“I’ll tell ya ‘bout it later,” Daryl wrapped an arm around you, and you looked back at Michonne, who nodded. You were sure you’d hear from her as well. 

***

Carol took the room across from RJ’s, and you gave Lydia your old one. She seemed distraught and nervous and wouldn’t look you in the eye. You weren’t sure what to say to the girl either, so you told her where to find you and that she was welcome to anything in the house. Then you let her be. 

Michonne was with the kids in the living room when you walked downstairs, and you could hear Daryl in the kitchen. The fireplace was going, and you smiled at the warmth. 

“I am so glad I’m off babysitting duty,” You carefully sat down on the chair and then wrapped your hands around your stomach. “Those little brats kept me busy the whole time you were away.” 

Both Judith and RJ told Michonne relentlessly that they were very well-behaved while she was gone, and you smiled as you watched Michonne tease them. Your heart aches in a beautiful way. 

You heard a freak in the floorboard and looked up at Lydia, who was standing on the steps. 

“You can come down. It’s warm by the fire.” You told her. She hesitated again but came down and sat in the other chair. 

After that, Daryl walked into the room and sat down on the arm of the chair you were in, handing you a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich. Your stomach grumbled just at the sight of it, and you quickly took a bite. 

“How bad was the Kingdom?” You asked through your food. 

“Bad,” Michonne propped her feet up on the coffee table. “Fire burnt through a lot of the buildings. But the people are good. They’ll be happy in Hilltop. And Hilltop could use the extra help.” 

You nodded slowly. It broke your heart you’d never see it again. If you’d known the last time you were there would be the last time, you would’ve stayed a bit longer. 

“Any letters from Maggie?” You asked. 

“Nothing.”

You shook your head. You sent a few letters in the beginning, ones she responded to. But you stopped when she stopped responding, and anger toward your cousin was a flame that didn’t settle. No matter how many years had passed. 

“I didn’t think so.” You finished the last bit of your sandwich as Judith and Michonne talked. You tugged on Daryl’s arm, and he looked back at you, running his hand on the back of your head. “I’m still hungry.” 

He snorted. “‘aight darlin’, I’ll make ya more.” 

***

Dog was whining for your attention as you stared out the window. It must be close to midnight, and the community was asleep. The full moon reflected off the snow, and you could see everything. It was a beautiful winter wonderland, and you sighed with content at the sight of it. 

You could see the footprints from the children playing earlier and the mostly shoveled streets. It looked so lived in. So safe. 

Dog nudged the underside of your belly, and you smiled as you petted his ears. After another moment passed, you turned to the bed and sat down. You were waiting for Daryl, who needed to get something before you could sleep. After a week without him next to you, you were more than ready to pass out in his arms. 

“Finally,” You muttered when the door opened and your husband entered. “What’s that?”

“It was supposed to be a birthday present, but I wasn’ able to get to Hilltop to get it,” Daryl said.

“My birthday was months ago,” You smiled at the cloth-wrapped item in his hands. “And you didn’t let me get you anything. That’s not very fair.”

“Ya did give me somethin’ if I remember correctly.” Daryl sat next to you, and you blushed as you remembered the morning of his birthday earlier this year. How you had woken him up. 

“That doesn’t count.”

Daryl ignored you and put the gift in your lap. You eyed him suspiciously before you unwrapped it. “Oh my God,” You mumbled under your breath as you pulled out the bow. 

It was heavy in your hand, and the metal glistened from the lamp. The grip handle was a sleek dark wood, while the upper and lower limbs were metal. They ended in sharp, serrated tips. Weapons built into a weapon. 

“This is beautiful…” You said, carefully spinning it in your hands. Still lying on the cloth was a black leather arrow quiver with thin pockets that held blades. You recognized the arrows immediately. They were made by Daryl. “How did you… who made this?”

“I owe Alden and Earl a few favors,” Daryl said, cheeks a bit red. “I know ya lost ya old one, and I know for a fact nothin’ is gonna keep ya behind these walls forever. Wanted ya to have somethin’ that’ll help ya get back home.”

You looked back down at the bow and shook your head. “You are a wonder, Dixon. You know that?”

“Ain’ nothin’, really.” 

You leaned over to him to shut him up with a quick but tender kiss. “It’s everything.”

The bed dipped as you stood up and tested the bow's weight. You were definitely going to need to train with it. The wooden one you were used to was much lighter, and you would need to get used to the blades at the ends of it. You’d have to have Michonne help you wield it like her katana. You brought the bow up and pulled the string, testing its strength. 

“Ya look real good with it.”

You laughed and lowered the weapon. “You think I look good with anything.”

“Or nothin’.”

You laughed again and carefully set the bow on the dresser. “I love it. I really, really love it.” You crawled over the bed to sit down on his lap. “I’m gonna have to figure out what to get you now since you got me something so amazing.”

Daryl shook his head and set a hand on your belly. “Ya givin’ me more than enough.”

You smiled and kissed his nose. “You say that now, but when there’s a screaming baby here in three months, and we haven’t slept in days, you might feel differently.” You lightly joked and leaned your forehead against his mouth. You closed your eyes as he pressed a few kisses against your skin and then leaned back to look at him. 

“I can’t believe how far we’ve come,” You said. “The prison feels so far away. A whole other life. I wish I could go back, just for a day. I miss them. So much.”

Daryl pushed your hair behind your ear. “I know, baby girl, me too.”

“Who would’ve thought we’d end up here.” You smiled sadly. 

“Ya happy ya didn’ kill me then?”

That made you laugh away the sadness that had crept into your heart, and you set your hands on either side of Daryl’s face. “Nah. I shoulda taken the shot.” 

Daryl gave you a look before tickling your sides, and your body jerked away from him. “Stop, stop! She’s on my bladder. You’re gonna make me pee.” You laughed loudly. 

“Kinky.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his wrists to keep him from further assaulting you. “You’re so funny, old man.” You set your hand against his cheek, fingers running over the bumps and facial hair. “You’ve changed so much since we first met.”

“So have ya,”

“Yeah, but you really have. You’ve become a man I admire so much. You’re beautiful, Daryl. Truly.”

He kissed the palm of your hand. “I think ya sleep deprived.”

You smiled and kissed his nose again before lying next to him. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean what I said isn’t true.”

***

By month nine of your pregnancy, you were on overdrive. Daryl couldn’t keep up with your emotions. One moment, you were crying; the other, you were yelling at him because he wore his boots inside the bedroom, and then you were crying again and telling him you were sorry. And then you asked why he wasn’t sorry, and it started all over again. 

Every emotion made his head spin.

And that didn’t include how you made your problems, Daryl problems. If you were uncomfortable, it was his fault. If you were too hot, it was his fault. Everything was his fault because he got you pregnant and wasn’t carrying around a baby. And that was when the hormones kicked in and you begged him not to be mad at you, and it circled around again. 

He just kept telling himself one more month. One more month, and then the baby would be here, and you’d be normal again. At least, that was what he hoped. 

Still, he wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t care if he had to wake up at four in the morning to help you out of bed so you could use the bathroom, or if you needed water or food, or if your feet hurt and your ankles were swollen. He didn’t care about any of it. Because it was you, and he loved you. And he wanted to be there for you in every single way. 

What he didn’t care for was the nesting. You’d made him and Aaron rearrange the baby’s room six times. You folded and refolded cloth diapers and clothes donated by everyone in the community. And when Rosita was over, forget about it. The two of you were dangerous together. Nothing stays the same if you and Rosita share an opinion about where a damn baby book should go. 

Michonne reassured Daryl every day that this was normal. That you were processing the emotions, and your body was getting ready to deliver. So he held on to that. Even if the eighth time you asked him to move the crib made him want to pull out all his hair. 

She’s carrying my baby, she’s carrying my baby. He repeated it like a mantra to get him through the days. 

And then it was your estimated due date. And he hung around all day with you, doing any and everything you asked for, no matter how big or small it was. But then the day passed, and then the next, and a few more. 

He was getting nervous despite the morning ultrasounds that told him that the baby was fine and that she was taking her time. Just like her damn mother, Daryl had thought. He knew he was getting impatient. But each day made him more and more worried. 

“That’s it. Your pacing is driving me crazy.” You said one morning, a week past your due date. “Go hang out with Aaron for a few hours. I need some peace and quiet.” 

“Ya a week late,” Daryl said with a bit of anger in his voice. “‘M gettin’ worried. What if ya need a c-section?”

“Then Siddiq and Dante will handle it. Please, honey, I just need to be alone for a little while.”

Daryl rubbed his chin and sighed. “Okay, okay.” He walked over to you and kissed your forehead. 

“I love you. Just relax and have some fun, okay? I’m just gonna take a nap.” 

“Ya need anythin’ before I go?”

“No, no. Get out. Before I skin you. alive” 

Daryl shook his head with a slight smile and finally left you to have some peace and quiet. And he needed a break from worrying about you every second, too. So he walked to Aaron’s house, appreciating the mild late March weather. 

When Aaron opened the door, he laughed. “She kick you out again?”

***

Daryl was finally relaxed when he heard Dog barking down the street. Both he and Aaron were immediately on their feet and flying out the door. Dog was on the porch, barking and running back and forth, and Daryl took the steps two at a time. 

“My water broke,” He heard your voice as he rounded the corner, where a very pregnant Rosita was trying to help you off the chair. “The chair is fucking ruined.” 

Rosita looked up with a thankful look on her face as Daryl approached, helping you stand. “Ya okay?”

“She’s coming,” You said, wincing as you tried to take a step. 

Aaron came around to your other side and helped you. “We gotta get to the infirmary.”

You groaned in pain, and Daryl felt your weight shift. “Oh my God, she’s coming.”

Daryl and Aaron shared a look before helping you out of the house. Dog was barking like crazy, and in the distance, he could see Michonne running down the street toward you guys. 

“Is it time?” She rushed out when she caught up. 

“Yeah, it’s time,” You nearly screamed. 

Getting to the infirmary took more time than Daryl wanted, but soon, Siddiq and Dante rushed out the doors and yelled where to put you. 

“This is her second labor, and her water broke,” He heard Siddiq say quietly to Dante. “The baby is going to come quickly. Are you ready for this?” He asked the newcomer. 

Daryl felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Daryl, get over here now!” Rosita yelled. 

Her voice snapped him into action, and he walked over to you on the bed. “Hey pretty girl, ya doin’ okay?”

You shook your head and reached for his hand. “The contractions are fast. They came out of nowhere. Oh my--.” You yelled in pain, squeezing his hand hard. 

“Siddiq, get over here now!” Rosita yelled. Daryl watched as she moved quickly, pulling off your sweatpants and putting a blanket over your bare legs. He felt like he couldn’t keep up. Everything around him was happening so quickly, and he felt frozen. 

Daryl wasn’t sure how word spread so quickly that you were in labor because soon, your family started showing up. First, it was Eugene, then Gabriel, and Carol. Judith brought RJ, and he barely had time to think about how the word reached the school. The room got crowded within minutes, all while Daryl had no voice. 

“Okay, okay,” Siddiq yelled. “There are too many people in this room. (Y/N), you gotta tell me who you want in here.”

“I want Daryl to deliver the baby.” 

Your words snapped him into reality, and he realized where he was and why. 

“What?” Daryl asked you. “I don’... I can’...”

“Listen to me, Daryl Dixon,” You yelled, fisting his shirt in your hand. “You did this to me, you son of a bitch, now you’re gonna deliver our daughter. Siddiq will be there with you, but I want you down there. Now. And I don’t wanna hear any of your shit.”

Daryl breathed out in panic and walked over to Siddiq, who instructed him to wash his hands. While doing so, he heard you ask Rosita and Michonne to stay, and Dante had everyone else wait outside the room. 

“Alright, this baby is coming quickly. From the morning ultrasound, everything should be fine for a clean birth. We’ll check and see how dilated she is and if she can push.” Siddiq explained to Daryl. He had the archer sit down in a chair as he helped you prop up your legs and fold the blanket back. 

“Why is she bleedin’?” Daryl asked. 

“It’s normal. I’ve been reading everything I can about childbirth.” Siddiq said. 

Daryl looked up at you. You had Rosita and Michonne’s hands, and they encouraged you. His stomach dropped at the look of pain on your face, the sweat that had your hair damp. His hands started shaking, and he felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Okay, it’s almost time to start pushing. Jesus, she’s coming fast.”

***

“It hurts,” You cried, staring up at Michonne. 

“I know, I know.” Your friend soothed you. “It’s going to hurt. It will hurt so bad, but you’re doing so well. You’re doing so good, honey.”

You sobbed as another contraction hit you. It wasn’t just like period cramps anymore. These were full-body contractions that had you sweating and shaking. 

“Is it time?” Rosita yelled over your cries. 

“Almost.”

“I can’t do this,” You cried. “I can’t do this, it’s been two hours.”

“You can and you will,” Rosita said, turning back to you. “Don’t you whimp out on me now, bitch.” 

You nodded and glanced at Daryl, who listened to everything Siddiq said. His face was probably paler than yours, and you could see the anxiety coming out of his ears like steam. Your eyes met, and he looked at you momentarily before placing his hand over his heart. 

You sobbed, your head hitting the pillow as another contraction hit. “I have to push. I have to push.”

“Not yet (Y/N), you’re going to tire yourself out,” Siddiq said. “She’s about nine centimeters. You’re almost there.”

“Oh, just kill me now,” You cried.

Michonne and Rosita gripped your hands tightly as you shifted, trying to get more comfortable. You weren’t sure how many more contractions passed until you heard Siddiq yell out, “I can see her head. Okay, (Y/N), you need to start pushing. Daryl, you’re going to need to…” His words were lost on you.

You grimaced, squeezed Rosita and Michonne’s hand, and took a deep breath. “I can do this. I can do this.”

“Come on, babe,” Rosita said. 

The sound of your screams bounced off the walls as you pushed as hard as you could. Everything was on fire, and your legs were numb. But you pushed and fought the pain harder than you ever did with anything else. Each swipe of a blade, bullet, and stab wound was nothing compared to this. It was nothing compared to how hard you fought right now. 

“Keep the head up, just like that, I got the shoulders.”

Rosita cursed under her breath when you squeezed her hand especially hard. 

“Daryl, as soon as the shoulders are out you’re gonna pull the baby gently, okay? Alright and… pull.”

You screamed in pain, and your vision blurred. But then you heard the sound of a baby crying, and something inside you stirred. 

“My baby,” You said weakly. “Let me hold her, give me my baby…” You could hear how weak your voice was. 

“Hold on, baby girl,” Daryl said, cradling the baby. 

“Here dad, you get to clip the cord.” Dante said, handing your husband a pair of surgery scissors. 

Your heart melted as you watched Daryl do so, and then he walked over with the crying baby. Your cheeks were soaked, and your body was in a pain you’d never experienced before without an epidural. 

But when your husband passed you your crying baby, and you held her in your arms, everything was perfect. 

“My baby…” You breathed out, holding her against your skin. You didn’t care your blood was all over her or that she was covered in gunk from the womb. She was here. Safe. Alive. 

Daryl knelt beside you, and you looked at him, smiling through your tears. “We did it.” You cried. 

“I’m so proud of ya,” Daryl choked out, his eyes bouncing back and forth. 

You looked back at your baby and her red face. She was screaming her head off so loud you thought you’d go deaf. But it was music to your ears. She was alive. 

“She’s perfect,” You said to Daryl. He pressed a kiss on your shoulder. 

You gently kissed the baby’s head as Daryl’s hand covered yours under the baby’s back. 

“(Y/N), we gotta get the afterbirth delivered sooner than later. Dante’s gonna take her and get her cleaned up, okay?” 

You looked at the man and then at Daryl. “Go with her,” You said. You gently passed the baby to your husband and got ready to finish the delivery. 

[safarigirlsp]

Wargrave Hall

Victorian Jacques Le Gris x OC Eleanor

Word Count: 104k

Warnings: NSFW. Hauntings. Seances. Occultism. Demonology. Witches. Horror Themes. Dark Themes. Graphic Violence. Gruesome Horror. Romance. Old Timey Sexism. Hot Toxic Masculinity. Conniving Bitches. Violence Against Women and Everyone Else. Victorian Setting.

AO3 Link

For Halloween, here’s a little Victorian ghost story. Notes of Crimson Peak, The Haunting of Bly Manor, What Lies Beneath, The Ninth Gate, and Rosemary’s Baby. 🥀 🕯️🍂 🥀 🕯️🍂 🥀 🕯️🍂

𝕰𝖛𝖎𝖑 ����𝖚𝖗𝖐𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑. 𝕰𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊... 🥀 🕯️🍂

This completed story is too big to post on this terrible hellsite, so it is exclusively on AO3.

Read Wargrave Hall Here!

𝕰𝖛𝖎𝖑 𝖑𝖚𝖗𝖐𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑. 𝕰𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊... 🥀 🕯️🍂

© safarigirlsp 2023

Tagging some haunting beauties!

[edmufics]

S5 Theory Part Three

SO

Here are my theories with all the info I have from The Dark Tower universe.

Disclaimer: Im not saying any of these are right, likely to happen, or that I necessarily even want them to happen. I just think that btwn learning ab TDT and rewatching stranger things, these are fun theories to consider!

*SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1-4 AHEAD*

*MENTIONS OF S5 BTS CONTENT AHEAD* I think S5 will come out on July 15th, 2025—the ninth anniversary! It will take place over the course of several months rather than a week or two like we have seen in the past. I think it will start in late summer, back-to-school time. I think we will see a lot more of Mr. Clark this season, and he will fill some of the scientist roles (along with new casting) we will be missing after S4's deaths. We will see a lot more flashbacks this season, either due to trying to keep Vecna out with positive memories or just reminiscing. Vecna will return to Hawkins lab at some point. Possibly a significant battle or it will be his lair. Vecna takes Holly, but I'm not sure he kills her (Like an 80% chance he does tho) I think with the increased army presence, we may see the kids lose the ability to see or visit Max (since she is a Venca victim). Nancy has a candy stripper/nurse outfit this season because they are trying to sneak in to see/save her in some way. I'm at about 60% on the chance of Kalli coming back. If she does, it will either help El train or help El defeat Vecna. Nancy detective journalist era, but she isn't going to leave for college. She would never just dip like that. Stobin or Nancy work at the radio station set we've seen. Hopper will either be stuck in hiding with El or in the army, but only as a means of gathering intel.

I think that people were not far off on the Kas theory. I think there will be a character that represents Kas, but it'll be Will. In S4 they talk about how Vecna doesn't kill his victims, he absorbs their abilities/souls. We also see that El can revive the dead (Max) in some way. That skill isn't practiced on her part, and we know Vecna is stronger than she is. I think Vecna kills Will and then revives him using memories like El did to Max, but only uses his darkest memories. These memories turn him against his friends, at which point he becomes Kas. Mike will be the key to getting Will back (since Mike is the heart). Mike will have to confront his romantic or platonic feelings for Will while reminding him of their good memories. This will lead to Will delivering the final blow to Vecna (like Kas) when he remembers.

I also think the idea of "Twinners" from The Talisman will come into play, but not quite in the same way. Instead of them all having Upside Down twins, I think Vecna will reanimate the corpses of his victims (since we've seen that the bodies are still in the Upside Down) and use these reanimated corpses to torture the MCs. Especially bc we know that it's all a hive mind so anyone killed by a part of Vecna's hive mind was technically killed by Vecna (depending on if thats how they wanna spin it). Specifically, I think Dustin will be either Vecna'd (but not killed) or have to see Eddie's reanimated corpse (fitting in with strange similarities between Eddie and Metallica's Eddie). Barb will return to torture Nancy, Bob returning for Joyce, etc.

In the Talisman universe, there is a plot where the person who opens the gate banishes himself to an alternate universe and closes the gate forever, forcing himself to leave behind everyone he loves. I think this is how El's story will end. She won't die but instead will have to stay in the Upside Down forever. In the end, we will see a crying Mike looking up and noticing the light above him glowing brightly, showing how he and El may continue communicating.

Characters I think could die:

Vicki (they loooove giving us a new character to fall in love with so they can brutally kill them that same season)

Steve (sacrificing himself for the Dustin, Robin, or Johnathan.) Holly (Maybe, it just seems too easy) Dr. Owens Vecna (Duh) Either Lucas or Max (I think Max may come back only to lose Lucas) Murray Ted Wheeler Wayne Munson (following Eddie's reanimated corpse into the upside down; I think that's how they reveal that Vecna reanimated the bodies)

Characters that I think are 100% going to survive: Mike Dustin (will try to be a hero like Eddie, but Steve will sacrifice himself to save Dustin (I think at the church)) Will Joyce Karen Wheeler

Anyone else, I'm not sure they are safe, but I also don't think they are going to die.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

[storiesofsvu]

Love Comes Quietly Ch 14

Alex Blake x reader warning: language, smut, mommy kink. It's basically all porn and v little plot. Also I barely re-read this so don't come for me if there's typos lol. 2 more chapters left!

Another weekend without a case meant you actually got to relax and spend some time in the city, you and Alex had stayed in Friday night to catch up on rest, heading to bed early. Saturday you got up for your usual run, Alex up not much later for her own workout before you lounged in the yard for a bit, enjoying the sunshine and ate a late brunch. You’d mentioned something about plans prior to dinner but Alex couldn’t remember what they were, she simply smiled, accepting the kiss when you stood from the lounger to head into the house to get ready.

Picking her book back up she settled into her lounger, managing to get through another chapter before the heat was getting a little bit too much for her and she wandered inside. She filled up a glass of water, sipping at it as she flipped through the junk mail on the counter. There were a few flyers for grocery or liquor, and a handful of takeout menus that caught her eye, picking a few of them up and reading through them. The last one intrigued her a little more than the rest and with it in hand she wandered down to the bedroom.

“Hey, did you have your heart set on Iron Gate for tonight? A new Cuban place opened over on ninth and it looks incredible.”

“Cuban sounds great.” You called back from the en-suite.

“I’ll leave the flyer on the—” Alex lost her vocabulary the moment you stepped out of the bathroom, lips falling open in surprise at the intricate set of lingerie you were dressed in, your hair and make up already done.

“What?” You asked with a laugh, a grin on your lips and a gleam in your eye since you knew exactly what had rendered her speechless.

“I… wow.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise for after dinner.” You pointed out, walking toward her so she could get her hands on the dainty fabric.

“Fuck dinner.” Alex muttered, her eyes following the trails of satin and lace across your skin, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, “how am I supposed to let you go anywhere knowing you look like this under your clothes?”

“That’s why it was a surprise for after.” You chuckled, your hands gliding up her shoulders, linking behind her neck as your lips ghosted over hers, “but I suppose you can have it now.”

“Oh you suppose?” She cocked a brow, her hands winding around your waist, “here I was thinking you were mommy’s good girl.”

“When have I ever been bad?” You asked, barely above a whisper and Alex simply chuckled, her lips finally meeting yours in the kiss she’d been dying for the moment you’d stepped into the room.

It only took a moment before her tongue was sliding into your mouth, her hands ghosting around your body, hot on your skin. Her fingertips traced patterns across your back, tickling their way under the lace and satin, playfully snapping a strap here or there, pulling little whimpers from you into the kiss that she swallowed down. You let out a sigh when she broke the kiss, her lips kissing across your jaw, making their way down your neck, teeth nipping into the crook of your neck where she knew it made your knees weak. Her hands slid up your front, groping at your chest through the fabric.

“Alex…” You breathed.

“Yes my darling girl?” She asked, kissing your neck softly before straightening herself out, a smirk on her lips at just how quickly and easily it was to get you nearly begging for her.

“Need you.”

She chuckled, kissing you tenderly, nudging you toward the bed, “get comfortable. But leave the set on.”

Nodding, you dropped down onto the bed, shifting upwards until your head was on the pillows, a heat creeping into your cheeks at the way Alex was watching you, her eyes dark as they swept down your body.

“So fucking gorgeous sweetheart.” She purred, slowly stripping out of her clothes, letting them fall to the floor before she crawled over you, searching out your lips for another kiss. Her fingers slid under the cup of your bra, pinching at your nipple, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger and you moaned.

She pulled away from your lips, leaving a trail down the column of your neck, nipping at your collarbone before kissing it softly. She didn’t leave an inch of exposed skin untouched by her lips while her hands continued to toy with your chest. Her lips wrapped around your nipple through the fabric and you let out a soft sigh at the warm sensation, your eyes fluttering shut. She gently pulled the cup down, your nipple hardening in the cool air before her mouth sealed around it again, sucking it into her mouth, tongue flicking across it.

“God, Alex…” You moaned, your hand threading into her hair, holding her to you as your body rocked up towards hers. She chuckled softly, letting go of your chest with a lewd pop, blowing cool air onto your nipple and you whined before she repeated the process on the other side.

Just the feel of her body weight on you, her lips on your skin were enough to turn you into a whining mess, your panties no doubt ruined as you ached for her touch between your legs. She slowly started to move south, her mouth kissing and licking its way across your abdomen when her fingers toyed with the ribbons and lace of the lingerie set. Finally Alex settled between your legs, her hands gliding up them, parting your thighs for her, a gentle kiss on your inner thigh,

“Good girl.” She cooed, running her hand against your pussy through the fabric, “so wet already darling. This all for me?”

“Yes mommy.” You whimpered, a gasp escaping your lips when the palm of her hand pressed against your clit.

“Such a sweet girl you are.” She murmured, pushing your panties to the side so she could see your bare pussy, her fingers trailing through your folds, smearing your juices around.

“Fuck.” You whined, hips jolting up at the sensation.

She laughed softly, thumb gently stroking at your clit a few times before her hands returned to your thighs, holding them down, spread wide on the bed. She surged forward, her tongue lapping through you slowly, groaning over your taste and you let out a moan that was magic to her ears. Her tongue flicked against your clit, pulling a gasp from you before she buried herself between your legs. Her mouth wrapped around you, sucking as much of your juices as she could get, little moans and groans from her lips vibrating against you, making your pussy flutter even more. Her tongue slipped into you, tracing at your walls as your hands came to tangle into her hair again, rocking your hips up against her mouth.

You were so turned on it was almost embarrassing how quickly she was making you see stars. Pleasure tingled deep within you, building higher and higher with each stroke of her mouth, her tongue knowing exactly how and where to lap at you. Your chest was beginning to heave, heat surging through you as you fought to catch you breath.

“Oh god Alex… more… please.”

Alex smirked against you, one final suck at your cunt before her mouth moved up, lips wrapping around your clit and she sucked hard, earning a loud gasp from you, your thighs attempting to close around her but she kept you pinned to the bed. Her tongue flicked over the throbbing nub, faster and harder with each pass, relishing in the way you were pushing her harder against you, hips thrusting up to meet the sensation. She could hear the whines leaving your lips, how fast you were breathing and she knew you were close.

“Fuck! Don’t stop.” The coil got tighter inside you, feeling like you were about to burst. Alex’s lips suck at your clit, the pressure change sending you over the ledge as you cried out, your body tensing as your orgasm burst through you. Panting, body still letting out little tremors you collapsed into the pillows. “Christ.”

Alex chuckled from between your legs, leaving a feather light kiss on your clit, causing you to shudder, “I didn’t say I was done.” She grinned up at you and you could only let out a breathless laugh before her mouth was back on you.

She cleaned up some of the mess softly with her mouth before one of her hands returned to your pussy, two fingers easily sliding into you and you moaned. She started a gentle pace, thrusting them in and out of you with a slight flick of her wrist, watching in admiration at the way they disappeared into you, at the way your hips began to buck up in the same rhythm.

“Such a pretty girl.” She cooed, “taking my fingers so well.” She kissed your inner thigh, “feels so good, pussy nice and wet, you’re simply drenched darling. You like this?”

“Y-yes…” you moaned, your breath catching in your throat when her fingers curled at just the right spot and she chuckled once more.

“Mmm…” Her fingers pressed against the spot again and you groaned.

“Fuck, right there!”

With a grin on her lips she grazed the spot again, picking up the pace at which she was fingering you, moving faster and harder, each thrust of her hand she curled her fingers, brushing against the sensitive spot. A moment later her mouth was back on your clit and you were nothing but a whimpering mess. The double stimulation was almost too much, Alex knew exactly how to work you to make you come undone and it certainly wasn’t going to take long. Her tongue flicking against your clit in the same rhythm she was fucking you, your hips rocking up with each thrust of her hand, pussy fluttering around her fingers. You squeezed her so tight she couldn’t help but moan against you, pressing your g-spot harder and your body shuddered.

“Fuck Alex, fuck!” You panted, “shit! Gonna come!”

Her mouth sucked harder at you and you moaned loudly, juices dripping out of your pussy, drenching her hand, dribbling down her wrist. She pulled off your clit, giving you some relief as she fucked you through your orgasm, watching her fingers disappear into your wetness with a satisfied smile on her face. When you finally let out a whine and your body shuddered she pulled her fingers from you, wiping them on the bedspread before moving your panties back to the proper place. She crawled back up the bed, fixing the cups of your bra, leaving a feather light kiss on your chest before her hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your skin softly.

“My darling girl.” She praised, leaning in to kiss you gently, “I think we may have ruined those panties.”

“Who cares?” You asked with a breathless laugh, pulling one from her, “so much for after dinner.”

“Oh there most certainly will still be an after dinner.” Alex smirked, “you still need to come around my cock.” She tapped the tip of your nose before dropping down onto the bed, rearranging the covers so they were at least half over the both of you.

You easily nuzzled into her side, your head resting on her chest while you caught your breath, your eyes almost drifting shut in your blissed out mood. Alex’s hand softly played with your hair, her other one intertwined with yours, thumb stroking over your knuckles. There was always something so incredibly intimate about cuddling with Alex, it was almost more intimate than the sex itself. You always felt so wonderfully relaxed, completely safe and knew that there was absolutely no place you would rather be than in her arms.

You honestly were nearly asleep, the gentle thudding of her heart lulling you into dreamland, when your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You let out a groan, glancing toward it but not moving otherwise.

“Emily?” Alex asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Nah, my realtor’s got a few more places set up for me to look at today.” You sighed softly, “but I don’t wanna move right now.”

Alex felt her chest nearly tighten, she’d gotten so used to you being around every day, even before you’d started dating she really wasn’t sure she was ready to let go yet, or that she even wanted to. How weird would it be to navigate who was staying at whose place, having to make sure work stuff and go bags were always on hand, to hear you call somewhere else ‘home’. She’d barely even let the thought process before she spoke,

“Then don’t.” She murmured, her hand brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Hmm?” You shifted your face upwards to look at her, your brow scrunched. You were met with an almost melancholy look in her eyes when you glanced up and your head tilted. Her hand reached out, smoothing back a piece of your hair before trailing down your cheek.

“Don’t go.” She repeated, “there’s no need to. You’ve got a perfectly good home right here.”

You couldn’t help the bright smile that burst onto your cheeks, or the warmth blooming through your chest, “are you sure?”

“More than ever.” She smiled, “I want you here, with me.”

“You really are something else.” You chuckled, leaning down to kiss her, soft at first but after a minute your tongue slipped into her mouth and she held back a moan.

“Speak for yourself.” She replied with a chuckle, her hands pinching at your body, “hey, I said after dinner.”

“Yeah, for me.” You grinned, “you just made me come twice, the least I can do is return the favour.”

“Well I guess I can’t complain about that.”

___________________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar @h-doodles @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @s1ut4nat @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed

[britishassistant]

Overture

Turns out, studying to be a bard is much harder when in exile.

You try to tug your hood tighter against the sheets of rain, cursing the horns that sprout from your brow. You should’ve gone to the—the butcher or something, carve the useless things off. Maybe a blacksmith? Surely there’s a blacksmith somewhere who’s interested in tiefling horns for, for a fancy set of daggers or something. Hollow them out for goblets. Anything to get the ninth-damned things off your head.

You learned long ago there’s not really a limit to what people can do with your body parts, if they get creative enough.

You twitch your cloak closer around you, trying your best to protect the flute in its holder. You weren’t able to grab much else when you were chased out of your rented lodgings, leaving behind what little you had in the world.

Still, you try to console yourself as you force your way through the rain and muck. It’s not like you haven’t dealt with this kind of upheaval before. Last time it had been going quite well, before Elturel fell into the Hells and was raised again, before the flinches and glares, the roundings up and needing to flee into the dead of night.

You’ve heard whispers at the last inn you paused at of a travelling camp of refugees like yourself, headed towards Baldur’s Gate. And maybe you don’t have any coin to offer, and it’ll be a bit awkward joining the ranks of a group of strangers, but you’re young! You’re probably more skilled with a flute than the average performer! And you’ve discovered in the past three years that you’re not bad at social interactions with people who aren’t your siblings or father! You may not be winning any likability awards any time soon, but you know how to work well in a team, contribute to and bolster different efforts. Your past employment and surviving the Descent have taught you that. If nothing else, you’re a somewhat (seriously) inexperienced combatant. Of all that, surely there’ll be something you can use to earn your keep.

You lift your head a little and march through the rapidly dwindling rain with newfound determination. You have a plan. Find the other tiefling refugees, join them for protection, maybe even finish your education at Baldur’s Gate, if you’re lucky.

You can do this.

You’ve got to.

The blow from the tentacle is so swift you hardly feel it.

So a, a tadpole gets embedded in your brain.

Not even a nice, normal tadpole. A pale, bloated nightmare with tentacles. And teeth.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, the weird organic be-tentacled ship you’re captive on somehow gets transported to Avernus! Yet again!

It hasn’t even been two months since you were last kidnapped and brought here!!

You are. Not Okay.

You know, you think as you stare in horror over the exposed landscape, you almost recognize some of the larger demonic and diabolical monstrosities clashing on the field below. If the ship moved a little more to the right you may even be able to see the place where the city was chained—!

And then you’re staring down the business end of a sword, wielded by a warrior in shining armor.

“Abomination!” Screams the woman with a decidedly toad-like complexion. “This is your end!”

You yelp, stumbling back, wishing you had something to defend yourself with other than a fucking flute.

And then something inside your head… jerks.

A warrior in battle-dulled armor leaping onto the back of a red dragon, like the one circling the ship. Watching it soar with a profound sense of longing.

Constantly fighting, to prove your worth, to kill the unworthy, to earn a silver sword, all for her, everything for her, praise be to your Queen, glory to Vlaa’kith!

Your own face, looking alien and unfamiliar and afraid.

You inhale too deeply as the images fade, and begin choking on the noxious odor of rancid sulfur mixed with wet, too-organic, partially burnt ship.

The fighter you were just in the head of (?) rallies. “Tsk’va! You are no thrall! Vlaa’kith blesses me this day! Together, we might survive.”

“Who.” You wheeze. “What—why did you think I was. A, a thrall? A thrall of what?!”

“Because you will be.” The woman snaps. “We are infested with mind flayer parasites. Unless we escape—unless we are cleansed—our bodies and minds will be tainted and twisted. Within days, we will become ghaik. Mind flayers.”

Dread floods your system like the Styx bursting its banks, threatens to drown your mind in the undertow.

You’ve been implanted with a mind flayer. Will it slowly take over your mind, leave you a twitching husk like the poor sod you saw not a minute ago? If you hadn’t killed that brain creature, would it have escaped its host and grown into one of the tentacled grotesqueries that kidnapped you? Is it only a matter of time before you meet the same fate, left to die quietly in a corner after the parasite has gorged itself upon you, forgotten?

Fuck That.

“What do you suggest?” You’re almost surprised at how steely your voice is.

The warrior straightens, a faint smile on her oddly proportioned face. “First, we must make our way to the helm and take control of the ship. We will only be able to seek out cleansing once we reach the Material Plane. All in our way must be exterminated.”

And with that bold proclamation, she turns and just runs? Headfirst into a pack of imps?

You’re only able to stare in stupefied horror.

And then the imps begin to cackle and swarm, and you have to dash on shaky legs after your surrounded warrior.

You channel your need to swear profusely at the situation into insulting the imps’ aim, looks, parentage, and failure to take advantage of the opportunities life gave them to not be here on this ship.

Even if the damage it does to their self-esteem is negligible, you’re at least enough of a distraction that the warrior is able to cut them down with ease.

“Hrm. Surprisingly adequate.” She comments after the last imp is fallen and you’re trying to swallow what little saliva you have to soothe your parched throat. “We may yet survive this.”

“Thank—“ You cough, sharp and scratchy. “Thank you. I think.”

The alien warrior gives you a considering once over.

“Here.” She pries a wickedly curved scimitar from the stiffening claws of an imp and hands it to you. “We will likely be facing fouler than this.”

You study your gift for a moment, test the grip in your hands. You nod.

“I,” You say, “Have no godsdamned idea how to use this.”

The warrior turns to frown at you. “This is no time for the japes your kind are so fond of—“

“I wish I was joking. My father expressly forbade me from ever picking up anything sharper than a butter knife.” You retort, arms dragging under the unfamiliar weight. “Said I couldn’t be trusted not to get ideas.”

“And your varsh let the whims of this ‘father’ dictate your training, or lack thereof?!” Your fighter in shining armor has graduated to full on scowling as she spits, “Tsk’va! Did they intend for you to perish the moment you were left unsupervised?!”

The grin that quirks your mouth is not a kind thing.

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

The warrior stares, then lets out a string of what you assume to be curses in that sharp, sibilant language of hers.

You can see what looks like indecision in her eyes. Weighing up whether you’re worth keeping alive.

You straighten, a practiced mix of self-assurance, teasing derision, and mild exasperation slipping over your face. “Don’t get your chain mail in a twist. If I was entirely helpless, I wouldn’t have survived down here last time.”

It’s worked before on cannier. It always works.

But for all that some of her mannerisms are similar, you can’t quite parse the meaning behind the warrior’s glare as she asks, “Last time?”

You make yourself stroll over to the unfortunate who the imps were feasting on. A cursory search of the body’s pockets reveals a handful of coin and a health potion, both of which you pocket.

“I was in Elturel when the city was pulled into the Hells.” You keep your voice smooth, blasé. Talk about it as if it’s the weather and not one of the most horrifying experiences you’ve been subjected to. “We call it the Descent in Faerûn. Had to survive four months in Avernus before some heroes were able to return us back to the Material Plane.”

You turn to face her again, stern professionalism in every line of you. “But I can tell you more later, after we reach the Material Plane again. I’m hardly eager to spend any more time here than I have to.”

The warrior continues to stare at you, inscrutable. You feel a bead of sweat trickle down the back of your neck and soak into your ruff.

She turns, marches over to another imp, and bends down to loot something from it before rising and marching back to you. You’re so distracted by the hard stare bearing down on you that you don’t realize she’s snatching away the scimitar and shoving a crossbow into your hands until you notice the texture change.

“This is simple enough for even an untrained yank. Point and pull the trigger. Now come, istik.”

She jerks her head and strides off towards a wall of sticky, pink fibers. With no pause, she plants a foot and begins to climb.

After a moment’s hesitation, you follow.

The two of you scale towering walls of the stuff, jogging down more of those horrible organic corridors.

Another sphincter opens and reveals a large, rounded room. There are several tentacle adjacent appendages emerging through a hole in the center, a few fleshy protrusions scattered around that almost resemble furniture, and more of those pods marking the room’s perimeter.

There are two humans lying on some of the not-furniture. Their light skin is sweaty and paler than you think is meant to be healthy, eyes rolling sightlessly beneath half-open lids.

You touch the man on the shoulder, shaking gently as you call out to get his attention. His head lolls. He doesn’t respond to you at all.

“We have no time for stragglers.” The fighter in shining armor scolds. “These istik are already lost to the ghaik. We must get to the helm!”

You open your mouth to reply—

Something gives an almighty slam that makes you jump despite yourself.

“Help! Let me out!! Please!”

Over in the corner of the room, there’s a woman sealed in one of the pods. Through the pink film, you can’t make out many of her features. Just that her hair is as dark and glossy as rat’s fur.

You can’t leave her here.

You might need her after all, your mind quickly adds. She may have connections you can exploit, some surefire pass into Baldur’s Gate, money to pay for your passage if nothing else. But how to convince the warrior to let you help? She could be a valuable resource for your escape if you played your cards right, but what would be best right now?

“Do you have a weapon?” You shout to the captive.

That actually gets her to pause in slamming her fists against the pod. “What?!”

“A weapon! Can you fight? Do you have a—”

“Yes!” She strains against the limits of her small cell. “Yes, yes, I-I’ve a mace! I can fight! Please!”

“See?” You gesture to your companion. “She’s more useful than me already.”

The warrior purses her lips in annoyance, but cedes to you with an irritated click of her tongue.

You examine the control panel next to the pod. There’s tendons and nerves stretching between the two, so they must be connected somehow. No latches, buttons or other visible mechanisms aside from a vague depression in the center, and poking that doesn’t do anything. Neither does giving it a good kick.

Something is missing from here, comes the quiet hiss. Something was removed. You must make it whole if you want to control it.

“There’s a component missing.” You call to the captive. “We’ll have a quick look for it, otherwise we might have to get creative.”

You see the dark shine of her head jerk up and down in a nod. “Al-alright. Please hurry!”

The warrior lets out a discontented grumble.

There’s something approximating a table in the opposite corner, but a quick scan of its contents shows that it only holds one of those information tablets and a jarringly normal looking locked chest.

Think. Mind flayers may be alien and aberrant to you, but there are certain practicalities that everyone must observe due to convenience.

In your past employment, you wouldn’t leave the key to the guild’s vaults out on a table for all to see, or in an unfamiliar container you didn’t know how to access. You wouldn’t even keep it in the same room. But it would need to be nearby enough to avoid turning the times when you’d use it into a time-consuming chore…

You look at the sphincter between you and the woman’s pod. It’s closer than the third one across the room. If it opens onto a corridor, it’s right out, but if it doesn’t…

You shudder as it retracts at your approach, but grin victoriously at the small room beyond, with a far more alien chest on a raised platform at the back.

“What are you doing?!” The warrior hisses. “We do not have time for this!”

“That’s as may be, but,” Your mind races. “But we still need to plan for taking the helm once we get out of Avernus, if it hasn’t been overrun by fiends already. The more swords we have against those things, the better, right?”

The warrior doesn’t respond verbally, but you don’t see whatever face she’s doubtlessly making at you with your attention drawn by what’s in front of you.

There’s another woman in a pod in the center of this room, dazed and unresponsive. Unlike the captive in the last room, she doesn’t respond even when you tap on the cover of the pod.

You need to get her out.

After all, what if she’s a powerful mage? An actual, trained bard who can show you what you’re meant to be doing as you take control of the ship? She could even be an innkeeper from Baldur’s Gate, willing to give you a place to stay if you reach the city.

You scan the room behind her, noting another one of those panels, and—!

Yes!

There’s a distinctly alien chest sitting on a raised platform at the back of the room next to a dead half-elf, practically screaming ‘Important Mindflayer Items In Here’.

Of course, you think as you scamper up to it, it’ll probably have some kind of locking mechanism, it’s basic security after all. Who would leave a chest full of important items unlocked? If you can’t find a key for it in this room, you may have to ask you warrior if she can carefully smash it open without damaging the contents, so you have to hope that the key is close by or whatever security measures are rudimentary enough for your fledgling skills to bypass—!

The chest springs open at your touch.

You blink.

“…I never really thought of mind flayers as lazy, but. Wow.”

Of course, it can’t ever be that simple, not for you. You rifle through the contents, but there’s nothing in here that seems remotely like what you’re looking for. Your teeth pierce an ulcer as you hiss in irritation, pulling out the contents to see if there’s some hidden cache in the sides or bottom, tugging out the bent bits of wire stuck in the lock—!

You pause. You turn.

The dead half-elf lies there, still very dead.

You launch yourself towards the body, hands rifling through everything you can find.

Slid inside the corpse’s tunic is a tablet that looks the exact shape and size to fit into the control panels you’ve seen so far.

There’s only one way to find out, you think as you tug it out and head back down to the panel.

But before you can even try to insert the tablet, you somehow feel something else moving through the panel, past you and into the pod, commanding the woman inside to

CHANGE

There’s terrified screaming behind you.

You reach the front of the pod in time to see the woman inside contort hard enough to snap her own neck. Steam clouds the pink film as the horrible, fleshy sounds build to an awful crescendo.

There’s a wet thunk as a four-fingered hand emerges from the steam.

The rest of a mind flayer within lurches forward unsteadily.

Your stomach lurches too as you swallow against the terror sticking in your throat.

“Tell me that isn’t normal.” You beg. “You said we had days. Days.”

The warrior’s skin has paled several shades. “Kaincha…how?! Changing at the pull of a lever?”

“I didn’t pull anything!” You snap. “I barely even touched it then—and something…”

You both turn to stare at the mindflayer, which gazes back with something that could be called intent.

“We’re going.” The warrior says, one hand gripping your shoulder tightly and tugging you back. “That will be us if we do not find a way off this ship.”

You nod, numb, as she shepherds you away from the thing in the pod and back through the sphincter.

You might have let her steer you right out of the room, if there hadn’t been an almighty pounding on the pod behind you. “Hey! HEY!! Where are you going?! Wait, come back!!”

You feel the fighter’s nails prick your doublet as you shift out of her grip, scurrying over to the other pod with a muttered litany of apologies falling from your lips.

You pause after inserting the rune, watching as the control panel pulses almost greedily. It. You don’t want—

“If this turns you into a mind flayer, I’m so sorry.” You blurt.

“Wait, what—?!”

Something in your mind connects to the panel and commands OPEN

There’s a ripple of tendons and muscle, a stretch-like shudder as the pod’s seal slides up and back.

A sensation not unlike a bite inside your head.

One of the Shroud brothers told you once that there’s technically nothing in the brain that can feel pain—just in all the flesh and bone layers meant to protect it from the outside world. If you ever see them again, you are telling both of them that that is complete bullshit and that the ragged, bleeding feeling of profound loss inside your head would beg to differ.

There’s a squirming behind your eye. It feels satiated.

The woman inside the pod tumbles forward without the barrier to hold her up, hitting the floor with a wet, meaty thud.

She’s a half-elf, you note absentmindedly as you and the warrior help her to her feet, maybe a cleric of some sort with that austere, practical chainmail? Her dark hair is even glossier than the pod led you to believe, reminding you of the rats you used to find hiding in the grain stores, the sleek, canny, well-fed-and-groomed survivors.

Her eyes are green enough to make you slightly queasy as they meet yours, a scar over her cheek and the bridge of her nose shifting as she smiles. “I thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin. Thank—“

And then her eyes flick to the warrior holding her other arm, and the smile vanishes as your mind jerks—!

Hiding and trying to stopper your breaths as the yellow gith monsters twist the sword in the acolyte’s gut.

Praying desperately to your Lady that they won’t find you as you flee, his screams chasing you into a nautiloid’s tentacles.

The tiefling child before you, your only hope of salvation, being pulled away by another murderous yellow bitch—!

At least nothing’s on fire in here, so when you gasp for air as the connection is abruptly cut, the smell is slightly less awful.

Still cloying and raw and terrible though.

You blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sensation of your own skin when the cleric says. “You keep dangerous company.”

You’re wary of the chilled tone she’s using, and the way the warrior’s teeth are being bared in a sneer.

“Dangerous company’s what you need in a fight.” You return carefully. “And as we’re heading to the helm, we’re probably going to walk into one.”

Thankfully, the cleric nods. “True enough. Let me come with you. We can get off this ship, and watch each other’s backs along the way.”

“All right then, let’s get going.” Your warrior sighs in impatience and begins heading for the other exit. You think you’d smile, if it weren’t for everything else going on right now. “I’m Yuu.”

“Shadowheart. Ah—one moment.”

You turn to see her going back to the pod she was trapped in, reaching in and pulling a small metal shape out of the cavity.

It’s mildly disconcerting, given that everything else here is so fleshy and organic. “What’s that?”

The chill stare gets turned on you this time. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with. Let’s get going.”

You can feel your hackles rising, but you can’t exactly put the half-elf back in the pod now, can you?

Your foreboding only gets worse once the warrior stops you both in the corridor, the clamor of activity growing worryingly close. “We are nearing the helm. Once inside, do exactly as I say.”

“Who put you in charge?” The cleric snaps. “I’ll trust my own judgement.”

The warrior mutters a word in her alien language that you’re pretty sure is some kind of epithet.

You have an awful suspicion that it’s going to be an accurate descriptor of your current situation.

That suspicion only worsens once the sphincter opens and reveals the almost familiar chaos the room has devolved into.

Imps are soaring through the air and chattering maliciously as they try to aid their cambion leaders, whose swords blaze with hellfire as they bellow orders. Hellboars gorge themselves on those brains on legs scuttling about, their shrieking death throes resonating painfully inside your teeth.

There are two mindflayers left, which rapidly becomes one mindflayer when one of the pair is cut down by imps after eating a cambion’s brain.

The remaining mindflayer turns to the three of you. Your thoughts about somehow hiding are rudely interrupted by an echoing voice inside your skull.

“Thrall. Connect the nerves of the transponder. We must escape. Now.”

The transponder that it seems to be referring to is yet another panel, this time with odd waving fronds reaching from it to a matching set hanging from the ceiling. With a raiding party’s worth of imps and hellboars between you and it.

“Do it.” The warrior orders sternly. “We will deal with the ghaik after we escape.”

You and the cleric share a glance.

You both start running.

You’re quicker than the cleric and the warrior. Your feet remember racing through darkened streets, changing direction on a hair to avoid imps or ghouls or whatever else had chosen to infest Elturel on a day to day basis.

But you’re not on Elturel’s streets, with back alleys and hasty blockades and abandoned buildings and miles of cobblestones through which you can lose your pursuers. The helm is tiny and cramped and you find yourself swerving even as you dash forward, trying to evade the hellboars and imps intent on forcing you into a corner you can’t escape from.

The cleric and the warrior aren’t much better off. The warrior is attempting to pick off the infernal interference with her sword and bow, but doing so slows her down immensely. The cleric is trying to dash through the imps swarming her, but even the protection of her shield isn’t enough to keep off most of the hits she’s taking.

From your place next to a hole blown in the side of the ship, you can see the mindflayer flagging. Silver blood leaks from its wounds, and the energy it’s throwing at the cambion misses more often than it hits.

And if that weren’t enough, fucking red dragons soar past the hole with ear-splitting screeches, swooping up to perch on the front of the ship, one flammable wall away from the transponder.

You can’t get there in time like this but if you don’t the ship will go down and you’re all dead. Or the dragons will breathe fire into the room and you’re all dead. Either way, you need to do something, make some kind of—!

Your eye is caught by the constant, raging movement below.

It takes moments you don’t have to fumble the crossbow onto your pack so you can pull out your instrument.

Everything in you is screaming at not having a weapon in your hands in a room full of things that want to kill you. If this doesn’t work, you’ll be dead in a matter of moments.

But if it does…

You seal your lips tight over the mouthpiece of your flute, partially block the end with your thumb, and hope to whatever Gods will hear that you remembered the right notes as you blow.

The sound that comes out of your poor instrument is a pale imitation of the tortured warscreech which haunted the streets of Elturel.

But it’s similar enough that some of the demonic forces fighting on the plain below look up.

There’s a bassy, hellish noise of response to your summons, the sounds of things that shouldn’t be able to making their way through the air after the Nautiloid. You hear one of the dragons roar, see its snout vanish as it launches itself off the ship in response to this new threat.

Terror mixes with glee in your gut.

Most of the imps scream, flying to the nearest exits and flinging themselves out, to fight or flee you can’t know.

With the path cleared, the cleric sprints full-pelt towards the control panel.

You’re so elated by her progress and the possibility that you may make it out of this alive that you don’t register your surroundings until burning steel bites into your back.

You scream as the metal scalds as it cuts, twisting away from the cambion looming over you.

“PRODITOR!” The devil roars. “TO THE ABYSS WITH YOU!!”

You barely scramble out of the way of his second swing. Your breath comes in pained whimpers. Blood slicks the back of your legs like sweat.

The cambion looms large over you, backing you into a corner, wings beating powerfully and promising to block every escape attempt as the flaming sword rises high again.

You can’t get away.

You need to get away.

You’ll die if you don’t get away.

You can’t—!

“SH’KAKETH!!”

There’s a squeal of steel meeting superheated steel, and a roar as the cambion is forced away from you.

Your warrior in shining armor is standing over you, teeth bared as she raises her sword for another swing at the devil.

And then the cleric does something to the control panel, and everything gets very weird.

The smog of Avernus vanishes between one breath and the next, the sudden absence of overwhelming heat chilling you to the bone.

You have no chance to process this though, as the floor suddenly vanishes from beneath you and you’re sent spinning through the air, helpless as a leaf on the wind.

You’re not sure if leaves on the wind end up smacking into quite so many hard surfaces, whirled away even as you claw for a grip and cry out as something else slams into you.

By the time normal gravity reasserts itself the ship is listing alarmingly on its side and you collide what was once a wall, breath driven from you by the impact and the gaping hole not a centimeter from you.

You end up staring at a mindflayer across the hole, its beady orange eyes shot with malice and tentacles flapping almost humorously in the wind.

And then something catches you across the head, and you’re tumbling arse over teakettle through the starry sky.

You try to think, to plan, to work out a way to save yourself from this, but the piercing air and dizzying drop rips your senses from you, leaves your mind shrieking in futile terror no, no, no please, not this, I can’t go yet, no, I haven’t got to live, please, don’t let me die like this!

You lose yourself to oblivion. Hopefully if you’re unconscious, it’ll make your demise hurt less—!

But you’re caught.

You don’t.

You don’t know how. But one moment you’re falling to your death, and the next you’re…

You’re…?

Suddenly released, and hit your head hard enough to black out.

[felassan]

Let's talk about these new images & the new/clearer looks at images from the Dragon Age Vinyl. (first, read this post hhhh). under a cut for length.

These resemble the map of the Fade in DA:O.

This one with the eluvian is labelled as the "Black City" side of the flip mat merch item. behind the eluvian is a flower-like pattern. and this is the first time I remember [? could be wrong] seeing the 'roots' of the 'tree statue' structures. from root, to trunk, to branches. [interestingly with root and branches looking like veins, lyrium veins, Titan veins..]. an eluvian shattering in the context of the "Black City" - again the splattering, the shattering..

and I looked up and saw the seven gates of the Black City shatter, and darkness cloaked both realms.

were/are the seven "gates" eluvians? ^^ they are portals and a gate is type of portal.

On the left here is Grey Warden imagery - griffon, sword, Joining Chalice with darkspawn blood drop.

I can't make out the two middle images - is anyone skilled with image manipulation able to unskew them?

On the right here, the four circles pattern looks similar to the pattern on Solas' Hermit Tarot card. and in the middle is the sense once again of an eclipse - in the very center, a sun-like shape/representation of the sun. and behind that, two overlapping spheres/two shadowed spheres.

Codex entry: Old Elven Writing

This elven writing found in the Arbor Wilds is so old as to be incomprehensible. There are whispers from the Well of Sorrows. It's impossible to understand the entire text, but certain parts suddenly reveal a shadow of their original meaning. "In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing." For one moment there is a vivid image of two overlapping spheres; unknown flowers bloom inside their centers. Then it fades.

And here is our first clear look at the Black City version of the art. we can now make out details in it that we couldn't the other day. the 'feel' of the image is that the sunrays emanating from the dragon/just behind the dragon cause/caused the now-Black City to destabilize and crumble. the wings and foliage also have a color gradient. at the bottom, gnarled and blackened, where the rot set in and is spreading. it spreads upwards to marr the little amount of gold that there is left, killing the foliage in the process.

but the main new exciting detail here is the heads held in the wings. there are 6 of them and they have elven ears. on their helms are the 'Evanuris headpiece/symbols'. seen from different angles in some, but it's these symbols nonetheless. you can match them up, like so:

After matching up the heads to these symbols, only the central one, the biggest one, is left out. and as you can see, what does match that is the Black City dragon's horns (recall they or the dragon itself changes from the Golden City version of the art to this one) and the staff of the figure facing the dragon in the Golden City version of the art.

close up of that figure shows they have pointed elven ears.

here's an Elgar'nan asset from DA:O. compare the horns with the staff top, the Black City dragon horns and the symbol in the biggest semicircle.

I still speculate that the figure and therefore the second 'Black City' dragon is Elgar'nan (with the first dragon being Mythal). opposite Mythal, he's the leader of the gods, the Zeus. that semicircle and symbol is the biggest. There isn't another big one because Mythal was murdered, and of course there isn't a ninth because that's Fen'Harel. I wrote in my last post on this,

left, silvery dragon - Mythal? right dragon (which is gold-toned despite the blackening) - Elgar'nan, after he’s approached her [maybe as the figure on the rock promontory] and then murdered her and taken her place as the god, ruler, dragon who presides over all? moon and sun, moon dragon and sun dragon, beauty and destruction.. the shape of the 'right-hand’ dragon’s horns match the evanuris headpiece on the ring which is in the biggest hemisphere, and of the 7 gods those headpieces apply to (9 Evanuris, minus Mythal and Fen'Harel), the 'biggest’ naturally is the patriarch leader opposite Mythal, Elgar'nan.

husbands killing, betraying or doing acts of violence against their wives is unfortunately not a rare thing. and in the lore this has happened before. Andraste (with her Mythal-like crown..) was betrayed by Maferath. Conobar betrayed Flemeth, the human woman whom the spark of Mythal - betrayed herself by other Evanuris - crawled to. the spark of Mythal "clawed and crawled through the ages" to Flemeth when Flemeth cried out for help. there is a reason Flemeth is the vessel the spark of Mythal joined with, their stories are similar. Dalish lore and the memories of ancient elven lore we see in DA:I sometimes show that Mythal sometimes had to temper Elgar'nan's fury or defuse situations involving him. of course, just because Elgar'nan was the main culprit of Mythal's death didn't mean that he did it alone or acted alone. other Evanuris were involved. Solas says "and in their lust for power they killed her". in their lust for power, the City was blackened.

the question is, what do the Evanuris heads in the dragon's blackened wings represent? ofc it's another version (really different art style etc) of this event. the heads/symbols, the City blackening.. it's the same event being depicted. but the way their body-less heads hang there in the blackened wings, dark and connected to the corrupted tree.. it reminds me of the theories connecting the Evanuris to the Blight somehow. "What the Evanuris in their greed could unleash would end us all. Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger. The People must rise before their false gods destroy them all." The Balrog Theory. Andruil travelling into the darkness of the Void and returning, twisted and mad. stuff like that. that's what the heads in the wings remind me of. so other Evanuris ("they") were involved in Mythal's death, and they were up to something shady "in their lust for power" that was giving 'not great for the world' vibes.

also, stylistically the choice to show their heads like this also reminds me of the faces in the borders of the beautiful map that came out with the Tevinter Nights book. those borders not only also contain two different dragons facing off from each side of the map but a bunch of celestial body, sun/moon and eclipse imagery...

anyways, we also get a more detailed clearer look at the Golden City cover art and in this we can see -

this is the door/gate to the Golden City in this Art. and idk, it just reminds me of this dragon Mythal mosaic or this Mythal dragon statue.

also -

soo is Elgar'nan is one of the "Evil Gods" that has Thedas in their sights? that mural could be read as implying that there were two returning or at least lurking ominously. All 7 non-Mythal-non-Fen'Harel gods coming back or being at risk of coming back in one game could be too much both in terms of irl meta-resources for development (there are lots of other things going on in Thedas to cover as well) and too much as a threat, if I was a writer I personally might handwave most of them to the side like "oh yeah, 5 of them got corrupted/stuck/lost forever over the Ages since while they were trapped and only Elgar'nan and [Other One] remain to pose a threat. they're still looming and ominous though". yknow?

but who knows, this was just one guy's take. to be further updated on all things gaming news reviews and discussions, stay tuned right here on yongyea, I'll see you guys next time, yong out

[adorationmajestic]

Little to Do With Love

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationship: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Minor or Background Relationships

Characters: Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav, Palamedes Sextus, Camilla Hect, Cytherea the First, Ianthe Tridentarius, Coronabeth Tridentarius, Pash | Our Lady of the Passion (Locked Tomb Series), Enver Gortash, Mizora (Baldur's Gate), John Gaius | Necrolord Prime, Varun the Eater (Locked Tomb Series)

Additional tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, no beta we die like cavs, Major Character Injury, the major character death is gideon but she gets better, Temporary Character Death, Necrophilia, Cannibalism, the tridentariicest is not central to the story but it aint hidden, Pining, Useless Lesbians, Literal Sleeping Together, Touch-starved harrowhark, Deaf Character, Sign Language, Masturbation, Bad Ending, Bittersweet Ending

Chapters: 15/?

Completed: no

Summary:

Title is a phrase from 'A Sermon on Cavaliers and Necromancers by M. Bias' (page 453 of Gideon the Ninth) ⚔︎ A story taking place in my original universe I created for my cyberpunk (genre) AU. Also Gideon is Deaf, a barista, and a half elf. Harrowhark is one of the most talented necromancers in the last several generations and has enlisted in service to the Cohort. (Gideon is 23 and Harrow is 22.) Description and tags will update as I go. Edit:I have two possible endings set up. They are both equally as likely to happen. One of them is rough and angsty. The other is not. I'll be honest and tell you I have no idea which one it will be. I have chosen the angsty one. So, I guess consider yourself warned. Also I used the regular Necrophilia tag instead of the Canon-typical Necrophilia tag because it's a different brand. Because my experience in Sign is exclusively with ASL, that is very much what Common Sign resembles (no previous knowledge needed to enjoy this work).

and because i think you guys are awesome, here's an excerpt from the fifteenth chapter! (under the cut)

Rancid energy leaked off them in lazy waves that had Harrow stepping back again. She had no idea what to say, or if she should say anything at all. Abruptly, Language Corrupts Thought turned to her, fair hair falling over their shoulder and bright white eyes burning like the tortured souls of a million innocents. “We can't abide by liars.”

[treevore]

top 5 tv shows, novels, albums & games (i think i know one of those games 🤔)

OHHH BOYYY

Shows

the borgias

2. twin peaks

3. jojos bizarre adventure

4. FullMetal Alchemist

5. the x files

(bet you thought supernatural was gonna be on that list. sometimes it and the x files switch)

Novels

Authority - Jeff Vandermeer

2. Harrow the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir

3. John Dies At The End - David Wong (Jason Pargin)

4. Universal Harvester - John Darnielle

5. Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman

Albums

Kentucky - Panopticon

2. Full Force Galesburg - The Mountain Goats

3. Disco 4 PT I+II - HEALTH

4. A City Dressed in Dynamite - That Handsome Devil

5. This Addiction - Alkaline Trio

Games

Silent Hill 2 (original, not remake) (i need to make that petty distinction)

2. Elden Ring

3. Resident Evil 4

4. Assassin's Creed Brotherhood

5. Metal Gear Solid 5 (i know it is not the technical best of the series but i have a lot of love in my heart for it. ocelot's there being a fucking liar, my wretched evil sons are there, "big boss" is there, DD IS THERE)

bet u thought i was gonna say death stranding or baldurs gate 3 and while those are both like....high on the list, both incredible games that i love so much, the problem with having a gamers heart and uh...........like 17 years being a Gamer is that there are a lot of games that have set up permanent residence in my psyche

[azeriairis]

Alright Mini-essay time

I'm going to focus on two main things for this one. The deletion of that one scene in SGA, and the ending of SGA, and how those put Universe in a bad place to begin with. Because I actually like Universe and think it could've done well if only they set it up properly.

Let's start with the deleted scene, if you don't know what I'm talking about it's this one here:

So What do we learn from this scene? Two big things; A: It may be possible to dial the 9th chevron, and B: Zelenka is one of the people working on this.

A is important because the knowledge that it may be possible to dial the ninth chevron makes the premise of Universe " we dialed the 9th chevron and we now have to find a way to stay alive on the other side " sound much more plausible, and not like something that was just pulled out of the asses of the showrunners.

B is important because if the writers knew what they were doing could've been used as a set-up to introduce the audience to some of the Characters from Stargate Universe in season 5 of Atlantis. I'll give two ways this could happen. The easier route would be to just put Zelenka himself into Universe, he's already an established character who is well-known and beloved by the fanbase who through this scene is tied to the research into the ninth chevron. It makes sense for him to be there, and him being there would guarantee off the bat that the majority of the fanbase already has a character they at least somewhat care about in Universe off the bat. The Other route is to have a Universe Character (probably a scientist or engineer) visit Zelenka during the 5th season and introduce them to the audience that way, maybe something comes up that requires Atlantis to go into lock-down and stop travel back to earth, and this character needs to help the Atlantis cast fix the problem, giving them an excuse to stick around long enough to begin to familiarize themselves with the audience. Either way you'll end up with a character in Universe that the fanbase at least has met right out the gate. This would be helpful because it gives the fans some reason to stick around at least long enough for them to get to know (and hopefully begin to care about) the other characters (that reason being " I want to know what happens to [character I already know] ").

Alright now I'm moving onto how Atlantis was canceled and why it should've been extended (Given the fact that MGM ran two shows at once during the SG-1 - Atlantis transition, it should be possible). First The fact that Atlantis was canceled and wasn't allowed a proper finale, rightly made many fans of Atlantis feel upset. Add that to the fact that Universe came basically right after and many fans had a sour taste in their mouths about Universe. Extending Atlantis to overlap with the first few seasons of Universe, would've given it the chance to come to a more satisfying conclusion and avoided the negative feelings around the Cancelation of Atlantis that may have prevented some fans from giving Universe a fair shake. Additionally as Universe was an experimental work, at least as far as the Stargate franchise is concerned, it had similar early stumbling blocks as SG-1 had as it figured out it's formula. Unsurprisingly resting the fate of a franchise on an experimental work that hasn't yet figured itself out is a ludicrously bad idea. If Stargate Atlantis continued into the early parts of Universe then Atlantis could've served as the frontrunner of the franchise whilst Universe figured itself out and familiarized itself with the fanbase. If Universe still flopped then the franchise could fall back on Atlantis until they came up with a new show to continue the franchise with, and if Universe succeeded then Atlantis would conclude and Universe would continue as the Frontrunner.

Also as far as Critiques of Universe, due to how different the vibes and all is they could've lessened up on some of the stuff, like the Nudity, in earlier seasons so that it isn't so stark of a difference. Then they could've slowly introduced it in so it's a more gradual (and therefore easier to get used to) change. Otherwise I don't quite know because I actually like Universe as it is.

[satanicspeaks]

Been seeing reviews of The Expanse books where people comment on how slow the books are, that it’s a slog to get to the plot arcs. And while yeah definitely it takes it time, i personally enjoy it.

Each book introduces new POV and slowly puts plot pieces together. I’m used to slow burns and books like Gideon the Ninth where things slow ramp up until it all falls apart in quick succession. The POV’s are a great choice too with how the books utilise them, it’s always the most significant characters and I haven’t felt like a POV was adding nothing to the books (except for in book 1 when I didn’t understand the format so ignored all that didn’t interest me)

Book spoilers from here for the books Abaddon’s Gate & Nemesis Games

Abaddon’s Gate is one of my favourite’s for how it does this. We meet Clarissa who makes sense in the context she’s in, she links back to her sister nicely, her family is known and by slowly exploring who she is we don’t feel the POV swaps in the main arc are sudden or odd.

Same with Anna, we get to know her, how she feels, how she acts in situations before you drop the mother of all crises on her.

Holden is well known at this point and his POV gives us familiarity, we love him as a character and know the crew he’s in so we still hold that emotional connection to them as the other POV’s develop. Because it’s hard to care about a character that’s new (this is why I have some major criticisms of Fourth Wing as a book, it wants us to care about how protagonist is feeling about a character we met two paragraphs ago, it feels empty and shallow)

By having a slow set up it also allows for a shit tone of points to use in the plot climaxes. Like oh that thing that was mentioned in chapter 2? Yeah it’s important. Those important things are masked by an info dump of sci-fi and each characters own interests so we as the reader don’t see what’s important straight away. But we know by now that this is the format the books will take.

That’s also why Nemsis Games and its deviation from what we expect with POV is important. Oh? We got used to new POVs and the crew being all together? Well this time we’ll only give you the crew’s POV! They’re familiar but this time you now fundamentally know how they think, removing Holden’s bias.

I’m once again info dumping about the book series, don’t worry I’m not stopping. I’m up to Babylon’s Ashes, so three books to go. Five seasons of the TV series to go. Let’s see if I can do this in less than two months 🫡

[voloslobotomyservice]

Salome Silverthorn

[Sal-oh-may] (she/they)

Class: Wild Magic Sorcerer

Race: Half-Drow

Age: Unknown

Background: The Haunted One (no redemption route)

Game Progression: Complete

Before Salome discovered her Dark Urge, she was just a baby in a basket. A human woman, Gwendolyn Silverthorn (cleric of Selûne), found Salome in a wicker basket late one afternoon in the streets of Baldur's Gate. Taking pity on the child, she brought her home and raised her as her own. Gwendolyn had her own children, Kellan (paladin) and Marianna (ranger). Salome was raised in a very loving home, and the four were a very happy family together. But on the eve of her ninth birthday, the Dark Urge took over for the first time. She brutally killed her entire family and set the house on fire with her Wild Magic. Although she was a skilled sorcerer, she could not easily control her magic, and her face was badly burned, causing her to lose some of her vision. After murdering her family, Sceleritas Fel sought her out, bringing her to the Temple of Bhaal to be worshipped as the Prodigal Daughter, the one who came back to sit upon her father's altar.

Orin the Red, jealous of Salome being Bhaal’s Chosen, attacked her at Moonrise Towers, implanting her with the first tadpole. She was shipped out on the Nautiloid, and Orin took over her throne, fully assuming that her sister would soon become a mindflayer.

When the ship crashed, Salome was left with an ache in her head, her memories gone, and an urge to kill. She only remembered her own name because it was sewn into her robes she was wearing.

As far as Dark Urges go, she is as evil as they come. She has no desire to fight her urges, rather, she accepts them and doesn’t hide the person she truly is. She slaughtered the Grove, Last Light Inn, and anyone who happened to cross her path, goblin or not. Don’t look in her storage trunk at camp.

Accepting her Dark Urges eventually led to Bhaal gifting her the Slayer form. Unfortunately for Orin, Salome would use this to get her revenge. It was a rather easy fight.

After defeating Orin in battle, Salome accepted her father’s gift and became the true Chosen of Bhaal. Her father had then commanded her to seize the opportunity to take over the Elder Brain, and then eventually, the world, in his name.

Salome's adoptive mother, Gwendolyn, acted as her Dream Guardian. She first showed up in Salome's dream after she had a flashback to the night she committed her first murder. Salome was pretty upset when she found out who the Dream Guardian actually was because she truly thought she was reconnecting with the woman who raised her, helping her see past her urges and potentially try to resist them.

She and Astarion are locked in for life, and not for the better. Both have ascended in their own ways, and now post-game are taking over the world with the help of the Netherbrain. (She's also slept with Ketheric Thorm, Enver Gortash, Lae'zel, Minthara, the Emperor, maybe even a goblin or two... but we don’t need to talk about that atm)

Here are some fun things I've been tagged in to share a little more about her: - 5 Songs/4 Outfits

[eidingate]

FFXVI Writes 25 - Perpetuity

Early ARR Characters: Thancred, WoL Eidin Word count: 855

The facts were these. Early on the morning of the Ninth Sun in the Fifth Astral Moon, the scion known as Eden Foxglove delivered a package to a fisherman on the docks of Limsa Lominsa. The contents of this package were revealed to be fishing lures – seemingly rare or special ones, given the fisherman's reaction. 

In exchange for this token, he opened a small booklet and began reading the contents aloud to her. This appeared to be nothing more than lists upon lists of ships and their hour of docking. It seems this was something of a pasttime of his, and he regaled her with details about each ship's design. 

It is likely that this lecture on the model of every vessel ever sighted in Limsa's ports may have continued on in perpetuity, had the name of one particular ship not elicited a startled gasp from Eden. A ship by the name of Hellskimmer. She thanked the fisherman and quickly departed, practically sprinting up the docks. 

In spite of her apparent haste, she was seen pausing at a stall in Hawkers' Alley. Her exchange with the merchant had a look of urgency about it. Though the shopkeeper appeared to be a simple culinarian, some deal appeared to be struck, and soon a large box materialized from behind the counter and was passed over to her, as if laden with some precious goods. Thereafter, she continued down to the port docks. 

The Hellskimmer looked perfectly ordinary among the other trading vessels lined up in Limsa's waters to unload their goods. Even so, she seemed to recognize it quickly, and strode toward it with confidence. 

She boarded the ship with the box in hand. When she left hours later, she carried a sack instead. 

She walked with purpose, though without the urgency that had spurred her feet earlier. Outside the Zephyr Gate, she strode off the path, right up to the cliffs overlooking the bay, and sat down on the edge. "Alright," she said aloud, "you've impressed me. It's been a long time since I've had a tail I couldn't shake."

She turned towards me, and though the wide brim of her hat still hid much of her face, I could see a smirk on her green lips. 

"Longer still for me, I bet," I replied, "since someone has taken notice of my tail." She should not have known I was there, not when I was obscuring my presence completely. Yet somehow the tilt of her head seemed to follow my movement. I revealed myself then, dropping my stealth. 

She shrugged, reached into the sack she had borne from the ship, and tossed me the object she'd produced – a plump, round fruit. 

"Golden pears. That's what the locals call them in Werlyt." 

"That's occupied territory."

She shrugged, turning her back to me again. "I don't think the fruit knows the difference."

"Even so, it was smuggled here." 

She huffed out a laugh. "And that's a problem, is it? Would it sully the lips of an Archon to eat illicit fruit? Do I tarnish the Scions by visiting a smuggler?"

"That depends on why. What were you doing on that boat?"

"Visiting a friend. Is that so hard to believe?" She turned to me again, and it occurred to me that she had chosen to conduct this conversation here, sitting down, so that she did not tower quite so high above me. Making herself less threatening in my presence. Was it all part of the performance? Was she ever not putting on a performance?

And yet, she never removed that hat shading her eyes from view. Possibly the only time I've seen her without it was when I found her after Ifrit, singed and barely standing for all the smoke she'd taken in. 

Her mouth was set in a firm line. "You couldn't have known I would be on that ship today. I didn't know I would be on that ship today. This isn't about smugglers. Why are you following me around, Thancred?"

I had not planned to tell her my suspicions until I was certain. Until I had more than hunches and rumors to go off of. This was not meant to be a confrontation unless it had to be, but she'd found me and now she was making it one. "Your story doesn't add up. You know too little of things you should and too much of things you shouldn't. You recognized a piece of Garlean magitek from a distance and how to avoid its sensors. You referred to one of their field medics as a medicus." 

"An odd list of crimes. Any of that knowledge can be gleaned from observing the nearest Castrum. Not even Eorzea is insulated from their presence."

"Your knowledge seems more intimate than most." I hesitated. I'd wanted more time to confirm the rumors. "My contacts tell me that Garlemald is on the hunt for a notorious criminal. A Roegadyn. "

She turned to look at me fully, her hat even tilting up just enough to see the glimmer of her gold eyes. "And? What are you accusing me of?"

"Nothing. Yet." 

[sock-to-the-third]

Fiction

Key

💥 tw SA // 🍑 includes smut // 💧 erotica // 📚 disability // 🌹 transgirl mc // 👑 transguy mc // 🐸 outside binary rep // non-fiction

.

2019-2024

Tiliikum by Llama Goddess

Karmic Retribution by mercy_run 🍑

Little Red by Spectascopes

Compound Fracture by Lady_Kit

Ain’t this the life by nilchance 💧

Killing Moon by nilchance

A Fixed Debt by undertailsoulsex

2022

The Henna Wars by Jaigirdar

The Invisible Life of Addie Larve by Schwab

The Impossible Knife of Memory by Anderson [PTSD]

Get A Life, Chlore Brown by Hibbert 🍑

Welcome Back, Maple Mehta Cohen by McGovern 📚

Star Trek: Cast No Shadow by Swallow

Nevada by Binnie 🌹

Young Mungo by Stuart

A big ship at the end of universe by White 👀

Manhunter by Felker-Martin 🌹 👑

Tell Me I’m Worthless by Rumfitt 🌹

Set this House in Order by Ruff [DID]

Parable of the Sower by Butler [seed religion] 💥

2023

The Kissing Quotient by Hoang

Silver Canyon by L’Amour

Body of Stars by Walter [magical realism] 💥

Augustus Kitko and the Mechas from Space by White 👀 🐸

Koko Takes a Holiday by Shea [merc]

Funny Gyal by Johnson

When London Falls by Stone [barista x famous band guy]

An Untamed State by Roxane Gay 💥

Left Hand of Darkness by Guin [alt society] 🐸

Queen of Teeth by Hailey Riper

Hell’s Corner by Baldacci [gov agent]

Koko The Mighty by Shea [sequel]

Divine Justice by Badacci [gov agent]

Invisible Life by Harris [black bi lawyer]

The Cipher by Koja [psych horror]

The Delicious Death by Cottingham [ghoul girls, ya] 🌹

Escape from Asylum by Roux [horror]

2024

Fall of Ruin and Wrath by Armentrout

2 Sisters Detective Agency by Patterson

quite an ugly morning by brookmyer

From Blood and Ash by Armentrout

Ripe by Etter

Kingdom of Flesh and Fire by Armentrout

I Am Not a Serial Killer by Wells

[new blog]

Six of Crows by Bardugo [dyslexia?]

All the Rage by Summers

Beartown by Backman

Ninefox Gambit by Lee [dyscalcula]

Raven Strategem by Lee

Ninth House by Bardugo

Shadow and Bone by Bardugo

The Fifth Season by Jemisin

Crooked Kingdom by Bardugo

Revenant Gun by Lee

Queer Werewolves Destroy Capitalism by Lyons

All Systems Red by Martha Wells

[comments]

The Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee [xe/xyr, e/em]

A Voyage to Arcturus by Lindsay [ebook]

The Obelisk Gate by Jemisin

Artificial Condition by Wells [te/ter] *

Dragon Pearl by Yoon Ha Lee

Dead Space by Wallace

The Familiar by Bardugo

Rogue Protocol by Wells

Outlawed by North

Ocean’s Echo by Maxwell [xam]