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opalblade · 3 months ago

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21 MARCH 25.

𓂀 THE ASTROLOGY OF BLACK PEOPLE .

AN: this is a post by a dark skin black woman of west african descent. please keep that in mind. my experiences and cultures will largely inform this post.

SOURCE FOR ART BELOW

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⭐️ PLANET RULERSHIP .

the idea for this post started when i was sat thinking about how all of astro tumblr said black people are ruled by saturn.

i would like to say that's crazy! i understand the thought process, but we (black people) are not defined by our oppression and struggle! we have cultures and a multitude of other things to offer as well!

saturn rules over things like oppression and poverty. it makes sense considering the history of the black diaspora, slavery and colonialism to associate saturn with us. does saturn have a good side too? yes! however, i do not believe we are solely ruled by saturn. many other demographics could be saturnian based on their experience with oppression.

i, personally, find that the sun correlates best to black people and the black diaspora.

the most obvious reason is that our skin contains a TON of melanin, which is our natural protection from the sun! (please please please wear sunscreen though. we still need it.)

the sun is related to gold, as are black people. we have an entire country that was named the "gold coast" (present-day ghana) due to its plentiful gold reserves. many black cultures hold gold in particularly high esteem and to this day, i see black people wearing gold more than any other metal.

black people are associated with pride in ourselves and our cultures. we are noted to have rich and ancient cultures, the oldest actually. one thing the sun represents is hierarchy, and black cultures tend to have a focus on this - particularly respecting our elders.

we're known for our self-expression and dominating the arts — see: the entire music industry, the harlem renaissance, reggae, ska, samba, afrobeats, highlife, amapiano etc. it goes on. we influence culture through our self-expression and have found ways to liberate ourselves through self-expression. a great example of this is capoeira, an afro-brazilian martial art disguised as a dance. our cultures are heavily inspiring and imitated with everyone wanting to wear braids, our clothes, take part in our music and people are even obsessed with our food. the sun rules over leo and the 5h. our dominance over the arts is not to be dismissed, nor can it be ignored.

the sun rejoices in the 9h. black people have a particular relationship with religion and education. black women are the most educated group in the usa. the church has played a large role in black cultures and communities historically and still does today. we can see this most obviously with martin luther king jr. not to mention, we have our own indigenous religions that managed to survive slavery and spread from africa to the americas. there are several different religions thriving among black people - with lots of black africans taking part in both muslim and christian festivities.

the sun also exalts in aries. black people are known to pioneer many things and focus on self-determination of the diaspora. our movements inspired many other movements and our cultures have inspired many other cultures and artists.

if anything, black people are more likely to be ruled by the sun and not saturn... we are not simply suffering.

honestly we could be ruled by jupiter too (rules over 9h and 12h, rejoices in the 11h of community, the plentiful resources in africa, jupiter's exaltation in cancer....). if you have some thoughts, please share!! i'd love to talk more about this <3 i may make a separate post breaking this down.. there's a lot more to say!

⭐️ PAN AFRICANISM .

Pan-Africanism is a general term for various movements in Africa that have as their common goal the unity of Africans and the elimination of colonialism and white supremacy from the continent.

SOURCE.

i looked at the charts of some of the most influential pan-africanists to find the astrological essence of the movement.

[ malcolm x, marcus garvey, kwame nkrumah, w.e.b du bois, patrice lumumba, nelson mandela, frantz fanon ]

their big 3 showed clear ketu, rahu and jupiter dominance.

ketu represents the past and liberation. rahu represents the future and innovation. it's not surprising that the nodes showed up prominently in their charts. pulling on the myth of ketu and rahu, they were separated and split into a headless body (ketu) and bodiless head (rahu). this mirrors the creation of the black diaspora, which was created due to the horros of slavery and black people being split up across the atlantic ocean. i believe both nodes showing up represents a return to wholeness that pan-africanists aimed for.

rahu also aims to critique society (seen in ardra) and revolutionise it. there is a large focus on changing society and removing its perceived injustices.

jupiter is a guru, known as "the teacher to the gods". his role is to bestow wisdom and remove ignorance. the aim of removing white supremacy from the black diaspora and from the african continent required a lot of education. most of these men were intellectuals and placed heavy emphasis on educating the black community.

⭐️ AFRO HAIR CARE .

@vindelllas post on hair in vedic astrology ends with contemplations on protective hair styles such as braids. venusian hair as venus gives curly hair and our hair is coily (the tighest form of curls) plus the adornment of braids and other african hairstyles. braids were also a status symbol in african societies such as ancient egypt (venus rules over elitism).

unfortunately, black people really hate our natural hair. we've been forced to feel ashamed of our coils and kinks and now we perpetuate these same cycles. we use relaxers that burn our scalps, fry our hair and even give us cancer... we use braiding hair that tugs at our roots causing traction alopecia and also gives us cancer. our hatred of our hair is literally killing us. it's devastating and, for some reason, still the source of major discourse when the truth is blatantly obvious.

this all causes a damaged venus. this reflects even further in the black community. the hatred of women (ruled over by venus), our bodies, our freedom etc. the blatant disrespect towards us, the harm done onto us, and the way we are controlled. we are seen as "the least desirable women" and we are constantly made fools of and degraded by our own people and other races. however, our features are copied en masse — our naturally full lips, our naturally full figures, our braids, our fashion sense. all venusian things that are copied and mimicked while we are put down and called "ugly".

unfortunately, a lot of us internalise this hatred. on the topic of hair, many women wear wigs to hide their natural hair, which they call "difficult", "ugly" and "manly". they use relaxers to achieve a straightened look, or constantly silk press their hair. it's undeniably out of self-hatred and i'm tired of pretending it's not.

it's gotten so bad that women wearing "stiff wigs" or even their natural hair, and not aligning with the goal of conforming perfectly to eurocentric ideals are deemed as "less black". it sounds crazy, but it's true. black women that wear their natural hair or wear "obvious" wigs are seen as wanting to pander to white people.... there's lots to be said, but i'll leave it there.

hair relaxers specifically cause two types of cancer — uterine (uterus) and breast cancer. it's a clear attack on women as women are the ones who use relaxers the most. same with braiding hair.

this post is very important. we need to learn to start loving our natural kinky and coily hair! it's venusian and we need to treat it as such. with love, care and devotion.

i also love this post, relating our hair's transformative qualities to mermaids. we definitely need to embrace our hair's flexibility and malleablity. it's definitely fragile, which is why we wrap it up in silks, and we need to treat our crowns with such reverence. romanticise and truly fall in love with your afro hair, ladies!! 💋

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#✧ / opalblade originals .#✧ / opalblade miscellaneous .#vedic astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astroblr #astrology #vedic astro notes #vedic astro observations #✧ / opalblade on ketu .#✧ / opalblade on rahu .#✧ / opalblade on the sun .#✧ / opalblade on venus .#vedic chart #tropical astrology #western astrology

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galedekarios · 1 year ago

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i'm reading a new interview tim downie gave about gale and it offers some of tim's own headcanons about gale, as well as tim's thoughts and insights on gale's character:

Nerds & Beyond: I like that you mentioned that the game is full of rounded characters because they are, they all have different aspects that make them feel real. I adore that Gale specifically is so serious and studious, but at the same time he has this really playful side — he often jokes about how he was a mischievous youth, he encourages other people like Arabella to do so, he understands when The Dark Urge first mentions their violent thoughts. There is a lot of nuance and depth there. But the quality that I love with Gale most is that obviously he is very ill when we first meet him – not that we know immediately – and he’s dealing with a lot of chronic pain. I find him incredibly selfless because he takes that day-to-day head on to help the party, which is an aspect I feel continues to show throughout the three acts. What’s your favorite quality of Gale’s, or what did you take away from him? Tim Downie: It’s so interesting hearing you say that, because I had so many different feedbacks about what people take from the character and sometimes things really surprise you. It’s interesting hearing that such and such has taken that particular aspect, because there are broad things like “He’s funny,” and that’s quite nice, that’s a nice trait, though not one you necessarily get to see that much. It’s so interesting hearing other people’s views about what they take from Gale. The idea of dealing with chronic pain I found really interesting and an interesting subplot to play, and that was the great thing about doing something like this is that it is so unbelievably nuanced. You have so many layers that just keep going and going and going, as much as we all contain multitudes within ourselves. We all deal with these things, but only certain things pop up to the surface at any given point. What did I take from Gale, though? I liked his studiousness. I would imagine that he was probably bullied as a kid for it, and he was probably a bit of a joker because he was bullied, and he uses that as a defense. But an even bigger defense for him is “I now know stuff that I didn’t before,” and that’s a power. It’s very similar to when you are being bullied and you’re the funny one – that’s your power, that’s your thing. “I may not be able to hurt you in a traditional sense, but I can say things that will make you feel pain,” which is a very different thing because you physically can’t go after them. That’s the wonderful thing about acting and this character as well is being able to explore all these things that you might not have, that you might have gone, “I’m not gonna look at that again, I don’t want to deal with that,” and then it brings it up again and it’s like, “Oh, this is actually quite cathartic,” to re-explore these these moments of sorrow and loss and how you deal with grief and things like that and heartbreak and how you get over that. It’s not all just tears, you do try and make a joke of it.

i really like that they are addressing the topic of gale's chronic pain. it's something that doesn't get addressed often, not even in the game itself.

i also found his answer as to why people might connect to gale very nice:

Nerds & Beyond: Gale is the most popular origin character to play as. What is it about him that you think allows so many different players to connect with him to the depths the fandom has? Tim Downie: I really don’t know. I think you’d have to ask the players that, ‘cause I don’t know, to be quite honest with you. He’s a wizard, and who wouldn’t want to be a wizard at the end of the day? I always say the difference between wizards and sorcerers is that sorcerers just pretend – they just assume they know what they’re doing, but a wizard has really learned this trade. And so there’s that kind of weight of knowledge and learning, which I would love to play as and be for a length of time. I think it’s also the frailties. I like characters, and a lot of people do I’m assuming, that have flaws, otherwise you’ve made them completely unapproachable. To be completely superhuman or completely extraordinary at something then removes the humanity from it because it becomes like, “Well, that’s never gonna happen.” But when there’s a flaw, when there’s, “Oh, I’ve got that wrong, too,” or like, “My knees hurt” as you say, or “I’ve got a bit of a headache. I really don’t want to do this,” “You’re really annoying me, this is very annoying, could you please hurry up?” or “Stop licking the damn thing,” it’s always those moments that are fun because it shows what we’re all thinking at that point, it removes it from almost archetype and stereotype and it becomes human in a way.

gale is approachable and likeable, has flaws, but is genuinely nice. i think that very much sums up his character.

this bit here made me laugh:

Nerds & Beyond: When you’re talking about those different layers in the humanity building, I think one of the most important aspects in this game is the more “background” or passive dialogue, so dialogue that is prompted in the world and not in the cut scenes. For instance — the first time I made Gale sneak he immediately complained about his knees, and it was such a real moment where he was just like, “Oh, don’t make me do this. This is not what I’m here for, I’ve got bad knees and I’m not made for this.” Did you have any of those background lines or moments that stick out as being particularly fun to craft? Tim Downie: I remember the first time I ever had to do waiting, I found it infinitely interesting in so many ways. The idea that I did actually just have to wait and just actually, “Hmm…” Those little things I find really funny because they’re probably the closest to me that the character ever gets. His waiting mannerisms are kind of very English – slightly annoyed and I’m not going to show it to you though because we’re all being very nice, but I’ll do it with a huff and a slightly sarcastic, “Well, that’s great. Another 20 minutes. That’s great.” Those kinds of sentiments I found wonderful and incredibly fun, and funny, to do.

if you want to read the whole interview for yourself, you can do so here!

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tim downie #ch: gale dekarios #actor: tim downie #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #please keep in mind that this is not canon and just tim sharing his thoughts #i'd just like to add that as a general disclaimer

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darethshirl · 4 months ago

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teia/viago, fake relationship

“I just think,” said Teia, sotto voce, teeth clenched as she fake-smiled at a passing couple, “that stabbing him in the face will be easier in the long run.”

“No,” Viago said.

“It makes for a better message,” she insisted, digging her fingers into Viago’s bicep for emphasis. “What strikes more fear into the Crow’s enemies than a bloody explosion where a face should be?”

“A corpse does. Especially when it’s found in the middle of the night, with a whole household as witnesses and all traces of poison gone.” Viago stood straighter as they approached the Merchant Princes at their grand table, not even bothering to plaster on a smile—he’d already cultivated his persona as the disgruntled husband, and saw no need to change his naturally occurring glower. Playing to his strengths and all that. “We’re following the plan and that’s it.”

Teia sighed. With as close as the two of them were, arm-in-arm and heads leaning intimately together, Viago could feel her ribs expand as she inhaled, could smell the mint on her breath when she exhaled. Her body heat seeped through her clothes and out to Viago’s side, warming him from shoulder to hip. Her cloud of hair tickled his cheek.

The clench in his stomach loosened, softened by guilt and another, more elusive feeling he wouldn’t name. “Trust in the plan, Teia,” he said, voice pitched apologetically. “Trust in me.”

Teia’s hum contained multitudes, each fraction of emotion too complex to decipher on its own. But it was a peace-offering, begrudging yet sincere, so Viago took the win. He steered them towards the balcony, keeping the target at the edge of his vision. Well-dressed couples swayed out of their way, swanning ladies and peacock gentlemen, gleaming smiles and exotic hairdos. Viago noticed the way their gazes snagged at Teia’s elf ears, their expressions ranging from disapproving to scandalized. He pressed his lips together, but followed Teia’s cue and kept his silence.

The target was watching them too, Viago noticed with a pulse of adrenaline. Over his wine-laden cup Prince Casimir’s gaze was low-lidded, self-satisfied, and focused heavily on Teia.

Or more specifically, on her ass.

Viago stopped in his tracks. “Excuse me.”

Teia’s chuckle had entirely too much amusement in it as she patted Viago’s arm. “Relax. He’s not the first or the last one to look at me like that.”

“You’re a married woman!”

“We’re not actually married, Vi.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Viago growled, choked up with—with some feeling. His shoulders tensed. His mind whirled with images, plans, notions. “I changed my mind,” he said before he even knew he was going to say it. “We’re stabbing him in the face.”

He expected Teia to squeal with delight equal parts girlish and bloodthirsty, but she did none of that. She turned to him instead, her expression serious, her dark eyes black and glittering like the moon-kissed waves of the nighttime sea. “Do you mean it?”

He should say no. “Yes.”

There was the delight he’d been expecting. Teia’s grin bloomed on her face like the first breaking of the dawn, transforming her beauty into something sublime—and mischievous. She grabbed Viago’s shoulders with enthusiasm, not caring how they looked. “You’re not going to regret this.”

“I already am,” Viago grumbled, but he was smiling back.

#teia x viago #teia/viago #teia cantori #viago de riva #dragon age #veilguard #antivan crows #my writing #tumblr snippets

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slasherholic · 5 months ago

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Disclaimer: This is a repost! I deleted then remade my blog (more on that here) and people have requested for me to repost some of my old fics as they have become unavailable due to my deletion. Enjoy :-)

Synopsis: A shitty night leaves you in desperate need of some TLC, so you abandon better judgement and show up unannounced at Asa’s door.

Contains: gender neutral reader, themes of an abusive relationship, forced cuddling, Asa does fluff very much his own way :v

Words: 3k

Asa Emory / The Collector x Reader | When Push Comes to Shove

You can recall thinking the first time Asa invited you to stay the night that his house, with its muted-yellow paint and red brick walkway, its porch furnished with plants inhabiting deep clay pots and all the curtains drawn back on all the windows, was not the sort of house you’d expect him to own. His interior decor is less than subtle; still. You figure you could drive right on down his neighborhood street without ever guessing the identity of the man who lives at residence 859.

But the better you’ve come to know Asa beyond what he presents to his peers at work, Dr. Emory, professor, museum curator, the more you’ve come to realize why this is exactly the house a man like Asa would own.

You stand on the brick walkway in front of the door looking through the ornate glass window. All the lights are off inside. Off to the right a red porch chair swings soundlessly back and forth on its thin silver chains in the breeze. You aren’t sure if you’re actually going to ring and wake him up. In fact, you’ve come prepared with a multitude of excuses to walk away which you concocted on the drive over.

Asa works very early sometimes. It wouldn’t be fair to wake him up for your own selfish reasons in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t be responsible to test his patience with a spontaneous visit. It might end very poorly for you; but being close to him tonight, in any capacity, even for half an hour, even if he’s not being particularly kind to you, sounds better for you right now than spending the whole night alone.

So you ring it.

The chime carries far in his dark house and shatters the silence in a way that makes your breath catch and your toes curl in your shoes. The note dies as suddenly as it began. Insects sing in the distance. The wind ripples through the trees and carries the song far away. Asa’s neighborhood street is picturesquely peaceful.

You set your jaw when a light goes on by the stairs, hugging your arms against the gust that’s picking up.

You don’t hear Asa’s quiet footsteps approaching, but you can see his dim silhouette getting bigger through the thin curtain on the opposite side of the glass. Maybe you should back away. He won’t try anything out here, but inside, well—you would like to be able to sit down at work tomorrow.

You squint and blink as the bright yellow light overhead goes on, illuminating the porch. Too late for a change of heart. The lock clicks on the inside of the door. The knob turns and twists sharply. He pulls it open.

Asa isn’t quite scowling at you, but the look he’s regarding you with is less than understanding. He’s dressed down to a dark cotton t-shirt and the same grey chinos he was wearing earlier when you visited him during lunch, thrown so hastily back on that the top button is undone. His hair is atypically untidied. You can see the sleep still hanging in his eyes, just barely. You definitely woke him up.

He surveys you up and down. You watch his eyes flit up over you, past you, scanning the street behind you, then back at you again.

“Interesting hour of the night to show up without calling. Everything alright?”

Asa’s tone isn’t cutting, but it’s devoid of concern enough to imply that he’s really telling you something to the effect of, “this had better be a damn good excuse, or I won’t be in a very good mood.”

You don’t have a good excuse. So you say the first thing that comes to mind. Not because you think he can be bribed; just to get into his house faster. You sorely underestimated how bitter the chill out here would be from inside your car.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You say. “I just really need you to fuck me right now. Any way you want, I don’t care.”

Asa doesn’t blink. His irritation is plastered on his face.

“Flattering. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No. My phone died on the way over, that’s why I didn’t text or call.” It’s the truth. You watch him, looking him in the eyes even though the coldness creeping into his stare hurts more than a little bit.

“I’m sorry.” You add. “Can I please come in? I don’t care what we do.”

Asa leans his shoulder into the doorframe, his shirt sleeves getting tighter when he crosses his arms over his chest, watching you closely.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to go with? I’m having a hard time buying it.” He concludes, shifting his weight away from the door. He takes a step towards you, and you know better than to take one back. Now he’s looming.

“I’d like to know what this is about before I let you in, that’s not asking a lot. So why don’t you start over? Would you like to tell me what you’ve been crying about?”

You shuffle your feet on the walkway. No use in lying, Asa can see right through you when you’re this vulnerable. You’re shivering as you give him the truth. He listens wordlessly, his arms still crossed.

When you finish, you’re hugging yourself beneath your armpits, trying not to look like the cold has you quaking so miserably, and when you glance up at Asa again, he’s watching you with the same unpitying look as when you started. You fear for a moment he might not let you in after all, so you drop your eyes to the red brick walkway. This was a mistake. You aren’t sure what you were thinking running over here to him like this.

Then, Asa exhales, deeply. Uncrossing his arms, he steps aside.

“Fine.” He says, holding the door open with one hand. “You’re already here. In, before you freeze.”

You gaze up at him for a moment. He looks back at you expectantly, his face still rather agitated, but when he blinks you can see the weariness hanging in his eyes, well-masked, more noticeable the longer you hold his stare. You suppose he’s too tired to turn you away.

You rush in through the door before he changes his mind. Turning around in front of his coffee table, you catch the tail end of him returning something to a drawer in the stand next to the door. He pushes it shut without looking at you.

“If you’re waiting for permission to go up to my room, the answer is yes. Go.” He says, locking the door behind him, and then he stares at you, as if considering you.

“But go straight to sleep.” He adds.

You will.

You turn and climb the stairs, going on ahead to his bedroom, where the light is on. His brown jacket has been tossed over his armchair, his work shirt hanging unbuttoned over the armrest. Must have been a long day. You’re more than a little shocked he’s letting you stay. There’s the pang of guilt again; Asa must be one of the hardest working men you’ve ever met, and he needs every hour of sleep he can get.

Climbing onto his bed, you slip beneath the downy bedspread on the opposite side from where he’s pulled the covers back. You plop your head on the pillow and your next breath brings the detergent he runs in his wash. When you stretch out your legs, you close your eyes with a shudder and a half-hearted sigh. The sheets retain heat well; you can feel exactly where he was sleeping.

Not long after, Asa’s measured footsteps are coming up the stairs.

You’re already curled up with your face in the pillow when he enters the room, careful that your only sound is your breathing. Though your mind is still romping places you wish it wouldn’t, you can at the very least look like you’re making an effort to comply with his instructions.

Asa flicks the light off when he passes the switch. His quiet footsteps stop in front of the bed. You crack one eye open to keep track of him in case he’s about to touch you so you don’t jerk. His broad silhouette is stooped over a bit beyond the foot of the bed, shrugging off his chinos, undressing down to the pair of dark boxer briefs he must have worn to bed.

“That’s not straight to sleep.” He comments dryly, straightening up and draping his pants over the armrest next to his button-up shirt. You shift a bit under the covers when you realize he’s been watching you.

“Are we done crying? Full disclosure, I won’t be letting you sleep here the next time you have one of these little breakdowns if you wake me up. Again. Alright?”

You nod your head slowly up and down where your cheek rests on the pillow. But when you think about it longer, suddenly, you aren’t so sure. There’s a way he can distract you. There’s also not a chance in hell you’re going to ask him for that right now.

“You know what, I can’t promise that. I’m sorry. I’ll go sit downstairs if I have to do it.”

Asa clicks his tongue.

“That isn’t good enough. Wait here—“

“No.”

Shit. You should have kept a lid on that; he’s stopped in his tracks.

“Asa, please, I don’t want anything like that. I just want—I honestly think what would help the most right now is…” Your voice breaks and trails off. You don’t like the way his outline has frozen in the dark, head cocked over his shoulder, listening too intently to your proposition. His mood is souring fast.

“That was going somewhere.” He comments, after a long beat. “I think you should finish. Let’s hear it.” He doesn’t bother to turn around and face you.

“Nevermind. Listen, I’m sorry. Something to drink sounds fine.”

He lets out a particularly deep breath, his wide shoulders going up and down.

“If you’d like to do it that way, we’ll pick this up in a minute. Stay put.”

You don’t watch him leaving the room, you just roll your face back into the soft pillow, not keen on finding out what he means by that.

When Asa comes back, you follow him with cautious eyes as he goes around the bed, until he plops a bottle of water down on the nightstand next to your head. You glance at its cap; unbroken.

“I want that empty before you get up in the morning.” He says, going back around the bed, out of view.

“Do I look that bad?” You say at the wall, meaning it to be some sort of joke.

He makes a sound like a scoff under his breath, but doesn’t answer. That hurts you a little more than you were expecting, so you close your eyes when the mattress dips down, his weight rolling you a little toward him, and you’re about to shuffle stubbornly away from him again when—

His arm snakes around your middle from behind.

You nearly lurch and yell, but he’s already sweeping you across the sheets before you can manage any sort of struggle, the arm banding your midriff flexing, giving you a tight squeeze. You’re helpless to prevent the shudder that rocks your body.

“Asa, no. I changed my mind.”

“Ah-ah, no you haven’t. No more talking.”

“Yes I did, please let go, I’ll go to sleep. I swear. Please let go of me.” You’re trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

He breathes into your hair, shifting his arms beneath you, and locks his fingers together around your waist. Oh, you asshole.

“Asa, let go. I said I don’t want this right now.”

You’re gripping his wrist so hard your own fingers are starting to ache. His steady heartbeat pounds up through his chest and you can feel it on your shoulder.

“One more lie to me, and you’ll regret coming over and waking me up.”

The sleep is gone from his voice just like that. And now being trapped this close to him is nothing short of unbearable.

Your hand shoots down to pull adamantly at his thick wrists still locked around your middle and as you knew would happen his arms only snake tighter, becoming restraints. You know you can’t pry him off and you try anyway. When you lurch and thrash and knock your head against his chest he seizes one of your arms, scooping up the other in the same hand, holding them securely to your stomach, sparing none of his strength to put an end to your flailing. Your toes curl as his lips brush your ear.

“Shhh.”

You whip your face back and forth on the pillow so fast it burns your cheek. Not fair. You hate it when he does that. He’s borderline torturing you now and not even trying to make it subtle.

“Asa, let go of me right this god damn—mmph!“

His hand shoots over your mouth before you can finish, squishing your jaw, fingers engulfing your face. The words he whispers next to your head are the lock that seals the argument.

“When have I ever let you talk back to me in my own house?”

You make a broken whine. He hasn’t. He doesn’t let you do that.

“I’ve been incredibly patient with you.” He continues. “You wanted this so badly you showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night for it. Five minutes ago you were ready to beg for it, don’t you dare be disingenuous with me. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you that this is the way it’s going to be. You’re here, you’re done now. I’m very tired. Go to sleep.”

Your heart is pounding out of control. You’re petrified, sniffling, starting to cry. The fight drains out of your body like you’re giving up the ghost. You collapse against him with a tiny, shuddering sigh. He’s right; he wins. You’re done.

His hand leaves your mouth when you dribble spit on his fingers which he wipes off on your shorts. When your shoulders start to tremble with hitched breaths he pets your navel gently, stroking your stomach back and forth with the flat of his thumb.

Everything gets better when you stop fighting him. The tightness of his hold gets a little bit looser when he feels in your dead-weight how thoroughly you’ve given up. He moves up to brush a tender spot on your ribs while you bury your face deeper into the pillow in defeat and let the tears out.

You fall into utter silence when it’s all gone.

“There. There you are.” Asa comments. You don’t hear his yawn, but you can feel it flexing his chest muscles and tightening his abdomen, and when it’s done, you can feel the tension draining from his own body. “What did I tell you?”

The jest is rhetorical so you don’t bother opening your mouth. He’s not caging you anymore, just holding you, stroking your waist very slowly beneath your thin nightshirt.

Several minutes pass.

“Asa?”

You wouldn’t normally dare ask him this, but you figure you’re already too far up shit creek for it to matter.

Precarious seconds pass before he speaks.

“It had better be life or death.” He mutters into your hair.

“I’m still a bit cold.”

You feel his exhale on your neck and then he sits up, reaching, pulling the blankets over both of you. His arm returns to your waist.

“Thank you, but, do you think maybe you can—“

“Fine.” He cuts you off. “But that’s the end of it.”

He pulls his arm away again, pushing up on his elbow, and you watch his silhouette on the wall gather his shirt around his waist, pulling it up over his head in a fluid motion. You hurry out of your own, tossing it over the side of the white bedspread.

A soft sound floods out of you when Asa hugs you from behind. When your back meets his bare chest a chill spills over. You’re shuddering at the heat of his embrace, at the weight of his arms, at the way you feel like melting ice against his body.

He lifts two fingers to your mouth, holding them over your lips.

“Not another word.”

You nod. He gives your lower lip an acknowledging brush. His weight comes down somewhere on the pillow behind you, very close to your head.

The night drags on in silence.

Asa’s breathing has fallen even and quiet on the back of your neck. His arm is draped loosely over you, fingers half-curled around your wrist. He’s asleep.

Even when you know this, you don’t try to untangle yourself from his arms. You do not move, do not fidget against him. You just grip his slack hand, rubbing his fingers, feeling the smooth surface of his broad, clipped fingernails, the light yet raised scars peppering his skin that you figure were obtained during fieldwork, or maybe some mishap with tools, although that doesn’t sound much like Asa; you’ve never witnessed a hint of carelessness in his work. When you shut your eyes, you clutch his hand tightly to your chest. This is what you needed.

You can practically hear his voice chiming in,

“Look at that. Told you so.”

You suppose he did. You suppose Asa always knows best.

#asa emory x reader #asa emory #the collector #slashers #the collection #writing #horror #fanfic #reader insert

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mumms-the-word · 1 year ago

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guys

GUYS

you’ll never believe what nonsense I came across while I was brainrot doomscrolling through all the books and notes on the BG3 wiki trying to find stuff I might have missed in act 2

druid self-insert romantic fanfiction about the first battle against Moonrise and Ketheric

fanfic that Halsin read and criticized!!

Okay if you played early access you shouldn’t be surprised because these books existed in EA. I’ve tried to find them in my game post patch 6 but all I can find is volume 3, which is disappointing because I was hoping to find volume 4

But as a treat, if you’re like me and completely didn’t know about this, buckle up and please enjoy the self-insert adventures of a certain “Roa” who totally isn’t Roan Featherway, a druid of Silvanus and colleague(??) of Halsin himself

———

Book Draft - Volume I

The name on the inside of this faded journal suggests it belonged to a 'Roan Featherway', a druid of Silvanus.

[Neatly written chapters fill this journal. A list of what appears to be book publishers in Baldur's Gate are on the first page. The cover has a multitude of titles, all crossed out: 'The Unforeseen Alliance, volume 1', 'Druids and Harpers, a fight for good!', 'The Shadowed Evil: who dares to stand against it?'] Our hero, the [brave? mighty?] druid Roa arrives in the grove. When he received the summons from the Emerald Enclave, he knew something was afoot. Filled with druids and rangers alike, members of the Enclave are scattered across the realm. They fight to preserve the natural order, keep the elemental forces of the world in check, and do battle with those who would upset this delicate balance. They are fierce warriors, though none as fierce as Roa. Built like [an ox? A bear?], he stands head and shoulders above the crowd. The grove is buzzing with activity. Roa spots a beautiful woman with ebony hair flowing past her shoulders, her eyes as blue as a [summer's day? bluebird?]. His smile turns to a frown as he notices the crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. By Silvanus, what was a Harper doing here?

———

Book Draft - Volume II

Formed from several journals, paper scraps and, in one case, the back of an envelope, this book has been carefully glued together to form the second in a series of romance novels.

[This seems to be the second volume in a series written by an amateur novelist. The title on the cover, 'Love in Shadowed Lands', is crossed out.] The ebony-haired woman notices Roa's gaze and crosses the grove, [winking? smiling?] as she stands by the druid's side. 'I don't usually wear it out in the open,' she says, tapping the brooch on her cloak, a crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. 'Except for special occasions.' 'What's a Harper doing in a grove of Silvanus?' Roa asks. 'Not just one.' She gestures to a group by the sacred pool. 'We're generally more cloak and dagger,' she continues, 'thwarting tyrants and [guarding? protecting?] the realm is best done in secret. But you lot have a fight on your hands. We're here to help.' 'Since when do the Emerald Enclave need a bunch of Harpers?' Roa says. 'You haven't heard?' She laughs, her laugh tinkling like a bell. 'Strap in, sweetie. We're about to take on Dark Justiciars, their demented leader Ketheric Thorm and, if we're very lucky, Shar herself.'

———

Book Draft - Volume III

The third book in a series of romance novels, this once beautifully bound book has had pages ripped out, glued back in and even tied to the book's spine using a piece of twine.

['Volume Three' is written in bold on the front. The title 'The Cost of Sorrow' is followed by a number of question marks.] 'But why?' Roa screams, the beast within barely contained. 'Why follow Shar? Why destroy Moonhaven?' Ketheric stares down [haughtily? cruelly?] at Roa as he steps over the bodies of Harpers and druids alike. 'Shar knows all.' He smiles [maliciously?]. 'She gave me a holy mission. I'm merely fulfilling it.' 'The people of Moonhaven trusted you!' Roa cries, his anger rising. 'How could you turn your Dark Justiciars on them?' Ketheric smiles, 'They needed the target practice. Can't have Shar's elite getting rusty, now can we? As for you...' a crescent blade appears in his [cruel?] hands. 'You are but one lone druid, Roa. Who are you to stand against me?' Roa forces himself to his feet, Silvanus' fury coursing through him. 'I'm your downfall. Today you die, Ketheric!'

———

And for the pièce de résistance 😮‍💨🤌

Book Draft - Volume IV

The fourth volume and final novel, this book has had almost every single page ripped out, except for the last twenty or so pages.

['Shadow's Kiss' is written in bold on the front. Pages of crossed out lines have notes in the margin reading 'finale!', 'more exciting!'. The final entry reads:] 'Get out of here.' Roa whispers, clutching his side. Blood pours from his fingers, a final gift from Ketheric's blade. 'I'm not leaving you,' Selene sobs, blue eyes filling with tears. Roa cups her face. 'I won't make it out in time. But you can.' Selene presses her forehead against his. Her ebony hair falls forward, forming a curtain that envelops them both. Roa closes his eyes, a smile lifting his lips as her scent, wild roses, washes over him. 'That grappling hook. You still have it?' He asks. 'Of course. Why do you -' With the last of his strength, Roa pushes her from the balcony. He watches her fall, watches her pull the hook from her pack and expertly throw it, swinging gracefully to the ground. A mighty crack splits the floor beneath him as the tower crumbles. He smiles contentedly. Selene was safe. That's all that mattered. Epilogue: 'Selfish bastard.' Selene says, kicking the base of the grave. Balsin places a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'He was the greatest of us all,' Balsin says, a towering behemoth of a druid, although not as tall as Roa. 'We will forever honour him, for he single-handedly broke Shar's hold on the land, and helped -' [A different hand appears beneath the final entry.] Roan, you had one job. This is not a historical record of what occurred, it is poorly written romance with no basis in fact. And if I ever see the name 'Balsin' again, I will personally feed you to Ormn.

Halsin you’re such a critic

we were robbed

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 discourse #bg3 screenshots #bg3 lore #bg3 fanfic #I mean that last tag is technically true #also I’m sure Halsin was very upset with roan but like #still funny #halsin #halsin silverbough

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aneurinallday · 1 month ago

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2099

The Brain is wider than the sky For put them side by side The one the other will contain With ease, and you beside

~ Emily Dickinson (1862)

1.1 = THE BOX

“Will you be there when I wake up?”

“Always. I’ll always be there.”

Yet in a heartbeat, he is gone.

She opens her eyes to darkness and light, to the sound of machinery whirring and clanking. An environment so strange and unfamiliar that it feels more dream-like than the simulation she just left. She realises that the noise is coming from something above her, and quickly ducks, twisting her head to see some kind of electrode headset suspended above her.

She scrambles away, stepping out of a vertical alcove and into a room of strange, dark metal - a circular chamber that seems to be from a different time, a time that doesn’t exist yet. The curved walls are lined with identical alcoves, in which people are standing, their bodies encased in metal like pharaohs in sarcophagi. Above each pod is a white strip-light, but the one above hers is glowing blue, which she assumes indicates its inactivity.

Directly to her right is Eyk. Having last seen him dead on the floor, she backs away a step or two, staring up at him in confusion. His eyes are shut, but after a few moments, she realises he is breathing. She looks down at her hand, pale and veiny. The wedding ring - the key - is on her finger.

Tentatively, Maura ventures further out into the room, looking up at the sleeping people. She knows their faces. The other trapped passengers from the Kerberos, the ones with whom she has shared her nightmare over and over. They appear to be arranged according to their association - the Danes together, the couples together - yet Henry and Sebastian are absent. She wonders if they are being kept elsewhere.

Huge bundles of grey cables and wires snake across the floor and ceiling, connecting each pod to a central hub, some kind of computer interface. It must be what’s keeping everyone asleep. Or keeping them alive. She doesn’t dare touch them. She notices her clothes - a shapeless black jumpsuit and comfortable black shoes. Everyone else is wearing the same, as if to strip each person of their individual modes of self-expression before throwing them into the ultimate form of escapism.

Looking at the French passengers, she notices that next to Jérôme is an empty pod. She feels a spark of hope - Daniel? Then her gaze falls on a small, round window, just to the left of the pod. A circle of thick glass, outside which she believes she can see snow falling from a night sky. She hastens to it and looks out, and is greeted by a sight beyond her mind. The night sky is an ocean of galaxies and nebulae, and the falling snow is a multitude of stars. Between the beautiful, colourful swirls of dust and gases lies cold black nothing.

She sees colossal beams and wheels of metal, whose port-holes and hatches reveal them to be hollow and traversable. They rotate steadily, casting moving shadows over themselves in an endless rhythm. Architecture in perpetual motion. Each rotation briefly blocks out the glow of the cosmos - Maura is bathed in light, then darkness, then light again. Is she spinning too, or is she stationary? She has no idea. With equal amounts of confusion, awe, and fear, Maura stares wide-eyed into the starry cosmos, before the jarring start-up sound of a computer draws her attention to the central hub.

Returning to the middle of the room, she sees a piece of ordinary white paper, taped to a small, dark screen. She plucks the paper off, angling it towards the light from the port-hole, and reads it.

May your coffee kick in before reality does.

Something stirs in her brain - a barely formed glimmer of a memory, a twinge of a feeling. A moment in her life when she’d felt calm, breathing in the warm steam and smoky smell of a cup of coffee.

Her eye is caught by movement on the monitor - words appearing as if typed by an invisible hand. White pixels against black.

// PROJECT PROMETHEUS:/ > SURVIVAL MISSION TO 42.043240 - 44.375760 > PASSENGERS= 1423 > CREW= 550 > DATE= OCT. 19TH 2099

The paper sinks forgotten as she lowers her hand, her gaze fully focused on the screen.

// CIARAN: > HELLO SISTER. > WELCOME TO REALITY.

The greeting sends an odd chill through her. A name that’s so familiar, yet in that moment feels so new. Hesitantly, she asks:

“Can you hear me?”

// CIARAN: > YES.

“Where am I? This place - it’s a ship? A spacecraft?”

// CIARAN: > YES. > YOU HAVE QUESTIONS. > ASK.

She recalls what Daniel has told her, but keeps it to herself. She doesn’t know how dangerous Ciaran might be, or how he might react to being confronted.

“Why are we here?”

// CIARAN: > WE HAVE NO HOME. > EARTH IS GONE. > NO AIR. > NO WATER. > NO LIFE. > WE WERE DYING. > WE HAD TO LEAVE. > THIS IS A ONE-WAY TRIP.

As text fills the monitor, the old words begin to disappear to make room for the new words. She stares at them numbly.

“But where are we going? The coordinates - where do they lead?”

// CIARAN: > A NEW HOME. > A NEW EARTH. > US LUCKY FEW. > THIS IS OUR LAST CHANCE. > OUR LAST HOPE.

“And the simulation we were in? What purpose did it serve?”

// CIARAN: > THE JOURNEY WILL TAKE DECADES. > PASSENGERS MUST REMAIN IN STASIS. > NOT AGING. > NOT WAKING. > JUST DREAMING. > THE DREAMS KEEP US SANE. > WE NEED THE SIMULATIONS. > WITHOUT THEM. > WE WOULD LOSE OUR MINDS.

Simulations. Multiple.

Maura looks around the room at the sleeping passengers, who show no signs of regaining consciousness.

“The others - when will they wake up like me?”

// CIARAN: > WHEN WE REACH OUR NEW HOME. > THEY WILL AWAKEN. > UNTIL THEN. > PLEASE DO NOT INTERFERE. > IT WILL COMPROMISE THEIR WELLBEING.

“Not everybody is here. Some are missing. Where are they?”

There is no response.

“Ciaran? Answer me.”

After a few seconds, the screen goes blank and dark. She feels truly alone.

Maura examines the computer more closely, half-hoping she will find a button simply labelled ‘End stasis’. But all she sees are triangles, the same as Daniel’s Shell - some upright, some inverted, some pointing left or right. She reaches out, tempted to test them, but thinks better of it and withdraws her hand.

Leaving the computer, she returns to Eyk’s pod. She reaches up, checking his pulse, patting his cheeks, calling out his name in an effort to wake him; but he is completely unresponsive. She begins to circle around the room, going from pod to pod, stepping awkwardly over the bundles of cables. One by one, she tries and fails to wake the passengers, but is unable to rouse any of them.

“Please,” she whispers, “Why don’t you wake up?”

The uncertainty of what lies outside this room is terrifying, but she knows she can’t stay here forever. She leaves them sleeping and ventures out of the single door. Exploring the module, she quickly discovers that every room is similar to the one she left behind.

Everywhere is grey metal, stark and dull. Some of the doors automatically slide open with a pneumatic hiss, while others have to be manually and laboriously opened by cranking a wheel in the centre, like hatches on a submarine. With each port-hole she passes, she is struck by how a few inches of glass are the only thing separating her from near-instant death in the frozen vacuum of Space - a fact which she tries not to dwell on.

Before long, she enters a room lined with showers, toilet cubicles, and wash-basins - metal like everything else - and a long mirror above the basins catches her eye. She approaches her reflection and is shocked by how haggard she appears. Her face is ghostly pale, and veins stand out beneath her sickly skin like spider-webs. How long was she in stasis for? Weeks? Months? Is she still 37 years old?

She belatedly realises that her long hair has been chopped short. She runs her hands over the back of her head, expecting the familiar mass of thick, ginger waves, but finding little. As she turns her head to examine her hair, she notices a dark mark on her neck, just below her left ear. She attempts to wipe it off before realising that it’s not dirt. It’s ink. She peers closer. An upside-down triangle, struck through with a horizontal line. The alchemical sign for Earth. A company logo? Or an interstellar refugee’s tribute to a lost planet? Was Ciaran really telling the truth?

She squeezes her eyes shut, and tells herself:

“I am Maura Franklin. Born in Morefield. Today is October 19th, 2099. I am not crazy. I am Maura Franklin.”

She opens her eyes again to find that nothing has changed, either within or without. She still barely recognises herself.

Maura turns her attention to the basin below the mirror. She pushes down on the faucet, and clear water runs out. She catches some in her cupped palm, and takes a cautious sip before gulping more.

She presses on.

As she roams the modules and looks out of the port-holes, she begins to make sense of the overall shape of the Prometheus. The bulk of the ship is compartmentalised into dozens upon dozens of self-contained modules, each one the size of an entire building, joined by passages which are themselves linked by airlocks. In the event of a catastrophic structural failure, each compartment would theoretically be able to continue functioning on their own, if only for a while.

These modules are arranged into four colossal, vertical, wheel-like structures - two near the front, two near the rear. The prow and stern themselves remain horizontal and stationary, while the wheels rotate endlessly between them. Her surface-level grasp of physics tells her that the rotation has created a centrifuge-like effect, giving the ship the illusion of Earth-like gravity. If the spinning stops, her feet will leave the floor and she will find herself floating helplessly. Long, straight, horizontal structures serve as axles and spokes, running parallel to the central body, which houses the main power source. On the side of the prow is stamped a single word: P R O M E T H E U S.

If this spaceship is anything like the steamship that preceded it, she assumes that it must have a cargo hold, a medical bay, maybe even a captain’s cabin. Necessities for any voyage, whether it be sea or Space. Maybe Ciaran is in a control room, watching everything on an array of monitors. Does he have as much command of the real world as he did of the simulation? Is this even the real world or is she still dreaming?

“Ciaran?” she calls out, “Can you still hear me?”

No response comes from the darkness. Even if he is still listening to her, there is no computer nearby for him to send messages through. She is completely on her own.

If the information on the computer is to be believed, almost two-thousand people are onboard the Prometheus, yet every room she passes is deserted and silent. Is everyone except her and Ciaran in stasis? Sleeping, dreaming away the long, dark years of Space travel? Is she doomed to wander the ship for weeks, months, years, until finally boredom and loneliness drives her back into stasis? Back into a simulation?

Daniel promised that he would be here when she woke up, yet here she is - isolated, lost, with no clue what to do. The fear of abandonment creeps up on her, but she pushes it away. For all she knows, Daniel could be trapped somewhere else on this ship, in danger, in need of her help. This isn’t the time to be panicking and wallowing.

Next she enters a cafeteria, lined with uniform rows of metal tables and benches, as well as smaller tables with fewer seats for more privacy. Sitting innocently on one of the tables is a single cup of liquid. Steam rises from the surface - it’s fresh. She takes the cup, raises it to her nose, and sniffs it suspiciously.

“I suppose you’ve spiked the coffee,” she says out loud, “The black substance, right? It’ll erase my memory if I drink it.”

She places the cup back down on the table and walks onwards.

There is nothing to denote the passage of time. She develops the curious sense that she has walked for hours without actually moving. Every room looks the same, every corridor and doorway identical, and the constant rotation is disorientating. She begins to wonder if she’s been walking in circles. She glances over her shoulder, considering doubling back to where she started, so that at least she won’t be alone any more - but she decides against it. Perhaps the ship was deliberately designed this way to discourage people from exploring, in which case, she has to persevere.

But slowly, her determination leaves her. For what feels like hours, she has done nothing but walk blindly with no clue of where she’s headed. Perpetual motion, just like the ship itself. Her legs are tired and her feet ache. Finally, she stops.

She sits down on the floor, then eases herself lower until she is lying on her back. She presses her hands to the ground behind her, and feels the thrum of hidden wires and mechanisms through her palms. She stares up - or maybe down - at the ceiling, and tries to feel the wheel of her world spinning. With a stretch of her imagination, she believes that she can feel the rotations as she hurtles head-over-heels through Space.

She closes her eyes.

“I know this place,” she murmurs, “Whether it’s real or not, doesn’t matter. If it’s real, then I’ve lived here for years. If it’s a simulation, then I designed it. Either way, I know this place. I know where to go and how to get there. All I have to do is remember.”

She allows her mind to wander aimlessly down an ever-branching passage of memories, meandering to and fro in time, from one vague image to another.

The Kerberos upon its doomed voyage, spewing dark trails from its massive smokestacks.

The overcast sky, as grey and rugged as the Atlantic waters below it.

A green June beetle balancing on a swaying blade of grass, its shell-like wing-cases catching the sunlight like emeralds before they open up, revealing the delicate, transparent membranes underneath as it flies away.

Black crystals, ever shifting and expanding.

Eyk’s corpse lying dead on the floor, his hazel eyes still open, staring lifelessly at nothing.

A toy space rocket made of colourful plastic.

Cold seawater dripping from dark, wet curls.

Daniel’s face in tranquil repose, sleeping peacefully in bed beside her, his head cushioned on his arm.

The last image crystallises until she can see him clearly, as if she were lying right beside him. In the silence, she whispers:

“Wake up.”

Daniel awakens in the semi-darkness with a gasp, lying flat on his back on an unfamiliar floor. He’s still grubby from crawling around the labyrinthine pipes and shafts of the Kerberos, the dirt and oil staining his hands and knees. His clothes haven’t changed - still the same dark green, long-sleeved top with an asymmetrical collar, and the same black trousers tucked into dark leather boots.

Sitting up, he looks around in panic. He is in a small room of grey metal, windowless and empty, barely more than a box. It is weakly lit by a stark electrical glow. There is no furniture, no ventilation.

In front of him is a single, sealed door. He realises that the source of the meagre light is a single, small, electronic display embedded in one wall. No buttons, no jacks, no way of interacting with it. As he stares up at it, words begin to appear as if on cue.

// CIARAN: > Hello Danny.

Daniel feels in his pockets and find them empty. He spies a tiny pile of junk nearby. Ripped wires, a circuit board, and scattered buttons engraved with triangles. The remains of his Shell.

“No…”

He scrambles onto his knees, desperately gathering up the pieces, but he already knows it can’t be fixed.

“Fuck.”

He jumps to his feet. The door is a solid slab of metal with no window or slot, it’s completely immovable. He pushes and pulls on it with all his strength, but it holds fast in its frame.

“Let me out, Ciaran,” he says. “I don’t have time for this. I have to find Maura.”

// CIARAN: > Maura is safe. > You are no longer needed.

In frustration, Daniel beats on the door.

“Maura!” he shouts. His voice rings out sharply in the enclosed metal room. “Maura, I’m in here! Damn it, Ciaran. Let me out!”

// CIARAN: > No. > You must stay here.

“Please. I’m not here to interfere with your plans. I just want to help Maura. That’s all I want. I’m just here for my wife, the mother of my child.”

// CIARAN: > Maura is not your wife. > There never was a child.

“Ciaran, enough. For God’s sake. I know you love games but you can’t play with people’s lives. This has to stop.”

// CIARAN: > This is not a game.

“Let Maura go,” Daniel says, “I don’t care about me, but let her go. Let her wake up. I’ll stay here forever if that’s what it takes.”

// CIARAN: > This is not about you. > You are not important.

Trapped in a metal box, Daniel fights the panic rising inside him. He begins to examine the walls, searching for seams between the metal panels, anything he might be able to pry away. There is nothing.

“I’ve still beaten you,” he says defiantly, “1899…I erased it and I freed her. The virus worked. You failed.”

// CIARAN: > You are the virus. > You are a piece of malware. > You were placed in 1899. > To corrupt it.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Daniel kicks at the walls, testing for any weakness, but finds none. “Placed by who? By what?”

// CIARAN: > Maura created you. > A backdoor out of 1899. > If she ever became trapped. > You would activate. > You would shut down 1899. > And save her.

The air inside the box is still and heavy. Exhausted, Daniel sinks into a sitting position on the floor, his back to the wall.

“Why am I here? What are you doing to me?”

// CIARAN: > You are being rewritten. > You must stay here. > Until the process is complete. > This will take some time. > I recommend you go to sleep.

Daniel looks down at his hands, sore and reddened from his efforts to pry open the door. He rubs the burn scar which encircles his ring finger.

“The body remembers,” he mumbles. “I am real. I always have been.”

Then he feels it - a tickle under his clothes. Something tiny, clinging to the inside of his top, hidden within the folds of fabric. He recognises it instantly.

Opening his eyes, he rises to his feet and approaches the screen. He stares at it for a moment, then yanks back his fist and punches the thick glass. A large crack forms, distorting the text.

// CIARAN: > Stop.

Another swing, and this time, Daniel punches straight through the screen, into a nest of wires and circuit boards. He withdraws his hand, breathing heavily, and peers into the jagged hole. He can see cables burrowing away into the wall, the usual inner workings, but nothing out of place.

His knuckles are bleeding. He carefully reaches into the smashed glass, feeling his way among the wires, until he finds something that shouldn’t be there. Something small. A listening device. He jerks it out and smashes it on the floor, crushing it beneath his boot. Ciaran can no longer see, hear, or speak to him.

He reaches a hand up inside his top and feels around until he finds the tickle. Withdrawing his hand, he looks at it. A green bug, crawling around in his palm. Too small to be noticed during a patdown. Its metallic green wing-cases are slightly iridescent and, in that moment, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He gently extends his hand to the hole he has created.

“Please,” he whispers.

The robotic beetle scuttles from his palm and down his finger, and disappears into the wires and circuits.

Daniel sits back down on the floor. He can’t tell if the air is growing thin or if it’s just his imagination assuming the worst. He slows his breathing to a crawl, and waits. The minutes crawl by at an agonisingly glacial pace. He grows increasingly sure that the door isn’t just electronically locked, but manually locked from the outside. If the beetle could’ve opened the door, it would’ve done so by now.

Daniel lies down on his side, wincing as his muscles protest. He curls up, cushions his head with his arm, and shuts his brown eyes. The hard metal makes it impossible to get comfortable. Maybe if he sleeps for long enough, the air will run out, and he will drift peacefully into oblivion without ever realising.

“Maura, please…” he mutters, “You have to be awake…you have to be…”

He hears the metallic scrape and clank of a manual lock being disengaged. He leaps up, ready to fight. The door slides open, and Maura Franklin’s pale, agitated face stares back at him. She is out-of-breath and dishevelled from running, her short hair in disarray.

“Maura?” he gasps.

She stuffs a hand into the pocket of her black jumpsuit, and pulls out the green bug.

“Thank your friend,” she says, and he falls into her arms.

youtube

They made me put all my things in a silver case Took my blood and my name and asked my age Told me all my friends were on their way When I’m just late in the game

But oh, God I don’t wanna go to Mars What kind of brainwashed idiot does? It’s all a lab rat life in jars They branded the dream of ages I don’t wanna go to Mars Be with me here and return to dust We can borrow your parents’ car And take it to all our places

They made this terrible thing look like a train There’s something sweet in the air. What? I can’t say Would I like a drink to calm the brain? Oh, please stay in the chairs

It’s been another four years and not one birthday cake You sometimes sleep all day and never shake You could hide the abyss with a friend you hate Oh, I miss the news and change

#2099 #1899 #1899 netflix #daniel solace #aneurin barnard #maura franklin #emily beecham #eyk larsen #andreas pietschmann #ciaran singleton #fanfic #fic #TW mental illness

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lucentloo · 6 days ago

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The Stars Know

Summary: When Sirius invites you to stargaze on the Astronomy Tower roof, what starts as a playful tradition turns into a quiet confession under the stars. Feelings long hidden finally come to light—and Sirius proves he’s serious about you.

Sirius Black x Female!reader

wc: 987

Content Warnings: Fluff, female reader, mention of Sirius' mom, no established relationships, maybe a little crack, nothing much, sweet Sirius (rare I know), he doesn't really goof off in this one

A/N: This is just something small and simple to get me out of my slump, I am so sorry I left you guys for so long! I promise to make it up to you and that starts with this fic! I would also like to thank everyone who's liked my previous fanfics! I genuinly did not think they were good enough to post but you guys changed my mind! Here is fic number nine!!!

You were curled into an armchair, a steaming mug of tea balanced on your knees and a book barely keeping your attention. The firelight danced off Sirius’s hair as he sprawled across the rug like a lazy cat.

He looked over suddenly. “D’you wanna come stargazing with me tonight?”

You blinked. “Stargazing?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Thought it’d be fun. I’ve got a map of the constellations and everything. Real nerdy stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You? Nerdy?”

He grinned. “Even Sirius Black contains multitudes.”

You were quiet for a second, then closed your book. “Sure. Why not?”

He looked surprised—and pleased. “Brilliant.”

You didn’t know then that this was the first spark of something bigger.

Snow had dusted the roof tiles, and you were huddled in your cloak, breath fogging in the air.

“Cold?” Sirius asked, eyes flicking to you.

“Freezing.”

He tossed half his cloak around your shoulders without hesitation.

“See?” he said, pointing at the sky. “I can be a gentleman.”

You laughed, teeth chattering. “You really are full of yourself.”

He nudged your arm. “Only mostly. So… can we make this a regular thing?”

You glanced sideways. “Stargazing?”

He pretended to look offended. “No, freezing to death together.”

You smiled. “Deal.”

He didn’t say anything after that, but you saw him smile too.

You were sitting against a tree, enjoying a rare quiet afternoon.

Sirius dropped beside you, grass crunching beneath him. “Clear skies tonight.”

You didn’t look up from your notes. “Mm-hm.”

He leaned back on his elbows. “Come stargazing with me.”

You turned to him. “Again?”

“Tradition,” he said with a mock pout. “I can’t stargaze without you now.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart gave a little jump. “Okay. But I’m bringing the blanket this time.”

He beamed. “Perfect. It’ll be our thing.”

You found him already waiting in the stands, sprawled like a prince in moonlight.

“Took you long enough,” he teased as you sat beside him.

“Some of us actually follow curfew,” you shot back.

“Rebel,” he whispered, eyes sparkling. “Come stargazing with me.”

You smiled. “We’re already stargazing.”

“No,” he said softly, turning to you, “really come. Just us. Let’s climb the tower. I’ll bring food. We’ll stay until sunrise.”

You swallowed, surprised at the sudden sincerity.

“…Okay,” you whispered.

His smile this time was different—gentler. You weren’t quite sure what it meant yet.

The fire crackled gently in the hearth, casting warm gold over the deep reds and shadows of the Gryffindor common room. You sat cross-legged on the carpet, a thick Potions textbook spread open in front of you. You weren’t actually reading—your eyes kept flicking toward the couch, where Sirius Black was lounging with all the ease of a pampered cat.

“Y’know,” he said suddenly, voice lazy but pointed, “if you keep pretending to read that same page, it might start to think you’re ignoring it on purpose.”

You narrowed your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile. “And if you keep distracting me, I’ll never finish this essay.”

Sirius shifted on the couch, swinging his legs off the side so he could look at you properly. His dark hair was a little messy, still tousled from the wind outside, and his tie was undone as usual.

“You should give your brain a break. Come stargazing with me,” he said. “The tower roof’s dry tonight. Hardly any wind. Clear sky.”

You tilted your head. “You dragged me up there last time and tried to convince me the stars were judging you.”

“They do judge me. Have you met my mum?”

You laughed, then sighed as you glanced at your parchment. But the truth was, you didn’t need convincing. Sirius asking you to go stargazing was becoming… a thing. A sweet, silly, secret kind of tradition. And every time, it felt like something more might be blooming beneath the stars, just out of reach.

“I’ll go,” you said softly. “But only if you bring the blanket this time. I nearly froze last week.”

Sirius grinned like a boy who’d just won a game of chess. “Deal.”

The castle stretched below you in a sleepy, moonlit sprawl. You were bundled up in the soft wool blanket Sirius had ‘borrowed permanently’ from the common room. He sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

“See that one?” he pointed upward. “That’s Canis Major. That’s where I got my name. Big dog.”

You laughed. “Fitting.”

“Oi!” He nudged you with his elbow, but his grin was fond. “I am very majestic.”

“Like a shaggy mutt rolling in the dirt?”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter and looked at you, eyes gleaming. “You’re lucky I like you, y’know.”

Your heart gave a small skip at the words. Maybe he didn’t mean it the way you wanted him to—but maybe he did. You turned your gaze to the stars, trying to steady yourself.

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I always liked this view. It makes me feel small, but… not in a bad way. Like the world’s bigger than all the things that bother me.”

You looked at him, softer now. “You’re allowed to be bothered, Sirius.”

“I know,” he said, then after a beat: “But I feel less bothered when I’m with you.”

You didn’t say anything, unsure how to respond without absolutely melting.

And then, he did something unexpected—he took your hand. Gently, like he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t.

You held on tighter.

“I’m serious about this,” he whispered, glancing at your intertwined fingers. “About… you.”

Your breath caught, but your voice was steady when you said, “Good. Because I think I’ve been serious about you for a while now.”

He turned his head, and his grin was softer than you’d ever seen it—no masks, no mischief, just Sirius.

And then he leaned in and kissed you, tender and warm under the stars that bore his name.

#the maruaders #love #marauders era #sirius x reader #sirius black #x reader #reader insert #female reader #fluff #stargazing #hurt/comfort #comfort

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helplessautomaton · 1 year ago

Note

hii could request message 4 with Poe? pleaseee

4 (“i'm so glad you feel the same cause i refuse to leave you”)

personally loving the individual poe requests (even though the event is over) despite the little hard ships. sorry for my slowness im struggling here mentally but im trying!!

WC 649 // tws: average Y!poe being a tad bit creepy (nothing sexual dw)

The bookstore and library was your favorite place to visit, the quietness and overall tranquility kept bringing you back along with your preferred genre. The workers at the bookstore memorized your face, greeting you like you were one of their own. You really couldn't ask for more, everyone knew how to keep tight and not bother anyone. The bookstore was tiny and uneventful but it had all the right books you wanted and it kept drawing you back every time.

Other patrons of the bookstore were just as pleasant, your own personal wonderland. Recently a new person came in, the outfit worn was wildly different than any other usual clothing you’d seen. You only admired from afar, really it was all you could do for a man who stood out completely in a small store. It's hard not to gawk eyes at a man with a raccoon on his shoulders purring happily at his company. You don't remember how you got to talking with the man, he was pleasant as he could be. Much to your surprise you two got along fairly fast, you loved to talk about everything about the current book you were into that month. You got more out of the tiny bookstore when hanging out with the man, Poe alongside his best friend, Karl. hanging out and drinks were commonplace with the two of you, you didn't fear Poe.

Yet with all the moments you hung out with him, it was hard to fully grasp all the complexities hidden within the man you spend every second with. His beautiful eyes swirling with admiration towards every detail about your figure then to a dark glimmer when it's anyone else near you. His endless rants were genuinely nice to listen to and you’d even asked questions to some of the rambled up words and plans he’d spit out comfortably with you. Clasping his hands together with a massive smile on his face as he rambled on more excitedly the two of you sharing ideas with each other. You never knew the full extent to the insanity you led him to during the first moments of ever meeting him.

The way your hair and eyes caught his heart enough to start twisting and distorting his very reality with every soft moment of yours. The multitude of letters piling up in a hidden away drawer, never to see any light ever since the first ink drop sealed on to the soft material.

Your feelings came slowly, not yet in true love but enough to risk some of your wellbeing for him. Poe was glad you two never got interrupted often, his jealousy is an ugly beast that he couldn't let you see just yet. You’d understand no? Understand the burning love within his heart that could only burn because of you? Every late night spent feeling his mind slip away and every part of you filling the space up, every immoral thought of keeping you by his side forever. Every touch of his hands covering up his face at the mere thought of a simple kiss from your lips. It's driving him mad and there's no sign of stopping. But his question was answered when you asked him to stay just a little longer.

You confessed to him, full understanding if he wasn't interested but the barely contained whisper that left his mouth was all you wanted. “i-I’m so glad you feel the same ca-cause i refuse to leave you.”

The swirl of madness in his eyes only worsened and he took you by hand aggressively spouting nonsense in a state of flustered obsession. “I’ve wa-waited so long for this moment!” He was so happy you loved him back! Now you won't ever leave him right? Won't go out of your way to leave the world he's building just for the two of you? Afterall you feel the same.

#yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader #bsd x reader #yandere #bsd #edgar allen poe x reader #yandere poe #bsd poe #poe x reader

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ambrozjas · 1 year ago

Note

dallas winston getting into a fight then going to a f!reader to get patched up. tysm!

only the dogs will hear us ꨄ︎

dallas winston x fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ synopsis: dally comes to the reader after a nasty fight, in hopes they’ll patch him up

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

not proofread !! thank you for the request anon, i loved writing this 🫶

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of blood and first aid kit, like one or two curse words??

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

958 words, ~5300 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

you jolted awake as you heard a knock at your bedroom window. as your eyes adjusted to your dark room, only being illuminated by the moonlight shining through your window, you huffed. you had already known who it was by the time the second or third knock occurred.

shifting the blanket to the side, you shivered at the contrast of your warm bed to the cool air, your ceiling fan contributing to the uncomfortable feeling. after a quick minute of trying to adapt to the change in temperature, you got up. the wooden floors of your bedroom creaking under your feet at every step you took.

rubbing the remaining sleep out of your eyes, you made it to the window and peered at the culprit, no other than dallas winston.

you and dally were an interesting mix together. he never much affirmed that he was your boyfriend, only really confirming it to you once since he was such a hardass. instead he had his moments, actions like an arm slung over your shoulder as he walked with you or taking you to the drive-in where all you do is make-out.

this, in dallas’ mind, was one of those moments.

when you eyes fell on dally through the window, he was battered and bruised, clutching his arm and looking at you. rolling your eyes, you undid the latch on your window and removed the stick that kept it from opening to let dally in. he was always getting himself in these predicaments, he definitely had an aggressive streak to him, not afraid to beat the tar out of a kid for even looking at him funny.

this wasn’t like the movies, where a boy romantically threw rocks at a girl’s window on the two-story floor to get her attention, at least not here. you lived on the east side too, and had a one story house with one window in your room, so it was a little awkward seeing your boyfriend on the ground right in front of your window.

when you opened the window, dallas was just.. there. a cigarette arrogantly placed between his busted lips as he was hunched over, presumably to ease some of the pain in his stomach.

“you asshole.” you spit as you ushered him inside. “well, hello to you too, doll.” he staggered inside and unceremoniously plopped on your bed. great, you thought, desperately hoping he didn’t get any blood on the it.

you made your way to the bathroom in the hallway, already having a first aid kit for the multitude of times he’s done this. he used to distance himself from you, especially after a rumble so you wouldn’t worry, in his own little weird way. the kit contained gauze, some bandages, bandaids, and a few other things.

when you came back, dallas was already sprawled on your bed, resting on your pillows with an arm behind his head.

“already bringin’ that out f’me?”

“maybe you could be a little quiet, dallas.” you said, not wanting to be anymore annoyed. first, this hood interrupted your sleep and then he gets blood and ash all over your bed, you already prepared your bed to start reeking of cigarettes once he left.

“‘dallas’?” he huffed at you, amusedly placing his hand on your lower back and rubbing with his thumb. “way to bring out the big guns, sweetheart.”

you kept your focus on treating his wounds, holding an ice pack to his cheek where a nasty purple bruise is blooming, trying not to give into his affections.

you grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and put it out before he could protest, diverting your attention back to his bottom lip. you thumbed it gently so as to not irritate the cut. “what, did these fools pull a knife on you or what?” you asked, trying to lighten your own mood some.

“nah, just had a stupid ass ring.” he huffed, his eyes glued to your face. you scoffed and looked down at his hands, even his knuckles were painted red and a slight hue of purple was already starting to form on the pale skin. “whatever, jus’hang loose okay? don’t need you injuring yourself even more.” you said, softly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, almost memorizing the ridges of them, like you’d forget them.

“who said i was leavin’?” he stated calmly. your eyes flickered over to him, trying to search for any sign of joking. dallas winston being this soft for someone? nobody would ever believe you if you told them.

a pregnant pause passed as you both just stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. he raised an eyebrow, almost similar to two-bit’s habits, as he expected an answer.

you said nothing, just simply smoothed your hair back, sighed, and laid back down next to him, cautiously leaving a small gap in between you two.

what shocked you though, is the fact that dallas slung his arm over your waist and shifted you to to him, snug against his side. taking that as a green light, you rested your head on his arm, knowing he’d probably shake you off later claiming you made it fall asleep.

it was silent for a moment, only the dogs barking in your neighbor’s backyard interrupting it before you opened your mouth to speak, “who knew the big bad wolf, dallas winston would act like this ‘hind closed doors?”

“alright, shut up.” he replied, barely any threat laced in his words, probably too tired to even be annoyed.

you chuckled and placed your head in the crook of his neck, the scent of cigarettes, sweat, and leather engulfing you.

maybe, you thought, maybe the smell of cigarettes on my bed isn’t all that bad.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ AAAAAH !! this def took some more brain cells but i kinda like how this turned out. hopefully you guys do too ^_^ !!

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston #dallas the outsiders #greasers #dally winston #the outsiders dally #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

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claustrophobic-salamander · 1 month ago

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A little snippet of my post control fic <3 maybe give it a little look ?

Separation - W.S. Merwin 1962

Your absence has gone through me

Like a thread through a needle

Everything I do is stitched with its color.

The Castellan almost fell into the room, Juggling a large container in his arms as he closed the door behind him. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped as he took a second to decompress. The weight of elected leadership was a heavy one indeed. Despite the shockingly dark circles that were permanently inked beneath his eyes and the rapidly widening silver streaks in his once black hair he forced a smile onto his face, closing the distance between himself and his best friend.

“ Julian, my dear.” Garak almost chirped. “ It would seem that we have mail”.

He perched in his chair, A comfortably worn piece that eternally loomed beside the hospital bed. He patted the doctor’s hand affectionately as he set the box to the side for a moment, Gently smoothing Julian’s hair and noting the levels on the everpresent monitors. He deserved nothing less than Garak’s full attention.

“ I do wish you had warned me, You sent security into a full panic.” Garak let his mask slip slightly, a touch of sadness creeping into his eyes “ Though, to be fair, you are of a quiet disposition these days.” He harshly pulled the mask back up, working to keep it firmly snapped in place. The Castellan really had no way of knowing how aware Julian was. Sure his eyes were open, but how did he experience the world? Garak could only guess. So he made sure to keep his tone light and his expression soft. If there was anything left of his beloved in there, any awareness of his surroundings, the older man would be damned if he was going to scare him. To push his own hurt onto somebody so vulnerable? It simply wouldn't do. After all, wasn't that why they were in this mess in the first place? Garak worried ceaselessly that he was to blame for Julian’s sorry state. His own hurt infecting the younger man and hardening his heart. Was he the one that encouraged Julian down this path? He honestly thought he had been doing Julian a kindness at that time. Teaching him to put up his walls and protect himself from the world around him. A kindness indeed.

“ Apparently this package has been in transit for 6 whole months. It must have been important for you to have paid for it to be sent all that way. “ The Cardassian mused . “I wonder why you chose to send it like that? Surely there were easier, cheaper, and faster ways available to you.”

The man picked up the container again and opened it, curiosity and fear dogging him in equal measure. What could possibly be inside? It was anyone’s guess. This was the closest thing the pair had had to a conversation since Julian had fled Cardassia, Section 31 hot on his heels. A package specifically sent to Garak just before Julian had submitted to his suicide mission.

The box was filled with a multitude of carefully wrapped little packages and nestled in the top was a book, seemingly hand bound. A rarity in the age of replicators and P.A.D.Ds. But none of that mattered for the moment. The Cardassian flinched reflexively, his hand shaking as he covered his mouth trying to muffle the hiss that threatened to rip from his throat. It SMELLED like him. So much like him it was almost too intense for Garak to bear. He could almost close his eyes and imagine that the doctor was there, happy and healthy. A blessed torture.

Julian smelled different now, Like medicine, dust, and powdery soap. The box smelled of coffee and sweet spices, of sunshine and of LIFE it was intense, overwhelming. It took a moment but he managed to regain a shaky illusion of composure.

“ Pardon me, Doctor. I wasn't expecting it to smell so much like you.” Garak hummed carefully. Schooling his tone into something a little more calm. “ I miss it, you understand? The way you used to smell. A silly thing to fixate on, I know. It is just that you smell so different now.” He picked up the book with gentle hands, like this mysterious gift from past Julian may turn to ash if treated with anything less than reverence. He set the container aside so he could give the thick tome his full attention. It was unremarkable, Deep brown leather with nothing on the front cover except the relief of two serpents dancing around a sword pressed into the hide. A journal of sorts? The only real identifier being a label written in small golden lettering down the spine announcing nothing but the word ‘Triage’. The older man, feeling suddenly ancient, flipped numbly to the first page. A creeping tendril of dread eased into the Castellan’s mind, making itself at home there. The book was handwritten in the delicate looping hand he knew to belong to the doctor. A quick glance confirmed his fears. It was a reply.

Garak, had over the years, sent Julian a number of letters, ranging from full novels, to a mere sentence or two. To his dismay, Julian had stopped replying a long time ago. He looked over at his catatonic friend, unable to hide the panic in his eyes. “So now you reply!?” He exclaimed. “ NOW?” Julian still just stared off, unmoved by the Cardassian’s breaking heart.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65887150/chapters/169727188#workskin

#skrain is a stupid name #garashir #ds9 #deep space nine #star trek #garak x bashir #julian bashir #elim garak #fanfic

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 1 year ago

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On The Hunt: You Broke and I Shattered

Summary- 3.9k Alpha Steve x Little One. You and Steve find where Ulysses is storing his stolen goods; vibranium from Wakanda. Scouting the building, you and Steve separate and Steve struggles with this lone wolf mentality.

Warnings- Steve being upset and lashing out about your relationship with Pan. Reader goes into her heat finally and confronts Steve during it.

A/N- Okay I know it's been a while, LONG WHILE since I have posted these two. Part of me is still apprehensive about your Steve feelings. Be mad and hate him if that is the vibe! I get it, honestly, I do. I can't help but love him as strongly as I always have because I love a broken character that I created. Thank you so much @yenzys-lucky-charm for walking through this and holding my hand with them. For always giving me reassurance to continue this story. You, my dear friend, are a saint for all you do behind the scenes. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics Enjoy, and if you did, please share and reblog. I also love hearing your thoughts and rants about them.

Chapter Seven / Masterlist

It smelled bad.

The Little Wolf’s nose wrinkled as she scouted the side of the large warehouse. You lost track of Steve after he shifted, the Alpha whisking his muzzle against the Little Wolf’s and then leapt away along the edge of the warehouse. As large as the Alpha was, he was easily able to meld into nothing when he didn’t want to be seen. A skill from many years of hunting.

The Little Wolf weaved through the large piles of garbage and pallets, using them to keep her hidden from the multitude of cameras outside of the building. The installers had attempted to keep them hidden, but your time working with T’Challa had taught you where to look.

The Little Wolf was also good at getting by unnoticed, the smaller stature and slinking nature could make her easily pass for a street dog that ran wild.

The scents assaulting her were so foul and strong. The heavy acidic scent of fear permeates the stone and steel walls, making the Little Wolf’s ears lay flat against her skull, her nose wrinkling in discomfort.

A scuffle of footsteps caught her attention, sending her into hiding with her radar-sharp ears swiveling towards the footsteps scuttling down the alleyway towards where you were hiding.

“The shipment’s ready, just need the boss's sign-off.” You heard the man say into a phone and the Little Wolf pricked her ears to catch the last of the conversation. “Yeah, Klaue is expected in a couple days.”

He is not here yet. You mentally sighed, frustrated that there would be a period of waiting around for you and Steve.

<But he will be here soon for us. The Alpha should be coming around any moment, maybe we can get inside.> She was quiet in her movements, easing away from the rambling man whose conversation turned elsewhere, giving them no more vital information. Catching sight of the unlatched door, the Little Wolf paused, glancing around to see that no one was nearby. <Should we wait?>

We could lose our chance. You urged her, unwilling to wait now that the opportunity of getting inside was just so available to you.

<The Alpha…> The Little Wolf hesitated, glancing back at the direction Steve should be coming around.

Will catch up. He can follow our trail and we might lose this entrance if that man comes back to lock this door. This is our chance to see the inside and be prepared for Ulysses.

She finally relented, using her muzzle to ease the door open further and sneak into the dark interior of the warehouse, a sliver of light the only source into the belly of the beast.

It was easy remaining out of sight on the main floor, various containers of weapons that all smelled tinged with vibranium littered haphazardly around and in the center of the building were cages, all emptied but you could see that they had been recently used. All providing cover even as a silent snarl flirted across Little One’s muzzle, anger simmering in your chest as well as sadness that you had been too late to save those souls from whomever they were sold too.

Flashes of your old life, the sales floor clouding your memories while you wandered between them. The fear and pain at being dragged in front of buyers, their hands running all over your naked body and the false promises of giving you a better life if you just bonded with them.

The vileness of it made the Little Wolf shiver and a soft barely there whine escape. <Never again.> She assured you, the fur along her back bristling in agitation.

Never again. You agreed with her, calming once more. You escaped, you had known love and safety with your pack and with Steve. Even now with you two separated, you knew Steve still wouldn’t ever allow anyone to use you like that again.

The Little Wolf eased closer, edging along the last line of containers holding vibranium and weapons, trying to map the building.

There was a huff nearby and you caught sight of silver fur rows back. Steve found us. The Little Wolf stopped, the tip of her tail wagging in a greeting but the Alpha stalked nearby, his eyes blazing furiously at the Little Wolf.

She lowered further, feeling the anger roll from him while he slid up next to her, pressing in against her for a moment just to feel her before he silently let his nose wander along the edge of the containers.

Loud shouts just out of sight called out directions to load pallets onto the truck, making you and the Alpha both freeze for a second. The Alpha turned away and returned to the Little Wolf’s side, rumbling enough so you felt the vibrations rising off him. Not an order from the Alpha but a suggestion that it was time to go.

You pulled back, leading the way out, and once back outside, no one the wiser, you both bolted away from the warehouse.

It had been a while since you had returned to the apartment, Steve had been silent most of the time, both of you sketching out the warehouse's interior and tensley comparing notes with one another. But you could feel the tension crackling between you and Steve. All his responses clipped in a tone that you were just not used to from him.

It was making your Little Wolf uneasy in your mind, pacing back and forth in a skittish way, making you feel like you were about to snap.

You finally pushed away the notes and sketches of the warehouse, making Steve’s gaze snap to you curiously. “What’s wrong Steve?”

His brows furrowed together and his mouth thinned with whatever he wanted to say being held back. “Nothing is wrong Y/N. We should contact T’Challa to let him know what we found.” He pulled away, going to grab his phone when you grabbed his forearm to keep him from avoiding the question. Steve stiffened, a shiver going through him and you saw his nostrils flare a bit, dragging in a breath of you.

“Stop the bullshit Steve, you’re pissed and I don’t know why.” Your Little Wolf yipped anxiously, making you tense up all that much more.

Clear blue eyes snapped, flaring slightly in a glowing color as the Alpha in him rose to challenge him before he turned to you with a slight bare of his teeth. “You didn’t wait for me Y/N. You charged into that warehouse alone.”

Your hand dropped from his arm and you immediately snapped back, if you had hackles, they would be raised at the tension finally breaking. “This is what you are pissed about Steve? I was doing the mission. I don’t need your permission to do that.” A snarl emitted from you, daring Steve to bite back. “Not anymore.”

He rose to the challenge, rounding onto you, his size a sheer force but you held tight, refusing to step back from him. “That’s right Little One, I gave you up and set you free from me.”

A warning growl escaped you as a bit of tears threatening to well up hearing him. “That you did.”

“You have no regard for your safety, we are supposed to be hunting together and you just go into that building without me and that wasn’t the plan, I don’t care that you went in, but I didn’t know where you were, I just happened to catch your scent in the open door. What if they found you and caught you, what if I couldn’t follow you in?” He pulled away with a yank of his hand through his hair.

You squared your shoulders, anger making your tone bite in your words. “It’s not your fucking job Steven to keep me safe. Why are you always trying to shield me?”

“Cause Little One! It still feels like you’re fucking mine, even now while we are unbonded all I feel…” His hand slapped against his chest, where you knew his heart pounded its rhythm.

“Well that sounds like your problem that you need to figure out. I’m not your Little One.” You tossed out, the pain searing into anger at the Alpha in front of you. “You ‘set me free’ which is utter bullshit, you don’t get to dictate how I work now.”

It was like whiplash, his brow wrinkling as his sadness seeped through before anger masked his features once again. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. You remind me, you had moved on right… to him?”

You knew exactly who he was talking about and that made those tears finally fall, your hand lifting and slapping sharply across Steve’s face hard, enough that his head turned with the impact.

“How dare you, Steve, Pan was my friend when I was broken. My friend Steve, he was exactly who I needed when I was alone. You did this to us. You and that fucking drive to keep me safe. Newsflash Steve, my whole life I fought and I’m never going to stop. Now I’m doing it alone without you. You just thought of how you hurt me while being collared, it was NOTHING compared to what you did in that hospital room. I lost you that day and had to learn how to live without my mate because he didn’t want me anymore.”

“Fuck Y/N, I never said I didn’t want you.” Steve’s jaw clenched tightly, but the anger from his features was gone, disbelief crowning his features now. His hand reached out to draw you in, but you stepped away, unable to handle the contact.

“You broke me that day Steve and now you don’t like this version I turned into? You have no right to be mad about that.” Your voice cracked, a shiver wracking up your body while the Little Wolf started singing in the back of your mind, her own pain breaking in the song. “I survived being used, I survived beatings in attempts to make me submissive, I survived other Alpha’s scarring me with their bites, I survived all the times they tried purposely to break me into bowing for them and being this meek little pup. But you, Steve I barely survived you.”

You let out a breath, feeling your chest lighten as Steve stood before you like he was at a loss for words for a moment. Before you would let him say anything, you turned away to your room and let the door shut him out. Exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks and as you crawled into your bed to sink into that dark place you yet again were hovering in, your Little Wolf crooning to you, you curled into a ball in your bed and let yourself go.

Steve sat on the edge of the uncomfortable bed in the apartment. It had been hours since you just dropped it all on him, which he knew but hearing it come from you, how your voice became so vulnerable like you were laid open and left to pick up the pieces. To top it off, he knew he was an utter asshole for what he said to you, wishing he could take it back. But it was out there now and he knew he couldn’t take back what he said in a moment of frustration.

There was no way to take any of the last year back, he knew he acted on instinct back then and he was wrong. All of it was wrong, but he had to live with his actions. Actions had consequences and all he could do now was live with those choices, and give you that freedom. You were right, he couldn’t be mad at what you turned into because he was a part of it all. Something in him shattered that day, hard broken shards that fed all his fears and he was still struggling to not give in to them.

It still didn’t make it easier for him, or the Alpha. The Alpha was furious with him once more. A snarling beast who lashed out to make Steve wince at the rage. But he felt he deserved it, he took each one without a snap back.

To top the whole fuck up of a day there was a soft wail through the wall of disbelief and it hit every one of Steve’s senses.

Your heat finally arrived and right now you two were stuck together, with no way to give one another space during this vulnerable intimate time.

And it was almost torture to Steve as his muscles cramped with restraint, resisting the urge to go to you.

The Wolf simmered somewhere, Steve sensed him close, but he was still staying away from the conscious side. Your scent was heavy with need and that made a ping of guilt well up in him that your heat was going to be worse for you because he was there.

If you were back in Wakanda he would slip away, leave you in peace to choose the partner you would want to help you through this. But not in the middle of a mission like this.

<Coward> The Wolf snarled at him, his ears laid flat against his skull and showing his fangs with a snap of his jaw, jolting Steve back to his awareness of his beast. <You would run away instead of staying to take care of her.>

His head hung from his shoulders, gritting his eyes and clenching his jaw as his own beast tried to take over, howling your song to call for you. His rut was going to be rough, more of his wolfish side coming through, the overbearing need to fuck and take care of his mate would be a whole other torture.

“Fuck off.” He snarled loudly, aiming at the Alpha but your soft voice cut through his snarl, making his head snap up, his hair disheveled and eyes flashing a brighter color as his nose tilted up to catch your warm honeysuckle scent.

“Steve.” Your voice was soft in tone and loud in every other way as it broke his inner battle, your hands clutching at a blanket around you, miserable looking. “She won’t stop…”

Steve guessed, as much as his wolf was trying to take over, the Little Wolf would be too. You were so distressed-looking, shaking in the blanket even though it wasn’t cold. He straightened up, holding out a hand to you. “Come here Y/N.” He growled, unable to contain more of the Wolf coming through.

It was all it took, the blanket fell from around you, your body to sensitive for anything on you, as you streaked to Steve, his arms circling around your waist and made you straddle his lap. Getting as close as you could be without pinning you underneath him in the bed. His clothes felt so constricting as you settled in close, tears starting to race down your cheeks while your hands slid up his chest, pulling his shirt over his head so you could get skin to skin, which he was thankful for. “I tried Alpha, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You leaned into him, your breasts pressing against his chest as your face tucked into his neck, hiding away.

“For what Y/N?” he let his nose press against the back of your neck, inhaling deeply. That alone made the wolf ease back, and let him regain control. Heavy calloused hands went up and down your back as you started sobbing in his neck, your thighs squeezing against him as you rocked your hips slightly to rub against him.

“For being here with you.” You pushed against him and stared at him with sorrow and pain that Steve couldn’t stop the kisses he flushed over your eyes as more of your tears escaped, tears that he caused. Salty on his lips as they escaped into his beard. His gentleness at the moment, although both of your bodies were screaming to mate with one another, seemed to break you.

“I’m so mad at you for doing this to me.” You dug your nails into his shoulders, rocking again as he matched your movement, pushing up to give you some relief in your grinding. “I did what you said, I left you alone and you followed me here. I couldn’t escape you with the pack and I still can’t Steve. Why do you make this impossible for me?” You hissed as your mouth sought his, while his kiss stayed gentle, you bit at him, gasping against him as your nails clawed into the muscles of his back. “You left me Steve and it broke me more than anything else that has happened.” If this was your punishment, Steve would take it. Every sharp claw and hissing bite you lashed at him.

Steve clenched his jaw, unwilling to defend himself and his choices. He did this to you and it was the least he could do was listen. Instead, he pressed you in closer to him, touching you in all the ways he knew made you feel safe and cared for, his lips pressing against yours while you broke because of him. Your pain you lashed onto his back with your nails sharply dragging up to grasp his shoulder and rock yourself in against him once again, he welcomed the pain as he would any of your touches.

You shook in his hold, pushing away from him enough to look at him, your anger melding into sheer pain. “Was I too weak to be an Alpha’s mate, your mate? Do you regret taking a broken and used Omega? I need to know Steve.”

This he couldn’t stand, not from you of all people. With a sweep of his hold, he twisted you to the bed, on your back while he hovered over you with a bare of his teeth at you, all the long hair falling forward around his face, making Steve look wild above you. Your hands went to cup his face, studying the man you and your little wolf still fiercely loved, your fingers pushing up to weave into his hair. “Is that what you actually believe Little One?” Steve’s tone was graveled, a mix of his voice and the Alpha growling at the same time. “Do you?” He said sharper, making you roll your body up into his solid one, giving a nod when you couldn't say anything.

His hands caught your wrists and let his nose trace the inside on each one, you went pliant against him finally and he let his whirlwind of emotions settle. He had you and wasn’t planning on letting you go till you knew in your soul that he never would have left you because of those reasons.

Your hands were pinned swiftly, slamming them into the pillows scattered around his bed. “Little One.” He growled when his lips descended to the soft warmth of your neck column. Kissing behind your ear with much more gentleness than how his hand caged yours over your head. “You really don’t know do you, how much power you have.” His growls were edging on violent, wracking through your body while his touch remained loving, each glide of his hand tracing your side passionate while the other encircled your wrists above your head with controlled strength, the flick of his tongue gliding on your skin and light pressure of sharpened fangs all affection in worshipping you. “How I would do anything for you. You think me walking away didn’t destroy my sanity, made the beast try to claw from his cage?”

You whined under Steve, your heat simmering on unbearable but his words were making you want to scream. All this time he felt this way and he still managed to walk away, leaving you shattered, your fingers curled, digging into his palm keeping you pinned down. He hissed at the pain but never loosened or pulled away from you. “You still did it, you claim to protect me from you.”

Steve rose above you, his touch on your waist going to your face, turning your head till you couldn't look away from him. So much filled his gaze locking with yours and your unshed tears of anger, frustration, and pain were mirrored in his. “Because I am weak, scared, and broken. All I could see in that moment was you dead at my feet, that I had destroyed my mate, half of my soul. Alpha’s might seem powerful, but actually, we are empty without our other halves, made to serve our packs but never finding anything beyond that. That day I almost killed mine and I was powerless to stop it." His throat bobbed, swallowing past the emotion that almost seemed to overtake him. "I made a mistake and I see that now Little One, I let fear control me, and look what it did to us. I can’t take it back and will always live with what I did. You are right, I can’t be mad about who you are now because of it, you became stronger. You don’t need me, not really. You, my mate, you have all the power. Fuck, that day I was breaking down thinking I was powerless to control myself...” His shoulders sagged like admitting this out loud to you took everything out of him. “I should have talked to you about what I was going through instead of running.”

You eased up the grasp of your fingers digging into his palm, allowing yourself to soften slightly under him. Pulling a hand from his hold, your touch drifted up, sliding around the curve of his neck while you silently counted every little ragged scar circling his throat. Every little barb that dug into him and controlled him. This shattered your Alpha and he was struggling to be better. "I see you Steve." You whispered up at him while letting your thumb wipe under his eyes, clearing away the moisture welling up in those sharp blue eyes.

He reached up to take your palm, curling it against his jaw while he tilted into it, pressing his lips to the center. "I see you too Y/N, I'm so sorry I pushed you away."

Your Little Wolf called out his song again while his eyes scanned over your face, feeling the change in you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer. “I could throttle you.” You chirped with a crack in your voice and Steve gave a soft sad chuckle as his head dropped to lean his forehead against yours, giving a little sniffle.

“I know I deserve it.”

“And what do you want now Steve?” You asked softly, almost a whisper between you two.

The Alpha was silent, his inhales drawing you in to smother all his other senses, if he could drown in you, he would so happily. “A chance for us, to be the Alpha and your mate you deserve from me.” He pulled away to catch your eyes, such a sharp blue with tinges of yellow melding to give hints of green, the Alpha bleeding through, showing while Steve gave you the answers you sought. “To give you all of me, even the broken parts that need fixing Little One.”

“If I said I need you to talk to me Steve, you need to let me in instead of just trying to keep me safe from the world.” Your hand twisted in his hold, sliding your fingers through his above your head. “That you won’t shut me out because you are trying to keep me safe.”

“I will spend my life showing you I can be your partner.” This next kiss was gentle, a brush of his lips to yours as you pulled him back into your hold, his heavy weight on you making you finally feel like you were where you belonged. “And I will wait, as long as you need to be ready for us again, if that is what you want.”

Ready to be us again… You repeated to yourself, letting his words really take hold. The Little Wolf was a calming presence now, the heat sated enough in just this rebonding moment for you two. You pushed up your hips enough to push against Steve and he instinctively released his hold on you to fall back and take you with him, letting you straddle him while he laid underneath you now, his hands caressing down till they settled on your waist, content to let you decide what you wanted from him next. “I missed you, Steve, we missed you.”

Your touch slipped up his chest while you moved to settle in against him, ease relaxing through you as his arms slipped around you, hugging you to lay against him and nothing more in the moment. You let your cheek lay against his chest, your head tucked under his bristled chin. You could feel his words as he spoke them out loud. “We were wanderers without our home Little One, we missed you too.”

#on the hunt #alpha steve and little one #alpha steve x little one #alpha steve x reader #alpha steve x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers and you #steve rogers and reader #the pack #welcome to the pack #its been ages since they have had a new chapter #sorry everyone for the wait #those of you still following this long story #hahaha

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