#swing spectacular

[this-is-macy]

I still can't believe they pulled this off, holy shit!

Swings, covers, alternates, and understudies have all my respect!

(PS if anyone who was there that night has any stories they'd like to share, I would love to hear them!)

[this-is-ali]

Never forget.

submitted by: anonymous

[vertigoartgore]

Spider-Man commission by comic book artist Lee Weeks (2024).

[canadian-pug-cartel]

Hoping a praying for a Tssm 3rd season so people could made a cell block tango ‘he had it coming’ edit for doc ock

[verysickofthisshit]

i love calling boys princess. he’s a foot taller than me and wants to argue but i just say “ok princess”

[dynamic-power]

Steve is walking down the hallway towards his math class when it happens.

Someone bumps into him, a girl he only vaguely recognizes, and she reaches out and grabs his hand to steady herself.

His vision explodes with what he knows must be color. Bright shades assault his eyes, shades he doesn't even have names for. His classmates' clothes, the tiles beneath his feet, the homecoming sign above him. Even the lights have taken on a new hue, washing Steve's entire world in something completely alien.

The girl looks as shocked as steve feels. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth drooped open as she spins in a slow circle. She's pretty, he thinks. Short hair, soft features, an unusual sense of style. She's clutching an instrument case, and he thinks that's why he recognizes her.

"Uh," he says, catching her attention. "Hi."

Her mouth opens, closes, opens once more, and then she dashes away from him, disappearing into the throng of students.

He spends the rest of the day cataloging colors. By the time he's climbing into his car (which is a color he still can't name, but has decided he likes) he's found at least a dozen different shades, and he wonders how they all fit into the seven colors he's been told are in the rainbow.

He tells his mom when he gets home that day. She is ecstatic. When Steve admits he doesn't have anything to tell about the girl herself, his mom turns her attention on naming colors for him.

It becomes quickly apparent that something isn't quite right. He'd been so focused on everything that was new that he hadn't realized what was the same. He still sees a lot of grays. Blues, purples, greens,and violets are all still lost on him.

That doesn't make what he can see any less spectacular, though. Oranges, reds, pinks, yellows. The yellows are his favorite.

He'll meet his other soulmate, his mother assures him, as they sit in the backyard, admiring the rich golds and reds of the trees that he can now see, standing out against the gray of the sky he knows should be blue.

He does, about two years later. He's picking Henderson up from school one afternoon, but instead of Dustin climbing into the front seat like usual, the back door swings open violently and not one but two figures scramble into the back seat.

"Henderson, what the fuck?!?"

"Drive!" Henderson screeches, his head popping up between the seats. "Go, go, go!" A hand, not Dustin's, reaches out as the stranger tries to sit himself up and fingers graze his temple as he's peeling away from the curb.

"Motherfucking assmunch-" Dustin is saying, "thinking he can get away with that shit-"

But Steve isn't paying attention, because the trees are green and the sky is blue and the world is suddenly right.

Steve looks into the rearview mirror and meets the gaze of a shocked-looking Eddie Munson.

[neiptune]

a simple complication

cw: 1.6k wc, female reader, miscommunication my beloved, you have no idea how to confess your feelings to the one miya twin who doesn't remember what happened at suna's party

You’ve never once felt uncomfortable in a Miya household but, as you stand frozen by the doorstep, you realize that just might be about to change.

As you take a deep breath, relentless inner monologue giving its best shot at calming you down, Osamu suddenly swings the door open and you find yourself taking a wobbly step back, surprised. One garbage bag in hand, he looks equally startled.

“Hey”, he smiles after a moment, “what are ya doing?”.

You can barely look him in the eye, which only confuses him more.

“Nothing. I mean, I wanted to see you. Was hoping we could talk?”.

“Uh, sure. Come in, I’ll be right back”.

You quickly do as you’re told, take your shoes off by the door and gingerly shuffle to the couch before your brain decides you may in fact be too much of a coward to initiate the conversation at all.

The apartment seems empty, which indicates that Atsumu is either sleeping or simply not home. You try to remember how many drinks he had the previous evening, at Suna’s halloween party, but the entire night is still such a blur. Except from one specific detail that still makes heat crawl from your throat up to the roots of your hair.

God, how could you be so stupid? It’d be easy to blame it all on the stupid drinks Rintaro kept bringing you, liquid courage, a dumb wink sent your way as he casually suggested it was time you stopped being a pussy. No, it wasn’t entirely his fault, although you should’ve guessed nothing good would come out of a halloween party thrown in the middle of January.

You were in a pretty low effort costume, clown makeup, black dress. You’re all adults now, which made you think no one would actually commit to the bit as much as they did back in high school or during college, but were soon enough proved wrong as soon as you saw Aran and Rintaro respectively in a Daphne and Velma costume. They looked ridiculous and spectacular at the same time.

The twins were the only ones proving your theory, they both arrived to the party in casual clothes and not one bit of makeup on. A shame, the opportunity to see them wear mascara or eyeliner is rare but when they do men and women are affected all the same. You clearly remember once catching Rintaro himself staring at Osamu for a little too long.

“What’s up? Are ya hungry? Brought back some leftovers from the shop, we can have lunch if ‘Tsumu didn’t gobble those down”, his voice makes you jump and your friend stops by the couch, brows suddenly furrowed. “Or not. Are you okay?”.

“Yes!”, you should be relieved, honestly, he’s acting normal. Which means that maybe you didn’t ruin anything. Are you about to? Perhaps coming was a mistake-

“What did you want to talk about?”, Osamu has always been way too good at sensing other people’s emotions, he quickly forgets the lunch proposal and sits next to you instead, close enough for your legs to be pressed against each other. You feel like you may be about to combust.

You’ve known him almost all your life, high school feels like a century ago. The Miyas came as a package deal back then, one couldn’t exist without the other, but as time passed and adulthood shaped their lives in different ways, most people thought each finally got to exist as his own person. Those people were wrong: at least to you, they always held their own individuality. It’s what made them special. It’s what made you fall in love with Samu when he was still a hotheaded teenager, parts of that immature youth still flashing through his grown up demeanor, especially when he’s put in a room with his brother.

“I just wanted to tell you I really value our friendship. You know that, right?”, it feels like you might be about to cry, the way your voice is wavering. He cocks his head.

“Why are ya being so formal?”, Osamu offers a warm chuckle.

“You know that, right?”, you insist.

“I do”, his features soften, “not sure what I’d do without you, honestly”.

You only realize you’re tormenting your fingers when he covers your nervous hands with his own, warm and solid and so much bigger. Once more, it reminds you of the previous night and suddenly you’re worried you might truly cry. The twins don’t do well with tears, every single time they’ve seen you cry throughout the years, they always comically panicked as they awkwardly tried to offer some comfort. It never worked. You wish Kita was here to save the day, just like he always did back then.

“Samu, I’m sorry”, you murmur.

“For what? Now you’re worrying me”, he squeezes your hands in his and you look up from your lap to meet his perturbed gaze.

Like a slap in the face, it hits you. He doesn’t remember. Now, this is a scenario you didn’t prepare yourself to face.

Osamu gently bumps his forehead against yours and you almost throw up on the spot.

“Hey? Care to let me in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“You don’t remember?”, you don’t mean for it to come out in such an accusing pitch but it’s inevitable.

“Don’t remember what?”.

Incredulous, you stare back at him. The front door opens once more and this time you both jump. You’re too shocked to pay attention to Atsumu entering the living room, back from a run and dripping with sweat. Samu’s hands on yours can only remind you of how it felt having them briefly take your face in them as he clumsily tried to kiss you back, or maybe push you away, who can tell? You were too drunk and clearly he was too. You basically jumped his bones in Suna’s hallway, thank god no one walked by to witness the way you ran away right after. You wish you were drunk enough to forget that too.

“Hi”, Atsumu says and you’re too absorbed by the vortex of your mortifying thoughts to notice how he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu”, you say back distractedly, gaze kept on Samu’s coffee table.

“Go take a shower, you’re dripping on my counter”, Osamu barks as his brother casually opens the fridge to take out a protein shake.

“What’s for lunch?”, Atsumu ignores the order and flashes him a grin instead.

“My elbow in yer ribs if ya don’t go take a shower right now”.

“Jeez, fine. I’ll leave you both to it”.

Osamu furrows his brows as he watches Atsumu disappear upstairs with his shake and an amused grin he’s unable to interpret. It dawns on him that you barely talked to each other, which is usually not what happens. You’re disgustingly close, always have been walking the line between being siblings and something else he’s never really been able to pinpoint. He remembers once asking Atsumu if he liked you and he knows his brother well enough to be sure he was being sincere when he scrunched his face and shook his head no. Not like that.

Osamu would lie if he said he never wondered whether you could like him like that. But you’ve never been as… relaxed with him. It feels like Atsumu is the brother you’re most comfortable with and all these years he’s patiently waited for the news to drop, the relationship to start. Except it never did. He still wonders if ‘Tsumu had to friendly turn you down at some point. He still wonders if you could ever like the Miya you’re clearly less relaxed with, instead.

“What did I forget?”, Osamu gently grabs your chin to make sure you look up and meet his gaze once more. Your mouth feels dry.

“We…”, no, you can’t just say that. We kissed. Incorrect. More like you jumped him in a clearly drunken state and he was too much of a gentleman to fully push you away. It’s a faint memory, his hands on your face, and you can’t recall at all if his lips moved along with yours at some point. They most likely didn’t. And now, if you tell him, you’ll ruin everything. Maybe you should just keep quiet, be a coward and bury the whole thing in a place within your chest, inaccessible to anyone but your sense of guilt.

“We what?”, for a moment, Osamu’s exceptionally gentle tone, paired with his proximity, is inebriating enough to make you want to kiss him again. Then, something odd catches your attention and you blink a few times, surprised.

“What’s this?”, you reach to slightly pinch part of his dark hair between your thumb and pointer finger, to remove what looks like a gold grain. It’s dry and barely visible on your fingertip.

He follows your gaze and lets you go, slightly pulling back with a smile.

“Ah, that. I thought I washed it all off”, Osamu casually runs a hand through his hair a few times, “it’s temporary color spray”.

“You’re gonna dye your hair again?”.

“Nah. ‘Tsumu thought it’d be hilarious if we came to the party with a costume no one would notice. I think only Shinsuke guessed it by the end of the night and even he wasn’t so sure”, he offers a handsome grin but you feel petrified.

“What costume?”.

“We went as each other! Ya couldn��t tell us apart, could ya?”.

His amused smile slowly melts away as he takes in your horrified expression, eyes growing bigger by the second.

“Are you oka-”

“Oh my god”.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The CFPB is genuinely making America better, and they're going HARD

On June 20, I'm keynoting the LOCUS AWARDS in OAKLAND.

Let's take a sec here and notice something genuinely great happening in the US government: the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau's stunning, unbroken streak of major, muscular victories over the forces of corporate corruption, with the backing of the Supreme Court (yes, that Supreme Court), and which is only speeding up!

A little background. The CFPB was created in 2010. It was Elizabeth Warren's brainchild, an institution that was supposed to regulate finance from the perspective of the American public, not the American finance sector. Rather than fighting to "stabilize" the financial sector (the mission that led to Obama taking his advisor Timothy Geithner's advice to permit the foreclosure crisis to continue in order to "foam the runways" for the banks), the Bureau would fight to defend us from bankers.

The CFPB got off to a rocky start, with challenges to the unique system of long-term leadership appointments meant to depoliticize the office, as well as the sudden resignation of its inaugural boss, who broke his promise to see his term through in order to launch an unsuccessful bid for political office.

But after the 2020 election, the Bureau came into its own, when Biden poached Rohit Chopra from the FTC and put him in charge. Chopra went on a tear, taking on landlords who violated the covid eviction moratorium:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cfpb

Then banning payday lenders' scummiest tactics:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/29/planned-obsolescence/#academic-fraud

Then striking at one of fintech's most predatory grifts, the "earned wage access" hustle:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

Then closing the loophole that let credit reporting bureaus (like Equifax, who doxed every single American in a spectacular 2019 breach) avoid regulation by creating data brokerage divisions and claiming they weren't part of the regulated activity of credit reporting:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

Chopra went on to promise to ban data-brokers altogether:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/13/goulash/#material-misstatement

Then he banned comparison shopping sites where you go to find the best bank accounts and credit cards from accepting bribes and putting more expensive options at the top of the list. Instead, he's requiring banks to send the CFPB regular, accurate lists of all their charges, and standing up a federal operated comparison shopping site that gives only accurate and honest rankings. Finally, he's made an interoperability rule requiring banks to let you transfer to another institution with one click, just like you change phone carriers. That means you can search an honest site to find the best deal on your banking, and then, with a single click, transfer your accounts, your account history, your payees, and all your other banking data to that new bank:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/let-my-dollars-go/#personal-financial-data-rights

Somewhere in there, big business got scared. They cooked up a legal theory declaring the CFPB's funding mechanism to be unconstitutional and got the case fast-tracked to the Supreme Court, in a bid to put Chopra and the CFPB permanently out of business. Instead, the Supremes – these Supremes! – upheld the CFPB's funding mechanism in a 7-2 ruling:

https://www.scotusblog.com/2024/05/supreme-court-lets-cfpb-funding-stand/

That ruling was a starter pistol for Chopra and the Bureau. Maybe it seemed like they were taking big swings before, but it turns out all that was just a warmup. Last week on The American Prospect, Robert Kuttner rounded up all the stuff the Bureau is kicking off:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-06-07-window-on-corporate-deceptions/

First: regulating Buy Now, Pay Later companies (think: Klarna) as credit-card companies, with all the requirements for disclosure and interest rate caps dictated by the Truth In Lending Act:

https://www.skadden.com/insights/publications/2024/06/cfpb-applies-credit-card-rules

Next: creating a registry of habitual corporate criminals. This rogues gallery will make it harder for other agencies – like the DOJ – and state Attorneys General to offer bullshit "delayed prosecution agreements" to companies that compulsively rip us off:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/cfpb-creates-registry-to-detect-corporate-repeat-offenders/

Then there's the rule against "fine print deception" – which is when the fine print in a contract lies to you about your rights, like when a mortgage lender forces you waive a right you can't actually waive, or car lenders that make you waive your bankruptcy rights, which, again, you can't waive:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/cfpb-warns-against-deception-in-contract-fine-print/

As Kuttner writes, the common thread running through all these orders is that they ban deceptive practices – they make it illegal for companies to steal from us by lying to us. Especially in these dying days of class action suits – rapidly becoming obsolete thanks to "mandatory arbitration waivers" that make you sign away your right to join a class action – agencies like the CFPB are our only hope of punishing companies that lie to us to steal from us.

There's a lot of bad stuff going on in the world right now, and much of it – including an active genocide – is coming from the Biden White House.

But there are people in the Biden Administration who care about the American people and who are effective and committed fighters who have our back. What's more, they're winning. That doesn't make all the bad news go away, but sometimes it feels good to take a moment and take the W.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/10/getting-things-done/#deliverism

[ninibeingdelulu]

Years later ✧

Plot: It makes you and your husband so happy to see your daughter and Emi playing together.

The mouthwatering aromas of sizzling stir fry and rice wafted through the cozy kitchen where you busied yourself over those steaming pans. Every so often, peals of high-pitched giggles and rumblings filtered in from the rear patio - beckoning you to steal a glimpse beyond those wide glass panels.

Your heart swelled at the sight unfolding just outside.

There was Emi in all her towering, dragon-esque glory - currently stretched out across the manicured lawn with those massive clawed paws tucked beneath her chin. Giant saurian pupils blown wide while watching your five-year-old daughter scamper about with unrestrained glee, that tiny cherubic figure weaving between the kaiju's sinewy limbs in a game of cat and mouse.

Whenever that feisty little rapscallion dashed near enough, one of Emi's enormous talons would playfully swipe in her wake - always mindful of her miniature stature as mother and child erupted in breathless, rapturous laughter again.

Matching expressions of wonderstruck glee etched across both their beamings despite the stark juxtaposition in scale.

In that moment, the years simply melted away for you too. Transporting you right back to those surreal early days of first welcoming their strange yet irrevocable sisterly bond into the fold alongside Ken - both females linked through his patient, doting paternity in diametric yet equally vital ways.

A tender brush across your forearm caused you to startle back to the present, finding Ken's openly affectionate gaze trained in from the nearby breakfast nook.

Your husband watched that heartwarming scene unfurl with those chiseled features rendered utterly tranquil and unguarded - an idyllic vision of harmony you'd once yearned for him to experience.

"Just like real siblings playing together, don't you think?" Ken rumbled in that low timbre tinted with wonderment while you smoothed the backs of your fingers over his stubbled jawline.

He eagerly captured those roaming digits before you could retreat them - calloused lips ghosting reverently across each calloused knuckle while drinking you in with the same unshakable adoration.

"They are real siblings, sweetheart. Raised under the same steadfast love of their equally devoted parents..."

At his declaration, you released a tiny, breathy puff against Ken's forehead before leaning in to steal a lingering brush of your mouths - ignoring the stinging prick of joyous tears blurring your vision.

Because you recognized the profound truth embedded within those tender syllables.

This sprawling, unconventional household of yours was irrevocably bound together through far more than mere blood alone.

An unbreakable tether of insurmountable love and acceptance Ken nurtured so steadfastly and without exception - through you, through Emi, and now your spectacular daughter too.

Another rowdy outburst of giggles caused you to break that reverie, following the sound outside once more.

There was your baby perched precariously atop Emi's flank, little feet swinging merrily while the mighty kaiju craned her saurian neck around to gaze upon that cherished bundle with endless devotion too.

Just as her adoring 'father' continued watching with that soft, doting light dancing behind those cinnamon depths.

Basking in the resonant completion of his mismatched, boisterous brood playing together as one perfect unit without constraint...

[itscolossal]

Swing Through the World’s Most Spectacular Artist-Designed Playgrounds

[misspygmypie]

The VIP Girl

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 861 Request: maybe something whree reader is with lando for a race weekend and a VIP girl is obviously flirting with Lando and he dose nothing about it making reader mad and sort of ignores all his plays of affection and it isn't till there in the hotel he confronts reader about it :) Masterlist

Lando Norris had always been a whirlwind of energy and charisma. The grandstands were packed, the pit lane was buzzing with excitement and among the crowd of fans and VIPs one particular girl had made it clear she was interested. Her flirty glances and lingering touches were hard to miss and though Lando remained polite and professional it was clear she had her sights set on him.

Y/N was accustomed to the occasional flirtation directed at her husband. She had always managed to brush them off with grace, knowing Lando’s loyalty was with her. But this time was different. The VIP girl’s blatant attempts were hard to ignore and Lando’s seemingly indifferent response stung more than she cared to admit.

The day of the race was a blur of adrenaline. Lando was focused on his performance, giving it his all on the track. Y/N, as usual, cheered him on with pride from the garage but her heart was heavy. The way the VIP girl leaned in close during the pre-race interviews and whispered things into Lando’s ear made her insides churn.

After the race, which Lando had won with a spectacular finish, the celebrations were in full swing. The atmosphere was electric and filled with laughter and cheers. Lando’s face was lit up with triumph but Y/N found it difficult to match his emotions. She felt overshadowed by the constant presence of the VIP girl and her blatant flirtation. When Lando glanced over and gave her a smile that should have melted her heart, she merely nodded, her expression guarded.

When they made their way through the post-race festivities Lando’s attention was divided. He tried to engage with Y/N, wrapping an arm around her waist and whispering sweet nothings into her ear but she was distant, her responses brief and clipped. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his affection, she was just consumed by a simmering frustration that she couldn’t seem to shake off.

The evening came to an end and they headed back to their hotel. The luxurious suite that had been their sanctuary now felt cold and unwelcoming. Y/N felt the weight of her frustrations pressing down on her and her silence seemed to amplify the tension between them.

Once they were inside their room Lando tried to break the silence. He took off his clothes and after a quick shower joined Y/N on the plush sofa. She sat with her back to him, staring out the window at the city lights. The sight was beautiful but it did nothing to lift her mood.

“Hey, I’ve been trying to get a feeling of what’s going on with you,” Lando said gently, his voice breaking through the quiet. “You’ve been so distant today. Is it something I did, or…?”

Y/N turned slowly to face him, her eyes reflecting the hurt she felt. “It’s not just one thing, it’s the way you let that VIP girl get so close. I felt like you didn’t even notice how uncomfortable it made me and when you didn’t do anything to push her away, it felt like you didn’t care.”

Lando’s expression shifted, it all started to make sense. He moved closer, his eyes searching hers. “I didn’t realize it was affecting you that much. I’ve been trying to be polite and professional but I see now that it came off the wrong way. I never intended to make you feel neglected.”

“It wasn’t just that,” Y/N’s voice trembled slightly. “It felt like you were enjoying the attention, like you were more interested in what she was offering than in me.”

Lando’s heart sank. He reached out and gently touched her cheek, his fingers brushing away a stray tear. “I’m so sorry if I gave you that impression. You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. I should have been more aware of how this was affecting you.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her defenses crumbling. “Sometimes it’s hard to see you being so open with others when I’m standing right there. I just needed to know that you see me, that you still value me.”

Lando took her hands in his. “You are my priority,” his gaze was earnest and full of love. “I’m here because of you, because of us. I should have been more considerate. It was never about anyone else but you.”

She slowly let go off his hands but quickly shuffled closer so she could embrace him, the tension in her shoulders easing. “I just needed to feel like I mattered. I know I’m not a part of the public spectacle all that much but I want to be a part of your world, not just in the background.”

“You matter more than anyone else. I want you to be at the forefront of my mind, not in the shadows. I’ll do better and make sure you feel loved and valued, always.”

They kept talking, Y/N opening up about the struggles she faced dealing with the constand spotlight and Lando made a promise - not just to her but to himself as well - to be more mindful.

________

AN: Anon, I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

After the Finish Line

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: After winning the Dutch Grand Prix, Lando Norris is surrounded by the excitement of his family and team, but all he wants is to celebrate privately with his girlfriend

Warnings: Explicit Content, Alcohol Use

Word count: 860

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The orange sea roared around Lando as he stepped onto the top step of the podium. The Dutch Grand Prix had been nothing short of spectacular, with every turn and maneuver aligning perfectly. As the champagne sprayed and the anthem played, his eyes scanned the jubilant crowd. His family was there, of course, their proud faces beaming up at him, but he was searching for someone else—someone who had his heart in ways no one else did.

Finally, he found you, tucked away in the VIP section, your eyes shining with pride and something else, something deeper. The sight of you sent a surge of warmth through him that had nothing to do with the champagne or the roaring crowd. You had been with him through the highs and lows, every grueling race and every long night. And tonight, he wanted to make sure you knew just how much that meant to him.

As the celebration on the podium wrapped up, and the interviews began, Lando’s mind was already elsewhere. He answered questions with his usual charm, but the anticipation was building. He could feel it humming beneath his skin, a tension that only you could ease.

Once the interviews were over and he finally made his way back to the team, he was greeted by a flurry of hugs, handshakes, and back-slaps. His family and team were ecstatic, and the energy was infectious. But even as he smiled and laughed with them, his eyes kept drifting to you, standing a little apart from the chaos, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

The afterparty was in full swing at the team’s hotel, the music loud and the drinks flowing. Lando had danced with his family, shared drinks with his team, but the pull toward you was undeniable. You had stayed by his side, the two of you sharing secretive smiles and stolen touches whenever no one was looking.

Finally, as the night wore on and the crowd began to thin, Lando leaned close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, his voice low and full of promise.

You didn’t need to be asked twice. With a quick goodbye to his family and a few teammates, the two of you slipped out of the party, making your way back to his suite. The moment the door closed behind you, Lando’s hands were on you, pulling you close as his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he had been holding back all night and could finally let go. His hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips, sliding up your back, pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel the adrenaline still coursing through him, his heart racing beneath your palm as you pressed it against his chest.

“Lando,” you gasped when he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as they met yours. The intensity of his gaze made your knees weak, and you gripped his shoulders for support.

He didn’t say anything, just scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. The atmosphere shifted the moment you crossed the threshold, the air thick with anticipation. He set you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck as he spoke. “All I wanted was to be alone with you.”

His hands slid under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way down your neck, each touch igniting a fire within you. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

“Tonight was incredible,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need as he lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “You were incredible.”

“So are you,” he breathed, his lips finding yours again, softer this time, but no less passionate. “You’re everything, you know that?”

His words made your heart swell, but before you could respond, his lips were on you again, stealing your breath away. The night stretched on, filled with soft moans, whispered promises, and the sound of your name on his lips like a prayer.

Lando took his time with you, worshipping every inch of your body as if you were the only thing that mattered. And to him, in that moment, you were. The rest of the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of heat and desire.

When the last traces of adrenaline had finally faded, leaving you both breathless and spent, Lando pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as he buried his face in your hair.

“Thank you for being here,” he whispered, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that few people ever got to hear. “I wouldn’t want to celebrate this with anyone else.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest as you nestled against him. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you murmured.

[xxbirkindoll]

coming back to you

pairings: ex!rafe x ex!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, jealousy

summary: rafe and y/n broke up and after 6 months, reader sees him at a party—except rafe isn’t alone.

words: 2.9k

The sunset over the Outer Banks was a spectacular sight—an explosion of orange and pink hues blending into the purple twilight. But tonight, as you watched the waves crash against the shore, the colors seemed muted, like they were missing something. Much like your life over the past six months.

Six months. It felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment since Rafe had broken up with you. Even now, the memory of that day still stung, etched into your heart like a scar that refused to heal.

"I just need to work on myself, Y/n," he had said, his voice thick with emotion. "My temper, my… everything. You deserve better than what I can give you right now."

You had stood there, tears blurring your vision as you tried to understand what was happening. Rafe was your world, the one constant in the chaos of your life, and suddenly, he was telling you that you needed to be apart. That you, his Y/n, deserved better than him. It was a noble reason, and you knew he meant well, but it did nothing to soothe the heartbreak that followed.

Rafe was your first love, the person who made you feel alive and safe in a world that often felt too overwhelming. You had been drawn to him, not just for his good looks or his undeniable charm, but for the way he seemed to understand you in a way no one else did. He could be reckless, yes, and his temper was legendary, but beneath it all, you had seen the softer side of him, the side that cared, that loved fiercely and deeply.

You hadn’t expected to be torn away from that side of him. But he had been right, in some ways. Rafe had demons to fight—his addiction, his anger, his own insecurities. And he needed space to do that. You understood that, but it didn’t make the pain of losing him any less real.

For months, you’d been trying to move on, to rebuild your life without him. It was hard. Every corner of the Outer Banks held memories of him. From the beach where you first kissed to the docks where he’d whispered how much he loved you as the sun set. It all haunted you, a constant reminder of what you’d lost.

But tonight was different. Tonight, you were determined to take a step forward, to finally put some distance between you and the past. That’s why you agreed to go to the party with Sarah, despite your initial hesitation.

“You need this, Y/n,” Sarah had insisted earlier that day, her tone firm but gentle. “It’s been too long since you’ve done something fun. And I promise, Rafe won’t be there. He’s… been keeping to himself lately.”

You knew Sarah meant well. As Rafe’s sister, she was caught in a tricky position—being loyal to her brother while also being your best friend. But she had always been there for you, through the highs and the lows, and you trusted her.

And so, you found yourself at the Cameron family’s beach house, the music pounding in your ears and the smell of the ocean mixed with the scent of alcohol filling the air. The party was in full swing, with people dancing, laughing, and losing themselves in the carefree atmosphere.

But as much as you tried to blend in, to lose yourself in the moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was the fact that you were at a place so closely tied to Rafe, or maybe it was the way your heart clenched every time you thought about him. Either way, you felt a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sarah’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you turned to find her watching you with concern. She was holding two drinks, one of which she handed to you. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I get it. But try to have some fun, okay? You deserve it.”

Taking a sip of the drink, you nodded again, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed your own assurances. You scanned the crowd, trying to distract yourself by observing the people around you. Most were familiar faces, locals you’d grown up with, but one person caught your eye. A girl you didn’t recognize, with short, brown hair and a confident smile.

And then you saw him. Rafe.

He was standing by the pool, laughing at something the girl had said, his hand resting casually on her waist. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t just seeing him again that hit you like a punch to the gut—it was how different he looked. His once shaggy hair was now buzzed short, and he had put on muscle, his t-shirt clinging to his toned arms and chest. He looked good, better than you’d seen him in a long time.

He looked like he was doing well. Like he was happy.

You wanted to be happy for him, you really did. But all you could feel was the sharp sting of jealousy and hurt. He had moved on. And you were still here, stuck in the same place, unable to let go of the past.

“Who’s that?” you found yourself asking, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah followed your gaze and winced slightly when she saw what—or rather, who—you were looking at. “That’s Sofia,” she said carefully. “She’s new around here. I think she’s just visiting for the summer.”

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, trying to process the information. Rafe was with someone else. Of course he was. You had no right to feel this way, but you couldn’t help it.

“He seems… different,” you murmured, not sure if you were talking to Sarah or just voicing your thoughts out loud.

Sarah sighed, her expression troubled. “He’s been trying, Y/n. He really has. But it’s been hard for him, too, you know? Breaking up with you—it wasn’t easy for him.”

“I know,” you whispered, your eyes still fixed on Rafe. “I just… I didn’t expect this. I thought that if he got better, maybe…”

“Maybe he’d come back to you?” Sarah finished gently.

You nodded, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to cry here, not now.

“Y/n, I think—” Sarah started, but before she could finish, someone bumped into you from behind, causing you to spill your drink. You turned, muttering a quick apology, but when you looked back towards the pool, Rafe and Sofia were gone.

The rest of the party passed in a blur. You tried to have fun, to talk and laugh with Sarah and the others, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could think about was Rafe. You caught glimpses of him throughout the night, but he was always with Sofia, and it hurt too much to keep watching.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed air. You needed to get away.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” you told Sarah, who looked at you with concern but didn’t try to stop you.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I just need a minute.”

She nodded, squeezing your hand before letting you go. You made your way down to the beach, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the party. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing, and you found a spot on the sand, sitting down and hugging your knees to your chest.

You let the tears fall then, the ones you’d been holding back all night. It wasn’t fair. You had waited, hoping that Rafe would come back to you when he was ready. You had believed in him, in his ability to change. And now, seeing him with someone else, it felt like all your hope had been shattered.

The worst part was, you couldn’t even be angry at him. You knew why he had broken up with you, and you knew it was the right thing for him to do. But that didn’t make it any less painful.

You stayed there for a while, letting the tears flow until there were no more left. When you finally looked up, the party was still in full swing, but you didn’t feel like going back. You just wanted to go home, to curl up in bed and pretend that tonight had never happened.

But as you stood up to leave, you saw a figure walking towards you along the shoreline. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized who it was.

Rafe.

He stopped a few feet away from you, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that had always made you weak in the knees.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves.

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself. “Rafe. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you, but another part of you just wanted to fall into his arms and forget everything else.

“I’m fine,” you said instead, though your voice wavered. “You should go back to the party. Sofia’s probably wondering where you are.”

“Sofia’s not important,” he said quickly, and the intensity in his voice made you look up at him in surprise. “She’s just someone I’ve been hanging out with, nothing more,” Rafe continued, his voice edged with urgency. “I’m not with her like that, Y/n. I’m not with anyone. I couldn’t be.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in, but you couldn’t let yourself believe them just yet. “Rafe, it’s been six months,” you said, your voice cracking. “You’ve had time to move on. And that’s okay. I don’t expect you to—”

“I haven’t moved on,” he interrupted, taking a step closer to you. “I haven’t moved on from you. God, Y/n, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to get over you, to pretend that I’m okay without you, but I’m not. I’m really not.”

You stared at him, unable to speak. His words were like a lifeline, something you had desperately needed to hear, but it only made things more confusing.

“Then why did you leave?” you finally whispered, the question that had haunted you for months slipping out. “Why did you break up with me if you still… if you still care?”

Rafe looked down, his jaw clenched tightly, as if he were fighting some internal battle. “I was scared,” he admitted after a long moment. “Scared that I was going to drag you down with me. I was a mess, baby. My temper, my addiction… I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. You deserved better. I needed to get better, for both our sakes.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t let go of the pain he had caused. “And now?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Are you better now, Rafe?”

He looked up at you then, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly broke you. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I’ve been going to therapy, working out, trying to stay clean. I’m not perfect, and I’ve still got a long way to go, but I’m trying. And the whole time… all I could think about was you.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken feelings. You wanted to believe him, wanted to run into his arms and let him hold you like he used to. But you were afraid—afraid of getting hurt again, afraid that he might leave you once more.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. “Rafe, you broke my heart. I thought you didn’t want me anymore, that I wasn’t enough.”

Rafe’s expression crumpled with guilt and regret, and he closed the distance between you, reaching out to gently cup your face in his hands. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Y/n, you are everything to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped wanting you. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. But I see now that I did anyway, and I hate myself for it. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. It broke down the walls you had built around your heart. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Rafe…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. All the pain, the longing, the love you still felt for him—it was all too much.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the remaining distance between you and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. For a moment, Rafe seemed stunned, but then his arms were around you, holding you tightly against him as if he were afraid you might disappear.

He smelled like salt and the faint scent of his cologne, the combination so achingly familiar that it made your heart ache. You felt his chin rest gently on top of your head, his breath warm against your hair as he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want to, but I did. I missed you every single day.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

For a while, neither of you moved, content to just hold each other, to feel the connection that had never really been broken despite everything that had happened. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only thing that broke the silence, a calming rhythm that matched the beat of your hearts.

But eventually, reality crept back in, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at Rafe. His face was so close to yours, his blue eyes searching your own with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Rafe,” you began, your voice unsteady, “I don’t know if we can just… go back to how things were. So much has happened.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his hands still resting on your waist. “I know we can’t just pick up where we left off. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again, Y/n. I want to be with you. I’ve never stopped wanting that.”

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he might be saying this out of guilt or obligation, but all you saw was the truth. He meant it. He still loved you, despite everything.

“I still love you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the boy you had fallen in love with all this time ago—the boy who had made you laugh, who had held you when you cried, who had loved you with everything he had.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still wanted him. You still wanted to be with him, to try again.

But there was still a part of you that was scared, that didn’t want to go through the pain again.

“I’m scared, Rafe,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared that things will go back to how they were.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression serious. “I won’t hurt you again, Y/n,” he promised, his voice firm. “I’ve been working so hard to change, to be the person you deserve. I won’t let you down this time. I swear.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust him, to let yourself be vulnerable with him again. But trust was something that had to be earned, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“I need time,” you said softly, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I need time to trust you again.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding. “I’ll give you all the time you need,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

And for the first time in six months, you felt a glimmer of hope. You didn’t know what the future held, but you were willing to take a chance on Rafe, on the love that still burned between you. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth having ever was.

As you stood there on the beach, wrapped in Rafe’s arms, you knew that this was a new beginning. A chance to rebuild what had been broken, to find your way back to each other. And this time, you would do it together.

a/n: i hate this so much! maybe bcs its too long and doesn’t have smut but ill try next time. pls give me requests!!

[classicfilmblr]

DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS in THE BLACK PIRATE — 1926, dir. Albert Parker The most celebrated sequence of the film, and perhaps of Fairbanks's entire career, is the moment in which the Black Pirate, when capturing a galleon single-handedly, slashes a line with his knife, catches the end of the mizzen, and swings upward with the wayward sail to the main topsail. He then plunges his knife in to the canvas of the topsail and slides down the sail, supported by the hilt of his knife as it severs the canvas in half. He rends the mainsail in the same manner. The feat is so spectacular that Fairbanks repeats it once more with the fore topsail, rendering the ship powerless. The Black Pirate swings through the lines to the forecastle, swivels about a pair of cannons he has commandeered, and holds the crew as helpless as the galleon itself.

The sliding down the sails is a grand stunt, building on Robin Hood's celebrated descent down the enormous drapery in Robin Hood [1922]. The 43-year-old showman is in top physical form, and the appearance of effortlessness, the breathtaking arcs of movements, and the sheer joy with which he accomplishes the impossible are ample demonstrations of Fairbanks's kinetic genius.

The sequence was achieved with separate sail sets engineered by Robert Fairbanks on the back lot, apart from various ship settings, and erected on an angle away from the cameras (which were also on an angle). The sails, according to Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., were "pre-sliced and then stitched up invisibly. . . .The knife was rigged with piano wire, pulley, and counterweight. . . .He would thrust his knife into the sail and there would be a quick cut. The next cut would be of him holding the special knife connected to the hidden pulley and counterweight."

Airplane propellers behind the canvas provided the billowing effect for the sails. As with all of his stunts, Fairbanks wore a wire harness, and his arms and legs were taped to prevent friction burns. Although no one doubted at the time that he performed the stunt, William K. Everson later maintained that Fairbanks did not do so himself. But the accounts of Albert Parker, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., and Chuck Lewis and the surviving outtakes from the scene itself dispel any claim that Fairbanks did not perform his most famous feat. Fairbanks's bravura stunt was subsequently pirated by a stunt double for Errol Flynn in Against All Flags (1952) and by Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man’s Chest (2006).

One of the immediate effects of the famous sequence was all the injuries sustained by impressionable children imitating their screen idol. Edward Wagenknecht wrote, "One shudders to think how many broken arms and legs he must have been responsible for among the children of America during the years of his vogue." Robert Parrish, a future director and film editor, was one such child. He recalled having seen The Black Pirate in his hometown of Columbus, Georgia, and immediately wanting to emulate the spectacular Fairbanks stunt:

"As a seven-year-old, I had seen Douglas Fairbanks in The Black Pirate plunge a knife into the sail and riding the knife down to the deck. I tried the knife stunt myself that afternoon with a borrowed linen bed sheet. Some friends and I attached it to the limb of an oak tree about ten feet off the ground. I climbed the tree with a butcher's knife in my mouth trying to smile like Fairbanks—I soon tasted blood in my mouth—and pointed the knife at the sheet and jumped. The sheet crashed down upon me like a deflated parachute and the knife flew out of my hand. I landed on the ground with a broken arm, the wind knocked out of me, and blood running from my Fairbanks grin."

[ghouljams]

Aphrodite!reader bringing Hephaestus!Nikto little scraps of metal or full on weapons/armor pieces she liked the metal that it used or thought he would find interesting to forge with.

Aphrodite!Reader asking Nikto if he would ever tell her what he was doing with specific steps in his forging because she just wants to hear his voice

Nikto building a different seat for reader to rest in but still having her little stool available for when she wants to come closer. Not that he understands why.

Reader bringing a drink or pitcher of some cold beverage for Nikto and him also being confused again as to why she’s doing these things. Obviously she’s sharing because she would feel bad if she didn’t and not because she knows that said beverage is his favorite or one that he enjoys.

you’ve definitely won me over (expected) (once again) (as usual) with this au. i am appreciative.

Someone on one of my posts about them mentioned it was fitting for the "god of passion to marry the god of invention." And it made me remember that quote that's like "I loved her to the point of invention" and yeah, good stuff.

It's not like you don't have things to do. You are a god, after all, you have duties to attend to, people to bless and all that. You have battlefields to walk through, soldiers that swear on their love's life, that beg to see them one more time, that take the rage of loss and channel it into power. You have weddings and births, deaths and funerals, first steps, reunions, first and last loves to look over. You have artists to watch, to stare entranced as they paint their muse, their passion seeping into every brushstroke, every strike of their hammed.

You pluck iron shavings off the floor and hum to yourself as you go. You pull arrowheads from broken ribcages. First teeth fall into your hands. Hair from a pet gone too soon. Lace from a wedding dress, notes off pages of music, stone chunks, paint chips, love letters half finished. You collect it all and shuffle through it as you sit outside your husband's forge. You don't have your stool out here, so you content yourself with standing. You shift your weight onto your other foot when one starts to ache.

You think he would like the nails, the arrowhead, the iron shavings, things he can melt down. He has better metal you're sure, but you don't know what to give your husband when you hardly know him. Does he even like his work? Is the forge something he's relegated to and not something he's passionate about. You love Love, you're the god of it, you find passion exhilarating, inspiring, transmogrifying. Nikto must feel the same about his work.

It's well into the night by the time the forge door swings open, your husband running a scarred hand through matted hair, tugging his mask off to reveal a crisp line of soot across his nose and cheeks. The black mark is matched only by the cacophony of white lines that strike like lightning over his skin, pulling his lips into a snarl and puckering his cheek. He freezes when he sees you. His eye twitches.

There's a large part of you that feels silly offering up your treasures. There's a small part of you that stares wide eyed at your husband, at the spectacular carnage that cuts his handsome features, and wishes he didn't slip his mask back on. So you offer him your metals, your scraps of love with nowhere to go.

"This is trash," He tells you, his voice muffled and distorted by the cylinders on either side of his mask, as he hands you a jewel, "we don't want it."

He turns, with your offering, and shuts the door to the forge behind him again. You can hear the heavy *thunk* of the lock sliding back into place.

Your bed is cold.

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Scenarios in which you find out just how ... ticklish some of your companions are.

Featuring: Wyll, Shadowheart, Gale, Astarion and Lae'zel.

Genres: Humour, fluff, crack.

Slight Tav/Shadowheart and Tav/Astarion. Tav is a menace.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

(Readers, have some mindless fluff. Work has broken my mind and this is all I can write.)

Wyll: The Crab

The moment he'd emerged from his tent that morning, Gale had surveyed the clear skies, the promise of truly spectacular weather, and declared that today would be the day for cooking up a batch of fresh catch.

So it was that you had found yourself at the docks, strolling past hawkers displaying rows and rows of tempting sea harvest. From beneath the canvas awnings, scales and fins of fish gleamed, empty eyes turned skyward, bellies sliced open to display the pure white flesh underneath.

At your side, Wyll paced along, arms swinging slightly, a faint smile on his face as he took in the familiar sights and scents. He had volunteered to accompany you, to help carry the load of produce that you would inevitably purchase.

Rounding the corner, your fingers closed on his arm, tugging excitedly.

"Oh, it's been a while since I've seen deep sea emerald crab! And just look at how perfect they are!"

Piled high in a basin, the shells of the crabs shone with jewel-like lustre. In no time, taking advantage of this rare opportunity, you had paid off the fishmonger and your precious cargo of crab had been safely enclosed and tied up in netting.

"Here."

You handed over the bag to Wyll.

"Hold that. I'll look around for some mussels and sea bream. Can't have a feast without those."

Wyll took the bag, but you noticed his slight reluctance. Cocking an eyebrow, you received his hasty acknowledgement.

"Oh, no problem. You go on ahead."

Strutting further down the walkway, you shot a brief glance back at Wyll. He was holding the bad of crabs at arms length, obviously trying to be subtle.

What was that all about?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sight of some large scallops, of stunning quality, and you promptly forgot about Wyll's strange aversion to crabs.

A half hour later, you were happily making your way back to camp, pack laden with more goods, when you heard a strange noise from Wyll. Turning, you saw that he'd been forced to carry the crabs tucked under an arm, his shoulders occupied with the other baskets.

"Everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah. Everything's fine."

"Then what - "

Before you managed to complete your sentence, Wyll let out an explosive wheeze. He doubled over abruptly and you dropped your pack in concern as you hurried over to him.

"Wyll!"

He raised a hand, palm out, stopping your advance.

"N - Nothing to wo - worry 'bout, I - I assure- "

Another sudden explosive breath, his hands tugging the crabs away from him. It was then that you noticed that the legs of the crustaceans were still moving, in slightly jerky fashion. They weren't alive, some remnant of muscle memory causing their strange dance.

And it seemed that Wyll could not handle the sensation of it along his stomach.

You paused, a slow grin forming.

"Wait, are you - "

"N - Not what you think - "

Your hand came to rest on your chin.

"Oh, but Wyll, I rather think it is."

"C - Can you not - "

"Tell the others that a crab tickled your fancy? If you compensate me enough, I might be tempted."

He gazed up at you, something like defeat in his expression as your smile grew wider.

"H - Horns don't make a devil, it seems."

Shadowheart: Cliffhangers

There was a specific kind of enemy that grated on your nerves more than any other; the flying kind.

Butterflies and brightly feathered birds were all well and good, but summoned mud mephits and their greasy counterparts were deserving of a special place in Avernus as far as you were concerned.

Such were the thoughts cluttering your mind as you clung to the side of a cliff, the path that had wound along its edge now narrowing to little more than a foot-span.

You'd managed to use your arrows as makeshift climbing spikes, the muscles of your shoulders screaming in protest each time you stabbed a steel head into the rock, clinging on for dear life. The flapping and constant harassment of the mephits just made things exponentially worse.

Edging your way forward, you managed to turn your head slightly to see how Shadowheart was faring. She had slipped and lost a shoe a few yards back, the unfortunate item tumbling all the way down to the foam-clad rocks that jutted from the sea below. A terrifying sight indeed.

Just when you thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse, the terrain of the narrow ledge beneath your feet took on a different texture. Glancing down, you paused and let out a groan.

"What? What is it?" came Shadowheart's tight query. It sounded as if her teeth had been ground to dust from all the tension.

"Just watch your footing here. There's some kind of sentient moss. It's... wavy. Looks a bit slippery."

Shadowheart muttered something that was carried away by the wind and the flapping of the mud mephits. You knew your warning had been heard, so you continued edging your way forward. The moss was soft beneath the soles of your boots, giving way and then springing back up as you passed. Fortunately, it wasn't excessively damp.

As you edged forward, lips moving in a chant designed to keep your concentration, you heard a low noise come from Shadowheart, something like a soft squeal of protest. Whipping your head around, you saw that her eyes were squeezed shut, mouth puckered and trembling.

"What's wrong? Shadowheart?"

She didn't reply, but remained stationary, panic now evident on her face. Her whole body gave a spasmodic twitch.

"Hey!"

You grabbed her arm before she slipped, dragging her toward you. As her bare foot passed over the wavy moss she let out a decidedly high pitched shriek, the kind you'd never heard from her before.

"Wait, wait, not the moss!"

"What?"

"It's ... under my feet! It's squiggly and moving!"

There, on the side of the cliff, with the unappealing prospect of tumbling to your death on the rocks below, you were faced with the sudden, disjointed reality that Shadowheart's ticklish feet might kill you both.

Your blank expression jarred something in her. She stared defiantly back, cheeks now steaming scarlet, eyes flashing in embarrassment. It was ... terribly cute.

Her voice emerged in a hiss.

"Don't you dare judge me."

"I'm not - "

"Look, if I don't get off this moss, I'm going to fall. There's no two ways about it."

"Uh, all right. So ... what can we - "

You paused to swat away a mephit, and you could tell that she was bracing herself for what she had to say next.

"Carry me."

"What?"

"On your back. If we maneuver, we can do it. I'll keep the mephits away. You focus on moving."

"Easier said than done!"

"Not when the alternative is dying. Now hurry up, I - I can't stand here much longer."

Somehow, you both managed to move into the required position. It was precarious going. Shadowheart managed to grip the ridges of the cliff, briefly lifting herself while you stooped slightly. Muscles quivering with exertion, you raised her and her knees sunk tightly into your sides. You immediately clutched at the cliff again, breathing ragged.

Slow as your progress was, you finally made it to the end, where the narrow shelf widened and rejoined the top of the cliff path.

Here, you collapsed, Shadowheart springing nimbly from your shoulders. You were both drenched in sweat and she was avoiding your gaze.

"Some climb, huh?"

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. She paused, tone softening considerably.

"And thanks."

"You won't be thanking me when I tell the tale tonight around a roaring campfire."

She groaned and covered her face with her palms.

"What do you want?"

"A massage for my very sore shoulders. And new arrows. These have been blunted beyond recognition."

"Ugh. Done."

Gale: Laughter most hideous

The battle had been short, but vicious. While you'd managed to overpower the cultists rather quickly, their rapid movements and knack for disappearing and reappearing in strategic places had run your team ragged.

One particular cultist seemed to have an entire library of scrolls shoved down his trousers, because the barrage of irritating cantrips had been near constant. Apparently, wearing your opponent down with utter triviality was an accepted strategy.

Gale, of course, had dealt with the majority of your magical defenses, his shields as powerful and reliable as ever. Even he, however, hadn't been able to prevent every attack from striking true. A few negligible energy missiles had made their way through, and he'd been hit by a spell of Hideous Laughter.

While he'd waved away the spell's effects with an almost lazy brush of the hand, you were now noticing odd motions from him as you climbed your way out of the sewers. He twitched every so often, and moved his shoulders up and down with an odd stiffness.

You weren't the only one who noticed. In her usual brusque manner, Lae'zel brought the matter up.

"Has a slime crawled into your robes, wizard?"

"Ah, no. No. Nothing like that. Just a little ... "

He shrugged again, face contorting.

Lae'zel brandished her sword.

"I can beat it out of your clothes if you like."

"That won't be necessary, I assure you."

"Maybe he's picked up an infection," came Astarion's drawl from the rear. "The kind that leaves crusts in your underwear. Hang around in sewers long enough and it's bound to happen."

"No, Astarion, it isn't that either. It's - "

You frowned as Gale cut off, a chagrined set to his mouth.

"Look, it was that scroll. The one of Hideous Laughter. It ... can't affect me in quite the same way as others. I have a natural resistance. But it has ... residual effects. In hard to reach places. Like my back."

You spread your hands.

"Oh, well that's ... something we can deal with right?"

"Well ... if someone would be so kind as to lend me some kind of implement with which to scratch that itch, I - "

Lae'zel waved her sword again.

"No, Lae'zel, not that - "

Astarion came forward and slapped something into your palm, his smile made devilish by the dim lighting of the cistern.

"What say we take care of our wizard?"

You glanced down and saw that he'd handed you one of his gloves, the fingers narrowed to fine points to assist with the precision of his lockpicking. Unanimously, you both turned to Gale and advanced on him.

Now looking rather nervous, your resident wizard raised his hands.

"Now hold on, you two, what are you - "

"Relax, Gale. We're here to help."

Lae'zel snorted.

"This should be interesting."

Astarion grasped Gale's shoulders and spun him around, facing away from you. You fitted Astarion's glove onto your hand and you both turned Gale's robe up, exposing the bare skin of his back above his trousers.

"Uh, I'll have you both know that my skin is rather sensitive there - Oh Gods!"

The last part emerged as a yelp as two hands clad in the designated back scratchers dragged down either side of his spine. Astarion's grin was now positively toothsome, canines glinting in the gloom.

"Why, what delightful sounds you make, Gale. I'd never have known - "

"Stop, stop, hold on - "

You punctuated Gale's protest with a downward motion of your own hand and he jumped slightly.

"As satisfying as this is - "

"I thought your back was unbearably itchy?"

"It is! I'm just ... it's ticklish, you imbeciles!"

Astarion raised a hand to his mouth in mock surprise.

"Ticklish? You? The mighty wizard?"

"Well, being in possession of a normal, functioning body makes me ticklish in certain ... areas, so yes!"

You frowned and considered this key piece of information.

"He has a normal human body, Astarion."

"Oh, that's very clear, from his ... precious little reactions."

"I say we continue with his treatment then."

"I concur, my sweet sewer conquerer."

"Now just a minute - "

Gale was soon rendered helpless beneath the co-ordinated motion of your fingers, laughter escaping him in short bursts, his form squirming and writhing in your grasp. In spite of his struggles, you managed to firmly take on the itch that had lodged itself there, soon dissipating under the rigorous scratching you gave him.

When you'd emerged from the sewers, both you and Astarion looked particularly smug, Gale's disshevelled clothes and hair, along with his embarrassed expression, attracting a few stares from passers-by.

You were fully aware, through all of this, that he could have worked the Weave to push you away at any time.

A thought to store away, it seemed.

Astarion: All pointy ears

"Well, isn't this comfortable."

The sensual purr of Astarion's voice in no way countered the situation you were both currently in. You let out a low growl and he tutted.

"Now, now. No need to be grumpy, sweetheart. After all, wouldn't you rather be tied up with me than any of our other companions?"

And tied up you were. Being the stealthier members of your group, you'd taken it upon yourselves to raid the vault of a local weapons dealer, happening upon a beautifully loaded safe that Astarion had managed to crack.

Right before you'd been caught, that is.

You were not sure how they'd managed to get the jump on you. Astarion's sensitive sense of smell had detected a whiff of sulphur, a mark of demonic infestation. It was entirely possible that the dealer had managed to wrangle some kind of security contract with a contact in Avernus that alerted him whenever the safe was tampered with.

Either way, you'd both been restrained with some expert knots, tied together back to back on a pair of chairs and left to rot until the dealer returned with his 'information specialists'. A coy term for torture and interrogation personnel, no doubt.

With the number of crossbows trained on you, there had been no question of a flashy escape. The room was too brightly lit for Astarion's shadow-based techniques to be of much use.

So, here you both were; languishing in the lower levels of the enemy base, wrists and ankles growing increasingly numb due to the tight knots. Well, at least your circulation was an issue. You weren't sure if vampires suffered from the same setbacks.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you leaned back.

"Any brilliant ideas on how we can get out of this mess?"

"Hmm."

You felt his body shift behind you, the rope creaking as he tested the knots. There was a moment of silence before Astarion spoke again, his tone a touch more plaintive this time.

"Well. They've certainly gone to town with these damnable knots."

"You don't think we can loosen them?"

More silence. Unusual.

"Astarion?"

He let out a put-upon sigh.

"There is a way ... not that I prefer it. But I've done it before when I've been in a ... sticky situation."

"And what's that?"

"I ... gnaw through the ropes."

Despite the situation, your snort of laughter was explosively loud in the small room.

"Gnaw? Like a rabbit?"

"I'd prefer not to be referred to as such, thank you," came his acidic reply.

"Fair enough."

You hastily stifled your amusement before Astarion decided to nibble through his own restraints and leave you behind. Instead, you addressed the more pertinent issue; your backs were tied to the chairs and maneuvering would be very difficult.

"So, how are you going to get your head on level with the rope?"

"I've thought of something. You still have the scabbard of your sword at your belt, correct?"

"Yes?"

"If you manage to hook it into my ropes, and I move from side to side, I can get the ropes to lift upwards and over my head. Then I bite through the ones on my wrist."

"Hmm. That ... might just work. Hold on, let me ... "

Pressing down with your elbow, you angled the empty scabbard still strapped to your waist. The edges were hard steel, not sharp, but using your body weight for leverage, it would be firm enough to enact the scenario that Astarion had envisioned.

"All right, I'm moving the scabbard towards you now."

He shifted again, pressing closer to you on one side. Using your thigh and elbow, muscles twisting awkwardly, you pushed the scabbard slowly towards him. You felt the resistance as it prodded between the ropes that bound him to the chair.

"Almost ... got it ... almost ... ha!"

You gave a soft triumphant shout as it slid home. Astarion murmured in encouragement before beginning his slow movement from side to side, careful not to unbalance either of your chairs.

Bit by bit, the ropes slid down, time passing inexorably as he inched his way through the bindings. You could feel his body slide downwards, his head descending as he lossened the ropes steadily against the firm anchor of the scabbard.

It pulled free a few times and Astarion groaned theatrically and made a jest about the 'tip slipping out', much to your annoyance.

All things considered, your escape attempt was going swimmingly, until it was time for his head to slide through the rope. The cloth upper of the scabbard, now fraying at the edges, caught on his ear.

Astarion let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a giggle.

"Ah! Oh my."

"What? Did you hurt yourself?"

"No. I mean, yes, there's some rope burn, but nothing I haven't experienced before."

"So ... what was that?"

"Nothing."

It certainly wasn't nothing. As you helped him shimmy through the ropes, a series of hiccuping breaths, stifled shrieks and sounds of barely contained hilarity reached your ears.

"Astarion. Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on back there?"

"My apologies, d - darling, it's just ... the threads on y - your scabbard are in my ear and - ah!"

Another bout of hissing and snorts.

"Oh, why, that's ... p - positively ... positively ... ticklish - eeeh!"

Gods, you were going to absolutely murder this unhinged man.

Gritting your teeth, you held firm as he finally made his way out, fangs immediately going to work on the ropes that bound his wrists. Once you were both free, you slowly made your way from the bowels of the enemy hideout, Astarion's lockpicking skills once again proving useful.

He was skilled, you'd give him that, even with all of his ... unique foibles.

With his pick in the final lock, he shot you a sly glance.

"Well? I don't see you mentioning my little weakness."

The delicate point of one of his ears twitched mockingly. You raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want me to mention it?"

"Oh, you're no fun."

He leaned towards you, a slow, seductive smile curling his lips, hands still busy with the lock even though his eyes weren't.

Show off.

"Go on, tweak my ear. I know you want to."

"Astarion, now isn't the time for - "

"Just do it. For luck."

"Oh, for the love of - "

Reaching up, you pinched his lobe delicately. He let out a noise that wouldn't have sounded out of place in an erotic theatre production. From nearby, you heard the shift of boots on a wooden floor. One of the dealer's gang called out.

"Oi, did you hear that?"

You shook Astarion wildly.

"Get us the fuck out of here you - "

The final tumbler of the lock clicked into place and you both fled into the streets, the sound of Astarion's low cackle ghosting through the evening air.

Lae'zel: Gith psionics

Lae'zel's eyes shone in the gloom, one hand raised: a signal. In the forest clearing before you, your quarry had slowed, pausing to scent the air.

A large deer, enough to feed the camp for a week.

There was a bounty of smaller game within these woods, but Lae'zel had insisted on finding the best possible prey.

Raising your bow at her signal, you let fly an arrow. It struck true, taking the animal in the neck. The deer went down and Lae'zel smirked.

"Good strike."

"Indeed, if I may say so myself."

You straightened and pulled your pack from your shoulders, ready to prepare for carrying the deer back to camp. Voices from further within the trees interrupted you, Lae'zel instantly on high alert.

Three individuals appeared in the clearing, each carrying a rather lethal-looking bow and hunting knives. They stopped in a ring around the dead deer, their posture arrogant and territorial. The leader, a half elf with dark hair cut short, raised her chin in challenge.

"What's this? You trying to make off with our kill?"

Lae'zel growled and you paused, assessing the situation rapidly.

Oh, you knew full well what this was. Closer to larger settlements, hunting rackets such as this one were bound to spring up. They appeared as if by magic whenever someone else got lucky, intimidating other hunters into leaving their choice kills behind.

Adopting a subservient smile, you stepped forward, hands raised and empty as a show of non-aggression. They did not lower their guard, but you did notice that their eyes were fixed on Lae'zel more than you. She obviously registered as the larger threat. You cleared your throat.

"Now, there's no need for unpleasantness. That's a big deer. We can always share - "

"The kill goes to us. We took it down. That's my arrow."

The half-elf's tone was snappish, brooking no argument. You shrunk inward at her rebuke.

"But, please, if we could just - "

In the moment she took her eyes from you, no longer considering you any danger, you moved. Your arrow was nocked and released faster than any of them had a chance to react, lodging deep in her neck.

There was a brief moment where the other two remained frozen, even as their leader sank to her knees, crimson bubbling from her torn throat. In that instant, Lae'zel was among them, sword flashing once, twice.

They dropped like flies.

Lowering your bow, you blew out a breath.

"Well. Looks like their temporary reign in these woods is over."

Lae'zel snorted.

"And good riddance. How pathetic."

"Indeed - oh! Look!"

Scrambling forward, you examined the leather armour the half-elf leader was wearing.

"Gods, they don't make hunting gear like this anymore. Probably stolen. I'm taking this. This is amazing quality."

Your companion shrugged, cleaning her blade.

"The spoils of war go to the victor. You've won it fair and square."

Now, however, you were faced with a different dilemma. The weight of the deer would be difficult to bear along with the dead bandit's armour. You asked Lae'zel if she could wear the armour over her own, temporarily, while you both carried the deer back to camp. She agreed, if rather tersely.

The deer strung up on a sturdy branch you'd whittled for the purpose, carried between your shoulders, you made the trek back through the trees.

It was then that you noticed Lae'zel's odd movements. The leather armour she wore over hers was comprised of a number of interconnected strips, some of which formed a wavy collar. This seemed to bring her some kind of discomfort, because she kept shifting and tugging at the armour, cursing softly under her breath.

"Lae'zel? Is everything all right?"

"Of course."

She brushed off your queries with her customary shortness, but you could see how uncomfortable she was. An idea, half-formed, sprung into your mind.

Surely ... surely she wasn't-

Time to test a hypothesis, so to speak.

You 'accidentally' stumbled, brushing your hand over the collar. Lae'zel gave a start of surprise, before glaring over her shoulder at you.

"Watch it."

Well now. Wasn't this interesting.

It seemed that the back of Lae'zel's neck was particularly sensitive. You couldn't help but wonder just how much sensitivity was contained in that area. Perhaps more testing was required.

It would certainly be useful to know for your in-camp sparring sessions which inevitably ended with you bent over Lae'zel's knee, or with your face in the dirt.

Teasing some of the feathered fletching from one of your arrows, you raised it delicately, touch as light as an evening breeze. You brought it slowly towards the targeted zone, right beneath where her braids shifted and parted, holding your breath.

As soon as the feather made contact, the world seemed to shift around you. The deer on your shoulder was suddenly a dead weight, dragging you to the ground, you feet slipping and sliding for purchase before you went down. Raising yourself on your elbows, you looked around, bewildered.

Lae'zel had ... disappeared.

"Lae'zel?" you shouted.

What on earth?

Standing, you brushed mud from your knees. She was simply ... gone. There was no sign of her anywhere.

Turning frantically on the spot, a noise in the foliage above caught your attention. Head snapping up, you beheld quite the sight.

In the highest branches of the tree beside you, Lae'zel crouched, furiously swatting at her neck. It seemed that your experiment had worked beyond your wildest dreams. The ticklish sensation against her neck had caused her gith psionics to kick in.

Clearing your throat, you adopted a confused stance.

"What on earth are you doing up there?"

She stopped her movements abruptly, the realisation of what she'd done reflected in the widening of her eyes. Her gaze flicked between her hand and you, obviously choosing her words carefully.

"Hmm. I was just ... I heard something up ahead. Possibly more ... bandits. Yes. I came up here to ... check the area."

You waved exasperatedly at the deer.

"Well, fine, but maybe give me a warning next time?"

She slid down and dropped back to the ground, not entirely meeting your querying gaze. Her mouth pulled into a sour line.

"Hmph. Well, maybe get stronger and you won't buckle under the weight of one animal."

Needless to say, you refrained from any further 'experimentation' on the way back to camp. Lae'zel insisted that you wore the armour for the latter part of the journey.

Still in the rear, you allowed your devious grin to re-appear. Sparring sessions would be much more satisfying from here on out.