#the story is coming along great and as you can see in the bar above

[tesnuzzik]

Sharing a WIP for a picture I've been working on while rewriting the comic :)

[thechaoticdruid]

|This Bites| (9)

Astarion x Chubby! F!MC

Plot: Something crazy happens when Winnie and Astarion try to set up an arrangement for Astarion's dietary needs.

Content/Warnings: Sexual humor

Chapter 8: Woot woot!

Chapter 9: Right here!

Chapter 10: Hopefully sooner this time ;-;

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Oh so you're the one Becca mentioned? Come in then, and be quick. I don't want anyone catching on to my business.” The blonde haired boy quickly ushered them inside. Becca and Winnie followed him in. The inside of his house was absolutely covered from head to toe in extravagant gothic decor. He even had what looked like a stone gargoyle head above his fireplace. The curtains were long and thick, keeping any trace of sunlight out. In front of the fireplace was an elegant looking armchair along with a coffee table that a light grey laptop sat upon. Off to the side on another  table sat against the wall, decorated with several jars of green liquid and an assortment of strange creature-like objects (Winnie was pretty sure one was a cat skull). Jimmy was a short and petite young man who appeared to be about 25 years old. He spoke with a slight lisp, likely caused by the false fangs he wore in his mouth. 

“So…about the blood…It's uh for this vampire bat I've been taking care of.” Winnie began.

“And you need human blood for your bat?” Jimmy raised an eyebrow. 

“He's uh..very…….” Winnie stuttered a bit, getting nervous as she scrambled to come up with a story.

“Her bat is a very rare breed. One that primarily feeds on the blood of primates. But because there are no chimpanzees running around the neighborhood you can see our issue.” Becca stepped in, quickly trying to save Winnie from any kind of suspicion.

“I can't just give out handouts. If I'm going to let you take some of my supply I'll need payment.” Jimmy went on to sit on the couch as he spoke. 

“Not only do I go through great lengths to secure this blood, but it is vital that I keep some on my person at all times. Otherwise it could lead to dire consequences.” 

Winnie was about to speak when she felt something crawl down her back.

“Dire consequences you say?”Astarion's mocking tone chimed in from behind them.  ��Well, we best be careful how much we take then.” 

“Wait, who are you and where did you come from?” Jimmy's blue eyes widened in surprise as a tall curly haired man appeared.

“Oh I've been behind Winnie this entire time! I'm surprised you didn't notice me sooner.” Astarion chuckled, giving the blonde a forced grin.

“Star!-” Winnie gasped in surprise as she noticed Astarion had hopped out of her coat and shifted behind her. Jimmy gave her a questioning look.

 “Star is his name.” Winnie quickly continued.

“I am Winnie's lover.” Astarion added with smugness.

“He's my boyfriend. My annoying and eccentric boyfriend…” Winnie huffed and gave the elf a slight side eye.

"Rude!" Astarion scoffed and crossed his arms.

All she wanted to do was get in, get the blood and go home but no he had to make a scene like he always does.

“Anyway I really need some blood. How much do you want for it?” The brunette haired continued, trying to divert attention away from Astarion.

“200 dollars a pint.” Jimmy crossed his arms. 

“You can't be serious! I need much more than that.” Winnie snapped.

“This stuff isn't easy to come by!” The blonde hissed almost literally as he barred the very clearly fake fangs in his mouth.  Astarion rolled his eyes with a look of disgust as he stood behind Winnie. The vampire seemed to mutter something under his breath as he gazed over at the strange young man.

“Come on Jimmy Winnie really needs this. And 200 dollars for a glass of blood is insane.” Becca insisted, taking a step towards the short male before suddenly a door opened. 

“Jimmy, what’s going on in here?” A tall dark haired male walked in. His eyes were an icy blue and his skin was like ivory pearls. In Winnie’s mind he was almost as pretty as Astarion. Almost. The dark haired male had a softer, more slim physique. 

“Just some business to take care of Val.”Jimmy said, trying to shoot the other male away.

“Valentin!” Becca spoke up as the two of them locked eyes. “Maybe you can talk some sense into Jim. He's trying to charge my friend 200 bucks for a pint of his stash.”

“Seriously Jimmy. You don't even need this crap.” The dark haired male rolled his eyes.

“I DO! If I don't I'll lose control!” Jimmy argued.

“I'll only need about maybe a few liters a month.” Winnie insisted before suddenly Astarion stepped in front of her.

“Now darling, clearly our friend here needs the blood far more than we do. We'll just have to go and get some from the hospital. Maybe let them know to send extra blood his way to help with his little condition.” Astarion looked over at Winnie and then at Jimmy with a sly smirk.

“You're going to talk to them?! Wait! We can work something out!” Jimmy began to sputter. “I'll give y'all half a gallon a month. For 50-” 

“Jimmy…” Valentin growled at him.

“Fine 30 dollars. Deal?” 

“That sounds good to me.” Winnie nodded with a smile before taking out her wallet and pulling out the amount of cash she needed. Jimmy then begrudgingly went to fetch the half gallon he owed them while Val sat on the couch with his laptop and began to start a game, apologizing for Jimmy's behavior in between starting his laptop.

“Oh right.” Becca suddenly looked at Winnie. 

“Wyn, this is Valentin. He's Jimmy's roommate. The three of us went to school together.” The red head explained with a sweet smile.  “Val, this is Winnie. She's my coworker.” 

“A pleasure.” Valentin gives Winnie a ghost of a smile, his icy blue eyes sending chills down her spine. Astarion gives Winnie a slight smirk before placing his hand on the small of her back. 

“Ah….g-good to meet you.” Winnie replied shyly with a small wave before she gazed over at Valentin’s laptop. Winnie’s eyes widened as she noticed the black haired male was playing BG3.

Valentin hummed quietly as he clicked through his mod list.  One of the files immediately caught Winnie’s attention. It was a familiar looking cheat mod. 

“Where did you get that mod?” She asked, her body shaking in fear. If that mod was what she thought it was they might end up having a hell of a time dealing with whatever comes out of it.

“Oh this? I found it on Nexus a while back. Haven't had time to play since then because my work schedule is hell.” Valentin said as he clicked on the button to continue his save.  His computer began to blink suddenly before suddenly turning off. Then a spark of electricity shot out of the laptop through the charge cable and into the wall before suddenly the lights flickered on and off. 

“Hells…” Astarion gasped slightly before looking towards the front door and sniffing. “It can't be…”

“Star, is everything okay?” Winnie asked with a face full of concern before suddenly the vampire began to leave the house, bolting out the door.

“Hey!” Winnie called after him before glancing back at Becca. 

“You go after him. I'll make sure everything here is taken care of.” Becca stated. 

“Sorry.” Winnie said before running out the door. Luckily for Astarion the sun had set on their way to Jimmy's house.  It took a few minutes for Winnie to catch up to him and by the time she did she was panting hard.

“Ast-Astarion, what the h-hell?” She panted out as she looked over at the white haired elf. Astarion glanced back at Winnie.

“Winnie, be careful. I'm not sure what's going on, but I think I-” A beam of electricity zipped through the power lines before bursting out into a ball of light and ricocheted off a nearby building.  Eventually it stopped right above the two of them and began to form a swirling vortex. Before Winnie could even think something came hurtling out of the vortex and landed right on top of her, crushing her against the dirt below.  Something large and squishy was pressing down on her face, making it a bit hard to breathe.   Whatever had fallen on her was really warm. A couple beads of sweat had even begun to drip down her face.

“GET OFF OF HER YOU OAF!” Astarion snarled out, fangs barred as he shoved whatever had fallen on Winnie off. The young woman was dazed. It took her a few moments to realize she'd just been sat on before she then got to her feet with a bright red face

'Well…. I'm pretty sure I just lived through someone's wet dream…'

Astarion quickly moved closer to Winnie, his hands hovering over her shoulders. 

“Ah fuck. Sorry bout that.” A familiar female voice spoke as Winnie regained her composure. Standing in front of the two of them was a nearly seven foot tall tiefling they both knew rather well. Karlach Cliffgate.  The tiefling barbarian companion from Baldur's Gate and one of Astarion's friends.

“You better be sorry! You could have killed my Winnie!” Astarion hissed, showing  his fangs like a guard dog.

“Astarion, it's fine.” Winnie grasped one of his hands gently, receiving a gentle but firm squeeze in return. 

“The hells it is! She could have crushed your skull!” Astarion placed a hand on Winnie’s head, gently moving a lock of hair out of her face before cupping her cheek. 

“I'm fine Astarion.” Winnie said a little more sternly as she looked him in the eyes. Astarion pouted slightly with a frustrated sigh. “Besides, it's Karlach! Your friend! She's actually here!” 

“Fangs! You're here! Gods am I glad to see you! Everyone has gone missing and…Ah shit where in the hells are we?” The tall mountain of a woman looked around in confusion.

“We have a lot to explain, but right now it's probably best if we get you somewhere…” Winnie trailed off as she noticed her friend catching up to them.

“Wyn, everything is set up with Jimmy. Val even agreed to deliver the blood-” Becca stopped in her tracks as she suddenly spotted their new companion. The redhead clutched the container of blood she was holding tightly as the world around her seemed to slow down. 

“B-Big….W-Woman….” Becca stuttered out as her face flushed dark red, heart pounding at ninety miles per hour. Her eyes were glued to Karlach as soon as she came into view. 

“Uh….Is she okay?” Karlach asked with a dumbfounded expression. 

“Yeah she's just a bit surprised I think.” Winnie replied, rubbing her neck nervously. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Sorry for the wait! Honestly my mental health lately has been meh... And inspiration just hasn't been coming to me as much as it did last year. I Will continue This Bites since I actually know how I want it to end but updates may be shorter or more spread out. I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! Hopefully I'll get another project out before Christmas 🤞🤞

~Druid

@seradyn , @plimsim , @astarioffsimpmain , @marcynomercy , @iamsexytrash , @gaymistakeboi , @divineknightmare , @tinyfreakgirl , @misscrissfemmefatal, @gianchan-de @jaksfanficsaver , @the-disaster-in-waiting , @hp-art-studio , @im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @dajeong , @iamnotokei , @the-pale-elfs-love , @geminipridekitty , @just-a-refrigerator , @vixstarria , @ellaprime7, @beewilko

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter Eleven

chapter warnings: NSFW!! half of this chapter is basically just smut lmao

apologies for the short chapter! the next few are pretty long so that'll make up for it :) once again a smut warning comes with a warning that i simply can't reread my own smut haha, so please ignore any mistakes!! happy monday :)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You were left utterly speechless, you didn’t have anything to say to that and before you even had time to think of something to say back, he had taken his drinks and left. As much as you wanted to play along with whatever game he's playing, you couldn't deny that you felt guilty. You were hurting, and so was he, but you didn't know what to do to fix it.

As you walked back with all the drinks, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as Caitlin laughed at something Vinny said, acting like it was the funniest thing in the world. 

“After we finish our drinks,” you whisper to Noah as you sit back down beside him, “Why don’t we go back to the hotel? I’ll say I feel tired and you could say you’ve got a call you need to take…”

“They’ll still be suspicious,” he says, “Let's just wait until we’re done here, okay? We've got nothing else on for the rest of the day, it'll be just you and me. All night.” He smiles, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh, sending shivers through your body, but you nod your head. 

“It’s Bryan’s turn!” Nicholas cheered, turning his camera on to Bryan, "So far Noah's in the lead, Chris is pretty close and so is y/n! It's gonna be a close one."

“I don’t know why I’m still playing, I’ve already lost. You guys are all 50 points above me!” Bryan chuckled as he got up.

"C'mon, Bry, it's all just for fun." You smiled, and he shook his head as he went up to bowl.

In the end, you and Chris had the most points, and you only needed to score higher than 7 to beat him. He jokingly gave you a sly look as you got up, taking your turn. 

As you rolled the ball, you hit 5 pins in the left corner. You knew you had this in the bag! You’d easily beat Chris, there was no doubt. 

You rolled the second ball, and hit 4, leaving one in the middle, yet winning the game! 

You turned around, smiling as the guys cheered for you, all except Vin who was talking to Caitlin. You walked back to your seat, grabbing your bag and your phone, finishing your drink and grabbing Noah by the hand to pull him up. 

“My room or yours?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked up at him. 

“It’s gotta be yours, doll. I’m sharing with Matt tonight.” He whispered.

“Cool, let him know you’re coming to my room to look at the pictures I took, to see if any of them are official page worthy.” You smiled, “I’ll text you my room number.”

As you began to walk off after saying your goodbyes to the guys, who were staying behind for one more drink, you accidently bump into Caitlin as she digs through her bag for something.

"Sorry!" You gasps, and you smile, shaking your head.

"Don't worry about it," you notice how Vinny was at the bar with a couple of the guys, so you took the slither of time you've got to talk to her, "So how do you know Vin?"

"He followed me on instagram a few years ago, he'd always like my posts and reply to my stories. We try to meet up whenever we can- it's nothing like that though, we're just friends... Unless we're drunk in his hotel room." She giggles, and you smile and nod your head.

"Well, it's been great to meet you!" You say as you take a deep breath. You weren't jealous, why would you be jealous? She's a beautiful girl, he's a beautiful guy, of course they're going to get up to all sorts of things when they're alone.

So why were you so mad that they had a history, or that he invited her along today?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Fuck,” Noah groaned as you grabbed a handful of his tshirt, “I never thought this moment would come, where I’d have you all to myself.” 

You grinned against the skin of his neck, where you were peppering kisses before you felt the back of your legs hit the bed. You wiggled your way up, your head now against the pillows as Noah hovered over you, the most devilish look on your face. 

“You beat all our asses out there, didn’t you, beautiful?” He slips his hand under the sweater you were wearing, feeling your bare skin beneath his fingertips, “I don’t know whether to reward you for doing so well, or teach you a lesson for being so cocky earlier.” 

When you thought his hand would travel higher towards your bra, he surprised you, his hand moved lower, and you felt it slip under your skirt, under the hip of your underwear and rested it there, his thumb tracing over your pubic bone. 

“But you’ve been working so hard for us, I think it’s only fair that I say thank you.” He added, before asking permission to take your panties off. 

He moved his way down your body, your sweater now pushed up, exposing your tummy where he kissed a trail down to your thighs, yet he insisted your skirt stayed on. You knew what you were doing when you got dressed this morning, part of you wore it to tease him, and although you wouldn’t let yourself admit it, part of you wore it to tease Vinny too. 

You felt bad for him, knowing how you let him down, but you suddenly stopped thinking about Vin when you felt Noah’s tongue on your clit, kissing, licking, nipping and sucking as you threw your head back, strings of moans leaving your lips as you melted into the pleasure, letting it consume you. 

“So fucking gorgeous, you know that?” You heard him say. 

As his mouth worked on you, his hand moved its way to where you needed him. He teased your hole with his thumb, slipping the tip in before pulling back out, leaving you clenching around nothing as he smirked against your clit. 

“Noah, please,” you begged, breathlessly, “I need you, stop teasing.” 

“I know, baby, look how wet you are,” he said, pushing himself up slightly as he ran his finger teasingly slow through your folds, collecting the slickness before he took his finger into his mouth, “Bet it’s been a while since you’ve been fucked, hasn’t it? Poor thing.” He pouted before he dove back in. 

“Oh my g-” You slapped one hand over your mouth as the other tugged on his hair, you swore you felt him groan into your pussy as he brought his hand back up, his pointer finger slipping into you with ease, followed by his middle finger. "Fuck!"

His fingers fucked into you slowly, too slowly, but he knew how good it was making you feel and the noises you made as you were begging for more was music to his ears. He takes your thighs and places them over his shoulders as he sucks on your clit, his fingers curling into you, rubbing the spot you could never reach alone. He needed to see you come undone for him, he needed to watch your break in his hands 

He pulls his face back to kiss your thighs, the rough pad of his thumb now stroking circles over your clit, the slight stubble on his chin tickling you as sinks his teeth into your soft flesh, losing himself in the pleasure he was giving you. 

“I’m so close,” you tell him, “I’m gonna-”

“Go on, baby,” he tells you between kisses to your clit as , “Need to see how pretty you look when you cum, my pretty girl.” He mumbled into your flesh, as you felt your thighs tremble around him. 

It didn’t take long for you to finish, your walls clamping down around Noah’s fingers as he moaned into your skin. Even after your orgasm hit, he didn’t move, he remained between your thighs until you had to force him off, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. When he finally came up, he roughly grabbed your cheek in his hand, crashing his lips into yours as he moved up, kneeling between your thighs, you could finally feel how hard he was, and you were almost certain he had gone commando today. 

“Noah…” You panted, your forehead slightly damp with sweat as he rested his against it, “Fuck me.”

“Anything you want, angel.” He smirked, and you felt his hands reach for the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head, his lips parting at the fact you weren’t wearing a bra. As he took one of your boobs into his hand, you worked on undressing him. 

“It’s not fair that you’ve still got all your clothes on.” You tell him as his fingers tease your nipple. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He says, slowly pulling back as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his fully tattooed chest, then pulling a condom out of his pocket before pushing his joggers down- and you were right, he wasn’t wearing any boxers. “That better?” He asked, leaning back down to kiss you again. 

As you kissed, you felt his hips twitching involuntarily, his cock rubbing against your heat as you desperately tried to get more from him. 

“Noah, please…” You begged, “please fuck me, I need to feel you…”

"You're so pretty when you're begging, baby." He teases. “Are you sure?” He was watching how frustrated and flustered you were as you screwed your eyes shut and tried rocking your hips, needing more. 

“Yes!” You whined, and he pulled back, you guessed to roll the condom on, and with no warning, you felt the head of his cock nudge against your walls as inch by inch he filled you up. You felt as tears fill your eyes, the pleasure from his cock filling you so perfectly mixed with the dull ache from the stretch and the pain of him remaining so still inside you. 

He slowly began to move, his hand holding you down by your waist as the other pulled your legs to wrap around him, letting him fuck deeper into you as you cursed his name, your nails digging into his back. 

After a while in this position, Noah flipped you over onto your stomach, and he reached down to position you with your ass up for him whilst your face was buried in the pillows. He continued to fuck you like this until you came for the second time, muttering incoherent nonsense as your second orgasm took over you, but judging by the look in Noah’s eyes, he still wasn’t done.

He had you in every position, on every surface of your hotel room. From the bed to the desk in the corner, to the bathroom sink where he made you watch as you fell apart for him. You lost count of how many times you came, but just when you thought he was done, you were flipped over or lied down as he drove back into you, or got on knees to clean you up.

Hours had passed at this point, and the two of you were finally lying together on the bed, your limbs sore and your heart beating erratically as his fingers danced over the skin of your arm, holding you close with your head resting on his chest.

There were moments during your night together where you were using sex to release your built up frustration towards Vinny, knowing how much he would hate to know what you and Noah were up to, but you assumed he would be doing the same with Caitlin later so you assumed he wouldn't care.

"You okay?" Noah asked, gently twirling a piece of your hair before tucking it behind your ear.

"Yeah," you smile, tracing the outline of his stomach tattoo with your finger, trailing to just above his belly button, "I can't believe we just did that."

"I don't think I've ever lasted so long." He chuckled.

"Don't you go to the gym now? Your stamina would've improved." You point out, and he smirks.

"Yeah, I've been seeing the way you stare at me," he rubs his hand up and down his arm, "Don't think I don't notice, angel."

"Can you blame me?" You tilt your head to look up at him, "The last time I saw you, it looked like it would take one strong gust of wind to blow you over- and I mean that in the nicest way possible, that's literally my type- and now you look like you could bench press me?"

"So you're saying I'm your type?" He raised an eyebrow, a smug look across his face as you sat yourself up.

"No!" You tried to hide your smile.

"So what is your type?" He asked, his eyes meeting yours as he awaited your answer, but this only caused you to blush.

"I don't often like someone for their looks, it's always their personality. Someone funny, a bit of a nerd, has the same music taste as me, who stands for the right things... Someone who doesn't care about what other people think of them. That's what I find attractive."

"Y'know you basically just described me, y/n." He smirked.

And Vinny.

"Shut up!" You smiled, "So what's your type?"

He thought for a moment, and you thought he was going to give you an honest answer, but then he started describing you. Your height, your hair colour, your body shape, your eye colour, before you interrupted.

"Noah, I'm being serious!"

"You think I'm lying? What have we been doing for the past three hours, princess?"

"You... Really like me?"

"You haven't noticed?"

"Oh, Noah." You frowned, and he reached out to pull you back onto his chest.

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

team vinny we might not be up right now but trust me everything's gonna change in the next chapter <3

@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah

[remembertheplunge]

Sweetwater's

March 4, 1988.  Friday

My God, whadda day. I never did make it to Sacramento. Instead, a drink turned LONG.

I hankered for a man. Not really the prettiest man, but, a man. Sam.  Who thumped me along side the head with a bible and then said—maybe—and “can we just be friends?” I said “yea”. Frankly, oddly, I’d prefer it—I’ll keep the LUST in my heart. I came out to Sam  at Sweetwaters. DAs were every where.It was a good bye party for one of them. RISK—SMILE.

Sam  said “gay is bad”. I said “Don’t try to save me.”

He attacked from many angles.

I emerge content and happy.

If the DAs or Sam  know or tell, (that I’m gay) what care I? Great night and life.

End of entry

Margin note to above:

June 15, 1990

The man at the Town House Bar asked  me “Are you happy with Life?” “Yes” I said, really feeling “yes”.

He said “I am, too.” really feeling “too." 

End of margin note

Notes 9/13/2024:

From what I recall about Sam (not his real name), he was very religious. Apparently he was taught in his church that gay was evil. And so, if I am remembering correctly, Sam told me that my being gay was wrong and evil on more than one occasion. This was despite the fact that I believe he, himself was gay. I haven’t heard from or of Sam  for decades now.

The Town House Bar was a gay bar in Sacramento, California. What the man at the Town House was asking me was “Are you happy being an out gay man?”

The DAs were Deputy District Attorneys. I was a Deputy Public Defender in 1988, so I would have known and worked closely with most or all of the DA’s in attendance.

RJ Sweetwaters  restaurant opened in the mid 1980’s in Modesto, California on 9th street. It closed in 2002 and the building  later burned down. It’s just a gravel lot now. 

I drive by that lot often on my way in and out of town and still see my  1986 good bye party taking place there. I was leaving the Public Defender’s office after working there two years.  Judges, DAs and Public Defenders came to the party. The office gave me a brief case as a good bye present which I still have.

I returned to the Public Defender's office in 1987, only to be fired in 1997 largely because on my return I had come out as gay and let people know  that I was working with and giving support to men living and dying wit AIDS. In 1997, there was no good bye party. No brief case good bye gift. . Just a boot out of the door. And, an unending story to tell. 

[lilac-hecox]

Is it too early to ask for an ianthony mistletoe story 😭

For the sake of transparency I got this ask in October so it was too early, but now it is not!

Merry Christmas, Smoshblr!

Ian/Anthony - Ianthony - Mistletoe

--

Despite being the owners of Smosh, Ian and Anthony had very little to do with the set-up for the holiday company party. They approved ideas, of course, approved expenses, Anthony insisted on a photobooth, but beyond that, they trusted the staff around them to pull off a great party.

Mostly, the Smosh crew did just that. The venue was lively and filled with games and the photo booth Anthony wanted. There were gift bags being given away, an open bar, good food, and it made Ian proud to stand at the front of the room and see all his friends and employees having fun and thriving.

Anthony slides up to Ian’s side and bumps his shoulder against Ian’s gently.

“Pretty cool party, huh?”

Ian looks at Anthony and gives him a smile. It’s hard not to. Sometimes Ian still feels like pinching himself to make sure this is all real, that Anthony is back, and they own Smosh, and somewhere along the lines of their lives, fate has righted the way things were always meant to be. Anthony’s eyes are soft and warm and tell Ian that he’s feeling exactly the same thing right now.

“Really cool. The crew did a great job.”

“They did, so stop standing against the wall and come and have a shot with me,” Anthony says, laying his hand on Ian’s arm.

Before either of them can make it to the bar, Erin and Heidi are in front of them. Erin has a polaroid camera in her hands, and she grins at them in a way that just screams trouble.

“Okay, Smosh Dads we got you,” Erin says plainly, but she’s smirking at them.

“Got us?” Anthony asks with a nervous giggle.

Erin doesn’t say anything, but she points upwards to the ceiling. There tacked above the spot where Ian and Anthony happen to be standing is a sprig of mistletoe.

“Haven’t we as a society moved passed the concept of mistletoe?” Ian asks.

“Yeah, pretty toxic behavior, Erin,” Anthony teases.

“Shut up, it’s just for fun. We have a ‘Kiss Board’ near the bathrooms with all the kisses we’ve caught,” Erin says. She lifts the camera, “So…”

“I am not kissing Ian,” Anthony says.

“It wouldn’t be the first time!” Erin argues.

“Wait,” Ian says, “you’re making other people kiss?”

Erin rolls her eyes and Heidi hands over a stack of polaroids she had been carrying, giving them to Erin.

“Well, no, see that would be problematic. We’re offering the chance, the potential to kiss, you know, with a tiny bit of peer pressure and loosening the definition for what a ‘kiss’ means,” Erin says.

“Just for tonight,” Heidi adds. Erin nods in agreement.

One of the pictures on top is Amanda planting a huge and wet kiss on Angela’s cheek. Another shows Chanse kissing Shayne on his forehead.

“Of course, we need our dads to kiss. It’s Christmas after all.”

“Christmas is still like a week away,” Ian argues.

Erin opens her mouth, but then Heidi is nudging her with her elbow to Erin’s side.

“Tommy and Spencer are under the mistletoe over there!”

Erin whips around and the two make a beeline for the men. Anthony watches, shaking his head. He glances at Ian and Ian doesn’t think it’s in his imagination that Anthony’s cheeks are a soft pink.

“So, let’s just not mention this whole kiss board thing to HR, what do you say?” Anthony says.

Ian nods, “Agreed. How about that drink now?”

Anthony nods and then he and Ian move towards the bar, but Ian can’t help but watch from a distance as Erin snaps a picture of Tommy and Spencer. Tommy’s arms are wrapped loosely around Spencer’s waist because Tommy is pleasantly tipsy and Spencer is giggling, and Erin is laughing and shouting about how they’re supposed to be kissing and not just posing together.

He sees the moment that Spencer sticks out his lips exaggeratedly and then Tommy rolls his eyes and quickly pecks Spencer on the lips as Erin snaps a picture of them, and then the whole group breaks into giggles.

Anthony orders them two shots of tequila from the bar and the bartender is quick, bringing them to the counter with a nod. Anthony thanks the man and slips a folded bill into his tip jar with a nod before he picks up his drink, Ian doing the same.

The two of them clink their glasses together in a ‘cheers’ before sipping at the way too strong shot.

“Oof,” Ian says.

Anthony makes a face. “Yeah, I don’t remember the last time I’ve drunk tequila.”

They finish their shots and Ian is only vaguely aware that in their position near the bar, there is no mistletoe to be found. For some reason, he has a strange mix of both relief and disappointment forming in his stomach.

“Okay,” Anthony says with a bright grin, “I have one more best friend request.”

“Let’s hear it,” Ian says.

“I want to take a picture with you in the photo booth.”

Ian grins, his face and stomach feeling warm already from the shot.

“Alright, that’s fair.”

Then Anthony tugs Ian excitedly over towards the photo booth set up near the display of different arcade games. Ian can see a group of cast and crew members gathered around the punching machine, hollering, and cheering for one another.

Anthony pulls back the black velvet curtain of the photo booth, letting Ian slip inside the narrow space of the booth first with Anthony following. They sit together side by side, thighs and elbows touching as Anthony sorts through the options on the machine.

“We don’t need anything fancy,” Anthony says.

Ian smiles and then he glances upwards and snorts, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Anthony says, a laugh already forming on his face.

Ian points upwards and then Anthony looks up and they both see the sprig of mistletoe that someone – mostly likely Erin and Heidi – taped to the ceiling of the booth.

Anthony laughs, his face reddening in the process.

“Well, thank god no one is in here to hold us accountable for that, huh?”

Ian lets out a giggle and nods, his own face getting red. “Yeah, man.”

“Okay, so poses. Why don’t we do one normal one and then the rest can be stupid?” Anthony suggests.

Ian nods. “Sounds good to me.”

Anthony presses the button on the machine and the screen shifts to show the two of them along with a timer counting down from 10. Anthony poses cutely next to Ian’s face and Ian shifts between a legitimate smile and a blank faced stare.

“Ian! This is our normal one,” Anthony says with a laugh.

“This is my normal face,” Ian says blankly, which only makes Anthony laugh.

Anthony manages to school his expression back into the cute pose as the timer hits 0 and it snaps a picture of the two of them. The next one they both pull a stupid face and there is something fun and freeing about doing this with Anthony, doing this for the sake of them, for their friendship, because they want to be together and have a memento from this night and moment together.

“This one, what if it looks like you’re sucking my dick?” Anthony says with a laugh.

“What?” Ian giggles, “fuck you, you suck my dick.”

“Oh, come on, Ian. It’ll be really funny.”

The timer ticks down and Ian rolls his eyes, but then he leans just enough and opens his mouth to give the implication that he might be sucking Anthony’s dick in the photo booth.

Anthony is laughing hard enough to wheeze, and the machine is urging them to prepare for the last photo of their set. Ian looks at his best friend, the curls that hang in his face, his cheeks red, how happy he is and how happy Ian feels because they are together again.

“Anthony,” Ian says.

“Yeah?” Anthony asks, wiping his eyes.

“Maybe we should do our last one as a…kiss or something?”

“What?” Anthony says, “you’re fucking with me.”

Ian shrugs, his heart speeding up. What is he doing? He shrugs.

“I mean, the mistletoe is in here after all.”

Anthony looks at him seriously, blinking, before his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip.

“You want to?”

Ian shrugs again, but inside, he knows he does.

“Doesn’t have to be for the kiss board. It can just be for us.”

A fond smile spreads across Anthony’s face. He leans forward and presses the glowing button to indicate that the two of them are ready for the final photo in their set.

The timer begins to countdown from 10.            

Anthony turns so he’s facing Ian. Their eyes are meeting, and Ian can’t bring himself to look away. Anthony leans in just a little and he cups Ian’s cheek gently and soft. Ian has no idea what the timer is on, but he leans in, meets Anthony half-way in the small space, and presses his lips to Anthony’s.

Their kiss is sweet and simple and fills Ian with a warmth he can’t even begin to describe or understand.

Distantly, he’s aware of the flash going off but he’s too focused on Anthony’s warm fingers cradling his jaw, and their lips pressed together.

It all ends too soon. Anthony pulling back and slowly lowering his hand from Ian’s face. They look at each other, and there are years of past, present, and future strung out between them. There’s a decision, a choice, and Ian was brave once, brave when it mattered, and it got him Smosh and Anthony back.

He summons that bravery again and leans in to fist a hand in Anthony’s dumb Christmas sweater and pull his face close so he can kiss him again. No posing, no cameras, just them.

[nthspecialll]

The Bennetts

While stumbling around the world of red dead two you might have come across the name Bennett and the myths that follows along with the three brothers by the names Gideon, Ira and Earl, however there is more truth to the myth than one might expect at first glance.

The majority of people will likely make their first acquaintance with the Bennett brothers through a story told by a fella a bit from Bacchus Station. He tells the story simply, but gives a good introduction to the mystery.

Now should we wish to look further into who these men were (which I will talk over later), and where their treasure is, a great place to start would be inside the Annesburg mines where we would find writing from one of these brothers. I appologize for the terrible lighting but it is in a mine so...

If we follow these instructions they will lead us to Reed Cottage a bit away from Annesburg.

Inside this house we will find two things, a treasure map and a picture of what very well could be the three brothers:

Following the treasure map we will be lead to a place a little bit above the Elysian Pool, where we indeed can find a tree with a golden X carved into it like the man in the beginning spoke of:

However this tree is not where the treasure lays, the map describes needing to walk twenty steps north and five east, doing so will lead us to a nearby rock where we gain one iron bar... So the mystery is solved now then? No, while I have now told you the whereabouts of the treasure, there is still more to the mystery of the brothers themselves.

We gain more information about them should we go down to Charlotte's house where a gold prospector will be chilling on the other side of the river. Sadly he will not tell us this information, we need to gain it from him through murder because on his body we find a newspaper clipping:

It doesn't give us much new information other than the fact that they were fairly law abiding and that it happened back in 1896, which is interesting because a warrent for Gideon Bennett's arrest can be found on the south side of the Annesburg train station. (You can pick it up i just forgot to take a picture of it)

This does hint at Gideon being alive seeing as it is slightly strange keeping up a reward poster for three entire years. However there is also the possiblity that he was alive for a good while of those three years but recently passed due to a lonely Bennett grave which can be found not that far from Roanoke Ridge, the place the proclamation last states he was seen.

[jaimebluesq]

oooo for the AU Ask Game, an alternate universe where JYL marries someone else who isn't Jin Zixuan? (your choice on who she marries and why!)

Oooh this is a fun one! All right, here we go... this might change EVERYTHING lol

Who does JYL marry? There is absolutely no question in my mind that the best option in terms of inter-sect connections, and a desire on JC and WWX's parts that she be safe and cared for, is for her to marry Nie Mingjue. She would have had a chance to get to know him during the Sunshot campaign, and we all know NMJ drinks respect -women-juice for breakfast - and is a big softie, like look what he lets his brother get away with >.< So yeah, JYL goes to Qinghe and gets a spare didi out of the deal!

But why does she marry? Because yes, she still has feelings for JZXuan, but he's still a man-child who doesn't know a good thing when he sees it ;) But seriously, we have YMJ which is still rebuilding after the war and likely getting more and more in debt to get the supplies and manpower to fix up Lotus Pier, not to mention attracting new disciples to feed and clothe, so they'd need an alliance with another great sect - one that's stable financially and could even help YMJ. Gusu is still rebuilding as well, so they're out, and we've eliminated the Jin. THankfully Qinghe is a solid option all around (as stated above). And JYL has known from the time she was young that she would marry for an alliance, not for love - she would be the one to sit JC and WWX down to tell them it needs to be done (when they hear her suggestion of NMJ, that's the thing that gets them on board - they would have fought just about anyone else).

So at Koi Tower, things might be a little more uncertain because these clans are based on hereditary hierarchy, and without an heir along Jin Zixuan's line, his position is uncertain even if he's the only legitimate son. So JGS pushes for a marriage - even worse when he sees Qin Su's pursuit of JGY, because he'll be DAMNED if he allows JGY to marry before JZXuan. Sadly, I have no idea who he'd marry, probably the daughter of a smaller sect's leader (Yao or Ouyang maybe), but it would be a rushed deal and will make poor JZXuan miserable - but he'll do it because it's what's expected of him, and even though he will not love his wife, he will still give her far more respect than his father gave his mother (I know, low bar, but the boy is TRYING).

So with JYL engaged to NMJ by the time of the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, things go a little different - yes WWX will bust out the Wen remnants and fuck out of dodge, but JYL will go to NMJ and ask him to help WWX (at the very least give him a chance to explain instead of denouncing him with everyone else). This turns the tide for many things because once NMJ sees the conditions of the Burial Mounds and what's left of the Wen, he will be amenable to helping - but will do so under the condition that WWX give up demonic cultivation (and in fact he suggests Nie cultivation as an alternative - this will lead to a sad moment when WWX FINALLY comes up with a proper story and claim that WZL melted his core to explain that he's core-less, and after much crying all around, they can finally move forward from this mess).

So the Nie will lend their protection to the Wen in the Burial Mounds and actually suggest they move up into Qinghe - not by the Unclean Realm, but he will give them land to live on that isn't full of resentful energy, and they will have QHN's protection. This is good, and in return, a certain doctor meets NMJ and will start researching his condition to treat (and hey, if you wanna have fun, have her join NMJ & JYL, I'm easy ;)

So yeah! One change and everything changes like dominos :D

Thank you for the ask!

[gerbiloftriumph]

Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

(4/?)

~*~

The cure-all was heavy in Graham’s hands. He examined it carefully. A little potion, an unassuming design, but it could do so much. He had to pray to all the stars above that no one else would get sick down here, since there was just a single dose. He had to get them all out before it went wrong. Well. Wronger. Er. More wrong. He rubbed his forehead, feeling a crease in the skin where the heavy crown sat.

Nothing for it. Decisions had to be made, had been made for him by circumstance. He walked to the Feys, clutching that bottle like it was life itself. And, as far as he could tell, it kind of was.

Bramble was moaning, clinging to Wente’s hand. “Can morning sickness last all day?” she asked, and she curled in on herself, mumbling, “Self hug. Self hug. Arghh, self hug!”

Wente rubbed her shoulders, his eyes glassy, and he glanced up at Graham. “We’re in a very bad place, Graham. I’m scared for her. If I had the strength, I’d rip these bars apart just to steal her a nibble. Please help her. I don’t...I don’t think she’ll make it another day.”

Graham held out the potion. “For Bramble. I think it’ll help.”

Wente took the cure-all with reverence. “Bramble, sweetling, a gift! From King Graham!” He helped her sit up, ever so slightly, just so she could drink. “That’s great, Nutmeg” he said fondly, rubbing circles on her back as she breathed. “Take it easy now.”

“What was that?” Bramble asked, her gasps relaxing into natural breathing. “It tasted so sweet, like honey.”

“Nothing’s so sweet as you, Gumdrop. How are you feeling?”

“Instantly better!” She swung her feet over the side of the cot. “I think I should stand,” she said. “I’ve been lying down for so long, I need a stretch.”

“Easy, easy,” Wente said, taking her arm. “Okay? Okay! Your color is so much better, baked bread instead of raw. Oh, dumpling!” He embraced her tightly.

Graham smiled as the bakers approached, holding hands. But Bramble hesitated, getting a good look at him for the first time. “Come closer,” she said, and she reached out between the bars, gently touching Graham’s jawline. He flinched back instinctively—he bore a smattering of purpling bruises along his cheek and jaw, blows from goblins during the initial capture, and blows from being tackled for all kinds of other reasons. Like not cleaning fast enough. Or watching salamanders. Or just...existing, really. “Majesty, these don’t look nice.”

“They’re fine. I’m fine,” he said, with as stiff and regal a bearing as he thought a king ought to have. At least she couldn’t see the other tender marks hidden beneath his clothes. Especially along his legs. His own weight against rough goblin hands during those upside-down shakedowns, ow. “You’re much more important. Better?”

“Even down in this pit of despair, I find hope. Bless you, Graham,” Bramble said.

“I don’t have anything I can give you, Majesty, but you’ve saved my family today.” Wente firmly shook Graham’s hand in lieu of a hug, since the bars still stood between them.  

“I don’t need anything in return, Wente.”

“No, no, there must be something...” he fumbled in his pockets, then pressed a single gold coin in Graham’s hand. “Here.”

“But, Wente—�� Graham knew how desperately the Feys always counted their coins.

“I have no use for gold down here. Unless that’s chocolate. Is it a chocolate coin? I didn’t mean to give you a chocolate one.”

“No, no. It’s real.” And brand new, Graham realized, turning it over in his fingers. Freshly minted and shining. With his profile on it. He ran his finger across his own little golden nose, across the tiny imitation of the crown on his head. He swallowed hard, then jammed it deep in his pocket, unable to look at it further. Whisper mumbled something sleepily in his cloak.

“Well, either way, she’s definitely on the rise, thanks to you. When I’m outta here, I’ll give you a proper hug, too. It’s the yeast I can do.” Wente’s hand found Bramble’s again and squeezed it.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Graham said.

Bramble leaned against her husband. “You didn’t find an oil fryer in any of these cells, did you?” she asked, smiling shyly. “I should be eating for two, but I’m afraid I’m eating for none. I’m doing better, but Wente, we have to get out of here. It’s not good for the baby.”

“Hey, you once told me I could never trust a skinny baker, so I’m going to keep you in your most trustworthy state. I’m just coming up with ideas now. I promise, we’ll be out of here as soon as I can manage it. I just need to, uh. Do some things.”

Bramble nodded. “At the very least, if you can find some wood and flour, we can use this furnace to bake some simple prison sweetycakes for our fellow prisoners, and you too, of course.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Bramble said. “You’re so thin you could turn sideways and disappear, if you’ll forgive my crude observation, Majesty. I can’t imagine you’re holding up, either.”

“I’m still feeling good,” Graham lied.

“Mmm. Well. Either way. Thanks, Your Majesty.”

“You don’t need to call me that, you know,” Graham said. “Just Graham is fine.”

“Of course, Majesty,” Bramble said.

“I thought you were just going to leave us here,” Wente said. “Even with our extra little bun. I’m glad you’re still a compassionate fellow, Sire. You’re still doing you, and I couldn’t be more grateful. Thank you. Now.” He turned back to his wife, his mustache bright and high. “Lay your head down, Bramble. You need rest. Healthy, good rest, this time.”

“Oh, Buttercup, I’m all right. You don’t need to fuss.”

“It’s true. I’m a worrier. Come on, let’s lie down. Ooh, speaking of worrying, I hope we didn’t leave the oven on.”

“Wente, it’s fine.”

“I’m sure it is, sweet potato.”

“Carrot cake.”

“Cinnamon sugar.”

Graham left quietly while the bakers whispered pet names at each other.

~*~

“This bed might be my final resting place. Good thing I’m a stickler for thread count.”

“Don’t say that, Amaya.”

“Here lies the body of Amaya Blackstone. May she rest in Egyptian cotton sheets.”

“Come on, please.”

“Then get me outta here, kid.”

“I’m working on it.”

“What do you still need?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Graham sat back against the cell bars, his back to her, watching the goblin guards in the room. They ignored him. “So much. Food. A way to get everyone out of their cells safely. Food. A way out of the prison safely. Food. A way up to the surface safely. A different hat.” He pulled his crown off and set it on the ground near his feet. He curled over his knees, glaring at it, and he felt his eyes prickling with frustration. “It’s probably that hat’s fault. Whisper thinks so. Which means it’s my fault. Gods, it’s my fault.” He pressed his face against his knees, trembling.

“Oh, no, is Twinkle Toes down here, too?”

“Don’t sound so annoyed.” His voice, spoken to his knees, was muffled. He chose not to mention Whisper was actively snoring in his pocket.  

He felt Amaya sit down behind him, her back to his, bars between them. “Look, Graham, I’m not saying this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t king. But, it could have. These little hoarders have been taking my stuff for years. You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve lost to them.”

He snorted. “Yeah, is this a prison, or a museum?”

“Someone needs to have an intervention with these hoarders,” Amaya agreed. “Unfortunately, they failed to hoard all the food. Look, kid, we have no time for emotions. But. Because it’s you, I guess maybe we should. Because you’re, ergh, emotional. So, I mean, like…no, stop trying to turn around, don’t look at me while I’m talking about this, stop it, Graham.” She punched his shoulder hard, and Graham turned back again.

Wente didn’t believe I was going to help them. Did he think I lost my compassion when I became king? Did I? Have I? What is this hat doing to me? His face, ohstars, his expression. He really thought I was going to give up on them, that I’d changed.

And what if there had been multiple people sick? With only one bottle of cure-all? What would I have done? Who am I to choose? Does this crown give me that right? Do I want that?

(“As an adventurer, I was great at taking quests. As a king, I struggled at giving orders. What if I made the wrong choice? What if I led the kingdom astray? What if I lost another friend to that dragon?”)

Graham said nothing, but he reached into his pocket and withdrew the coin, flipping it over and over in his hands. The Daventry royal crest on one side. His profile on the other. Twirling it over his knuckles, a trick his sister had taught him so long ago.

“I’m just trying to make the right decisions,” he mumbled. “How can you ever decide what to do?” Especially when the choices felt so important. Did wearing the crown mean he had to make choices he didn’t want to make?

(Grandpa looked sadly at his little mirror self, curled up and feeling so alone, despite Amaya’s warm presence. “But taking too long to choose something was hardly better than choosing nothing.”)

“Indecision and indigestion’ll both make you sick.”

“Pff, thanks.”

“What’s that thing you always say? This is a puzzle, work it out, or something? You just gotta lay out the pieces and find out what you’ve got, step by step, and focus on what’s in front of you. One step at a time. One choice at a time. It’s gonna suck, and you’re gonna doubt every move you make. And others might doubt you, too. Think you’re not doing what they need you to do, and get mad and impatient. But you gotta commit to your plan. And, more than that, you don’t have to do anything alone. You can ask for help.

“But you gotta take it one step at a time, first. When something’s this big, overwhelming, focus small. We’ll deal with the big mushy feely fault stuff later, okay?”

She sat up. “Speaking of mushy stuff, would you stop staring at me?” she snapped at one of the goblins, who was standing close to the two of them. Not listening to what they were talking about, but cooing over Amaya. “I’m not interested.”

“What’s he after?” Graham asked, pulling his crown back on. He hoped his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt.

“They seem to be drawn to me. I wish I could make it stop. Go away! We are not friends! Go see Wente if you want a hug!”

“Aside from the goblin, I, uh. Thanks, Amaya. It’s…easy to get lost in here.”

“I’d make a great advisor, you know.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.”

“Give me your crown so I can throw it at you.”

(“I was wondering if I would see a rock break through her shell,” Grandpa said, as he and Gwendolyn watched the little mirror Amaya swat at the goblin outside her cell. She couldn’t quite reach; he kept skipping back a pace, then approaching again. He made little heart shapes at her with his claws, and she groaned, rolling her eyes. “I know I probably shouldn’t have just stood there watching that goblin try to woo Amaya, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I remember that from the first time you told this story a couple days ago,” Gwendolyn said. “I don’t think we need to go over it again.”

“Well, then, my little biscuit, I can skip it if you like. Now, what happened next…ah, yes, it was near the end of the day. Amaya had just reminded me that I didn’t have all the answers, but I had found great friends who would help me find them. But I couldn’t lose one of my friends to the goblins. I had to find a place to hide Whisper. Could you imagine if he tipped out of my pockets while the goblins were searching me?”)

Graham returned to the upper levels, which seemed to have fewer goblins, to find a place for Whisper. With their combined strength, they were able to push some weighted levers, giving them earlier access to some hidden rooms, including a very lovely mushroom garden, which took Graham’s breath away.

Every species of fungus Graham could imagine grew in that space, and many more that he had never thought to imagine. They glowed faintly in a huge array of colors. Even roses bloomed, in a cultivated pot. So many fairy tales required a single perfect red rose, Graham wasn’t surprised that they were here. Just surprised that they were able to grow. Someone cared a lot for that little collection of roses.

“Whisper is quite fond of this room!”

“It does seem safe,” Graham agreed. “Lots of places to hide if you need to. Oh, but, what about food? I can’t imagine these are edible.” He waved vaguely at the towering fungi.

“Don’t worry about Whisper! Whisper goes on frequent fast days, to keep this trim physique! Besides, Whisper doubts you have any special energy drink powder in your pockets.” He posed dramatically amongst the mushrooms. “You worry about yourself and the others. In the meantime, Whisper awaits your command!” He got distracted looking at the roses. “Oooh, look at those. Whisper wonders if the lovely Miss Amaya would like…hmm….”

Graham had one more thing to do before the end of the day, and it involved Amaya, a sword hilt with a frying pan attached to it, and a hapless goblin’s face.

“Oooh, shank you very much, Graham,” Amaya said, looking at the sword-pan combo. Then, she turned to the goblin that had been flirting with her all day, screamed, “My name is Amaya Blackstone! You stole my mattress! Prepare to die!” and thumped the goblin over the head with the frying pan with a loud twangy ring.

He scooped up another coin the goblin had been holding (two in hand, four more to go for his black market prize) before being scooped up himself by a goblin. He was dragged back to his room and flung against the far wall, bouncing off a protruding pipe and earning another bruise. He was yelled at in goblinese, presumably for starting a fight in Amaya’s cell. The little goblin kept pointing and standing with his hands on his hips, which might have looked threatening if he wasn’t so short.

Graham suffered the indignity of another upside-down shakedown, clinging to the crown with both hands so it wouldn’t fall off and dent as goblins held his legs and shook him wildly. But while the crown was safe, the shovel clanged out of his pocket. He winced—he’d forgotten about it entirely. The goblins dropped him and grabbed at the shovel, perhaps assuming he could use it to dig his way out. Never mind how long that would take against bare rock, but still. They hurried away, shovel in their hands, and Graham clutched the bars on his door as he watched them disappear into darkness.

Still. That meant they hadn’t noticed anything else he’d been carrying. Perhaps none of it would have caught their eye, perhaps it would have. Fake magic beans, Whisper’s portraits, Acorn’s flowers, plant growth potion, coins…sure, it was mostly junk, but it was all he had, and that made it a treasure trove.

“All right,” he said to the salamanders, trying to force confidence into his voice. He rubbed his side and his new bruise distractedly. “Newton, I think we’ve done good today. I think we should rest up.” He glanced at his little camp bed, which had another salamander on the pillow. “I know, Sally! We were super-productive, right?” He ran a finger over the magic beans, which glittered especially brightly in salamander light, and yawned hugely. “Well. I probably shouldn’t keep talking to the newts. I guess I’ll go to bed.”

[rom-e-o]

Some time after Bess begins her lounge singing gig, she comes face-to-face with some acquaintances of her granny's at the lounge after her act. This causes an immediate freakout, because these ladies are professional Gossipers™️, and Bess could see the almost sinister sparkle in their eyes when she informed them that her grandmother does not, yet, in fact, know of her lounge gig. ("Why didn't I just tell them she did?! Why did I have to say 'no' like a complete dunderhead?!") Truth is, Bess wasn't planning on telling Granny for as long as possible; in fact, hoping maybe she never would have to tell her. Because what the heck is her straight-laced, prim and proper Dowager Countess great-grandmother going to think of her eldest great-granddaughter moonlighting as a singer in a hotel's bar lounge, no matter how fancy the place?

The next day the girls are already invited to FeFe's for brunch, so they all band together to back Bess up as she finally confesses. Pippersnipe goes along as well, as he is a master of wrangling FeFe when need be. Amazingly, he's the only one who's not on edge. Turns out there's a reason for his ease:

"My darling girl, I don't know why you're so worried I would disapprove. The Bryant is a very famous hotel and frequented by many people of influence from corners of the globe. You're providing legitimate, above-board entertainment for some of the finest people from diplomats to businessmen. And you're earning a wage in doing so.

"That is far more than I can say for myself. The closest to that I ever came to was during the month I spent in France after I left school and my girlfriends and I snuck into a can-can line in a seedy little sailor's club one night. Those men saw parts of me they should have had to pay to see for free. And here you're getting paid to entertain while keeping all of your clothes on and remaining decent. I say, as you bright young things say nowadays, right on."

FEFE, ma'am!!! I always love when we get little glimpses into FeFe's younger days. Woman was (and is) an absolute dish, and has QUITE the flair for the dramatic? Joining a can-can line after dark? The scandal! You just KNOW she's got more delicious stories like those. (And I adore it - 'right on.')

Part of being a captivating lady? Knowing WHEN to drop those little morsels of gossip, and when to hold back and keep them guessing~ But seriously, this is such a sweet hc. I can see where Bess is coming from, especially after some many years of scrutiny from her mama. It's only natural for her to feel insecure. She's moonlighting as a singer - a professional, DAMN good one in a classy joint - but like you said, there are people who are going to gossip no matter what. Bess doesn't want that to impact her relationship with FeFe.

I can imagine FeFe's confidence and her enthusiasm just gives Bess that extra burst of confidence. With an endorsement from FeFe? How can you NOT feel like even more of a bombshell on stage?

[aaknopf]

A multi-generational saga courses across the pages of Ædnan, by Sámi-Swedish author Linnea Axelsson, translated from the Swedish by Saskia Vogel. The verse epic follows an Indigenous Sámi family who have herded reindeer for generations, as the forces of colonialism and modern development of their ancestral lands threaten their culture and livelihood. The story is told by a small chorus of characters from the 1910s through the current day, and we become especially close to Lise, who left her Sámi family, following her brother Jon-Henrik, to be educated at a residential school for “Nomad” children. This excerpt from Chapter XII takes place in the early 1970s, along the Great Lule River Valley, where the state-owned Vattenfall company was developing hydroelectric resources, and Lise is graduating into a world unimaginable to her parents.

. .

The river climbed silently up the hills

as soon as Vattenfall whistled it came creeping:

–

Streamed backwards up its deep channel and drowned the earth

When the great Suorva Dam for the third time was to be regulated

–

Entreaty

shone from Mama’s eyes

–

She explained clearly to the Swedes 

that the fishing will suffer if the water rises

–

There was probably no one who understood what she was saying

– –

After the social studies lesson I went with the others to sit on the gymnasium floor

–

Almost all of Malmberget’s students had been dismissed from class

– To participate in the miners’ strike meeting

 –

Someone had heard that Olof Palme was coming

that he would travel all the way up here 

–

To the mining company’s and Vattenfall’s world the one that he himself had helped build

–

It is what he is guarding

It is all that he can see

–

The mine boss’s voice

flowed wildly above the crowded hall which was hot with bodies

–

His voice was so robust his conviction so intense

–

I glanced at Anne who was sitting beside me leaning against the wall bars

and she smiled back at me

–

Soon we would be leaving school too 

–

And could start working join the union

–

You took the job you wanted that’s all there was to it 

– 

Switchboard cleaner or cook

with the old folks at the Pioneer or the children in day care

– –

I spend the weekend up at Mama and Papa’s 

–

I stand with Jon-Henrik

 –

Watching the river flow murky across the slope

–

That brushy slope

where he and I used to go it’s underwater now

 –

How are our tracks ever to be heard Among the Swedes’ roads and power stations

–

It’s Jon-Henrik who says this he had also been drawn down to the dam

–

To work for Vattenfall as soon as school was done

 –

I’m surprised when he says

That he’d preferred to have taken up with the reindeer

–

Been elected into the Sámi community

And learned to guide that wandering gray soft ocean across the world of the fells

–

Just as the lot of us were once taught at the Nomad School that this is what the Sámi do

that this is how we all live

–

He laughs and says:

–

Who knows what the spring flood will bring with it

this drowned  earth may yet be fertile

More on this book and author:

Learn more about Ædnan by Linnea Axelsson.

Check out The Rumpus for a conversation between Linnea Axelsson and Susan Devan Harness about Axelsson's Sámi heritage and the decision to write Ædnan in verse. 

Click here to read Linnea Axelsson's op-ed piece for LitHub on Scandinavia’s hidden history of Indigenous oppression.

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 1

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This is probably gonna be a long one, so bear with me. Also, this story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, general angst

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

I don't know how old I am.

I know how many scratches are in the floor below me.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Seven. Seven smooth grooves under my fingers. Seven times the wood under me became buried in my nails. Seven.

I know there are seven days in a week, and I eat one time a day. I know that there are months, and years, and I've been alive for many years, but I don't know how many. I know that time goes on and I think the world turns, but I'm not sure. I know that the people I see around me everyday seem to slowly change, they grow sadder and grayer; but I don't know how much I've changed. I'm not sure if the picture I have in my head is right.

I don't know how old I am.

I tried asking once, a while ago. I asked the man who brought me my food how many years i had been alive. He told me that I must be stupid for not knowing, and more stupid for asking. It wasn't my job to ask things.

It was my job to be a bird, they said. I was a bird that they needed to sing. So I sing. I sing every day for as long as I'm told, until my throat is raw and aching and I can't sing anymore.

Sometimes the man who brought me food and calls me stupid gives me honey. I think he is trying to be kind.

I sit in my cage up in the sky and I sing like a bird for the people who live here.

It was an honor, they said. To sit here with these great people in their great palace and sing for them. To not be among the pigs and the dirt and the commoners. I asked if the pigs and the commoners lived in cages once. They didn't tell me. They just ring the bell and I sing for them. I don't think I really know how to do anything else.

I mindlessly tap on the floor as the boy comes in. He seems angry, thrashing around the room and throwing his things around. He screams, pummeling the walls with his fists again and again and again and again. He finally quiets down after a while, his screaming and wailing hushing to whimpers. I hear him collapse on the bed, and I try to shift slightly to peer underneath me. In the amount of time I've been here, I have learned to be quieter than a mouse. The boy does not like noise he doesn't ask for.

"Cheeper!" he calls, and I while I can't see his face, I can feel his gaze burning me.

"Cheeper!" he calls me again, and I creep to the edge of the cage nearest to him. I don't like the name Cheeper.

The boy grunts, shifting restlessly on his bed.

"Sing for me, Cheeper."

And so I do. I sing something soft and soothing, a lullaby he seems to enjoy. He hums it along with me, finally resting.

This is how my life goes. The boy comes in, often upset, and I sing to calm him down. He yells at me sometimes, throwing things up at my cage. Occasionally he hits his target, causing my cage to sway back and forth. I vomited from it once.

My life is relatively peaceful aside from that. It's quiet, even if it is small. The borders of my world are limited to the golden bars of the cage, high above the rest of the world.

The rest of the world. What does it look like?

The thought escaped me as quickly as it came. Who cared what the world outside looked like? I had to stay right here, I always just had to stay right here.

I could hear soft snores below me, and my song came to an end.

I count the grooves beneath my fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

[alwaysdaydreaming1]

Summary : Y/n works on set with jackass and Bam has a thing for her. One question leads to 100 feelings.

This was supposed to just be a smut but I got way too invested in the story since there will be a part 2 !

Long story , angst, drinking, swearing, implying smut (smut in chapter two) , fighting , use of y/n,

Chapter one : feelings on fire 🔥

Arter leaving med school you didn’t have much of a plan. You had recently graduated and your parents were so proud of you. You loved seeing them happy and proud but the whole time that you’d had been studying you knew in the back of you’re head that you were only doing it for them and you really couldn’t wait until you could move on.

after graduating there was a period of time where you had no idea what you wanted to do or where you wanted to be.

Everyday you’re parents would call and ask if you had applied for any new jobs or if you were thinking about studying even more which you totally knew you weren’t gonna do again.

You were living in a small apartment in San Francisco and just down the street was convenience store where you would either stop by on you’re way home from a night out to grab some hangover essentials or where you would end up on those nights were chips and a large coke called you’re name.

Tho today was different. After a long conversation over the phone with your dad about the different hospitals he had found that we’re looking for new people you needed air.

You felt as if the pressure from your parents had transformed into two real dumbbells sitting on your shoulders.

As you walked in to the convenience store you saw a man standing opposite the counter talking to Gary. The manager of the shop.

Gary looked away from the guy he was talking to and gave you a wink .

You just gave him a smile back and walked toward the candy isle.

As you were looking at what chocolate bar to buy you took out one of your headphones from your ear closets to the counter.

“Yeah we’ve been filming all day, the guys are at the hotel getting some rest. We leave tomorrow for LA and if I know the guys right there will be some great footage from there so keep your eyes open for the next movie. Hey thanks for letting me put of the posters on you’re fly board , have a good one”

The guy left and you felt you’re legs walk towards the counter quicker than you where prepared for. You handed Gary the candy bar and looked over at the fly board .

“Who was that ?” Just above a missing person poster you saw.

“JACKASS MOVIE CAST LOOKING FOR ON SET MEDIC. MUST HAVE MEDICAL TRAINING AND BE ABLE TO COME ALONG IN TOUR “

“I don’t know, some guy named Jeff wanting to put up some posters and talked about a new movie coming out “ Gary said whilst scanning you’re item.

You looked out the glass door and before you could even think about what to say you opened the door and ran out and after the guy that had just left.

“Hey! Hey you! Wait! “ you ran up to him and he turned around to meet you’re face.

“Hey I saw the poster you put up in there”

He looked at you up and down.

“Hey! I don’t need any fan girls trying to get close to my guys, you can meet them at our next meet and greet “ He turned around and opened the car door.

“Fan girl? I don’t know what you’re filming and I haven’t heard about jackass but I am a trained medic, I recently graduated med school and I’ve been looking for somewhere to work “ you sounded a bit desperate but maybe that’s because you were.

He turned around again and smiled.

And that is how you ended up in the situation you are in right now.

Working as a medic on the set of Jackass and going from place to place with the guys.

Patching up cuts and putting cream in bruises and forcing everyone to wear a helmet when a ramp was involved.

A few months had gone buy since you had first met Jeff and you’ve gotten to know the guys very well by know. Even tho they are pranksters by heart they never wanted to do anything that would hurt their “on set angel” as they said. But now and then someone would jump out behind a corner and scare you or leave a fake cockroach in the medic trailer.

It was a hot and sunny day and Ryan had just helped you put up canopy outside your trailer so that you could help the guys outside but not be in the sun directly.

“Thanks Ry” you said and smiled towards Ryan. Since becoming part of the team Ryan and you had become close and he felt as an older brother to you and he felt he wanted to make everything as easy as possible for you.

“No worries y/n, hey you coming out with us later tonight ? We are going to the local bar to get some drinks and talk shit , probably throw some darts so I think I you might be needed there “ he smiled a cheeky smile at you.

“What you guys do on you’re free time is not my problem, but maybe, they just released the latest episodes of Hollywood wives so I might stay in “

“Aaaw come on you know you’ll have a good time with us, dance all night , drink all night and make questionable decisions “ Dunn said coming closer moving his hips as his hands were on his head and showing you the good time he is promising.

“I bet you get some real hotties with those moves “ you laughed at him.

Just as he was about to show you something you probably didn’t wanna see Bam came lumping in on one leg, holding his hand over his thigh and whining.

“What the fuck are you doing Dunn , never mind move over Knoxville just shot me with that stupid paintball gun and I feel like I’m dying” He hopped up on the foldable hospital bed that was a necessity to bring with us whilst filming. Dunn started to mimic Bam as he left and called him a loser.

You stood by Bam with rubbing alcohol in one had and ointment cream in the other. “Well let’s see the damage” Bam started taking of his black jeans hissing at the pain of the fabric rubbing against the area where he got shot. He hopped back onto the bed and you assed the damage. “Ouch I think this one might hurt a few weeks Bam, really all I can do is clean it and put some cream but it might bruise bad “

“Isn’t your whole job here to make us feel better “ Bam said with a hiss as you started cleaning the paint off his leg.

“I’m an on set medic Bam, not an on set whore “ you said with a stern look up at him.

He chuckled, his hand was holding over his dark purple boxers, and you couldn’t help but notice it.

“Are you an at home whore tho” Bam said with a big smile and as he watches you massaging in the white cream on his leg. “This scene reminds me of something “

You stood right up with your back again and gave him a look that said more than words.

You turned your back to take off your plastic gloves and throw them in the trash.

You could feel Bams eyes eyeing you up and down from behind.

Ever since joining the guys on set everyone has been very respectful and nice, even tho they sometimes flirt, but it was more of a friendly flirt. The way the only girl on set would be flirted with. But with Bam it was different. When he said something it felt real. As if he meant it. As if if you said yes to one of the many crazy things he suggest daily he would not think one second about doing it.

You didn’t have much experience. You were never really interested in hanging out with guys in high school and you never had the time when you studied. But you weren’t totally clueless. It was mostly random hookups from nights out with some work friends, never anything serious.

You kept your feelings pretty much to your self.

Sometimes Bams jokes could get a little much when he said stuff like that and you didn’t really know what to say or how to react. You tried to stay as professional on set but with the guys it was pretty much impossible.

“Are you a virgin y/n” Bam broke the silence and awoke you from your thoughts. It was a very straightforward question even from Bam.

You turned around and looked at him. “What ? Why would you ask me that”

He had that cheeky smirk he always had when he was up to something.

He stood up and pulled his pants up, zipping up his zipper but still keeping eye contact with you.

“What? I can’t try to get to know you ? “

“You don’t get to know someone by asking that” you told him.

“So you are a virgin”

You were happy none of the guys was near. You felt your cheeks become hot.

“No Bam I’m not. Anything else you want to know before I kick you out of here or shoot you myself with knoxvilles gun “ you said annoyed.

Bam took a few steps towards you.

“You know he doesn’t let anyone touch his gun, it’s like his child”

“Maybe not you guys , but I’m cute and all it takes is batting my eyelashes at him and I’ll have it here in a second “ you stepped away and walked past Bam. You sprayed the bed down with sanitizer and wiped it clean.

“Ouf, harsh” Bam turned around and looked at the way you were bent over the bed to reach all the corners.

You could feel the tension in the air and it was hard to tell your own feelings.

“Yes, harsh” you said “ so get outta here before I make it happen “

“You said I could have one more question”

You sighed and looked at him. “Will it make you leave me alone for the rest of the day “

“Maybe “ his smiled had changed. He had a crooked grin and his puppy dog eyes didn’t leave yours.

“ why don’t you ever talk about you’re family or you’re personal life with us, or with me” the tension grew stronger but it felt more sharp this time.

You didn’t know what to say. It was common for the guys to talk about their family’s or friends or personal life on breaks or when you guys went out.

Since you had joined the jackass team your parents couldn’t be more disappointed and angry with you. They told you that you had let them down and that you wasted your training. After you left San Francisco you hadn’t spoken to them. Not really by choice tho. You tried to call home now and then but no one would pick up.

When you got stressed or uncomfortable you would fidget. And Bam noticed that.

You listened to his question whilst you cleaned some of the medical stuff in your kit that didn’t need cleaning.

Bam broke the silence again. “You can tell me stuff y/n”

Just as you’re eyes met him and you’re mouth opened , a very cut up Steve-O came running in.

“Omg I think I’m dying, someone needs to take that paintball gun from him right now “

He laid down on the bed and you looked at him and laughed awkwardly. Getting your tools ready again.

Bam walked over to the others but he left the tension in the tent and as you were cleaning SteveO off you thought about what Bam had asked you.

You had just gotten out of the shower and sat by the hotel mirror doing your make up.

The guys didn’t let you leave the set until you had promised that you would come out with them tonight.

You didn’t really feel up to partying but you also knew you needed a few drinks after today.

As you carefully let the dark brownish/ redish lipstick glide over you’re lips a loud and passionate knock came from you’re door making you slip and getting a little lipstick on you’re cheek.

“Fuck “ you sighed and went to open the door.

Outside the door stood Dunn and SteveO.

“Can’t you knock like a normal fucking person, look what you did “

They both laughed as they came into your room.

“That’s how you’re gonna look when I’m done with you tonight” Dunn said and poked you in the ribs.

“Euw freak” you said back. SteveO laughing in the background.

“So are you done, we are leaving in ten minutes”

You went into the bathroom and got dressed.

A tight dark gray tank top with the Rolling Stones logo on and a pair of dark blue flared jeans and some black heels.

You came out of the bathroom and did a little spin.

SteveO whistled loudly and Dunn clapped his hands

“ how will I ever compete with the guys you have drooling over you everywhere you go “

The others had already left so when you came into the loud bar you saw a few hands from over at the furthest booth away from the door was waving at you.

You went up to the bar.

Dunn caught the barmaids attention . “ two beers and what do you want y/n” he said looking at you. “I’ll have a shot of tequila and vodka soda “

Dunn gave you a weird look as the barmaid poured the drinks. “What are you trying to forget tonight “ you laughed and the barmaid handed you the shot.

You kept you’re eye contact with Dunn as you tilted you’re head back and let the liquid burn down you’re throat . “Don’t even ask me “ you took your drink and went to sit with the other guys.

“Woah y/a you look freaking hot “ Knoxville said. “Just for you baby “ you blew him a kiss and sat down.

As you sat down you realised Bam was the one sitting next to you. “Calling you’re boss baby isn’t so professional is it y/n, but he’s right you look fucking hot “

“ oh shut up Bam “

After a few drinks and conversations bout various things around the table everyone had started talking among themselves.

Knoxville and Jeff were sitting across the table and talking about something they wanted to film tomorrow. SteveO and Ehren were chatting up some fan girls at the bar and Bam had gone to order.

“You know he likes you right “ Dunn whispered drunkly in your ear .

“Shut up Ry” you pushed his face away “it’s true ! I’m not lying I’ve known him for a long time and I know when he likes someone and he adores you “

You watched Bam standing at the bar paying.

“It doesn’t feel much as adoration, it feels more as if he wants to have sex with me “

You’re head had turned from the bar and when Dunns eyes left yours to someone behind you, you quickly turned you head. Shit.

“ Damn y/n I didn’t know you were some kind of psychic “ Bam smiled as he gave you you’re drink.

You felt your cheeks getting hot again. You didn’t want him to see you ashamed so you gave him a cocky comeback .” Well I really don’t have to be a psychic, you ask me all the time if I wanna have sex with you or if I’m a virgin or telling me about what you’ve done with other girls or asking me how many guys I’ve been with, it’s pretty clear to see what you’re intentions are “ you took a big sip of you’re drink and Bam looked at you with his serious eyes.

“Well you still haven’t answers my two questions “

“Omg Bam why are you so interested” you stood up “ excuse me I need the bathroom” you held your drink and pushed past him . Luckily none of the other guys seemed to notice you’re little upset. Expect Dunn and Bam. They watched as you walked past the bathrooms and towards to back door.

You sat down at one of the empty tables the bar had outside. People sat around different tables smoking and drinking.

You took a big breath and then a sip of you’re drink.

You had quit smoking some time back but before leaving the hotel earlier that night you had noticed an old pack of cigs in you’re jacket pocket and as if you already then knew how the night would be you let them stay in the pocket.

You took one between your lips and then toon the lighter from the table , probably one that someone had forgotten.

But after a few tries you realised someone had probably left it there on purpose .

“Come on” you said to the lighter.

“Here I have one” you didn’t have to look up you knew that voice.

“Ry I don’t want to hear anything “ you sighed

“I know but the thought of you sitting out here by yourself makes my heart ache “

You gave him a little laugh and he sat down.

“You know” you started before you took another puff, Dunn looked at you

“I’ve never really told anyone anything. And no one has ever really questioned, I went trough all years of med school just because my parents wanted me to really and they never questioned why I chose it because they already know. They know I did it for them so they never asked much about it” You took another puff “ and even when I had graduated it wasn’t enough “ Dunn looked at you and listened to you talking. You had never been so open with him like you were right now. “ I haven’t spoken to them since moving”

“That’s quite understandable “ Ryan said quietly.

“No not really , I always call them but they never pick up because they would rather me not tell them how I feel and what I’m thinking than actually dealing with me, it’s always been like that, ever since I was a child , that’s why I have learned to keep everything in because I’d rather be quite than disappoint”

You threw your cig down and stepped on it. Taking a big swig at your drink you now looked at Ryan for the first time since he sat down .

“ I’m not a virgin”

“No one cares if you are or if you’re not “ Dunn said

“I’ve never had anything serious tho. Only random hookups. Which I never told my parents I mean can you imagine they would freak out that I wasn’t dating someone properly”

“Bam didn’t mean to stir this all up in you “

“ I know, but when you’ve kept your secrets and your ugly feelings and thoughts to yourself for so long, it feels like an interrogation when someone actually asks you something…. real”

There was a long silence between the two of you until Dunn finally spoke again .

“I’m sorry y/n for not asking you about you more…”

You felt the regret of opening up and the anxiety in making Dunn feel bad grew in your stomach.

“no no Ry stop it’s not like that “ you stood up and took Dunns hand motioning him to also stand up

“ just forget what I said. I didn’t mean for this to become some sad night, let’s go inside and drink until we can’t see each other anymore “

You pulled his arm and started walking towards the door again.

You knew he meant well and that he cared about you. But you also knew he had some shit going and you didn’t want him to need to think about you as well.

You and Dunn ware never a good idea when you guys went out. You guys were the type of friends to not stop each other.

When you came back inside the place had gotten more crowded and people were dancing and singing. You went back to the table. You noticed Bam and Ehren were gone.

“Where did Bam and Ehren go “ Dunn asked Jeff and Knoxville.

“He said he didn’t feel well so he went back to the hotel and Ehren went with some girl “ Jeff said . Dunn looked back at you.

“Let’s go get something else to drink “ he said and dragged you towards the bar .

A few hours had passed and more than a few shots had been consumed.

You and Ryan were dancing and laughing. You could feel the shots. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t feel your feet.

As you went back to the table to drink some more. You could see that the guys were leaving.

“noo where are you guys going “

“We are going back to the hotel darling “

Knoxville said drunkenly. He reached for you’re drink that you had in you’re hand

“Maybe you should too” he said.

“Nooo don’t be boring Knoxville “ you stepped closer to him and looked into his eyes. Batting your eyelashes at him. You hadn’t been this drunk in a while and you knew you’d regret some of the things you’ve done tonight.

“Darling if I wasn’t so old and you weren’t so young I would’ve stayed out until morning with you” he cheekily smiled at you as he put your drink on the table .

“Get Dunn to get you back to the hotel safely “ he leaned down and gave you a kiss on your forehead and you waved goodbye to him. Jeff gave you a hug and left with Knoxville

As they pushed trough the crowd you saw them telling Dunn something and he nodded and hugged them goodbye.

Dunn was as drunk could be and you had no plan on sobering him up. You needed a drinking partner tonight.

After some time it was only you and Dunn left at the bar from the crew.

You had gone to the bar to order another drink and when you looked back you could see Dunn dancing with a girl.

Your drunk brain couldn’t stop thinking about Bam. And what Bam had asked you . And the way Bams shirt rose up when he held his skateboard over his head. Or the way he would moan quietly in pain when you cleaned his wounds or the way he held his hand over his dick this morning.

Your head was spinning and you really hoped that drunk words aren’t sober thoughts.

You were to many shots in and there was nothing stopping you when you had decided how to end this night.

You swallowed the shot and it didn’t even burn anymore. You walked up Dunn .

“Hey I’m heading back I’ll see you tomorrow don’t do anything stupid “

Dunn was to caught up with the girl he was dancing with.

Somehow you got a hold of a taxi and told him what hotel you were staying at.

After leaving the bar and getting in the car you could feel how drunk you actually were and you knew there was no going back now.

You tried to act normal when walking into the hotel lobby even tho you were holding you’re heels in you’re hand because there was no way you’d be able to walk in them now.

You went into the elevator. Everything was blurry. You looked into elevator mirror and realised you couldn’t even see you’re own face.

Ding!

The doors opened and you walked out of the elevator onto Bams floor. You tried to remember his door number and looked in your pockets for the piece of paper where you had written all of the guys room numbers.

“Two one nine , two one nine , two one nine “

You kept saying to yourself as you stumbled trough the corridor. Trying to keep your eyes open.

Suddenly 219 was in front of you.

Before you could even try to think rationally you’re hand knocked aggressively on the door.

And as you heard you’re own knock realisation came to you. Bam and Ehren shared a room, what were you doing here, you’re drunk and holding your own shoes.

“Y/n?”

You hadn’t even realised that Bam had opened the door

You looked right at him.

He was only wearing his grey pyjama pants and his hair was messy from sleeping. oh he looked so hot you thought.

“You’re a fucking dick and you know it” you’re words came out weird and he could tell how drunk you were.

“Prying into my personal life thinking you have some right to know about my parents or about the guys I’ve been with “

You pushed passed him and went into the room dropping your shoes and bag somewhere on the floor.

“Y/n you’re very drunk “ Bam said trying to calm you down.

Your voice only got louder.

“Well here I am Bam take your chance because there won’t ever be another one, make passionate love to me the way no other guy has, do all the things that you always talk about doing to me, the things you do with all the other girls ,take you’re chance Bam do it ! “

You stepped closer to him

“Calm down I never meant to hurt you y/n, I only ever wanted to get to know you more but I’m not good at being serious”

Bams voice was different, so sincere.

“Well I’m very good at being serious and when I tell you this is your chance I mean it “

before you could stop yourself you pushed him. Bam was a bit taller than you and he was also a lot stronger so even tho you had used all your power he hadn’t moved from where he stood .

“Y/n , y/n stop it. I’m sorry I never meant to cause this “

You kept on trying to push him even tho he had a tight grip around your wrists.

“Why don’t you just call my parents as well ask them all you want about me I bet they’ll tell you some things ! Maybe they’ll pick up your call because they haven’t picked up mine in months ! Ask them if I’m a virgin or ask them why they hate me or ask them how proud they are of me! “

Bam looked at you with sadness in his eyes.

He never meant to cause you this much pain. He never meant to hurt you in any way.

He had never seen you this vulnerable and it made him almost scared but he knew he had to be there for you.

“You’re quite now ! Come on I’m in you’re hotel room take you’re chance ! “

“Stop it y/n calm down I would never use you that way. Calm down come here”

It wasn’t what you were prepared for.

His strong arms pulled you against his bare chest. He was so warm and soft. Your hands held his chest.

“Come on y/n breath”

You did as he said . You could feel a tear fall from your eye. You haven’t let out that much emotion in months and you hadn’t spoken about your pain out loud.

You two stood there in silence and you tried to match your breathing with his.

“You’re an asshole “ you whispered

“I know “ he whispered back

“And you made me realise that I’ve never really had a connection with any guy “ you kept on whispering

Bam didn’t whisper back.

His hand rubbed up and down you’re back slowly

“And you forced me to think about my problems “ your voice still so low.

“I’m sorry y/n”

“And you’re so so hot “ as soon as the words left you’re lips you knew you were still super fucking drunk .

Bam chuckled.

Slowly he move you over the bed and sat you down on it. As you sat down he turned to the hotel desk and tuned the kettle on.

And when he turned back he saw that you had threw yourself back onto the bed. The silence was loud but not uncomfortable.

He went in to the bathroom and wet a facecloth with warm water and soap and brought it out to you.

You had rolled over and we’re laying with you’re back against him with you’re knees close to you’re chest.

“Hey hey wake up y/n let’s wash you’re face a little”

The liquor you had consumed all night was really catching up to you.

“Nooo I wanna sleep “ you tried to push the cloth away.

“Here just let me do it “ Bam said softly.

The bright light from the hotel window woke you up. You’re bare legs felt nice against the warm blanket and you rubbed your eyes.

“Oh shit my mascara “ you thought you have forgetter to take you’re make up off and you didn’t want to look like a raccoon the first thing in the morning.

But when you looked at your knuckles, they were….clean.

“I didn’t have any of that stuff girls use to take their makeup off so I just used some hot water and soap and it seemed to work”

You sat up quickly and saw Bam. He had just gotten out of the shower. His hair was wet and curly and he had a white towel wrapped around his waist. Very very low…

He picked up the deodorant from the desk and sprayed into his armpits.

“How do you feel ?” Bam looked at you concerned.

You sat there quietly. All of yesterday coming back to you all at once. Everything except how you had ended up in the bed next to Bams in one of Bams T-shirts and without makeup.

You remember the fight you had in this room. Well you’re fight towards Bam.

“You want some aspirin ? A glass of water maybe ? “

You looked back at him. “yeah, yeah could I have some water “

Bam went into the bathroom and you heard the tap turn on.

You looked around the room. It was quite messy and you could really see that two boys were staying in there.

Bam came out and gave you the glass of water and some aspirin.

“Where did Ehren sleep? “ you said concerned.

“I haven’t seen him since the bar, he went back with some chick, who knows what he is up to right now” he laughed.

You gave him a small smile and then swallowed the aspirin.

Bam sat down on the bed, still in his towel but he had put a black T-shirt on whilst in the bathroom.

Bams eyes met yours and you didn’t have to say anything. He knew you were sorry and you knew he was sorry.

“Y/n I just wanted you to know…….”

Knock! Knock! Knock! Loud and aggressive knocks came from the door and before Bam even had time to stand up Dunn swung the door open “Bam! Bam! I can’t find y/n, the last time I saw here was at the bar!”

He came stomping in and as he looked up from his furrowed brows his jaw unclenched.

“Oh”

Bam stood up quickly from the bed. You could see how this looked. You were in bed with only underwear and Bams T-shirt on, and Bam with his towel around his hips.

“I only slept here Ry”

Dunn sighed and sat down in the desk chair rubbing his eyes

“ Jesus y/n I thought you’d been kidnapped or something, I ran right out of Jess room to find you, I’m just glad you’re fine”

“Whose Jess” you giggled

You heard Bam chuckle as well

“Oh just some girl I went back with “ Dunn said still rubbing his eyes and forehead

“Was it… good” Bam asked with a big smile

“Bro I was so drunk I just fell asleep on her floor “ the three of you just started laughing.

[tactical-mode]

Episode 007

No action in this episode, just pure scenes through to the end. If this were formatted for TV, this would probably be the final scene of the pilot, but instead it's the 7th little bite-sized episodelet. Chapters 1 and 2 of Remake have now been condensed into 35 minutes!

A new mod appears for the first time: “Train NPCs” by FantasyRaiderr, which changes some of the NPCs appearances. In this episode, it only changes that one guy’s suit to maroon, but in the following few episode you’ll see some punk rockers, a fedora guy, and a trenchcoat guy, all from this mod.

You might think that these three scenes were easy to make, because, well, they happen in FF7 Remake. What you might not know is that, well, they almost don't happen! Almost none of the shots you see are in order, and many are the same shot from different angles used over and over, haha. Only a handful of the lines even come close to being lines from the OG, most are wildly different, about different topics, or else they're saying literally the opposite thing. (Biggs in OG: "Cloud... think he was killed?" / 7R: "No need to assume the worst. I'm sure he's fine.")

In a few instances I've changed Jessie's lines. I cut her talking about closing the door (because in 7R Barret closes it) as well as the line about Cloud being covered in soot (because he isn't). In the second scene, I used 7R's "our IDs are impeccable" because it's more sensible than "(psst psst... whisper whisper... anyone can tell that we look suspicious, so we're using fake IDs.)" She also uses the new 7R scale of "300 metres" instead of 50, since it is visibly 300 metres up.

Music-wise, we're using the EC version of On That Day, Five Years Ago by Nobuo Uematsu. This is a variation of FFVII's main theme in minor, one of my favorite all timers by the maestro.

There's a continuity error here that is in both OG and 7R: the train route map leads clockwise around the pillar, which is not the way the train is going! If it were moving clockwise, the characters would be looking out the wrong window, staring at the wall! Ha ha. I tried to mirror some shots of the map, and even reshot it several times, but it was a no go. I guess the error remains.

For the shots that show the "view" from the train, I went into the different chapters of Remake and filmed the various slum locations from high above, and then in the editing program I superimposed black bars rushing along the screen to simulate moving along a train track. How does it look?

To book-end the episode, I used some pre-rendered shots from the 2015 teaser trailer for 7R, these shots were only for the teaser and didnt' make it into the final game. Curiously, in this moment in OG, great pains were made to include a similar shot among their 45 total minutes of cinematics.

I always thought that shot was so evocative, and this 2015 shot is a delightful update and imo necessary moment fot the story.

Final Thoughts

The capitulations required to make the next episode work are daunting. I will be shooting them for a while. I'm glad I was about to put up this many episodes in one short month.

[rockofeye]

I recently started noticing Haus of Hoodoo’s foreboding posts. It feels very heavy. I found your blog by searching her name. I read your entire post about her. All the lies & contradictions… Have you seen any of her new Instagram stories? I’d love to hear your thoughts. You mentioned that her past posts were like fear mongering. She has a lot of people passing these fears along.

You know, this is similar to what I said about New Age apocalyptic vision and universalizing personal revelation with the last person engaging in practices that do not align with Haitian Vodou as a communal, collective religion. She takes what she represents as her dreams and conversations with spirits and presents it as universal truth when they are vague statements that can be interpreted any particular way.

She apparently is currently pounding on some pretty low bar 'the world is ending' stuff and 'predicting' earthquakes and blackouts and illness and whatever scattershot statements make sense. None of it is anything surprising to anyone paying attention to the state of the world for the last ten years, and none of it is anything exceptional...but it does make people scared.

Someone sent me this post specifically and I think it's an interesting example:

She reports having this dream, and then says 'now we have to worry about...' as if those dreams are inherently important to other people. The trick is that they are not, but folks who come from the standpoint of New Age thought, which is inherently manipulative and fear-based, don't see it like that because that culture is heavy on apocalyptic marketing as a way to draw in paying customers.

She also takes them literally which is...interesting. Vodouizan often have better insight than that.

She's not speaking to vodouizan with that kind of stuff because there are dozens of ways to interpret that from the framework of Haitian Vodou, with the first being that there is no inherent meaning for anyone but her. Part of the humility she talks about a lot is understanding that bit about personal revelation being personal.

Of course, that hinges on that she is reporting accurately and this isn't marketing.

This has sat for a minute because giving her energy is like feeding a vampire: the need for her to prove more and more how serious and spiritual she is only grows, because any threat to that is dollars not spent.

She's started telling people they need to flee the US before a great blackout that she has been talking about for at least a year comes to pass. I thought the next logical step from that would be the ask for cash for some product or special access that will mitigate the effects or help you navigate her coming apocalypse..and she did that too!

Now she is advertising an almanac and private group to share her revelations and tell people where they should flee to, etc. She says she can't share openly, so she's going private which means she can communicate these things to people who are vulnerable to this style of manipulation. It also means she'll say/sell whatever she wants without any critical eyes on it which means no checks and balances which is the same thing as telling folks they can't photograph anything in the fetes she says she holds. If you're acting above board and in good faith, there's no reason to hide, especially for vodouizan.

But she's not speaking to vodouizan, she's speaking to scared and overwhelmed folks who want to feel better and will part with cash to do so. It's a time-honored tradition of spiritual grift, so she's right in line with those type of spiritual communities and fits in with those marketing schemes that target vulnerable people.

So, of course those posts feel heavy! That's definitely the point. It drives engagement which she can translate to dollars in her private group with whatever paid plans and assistance cures she is going to offer, like mass produced bracelets for protection, crystals, a very expensive fixed candle, etc.

None of this is to say that the world is not a really tough place to be right now. It's all shit, but none of this is new and these have been things that have been a result of long and deeply entrenched systems of oppression and not anything specifically spiritual or magical in nature. From the perspective of Vodou, the lwa have seen all of this before. It's not new.

I will say that it is super interesting that someone who brings out the title of manbo when they want to assert authority has had almost zero to say about the continual disaster in Haiti. She's asserted no spiritual insight into that nor expressed one ounce of empathy for the suffering of folks she has claimed alignment with. But...she is also the person who wanted to talk big about the peyizan who live on the land she claims to own and how they would be punished if they cut a tree without her permission. How do you empathize when you barely see folks as human?

There are a lot more spiritually sound outlets available for critique and discussion about current events and what that means for spiritually aligned folks that don't involve insistence on a particular vision or apocalyptic supposed messages. Survival in a world based on inequality and white supremacy does not mean following a personality or their interpretation of what they believe their visions are. It's okay to leave that stuff to the side in pursuit of understanding our place in the world because survival is not predicated on ideas that inevitably come back to white supremacist conspiracy theories. She's already there with her most recent stuff.

So...take care of you and your own spiritual vision without buying into someone who wants to sell to you. Don't buy into collective fear where the solution comes with a price tag.

Those are my thoughts...I hope that they are helpful.

[m3rricat]

You Do Not Have To Be Good - Ch. 9

Story summary: Four months after the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion finds himself stuck in the mire of his past and all the anger and despair that comes with it. While wrestling with her traveling-companion-turned-lover’s misery, Cat makes an impulsive decision that sets off their first falling-out. This post-game short story is told alongside the full in-game story of the evolving relationship between Cat (the not-a-bard) and Astarion (needs no introduction) which varies from canon. Told from both POVs.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 9: finally getting to the graveyard bonk, y'all

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Chapter Content Warnings: explicit sexual content, menstruation

Word Count: 9485

Read on AO3

A/N: The second-to-last chapter and the finale of the in-game story. Doing something a bit different with the 7k spawn plotline because I want to. Enjoy the extra-long chapter!

__

Cat doesn’t know why she is suddenly drawn to this particular opening, yawning across from where they all decide to stop and regroup just outside of Cazador’s ritual chamber. There had been plenty of other doorways and egresses on either side of their path as the companions had rushed along. Some were original to these ancient green-lit dwarven ruins under the shabby palace, and others rough-hewn, like crude wounds, clearly made centuries later.

Cat gets up from where she sits after checking over her kit and walks away from where the group is strewn about doing last pre-battle preparations. Across this cavernous vestibule of the ritual chamber is a lofty entryway of dwarven-make, a few yards tall and twice as wide, with new crude iron bars set into it, running from top to bottom at narrow intervals. Conspicuously, there is no gate. No exit. As Cat looks at it, her stomach clenches in fear. Her instincts tell her to avoid, avoid at all costs. But her feet stay planted of their own accord.

She doesn’t hear if anyone has come over to see what she’s peering at so suddenly. She squints, disoriented by what she sees at first through the bars, down the smooth-stoned hallway. Until she realizes—she is seeing a narrow slot of something massive. The hallway, several yards down, abruptly opens up onto a much larger area. She is looking across a wide expanse and seeing it from a distance—steps. Steps angling down, like she was standing at one of many entrances onto a great, sickly-lit amphitheater. And it is silent.

But, it is not empty.

Cat steps closer. There are dark clumps of… something, uneven piles up and down the steps. To one side, there is a massive tumble of whatever jumbled mess the something is, as if it had been tossed down from above—and Cat inhales sharply as she realizes. Bones. Piles and piles of them, some clean with age, others with unfortunate flesh still clinging.

And then, in the distance, one of the corpses unfolds itself from the heap.

It raises its head. Casts about for a moment—and then its glowing red eyes snap to Cat. Immediately it sends up a screeching wail echoing through the chamber, the sound of which lodges permanently in Cat’s brain.

It is the start of an avalanche. Other bodies begin to emerge from the piles of refuse: crawling, stumbling, or running across the cascade of steps, making their way around to the bars where Cat stands. She jumps in surprise as the first ones burst into the passageway before she expected them to—it must have been the ones closer, the ones she could not see above and below the passage. She can hear the rumble of their coming. And she freezes as every fiber of her body tells her she is very much prey.

“Get back!” Astarion snaps, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her behind him as the tide of bodies hits the bars and rebounds in a howl, a magic barrier flashing at each point of their contact. Astarion’s fangs are bared, his eyes full of anger and confusion as he stares wildly at the mass of skeleton-thin bodies, all naked or near enough, all with eyes glowing red and slavering mouths filled with needle teeth.

After an eternity, Cat hears a choked whisper from Astarion. “Spawn… he made them spawn…”

And that is when she sees his façade of feverish confidence start to come apart at the seams.

It had all started that first night in sight of the Gate, almost a week ago now. Astarion had come to her all wide, sweeping gestures and pitched-up voice when he explicitly proposed, for the first time, that he take Cazador’s place as the Ascendant Vampire in his hellish ritual. He had veered wildly from seething sarcasm to almost manic glee as he went over his rehearsed points. The Astarion that Cat had come to know so deeply had retreated back into his old self, held tenuously together by performance after performance.

She had known this conversation would come. She had seen how very pensive Astarion had been after Raphael regaled them with the details of the ritual and its result. Cat had only spoken to Astarion about it neutrally, asking him about his thoughts on it far more than giving her own. Because she herself did not know quite how to feel about it. Or, at least, that is what she told herself back then.

But as Astarion grew more and more anxious and frayed as they moved through the city, Cat’s conviction had become more and more set as she stopped lying to herself out of fear of losing him. This ritual, this diabolic Rite of Profane Ascension—she would not agree to help him do it.

The cost of his fellow spawn’s lives and the Hellish origins of the ritual had given her pause from the start. But after she and Astarion had confronted Dalyria and Petras in the flophouse, Astarion’s words to her were what cemented Cat’s choice.

It was after that incident that Cat had first tentatively pushed back against Astarion’s desires. Asked if he was really prepared to kill them for it—his brothers and sisters. He had talked around and around: said he pitied them in one breath and then in the next spoke as if they were already doomed, and that rather than to elevate Cazador, wouldn’t it be better for them to serve a… higher purpose? He had gestured to himself as he said it with a disturbing smile. And that’s when all the bits underlying Cat’s uneasiness had clicked into place.

Because surely beyond the fact that Astarion would have to climb over the bodies of his siblings to complete the ritual, there had to be some other cost. And Cat thought she saw it in that moment, when she watched Astarion happily referring to himself as taking Cazador’s place on a pile of corpses. Inheriting his position—and what other of his master’s evils would come with that? It chilled Cat to the bone, like she was seeing a glimpse of the future. And it resolved her to her decision. She carried it in her stomach like a stone.

And the weight of Cat’s choice grows now as she watches the scene unfold between Astarion and the ravenous spawn, baying for her living blood. She learns from Astarion’s halting words that what she is looking at is the product of his and his siblings’ work over the centuries—the victims they had dragged back at Cazador’s command. They are all in there, even the thousands who were now no more than scattered bones. Gale is able to identify the barrier—a spell of infernal origin that can corral souls. Cat swears now she can see them like slight distortions, feels the press of them along with the bodies against the bars.

“Not seven….seven thousand souls, bound to the ritual,” Astarion breathes as he sees the brands on the spawn so much like his own. Cat can see that the revelation hits him like an earthquake. The pile of corpses he must climb has grown to a mountain. Surely, he must see that—

Astarion suddenly bolts, half scrabbling on his hands and feet, half running along the wall of the antechamber away from the howling churn of spawn. He collapses to his knees against a cold stone wall, bathed in the harsh green light from the sconce above. Cat goes to him.

“I—I did that,” he mutters as Cat bends down over him. “All of the ones I lured, they ended up in there. He didn’t just kill them the same night. They—they suffered, I cannot imagine—and some still suffer after centuries…”

“The ritual will kill them now, and damn all those souls to Hell,” Cat says as steadily as she can manage. Astarion’s eyes flick up to hers.

“Yes,” he breathes. “But—but it would be for the best. Can you imagine, hundreds of spawn like that, the terror they would cause? No, for the best…”

Cat looks at him hard. Her stomach is clenching. But she must. “You’d do that? Deny them the chance at freedom that you got?”

“I’m not like them!” Astarion snaps. “I’m not so—so wretched—”

“They were innocent victims.”

“Yes,” he hisses. “I can’t deny—”

“I could have been one of them, if we had met differently,” Cat says quietly, willing the blow to land.

Astarion stares up at her in horror. “Don’t—don’t say that! Please, I don’t want to think,” he stops, taking a shuddering breath. “I had thought—after what Cazador did to you, he would order me to—to bring you in… gods, I—” He drops her gaze.

Cat crouches down. Looks him in the eye. And she says, “please don’t do this. This isn’t… you.”

Astarion looks back at her, face full of fear. “But, it should be,” he whispers, voice quavering between question and statement, leaving it hanging uneasily between them.

But then the moment is gone before Cat can seize on it. He stands abruptly. “Come on—he’s close. We need to end him. Now.”

The battle with Cazador is brutal for how brief it is. The companions are a well-oiled machine by now, and the ability to prepare ahead of time for a fight with a powerful undead means that they are ready for his onslaught. He traps Astarion in the ritual briefly at the outset, but Astarion is freed just as quickly with a well-placed Dimension Door, allowing Cat to rescue him from his restraint, and for him to join the fight.

But as Astarion drags Cazador out of his healing trance to deliver the final blow, Cat feels that the real struggle is now beginning.

“Help me,” he begs her, voice husky and raw. He is bare-chested, breathing ragged, standing over a delirious Cazador. “If I carve my scars onto him, I can use him in my place—”

“Foolish boy,” Cazador suddenly splutters, coughs wracking his ravaged body. “Do you think I would have allowed such a thing to happen—”

“Silence!” Astarion bellows. He turns back to Cat, eyes pleading. “Cat, help me, show me the scars off my back…” his words die as he sees her face.

Cat braces herself. “No. I won’t help you do that.”

“But Cat—” Astarion hisses, tense. But after a moment he lets his shoulders slump. Tries another tack. “If I ascend, I’ll finally be free—truly free. I’ll be safe, from anything and everything. Isn’t that—isn’t that what you want, for me?”

Cat looks at him, her face carefully calm. “I won’t help you get a power that will just trap you, just like Ca—”

“Don’t you dare compare me to him!” Astarion snarls, unraveling in rage before her eyes.

Cat tries to breathe, tries to think. The smell of so much blood is nauseating. Astarion’s chest is heaving, sucking in great gulps of it. How much more intoxicating it must be to him, how the swirling power of the ritual on the verge of completion must be singing in him with infernal promise—

She has to get him away. Has to get him to a place where he can think—

Cat looks up at Astarion in apology. Her tadpole thrashes and reaches for his.

A blink and a searing stab of pain later, and Cat is alone with Astarion on a sharp blue winter morning amidst the sea of faded grass, rustling slightly in the cold-clean breeze. They stand on the path running along the dike toward the southern bounds of the Delta. Now and then a bird wings above, crying plaintively, but otherwise, there is nothing else in the world but them.

Astarion looks around wildly. “Cat, what in the hells—what did you do—”

“You need a clear head,” she begins, hands clenching and unclenching by her sides. “I need you to hear me out, and you can’t do that practically drowning in blood and hell-magic.”

“There is nothing to discuss! This ritual will give me the power to be free. Free from—from fear, from hunger. Cat,” he steps toward her, looking at her wide eyed. His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “I will keep you safe. I’d have the power to keep you safe from anything.”

Cat remains stock-still. “Astarion. This power—you’d damn thousands of souls to get it. That would mark you forever. You’d carry that with you, forever. And it would drive you mad.”

“Why—why are you talking like you know anything at all? You know no more than I do, and that certainly isn’t written in stone!” He snaps, his pleading turned to scorn in a blink.

“No, I don’t know. But this whole thing has tasted bad from the beginning. Anything that requires sacrifice of innocents like this cannot be good for your soul.” Her careful expression starts to slip, and she looks at him with resignation, but under it, a deep painful well of affection. “I can only do what I believe. And I will not help you do this.”

Astarion stares back at her. “Cat,” he says at last, a crack cutting through his voice. “You love me. Don’t you?”

Cat stiffens. But after a long pause, she answers with the truth. She couldn’t say anything different. “Of course I love you.”

“Then you’ll help me.”

Cat balls her fists at her sides. She looks him full-on, willing the tears not to fall. “I won’t. I won’t help you act in—in fear. This is all the fear in you coming out. You’ve known nothing else for so long. And I understand,” she inhales. Exhales trembling. “If this is the end for us, then—I’ll be devastated. I won't lie. But I’d rather that, than… than lie to you about what I feel, cling to you out of my own fear. We’d both be trapped, if I help you do this.” She squeezes her eyes shut as the sob rises in her throat. “And I love you too much to let that happen.”

They stand in silence for a long time under the cold, distant sun. Astarion looks up at it, at her memory of the sky that painfully clear day when she left home forever. “I’ll lose the light. Again.”

Cat wants to close the distance, wants hold him fast. But she forces herself to stay still. “I’ll get it for you again. I’ll stay with you—we’ll travel, we’ll find a way. I promise.”

As Astarion turns to her, his eyes meet hers, the light refracting through the red so beautifully—

—Cat stumbles as her mind whips back to the chamber full of blood and fear and the taste of Hell. Astarion is bent over Cazador as he tries to get his bearings back, panting as everything floods his senses again.

He doesn’t look up at Cat. He only has eyes for his master writhing at his feet. And then, without warning, he sets to work.

Over and over he stabs his blade into the screeching wretch. At first Astarion yells in unleashed anger in time with the plunging dagger, but as the flying blood coats him thicker and thicker, as Cazador’s convulsions fade into mere involuntary twitches, Astarion’s yells turn into cries. Of pain, of abject misery, flooding out of his body as surely as the blood pooling under his master’s corpse.

Astarion falls to his hands and knees. He is gasping for breath, but soon he is heaving, and the sobs wrench themselves from his body. He howls.

Cat’s instinct is to turn away, make everyone turn away—let Astarion spill his guts where no one can see him so raw, so vulnerable. No one should be allowed to see—but she can’t do that. So she stands sentinel over him. Witnesses his writhing, pain-filled transformation as he lets himself realize the one who tormented him for the whole of his life, who was his life, lies dead in front of him.

Astarion sits back as the sobs subside. The tears on his face trace tracks through the drying blood. Cat steps tentatively towards him, but he abruptly stands up before she gets close. Sways. “Let’s leave. I can’t stand it...” he mutters, turning for the stairs. Slowly he totters towards them. Cat and the rest follow in his wake like funeral mourners.

“Close your eyes, I’m going to wet your hair—” Cat murmurs, putting her hand carefully to Astarion’s forehead as she pours from the bucket of clean water over his blood-encrusted curls. He bows as the hot water washes over him, down his scarred back, into the murky depths of the tub. He still says nothing.

Astarion had gradually lost his words as they moved away from the ritual chamber earlier that night. There had still been a decision to make—a heavy one. The few hundred remaining unliving spawn stared at Astarion warily as he approached their bars with Cazador’s staff in hand. Cat had no idea what he was going to do—the staff held the power to free them from their cage, but it also could kill them. Which might have been a mercy, and a mercy on the city’s population given the ravenous, bottomless hunger in each of them.

Astarion had lifted the staff wordlessly. Then, the two children had emerged from the crowd.

They were spawn, like the rest, with their red eyes and shark teeth. Astarion faltered. You, he had said simply. And then the two children, a boy and a girl, started screaming.

He had abducted them, they shrieked. Taken them from the Gur at Cazador’s orders not long before he himself had been taken by the mindflayers. Astarion bowed under the weight of their wrath, their cries of hunger. Then—the spawn around the children put their hands on their shoulders gently, murmuring to them in a bid to comfort, such an unexpected warm gesture that it shocked Cat.

These spawn, who tore apart most every new arrival in their never-ending rage, their blind drive to feed on anything and everything, had spared these children. Cared for them in what meager ways they could. Despite their unending nightmare, a spark of compassion still remained in their desiccated bodies. Cat stepped forward. Looked sidelong at Astarion’s face. His teeth had been clenched, his eyes bloodshot, staring for a long time at the scene playing out before him. He then turned to his siblings who had been following at a distance.

And he had charged them to take the wretches down, down into the Underdark. Let them feed there, let them figure out how to live. His siblings, whether from their own shock or confusion or something more noble, agreed to be their escort. Without another word Astarion had flourished the staff, and Cat felt the magical barrier fall. Felt a sudden rush as the miasma of souls dissipated. The bars had remained, but Astarion still took Cat by the hand and led her away quickly from the hungry mouths behind them.

Despite her own hazy mind, Cat had still managed to order a bath to be drawn in one of the group’s rooms when they arrived back at the Elfsong. She looks now at Astarion with his soaked hair, realizing she had never seen it wet before, without any curl. His ears—they stand out so prominently that Cat feels a smile tug at her lips. No, not now. Not while he is so delicate, while his mind is still making sense of this new world.

Cat brushes a stray hair that escaped from the kerchief she had tied around her head when she stripped off her own armor and went to work on Astarion. She works the gentlest soap she could find into his hair, loosening the crusty blood. After a thorough massaging, she rinses it out before applying conditioning oil. She does not know whether to do it at only the ends or to the root. She should ask. But she is afraid to hear him speak.

She oils the ends. Begins to scrub the rest of him. Runs her cloth and her hands over the expanse of his skin, trying to be firm and businesslike. She does not want any part of her to ask anything of him. She hesitates at his back scars—but they are as coated with filth as the rest of him. So she holds her breath and works quickly, keeping on alert for any flinch, any freeze. But Astarion remains slumped where he sits, breathing shallowly every now and then.

His face. Cat needs to ask. So she gently pushes aside the hair that has plastered itself on his forehead. Holds up a clean cloth. “Should I? Or do you—?”

By way of answer, Astarion bows his head toward the cloth and closes his eyes. She gently wipes, first with water, and then with soap, then rinses it. This face she knows so well—every quirk, every expression it makes.

But she can’t tell what he’s feeling. She doesn’t know if he loves her or hates her or feels nothing for what she refused to do. All she knows is she wants to clean it off him, the filth and despair of that place. Gruffly she asks him to stand—the water is too dirty, she needs to wash the rest of him piecemeal as he steps out.

Cat finishes and immediately goes to wrap his drooping form in a towel. He clings at it with sudden movement, holding it around his shoulders with trembling hands. Without pausing, Cat takes another towel and tosses it over his dripping hair, massaging and scrunching to soak out the water, then ruffles it over his whole head. It will have to be good enough—Cat does not trust herself with prestidigitation to dry it in her emotional state; likely, she would explode the room instead.

She goes to lift the towel from where it lies over his face. His gorgeous eyes meet hers as she uncovers them. He looks at her, not through her, for the first time tonight. But that is all he gives; his only expression is bone-deep weariness. Cat tries on a tentative smile in place of her real desire to smother his face with kisses.

But she doesn’t even wait for a reaction from him. Fears it. She continues to dry him, then bustles over to grab the clean nightshirt and trousers she had bullied the others into scrounging up. Astarion takes them from her wordlessly without prompting. Once he has dressed, he heads over to sit on the bed while Cat goes back behind the screen to wash herself. The large tub is far too filthy, so she contents herself with a quick sponge bath with the remaining bucket of clean water. She rushes as if Astarion will flee at any moment, pulling on her shift as soon as she is barely dry enough and then dashing out from behind the screen.

But she freezes as uncertainty hits her again. Astarion sits on the edge of the bed, hands clenched around each other. He stares down at them. Cat takes one step and then another, carefully, until she stands in front of him.

“Do you—” her voice quivers at the edge of a whisper. “Do you want me… here? Or, should I…”

His head tilts up slightly. A pause, and then his hand reaches out, takes one of hers. Slowly he clambers back on the bed, pulling her with him.

In the end he lies on one side, Cat on the other, facing each other. He keeps his hand on hers, his eyes fluttering closed almost immediately into a true sleep. Cat isn’t surprised he wouldn’t want a reverie tonight. She watches him for what must be hours as the candles burn down—so wasteful, but she does not dare move. Barely dares to breathe, for fear of shattering the delicate image in front of her.

Cat is awakened by the sunbeam crawling across her face. It blinds her bleary eyes for a moment, and for that moment she sees the image that has been burned into her mind after last night—Astarion curled up peacefully across from her.

But she blinks, and he’s gone.

Cat snaps up, staring at the indentation where he had been as if she will find him somewhere in it. Her breathing slows as she realizes how silly she’s being—it’s normal, Cat, for people who wake up to get out of bed. But then the folded scrap of paper on his pillow catches her eye.

She snatches it, opens it. It reads, simply, “Don’t come after me. -A.”

Cat feels as if her heart is being strangled as her eyes rake over it again and again. What—what did he mean? Don’t come after me, because I’ll be back? Or did he mean—gods.

A gout of anger suddenly rises in her chest. Would it have killed him to write a few more words in his looping, beautiful script? Of course he wrote beautifully; now she would feel more shamed over her chicken-scratch letters.

Cat paces. Runs her hands down her face. Then in a flurry of activity she gets dressed, furiously combs and does up her hair, screams ‘fuck’ into a pillow, and walks as calmly to their common room as she can manage.

Everyone knows something is up. Cat’s unnaturally high-pitched announcement that Astarion had gone out and no, she didn’t quite know when he would be back fools no one, and Cat knows it. But she can’t bring herself to care. Thankfully, everyone seems content to let her keep pretending.

They have an odd assortment of tasks to choose from. Among other things, they could continue tracking down that Bhaalist cult murderer, or relatedly, they could collect more parts of that clown that had been one of the victims. The latter gets vetoed quickly without Astarion there to counter with “who doesn’t want to savor the horrid, painful death of Dribbles who, as a clown, deserved nothing less?”

Ultimately they decide to track down more of the Bhaalist murderer’s would-be victims in the hopes that he would show, reasoning that at least this venture might lead to Orin’s bolt-hole. By that afternoon, the companions find themselves rudely interrupting a wine tasting, blasting away at the shape-changing killer and, unfortunately, just missing him.

They are all sagging afterwards, still feeling the fatigue from the battle with Cazador the day before. The demoralization from their failure today also doesn’t help. Without any spoken agreement, they all start slowly walking back toward the Elfsong.

In the end it is Lae’zel who grabs Cat by the proverbial scruff to figure out what is going on. It is early evening and they are all sitting silently around a table on the main floor of the inn, sipping their drinks of choice, when Cat abruptly begs off and starts to head upstairs. Lae’zel outflanks her and stops her at the top landing.

Cat tries to stay matter-of-fact about it. Feels slightly gratified that Lae’zel rolls her eyes when she sees Astarion’s abrupt note. Fool, she mutters. And then she fixes Cat with her astounding stare. And you’re a fool, too, if you think he is not coming back.

Cat opens her mouth to reply, but Lae’zel shushes her in her way that is impatient yet not unkind. She then openly sniffs Cat. Demands to know if she washed—chk, no, a true bath. Stalks away from Cat before Cat is done talking and manages to summon a bath from the Elfsong staff in record time. She shoves Cat back into her room and forbids her to emerge until she has washed properly.

Cat would dearly like to wallow in the tantalizingly hot water. But unfortunately, her monthlies had decided to arrive the day before yesterday, so her flow was in full swing right now and would muddy the bath in minutes. Lovely.

Cat feels bloated and crampy and gross. She washes quickly, leaving aside her hair because she doesn’t have it in her to do it all, and she had miraculously avoided the copious blood spatters of yesterday and today. Looking longingly at the hot bath, Cat finds a middle ground to enjoy it, soaking a towel in the hot water and laying it on her stomach as she goes to work to at least run through her hair with a fine comb and clean what she can with that. It really is getting too long, she decides. She resolves for a moment to chop it tonight. But what if he comes, and—?

She repeats that stupid last line to herself in a high-pitched mocking voice as she continues to furiously comb out her hair. So what if? What if he comes back?

… Should he come back?

Her mind catches on a stray line Cazador sneered after he had snatched Astarion into the ritual, something about how Astarion can’t help himself—how Cazador and then Cat became the center of his world, the masters of his misery, and he would always come back to them like the pathetic animal he was.

The comparison that monster made between himself and her had roiled her stomach. Because an ugly part of her wondered if maybe he was right. If Astarion had held fast to her out of dependency more than anything. Maybe Astarion should just… go. Really start over, with people who did not know all about the horrors of his past, who wouldn’t look at him with any pity in their eyes. Maybe he would be happier, then. Maybe he would truly be free.

The sun is sinking. Cat has no intentions of leaving this room at all, actually, Lae’zel. She throws her hair into a messy braid. Pulls on a clean shift.

As the hour passes, Cat paces from window to window, looking out at the darkening city. The light is dying quickly. In the end she stands looking toward the west, watching the last line of it on the horizon shrink into nothing and disappear. She sighs, like the end of the light is the end of her watch for him.

“My hero, brooding in the dark?”

Cat spins wildly, sees the glint of his eyes before anything else as her sight adjusts. It is all she can do not to burst into tears on the spot. “You came back,” she chokes out at last.

“I did.”

Cat waits maddening moments for more. But it doesn’t come. The anger flares in her again. “Just tell me, damn it. I can’t take this—kiss me or kill me or—”

Astarion strides over and picks option one with a will. Cat clings to him through the kiss as her eyes start to well, as she starts sobbing into his mouth. He breaks off and rests his forehead on hers. Cat takes shaky breaths as her crying subsides.

 Astarion’s eyes shut suddenly. “Cat. Thank you,” he breathes, squeezing her shoulders.

Cat can see the emotion shuddering through him, overtaking his practiced façade. After a steadying moment, he moves his head from hers. His eyes flicker over her tear-stained face.

“Gods,” she blurts out. “I thought, I thought you weren’t…”

“Cat—” he says, looking at her so earnestly, “yesterday, in that chamber, I… I did hate you in that moment. When you stood your ground. Even though I knew you were right about the ritual. I hated that you saw me as I was. That you… wanted me as I was. Told myself you were trying to keep me weak. Even afterwards—I didn’t know how to feel.”

Cat looks into his eyes. She doesn’t have to know, is scared to know, but she still asks. “When you left this morning, did you know you were coming back?”

Astarion sighs. Drops her gaze. “Yes. And—no. I told myself first I was just going to clear my head. But then I kept remembering how angry I had been. It took a while. A long while to sort out how I really felt.”

Cat lets the tremor of her past fear move through her. It had not been wholly wrong. “I suppose it took you a short time, all things considered.”

He moves his hands from where they hold her shoulders to rest on her hands laying on his chest, rubbing absently over them with his thumbs. “I’m still… scared,” he says at last. “Scared of what’s to come with what little I have, but—I still have myself, after all that. And,” his eyes meet hers, “rather presumptuously, I thought I might also have you.”

He’s looking at her all shy, all bared hope—eyes wide, features soft. Like when she kissed his hand tenderly back in Moonrise. And like then, it pierces right through her. “Always,” she says, and means it from the bottom of her soul.

Finally, he lets a trembling smile ghost across his face. He bows his head, kissing her fingers. When he looks up, he is smiling fully, with a sudden spark of anticipation. “Would you mind—could I show you something? Out in the city. It’s not far.”

She tilts her head. “What is it?”

“Just… something I’ve never shown anyone before.”

They don’t say much on the walk there, some twenty minutes from the Elfsong. Cat had thrown on a skirt, stockings, shoes, and a jacket, but had foregone her stays in her impatience to see exactly what Astarion was being so cagey about. When she had turned for the door, Astarion had been there with a shawl and draped it on her shoulders, saying that it was rather chilly out, with the wind off the water. He had been right. Spring in Baldur’s Gate was a fickle thing. The day had been warm, but the nights had not caught up yet.

They wind their way through the quiet streets, heading west. Now and then one of them reaches for the other’s hand absently for a brief touch or grasp, renewing the connection that had tenuously been restored. Eventually Astarion leads them into the Lower City’s single cemetery—clearly for the higher-born of this lesser place. It was far too small to hold any significant percentage of the dead from here over the centuries.

Astarion stops in front of one overgrown headstone. Turns to Cat. “Did you ever see any memories of this?” He asks quietly. Cat shakes her head. Astarion nods. “Good. I’m glad you never felt how I felt, here.”

A moment later, Cat thinks she realizes what this is, and a prickle runs up her spine. “This grave—this is yours?”

Astarion gazes down at the tufts of long grass covering plot. The weeds growing up over the face of the headstone, obscuring the epitaph. “Yes. Where I was laid after I died. And… where I woke up. To my new nightmare.” He continues to stare, eyes seeing back two hundred years to that night. “He made me crawl out of it. Up through six feet of dirt, choking on it as I clawed my way up. Retching up congealed blood when I broke the surface. And he… he was there. Waiting for me. From that night on, I was his.”

Cat stands beside him, arms crossed and hands tucked in her shawl as her eyes crawl over the deceptively peaceful-looking grave. Green with life.

“How does it feel now,” Cat says suddenly, “now that you’re free?”

His lips twitch up in an unconscious smile like she had hoped as her words bring him back to his brand-new reality. “I don’t quite know yet,” he starts, wonderingly. “Overwhelming. And… rather terrifying, if I’m honest. So many possibilities. So many choices, now. It’s… exhilarating.” He looks up to where clouds scuttle across the waxing moon. “I get to… be a person now, don’t I? I get to decide who I am. What I want.”

Astarion is silvery-pale in the moonlight, but he looks more alive than Cat has ever seen him. So unsure, but so eager. “Hm. I should fix this,” he murmurs, glancing sidelong at Cat with a playful glint in his eyes before he crouches in front of the headstone. He cleans the growth off it carefully. And then he pulls his dagger out of the sheath on his belt and sets to work scraping something below the worn epitaph. Cat moves forward, kneels down next to him to see what he’s adding. It’s today’s date, written under his old date of death. A new beginning.

He sits back once he’s done. Turns to her. His face softens into something like apology. “My dear Cat,” he says, taking one of her hands in his. “I left you in the lurch rather, didn’t I?”

 “You mean—the note? Or, not talking to me last night? Or…”

“I goaded you into confessing your feelings, when we were in your head,” Astarion says, shifting his seat to face her fully.

Cat takes his hand in both of hers. Traces the veins on the back of it absently. She feels her heart pattering against her ribs. “It… wouldn’t have taken much goading. It’s been sitting on my tongue a while, now.”

She looks up at him to see his easy smile falter, and then he is pulling her into him and kissing her fervently and deep, leaving her gasping. He breaks off, holding her close and nuzzling into her hair.

“I suppose I should’ve realized, when you told me you wanted us to share your blood always,” he murmurs, a breath of laughter in his words.

Cat sighs smiling, her head cradled in the crook of his neck. “I suppose you should’ve.” On sudden hot impulse, she presses her lips to his beautiful neck, and then she is kissing upwards, letting her teeth graze the cool skin. Astarion shivers under her mouth as she noses under his jaw.

“Gods,” he breathes, “Cat—I can feel how hungry you are.”

Cat lifts her head away from his neck with effort. She is so full of him, fit to burst. But she wants more so much she cannot speak.

As he watches her watching him, his pupils widen, widen so far his ruby-red irises are thin rings. He looks bestial, black stare boring into her, and it makes her insides melt. He raises a trembling hand to cup her cheek. Brushes his thumb over her parted lips. “I feel like prey, when you look at me like that, darling. In the most exquisite way,” he whispers hoarsely. “But, I was thinking that I might devour you tonight, instead.”

Cat leans into his hand, lips brushing his thumb as she asks, “what do you mean, exactly?”

“I mean…” he trails off. His feral eyes flick down, then back up again. “You’ve been smelling more and more delicious these past couple days.”

“Wh—” she snaps her mouth shut as realization hits. She can feel the blood rising in her face. “Oh, of course you can smell it. And you want to… hells.”

“Very much,” he purrs, lips curling upwards.

“You know it’s… not all blood.”

He chuckles. “I am aware. But it smells mouth-watering, all the same.”

Cat can still feel herself blushing fiercely. “Um,” This was going to be such a stupid question. “Is this… just a feeding? Because, I remember what you said about sex, and—”

“Oh, my dear, I very much intend to make you come several times in the process.”

Cat bites back an undignified noise. Astarion is looking at her with utter adoration, tinged with amusement. He continues. “I appreciate how thoughtful you’re being, really. But… I want this here, with you.”

Cat pauses. Glances around. Astarion frowns. “What is it? I know it’s rather… open, but. I can’t imagine who else will come creeping around.”

Cat sighs dramatically. “Well, I suppose there’s enough dead bodies around here for us to—"

Astarion laughs and pulls her to him, kissing her again and grinning into it. “You minx. Maybe it doesn’t have quite the ambiance of that altar, and the bodies are less fresh, but…”

Cat smiles. Gives him another peck. “It’s perfect.”

Astarion starts to kiss her again lazily, his arm winding around her back as he moves on top of her. Cat lowers herself down beside the headstone, on top of the shawl that had fallen from her shoulders. Bracing on his hands above her, Astarion moves his mouth down her body; to her neck, her collarbones. As he gets to the edge of her shift just at the rise of her breasts, he raises his eyes up questioningly.

“Uh,” Cat laughs. “No, thank you. Not about to strip down out here.”

“Fair enough,” he says, smiling. He doesn’t seem to mind in the least, sitting back on his knees and beginning to run his hands up one of her stockinged legs to where her garters are tied, just below the knee. His hand hovers at the bow, set to untie it, but in the end he seems to cheekily decide to keep them on, slowly hiking up Cat’s skirts instead.

She shivers at the cool air brushes her thighs. But as Astarion noses against her knee and trails kisses upwards, she stiffens. Without warning, memories come flooding back of one of her first times, with another student at the music academy. Later, she had conformed to the expectation, but coming from where she did, Cat had had no notion of hair removal at the time, which was a trend in the more cosmopolitan areas. The girl she was with had made such a face when she pulled off her drawers—

“Darling, are you alright?” Astarion has stopped his attentions, looking at her over the jumble of her hiked-up skirts.

“Oh, um,” Cat mumbles. “Ah, I’m just not very neat down there. At the moment.”

“Do you mean your blood?”

“N—no.” Cat says, her face heating up. She lays back, staring up as she talks. “No, it’s just. I have a human-ish amount of hair down there. Don’t know if you mind.”

His expression softens into a heavy-lidded smile. “My love, there’s nothing dirty about that. And I do not mind in the least. May I… proceed?”

There is a pitch of lust in his voice that runs straight down to her center. She nods, hands clutching at the grass in anticipation.

Astarion kisses and nips her thigh before he gently opens the angle, and her skirts fall back, exposing her underwear. He looks up at her where she has now dared to crane her head up and watch, his pupils once again blown wide. He continues, pushing her skirt and shift higher, to her waist. He dips his head to her stomach, kissing at the trail of fine hair leading down from her navel. Cat can feel his breath, his breathing he does to smell her. “All this means,” he whispers hoarsely as he goes, the hem of her underwear getting dragged down by his mouth, his nose, “is that you are a grown woman. And I rather adore it.”

Cat exhales shakily as she feels him slide her underwear off. Astarion sits back momentarily to remove them along with the blood-spotted rag, but then he leans right back into his former position at the juncture of her thighs, nosing the dark curls there while one hand gently starts to part her folds.

“Gods, you smell heavenly,” Astarion groans as he nuzzles lower, sending a jolt through Cat as his mouth moves over her clit and down toward her entrance.

It is a delightful shock when he firsts uses his tongue without warning, taking a long, slow lick up within her folds and ending by just touching her clit, teasing things to come. It is slightly cool, and the temperature difference heightens the sensation. He sighs, head lolling against her inner thigh as he savors the first taste of her monthly blood. Cat can’t see his eyes from this angle, just the impossibly thick eyelashes, before he bends down toward her again and begins in earnest.

He eats at her entrance like a starving man. She is slick already with both menses and her growing arousal, and Astarion makes it clear he wants it all. His tongue delves into her greedily, laving around the walls of her pussy as deep as he can go. His mouth moves against her inner lips deliciously, and now and then she feels the slight touch of a fang. It reminds her exactly what is happening—a vampire is feeding on her, devouring her in such an utterly vulgar way it stutters her brain. She lays back again as the shudder of lust runs through her. She raises her legs more, exposes more of herself to him, lost in the sensation of Astarion’s complete and undivided desire for her.

Cat has never been able to come from penetration alone. Astarion’s current attentions would not bring her to climax, but she very happily rides the waves of sensation, feels his desperate swallows as he feeds on her, sending another burst of heat down below.

When Astarion moves upwards, when his slick tongue finally runs over her clit, Cat jolts, gasping. His tongue circles—“N—no, not right on it,” Cat stutters, and Astarion shifts to probe on the hood, on the side, and he hmms satisfactorily as Cat moans and melts.

Astarion pushes two fingers into her and hooks them, moving them as he continues tonguing her clit, experimenting with sucking on it throughout. It does not take long at all for Cat to come, not after all this, and her spine curves as she cries out, one hand grabbing at the grass, the other winding thoughtlessly into Astarion’s hair as he keeps his tongue indirectly on her clit, extending the orgasm as her legs twitch and her breath hitches raggedly.

As she comes down from her high, releasing his beautiful curls, Astarion levers himself up, his fingers sliding out of her with a lewd squelch that sends a final twitch through her. His face as he looks at her smiling is… covered with her. Her slick and her blood all over his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. And not breaking her gaze, he brings his two fingers up and sucks them clean, licking at the last vestiges of her on them, closing his eyes fervently at the taste of it.

“My dear,” he says roughly at last, his adoring face framed by her thighs, “I think I should like to spend the rest of my eternity between your legs.”

Cat feels the overpowering sensation of lust fade in the aftermath, and the natural awkwardness of the situation starts to sink back in. “Ha. Was it really that good?”

“The life force of it is so concentrated. It fades fast when it… leaves your lovely self, but. That’s not an issue, direct from the source.”

A laugh bursts out of Cat. “You did seem very attached to my… source.”

“It is the source of much happiness, after all,” Astarion purrs. “for me, perhaps, in more than one way.”

Cat feels a shiver at the suggestion of his cock inside her. Suddenly her desire kicks back in, awkwardness forgotten. “Do you want to… do that other way, now?”

Astarion’s grin turns lustful. “How coy. Do you mean that you wish to be fucked?”

Cat hesitates for a moment. Remembers all he said before about intimacy. About sex. But she can see that he is still fully here and fully eager. So she will trust him to know himself. “Yes,” she says flatly, staring boldly back into his glittering red eyes.

“The lady knows what she wants,” he says before planting a kiss on her thigh. “though, if she would indulge me, I would like to feast on her once more. Give her some time to contemplate just how she would like to be fucked.”

Cat matches his grin. “I’m no lady. And your attentions down there don’t allow for rational thinking.”

“Apologies,” Astarion says as he sinks back down, looking entirely unapologetic. “how dreadful of me.”

This time is more languid than the last as he laps at her, as she feels his moans and sighs against her entrance. When she comes again, it is softer but no less toe-curling as her orgasm expands in her like a sea.

Cat sits up as the last waves of it recede, sighing contentedly. She gazes at Astarion sitting across from her on his knees. The breeze plays with his hair. He still looks something of a lovely horror with his red-smeared face, his tongue swiping at the excess around his lips.

“Have you reached a verdict?” he asks after he rubs his hand over his mouth to clean it further, tilting his head playfully.

“I have.”

“And?”

“Well, I was thinking. As much as I was able.” A grin tugs at his lips at that. “I’ve gained a lot of things on our journey. Friends. A worm in my head. You. If I may say that.”

“You may,” he says without hesitation, smiling bemusedly as he matches her light tone.

“The other thing I’ve gotten—well, earned really, after walking and walking and walking all over this godsforsaken land, is rock-hard thighs,” Cat says, hiking up her skirt for emphasis.

Astarion glances at them in a mock-cursory way. “You have gotten some impressive legs, darling. I can attest from up close and very personal experience.”

Cat’s dignified expression breaks into a grin for a second. “Yes. So I was thinking I’d like to put them to use, and ride you ragged.”

Astarion’s face falters as her last words shiver through him. He looks at her, desire sparking in his eyes. “My, you did manage to do some thinking while I was down there. Am I losing my touch?”

“Oh no. It was… inspiring,” Cat says huskily. She can feel how wet she is between her legs. Tries not to think how much of a pain it will be to clean it off her shift later. Pushing it from her mind, she crawls forward on her hands and knees, and Astarion sits back, letting her clamber on top. With a shuddering exhale he undoes his trousers, releasing his erection.

Cat puts her hands on his as they try to move up. “Oh, no. I think you should probably shuck them off more than that. Because I’m about to make a whole mess,” she rasps, gazing down at him from where she sits on his thighs. He looks up at her with a hunger that makes her guts twist. And then he snakes his head upward in a flash, captures her lips at the same time he pushes his trousers further down his legs, then holds Cat on his lap as he shifts back off his knees and onto his rear, cradling her in front of his thighs.

Cat freezes for a moment at the lingering taste of her in his mouth. He had cleaned up quite a bit of it, not wanting to waste it, but it is still there. At first she’s not sure how she feels—then thinks it’s a bit silly to hesitate when she was eager enough for him coated in goblin blood. Tentatively she opens at his probing tongue, meeting him with hers, letting herself revel in his devouring mouth.

His hand moves to shift up the skirts bunched up between them. And all of a sudden she feels what they had been muffling, feels him pressed hard against her belly, and the want seizes her. She shifts up on her knees; reaches down to position him below her dripping entrance. He jerks at her touch, breath hitching. And then she lowers herself down on him, relishing the slight sting at the entrance as he perfectly fills her.

“Cat—” he gasps into her mouth, his hands grasping at her waist, at her back, as she starts to move languidly, up and down while also gyrating her hips. She cradles his head as he pulls himself off of her mouth and buries his face in the crook of her neck, sucking in breaths as he clings to her. She can feel the tension in his torso as his muscles work to keep him sitting upright, slightly awkward in this position with his legs bent in front of him.

“Lay back if you want,” she says, but he shakes his head immediately.

“No—no,” he breathes with intense sincerity. “I want to stay right here with you.”

He mouths lower on down her chest. Cat arches back as she continues to move, giving him access. He settles on the top of one of her breasts.

With a sudden recklessness, Cat starts to untie the jacket over her shift, then loosens the drawstring within the shift’s neckline. Astarion pulls it down hungrily, baring her breasts.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll keep you well-covered,” he says hoarsely, and is true to his word as he smothers one breast with his mouth and holds the other, thumbing the nipple and making Cat gasp and clench around him. She clutches around his shoulders, burying her face in his hair.

“How have I never noticed your perfect tits before?” he groans into one of them.

“We had—very chaste sex, last time,” Cat says, gasping at the end as she feels him drag his teeth over the nipple.

He cackles into her, and the tickling sensation makes her giggle. “Oh yes, we are very chaste, aren’t we?” he says as he suddenly grabs her by the hips and grinds her down on his cock.

Cat grinds down harder automatically, chasing the friction. She moans right in his ear.

“Gods, you make pretty sounds,” he breathes. “Keep grinding down, darling.”

Cat groans. “I’m liable to snap your cock in half if I do, sweetheart. Much as I want to grind down until my brain dribbles out my ears—”

“That I would love to see,” he smiles into her neck.

“Well, what I would like to see is you, completely undone,” she murmurs into his ear, relishing the shiver she feels running through him. She picks up her former rhythm, adding a circular grind to it on the downstroke, feeling the head of his cock rubbing the apex of her, in front of her cervix.

She wrings sounds from him that nearly make her come by themselves. Suddenly Astarion grabs around her waist, holding her on his cock while he shifts a leg under him. With the leverage, he starts meeting her with his own thrusts. They hunch into each other like beasts, tense and inelegant and utterly wrapped up in the other. Cat clings to Astarion, letting him pound up into her as his thrusts come faster and frantic. He seeks her mouth, moaning into it as he comes inside her, holding her hips down as he finishes. She flexes herself around him rhythmically through his release, drawing it out, and swallows his sweet cries greedily.

Astarion is loose and utterly sated as he lies back, pulling Cat to lie next to him in his arms. Her skirts cover them, cover the mess of her blood and his spend.

As he watches her face, his brow furrows suddenly. “You didn’t finish, did you, dearest?”

“Hm? No. That’s fine, though. I’ve come plenty tonight.”

“But you were close. Would you… allow me?”

Something about the closeness of him, his face not even an inch from hers, makes Cat suddenly shy. She nods. Smiling at her, Astarion reaches down under her skirts. He gently rubs around her clit. Cat sighs into it, still looking right at him. She feels like his wide-eyed gaze is holding her gently, so gently she almost can’t stand it. But she doesn’t look away. Only flutters her eyes shut as her orgasm washes over her. She feels his nose nuzzle hers. Feels his hand gently cup her face, tracing with his thumb.

She opens her eyes, and he is looking back at her with a deep ache. “Cat,” he whispers. “I want to tell you. But I’ve said those words so many times without meaning them—I don’t know if I can make them sound sincere.”

Cat places her hand on his, her heart fluttering even after all this. “I know you mean it. Tell me, however you want.”

Astarion hesitates. Then he leans over her, puts his mouth to her ear. And he pushes it out of his lungs; breathes it into her. Three words said with genuine, terrible feeling.

A/N:

Thank you for reading!! The last chapter, wrapping up the post-game story, will be up tomorrow.

If it's of any interest-- I changed up the conditions around the 7k spawn because it always struck me as weird that all of them are just... standing around docilely. Like you're telling me they're not tearing apart any new spawn dumped in there who probably still smell a bit like fresh blood? Who would be competition for whatever vermin they happen to get their hands on? Naw. (also, was not able to explain it in-story, but I imagine that they stay stock-still to preserve energy until they smell blood)

I also always thought that Tav convincing Astarion not to ascend and the aftermath needed more angst and needed to be more drawn-out before the reconciliation between them because Astarion would need time to sort out his feelings.

[airi-of-hearts]

A spooky present for @andromedagarcia ...you know it ♥. I hope you like it.

The sound of the ocean was deafening, overwhelming, filled with a thousand voices. Wave after wave crashed against the steep cliff, sending a salty mist into the air and making white foam spray the tired traveler.

The traveler looked up, wiping water away from his face with the back of his hand. The sun was about to set. If he wanted to reach the inn at the top of the cliff he’d better hurry. He would have picked up his pace but, even though the rocky crag had crudely carved steps to facilitate the ascent, to anyone unfamiliar with the terrain as he was, any misstep would end up in a deathly plunge to the unforgiving water below.

The moon was showing her face just above the horizon when the traveler finally reached the inn. He thanked her for lighting his way and not letting him slip to a watery grave. The ocean wasn’t visible from where he was standing, but he could still hear it loud and clear, almost like a song, a calling. When he recovered from the climb, he proceeded to the inn.

The door to the tavern was slightly ajar so the traveler let himself in. Inside, there was a nice fire in the hearth. It made him shiver, he hadn’t realized how cold he was, but of course, his cloak was soaking wet. He seemed to hesitate as he lowered his hood and removed his cloak, not wishing to trail water all over the stone floor. He hung his cloak on a hook by the door and walked toward the bar. The woman behind it had her back to him, busy filling two flagons of beer.

‘Good evening,’ he greeted her with a soft voice, so as not to startle her.

‘Evening,’ she replied without turning around. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

That was fine, he wasn’t in a hurry. He was still trying to catch his breath after the treacherous climb. He ran his fingers along the coarse wood of the bar, trying to read stories in the grooves. As far as he knew, the inn was a couple of centuries old. He couldn’t even grasp the sheer number of spilled drinks and bar fights, of stories told by the fire.

‘What can I get you?’ The young woman had returned.

‘Are you the innkeeper?’

‘Innkeeper, barmaid, waitress…’ she tapped her nails on the counter.

‘Beer, please.’

She filled a tankard and put it in front of him. Then she looked him up and down, somewhat disdainfully. ‘You must be here to see them.’

‘See who?’

‘Every full moon, foolish men like yourself come here to get a glimpse of them.’

The traveler shook his head. ‘I just came to see the inn, I’m writing a book. Mind you, I almost didn’t make it, the climb is tricky. I could have slipped and…’

‘The mermaids would have taken you.’

‘The…?’

The barmaid rolled her hazel eyes. She looked around. There were just a few more people having a drink, but since she’d just brought fresh mugs to everyone, they wouldn’t bother her. At least for a few minutes. She sighed resignedly and sat beside the traveler.

‘Did you see the painting hanging above the coat rack?’

He hadn’t been paying attention when he’d come in. He turned around in his seat to look. A beautiful woman with locks of raven-black hair, dressed in a lovely white dress, stared back at him. She was sitting on a rock by the ocean. Her expression was indescribable. He could sense a profound sadness, but her eyes also spoke of anger.

‘She’s…’

‘Very beautiful, yes, I know.’

‘Who is she?’

The barmaid bit the inside of her cheek, as if she were trying to gauge how much to tell him. 

‘She is. Was. My great-grandmother’s sister.’ She shrugged. ‘And if legends are to be believed...’

‘Legends?’ The traveler asked, urging her to keep talking.

‘Andrómeda.’ She pointed to the painting with her head. ‘Was a celebrated beauty. She had many suitors, as you can imagine. But her father gave her hand in marriage to an awful man. When she heard about this, she ran away with the man she loved. Andrómeda thought they would be happy together, that they’d find the way to make a living. But that dream was short-lived. Her beloved turned out to be a scumbag, the worst kind of man.’

The barmaid looked away, absentmindedly curling a strand of her reddish hair around her finger. She was quiet for a minute before continuing.

‘No sooner was she out of her parents’ place than he assaulted her. She fought back, of course. Alerting those inside the house. Her brother and sister, my great-grandmother, among them. But when they went out, all they saw was Andrómeda tangled up in a fight with this man. And then they both fell down the cliff.’

The traveler gasped audibly, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of that abyss.

‘There was a storm raging that night,’ the barmaid said. ‘The sea spirits were watching. The next day, they found the scumbag’s body on the rocky beach below, in oh so many pieces. But where was she?’ 

He shook his head, hoping she would say they’d found the dark-haired woman alive and well. No such luck.

‘The sea had taken her, they concluded.’ She sighed. ‘My great-grandmother mourned her sister for weeks. And then, during the next full moon, she was walking on the beach and she saw her. Her lost sister. Sitting on a rock, the one from the painting, watching the ocean wistfully. Not only that. My great-grandmother claimed Andrómeda had spoken to her. She wrote it all down in her diary. I memorized it.’

The barmaid took a deep breath and closed her eyes before reciting:

“Don’t weep for me, Cass. I am far from dead. That night, as I fell, I embraced my fate. But instead of the cold embrace of the ocean, She put her arms around me. The Sea Witch, with her enticing eyes and honey blonde hair. And she offered me my life, in a way no one else could possibly offer it. ‘Andrómeda,’ the Sea Witch said, in the sweetest voice you can imagine. ‘You have been mistreated in the world of men, disregarded, hurt. If you choose to surrender your life now, I promise you a calm passing to the Underworld. But if you choose to remain, I will make it so you appear even more beautiful to the eyes of men. Alluring, irresistible, and terrible like the ocean itself. So you can drag them to their doom. Drown them.’” It was then that I noticed Andro’s sharp teeth, her raven-black hair so long it reached way below her waist… where a fishtail with shimmery scales had replaced her legs…

‘The Sea Witch?’ the traveler interrupted the barmaid, his voice hoarse. He hadn’t realized his mouth had been hanging open since the barmaid had started telling him the story. He drank deeply from his tankard.

‘Airi, they call her around here. Another maid of the sea.’ 

‘Maid of…?’

‘That’s what locals call them. You would call them mermaids. Some say they’re the souls of young women who died at sea, some say they have no soul at all. Anyway, after Andrómeda talked to her sister, she jumped into the ocean and disappeared. A few months later, the rumors began. Young men drowning in shallow waters, boats left adrift because their sailors were suddenly possessed with the urge to jump into the water. And yet, more and more people who heard the rumor come every month. Most of them return these days. But some…’ she shrugged, letting her words hang between them. ‘They say my great-grandmother never stopped looking for her. She bought this place… and here we are.’

‘What do you believe?’ the traveler asked, truly intrigued.

‘Part of me believes Andrómeda drowned that fateful night. But I want to believe she found another life in the dark depths, and that she takes her revenge every month.’ 

The traveler felt a shiver running down his spine. Perhaps the Sea Witch and the Dark Mermaid were listening. He couldn’t know it, but he was lucky the barmaid had decided he was trustworthy. Otherwise, she would have offered to take him down to the beach to see the actual Mermaid Rock from her great-grandmother’s story. And then she would have offered him to the vengeful maids of the sea.